Chapter 11

After Portia and James had disappeared bellow decks, Jack slowly made his way down to his cabin, grumbling all the while. Just when he had been so close; a wave of jealousy washed over him and he was tempted to go and find them, insist on Portia coming with him back to the room… but no, Portia was good friends with James, she had told him that herself. Jack had deciphered from the tone in his voice and Portia's reaction to his appearance at close inspection, that something must have happened again between Will and James. The thought of Will beating James to a pulp, even though it was completely out of character for the man, brought a satisfied smile to Jack's face.

Too quickly he was at his quarters, empty quarters he knew, for it was very unlikely that Portia had left James already. Pushing open the door glumly, Jack made his way to the bed, stripping off clothes as he went. Before climbing into the cool confines of the sheets, he grabbed the bottle of rum he had set aside earlier after bathing. To impress Portia he had done everything in his power to clean up, which had also involved washing my mouth out with mint, and refraining from any drink before he went to see her. Now that he would be spending the night alone, he had no problem drowning his sorrows in the bottle of sweet oblivion.

Turning the bottom of the bottle towards the ceiling, Jack downed half the rum in contained in a few large gulps. Smiling at the instant feeling of numbness, he continued to swig down the amber colored liquid, slowing working his way towards sleep.

Once Portia had gotten James into bed, after pulling off most of his dirty clothes, she blew out the candle and was about to leave when his voice came to her ears again.

"Portia?"

"Yes," she replied, looking back through the dark to where he lay.

"Will you stay here with me tonight?" he asked.

Portia glanced wistfully at the door, which led to Jack and a soft bed. But there was a soft bed here, and a man who needed her probably more than Jack. Jack wanted sex; James needed someone to comfort him. Turning back towards the bed, Portia removed the cumbersome elements of her clothing, leaving on only the white linen dress she wore under the other layers. Lowering herself carefully down next to James, she propped herself up on the pillows and pulled his head into her lap. Sighing in content, James was soon asleep, his head pressing into her belly.

Brushing the stray strands of hair from his face, Portia gazed down at him. He looked so peaceful in his sleep- a half smile sitting on his lips. Memories began to flood her mind. All the times she had gone to comfort him, and when he had come to comfort her, when she had lain in his lap and cried her troubles away on his shoulder. But that had all changed now. They were no longer in New York, and the part of her that was a tavern wench had never known James, and felt only pity for his predicament. Only half of her loved this man…

And then there was Jack. She could not decide I she loved him or not. The part of her from NYC was afraid of him, afraid of what he had gotten her into. The part of her from Tortuga was eager to have a warm body to sleep against, ready for adventure, but she could not call any of her feelings "love".

What would happen if they found this woman again and Jack was damned to hell? Even if she did not love him, Portia did not want to see Jack die- he was a good man beneath all the attitude and rum, she had seen that side of him tonight, on the deck…

The thought of his tongue on her neck and his hand caressing her skin made her face flush. What was he doing now? Laying in bed waiting for her to come to him? Or still standing on the deck, unmoving in the darkness?

For a moment she started to get up- to go see where he was, but the weight of James against her reminded her that she had other matters to deal with.

They were going to be stuck on the boat for a while, which meant that James and Will would be in close contact for days with their resentment towards each other still boiling. Even if Will had gone and apologized to Elizabeth, the two of them were not going to get along easily. Maybe if she spoke to Elizabeth, they would be able force the two of them to come to some kind of "cease-fire" agreement for the remainder of the voyage.

Her thoughts suddenly turned to Emily and she giggled softly. Emily had had her share of boyfriends back in New York, but she was sure that the Emily who was from England and engaged to Commodore Norrington had probably never seen a man naked. The interaction between Emily and the Commodore was interesting to watch. They were like middle schoolers who have fallen in love for the first time. The way he possessively held her hand and kept her close to him. The way she could not be out of his sight and the cloudy look that came into her eyes when anyone mentioned his name. Portia was sure, that even if they were given the option of going "home", Emily would stay here and marry the Commodore, and she did not begrudge her that happiness. Emily had spent most of college and the years afterwards caring for Portia and making sure that she didn't drown herself or throw herself off the balcony in her apartment. She deserved some happiness and time for herself.

James grunted in his sleep and turned out his side, which brought his head farther up her torso so that his hair was pressing against her breasts. Sighing in resignation, Portia willed herself to sleep.