Jack lay awake in the captain's quarters. He was second-guessing his momentary sway to the side of honourable. The bedding still smelled slightly of her and he wondered if that was all he'd be allowed to keep, when this whole mess was over and done with. This has started out innocuously enough. She had been just another bonny lass, with the added bonus of not one but two uptight paramours to offend as he charmed his way into her arms. She was practically a shrinking violet when he first met her, by comparison. It had changed the night they had been marooned. It was a nasty trick, what she'd done to the rhum, but even he had to admit it was clever. From there, a grudging admiration had sprouted.
He had never expected to find her on the docks of Tortuga, let alone hear her regale him with tales of the barfight Norrington started and she inadvertently ended. She'd played the part of the priss well enough during the days, though Norrington seemed to have her number, but at night, she'd snuck into his cabin. It sounded sordid, even in his mind, and he was positive that there'd be the devil to pay if the boy had ever found out. In truth, they'd played cards and dice, sometimes talking, sometimes sitting in silence. She'd told him about her mother, how she'd been taken by a plague in London and her father, half mad with grief, had swept them away to the furthest place he could imagine as soon as he was able. He'd told her about his own ma, how he came upon the Pearl, Will's father, and the mutiny. He'd liked her well enough then to call her a friend.
Of course, she'd done him another nasty turn when she chained him to the Pearl and left him for dead. He knew, in that moment, she'd become an equal. He couldn't quite be mad with her for doing it; he'd have done the same.
Or maybe not.
She's rescued him just the same. No one before her would have gone to the literal ends of the earth for him. He'd swept her into his arms first when she'd finally found him, whispering cruel words in her ear even as he'd pulled her close to him. She'd sobbed against him, begged his forgiveness, and he'd given it to her. There'd never been a question of it.
She'd showed him the little cove in Port Royal when he'd brought Will and her home. She'd whispered that she'd meet him on the path to the sea at midnight and had kept her word. They had lain together in the sand when she confessed she was having doubts about her wedding to Will. She couldn't fathom the thought of being caged up again. Tears had welled in her eyes when she told him she was afraid that she'd never see him again. It was then he had struck a bargain with the Devil for a few more stolen moments with this girl... his girl. He'd promised to meet her there every fortnight or so. It was a safe enough location. He could moor the Pearl offshore and row to the cove without ever being seen. She'd positively lit up when he'd said that. It had been that reaction that told him this would be his undoing.
After a few months of their meetings, he'd come to the beach to find her sitting on a trunk. For a brief, thrilling moment, he'd thought she meant to run away with him. She hadn't, but it had been close enough for the time. She'd made up a lie for both Will and her father about visiting a childhood friend in a distant city, told them she was taking a ship, then paid off the captain to verify it. It was a yet another well played trick by her.
"Aren't you thrilled, Jack?" she'd asked. "I've bought us two weeks."
He'd nodded, smiling. "And a bloody good plan, too. I must've rubbed off on ye. Before you know it, the Caribbean will have another lady after the hearts of Mary Read and Anne Bonney." Elizabeth simply smiled at him. Jack cleared his throat. "And how do you wish to spend your lovely fortnight, me darling?"
"Would you do anything for me, Captain Sparrow?" she purred. "Anything my heart desired?"
Bugger. This was not a good start.
"Within reason, luv." She nodded, her eyes gleaming in the moonlight. She was definitely planning something.
"I want a tattoo, like yours," she said, stroking her fingers over his sparrow, his pirate's brand. "Take me to Tortuga."
He started. Her words had a sobering effect on him. The daft girl had no idea what she was asking. Will would most assuredly know that he had had a hand in this if-- when-- they married. He would certainly be none to pleased either.
"Luv, I'll take you to Tortuga, if that's what you wish, but I'll bloody well not have you getting a tattoo anywhere on my watch."
Her eyes blazed. "Fine. To Tortuga we go and I'll go alone if you won't accompany me." She stared him down, neither giving.
He'd caved, of course. He told her that it was her infernal yammering, but it was more the fear that something would happen to her as she tried to find a tattooist. It would be easier on all involved if he just took her some place he knew. He'd decided to take her to Buddy, an ex-sailor himself, who'd done the sparrow on Jack's arm. Elizabeth had positively glowed when he'd mentioned it. Daft, he thought to himself. Daft and up to something.
He's spent the better part of an hour cajoling Buddy to tattoo "that pretty young society thing". He'd eventually told a wee bit of a fib, assuring Buddy that the lady's husband wouldn't much mind, since indeed he was looking at him and if he'd brought her here, he obviously hadn't minded or else he wouldn't've brought her here, now would he?
Buddy, confused, had nodded, but archly questioned Jack about his "marry-age". Jack simply nodded and said they were close enough as to call it that.
She had chosen to have a sparrow flying over a swan for her piece. The irony was not lost on any present. She lay, half on her side, between Jack's legs, with her hip bared to Buddy's needle. Her eyes were closed and her hand squeezed tightly on his. She never cried out, much to Buddy's surprise, and Jack's pride. When he'd finished, Jack had decided to get the same tattoo on his chest, just over his heart. It had seemed right. Plus, one could never have too many tattoos, now could they?
Jack turned onto his side, trying to get comfortable. Of course, he remembered that night. His hand drifted to touch the tattoo they shared.
They had chosen to go back to the Pearl instead of paying the highway robbery that passed as inn fare. The evening had started as usual, playing dice. He'd broken out the rhum, after, and instead of declining it, she'd taken a healthy swig. Her eyes were still glowing with the excitement of the tattoo. As the night wore on, he'd lined her eyes with the same kohl he wore and braided his silver charm into her hair. He'd declared her a right bonny pirate lass in the moment before she leaned in and kissed him. It was both hard and sweet. The adrenaline from the tattoo and the rhum that flowed through her veins drove her forward. It was everything the kiss she'd given him on the deck of the Pearl should have been. His arms were around her in an instant, one hand tangled in her hair and the other holding her tight against him. He backed her toward his berth, moving by instinct alone. He marveled at how perfectly she fit against him, like they had been split in half. Peas in a pod, indeed.
But she was a forward wench! By the time he'd backed her knees against his berth, she'd made quick work of his shirt and was working on the ties of his breeches. Perhaps, Bootstrap's boy wasn't quite so much of a eunuch as he'd originally thought. Of course, if she'd been engaged to him, he'd have made quick work of her maidenhead a long time past and, if Will was incapable of the action, perhaps he'd make quick work of it tonight any way.
He divested her of her shirt, admiring her small, pert breasts and moved next to remove her breeches. His breath caught in his mouth has the sight of the hidden tattoo. He pressed her onto her back, growling low in his throat, and bent to touch his mouth to her hip.
Elizabeth hissed as his mouth touched the tender, abused skin around her tiny, fresh tattoo. The nerves were already on fire from the needle and Jack's mouth alternately soothed and aroused pain there. She dug her fingers into his hair and tugged gently, trying to pull him back to her. It worked and he kissed her hard again. Then, he did something strange. He pulled back.
"Lizzie... Luv... Are you sure this is what you want? Be sure. A kiss you can take back; this you can't." It gave her pause for a moment. She had expected to be wedded and bedded, not taken by a pirate with kohl smearing her eyes and his charms woven in her hair, like a common strumpet. Then again, she'd never expected to allow a man to tamp ink into her flesh, either.
"I'm sure," Her voice cracked. She was nervous, but she was sure. "Yes. Yes, I want this."
His bravado broke through the moment of doubt. "You won't regret this, luv. Ne'ry a woman's been with Captain Jack Sparrow who's regretted his touch."
"Except for the ones who seem to be interested in slapping you," she laughed.
"Ah, darling, but they're only upset because I haven't been back to brighten their drab bed-lives!"
The humour broke her tension. She waited patiently as he retrieved his french letter—for his protection and hers, he said—and poised himself, waiting.
"I daresay it'll hurt... unless darling Will's beaten me here," he said, a leer in his words. He watched as she bit her lip. Not so pure, are we, Lizzie, he thought. He waited for her to admit to succumbing to Will's fumblings. What she said, though, sapped the fight from him.
"How badly?"
"Come again, luv?"
"How badly will it hurt? Worse than the tattoo?"
Bugger. He hadn't really expected her to still have maintained her virtue this effectively. Well, she'd said yes and there'd be no more to it. This was not a time for an attack of the high 'n' mighties. This was a time for action and, above all else, Jack prided himself on being a man of action.
"I daresay it won't hurt more than the tattoo. Ready, luv?"
"Could you give me a count and maybe do it fast, then?" she asked.
"Bloody grand idea, luv. On the count of three. One... Two... Three..." He thrust, meeting and breaking through the resistance he met. He was feeling rather proud of himself until he looked down at her face. It was scrunched up in pain, with tears leaking out from the corner of her eyes.
Oh... Bugger... Not good. Very not good.
"Lizzie, Lizzie, don't cry, luv, please don't cry..." The pleasure he'd felt at claiming her maidenhead disappeared. All he was left with was the feeling that he had just lived up to every bad word said about pirates and a few not yet invented.
"It hurts, Jack," she drew a sharp breathe."Oh god. I didn't expect it would hurt so much."
He ran his hand on her cheek, smearing the kohl down her face like war paint. He kissed her forehead, her closed eyes, her cheekbones, and finally her mouth. He could taste the salt of her tears on all of her. He stayed like that a long time, whispering quiet words of comfort, as though she were a wounded animal. After what seemed like an eternity, he noticed she had begun to move her hips against his. He had moved tentatively at first, gradually building momentum. In the end, she had matched him stroke for stroke, pausing only when he thrust his hand between them, allowing her to build as much as he had.
In the aftermath, he had lain with her, his fingers ghosting over her tattoo, contemplating the enormity of what had transpired. Her fingers, tangled in his hair, felt as though they were wrapped around his heart.
"I don't know if I'll be able to give you up after this, luv, not now that I know what it tastes like," he sighed, a smile still playing on his lips.
"I don't suppose it'll matter. You've claimed me as yours. I'll never be anyone else's." She pressed her face against his shoulder and mumbled something before falling asleep. The sea's dreams would be her own that night and they would be dreams of soft breezes and fair weather.
Jack brushed her hair back, whispering to her sleeping form.
"I daresay I'm falling in love with you, Elizabeth. Christ help me."
She'd been almost in tears when it had come time to go home. She swore she'd find away to arrange another trip and soon. As they had stood on the beach, tears pouring down her face in the pre-dawn dark, he had kissed her and told her to keep the silver charm from his hair. He had watched her disappear up the path and stood there for a long time after. As he rowed back to his ship, he had the distinct feeling that he had watched his heart walk up the little path to town with her.
Alone in his cabin, tears dripped from Jack's eyes. The memory was vivid, haunting, and above all, painful. He knew he'd get no sleep until her decision was made and he hoped, that if there was Anyone out there that watched out for him, she'd be in his arms within the week. This was why Jack Sparrow never fell in love; it was too bloody painful and complicated.