"What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us are tiny matters compared to what lives within us."

-Oliver Wendell Holmes

Chapter Two

I am not a gypsy, and I am not exactly a nomad. I just travel so often that I do not have my own place. But tonight, heart and home is in a small room above the Faithful Bride.

Twice already have I thrown Jack Sparrow out, who insists that his life is in danger and he needs a young woman, who strangely has the same description as myself, to watch over him closely until the sun comes up. But I of course know that this pirate can hold his own, and sent him off to his room, which is conveniently only one door down.

Two pillows are pushed up to the headboard, my back propped up against them, and I'm thoroughly enjoying the night. Although it is three in the morning, one would never acknowledge this fact with all the noise that is going on downstairs. But drunken fights and the couple having the time of their lives next-door, is not what is keeping me awake.

A shallow knock on the door causes me to groan aloud. "I told you, Sparrow, you can't stay in here!"

The oak door clicks open a moment later, revealing a very confused Chester. "You've met the pirate I see."

I nod, leaning back against the pillows once more. I suddenly realize that I'm very tired. "Yes, I met him."

"...And?"

"Everything is set. I am to leave with him tomorrow morning when the Black Pearl is prepared to sail," I assure him.

"Good."

Chester Warhol has dark hair and bright eyes. His face is friendly and cleanly shaven. Although he is a few years my senior, he does not look it.

We go over a few details of mine and Jack's conversations, minus the innuendos, and my boss nods expectantly. He tells me that he has not any new information to aid me, but he will be sure to let me know once he does. I have no doubts of that; Chester has never failed me.

"Get some sleep," he eyes me like a father, frowning at my clothing and tired appearance. "You'll need it, with the things I've heard about that Jack Sparrow."

I cannot help the smile that lifts my cheeks. "He is quite the handful."

"He's in for one as well. You're not exactly what I would call tame, Andie. I hope he knows what he's in for. Maybe I should go warn him." Chester looks me over once more with a smile, and then leaves before I can say another word. Never a 'good luck' is spoken.

I'm not surprised when I hear Jack enter a moment later. I know he was listening the entire time, anyway.

"How exactly would ye define tame?" he asks.

"Not in a way you would enjoy," I reply without a beat.

A gold-toothed grin pleasantly caresses his lips, "I wouldn't say that."

His eyes travel down my scantily clad form, dressed only in my black lace shift, and I watch as his eyes darken pleasantly.

"I just did," I quip with a smile.

Arranging the pillows for sleep, I pull the covers over me and lay on my side, purposefully putting my back to my charge and making room for a second body. I'm getting myself into trouble, I can feel it now. And I'm somewhat ashamed as I realize my excitement at those thoughts.

"So, that was Chester?" Jack asks, and after a short moment I'm aware of his boots hitting the floor, and he crawls into the bed behind me.

"Yep."

I don't know why I am allowing him to stay in here with me, let alone sleep in the same bed as me. I used to do this a lot, but do not get the wrong idea. I've never been and never will be a whore. But sometimes I would get involved with men I didn't really want to get involved with, or, in cases like with Jack, with men I barely even knew. And I promised myself I would change. I guess I'm not so different after all.

I turn to face Jack, who is hatless, shirtless, and mysterious looking at all times. I suppose that is my problem. I am so attracted to the tall, dark and handsome ones. Those are always the worst men to get involved with: the so-called 'Bad Boys', or 'Walkaway Joe's'.

The pirate leans forward, tucking a piece of my dark hair behind my ear. He places a distracting kiss to my jaw, my neck, and I suddenly realize what is happening.

"Wait," I whisper, "Stop. What did I say about getting me into bed?" I press a hand to his chest, just so I can feel that something is between us, some boundary that is keeping me from doing something I will regret.

"I believe that you're the one who's gotten me into bed, Miss Bryant." His grin is too confident.

"I'm no whore." I sound just as sure of myself, but I am shaking inside.

I turn away before he can reply, staying close, but keeping my back against his chest. Having someone this close is comforting and distracts me from feeling so lonely. But the feeling of contentment, of home, is always only temporary.

Jack sighs and wraps a secure arm around my waist. He's warm, and he smells even better; like sin itself. But it won't last, I remind myself. It won't last. . .

-

I've never done well with traveling over-seas. My stomach churns and black spots flood before my eyes. Chester used to tease me horribly over my sea sickness, but it never really meant anything until now.

In fact, I expected Jack to taunt me as well, but when he found me retching over the side of his ship, he surprised me. One calloused hand held my hair back from my face, while the other rubbed my back, soothing my stomach and calming my nerves. When I got everything together, he handed me a glass of water and told me to get some sleep. I just haven't developed my sea legs yet, he explained. The warm smile pulling at his lips was what bewitched me overall.

But this afternoon, I am feeling much better. Not one-hundred percent, but better, nonetheless.

Jack and I have been fencing all morning, testing each other and sharing personalized strategies. I think he is learning a great deal of things, considering I've knocked him back on his ass a few times.

But suddenly, after blocking his last attempt to defeat my new record, my feet are lost beneath me, and I land flat on my back with a painful "Oomph!" Most amusingly, Jack loses his balance not a moment later, and half lands on top of me and half on deck.

"Jack," I groan, "Get up before you suffocate me."

Jack crawls completely over me, but leans his weight on his elbows next to my head. "Wouldn't want to do that," the pirate says, but I'm not sure if he means getting up or cutting off my air supply.

When I look up at him, Jack's eying my lips. Butterflies swim inside me, but this time I know it's not my lack of sea legs that is making my stomach flutter.

"Get up," I tell him more clearly, trying to hide the strong feelings of lust that are crawling up my pale skin. He doesn't move, and grins at me as though he had just won a generous bet. But I am not in the mood to gamble; I shove him off me with all my strength.

Handing him his sword, I say, "I think you've learned enough for today."

"Me?" Jack denies, "I think you've been the one learning, love."

I grin devilishly, brushing past him and swinging my hips in a most teasing manner. When I look back at him over my shoulder, his eyes are greedily following my backside. " I'm afraid you've been mistaken, Captain."

There is no reply, thanks to Jack's momentary distraction. Men are so easy to play with and manipulate. This is becoming more like a sport to me, rather then just petty amusement. But I can't help it, watching that look cross his face and the way that incubus tongue darts out to quickly wet his lips. . . it only entices me further.

"Captain Sparrow!" Someone from the deck calls.

I almost laugh as Jack releases a frustrated sigh. We're now walking up the stairs to where his crew are working hard, sweating under the hot Carribean sun. Due to our frantic fencing all morning, Jack has been avoiding all of his captainly duties.

"Don't worry, Sparrow," I secure him as we reach the top of the stairs, "I won't speak a word."

He raises a curious eyebrow. "A word of what?"

"How you were so badly beaten. . . by a woman."

I'm suddenly pinned roughly against the wall, Jack's face close to mine and his breath harsh against my lips. His hands are strong on my shoulders, his hips pressed flush to mine. It takes all my strength to hold back a shiver.

"You didn't beat me," he growls, but I know better. His eyes are dark and searching, a clear sign that he is not angry with me, but in fact, quite ablaze. His voice is not harsh, but gruff, deep.

"Just admit it," I whisper.

"I don't like to be teased," Jack declares. But by the close proximity of his body, the heat of his skin, that look in his eyes... Jack Sparrow loves it. He's enjoying my dalliance just as much as I am dishing it out to him.

"You do."

Suddenly he grabs me to him, and his lips are persistent and crushing on mine. One arm moves around my waist and the other slides into my hair. I kiss him back with an equal amount of want, but just as soon as it started, Jack brakes off and quickly makes way for the deck, leaving me alone on the stairwell.

"Hell," I mutter, reaching up two gentle fingers to touch my swollen lips.

I've buried myself into a deep ditch that is going to be very difficult to climb out of. Now I only need to decide: do I want to?

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