Disclaimer: Refer to chapter one.
Check the end of this chapter for briberies, reminders, thanks and such.
Lip Balm
…
The conclusion was a solid one, made purely out of the many seconds that passed while standing in an askew angle to the Cabin doors. Yes, he didn't like her. No, it wasn't that simple, there was something there, as if the spewing of vehement words were not enough. There was definitely some sort of substance hanging between them, like a tension of waves that repelled the two apart. He'd never felt that before with anyone, at least not any woman.
The closest tension that resembled the constant bickering of Jack and Henry was between the post and present Captain, Barbossa and Jack. Did that mean Barbossa was a woman? Was Henry a man? No, no, Jack dismissed that from his mind. The closest tension, no, not tension, uneasiness that resembled their own was…Anamaria.
"Wonderful, now I'm confused," Jack diagnosed to a wall.
His head hurt, as if a hammer were being pounded along the sides of his head, a pain he had not experienced since…never, actually. Jack rubbed his temples and upped from his position, pacing along the deck. What was taking her so bloody long? Finally losing his limited patience, he pounded on the door with great agitation.
"If ye would be so kind, Henry, to open this door and walk out of me cabins," He pounded harder on the door as the numbers of the syllable increased. "I. Would. Be. Much. Obliged, Y'old addled Gel."
Still no response came, just the soothing sound of the wind stirring the calm waters below. It was a beautiful day, not a clipping cloud in the sky, nor did the water seem to swirl in the wrong direction. The weather stood overlooked to Jack as he sat with his stomach to the floor, peering into the little opening.
"I'm beginin' to think that Fate doesn't have likin' to Captain Jack Sparrow," Jack said in a muffled voice, one eye shut and the other strained into the little notch.
"And what would thee reason be, Cap'n?" Gibbs asked, clearly befuddled. He closed the top to his canteen and tucked it in his pocket, admiring the warm weather.
"I can't see a thing," Jack clarified and looked up to Gibbs, disappointed.
The door swung open, revealing a bothered looking Henrietta standing at the entrance. She glanced down and took no notice of Jack but merely walked over him.
"'Ello love, What took ye so.." Jack flipped on his back to address her. "Long? No matter, as long as yer ready, o'course."
There was a foreign smile on her face, the look of a cautious youngster preparing to take her first dip into the water, the ocean. Though the corners of her mouth were turned upwards, Jack wondered what she looked like when she actually smiled. Disregarding the thought, he turned to his crew.
Pointing to one side of the large, creaking ship, he said, "Take a break, men. Anamaria, Gibbs, take yer shared turns on keeping a peeled eye."
The crew looked ecstatic as each of them peeled off their boots and a few articles of clothing before standing on the edge of the ship and preparing to jump or climb on the rigging. Gibbs stayed on board, looking spiteful towards Anamaria who had jumped into the water before he had been able to.
"I'm surprised that they can all swim," Henry said, tilting her head towards the water.
"We're pirates, love," Jack answered with a swell of his chest.
"I'm still surprised that they can all swim," She repeated thoughtfully.
"We're good pirates, darlin'. Pirates of the Black Pearl. The best damn pirates in the Caribbean." He said it almost stubbornly, as if Henry should have known already.
She shrugged and then looked down at the drop on the side of the ship. "Do I have to jump down there?" It was not the fall that she was afraid of, but the water below it. However, the crew seemed to be having an amusing time, splashing each other like children, laughing like children and cursing like sailors. Pirates, she corrected herself.
"No," Jack took her by the arm and guided her to the other side of the ship, pointing at the abandoned water below. "Ye hafta jump down there." He immediately began to peel off his scruffy boots, chucking them behind him. Shedding his shirt, Jack glanced at Henry, who had taken off her boots.
Noticing an almost concealment of a blush and confusion, he paused before clarifying, "Harder to move around with it on…" Smiling, "Both the boots and shirt."
"Why can't we go swim over there, eh?"
"I think…that the swimming lessons would be much more simple if we were on our own, love, individual attention and like, savvy?"
She didn't object, merely tossed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Is there a way of getting out of this?"
"No." He paused, and then continued. "…and in yer case, there are only two ways of jumping into this ocean that I call me beat. The Black Pearl is me heart, the ocean is me beat, and I'm goin' to teach ye how to swim in it." He looked up at her almost idly, and then continued. "There is the hard or harder way. Ye and I could jump in together, holdin' hands and not to let go…or, I can jump in and then ye can jump in, which will be…considerably harder."
She took one last glance at the drop before her and then looked up incredulously before tethering a rope silently around a mast and then unraveling it into the ocean. It splashed into the water with a satisfying ker-plunk.
"You can climb," she stated with a triumphant smile. Jack glanced at the rope, tugged at it and then shrugged, ignoring the disappointment of having to jump down the side of the Pearl anyway. Without a word he stepped onto the border of the ship and turned to her.
"I'll see ye in a bit, darlin'," With those words he fell backwards with a smile.
"Jack!" Henry ran forward a few steps, catching a sure glimpse of Jack doing a perfect, needle-nosed dive into the water. Grumbling she shook a fist, "That was a dirty trick you played, you bastard."
He bellowed, "Ye called me Jack."
"I did no such thing, Captain," She seemed angry with herself, as if the first name terms were enough to send an arrow through her heart.
Ignoring her defiance, he motioned for her to jump in. "Come in, love, the water's fine."
Jack glanced up at Henry's shadowing form from the deck of the ship, watching her debate with herself. Even from a distance, the docile look of uncertainty adorned her usual snide features like an insect caught in a trap. To struggle or to give in, either way the spider was going to eat it.
"Am I a spider?" Jack said aloud, and then immediately regretted, for Henry was climbing down the rope with efficient timing. He swam towards the rope and looked up. "Enjoyin' the view." He called and shadowed his eyes from the sun.
She finally landed in the water, "It's cold."
Chuckling, "Did ye expect a hot bath, Henry?"
"I'd like a bath," She was obviously cranky, and was stubborn as to let go of the rope.
"Ye'll get one afterwards," He tugged the rope from one of her hands and then tried at the other. "Once ye let go the rope, aye?"
"I've changed my mind, Captain," She sounded positive, supplementing her lonely words with more convincing. "We will schedule this teaching session for another day, and then we shall do our best to go through with it."
Ignoring her completely he grasped the rope with his hands, prepared to drag it out of her hands, fingers and all. "Now, the first thing that you do when I whip this rope from your hands is kick your legs, savvy? Not just kicking downwards, 'cause we're not swimming down, ye see. But to the sides. As for your hands, pretend you're a bird. Underwater."
"How about we change this to another day. Tomorrow sounds nice, it really-"
Jack pulled at the rope and she gasped, he could feel the waves from the furious kicking of her legs and the disorganized splashing of her arms. And then she latched onto him. Wrapping her arms around his neck and legs around his stomach she clutched on tightly, causing Jack to sputter. He felt her calves and thighs squeeze around his waist.
"I should be enjoyin' this, really," He said, articulately as possible. Choking on sea water he wriggled from her grasp and then held her by the arm, sturdy.
"Something strange 'bout the sea, makes you lighter. Somethin' about buoyancy, I hear," He held her sturdy, she was still kicking the water like a madwoman, breathing hard.
"If I die I shall haunt you, Captain Sparrow," She managed to choke out between sputtered gasps.
"But you're not dyin'. Y'see, I wouldn't let ye drown. Fair share o' the treasure, 'member? I'm true to me word, Henry. Now, yer kickin' yer legs well, how 'bout splashin' yer arms a bit? No, not at me," Jack closed his eyes, the water stinging. She splashed one arm, flailing it about.
"I am goin' to let go now, savvy?"
Immediately, as if on impromptu she latched on again, snaking her arms around his neck and wrapping her legs around Jack's stomach. Jack almost groaned aloud, both from drowning and a suggestive reference. Gurgling, it dawned on Henry that she was sinking and let go, holding him (Tightly) by the arm.
"I would have enjoyed that more in a bed, eh? How about we reschedule that for tonight.." Smiling he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Henry didn't respond, just shot a cold look towards his direction. "Let's get this over with."
"I didn't know that you ne'er learned how ter swim, lassie. Now, how did me own father teach me. Such a long time ago…" He stopped and began to think. "Ah, yes, close your eyes think of somewhere ye'd like to be."
She raised an eyebrow but sighed and shut her eyes, imagining herself sitting at the shores of a sandy beach, collecting sea shells that had once been homes for critters. She began to pick them up, stringing them through some tough sea grass, making a crown of shells for her to wear. Never for such feminine nonsense, Henry found herself enjoying the feel of the smooth, sand-shaped shells across her forehead. The sun beat down against her face, the cool, wet sand comforting her, the sound of the sea echoing like a haunting melody. Water lapping at her feet felt like a gossamer against her skin, touching the tips of her ankles and cleaning away the sand. Every grain of sand, every gust of wind, every lap of the tide seemed to lull Henry into a continuous, deep sleep.
"Yer doin' it lassie, yer floatin'" A voice called to her from far away, but she disregarded it, though a swell of pride formulated at her chest.
Floating peacefully on her back, the sunlight hitting the hollow of her throat perfectly, Jack observed her carefully. The first time since I've seen her peaceful, he noted, she's always so jumpy, as if I'd come at her with a sword and slit her throat.
Jack chortled and then observed, looking at the white shirt cling to her waist like an hourglass, dark, brown hair scattered in clumps at the bottom of her head, lighter pieces of sandy brown hair at the top. Her profile was marred only by the constant clenching of her teeth, even in daydream. The swell of her breast rose and fell as she continued to breathe evenly, like the fluttering of wings on an eagle. Jack noticed that she had never seen Henry once observe herself in her own reflection, and wondered if she had ever done so. Her lips were sun blistered and moist, like two pieces of coral left astray.
He pressed a finger to her lips, causing her to cry out and attempt to sit erect, only to flail and splash as before. "You bastard, letting me stray away like that, I could have drowned, you bilge rat."
"You're beautiful when you're silent," Jack called to her, kicking limber legs with ease. Henry struggled to stay afloat, grabbing onto his arm tightly, mind wandering to the depth of the water below.
She obliged, yet still in regret and they swam to the rope. "Ye know, ye were swimming today."
"Yes," She stated plainly and began to climb up the rope. "I still have a lot to learn." She looked down to the water and shuddered, though the gentle swaying of the ocean was not the worst she had seen.
"I didn't hear ye say thank ye, Henrietta," Jack said with a glint of a smirk through his eyes, using swift arms to ascend up the rope ably.
"I haven't said it."
There was a moments pause, that awkwardness that dwelled and built a dam between them faltered for a moment, allowing a small trickle of fresh water to pool down at the bottom.
"Thank you…Jack."
He smiled, putting his hands together. "Pleasure was all mine, Henry."
…
Saltwater clung to her hair like mud caked onto a dog's fur, she desperately needed a decent wash. Standing at the foot of a wooden tub, Jack began to peel off his trousers and then ceased. "Is there a reason yer starin', love? I 'aven't gotten a decent pose." A gentle smirk, his mind sprinting to suggestive thoughts.
She shrugged, nibbling on her bottom lip "I merely thought that you were going to allow me to take a bath first."
"Who says ye aren't, eh?" A mischievous twinkle of the eyes and Henry immediately kicked him in the shin lightly before knocking him out of his own cabins. "Ah, well, I'll send in Anamaria wit' the hot water then, ye hellcat. Twas only a joke, could have atleast let me watch for the gracious swimming lessons I've blessed ye wit."
Henry growled in frustration before sitting dumbly at the foot of Jack's bed, kicking the basin around and failing.
"Yer beautiful when yer angry, by the way," He shouted from the doorway.
"Beautiful? You've said that twice already, Captain, no need for repeating."
"Aye, beautiful." And then his footsteps subsided.
Chicky sat on Jack's pillow, bobbing his head about and poking at a few grains before looking up at Henry with a cluck. Henry smiled and stroked his feathers, At least I'm not alone in this nonsense.
A few minutes later Anamaria walked in with a considerably smaller tub of warm water, a scowl was adorned on her face like dying candles in a dark room. Pouring the tub of water into the larger one, she grumbled in exasperation, "I wasn't put on this here ship to do bitchwork, lassie. I don't do work for no princesses 'round here, aye? Jack thinking that he can give me scum work, might as well scuttle meself, seein' as how I've lost me place on this ship."
She shot an angry look at her before turning to the door. "He babies ye, like a newborn babe." There was a hesitation. "He thinks yer…"
" A hellcat, I know already," Henry sat on the bed more comfortably now, still shoulders bunched up tensely. She shot looks of daggers to Anamaria, waiting for her to leave impatiently.
"No." There was another uneasy pause before her expression softened in the slightest bit, forming into a subtle smirk. "Beautiful."
Henry laughed, a barking that echoed around the room. "Why would the addled Captain think so?"
"Look in the mirror, lassie," She grabbed a small looking glass from where it was hanging, securely so that it did not break and held it in front of her. "Look in the damned mirror."
Henry held the cool glass to her face reluctantly, holding it still. She saw her own face, the way she had imagined her own face to be when she was younger, still holding a look of innocence. As she peered closer, Henry traced lines of worry that had engraved itself across her face lightly, unnoticeable even. Her skin was tanned, a shade darker than honey, though nothing close to the perfection of it. Large, brown eyes, like two round glass beads, a considerably long nose with a few islands of freckles across the bridge was planted on her face. Lips were sun blistered, the top like mountains the bottom like the curve of a ship. Short hair framed around her face in dark clumps, sandy at the top from the hours in the sun.
A few minutes went by, nothing of great importance struck her.
Henry was nothing of quality, not the regal, pale faced of the noble nor the powdered face of the harlots.
She held the looking glass down.
"Why?" She asked again, feeling self conscious.
Anamaria looked frustrated, as if unsure of the answer herself. Glancing at Henry, she found nothing special within her, only the face of every other person on this earth, perhaps even hers.
"Because…." There was a tedious hesitation and then a sigh, as if regretting a terrible burden. "Ye are, what he will always be to you."
Henry opened her mouth but was interrupted.
"Unattainable." Anamaria gave a weak smile, throwing in a clean rag into the basin along with a coarse bar of soap. "I've felt that once…" Voice drifted off before she headed towards the doorway in silence.
Anamaria left the room, shutting the door with a click. The softening sound of her footsteps echoed in Henry's ears as she contemplated all the possible meanings of one single word. Unattainable. Stripping herself of her clammy clothes, she stepped into the tub and shivered.
The water was cold.
…
[IS FLAMED] I'm sorry, I really feel like I missed something really huge or failed somehow in this chapter. Is this chapter too long?
AHH. I WAITED ALMOST A MONTH. Gee. Don't hurt me. :/ I love you…?
[Bribes you with Pirates of the Caribbean T-Shirt with the face of Jack adorned on it.] Review! :D I'll be happy. Oh yes, swimming idea credited to Xaviere Jade. :D Thanks a bunch! :D