Isabella sat in the captain's quarters, now also the first mate's.
Hers.
3 months she had been on the Black Pearl. 3 months Isabella worked her ass
off to prove herself as valuable as Anamaria and every other crew mate, 3
months disguising her growing desperations, attractions, and loneliness.
She missed.Adam was it? Yes, she missed Adam terribly. He was her only
friend in the future. She wondered if he was still alive. Still talented,
still happy.
The past was so different. She didn't hide herself, stray from everyone else, because she respected them. She worked hard, grew into a real pirate. A worthy member of the Black Pearl.
When the crew had stopped at Port Royale 3 weeks ago, Isabella was lucky to find Norrington had been killed in an attack by French pirates. No explaining to do. Jack had wondered about the convenience. He had never heard of Norrington's sister. Never slept with her, at least.
Isabella's bunk was the top one, covered in a set of stolen sheets from who else but the Governer's daughter.
Maybe not stolen. The girl, Elizabeth, seemed to know about Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl, and befriended a befuddled Isabella. She was sent with a few messages to an old Smithy on a crooked alleyway off the main road.
There she met William Turner, a talented Blacksmith who confided his feelings for Elizabeth. He gave her two swords, one for Jack Sparrow and the other for herself. "You may need it," he said in a soft voice that made Isabella's heart melt. It reminded her of Adam.
He had also asked if she was 'with' Jack. Isabella blushed and mentioned the time, rushing out. His final words: "He's a lucky man. Tell him that."
She stared at the ceiling. Her hair had grown a surprising length in a simple 3 months, and it lay spread around her, tangled around her long, sinewy arms. Isabella touched her bare upper arm, where she had just gotten the Sparrow tattoo. But Jack had done something she hadn't expected. He had gotten two on her: the other one was a sparrow in front of an annagram CJS below the collarbone of her opposite shoulder. Above her heart.
As she thought about it her hand went to it, and a faint memory of the Pledge of Alligance, the Star Spangled Banner. Singing it in front of a huge crowd.
Isabella hadn't sung in so long. Over three months. When she moved to a new school 5 months ago, she never rejoined the chorus, never did anything to remind her of her past.
She opened her mouth. The tune didn't come. Her voice didn't fill the room like it used to.
"Damn my father!" She screamed outloud. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Then to no one in particular she said, "You left me and stole my voice. You stole my eyes, made them gray from tears. Who does that to their daughter?"
She heard the door open. "Ye alright, luv? I heard the bloody screams from the wheel!"
"Fine. I'm fine, like always."
"Get down here." Jack's voice was harsh and she knew better than to disobey him. But she completed his request half-heartedly.
"What's wrong, luv? Ye don't stand at the wheel with me anymo'. Ye were cryin' last time you sat to watch tha sun set. Ye never get up for sunrise anymore."
"Nothing, Captain, nothing at all. Sentimentality isn't worth the effort anymore."
"Eh, that's a load of boullix. Ye don't cry, Angel."
"Angel?" The pet name rung a bell in her head but she couldn't link anything together.
"I've been callin ye that for a bit o' time, now, and ye finally 'ave a problem? After I get inta 'abit? Bloody Women."
Isabella sat down suddenly, breaking into tears. Startled and unsure, Jack said, "I, ah, didn' mean nothing by it, luv. I was." He stopped, sitting down. Trying to start again, he said, "I." but was stopped when Isabella leaned against his chest. He felt the tears soaking through his shirt, but he ignored them and held her head to him.
All the love that had surmounted in him was finally building to a climax.
From the day he saw Isabella, heard her musical voice, saw her smile, he was afraid that he was in love. Every time she sat at the tip of his 'Pearl, he wished to simply go up and kiss her. But the infamous lady's man Jack Sparrow couldn't do anything to this woman. She was his angel. She had come to be the crew's inspiration, humming while she worked, but never singing. The hum was enough to bring the crew gathering. Jack desperately wanted to hear her sing.
He couldn't ask it of her, though. He kept a steady face as a captain, but late at night when she hummed above his head he couldn't ask anything of her.
Jack took a calloused finger to Isabella's chin and pushed her face gently upward to face him. Isabella's eyes opened and the tears slowed and dried. Jack had never taken a good look at her face, especially her eyes, but now that he did he really noticed them. They were wide, with big irises and pupils (at least in the dim light), and the irises were the color of clouds in the lull before an awful storm. Her eyes were often lowered, the long, long lashes hiding them. Except at sunset. When she sat at sunset her eyes were wide open. Always wide open.
Her skin was smooth like ivory, but tough now. Still she had no callouses on her hands. They were still soft, delicate, artist hands.
He had always imagined her lips soft and perfect in a kiss. They were small, comma shaped lips, pale during the day but as she bit them they became red and full at night.
He looked back at her eyes. She put heavy layers of kohl on them, just like he did. And her ears had been pierced a few more times by Anamaria. She had changed from the Spitfire he first met to a bigger spitfire that he now knew. But she was his angel. His pirate angel.
Her lips were red, as usual, but it was a brighter red, almost a blood red. Her cheeks fell to the same shade as he bent his head down slowly and looked her in the eyes.
She looked back at him, glanced down at his lips.
He looked down at hers.
And their eyes closed.
The past was so different. She didn't hide herself, stray from everyone else, because she respected them. She worked hard, grew into a real pirate. A worthy member of the Black Pearl.
When the crew had stopped at Port Royale 3 weeks ago, Isabella was lucky to find Norrington had been killed in an attack by French pirates. No explaining to do. Jack had wondered about the convenience. He had never heard of Norrington's sister. Never slept with her, at least.
Isabella's bunk was the top one, covered in a set of stolen sheets from who else but the Governer's daughter.
Maybe not stolen. The girl, Elizabeth, seemed to know about Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl, and befriended a befuddled Isabella. She was sent with a few messages to an old Smithy on a crooked alleyway off the main road.
There she met William Turner, a talented Blacksmith who confided his feelings for Elizabeth. He gave her two swords, one for Jack Sparrow and the other for herself. "You may need it," he said in a soft voice that made Isabella's heart melt. It reminded her of Adam.
He had also asked if she was 'with' Jack. Isabella blushed and mentioned the time, rushing out. His final words: "He's a lucky man. Tell him that."
She stared at the ceiling. Her hair had grown a surprising length in a simple 3 months, and it lay spread around her, tangled around her long, sinewy arms. Isabella touched her bare upper arm, where she had just gotten the Sparrow tattoo. But Jack had done something she hadn't expected. He had gotten two on her: the other one was a sparrow in front of an annagram CJS below the collarbone of her opposite shoulder. Above her heart.
As she thought about it her hand went to it, and a faint memory of the Pledge of Alligance, the Star Spangled Banner. Singing it in front of a huge crowd.
Isabella hadn't sung in so long. Over three months. When she moved to a new school 5 months ago, she never rejoined the chorus, never did anything to remind her of her past.
She opened her mouth. The tune didn't come. Her voice didn't fill the room like it used to.
"Damn my father!" She screamed outloud. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Then to no one in particular she said, "You left me and stole my voice. You stole my eyes, made them gray from tears. Who does that to their daughter?"
She heard the door open. "Ye alright, luv? I heard the bloody screams from the wheel!"
"Fine. I'm fine, like always."
"Get down here." Jack's voice was harsh and she knew better than to disobey him. But she completed his request half-heartedly.
"What's wrong, luv? Ye don't stand at the wheel with me anymo'. Ye were cryin' last time you sat to watch tha sun set. Ye never get up for sunrise anymore."
"Nothing, Captain, nothing at all. Sentimentality isn't worth the effort anymore."
"Eh, that's a load of boullix. Ye don't cry, Angel."
"Angel?" The pet name rung a bell in her head but she couldn't link anything together.
"I've been callin ye that for a bit o' time, now, and ye finally 'ave a problem? After I get inta 'abit? Bloody Women."
Isabella sat down suddenly, breaking into tears. Startled and unsure, Jack said, "I, ah, didn' mean nothing by it, luv. I was." He stopped, sitting down. Trying to start again, he said, "I." but was stopped when Isabella leaned against his chest. He felt the tears soaking through his shirt, but he ignored them and held her head to him.
All the love that had surmounted in him was finally building to a climax.
From the day he saw Isabella, heard her musical voice, saw her smile, he was afraid that he was in love. Every time she sat at the tip of his 'Pearl, he wished to simply go up and kiss her. But the infamous lady's man Jack Sparrow couldn't do anything to this woman. She was his angel. She had come to be the crew's inspiration, humming while she worked, but never singing. The hum was enough to bring the crew gathering. Jack desperately wanted to hear her sing.
He couldn't ask it of her, though. He kept a steady face as a captain, but late at night when she hummed above his head he couldn't ask anything of her.
Jack took a calloused finger to Isabella's chin and pushed her face gently upward to face him. Isabella's eyes opened and the tears slowed and dried. Jack had never taken a good look at her face, especially her eyes, but now that he did he really noticed them. They were wide, with big irises and pupils (at least in the dim light), and the irises were the color of clouds in the lull before an awful storm. Her eyes were often lowered, the long, long lashes hiding them. Except at sunset. When she sat at sunset her eyes were wide open. Always wide open.
Her skin was smooth like ivory, but tough now. Still she had no callouses on her hands. They were still soft, delicate, artist hands.
He had always imagined her lips soft and perfect in a kiss. They were small, comma shaped lips, pale during the day but as she bit them they became red and full at night.
He looked back at her eyes. She put heavy layers of kohl on them, just like he did. And her ears had been pierced a few more times by Anamaria. She had changed from the Spitfire he first met to a bigger spitfire that he now knew. But she was his angel. His pirate angel.
Her lips were red, as usual, but it was a brighter red, almost a blood red. Her cheeks fell to the same shade as he bent his head down slowly and looked her in the eyes.
She looked back at him, glanced down at his lips.
He looked down at hers.
And their eyes closed.