A/N: Cassandra mentioned plot in her review. This story is more… picaresque. I have a resolution in mind, and there is a storyline (one with conflict and all that) coming up. But I got caught up in back story, and made seven pretty short chapters out of what could have been two or three. I get wordy (see this author's note?). Ooh, also… Big, huge thank you to everyone who's reviewed. You guys are my inspiration to continue. Sorry this update took forever, but I've been busy. Classes started. Ugh. The next one will be quicker, I swear.
Chapter Seven
He woke pleasantly, surrounded in warmth and softness, drifting in and out of consciousness. After a few moments of lying in oblivion, he tried to open his eyes, only to find himself blinded by dim light, filtering in through a window somewhere high above him.
A laugh from beside him drew his eyes to the right, and therewas the girl from the night before- Kittie, he dimly recalled someone calling her- propped up on a bare elbow. In fact, quite a lot of her was bare, as she was in her nightgown. And after a moment or tow of staring, he realized he was shirtless and tucked neatly under the covers of what must be her bed.
"You, sir, are a charming drunk." Kittie laughed pleasantly as he stared at her, wide-eyed.
"Charming enough to get you into bed?"
Her eyes narrowed, but the smile remained. "Not quite, little Jack. But pleasant enough so that I didn't throw you into the gutter when you passed out on my floor."
"Oh…"
"Disappointed?"
"Not in the slightest," he replied stiffly, and tried to sit up, only to have his head and stomach spin, swirling up to meet in his throat. He choked back bile and squeezed his eyes shut.
"A little too much rum last night, I'd say." He glared at her through slit eyes, but she just stood and pulled a robe over the thin nightgown. "I've never understood why men drink so much of it when it causes such a headache in the morning."
"I'm not the one to ask," he said, edging slowly into a sitting position. "I don't think I'll ever take another drink of that awful liquor."
Kittie laughed. "That's not the talk of a pirate, Jack." She headed to the door, calling back over her shoulder, "I'll get you some breakfast, and lets see if you can hold it down."
He nodded, even though she couldn't see him and set about looking for his shirt and boots. Before he could make more than one sluggish movement, the door clicked shut and Kittie was facing him again, tan face paling.
"My father's coming."
"Your father…" Jack cringed, knowing that that didn't bode well for his future.
"We have to get you out of here," Kittie said, tossing him his shirt. He pulled it on over his head and nodded agreement. "The window." She grabbed the desk and began dragging it over, then gave him a harsh look. "Help me!" With a grimace, he hopped off the bed- and was rewarded with another flip-flop of the stomach- and the two pulled the desk under the window. He climbed on top of it and looked out. It wasn't *too* big of a drop, only ten feet or so…
"Hurry up!" Kittie's voice snapped him back to reality and he scrambled through the window, feet first, his elbows on the sill and hands grasping Kittie's.
"Thank you," he said softly. She smiled and opened her mouth to say something. Then the door came crashing open and Kittie let go and gave him a little shove. He didn't have time to cry out as he toppled from the window sill onto the ground below.
He hit the ground hard, right leg buckling beneath him as he crashed onto the gravel surrounding the inn. He crouched there for a moment, until a soft chuckle made him look up in alarm.
The captain stood above him, hands on hips, lips turned up in amusement. "We missed you at the dock."
"I was detained," Jack muttered, struggling to stand.
Sparrow reached out a hand, and hauled Jack to his feet. "You have the worst luck, boy."
"You don't have to tell me that," he said, wincing as he took a step on his leg. "I already know."
*
The night sky over the sea shimmered, a velvet canopy encrusted with stars. Their light reflected off the water, bouncing every which way. The water lapped against the side of the Pearl calmly, a steady beat, reassuring, like a lullaby. Jack could be content with listening to it all night, leaning against the railing and staring off into the night.
He should be sleeping. After getting on the ship- and taking a fair amount of jealous teasing from that cad Barbossa- he'd gone straight to work, headache pounding harder and harder in his head as he attempted to fix the holes these blasted pirates had made in the hull. Finally, work had ceased for a time, but morning was going to come far too soon after one of the longest days of his life. Despite it, he couldn't tear himself away from the starlit sea.
A rough voice beside him snapped him out of his thoughts. "How go the repairs?"
Jack turned his head and smiled tightly at the approaching captain. "They're going well… There wasn't much major damage to the hull; all she needs is a little patching. I'll finish it tomorrow, sir."
"Good. It wouldn't do if she needed full repairs, not with the season upon us." The captain moved to his side, leaning against the railing and staring out as he had. A moment went by before he asked, "Its magical, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir, it is."
"Why are you on this ship, Jack?"
"I've told you-"
"The truth, boy. You weren't going to stay on that crew in any capacity, were you?"
Jack didn't answer for a moment, and when he did, he kept his eyes cast down, away from Sparrow. "My father was a sailor, you know. He was injured when I was but an infant… But in his glory days, he fought pirates. And now I'm becoming one." Jack chuckled, fists clinched on the rail. "I was going to be thrown off the ship the moment we reached Port Royal. Mitchell said I wasn't cut out for it. But I am. I know every nook and cranny of this ship. I know that if you let the sail out at just the right time, she'll fly. And if you push her- she'd take you to the end of the earth and into Tartarus."
"She means a great deal to you."
"She got me out of England. She set me free." Jack stared for a moment into the black water, remembering England. Remembering every little thing he hated about that place. Then he looked back up at Sparrow and smiled. "And how did you get your start, Captain?"
"Why, I was born a pirate, cutlass in one hand, bottle o' rum in the other!"
Jack laughed, but didn't let up. "I'm serious. What lead you here?"
The captain shook his head and pushed off of the rail. "Leave it be, boy. Better that you don't know."
As Sparrow walked away, Jack sighed. "It's Jack, not 'boy'. My name is Jack." Then he turned back and stared into the water, mind on family, freedom- and the solitary figure climbing back up to the quarter deck, head bowed as if in prayer.
Chapter Seven
He woke pleasantly, surrounded in warmth and softness, drifting in and out of consciousness. After a few moments of lying in oblivion, he tried to open his eyes, only to find himself blinded by dim light, filtering in through a window somewhere high above him.
A laugh from beside him drew his eyes to the right, and therewas the girl from the night before- Kittie, he dimly recalled someone calling her- propped up on a bare elbow. In fact, quite a lot of her was bare, as she was in her nightgown. And after a moment or tow of staring, he realized he was shirtless and tucked neatly under the covers of what must be her bed.
"You, sir, are a charming drunk." Kittie laughed pleasantly as he stared at her, wide-eyed.
"Charming enough to get you into bed?"
Her eyes narrowed, but the smile remained. "Not quite, little Jack. But pleasant enough so that I didn't throw you into the gutter when you passed out on my floor."
"Oh…"
"Disappointed?"
"Not in the slightest," he replied stiffly, and tried to sit up, only to have his head and stomach spin, swirling up to meet in his throat. He choked back bile and squeezed his eyes shut.
"A little too much rum last night, I'd say." He glared at her through slit eyes, but she just stood and pulled a robe over the thin nightgown. "I've never understood why men drink so much of it when it causes such a headache in the morning."
"I'm not the one to ask," he said, edging slowly into a sitting position. "I don't think I'll ever take another drink of that awful liquor."
Kittie laughed. "That's not the talk of a pirate, Jack." She headed to the door, calling back over her shoulder, "I'll get you some breakfast, and lets see if you can hold it down."
He nodded, even though she couldn't see him and set about looking for his shirt and boots. Before he could make more than one sluggish movement, the door clicked shut and Kittie was facing him again, tan face paling.
"My father's coming."
"Your father…" Jack cringed, knowing that that didn't bode well for his future.
"We have to get you out of here," Kittie said, tossing him his shirt. He pulled it on over his head and nodded agreement. "The window." She grabbed the desk and began dragging it over, then gave him a harsh look. "Help me!" With a grimace, he hopped off the bed- and was rewarded with another flip-flop of the stomach- and the two pulled the desk under the window. He climbed on top of it and looked out. It wasn't *too* big of a drop, only ten feet or so…
"Hurry up!" Kittie's voice snapped him back to reality and he scrambled through the window, feet first, his elbows on the sill and hands grasping Kittie's.
"Thank you," he said softly. She smiled and opened her mouth to say something. Then the door came crashing open and Kittie let go and gave him a little shove. He didn't have time to cry out as he toppled from the window sill onto the ground below.
He hit the ground hard, right leg buckling beneath him as he crashed onto the gravel surrounding the inn. He crouched there for a moment, until a soft chuckle made him look up in alarm.
The captain stood above him, hands on hips, lips turned up in amusement. "We missed you at the dock."
"I was detained," Jack muttered, struggling to stand.
Sparrow reached out a hand, and hauled Jack to his feet. "You have the worst luck, boy."
"You don't have to tell me that," he said, wincing as he took a step on his leg. "I already know."
*
The night sky over the sea shimmered, a velvet canopy encrusted with stars. Their light reflected off the water, bouncing every which way. The water lapped against the side of the Pearl calmly, a steady beat, reassuring, like a lullaby. Jack could be content with listening to it all night, leaning against the railing and staring off into the night.
He should be sleeping. After getting on the ship- and taking a fair amount of jealous teasing from that cad Barbossa- he'd gone straight to work, headache pounding harder and harder in his head as he attempted to fix the holes these blasted pirates had made in the hull. Finally, work had ceased for a time, but morning was going to come far too soon after one of the longest days of his life. Despite it, he couldn't tear himself away from the starlit sea.
A rough voice beside him snapped him out of his thoughts. "How go the repairs?"
Jack turned his head and smiled tightly at the approaching captain. "They're going well… There wasn't much major damage to the hull; all she needs is a little patching. I'll finish it tomorrow, sir."
"Good. It wouldn't do if she needed full repairs, not with the season upon us." The captain moved to his side, leaning against the railing and staring out as he had. A moment went by before he asked, "Its magical, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir, it is."
"Why are you on this ship, Jack?"
"I've told you-"
"The truth, boy. You weren't going to stay on that crew in any capacity, were you?"
Jack didn't answer for a moment, and when he did, he kept his eyes cast down, away from Sparrow. "My father was a sailor, you know. He was injured when I was but an infant… But in his glory days, he fought pirates. And now I'm becoming one." Jack chuckled, fists clinched on the rail. "I was going to be thrown off the ship the moment we reached Port Royal. Mitchell said I wasn't cut out for it. But I am. I know every nook and cranny of this ship. I know that if you let the sail out at just the right time, she'll fly. And if you push her- she'd take you to the end of the earth and into Tartarus."
"She means a great deal to you."
"She got me out of England. She set me free." Jack stared for a moment into the black water, remembering England. Remembering every little thing he hated about that place. Then he looked back up at Sparrow and smiled. "And how did you get your start, Captain?"
"Why, I was born a pirate, cutlass in one hand, bottle o' rum in the other!"
Jack laughed, but didn't let up. "I'm serious. What lead you here?"
The captain shook his head and pushed off of the rail. "Leave it be, boy. Better that you don't know."
As Sparrow walked away, Jack sighed. "It's Jack, not 'boy'. My name is Jack." Then he turned back and stared into the water, mind on family, freedom- and the solitary figure climbing back up to the quarter deck, head bowed as if in prayer.