Finally! An update! this is basically a filler chapter, so don't shoot me, and I know its a tad on the shorter side of things.

Chapter seven: Grumbles

Jack sat against the headboard of his four-poster bed, his arms folded across his chest, and his legs stretched out before him, crossed at his ankles. He silently commended himself for arranging the furniture(actually, Anamaria had done it begrudgingly with him telling her where to put the bulky things). Where he sat, he had the most perfect view of the comatose woman, splayed on his chaise lounge. Her long dirty hair fell from the edge, and dangled a foot from the floor, caught up by the sunlight shining through his open windows, making it more a golden hue. For once it was pushed out of her face, showing a large bruise forming on her cheek, half the size of Jamaica.

After a while, his eyes started to droop and soon he was asleep.

"Dammit! Where the hell is Abigail?" Jack started awake, sure he had told his crew not to bother him unless it was important. Surly looking for the proper woman wasn't that high up there on the list?

Ah...that was a female voice.

Clara! Jack's eyes snapped open and he saw the irate girl practically snarling at him, her face distorted in pain and irritation.

"Why do you need her?" Jack asked groggily, grinding the sleep from his eyes and throwing his feet over the edge of the bed, getting up.

"I just do!" Clara snapped. Jack frowned and walked out of his cabin, searching for the other stiff-upper-lip woman. He called around, searching the deck and down on the quarterdeck. He walked into the galley, but quickly walked out, hightailing it back into his cabin.

"Where the hell is she?" Clara screamed at Jack entered.

"She is ah...a bit...busy right now,"

"Well tell her its important!" Jack rolled his eyes, and turned back around, walking out onto the deck again.

"Gibbs!" Jack called, deciding not to going back into the galley.

"Aye?" The pepper-beared man called back.

"Go fetch Miss Abigail, I think she is in the galley,"

Snickering to himself, Jack walked back to the cabin, suddenly hearing a loud curse and something being smashed against the bulkhead. He had just sat down when an irate Abigail walked into the room, pushing a piece of hair from her blushing face.

"Yes?" She asked, out of breath with embarrassment.

"Jack, leave," Having nothing better then to do–at the risk of his head being bitten off by the girl in pain–Jack left...once again.

He loitered around the cabin door, lolling his head from side to side on the wood, making faces into his chest. A few crew members walked by without a second glance, then Abigail walked out of the cabin, snapping shut her bag.

"Next time, don't send someone to do your dirty work," She snarled, placing her face close to Jack's, her eyes livid.

"Whatever do you mean love?" Jack asked innocently.

"I mean, sending...oh never mind."

Abigail stormed off in a flurry, as Jack walked back into his cabin.

Clara was once again asleep. And Jack thought he knew exactly how she had gotten into such a deep state, so fast. But he thought it would be for the best.

He walked over to the sleeping form, and set down on his haunches, peering curiously at her. Jack rarely got a good view of her face, because of the masses of brown hair. She had a long nose, and a rather sharp chin, but her features were smooth with the look of sleep.

With a tenderness he would never show, and was shocked at, Jack gently brushed a stand of hair from her face.

Disgusted with himself now, Jack shot up and made for his supply cupboard of rum. Yes, lots and lots of rum.

888

Abigail walked around the deck, in need of fresh air. She had been so flustered when Mr. Gibbs had walked in on her. The nerve of Jack! She silently fumed. Sending someone else to do his dirty work.

Footsteps sounded behind the woman and she turned sharply to see Parkinson grinning sheepishly.

"Oh, hullo," Abigail said rather flustered.

"Listen...uh before...well...I just wanna say that it...really meant nothing?"

Abigail blinked a few times. What? Did he just say what she thought he said? No...the bastard!

"Oh, sorry that you feel that way," She said regally, before giving him a hearty blow and storming off.

Parkinson stood in the scorned woman's wake, then shrugged. But something pulled at his conscience and he felt uneasy for the rest of the day.

888

They neared Italy, and would be there within the next fortnight. Clara slowly recovered, but her leg pained her greatly, and Jack fretted about the price of the ransom. Which would most likely go down once they saw the state the girl was in.

"I still don't see how you think we should go to Italy," Clara said easily one day while Jack was checking their course. Instead of looking up at her, he ran a finger along the small line he had made.

"And what makes you think that there is someone to buy my ransom?"

At that, Jack turned in his seat and gave her a rather wicked grin. "Whether you have family or not makes no matter to me, Miss. Sandiniti." He said, matching her cool demeanor. "But I am sure a pirate or two would like to buy you...and the small cut of the treasure that you demand. I really don't care as to who purchases you, Clara. The only thing that I care about is the money I receive in that transaction."

Clara opened and closed her mouth a few times. "Fine!" She stormed, struggling up from the chaise and grabbing the crutches that one of the crew members made for her. "Fine! If money is all you care for, that is what you'll get!"

"That's what I intended," Jack smiled. Clara shot him a murderous look before hobbling out of the cabin and slamming the door as best as she could behind her. Jack gave a low chuckle and turned back to the map.

She was such a strange girl, he conceded, and that was one reason why he really wanted to get rid of her.