Chapter Two: I'm in a Movie

Have you noticed that smell is one of the best things for triggering a memory? If you walk by a bakery and catch a whiff of a cooking apple pie, you're thrown back in time, back to simple moments, laughing with the family, maybe your grandmother's kitchen in Kansas or something like that. Unfortunately I didn't have any good smell-based memories. Until the day I fainted into Captain Jack Sparrow's arms.

Normally, you would expect a pirate to smell horrible, seeing as they rarely bathe. Jack on the other hand, was incredibly clean smelling. Sure, he had that masculine scent that no one can erase, no matter how many times they wash, or bars of soap they go through. It's just there and after a while, you learn to appreciate it, even crave it. I drew in a deep breath, my eyes closed. There was something more to Jack's scent than masculinity though; salty sea brine and the warm tang of liquor were the best I could come up with at that moment. Later, I would term in the Essence of Jack. If Liz Claiborne bottled the Essence of Jack, she would be a millionaire right quick. I would snatch that scent up in an instant.

So, it was his smell that first woke me. I shook my head, and moved it slightly, realizing that my face was crushed into the 'V' of his shirt, and my lips were pressed against the warm skin over his breastbone. I felt the thump thump of his heart under them and I moved away slightly.

"Awake are ye?" He asked, an amused smile on his face. He looked cool as a cucumber, and I surmised he probably experienced fainting females quite frequently. I grimace, hating to conform to the usual picture of women, as fainting, flighty creatures who need a husband and five children tugging at her apron.

I felt his eyes on me again and my frown evaporated. "What? Wha - Oh, yeah . . .yes." I nodded and took another step away, wanting to smack myself for the ridiculous answer. There was just something about those eyes that made me into a blathering idiot. Damn him his eyes! I thought darkly, crossing my arms over my chest. "What kind of game is this?" I demanded. His eyebrow winged up.

"Game?" He asked curiously. "I don't know what ye mean, lass."

"You do." I insisted, poking him in the chest, withdrawing my finger when I felt the heat of his skin. Either I'd fallen off of the couch and cracked my head on the floor: unlikely, or I was having the most vivid dream in my life: improbable but still possible. Or this was some elaborate hoax and any minute people would hop out and scream 'Gotcha!'

"Someone must have told you about this obsession I have for Captain Jack Sparrow – Charlie! Did Charlie Cawle put you up to this?" If he did, I was going to kill that boyfriend of mine. Damned Charlie thinking it was funny to play around with my head. The last thing I needed was my boyfriend getting kooky ideas of how to rid me of my Pirates passion.

"I know no one by that name, I'm sorry t'say, but, you're obsessed with me? Really?" He flashed me a charming grin and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm obsessed with a movie character. He's not real." I stared straight into those bewitching eyes and repeated. "You – are – not – real!"

"Oy, but I am, lass." He objected, poking me in response. I shift away from the tickling sensation his finger against my ribs created and I crossed my arms over my chest. "See? And what be a 'movie'?"

I shook my head and reached up to rub my fingers over my temples. This was absolutely not happening! I thought, groaning when I opened my eyes and he was still standing there, watching me with unblinking eyes. "Would you stop that?" I demanded, turning my back on him. "You're making me nervous." I complained, bristling when I heard his chuckle.

"Well, I'm sorry fer that, love, but I need t'ask ye some more questions."

"Well, I'm sorry fer you." I retorted. "Because I am not answering any." I cross my arms again and waited for the explosion. Instead of him being angry, he did something I never thought he would do. He laughed. I whirled around. "Don't laugh at me." He continued to chuckle, holding his stomach and bending over with the force of them. My brows drew together and my eye darkened with anger. Without much thought to my precarious position, I marched up to him and slapped him, putting my whole body weight into the swing of my arm. He grunted and toppled backward, his arms coming up and snagging the sleeve of my shirt, pulling me with him in a tangle of limbs and floating curses. I groan as I felt his elbow jam into my stomach and shoved unceremoniously at his shoulder. "Get off of me, you weigh a ton!" I complained, groaning in pain as his elbow moved, now lodging somewhere under my left breast. Was the man deaf? Did he not understand he had a good fifty pounds on me?

He shifted slightly, bare palm grazing the exposed skin of my stomach. I gasp a little, his hands were rough and work callused, but they were also warm. I reveled in the feel of them against the soft skin around my navel. They contrasted sharply with Charlie's hands, which were kept baby soft with daily vitamin E treatments. In that moment, I forgot Charlie's baby soft hands existed and I wanted Jack's sea-roughened palms to never stop touching me. Then he moved off of me and the moment was broken.

"What was that for?" He demanded, rubbing his cheek. "Bloody 'ell woman, that was worse than any slap I've gotten before."

"Good." I said smartly, adjusting the white tee shirt, covering my stomach. He eyed me with frustration and reached up to rearrange the bandana around his forehead.

"Who are you?" He demanded eyes hard and angry. I wasn't afraid, so I just stared back, the brown of his clashing with the blue of mine.

"Depends." I replied cryptically. He rolled his eyes; apparently going this route was annoying him. I grinned inwardly. Good.

"On what?" He asked, frustration evident in his voice. If he expected me to just answer his questions, then he had yet to meet the likes of Chloe Marie McIntyre.

"All manner of things." I replied sweetly, as I hauled myself off of the floor. He hopped up too and glared at me.

"I'd prefer a straight answer." He growled, dark eyes flashing. I smiled cheekily and shrugged.

"Well, I'd like a '67 Shelby GT 500, but, sigh, we can't always get what we want." I tried to slip past him again, but his arm shot out and his hand wrapped around my arm.

"Aye, well, as captain, I DO get what I want, an' I want yer name." He hissed, and my smile faded. He looked absolutely peeved. I decided immediately teasing him further would not be wise. "Yer name, or the plank." He threatened. "Your choice."

I eyed him for a long while, debating whether or not to tell him, weighing the seriousness of the threat I saw in his eyes. "Chloe." I said, jutting my chin out.

"Well, Chloe, what are ye doin' on the Pearl?"

I shrugged. He looked about ready to explode so I held up my hands. "I don't know, really." I assured him. "All I remember is laying down on my couch for a little nap between the French Version of your movie and the extras and when I woke up, I was here." He stared at me.

"Have ye been at the ale casks?" He asked incredulously.

"I don't touch the stuff, and besides, I can't. It's illegal." He raised a brow.

"Since when?"

"Since I'm eighteen years old, and the legal drinking age is twenty-one." I explain wondering what was going on. Did he really think I believed he was actually Captain Sparrow? There was no logical explanation for this, I told myself again, hand dropping to trace the skin where his hand had been through my tee shirt. "Now if you would be so kind as to drive me back to my home, I would greatly appreciate it." He frowned, and I sighed in exasperation. "The game is up," I told him, putting my hands on my hips. "I figured it out. So, I'm going to go." Without another word, I spun on my heel and marched out of the cabin and up the stairs.

My eyes adjusted quickly to the copious amounts of moonlight and I frowned. There were absolutely no electric lights anywhere. No sound of cars, no one screaming at their husband or wife, no nothing, just the quiet lap of water on the side of the boat. I swayed a little, losing my balance. I would have tumbled into an undignified heap if Jack hadn't caught my arm. My gaze shot to his and it was ripe with fear.

"W...Where am I?" I asked through trembling lips. Jack frowned at the obvious fear in my eyes and smiled reassuringly.

"Tortuga, love."

"Holy shit . . . I'm in a movie!" I say before falling headlong, in a faint for the second time that night.