Desperate
Note: Never get into a fight with your mom when she's on the computer. She'll adjust the settings so you can't get on anymore. Damn, does this suck. I was all upset last night and ended up writing this. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but it is. Enjoy, I hope.
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Slow, stinging tears slid down your cold face.
"How many more? How many more days am I gonna have to wait before I'm good enough for you to take off this damned island?" you choke out curmudgeonly. Jack winces slightly at your bitter sarcasm, but keeps his temper none the less.
"Damn it, Jack!" you scream, finally your emotions have come down to one: seething. "It's been seventeen months of this hellhole and every time you say the same bloody thing! 'Soon'! I hear you're back, I meet you at the docks, hell, I'm glad to see you every bleeding time, and every time I ask you when I can leave with you it's always 'soon'! You promised 'soon' last time. And the time before that! The time before that as well." You shout, tears falling even fiercer than before.
Jack simply stands there, not saying anything out of better knowing, and sighing as though he wish you'd let him explain. Well not this time, Jack Sparrow won't talk his way out of this one. "Will you let me talk to you? Say anything?" he says, at your slight pause.
"No! There's nothing left to be said, Jack. I love you; you know that. I've told you that. But you're wrong, it's not too soon. It's well past too soon, it's too goddamn late. If you won't take me with you, I'm leaving on my own." You state hoarsely, shoving your way around him. He turns around to follow you, his mouth hanging open, devoid of a comment yet. You had never been this upset with him, never.
"Love, look you can't leave. It's not safe for you. I promise, this time, soon, maybe even the next time I leave." He says, and only in turn infuriates you more.
"Effing hell, Jack! Just effing hell!" you shriek, grabbing a nearby vase, one you kept your jewelry in, and threw it at a nearby wall. It shattered, littering the floor with jagged pieces of porcelain and several pieces of jewelry, among them your pearl necklace from Jack.
Upon seeing it, your tears stream violently down your cheeks again. Now, for some reason, your actions and thoughts seem irrational. You don't know why it upsets you so much that Jack doesn't let you on his ship when he leaves Tortuga. He had his reasons, you tell yourself, like always. He always had your safety in mind, why were you acting this way?
You walk weakly over to the ruin you've just made and fall to the floor in front of it. Picking up your necklace you feel the smooth metal in your hand and swallow hard. You look up at Jack and glance away; you can't hold his gaze, not yet.
"I'm sorry." You mumble dejectedly.
Jack walks slowly over to you, his boots slightly echoing in the flat's hallway.
"I…I just want to be…with you and…and I guess, it…frustr-ates me, not being…a-ble to." You explain, your voice cracking and small sniffles plaguing the sentence.
Jack kneels next to you wordlessly and you finally chance to meet his eyes. His own deep brown orbs stare into yours, flecked with various emotions, such as sympathy, relief, guilt, and most obviously, love.
His arms wrap around you, knowing that you've forgotten your anger and are forgiving him with each passing moment. You melt into the embrace, sobbing as you try to end your tears in vain.
Jack kisses the top of your head in pure affection and slowly rocks you back and forth in a soothing matter.
"Shh, love, it's all right." He coaxes you, hoping to placate the shaking he can feel rack your body every time you draw a breath.
Soon your trembling subsides and is reduced to deep, ragged breaths. Jack pulls away, keeping his left hand on your right arm as he reaches up to stroke your face with his other hand. His eyes asking silently if you're better and you imperceptibly nod.
You open your mouth, hoping to give some meek apology but are cut off by Jack's finger placing itself over you lips. He shakes his head, knowing what had been coming and slowly leans over to capture your lips after removing his finger and placing his hand gingerly behind your neck, drawing you toward him, and not reluctantly. Your own hands abandon the necklace you had been holding in your lap and reach around Jack's neck to assist in losing yourself in this desperate kiss.
A desperate kiss, for a desperate moment, on a desperate day, in a desperate year, during desperate times. You and Jack's relationship fit in perfectly in these times – desperate.
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Yeah, I know, weird. What do you expect, I was in a weird mood. Angry, sad, guilty, and…hmm…might all those emotions be reflected in this vignette? I think they might. Constructive criticism about style and reviews welcome. Trust me, I know the plot sucks, I want stuff about language and sentence flow and details…
Nicole (the sulky redhead)