(Hangs my head in shame).
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Jack was asleep now, half sitting, his head bowed to his chest. Ana-Marie lay curled up next to him, feeling the rise and the fall of his breathe. Soon, the sun would rise, painting the ocean pink and red and then it would be another day. A day were she would Ana-Marie, the untouchable pirate wench.
Only here, in the darkness of her cabin, did she allow her doubts and worries to appear. She gazed down at her hands, the soft skin in the waning moonlight. To think she was twenty-nine, nearly thirty, was something she didn't like to remember. So many years passed in drunk in bars or gambling. So many opportunities to change, to make a good clean run for a legal life if she'd just bothered to look up.
But what life was there, other then the sea, for her?
And there was Jack. No matter how the years had passed, he still could bring out a side of her that she tried to forget existed. A side where love had a literal meaning, and was not just an abstract word for sex.
She would be lying to herself if she said she wanted to leave the Pearl. She might whinge and whine, and demand her own ship from time to time like Jack had promised, but the Pearl, and the chance to journey with Jack again, was an opportunity she didn't want to pass up. He was her connection to the world.
For the ten years after she lost the Portella, she was aimless. Not a friend in the world, not a person to belong to. No purpose, not like what had driven Jack, to reclaim the Pearl at whatever cost.
She traced Jack's face with her eyes, the beard with those silly plaits, the charm beaded braid her wore down one side of his face, the red scarf tied across he dreadlock hair, the smudged kohl around his eyes.
All of it was an illusion.
Accessories, and glamour he'd picked up along the way. This façade that made him the infamous Jack Sparrow, the crazy outfit intended to instil fear.
She imagined wiping it all away, smoothing the skin, shaving the beard and washing the hair until it was soft again. She imagined running her fingers across the scars on his chest, across the branded P and her own brand she placed on him so many years ago, her Sparrow tattoo. Taking away his affects, his hat and his gun, his rings and his beads.
She wondered if she'd find John Jackson under there, the boy she'd moulded into the man next to her.
But she knew she wouldn't. Even without the affects and the jazzy charm, he would be Jack Sparrow. He was Jack Sparrow through and through now, and she couldn't change that. Maybe she shouldn't want to. She loved the man next to her, loved what he had become and who he'd been.
Her hands rested again on his chest, and she closed her eyes, relinquishing to sleep. She worried, that was all. She had given him a new name, a new identity, a new purpose and love. She'd given him everything she'd had to offer.
And she wondered what he would be like if she hadn't.
Maybe they both wouldn't have spent the last ten years gazing longingly at a horizon they couldn't have.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Come on Jackie, Jackie, time to wake up," Ana-Marie whispered. She had taken of her trews during the night, and was in the process of pulling them back on. The first touch of dawn was on the horizon, as was a land mass.
"No, why would you do that? Why? Why name the monkey after me? No, it's, not the monkey, no." Jack Sparrow moaned into the pillow. Then he started, holding his head a few inches above the pillow, his eyes wide and startled. Then he rolled over, remembered his surroundings, and relaxed back on the pillow.
Ana-Marie had to stop herself laughing. In all the times they'd shared a bed, she'd never known him once to wake up any other way.
"What was that about a monkey Jack?" Ana-Marie asked innocently. Jack blinked his eyelids in mock innocence.
"I have no idea what you're talking about luv."
"Ah huh. You've smudged eyeliner all over my pillow." Ana-Marie said, tossing him a mirror. He checked his eye make up carefully, scowling at his beard.
"Ah well can't be helped." He muttered. He leant back against the pillow smiling, watching Ana-Marie tidy her hair. "You know luv, I think that's the first time I've shared a bed with a woman and just slept."
"I know." Ana-Marie said. "I couldn't believe it either. Never thought you the type to pass out in a lasses bed." Jack noticed the empty rum bottle and grimaced.
"Well, you didn't seem that interested." Jack replied, watching her move. Ana-Marie smiled, standing over him.
"Ah, but I was just becoming interested." She said silkily.
"Were you now, lassie?" He grinned. He raised an eyebrow, and she raised one in return. "Well that's interesting."
"Is it now Jack?" Ana-Marie said, straddling Jack on the bed. He placed his hands on her hips as she bent down to kiss him. Her hair formed a veil over the two of them, and he moved his hand up to the back of her head, pushing himself up to sitting. Then he flipped her over in one fluid motion, so that she lay beneath him.
"Is very interesting." He growled. She laughed when he started to kiss her neck, his beard tickling her. He gave her a reproachful look before resuming what he was doing.
"Oh you devilish Pirate you, stop manhandling me so," Ana-Marie said in a mocking high voice (speaking in the tongues of all Mary-Sues). Whatever Jack said into her neck was pronounceable rude and unprintable.
He ran his hand up her thigh, cursing and thanking the trews all at once. On the upside, the was so much less material in the way, no skirts to get lost in, and he could feel ever line of her legs through the thin material. On the downside, it was much more difficult to reach his goal. So much easier with a skirt, to just slide his hand upwards towards her.what was it Turner had called it? Her inner pearl.
Sparrow laughed again. Ana-Marie swatting the side of his head, as he had stopped his giving her neck his full attention while recalling that tiny bit of information. She pushed him up to sitting, her sailor hands up doing the buttons of his shirt, sliding the material off his shoulders. She lifted the white undershirt off two, revealing the tanned skin beneath it.
She ran her hand across the tattoo of a snake wrapped around a sword just above his left nipple, and the scar that ran down his side. She unravelled the red scarf from around his head, her hands touching the clanging beads on the side of his head softly.
As careful as she had been, he slowly unbuttoned her shirt, until she lay exposed in the early morning light. He kissed her incredulously, his hands running over her unmarked skin. He paused at her wrist, as she had done at his. There was no P sign there.
"I never got court." Ana-Marie gloated. Jack Sparrow stared down at her momentarily his eyes for once clear, unknown thoughts passing through his mind. Then he broke into his characteristic smile.
"Are you saying you're a better pirate then Captain Jack Sparrow?" He asked, and Ana-Marie smiled. Her arms looped up around his neck pulling him closer, her wrists pressed against each other behind his head. She curled her toes against the mattress, as his hand on her thigh pulled her up close around his waist.
"Maybe I am." She teased, her lips brushing the edge of his ear.
"Ah, well, that sounds like a challenge." He smiled as he kissed her, the memories brought up by the previous night banished by the first rays of the new day.
* * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Jack was asleep now, half sitting, his head bowed to his chest. Ana-Marie lay curled up next to him, feeling the rise and the fall of his breathe. Soon, the sun would rise, painting the ocean pink and red and then it would be another day. A day were she would Ana-Marie, the untouchable pirate wench.
Only here, in the darkness of her cabin, did she allow her doubts and worries to appear. She gazed down at her hands, the soft skin in the waning moonlight. To think she was twenty-nine, nearly thirty, was something she didn't like to remember. So many years passed in drunk in bars or gambling. So many opportunities to change, to make a good clean run for a legal life if she'd just bothered to look up.
But what life was there, other then the sea, for her?
And there was Jack. No matter how the years had passed, he still could bring out a side of her that she tried to forget existed. A side where love had a literal meaning, and was not just an abstract word for sex.
She would be lying to herself if she said she wanted to leave the Pearl. She might whinge and whine, and demand her own ship from time to time like Jack had promised, but the Pearl, and the chance to journey with Jack again, was an opportunity she didn't want to pass up. He was her connection to the world.
For the ten years after she lost the Portella, she was aimless. Not a friend in the world, not a person to belong to. No purpose, not like what had driven Jack, to reclaim the Pearl at whatever cost.
She traced Jack's face with her eyes, the beard with those silly plaits, the charm beaded braid her wore down one side of his face, the red scarf tied across he dreadlock hair, the smudged kohl around his eyes.
All of it was an illusion.
Accessories, and glamour he'd picked up along the way. This façade that made him the infamous Jack Sparrow, the crazy outfit intended to instil fear.
She imagined wiping it all away, smoothing the skin, shaving the beard and washing the hair until it was soft again. She imagined running her fingers across the scars on his chest, across the branded P and her own brand she placed on him so many years ago, her Sparrow tattoo. Taking away his affects, his hat and his gun, his rings and his beads.
She wondered if she'd find John Jackson under there, the boy she'd moulded into the man next to her.
But she knew she wouldn't. Even without the affects and the jazzy charm, he would be Jack Sparrow. He was Jack Sparrow through and through now, and she couldn't change that. Maybe she shouldn't want to. She loved the man next to her, loved what he had become and who he'd been.
Her hands rested again on his chest, and she closed her eyes, relinquishing to sleep. She worried, that was all. She had given him a new name, a new identity, a new purpose and love. She'd given him everything she'd had to offer.
And she wondered what he would be like if she hadn't.
Maybe they both wouldn't have spent the last ten years gazing longingly at a horizon they couldn't have.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Come on Jackie, Jackie, time to wake up," Ana-Marie whispered. She had taken of her trews during the night, and was in the process of pulling them back on. The first touch of dawn was on the horizon, as was a land mass.
"No, why would you do that? Why? Why name the monkey after me? No, it's, not the monkey, no." Jack Sparrow moaned into the pillow. Then he started, holding his head a few inches above the pillow, his eyes wide and startled. Then he rolled over, remembered his surroundings, and relaxed back on the pillow.
Ana-Marie had to stop herself laughing. In all the times they'd shared a bed, she'd never known him once to wake up any other way.
"What was that about a monkey Jack?" Ana-Marie asked innocently. Jack blinked his eyelids in mock innocence.
"I have no idea what you're talking about luv."
"Ah huh. You've smudged eyeliner all over my pillow." Ana-Marie said, tossing him a mirror. He checked his eye make up carefully, scowling at his beard.
"Ah well can't be helped." He muttered. He leant back against the pillow smiling, watching Ana-Marie tidy her hair. "You know luv, I think that's the first time I've shared a bed with a woman and just slept."
"I know." Ana-Marie said. "I couldn't believe it either. Never thought you the type to pass out in a lasses bed." Jack noticed the empty rum bottle and grimaced.
"Well, you didn't seem that interested." Jack replied, watching her move. Ana-Marie smiled, standing over him.
"Ah, but I was just becoming interested." She said silkily.
"Were you now, lassie?" He grinned. He raised an eyebrow, and she raised one in return. "Well that's interesting."
"Is it now Jack?" Ana-Marie said, straddling Jack on the bed. He placed his hands on her hips as she bent down to kiss him. Her hair formed a veil over the two of them, and he moved his hand up to the back of her head, pushing himself up to sitting. Then he flipped her over in one fluid motion, so that she lay beneath him.
"Is very interesting." He growled. She laughed when he started to kiss her neck, his beard tickling her. He gave her a reproachful look before resuming what he was doing.
"Oh you devilish Pirate you, stop manhandling me so," Ana-Marie said in a mocking high voice (speaking in the tongues of all Mary-Sues). Whatever Jack said into her neck was pronounceable rude and unprintable.
He ran his hand up her thigh, cursing and thanking the trews all at once. On the upside, the was so much less material in the way, no skirts to get lost in, and he could feel ever line of her legs through the thin material. On the downside, it was much more difficult to reach his goal. So much easier with a skirt, to just slide his hand upwards towards her.what was it Turner had called it? Her inner pearl.
Sparrow laughed again. Ana-Marie swatting the side of his head, as he had stopped his giving her neck his full attention while recalling that tiny bit of information. She pushed him up to sitting, her sailor hands up doing the buttons of his shirt, sliding the material off his shoulders. She lifted the white undershirt off two, revealing the tanned skin beneath it.
She ran her hand across the tattoo of a snake wrapped around a sword just above his left nipple, and the scar that ran down his side. She unravelled the red scarf from around his head, her hands touching the clanging beads on the side of his head softly.
As careful as she had been, he slowly unbuttoned her shirt, until she lay exposed in the early morning light. He kissed her incredulously, his hands running over her unmarked skin. He paused at her wrist, as she had done at his. There was no P sign there.
"I never got court." Ana-Marie gloated. Jack Sparrow stared down at her momentarily his eyes for once clear, unknown thoughts passing through his mind. Then he broke into his characteristic smile.
"Are you saying you're a better pirate then Captain Jack Sparrow?" He asked, and Ana-Marie smiled. Her arms looped up around his neck pulling him closer, her wrists pressed against each other behind his head. She curled her toes against the mattress, as his hand on her thigh pulled her up close around his waist.
"Maybe I am." She teased, her lips brushing the edge of his ear.
"Ah, well, that sounds like a challenge." He smiled as he kissed her, the memories brought up by the previous night banished by the first rays of the new day.
* * * * * * * * * * *