------------------------

Feeling

Part II

------------------------

...."I just can't explain it...."

"What's so hard about givin' a reason for hurting yourself?" I can hear the frustration in his voice. His barely contained anger stings. I'm not sure why, but his impatience makes me feel so.... childish. I suddenly feel so foolish, so.... young. And so infuriated.

What right does he have to presume superiority over me? Besides the fact that he's the Captain and I'm First Mate, we've been on pretty equal terms. I'm usually more dominant, even. So what's changed? What could have possibly happened to make him suddenly think that he can control me? He doesn't. He can't control me.

"I really don't see the point...." I took a heavy sigh. "I don't have to tell you anything." I know, I'm sounding infantile, but I don't care. He could bloody well go to Hell, for all I'm concerned.

"'M th' Captain, luv." The grin on his face is clearly forced. "I could just order you to tell me. Or even better.... I could force you to stop completely." He scans my face, searching for what, I don't know. All I know is the giant knot twisting up my stomach.

The urge to reach around him, to just touch the swaying candle flame, is growing. I can hear it.... The subtle murmur. The soft seductive whispering. It's calling again. "Ana...." All of my energy is being spent just staying still, keeping my hands immobile.

I realize they're still on his chest. Pain flairs up my scorched arm in a fast, rhythmic pulse. Looking to where my hands lay upon my Captain's chest, I see them vibrate gently and quickly. Short fast movements caused by my struggle to keep from moving them. Each movement, though small, rubs his shirt's rough fabric against my sensitive wound.

The silence around us is almost too strong; almost enough to drown within, yet neither of us speak. I don't trust my voice (or myself at that).

In the silence, my feelings, pushed down for so long, decide to resurface. I'm quite overwhelmed by them. My heart is pounding, tears pricking my eyes once more. I feel.... giddy, excited, scared, lonely.... and.... I don't know. The emotions are all jumbled together, as if over twenty five years of emotions all surge up on me at this one moment. I guess nothing lasts forever. Not even the wall around my heart.

I can almost see, in my mind's eye, the shattered, crumbled shards of what is left of my only defence. My only protection, my only cover, has been stripped away. Why and how, I have no clue.

I feel trapped, terrified. I need to get away, he's too close. Yet, still, I want him closer. I can almost feel his hands on my skin.... His mouth, once more pressed against mine. I feel the knot in my stomach tighten even more, and fall a few centimetres. I can nearly taste him. I, also, can almost taste my pulse. Tangy, salty, metallic, throbbing.

My gaze returns to his face, to his soft brown eyes, staring at me. Looking not only at me, but through me....into me. I feel him peering into my soul. The emotion I find in those honey brown orbs frightens me more. But it enthrals me as well.... And excites me.... and enrages me. His eyes are blazing with.... desire.... concern.... curiosity.... worry.... possessiveness.... fear?.... and.... something else. Something I can't identify.

His expression changes. It softens, curiosity taking over. His focus no longer stays on my face.... He now examines my entire body.... undressing me with his mind and eyes. He's searching for something. Probably he's trying to guess (he'll never know) where my other scars are. If, in fact, there are others. There are, of course. I have a number of slices just under my breasts. No one'd see them there. Or the ones on my upper thighs. And the burns/cuts I made on my.... more intimate areas.... will never be seen.

Why? Why will no one see? Why have I only had.... sex.... once? One word (well name really....): Barbossa. That bastard thought....

Never mind. What matters is the here and now. I was born alone, I'll die alone. All other in—betweens don't matter. That's what I've always lived by. That's what I'll die by. Or so I thought. I don't know anymore.

I never needed anyone. But he changed the rules.

His eyes linger a little too long on choice places of my anatomy. In response, my hand raises from his chest, coming in contact with his face in a slap that was painful for the both of us. Mere seconds after my hand impacted his face; a numbing pain shoots through my entire arm, wrist to shoulder and up to my neck.

He grabs my arms, just above the self inflicted injuries, roughly pinning them to my sides. I look at them, then at him in disbelief. He's never been so harsh with me. He respects me. I've always treated him like he was weak. He's so.... passive....so submissive towards me. I guess I started believing he was always that way.... He always acted afraid of me. I didn't realize how strong he really is. I squirm slightly in his grip, panic rising in my throat.

His searching eyes return to my face. Anger fills the honey with fire.... soft caramel turning to glowing rings of amber surrounding the onyx abysses of his pupils. My panic turns to fear.... I trusted him. He's my friend. At least I thought he was. Looking into those.... fierce eyes, I can't see my friend. My heart races. "Jack?...." I can only whisper. I can't trust my voice. I don't know if I can even use my voice right now.

The gold in his eyes shimmers slightly. Slowly, the amber bleeds out of them, returning them to their gentle mahogany colour.

"'M sorry, luv." Concern returns, now joined with guilt. The speed at which he changes emotions scares me even more. I mean, it's just not normal, especially for him, to show so many emotions. And in such quick succession....

I try to push him away, struggling to pull free from his grasp. He holds me in place. Though the angry fire is gone, and he's gentle again, I still am afraid. I want nothing more right now, than to run. Than to just squirm out of his grasp and get as far away from him as possible.

"Luv, listen...." He tries to get me to stop struggling. His voice is so calming, so soft. "I won't hurt you. No' that you should be worried about that. After all, you do it t' yourself...." I glare at him. Good, I'm getting angry. Anger solves everything. At least when it comes to dealing with men.

I allow my body to relax, well seem to relax, anyway. I stopped fighting him. My entire body just.... loosens up. His grip slackens slightly, not enough for me to break free, but enough that I'm not practically being forced down anymore. That in itself lets me relax for real. I'm no longer as on guard. I'm still irate for his presence. As well as for his infuriating attempt to control my life. "Why do you care?" I honestly want to know. Why does he think that he could dictate which way my life goes? "Don't you have enough problems worrying over your precious ship?.... And keeping yourself out of the sights of the Royal Navy?.... And...." He touches his finger to my lips, trying to silence me. I really have to fight the urge to open my mouth and bite down as hard as I can on it. I, instead, comply. Let him have his minute victory. He won't win where it actually counts. Might as well grant him this much.

"Like I was trying to say.... I care. I care about what you're doing because I don't want you to hurt yourself." I can see that he's struggling to find the right words. It's almost humorous the way he can't speak without his gesticulations. Almost. "I care about you. So I don' want you t' get 'urt, savvy?" He seems so sincere. As if he truly means what he's saying.

Of course, I've seen that before. I've seen the.... concern, the....... love. And every time, it ends up the same. I fall for it. I let them in and allow them to care for me. I permit them the respect and love they want, and they just leave. When they've gotten what they want out of me, they just up and leave. The only friends who've never left me are my knives and the fire. They're still there when I need them. They don't try to change me. They don't try to make me do what I don't want to do. They don't tell me they love me and just vanish.

"'If you love someone, let them go'. I'n' there an old sayin' somewhere abou' that? If no' there should be." I look him strait in the eyes. "You say you care for me, righ'?" He nods. "Then you won't object to droppin' me off at the next port." His eyes widen at that. I'd laugh, but that'd ruin my bluff. I don't really want to leave the Pearl. She's become like my home. But I want to prove to him, once and for all, that he doesn't love me. That he only cares about me because of my skills.

I can see his eyes tearing up. Nice acting. 'Twould be believable were it not for the fact that I know how he works. Jack Sparrow never cries (unless he wants something). He's just trying to call my bluff. Not going to happen. "Alrigh'. If that's wha' ye wan', then don' let me stop ye." Hmmh. He thinks he'll trick me into staying. "We can make port Royal sooner than Tortuga. Unless you have a specific place you want us to let you off at...."

Doubt fills my mind. Maybe he is tired of my foolishness. Maybe he let me aboard because he thought I could fulfil a different kind of duty, a bit of an added extra bonus by having your First Mate be a woman. Now that he knows he'll never get that, he's tired of trying. After all, there are plenty of women he could go after instead.

Well, if he wants me gone.... I don't know. I want to stay. But he doesn't. I'm sure Gibbs would be eager to get rid of me. After all, 'Women are bad luck to have aboard' and all that nonsense. "Port Royal would be fine." I hear the words come from my own voice, from me, but I don't want to be saying them. I don't mean them. What I want to say.... What I meant to say is 'No! I want to stay. I was only kidding.....' It's too late now.

I am unsure why, but the look of utter disappointment in his eyes fills me with regret. I need only say that I changed my mind. All I have to do is tell him the truth.

Then why can't I? What is so bloody hard about just opening my mouth and saying that one sentence? I realize his hands are no longer holding me down. I raise my arms to his face. I cradle hic cheeks in my hands, using my thumbs to wipe away the tears that have begun falling. He turns his face towards my right hand, kissing the palm before reaching up to take it (gently) in his own.

"'Ana'" Both the candle and he whisper my name at the same time. I want so badly to just feel them both. I want to let them both warm me in their embraces. I look behind him and see the candle. Its wax is melting over the side. It's formerly pristine, white collum, almost a hand's—width and a half tall, is now only three or four fingers—width. Its melted wax pools over the table, solidifying into white puddles. My gaze returns to Jack. His kohl is slightly smeared, forming grey trails down his face, a mirror of the candle's wax.

"I.... I'm sorry." I turn my gaze down to my lap. "Why don't you want me to leave?" Though the room is near silent, my words are nearly unheard, I spoke so softly.

He lowers both of my hands to my lap, settling them into a resting position. "First, I know I should be saying that there's no need to be apologising, but there is. Second...." Leaving one hand on my hands, he raises one to my chin to lift my face to his. "Second, I want you to stay because...." He looks me directly in the eye. "I.... You know this is really hard t' say, right?" I look at him in confusion. What could be so hard to about saying that he needs my skills on the ship and I'm the best First Mate he could ask for? Unless that's not what he was going to say. Maybe the real reason he kept me aboard was because he wanted easy access to a woman while on long journeys.

"Just say it, already. Or I'll just turn back to the fire. The flame's never been so.... inarticulate. It always goes strait to the point. None of that stalling crap." Well, I got a response from him. It just wasn't the one I had expected. Faster than I can register what was going on; he pulls me out of my chair and moves us both so I'm sitting in his lap. He then reaches behind him to the table and snuffs out the candle with his pointer finger and thumb.

"Why say it when I can show you?" Panic rises up in me at those words. I can hardly breath as his lips meet mine in a gentle, yet passionate kiss.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yet again, tbc....

And as always, I don't know what ?I'm doing wrong unless you tell me. I know it kind of rambles, but that's me. I am quite the Chatty Ana (In case you couldn't tell). And I know, too, that there are a lot of (....)s in it, but this story needs them. It just wouldn't be the same without the pauses and breaks in thought. Anamaria's feeling very disjointed. So, her thoughts and speech would reflect that. If you noticed, most of the (....)s are in her speech and her narrative. very few of it's in Jack's dialog. Accept where it's necessary.

Any other constructive criticism? What was you favourite part? What part do you think I need the most work on? Feedback is crucial in my growth as an authoress. You tell me what's wrong, I'll work to improve upon that next time.

So, in conclusion:
READ AND REVIEW!

It'll help you just as much as it helps me because the more you help me fix my mistakes, the better my stories will be.

(Unless you think their perfect as is. Then just review to give a shout out. ;) )