AN: Thanks again to The Prima Donna for beta-reading!
Part Three: Helene Ffoulkes
Captain Jack Sparrow found himself looking into two bright hazel eyes and pressed against a slight feminine form.
"Follow me," her warm breath whispered in his ear.
She slipped out of the doorway and the moonlight caught her face as she turned back to him. Jack recognised the girl he'd rescued from the three thugs in The Drunken Tortoise earlier. He cocked his head and smiled slightly, before stepping down into the street after her.
The girl quickly led him past the front of the house and into another alleyway.
"There he is!" a gruff voice cried, and three sets of boots changed direction.
Jack and the girl broke into a run, a bullet narrowly missing both of them.
Fortunately, the girl knew the streets a lot better than Jack's pursuers and she was able to take him on a crazy and fast route through the maze of dark alleys. The pirate captain was soon utterly lost and couldn't even of pointed to the general direction of the coast, all he could do was trust the girl and run like hell. Jack and the girl were a lot nimbler and smaller than the heavies that crashed after them, which was to their advantage in the winding streets and sharp turns.
When the thudding sounds ceased to follow them, Jack and the girl stopped in the deep shadows beneath a tree and strained their ears. Over the sound of their own panting breaths, they managed to make out the cursing of the men and the heavy steps heading further away from them.
The girl touched Jack's arm to gain his attention and then led him through the streets again, this time at a slower, silent pace. She took him to the very outskirts of the town to a house, which hadn't been whitewashed for a long time. Passing between an overgrown bush and the side of the building, they came to a tiny cobbled courtyard coated with straggly weeds. Jack followed the girl up wooden steps that climbed up the wall to a balcony.
She slid a key into the lock of the peeling wooden door, while Jack stood at the edge of the balcony and kept a sharp eye out for the three men. Nothing moved in the darkness of the outermost streets, save for scavenging four-legged creatures. The night air had an uncomfortable chill without the heat of the torches and lively people that crowded the busy parts of the town.
An increasing throbbing pain brought Jack's attention to the wound he'd received from Le Fey's dagger. Jack pulled his coat back and revealed a growing dark patch on his shirt. He could feel sticky, hot blood running down his arm.
"You're hurt."
Jack looked up to see the girl watching him with concern.
"Not much," the pirate captain assured. He clamped his left hand over the cut and winced at the sharp complaint the pressure caused.
"Come on," Helene instructed, pointing to the now open door. "I'll clean it up for you."
Jack flashed her a quick gold-capped grin, his eyes bright in the moonlight. "Aye, m'lady."
The pirate captain stepped into a relatively spacious room, which must have taken up a third of the top floor of the house. However, it was sparsely furnished and the girl's only room. Everything was clean and neat, but all showed sign of being short in the wealth department: frayed thin curtains hung at the sole window, a tattered rug lay on the floor beside the bed, no pictures decorated the unpainted walls and the limited furniture was rickety and old.
"Sit," Helene ordered, shutting the door and gesturing towards the single chair that stood with a table roughly in the centre of the room.
Jack obligingly slipped off his coat and sat down. He leant back and watched the girl as she lit the wood-burning stove beside the bolted door that led to the rest of the house. The fire brightened the room with golden light and the air began to lose its chill.
"What's your name, love?" Jack asked, as the girl approached him to place a candle with a simple metal holder on the table.
"Helene Ffoulkes," the girl answered.
"Not many people have second names in Tortuga," he said, watching her cross the room and open a cupboard.
Helene poured some water from a jug into a tin bowl and then brought it to the table along with some white cloth and a bottle of rum.
"I've not been here long," she explained, approaching him.
"Well, thank you for rescuing me, Miss Ffoulkes," Jack said, smiling as she reached forward to unbuckle his sword.
"Just repaying the favour, Captain Sparrow," Helene replied, putting the sword on the table.
"So you've heard of me, eh?" His smile widened and he lay his pistol next to his blade.
"There's not a soul on this isle that hasn't heard the tales of the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow," she answered, waiting for him to remove his belt.
"Is that so?"
"Don't let it go to your head, Captain," she warned, a grin playing on her lips. "Not all of them's good."
Helene helped the pirate captain out of his long waistcoat and then pulled his shirt off over his head. For a moment, she admired the slender bare torso before her. Her lips parted ever so slightly, as she looked up to meet his warm brown eyes for a second. Then she flashed him a full grin and turned away to put his blooded shirt to soak in salt water.
She came back and perched herself on top of the table next to Jack. Pulling the tin bowl of water closer to her, she dipped a piece of the cloth into it. He then helpfully turned to give her easier access to the wound on his upper right arm.
Fresh blood ran freely down his arm over the top of that which had already dried. Helene wiped this away, washing out the cloth when it got too bloody, slowly making her way up to the bleeding cut. Then she carefully cleaned the wound itself, his muscles unwillingly tensing under her fingers, though he refused to let a wince cross his face or a sound pass his lips. With a wad of cloth, Helene applied pressure to stop the bleeding.
Captain Jack Sparrow was staring at the girl as she tended to his wound. The candlelight brought out the sun-streaks in her long brown hair, making it seem to be interlaced with gold. Her eyes were pretty green-brown pools behind their heavily blackened eyelashes. Underneath the garish red gloss, her lips were delicate and softly curved, and clear pale skin showed through the cracking coat of white she'd pasted over her face.
With his left hand, he dampened a clean cloth and reached up to tenderly wipe her face clean. Her eyes refused to look at him and she swallowed as if nervous, but she didn't move away. Lowering his hand, Jack looked down at the dirtied cloth and then up at the girl's pretty and clear face.
Helene finally met his gaze and answered the questioning in his compassionate eyes, "Life's a masquerade."
He remained silent, but his eyes showed his comprehension.
She released the pressure on his arm, doused the wound with rum and carefully placed a fresh cloth over the cut, binding it tight with another strip. Helene then lifted the bottle to her lips and took a large swig, before putting it back down and slipping off the table to clear up the blooded cloths.
Jack stood up and placed a light hand on her shoulder to stop her. Helene turned around, her body inches from his. He reached for the rum bottle behind her, took her hand in his and led her over to the rug beside the bed.
Jack lowered himself to the floor, resting his back against the bed and his arms on his drawn up knees. He pulled Helene down beside him, took a sip from the bottle and then passed it to her. She took a mouthful of the spirit and slid slightly closer to him.
"Is being a pirate a good life?" Helene asked, staring into the rum bottle.
"Depends on your definition of 'good', love."
"I mean…" She turned to face him. "You're not like a normal pirate, Jack."
"Am I not?" He looked down at the exposed P-shaped brand on his right forearm. "Others would tend to disagree with you."
"That's not what I mean. Jack, why are you a pirate?" She smirked. "What's in it for you?"
"Ah…" He took the rum from her and had a good drink. "Really it's quite simple."
She looked at him expectantly. However, he swallowed some more rum and a little too quickly, judging by the dizzy look that claimed his eyes until after he'd shut them tight for a few moments.
"You like to get one over Royal Navy?" Helene suggested.
"No, well, yes. But that's not the real reason." He passed the rum back to her. "Y'know I had a similar conversation with…" He trailed off, his face darkening. "But don't get me started about that damn island." He took the rum back off her and drank some more.
Helene snatched the bottle from him.
"So what is the real reason?" she persisted.
"Freedom."
She frowned. "You like escaping from the noose?"
"What?" Jack frowned back at her. "No, well, of course. I don't want to end up dead, do I? Helene, you're not getting it."
"Explain then."
"See…" Jack poised his hands in front of him. "See, whenever I want to wherever, I go. A ship…" he paused for dramatic effect, "is freedom."
"But a Navy captain has a ship."
"I'm not one to follow orders, love."
"I understand," Helene said, softly, and smiled almost sadly.
"You thinking of turning pirate?" Jack asked, looking at her strangely.
"No…no, I just…" She sipped the rum. "It's a nice dream. Being able to sail towards the horizon or wherever the wind takes you."
"Ah, you do understand."
"But the world doesn't give that kind of life easily. You were almost hung at Port Royal a couple of months ago. Death follows you like a shadow…"
"Love, you're getting very morbid." Jack frowned and shifted uncomfortably. "You're supposed to say it so I sound amazing and heroic."
"Sorry." Helene drank some more rum. "It's this place," she gestured with her empty hand, "this island. All anyone does here is drink their lives away." She looked down at the bottle in her hand, grunted and shoved it into Jack's.
The pirate captain slipped his left arm around her shoulders and she rested her head against his bare chest. They were silent for a few moments, taking it in turns to sip the rum.
"Funny ol' world," Jack muttered.
"Hmm."
He looked down at the girl and softly traced her jaw with a fingertip, then his gentle gaze slid down from her face to her neck to the quickening rise and fall of her chest. She turned and reached up to run a hand over his cheek, drawing his face closer to hers. Her lips hovered over his and he slid an encouraging hand around the back of her neck. She moved closer and her mouth met his.
Breaking apart from the deep kiss, Helene drew Jack up onto his feet and pulled loose the red and white striped cloth tied around his waist. As the cloth fell to the floor, she directed his hands to the ribbon that laced the front of her dress and together they fumbled until the bodice was undone. He reached down and tugged off his boots, loosing his balance due to haste and falling back onto the bed. Helene stood in front of him, slipping her unfastened dress off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Jack's eyes travelled appreciatively over her. He rose to his feet again to gently take her arms and pull her towards him.
Their lips met hungrily and then lust was all they knew.