Disclaimer: *sneaks around a corner* Psst…come here. *leans closer* I may not have Jack or anyone else from 'Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl' as my very own yet…but soon…*maniacal grin* Very, very soon…
Authors Note: Thank you reviewers!!! I love you!!! *resists glomping…just barely* Hope you like this little tid-bit. It's all our favorite Pirate Captain…yep, Jack.
Four-Sided Eyes
(a.k.a. Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the fangirl)
Chapter 4: Blubbering boys
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Jack's POV…)
Gloom…that had to be it.
Since Pierre had been on board the Pearl that particular emotion seemed palpable in the air. It was understandable though. From the blood on his shoulder, the lad had been very close to the struggle. And…since he could not be more than thirteen years of age, having to witness so many deaths would be hard on him. But he was being very silent about it. Perhaps his life had been hard. Narrowing my eyes at his backside, I was sure of it. This lad had never been pampered. And if Pierre was in fact a girl, he was in denial of the fact, or had been taught to hide it.
No doubt, he'd been raised by people other than his - or her - own parents.
I hadn't known too many women pirates, but if most were like Anamaria…they wouldn't tell their daughter to be a man. And if my suspicions were correct, Pierre was a very confused cabin boy, or a very confused girl used to posing as a cabin boy.
He had been silent ever since we'd gotten off the beach, and from seeing his previous behavior…this was not natural for him. Or her.
Shaking my head for a moment, I surveyed the ocean and found it empty besides the usual ships at Grenada's port. Gibbs and Cotton were onboard, but Cotton was in the Crow's Nest and Gibbs was making the rounds. So for the most part, it was just Pierre and I.
Upon closer inspection, I thought I saw Pierre blink a little quickly…a tear?
He was crying?
Oh no…
I guess it would be a good chance for me to discover Pierre's true sex. Surely a woman, or young girl, would reveal herself when at the mercy of her tears? I might as well get closer…the sooner I can be sure that Pierre is a lad and not a lass, the better.
I don't think someone so small had ever taken so much thought…especially looking as plain and innocent as Pierre did.
As I walked towards him my observation was confirmed. Pierre had turned his back to me, an obvious action to take when trying to hide your tears. If he had no tears to hide, there would be no need to turn around. I stopped a foot or so behind him, and decided upon an innocent question.
"Are ye all right, Pierre?"
He didn't reply. Pierre definitely tensed, but I also could have been wrong and he hadn't realized how close I was to him…
So I took two steps, and my movement forced him to provide a response. It was rushed…and his voice wavered for a moment. He had been crying.
"I'm fine."
I waited a moment, prepping my voice to be its most seductive and comforting self…"Pierre, what's wrong?"
He didn't reply, tensing again. Did the lad realize how obvious he was being? If he did…perhaps he was more daft that I thought. Narrowing my eyes, I was sure the cause was his grief and tears distracting him.
Usually I let men work out their worries alone…but this lad…he provoked my curiosity. He was so…confusing.
I had found my enigma.
Amazing.
I set my hand on his shoulder and felt him flinch. No need to cause the boy more pain, so I made a retreat. With my hand, I refused to move the rest of me just yet.
"Nothin' to be concerned about, Cap'n." He had managed to calm his voice. He gave little away.
I'd have to work harder…
And so I began my analysis again.
He seemed tough on the outside…but the fact that the majority of his concentration was spent on controlling his tears… He indeed was hurting inside. It would eventually be necessary to express that emotion. Keeping it inside for too long could be detrimental. And his control seemed weak enough that it could very well be expressed quite soon.
So, I found it necessary do something for the boy. He may not be glad for my company, but I didn't want to leave him be. Who knew if the boy would jump overboard and swim to shore? Even try to commit suicide? Unlikely…but still…
"I think I'll keep an eye on ye tonight. You've been through a lot-"
He cut me off, "I'm fine."
I watched his hands clench the railing. He definitely was on the edges of snapping in some way. I didn't want to deal with a drunk, crying lad…least of all if he was angry at me. He only clenched the wood tighter, as if to fight off the tears by concentrating on his pain. I allowed him the chance to calm, but it didn't seem the opportunity would show itself in my presence. So my only option was to leave if I wanted to allow the boy to work out his emotions. The sooner that happened, the sooner he could get to work and stop moping around.
"All right, Pierre. You can sleep where're you please. Good night."
He nodded stiffly and I walked away slowly.
That lad...why does he puzzle me so much? It's really not a good thing to have a pirate captain's brain filled with intrigue. No less about a scrawny lad…
So I wandered the deck, trying to find something to occupy my mind. But Pierre, whether he willed it or not, would not stay out of my head.
That wrap…and pulling his shirt closed. But he very well could have a previous wound. Any right-minded woman would have instantly attempted to cover herself. Unless she was a Tortuga lady…but Pierre, if he truly was hiding his sex, was not a Tortuga lady. If any kind of female, he was the confused juvenile kind.
Great…
Eventually I returned to Pierre's last location, but he was definitely not as I had last seem him. The lad was sitting on the deck, his small pathetic body convulsing in his sobs - they were audible enough for me to hear them from across the far side of the deck, quite the feat - and he was covering his face, attempting to stem the tears or hide his face. Would a boy cry in such a way?
Narrowing my eyes and continuing towards him, I decided a boy could. But that still did not rule out the possibility of Pierre being a girl.
He must have been completely absorbed by his tears…normally Pierre would have noticed my footsteps by now.
What could cause a lad - or lass - to cry in such a manner?
Did inner demons torment him?
Had he truly lost his family aboard the Dilettante?
Well, I had to at least stop his tears to get some sort of answer.
Stopping no more than a foot away, Pierre still did not respond to my presence. The boy needs some cheering up…nothing better than an adventure tale.
And so I set about telling my most recent adventure.
"Now, Pierre, listen well, for your Captain has a very important adventure to tell you about. My first crew aboard the Black Pearl, you see, were not as honest of pirates as I thought they were. And my mutinous first mate Barbossa, he was not the loyal lackey I thought he was. Normally, I'm a superb judge of character, but this time it seems I was mistaken…"
To add to the effects of the story, and to hopefully get Pierre's attention - he was still consumed with his tears - I would do my normal waving of hands and focusing and refocusing of eyes, but I crouched down to his huddled form and leaned in, then leaned back, continuing the process as I spoke.
As I started to get farther in, he looked over at me.
Finally! An audience!
Now the lad was watching me, and thankfully his sobs were dying quickly, but then he started to hiccup. An almost endearing trait, really. Seeing the lad breathing hard to slow his tears, and then jerk back with the force of a powerful hiccup was almost enough to break my concentration.
It seemed I was doing something right…Pierre was calming. The hiccups continued, but they were quickly becoming far less common. Pierre calmed the fastest as he met my gaze and kept it there. I let the story begin to tell itself, and watched for a kind of signal in his eyes or body language.
No doubt he was incapable of normal speech. His hiccups would be enough to put an end to that valiant effort.
Things largely continued with me talking excitedly, Pierre hiccupping every so often, and our eyes keeping in contact. As odd as it felt…watching his eyes stare into mine perked my interest. The boy was overall rather plain, but his eyes could display such a range of emotions…
Like that one right there.
I had reached the point in the thread that I was telling Elizabeth about the impossibility of our relationship, and a shimmer of some color flashed through his eyes…and the tremor seemed to snap him out of his stupor. To an extent…
Now the lad was staring in shock, almost….horrified?
I must get a better look at this…I leaned forward and stayed my position.
"Are ye all right, Pierre?"
"What…did you - hic! - call me a - hic! - m-moment ago?" Swallowing down the last of the amusing hiccups, Pierre almost got me to crack a smile too soon for the correct effect in my reply.
I slowly put on a mischievous expression, but let it stay only a moment. Can't set the boy too off guard. But I continued to grin. "Been callin' ye Pierre the whole time. Was telling you about my adventures with a Will Turner and Miss Elizabeth Swann, soon to be Turner. Did you like it?"
"I…" Pierre's words were so broken it was almost alarming. He had always come off very smooth and polished in his speech. Was this the true Pierre? Or was he just too tired to think straight? "I don't think I really was able to understand you…I saw your lips move. But…I didn't hear what you said…"
Ah, the boy had been utterly distracted as he had held my gaze. Captain Jack Sparrow is truly a man of many talents. And my smile said it all.
"Well, just glad you're feeling better. Want to talk about anything?"
He began to stutter. He must have really been tired…or off guard. "N-no, I'm quite all right now." His pause seemed a bit too long for him to catch his breath. "Just…just had to get over the Cap'n and the crew's death…they…" tears began to resurface and the boy's façade faded just a bit, "they were like family to me…" He got even quieter and finished in a whisper. "My only family…"
Well…that would explain a lot of the crying. Poor lad feels all alone in the world. Couldn't be more than twelve or thirteen. Cabin boys had survived at a younger age, but most had either witnessed that kind of carnage from a very young age…or not at all. And it was always a changing experience.
I even remember the first time that I saw a man be savagely run through. Not that it affected me as much. But, to see my own crew slaughtered…it may still have some kind of ill response.
Hugging was out of the question. Besides…pirates don't hug. At least, well… Captains and cabin boys don't hug. Captains and wenches…well, that was an entirely different matter.
Having suffered enough of the quiet and gloom, I gently placed my hand on his head.
Pierre took it and I sensed that he calmed even the least bit.
Putting a kind tone to my voice, I spoke softly. "I'll be looking out for ye, lad." Was that hope coming out of his eyes? Perhaps my words were more powerful than I thought. "You should probably go to sleep now. Been a long day." I took my hand off his head and held it out to him. No doubt the lad would stumble without some kind of assistance.
As if still in a dream-like state, Pierre took my hand. His were incredibly small… calloused, but almost… nothing more than a young boy's hands.
I got to my feet and pulled him up. Pierre's weariness was prevalent, and he was unsteady, and not wishing to have the lad falling all over and pulling my arm in funny directions, I steadied him with my other hand, sure to place it on his shoulder.
Not that I generally place it on a lad's chest, mind ye.
Once Pierre seemed steady, I placed the hand on his shoulder and led him towards the stairs below deck. Pierre said nothing, and I didn't mind it. He looked awful. His eyes were red from bawling, but he had taken it well. No blubbering apologies. I was sure he thought me odd, but he also could be getting over his rum.
Reaching the empty crew's quarters, I stopped Pierre next to a cot and patted his back lightly.
"Here be a bed for the night. See you in the morning, Pierre."
"Good night," he said in a muffled tone, and tiredly pulled off his boots, climbing into the cot and settling into it. I continued out, pausing in the doorway.
Pierre looked so small there. With a few exceptions, my crew was made of entirely full grown men or a few cabin boys about ready to become men. Pierre…he still had the innocent look of a child. But there were far too many contradictions and questions for things to be as simple as that…
Soon, my little enigma. Soon enough I will unravel your mysteries.
Now, about my own bed…
