[A/N- if you do not like sex, or at least reading sour lemons, skip over this one. Also, in this time frame, our dear Captain Sparrow has no dreadlocks nor beads. It'll explain why at a later date.]

Alinnya dropped herself on the bunk, wincing in pain and choking back a cry as the mattress hit some still- sore points on her back. All the work she'd done that day had pulled open the half healed sores, and she daren't complain about it within the crew's hearing, but with her watch done, dinner or no, she fell and bit back screams at the utter ache that was her body, currently. Her thighs, her back, her wrists….. every ounce of her screamed in pain, sea spray rubbing at the wounds and staining the once off-white shirt with blood and puss. She lolled her head over to the side and tried to drown out the pain, willing herself to pass out or die, either one.

***

Jack brought a handkerchief with bread and a jug of ale with him when dinner was over, having noticed his first mate's conspicuous absence and somewhat concerned about the girl. Despite her words to him earlier that day, she had looked paler every time he had seen her afterwards, and he wasn't surprised to see her pass out on the bunk. He was somewhat surprised to see a mirror reflection of the larger scratches he'd seen on her dyed onto the shirt. He set the food down on the table and sat next to her, careful not to jar the bed, and pulled the shirt over her head, for the second time that day, and took a good study of her.

When all this fucking heals, he decided, she'll be well worth the effort.

He put a hand on her forehead. Warm, but she wasn't running a fever yet. He walked over to the other side of the room and dipped a cloth into the wash basin, wringing out the excess, and came back, carrying the basin as well. He folded the one cloth and laid it over her forehead, taking another and wiping the sores as gently as he could. Judging by the look of them, it was probably the first time anyone had done so.

"Wha-" she jerked forward a little, but he pushed her back down.

"Hush love," he ran his thumb over her cheekbone, "someone has to take care of you."

She pushed her cheek into his hand, her expression distorted with the attempt to hold back tears. He kissed her on the cheek, holding her for a moment until she relaxed.

"Now," he sat back up, "you lie there for a minute, and when this is taken care of, you eat. But if I end up in this position again, I'm tossing you overboard. Understood?"

She chuckled at that, which he took for a yes, and he continued his detailed inspection of her.

It boosted his pride even more that she fell back to sleep during the process.

***

He was having the world's worst time of it, he was sure. But it was like the horizon- he couldn't take his eyes off her. She actually wasn't in that bad a shape after she was cleaned up a little, and he found himself sitting there, watching her sleep, just running his fingers up and down her stomach. She moaned and stretched slightly as she woke up. "Enjoying the view?"

"Very much so," he smiled back at her, leaning forward to kiss her lips. It began simply, almost chastely, and the second she opened her mouth he found himself inside her, of her. His tongue slid inside her mouth, stroking against the side of hers, over the roof of her mouth and around her teeth, pulling away slowly. She caught his bottom lip, scraping lightly with her teeth. Her eyes met his playfully, and she sucked his lip into her mouth. He growled with the motion, his free hand running its way down her neck and across her collarbone, stopping with a fingertip- light touch at the side of her breast.  She moaned, her back arching into him instinctively, causing shudders to roll down his spine. He dominated her mouth in his once more and traced his fingers around the curve of her breast, languidly tracing a fingernail over her nipple, feeling it rise under his ministrations. She tangled her hands into his hair, breaking the string that held it out of his face. He kissed up her jawline, nipping at her earlobe before traveling down her neck to her collarbone. His hand traveled gently down to her stomach, catching the waistband and sliding toward the laces, bringing a terrified squeak from her.  He stopped and looked at her, puzzled.

"Too fast for ya, love?" he half smiled at her, his face slowly hardening in understanding. "Or am I about to see something I shouldn't?"

The sight of her jaw tensing was all the answer he needed. He attacked the laces, grabbing at her wrists to restrain her as he pulled them down, gaping at the long, jagged, ancient scars that coated her hips and thighs. There was absolutely nothing sexy about that.

She loosed one hand and pummeled his face, sending him reeling, and she stood, dressing herself. "Happy now?" she growled, walking toward the door.

"Is that for every time he…?"

"No," she wheeled, the door open behind her, interrupting him. "That's for every time I did."

She slammed the door behind her, walking across the deck to the prow, sighing and watching the sea slide by below her. She smirked, the expression as empty as she felt at the moment, and her eyes followed the horizon long into the night, seeing things that were far, far behind her.

Back inside the captain, Jack grabbed a bottle of rum and started the beginning of his long night.