Title: Tumbling Drabbles
Author: Darkfire Blade aka Fire Pendant
Beta: BithySith (ooooo I love you so much! Thank you! This probably would
have been so bad without you *blows kisses and hugs...can you blow hugs?*)
Disclaimer: *cringes* Nooo! Don't hurt me! I just borrowed them and
attempted to make a story out of them...They're the Mouse's, so I'll put them
back...in time...
Summary: A rushed train of thought as Jack takes a tumble down the side of
Fort Charles. A little bit of Sparrington.
Rating: PG
Sure, he had experienced what it was like to almost die, but this was a little...different. Perhaps it was because previous circumstances didn't involve falling off a very elevated battlement and plunging to a certain death on the sharp and jagged rocks below. Either that, or those prickishly stubborn lobster-backs would row out and fetch him again for the hanging he had nearly missed...not that he was looking forward to the possibility of dying either. Or maybe, those other times, he had almost nothing running through his head, a little bit here and there about his old piratey life, and of course, something about his Pearl, but never so much as to overwhelm him...
William Turner...both of them. A fine boy of course, just like his father: jack-assingly obstinate, and overly passionate about his principles. Though where he got the skills with the blade was beyond him...Bill had never liked those tenuous fragments of steel. And of course there was always the passion for Elizabeth, swooning over the lass just as Bill had done over the whelp's mother. Never did forgive the old chap for disappearing that night and showing up again during a raid a few months later.
Now young miss Swann. Images flashed in his head of the encounters he had shared with the pretty young lady. The brush on the docks after saving her (and my, did she have a very nice throat); her foxy cleverness as she faked intoxication on the island with him; and the rum...above all, it still pained him when the images of the burning liquid heaven entered his mind...he could almost smell the sharp smoke that emanated from the bonfire. Well, she was now with the whelp and the two were going to live happily ever after (not that he wouldn't mind having both).
Jack sighed and closed his eyes and the rushing air whistled past his ears. Piercing green eyes suddenly filled his mind, the sea green, so full of emotion as the accompanying heart was ripped out by the lass who declared her preference for Will with a fraction of the population of Port Royal as an audience. Commodore Norrington...quite the eye-catcher. Driven to see all pirates dangle from the noose as if it were an obsession. And if anyone was made to wear those fine silk tights...it was the Commodore. That man had issues; he acted as if he had the mainmast sticking up his arse. Stiff. If only Norrington had loosened up a little bit...and maybe lost the uniform...
He was jarred from his thoughts as he hit the water. Moments later he came gasping for air, treading water and looking around, stunned that he had miraculously missed the rocks. Slowly, he turned to take one last look towards the horizon before Norrington's men would emerged in their little boats to return him to prison.
A smile spread wide over his face as a familiar and much wanted sight greeted him...it was the Pearl. She glided gracefully from behind the cliff and towards him. He turned back to the Fort and glanced up at the walls. There was Will and his bonnie lass...and standing at the edge of the battlements was the Commodore Norrington. Jack raised a jaunty salute towards the man and gave a sultry wink ...not that Norrington would be able to see the latter.
Quickly he began swimming back to his lady, the Black Pearl. Perhaps he ought to pay the dear Commodore a visit some time. And perhaps he could assist the man in loosening up. A few bottles of rum wouldn't hurt would it?
Sure, he had experienced what it was like to almost die, but this was a little...different. Perhaps it was because previous circumstances didn't involve falling off a very elevated battlement and plunging to a certain death on the sharp and jagged rocks below. Either that, or those prickishly stubborn lobster-backs would row out and fetch him again for the hanging he had nearly missed...not that he was looking forward to the possibility of dying either. Or maybe, those other times, he had almost nothing running through his head, a little bit here and there about his old piratey life, and of course, something about his Pearl, but never so much as to overwhelm him...
William Turner...both of them. A fine boy of course, just like his father: jack-assingly obstinate, and overly passionate about his principles. Though where he got the skills with the blade was beyond him...Bill had never liked those tenuous fragments of steel. And of course there was always the passion for Elizabeth, swooning over the lass just as Bill had done over the whelp's mother. Never did forgive the old chap for disappearing that night and showing up again during a raid a few months later.
Now young miss Swann. Images flashed in his head of the encounters he had shared with the pretty young lady. The brush on the docks after saving her (and my, did she have a very nice throat); her foxy cleverness as she faked intoxication on the island with him; and the rum...above all, it still pained him when the images of the burning liquid heaven entered his mind...he could almost smell the sharp smoke that emanated from the bonfire. Well, she was now with the whelp and the two were going to live happily ever after (not that he wouldn't mind having both).
Jack sighed and closed his eyes and the rushing air whistled past his ears. Piercing green eyes suddenly filled his mind, the sea green, so full of emotion as the accompanying heart was ripped out by the lass who declared her preference for Will with a fraction of the population of Port Royal as an audience. Commodore Norrington...quite the eye-catcher. Driven to see all pirates dangle from the noose as if it were an obsession. And if anyone was made to wear those fine silk tights...it was the Commodore. That man had issues; he acted as if he had the mainmast sticking up his arse. Stiff. If only Norrington had loosened up a little bit...and maybe lost the uniform...
He was jarred from his thoughts as he hit the water. Moments later he came gasping for air, treading water and looking around, stunned that he had miraculously missed the rocks. Slowly, he turned to take one last look towards the horizon before Norrington's men would emerged in their little boats to return him to prison.
A smile spread wide over his face as a familiar and much wanted sight greeted him...it was the Pearl. She glided gracefully from behind the cliff and towards him. He turned back to the Fort and glanced up at the walls. There was Will and his bonnie lass...and standing at the edge of the battlements was the Commodore Norrington. Jack raised a jaunty salute towards the man and gave a sultry wink ...not that Norrington would be able to see the latter.
Quickly he began swimming back to his lady, the Black Pearl. Perhaps he ought to pay the dear Commodore a visit some time. And perhaps he could assist the man in loosening up. A few bottles of rum wouldn't hurt would it?