Chapter: Light
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But for mine own part, it was Greek to me.
- Julius Caesar, Billy Shakespeare
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The next week passed without further incident.
Sophia cared for Jack as expressionlessly as was required of any good nurse. She did not cry again and refused to allow herself to fall apart as she had that first night of his rescue. She didn't let him see that her heart was aching every time she set eyes on him and his distant demeanor nearly killed her.
She adopted a friendly but platonic character around Jack that kept the conversation flowing but avoided any words of actual meaning. After long hours of self-counseling, Sophia was finally able to converse normally with him despite the constant lump in her throat and the heaviness of her gut.
Elizabeth, dear Elizabeth, was the only person who understood. At night the girl would slip silently into Sophia's cabin and lie beside her cousin, stroking Sophia's hair with the tenderness of a mother while she trembled with pain. Elizabeth was with her when Sophia had left Jack; she knew the extent of her love for him. She remembered Sophia's state after she had returned to Port Royal, only to realize that her dreaded dream was folly and all the pain needn't have happened. Sophia could have stayed with him.
And so Sophia would shut her eyes as her cousin whispered ineffective comforts in the dark and try to stop the tears.
-
Jack was sure he was dying. His body grew stronger by the hour, his ribs filled out with the increased amounts of food he was given each day, and his bruises and cuts had all but disappeared, and his fever had completely dissipated, but he was dying. His soul, it seemed, was giving out on him.
The sight of Sophia each day, her mouth set in an increasingly tense line as she changed his bandages and her body rigid with careful resolve, was torture. He didn't know what was happening to him. All the women before had never meant anything to him. Sophia scared him; the thought of going on the rest of his life without her frightened him more than anything else he could ever imagine. And it looked as if living without her would be exactly what he would have to do.
-
"You, Jack Sparrow, are filthy," Sophia told him one day as she changed his bandages. "I must have cleaned your wounds hundreds of times and yet the dirt still remains."
Jack gave her a small, sad smile. "Aye. Prison tends to 'ave that effect." Sophia's fingertips stilled over his skin. She didn't like to remember the torture he had endured in that dreadful place.
The muscles in Jack's shoulder tensed suddenly as Sophia moved her palm over the familiar scar just below his collarbone. The touch of her fingers on his skin made the blood whir in his head again.
"How much of that night do you remember, Jack? When I took that bullet out and cured the infection?" Sophia asked him, her voice very quiet. "It was such a long time ago and I was so very frightened. In the weeks that followed we were sure you would not last, your fever was so high."
Jack had to concentrate very hard to keep his voice steady and even then didn't trust himself to speak. He didn't reply. The truth was he remembered almost nothing of his sickness, but had heard the stories from his crew of how she had acted with unexpected strength and courage time and again.
Sophia looked up at him and managed a fleeting smile. "No matter." She gave a great sigh. "As I said, it was long ago, and things are different now. I would not act as foolhardy as I did, knowing what I know now. I could have killed you."
Jack did not know what to say to that.
He's so quiet. Sophia had begun to get very worried about Jack in the past week. He was stronger now, he could walk around the room without becoming too fatigued, but the Jack she had known was gone. There were almost no jokes to speak of, no playful banter. Will and Elizabeth had noticed it as well and asked her if she knew the reason. Sophia forced her mind back into the present. "I'll ask the cook to heat up some water for a bath and send Will in to assist you. It's about time you got cleaned up." She forced her voice to remain distant despite the knowledge that it would only cause the rift between them to widen.
Jack swallowed painfully as he observed close off again, as if erecting a sound stone wall between them. Strangely it reminded him of Sophia's first days on the Black Pearl all those years ago, when she had been young and frightened and refused to allow anyone in to see the pain that she kept so close to her heart. He hadn't truly realized how much their relationship had regressed until he saw that same forced impassiveness in her expression when she looked at him.
He cleared his throat and simply replied, "Aye, 'tis."
-
In truth Jack hated baths, but even he could agree that he needed one. The grime seemed to melt off him the moment he sank into the steaming water and let out an involuntary groan as the heat relaxed his muscles. Will, sitting on the cot with his nose in a book, chuckled faintly. "Enjoying it after all, are you?"
Jack considered throwing the soap at him but decided that it was more trouble than it was worth. Will wasn't really needed; Jack was more than capable after a week of good food and nursing of getting into the small portable tub. But Sophia had insisted through Will's assurances, for "Jack might slip and crack his head," and her "medical expertise is not quite that extensive. Terribly sorry." Will often found Sophia's humor utterly entertaining.
Jack sloshed water over the edge of the tub as he sank further into the bath, glancing at the slimy brown soap hesitantly. He knew what this every day soap was made of, and didn't think that cattle-fat and his skin should mix. Nevertheless, Will's distracted persistence that he should wash his hair as well otherwise Sophia would have his head finally convinced him and he set to work scrubbing.
"So, Will, what 'ave you been up to since I saw you last? Those demons you like t' call children keepin' your 'ands full?" Jack asked good-humoredly, grateful for time to talk casually with his old friend. Surprisingly he and Will hadn't seen much of each other. Will was busy directing the ship.
"Of course. Arabella and Jack will be into adolescence soon, unfortunately," Will added ruefully, "and Lizzy's still practically a baby. They are wonderful children. . . staying with their grandfather at present. He loves to have them running about."
Jack felt a pang of both sympathy and admiration for his friend. His children consumed his life—he had no time for thoughts of his own desires and finding someone to love. Jack scrubbed persistently at the dirt between his fingers as he continued, "Lovely. . . Doing alrigh' without Elizabeth?"
Will's forehead creased faintly with painful thoughts of his deceased wife. "Well enough, I suppose. Sophia's a wonderful help with the children—a surrogate mother, if you will."
"Is she?" Jack muttered distractedly. She had complete life, a good life, a life without him. Why would she want to give that up?
Will wanted to say more. He felt such an ache in his heart for Sophia and she was so devastatingly alone in her normal life at Port Royal. A constant pain showed through her eyes and her face was always tense with it. He wanted to tell Jack that Sophia was still waiting for him. That she loved him, even if he didn't love her in return.
He couldn't. His lips wouldn't form the words. He couldn't jeopardize his friendship with either of them, and he was sure if he got in the middle of their relationship that was exactly what he would be doing.
He glanced over the top of his book at Jack's submerged form and his gaze lingered there. Jack's elbows rested on the edge of the tub he had covered his face with his hands. His shoulders were rigid and Will could hear his open-mouthed breathing from across the room. Will furrowed his brow in confusion.
Just then a knock came at the door and Sophia's voice sounded soon after: "Hurry up, Jack. I've given you more than enough time to wash. I'm coming in in exactly one minute and you had better be dressed."
The sound of Sophia's words startled Jack, and he brought his head up abruptly. After sinking one last time into the water he clambered out of the tub and dried himself off with a towel. He donned a pair of breeches and a shirt Will had lent him and wrinkled his nose at his reflection in the fogged mirror. As soon as they touched land he was going to get some better clothes. These were too. . . regular.
"I hope you're decent," Sophia said loudly as she banged open the door and bustled in armed with a comb, shears, and a shaving razor. She smiled faintly at the vision of Jack looking clean and, well. . . unusually polished, save for his hair and beard, of course. The absence of kohl around his eyes made his face seem more open and real—the mystery of that black was gone. Jack busied himself with attempting to sop up the water he'd splashed on the floor with his towel. "Leave it," Sophia stated curtly. "This ship's just a pile of lumber anyway."
"Be careful, Sophia. You'll resurrect terrible memories of Jack's talking like that. I believe you called The Black Pearl that a while back," Will declared absentmindedly, still reading his book.
Jack's face darkened considerably. Sophia dared not ask what had become of his beloved ship. She would save that for another time. She pulled out the chair from the desk and motioned for him to sit, smiling again at Jack's horrified look. "Sit," she ordered briskly.
Jack knew instantly what she was doing. She was pretending as if everything was all right, like they were nothing more than acquaintances. It troubled him deeply despite his compliance. He sat down.
"You're going to touch that?" Will asked incredulously, pointing at the dripping mass of tangles that was Jack's hair.
"Of course," Sophia replied, and left it at that.
It was a painstaking process, doubled by the fact that the close proximity to Jack was making her uncomfortable. He protested quite a lot about the pain her combing was causing him, but she ignored the majority of it. "You don't have to wear a corset, heels, and a three-foot skirt and prance about all day, do you?" She questioned quietly as she yanked through the tangled ends of his hair. That kept him quiet until she came to the fact that she would have to remove his beads and whatever else he kept in his hair. That suggestion was met with a roar of protest and he only agreed when Sophia told him he could braid them back in when she was finished. Finally she got his hair smooth, and found it looked undoubtedly strange on him. She snipped off the ends with her shears until it was at a respectable length (for him) and tied it back at the nape of his neck with a bit of string.
Jack closed his eyes briefly and tried not to feel her fingers as they grazed across his skin. He really couldn't take this much longer. His skin was buzzing with unspent energy and frustration. This whole situation, everything that remained unsaid, was going to be the death of him.
Sophia tried to focus on the task at hand and not on the man that looked at her so intensely as she moved around to stand before him and inspect his beard before handing him the razor and shears. She couldn't do any more. Her chest felt heavy and her breathing was shallow with pain. "You can do it. . .you know better than I how you want everything looking. I'm sorry, but I think I'll retire to my room. I'm a bit tired."
With that she turned and walked out of the cabin, leaving Jack and Will to ponder over her behavior.
-
The scent of soap and hot water had convinced Sophia that it was time for her own bath, and, although heating pail after pail of water was a definite pain, the result was worth it. She stared in satisfaction at the steaming bath before her as she stripped her cloths off, unbound her hair, and slipped seamlessly into the water, oily with heat. She nearly trembled in delight. She had positioned the tub so that her back would be facing the door, for the only locks on the ship were for stored goods and she was fairly vulnerable. Not that she thought anyone would walk in. She sensed that the crew was somewhat frightened of her, the woman who worked and dressed like a man and had such a dark past that Will had, she was sure, forbidden them to ask her about it. The all fumbled like idiots around her and were careful and polite about their questions, never searching for the deeper Sophia that lied within her hard exterior.
And so, she guessed that they would not be brave enough to enter her domain. Will had the good sense not to, and if Elizabeth happened to walk in blithely as she so often did, humming under her breath, it didn't matter in the least.
She rejoiced in the peace the silence and heat brought her. It shielded thoughts of Jack from her active mind and pushed him to her subconscious. She sighed, working the soap into a lather in her hair, and afterwards submerged completely into the water. When she came up she felt wonderfully clean and refreshed.
Now all she needed was a bit of candy.
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Will was called out to return to his duty manning the ship so Jack worked alone in his room, drawing the somewhat dull razor across the underside of his jaw carefully. He decided to leave his beard and mustache as it was before his imprisonment, his customary style with the two braids at his chin and a sparse amount of stubble along his jaw line. Then he braided and looped all of the beads and trinkets he kept in his hair, although he decided to forego the long white spine of a feather he included beforehand simply because he could not find a way to attach it. He had simply stuck it in the mass of hair previously but now it just slid out from between the silky black tendrils. He had to admit the smoothness of his hair combined with the texturing of the beads and his newly acquired state of cleanliness was dashing compared to his previous look. Maybe until he went out to sea again he would maintain this appearance.
What was to happen once they returned to Port Royal? Jack assumed he would stay with Will. It didn't seem like Sophia would be welcoming him into her home anytime soon, and it was likely that Norrington would shoot him on sight. He highly doubted the prick of a man would forget that he had "kidnapped" his wife twice. He would need to live a life of reclusion until he could get a ship.
Sophia. The thought of her was poison in his mind. His patience was wearing thin with their charade, and her abrupt departure from his room had been the final straw. He was tired of always feeling this pain that never seemed to lessen, and his desire for her—not only physical, but emotional as well—was threatening to overwhelm him. If he had been a religious man he would have prayed for answers, but he had strayed from that path long ago and so he decided to address his questions the only way he knew how: by asking them.
-
Sophia's eyes were closed when she heard the door creak open and footsteps halt at the threshold of her room. She quelled the impulse to cover herself and turn around to see who stood at her doorstep and instead spoke, her voice cool but containing an edge that revealed faint anger. "Whoever you are, I suggest you turn around, close the door, and go back where you came from."
The familiar voice came from behind her, faintly husky. "Not for all th' gold in the Caribbean, love."
Sophia let out a surprised yell and slipped further into the tub, her limbs, slender of calf and ankle and shining with water, flailing in the air as she caught herself with her hands. "J-Jack?" She sputtered, twisting about so that her head peeked over the top of the bathtub. She fought not to loose all of her breath. He was freshly groomed and looked oddly sleek, a look she decided that she could get used to very quickly. He was still thin, but the musculature that she had admired so was beginning too re-emerge. Sophia had loaded his diet with protein to rebuild lost flesh, and she saw now through the outlines of his borrowed shirt that it had served him well.
Jack grinned faintly at her, and she thought she saw a hint of the old spark in his eye. Lust? For her? He was certainly staring intently enough.
Jack had to keep very tight control over hisbody so that he did not rush over and ravish her then and there. He didn't need to see her entire figure for his own to react as it was; the smooth curve of the one glowing shoulder bared to him from behind the edge of the tub was enough. He needed answers first, he told himself. He needed to know what was causing her to be so cold to him.
"What are you doing here?" Sophia cried, her voice not so much angry as confused. Well, a little bit angry. Without waiting for him to answer she spoke again. "Turn your back or I shall be forced to scream for Will. You had no right to come here, Jack!"
Jack raised his eyebrows and felt his own anger surge through his limbs at her response to his intrusion. Why was she acting like this? She had no reason to be modest or frightened around him. He didn't answer her and calmly walked in the room, closing the door behind him. Sophia stared at him, bewildered and angry. His silence unnerved her.
"Get out, Jack!"
"No," he replied simply, before abruptly striding over to her, grabbing her elbow and hauling her out of the tub. Sophia shrieked in surprise to both his actions and the unexpected strength with which he lifted her. It seemed he had recovered faster than she expected.
Sophia shivered and felt an unexpected wave of modesty wash over her as Jack's eyes lingered briefly on her exposed flesh. The water was streaming off her in waves and still Jack held onto both her shoulders, the tightness of his grip betraying his anger. Finally his eyes met hers and she could see the storm of misunderstanding and pain that swirled within them. "Let go of me," she hissed venomously, trying to wriggle her way out of his grip.
He held fast. "Listen, Sophie," he said quietly, the hushed tones of his voice almost more unsettling than if he had been screaming at her. She was distracted; the feel of his hands on her skin and the desire to be free of his hold was too much. He shook her shoulders. "Listen!" This time he did raise his voice, and she shrunk back as the effect of it hit her.
"Why'd you come for me? Why risk your marriage an' your life to take me back t' one that's never going to matter? Don't you understand? I'd rather spend th' rest o' me life in that prison than endure this! Are you tha' cruel, t' raise my hopes when I see you in tha' cell and then bring 'em all crashin' down? Why're you acting when you're 'round me? You're married, for Christ's sakes, an' you're not th' type o' woman t' cheat on a 'usband on your way back home!Why'd you come? Will could've managed on 'is own—why make me wish for death again after I was already so close t' it? Why're you so cold t' me, after all that we've shared? You don't understand tha' you're killing me because I love you an' you don't seem t' care!" The questions poured out of him like water before he finally quieted, his breathing harsh and ragged. He abruptly released her and turned away, sitting on her cot with his head cradled in his hands, his back curved and his shoulders shaking with effort.
Sophia thought she might seriously faint. He loved her. He'd actually said the words. Sophia didn't notice the tears pouring down her cheeks and mixing with the droplets of bathwater still clinging to her skin. She didn't notice her shivering or the fact that she was still completely naked. She was oblivious to all else. He loved her and he missed her and he wanted her and he didn't understand that she wanted the same things he did.
"Oh my god. . ." Sophia whispered. "Oh god oh god oh god. . . Jack, James died. Five years ago. I came back from the ship and they told me he was killed in an accident. I died that day. I lost the will for everything. I was in bed for a month. I had lost you for stupid reason, that stupid dream. I hated myself." She took a shaky breath and raised her eyes to his. He was staring at her, his body posed and tense like he was about to jump but couldn't, not yet. She continued. "I sent letters everywhere I could think of, but of course they never found you. I. . . I tried everything except going to look for you because I knew I would fail." Her voice broke in a sob. "Self-preservation. That's why I've been acting the way I have. I thought you didn't want me and I had to distance myself to save my sanity. Ask Will. . . the morning after your rescue I cried so terribly. And I love you as well, more than anything! You must believe me, Jack. I was dying of it! I—"
She was cut off by Jack's kiss. He clasped his arms tightly around her bare waist and lifted her off her feet. Sophia whimpered softly, like an injured puppy, as the warmth of his mouth cloaked her in passion. The feel of his lips on hers was a sensation that she had missed so much she found that her legs literally did not work anymore. She pressed herself to him and mentally damned his clothes the ninth and worst circle of hell for betraying their passion.
Jack could not comprehend anything that was happening. He moved in a blur as Sophia wrapped her legs around his waist and touched his neck with her small white hands. She touched his shoulders, his earlobe, his back, his arms, his face, everything as she kissed him. He had longed for that touch for five years and the shock of it nearly made him release her.
Sophia withdrew from their kiss, tears of happiness and relief pouring from her eyes. "Come to bed, Jack. . . Finally, come to bed."
-
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be to think that she is by
And feed upon the shadow of perfection
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon;
She is my essence.
- Two Gentlemen of Verona, William Shakespeare
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Author's Notes: They said it! Yes yes yes yes! Oh, I love love love love this extra loooong chapter. It was so much fun to write and incredibly romantic, but I only hope not too corny. I feel strangely as if we've come full circle, and it took ten freakin' for them to say I LOVE YOU!
I decided Jack was being too much of a wuss. Yay for forceful sexy Jack! It seemed more realistic to his character if he took things into his own hands instead of hiding out. He did go through this terrible experience, but it still wasn't him to be hanging around and waiting for things to happen.
I may be a stretch, but I might be able to get a chapter out by Monday night (no telling how late Monday night. It's exactly 4:19 am now, which explains my hyper mood).
Please: Review review review! I want reactions to this extraordinary (and happy, finally) turn of events! My writing style/contentdepends on it!
