Summary: Elizabeth sneaks into Jack's bed. Takes place during DMC. Sparrabeth.

A Stolen Hammock

Jack was roused by the feeling of weight on the mattress beside him. He raised his head, glancing over his shoulder. Seeing that it was nothing too concerning, he lay his head back down, sighing and closing his eyes.

"Sorry, Jack." The newcomer, one Elizabeth Swann, whispered.

"'S alright." He responded sleepily. "Wha' happened?"

"Someone stole my hammock." She admitted.

"I hope you're not surprised." His English accent showed through as he yawned.

"You're English?" She probed, changing the subject.

He rolled onto his back, glancing at her in amusement. "Oh come on, you didn't think I was Spanish, did you?"

"No! I thought that-'' She gave up, playfully slapping his arm.

"No one's born with a pirate accent, love." Jack pointed out, smirking. He rolled over, facing away from her. "Ye jus' kinda catch onto it once ye're exposed to it."

"Oh." He could hear Elizabeth settle down behind him. "So you don't mind me staying in here tonight?"

"'Course not." He told her. "Ye wouldn't kill me in my sleep...At least I trust you not to."

"And what makes you so certain of that?"

"Because you don't have it in you to kill someone without good reason."

"What makes you say that?" She sounded genuinely offended.

He rolled his eyes. "Ye're no pirate, 'Lizabeth."

*X*

Jack's eyes snapped open and he bolted upright. He gasped for air, shaking. He glanced down at the young woman beside him, seeing her own eyes looking up at him. He blinked, looking away and slowly laying back down. He took a deep breath in attempt to compose himself.

"Are you alright?" Elizabeth asked softly.

"Jus' a nightmare." He muttered in reply, embarrassed at being seen this way. "Go back to sleep."

"Stubborn pirate." She said under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

"That's not very nice." He retorted quietly.

"Do you get them often? The nightmares?" Her voice was soft.

Jack went to roll over, but felt her hand touch the skin of his bare shoulder. He turned to face her. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'd prefer not to."

"In the morning?"

"No."

"Fine."

Elizabeth leaned her head against his chest, which he knew was an act meant to comfort him. He sighed, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her head under his chin. He breathed in her sweet scent, which pulled him further from the stench of death and blood in his nightmares.

Entranced, he felt sleep pulling him in once more.