Disclaimer: I don't own most of these characters.

Chapter 39: How To Speak to a Lady

Camille was in her room on her bed later that night, reading. Tomorrow was her last day in Port Celebros, but she couldn't help feeling more than spiteful against the jealous captain.

She threw her book down, bringing her knees up to her chest and looking at herself in the mirror. He was completely ridiculous. Every time she attempted to have anything slightly romantic with him, they managed to get into an argument over something silly. Maybe that was how he had planned it so that she would not attach herself to someone so impossible.

She sighed. Her father's words continued to echo in her head. And it had to mean something, because he had hated Jack from the very beginning.

Tiptoeing for no reason at all, she knocked lightly on Jack's door which was right next to hers. She heard nothing except the Captain's voice sounding very unfazed. "If your hair is red, then go away."

She rolled her eyes. "Jack, will you please stop acting like such a child?"

"I will stop acting like a child when you stop acting like a whore," he replied.

She knew much better than to get angry at a comment like this from him. But she still clenched her teeth together before speaking. "Done," she promised.

"Well then, come in," he said, changing to a more pleasant tone as she opened the door. He was sitting by the fireplace, smoking one of her father's pipes and reading. He looked quite comfortable, and she almost forgot why she was mad at him.

He looked up at her lazily, as he shut the book. "I'm taking this chair with me tomorrow," he stated.

"That's fine, Jack. And do you plan on taking me as well?"

He took a puff on his pipe. "If your attitude improves, I might consider it."

She couldn't help it. She let out very exasperated sigh. "You know Jack, I am really growing tired of this."

"And I very much enjoy you wrecking the last of my nerves," he said sarcastically, getting up and proceeding to clean the pipe out.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Do you even want me back on the Pearl?" she asked timidly.

He didn't seem to notice the change in her voice. "Of course I do, why would I not?"

She took a seat in Jack's former chair. "Well, we haven't exactly been getting along lately. Perhaps I'm just not cut out to be a pirate," she confessed.

"See now, there's another thing," he pointed out.

"What?"

"You," he said, putting the pipe down and turning around to face her. "Always changing your mind, always going back on everything. I don't play that game, Camille, you're either on my ship or you're not," he said sternly.

"Yes, and I'm either your woman or no one's, I know how you think. Everything's always black and white with you Jack, and you don't understand."

He straightened up, biting the corner of his mouth. "Well apparently, we have had loads of misunderstandings between us. If you choose to remain here I am not coming back for you."

"Oh Jack, don't say that. You're being so insensitive."

"I am the one being insensitive? Oh, excuse me," he said, again with sarcasm.

She stood up, glaring at him. She was ready to cry. "I'm staying," she said, before leaving the room and slamming the door behind her.

Jack let a low growl escape from his lips. He didn't mean to upset her, he really didn't. But for some reason he just could not speak to her in a decent manner anymore. He put his head in his hands. "Jack old boy, you're losin' your charm," he told himself.

Will of course, had heard the entire thing, his room being the next one over and the walls being hollow as they were. He shook his head, taking matters into his own hands and going next door without even knocking.

Jack didn't even bother looking up. "Go away," he said, proceeding to put his book away.

"I think it's time you took my advice, Jack," Will said. "She's just lost her father, you must try and be more understanding."

"That's right!" Jack realized, moving about the room. "But she is so damned moody!" he complained.

"Of course she is, she's a woman. I would think you would have had this all figured out by now."

"Oh, not her."

"Well you had better figure it out soon, because I've got to get some sleep tonight," Will said with his arms crossed.

"Of course, it's all about you, isn't it?"

"Jack, for Pete's sake, just tell her how you feel. What have you possibly got to lose that you can't just up and run away from?"

Jack thought a moment at this, stroking his split beard. "True. Very true," he pondered. Then he snapped back into reality. "What do you think she'll say?" he asked Will.

"I really don't know, but if there is anymore screaming to be done between the two of you, then please wait until morning."

"Thanks for the support, mate. I really appreciate it," Jack said sarcastically.

"My pleasure. Goodnight, Jack," Will said tiredly, exiting and going next door to his own room. Before he did, he stopped and turned around. "By the by, she and I were never intimate. Not that it's any of your business."

Jack paced about for a moment or two, wondering what exactly he would say. He planned out his words carefully, since he seemed to be so terrible at speaking to Camille. When he had decided exactly what to say, he boldly went next door and knocked loudly on her door. No reply. He knocked again, and then proceeded to look through the keyhole. Nothing. The candles were lit, but the room was completely empty.

A few minutes before, Camille had dressed in her blouse, corset and trousers and slipped out of her window with the intention of heading to The Black Pearl. She still had tears behind her eyes, but she knew that if she was going to stay behind than she had to see the ship just one more time to say goodbye.

She took her time, sneaking aboard and waltzing about in Jack's cabin. She thought about taking something of his, something that he would notice and remember her. The guitar? No. One of his treasure maps? Definitely not. How about a book off his fantastic shelf of literature?

She browsed the titles, taking her time, reading most of them aloud. Finally, she decided on the book of poetry by William Wordsworth. It was the title of his poem that made her realize his uncanny ability to come across as so much more than a rogue pirate. Yes, she thought. That was the right book to take.

She made it back easily, without any trouble at all. She climbed into the window, unlocked it, and let herself back in. As she made over the balcony, she stopped dead at seeing somebody lying on her bed. It was Jack! And he looked like he was asleep. Had he waited up for her?

Her heart began pounding and she put her hand to her chest. He really did care. She slipped off her boots and took the bandana out of her hair, setting it down on the dresser. She looked at the sleeping captain, and the terrible pit in her stomach was gone. That pit had been there since the argument, and she had carried it with her to the ship and back. He looked so incredibly handsome, with the candlelight hitting his face just right.

She didn't have the heart to wake him up. She bent over and blew out the few candles that were lit, and quietly padded over to the bed. Jack was lying on his back in the middle of it, so she crawled on as softly as she possibly could on her hands and knees.

She hovered over Jack for a second, wondering just how she was going to do this. She carefully placed herself so that her face would be resting just below his, and her head on his shoulder. She lowered herself gently, which caused him to stir a bit. "Shh," she whispered, placing her mouth the side of his prickly chin.

"Mmm," he said, sounding peaceful as he brought one of hands up and drape it around her back, holding her securely. The other one was wrapped above her waist.

"Goodnight, Jack," she said voicelessly.