Well, of course I'm sorry this has taken so damn long. Moved back to college, got into the swing of things, got back to writing, and wham-bang, my computer bombs out on me. Fabulous. She's up an' runnin' again, so I'm tackling this story and hoping to crank out my additions at a more reasonable pace – every two weeks or so, hopefully. That said, hope you're still reading, and hope you enjoy. Oh, and email me if you're interested in joining any fanfic groups.
Thanks to Nimue for excellent critique and for finding an appropriate solution to archiving dilemmas, and to Marion, for disliking Aveline and the interactions between Norrington and Fulbright, offending me in such a subtle fashion that I find myself forced to improve. The lieutenant-commander and our favorite commodore will be making an appearance in my next chapter, and character development is the name of the game. Your turn to clean the bathroom next week, wench.
And Katie? This dungbie's for you. wink
Quinn
Passions will part to a strange melody
As fires will sometimes burn cold
Like petals in the wind, we're puppets to the silver
Strings of souls, of changes…
Gordon Lightfoot, "Changes"
Captain Jack Sparrow was on edge.
After thoroughly reprimanding his newly acquired mistress the previous evening, he had watched her lapse into a period of timid obedience, her eyes perpetually downcast, her tone perpetually meek. 'Yes, Captain. As you wish, sir,' were her only words, except when she had firmly refused his offer of supper on the basis that she didn't 'want to be a burden,' before she climbed into bed for the night.
Having taken his dinner alone, Jack had headed up to the quarter deck to appeal to the retreating sun for help, but alas, his guiding light had been as evasive as Aveline, ducking below the edge of the earth as she had beneath the edge of his blanket, leaving the clueless captain with naught but a cask of rum to consult for advice. The amber brew had never failed him, and so, he sought his answer in the barrel. After hours of deliberation, they had arrived at a conclusion that seemed irrefutable:
She was up to something.
*Argh.*
He'd returned to his cabin then, having conspired with his good friend, rum, to rouse the girl from bed and, albeit drunkenly, demand an explanation. Stumbling over to the foot of the bed, he had reached forth to snatch the coverlet from atop her huddled form… and was stopped at once by a rather disturbing sound.
She was crying.
Rolling his eyes, Jack had groggily asked what her misery be, only to receive nary a response as she continued to sob, her face buried deep in the pillow beneath it. Growing angry with the nonsense, he'd reached down and given her foot a bit of a shake, then waited.
The crying stopped.
Jack had watched, stunned, as she rolled over onto her side and readjusted the pillow beneath her, emitting a soft sigh as she snuggled into a comfortable position, a sweet smile barely turning the corners of her mouth.
She hadn't awoken; she hadn't been awake.
And thus, Jack's inebriated mind came to realize: Aveline had been crying in her sleep.
Never, in all his years, had he witnessed something so subtly disquieting. He'd seen men lose arms, legs, eyes, ears, and other unmentionable appendages, but that was a violence even he could understand, being a pirate. The violence that could bring a grown woman to weep in her slumber, however, was one Jack thought he'd never be able to comprehend.
And now, he stood rooted at the helm, guiding his beloved ship en route to San Salvador, his eyes darting methodically to the woman in the black dress every few minutes. She lingered at the starboard side, peering over the edge as the Pearl shattered the crystal face of the Caribbean. Should he outright ask her? Nay, she'd be embarrassed, and she'd shun him all the more.
"Land ho!" came the cry from the crow's nest, and lifting his spyglass to one kohl-lined eye, Jack saw that, indeed, the first golden crest of San Salvador's sandy shore had manifested on the horizon.
"Captain Sparrow!"
The unmistakably female voice jarred him a bit, and he shifted the spyglass to watch as an enormous, distorted, and obviously miffed Aveline approached the helm. Taken aback by the outlandish image, he lowered the glass, and found Aveline to her usual small, correctly proportioned self, but no less agitated.
"Aye, love?"
"What land is this we're approaching?"
"San Salvador. We're stopping in order to acquire the bearings to Le Havre, as well as a navigator for a… special trip I'll be making upon our return to the Spanish Main."
She furrowed her perfectly shaped brows. "And why did you neglect to inform me of this fact?"
"Well, for one…" He opened his arms to convey his self-importance. "I am the captain of this vessel, and I needn't report to anyone, least of all you. However, I might have been inclined to inform you of the stop at San Salvador had you taken dinner with me instead of retiring early. So, as you will obviously agree with me, your ignorance here is hardly my fault."
Aveline paused; no, she couldn't help but agree. Besides, best not to ruffle the feathers of the man who'd hidden her precious dagger. "Very well, Captain. Am I to remain aboard?"
"On the contrary. You will be accompanying me, mistress, as we will be staying the night on the island and I'd rather not let you out of my sight."
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Two hours later, Jack and crew had finally docked and were preparing to go ashore, Aveline clinging tightly to Jack's arm.
"I must admit, I'm a bit frightened," she told him, staring down the long black skirt of her gown.
"I told you, love, you've naught to worry, so long as you stay by my side and don't do anything stupid. San Salvador isn't an especially dangerous place. Few ruffians here an' about, but—"
"Ruffians?" she asked incredulously. "I believe that you, yourself, Captain Sparrow, would constitute a ruffian."
"Well, then, ye haven't anythin' to worry about, do ye?"
Aveline arched a pointed eyebrow. "I would feel much safer were I armed, Captain…"
Jack flashed her a knowing, gold-glinted smile. "You are armed, lass. Armed with the most fearsome pirate in all the Spanish Main." With that, he escorted her down the plank and onto the sandy shore of San Salvador, en route to the village up ahead. Kursar and Quartetto followed along, the rest of Jack's men having stayed onboard under Gibbs' command to secure the ship's security in the tiny, ramshackle port.
The village was tan, her dirt roads tan, her few horses tan, and her inhabitants tan. Everything seemed to blend together in Aveline's eyes, and she imagined that the four of them no doubt appeared a colorful bunch as they navigated through the narrow, winding streets of the town.
The hour was somewhat late; the sun had begun its descent and the people of the San Salvador village were in their homes, with their families, enjoying their meager meals in the company of their loved ones. T'was an easy task for the pirate band to walk the streets of the quiet village, serenaded by the clamor of socializing Spanish-speaking families, and nudging chickens and small livestock aside with their heavy boots in order to make way. Aveline stood very close to Jack, although she was beginning to question her cause to do so; the streets were vacant and the ambiance, peaceful, instilling in her no sense of danger whatsoever.
Jack watched Aveline's expression change gradually, noting the look of ease that had settled on her pretty face. No, that wouldn't do… Reaching into his coat, he speedily produced his flintlock pistol, aiming at the glassless window of an empty adobe cottage and firing, sending the bullet to embed itself in the clay ceiling of the home.
"What was that?" Aveline gasped.
He glared down at her with a notion of learned supremacy. "Thieves," he growled, aiming to keep her close.
Her shadowed eyes grew large. "Thieves? What could they possibly want with us? You are yourself a brigand, and we've brought neither silver nor gold ashore."
Jack smiled a little, reminded of his friend, Will Turner. "Not all thieves seek silver and gold, love. Some want nothing more than to slap the dungbie of a lovely lass such as yourself." He smirked at her, his wily hand sneaking down to softly pat her rear, causing Aveline to jump a little.
"Blackguard," she sneered, causing Jack to snicker. "How are we to acquire anything here, Captain Sparrow? I find it hard to believe that a town so poor could possibly produce the bearings to a French seaport."
"Listen, woman. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. I know what I'm doing. Now, keep quiet, or kiss your French seaport goodbye." He returned his attention to the streets, as they were approaching a squalid part of town, and with it, the little cantina that Jack sought. "You'd be surprised what San Salvador has to offer."
The din of chatter and music increased as they neared the downtrodden area, the shouting and laughter juxtaposed with the filthy, depressed air of the place. Jack steered them toward a little hut, which, based on the unconscious drunks lining its doorway, was no doubt a bar of some sort, and handed Aveline over to his men for safekeeping.
"Don't let her out of your sights," he instructed them, and Kursar and Quartetto nodded in compliance.
"WAIT!" Aveline cried, rushing forward to Jack before he crossed the cantina's threshold. "You mean you insisted on my coming ashore simply to abandon me outside a tavern? Unbelievable!"
Jack raised his hands, as if to keep her at bay, and he maintained the tranquil tone of a man dealing with a child. "I need to go in alone, love. Ye—"
"DON'T call me love," she snarled back. "You haven't the right…"
"I've been calling you 'love' all along, love, an' ye didn't seem to have no problem with it before!"
Aveline sneered. "Well, maybe I'll not play the compliant waif any longer."
Kursar and Quartetto exchanged a nervous look, none-too-willing to take charge of the girl now that she'd worked herself into a mild frenzy.
"You're hardly a waif, love. And I'll remind you again, I'm captain of the ship that's granting you passage to Le Havre, and if you would like to keep our arrangement intact, you'll submit to my every request as agreed."
"I made no such agreement!" she bellowed back. "I agreed to grant you ONE favor, Captain Sparrow, one. And unless you are calling that favor into effect now, I refuse to submit to any such request."
Jack hesitated, thinking this over a bit. T'was true, he'd intended to call said favor into effect should his attempted seduction not go as smoothly as planned… But he was Captain Jack Sparrow, for Christ's sake! What could possibly go wrong?
Of course, he would have to start working on her as soon as they returned to the Pearl if he desired not to wrestle her down kicking and screaming come his judgment day…
"All right lass, I'm calling the favor into effect now. Your favor to me, is to wait patiently here, outside this tavern, mouth shut, under the supervision o' me men until I return and instruct you to do otherwise. Savvy?"
Aveline cocked him a sideways smirk, her fiery demeanor vanquished into deference. "Savvy."
Jack narrowed his eyes at her, examining her down the straight line of his nose, and reading her eyes quite accurately for the first time since making the lady's acquaintance, he suddenly knew exactly what had just transpired…
He'd been conned.
Secretly miffed, he left her side, strolling into the cantina with an assertive air, hardly the disposition of a man who'd been duped by a daft damsel. But this, this, was part of Jack's plan as well…
He'd let her have her way, that he may have his.
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Aberrant black eyes watched him from the second floor landing as he entered, and skilled brown hands wrapped their fingers around the railing. Ahh, Capitán. You've come back to me…
In his younger days, Jack Sparrow had made the acquaintance of an island woman, whose voluptuous beauty and uncanny knowledge of Caribbean lore had made her invaluable to the up and coming pirate. With captaincy, however, had come the need to abandon her iron bed in search of golden chambers, but she had always welcomed him back to San Salvador with open, loving arms…
After all… Carmen Ladrón had accumulated the bulk of her meager fortune picking the pockets of Jack Sparrow.
Each time he would return, without fail, Carmen would lock him between her brown legs, bury his face in her raven hair, and work deft fingers in and out of the many folds and creases of the Captain's dark blue longcoat, which she would hang from the bedpost for easy access.
'Twas a timeless routine, one of which neither ever seemed to tire.
Her grin mischievous, she made her way toward and down the winding staircase, saintly in her white cotton dress, and approached Jack just as he'd ordered a tankard of rum and inquired as to her whereabouts.
"Estoy aquí, Capitán," she cooed. She spoke perfect English; he loved her island flavor.
"Ahh, there she is." Jack slipped his arms around the pretty señorita, enveloping her in a warm embrace. She slipped her fingers into his pockets.
Empty. ¡Maldito sea!
The man certainly knew how to hide a shilling.
"Como estás, Capitán?" Carmen smiled at him in earnest, her teeth gleaming white against her sepia skin.
"Bien," he replied, making no attempt at forging any semblance of an accent. 'Twas just as well. "I have work for you."
"Work?" She arched a fine black brow. "I like work."
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Outside the cantina, Aveline waited restlessly, sandwiched between unpleasant company with naught to do but make conversation, a task she wasn't exactly feeling up to.
Luckily for her, Kursar and Quartetto had already kindled a heated argument, and were happily stoking the flames.
"I told ye once, Quart, I tell ye again, me and some o' th' boys is none-too-pleased with th' way Cap'n treated Anamaria. She be a crewmember, same as us, an' Cap'n gets rid o' 'er like stale bread! Who's t' say he won't do th'
same t' us?"
Aveline's ears pricked in interest; who was Anamaria?
"That be mutinous talk, mate," Quartetto warned him. "Ye know how th' cap'n disposes o' mutineers"
She noticed the shudder that shook the fabric of his tunic, and wondered exactly how Jack did dispose of mutineers. Had them tickled to death, most likely…
"'sides, Anamaria got what she wanted. Cap'n came through."
"Oh, sure, Cap'n came through. What I worry is that he'll 'come through' for us next! I ain't mutinying. I'm just makin' a point, s'all. Cap'n Sparrow maybe ain't the great cap'n he's made himself out to be."
Aveline emitted a bored sigh, the troublemaker in her thinking to provoke the men into a more interesting argument. "Well, certainly not. He hordes his plunder."
The grizzled pirates exchanged a dumbfounded glance. "What be yer meanin'?" Kursar pressed.
"Well, a captain's crew is entitled to equal shares of any plunder, correct?"
They nodded. "Aye."
"And any and all goods removed from a raided ship are considered plunder, correct?"
Again: "Aye."
"Well, has your gallant captain yet offered you a share in my capture?"
Kursar and Quartetto exchanged another puzzled glance. "He ain't at that, Miss," Quartetto replied. "But why ought he to?"
Aveline placed defiant hands on her hips, as though to be considered a trophy was an honor of some sort. "Well, being that I was confiscated from the Mary Alice, t'would be remiss to acknowledge me as anything other than just another piece of… swag," she continued, attempting to shroud the hesitancy in her voice at using the pirate slang Jack had taught her. She worried not about the pirates in fact attempting to obtain a piece of her, as it were. She knew
Jack would never allow such a thing to occur.
He had promised.
"Not that I wish to incite you to mutiny, gentlemen, but I daresay that being captured against my will and held without freedom aboard the Pearl makes me as good a bit of bounty as any weaponry or food you may have found aboard that ship. And yet, your honorable captain intends to keep me for himself. What say you to that?"
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Carmen locked the door to the room, securing a private business rendezvous for her and Jack. Strolling over to the big iron bed, she perched herself at its edge, crossing her dark legs evocatively beneath the folds of her white cotton skirt.
"So, Capitán. You have work for me?"
Jack approached her leisurely form, stationing himself a few feet away as he explained his proposal. "I need you to obtain the bearings to Le Havre for me. It's too much of a risk for me to stop at any British seaport."
"Capitán, you've never been one to shy away from a challenge."
"No, but I'm traveling with a rather valuable package at present, and given the present circumstances surrounding the package, which I value, acting in the interest of protecting said valuable package is my main priority. Presently."
This sparked the temptress' interest; what riches could the wily captain be hoarding aboard his magnificent ship?
"And you need to deliver this package to Le Havre, is it?"
"No, I need to make a stop in Le Havre. Then the package and I are bound for a second destination."
"I see. So, all you need from me are the bearings to Le Havre?"
Jack grinned. "Of course not. I'll be needing the bearings to the second destination as well."
"Where you'll be taking the package?"
"Precisely."
Carmen stood, stepping lightly toward Jack, and running practiced fingertips along the lapels of his coat when she reached him. "Where is this second destination, Capitán?" She slipped the coat off his shoulders; he helped her with the sleeves.
"A Canib island."
The Hispanic woman chuckled as she hung Jack's treasured garment on the bedpost, followed by his precious hat. Plucking at the laces of his tunic, she asked throatily, "Which one?" Her thieving hands crept up under the white fabric, stealing their way along his taut abdomen.
Jack arched his posture, leaning back and watching her as she worked. Carmen's was like a second skin to him, and she was the only woman in the Spanish Main who'd willingly endured his long absences. She knew exactly how to touch him, and he knew her body by heart, and although the thrill of their trysts was long gone, the temptation never failed him when she laid her cool hands against his warm flesh.
His mind wandered momentarily to the fiery lass who so patiently awaited hi return, just outside…
Carmen wasn't a patient woman; one little tumble couldn't hurt. And Lord knew, the lass would keep him tightly wound for weeks to come…
He'd been stripped of his tunic and was enjoying the feel of Carmen's wet lips against his bare chest when the commotion reached his ears. A gunshot, and then: "Unhand me, you pirate fiend!"
Pushing the dark woman aside, Jack dashed to the window and peered outside. "Bloody hell…"
"Come down here and fight me for 'er, Jack Sparrow!" Kursar bellowed. His weathered grey eyes were wide with rage, his pistol was pressed against Aveline's temple, and the villagers had already begun pouring out into the street.
"What in the hell are ye doin', lad?" Jack called down to the man.
"Teachin' you not to withhold spoils!"
"I see," Jack grumbled, scanning the scene for clues as to what had driven Kursar to such drastic action. He spotted Quartetto, sprawled out in the dirt, the blood on his brow betraying a nasty blow to the head. Returning his attention to the problem at hand, Jack's dark eyes locked with Aveline's bright ones, and the anger that gleamed there told him he ought to get down there, right quick—
There'll be no living with her after this…
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Aveline gnawed relentlessly on her lower lip, the strain of Kursar's hold on her left arm slicing through her like white lightning. She was going to kill that filthy pirate for leaving her alone with this, this lunatic…
That filthy pirate appeared in the doorway of the cantina then, armed with his pistol and cutlass and…
…lacking a shirt.
Aveline's eyes went wide at the sight of the man's bare, bronze chest; what on Earth had the scoundrel been doing? She made a mental note to inquire about his state of undress later, once Kursar's pistol no longer nuzzled her flesh.
Jack spread his feet in a weighted stance, holding a deadly weapon at either side. Aveline had never seen his eyes so dark and dangerous, and she felt an interesting little chill flitter down her spine at the thought of seeing Quartetto's allusive comments regarding Jack's treatment of traitors manifested before her.
Her gaze was nailed to Jack's form, and she watched in awe as the man stalked dangerously closer to her and Kursar. The cutlass gleamed red in the light of the evening sun, but Aveline suspected that Jack saw red regardless of its fiery reflection. She stared openly, shocked by the sight of tight muscle twitching beneath taut flesh; she'd have never thought the wiry captain so well-defined. Granted, it was a hidden defense, and she supposed it served him better that way; only when the man moved could she catch a glimpse of his veiled physical strength.
Suddenly, the thought frightened her. She had grossly underestimated this man based on his benign treatment of her, and now she was witnessing firsthand the malice of which he was capable. No doubt he was about to commit a crime far worse than confiscating her dagger… And he was, after all, a pirate.
She drew a shaky breath, then caught Jack's eye.
He winked.
Jack wouldn't allow her to come to any harm…
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she sent up a prayer of thanks to no one in particular that this man was on her side.
On the ground, Quartetto had come to, and watched his captain with great sadness in his eyes. Though Jack Sparrow was infinitely clever, he had learned the value of dealing with mutineers using a quick, carefully aimed bullet, after his confrontation with Barbossa. He wouldn't likely allow such an atrocity to be committed against him again…
"You're making an awfully stupid mistake, lad," Jack warned, although the seasoned sailor was several years his senior.
Kursar merely pushed out his lower lip in defiance and cocked the flintlock's hammer.
Jack seethed. Instinct urged him to raise, aim, fire, and send the mutineer straight to the deepest circle of hell… but that chance of missing and instead blowing away his shot at immortality kept the flintlock at his side.
He'd be damned before he let something happen to her, his key… He had to remove her from the path of his bullet.
"Don't go scaring the lass, mate. She's liable to black out on you."
Taking this as her cue, Aveline went limp in her captor's hold, slumping forward despite the intense pain it afforded her hyper-extended arm. Staggered, Kursar dropped her to the dirt road, where she landed with an ugly 'thud' and fought to suppress a painful groan and a dusty cough. As the sea dog stumbled backward a bit, Jack fired, knocking the pistol from his clutch with a bullet that tore muscle and shattered bone. With an unbearable scream, Kursar clutched his wounded forearm and dropped to his knees, begging the captain for mercy as he stalked closer.
Aveline watched in horror as Jack pressed the barrel of his flintlock against the underside of Kursar's jaw, cocked the hammer, and pulled the trigger.
Silence, stillness, an eerily quiet calm descended, the peasants remained rooted, and Quartetto dared not breath. Aveline pushed herself up on wavering arms, only to be hauled to her feet by Jack. She shook with fear as he turned her to face him, grabbed her chin in one strong hand and examining her face, and frowned at the little flecks of blood as though they might ever-stain her pure white flesh.
"Come," he rumbled, taking her hand and leading her back toward the Pearl. "Let's get you cleaned up."