Disclaimer: See chapter 1, I'm not wasting type repeating the darn thing. If you
recognize stuff, it's Disney & Co's. If you don't it's mine. :-D
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Fighting to keep from trembling with the unspoken rage he now felt for whomever had done this, Jack tenderly wrapped his arms around the girl; sitting her up slowly so Gibbs could wrap one of the extra blankets around her shoulders.
"There's barely any heat left in her," Gibbs muttered as he wrapped a second blanket around her shoulders.
The rage in Jack's eyes melted away slightly as his lips pursed with concern.
"Have some warm grog brought up as soon as possible," he said, scooping the girl up into his arms. As carefully as he could manage without the use of his hands, Jack scooted himself to the head of his bed. Pulling a third blanket over the girl, who he now had cradled against his side, her head listing against his right shoulder; he leaned against the headboard as Gibbs quickly exited the cabin. For just a moment he closed his eyes, hoping that whatever forces there were acting in this girl's life that they got her through the night alive. Opening his eyes and glancing out the cabin window, he realized that perhaps he hadn't asked for quite enough, as the sun was just beginning to sink below the horizon. Drawing the still unconscious girl closer to him, and tugging the top blanked to cover the both of them more thoroughly, Jack finally closed his eyes and allowed his body to get the rest it had been so thoroughly denied for the past twenty hours.
"Cold, so very cold," the though nagged deep in Netanya's subconscious. She relaxed slightly as a wave of warmth enveloped her body and slowly retreated back into the peaceful darkness around her; a small sigh escaping her lips as she snuggled into the warm haven.
"Open your mouth and drink this love." A gravely, but soft voice invaded her peaceful oblivion. "Come on," the voice grew more insistent. Obliging, Netanya felt a cup gently pressed to her lips; felt a strong arm around her shoulders, propping her up. A liquid that was almost too hot to stand flowed into her mouth and burned its way down into her stomach. "One more sip love, then I'll leave ya be," the voice coaxed. Still asleep really, Netanya obliged, relaxing as a fuzzy warmth began to grow insider her and spread to the tips of her fingers and toes.
Netanya sighed in contentment as she rolled over and felt the warm rays of the sun on her face. It hadn't stopped raining very much this week in London. What a quiet morning it was too. "The birds haven't even woken up yet," she thought to herself, then stopped; remembering. She wasn't in England anymore. This thought dragged her sharply out of her subconscious as her eyes flew open. A window. There hadn't been a window in the hold.
Rolling over, Netanya's gaze swept across the room, taking in her surroundings. Her breath caught in her throat as her survey stopped upon a man; no, a Pirate, sitting in a large wooden chair not three feet to her left. His gaze was fixed squarely on her, his face almost void of expression, save a slight upturning of his mouth and a warmness in his dark eyes. And they were dark. Rimmed with kohl, they were nearly menacing, but the softness of his countenance seemed to balance their effect, leaving a dramatic air instead. Netanya did not take her eyes off of his, watching his expression intently. She had seen similar signs of "kindness" transform in a fraction of a moment into lustful leers and dangerous coldness.