Anya leaned against the wheel, watching the sails hang lifelessly from the boom. The crew had retired below, readying to retire for the night. But Anya couldn't sleep. Not with the knowledge that at that very moment, Gordon was hunting her down, and she was like the cornered fox, simply waiting for the hound to catch up.
She looked out at the deep sheet of blue that had set over the sky, millions of white lights staring down at her. Fog had settled over the water, so that it was no longer visible, it was so thick, that the lantern light merely reflected off of it. She could feel the moist air surround her, and Jack's old shirt clung to her damp body. Her feet were frozen in the wet boots she was wearing and she could feel herself shaking as the cold bit into her. Her hair was tied up in a moist knot, and beads of condensation dripped down the back of her fair neck. Why was this happening to her? She had always been a good person. Her family was nice, however conceited they were with their own little lives. So what did she do to deserve to die? Her family had its deep dark secrets of course and perhaps it was ironic that she would die at the hands of the meanest pirate in all the Caribbean. She let out a laugh, though it was cold and not at all happy. It was ironic. If Captain Gordon knew who she was, he'd never lay a finger on her. But death was better than revealing her secret and being condemned to an eternity in hell. And she was going to die. Anya's small hands gripped the pegs of the helm, as if to anchor herself to something real. Because this couldn't be real.
She was nineteen. Warm in her soft linen bed, in her large white home. Her father was in his study, scrawling messy notes to himself, which by day break would be in a heap on the floor. Her mother was in the kitchen, standing patiently by the fire, waiting for the stew to settle. Little Sydney was in his room, his stomach to the floor, as he played with his little toy tin soldiers. The warm summer air made the house smell of jasmine and pine, tickling sleeping Anya's nose. She wants to wake from her dream and run downstairs to see her family. But she can't. Because she's standing at the helm of the Black Pearl, hundreds of miles from home. And then she realizes. This isn't a dream. It's a nightmare.
'Yah shouldn't be out on a night like this, pet.' A gruff voice says from behind her. But she makes no effort to move, or to find warmth. She simply stares out at the misty water.
Then Anya felt something heavy, envelope her small shoulders, and two large hands push it around, so that the coat completely covers her. It's warm and was probably being warn up until that moment, by Jack. Anya turned, frowning in confusion and giving Jack a questioning look. He shrugged, his chest now bare, except for the bandage.
'Believe it or not, love, I do care bout yah.' He said, his fingers weaving through his belt loops. Anya sniffled as she pulled the huge coat tighter around her. Jack let out a small indistinct sound, though it sounded oddly like a laugh.
'What?' Anya hiccoughed. He shrugged, stepping forward, and placing one hand on the tiller, the other raising a pipe to his dry lips.
'Nothin. Yah just remind me a someone.' He said in a low voice. And now that Anya thought about it, he seemed strangely sober. 'Someone from a long, long time ago. I'd almost fergotten her.' Anya drew closer, seeking some form of heat.
'Another little bit of your broken past?' she asked, shaking slightly from the cold. He nodded as a puff of smoke lifted from his lips, ignoring her. She smiled teasingly. 'Are we all out of rum?' she asked. But he didn't even acknowledge her comment. 'Jack, you know I didn't mean what I said.' She said softly. This time, he did look at her. 'About wanting you to die. I don't. I know you did everything you could.'
'But was it enough?' he asked, raising a hand to her cheek. Her breath caught in her throat at this action. But as soon as it was there, it was gone again. His hand was calloused and rough against her smooth, soft cheek.
'Enough?' Anya questioned. He nodded, taking another drag.
'A long time ago, there was a girl like you, in me company. She was more precious to me than all the gold in all the seas.' He looked out at the dark blue sky, trailing off slightly.
'Where is she now?' she asked quietly.
'She died. By the hands of me best mate.' Jack stiffened as he said this. Anya immediately wished she hadn't said anything. 'Made that bastard pay. He deserved to die a thousand deaths, he did. But I only killed him once.' He whispered, a long stream of smoke rising into the night air. Anya felt a sort of heat radiate off of Jack as he told her this and she was a bit alarmed by it. But she wouldn't show it.
'I'm sorry.' Anya said shivering a bit. 'I didn't mean to pour salt in an old wound.' Jack finally turned and shook his head.
'Twas a long time ago, m'dear.' He said, as his pipe went out. 'I'm s'posin that's why I took you in, in the first place.' He said as he handed her the pipe and she tucked it in one of his coat pockets. She looked up at this.
'Who was she Jack?' she asked, risking him shouting. She had to know who this girl was.
'Abigail Sparrow.' He said looking her square in the eye. 'Me little sister Abby.' Anya felt her stomach swirl and something well up in her. Pity? Sympathy? Hurt for Jack's loss?
'Oh, Jack. I - ' Anya said sadly. Jack shook his head and raised one of his hands.
'Don't speak.' He said in a low baritone voice. Anya stopped and looked at him, her green eyes flecked with empathy. 'This ol' captain'll survive. Just need lots of booze and a good night's rest.' Anya smiled and nodded, though her eyes lost none of their compassion.
'Alright.' She said in a soft voice. She shrugged off the coat and handed it to him. He took it and nodded in appreciation. 'So you think of me as your little sister?' Anya said, walking beside him to the landing. Jack froze at this and turned to face her. She looked at him sadly. He shook his head.
'Yah remind me of a girl I once knew. You're not me sister.' He said before descending the creaking wooden stairs. Anya watched him until he got to the last stair and turned to look at her. 'You stayin out all night. I could use some company.' Anya smiled and nodded, walking down the stairs gracefully and then stopping at his side. 'You wouldn't mind keeping an old salt company?' he asked, his eyes holding something that Anya couldn't quite identify. She shook her head, her face suddenly becoming serious.
'Old salt? Jack stop acting like you're a hundred.' She said crossing her arms over her chest. He winked.
'Sometimes I feel I am, love. Even so, yah won't be bored with me, will yah?'
'There's nothing I'd rather do, in all the seven seas.' She answered as they walked toward his quarters together. Perhaps for the last time.
************************************************
'I – I remember when I was nine, and I nearly killed myself on one of the colonial ships. Since then I've been scared out of my wits of anything that floats in water!' Anya laughed before taking another sip of rum. She wasn't yet drunk, but she was well on her way. Jack was well on his way too. 'Anything that floats, and anything that's sharp!'
'Ya'd make a daft pirate, make no mistake.' Jack slurred as he downed the rest of his brandy. Anya shrugged.
'Tell me something I don't know.' She said, watching Jack pour himself a glass of rum. Anya looked down at her own glass. 'This is the most ghastly, sickening drink I have ever had the misfortune to swallow.' Jack nodded, raising his glass as if to toast something.
'And it gets yah shit faced as anything else.' He leaned forward, smiling stupidly. 'Drink up.' He said before gulping half the contents in one go. Anya guzzled the rest of hers before slamming the glass back down on the table. She looked around the room and her gaze fell upon Jack's sword, lying on his dresser. She stood and stumbled across the room, picking up the blade, completely mesmerized by it. Jack smiled and set his own goblet down, and crossed to where Anya was.
'Beauty ain't she?' he whispered over her shoulder, so that she could smell his rum and spice scented breath. He took the hilt in his hand, beside her own delicate hand. 'Me old mate Turner crafted it for me. Good bloke.' Suddenly Anya turned around, so that they were facing each other, mere inches apart.
'Teach me.' She said excitedly, in a sort of childish giddiness. Jack chuckled at this. Girl could obviously not take her liquor. 'Teach me how to fight.' She repeated leaning forward. 'Don't tell anyone.' She whispered. 'But I've never fought with a sword before.' She shook her head and Jack grinned.
'That so?' she nodded. 'Never woulda occurred to me, love.' He said before turning her back around. 'Now yah put ya're hand here. See, s'relatively light. Now where's me bloody sheath?' He turned his head toward the dresser, when he felt a huge weight hit his chest, which screamed in pain. He looked down, at Anya who had lost her legs, dropped the sword and fell against him. She was still conscious, but Jack had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't going to last.
'Come 'ere.' He said turning her around so that her hands were on his chest and her face was buried in the crook of his neck. 'Come on girl.' He shuffled toward the bed, where he gently sat her down, and she swayed a bit.
'Jack, I feel a little …' she looked up at him and grinned like a Cheshire cat. 'You.' She said pointing to him as he unlaced her boots and took them from her feet. 'You got me drunk!' Jack nodded as he placed her feet up on the bed.
'Twas an accident, I assure yah.' He said as he pulled the blanket up over her legs. 'Now what're we s'pose tah do bout your shirt?' he wondered aloud. She giggled and crooked a finger, motioning for him to come closer. He did, sitting on the side of the bed.
'I know.' She said softly. He smiled at her.
'Yah do?' he asked, not quite sure of what she was talking about. She nodded solemly.
'Yes! I just take it off!' she said before grabbing the bottom of the shirt. Jack suddenly turned away, standing up and walking away from the bed. Anya stared after him. 'Am I that repulsive? What?' she asked in a mock hurt voice. Jack continued to stare at his dresser.
'Nothin, pet. Here.' He threw one of his other shirts over his shoulder and was pretty sure it landed on the bed. But Anya didn't put it on.
'Why won't you look at me?' she asked, confused. Jack shrugged and let out a heavy sigh. 'Yah deserve better than this scoundrel here, m'dear.' Anya continued to look perplexed, though she pulled the shirt over her head. 'Yah done?'
'Uh huh.' Anya said, finally feeling warm and dry. Jack turned and walked over to the bed, taking the blankets and drawing them up to her stomach. She watched him do it and she felt her entire body begin to tighten. One of Jack's hands came up behind her head and pulled the ribbon free from her hair so that it cascaded down in golden waves. Then he paused looking at her for a moment. Just looking at her. It made her cheeks flush, and she realized now, how very, very close his face was to hers.
'Jack?' she whispered, her voice different from how she'd remembered it to be. Jack's deep, liquid eyes were making her forget everything but her own name.
'Yeah?' he answered, and his voice was low and husky. Anya leaned forward slightly and closed her eyes, as her lips brushed his. Then she leaned forward a bit more a little more forcefully against his mouth, catching his lower lip between hers, feeling a bit of moisture on his dry lips and a lot of heat between them. She pulled back a little to look at him. But he pulled away completely, taking a few steps back, away from the bed. She watched him turn toward the dresser and found herself wondering what he was thinking.
Jack raked a large hand through his thick inky hair. She'd just kissed him, and the only thing he'd wanted to do was to push her down against his bed and kiss her back. Damn, if it had been anyone else, he probably would have. But she was different. She made him feel sick, feel funny, and he didn't know why. It wasn't something completely unwanted, but the little jolts in his stomach and heart was starting to get him nervous. This was getting to be too much. They were flirting with danger. And she was going to get hurt if they continued.
'Listen, love, I – ' he turned but stopped, as he saw her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. She was asleep. Jack pursed his lips and then looked back at her thoughtfully. He walked forward and pulled the blankets up to her chest. He took one of her small hands in his and raised it to his dry lips, giving it a small peck, before laying it on her chest.
'Night pet.' He said, before making his way toward the door.
******************************************************************************
There ya have it. ANother installment. Sorry it took so long Truffles! But I made your deadline. So, We learn a bit more about Jack and Anya's pasts. They KISS! haha, even though she was drunk out of her mind! Anyway, next chapter, lots of action, I guarantee! Lets see, I like to ask questions to keep things interesting... what do you think Anya's secret is??? Is it a good idea that she might have a secret? And how's Jack going to let go of her, now that they've gotten so close? And just a general wondering, how many of you dislike Anya? Or why do you like Anya? Give me reasons to like her! And review review review!!! As always be specific! Next chapter will come soon i promise! Sorry I couldn't get it up faster, I was in Newfieland! I swear I wanted to get it up sooner, sorry guys! Anyway...
Peace out, STOKES
She looked out at the deep sheet of blue that had set over the sky, millions of white lights staring down at her. Fog had settled over the water, so that it was no longer visible, it was so thick, that the lantern light merely reflected off of it. She could feel the moist air surround her, and Jack's old shirt clung to her damp body. Her feet were frozen in the wet boots she was wearing and she could feel herself shaking as the cold bit into her. Her hair was tied up in a moist knot, and beads of condensation dripped down the back of her fair neck. Why was this happening to her? She had always been a good person. Her family was nice, however conceited they were with their own little lives. So what did she do to deserve to die? Her family had its deep dark secrets of course and perhaps it was ironic that she would die at the hands of the meanest pirate in all the Caribbean. She let out a laugh, though it was cold and not at all happy. It was ironic. If Captain Gordon knew who she was, he'd never lay a finger on her. But death was better than revealing her secret and being condemned to an eternity in hell. And she was going to die. Anya's small hands gripped the pegs of the helm, as if to anchor herself to something real. Because this couldn't be real.
She was nineteen. Warm in her soft linen bed, in her large white home. Her father was in his study, scrawling messy notes to himself, which by day break would be in a heap on the floor. Her mother was in the kitchen, standing patiently by the fire, waiting for the stew to settle. Little Sydney was in his room, his stomach to the floor, as he played with his little toy tin soldiers. The warm summer air made the house smell of jasmine and pine, tickling sleeping Anya's nose. She wants to wake from her dream and run downstairs to see her family. But she can't. Because she's standing at the helm of the Black Pearl, hundreds of miles from home. And then she realizes. This isn't a dream. It's a nightmare.
'Yah shouldn't be out on a night like this, pet.' A gruff voice says from behind her. But she makes no effort to move, or to find warmth. She simply stares out at the misty water.
Then Anya felt something heavy, envelope her small shoulders, and two large hands push it around, so that the coat completely covers her. It's warm and was probably being warn up until that moment, by Jack. Anya turned, frowning in confusion and giving Jack a questioning look. He shrugged, his chest now bare, except for the bandage.
'Believe it or not, love, I do care bout yah.' He said, his fingers weaving through his belt loops. Anya sniffled as she pulled the huge coat tighter around her. Jack let out a small indistinct sound, though it sounded oddly like a laugh.
'What?' Anya hiccoughed. He shrugged, stepping forward, and placing one hand on the tiller, the other raising a pipe to his dry lips.
'Nothin. Yah just remind me a someone.' He said in a low voice. And now that Anya thought about it, he seemed strangely sober. 'Someone from a long, long time ago. I'd almost fergotten her.' Anya drew closer, seeking some form of heat.
'Another little bit of your broken past?' she asked, shaking slightly from the cold. He nodded as a puff of smoke lifted from his lips, ignoring her. She smiled teasingly. 'Are we all out of rum?' she asked. But he didn't even acknowledge her comment. 'Jack, you know I didn't mean what I said.' She said softly. This time, he did look at her. 'About wanting you to die. I don't. I know you did everything you could.'
'But was it enough?' he asked, raising a hand to her cheek. Her breath caught in her throat at this action. But as soon as it was there, it was gone again. His hand was calloused and rough against her smooth, soft cheek.
'Enough?' Anya questioned. He nodded, taking another drag.
'A long time ago, there was a girl like you, in me company. She was more precious to me than all the gold in all the seas.' He looked out at the dark blue sky, trailing off slightly.
'Where is she now?' she asked quietly.
'She died. By the hands of me best mate.' Jack stiffened as he said this. Anya immediately wished she hadn't said anything. 'Made that bastard pay. He deserved to die a thousand deaths, he did. But I only killed him once.' He whispered, a long stream of smoke rising into the night air. Anya felt a sort of heat radiate off of Jack as he told her this and she was a bit alarmed by it. But she wouldn't show it.
'I'm sorry.' Anya said shivering a bit. 'I didn't mean to pour salt in an old wound.' Jack finally turned and shook his head.
'Twas a long time ago, m'dear.' He said, as his pipe went out. 'I'm s'posin that's why I took you in, in the first place.' He said as he handed her the pipe and she tucked it in one of his coat pockets. She looked up at this.
'Who was she Jack?' she asked, risking him shouting. She had to know who this girl was.
'Abigail Sparrow.' He said looking her square in the eye. 'Me little sister Abby.' Anya felt her stomach swirl and something well up in her. Pity? Sympathy? Hurt for Jack's loss?
'Oh, Jack. I - ' Anya said sadly. Jack shook his head and raised one of his hands.
'Don't speak.' He said in a low baritone voice. Anya stopped and looked at him, her green eyes flecked with empathy. 'This ol' captain'll survive. Just need lots of booze and a good night's rest.' Anya smiled and nodded, though her eyes lost none of their compassion.
'Alright.' She said in a soft voice. She shrugged off the coat and handed it to him. He took it and nodded in appreciation. 'So you think of me as your little sister?' Anya said, walking beside him to the landing. Jack froze at this and turned to face her. She looked at him sadly. He shook his head.
'Yah remind me of a girl I once knew. You're not me sister.' He said before descending the creaking wooden stairs. Anya watched him until he got to the last stair and turned to look at her. 'You stayin out all night. I could use some company.' Anya smiled and nodded, walking down the stairs gracefully and then stopping at his side. 'You wouldn't mind keeping an old salt company?' he asked, his eyes holding something that Anya couldn't quite identify. She shook her head, her face suddenly becoming serious.
'Old salt? Jack stop acting like you're a hundred.' She said crossing her arms over her chest. He winked.
'Sometimes I feel I am, love. Even so, yah won't be bored with me, will yah?'
'There's nothing I'd rather do, in all the seven seas.' She answered as they walked toward his quarters together. Perhaps for the last time.
************************************************
'I – I remember when I was nine, and I nearly killed myself on one of the colonial ships. Since then I've been scared out of my wits of anything that floats in water!' Anya laughed before taking another sip of rum. She wasn't yet drunk, but she was well on her way. Jack was well on his way too. 'Anything that floats, and anything that's sharp!'
'Ya'd make a daft pirate, make no mistake.' Jack slurred as he downed the rest of his brandy. Anya shrugged.
'Tell me something I don't know.' She said, watching Jack pour himself a glass of rum. Anya looked down at her own glass. 'This is the most ghastly, sickening drink I have ever had the misfortune to swallow.' Jack nodded, raising his glass as if to toast something.
'And it gets yah shit faced as anything else.' He leaned forward, smiling stupidly. 'Drink up.' He said before gulping half the contents in one go. Anya guzzled the rest of hers before slamming the glass back down on the table. She looked around the room and her gaze fell upon Jack's sword, lying on his dresser. She stood and stumbled across the room, picking up the blade, completely mesmerized by it. Jack smiled and set his own goblet down, and crossed to where Anya was.
'Beauty ain't she?' he whispered over her shoulder, so that she could smell his rum and spice scented breath. He took the hilt in his hand, beside her own delicate hand. 'Me old mate Turner crafted it for me. Good bloke.' Suddenly Anya turned around, so that they were facing each other, mere inches apart.
'Teach me.' She said excitedly, in a sort of childish giddiness. Jack chuckled at this. Girl could obviously not take her liquor. 'Teach me how to fight.' She repeated leaning forward. 'Don't tell anyone.' She whispered. 'But I've never fought with a sword before.' She shook her head and Jack grinned.
'That so?' she nodded. 'Never woulda occurred to me, love.' He said before turning her back around. 'Now yah put ya're hand here. See, s'relatively light. Now where's me bloody sheath?' He turned his head toward the dresser, when he felt a huge weight hit his chest, which screamed in pain. He looked down, at Anya who had lost her legs, dropped the sword and fell against him. She was still conscious, but Jack had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't going to last.
'Come 'ere.' He said turning her around so that her hands were on his chest and her face was buried in the crook of his neck. 'Come on girl.' He shuffled toward the bed, where he gently sat her down, and she swayed a bit.
'Jack, I feel a little …' she looked up at him and grinned like a Cheshire cat. 'You.' She said pointing to him as he unlaced her boots and took them from her feet. 'You got me drunk!' Jack nodded as he placed her feet up on the bed.
'Twas an accident, I assure yah.' He said as he pulled the blanket up over her legs. 'Now what're we s'pose tah do bout your shirt?' he wondered aloud. She giggled and crooked a finger, motioning for him to come closer. He did, sitting on the side of the bed.
'I know.' She said softly. He smiled at her.
'Yah do?' he asked, not quite sure of what she was talking about. She nodded solemly.
'Yes! I just take it off!' she said before grabbing the bottom of the shirt. Jack suddenly turned away, standing up and walking away from the bed. Anya stared after him. 'Am I that repulsive? What?' she asked in a mock hurt voice. Jack continued to stare at his dresser.
'Nothin, pet. Here.' He threw one of his other shirts over his shoulder and was pretty sure it landed on the bed. But Anya didn't put it on.
'Why won't you look at me?' she asked, confused. Jack shrugged and let out a heavy sigh. 'Yah deserve better than this scoundrel here, m'dear.' Anya continued to look perplexed, though she pulled the shirt over her head. 'Yah done?'
'Uh huh.' Anya said, finally feeling warm and dry. Jack turned and walked over to the bed, taking the blankets and drawing them up to her stomach. She watched him do it and she felt her entire body begin to tighten. One of Jack's hands came up behind her head and pulled the ribbon free from her hair so that it cascaded down in golden waves. Then he paused looking at her for a moment. Just looking at her. It made her cheeks flush, and she realized now, how very, very close his face was to hers.
'Jack?' she whispered, her voice different from how she'd remembered it to be. Jack's deep, liquid eyes were making her forget everything but her own name.
'Yeah?' he answered, and his voice was low and husky. Anya leaned forward slightly and closed her eyes, as her lips brushed his. Then she leaned forward a bit more a little more forcefully against his mouth, catching his lower lip between hers, feeling a bit of moisture on his dry lips and a lot of heat between them. She pulled back a little to look at him. But he pulled away completely, taking a few steps back, away from the bed. She watched him turn toward the dresser and found herself wondering what he was thinking.
Jack raked a large hand through his thick inky hair. She'd just kissed him, and the only thing he'd wanted to do was to push her down against his bed and kiss her back. Damn, if it had been anyone else, he probably would have. But she was different. She made him feel sick, feel funny, and he didn't know why. It wasn't something completely unwanted, but the little jolts in his stomach and heart was starting to get him nervous. This was getting to be too much. They were flirting with danger. And she was going to get hurt if they continued.
'Listen, love, I – ' he turned but stopped, as he saw her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. She was asleep. Jack pursed his lips and then looked back at her thoughtfully. He walked forward and pulled the blankets up to her chest. He took one of her small hands in his and raised it to his dry lips, giving it a small peck, before laying it on her chest.
'Night pet.' He said, before making his way toward the door.
******************************************************************************
There ya have it. ANother installment. Sorry it took so long Truffles! But I made your deadline. So, We learn a bit more about Jack and Anya's pasts. They KISS! haha, even though she was drunk out of her mind! Anyway, next chapter, lots of action, I guarantee! Lets see, I like to ask questions to keep things interesting... what do you think Anya's secret is??? Is it a good idea that she might have a secret? And how's Jack going to let go of her, now that they've gotten so close? And just a general wondering, how many of you dislike Anya? Or why do you like Anya? Give me reasons to like her! And review review review!!! As always be specific! Next chapter will come soon i promise! Sorry I couldn't get it up faster, I was in Newfieland! I swear I wanted to get it up sooner, sorry guys! Anyway...
Peace out, STOKES