* * * * * * * * * * *
Jack Sparrow climbed out of the flowerbed; tutting at the dirt on his newly polished shoes. He spat on one of them, wiping it against the wall. Trust Will to care for his garden and use plenty of manure. Jack glanced regretfully at the bathroom window. Last time he'd see a bathroom like that.
He put his hands in his pockets, and whistled through his teeth. The sun was shining overhead, and he'd just narrowly escaped the governor. Things were starting to become fun again. It was always like this, with Will and Lizzie. Things just seemed to happen when you were around them. Jack grinned, kicking a stone along the road with his shoe.
He was so absorbed by his thoughts, that he barely noticed Ana-Maria walking up the street towards him, her face radiating a warning. Her simple white skirt and top, intended for her to look like a slave, flapped against her thighs, and fell off her shoulder slightly. However, if one looked closely enough, you could see the belt around her waist half covered by the cheap material, where her gun nestled. Jack had no doubt that her little emerald dagger was lodged firmly inside her boot in case of a tight spot.
She made a gesture to the crowd behind her, walking very steadily up the slope towards him. Jack followed her advice, turning a one eighty on his heel and then turning of into one of the side streets, where the clothes lines and soot lay thick overhead.
Ana-Maria joined him a second later, nearly running into him in her haste. Jack grabbed her by the upper arm, thrilled slightly by the coolness of her flesh. They walked slightly through the little alley until they reached a low wall, with a view of the hills and, if you craned your neck, the beautiful harbour.
Jack holstered himself up on the wall, lightly a cigarette, while Ana-Maria leant against the walls of one of the shanties, catching her breath. She snapped the cigarette out of his hand, stopping it derisively under her boot.
"That bullshit will kill ya." She said, pointing her finger at him. Jack leant back on his hands and laughed. Ana-Maria responded to this with a dirty look, still slightly puffed. "Bloody redcoats," She swore, and spat on the ground. Jack grinned again, tilting his hat to shield the rays of the sun. "Did you find Elizabeth and the boy?" Ana-Maria asked with disinterest.
To Ana-Maria, Elizabeth and Will were simply like a painting, beautiful and sometimes intoxicating so that they drew you back again and again, but not substantial. Their love was too easy, without any grit or dirt that went with living. It was not the way Ana-Maria chose to live.
Jack Sparrow eyed the black girl curiously.
"Did you mean it?" He spat over the wall and grimaced at the taste left in his mouth.
"Mean what, Jack?" She said aggressively, wiping her smouldered fingertips on her white dress, leaving black trails on it as though her very skin was rubbing onto the fabric. The sun was too hot, and she'd forgotten her hat.
"Anything you say these days." Jack said, picking cookie out of his teeth. He saw the indignant look on her face, and waved it away with a dismissing gesture. "Forget it." Ana-Maria jutted out her chin, shaking her head slightly. The wind blew the sheets on the line, the cool air a welcome from the stifling heat of the day. She turned, as though to leave. There was no dealing with Jack when he was in his philosophical moods, she thought grumpily.
"No, wait, I want to know." Jack said suddenly. "Did you mean it when you said your were going to leave me? Or was it just to get a reaction?" It had been a month since that night in Singapore. A month, were she hadn't mentioned leaving him again, had shared his bed and his company as usual. And Jack had devoured each moment, terrified that she was suddenly going to slip out of his grasp forever.
But she hadn't, and the death sentence she'd lain on their relationship hung uneasily overhead.
"One of us is going to leave eventually Jack." She said finally, looking down at her bitten nails. She scratched her back self-consciously. "One day, one of us will die or give up this life for some other dream. Everyone dies Jack, everyone moves on." She said abstractly.
She bit her lip, biting back one last comment, and looked up to see how Jack had taken this. He had closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the side of on of the houses, relaxing completely in his dangerous perch on the wall.
"What the hell has that to do with anything, Ana-Maria? You're making up excuses." He snapped open his eyes. He pointed a finger at her. "This is about that stupid cut on your back again. It's got you running scared of death. That's what the root of this is." Ana-Maria cut of his rant, trembling slightly as she spoke. She felt like pushing him off the bloody wall, but knowing him he'd just survive it and come back and annoy her some more.
"If your not even going to try to understand." She said with a shake of her head. Jack jumped of the wall, seeing how upset she was, taking his hands in his and kissing her forehead gently.
"I'm trying love." He said, and pulled his arms around her. Ana-Maria rested her head against his chest, while Jack tried to think of the right words. But there were none.
"Look, I never meant to hurt you, but I feel like I have somehow." He licked his lips, pushing her slightly against the wall so he could see into her face. The compassion that resonated through all his features almost make Ana-Maria break, and she suddenly felt so sick. "I'm sorry about all the things I've..."
She shoved him in the chest violently, and glared at him. He stumbled backwards, taken by surprise. He rubbed his hand on his chest, confusion evident in his expression.
"God Jack," She said, looking away from him. "Fuck you Captain Jack Sparrow. This has got nothing to do with you. For once in the goddamn world, not everything is related to you." She spat out maliciously, her fists clenched. "This isn't about your stupid ship, or your bloody treasure, or the million other ways you make everything about you. This is about me. How can I try to explain anything to you, when you don't even understand that?" She said angrily, and strode past him, pushing through the washing lines.
"Do you still love me?" He called out after her.
About half way down the street by then she spun around, and shrugged.
"Yeah, you know I do. But that doesn't change anything." She said. Jack nodded, and watched the brilliantly falling sunbeams.
He didn't understand her. He didn't understand what was wrong with her. He whistled lowly under his breath.
"Bloody women." He said, and made off towards the town, to find the one person who might understand.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Jack Sparrow climbed out of the flowerbed; tutting at the dirt on his newly polished shoes. He spat on one of them, wiping it against the wall. Trust Will to care for his garden and use plenty of manure. Jack glanced regretfully at the bathroom window. Last time he'd see a bathroom like that.
He put his hands in his pockets, and whistled through his teeth. The sun was shining overhead, and he'd just narrowly escaped the governor. Things were starting to become fun again. It was always like this, with Will and Lizzie. Things just seemed to happen when you were around them. Jack grinned, kicking a stone along the road with his shoe.
He was so absorbed by his thoughts, that he barely noticed Ana-Maria walking up the street towards him, her face radiating a warning. Her simple white skirt and top, intended for her to look like a slave, flapped against her thighs, and fell off her shoulder slightly. However, if one looked closely enough, you could see the belt around her waist half covered by the cheap material, where her gun nestled. Jack had no doubt that her little emerald dagger was lodged firmly inside her boot in case of a tight spot.
She made a gesture to the crowd behind her, walking very steadily up the slope towards him. Jack followed her advice, turning a one eighty on his heel and then turning of into one of the side streets, where the clothes lines and soot lay thick overhead.
Ana-Maria joined him a second later, nearly running into him in her haste. Jack grabbed her by the upper arm, thrilled slightly by the coolness of her flesh. They walked slightly through the little alley until they reached a low wall, with a view of the hills and, if you craned your neck, the beautiful harbour.
Jack holstered himself up on the wall, lightly a cigarette, while Ana-Maria leant against the walls of one of the shanties, catching her breath. She snapped the cigarette out of his hand, stopping it derisively under her boot.
"That bullshit will kill ya." She said, pointing her finger at him. Jack leant back on his hands and laughed. Ana-Maria responded to this with a dirty look, still slightly puffed. "Bloody redcoats," She swore, and spat on the ground. Jack grinned again, tilting his hat to shield the rays of the sun. "Did you find Elizabeth and the boy?" Ana-Maria asked with disinterest.
To Ana-Maria, Elizabeth and Will were simply like a painting, beautiful and sometimes intoxicating so that they drew you back again and again, but not substantial. Their love was too easy, without any grit or dirt that went with living. It was not the way Ana-Maria chose to live.
Jack Sparrow eyed the black girl curiously.
"Did you mean it?" He spat over the wall and grimaced at the taste left in his mouth.
"Mean what, Jack?" She said aggressively, wiping her smouldered fingertips on her white dress, leaving black trails on it as though her very skin was rubbing onto the fabric. The sun was too hot, and she'd forgotten her hat.
"Anything you say these days." Jack said, picking cookie out of his teeth. He saw the indignant look on her face, and waved it away with a dismissing gesture. "Forget it." Ana-Maria jutted out her chin, shaking her head slightly. The wind blew the sheets on the line, the cool air a welcome from the stifling heat of the day. She turned, as though to leave. There was no dealing with Jack when he was in his philosophical moods, she thought grumpily.
"No, wait, I want to know." Jack said suddenly. "Did you mean it when you said your were going to leave me? Or was it just to get a reaction?" It had been a month since that night in Singapore. A month, were she hadn't mentioned leaving him again, had shared his bed and his company as usual. And Jack had devoured each moment, terrified that she was suddenly going to slip out of his grasp forever.
But she hadn't, and the death sentence she'd lain on their relationship hung uneasily overhead.
"One of us is going to leave eventually Jack." She said finally, looking down at her bitten nails. She scratched her back self-consciously. "One day, one of us will die or give up this life for some other dream. Everyone dies Jack, everyone moves on." She said abstractly.
She bit her lip, biting back one last comment, and looked up to see how Jack had taken this. He had closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the side of on of the houses, relaxing completely in his dangerous perch on the wall.
"What the hell has that to do with anything, Ana-Maria? You're making up excuses." He snapped open his eyes. He pointed a finger at her. "This is about that stupid cut on your back again. It's got you running scared of death. That's what the root of this is." Ana-Maria cut of his rant, trembling slightly as she spoke. She felt like pushing him off the bloody wall, but knowing him he'd just survive it and come back and annoy her some more.
"If your not even going to try to understand." She said with a shake of her head. Jack jumped of the wall, seeing how upset she was, taking his hands in his and kissing her forehead gently.
"I'm trying love." He said, and pulled his arms around her. Ana-Maria rested her head against his chest, while Jack tried to think of the right words. But there were none.
"Look, I never meant to hurt you, but I feel like I have somehow." He licked his lips, pushing her slightly against the wall so he could see into her face. The compassion that resonated through all his features almost make Ana-Maria break, and she suddenly felt so sick. "I'm sorry about all the things I've..."
She shoved him in the chest violently, and glared at him. He stumbled backwards, taken by surprise. He rubbed his hand on his chest, confusion evident in his expression.
"God Jack," She said, looking away from him. "Fuck you Captain Jack Sparrow. This has got nothing to do with you. For once in the goddamn world, not everything is related to you." She spat out maliciously, her fists clenched. "This isn't about your stupid ship, or your bloody treasure, or the million other ways you make everything about you. This is about me. How can I try to explain anything to you, when you don't even understand that?" She said angrily, and strode past him, pushing through the washing lines.
"Do you still love me?" He called out after her.
About half way down the street by then she spun around, and shrugged.
"Yeah, you know I do. But that doesn't change anything." She said. Jack nodded, and watched the brilliantly falling sunbeams.
He didn't understand her. He didn't understand what was wrong with her. He whistled lowly under his breath.
"Bloody women." He said, and made off towards the town, to find the one person who might understand.
* * * * * * * * * * *