Chapter: Secrets and Revelations

-

The morning after her assault to Jack's nether regions, Sophia's uninhibited and gleeful amusement at watching the pirate captain limp about his ship and glaring at whoever may have glanced his way soon dissipated as she found herself leaning heavily on the railing of the Pearl, disgorging much of the food she'd eaten in the past several days into the churning sea below.     

She'd been very lucky with seasickness thus far, but in the night they had encountered somewhat rougher conditions than she was used to experiencing, and she'd found herself stumbling on the rocking decks of the ship and grimacing at the queasiness that lurked in her stomach. Jack and the rest of the crew, however, seemed perfectly content in the roiling conditions, much to her despair.

And so, at about noontime, her stomach had had enough. She'd barely made it to the side of the ship in time.

As of now, Jack found himself swaying, albeit painfully, over to the retching woman, leaning his back against the railing that she clung to, brows furrowed and hands gesturing as he observed her. "Careful with me ship, love. Wouldn' want it t' be gettin' soiled, now would we?"

Sophia glanced at him from her bent position through veiled eyes, only to find him grinning soundly at her, before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and forcing herself to stand upright. "There is no need to gloat, Captain Sparrow. I know that you find my suffering thoroughly amusing. Now, if you please, leave me to my own discomfort." Even in her state of distress, Sophia still held enough conviction to add a degree of spite to her words. Jack just grinned wider.

"Captain Jack Sparrow does not gloat, love. An' I don' enjoy yer sufferin' any more than you enjoy mine, which, judgin' by this morning, 's quite a lot." Sophia scowled at him as she realized that he had been completely aware of her quiet smirks and giggles throughout that day, and, gauging her look of malice, Jack's grin disappeared.

As she ducked once more to heave dryly over the side of the ship, Jack reached out, giving her an odd sort of pat on the shoulder. "Don' worry, lass. The sickness'll soon pass. I would offer you some rum t' ease th' pitchin' in your belly, but you've already made your point clear on your opinion o' the stuff." With that, he shot her a roguish smirk and turned to swagger off to the bow of the ship.

-

"Gentlemen. . . " Jack paused for a moment, motioned with the black depths of his eyes towards where Sophia and Anamaria stood. Sophia had regained some of her natural flush, her stomach having finally calmed after expelling all of its contents overboard at last. ". . .and ladies. We will reach Nassau Port within th' next day, an' that, I believe, calls for a celebration. After all, this 's the last night tha' our Miss Cuthburt will be spendin' in our fine company, an' she deserves a proper send off. What say you?" A chorus of ayes and affirmative grunts answered Jack's question, and he held up a silent hand to quiet them. "Alrigh' then. Double rations o' good rum an' food tonight for all ye scallywags!"

This statement was met with a raucous cheer from the crew, who quickly disappeared to the dining hall below deck. Sophia had no desire to join in their soon to be heard drunken laughter.

-

It really is a beautiful ship, Sophia found herself thinking as she leaned against the prow of the ship, keeping the womanly figurehead that was carved there company. She raised her face to the heavens, absorbing the sight and feel of the vessel the glided so smoothly (well, smoothly now that the winds had passed) across the surface of the ocean.

The ship's masts, all three of them, towered high and stalwart over the deck, and Sophia could just barely make out the crow's nest that resided at their utmost peaks. She found herself somewhat frightened of their majestic characteristic, and marveled at the manner in which they seemed to disappear into the starlit heavens. Jack no longer permitted his ship to sport the infamous black sails that even she had heard of from the gossip of the Port Royal townspeople, but instead white, surprisingly clean sails strained against the ropes and hooks that held them in place. The wood panels of the deck and hull of the ship were a dark brown, almost black, and Sophia was sure that the ship had been named as it was for this quality.

It was well into the night now, and Sophia could still hear the inebriated voices that seeped from below decks. "Proper send off indeed. . . " Sophia mused quietly to herself.

-

". . .an' then they made me their chief."

The crew, of course, had heard Jack's rendition of this story hundreds of times, but somehow failed to remember this through their liquor-induced haze. Jack, however, after consuming a. . .  modest amount of rum and reciting several of his famous tales, found himself feeling uncharacteristically woozy. Jack Sparrow never felt woozy. Tipsy, yes, but not woozy.

"'scuse me, mates. Breath o' fresh air'd do me good righ' about now." Ignoring the faint protests of his companions, Jack stumbled from his chair and out into the considerably cleaner outside air. "Bloody pirates. Stinkin' up the room with their drinkin' an' smokin'. 'S 'nough t' make a man loose 'is supper."

Jack didn't notice Sophia as she watched him, shaking with suppressed laughter. "Rather drunk, are we, Captain Sparrow?"

Jack spun around abruptly with such a cat-like grace, even in his state, that Sophia was amazed at this man's ability to move in the way he did. So fluidly. She could see him trying to focus his eyes on the source of the voice that spoke to him so tauntingly.

"Not drunk. Def'nately not drunk." Jack tripped over a step as he made his way to where she stood and stumbled so violently that Sophia went to help him, grasping his arm and guiding him to the railing, to which he hung on rather pathetically. He flashed her a somewhat dashing grin. He can even manage to flirt a bit in his state! Bloody stupid man, She thought, ignoring his expression and turning to face the vast expanse of the sea.

"You are drunk, Captain. How many bottles of rum did you drink?" She could smell the cursed liquor on his breath.

"Lessee. . .  five? Six? Ten?" Jack furrowed his brow, searching through the fuzzy caverns of his mind. Nothing. "Can't remember. Def'nately not drunk. . ." He trailed off, swaying against his hold on the railing.

Sophia remained momentarily silent, inhaling deeply as she tilted her face once more to the black sky. "Mmm. . .  the stars are beautiful tonight." She hadn't meant to utter those words aloud, and, in response to her uncharacteristic remark, Jack snapped his head back and squinted at her so that all she could see within his eyes was the darkness of his iris.

"Stars? Don' see any stars. Bloody bright spots. Never did anyone any good." He slurred, and Sophia glanced sideways at him, a faint smile flickering at her lips.

"I would suspect that the haze of drink has affected your eyes as well, Captain. The stars are everywhere tonight."

"Y'see, tha's the problem with women." He remarked, pointing an index finger at her face and staggering slightly with the movement of the ship. "Don' 'ave any 'preciation for rum! Doin' all sorts o' things t' it. . . throwin' it 'way, spittin' it out, burnin' it. . .  I knew a lass once, bloody wench. Burned all th' rum on me very own island! I was gov'ner o' tha' island, y'know. Bloody lot o' good it did me. . . " Jack continued on, the usual movements of his hands becoming increasingly pronounced as he rambled on. He glanced at her, his words halting their previous fluent procession. She looked so pretty, standing there with the glow of the stars reflecting off her skin. Maybe if he just . . .

Sophia had not been paying attention to his incessant babbling, but was soon wrenched from her state of unawareness by an arm that snaked cunningly about the slender width of her waist and a hand that came to rest against the softness of her belly. Jack's now somewhat gravelly voice whispered dangerously close to her ear, and she shivered as his rum-soaked breath brushed across her throat. "O' course, I could think o' much better ways t' occupy your time than jus' sittin' 'ere stargazing, love."

Sophia stiffened. She had been fearing this. It hurt. She didn't want it. . .  not again. Not after she had succeeded in hiding all this time, making herself inconspicuous. She wanted to be ignored.

She resisted the urge to cry out as he turned her towards him, using his arm at her waist to guide her movements. Even in his alcohol-saturated condition, Jack still started internally at the expression on her face. Her eyes were as wide as those bloody Aztec medallions. Scared, is she? We'll soon take care of that.

Sophia pressed her hands firmly against his chest as he slid both hands down the coarse fabric of her shirt to cup the curve of her buttocks, lifting her hips to collide firmly against his. She could feel the lean muscles beneath her fingers as she pushed away from him. He was too strong. She was trapped. "Don't. . ." Her voice came out as a near-breathless whisper, although she had meant to scream.

Jack smirked. "Don't, you say? Come now, love. Pretty lass like you can't enjoy a bit o' fun?" His tone was teasing her. . .  threatening her. She couldn't bear the sight of his eyes boring so intently into her own, and turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut as a faint whimper sounded from her throat. Jack took this opportunity to bury his face against the point at which her neck met her shoulders, nuzzling the curve there that was flaunted to him so openly. She was soft.

Sophia had never had the experience of being paralyzed, but she assumed it was somewhat similar to the state of her limbs now. White fear coursed through her body like lightening, rendering her motionless. He was everywhere. She couldn't take it. Oh god. . .

A small voice crept forward from the back of her mind. If you can't, don't. Do something about it, Sophia.

Something was pulling rather painfully at Jack's hair. She was pulling at his hair. That woman, Sophia. He dropped her, cursing as her beat at his chest with her fists and stumbling backwards. He would have fallen against the hard wood of the deck if he hadn't grabbed hold of a rope that dangled conveniently from the masts.

Sophia stood there, chest heaving. She could move again. The fear was leaving. "Sparrow, do you remember what I told you? About slitting your throat with your own sword if you touched me again?" She whispered, and knew immediately that she hadn't needed to shout it instead. Her voice held enough malice to fill a thousand shouts.

Jack stared at her. Never, ever, had he been so candidly rejected. Never. His inebriated brain failed to process this. Why wasn't she still in his arms? She'd been so nice in his arms.

"However," She continued almost hesitantly. "I will excuse this incident because of your drunkenness. Obviously, you are too intoxicated to think clearly, for if you had been you would have predicted that you would be dead by morning. I would have no difficulty killing a rapist, Sparrow. And it is plainly visible from the events tonight that that is what you are."

With the affect of her words still bouncing around in Jack's brain, she turned and began walking somewhat shakily towards his cabin. "I would suggest that you refrain from returning to your cabin tonight, Captain. I might change my mind. Good night." Her voice was cold.

Her shoulders sagged as she closed the door to Jack's cabin and made her way to the bed. She lay down upon it slowly, curling into a tiny ball at its foot. Her entire body was shaking. It took her several hours before she drifted to sleep. 

-

Jack finally gave up his attempts to remain standing, and sank to the deck of the ship with a sigh. His head was starting to hurt. The rum was wearing off.

Damn tha' bloody woman all th' way down t' Davy Jones' Locker! 

She had been scared, Jack was sure of that. It had taken her too long to react. She'd allowed his advances, however unwilling she may have been, for several moments before pushing him away. It didn't fit.

Nothing seemed to fit with her. First the ordeal of falling overboard and suffering a pain so intense that it had startled even Jack, who had experienced men having their limbs shot off with cannons. She then, after some minutes, was perfectly fine. And now this. She had been so stiff within his grasp. Frozen was the word that came to mind. He would probably be able to think of better ones in the morning.

He was rapidly becoming too tired to think, and allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Sleep would be nice.

-

Sophia stirred in her slumber, her scalp on fire. She hated when that happened. She must have pulled her hair back too tightly in the morning. She sat up, fingers delving within the straining tendrils. She'd have to let it down for a bit.

She was reluctant to do so, for it meant that she would have to risk someone barging in on her, but she would rather risk that than spend the entire night suffering this. With a sigh, she loosened her cap and let it fall back to the bed, wincing as she undid the tight bun at the crown of her head. Her hair fell loose across her shoulders.

She ran hooked fingers through its length, exhaling in relief.

-

Anamaria watched the sleeping captain on the deck. He had passed out again. She strode to where he lay, poking his side with her boot once, then again more sharply. "Captain Sparrow! Wake up, ye stupid sod."

His head was going to explode. Jack opened one eye, expecting to have to close it abruptly once more due to the sunlight, but instead found himself still encased in blessed darkness. It was still night. "Up. . . I'm up. Stop pesterin' me, wench." He rose, grimacing as his legs creaked beneath him. "Need more rum. . . stop this bloody 'eadache."

He successfully ignored Anamaria's scolding as began walking towards his cabin, forgetting Sophia's threat for the time being.

-

Sophia froze as she heard the doorknob turn. No. . .

Jack entered his cabin, grinning faintly as his eyes focused on the rum on his desk. "Ah. . . sweet Mary an' Joseph." He turned around as he uncorked the bottle, finally catching sight of Sophia. He stopped moving, very nearly dropping his rum.

So much hair. It hung to her waist, thick and full and black. Curling. It made her seem smaller, and for perhaps the first time Jack realized how truly delicate she was. Like a black orchid. He'd never seen hair so black before, not even in Singapore, where almost every head was black. But not like this. Not this black. He wanted to heft the entire length of it within his arms and watch it fall back against her shoulders. He wanted to feel its softness.

There was the paralysis again. Sophia's feet were planted firmly to the floor, her eyes wide. He took a step towards her, lips parting as if words were struggling to escape. She cowered away from him.

"Don't touch me. Stop touching me!" Her voice came out high and panicked, and Jack froze.

"I'm not – " He began.

"Stop. Go away." She backed herself into a corner, starting as the wood connected harshly with her back. She slid down to the floor, facing the wall. Jack heard her emit a soft sound, and, as if that destruction of the previous silence snapped her sanity into a thousand miniscule pieces, her eyes glazed over, memories and nightmares flooding into her mind. Their presence cast a foreboding air about the room.

-

She backs herself into a corner. There's no escaping now. He grasps a handful of her hair, bringing it to his nose. She whimpers.

"You don't know what this does to me, darling. How you tempt me. Your hair. . ." His voice is strained. She closes her eyes.

"Don't touch me. Stop touching me!" She struggles fitfully, wriggling as his arm snakes around her waist, pressing her flush against him. She opens her mouth to scream, and instead a pair of limp lips crash down upon her own.

"Oh yes. Scream, lovely. No one will hear you, and then I will own you. I will take you. You and your hair." He murmurs this against her lips, sifting his fingers through the length of her locks. She turns away from his vile mouth.

"My father will kill you." He sneers.

"Your father cares for nothing but the sea, pet." He loses patience with her, forcing her against the wall and lifting her skirts. She nearly retches as his hands slide up her bare thighs, the filth on his fingers marring the pale skin.

"Stop. Go away." She sounds like a scared child to her ears. He laughs.

And then he owns her. Takes her. And now she finally screams.

-

Jack had no idea whatsoever on how to cope with this. With this woman. She didn't seem to notice anymore that he was there, and instead gazed into eternal nothingness, tears streaming in endless procession down her cheeks.

He almost didn't speak, but, glancing down at her wringing hands, he resolved to break her out of this strange trance. "Sophia. . ." The word felt strange on his tongue.

Her name is what saved her from the memory. The man had never said her name. She jerked, her eyes refocusing on the confused captain. She straightened, no longer using the wall as a support, her movements slow. Jack watched her with his brow furrowed, headache forgotten.

Sophia glanced at the ground. She'd done it again, let her memories take over. She hadn't let it happen for several years. Then again, no one had seen her hair in several years either. Jack was looking at her as if she were a skeletal pirate. "I think you'd better tell me wha's goin' on, lass." Her hair was distracting him, and he had to struggle to keep his gaze on her face.

"I'm alright. I'm sorry if I gave you a fright, Captain." Her voice was shaken, and she subconsciously raised a hand to her hair, brushing it behind her shoulders so that its entire length was hidden from view.    

"You gave me a fright? 'S more like I gave you a fright, love. What was. . ." He waved his hand vaguely in her direction. ". . .that?"

Sophia sighed, and suddenly Jack noticed that she looked very tired as she swayed slightly on her feet. She sat down on the bed.

There was no use in hiding it from him. He'd just seen her at her worst. What else did she have to be ashamed of? "When I was about fifteen I was. . ." She swallowed. ". . .taken advantage of by a friend of my fathers. Well, he's not a friend anymore, but it's all the same." She hesitated briefly, her hands folded in her lap.

Jack offered no help, no suggestion on how to finish, but instead sat down beside, silent. What was he to say to a woman who had been traumatized so? Raped. She 'ad been raped, Jack. He reminded himself.

 The perpetual adolescent in his brain pointed out to him that they were both on his bed, and she needed comforting, but Jack pushed him away. He didn't know how to comfort anyone, anyway, and it was for this reason that he felt acutely uncomfortable, even though her voice was clear and sure when she continued.

"The reason I hide my hair it that he was. . . well, for lack of a better word, obsessed with it. I was young, and I guess the idea that if I never let anyone in. . . never let anyone see me, then I'd be safe. I know it's completely irrational. . ."

Jack had never seen her like this. She was completely stripped of her outer shell. He was finding it hard to deal with the emotion that was radiating from her, and shifted awkwardly before speaking.

"'S not stupid, love, jus' ignorant. Tha' was one man. One. Not everyone's like 'im." His voice was too casual.

Sophia turned her face towards him, contemplating his words, one lock of ebony fell in front of her eyes. She batted it away, noticing the captain's gaze follow her hand as it smoothed her hair. She suddenly remembered the scent of alcohol on his breath, the way he had pulled her roughly towards her, his body beneath her hands as she pushed him away. . .

Her strange mood faltered, and Jack could almost see the icy wall build itself around her once more. She turned from him, quickly and with a practiced hand replacing her hair in it's customary bun, and placing her white cap over it.

"Goodnight, Captain Sparrow. If you would be so kind, please leave me be."

With a noncommittal sound of understanding, Jack turned and swaggered from the room.

-

Jack approached her next morning as she was chopping lemons in the galley. She had one slice held firmly in her teeth, sucking the sour juice from the flesh of the fruit. Anamaria had told her that sailors sometimes ate lemons to ensure that they remain free of scurvy, and Sophia had no intension of acquiring the disease.

"You look like you've got a yellow smile, love." Jack said, chuckling as he stood abreast of her.

Sophia jumped at the low tone of his voice. She had avoided being alone with the captain all morning, and he knew it. She spit out the lemon before she spoke. "Well, when all you lot have scurvy I'll be healthy and, not to mention, laughing at you."

Jack placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "Ah, mon doux, your icy demeanor further breaks me aching 'eart."

Sophia sighed, slamming the knife that had previously been in her hand on the table, glaring at him, her mouth set in a firm line. "Stop this bloody nonsense, Sparrow. What is it you want with me?"  

He let his hand slide down to rest at his side once more. "We'll make berth at Nassau in an hour. You," He pointed rudely at her. "'ave some preparin' t' do."

She followed him out into the Caribbean sunshine as he left the room. "What do you mean, preparing? I look just like a pirate and we are going to a pirate town. What do I need to change?"

"Firs', love, Nassau Port 's not a pirate town. O' course, there's a part o' it tha' not many nobles dare to venture, but th' majority o' the people there are of 'higher class', as it were. Second, d'you think tha' any ship goin' to Port Royal would let someone looking as you do now onto their ship?" He grinned at her look of defeat. "No, I didn't think so."

She continued to follow him as he made his way to his cabin, although she hesitated outside the door. She wouldn't enjoy being in this room with only him for company again. "Very well, Captain. But what sort of 'preparing' do you have in mind?"

Jack didn't answer, but dragged a heavy chest from its resting spot in the corner. It sported a thin layer of dust. She waited impatiently for his answer, but he didn't give it, instead offering her a self-satisfied grin and a piece of, as far as she was concerned, useless advice.

"Th' sooner you learn t' trust ol' Jack, love, the longer you'll stay alive. Savvy?" 

-

The dress was beautiful. It was navy blue, a color she was not accustomed to wearing, and the style was strange and alluring. The neck was wide, and she had the impression that it would drape unseemly from her shoulders, exposing more than she would feel comfortable with. Glancing at the waist of the garment, she deducted that she would not need a corset, thank god, but that it would be tight nevertheless. The skirts flared from the waist in a fashion full of movement, unlike the stiffly starched skirts she usually wore. She guessed that the bottom of the dress would drag on the ground. It had been made for someone several inches taller than she. As Jack held the dress out for her to take, she hesitated, her hands hovering over the fabric. "Where did you get this?"

"Haven't you 'eard that pirates loot, love? 'S what we do, steal." He grinned at her over the top of the dress, pushing the garment towards her. "Come on, lass. We 'aven't got all day. I'm sure you'll look lovely in this." His tone turned somewhat flirtatious, and she grimaced and cast him an indignant glance, before grasping the softness of the fabric and carrying the dress into the bathroom.

The dress was very difficult to get on with just one pair of hands, but she managed to blindly lace up the back as loosely as it would allow, sucking in her breath as she did so. She was by all means no whale, so the dress's previous owner must have been nothing but a stick. Sophia winced as she remembered that this dress had had a previous owner. She pushed the thought from her mind stubbornly. It's just what Sparrow would want me to think. He wants me to be unsettled.

She finally finished lacing up the dress herself, having absolutely refused to ask Jack to help her after the corset incident. She slipped on a pair of heeled shoes that the captain had also provided. They were too big, but she was thankful that she wouldn't have to tromp about Nassau Port in clunky boots beneath his delicate dress.

And her hair. Jack's words had been echoing in her ears ever since he'd said them the night before. Tha' was one man. One. Not everyone's like 'im.

She sank to the floor, skirts billowing about her legs like a dark storm cloud, fingering the edge of her cap. She was tired of hiding.

-

Sophia heard Jack choke on his rum as she emerged from the bathroom. It was a strangled, abrupt sound, and she whirled around to face him, startled. "What? What happened?" Her voice raised several notes in her concern.

Jack straightened from his previous bent position, his face reddened under the bronze tone of his skin. He cast his gaze over her again, before crossing his arms across the breadth of his chest, his head turned to the opposite wall. He was avoiding looking at her. She frowned.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and, after several moments, began to speak once more, clearing his throat as he did so. His tone was gruff. "Wha' did you do, woman?"

Sophia shrank away from him, insulted. She hadn't thought she looked that horrendous. "What are you implying, Captain?" By this time, her hands were planted on the swell of her hips.

He took another swig of rum, still staring at the wall. "Nothing. You jus' look different."

"Well of course I look different, you dimwitted bastard. You're just used to seeing me dressed like a bloody scallywag." She surprised herself with her own language. His reaction infuriated her.

Jack held up his hands defensively, seeming to have regained some of his composure. She'd nearly undone him when she glided into the room, for that's what she had done, glided. He hadn't expected it. He hadn't expected her.

The first thing he had noticed was her hair. She'd abandoned her cap, and the black mass atop her crown had been fixed into a twist of sorts, with several wisps curling against her cheeks. The dress did, as she had guessed, expose the line of her neck and most of her shoulders, and, before remembering that this woman was, in fact, Sophia, he had allowed his eyes to wander down the slender curvature of her body within the navy folds of fabric. The garment fit her snugly from the waist up, and he found himself wondering how she could possibly be comfortable with her bosom pushed upwards as it was. He'd let his eyes linger there as well, subconsciously comparing her skin to porcelain against the darkness of the dress. The skirts flared smoothly from her hips to form a graceful slope to the ground.

He now stared avidly at the wood boards of the wall. He didn't trust himself to even glance at her, lest he burst out laughing at the abrupt transformation in her appearance or do something much more drastic, for the option of taking her right then and there on the bed with those blue skirts up over her head was becoming rather apparent to him. He cleared his throat again.

Sophia narrowed her eyes. His silence was making her uncomfortable, and she finally let out an exasperated groan, turning swiftly in a flurry of skirts towards the door. "Honestly, if you're just going to stare all day, I suppose I'll have to notify someone that a replacement captain will be needed." She slammed the door behind her.

After several moments of motionless bewilderment, Jack drained the last of his rum and swaggered, having regained his composure in his brief solitude, onto the deck of the Pearl.

The lights of Nassau gleamed brightly, casting an eerie tone to the brief span of ocean that lay between the ship and the docks. Jack could hear the din of drunken song, merriment, and brawls. He grinned. This was his territory.

-

"So, what d'you think?"

Sophia glanced up from her task of slogging through the slop that encompassed Nassau Port's roads. She hadn't been paying much attention to Jack, who had been rambling on about "sad souls" and "sweet piliferous bouquets," but now frowned, barely dodging from the path of a stumbling, intoxicated man clumsily chasing a woman, who, judging by her attire, was a woman of ill repute. She jerked her elbow from Jack's hand, which he had most obligingly placed there to keep her from falling face down into the mud. He just grinned at her, his hands swaying about in mid air. Sophia had the notion that his movements were flirtatious, although by any other man's standards she would have thought he'd gone completely, hog-swaddling mad.

After his brief bout of strange behavior in his cabin, Jack had regained his cheeky personality, much to Sophia's dismay. She had rather enjoyed the quiet side of Jack Sparrow. Finally considering his question, she paused, before catching his eye and replying with a somewhat skeptical air. "I think it is the most disgusting town I have ever laid eyes upon."

Jack threw his hands up in the air, grumbling, and turned his back on her to continue in a parading fashion down the street. Grudgingly, Sophia admired the manner in which the captain maneuvered easily through the havoc that was Nassau Port, while she struggled behind him, shuddering at the leering stares that were occasionally cast her way. She unconsciously raised a hand to her hair, nearly whimpering as she was reminded that it lacked its usual covering. Her fingers trembled. Tha' was one man. One. Not everyone's like 'im. She hoped Jack was right.

Nassau was nestled amongst a rather steep rock ledge that rose straight from the breaking waves of the ocean, so one could simply look upwards from the dock and view the entire layout of the town, and that was just what Sophia had done. She immediately noticed that the shabby, pirate-y part of the town rested close to the docks, bustling with obviously inappropriate nightlife. The average, middle-class homes lay just above, and then came the mansions of the "higher class," as Jack had put it. It was a very strange town.

Sophia was snapped unceremoniously from her state of reverie as a resounding slap echoed through the streets. Sophia's eyes immediately searched out her companion in travel.

A beautiful Asian woman was glaring at Jack as he grimaced, rubbing his offended jaw, shouting at him in what Sophia thought she identified as Chinese. As Sophia appeared at Jack's side, the woman stopped shouting mid word, staring at her, before shrieking hysterically and slapping Jack again.

Sophia smirked, placing her hands on her hips and casting a cool glance at the captain, her hair insecurities forgotten for the moment. "Whatever it is you did, Captain, I'm positive you deserved both of those."

Jack muttered incoherently, turning back towards the flustered woman and placing both hands on her shoulders, staring earnestly, or as earnestly as Jack Sparrow could, into her eyes. "Calm, down, love. Tha's jus' Soph – er. . . Miss Cuthburt." Jack caught sight of Sophia glaring at him as he nearly faltered with her formal title. "I'm jus' 'elping 'er get home, savvy?" He allowed his voice to drop several notches so as to empower it with a sort of deep mystique, and flashed the struggling woman whose shoulders he held a faint smile. At that moment, Sophia did not doubt that the captain encompassed an air of charisma that she was sure many women fell head over heels for. She, on the other hand, knew that at least this time, it was merely a well-practiced act.

Sophia had to stifle a disgusted groan as the woman virtually melted into Jack's arms. He gave her a reassuring grin. "There now, love. Can't stay mad at ol' Jack for too long, can ye?" The previously fuming woman now shook her head with star-struck adoration clearly portrayed in her eyes. Sophia widened her own eyes and turned abruptly from the couple as Jack received a zealous kiss from his companion in forgiveness. Honestly, dear. Have some scruples. Sophia found herself mentally chiding the woman.

Several minutes later, Jack tapped her on the bare skin of her shoulder. She jumped, whirling about in wide-eyed surprise. Jack now sported a faint flush beneath the bronze surface of his skin and a garish smear of red paint across his lips. He backed away slightly at her reaction to the brief touch. "Easy, lass. Jumpy, are we?"

Of course I'm jumpy! She raised a hand to the twist of hair at her crown. She hadn't felt this exposed since she was a child. Ignoring his question, she inhaled deeply, allowing her eyes to flutter closed for several moments before snapping once more to awareness, the iciness of her personality once more resurfacing. She motioned briefly towards her own lips, her tone mocking as she spoke. "You have paint on your lips, Captain. . ."

Jack narrowed his eyes and swiftly raised a hand to wipe the paint off on his forearm. "How very nice of you t' point tha' out, love." He mimicked her voice, before grasping her forearm, grumbling about "burdensome woman" as he did so, and dragging her into a shabby-looking pub.

"What are you doing, Sparrow! We are supposed to be getting me a passage home! I don't see how this. . .  this bloody brothel disguised as a pub is going to help in that quest!"

Jack sighed, spinning on his heel to face the disagreeable woman. After the encounter with that conniving Jai Li all he wanted was a drink. His temper was already running high, and she was not helping one bit. "Would you bloody shut up for a moment, woman! One, all th' good navy men tha' I'm sure will be very eager t' give you a ride on their lovely ships, so long as ye keep tha' dress on. . ." He casts his eyes down the length of her body in a slow and deliberate manner as if to prove his point. Sophia flushed faintly ". . .will still be out for many 'ours t' come. Two, one rum's not goin' t' keep me long enough t' prevent you from gettin' home, savvy? So, if you'd close yer mouth for once, I'd be much obliged."

Sophia shrank away from the volume of his voice, which was already attracting the curious attention of numerous occupants of the building. She glanced about nervously, noting with tension the men who's eyes lingered in places they shouldn't along her body. It was the dress. The bloody dress. And her hair. Damn. Jack thankfully jarred her from her thoughts with a jerk in the direction of the bar.

And so she sat, quiet, as Jack drank his rum and talked with his plentiful acquaintances. She would get him for this. She wanted to go home.

-

Oh my god! I'm so sorry that took so long. My life has been kind of hectic lately. I promise I will update again within a couple of days! 

My poor Sophia. . . She really is a bit of a basket case. Anyway, thanks to all of you who reviewed and being so patient with my lack of updatingness. I need input on the story! How do you like it so far? Any suggestions for plot, characters, etc? My brain is kind of fried for new ideas.

I hope everyone enjoys this. It's nice a loooong.