Chapter 12
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*****
I awoke at dawn the next morning. Not by choice; I would rather have
snoozed in Jack's arms for as long as was humanly possible, but the bright light
of the Caribbean sunrise wouldn't let me sleep. I slowly opened my bleary eyes,
and smiled when the first thing I saw was Jack's bare chest, the tan skin and
multiple tattoos glowing in the morning light. I lifted my head from where it
rested on his stomach and looked out at the ocean over the remains of our
bonfire. The sunrise was magnificent; rose pink clouds shot with yellow, like a
vein of gold ore in a ruby matrix. It occurred to me that nothing was ever pale or
half-hearted in the Caribbean: every day was good enough to be the last day on
Earth, and every facet of the world seemed to rejoice as if simply being alive was
cause for celebration. My smile turned wistful as my eyes returned to Jack where
he lay sprawled in my arms on top of the soft red blanket. Despite his eccentric
appearance, he seemed to fit effortlessly into the scene, as if there was nowhere
else on Earth he could ever be. As I gazed on his face, I realized with an odd
feeling in my stomach that I loved him. It wasn't the sort of love that most people
speak of, the possessive type of love that compels people to get married and
settle down, but the love that loves only life itself. I loved him as I loved the
sunrise: as something beautiful, unique, and wonderful in every way, but no
more mine than the sea that lapped against the sand. With this thought his eyes
flickered open, and he smiled when he noticed me staring at him.
"Mornin' love. What gets ye up so early?" I snorted into his stomach.
" Well, it could be the fact that it's brighter out here than London on New
Year's Eve."
"That could be it," he agreed amiably, accenting his speech with a few
well-timed hand gestures. I grinned and sat up, brushing my tangled hair back
with my hands. I let my eyes roam over Jack, lingering especially on the various
well-drawn (and not-so-well-drawn) tattoos that were scattered haphazardly
over his body. Jack smirked and put his arms behind his head, looking
completely at ease despite the fact that neither of us was wearing so much as a
sock. I lowered my hand to the tattoo of a diamond that lay just below his
ribcage and rubbed it gently with my fingertips.
"Jack, tell me about these tattoos?"
"Mmmm?" he asked. I looked up to see him staring at my chest, his eyes
slightly glazed. I snapped my fingers in front of his face.
"Up here, Jack. Your tattoos. Why, when, where, who, how."
"Yeh forgot what."
"I can see 'what' for myself. I was wondering about the rest of it."
"They're souvenirs, as it were," he said, looking down at his chest himself
and pointing as he explained. "This diamond 'ere's to commemorate when I
commandeered a dumpy little junk from Peking only teh find a bloody mountain
of gems belowdecks. Good day, that." I wiped treasure-induced drool from my
mouth as he continued, pointing at a complicated twisting pattern on the inside
of his left arm.
"This little swirly was given teh me by some sort of cult in Panama. I
sailed in one night teh see what sort of treasure was to be 'ad, an' they mistook
me fer a new convert an' slapped this on me arm. Pretty enough, though, isn' it?"
I murmured my agreement, tracing my finger around a small, red rose tattoo on
his right pectoral.
"What about this one?" I asked, tapping it. Jack looked down, then gave
me an abashed, slightly nervous smile.
"Well, that's.um.that one was from.there was this girl, ye see, in Port
Elizabeth.an'." I grinned.
"I get the picture, Jack. And I'm not going to slap you," I added, because
he'd been wincing slightly whenever I moved. "I don't begrudge you your
'pleasurable company.'" My fingers moved from the rose and meandered their
way down his chest.
"When you get back to Tortuga," I said softly, staring wistfully at the
expanse of unadorned skin on his stomach, "will you get one done for me?"
Jack's warm hand found my unoccupied one and gave it a squeeze.
"Surely, love. I'll even let ye pick. What, an' where?" I contemplated this
for a moment, running my eyes up and down the grinning pirate in front of me.
"An eight-pointed star," I said finally, leaning over him and putting my
hand on his solar plexus, "Here." He wrapped his arms around me, running one
hand through my hair and the other down my spine.
"A star it is, love. Any particular reason?" I shrugged, and relaxed my
head against his chest.
"Not really. I just think it would look nice there. I'd offer to let you pick a
tattoo for me, but I no one will give me one until I'm eighteen." Jack looked
thoughtful.
"Last time I was in Tortuga, I watched ol' Ned when he did 'is little
drawin's. It looked pretty easy, jest needles an' ink. If ye like, I could give it a
go."
"Can you draw?" I asked, a little skeptical.
"Sure I can. I can write, can't I?" I laughed.
"Go ahead then. I have a sewing kit back at the cabin, there ought to be
some needles in there." I was still doubtful about his artistic ability, but even if
the tattoo turned out to be a blotch of ink it would still be Jack's blotch of ink. I
snuggled up closer to his warm body, turning my face to gaze at the sunrise.
A/N: For those of you who aren't gemologically inclined, when I referred to 'gold ore in a ruby matrix' I meant a vein of gold in a big chunk of ruby crystal. Just so you know. ^_^ Oh, and for the record, I don't recommend unprofessional tattoos. So if this story does inspire you get one and it turns out badly, don't say I didn't warn you. Now go ahead and review, and I'll blow off studying to write the next chapter. Did that last time, but I aced the test anyway.so review! ^_~
I awoke at dawn the next morning. Not by choice; I would rather have
snoozed in Jack's arms for as long as was humanly possible, but the bright light
of the Caribbean sunrise wouldn't let me sleep. I slowly opened my bleary eyes,
and smiled when the first thing I saw was Jack's bare chest, the tan skin and
multiple tattoos glowing in the morning light. I lifted my head from where it
rested on his stomach and looked out at the ocean over the remains of our
bonfire. The sunrise was magnificent; rose pink clouds shot with yellow, like a
vein of gold ore in a ruby matrix. It occurred to me that nothing was ever pale or
half-hearted in the Caribbean: every day was good enough to be the last day on
Earth, and every facet of the world seemed to rejoice as if simply being alive was
cause for celebration. My smile turned wistful as my eyes returned to Jack where
he lay sprawled in my arms on top of the soft red blanket. Despite his eccentric
appearance, he seemed to fit effortlessly into the scene, as if there was nowhere
else on Earth he could ever be. As I gazed on his face, I realized with an odd
feeling in my stomach that I loved him. It wasn't the sort of love that most people
speak of, the possessive type of love that compels people to get married and
settle down, but the love that loves only life itself. I loved him as I loved the
sunrise: as something beautiful, unique, and wonderful in every way, but no
more mine than the sea that lapped against the sand. With this thought his eyes
flickered open, and he smiled when he noticed me staring at him.
"Mornin' love. What gets ye up so early?" I snorted into his stomach.
" Well, it could be the fact that it's brighter out here than London on New
Year's Eve."
"That could be it," he agreed amiably, accenting his speech with a few
well-timed hand gestures. I grinned and sat up, brushing my tangled hair back
with my hands. I let my eyes roam over Jack, lingering especially on the various
well-drawn (and not-so-well-drawn) tattoos that were scattered haphazardly
over his body. Jack smirked and put his arms behind his head, looking
completely at ease despite the fact that neither of us was wearing so much as a
sock. I lowered my hand to the tattoo of a diamond that lay just below his
ribcage and rubbed it gently with my fingertips.
"Jack, tell me about these tattoos?"
"Mmmm?" he asked. I looked up to see him staring at my chest, his eyes
slightly glazed. I snapped my fingers in front of his face.
"Up here, Jack. Your tattoos. Why, when, where, who, how."
"Yeh forgot what."
"I can see 'what' for myself. I was wondering about the rest of it."
"They're souvenirs, as it were," he said, looking down at his chest himself
and pointing as he explained. "This diamond 'ere's to commemorate when I
commandeered a dumpy little junk from Peking only teh find a bloody mountain
of gems belowdecks. Good day, that." I wiped treasure-induced drool from my
mouth as he continued, pointing at a complicated twisting pattern on the inside
of his left arm.
"This little swirly was given teh me by some sort of cult in Panama. I
sailed in one night teh see what sort of treasure was to be 'ad, an' they mistook
me fer a new convert an' slapped this on me arm. Pretty enough, though, isn' it?"
I murmured my agreement, tracing my finger around a small, red rose tattoo on
his right pectoral.
"What about this one?" I asked, tapping it. Jack looked down, then gave
me an abashed, slightly nervous smile.
"Well, that's.um.that one was from.there was this girl, ye see, in Port
Elizabeth.an'." I grinned.
"I get the picture, Jack. And I'm not going to slap you," I added, because
he'd been wincing slightly whenever I moved. "I don't begrudge you your
'pleasurable company.'" My fingers moved from the rose and meandered their
way down his chest.
"When you get back to Tortuga," I said softly, staring wistfully at the
expanse of unadorned skin on his stomach, "will you get one done for me?"
Jack's warm hand found my unoccupied one and gave it a squeeze.
"Surely, love. I'll even let ye pick. What, an' where?" I contemplated this
for a moment, running my eyes up and down the grinning pirate in front of me.
"An eight-pointed star," I said finally, leaning over him and putting my
hand on his solar plexus, "Here." He wrapped his arms around me, running one
hand through my hair and the other down my spine.
"A star it is, love. Any particular reason?" I shrugged, and relaxed my
head against his chest.
"Not really. I just think it would look nice there. I'd offer to let you pick a
tattoo for me, but I no one will give me one until I'm eighteen." Jack looked
thoughtful.
"Last time I was in Tortuga, I watched ol' Ned when he did 'is little
drawin's. It looked pretty easy, jest needles an' ink. If ye like, I could give it a
go."
"Can you draw?" I asked, a little skeptical.
"Sure I can. I can write, can't I?" I laughed.
"Go ahead then. I have a sewing kit back at the cabin, there ought to be
some needles in there." I was still doubtful about his artistic ability, but even if
the tattoo turned out to be a blotch of ink it would still be Jack's blotch of ink. I
snuggled up closer to his warm body, turning my face to gaze at the sunrise.
A/N: For those of you who aren't gemologically inclined, when I referred to 'gold ore in a ruby matrix' I meant a vein of gold in a big chunk of ruby crystal. Just so you know. ^_^ Oh, and for the record, I don't recommend unprofessional tattoos. So if this story does inspire you get one and it turns out badly, don't say I didn't warn you. Now go ahead and review, and I'll blow off studying to write the next chapter. Did that last time, but I aced the test anyway.so review! ^_~