AN: Wow, I'm stoked by all the reviews. Keep 'em coming!
-------------------------------------------------------
Annamaria fought desperately to quell the rising bubble of laughter that threatened to burst her open. She didn't dare look at Jack, for that would start her off and she didn't know whether she could stop. Staggering around the cell, she tried scraping her hands against the walls to take her mind off the crazy image in front of her, but it didn't work. Jack watched her facial contortions with an ambivalent feeling. All right, so he was bound to look strange, all dressed up in the chaplain's robes. Perhaps it was the hair. Yes, the hair was probably a bit much. He marched over to the quivering, rocking Annamaria and gave her a look down his nose. It couldn't stop her from choking with laughter.
"Do I look funny to you?" he demanded with a dangerous look.
Annamaria gasped, "Yes," and lost it. She couldn't see anything; the tears were streaming down her face. Jack gave a sympathetic snort - it was impossible not to, really, the whole thing was absurd - and they laughed until Annamaria stopped and began to hiccup. She reached up and pulled out the string that was holding her hair tied back off her face.
"I think you need this more than I - hic! - do," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand "Tie your hair back with this, and put his wig over the top."
Jack went over to the corner where he and Annamaria had dragged the still unconscious minister, and pulled his wig off his head. Underneath, the chaplain's hair was a mousy brown colour, and they were surprised to see how young he looked without the white wig on.
"Fashions of the time age you a bit, don't they, luv," Jack commented. "Lucky you and I don't go in for high society, eh?" He was tying back his hair with the string while he spoke, and finished by plopping the wig jauntily on top, at an angle. Annamaria sighed impatiently.
"Let me..." she said, reaching up to tuck in all the odd bits of hair and beads that threatened to ruin the effectiveness of Jack's get-up. It was impossible not to look into Jack's eyes while she did this, and he unnerved her by saying nothing and simply looking back at her while she fixed his appearance. She stepped back to admire her handiwork, and giggled again, partially to fill the awkward silence but also because he was such a spectacle. The wig had definitely improved matters, Jack looked older and wiser, but...he just looked too exotic for a clergyman, and Annamaria said so.
"It's the moustache, isn't it luv," he said with a frown. "Perhaps I could be a Spanish priest, but then I'd still face being stuck in gaol with the bloody English overlords wouldn't I...I could do French, I had a first mate who was a frog once. 'E zpoke laike zis," and with that he minced over to Annamaria.
"Or you could shave it and the beard off," she said, "since you could always grow them back again."
"Shave it off?!" Jack was flabbergasted. No one had ever suggested that to him, and Annamaria felt it was high time someone had. Who would ever think of plaiting a beard into two anyway, except the man standing in front of her? Nevertheless, Jack retorted with, "And what relation exactly are you to be to me? Sister, wife, second cousin twice removed?"
"How long are we going to have to play our parts?" Annamaria asked, surprised. She'd just assumed that once they got out of the gaol, they'd go their separate ways and never see each other again.
"Luv, they wanted to hang us both. How safe d'you think Port Royale's going to be with Captain Norrington and his band of merry men on our tails?"
"So we leave." Annamaria replied. "But how?"
"I'm a pirate. Guess how."
She said thoughtfully, looking down at the priest at their feet, "I'll have to become a pirate too, I suppose. From thief to pirate."
"It's a step up. If you think the way I do, and it's a lot more fun when you do." Jack said, watching her closely. She'd be a good pirate - thought quickly on her feet, improvised rapidly - but it was probably a big step to get her head around it at first. Petty theft was nothing to commandeering a ship. "So, what are you to me? For the next few days at least."
Annamaria thought she'd have a little fun with Jack - pay him back for staring at her earlier. So she stepped over the body of the chaplain, suppressing the regret she felt for causing the egg-sized lump on his head, and stood so close to Jack that he could feel her breath on his face. She stood up so that her mouth was close to his ear, and whispered, "I'll be your wife, of course."
Jack tilted his head, clearly interested. "Of course, why?"
"Because," she said backing away, "we look absolutely nothing alike, so there is no way we could be brother and sister." She reached down and prised the keys out of the unconscious minister's hand, and swung them around her fingers. "Now, are we escaping, or are we going to stay here forever working out our story?"
"Right," Jack said firmly, "for that I'm making your name be Philomena."
"You wouldn't dare -" Annamaria spluttered..."Habakkuk."
They stole out of the cell, locking the door from the outside and then tossing the keys out the window. Annamaria was about to suggest that they put the keys back through the bars into the cell so that the chaplain could let himself out when he awoke, but bit it back. The later he raised the hue and cry after them, the better. Going up the stairs was dicey, the stones slippery and mossy.
"Terrible rising damp in these cells," Jack winked at Annamaria, "and they haven't fixed it since last time I was here." Then he winced as she hit his upper arm, supposing the subtle message was to be quiet.
They were being careful to not wake the gaoler, who had fallen asleep - with his fly mercifully done up - with half a tankard of rum spilled down his front. It was unlikely he'd wake up, considering the relative strength of that particular brand of rum, which Annamaria once again reminded herself emphatically NOT to steal again. Still, some caution was necessary, and they made it outside the gaol without a hitch. The early morning sunrise were providing the first gleams of light in the dark grey sky. Once in the street and far enough from the gaol to be of no suspicion, they turned to each other.
"Meet back here in a quarter of an hour or so," Annamaria ordered.
Jack smiled, the sun sparking on his gold teeth. "Why? What am I meant to do?"
"I'm going to steal a dress fitting for the wife of a clergyman. You can steal a razor and a mirror, and fix up your face." She turned and went down a side alley.
Jack stood in the street, staring after her retreating back. He shrugged his shoulders, and swaggered off in the opposite direction. If someone had been standing next to him, they might well have heard him muttering something about 'a ball and a chain already, and I've only been married five minutes'.
-------------------------------------------------------
Annamaria fought desperately to quell the rising bubble of laughter that threatened to burst her open. She didn't dare look at Jack, for that would start her off and she didn't know whether she could stop. Staggering around the cell, she tried scraping her hands against the walls to take her mind off the crazy image in front of her, but it didn't work. Jack watched her facial contortions with an ambivalent feeling. All right, so he was bound to look strange, all dressed up in the chaplain's robes. Perhaps it was the hair. Yes, the hair was probably a bit much. He marched over to the quivering, rocking Annamaria and gave her a look down his nose. It couldn't stop her from choking with laughter.
"Do I look funny to you?" he demanded with a dangerous look.
Annamaria gasped, "Yes," and lost it. She couldn't see anything; the tears were streaming down her face. Jack gave a sympathetic snort - it was impossible not to, really, the whole thing was absurd - and they laughed until Annamaria stopped and began to hiccup. She reached up and pulled out the string that was holding her hair tied back off her face.
"I think you need this more than I - hic! - do," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand "Tie your hair back with this, and put his wig over the top."
Jack went over to the corner where he and Annamaria had dragged the still unconscious minister, and pulled his wig off his head. Underneath, the chaplain's hair was a mousy brown colour, and they were surprised to see how young he looked without the white wig on.
"Fashions of the time age you a bit, don't they, luv," Jack commented. "Lucky you and I don't go in for high society, eh?" He was tying back his hair with the string while he spoke, and finished by plopping the wig jauntily on top, at an angle. Annamaria sighed impatiently.
"Let me..." she said, reaching up to tuck in all the odd bits of hair and beads that threatened to ruin the effectiveness of Jack's get-up. It was impossible not to look into Jack's eyes while she did this, and he unnerved her by saying nothing and simply looking back at her while she fixed his appearance. She stepped back to admire her handiwork, and giggled again, partially to fill the awkward silence but also because he was such a spectacle. The wig had definitely improved matters, Jack looked older and wiser, but...he just looked too exotic for a clergyman, and Annamaria said so.
"It's the moustache, isn't it luv," he said with a frown. "Perhaps I could be a Spanish priest, but then I'd still face being stuck in gaol with the bloody English overlords wouldn't I...I could do French, I had a first mate who was a frog once. 'E zpoke laike zis," and with that he minced over to Annamaria.
"Or you could shave it and the beard off," she said, "since you could always grow them back again."
"Shave it off?!" Jack was flabbergasted. No one had ever suggested that to him, and Annamaria felt it was high time someone had. Who would ever think of plaiting a beard into two anyway, except the man standing in front of her? Nevertheless, Jack retorted with, "And what relation exactly are you to be to me? Sister, wife, second cousin twice removed?"
"How long are we going to have to play our parts?" Annamaria asked, surprised. She'd just assumed that once they got out of the gaol, they'd go their separate ways and never see each other again.
"Luv, they wanted to hang us both. How safe d'you think Port Royale's going to be with Captain Norrington and his band of merry men on our tails?"
"So we leave." Annamaria replied. "But how?"
"I'm a pirate. Guess how."
She said thoughtfully, looking down at the priest at their feet, "I'll have to become a pirate too, I suppose. From thief to pirate."
"It's a step up. If you think the way I do, and it's a lot more fun when you do." Jack said, watching her closely. She'd be a good pirate - thought quickly on her feet, improvised rapidly - but it was probably a big step to get her head around it at first. Petty theft was nothing to commandeering a ship. "So, what are you to me? For the next few days at least."
Annamaria thought she'd have a little fun with Jack - pay him back for staring at her earlier. So she stepped over the body of the chaplain, suppressing the regret she felt for causing the egg-sized lump on his head, and stood so close to Jack that he could feel her breath on his face. She stood up so that her mouth was close to his ear, and whispered, "I'll be your wife, of course."
Jack tilted his head, clearly interested. "Of course, why?"
"Because," she said backing away, "we look absolutely nothing alike, so there is no way we could be brother and sister." She reached down and prised the keys out of the unconscious minister's hand, and swung them around her fingers. "Now, are we escaping, or are we going to stay here forever working out our story?"
"Right," Jack said firmly, "for that I'm making your name be Philomena."
"You wouldn't dare -" Annamaria spluttered..."Habakkuk."
They stole out of the cell, locking the door from the outside and then tossing the keys out the window. Annamaria was about to suggest that they put the keys back through the bars into the cell so that the chaplain could let himself out when he awoke, but bit it back. The later he raised the hue and cry after them, the better. Going up the stairs was dicey, the stones slippery and mossy.
"Terrible rising damp in these cells," Jack winked at Annamaria, "and they haven't fixed it since last time I was here." Then he winced as she hit his upper arm, supposing the subtle message was to be quiet.
They were being careful to not wake the gaoler, who had fallen asleep - with his fly mercifully done up - with half a tankard of rum spilled down his front. It was unlikely he'd wake up, considering the relative strength of that particular brand of rum, which Annamaria once again reminded herself emphatically NOT to steal again. Still, some caution was necessary, and they made it outside the gaol without a hitch. The early morning sunrise were providing the first gleams of light in the dark grey sky. Once in the street and far enough from the gaol to be of no suspicion, they turned to each other.
"Meet back here in a quarter of an hour or so," Annamaria ordered.
Jack smiled, the sun sparking on his gold teeth. "Why? What am I meant to do?"
"I'm going to steal a dress fitting for the wife of a clergyman. You can steal a razor and a mirror, and fix up your face." She turned and went down a side alley.
Jack stood in the street, staring after her retreating back. He shrugged his shoulders, and swaggered off in the opposite direction. If someone had been standing next to him, they might well have heard him muttering something about 'a ball and a chain already, and I've only been married five minutes'.