Disclaimer: I don't own PotC, but someday I hope to go on the ride at Disney Land!
A/N: So sorry about the hiatus-- this month has been very hard both physically and emotionally. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, I'm overwhelmed and very appreciative of all the support everyone has given. ;)))))
So I'm writing like a madwoman, and hopefully the next few chapters will be done within the next month! Please R&R!
Dedication: For my sister, who swoons every time Orlando or Johnny says her name during the movie: Elizabeth!
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We dance around in a ring and suppose
While the secret sits in the middle and knows...
- Robert Frost
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Chapter Five: Interrogations
Elizabeth prided herself on being entirely without temptation when it came to gossip.
Perhaps this was the reason she never truly felt as though she fit in with other women her age. They were constantly pouring forth endless streams and trickles of half-whispered rumors and admissions that were passed down like precious pearls.
It was ridiculous.
What did it really matter if Lady what's-it's gown was not handcrafted in Italy as she had claimed? Or if Lord who's-it's mistress had in a fit of jealousy threatened to end his days of romping by the tip of a pen knife? It was utterly sordid and vile...! Elizabeth had learned at a very young age to tune such talk down to a mere undercurrent, while within her own mind she roamed freely amongst the meadows of her imagination. Talking with her father's contemporaries had always been much more interesting-- that was until she had reached an age where they found her inquisitiveness improper rather than whimsical.
Still, all indignant feelings aside Elizabeth found herself astonished at how much a pirate ship was like a ladies parlor; gossip onboard the Black Pearl was as frequent as the lapping of waves breaking against it's hull. She hadn't meant to over hear them, really. It had been bad timing was all, and now she was going to turn on her heel and march on deck to confront Captain Sparrow as to his true intentions towards her, and her freedom...
...really, she was. Elizabeth pressed herself against the smooth wood that hid her from the sight of the two crew men who were talking in low whispers to each other.
"I'm tellin, ye that's what I's heard!"
"Naaaaaw...are you sure that's what the Captain said?"
"Cross me heart and hope to--"
"Shhh! Alright, I believe ye! No need to get dramatic. What do ye think it means, what the Captain said to Gibbs?"
There was a pause, and Elizabeth found herself leaning dangerously towards the hushed voices to hear more. She saw Pintel give a slight shudder, and then make a complex serious of gestures she recognized as acts to ward off bad fortune.
"I dunno. But I'll tell ye one thing-- there be a reason d'Captain won't tell us where we're going-- or give a proper heading. And I think..."
Ragetti seemed to tremble all over, his wooden eye squeaking anxiously.
"I think it has to do wiff the poppet, and t' compass he always attends to. Mark my words, there's something foul on the wind, and we'd best be keepin' our own interests..." and here, he tapped his chest with a dirty finger meaningfully, "...at heart."
Elizabeth drew back, and leaned against the cool wall and trying to slow the beating of her pulse. She heard Ragetti make little noises of agreement before she made to creep back the way she had come. Unfortunately, this was not her home in Port Royal, and the Pearl was not about to let her presence go undetected. A low, loud groan radiated up through the floor as her weight made the boards creak.
Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut and waited, paralyzed.
"Shh!" she heard Pintel growl, and for an agonizing moment she considered just how she could manage to make them believe she was a very ornate wall sconce.
"I heard somethin'..." Pintel said darkly, and Elizabeth felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise at the familiar ire in his tone. Even though their relationship had improved considerably since she'd last been aboard the Pearl she still did not wish to cross him in a dark, abandoned hallway. Her heart beat like a blacksmith's hammer in her throat, and she clapped a hand to her mouth to mute the sound of her uneven breaths.
"Must have been a little mouse," Ragetti giggled nervously, and Elizabeth let her muscles relax a little.
"A mouse...or a big rat." Pintel muttered meaningfully, and to Elizabeth's alarm she heard the two men rise and begin to shuffle over to where she was just hidden around the corner.
Without a second thought Elizabeth bolted back down the hallway, and tugged open the first open door she came to. Whipping inside, she shut it quietly and pressed her ear against the wood. "I guess it was a mouse," she heard Pintel say, although he still sounded suspicious. Breathing a sigh of relief, Elizabeth had little time to enjoy her escape-- for snippets of the conversation she'd just over heard came back to her in a swirled frenzy.
"...but it has to do with the poppet, and the compass he always attends to..."
Elizabeth frowned, biting her lip in thought. From what she knew about Jack Sparrow, he never was one to keep things hidden from his crew. He knew better than anyone how that kind of distinction between Captain and crew could cause resentment-- and more something much more sinister-- mutiny.
What was he hiding...?
Then she remembered Pintel had also mentioned the compass- which had in turn reminded her of the odd relationship Jack seemed to have formed with it. From the moment she'd met him, he'd always been extremely possessive of three articles; his pistol, his hat...and his compass. The pistol she understood. It represented Barbossa, and the revenge Jack sought against him. The hat... well, she was sure the hat had some sort of amusing (and knowing Jack, probably sordid) story. But the compass...what did the compass have to do with her? Perhaps if she could ...borrow it from Jack, she might be able to find some answers...
And then there was the enigmatic plot points she'd dreamt about; the ones that were nestled inside her bodice. Perhaps if they were worth something, she could barter with the pirate...
Purposefully, Elizabeth straightened her plain cotton skirts and brushed the slightly sweaty, wayward wisps of hair back from her temples in an attempt to make herself more presentable. "Right then, Captain Sparrow!' she said with determination to herself. "You may be a clever fox, but prepare to meet this bold swan..!"
Feeling suitably heroic, Elizabeth made to open the door again and slip out into the hall. That was when she noticed him. Turning her head slowly, Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she saw an elderly man sitting in his cot looking rather surprised to see her. Elizabeth smiled politely, and made a little curtsey.
Mr. Cotton gave her a wide, toothless grin.
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Funny things, parrots.
For a bird that spends most of it's time squawking, scavenging and generally making a nuisance of itself it exasperated Jack immensely that even on a ship as glorious as the Black Pearl, they still relied on the feathered fiend to tell them how far off shore they were.
Squawking...scavenging...preening.
Jack cocked an eyebrow at the bird as it ruffled its feathers importantly, and ceased his own preening to take a more me hearty! stance as he kept one jeweled hand on the ship's wheel. Now and then he would bark down orders from his place on High, relishing the way his crew scrambled about to do his bidding as though he were the Prince of Siam. Mr. Cotton's parrot, who now went by the name John Silver due to the beasts liking for anything silvery in nature, was also flying around the masts and ducking beneath rat lines, squawking importantly.
Jack frowned at the interloping bird. Now that he came to think of it, a pirate had a lot in common with a parrot.
Disquieting, that.
"I'm tellin' ye Jack...it's bad luck bringin' a woman onboard. Especially such an...unpredictable one." Gibbs griped for the umpteenth time that morning. Jack leaned towards his first mate, and smiled greedily like a Cheshire cat with great ambitions. "Ah, yet it is because of this unpredictability that we will be able to predict our desired course...of course."
"Of course, Cap'n..." Gibbs muttered, his head still foggy from the previous night. As much as the old sailor had come to appreciate his rather eccentric Captain's company, sharing a cot with him had definitely over stepped that patience. Jack was a light sleeper. It had taken him until well into the early morning before he'd managed to fall into a light doze, at which point Gibbs was red eyed and ready to throttle his Captain senseless. He also snored. And when he wasn't snoring, he was muttering to himself in his sleep-- yet this in itself didn't surprise Gibbs. It was well known that Jack had an...unique ability to think fast on his feet (or from whatever awkward position he might be in at the time). No doubt Jack often kept right on thinking even when he was asleep, yet what had unsettled Gibbs as he'd lain with his arms crossed, compressed against the wall (Jack had commandeered the rest of the cot), was the fact that he couldn't make head nor tail of the gibberish Jack was speaking. It certainly didn't sound like the English he was familiar with.
Now and then, Jack would call out in this strange language as if he were calling to someone, or asking for something. Knowing that it was bad luck to wake a man whilst was he was dreaming, Gibbs had endured the Captain's unintelligible monologue until the first bell of morning echoed down from above deck. Jack had bolted upright like a man possessed at the sound of the hollow bell, his eyes wide and not a trace of sleep lingering about his person. "Elizabeth," he'd muttered urgently, as if by simply saying the girl's name she would somehow obey and appear before him. Gibbs had barely restrained a sleep deprived groan.
"Sleep well, Captain...?" he'd asked hoarsely, his voice laced with resentment.
"Eh? Sleep? Oh, aye. Like a babe."
'Aye, and how like a babe too...' Gibbs thought darkly to himself, remembering Jack's snoring and drooling. He'd thought briefly about asking Jack if he knew any strange languages-- he knew Jack had been to the East, and perhaps he'd just been revisiting some of his old conquests. However, he never got the chance seeing as Jack had immediately jumped from the bed, grabbing up his hat and plunking it on his head before striding for the door. He paused then, and as if in afterthought spun around to regard Gibbs once more. "Have you ever seen anything...unusual in nature onboard the Pearl? And by unusual I mean ...any cryptic symbols? Numerals? Drawings? Any hidden compartments?"
Gibbs blinked blearily. "I...well...that is to say..." Gibbs floundered, having not the slightest clue as to what the Captain was talking about. "No, I can't say I have."
Jack frowned, his expression calculating. "Oh."
Gibbs narrowed his blood shot eyes, his brain struggling to piece together the scattered fragments of logic behind Jack's questions. "Ye think there's something valuable onboard the Pearl? Something that we don't know about? Something that's hidden?"
Jack gazed at Gibbs with the same mysterious expression he'd worn when he'd first told Gibbs of his foolhardy plan to re-take the Black Pearl from the mutinous Barbossa. It gave Gibbs the shivers. Jack hadn't answered his questions, and instead had insisted upon calling for the young lady to meet with him immediately. Gibbs now stood with Jack on the quarterdeck, awaiting said lady to arrive with great apprehension. After all, hadn't she tried to accost Jack with blunt objects the last time they'd been in each other's company? Yet Jack bore no signs of this disasterous reunion-- he was too immersed now in studying his compass as if it held the secrets of life.
"Why do ye suppose the compass won't give us the heading we need? I'm sure that would make all our lives more...bearable." Gibbs said with a slight shudder, mentally counter-cursing the potential bad omens the woman's presence could cause. John Silver chose that precise moment to swoop past. "It's broken, it's broken!" he squawked tauntingly. Jack didn't seem to hear Gibbs, nor the bird for he merely turned the compass upside down and gazed down his nose at it appraisingly. Giving it a sharp tap tap! with his ringed index finger, he then swept his hand back expectantly. Gibbs observed him like a child watching a magician perform an astonishing trick. When Jack finally spoke he did so without looking up at his second mate. "Unfortunately, it would seem that alternative has proved to be not so much an alternative as a dead end." Jack explained, snapping the compass shut and giving it an enthusiastic shake. Holding it out before him as if it were a live snake that could suddenly strike at any moment he whipped out his hand and flipped it open again.
Peering down at it, Jack's eyes widened as Gibbs looked on with interest.
"Well...?" Gibbs asked with baited breath.
"A very dead end." Jack concluded dryly.
Gibbs felt his very bones sink. Perhaps he was getting too old for this. He twitched slightly as he felt Jack clap a hand on his shoulder in an unusual show of affection. "Leave it to me, mate. Soon we'll be so rich even the King 'imself will be kneeling at our feet."
"Yes..." came a voice which made both men whip about in alarm. This particular voice was a phenomenon neither was used to-- for it was very feminine in nature. Feminine, and determined. Gibbs counter-cursed. Jack's hand settled protectively around his bottle of mid-morning rum.
"...although it will be difficult to see said King kneeling in all worship at your feet Captain Sparrow, if you are hanging by your neck in Port Royal."
Jack's wince at the meaning of her words quickly smoothed into a jovial grin. "Charming, as always. Welcome above deck, Liz--" he began with a grand sweep of his arm.
"Miss Swan," Elizabeth corrected him sharply. It was at that precise moment that Jack realized she was carrying a bundle of ropes and a tackle knife.
"Ah. So we're back to basics, are we love? Well then, Miss Swan...I do believe I summoned you quite some time ago..."
Jack saw Elizabeth's eyes narrow. 'Uh-oh. Not good. Why, Jack? Why must you constantly provoke the woman when she's armed?' his more logical half protested. His childish half however, simply made a rude gesture and continued on it's reckless course.
"Who said you could have those?" he asked pointing to the ropes and tackle sternly, his expression that of an irate school master accusing an untrustworthy student. Elizabeth tipped her chin upwards proudly. "Mr. Cotton saw fit to put my skills to use while I'm being held hostage. You should be thankful Jack. I suppose I could just spend my time in your cabin--"
Jack's eyes widened in alarm at the prospect of having to spend another night in a bunker the size of a match box. "No no! By all means, slave away. After all, I don't see what harm you could possibly--"
"Harm..?..!" Elizabeth burst, enraged. The absolute gall of the man! Insufferable! It was nearly impossible for her to believe that this was the man who had written that letter...
He was insensitive, brash...! He was striding towards her. Instinctively, Elizabeth's hand flew to her bodice as if he were about to summon the secret letter from it's depths by the mere intensity of his gaze. "You're a brute, and a liar!" she accused.
"And you should be thankful I'm a magnanimous captor, and not giving you rooms in the brig!"
"You wouldn't dare...!"
"Lucky me; you don't have to be daring to be a brute."
Gibbs shifted awkwardly on the spot, inherently uncomfortable with the sparks that were ricocheting off the masts.
"Then I suppose I needn't have bothered saving your hide back in Port Royal--" Elizabeth began hotly.
"You save mine, I save yours. I've become highly acquainted with your hide, missy; particularly because it keeps falling on my more noble persuasions." Jack countered, yet there was a husky edge to his voice that made her feel as though she'd just been scandalized. Elizabeth's cheeks flushed, but not with anger. The paper-- Jack's impromptu letter seemed to be burning against her bare skin. Her lips parted as she was swallowed in his dark gaze-- and she felt her limbs tremble. It was as though his words which were pressed against her breasts were somehow undeniably an extension of his heated gaze and his hands which were flexing at his sides restlessly.
It was a warm, delicious sensation. It made her want to do something bold, something that she'd no doubt regret...
She wanted Jack. She wanted his mischievous grin, his expressive eyes...even the hat.
'What are you doing, you fool..?...!' her sensible half admonished. 'The compass! You have to steal-- I mean, 'borrow' his compass! And no, not that compass... honestly, since when have you become such a perv--' Elizabeth's cheeks burned even more brightly as she realized the full extent of her immediate physical reaction to the pirate. Unnerved by her sudden withdrawal from their argument, Jack pushed his apprehensions aside and leapt on the opportunity he'd been waiting for ever since his feverish dreams the night before. Sweeping his arm in the direction of the double mahogany doors that lead to the Captain's cabin, Jack bowed his head genteelly as if they had not just been shouting at each other like children.
"If the lady will permit to being in this humble pirate's company...we have matters to discuss."
Elizabeth, her limbs still slightly shaken from her sudden urge to either hurl him over board or ravish him where he stood, simply gazed at him.
Jack swept his arm again in the direction of the cabin, his expression expectant.
'You shouldn't become entangled with him again...you heard what Pintel said! What does it matter if he needs something from you? Whatever it is, it's most likely something you'll regret giving!'
Yet even as Elizabeth agreed whole heartedly with her reliable, sensible half...the weight of his letter nestled against her chest was like an anchor, making it impossible for her to cut ties with him and float away. Besides, she needed that compass. With an air of great dignity, Elizabeth tipped her chin into the air and strode past Jack without so much as looking at him. Jack frowned as she past by his gallant gesture without so much as a nod. Sweeping up beside her, he leaned in close enough to catch the scent of her skin, and the tickle of her hair. He grinned, brimming with masculine satisfaction when he saw the tops of her breasts rise as she drew in a sharp breath. His hand was hovering just above her clasped ones, but instead of the touch she was expecting he reached past her to open the door.
"Milady..." he murmured, low enough so that only she could catch the twinkle and insinuation in the word. Tearing her eyes from his intrusive gaze, Elizabeth gathered her wits which were still scattered about his feet and strode into the room. She would show him. She would be bold. Brave...daring...! She would...
Elizabeth heard the drag and click of a lock being set into place. Her heart fluttering like a frightened bird in her throat, Elizabeth turned a questioning gaze on the pirate.
"Now then..." he drawled, his intense gaze pinning her to the spot. "Time's up, love. You have something I need, and I want it. Now."
Elizabeth gave a slight gasp, the air rushing from her lungs as a powerful wave of desire engulfed her at the husky edge which returned to his voice. She should have been furious. After all, she was confident now that the little piece of paper on which she'd written those coordinates and then tucked into her bodice was worth more to Jack than...her freedom. He was selfish, and now he was threatening her like any proper, merciless red blooded pirate should. Yet Elizabeth couldn't help but see the passion of his written words in his threats.
...that I, being selfish and rash in nature...
He was gazing at her greedily, hungrily-- but there was no mistaking it. His gaze had dropped a fraction, and was now fixed on her mouth.
...will give you, Elizabeth who is valiant and also oh, so rash, one kiss...
She was valiant. She wasn't afraid of the legendary black-hearted rogue-- and she was rash, because she somehow knew without a doubt that come hell or high water, she was going to kiss him. She wanted it-- now. Deciding to take matters into her own hands (quite literally), Elizabeth crossed the distance between them and pressed the length of her body flush with his.
Jack's eyes popped.
Elizabeth felt like purring.
'Oh dear...'
Perhaps his letter had effected her a little more than she was willing to admit.
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"Lizzie--"
Jack felt his back hit the closed door.
'Oh my...'
His eyes, which until that point had been desperately seeking an escape were suddenly transfixed-- Elizabeth was moistening her lips, slowly...delicately. He watched with growing agitation as her gaze then dropped, the hunger unmistakable as she looked at his mouth.
Jack gulped.
"Please, Jack..." she whispered huskily, the sweet yearning in her voice making his resolve-- and his knees quaver. The light, floral scent that always accompanied her washed over his senses, making his mouth go slack and his eyes drift shut languidly.
"Mmm?" he questioned feigning confusion, but his voice cracked like a school boy's under the pressure of his growing arousal. No, no no! This was definitely not what he'd been anticipating...! He was supposed to be in charge! He needed those coordinates, and he'd been prepared to get them by any means necessary. A little rum. A little finely tuned persuasion perhaps...but certainly not...
"Please..." she breathed.
Jack felt his blood run hot. Yet on the other hand...
Their mouths were just inches apart. All he had to do was lean forwards-- and take what she was offering him. Somewhere, deep in the back waters of his mind someone who sounded suspiciously like Gibbs stated with great wisdom; never trust a woman, Jack. Or if you do, make sure you're too bloody drunk to know the difference.
Hm. He really did have to cease remembering the old sailors pearls of wisdom-- for they rarely did him any good.
Speaking of good...
...her warm breath tickled his skin, her lips so full and so soft he could almost taste it.
Sweet, silken...
Oh buggar it.
He'd never wanted anything more in his life.
Elizabeth shivered with pleasure as she felt his hands brush up the length of her arms to rest lightly on her shoulders; as though he were examining the finest satin. Laying her hands against his chest, she could feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath her palms. His eyes burned as his hands rose to cup her face. There was a curious lack of words between them, yet Elizabeth did not mind the exchange of insults for rough, labored breaths. She also couldn't help a little thrill of triumph; she had slipped past his guard-- she had rendered him speechless.
However, Captain Sparrow parried her new found confidence with something she had not expected-- tenderness. His touch was so gentle, so reverent. Elizabeth couldn't help the blissful sigh that escaped her lips.
Touché.
"Need I remind you, milady that you are my hostage?"
Contrary to his tentative touch, carnal tension rolled from his voice in one, thick wave. It seeped through her skin, sending electric coils of desire shooting right down to her toes. She had never felt so magnetically attracted to someone before, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that all pretense had been swept away.
She wanted him to kiss her.
Turning her head slightly, she kissed the hard edge of his palm. She heard his sharp intake of breath-- his gaze which had been hesitant suddenly clearing to reveal a fathomless blaze of lust. "But you promised..." Elizabeth found herself saying softly as his fierce gaze drew the truth from her effortlessly. "You promised to kiss me..."
Jack felt his body moving of it's own accord as he tilted his head to the side, the feel of her soft lips touching his hand, her round eyes gazing at him imploringly tearing what little argument he had to shreds. So distracted was he by the feel of her lips, he didn't quite fathom the meaning behind her words.
Kiss. Lizzie? Yes, please and thank you.
"I did promise, didn't I...?" he admitted, his voice like a rumble of thunder that made Elizabeth shiver. Jack couldn't help but savor the swell of masculine pride he felt at her trembles.
She wanted him. And this time, he wouldn't disappoint. "And I..." he said more deeply than she imagined possible, "...am a man of my word."
She felt his bottom lip brush against hers. Feverish with the need to feel all of him, feel him fully against her mouth she gave a soft moan. Suddenly, instead of receiving the kiss she ached for she felt his fingers gently tracing the sides of her face and jaw. Confused, she opened her eyes to look at him questioningly.
He was watching her.
His expression was one she had never seen him wear before-- his face showing none of the cocky satisfaction she 'd come to expect. Instead, he was gazing at her with such earnestness that it made her realize something; he'd wrote her that letter long before he'd known he needed her help. Elizabeth marveled. For an instant, his gaze making her feel warm and tender she wondered...was it possible he'd told her the truth? Could he really love her? The sensuous stroking of his fingers, their calloused tips causing delicious shivers to twirl within her stomach and breasts prevented her from dwelling on this revelation. Jack tilted his head back, his gaze softening as she'd never seen it before.
"You're beautiful," he said, so quietly it was more of a raspy whisper. His thumb brushed across her lower lip, and Jack took full advantage of it's fullness. It was torture. He was torturing himself in the cruelest way possible, and he had no idea what was stopping him from putting an end to his suffering. Then, he saw it. There within her eyes, the confusion dissipating for a moment and the first glimmering of understanding shining faintly within their depths.
Jack felt a hand close around his heart and squeeze unmercifully.
Ah; female intuition; not good.
Elizabeth saw something tighten within his face, as if the channel of emotion she'd felt pouring from him was suddenly closing off. His hands dropped from her face to grasp her shoulders, his touch suddenly stiff and artless. "Jack...?" she asked, the confusion in her voice causing him to turn away from her. Why couldn't he simply let her go? As if to prove to himself that he could, his hands slipped begrudgingly from her shoulders, severing all contact between them once more.
There we go, Jack ol' boy. Nice n' easy...
And that's when it hit him like a strategically swung hammer.
'You promised...'
The letter.
That demandable, god forsaken letter.
...Oh no.
Elizabeth, her mind still foggy with confused, thrumming desire felt herself jangled as Jack suddenly regarded her as though she were about eighty-feet tall, and waving large tentacles at him menacingly. Whipping around, he unbolted the door and with a rattle of beads and jingle of jewels, he sped out of the cabin as if it were on fire. Elizabeth made to follow him, but the door snapped shut in her face. Slowly, the haze lifted. Realization sunk in. He'd fled.
So much for the interrogation. With a enraged puff, Elizabeth swung the door open.
And now, she was going to kill him.
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Jack burst into his bed chambers-- his eyes wide and searching as though expecting a surprise attack from one of the bed pillows that lay on the floor. Then, his gaze settled on his writing desk.
His eyes narrowed.
Approaching it slowly, he peered down at it's messy surface apprehensively. His quill and ink bottle lay open, and to his increasing alarm it looked as though someone had shuffled through his papers.
Bloody hell.
Jack pounced.
The poor writing desk never knew what hit it. Papers flew into the air as Jack feverishly searched for the familiar crumpled pages he'd written over two months ago. His fist slammed down against the wood as he realized that to his mortification, they were no longer there. Which could only mean...
Elizabeth.
Jack cringed, wanting nothing better than to beat his more poetically inclined half to a bloody pulp. Yet suddenly a voice from the doorway told him he wouldn't have to. No, he'd be treated with a sound lashing from a pair of much softer...much more enticing hands.
"Looking for this...?" Elizabeth asked in that sweet, lilting way of hers that always left Jack pining.
Clenching his eyes shut for a brief moment of prayer --God, Shiva, Ra, Buddha...anyone!..?-- Jack turned slowly from the desk to face the source of his misery. She stood in the doorway, his crumpled letter clutched in her hand.
Jack gulped.
"Or perhaps...you're looking for this?" she said, her voice becoming suddenly devoid of feminine affectations...
...and becoming that of a pirate with an advantage.
Elizabeth had something else in her other hand. Something small, box-like and very familiar. Instinctually, Jack's hand rose to clap over his left breast pocket. A pocket that was now empty. His heart, absentee little blighter that it was took this moment to freeze in his chest as dread flooded through him.
Her hands. Her hands had been resting on his chest...her mouth had been the perfect distraction...
"And now, Captain Sparrow," Elizabeth continued, holding up the compass before his wide eyes.
"I believe you were saying that I have something you want..."
She smiled.
"Let's see if we can come to an understanding, shall we?"
TBC...!
A/N: Thanks for reading! I know I'll probably end up re-editing this, but I wanted to keep my promise and post. I don't know if I like it, and I can't help thinking something was off. Eeep. Suggestions are most welcome!