…
"She's not breathing," Jack stated urgently, consuming swallows of air through his bared mouth as salt water dribbled down his face. Pressing two fingers to her throat he frantically searched for a pulse and found one to his relief, but didn't detect even the faintest trace of a single, shallow breath on his cheek. Jack ground his teeth in worry, placing a palm over her agape mouth for any sign of an exhale.
"Back off, ye shoddy sea dogs," Gibbs bellowed to the cornering crew members, thrusting his arms away from the two soaked beings. "Give 'er some air, men."
He turned to a jittering Anamaria, who watched Jack and Henry with a furrowed brow, hands clasped behind her back, pacing around the two with lines of worry etched on her forehead.
"Anamaria, go an' fix me bed," Jack bid in a harsh whisper. Anamaria, to her own surprise of luck, bounded off to the Captain's quarters, eager to escape from the thick tension. Jack tilted Henry's head backwards gently, sweeping away clammy strands of hair from her mouth before pressing his lips against hers.
He immediately began to pump air into her lungs, breaking every few seconds to watch for the rise and fall of her chest. Only seconds later, Henry coughed up mouthfuls of brine, chest ballooning as she sucked in great quantities of lost air, oblivious to all sensibility.
"Breathe, nice and slow now, love," Jack whispered soothingly, and rubbed circles on her back. "Nice and slow." Henry inhaled only quicker yet, stomach heaving and a reddish shade of fatigue crawling onto her face. "No, no, thas' not slower."
Her breathing softened eventually, and to Jack's surprise, Henry smiled up at him quite prettily with round, dark eyes and soft lips, water still dripping across her forehead, leaving drops on her eyelashes.
"Well, thas' gotter be tha' first time I ever see'd 'er smile," A youth who had been watching chimed in, and then proceeded to mop the deck with an embarrassed, downward glance.
"Delirious," Jack diagnosed as a matter of fact, and smiled exaggeratedly at the dazed Henry. "Ye thinks so, Gibbs?"
Joshamee Gibbs concurred whole-heartedly, "'Course, Cap'n. May'aps her brain will now be as cooked as yers." He guffawed, stomach bobbing over his belt.
Jack ignored the remark and curled a finger in her soaked hair, combing out a stubborn tangle. "She'll be burnin' o' a fever if she stays in these sopping rags." He lifted her arm and let it flop to the floor, the drenched fabric hitting the hard plane with a wet smack.
"Fever.." Henry echoed, and erupted into a fit of shrill titters, leaning into Jack's arms. "Beaver."
Jack smirked broadly. Well, that'll make an interesting conversation. He looked down at the sodden and bedraggled Henry, who appeared strangely calm in his arms, eyes slightly open. Her short hair was slick against her skull, darker now in shade, and though she resembled that of a wet animal, Jack found that mystifyingly attractive.
Henry suddenly collapsed into Jack's lean limbs, all of the energy in her body drained. She murmured softly, smacking her dry lips now and then, the goofy smile never sliding off of her face.
"I knew it, she's delirious," Jack confirmed as he wrapped his arms sturdily around her slim waist and heaved her body over his shoulder like a rag doll. "Ne'er would the sane Henry waste a smile on ol' Jack." Boots thudding along the splintering deck, Jack hummed a quiet shanty and swaggered into his cabin before murmuring a quick, "Almost thought I lost ye, addled gel."
…
Henry's eyelids cracked open slowly, her pupils adjusting to the dim, candle-lit cabin. Groaning and lifting a limp hand to her forehead, she attempted, rather pathetically, to shift into a sitting position when her head spun with a heavy sense of vertigo, creating a nauseating churn at the pit of her stomach.
"What the devil," Henry hoarsely whispered with a parched throat and wearily lowered her head back onto the plushy pillow. She sunk deeper into the cushy bed when her leg knocked into a lean, unidentifiable limb of an object. Curious, Henry nudged it again, jolting when the limb kicked back.
"That's me leg yer bootin' there," Jack said with a cheeky smile, and wrapped his arm around her bare shoulders, tighter still. Henry's slightly agape eyes popped open when she heard the familiar, slurring voice and found that she was facing Jack's bare, tan chest.
"Glad to see ye 'wake, love," Jack said lightly, his casually swinging fingers eerily setting off explosions of shadows on the walls. He frowned slightly when no demurs or pointed objects came flying his way. "Henry?"
He glanced down, only to dodge a clenched fist that grazed over his earlobe and collided with a pillow. "Bloody hell, woman," Jack said, and climbed out of the bed. "That any way to treat yer savior?"
Henry sat up, wrapping a flimsy sheet around her body. "Mother of God, why the hell am I naked?!" She screeched and violently thrust a downy pillow at Jack, who caught it and gently set it down at the foot of the bed.
"Well, dove, if ye have no recollection of the matter, than neither do I." His eyes twinkled and lips twisted into a sly smile, flares of gold glinting in his mouth. Henry buried her face in her arms and mumbled incoherently, often pointing fingers in Jack's general direction and cursing vehemently.
"An' stop yer shoutin', yer going to make me deaf some day."
"I'm not shouting," Henry shouted. Finally, she looked up with stringy pieces of hair plastered on her forehead. "Why were we in the bed together then, hm?"
Jack's smile only grew. "Funny how that perfectly coincides with the--" He caught another sloppily aimed pillow. "-first question." Tossing the pillow back onto the bed, he situated himself at the crook of the plushy mattress and stared at the flustered Henrietta. "Really, this t'aint a way to thank me, da'lin', after all, I did…save yer life." Jack swung cheerily to his feet and seized onto the pole attached to the bed, swinging around so that he faced the bed, a feline smile on his face.
Henry gaped down at her lap and coiled herself tighter with the thin sheet before clambering to the edge of the bed and setting herself on her feet. She placed her own palm on the pole and swung around, bumping into Jack and smiling really quite wickedly, with lips turned upwards and gaze piercing into Jack's kohl traced ones.
"Suppose you're right," Henry breathed in a feather light voice, and leaned her body towards him so that her head rested at the crook of his throat. She wrapped his arms around him and played with his knotting hair. "Haven't the slightest clue on how to thank you, though…"
Jack crunched his lips into a circle, staring down Henrietta, naked underneath a flimsy sheet of cloth and vulnerable below all of his demands. He slyly wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her closer to him. Despite of all doubts, Jack silently decided to give it a try. "If I may be of any assistance," He said. "I might have an idea as to how you can thank me. Though it will be, of course, equally a pleasure to you as it will be to me."
"Say no more, Captain," Henry spoke, lifting her hand to hover gently over his tanned cheek. "It will be a delight in my part."
Jack smiled haughtily before realization hit him hard only a second before Henry's hand did. A fiery pain shot up the right side of his cheek as he groaned and rubbed furiously at his face. "Fiendish vixen!" He spat hoarsely and squatted himself down at the cushy bed. "Daughter of a demon, ye are."
Henry crossed her arms and shrugged nonchalantly. "Did you honestly think that something was to occur between us?" She barked a laugh. "You may have saved my life, Captain, but really, all you did was put it in jeopardy in the first place." Henry smirked in victory as she watched Jack squirm to come up with an answer, a cherry shade creeping onto his normally dark, sandy complexion. "Now, if you will, I will need some clothes."
Jack, his eyes stinging with tears, pointed to a finely burnished cabinet and made a pained face as soon as her back was turned. Henry rummaged through the fancy piece of furniture, grabbing some of Jack's gray, battered trousers and an overly large, wrinkled shirt.
Jack managed to pick up his fallen dignity and forced a small smile. "Shall I turn me back? No use of it, 'course, since I saw everythin' only a few hours ago."
Henry, with a stern face, pointed towards the opposite wall. "Turn your back." Jack, still painfully aware of the throbbing burn in his cheek did as he was told. Henry checked over her shoulders a few times before letting the sheet pool at her feet as she slipped on the trousers as comfortably as the large waist line would allow. Proceeding to put on her shirt, Henry stopped to a sharp halt when something hit her naked spine and bounded onto the floor. She whipped around, spying Jack innocently stare at the wall, hands knotted behind his back, bouncing from his heel to toe.
She hastily put on her shirt and looked down to spot a pillow at her feet. Henry kicked it up and stomped over to Jack, who looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Yes, love?"
"You looked!" Henry sputtered, pointing a jutting finger to the point of Jack's nose.
"I did not." Jack protested innocently, brown eyes intently scrutinized on the one finger in front of him. He nudged Henry's finger away from between his eyes and inquired,"…What makes ye say that?"
Henry swiveled around and pointed the same finger to the plushy pillow, lying abandoned next to a creasing sheet. "You threw that pillow."
"What pillow? Oh…that pillow!" Jack nodded understandingly, crossing his arms over his still bare chest. "Nice pillow. …But I didn't throw it."
"Yes, you did," Henry said, stepping forward to appear slightly menacing and speaking harshly into his face.
"No, I really didn't," Jack corrected casually, leaning his back against an intricately carved wall. His face displayed such a look of innocence that Henry furrowed her brows and narrowed her eyes accusingly.
"Really." She murmured sarcastically, letting the syllables draw out into the air. After a long hesitation, Jack finally spoke.
"No." He said simply, confirming and affirming all manners of confusion.
"What?" Henry said in exasperation, raising her palms to the sides of her face.
"Never ye mind, ye bleedin' gel," Jack snapped, and wrapped an arm around Henry's shoulders.
"You…you're so frustrating...frustratingly chilidish" She managed to stutter, and threw up her arms in defeat, pulling herself away from his encircling arms. She settled herself onto the swanky bed and violently laced her boots. Jack watched as she, obviously flustered, stomped to the doorway, shouting. "Just because you're handsome doesn't mean you always get what you want, you repulsive brute of a man!" The door slammed shut, sending stray dust motes from the shelves into the dimly lit air.
Jack strutted over to the pillow and picked it up, a countenance of smug triumph slathered rather goofily on his face, "At least she thinks I'm handsome." He concurred with a slight nod, and gibbered slightly to himself before searching for a flask of rum.
…
"…Until all sorts o' sea creature a' climated to 'is prescence." Gibbs prattled. The rum sloshing in his hand tipped over the brim and spilled on the deck. His back hunched over, the porky Joshamee Gibbs gesticulated wildly, mimicking his Captain perfectly. "Oh, an' them sea turt-" He raised his hand for silence, clearing his throat of any phlegm before preparing to re-tell the story for the third time in two days time.
"We've 'eard that story a coupla thousand times, you nattering sea dog," howled Jonathan, the youngest amongst the crew. He clamped his jaws shut when Gibbs rotated around, teeth bared and eyes bulging.
"I've got a story," Jack intervened, tipping his head back and swallowing heaping amounts of burning rum. "Ah. Thas' better." He rubbed his palms together and got to his feet, swaying around slightly before regaining his posture. "Well, I was walkin' around Port Royale, searchin' for a decent place to 'ide. Ah, ye men know how they love me there. About a hundred, mayhaps twice that, navy soldiers were chasin' after me. Anyhow, I run along this pretty little cottage that led right into an alleyway."
"An' the alleyway had navy soldiers hidin' in there, aye?" A skinny, ragged pirate by the name of Jordan interrupted. The rest of the crew shushed him, gurgling their grog with eyes glued onto their captain.
"Thinkin' that I had maybe lost them Brits, I walk into the alleyway when I see this gorgeous, curvy, tasty looking… chicken."
The crew guffawed atrociously, slopping grog and rum over themselves, rotting teeth bared and gray tongues protruding over saliva coated lips.
"No, no, tis the truth. An' I was getting mighty hungry, so I decided to kill it and 'ave a decent sup." Jack craned his back and leaned his face towards his crew. "Well all o' a sudden, this whiny, wheedling little voice reaches me ear! So I turned around with me sword." Jack whipped around, and waved his arm around to demonstrate. "An' there stands this pretty little lady, all covered up in men's clothes and pointing a sword at me.
I said, 'Please, Miss, I be awfully hungry. Spare this one damned fluff-bird for me, aye?'" Jack pulled out his lip and planted his hands together, adorning his face with what appeared to be a sincere look.
"An out a' nowhere, she starts aimin' and swiping her sword at me. An' being the gentleman that I am, I decided to ask 'er to put away that blade, 'fore she hurt herself. However, she wouldn't do as I asked, so I let 'er have her fun," Jack pulled out his invisible sword and lashed at unseen phantoms, his arm swinging in mid-air. "But naturally, I let 'er win."
Jack paused, his crew looking disbelieving at him.
"So there was a pretty woman," One said slowly, raising his twiggy arms toward his face. "And she was dressed in men's clothes, protectin' a …chicken. …And she knew 'ow to sword fight?" There was a long, awkward hesitation before Jack smiled and bowed slightly. "Yes."
"I 'appen to like the sea turtle story better," Gibbs mumbled into his mug of rum.
"Anyhow, afterwards, she saw how roguishly good looking I was and was completely smitten with me manly physique." Jack posed, his fists planted on his waist. "An' so.."
"Ye took 'er to bed and baited 'er e'ery wanton desires," Jonathan finished with an ear-to-ear smile. Raucous laughter wafted around the deck. Jack shrugged with a slight smirk, nodding in affirmation.
"Wait, ain't that Miss. Henry?" Someone interjected, but was interrupted by an echoing shout.
"A load of shit, that was," Henry stepped out from the darkness and smiled fiendishly "First off, your dear, fabricating Captain never had British navy soldiers after him. He was actually heading off to see his friend, a eunuch." There was a moment of silence, and then all doubled over with laughter. Jack tightened the corners of his lips. "And he never let the woman win. They had a stalemate."
"Well, she cheated," Jack mouthed mutely.
"And the woman never went to bed with the Captain," Henry stated factually. "She found him repulsive and rather on the filthy side."
"…yet. Didn't go to bed with the Captain yet."
Henry cocked her head to the side. "But the rest of the story is true. And here I am now." Henry widened her arms and winked heartily to Anamaria, who gave a slight grin before tilting her head back for swallows of rum.
"Aye, and here she is now," Jack echoed sarcastically into his bottle.
"T'aint no one on earth knows why the Captain and ye banter so much," Michael, the cook said with a raise of his mug. "He usually gets 'long wit' most broads, ye know." Jack chuckled softly, agreeing whole heartedly. "I wonder why 'ee hasn't taken ye to.." Jack silenced him with a sour look.
"Aye, funny we don't get 'long," Jack said. "Could do with some persuasion, could ye?"
Henry gazed grimly at Jack before her lips cracked into a smile. "More persuasion, now?"
Jack raised his hands to his cheek thoughtfully, before changing the subject of conversation around entirely. "Ye scabrous bilge rats t'aint none of a womanizer compared to me and ye knows it, hmm?" He accused, before turning to Gibbs with a forced smile. "Now, Mister Gibbs, I 'appen to think the tale with the turtles is just lover-ly.. Continue driveling on, now will ye?"
…
The tallow candles melted into short stubs in their holders, and the cabin was darker still. Jack burst in through the door smelling strongly of rum and sea water, as usual, swaying around dangerously on his feet. Henry sat with Chicky in her lap, peering into a leather bound book. A small smirk crept onto her face when she looked up and spotted Jack tumbling in mid air, attempting to recapture his balance.
"Do you always exaggerate your stories, Captain?" Henry asked, and set Chicky to the floor. She snapped shut the book and placed it next to her.
"Me?" Jack put his hands on his chest and leaned his face towards her direction. "Would ne'er dream of it!"
"Good, then, tell me this," Henry said, and stood up, her knees cracking painfully from her stiff position. "Where'd you grow up as a youth?"
Jack put a finger on his chin before taking off his hat and setting it at his parchment cluttered desk. "Well, Tortuga o'course. Was practically born and raised in a seedy brothel. Even as a child the women fancied and swooned aft-"
"And that's where you learned how to read, yes? Meandering through the rum soaked streets of Tortuga, you learned of literature and philosophy. Of.." She snatched up the leather book and bobbed it in front of his face with every other word.
"No, o'course not," Jack interrupted gruffly, his mood transforming quickly. He swiped the leather bound book from her grasp. "I knew 'ow to read since the day I was born. Twas a gift, the ladies would say, after they melted into my arms when I recited poetry."
Henry pursed her lips and took back the novel from his hands. "Be serious! Pirates are thieves, villains and scoundrels, not book reading...intelligent men."
Jack smirked, "Well, 'aven't e'er met a pirate like me before, have you dove?" Jack plopped himself down on a creaky chair and lifted his legs onto the desk, crinkling a map from underneath his soles.
"Used to work at a bookstore when I was a young bugger." He finally said with a defeated sigh.
Henry, clearly impressed, thumbed through the yellow pages. But before speaking, Jack interjected in a solemn tone, "But my book reading doesn't 'ave anything to do wit' me being a pirate. An' don't think that yer views on me have to change in anyway.."
"I'm not some smoldering young youth," Henry interrupted. "I'm not going to start dolling myself up to impress some learned man. Especially not for the likes of you." She scoffed, strands of dark hair falling in her face. "Don't flatter yourself, Captain." Jack merely shrugged, the corner of his lip twitching upward. "Shakespeare, eh?"
She paused. "And Thomas More. And Machiavelli. And.." Her thoughtful ponderings were interrupted by a fit of chuckles. Jack, finally unable to hold it in, burst into riotous laughter, his ribs shaking and bobbing swiftly. Henry raised an eyebrow, staring grimly at the Captain.
"Apologies.." Jack said, and swallowed gulps of air. He wiped a solitary tear from under his kohl traced eyelid. "I was just imaginin' ye as a smolderin' young youth." With that he erupted into another rib quaking fit of chuckles.
Henry shot daggers at Jack before sighing huffly and deciding to change the futile subject. "Did you know...that Cotton knows how to read?" Jack's laughter immediately halted., the mirth from his expression drained. "What is it wit' ye and reading? Some sort o' twisted fetish?"
Henry ignored the response and instead, looked up. "I caught the man reading a ragged book from a French philosopher. He turned red as a cherry and hid the novel away before I could crack open my mouth." Jack was astounded, his jaw unhinging into a gape for a moment before the trademark smirk was fit on again. "Poor man never had anyone to tell."
"And Anamaria is rather skilled at making attire," Henry said mindlessly, knowing that these unknown facts would irk Jack into aggravated states. "You know, elegant, luxurious dresses with lace and gold trimming.."
"Anamaria?!" Jack questioned, clearly flabbergasted.
"Yes." Henry stated. "She keeps sketches of them in a pack. And Jonathan, the little skinny boy, he happens to be rather talented playing the reed flute." Jack stared at her in amazement before snapping his jaw shut. "You need to know your crew better, Captain."
"I know me crew better than any person 'pon this ship!" Jack said defensively, sitting upright from his idle position.
Henry rolled her eyes and clamped her mouth shut.
"Cotton is rather good up there at the crow's nest, for his bird will fly down and flap his wings wildly to inform everyone. Anamaria can steer the helm better than anyone aboard his ship asides from me, 'course. And Jonathan, he makes the deck glitter like gold, ye know. Can see yer reflection in it, in all honesty."
Henry and Jack stared at each other in grim silence before he cracked a smile. The dying candlelight flickered dark shadows on Henry's faces, illuminating her murky eyes. "Time to 'ead in, love. Lot o' action ye experienced today, with getting yer life saved and finding out that I 'appen to like Shakespeare an' all. So, shall I sleep on the left or right side?"
Henry merely pointed to her hammock and crawled into Jack's bed. Her mind reeled quickly, flashing through the quick paced events of the day, from submerging in sea water to revealing Jack's actual care and compassion for his crew.
The windows, slightly ajar, billowed silky curtains over the smoky candles. Henry looked over at Jack, hunched over stiffly to examine parchments of maps, browning jacket slightly covering his shoulders.
Jack grimly examined a spot of ink on his smoothly sanded desk, not able to wrench out the unmarred picture of Henry's slightly oval face with flares of dim candle-lit shadows hovering over murky, dark eyes. Fire goes well with your eyes, love, he thought silently, before blinking away the crystal image.
Swallowing the thick Caribbean air, Henrietta exhaled into the sheets, getting a generous whiff of the exotic, briny sea water and spicy rum. Just like Jack.
…
Henry felt a slight nudge at her shoulders, rousing her from her sleep. With fluttering eyelids, she focused on Jack's face and set out of bed, groaning. Henry caught a blurred glimpse of a few darkened tattoos that decorated his bare back as he turned around and fished on a white shirt. She looked to the right side of the bed and found that it had been occupied, by Jack, obviously. Before preparing to injure his inflated pride, Jack interjected.
"Pirate ship, love," His eyes were sparked with an unknown excitement, his usual serene, fluid movements bounding into exhilaration. Henry immediately hurdled to her feet, swiftly lacing up her boots. Jack was already out, barking orders and pointing jutting fingers in all directions. Henry, tying her hair with a sea green sash, ran out of the cabin, her sword intact.
"Raise the Jolly Roger!" Jack roared, his eyes glued onto the spyglass. "If ye want vittles, men, ye'll have to strip this ship o' everything that she has. Aye?" His looming form was mighty and intimidating, the look of a wise leader and a keen, eager child webbed together in his every step that he took. Jack's faithful tri-cornered hat was slightly on squint on his head, the finely crafted sword at his belt. Henry unsheathed her own slightly smaller, lightweight one and swiped it through the fluid air, smiling when the shrill whistle of metal reached her ears.
"Aye!" They said in unison, pulling on rope chords and preparing guns with great fury. There was a great hustle of bustling crewmen, the group of men and Anamaria animatedly jogged on the bobbing ship, wide smiles meshed with solemn determination on their faces. The thrill of looting was evident in the crew, bright eyes darted back and forth on the deck.
Henry felt a sort of excitement bubbling inside of her, starting at the pit of her stomach and ebbing it's way to the nerves in her arms and feet.
She watched the flapping, ebony flag stand in contrast to the clear sky., a hand shaded over her eyes. Henry squinted towards the tiny speck ahead of the endless blue, approaching rather rapidly. Suddenly, an unsettled thought sifted into her brain.
"Captain, what of the map?" She asked anxiously. Jack's profile was illuminated by the glare of the sun, a small smile stretched across his cheek.
There was a moment's hesitation before Jack glanced down at Henry and spoke with a confident grin, "What works once will often work twice, love," He said simply, and bonded the spyglass to his eye once more. Henry bobbed her head in assurance and steadily walked back into the Captain's quarters, preparing to tie the aging map and her steadfast fluff bird in union once more.
…
What's this? Fancy Romance-y in here, eh? Subtle enough? Don't know! I don't know!
Ahem. Now, I want to thank all of you for being so patient. You've been so kind! :]
..Review. :]