Disclaimer: Nope! You know I don't ownPotC ;)

Chapter 3- Resignation

Paris pulled the warm covers around her body, tucking her head deeper below the soft blanket. Twisting onto her right side, she slowly opened her eyes. As the room came into focus, Paris bolted upright in the bed. 'Where am I!'

Unfamiliar timber walls and floors greeted her. Peeling back the covers, Paris placed her bare feet on the ground and scanned the room she found herself in. A bookcase sat at the far end of the room, and next to a door facing towards her, a wooden table sat, scattered with maps and rolled up scrolls. On the back of a chair, a dark navy jacket was placed. 'Sparrow'

Running her fingers across her bruised neck, it all came back to her. 'The tavern, Jack Sparrow, the soldiers, the gallows...' "His Ship," Paris whispered, remembering at last where she was.

Standing up, she spotted her black boots that had obviously been removed before they'd placed her in bed. Frowning as she put them back on, Paris muttered to herself, "I hope that's all Sparrows' hands touched."

As the door to the Captain's Quarters swung open, the burning rays of the Caribbean sun blinded her for a brief moment. Squinting as she stepped out onto the deck, Paris spotted the man she was searching for standing at the helm. A few whistles were sent her way as Paris crossed the deck, climbed the stairs and stepped in front of the large wooden wheel.

"I see yer awake," Jack mused, taking his eyes off the crystal water to gaze at her.

"Look!" Paris announced pointing fervently at her bruised neck, "Look what you did!"

Watching as his chocolate eyes lingered briefly on the indicated spot, then travelled downwards, Paris placed her hands on her hips with a sigh, the bangles on her right hand clinking together. Trying again, she said, "You almost got me killed!"

"But," he replied calmly holding up his hands, "I didn't."

Exasperated, Paris rolled her eyes. 'She wasn't going to get anywhere with this man.'

"Mr Sparrow," she said frustrated, "I wish to go home."

Removing his hands slowly from the wheel, Jack swaggered up to her. "Ye can't go home," he told her, "The king's navy; they'll be lookin' for ya."

Dejection set in. "I can't go back?" Paris asked him quietly.

" 'fraid not love," he said before adding thoughtfully, "Unless ye want them to finish off the job."

'Obviously dealing with emotion was not one of his strong points.'

"Jack!" Paris began.

"Ye could've died," he nodded his head, "I know."

Staring up at the clear, blue sky, Paris knew she was defeated. There was no way she could return to land and her job at The Dirty Maid without news of her return being spread throughout the town. She would be thrown back into a cell, her chance for freedom gone.

Watching the crew go about their duties aboard the ship, Paris realised that Jack seemed to be waiting for something as he continued standing behind her. Turning around, Paris said unenthusiastically, "Fine, if I'm going to have stay here for who knows how long, I need something to do. But I expect that you will help me clear my name?"

"But of course, love,'" Jack said with a mischievous grin as he studied her face. Underneathe her hazel eyes, dark circles were evident as though she hadn't slept for weeks, possibly even months. Jack was sure he hand't noticed them before now, and he knew that they must have been hidden beneath layers of makeup, most of which had now been washed away. He wondered why someone so young could bear such signs of age and stress, but he decided it was best not to ask.

"And I want respect Mr Sparrow. None of this whistling business," shecontinued coldly, "I am no wench."

Jack raised his eyebrows at the last comment as if to repute it, but one look in her determined hazel eyes, made him think better of it. "If ye say so," he replied happily.

Appearing a bit more relaxed, Paris ran a hand through her dark, wavy hair that now hung about her face. "So, do ye 'ave any skills we could use?" Jack asked watching her, "Apart from-"

"The kitchen," Paris cut him off, "I was a bar maid; food and beverages are my specialty."

Nodding in understanding he gestured towards a wooden door to the left of his, "Through there. I'd offer to show ye, but..." his voice trailed off and he leaned in close to whisper, "The Cook."

'Well that explains a lot,' Paris thought humourlessly as she entered through the door, making her way down the stairs. The sound of cupboards closing and pots and pans being clattered onto tables could be heard coming from the kitchen. A loud creak on the last step made her presence known. "Who's there!" growled a loud voice.

Taking a few timid steps forward to get a good look at the man Jack seemed intent on avoiding, Paris stammered, "I...uhhh...I..."

"Speak up girl, I 'aven't go' all day!" the cook boomed at her.

Startled, the words tumbled out of Paris' mouth. "Jack! He said I could come down and help you out; But if you don't want me, I'll...I'll just return to the deck."

The Cook studied Paris with dark eyes. He was a large man, with greying hair and age lines caressing his face. "Ol' Jack sent ye aye," he said scratching the stubble on his chin, "What's ye name?"

"Paris," she told him warily.

"Martinez," he introduced himself holding out a large, chubby hand.

As Paris timidly placed her slender hand in his, Martinez let out a loud chuckle. "Lemme guess, Jack said somethin' bou' me to ye, didn't he? That's why ye seem so terrified."

Unsure whether to reply to this, Paris chose to stay quiet. After all, Jack hadn't really said anything. It was the look in his eyes as he spoke of the cook that gave him away.

Placing a large hand on her shoulder, Martinez replied with a twinkle in his eyes, "Don't ye listen to 'im me dear gal. He can't 'andle any one who gives as good as they take."

Smiling shyly at his comment about the Captain, Paris couldn't help but taking a liking to Martinez. Jack couldn't have been more wrong about him, as the cook taught her the way around the ship's tinygalley helping her outwhen she needed a hand.

Night fell without Paris realizing. As she stifled a yawn, Martinez shook his head and gestured towards a small lone window in the corner of the room. It was pitch black outside. "Ye should get off t' bed. 'Tis late and ye've had a rough few days," he told her kindly.

Nodding and thanking him for his help, Paris made her way back onto the deck. Brushing back a stray bit of hair that fell into her eyes, a thought crossed her mind. 'Where am I sleeping?'

Knowing the place she would get her answer, if not a cheeky one, Paris knocked precariously on Jack's cabin door. "Mr Sparrow? Are you in there?" she called staring at the door as though it might answer her.

When no reply came, Paris glanced around, then turning the handle, let herself in. Hunched over his desk, Paris saw Jack pouring over a parchment with a map on it. A single candle was burning on one side of the table, and a bottle of rum on the other. "How nice of you to let me in," she stated humouresly.

Scrunching up his nose as he turned to look at her, Jack replied, "Didn't 'ave much of a choice did I, love?"

As Paris shrugged innocently back at him, a thin white blanket on the wooden floor caught her eye. 'Surely that couldn't be-'

"Yer bed," Jack told her happily, giving her one of his most devilish smiles which Paris was sure were saved especially for her.

"And before ye complain, I didn't surmise that ye'd wanna sleep downstairs with the crew," pausing thoughfully and raising a hand to stroke the two braids that hung down from his chin, Jack added, "Unless ye wanna share me bed?"

Narrowing her hazel eyes at him, Paris placed a hand on her hip, the colourfulbangles on her wrist chiming together. "Only in your dreams Sparrow."

"Naturally, love," he quipped returning his attention to the map.

Sighing, Paris gazed down at the single pathetic sheet that she was to call her bed. Something was missing, and glancing towards Jack's bed, she found exactly what she was looking for. Creeping over to his bed while Jack's back was still turned, she grabbed his pillow. Returning to her allocated spot on the hard floor, she removed her boots, sat down, and pulled the thin blanket up to her chin.

"Oh, by the way Jack," Paris said staring at the back of his hunched figure,"Thankyou for the pillow."

Laying herself down on the hard floor with the soft pillow cushioning her head, Paris rolled onto her side to face the cabin wall. She heard the creak of Jack's chair as he whirled around. Paris didn't dare turn around to see the comical expression on Jack's face as he realised his pillow was missing.

A low muttering of curses was all she needed to hear.

Author's Note: Thankyou so much to those who have reviewed! There isn't as much action in this chapter, but of course, there is more to come ;)

SkaraClayne- I'm glad you like it so far! And I know what you say about Paris being a 'Mary-Sue', but that's alright with me ;) Before I put up the story I had a feeling someone might say that, hehehe...While she may be like that, I have tried to lessen that feeling about her. I also thought that since my first story was about someone who wasn't a 'Mary-Sue', I might as well write one that is ;)' But thankyou for your thoughts, and I took them into consideration when writing this chapter!

isnt-someone-missing-me- Here's the next chapter! Hope it minimised the suspense like you said, hehehe :) Thanks for the review!

The future Mrs. Jack Sparrow- Thankyou for reviewing! I'm glad your enjoying it:) Here's the update ;)

Queen.Bowie.Jack.Sparrow.Lover- Thankyou so much for the review! Hope you liked this chapter:)