I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts, deedledee.......
Chapter 8
To Die for Love
Jack sighed. He was exhausted.
He was back in Port Royal, in Tara's small apartment room. This time, she was in the bed, her eyes closed, chest moving slowly up and down as she breathed.
Tara hadn't woken up since he and Will had moved her to the other ship three days ago. He remembered how scared Will had looked, helping support her as they carried her motionless body across the ship.
Jack sat in the rickety chair beside her and put his hands over his face as he thought back to what had happened after that.
It had taken two days just to get back to Port Royal.
Jack had worked furiously with the crew in his efforts to get back to port, but he was unable to put his all into it. His mind was below deck with Tara.
The thoughts that the one woman he had ever loved was dying below his feet while he was tying knots and steering a ship had torn him apart. It had taken all his strength not to just sit with her and hold her. But doing that would have made the journey home take longer, so Jack had worked relentlessly for two days before pulling the ship into the harbor.
He had carried her to her apartment while Will called for the doctor that lived down the hall.
After dressing her wound, the doctor had admitted to Jack that it didn't look good. Tara had lost a lot of blood, and if she didn't wake up soon, she probably wouldn't wake up at all.
Jack blinked furiously. What was going on? Jack Sparrow-no-Captain Jack Sparrow didn't cry. Even if his lover was-
There was a knock on the door. Jack rubbed his eyes.
"Come in," he grumbled.
Will entered. He was carrying a half-empty bottle of rum and a small bread loaf.
"Elizabeth thought you might be hungry. And," Will shook the bottle at Jack. "She doesn't know about this. It's not much. Elizabeth has practically outlawed alcohol within a five-mile radius of her ever since she met you, so I had to hide this in the shop."
Jack shook his head.
"Nah. I'm fine," he said, his eyes still on Tara's face.
Will pulled up another chair and sat down in it beside his friend.
"Jack," he said, resting his hand on Jack's shoulder. "You've got to eat and get some rest. If Tara wakes up and sees you like this, she'll black right out again."
Jack reached out his hand and stroked Tara's velvet cheek. It was still warm, but still pale. Then he ran his fingers through her crimson hair.
"Why did she become a prostitute, Will?" He asked suddenly.
"Why does any woman become a prostitute?" Will replied, looking at her too. "She's beautiful and needed money. She couldn't get a job anywhere else because of Barbossa. But when you're a prostitute, people don't really care who your father was."
Jack suddenly got to his feet.
Will jumped and stopped talking in surprise.
Jack started to pace around, digging his fingers in his hair. Then he started to speak. Normal at first, but growing louder and angrier as he went:
"This is all my fault. If I hadn't gotten drunk and had my money stolen by that stupid bastard, I would have never met Tara, and Tara wouldn't be in this bed, dying!"
Will got to his feet and stared intently at Jack.
"You're right," he said. "Tara wouldn't be dying. She'd be dead. And I believe that she prefers it this way."
Jack looked as though he wanted to strangle Will.
"Why in the hell would you say that? If she might die anyway-"
"She'll die knowing you love her," Will cut in, sitting in Jack's seat. "I've known Tara a lot longer than you, Jack. And I know that the only thing she's ever wanted more than anything is to be loved. I bet that's why she didn't want you to know she was a prostitute or that her father was Barbossa. She wanted you to know her for who she really is, not what society has named her. And she's always been willing to die for that."
Will stood up, gave Jack's shoulder a squeeze, and left the room.
Jack sighed, and went again to sit next to Tara as she slept.
Now, that was short. Hmmm.
Just a quick reminder, set in math form for all you geniuses out there:
Chapter + Review = ANOTHER CHAPTER!!!
Wheeeee!
Chapter 8
To Die for Love
Jack sighed. He was exhausted.
He was back in Port Royal, in Tara's small apartment room. This time, she was in the bed, her eyes closed, chest moving slowly up and down as she breathed.
Tara hadn't woken up since he and Will had moved her to the other ship three days ago. He remembered how scared Will had looked, helping support her as they carried her motionless body across the ship.
Jack sat in the rickety chair beside her and put his hands over his face as he thought back to what had happened after that.
It had taken two days just to get back to Port Royal.
Jack had worked furiously with the crew in his efforts to get back to port, but he was unable to put his all into it. His mind was below deck with Tara.
The thoughts that the one woman he had ever loved was dying below his feet while he was tying knots and steering a ship had torn him apart. It had taken all his strength not to just sit with her and hold her. But doing that would have made the journey home take longer, so Jack had worked relentlessly for two days before pulling the ship into the harbor.
He had carried her to her apartment while Will called for the doctor that lived down the hall.
After dressing her wound, the doctor had admitted to Jack that it didn't look good. Tara had lost a lot of blood, and if she didn't wake up soon, she probably wouldn't wake up at all.
Jack blinked furiously. What was going on? Jack Sparrow-no-Captain Jack Sparrow didn't cry. Even if his lover was-
There was a knock on the door. Jack rubbed his eyes.
"Come in," he grumbled.
Will entered. He was carrying a half-empty bottle of rum and a small bread loaf.
"Elizabeth thought you might be hungry. And," Will shook the bottle at Jack. "She doesn't know about this. It's not much. Elizabeth has practically outlawed alcohol within a five-mile radius of her ever since she met you, so I had to hide this in the shop."
Jack shook his head.
"Nah. I'm fine," he said, his eyes still on Tara's face.
Will pulled up another chair and sat down in it beside his friend.
"Jack," he said, resting his hand on Jack's shoulder. "You've got to eat and get some rest. If Tara wakes up and sees you like this, she'll black right out again."
Jack reached out his hand and stroked Tara's velvet cheek. It was still warm, but still pale. Then he ran his fingers through her crimson hair.
"Why did she become a prostitute, Will?" He asked suddenly.
"Why does any woman become a prostitute?" Will replied, looking at her too. "She's beautiful and needed money. She couldn't get a job anywhere else because of Barbossa. But when you're a prostitute, people don't really care who your father was."
Jack suddenly got to his feet.
Will jumped and stopped talking in surprise.
Jack started to pace around, digging his fingers in his hair. Then he started to speak. Normal at first, but growing louder and angrier as he went:
"This is all my fault. If I hadn't gotten drunk and had my money stolen by that stupid bastard, I would have never met Tara, and Tara wouldn't be in this bed, dying!"
Will got to his feet and stared intently at Jack.
"You're right," he said. "Tara wouldn't be dying. She'd be dead. And I believe that she prefers it this way."
Jack looked as though he wanted to strangle Will.
"Why in the hell would you say that? If she might die anyway-"
"She'll die knowing you love her," Will cut in, sitting in Jack's seat. "I've known Tara a lot longer than you, Jack. And I know that the only thing she's ever wanted more than anything is to be loved. I bet that's why she didn't want you to know she was a prostitute or that her father was Barbossa. She wanted you to know her for who she really is, not what society has named her. And she's always been willing to die for that."
Will stood up, gave Jack's shoulder a squeeze, and left the room.
Jack sighed, and went again to sit next to Tara as she slept.
Now, that was short. Hmmm.
Just a quick reminder, set in math form for all you geniuses out there:
Chapter + Review = ANOTHER CHAPTER!!!
Wheeeee!