Author here! Hey, guess what. They're coming out with a new movie. Seen those 'Chuckie' movies? Killer doll? Well in the later movies, killer doll gets together with a chick killer doll and apparently now they've had a kid. Guess who is the voice of the killer kid? *sob* Billy Boyd! What's happened to my Scottish angel?
Fourteen
Jack's dream was both fantastic and disappointing. Fantastic because he was dreaming, but disappointing because he knew that he was.
He was sitting on a bed of feathers. This was his first clue to the dream-nature of what he was experiencing. He had never been in such a fancy bed. The second clue was the fact that the bed rested on a tiny island, so tiny that its shallow shores disappeared under the bed's clawed feet, while a still green sea stretched out in all directions. There was someone in the bed with him, and they were sleeping with their back to him.
He debated as to whether or not he should wake them, but he had little else to do, and so it was not a difficult decision. As he extended a hand to touch the shoulder of the sleeping figure, it rolled over and opened its - his - eyes.
"Jack," asked Will. "Why are you in my dream?"
"Will," answered Jack. "What're you doin' in my bed?"
Will sat up and rubbed a hand over his face. He still looked very sleepy. When the sheets fell away from his chest, Jack could see that Will was wearing his smithy-apron, and it too was green. "Do you not wear pyjamas, my boy?" Will glanced down at himself.
He sighed. "Well, this is disappointing."
"Hmm?"
"This is disappointing. Look at me. I'm not realistic. So, I must be a character in your dream - not you in mine."
Jack frowned. "You're not Will?"
"Oh I am, though that depends on what you mean by Will." He smiled. "If Will is someone who looks and speaks like Will, then I certainly am." He lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes. He folded his arms behind his head. "This is your dream."
Jack looked around at the expanse of ocean, which had deepened to a much darker green. "I think I knew that already."
Will didn't open his eyes. "If you know you much, Jack, do you know why you're dreaming about me?"
"Well, it's your fault that I'm currently stuck on the island where I am. Maybe I'm angry with you."
"I don't think so." Will's hair was free and splayed across the pillow. "This scene is much, much too peaceful for anger."
Jack leaned down so that he kohl-rimmed eyes were inches from Will's. "I wouldn't admit it, but could it be that I miss you?" The blacksmith scrunched up his face in thought.
"You're getting closer. But that's not quite it. There's more to it than that."
"You know why I'm dreaming about you, then?" He sat back.
"I do." Will rolled onto his side again so that his back was to Jack.
Jack spread his hands. "Well, why am I? There are a hundred women - uh, things that I could be dreaming about. Why am I dreaming of you, dear William?"
Will turned to speak over his shoulder. His voice was soft and his liquid brown eyes were no longer jovial, but expressionless. "Because you feel guilty."
~
Jack woke with a start. His heart was hammering, and he tried to remember what he had been dreaming about - what had agitated him so much - but the dream was gone. He made a frustrated sound and pushed his hat back so that it was no longer blocking the sun from his face. His back was to a gnarled palm tree, and the sand beneath him was very warm. Carly saw that he was awake and bounded over.
"You're awake."
"Don't remind me, darling."
"Cap' said that when you were awake to get your help catchin' dinner."
Jack made a face as he stretched. "Wot's in Melanie's head that we need to go through the exorbitant waste of time and energy to catch anything? There's fruit enough."
The browned girl nodded quickly, not really listening. "She knows, she knows, Jack. But she also knows that naught but fruit in th'belly fer a week ain't good. An' besides," she winked at him in that special way that only works for mischievous children. "Huntin's not difficult. Even you can help."
"Fine," he said and stood. "Lead on." He brushed sand from his pants as he walked behind the waif, and made a note to remember where his shirt and boots had been left. Not that he needed them on such a sweltering tropical paradise, but he did plan on leaving eventually. It would be lovely if eventually turned out to be sooner rather than later, though. He was getting a little bored.
The past few days hadn't been all that bad - clear skies in the day and warm, rainless nights. It never changed. Apart from the pigeon-thing that Carly had rummaged through the bush to find, Jack had seen no other wildlife. Well, that might have been because he dozed much of the time. He had been determined to take a rest in Tortuga and even if he was no longer there, he was going to have it nonetheless.
But he was starting to become restless, and made up his mind to talk to Melanie about it. He hadn't seen her much after that first day - she had busied herself with issues of food and shelter and fire while her crew had spread themselves over the small island in a way that Jack could not help but think of as looking, well, practiced. He had decided not to ask questions about that.
Carly led him a little way into the trees. Melanie had a fire crackling quietly, and a lean-to. She emerged from the latter as Carly hailed her, and Jack noticed, not without some pleasure, that she had done her best to become as acclimatized to the heat as he had. Her skirt had been torn dangerously - but delightfully, Jack decided - short, and she too had forgone boots and left her long tan legs bare. She shirt had been torn as well, to above her stomach, and the sleeves were gone. A sheen of sweat gleamed on her chest, and the entirety of her auburn hair was done up in her scarf. Her blade was nowhere to be seen.
She caught him looking. "Quite warm out, isn't it?"
"Indeed it is," answered Jack, eyes on her legs. "'Tis quite the shame."
"I trust you've been holding up well? Sorry to have been busy, but I've got the crew to think of and I just naturally assumed that you'd -"
Jack held up a hand. "Not to worry my dear. It takes more than a sunny day to outdo this scallywag. After all, I think I've got nearly as much experience being hopelessly stranded as you do."
She colored, but looked relieved. "So what chore do you require me from today, me beauty?"
Evidently ignoring the comment, she pointed to his hip. "Firepower, Jack. You've got a pistol, and its not much use trying to find dinner with a sword."
"'Course it is," Jack replied and pulled his own knife from the other side of his hip. "Observe." With an easy flick oh his wrist, the dagger was abruptly embedded in the husk of a coconut on the ground several feet away. Jack strode over and lifted his trophy triumphantly.
Melanie laughed. "You know what I mean. Bellies need other than bananas and coconut milk." She ducked deeper into the trees and Jack followed, speared coconut in hand.
He fell into step beside her. "I didn't know there were unfruit-like things on this spit of land worth eating," he said conversationally.
"There are, if you know where to look for them," she answered, stepping over a fallen and mossy tree trunk. "We, ah, may have been on an island - like this - before ..." she cleared her throat. "In any case, there are wild pigs deeper in the trees. I mean, there might be. Maybe. Can't hurt to check."
Jack laughed and put his pistol in her hand. "Just in case you're right."
When they returned to Melanie's lean-to and the slowing fire, Gibbs was waiting for them. Jack nodded to his friend as he slung the young boar off of his shoulders. "Hello, Gibbs."
Gibbs gestured to the pig. "What a fine stroke o'luck that were, happening to know where a family o'pigs might be livin'."
"Aye," agreed Jack. "Unbelievable luck." Melanie whistled innocently and started to skin it. Both men chuckled.
"Well now," Gibbs said. "It seems t'me that we've got quite the cozy little vacation happenin' on this island." He rubbed beaded moisture from his forehead and wiped his hands on his already damp shirt. "Neither you nor your ladies seem much affrighted, even seein' as its been a week today that we've been 'ere and no sign o'Will Turner."
Melanie didn't look up. "Patience, Gibbs. I've got faith."
He snorted. "In Will? Ye barely know the lad."
"Not necessarily. I have faith in Carly's teaching and her birds." She looked Gibbs square in the eye then. "We will be found."
Jack had settled himself down against a tree. "It just doesn't seem fair, love."
"What doesn't?"
"We don't get to have any adventures in this bleedin' tale until Will gets here."
Melanie nodded, slowly. "True. I suppose that's true. What's the problem?"
Jack stuck out his lower lip in a pout. "Well look how long its takin'! We're already on what, chapter fourteen, and he's not here."
"Actually, its closer to fifteen," Gibbs stated helpfully, and pointed to the approaching end of the chapter.
"Oh no, not this time." Jack was on his feet suddenly. "Not this time, love! We're going to have an adventure in this chapter!" And with that, he strode away in the direction of the shore. Melanie and Gibbs exchanged a look, then Melanie went back to preparing their meal while Gibbs turned his attention to the dying embers of the fire.
After a few moments, a voice rang out. "You mean no one is coming with me? Neither of you are going to help me?"
"Sorry, Jack!" Melanie called back. "We're a bit busy at the moment." And they were, too. It takes a lot of work to prepare a decent meal when you're stuck on an island, whether you're in a fictional pirate story or not.
Jack made an angry sound from the beach. "No rum," he muttered. "No Tortuga. No bleedin' adventures. I'm getting a little impatient!" he shouted abruptly to the darkening sky. There was a sound from the rolling waves like a chuckle, and suddenly an event happened that Jack was powerless to prevent.
Chapter fifteen.
The sounds of angry pirate shrieks echoed into the night.
Fourteen
Jack's dream was both fantastic and disappointing. Fantastic because he was dreaming, but disappointing because he knew that he was.
He was sitting on a bed of feathers. This was his first clue to the dream-nature of what he was experiencing. He had never been in such a fancy bed. The second clue was the fact that the bed rested on a tiny island, so tiny that its shallow shores disappeared under the bed's clawed feet, while a still green sea stretched out in all directions. There was someone in the bed with him, and they were sleeping with their back to him.
He debated as to whether or not he should wake them, but he had little else to do, and so it was not a difficult decision. As he extended a hand to touch the shoulder of the sleeping figure, it rolled over and opened its - his - eyes.
"Jack," asked Will. "Why are you in my dream?"
"Will," answered Jack. "What're you doin' in my bed?"
Will sat up and rubbed a hand over his face. He still looked very sleepy. When the sheets fell away from his chest, Jack could see that Will was wearing his smithy-apron, and it too was green. "Do you not wear pyjamas, my boy?" Will glanced down at himself.
He sighed. "Well, this is disappointing."
"Hmm?"
"This is disappointing. Look at me. I'm not realistic. So, I must be a character in your dream - not you in mine."
Jack frowned. "You're not Will?"
"Oh I am, though that depends on what you mean by Will." He smiled. "If Will is someone who looks and speaks like Will, then I certainly am." He lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes. He folded his arms behind his head. "This is your dream."
Jack looked around at the expanse of ocean, which had deepened to a much darker green. "I think I knew that already."
Will didn't open his eyes. "If you know you much, Jack, do you know why you're dreaming about me?"
"Well, it's your fault that I'm currently stuck on the island where I am. Maybe I'm angry with you."
"I don't think so." Will's hair was free and splayed across the pillow. "This scene is much, much too peaceful for anger."
Jack leaned down so that he kohl-rimmed eyes were inches from Will's. "I wouldn't admit it, but could it be that I miss you?" The blacksmith scrunched up his face in thought.
"You're getting closer. But that's not quite it. There's more to it than that."
"You know why I'm dreaming about you, then?" He sat back.
"I do." Will rolled onto his side again so that his back was to Jack.
Jack spread his hands. "Well, why am I? There are a hundred women - uh, things that I could be dreaming about. Why am I dreaming of you, dear William?"
Will turned to speak over his shoulder. His voice was soft and his liquid brown eyes were no longer jovial, but expressionless. "Because you feel guilty."
~
Jack woke with a start. His heart was hammering, and he tried to remember what he had been dreaming about - what had agitated him so much - but the dream was gone. He made a frustrated sound and pushed his hat back so that it was no longer blocking the sun from his face. His back was to a gnarled palm tree, and the sand beneath him was very warm. Carly saw that he was awake and bounded over.
"You're awake."
"Don't remind me, darling."
"Cap' said that when you were awake to get your help catchin' dinner."
Jack made a face as he stretched. "Wot's in Melanie's head that we need to go through the exorbitant waste of time and energy to catch anything? There's fruit enough."
The browned girl nodded quickly, not really listening. "She knows, she knows, Jack. But she also knows that naught but fruit in th'belly fer a week ain't good. An' besides," she winked at him in that special way that only works for mischievous children. "Huntin's not difficult. Even you can help."
"Fine," he said and stood. "Lead on." He brushed sand from his pants as he walked behind the waif, and made a note to remember where his shirt and boots had been left. Not that he needed them on such a sweltering tropical paradise, but he did plan on leaving eventually. It would be lovely if eventually turned out to be sooner rather than later, though. He was getting a little bored.
The past few days hadn't been all that bad - clear skies in the day and warm, rainless nights. It never changed. Apart from the pigeon-thing that Carly had rummaged through the bush to find, Jack had seen no other wildlife. Well, that might have been because he dozed much of the time. He had been determined to take a rest in Tortuga and even if he was no longer there, he was going to have it nonetheless.
But he was starting to become restless, and made up his mind to talk to Melanie about it. He hadn't seen her much after that first day - she had busied herself with issues of food and shelter and fire while her crew had spread themselves over the small island in a way that Jack could not help but think of as looking, well, practiced. He had decided not to ask questions about that.
Carly led him a little way into the trees. Melanie had a fire crackling quietly, and a lean-to. She emerged from the latter as Carly hailed her, and Jack noticed, not without some pleasure, that she had done her best to become as acclimatized to the heat as he had. Her skirt had been torn dangerously - but delightfully, Jack decided - short, and she too had forgone boots and left her long tan legs bare. She shirt had been torn as well, to above her stomach, and the sleeves were gone. A sheen of sweat gleamed on her chest, and the entirety of her auburn hair was done up in her scarf. Her blade was nowhere to be seen.
She caught him looking. "Quite warm out, isn't it?"
"Indeed it is," answered Jack, eyes on her legs. "'Tis quite the shame."
"I trust you've been holding up well? Sorry to have been busy, but I've got the crew to think of and I just naturally assumed that you'd -"
Jack held up a hand. "Not to worry my dear. It takes more than a sunny day to outdo this scallywag. After all, I think I've got nearly as much experience being hopelessly stranded as you do."
She colored, but looked relieved. "So what chore do you require me from today, me beauty?"
Evidently ignoring the comment, she pointed to his hip. "Firepower, Jack. You've got a pistol, and its not much use trying to find dinner with a sword."
"'Course it is," Jack replied and pulled his own knife from the other side of his hip. "Observe." With an easy flick oh his wrist, the dagger was abruptly embedded in the husk of a coconut on the ground several feet away. Jack strode over and lifted his trophy triumphantly.
Melanie laughed. "You know what I mean. Bellies need other than bananas and coconut milk." She ducked deeper into the trees and Jack followed, speared coconut in hand.
He fell into step beside her. "I didn't know there were unfruit-like things on this spit of land worth eating," he said conversationally.
"There are, if you know where to look for them," she answered, stepping over a fallen and mossy tree trunk. "We, ah, may have been on an island - like this - before ..." she cleared her throat. "In any case, there are wild pigs deeper in the trees. I mean, there might be. Maybe. Can't hurt to check."
Jack laughed and put his pistol in her hand. "Just in case you're right."
When they returned to Melanie's lean-to and the slowing fire, Gibbs was waiting for them. Jack nodded to his friend as he slung the young boar off of his shoulders. "Hello, Gibbs."
Gibbs gestured to the pig. "What a fine stroke o'luck that were, happening to know where a family o'pigs might be livin'."
"Aye," agreed Jack. "Unbelievable luck." Melanie whistled innocently and started to skin it. Both men chuckled.
"Well now," Gibbs said. "It seems t'me that we've got quite the cozy little vacation happenin' on this island." He rubbed beaded moisture from his forehead and wiped his hands on his already damp shirt. "Neither you nor your ladies seem much affrighted, even seein' as its been a week today that we've been 'ere and no sign o'Will Turner."
Melanie didn't look up. "Patience, Gibbs. I've got faith."
He snorted. "In Will? Ye barely know the lad."
"Not necessarily. I have faith in Carly's teaching and her birds." She looked Gibbs square in the eye then. "We will be found."
Jack had settled himself down against a tree. "It just doesn't seem fair, love."
"What doesn't?"
"We don't get to have any adventures in this bleedin' tale until Will gets here."
Melanie nodded, slowly. "True. I suppose that's true. What's the problem?"
Jack stuck out his lower lip in a pout. "Well look how long its takin'! We're already on what, chapter fourteen, and he's not here."
"Actually, its closer to fifteen," Gibbs stated helpfully, and pointed to the approaching end of the chapter.
"Oh no, not this time." Jack was on his feet suddenly. "Not this time, love! We're going to have an adventure in this chapter!" And with that, he strode away in the direction of the shore. Melanie and Gibbs exchanged a look, then Melanie went back to preparing their meal while Gibbs turned his attention to the dying embers of the fire.
After a few moments, a voice rang out. "You mean no one is coming with me? Neither of you are going to help me?"
"Sorry, Jack!" Melanie called back. "We're a bit busy at the moment." And they were, too. It takes a lot of work to prepare a decent meal when you're stuck on an island, whether you're in a fictional pirate story or not.
Jack made an angry sound from the beach. "No rum," he muttered. "No Tortuga. No bleedin' adventures. I'm getting a little impatient!" he shouted abruptly to the darkening sky. There was a sound from the rolling waves like a chuckle, and suddenly an event happened that Jack was powerless to prevent.
Chapter fifteen.
The sounds of angry pirate shrieks echoed into the night.