A/N: Thank you reviewers. Feedback is always appreciated.

Chapter 4

The following days were wonderful. I came to be good friends with Leah, and Brianna seemed to be settling in nicely. Most of my worries had been dashed over telling Leah about Jack being the father of Brianna. Jack and I didn't talk much, but when we did, it was increasingly comfortable. It wasn't as strained, nor as painful. I tried not to think to the past as much. The past seemed to have run my life before that point. I made a promise with myself to concentrate on the present and the future, because those were the only things I could do anything about.

One afternoon, I was at the starboard side of the ship when Jack approached me.

"Gibbs took the wheel for the day," he slurred. After a rocky start with Gibbs, he seemed to warm up to me. I suppose he'd finally given up on protesting to keeping women on board. Knowing Jack, there was no point protesting it anyway. I smiled, the wind whipping my hair pleasantly. "So how're ye settling in, love?" he asked me. I smiled in what I could only describe as contentment.

"Wonderfully. Brianna loves it, and I've come to be very good friends with Leah," I told him. He nodded, but I noticed that he immediately averted his eyes.

"Nice girl. Bit strange," he said indifferently. I tried to read something on his face, but anything he might've been hiding about Leah, I certainly couldn't discern it. "So are ye still angry with me?" he asked playfully. I smiled genuinely.

"No. I'm not going to lie anymore. You hurt me. You know that. That's my own fault as much as yours, though. I should've known better. But it's in the past. There's nothing that can change what has happened, and it just matters that we're here now. Thanks to you." I looked into his eyes. They were just like Brianna's; it was uncanny. He patted my hand that rest on the railing of the ship. I couldn't help but notice my heart rate speed up in response to the simple friendly gesture. I suddenly became aware of the power this man still had over me, and it was frightening. I felt an unexpected pang of desire to tell him everything. But it wouldn't do either of us any good, nor Brianna.

He changed the subject. "D'ye know how to fight? With a sword?" he asked me. I shook my head.

"Haven't really had a reason to."

"Oh, an' I s'pose being attacked in an alley wasn't any sort of an indication to the existence of a reason." I began to scowl at him, until I realized the truth of his words. "I think ye should learn, 'specially if ye'll be stayin' on me ship for a while. An' I think your ankle is healed enough to start some basic training. We could start tomorrow mornin', take it slow. What say ye to that?" I thought for a moment, and figured I had nothing to lose…except an eye…or a finger…but I knew Jack would take it easy on me.

"I do believe we have an accord,' I told him. He grinned upon hearing a familiar phrase, revealing his gold teeth. I smiled in spite of myself. The man was inarguably and impossibly charming.

"Then I'll see you in the morning. Get some sleep, love."

"Aye, Captain." He smiled, looking into my eyes for a moment, turned on his heel, and left. I couldn't quite explain the warm feeling surging through my veins. All I knew was that I had to be careful. Jack had become the center of my life a few years back, and the cause of a great deal of pain. I had a daughter now, and she needed me. I couldn't handle getting hurt again, and Brianna couldn't either. I pushed the thought out of my mind. It had been such a pleasant day.

I awoke the next morning, not entirely sure what had broken my sleep. I opened my eyes slowly, waiting for them to focus. It must have been early, since there was only a faint glimmer of sunlight coming in through the small, salt-encrusted window of my cabin. Turning to my right, I realized Jack was, again, in the room. I sat up quickly, slightly startled.

"Mornin' love. I left some things for ye over on the desk. Ye'll be needing 'em for our little lesson today." I yawned, struggling to fully open my eyes.

"Thank you Jack. Give me ten minutes, and I'll be ready." I requested. He nodded.

"Meet me outside me cabin. See you in ten minutes." He left me to get ready. Finally gaining enough strength to disentangle myself from my blanket, I got out of bed, stretching my back, arms, and legs. I went over to the desk and found a pair of breeches, an off-white button-down shirt, a basin of water, and a sheathed sword. I examined the sword. Not necessarily the most beautiful sword I'd ever seen, but made well enough to work for now. I supposed I couldn't be choosy anyway; it's not like I had one of my own. I sheathed the sword, then began to get ready. I washed my face in the basin of water, my eyelids still a bit heavy. I dressed quickly, then fastened my sword to the belt, holding up my relatively loose breeches. I had a feeling I looked as ridiculous as I felt, but who was I trying to impress? Nobody, I tried to convince myself.

I opened the door to my cabin, a hint of brilliant orange on the horizon suggesting the pending arrival of the sun. The sea, gray in the early hours of morning, glimmered and sparkled. I had to force myself to tear my eyes away from the beautiful spectacle. I went to Jack's cabin to find him waiting for me. I approached, and he grinned, looking me up and down, obviously stifling a laugh.

"Are you making fun of me?" I inquired in feigned insult.

"Only a little."

"Just making sure."

We began with the very basics of sword fighting. Form and such. It was nearly two hours before Jack felt I might have acquired the skills to attempt a mock fight. The sun, now high in the sky, began to beat down on us. Before our first mock fight, we took a quick break. Jack removed his now slightly damp shirt, unbuttoning it hastily. He peeled it off his tanned skin, revealing his well-toned chest and stomach. He glanced at me before I realized I was staring. I cleared my throat, looking at my feet.

"As if you're the first to look." He grinned mischievously. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Shall we begin?" I nodded.

We parried back and forth for a little while, him shouting out instructions along the way.

"Form? Not bad at all, for day one. Footwork leaves a bit to be desired, but nothing that time and practice won't fix." We had to quit for the day, exhausted, sinking down onto the deck. He placed a hand on my shoulder, and I winced. Pulling his hand away, he noticed a smear of blood on his hand. There was a small, scarlet line of blood across a tear on the shoulder of my shirt. "Why didn't you tell me I cut ye?" he asked seriously. I shrugged.

"I guess I didn't really notice. It really doesn't hurt but a little," I assured him. He stood up, holding out a hand to help me up.

"Maybe not, but we need to get a bandage on it nonetheless. C'mon, we'll go to me cabin." I followed him inside his cabin, and he motioned for me to have a seat on his bed. I heard him shuffling around for something. My breathing was still heavy, my heart pounding. Jack returned, still shirtless, with a bottle and a cloth. He then took a seat beside me on his bed, pouring some of the contents of the bottle onto the cloth. I sniffed curiously.

"Is that rum?" I asked him, surprised. He grinned.

"Serves just as well as a disinfectant as it does its other purpose," he joked, taking a swig from the bottle. I smiled at him. "I need you to take off your shirt, love," he told me as seriously as he could manage. I detected that familiar, mischievous glint in his eyes, and I could tell he was fighting not to crack a smile or make eye contact with me. I stared at him, unbuttoned the top three buttons of my shirt, then pulled the sleeve down below my injured shoulder and pulled my arm out of the sleeve. I pulled the rest of the shirt around me tightly, challenging him to tell me to do anything more with a raise of my eyebrows. He sighed in submission, bringing the cloth towards the cut. "This'll sting a bit." He placed the cloth over the cut. The muscles in my shoulder tensed involuntarily, but I didn't make a sound. I didn't want to give him any more reasons to view me as weak. Patting the cut dry, Jack went to retrieve a bandage. Wrapping it gently around my cut, I kept stealing glances at him. He grinned suspiciously, then gently pulled my shirt back up, concealing my bare shoulder. He then slowly buttoned my shirt back up, his hand lingering just below my neck for a few moments. I could feel his breath, warm and sporadic. I stared down at his bed.

"I'm sorry I said those things about you when I first got here, Jack. They aren't true. You're a wonderful man, and I was just hurt and confused, that's all. Thank you so much for everything you've done." My voice came out considerably more seductively that I would've preferred. His hand was still present on my chest. He then reached up and traced along my jaw line with his thumb. Then, very gently, he lifted my chin up so I was looking into his dark, mesmerizing eyes.

"Would ye like to make it up to me?" he inquired, his voice husky and suggestive. "And I can make it up to you, for being so stupid those few years ago." He must have sensed the fear in my eyes, fear of being hurt again, fear of losing him again, fear of losing control of one of the few things in my life I had control over. "I'd never hurt you again, seeing what it did to ye the first time. Plus, ye know what to expect now…or not expect, rather."

"Jack, I just don't know if—" He pulled my face closer to his slowly as I spoke, his breath hot against my lips.

"Are ye sure you're not sure?" he whispered. All that I could manage was a soft whimper, as he slowly brushed his lips with mine, then formed a firm connection between them. His kiss was tender and comforting. I wrapped my arms around his neck longingly. I begged for some greater good to never allow this moment to end, to never have to deal with the consequences. Eventually, he broke the kiss slowly, his forehead on mine, his breath heavy and fervid. I rested my hand on his face, hundreds of thoughts and questions rushing through my mind. He then lowered his head, leaving a trail of heat and passion as he kissed the corner of my mouth, then my cheek, down my neck, and along my collarbone. I ran my hands across his chest, then caressed his firm, toned stomach and clawed his back hungrily. His lips met mine once more, as he slowly leaned me back onto his bed. I felt his tongue flick across my lips, and I opened my mouth slightly allowing him access. His tongue explored the depths of my mouth, and I moaned slightly in sheer passion and delight. His wandering hands reached for the buttons on my shirt before I snapped back to reality as quickly as I had snapped out of it.

"Jack…wait…" It took everything in me. He pulled away, looking into my eyes, visibly exasperated.

"Something wrong, love?"

"We can't do this," I told him simply, at risk of sounding cliché.

"And why not?" he asked me, as he brought his lips tantalizingly close to my own. They almost claimed mine again before I forced myself to stop him. What this man did to me! I spend years angry and bitter, telling myself that I hated him. Now look at me! It was happening all over again. No way, not again. I had more self-respect now.

"It's different now, Jack. I have more responsibility. I have to stop thinking about myself so much. You're right, I know what not to expect…but I don't know if I can accept that, knowing how deeply I am capable of feeling for you. I want all those things, Jack. Tell me, how do you feel about marriage? Fatherhood?" I whispered against his agonizingly tempting lips. He recoiled a bit, unable to mask the look of disdain that became immediately evident on his face. "Exactly," I finished. He drew away, sighing heavily.

"Whatever you want, love. It's not like there aren't plenty willing to take your place," he muttered angrily. I had a feeling he might just be trying to salvage his pride. Part of me took some satisfaction in that fact. "Just don't pretend like you don't want it,' he finished. His face was serious, and he stalked out of the cabin, closing the door behind him. Moments later, he burst back in. "This is my cabin."