Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N: Tomorrow is my last day of school. I'm thinking two, three more chapters for this story…but you never know. Ah! I'm so excited...
-Sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter up. I really wanted to start updating more regularly, but this story kind of stumped me after the last chapter. I don't think I'm a very good mush writer, and with the conflict between Will and Christina down to a bare minimum, I don't really know what to do with myself. Besides, I get bored when I have to type pages upon pages of public displays of affection. I thought I would type a whole chapter of Will/Christina happiness, but there are only so many ways to describe kissing without sounding like a trashy romance novel. Hurray for sexual tension, though. Woot woot! So here it is, you get 3 pages of Will/Christina "don't dishonor the virgin" crap, and then I finally decided that I had to move along and cut to Jack. Enjoy!
- Oh my God! I've forgotten what color eyes Mary has! This is terrible…haha, what if I slip up like I did with the Governor's name? Note to self: Before writing fanfic, make character sketches and keep them handy.
1.
When Will and I finally emerged from the water, there was no one in sight. Strangely enough, that didn't bother me. Taeryn would explain to me later that the island people have a different kind of respect for newlyweds - they do not bombard them with feasting and festivities after the wedding. The celebration would start at dusk and it was just past noon, so Will and I would have a good portion of the day to ourselves.
At some other time this would have made me nervous, but for once I wasn't. The surf had washed away all the flowers strewn about my body, and my hair had come down from its elaborate braid. It had grown quite a lot since I had left home and so was entangled with Will and I. We spent a few moments trying to sort ourselves out, but even that innocent physical contact gave way to stolen kisses, which quickly became more enthusiastic.
We stumbled ashore and lay in the sand, me on top of my new husband rather lazily. I traced patterns on his sea-soaked shirt as he gently traced the features of my face. I wanted to say something, to talk to him, but it seemed I had no words today. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence; on the contrary it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
"Growing a beard, are you?" I teased, tugging at the coarse hair on his chin. He rolled over and pinned me beneath him. "Maybe," he growled, nuzzling my neck and shoulders where the dress had been tugged askew. "If it pleases my wife," he continued. His face was rough but he touched me so lightly that it tickled instead of pricked my skin. I laughed, pulling him down to me and kissing him once more. It seemed we couldn't quite get enough of each other, and I blamed the island people for that. If it hadn't been for Naneth's strict rules, we probably would have been at each other's throats right now. In quite a different way, mind you. Perhaps it is how they encouraged their couples to be fruitful, this way: keep them apart long enough until eventually things overflow. I felt my face get hot just thinking it and had to quickly remind myself of what I'd told Mary - maintaining my good name was quickly becoming easier said than done.
"Get up, you lout," I muttered, trying to push him away. He didn't heed me, merely altered his movements from nuzzling my neck to kissing it. I tried very hard to keep my breathing steady, to no avail. "Will, we mustn't," I whispered, and he stopped slowly, meeting my eyes. "Especially not on the beach!" I gasped, leaning up on one elbow to look around, mortified that anyone had ambled on over and caught us. I felt him grin against my collarbone and place a final kiss there. "Let go of me, then, love," he said wickedly, and I shoved him. "You terrible man," I accused, trying to refrain from smiling and failing miserable. He started to laugh and I lunged at him, tackling him to the sand. "Don't you mock me, Mr. Turner!" I threatened, pressing him down with my hands splayed over his chest. It wasn't lost on me that his shirt was hardly buttoned and his skin was a burnished brown from whatever work they'd made him do in the sun. I felt the smile slip from my face just as it did his and he sat up slowly; his hands cupped my face. I found it very difficult to move from this position. To even want to move from this position.
"You cannot expect me to practice so much restraint, Christina," he said hoarsely, his lips just a breath away from mine. I shifted unsteadily in his lap and he closed his eyes. I leaned in and kissed him again, this time slowly, winding my arms around his neck and tangling my hands in his sea soaked curly hair. We both swayed on the spot but remained sitting up - God only knows where falling to the ground would have lead us. He pulled away rather roughly. "If I didn't know any better, I would think that you know what you're doing," he grumbled, standing up abruptly and helping me to my feet.
"What are you talking about, William?" I demanded, sorely confused and more than a little hurt. He raked a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, glancing at me under furrowed brows. My stomach leapt faintly and I almost swayed on my feet again. It slowly dawned on me what he was saying.
"Sorry," I said weakly, wringing my hands because I didn't know what else to do with them. He shrugged and brightened suddenly, pulling something out of his pocket and taking my hand in his. "I had forgotten - Naneth took about away so quickly that I didn't get a chance to give this to you," he said, slipping a ring onto my middle finger.
"What is it?" I asked. "A ring. Your father sent it to me the day after you left." He cleared his throat and I could tell he was thinking about why I'd left. I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned up to kiss him softly. "It's forgotten," I said softly, even though it wasn't and probably never would be. But it didn't matter anymore and I refused to let him think about it.
Quite frankly I didn't know what we would do with ourselves in the hours that lay before us. Will didn't seem to know either, so we walked down the beach, carefully positioned so that our skin never met. I felt my hair beginning to dry and knew it must have been tangled something awful, but I restrained myself from running fingers through my hair - last time I did that was on the top of Jack's ship, and I'd gotten my hand stuck in my hair. Will chuckled to himself, and I assumed that he was remembering the same thing.
"I suppose we'll have to go back to Port Royal soon," I said softly, surprised that I had kept the tremor out of my voice. I would go back to Port Royal, I knew there was no avoiding it; the Commodore would see to that even if my loyalty to Mary didn't demand it. And part of me rather missed my home - it was a strange thing, what the native folk said about your island, about how it would always be a part of you unless one happened to be like Anamaria. Anamaria, it seemed, was a part of bigger things. Naneth had said that Anamaria was not of an island, but of the ocean herself. I shook my head to keep from contemplating this. The point was, I missed my home and while not exactly anxious to return, Port Royal could present a certain comfort that this island, while undoubtedly beautiful, could not.
"Yes, I suppose so," Will said, a bit hesitantly. "But only if you're sure you want to - I meant what I said, when I told you we could go somewhere else, if you wouldn't be comfortable back at the port…"
"And I meant what I said when I told you that there's no way we could start over on a new island. Nor could we spend the rest of our lives with Jack," I replied, taking his hand and lacing my fingers with his. I was a bit wistful - it would be exciting to live with Jack on the Pearl, but I was of little use on his ship other than to swab the deck. And as fond as I was of the old scallywag, I did not look forward to a life up to my elbows in coarse soap and dirty washcloths.
And while life with Jack might have been exciting, it certainly wasn't the atmosphere to raise children in. I felt a pleasant shiver run through me at the thought of children. I suppose it is something that all women think about now and then, and certainly more as they reach a marriageable age. I know that Elizabeth certainly thought about having children since she turned sixteen, perhaps even before that. When I was sixteen, I wasn't thinking much of anything in the way of having children, or even getting married. When I was sixteen, I was four years into my training with Will and definitely in love with him, but I hardly even thought of marriage; mostly because, I realize now, I never thought I would get married.
And now I was. The way my life changed so dramatically in four years caused me to start laughing. It's sometimes startling how much things can change, and how you hardly notice them until you compare them with what life was like before. When I turned sixteen, I started thinking that way about life was before my mother left, and life after, but the difference was that it didn't make me laugh. Will looked at me curiously, wondering why I was suddenly so cheerful, when we had just been talking about where our lives would go from here. I smiled up at him and squeezed his hand. "Don't worry about where we are going, Will. We're here now and finally not fighting anymore. Goodness, it took long enough for us to get here," I said under my breath. Will laughed at this and kissed me on the nose. We stopped walking and I saw the sun glistening across the ocean over his shoulder. I couldn't remember feeling happier, except maybe the first time he kissed me as Jack sailed away from Port Royal after escaping the noose.
1.
Jack himself was on the other side of the island at the moment, staring into the faintly accusatory eyes of Commodore Norrington. Jack didn't feel particularly uncomfortable, seeing as how the Commodore only had himself and his First Mate, Gillette, with him. First Mate Gillette was not, in fact, here with the Commodore at the moment. Jack had a feeling that the attire of some of the island women was entirely to distracting for the bloke to handle. Perhaps he had gone to make as study of it. The pirate found it all rather amusing, and hid a smile under the pretense of smoothing his mustache. "Make no mistake, Sparrow, you are under arrest," the Commodore said tartly. Jack made a show of examining his unshackled wrists.
"Duly noted, Commodore. But I'm wondering - how is it ye plan to take me into custody? Call me blind, but I don't see yer crew anywhere," Jack said, looking around almost apologetically.
"Jack Sparrow, you are a terrible man," came a decidedly female voice. Mary Pearl made her way cautiously over the sand dune where the men were standing, holding her skirts up before her. She had traded the clothes the island women had given her for something more suitable for a woman to wear in the presence of a Commodore. And not just any Commodore, either. Mary had quite an interest in this particular upstanding gentleman of the Royal Navy. Poor Mr. Cotton would be crushed, as he'd taken to the girl quite well especially since the loss of his parrot.
Jack Sparrow grinned cheekily at the girl, much to the dismay of a certain Naval Officer who was not a First Mate. Jack of course took note of this, but he never missed an opportunity to rub someone the wrong way, and a stiff-necked prude like Norrington was almost begging for it. "Mary, darling, my heart bleeds - why do ye hurt ol' Jack so?" Jack asked, winding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. She raised an eyebrow at him and smelled his breath. "Good heavens, Mr. Sparrow, are you drunk?" she asked, her eyes so wide that he could have sworn she was being serious but for the impish delight that dwelt there as well.
"Love, Captain Jack's always drunk," he answered her, and she rolled her eyes at his referring to himself in the third person. "Apparently," was her only answer as she squirmed out of his grasp and looked rather flustered up at Norrington. The poor chap looked severely ill-tempered at the moment.
"Right, well, I think I fancy myself about due for a cuppa. And a woman. Where is this Laurelyn at?" Jack said jovially, tugging Mary's red hair as he turned to leave. She crossed her arms over her chest, beginning to get rather annoyed with his antics as much as she admitted that James probably deserved them. Still, she was entirely too glad to have him back on speaking terms with her to say anything to Jack. Him being the Commodore, of course.
The Commodore watched Sparrow walk away while feeling the faint edge of despondency. While he did respect the pirate - as if it weren't almost heretical for a Commodore of the Royal Navy to feel anything remotely benign towards a known and infamous criminal - the thought of Mary feeling anything more than respect and friendship for the man made him hate Jack Sparrow with a raw passion. To make matters worse, he was faintly certain that Sparrow himself knew it!
"He's been treating you well then?" Norrington asked, quickly amending with, "You and Miss Swann, I mean." Commodore Norrington cleared his throat uncomfortably and clasped his hands behind his back. He carefully kicked off the bit of sand that had collected on the toe of his boot and stood once again at attention, staring at the horizon. The Black Pearl, curse that bloody ship, was directly in his line of vision, of course. It seemed that James Norrington could do nothing to avoid Sparrow no matter how much he wished too.
"Oh, yes," Mary said quietly, her hands folded in front of her demurely. She stood about half a step behind him, as was befitting a woman of her station. He would have swore violently to himself if a lady hadn't been present - and, given her station, that wasn't something he was entirely obligated to do. Maids were trained to be seen and not heard, and often their superiors didn't care to guard their language around them. It was entirely different around Mary Pearl, however. The Commodore wished dearly that she'd take just half a step forward and stand in line with him, but since his discovery of her "true" identity - as maid in the Governor's household - up until now, she had been every inch the stoic maid. He rarely saw anything of the vicarious young woman who he'd met on Port Royal. Modest and shy, that Mary had had to be coaxed out of her shell before daring to speak her mind to a man - and such a man as the Commodore. Such a man, eh? Norrington thought bitterly to himself, regarding Mary out of the corner of his eye. Such a man wouldn't have frightened the poor girl out of her wits and sent her running into the arms of a pirate, all because of his wounded pride and fragile ego.
They hadn't spoken much since he'd arrived at this loathsome little island, and even though she had reacted happily enough to see him three days ago, it was almost as if they were strangers now. She seemed to recall almost as sharply as he did how he put her in her place. It did seem evident that she wanted to return to Port Royal, however, and quite quickly.
"Jack is wonderful. He's very kind, very funny. He made the Pearl almost seem…familiar, even though I'd hardly ever been on a boat before," she said, sounding quite contented if a little shy. She trailed off suddenly, though, clearing her throat and bowing her head, her hands wringing themselves silly. It was as if she had suddenly remembered who he was and who she was - not James and Mary, the people, but James Norrington the Commodore and Mary Pearl, the maid.
"You must forgive me, Commodore. It seems I have spent too much time away from civilization; I tend to forget myself of late," she said, every inch the submissive subordinate. Norrington felt the very powerful urge to curse, but held his tongue. Then he thought better of it. "Damn it all, Miss Pearl, you do know how to goad a man into feeling immeasurable guilt!"
She flinched and he wanted to kick himself. Before he could speak, she offered up another "Forgive me," casting her eyes down to the sand and watching as the gentle movements of her skirts upset it. Norrington sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to pull himself together enough to be articulate.
"There is nothing for me to forgive," he said, his voice sounding a good deal colder than he'd intended it to. She didn't raise her eyes. "Rather, I feel that it is you who should be forgiving me, Miss Pearl -" He stopped and narrowed his eyes at her, wiping the expression away as she slowly lifted her eyes to meet his. "Excuse me, Commodore, I'm not sure what you mean."
"Is 'pearl' your true surname, Mary?" he asked gently. Her eyes widened at the informal way in which he said her name, and he wondered if he had suddenly allowed his voice to become too intimate in tone. "I'm afraid not, sir," she said. Of the two of them, at least she retained proper etiquette, although she did look terribly confused. "Ah, I see," he answered, not entirely surprised and trying not to let this new piece of information dissuade him from trying to connect with her again. He remembered back to how awful he felt just after her leaving, and how he'd promised he'd find her and return her safely back to Port Royal. He remembered how he was quite honestly more concerned for her safety than that of Christina Swann.
Christina could at least defend herself, although given what he knew about Mary - or rather, how little he knew about her - it was fair enough to say that maybe Mary could defend herself adequately as well.
But he doubted it.
"I'm sorry, sir," Mary was saying, looking tense and somewhat distressed. Commodore Norrington didn't consider himself a particularly sadistic man, but somehow this gave him hope. When he didn't say anything, Mary felt compelled to explain herself. "'Pearl' was my mother's maiden name. My name is Porter."
"I suppose it matters very little in truth, Miss Porter." He knew he sounded distracted, but that was mainly because he was trying to set about doing what it had taken Miss Swann this whole trip to do, and swallow his pride. He knew he cared about Mary Porter very deeply; thing about her had gotten under his skin in a way that he'd only thought possible of Elizabeth Swann. Mary and Elizabeth were polar opposites, it seemed, though. Well, perhaps not. Both were quite proper, and both were breathtakingly beautiful. Elizabeth with her blonde hair and big brown eyes and Mary with her red hair - something he'd found instantly attractive as it boasted boldness but was coupled with such a soft-spoken personality - and liquid blue eyes that appeared almost sea green at times. But whereas Elizabeth carried herself with an astonishing amount of grace and pride, Mary was rather humble and almost meek. Then again, he knew she had to be a strong woman to follow her friend as they sailed away from Port Royal with a crew of pirates. Mary was, quite simply, a confusing woman, but that was what made her so intriguing.
"Mary, I feel that I have wronged you terribly," Norrington said, turning around to face her and holding up a hand when she opened her mouth to disagree. "The way I treated you on Port Royal was terrible, and I can hardly seek to call myself a gentleman if I didn't apologize." He decided that perhaps he should let her speak. "Please, Commodore Norrington, do not apologize to me, it is a bit more humiliating than I could stand, I think." He waited for her to elaborate, and hesitantly, she did.
"All my life I have been a maid, and I had grown quite accustomed to my place," she began slowly. "It was wrong of me to impersonate someone of a higher station than myself, and even worse for me to allow you to go on believing it. If anybody was wronged here, Commodore, surely it was you."
"Perhaps," Norrington replied, and Mary flinched again. "In any event, it is not something I wish to debate over. I merely ask you to forgive me."
"Commodore, there is nothing to -"
Norrington sighed. "Please, Mary. If you wont forgive me then at the very least could you call me by my name?" he asked.
1.
"You shouldn't goad the man so," Laurelyn said, laying quite contently next to Jack on a rather large rock overlooking the sea. The sun had warmed the rock considerably, and while she had changed back into her old clothes instead of the clothes given to her, she had removed her jacket and now was dressed in a loose fitting white shirt and tight riding pants. She had altered them herself after having had enough of bulky petticoats or narrow skirts divided for riding. Not that Laurelyn had a horse; Tortuga's stables were too full of drunks and pigsties to allow the proud animals a space there, and Laurelyn didn't think she had quite enough money to support the pub and her little clothing boutique.
"Why not? Goading him into it was the only way he'd ever talk to Miss Mary-belle," Jack said leisurely, rolling on his side and waggling his eyebrows at her. Laurelyn was not nearly as affected by Jack Sparrow as she once was, although he was still devastatingly appealing to her - every sunburned, tattooed, dread-locked inch of him.
"In my experience, it isn't wise to taunt a Commodore," she said, shoving his shoulder and sitting up on her knees to peer down at him. Her long blond hair made a curtain around him and she leaned in to kiss him on the lips, something she'd been doing more and more frequently as of late. It would be hard to watch him drop her off at Tortuga and go around plundering and pillaging again. If that blasted Governor's daughter hadn't come into the dress shop, it might have been a while before Laurelyn saw Jack again, a fact she wasn't sure she was either happy or bitter about. Then again, Laurelyn was loath to blame this on her fellow woman, so she instead decided to blame it on that infernal blacksmith, Turner.
"Well, love, we're leaving tonight and the Commodore is leaving on his little rowboat tomorrow morning. We'll be far away from here by the time he assembles those nincompoops he calls a Navy. And perhaps Miss Pearl'll convince him that catching me isn't quite a top priority," Jack said nonchalantly.
Laurelyn sighed. They were leaving tonight. It gave her precious little time left with him, but she was used to that. In her heart she knew that her love for Jack Sparrow was returned, though he hadn't been very mouthy about it. She knew that if she asked him to, he probably would stay with her on Tortuga for as long as he was able. But what she had realized long ago - or perhaps not long ago, she wasn't that much older than Christina Swann, after all - was that if she tried to keep Jack with her on land, the love he felt for her would turn quickly to hate.
If you love him, let him go, right? It seemed that's how Laurelyn was going to live out her life with him. She couldn't leave her father alone on Tortuga, and frankly she was proud of the life she had made for herself there. She was one of the few women who got buy on Tortuga without joining a brothel of some sort. She was also one of the few women not perpetually knackered. Besides, Jack showing up unexpectedly into her life made it easier to stay interested in the man. She'd never particularly favored the droll humdrum life that Christina would be sailing right into on her return to Port Royal.
"You better not get yourself hanged, Jack Sparrow. I shall never forgive you if you do," she said roughly, flinging a leg over him and straddling his chest when he tried to get up. It was the last that was said between them for a very long while.
1.
A/N: Romance, but not mush. Coming up: Jack and the crew of the Black Pearl make their goodbyes and set sail, Christina and Mary are headed back to Port Royal, and the wedding planning begins for real this time!