Disclaimer: Me no own Jack. *sigh* Or anything much, really. Just a character or two, and the ideas... Also, there be a quote stolen from Star Wars, which be George Lucas'. (The original trilogy, thus the *real* Star Wars.) Cookies for people who know the quote when they see it.

Chapter 12: Gwen and Jack

Jack stood uneasily a step back from her, trying to dampen his body's responses to her, hoping the lass didn't let her eyes wander below his belt. He glanced at her to find that she was staring up at him, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip, a hurt expression on her face. She was completely unaware of what her body, her tongue and lips alone, really, had done to him. He tried to smile reassuringly at her, lest she think she had offended him somehow.

After a long few seconds of stiff silence- more stiff for one of them than the other- Jack felt he had regained a fair enough semblance of control over his intense desire to... well, lash her to his desk, rip her dress to shreds, and have his filthy way with her.

He drew Gwen close enough to kiss her once more, a chaste, closed-mouth peck on the lips to soothe her anxious expression. Her countenance eased into a smile, and the tense moment of uncertainty passed.

The silence that followed then was of the comfortable sort that follows after a great moment, like a peaceful night's rest after a milestone day. For Gwen anyway. She turned, content and pacified, to peer with some curiosity down at the chart still spread out on the table.

Jack was at least in control of himself once again, but that didn't give him any relief from the lusty ache thrumming through his lower regions. Scowling, he grabbed the nearest half-empty mug from the desk and swallowed a mouthful of the water. He looked rather distastefully into the tankard, frowning at the clear liquid.

Water? His eyes flicked to Gwen, who seemed to be absorbed with the map. He flicked his gaze back to the water in his mug. He looked into the other mug. Aha! There was the rum... half-drained. Hmm. He narrowed his eyes at Gwen's back. Had she really...? His libido thrummed happily at the idea that this young lady was already warped enough to be swilling rum. There may be hope, after all... But no, it wasn't wise. The water could help, at least, he thought...

Looking up at her again to make sure she wasn't paying any attention to him and that she wasn't about to turn around, he lowered the water mug to hip- level. No. That wouldn't look quite right. He lifted the mug to the wide 'V' his shirt left open at his chest. Leaning back slightly to give the water a surface to fall onto, he upended the mug.

The water slid quickly down his body, over his chest and abs and down lower, soaking a trail through his thin shirt, partially through his vest and sash, and down the front of his trousers. He shuddered involuntarily at the unwelcome sensation of invasion as the water trickled down to his groin. But it worked, effectively counteracting his body's response to her.

Gwen turned just then, a question about something in the map on her lips, one finger still marking the specific spot she'd been studying on the chart. At the sight of him, she raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips to suppress a smile and a comment.

"Oops," Jack said, as though he'd just noticed the water dripping down his body. He set his empty mug aside and stepped around Gwen, grabbing the first thing he saw to try to dry himself off.

Then, acting as though it were an everyday occurrence for grown men to spill drinks on themselves, and that it was just as normal for a man to stand there rubbing his wet stomach with a British flag, Jack looked over Gwen's shoulder at the chart.

"What is it?" he asked, referring to the question she had been about to ask.

Her trifling inquiry forgotten, Gwen stepped to her left and turned to face Jack rather than the table. "I might ask you the same question," she said, after stifling a reflexive comment on his disrespect toward the British colors. Likely he didn't care. On second thought, she found she didn't really care herself, anyway.

"It's water, luv," he answered matter-of-factly, patting at his chest with the Union Jack. "I spilled it."

"I meant, what made you spill it?"

"It's just hard to keep water in me mug when it's upside down, that's all," Jack said, with as much conviction as if he were giving her a perfectly rational excuse.

"Then why was your mug upside down?" Gwen tried one last time.

Jack gave her a pained, long-suffering look, as though she should surely know the answer to that. "Because it wasn't right-side-up," he informed her gravely.

Gwen sighed and abandoned him to his little game. She stretched and yawned.

"I'm glad Tortuga's far behind now," she commented offhandedly after a moment, idly toying with one of her braids.

Jack made a noncommittal, grunting sort of sound. He was removing his vest and weapons belts, laying them on the same chair where his coat had been laid aside during the warmer part of the day. Picking up the flag again, he went back to work on his wet clothing.

"You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy," Gwen went on.

"I like scum," Jack said in defense of the wild port.

"And you're a villain."

"Does that mean you think I'm wretched too?" He grinned.

Gwen refrained from making a jesting comment about his current state, wet and ridiculous. "You are when you come in so drunk you can hardly remember your own name," she said.

"That can actually be a lovely experience," Jack said in a low voice. "I woke up just the other morning with a woman in me bed. And without getting slapped at any point."

"Try it when you're sober," Gwen replied to his teasing.

"That's one thing I try never to be. But if that's an invitation-"

"It isn't," Gwen said lightly. "But I do have another suggestion I would like to discuss."

Jack barely heard her last sentence, though. Referring to bed again when he already felt so lusty was a bad idea. "Going for a walk," he said suddenly and was gone out the door before Gwen could ask why.

The next day, Gwen held the compass up for the captain to see while he checked the Pearl's course. As Jack slipped the tethers around a knob on the wheel, to hold it steady, Gwen inspected the compass curiously. It looked rather like any other compass she had ever seen, but it obviously wasn't normal.

"Where did you get this?" she asked.

Jack took it back from her and it disappeared from sight into his vest somewhere. "Morning, Gibbs," he said as his first mate joined them. Turning back to Gwen he answered, with his usual smirk, "From a couple of sea turtles."

Gibbs shared a laugh with his captain. Gwen frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, clearly missing out on some joke.

"Did ye notice the red skies last night by chance, Cap'n?" Gibbs asked when they had stopped laughing.

"As a matter of fact, I did notice," Jack said, and Gwen grinned. He'd said the same thing last night to her own observation on the weather.

"Smooth sailing's sure," the first mate said. He looked up at the sky now, observing the good-natured puffy white clouds that littered the pale gray-blue dawn sky. Then he nodded toward the Pearl's stygian sails, all of them unfurled to make maximum use of the wind that was carrying them swiftly across the surface of the sea. "Maybe the lass here is good luck," he added, gesturing toward Gwen and then up at the full sails.

After a moment or two of silence, Gibbs observed unnecessarily, "Making good time t'ward wherever 'tis we're going."

"Aye," Jack agreed.

"Some o' the men's wonderin' where that might be," Gibbs said when the captain didn't respond to his first, more subtle comment.

"Aye," Jack said again.

Knowing he wouldn't get anything else from him, Gibbs merely nodded his understanding of Jack's avoidance of the subject. "Cap'n. Good day to you, Miss Gwendolyn."

Gwen smiled at him in acknowledgment, remembering when Jack had commented on the man's not particularly liking women aboard a ship. Bad luck, it seemed. It was probably quite a confession for the overly superstitious man to drop the accusation against her.

When he was gone, Jack turned to Gwen. "Some o' the captain's wondering where 'tis we're going," he commented.

"Only some of you?"

"The rest of me's wondering how much rum and pleasurable company the plunder will fetch me," he grinned.

He was also wondering whether the faint pink tinge in Gwen's cheeks then was from embarrassment at his allusion to whores or from jealousy.

"Suppose we're going nowhere," Gwen said after a moment, voicing a troubling thought that had occurred to her a few times. "What if it's really not treasure that we're heading towards?" Just because Jack was trying to convince her that the compass was trying to lead them treasure wasn't good enough for her.

Jack's smile faded a bit. But of course, he'd already thought of that. "Look, luv," he said, sharing the conclusion he'd come to himself. "Where we're going right now is wherever 'tis you and me devil compass are taking us, savvy? Because I can't resist," he said with a smirk, though it was very much the truth. "After that, we'll just have to see whether or not you still owe me a shipload of swag, which would be your problem."

Gwen scowled at his last sentence, but ignored it in her reply. "And what if we're blindly following your 'devil compass' into something dreadful?"

"It doesn't stand a chance," Jack replied, spreading his arms out grandly. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

Frustrated, Gwen pointed out, "Well, Captain, you can introduce yourself to whomever you wish, but you still have no proof it isn't another curse, one that you can't defeat with just a little spilled blood."

"Well, you're me good luck against that," he countered, his chilled tone incongruous to his casual words. "Gibbs confessed it himself."

"That's ridiculous," she told him flatly. "I could be cursed myself for all you know, and that would be why your bewitched compass is leading me to some cursed treasure."

"When I want your opinion, woman, I'll ask for it," Jack told her bluntly.

"You don't ever ask for anything else when you want it," she said angrily, one hand reflexively reaching to touch her lower lip. It was slightly swollen this morning, as any woman's is after her first passionate kiss.

"You didn't argue," he said fiercely.

Mistake. He could see it in her wild eyes and clenched jaw. The familiar stance of a woman about to launch the most favored attack of her entire gender. He prepared himself for the open-handed slap he was about to receive...

...and sucked in a sharp breath as a hand-grenade exploded in his trousers. He reached for the ship's wheel to steady himself as the pain spread white-hot through his stomach and down his legs, centering at his groin. She'd done it. She'd actually done it. He wasn't sure whether she had used some unsuspected power in her feminine fist or if she'd kneed him. Wasn't sure it really mattered at this point. It could matter later.

He gritted his teeth and glanced up, hoping no one had witnessed the humiliating assault. As luck would have it, he noticed that it was that blessed time of early morning when the last night watch had gone below to rouse their replacements, and only a couple of his men were above deck. And, thankfully, none of them seemed to be paying any real attention.

He focused on her retreating figure, with hair like Medusa's in its loathsome braids. She was heading below deck. And then he noticed Will, apparently having met Gwen just a few seconds before, heading up toward the helm.

Jack groaned as he clung to the wheel, feeling acutely his heartbeat throbbing from his knees to his navel, every beat as potent as a cannon's blast. He glared maliciously at Will as he joined him.

"You say one word, and Elizabeth will be a widow," he growled at the other man's amused expression.

"I had suspected-"

"I know you had," Gwen cut her off. Then, realizing her unintentional rudeness to her friend, she smiled apologetically at Elizabeth. Taking a breath to calm herself, she went on. "But honestly, nothing happened. I sleep every night down the hall from the mess hall. And there was one night in Tortuga I accidentally dozed off in his cabin when he wasn't there."

Elizabeth looked surprised at this.

"And there was certainly nothing close about our relationship. I'm his guide to something he wants, treasure. That's all."

"That's not what it looks like to me," Elizabeth said with a gentle smile. "Or to Will. Jack likes matching wits with people, and there aren't many who can catch him at every turn. You can tell he's enjoying himself around you."

"Exactly it!" Gwen said. "He enjoys himself."

"He's a pirate," Elizabeth said, with the air of one long accustomed to excusing the man's selfish nature.

"He's conceited."

"Devil take the hussy," Jack grunted. Finally, the pain had reduced to only a residual ache, leaving him with a tingling sensation that was nearly pleasant compared to the anguish of before. The release was almost as satisfying as a release of a different sort.

"Damn her," he added for good measure at the reminder of the night before.

"It seems you've found yourself a girl, but are otherwise incapable of wooing said strumpet," Will said, unable to let the opportunity slip past without comment.

"Will? Ye're going to have a hard time trying to explain to Elizabeth why ye're a eunuch."

"He kissed me," Gwen admitted.

"Did he?" Elizabeth asked noncommittally.

"Did he ever," Gwen said with a soft groan of combined regret and remembered pleasure. Her tone stiffened again. "Just like him, taking without asking. He's full of himself."

"Hasn't Elizabeth ever-" Jack gestured in strange circles.

Will was accustomed to the odd gesticulating and understood what he was trying to ask, about the attack Jack had just suffered. "Actually, no," he said. "I hope your lady there doesn't give her any ideas, though."

"She is not 'my' lady," Jack said vehemently. "She's an overly confident little hussy."

"Can't imagine you'd want any other sort, Jack," Will observed casually.

"I don't want her," he lied. "I've had plenty of women, I don't need her."

Will lifted an eyebrow at the unasked-for information. "Who are you trying to convince?"

"No," Gwen insisted overly-fiercely. "I most certainly wouldn't. He may be immoral, but I would never even consider letting him-"

"I meant, would you be interested if he cared, not if he wanted to... you know," Elizabeth said, clearing up the vague wording of her previous question.

"Oh," Gwen said faintly. "No, I wouldn't. He's a bloody pirate, a scallywag," she added with more conviction.

"I find Will's pirate-ish streak to be exciting," Elizabeth commented.

"Will isn't a scoundrel. Or a rascal, or villain, or knave."

Elizabeth grinned and wondered if she should point out that Gwen obviously had a pirate song engraved in her mind.

Gwen shook her head at some thought she didn't bother putting into words. "Thank you, Elizabeth, for listening to me carry on. But I think I want to spend some time alone now, so I'll leave you in peace."

"Nice weather today," Will observed offhandedly as he left Jack at the helm.

Jack scowled at his back and looked up at the Pearl's onyx-hued sails, taut with wind. He added a few more curses and condemnations to the list he was making for Gwen as he thought of her real or merely perceived charm over the weather.

Will watched as Elizabeth undressed in their little cabin to prepare for her afternoon nap. She wasn't quite far enough along- at just a couple of months- for morning sickness to start launching its worst assaults, but she did grow tired much more easily and had come to appreciate a mid-day rest.

"I talked to Gwen early this morning," Elizabeth said offhandedly as she crawled into bed.

"I talked to Jack," Will grinned, not bothering to ask the content of his wife's conversation.

"Your diagnosis?" Elizabeth said.

"The part of his thinking he's done within his trousers is quite fond her," he said tactfully. "The rest of him is trying to pretend that that's the only thing thinking about her. And Gwen?"

"Is trying to convince herself he's a scallywag, and that she isn't willing to stoop to his level." At Will's "go-ahead" expression, she continued, "She's trying to convince herself that her reasons for not liking him are completely sound ones in her own way of thinking. And not even succeeding first in pretending she doesn't like him."

Will shook his head in amusement at and then dismissal of the situation between their old friend and their new one. He kissed Elizabeth as she settled under the blankets. "Well, sleep well, dear," he said.

"I love you, pirate" Elizabeth said, closing her eyes.

"As I love you, wench," Will said with a grin.

Elizabeth opened her eyes just a bit to pin him with a mildly reproving look, then smiled at him and settled in for her nap.