A/N: Due to the overwhelming comments I got, I am posting this. But I'm not gonna post again for awhile, I'm having a bout of writer's block, plus I'm horribly busy with school. But I never meant for you to hate Jack, I love him dearly. My goal is to make this a realistic love story. Jack and Camille love each other, but their just like anyone else with their ups and downs. So here's a long chapter. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own POTC. Chapter title is a poem by W.B. Yeats.

Chapter 34: The Lover Tells of the Rose in His Heart.

"Jack my love, don't leave me," her voice begged. He kicked the blankets off his bed, tossing and turning until the pain in his arm woke him up. He leapt to his feet, wanting to avoid sleep as long as possible. Jack found that he could go days without sleeping. Once he had even made it an entire week, but in the end had passed out in the hold. His entire body ached. His mouth was dry, but he refused to eat or drink anything when he was in this state. He would rather starve to death than endure this torture.

He longed for Camille's touch, but even more than her love he desired her safety. As long as she loved him she would never be safe from the danger. But if she hated him she could leave him in an instant. And the further away she kept at this point, the better.

Pathetic. You lovesick fool. To be controlled by a mere woman. "Shut up!" he growled. "At least I'm free to be as foolish as I want over a woman." Yes, you're about as free as a slave. Your survival depends on me now. "I will never depend on you." Just give up. Your body is weakening quickly. Ye'll not be able to fight me much longer, Jack. He put his hands up to his ears. "Argh!" he cried out angrily. "No, I won't let you harm her!" It'll only be a bit more than you've done to her, Jack. Besides, she'll figure it out sooner or later. The lass is a clever one. She already suspects it's the crutch.

Frustrated, exhausted, and a great deal closer to death than anyone else on board that ship, Jack collapsed in the middle of his cabin.

"I can't believe we're finally landing! It does seem forever since I've had a bath!" Priscilla beamed the next afternoon. They were very close to docking at the next port.

"Yes," agreed Gretchen. "I could use a bit of pampering myself. And not to mention a hot meal."

"Stop right there, you're going to make my mouth begin to water if you continue with any further talk of meals," Gabriel said. "Camille, are you all right? You've done nothing but stare out at the sea all day," he inquired.

"Hm?" Camille was lifted from her daze. She was torn between anxiety and relief over landing. Should they make a run for it? If she tried to convince the others now, there would be a lot of questions. The only one who might understand her reasoning was James, whom Jack was probably going to kill fairly soon. "Oh, yes. Yes, I'm fine. Just a bit tired is all."

Gabriel nodded, but she could tell that he didn't really believe her. He gently touched her arm. "Don't worry. You won't have to deal with him much longer."

Once the party was in Port Barados, they did their usual routine. Bathed, went shopping, stocked up on supplies, and checked into an inn. Camille had been carefully contemplating her course of action this entire time. She sat in her room, impatiently looking at the clock. It was now just after midnight. She had to make her decision soon.

All right, Camille, she told herself. She had to buckle down and think about everything that James had explained to her. Jack was different somehow. She couldn't put her finger on it. His Mark, along with the rest of theirs, was burned into his skin now. She sighed, rolling up her sleeve. And to her astonishment, nothing was there. She gasped, turning her arm around this way and that. There was absolutely nothing there! Not even the slightest trace that there had ever been a mark.

She gasped, becoming alert when she heard a cry. It sounded like a man, and it sounded angry. It was coming from next door.

She got to her feet, quietly letting herself into the hallway. She stopped just outside Jack's door, with her sleeve still rolled up. She could hear him moving around inside, mumbling things to himself. She listened, leaning against the wall. She could hear him continue to grunt, moving every once in awhile like he was turning in his sleep.

She hesitated, but when she was sure that he was asleep she went to open the door. Just her hand hovered above the doorknob, she jumped in fright. "No, stay away!" Jack cried.

She could hear Jack get to his feet. His boots sounded on the floorboards, and as he got closer she looked at her arm. The Mark was slowly starting to form with each step Jack took.

She looked at her arm, contemplating this while trying to calm down her beating heart. What did all of this mean? "Hmmm," she accidentally said aloud, not realizing it until a moment later when she felt a gun barrel against her head.

"Don't stand in the doorway, lass. It's rude," Jack said menacingly, pulling her inside and locking the door. He spun her around to face him. "So," he said, cocking the gun. "Still meddling in other's affairs, are we? How unladylike."

"You know me better than anyone, Captain. Have I ever been much of a lady?"

"No, I s'pose not," he said, taking the pistol away from her head. As he put it back in its holster, she could see very clearly a wooden crutch hanging at Jack's side. What was he still doing with Long John's crutch? Then it all hit her.

Of course! The crutch! It had the Mark on it, and had reacted with Jack's Mark on that day that James was retelling the story to them. It was the crutch that had been setting off the Marks. That had to be why Jack was so intent on killing James. James had figured it out!

"Well, I guess it isn't really any big mystery why I'm here," Camille managed to say. She just had to keep him talking until she was able to get her hand on that crutch.

Jack looked at her, his face twisted but trying to look pleasant. "Finally realized the error of your ways?" he said, once again reaching for his gun. He was in too much pain to deal with her right now.

She sighed. "I have."

This took both sides of Jack, especially the evil one, completely by surprise. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. Jack, you're suffering. Anyone can see that. You've been tormented…being on that ship at sea without any pleasurable company. I've treated you terribly, not being there for you when you needed me most."

Jack grinned. A beautiful woman was still all the enticement that Jack Sparrow needed to forget his current predicament. And she was practically throwing herself at his feet.

She stepped up to him, feeling her Mark burn as she did so. She reached out to put her arms around him, and he pulled back. She tried to laugh it off, but it was very odd. "Afraid of a woman's touch, are we? Well, then. I'll just let you touch me," she said, beginning to unbutton her shirt.

This was all she needed, as Jack's gaze fell to her chest. Both sides of him longed for a woman's touch. She kicked the crutch out of its place inside his coat. He cried out in surprise as it sailed across the room and landed in the far corner. She breathed a sigh of relief as the pain in her arm subsided.

The look on Jack's face was mixed. He looked at her with fear, but the same time seemed to be very relieved. But this time she could read his face, because it was him again. "Jack," she said.

He looked at her, and then back at the crutch like he didn't realize what she had just done. Then he looked back at her.

"It's the crutch, isn't it?"

He took a deep breath. "We need to talk," he said, still recovering. The color was now returning to his face a little more, and he seemed to be filling out a bit.

She nodded. "I think that would be a good idea."

But she was so close to him right now, looking at him with those beautiful eyes. He wanted to tell her everything, even though he would put her life in danger by doing so. He put his finger up. "But first, there's something I need to get out of the way." He lunged towards Camille and took her almost completely by surprise as he clawed at her shirt like a wild animal.

It didn't take her more than a second to react with equal lust, though. She had been going crazy without sex for so long, and sucked on Jack's neck as he pulled her corset off. He tackled her onto the bed, and it seemed more like a wrestling match than any sort of loving. But it was a whole lot of fun, and afterwards Camille just wanted to cry out with joy like she had already done so many times.

Jack leaned over her, balancing on his elbows and running his hands through her hair. He kissed her on the forehead, whispering in her ear before he pulled away. "I'm sorry if I was too rough."

But she grabbed him and enveloped his body again, giving him a passionate kiss that meant no apology was needed. She was feeling the exact same way, with the exact same primordial instinct. "Jack, just hold me," she said afterwards. She didn't want to talk about the Devil's Dowry or the crutch, or anything that had happened recently.

But finally, Jack lay beside her. His rough hands played with her breasts, and she smiled as his rings tickled against her nipples. He gently kissed her shoulder, leaning against it and sighing contently. "I don't suppose we could stay this content forever, eh?"

"Just for tonight, Jack," she begged, rolling over and curling up next to his chest. "Let's not think of anything else. Just fall asleep in my arms, love."

Jack was already halfway there. He pulled the covers over them, holding her against him tightly. "Aye."