Warning: the rating will go up to R for the next chapter

Chapter Three- Dreams of Abandon

The Night Following The 'Execution'

I'm lying in bed, treading the fine line between sleeping and waking- dozing some might call it. I yearn for the oblivion of sleep and yet I'm scared that I might have one of my dreams about Elizabeth. If I can't be with her in the waking world, I certainly do not want to be haunted by fantasies of her at night. In fact, I lie in bed for so long that I can no longer tell if I'm awake or not. I think I am.

Suddenly, I hear an odd scuffling noise. A rat, perhaps? This is a ship, after all. But no- it sounds like something bigger.

Silently, I swing my legs out of my cot. I creep across my cabin and take my sword down from the rack on the wall. I open the door into the Great Cabin with its sweeping stern windows and dining table, large enough for sixteen guests. Silver moonlight is streaming in through the windows and the figure of a man is silhouetted against the night.

The man doesn't seem to notice as I move stealthily up behind him- indeed, he betrays no surprise when I jab the point of my sword against his back.

A cockney voice speaks up. "Now, Commodore. You wouldn't want t' kill you're old friend Jack now, would ya?"

Bloody pirate.

My sword clatters to the floor. "What are you doing here? On my ship?"

Jack Sparrow laughs. "I thought you might be lonely," he murmurs. "Might welcome the company."

I try desperately to grapple with the situation. How did Sparrow get aboard? Where is his crew? Where is the Black Pearl? "I don't understand," I whisper, more to myself than to him.

"Let me show you." Four simple words hold a wealth of meaning. He turns around and steps towards me. He rests his hands against my chest and I think he must be able to feel the thumping of my heart through the thin cotton of my nightshirt. Then his right hand reaches up to caress my hair, while his left hand snakes around my back to pull me towards him.

As he presses his body against mine, a wave of heat courses through me. I moan with longing and he presses his lips against mine, his tongue diving into my mouth. The taste of rum is harsh and intoxicating. It comes as something of a shock to realise that I'm kissing back just as fiercely as him. Experimentally, I try to run one of my hands through his hair. It doesn't really work though, I just become entangled in the beads, and so I run my hand down his side.

His left hand has plunged down the back of my nightshirt and is tracing increasingly frantic circles across the muscles of back. He stops kissing me for a moment and nibbles on my ear before biting my neck. Suddenly, with overwhelming force, he pushes me down onto the dinning table and I lie on the polished mahogany, panting. He looks down on me. His lips are red and swollen and the look in his eyes is feral, like the eyes of a lion about to pounce on its victim.

A second later, he pounces.

I awaken with a start. My bed sheets are tangled around me and soaked with my sweat. "It was just a dream," I mutter. "Just a dream..." I try to reassure myself but the terrible thing is, I'm not altogether certain that I want to be reassured.

Indeed, my half state of arousal suggests I rather enjoyed that dream.

I remember that my mother, a foolish whimsical woman of course, used to say that a person's dreams reflect the innermost desires of the dreamer- in which case I desire to commit a crime so dreadful, so heinous, that it cannot be mentioned within the realms of polite society, with a pirate.

"The Greek sin..." I murmur, thinking of Sparrow's words. God help me.

Footsteps on deck alert me to the fact that it is morning so I get up. I try to shave with cold water. My hand is trembling and I cut myself twice. I don't run the blade under my chin for fear of cutting my throat. I consider calling for my cabin servant but the thought of another man's -any man's- hands touching me makes me nervous. What in heaven's name is wrong with me?

There's a knock on my cabin door. I pinch myself to make sure I'm really awake this time.

"Yes?" I answer.

"Letter arrived for you, sir. Messenger wouldn't say who from." It sounds like Groves, the second lieutenant, talking. "Well come in, man," I snap. "It might be important!"

Groves, a far more aggreeable man than Gillette, enters. He hands me the letter and salutes. He waits for further orders. I dismiss him, and then perch on the edge of my cot to read the letter:

Commodore Norrington,

I trust this letter finds you well. It would, of course, be a shame to learn that Commodore Norrington, the scourge of piracy in the Caribbean, had hanged himself over a girl. I hope that you recover soon from your disappointment- but if I gave you my regrets I would be lying.

Elizabeth is far better with the boy. They are meant to be together, as husband and wife, in a way that people like you and I can only imagine. You probably do not understand me- come to Tortuga and I'll show you what I mean.

Yours very truly,

Captain J. Sparrow

I notice the word 'Captain' is underlined.

P.S. No tricks, okay? I'll know if you are not alone.

I stare at the spidery writing for a long time. I never imagined pirates could write.The letter disturbs me slightly; why does Sparrow imagine I would come to Tortuga to see him? I wonder if Sparrow knows how that kiss affected me. Is it possible? I have to find out.

And after all, why not? I can kill two birds with one stone. Go to Tortuga, track down Sparrow and find out what he means. Then, I can go back to the ship and bring a party of men to arrest him. It's all perfectly simple. I briefly entertain the possibility that Sparrow may want me as a hostage but for some reason I can't quite believe it.

After all, there is honour amongst thieves.

I pull on a clean shirt, necktie, stockings, breeches and silver-buckled shoes. My cabin servant darts through the door, obviously taken by surprise at the suddenness of my getting up. "Coffee, sir? Breakfast?"

"Yes. Attend to it immediately." I follow the little man out of my sleeping cabin and into the Interceptor's great cabin. The skylight is open and I can hear voices talking on deck. Now is not the time for formalities. "GILLETTE!!!!!!!" I bellow.

A moment later there's a knock at the door. "Enter," I say and the marine sentry admits Gillette. The unfortunate man looks extremely flustered.

"You called for me, sir?"

I allow myself a smile. "One day's head start is all he gets, eh?"

The lieutenant's face splits into a grin. "Where to, sir?"

"Tortuga, Mr Gillette. Tortuga."

"Aye aye, sir!"