Disclaimer: I remain unsuccessful at commandeering the POTC empire away

from Disney. My OCs are all mine.

A Sparrow's Shadow on the Sea

The Winged Beastie

"A little more to your right, luv," Jack suggested. He had been trying to pose me for twenty minutes and it was becoming an increasingly frustrating endeavour for both of us to endure.

I never would've agreed to this sketch project of his, if I'd known what an obsessive perfectionist he would prove to be. Clearly, I wasn't thinking straight. No, my mind was clouded by romantic images of that sketching scene from the movie "Titanic." If only I was wearing that overwhelmingly large and sparkly "Heart of the Ocean" necklace, it might be enough to distract Jack from his bothersome fussing.

"Jack, I really don't think this is the best pose," I pointed out, "I'm not showing that much yet and, I think if I stood, and you did a profile, it would be more flattering."

He ignored my suggestion and continued to walk around the cabin, looking at me from different angles, occasionally saying "Hmmm…"

"I'm growing bored," I informed him, "Pretty soon you're just going to have to sketch me while I'm sleeping."

He stopped his wandering, gazing at me with his left arm crossed in front of himself and his right hand fidgeting with his chin braids. He sighed deeply, then conceded, "I suppose you're right, luv. I just thought you'd be more comfortable lying on the bed."

"I'd be more comfortable if you were here with me, and I wasn't the only one naked," I told him saucily.

He smirked at me. "That's quite an enticing suggestion, my dear," he said as his gaze swept over me, "But I thought we were going to do this sketch."

I stared at Jack in completely disbelief. "My God, Jack Sparrow! This has got to be a first! You have a naked woman in your bed, beckoning to you to come and bestow a bit of amorous attention on her, and you'd rather sketch?! Have we really become an old, staid, married couple already?" I arched an eyebrow as I regarded him. "Or, is it just you who's become old and stodgy?"

He narrowed his eyes and gazed down at me indignantly. "You think I've grown old and stodgy, do you?" he asked in a low and dangerous tone.

"Your behaviour is certainly…" I paused; putting a finger to my lips, as I dramatically contemplated my choice of words, "uncharacteristically…chaste."

"Chaste?!" he repeated, as if the word itself were possessed of some foul flavour.

I got off the bed and approached him. "Well, don't go getting your breeches all in a bunch, Captain," I cooed, slowly circling around him and trailing my hand over his chest and shoulders, "I was simply concerned…You're not having any sort of troubles down there, are you?" I gazed at him tauntingly, my eyebrows raised.

He grasped my wrist, his eyes blazing, as he growled, "You're playing a dangerous game, luv. You would be wise not to incite me further." The fiery intensity in his dark eyes only stirred my adrenalin more.

I held his gaze defiantly. "Let me go, Jack," I said calmly, as I stepped closer to him. I reached my free hand up to push his hair back, exposing the side of his neck. I glanced at him. The glint was back in his eyes and he looked at me with an expression almost resembling admiration. He released his grip on my wrist. I slid my arms around him as I began to kiss the now exposed side of his neck. He inclined his head to the side, giving me greater access to that exquisitely sensitive area of his body. A growling moan escaped his lips as I raked my teeth against his neck, then gently nibbled his earlobe.

"Jack, if you don't have your way with me," I said softly next to his ear, "I'll have my way with you."

He slowly brought his head up to look at me, his eyes still half closed.

"Do with me what you will, my love," he murmured hoarsely.

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It was fascinating to watch Jack as he sketched me. I stood, leaning my back against one of the sturdy columns of the four poster bed. He would glance at me with keen attention from time to time. By following his line of sight, I was able to tell which part of me he was sketching. Occasionally, he would smirk slightly, as he gazed at his drawing, adding highlights or shadows, and smudging the lines to soften them.

"Are you done yet, Jack?" I asked him impatiently, "I can't wait to see it."

"Patience, luv," he murmured, completely absorbed in his drawing.

As I watched him, I imagined him teaching our child to draw. I could just picture the two of them, lying on the floor together, drawing picture after picture. The image made me smile. There's probably no crayons invented yet, I thought randomly.

"And that's the perfect smile I was waiting to capture," he said excitedly, "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I was picturing you and our child drawing together," I admitted, somewhat shyly.

He stopped drawing and looked up at me, an expression of surprise in his eyes. "I'd like that," he said finally.

"Jack, do crayons exist?" I asked him, unable to resist my curiosity.

"Crayons?" he questioned in a confused tone.

"Sticks of coloured wax children use to colour pictures with," I explained.

"Ahh…no, luv," he answered. Thinking for a moment, he then added, "If they did exist, I think I'd like to have some."

"You'd love them! They come in every colour imaginable," I told him. "Jack, what sort of games did you like to play as a child?"

"I used to pretend that I was a captain of a ship, like my father," he replied, "And I'd sail all over the world, to the most distant and exotic places I could think of, and witness amazing things no one else ever had!"

"So, you made all your dreams come true, then" I said. I'd always envied those people who knew exactly what they wanted to spend their entire lives doing, and were able to achieve that dream. I'd never felt any such "calling."

"No, Eve," he replied, as he looked up at me from his drawing, "You have made all my dreams come true." He gazed at me intently for a moment, before snapping out of it. "I'm done," he declared abruptly as he stood, holding the sketchbook out for me to look.

I stared at his drawing of me. Jack had an uncanny gift for being able to show the emotions of people he drew. The smile he'd been able to capture was serene, tender, and content. It resembled the quiet smile one would see on the figure of Mary, in all those countless "Madonna with Child" paintings and sculptures I'd seen in my art history class.

"It's beautiful, Jack," I said softly, smiling.

He closed the sketchbook and tossed it on the bed, then slid an arm around me, pulling me close. "As are you, Eve," he said, lightly caressing my cheek, before claiming my lips in a slow, sensual kiss.

"How did I make your dreams come true?" I asked, somewhat mystified.

He laughed softly. "You love me," he said simply, as his shadowy gaze delved into mine, "And…you made me feel…safe enough to love you in return."

I smiled at him, but I couldn't help being reminded of how Elizabeth betrayed him. She had to have known he was in love with her. No woman is that oblivious! But, if she had known, and she chose to trick him and leave him for dead anyway…Could anyone really be that evil?

"What's troubling you, luv?" Jack asked, "All of a sudden you're frowning."

"It's been a long day," I told him, "I'm just tired."

His expression told me he knew I was concealing something, but he didn't pursue it.

"Well, let's get some sleep, then" he suggested.

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I woke suddenly in the morning, to hear some sort of commotion happening on deck. I got up and dressed quickly, listening to the sounds of footsteps running and men shouting.

Were we being attacked? I didn't hear any cannon fire. Were we attacking another ship? Doubtful, for the same reason. Oh dear God, we're not sinking, are we? Surely, Jack or somebody would've alerted me if that were the case. A dozen worries flew through my mind in an instant.

I was just about to pull on my boots, when I heard the distinct sound of a pistol shot. And immediately after, I heard Jack's voice cursing.

To hell with the boots! I ran out of the cabin, to be confronted with a scene of total chaos. Jack was running around the deck, seemingly panic-stricken, with Gibbs and Mr. Cotton in pursuit. The rest of the crew vacillated between staring at the spectacle, and dodging to quickly stay out of their way. Jack was yelling curse words and demanding whichever crew man he encountered, "Where is he?!"

"Jack!" I screamed as loud and with as much authority as I could. And everyone immediately stopped, and turned to look at me. "What the hell are you doing?" I asked.

Jack stood absolutely still, his face red, his eyes wild, trying to catch his breath. And just then, out of nowhere, Cotton's parrot dive-bombed him, squawking loudly "Kinky little freak, kinky little freak!"

"Blasted, bloody, buggering bird!" Jack yelled, as he ducked and flailed his arms wildly to try to fend off his winged attacker. The bird would swoop upwards to avoid the crazed antics of the captain, only to dive back immediately and resume menacing Jack.

"Stop it, Jack!" Gibbs yelled, "Ye just be makin' him angrier!"

Poor Mr. Cotton just stood staring, opening and closing his mouth like a guppy gasping for breath. He was terrified for the safety of his best friend.

"Did you try to shoot the parrot, Jack?" I demanded.

Jack stared at me in dismay. "Bloody hell, Eve, the blasted thing is trying to kill me!" he screamed near hysterically.

"Get in the damn cabin, Jack!" I shouted commandingly at him.

He stared at me for a moment, then started to walk toward the cabin. "It called me names too," he muttered petulantly, as he passed me.

"Go!" I shouted. My arm flew straight out with a whoosh, and pointed at the cabin.

Jack frowned dejectedly, wincing at my harsh tone. He cast me a sulky look, but continued on his way to the cabin, grumbling to himself the entire way.

I turned to Gibbs and Cotton. "Is the bird hurt?" I asked urgently, looking back and forth at them.

"No, lass, 'tis not hurt. Cap'n just ruffled his feathers a bit, but I think he'll be fine," Gibbs answered.

"Good," I said, then turned to Mr. Cotton, "I'm so sorry!"

Cotton smiled and patted my arm, then set off to find his parrot and comfort the poor, traumatized creature.

"Did you see what happened, Gibbs?" I asked him discreetly.

"Aye. Cap'n was at the helm, steerin' the ship, when the bird landed on the wheel," he explained, "Jack tried to shoo the bird off the wheel…and that's when this helluva ruckus began…Ye best go see to the Cap'n, Eve, his feathers likely be a bit ruffled too."

I giggled softly, the humour of the whole scene beginning to become apparent. "Gibbs, his feathers haven't even begun to be ruffled," I confided.

Gibbs chuckled, "Well then, lass, it's a good thing ye're blessed with such a commanding tone, when needs be! Guessin' it'll come in mighty handy with the little one!"

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I entered the cabin to find a very pouty pirate soothing his bruised ego with a bottle of rum.

"You sent me to my room!" he accused, as he pointed at me, bottle in hand.

"I saved your life," I corrected, smirking, as I leaned against the closed doors. It suddenly felt like I was acting more the captain, than he was. This role reversal felt very peculiar.

"How'd ya figure that?" he asked, testily.

"You're no longer being attacked by that winged beastie, are you?" I countered.

"No," he reluctantly answered, appearing chagrined.

"And so, the next time the bird decides to perch on the wheel while you're at the helm, Jack, what are you going to do?" I questioned.

"I'm gonna shoot it!" he slurred belligerently, with an evil grin.

"No, you're not," I corrected calmly yet firmly, as if speaking to a mentally-challenged toddler, "You're going to call Mr. Cotton to either come and get said bird, or to take the helm…savvy?"

He glared daggers at me, but then caved. "Aye, luv."

"That's my good little pirate," I cooed, as I strolled over to sit in his lap. I pulled the front of his shirt out of his breeches, sliding my hands underneath and smoothing them over his chest as I kissed him. He responded eagerly, deepening the kiss and wrapping his arms around me.

"There's one more thing I want you to do for me, Jack," I said seductively, leaning in to kiss his neck. "Can you please do one more thing for me, Captain?"

"Aye…luv…" he said, clearly enjoying the attention he was receiving, "Anything…you…desire."

I pulled away and smiled smugly at him. "I desire that you go and apologize to Mr. Cotton," I told him.

He frowned disappointedly. "Except that!" he declared stubbornly.

Undaunted, I continued my attempts to persuade him. "If you do that for me, Jack," I said enticingly, "I'll do something for you."

"Like what?" he asked, as he eyed me with suspicion.

"Well, that'd be up to you to decide, Captain," I told him, sealing the deal.

"You mean that?" he asked happily.

And I couldn't resist saying to him, "Every word, luv."

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A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this little bit of fun! I've been wanting to involve Mr. Cotton and his parrot more in the story, but it's difficult due to his being mute. And it's such fun to torment Jack, every now and then! Big thanks to all who read and reviewed! Back to the plot next chapter!