* * * * * * * * * *
"Ah, my finest hour when you and I met." Captain Jack Sparrow said. "Eleven
years ago, and cut to pieces, and I can still remember how gorgeous you
looked when you stormed into the hold. All that beautiful black hair, that
chocolate skin and well, these breasts." Jack said, pulling Ana-Marie into
an embrace.
She shoved him hard, so that he fell back on the bed, and kissed him slowly. His hand ran over her ponytail, releasing her hair in a fluid motion. She felt the scratch of his beard against her chin, and paused.
"You were thinking about my breasts, when you were in a bleeding to death in a room full of enemy pirates?"
"Well, I wanted my last thoughts to be happy." Sparrow sniggered.
"Womaniser to the end," Ana-Marie whispered, tracing a scar hidden under his eyebrow. She kissed it softly, letting him kiss her neck and hearing him whisper in her ear,
"Well, speaking of that." His hands were working their way up the back of her shirt, before she pulled away slightly.
"No, Jack, I can't do this." She spluttered, pulling away, removing his hands from what they had been doing. He nodded.
"I know. I hurt ya lass, and that can't be undone." She rested her head on his chest, and he pulled his arm around her comfortingly. He kissed the top of her head. Then his hands started to rove again.
"Jack! What the exactly to do think you're doing?"
"Something that can't be done by my onesies." Jack murmured suggestively.
"I'm not going to sleep with you just because I'm the only woman on board."
"Love, you know that's not the only reason I'm here. If I were really that desperate, I could always go and pillage Gibbs."
"Jack!"
"Sparrow?" Turner murmured, glancing down at the boy who was now in his charge. "Bloody bollixing mutt more like it. Should have just had Carlos toss him overboard, but no, let's have some fun first. And now whose bloody cabin is he sleeping in?"
Turner removed his boots, and spread himself out on the bed on the opposite wall. He listened to the kid's shallow breathing, and tried not to pity him.
"Kid, hope you enjoyed that meal, cause its probably going to be the last one you gets. Can't remember the time a stowaway wasn't made to walk the plank on the Portella. The little Minx may be young, but she's got blood made of steel just like her father. Good man Gull." Turner, whose eyes had grown distant for a moment, refocused on the boy.
Sparrow's eyes were open.
"Water." He rasped, and then paused. "Or Rum?" Turner sighed. He pulled out a flask wrapped in leather, passing it to the boy.
"Don't let the missus know about that. She's cutting of my rum rights cause of you." Turner grumbled.
The boy was continuing to gaze at Turner so intensely that he felt uncomfortable, remembering the way he had baited the boy earlier. The boys closed his eyes and turned to face the wall, his throat and his wounds burning.
Turner shivered at the sadness in the boy's eyes. He'd seen that look before, in old pirates too worn by the sea and by fate.
"Ah, the sea's a cruel mistress. That she is." Turner muttered to his self before extinguishing the light.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"How's our little stowaway this morning, Vincent?" Ana asked, her hands resting nonchalantly on the helm.
"Turner's teaching the kid how to tie knots to keep him busy, till you know what you want to do with him." Vincent said, spitting on the sword he was polishing as he said it. A once red scarf covered his shaved head and he bore a ragged scar down his cheek.
"Has anyone found out what he was about hiding in our wine barrels?" Ana-Marie asked, opening her compass, and frowning, her mind elsewhere. Vincent glanced up at her.
"Don't think he's had a pretty lot in life mam. What he's let slip is that he was kicked out of his home and family none to recently, practically hounded out of his home town from the way its sounds." Ana-Marie frowned at the compassion in the seasoned pirates voice. This kid seemed to be getting to him.
"Hmm. A sob story." She said, non-committed.
"Maybe. Its good though, having the spare set of hands, specially after me lost Murvy." Murvy had died in the last raid, axe to the head. Bloody blacksmiths. Vincent continued, earnestly. "And he's been an awful good sport about last night."
"Hmm." Ana-Marie repeated, watching the Sparrow joking with Crow and Blackburn. Her own opinions on Sparrow, she did not voice.
It was long after dark before Ana-Marie dared to drop anchor. With the Navy still looking for them, she dared not stop at a port. Which meant another night with frustrated pirates. That last stop had almost been disastrous, and they were only there for three hours.
Long enough to pick up a bloody stowaway though.
A bloody stowaway who was currently disturbing Ana-Marie's train of thought and TOUCHING HER HELM!
"Boy, what the hell do you think your doing?" Ana-Marie asked coldly. He seemed to be mesmerised by it. She slapped his hands impulsively, and was rewarded with a sheepish grin from the stowaway.
"Well, luv.uh.. missus," Jackson corrected himself. "Turner said you'd want to speak to me, before, well, before we arrived in Tortugua."
"We won't be in Tortugua for five days, Boyo," Ana-Marie said condescendingly. Though she was a few months short of being two years older then him, she was increasingly finding it a necessity to keep this boy in his place.
"Yes, but Turner what's to chuck me over board. uh. now. And he wanted to know it if that was okay." Ana-Marie considered it for a second. The faintest traces of a smile touched her face
"Why is Turner in such a hurry to throw you overboard boy? And more to the point, why shouldn't I let him?"
"Well, Turner says that my stupidity may become infectious." Jackson grinned bemusedly and Ana-Marie rolled her eyes.
"Jackson, I don't think you'll ever be able to name charm as one of your assets. Savvy?" Jackson grinned.
"Savvy? An I supposed to say Aye?" The boy asked cheekily. Ana-Marie ignored the comment, looking to the calm waters for reassurance. Intuition told her that this boy would come in useful.
"Jackson, I've a mind to make a sailor out of you. You're good with a blade and we need another hand on deck. Don't make trouble, and the Portella could be a good start for you." Ana-Marie said, scanning the boys reactions. He looked puzzled. "And if you don't want to join the crew, you can walk the plank." She added sweetly.
"Don't you want to hear why I'm hear?" The boy asked, his cool façade dissolved. For a second, he was just a scared boy on a ship for of strangers. Ana-Marie had the strangest urge to wrap her arms around him.
"Look kid, everyone here's an outcast in one way or another. Each has got his own story to tell if you got the time to listen to it. From what I hear, you got chased out of your home, and I'm offering you a new one. What do you say, John?" He started at the use of his name. He'd been called boy and kid and occasionally Jackson so often during the day that he'd started to wonder if maybe they didn't know his first name.
"Aye." He said, and Ana-Marie saw a flash of steel in his eyes.
"Then come downstairs and I'll introduce you to the captain."
* * * * * * * * *
She shoved him hard, so that he fell back on the bed, and kissed him slowly. His hand ran over her ponytail, releasing her hair in a fluid motion. She felt the scratch of his beard against her chin, and paused.
"You were thinking about my breasts, when you were in a bleeding to death in a room full of enemy pirates?"
"Well, I wanted my last thoughts to be happy." Sparrow sniggered.
"Womaniser to the end," Ana-Marie whispered, tracing a scar hidden under his eyebrow. She kissed it softly, letting him kiss her neck and hearing him whisper in her ear,
"Well, speaking of that." His hands were working their way up the back of her shirt, before she pulled away slightly.
"No, Jack, I can't do this." She spluttered, pulling away, removing his hands from what they had been doing. He nodded.
"I know. I hurt ya lass, and that can't be undone." She rested her head on his chest, and he pulled his arm around her comfortingly. He kissed the top of her head. Then his hands started to rove again.
"Jack! What the exactly to do think you're doing?"
"Something that can't be done by my onesies." Jack murmured suggestively.
"I'm not going to sleep with you just because I'm the only woman on board."
"Love, you know that's not the only reason I'm here. If I were really that desperate, I could always go and pillage Gibbs."
"Jack!"
"Sparrow?" Turner murmured, glancing down at the boy who was now in his charge. "Bloody bollixing mutt more like it. Should have just had Carlos toss him overboard, but no, let's have some fun first. And now whose bloody cabin is he sleeping in?"
Turner removed his boots, and spread himself out on the bed on the opposite wall. He listened to the kid's shallow breathing, and tried not to pity him.
"Kid, hope you enjoyed that meal, cause its probably going to be the last one you gets. Can't remember the time a stowaway wasn't made to walk the plank on the Portella. The little Minx may be young, but she's got blood made of steel just like her father. Good man Gull." Turner, whose eyes had grown distant for a moment, refocused on the boy.
Sparrow's eyes were open.
"Water." He rasped, and then paused. "Or Rum?" Turner sighed. He pulled out a flask wrapped in leather, passing it to the boy.
"Don't let the missus know about that. She's cutting of my rum rights cause of you." Turner grumbled.
The boy was continuing to gaze at Turner so intensely that he felt uncomfortable, remembering the way he had baited the boy earlier. The boys closed his eyes and turned to face the wall, his throat and his wounds burning.
Turner shivered at the sadness in the boy's eyes. He'd seen that look before, in old pirates too worn by the sea and by fate.
"Ah, the sea's a cruel mistress. That she is." Turner muttered to his self before extinguishing the light.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"How's our little stowaway this morning, Vincent?" Ana asked, her hands resting nonchalantly on the helm.
"Turner's teaching the kid how to tie knots to keep him busy, till you know what you want to do with him." Vincent said, spitting on the sword he was polishing as he said it. A once red scarf covered his shaved head and he bore a ragged scar down his cheek.
"Has anyone found out what he was about hiding in our wine barrels?" Ana-Marie asked, opening her compass, and frowning, her mind elsewhere. Vincent glanced up at her.
"Don't think he's had a pretty lot in life mam. What he's let slip is that he was kicked out of his home and family none to recently, practically hounded out of his home town from the way its sounds." Ana-Marie frowned at the compassion in the seasoned pirates voice. This kid seemed to be getting to him.
"Hmm. A sob story." She said, non-committed.
"Maybe. Its good though, having the spare set of hands, specially after me lost Murvy." Murvy had died in the last raid, axe to the head. Bloody blacksmiths. Vincent continued, earnestly. "And he's been an awful good sport about last night."
"Hmm." Ana-Marie repeated, watching the Sparrow joking with Crow and Blackburn. Her own opinions on Sparrow, she did not voice.
It was long after dark before Ana-Marie dared to drop anchor. With the Navy still looking for them, she dared not stop at a port. Which meant another night with frustrated pirates. That last stop had almost been disastrous, and they were only there for three hours.
Long enough to pick up a bloody stowaway though.
A bloody stowaway who was currently disturbing Ana-Marie's train of thought and TOUCHING HER HELM!
"Boy, what the hell do you think your doing?" Ana-Marie asked coldly. He seemed to be mesmerised by it. She slapped his hands impulsively, and was rewarded with a sheepish grin from the stowaway.
"Well, luv.uh.. missus," Jackson corrected himself. "Turner said you'd want to speak to me, before, well, before we arrived in Tortugua."
"We won't be in Tortugua for five days, Boyo," Ana-Marie said condescendingly. Though she was a few months short of being two years older then him, she was increasingly finding it a necessity to keep this boy in his place.
"Yes, but Turner what's to chuck me over board. uh. now. And he wanted to know it if that was okay." Ana-Marie considered it for a second. The faintest traces of a smile touched her face
"Why is Turner in such a hurry to throw you overboard boy? And more to the point, why shouldn't I let him?"
"Well, Turner says that my stupidity may become infectious." Jackson grinned bemusedly and Ana-Marie rolled her eyes.
"Jackson, I don't think you'll ever be able to name charm as one of your assets. Savvy?" Jackson grinned.
"Savvy? An I supposed to say Aye?" The boy asked cheekily. Ana-Marie ignored the comment, looking to the calm waters for reassurance. Intuition told her that this boy would come in useful.
"Jackson, I've a mind to make a sailor out of you. You're good with a blade and we need another hand on deck. Don't make trouble, and the Portella could be a good start for you." Ana-Marie said, scanning the boys reactions. He looked puzzled. "And if you don't want to join the crew, you can walk the plank." She added sweetly.
"Don't you want to hear why I'm hear?" The boy asked, his cool façade dissolved. For a second, he was just a scared boy on a ship for of strangers. Ana-Marie had the strangest urge to wrap her arms around him.
"Look kid, everyone here's an outcast in one way or another. Each has got his own story to tell if you got the time to listen to it. From what I hear, you got chased out of your home, and I'm offering you a new one. What do you say, John?" He started at the use of his name. He'd been called boy and kid and occasionally Jackson so often during the day that he'd started to wonder if maybe they didn't know his first name.
"Aye." He said, and Ana-Marie saw a flash of steel in his eyes.
"Then come downstairs and I'll introduce you to the captain."
* * * * * * * * *