Yes, it's the sequel to 'A Silver Doubloon'. I'm not so cruel as to leave
you all hanging like that - honest! Anyway, as before, I own nothing.
Absolutely nothing, it all belongs to Walt Disney and Ted Elliot and those
lovely people who made the film in the first place. Right?
*~*~*
Fair Wind Or Foul
*~*~*
Commodore James Norrington leant back against the bulkhead in his cabin aboard the Black Pearl, massaging his hands gently. He winced as his fingers passed over blisters that seemed to be taking forever to heal. They were two weeks out of Port Royale, and he now fully understood why the life of a common seaman had never appealed to him. His blisters had blisters, and no matter where he went, be it in the rigging or below decks, he always managed to hit his head off something.
Still there was an upside to his learning curve. He wasn't the only one suffering. Marin had taken both him and Harry, the new cabin boy, under her wing, teaching them both the rudiments of sailing right from day one. According to the crew she was a fair taskmaster as well, though James failed to see how making someone scrub the deck in the midday sun was fair.
He smiled as he thought of his cousin, still elated by the thought that he had any family left at all. And, as always, on the heels of that elation came sorrow, a deep and abiding sadness, for what they had both lost. The man who had brought them together, a cousin in his own right, lay slumbering beneath the ocean's wave, ripped from his new-found family by the cold hand of death.
James sighed softly, leaning back on his bunk. It had been an interesting year, he mused, letting his mind cast back over the events that had brought him here. His fingers toyed with the locket that hung about his neck, large and ornate, four interlocking rings embossed in silver. It was what had set him on this course. One of four, he had been made aware of the other three through an old adversary, though now he could call Jack Sparrow nothing other than a friend and a good man.
Now two of the cousins who had guarded the secret of the treasure lay dead, and he and Marin were after what was left to them by their family. Jack could hardly be called upon to stay behind while his own wife went treasure seeking, and they needed the Pearl, so he too had come along. And Will Turner had been gifted the secret keeper's locket by way of thanks for his services, so the Red Dragon drifted alongside the Pearl, bound for the island that sheltered their inheritance.
James grinned, wincing again as he accidentally put pressure on his wounded hands. He hadn't expected the crew to have accepted him as quickly as they did. It had taken him only three days to be brought into the forecastle, and Harry a further two before he could join them. Solomon had been watching him apparently, and knew all about the sores that were developing on his hands. When James hadn't mentioned it, Solomon had, telling the other pirates, and they had brought him into their group, teaching him how to protect his hands and clear up the sores quickly.
Jack hadn't been giving him orders so much as suggesting that he help Marin, an attitude that had helped with his adjustment to being just one of the men. To his surprise he had found that the fraternity of sailors on board a ship were far more accepting of one's faults and weaknesses than a ward-room or officer's mess, where one mistake could cost your standing among them. Gibbs had also taken the younger man under his wing, and they could often be found just talking quietly together beneath the stars.
There was a knock on the door, and it swung in. Marin slipped into the room, holding a jar and a cloth. She smiled at his expression, her steely grey eyes twinkling with mischief as he shot upright to greet her.
'Please don't put that on me again,' he pleaded, quiet enough so whoever was outside the cabin could not hear him.
'I have to,' she told him. 'Otherwise your skin won't harden enough to be able to take the storms we'll encounter.'
James sighed, sitting down on his bunk with a resigned expression. She moved to sit beside him, taking his hands in hers as she examined the extent of the damage he had done to them. He hissed as she poked at the blisters, scowling at her deliberately painful prodding. He could feel the calluses on her hands, the hardened skin that betrayed the years she had spent at sea, and was comforted by the thought that she, and Jack, and all the others had been through this as well.
He studied her as she worked, seeing the changes wrought on his little cousin by the events that had brought them both here. When he had met her, only a few months before, she had been a bright carefree young pirate lass, fiercely devoted to her captain, the notorious Elias Fitzpatrick. The months had taken their toll, first filling her with joy at having found blood kin once more in Elias and James, then heart-wrenching sorrow in losing the old captain to the ocean's embrace. There was a worn maturity about her pretty face, though he was still unsure if that had not come about as a result of her marriage to the infamous Jack Sparrow.
Marin poured a little of the foul concoction onto the cloth, holding his hand still in a tight hold as she opened the blisters and scrubbed the mixture into the wounds. She heard him bite back a low cry of pain, wishing she could be a little more gentle with him, but knowing if she wasn't rough, he would never grow used to climbing the ropes.
'I swear this gets more painful every time,' he muttered, holding out the other hand for her to minister to.
She smiled gently, concentrating on his palms as his fingers flexed in pain. He had learnt a lot in two weeks, more than she had expected him to pick up in such a short time. Marin was more proud of her cousin than she could express, the way he had handled his new duties with hardly a word. He had not complained about any of the work until a few days before, when he had been assured that it was alright to complain, as long as you did what you were supposed to when you were asked.
He seemed so very tired though, obviously unused to such hard labour on a day to day basis, but determined to pull his weight. Gibbs had drawn her to one side that day, and told her in no uncertain terms to make sure James slept. The last thing he wanted was a sailor too knackered to perform his duties.
Her fingers gently traced his ravaged palms, the soft caress drawing some of the pain she had just inflicted back out. She smiled up at him, seeing all the signs Gibbs had told her of.
'How are you, James?' she asked softly.
He grimaced.
'In pain,' he said pointedly, smiling when she laughed. 'No better or worse than usual, Marin, stop fussing. I'm not sleeping too well, but aside from that I'm fine.'
She looked into his bloodshot eyes with a particularly piercing look.
'Why aren't you sleeping?' she pressed.
He shrugged.
'I suppose I just haven't got used to the irregular hours yet,' he brushed off her concern.
Marin held his gaze a while longer before releasing his hands.
'Well, you should try to get some rest,' she told him, rising to her feet as he lay back on his bunk with an audible sigh. 'We passed the last of the islands today, so from here on in, it's open seas.'
He gave her a no-nonsense look.
'I know that, Marin,' he said wearily.
She held his look for a long moment, seeing what he did not wish anyone to see. Marin smiled gently, sinking down onto the bunk beside him once more.
'She loves you, James,' she said softly.
His eyes widened as she spoke, shocked that he was so easy for her to read. Her look was full of love and understanding, and he found himself nodding helplessly as she took his hand.
'I should never have asked her to wait,' he muttered, passing a hand across his eyes. 'She deserves better than me.'
Marin's fingers tightened on his, gently chiding him for such thoughts.
'That doesn't matter,' she told him firmly. 'Laura chose you, and she'll wait for you as long as it takes.'
James grimaced in an attempt to keep the ache he felt from being away from his love showing. Laura Blythe, Elizabeth Turner's cousin, had stolen his heart from him in the space of only a few weeks. He had not had the courage to ask for her hand before they left for Cape Horn, and so spent almost every night dreaming of her beautiful face, wet with tears for him as he took his farewell from her. She had sworn she would wait for him, even if there were no hope of his return, and he had taken her oath gladly, but now James could not help but feel that he had condemned her to a life of misery and heart-break. There was no guarantee that any of them would return from this trip and he berated himself constantly for taking her oath so blithely.
'It was unfair of me to ask her, though,' he insisted.
'Not half as unfair as you making yourself miserable over something done and dusted,' Marin told him archly, and he glanced up with a frown to find her gazing at him with that oddly piercing look she sometimes wore. He sighed, chuckling wearily as she smiled down at him.
'Sleep, James,' she said gently. 'You need to rest easy. If I can take marriage to Jack, you can definitely wait a few months to be reunited with a woman who adores you.'
She drew the blanket up about his shoulders as he turned to the bulkhead, sighing softly as he sought the sweet oblivion of sleep.
Slipping quietly from her cousin's side, Marin wandered back up on deck, winking at Harry where he sat, entangled in the rigging, as the men began to exchange their late night stories before retiring to the forecastle. The men on watch stared out across the sea, nodding to her as she passed, making her way to the great cabin.
Jack sat at the large table, charts spread out in front of him as he worked out the bearings for the next day. Marin smiled, quietly pouring him a glass of rum to replace the empty bottle he clutched in one hand. He didn't look up as she placed it in his hand, removing the bottle.
'Thanks, love,' he said vaguely, taking a long gulp as she moved away.
His finger traced a trail she couldn't follow across the chart, charting the bearings they would follow the next day should the wind remain the same. Marin had never learnt navigation, had never had the inclination to, but wished she could at least understand some of what the captain did as he pondered over his charts.
She lit another candle, taking it with her to the window and looking out across the moonlit ocean. Knowing Jack wouldn't be done for at least another half hour, Marin curled up on the ledge that lay beside the window, her face close to the glass as she let herself feel at one with the sea once more.
She had almost lost the sense of oneness that she had always felt with the ocean during those long months ashore. In a very real sense, as Elias had been her father, the sea had been her mother, nurturing and teaching her, watching her grow to maturity. The love she felt for the sea was the same as the love felt the world over by men who had chosen a life on the waves over a life on land. She had never met a sailor who didn't understand her attachment to the ocean.
Jack was one such man, she knew. His heart would never be completely hers, shared between the ocean he loved, the ship he adored, and her, the woman he had chosen for his own. Marin frowned. She was still unsure as to why he had decided to marry her. Oh, she knew all about James' sneaky manipulation of her husband, his threat to marry her off to another, but she knew for a fact that he would never have done so. Jack wasn't a fool, so he must have known, too, that such a threat could never be carried out on the ward of Elias Fitzpatrick.
So why had he married her? He had the ocean and his Pearl, he had his freedom. Why had he chosen to burden himself with a wife? His promise to Elias aside, what was in it for him? Companionship, perhaps. She smiled, remembering the whores he had brushed off in Port Royale. He could have companionship whenever he wanted, she knew. Marin had known the name of Jack Sparrow long before meeting him, from her friendship with the whores of Tortuga among others. He was definitely a favourite among them.
She shook her head, knowing it was pointless to pursue these thoughts. They would only upset her, make her feel less than what she was. She was his wife, Jack had sworn to be faithful and loving to her until the day they were parted by the eternal sleep. But still, she couldn't help but question his motives for keeping her by his side.
Warm breath on her neck made her jump, glancing up with startled eyes into Jack's amused grin.
'Didn't mean to scare you,' he said quietly, settling himself beside her to gaze out at the ocean.
His arm curled about her waist, drawing her close as he rested his chin on her shoulder, blowing stray tendrils of her hair out of his face. His other hand slipped around her to hold her fingers gently, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.
Marin sighed contentedly, letting herself relax into his embrace.
'All done then?' she asked softly, not wanting to disturb the peace that surrounded them by raising her voice.
Jack kissed her neck lightly before answering, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms.
'Yeah,' he murmured. 'If wind and current hold true, we should make good time tomorrow.'
'Good,' she sighed.
Jack shifted a little, moving himself into a more comfortable position without letting go of her at all.
'How is James coping with the painful pleasure of sailing?' he asked her, his tone amused, though she knew that he was almost as proud as her of the commodore's progress.
'Better than most people,' Marin muttered drowsily. 'He's not said a word about the blisters on his hands, and they're horrendous. No wonder Solomon's taken to him so quick.'
Jack grinned, watching her head roll back against his shoulder from the corner of his eye. She looked so sleepy, he thought, wondering what on earth she could have been doing to knacker herself out so.
The ship rolled gently, rocking them back and forth in one another's arms as they gazed out at the moonlit vista. Jack smiled to himself, knowing that if Marin were not here, he would be on deck. The crew seemed so much more comfortable with him now that he had concerns other than them, and he realised belatedly that a captain who took a personal interest in his crew's day to day gripes was probably a pain in the arse.
He glanced around his cabin, seeing the little touches that told him Marin had made her home here. The coat that lay atop his on one of the chairs, the sea chest that stood beside his own, the better quality linen on his bunk. That was one improvement he definitely couldn't argue with. Nights were far less itchy in the bedding his wife had insisted on having. The sense he had expected of having his privacy invaded with her being here hadn't appeared. It felt right to have her living in his cabin with him, sharing every aspect of his life, his days as well as his nights.
A soft sigh drifted to his ear, blowing cool air against his cheek. He turned his head, finding his wife fast asleep against him, her gentle breathing shallow and regular. Jack smiled, blowing out the candle she held still and putting it to one side. He lifted her gently into his arms, whispering softly to her as she hovered between waking and sleeping, murmuring her apologies for drifting off.
He laid her carefully on the bunk, tugging her boots from her feet and removing all her weapons as she nestled into the bedding with another gentle sigh. He smiled down at her momentarily before moving to extinguish the other candles about the cabin, and preparing himself to lie beside her.
He crawled into the sheets, wrapping an arm about Marin as she stirred herself enough to make room for him on the tiny bunk. Her arms slipped trustingly around his waist as he lay back, tenderly making circles with his fingers on the small of her back. Jack bent down, kissing her red hair as he drew the blanket over them both.
'Goodnight, love,' he murmured, relaxing back and listening to the soft sigh of her breathing as he, too, drifted off to sleep, lulled by the gentle motion of the rolling ship.
*~*~*
As ever, you know the score . . . and those who've read Doubloon will know that reviews really do make me write faster! *hopeless smile* Point and click on the little blue button?
*~*~*
Fair Wind Or Foul
*~*~*
Commodore James Norrington leant back against the bulkhead in his cabin aboard the Black Pearl, massaging his hands gently. He winced as his fingers passed over blisters that seemed to be taking forever to heal. They were two weeks out of Port Royale, and he now fully understood why the life of a common seaman had never appealed to him. His blisters had blisters, and no matter where he went, be it in the rigging or below decks, he always managed to hit his head off something.
Still there was an upside to his learning curve. He wasn't the only one suffering. Marin had taken both him and Harry, the new cabin boy, under her wing, teaching them both the rudiments of sailing right from day one. According to the crew she was a fair taskmaster as well, though James failed to see how making someone scrub the deck in the midday sun was fair.
He smiled as he thought of his cousin, still elated by the thought that he had any family left at all. And, as always, on the heels of that elation came sorrow, a deep and abiding sadness, for what they had both lost. The man who had brought them together, a cousin in his own right, lay slumbering beneath the ocean's wave, ripped from his new-found family by the cold hand of death.
James sighed softly, leaning back on his bunk. It had been an interesting year, he mused, letting his mind cast back over the events that had brought him here. His fingers toyed with the locket that hung about his neck, large and ornate, four interlocking rings embossed in silver. It was what had set him on this course. One of four, he had been made aware of the other three through an old adversary, though now he could call Jack Sparrow nothing other than a friend and a good man.
Now two of the cousins who had guarded the secret of the treasure lay dead, and he and Marin were after what was left to them by their family. Jack could hardly be called upon to stay behind while his own wife went treasure seeking, and they needed the Pearl, so he too had come along. And Will Turner had been gifted the secret keeper's locket by way of thanks for his services, so the Red Dragon drifted alongside the Pearl, bound for the island that sheltered their inheritance.
James grinned, wincing again as he accidentally put pressure on his wounded hands. He hadn't expected the crew to have accepted him as quickly as they did. It had taken him only three days to be brought into the forecastle, and Harry a further two before he could join them. Solomon had been watching him apparently, and knew all about the sores that were developing on his hands. When James hadn't mentioned it, Solomon had, telling the other pirates, and they had brought him into their group, teaching him how to protect his hands and clear up the sores quickly.
Jack hadn't been giving him orders so much as suggesting that he help Marin, an attitude that had helped with his adjustment to being just one of the men. To his surprise he had found that the fraternity of sailors on board a ship were far more accepting of one's faults and weaknesses than a ward-room or officer's mess, where one mistake could cost your standing among them. Gibbs had also taken the younger man under his wing, and they could often be found just talking quietly together beneath the stars.
There was a knock on the door, and it swung in. Marin slipped into the room, holding a jar and a cloth. She smiled at his expression, her steely grey eyes twinkling with mischief as he shot upright to greet her.
'Please don't put that on me again,' he pleaded, quiet enough so whoever was outside the cabin could not hear him.
'I have to,' she told him. 'Otherwise your skin won't harden enough to be able to take the storms we'll encounter.'
James sighed, sitting down on his bunk with a resigned expression. She moved to sit beside him, taking his hands in hers as she examined the extent of the damage he had done to them. He hissed as she poked at the blisters, scowling at her deliberately painful prodding. He could feel the calluses on her hands, the hardened skin that betrayed the years she had spent at sea, and was comforted by the thought that she, and Jack, and all the others had been through this as well.
He studied her as she worked, seeing the changes wrought on his little cousin by the events that had brought them both here. When he had met her, only a few months before, she had been a bright carefree young pirate lass, fiercely devoted to her captain, the notorious Elias Fitzpatrick. The months had taken their toll, first filling her with joy at having found blood kin once more in Elias and James, then heart-wrenching sorrow in losing the old captain to the ocean's embrace. There was a worn maturity about her pretty face, though he was still unsure if that had not come about as a result of her marriage to the infamous Jack Sparrow.
Marin poured a little of the foul concoction onto the cloth, holding his hand still in a tight hold as she opened the blisters and scrubbed the mixture into the wounds. She heard him bite back a low cry of pain, wishing she could be a little more gentle with him, but knowing if she wasn't rough, he would never grow used to climbing the ropes.
'I swear this gets more painful every time,' he muttered, holding out the other hand for her to minister to.
She smiled gently, concentrating on his palms as his fingers flexed in pain. He had learnt a lot in two weeks, more than she had expected him to pick up in such a short time. Marin was more proud of her cousin than she could express, the way he had handled his new duties with hardly a word. He had not complained about any of the work until a few days before, when he had been assured that it was alright to complain, as long as you did what you were supposed to when you were asked.
He seemed so very tired though, obviously unused to such hard labour on a day to day basis, but determined to pull his weight. Gibbs had drawn her to one side that day, and told her in no uncertain terms to make sure James slept. The last thing he wanted was a sailor too knackered to perform his duties.
Her fingers gently traced his ravaged palms, the soft caress drawing some of the pain she had just inflicted back out. She smiled up at him, seeing all the signs Gibbs had told her of.
'How are you, James?' she asked softly.
He grimaced.
'In pain,' he said pointedly, smiling when she laughed. 'No better or worse than usual, Marin, stop fussing. I'm not sleeping too well, but aside from that I'm fine.'
She looked into his bloodshot eyes with a particularly piercing look.
'Why aren't you sleeping?' she pressed.
He shrugged.
'I suppose I just haven't got used to the irregular hours yet,' he brushed off her concern.
Marin held his gaze a while longer before releasing his hands.
'Well, you should try to get some rest,' she told him, rising to her feet as he lay back on his bunk with an audible sigh. 'We passed the last of the islands today, so from here on in, it's open seas.'
He gave her a no-nonsense look.
'I know that, Marin,' he said wearily.
She held his look for a long moment, seeing what he did not wish anyone to see. Marin smiled gently, sinking down onto the bunk beside him once more.
'She loves you, James,' she said softly.
His eyes widened as she spoke, shocked that he was so easy for her to read. Her look was full of love and understanding, and he found himself nodding helplessly as she took his hand.
'I should never have asked her to wait,' he muttered, passing a hand across his eyes. 'She deserves better than me.'
Marin's fingers tightened on his, gently chiding him for such thoughts.
'That doesn't matter,' she told him firmly. 'Laura chose you, and she'll wait for you as long as it takes.'
James grimaced in an attempt to keep the ache he felt from being away from his love showing. Laura Blythe, Elizabeth Turner's cousin, had stolen his heart from him in the space of only a few weeks. He had not had the courage to ask for her hand before they left for Cape Horn, and so spent almost every night dreaming of her beautiful face, wet with tears for him as he took his farewell from her. She had sworn she would wait for him, even if there were no hope of his return, and he had taken her oath gladly, but now James could not help but feel that he had condemned her to a life of misery and heart-break. There was no guarantee that any of them would return from this trip and he berated himself constantly for taking her oath so blithely.
'It was unfair of me to ask her, though,' he insisted.
'Not half as unfair as you making yourself miserable over something done and dusted,' Marin told him archly, and he glanced up with a frown to find her gazing at him with that oddly piercing look she sometimes wore. He sighed, chuckling wearily as she smiled down at him.
'Sleep, James,' she said gently. 'You need to rest easy. If I can take marriage to Jack, you can definitely wait a few months to be reunited with a woman who adores you.'
She drew the blanket up about his shoulders as he turned to the bulkhead, sighing softly as he sought the sweet oblivion of sleep.
Slipping quietly from her cousin's side, Marin wandered back up on deck, winking at Harry where he sat, entangled in the rigging, as the men began to exchange their late night stories before retiring to the forecastle. The men on watch stared out across the sea, nodding to her as she passed, making her way to the great cabin.
Jack sat at the large table, charts spread out in front of him as he worked out the bearings for the next day. Marin smiled, quietly pouring him a glass of rum to replace the empty bottle he clutched in one hand. He didn't look up as she placed it in his hand, removing the bottle.
'Thanks, love,' he said vaguely, taking a long gulp as she moved away.
His finger traced a trail she couldn't follow across the chart, charting the bearings they would follow the next day should the wind remain the same. Marin had never learnt navigation, had never had the inclination to, but wished she could at least understand some of what the captain did as he pondered over his charts.
She lit another candle, taking it with her to the window and looking out across the moonlit ocean. Knowing Jack wouldn't be done for at least another half hour, Marin curled up on the ledge that lay beside the window, her face close to the glass as she let herself feel at one with the sea once more.
She had almost lost the sense of oneness that she had always felt with the ocean during those long months ashore. In a very real sense, as Elias had been her father, the sea had been her mother, nurturing and teaching her, watching her grow to maturity. The love she felt for the sea was the same as the love felt the world over by men who had chosen a life on the waves over a life on land. She had never met a sailor who didn't understand her attachment to the ocean.
Jack was one such man, she knew. His heart would never be completely hers, shared between the ocean he loved, the ship he adored, and her, the woman he had chosen for his own. Marin frowned. She was still unsure as to why he had decided to marry her. Oh, she knew all about James' sneaky manipulation of her husband, his threat to marry her off to another, but she knew for a fact that he would never have done so. Jack wasn't a fool, so he must have known, too, that such a threat could never be carried out on the ward of Elias Fitzpatrick.
So why had he married her? He had the ocean and his Pearl, he had his freedom. Why had he chosen to burden himself with a wife? His promise to Elias aside, what was in it for him? Companionship, perhaps. She smiled, remembering the whores he had brushed off in Port Royale. He could have companionship whenever he wanted, she knew. Marin had known the name of Jack Sparrow long before meeting him, from her friendship with the whores of Tortuga among others. He was definitely a favourite among them.
She shook her head, knowing it was pointless to pursue these thoughts. They would only upset her, make her feel less than what she was. She was his wife, Jack had sworn to be faithful and loving to her until the day they were parted by the eternal sleep. But still, she couldn't help but question his motives for keeping her by his side.
Warm breath on her neck made her jump, glancing up with startled eyes into Jack's amused grin.
'Didn't mean to scare you,' he said quietly, settling himself beside her to gaze out at the ocean.
His arm curled about her waist, drawing her close as he rested his chin on her shoulder, blowing stray tendrils of her hair out of his face. His other hand slipped around her to hold her fingers gently, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.
Marin sighed contentedly, letting herself relax into his embrace.
'All done then?' she asked softly, not wanting to disturb the peace that surrounded them by raising her voice.
Jack kissed her neck lightly before answering, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms.
'Yeah,' he murmured. 'If wind and current hold true, we should make good time tomorrow.'
'Good,' she sighed.
Jack shifted a little, moving himself into a more comfortable position without letting go of her at all.
'How is James coping with the painful pleasure of sailing?' he asked her, his tone amused, though she knew that he was almost as proud as her of the commodore's progress.
'Better than most people,' Marin muttered drowsily. 'He's not said a word about the blisters on his hands, and they're horrendous. No wonder Solomon's taken to him so quick.'
Jack grinned, watching her head roll back against his shoulder from the corner of his eye. She looked so sleepy, he thought, wondering what on earth she could have been doing to knacker herself out so.
The ship rolled gently, rocking them back and forth in one another's arms as they gazed out at the moonlit vista. Jack smiled to himself, knowing that if Marin were not here, he would be on deck. The crew seemed so much more comfortable with him now that he had concerns other than them, and he realised belatedly that a captain who took a personal interest in his crew's day to day gripes was probably a pain in the arse.
He glanced around his cabin, seeing the little touches that told him Marin had made her home here. The coat that lay atop his on one of the chairs, the sea chest that stood beside his own, the better quality linen on his bunk. That was one improvement he definitely couldn't argue with. Nights were far less itchy in the bedding his wife had insisted on having. The sense he had expected of having his privacy invaded with her being here hadn't appeared. It felt right to have her living in his cabin with him, sharing every aspect of his life, his days as well as his nights.
A soft sigh drifted to his ear, blowing cool air against his cheek. He turned his head, finding his wife fast asleep against him, her gentle breathing shallow and regular. Jack smiled, blowing out the candle she held still and putting it to one side. He lifted her gently into his arms, whispering softly to her as she hovered between waking and sleeping, murmuring her apologies for drifting off.
He laid her carefully on the bunk, tugging her boots from her feet and removing all her weapons as she nestled into the bedding with another gentle sigh. He smiled down at her momentarily before moving to extinguish the other candles about the cabin, and preparing himself to lie beside her.
He crawled into the sheets, wrapping an arm about Marin as she stirred herself enough to make room for him on the tiny bunk. Her arms slipped trustingly around his waist as he lay back, tenderly making circles with his fingers on the small of her back. Jack bent down, kissing her red hair as he drew the blanket over them both.
'Goodnight, love,' he murmured, relaxing back and listening to the soft sigh of her breathing as he, too, drifted off to sleep, lulled by the gentle motion of the rolling ship.
*~*~*
As ever, you know the score . . . and those who've read Doubloon will know that reviews really do make me write faster! *hopeless smile* Point and click on the little blue button?