Chapter 3! Sorry about the wait, I had other commitments for awhile. But I'm back to writing now, so look for another chapter on Scythe's Song soon!
Any other man, she thought...any other...Zeus, Hades, Hercules...if she were to find herself in Olympia she would wager that she could gaze upon the faces of any god or man there and still not find the beauty that...if she were to walk the streets of Greece, if she traveled to Italy...nowhere would she find a man that looked so damn sinful. Like the god and goddesses themselves had crafted him for a single purpose...to seduce the heart, mind, and soul into eternal willing damnation and madness…
There was no other explanation for why she was here...for why the complete and utter consumption of her by him had led her here…
The jail was dark, only lit by the torches on the wall, the shadow and flame dancing together to form a myriad of light and movement on the stone, and everything was lit with a soft orange glow.
Half of his face was hidden, the other half illuminated...a distinct line that traveled right through the center of his lips...his tricorne hat was pulled down over his face, and from what she could see from his expression, it was carefully blank.
In theory, she had thought herself prepared for this...for speaking to him, but now that he was here, in front of her...anything and everything that she had was gone like a wisp of smoke...carried out at the same time as her logical reasoning and ability to form a coherent thought.
He must know she was there, he certainly heard her talking to...them, but he was feigning ignorance.
Hadn't said a word, they had told her.
Not for long.
"...Captain...excuse me, Captain Sparrow?"
Since when had a woman's voice done such maddening things to him?
She held her breath, watched his face, waited for a reaction...nothing...and the stillness of him made her think for a moment that he was sleeping, but then the corner of his mouth twitched, curved up in what she could almost mistake for a small smile.
Hadn't even finished trying to convince himself that she wasn't a figment of his imagination, and he was already wondering what on earth she was doing here, at night...
"'S a bit dangerous for you to be wandering around town in the dark, isn't it?"
His voice, like a seduction from a violin made of velvet, twisted with smoke and ash from a fire, that smoke slithering from his finely carved lips into her body, invading every corner of her senses...her eyes closing for the briefest moment to prevent the dilution of his words...her ears becoming sentient themselves to appreciate the melody in his timbre...in his perfect baritone...her fingers wishing to touch him while he whispered in her ear…
What was it that he said?
Dangerous? Probably. But she hadn't paid any mind to that in her rush…
"The town may be dangerous, but I'm no longer wandering around town. I'm here."
Nice to have vocal confirmation, darling.
Something passed through his eyes, a spark of amusement at her answer, a shimmer of curiosity...
"In a jail surrounded by criminals? This is far safer."
"Are you suggesting that you have it in your head to try and harm me? Again. Or are you talking about them?"
Harm you? I didn't intend on hurting you in the first place…
But taking her hostage with a pistol pointed at her head is perfectly acceptable?
Be quiet.
His head tilted down a little first just after her head finished its incline towards the other pirates next to Jack's cell, and then up just enough for her to see his eyes, glittering with such allure that she momentarily forgot they were even having a conversation.
"One might get the idea that you're asking to be harmed again by insinuating yourself here."
"I could always leave if I'm in such danger." What a lie that was.
Please don't, and then he was immediately annoyed at how pathetic this whole thing was.
"You're free to go anywhere you like, darling. Myself, on the other hand...well, I can pace around this cell, maybe do a little dance, draw in the dirt, look out the window…"
He was still watching her, his gaze flitting to the hallway beyond her, and then back...there was something else in his eyes that she couldn't name…
"You're right, I am. I could be up in the mansion, safe in bed, reflecting on how a dangerous pirate used me as a hostage to escape-"
"-and yet, here you are, talking to the dangerous pirate. Such a curiosity, that."
"Would you rather me not talk to you?"
No. Bugger.
"I'm more surprised that you want to talk to me at all."
The little smile on his lips grew wider. He was enjoying this.
"And why is that?"
"...Aside from the fact that I...held you hostage, as you said...you're a lady...and a lady of your nature would hardly be caught dead fraternizing with a criminal."
A lady. Hah! If she was a proper lady then he would eat Gibbs. And she was rather lovely when she was annoyed.
It made her remember the feeling of his hard body against hers again, his voice in her ear, the warmth of him...even through the layers of clothing she had felt it, skin imbued with the heat and wickedness of a bonfire.
...A lady?
Hardly.
"And you're making assumptions."
The light shifted on his face when he turned towards her a little. "About what, darling?"
Her breath hitched at his endearment. Darling. Was it on purpose? Did he call every woman that?
He saw the breath lodge in her throat, watched her struggle to exhale. Curious...
"That I fancy myself to be a lady."
Many thought she was a lady, wanted her to be a lady, tried to lead her to ridiculous parties…
"Ahh, a little rebellious, hm?"
A little smile played on her lips, and she looked down, giggling. "I used to pretend that I was a pirate. There was this little lagoon down by the shore. I would sneak down there and...well, swordfight the air with sticks I found."
Well, how about that?
That she had the urge to share with him such an innocent story...it felt like peeking at the sunlight while willingly drowning in a lake of corruption.
He stared at her for a second, and then another, his mouth hanging slightly open in...perhaps in wonder, she thought, before it quirked into a smirk.
"Ahh, the air, such a formidable enemy. And sticks? There couldn't be a finer choice of weapon."
Sarcasm, complete with a grin on his face…it made everywhere on her tingle.
"It gives a bit of truth to wooden swords," she said, turning to pluck his sword and scabbard off of the wall, unsheathing the blade, watching the torchlight catch and accentuate the angles.
"Careful, that's sharp. And pointy."
"And I bet you'd like to have it back."
Maybe.
His hand swept in an arc around the cell, the moonlight catching on the couple of rings that sat on his tanned fingers. "Wouldn't do me much good in here. Though I could pretend to be a pirate, like you, and fight the air."
Jack was ridiculously good at making her laugh, she concluded. "You are a pirate."
The way she said 'pirate' held no amount of hidden affection for the word. Damn.
A look of faux surprise washed over his face, his gaze leaving her for a moment, then bouncing back with mirth sparkling in his eyes. "You're right, I am. Can't believe I somehow forgot that."
"You're welcome."
Going silent for a moment to examine the sword, his sword, she suddenly got the overwhelming urge to know. "Where did you get it?"
Of course, she would want to know...
"What?...That?"
"The sword."
How to answer...what answer to give...to spin a tale or to not spin a tale...
The muscles in his jaw worked as he considered her question. "Why?" he finally asked.
"I don't know, just curious," she replied, slicing the blade through the air in a playful swing. Swords held a certain fascination for her, they had such elegance in the right hands, yet could be so deadly.
Could always toy with her...
"And what if I were to say that I don't remember?"
"I would say that you won't put me off that easily, Captain Sparrow."
As the last syllable of his name passed through her lips, she swung the sword in an arc until the tip of it was pointed at him, a smile on her face.
Or maybe she's worth the truth...
"Mmm...I thought not. Truthfully, it's nothing special. Got it in Tortuga, can't really remember when. Swords to a pirate are a dime a dozen. It's the pistol that is something of value."
'No additional shots, nor powder…'
"How can you value your pistol if you only keep one shot in it?"
Good memory, Elizabeth...Lizzie.
He watched her, scrutinized her really, for a long moment, his eyes flicking around her face.
What, Jack? What do you see, why are you looking?
"You...you're awfully forward with someone you've only just met, love."
There it was again. Darling, now love...it messed with her insides just a little bit.
"We haven't just met. We met earlier, it's been several hours since then."
His sword made a noise as she slipped it back into the scabbard to hang it on the wall.
It really felt like she had known him her entire life.
"And you suppose several hours warrants asking personal questions and expecting answers?"
Personal questions?
"I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, but how is that a personal question?"
The answer presented itself before he even had a chance to think.
He was saving the shot.
For who?
"Consider every question you ask me a personal question, Miss Swann. You know nothing about me."
The edge to his tone made a spike of uncertainty rush through her. "...and you're making assumptions again."
A clinking noise was made from the trinkets in his hair when he turned once again to look at her, the humor partially gone from his eyes, replaced with a wariness.
"Am I?" he asked after a moment of silence.
Not allowing the spot of nerves stirring inside to show, she nodded. "I've...read stories about you."
Finally, his body slid off the perch he was sitting on in the corner of the cell, and he came to stand, adjusting his shirt sleeves. "Be that as it may, love. Stories are just that...stories. You've no idea what's truth and what's fiction."
A pause as his hand went to grasp something near his belt, and then flexed while his lips tightened in annoyance. His pistol. Habit, probably.
"But, you've sparked my curiosity. What...fantastical tales have you read?"
Truth and fiction...she had suspected that there were fabrications, but him coming right out and confirming it...or was it just another attempted misdirection?
"Nassau, your little vanishing stunt...your ship-"
The words that were going to follow were smothered by the way his head suddenly jerked in her direction, poorly hidden shock in his eyes.
"You...how…"
See, I do have the power to surprise you, pirate. Be careful.
"A merchant sailor was talking about it one day, and I happened to overhear. Not many people know who the original Captain of the Black Pearl was. Barbossa's...reign of terror overshadows you a little, I fear."
He was still staring at her, and his mouth had dropped open halfway through her sentence. His only response was a small "huh".
Feeling a little daring, she continued. "If that didn't surprise you enough, it may interest you to know that I've seen your ship. At least, I think I have. Menacing, black, a mermaid on the front?"
The curve of her lips, parted in the orange light, the sizzling excitement in her eyes...she'd seen his ship?
"And where does a lady...woman such as yourself see pirate ships?"
At his correction, her eyes crinkled up at the corners with her smile. "When I was about ten, I was sailing from England to here, and we came upon a shipwreck, rescued a young boy who now works here as a blacksmith. It was then, just past the shipwreck, that I saw the ship disappearing through the smoke."
His ship…
"The...the mermaid...it's a symbol of love, by the way, the mermaid...funny, since mermaids prey on sailors...aye, I had a mermaid on the Pearl."
Flapped, he was. He sounded positively unraveled and it didn't suit him one bit. Revealing bits of himself and pieces of his mind to this person that he'd only just met...but she had been quick to correct him that they'd met a few hours ago. Wench.
"Have you...ever seen a mermaid?"
It was like looking into a box of curiosities, being here with him...watching his reactions to her questions, every transition in his face was fascinating to her.
The look he sent her was positively jester-like...spicy, almost. A look of a man about to toy with someone. "Who said mermaids were real?"
Who said, indeed, Jack.
He was damnable.
"You implied just...well, you said they prey on sailors. Naturally, I thought that maybe-"
"-the myth is that they prey on sailors, love."
Pushing her lips together, she contemplated.
"And I suppose then that Davy Jones, cursed treasure, ghosts, and all of that are also myths?"
Something flashed in his eyes, her words had connected with something...another mystery of him, another path into the thicket of his mind...then he just smiled softly at her and wrapped his fingers around the bars of the cell. "Perhaps. I think all that matters, for you, is whether or not you believe in them."
Her eyes narrowed a bit. "...Why?"
"Because," he said as his eyes twinkled with the flickering flame from the torch on the wall, "I doubt you are ever going to be adventurous enough to find out for yourself."
Chew on that, darling.
"I was adventurous enough to come down here to see you, was I not?"
...true.
"You're implying that coming down to a dirty jail to see a man sentenced to death is an adventure? Sounds like a waste to me."
A look of confusion, and then sadness, passed through her face. Interesting.
"...maybe it is. Maybe not...I-I actually came here to say thank you."
Among many other reasons that she hadn't quite admitted to herself yet.
Yes, you have. You just said in the bedroom that-
-hadn't quite admitted that she had admitted it yet.
His face pulled back from the light, retreated into the shadow a bit, and it made her step closer instinctively to see better.
"...thank you?" The last time he had gotten a thank you for anything...well, actually he couldn't remember the last time.
Why did he sound suspicious?
"It's not every day that a woman gets her life saved…"
"Women also don't fall from battlements every day either."
"They were saying that I was lucky I didn't hit the rocks-"
"-and they're right. You're also lucky that I'm a good swimmer."
She waited until he looked at her to fix him with a stare. "You could just say 'you're welcome' you know."
A tiny nearly imperceptible head shake from him…"That brings me to the wondering and questioning and actually thinking about why I saved you and what that says about me...much easier to just move on."
…"Move on? I wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't saved my life, and you just want to move on? Well excuse me, Captain Sparrow, but I want to talk about it-"
"-and I don't. You're going to start saying things that aren't true and getting it in your head that I'm a hero or some such ridiculous-"
"-you're not a hero, you're a pirate."
That stopped him with a sharp intake of breath. The suddenness and absolute certainty in her declaration...she sounded proud.
"Pirates are better than heroes are they?"
The sparkle was back in his eyes.
"I think calling someone a hero oversimplifies them. It's a facade. No one is just a hero."
"Then why did you thank me?"
Her head tilted to the right a little. "What do you mean?"
"How do you know that I deserve thanks?"
"I just got through telling you that I-
"-ah, yes, that you wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for me." He paused to wrap his hand around the bar again, pointing a teasing finger at her. "But, how do you know what my motives were?"
"Why don't you just tell me?"
"You're the one doing the interrogating, darling."
What was this, some kind of standoff?
"I'm not interrogating you!"
That got a snort out of him.
"Elizabeth, love, you've been trying to silently pry into my head since you came down here. You're curious."
Maybe she was.
Maybe she was so curious that he was all she could think about.
"Why did you save me?"
Don't retreat, Jack.
He watched her for a moment, his gaze bouncing around her face.
"...they couldn't swim."
Safe enough answer.
It was out of her mouth before she had even realized she had stepped closer to wrap her fingers around the bars too. "You're lying."
Why was he enjoying this so bloody much?
At first, she thought he was angry with the way darkness passed over his face, but then he raised an eyebrow and fixed her with a look of challenge.
"Prove it."