Chapter Seventeen: A Spider's Web

Now, the exit might have been what some fan fiction writers would call romantic, if a bit unrealistic. And, to tell you the truth, they'd be right. After grabbing Jack's hand, I'd taken about four steps before crashing. Kaboom! In a dervish of flying leaves, and limbs, I ended up on the ground, staring up at the canopy of lovely green leaves, trying to battle back the red haze of pain that was inching its way over my vision. For, I knew, not far behind that crafty reddish pain was the deep, impenetrable dark of unconsciousness.

It most certainly didn't help things that Jack was sprawled over my middle. "Get off of me you oaf!" I yelped. "You weigh a bleeding ton!" He scrambled off of me but instead of rising to his feet, he stayed crouched above me, staring down into my face. "What's the matter with you?" I grunted, struggling to get up. He pressed the heel of his hand to my shoulder, pinning me easily to the ground.

"You're not going anywhere until I inspect you." He said soberly. I rolled my eyes, smirking at him.

"Jack, I'm sorry to break it to you, darlin' but we don't have time for that." Jack rolled his eyes and dropped his head, busily tugging at the loose fitting man's shirt hanging off of my frame. "Jack." I giggled when his fingertips grazed the bottom edge of my ribcage. "Jack!" I squealed. Then his fingers encountered my freshly ripped stitches. "OUCH!" I shoved at his hand. "You bloody heathen!" I shouted, scooting away when his hand traveled back to yank the fabric up. "Leave me go!" I whined when he started probing again.

"Well, congratulations." He said after a moment of painful observation. "You've managed to rip every stitch the good doctor put in your stubborn carcass." I rolled my eyes and pushed myself into a sitting position. "You're going back to the ship."

"The hell I am." I retorted. "An' you can't make me." I stated crossing my arms across my chest. He just reached over and gave my shoulder a light shove, sending me back to the earth. I pushed myself up again. "Muscle me around all you want," I told him. "But, I'm not going."

He stuck out a single finger and gave me an even gentler push, sending me sprawling. "All right, leave off!" I ordered. "You've made your point." I conceded but, before he could smirk in victory I shook my head. "I'm still not going anywhere."

He rolled his eyes at me. "You stubborn wench." He muttered, turning his face away. I sighed and scooted over. "Can't you give me this one moment of peace, and not make me worry about you every moment I draw breath?" I shrugged. "Can you not give me that much?"

"Sorry, Jack. You jump; I jump, okay?" Jack stared at me blankly and I shook my head at the sadness that this generation had been denied the cinematic masterpiece of Titanic. (Yes, I'm kidding. Can't you tell?)

"What?" Jack grunted, leaning back on his arms, his wounds giving him trouble as well. My keen eyes caught his discomfort and I pounced on him. Or, rather, dragged my suddenly numb limbs through the decomposing organic matter to his side.

"It's my turn." He eyed me and I gave him a shove onto his back before reaching for his belt buckle. I tugged his dirtied cream shirt from its tucked position and all but ripped it in half in my haste to have it off. His bruises still looked fresh, and I couldn't help but cringe, as I looked them over. A less pig-headed male would have admitted his weakness and settled back against the pillows, milking the fact that he would have two females and an entire crew at his beck and call. But would Jack? Oh, no, no, sir, not him. I rolled my eyes.

"I hate boyscouts." I muttered. Jack again shot me a confused frown, but I waved his confusion away. He hissed when my fingers encountered a tender spot, and I soothed it with cool fingers before moving on. I ran my hands over both of his shoulders, and in all my innocence, I was beginning to forget the reason I was running my hands over his magnificent form. My hands trailed down his injured arm, where I stopped abruptly. The bandages in his long knife wound were all but soaked through.

I took into account that we had just killed some baddie pirates, but, I couldn't take the chance. Straddling him, I brought his arm under my line of vision and began to unwrap it. "Chloe." His grunted murmur was ignored as I unraveled the sodden cloth, his long, thick wound being exposed inch by painful inch. I made a small sound in the back of my throat and ran the tips of my fingers along the reddened flesh. "Chloe." He was even more breathless now, and I felt a hand drift up my back to tangle in the messy ponytail that hung down. His fingers tangled in the hair, and it was at that point, I knew we were both getting distracted from the task at hand.

But, sue me for living, I didn't much mind.

I allowed his hand to cup the back of my neck, brining my torso down to lay along his, my mouth lined up with his, our breaths mingling in the humid air. My eyes were glued on his feverish chocolate gaze, making my hands clutch convulsively on the ruined bandage in their grasp.

"Kiss me once." He whispered. "Just kiss me." He murmured. I dropped my eyes to his lips and my tongue darted out to wet my own before I brought them to his for a short kiss. With the groan vibrating in my mouth, I could tell he was struggling not to take it deeper. Mackin' it in the jungle with all sorts of unscrupulous characters about was anything but wise. So, being the prudent being that I am (hardy har, har; keep the wise cracks to a minimum please), I slid away from his body and his oh, so tempting mouth.

"Come here." I whispered. "I'll rewrap yours if you'll wrap mine." He gave me an odd look before he saw me reach for the hem of my shirt, ripping off a perfect strip to wrap around his injured forearm. Now, don't look at me that way, I don't know how fabric does that, it just, well…rips!

Jack allowed me to bandage him again, tying the dressing securely before he reached down and pulled out a handkerchief he'd stowed in the back pocket of his trousers. Don't ask me where he got it. I was just as surprised. He folded it and gently pressed it to my wound, encouraging me to lie down to give him better access. I did so, and he then reached over and tore another strip from my shirt and tying it around my middle to keep the padding in place.

By now you think I was walking around with nothing but sleeves and a collar. Wrong again. I had been gifted that shirt from the surprisingly diverse closet of Gibbs. I know, one wouldn't think it to look at him, would they. Oh, dear, but don't tell him I said so. I'd never hear the end of it.

As it was, I never heard the end of his "best" shirt being ruined to patch up a few bird-brained idiots without the common sense of a radish to split between them.

So, after we were all bandaged up, we two radishes struggled to stand, and gathered our weapons before heading on our merry way to catch ourselves a pirate who needed culling.

"I still don't want you coming with me." Jack muttered as we lumbered along, the walking loosening the tight muscles. Apparently I was very lucky. The sword went through the fleshy point just above my hip, missing all sorts of vital viscera. At least that's what Jack had repeated like some sort of mantra.

"Well, too bad. We don't get what we want all the time, do we now, Jacky-poo." He rolled his eyes.

"A more stubborn lass I've never met." I beamed at him and laced my arm through his. "And of course, you're just off your rocker enough to take that as a compliment." He muttered, but nonetheless, he covered my hand with his before returning it to the hilt of his sword.

"I couldn't agree more." The voice had us stopping in our tracks, both of us going for our swords at the same moment, taking a step away from the other and ranging ourselves back to back. Renfield stepped out from the shrubbery and my hand tightened reflexively on the blade. I was aware of the pistol hugging my side and had started to reach for it when Jack caught my eye. His head-shake was almost imperceptible but I dropped my hand away. "Wise." Renfield murmured, stepping up to look us both in the face. "My men would have gunned you down before you could even pull the gun from your belt." He grinned. "Drop your weapons." Having no choice, we lowered the swords. "And the belt, Chloe, if you please." With a hiss of anger, I let it fall into the dirt. Jack's hand sought mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

The way he lingered over my name made me want to spit in his face, but I restrained myself. "Come, take a walk with me." And again, having no choice, we followed.