AN: Again, sorry for the delay in updates. Quite a bit has happened in my life recently that has prevented me from getting back to my story. I have a lot of ideas for future chapters still running around upstairs, so don't fear. There will be plenty of story to look forward to. Just bear with me, 'K?

Chapter 7: Hunger Pains

Jack caressed the wheel of his ship lovingly as he gazed across the horizon, scanning for any change in either sky or sea. They had lost sight of the sandstorm some time earlier. Without one of the new fangled chronometers or even the old fashioned way of following the sun's movements, there was no way to measure how long they had been moving. The only hourglass on board had been broken in the attack. The breeze had not ceased blowing steadily, for which he was grateful, but he imagined it would not be long before whatever force was helping them would tire. He had recognized the voice chanting, with its unusual mysterious undertones. He almost felt the need to call out in a type of prayer of thanks for her help, but he was not sure if she could hear him.

He glanced out across the deck looking for Elizabeth. He had lost track of her as his thoughts had wandered. He caught sight of her, sitting up in the ratlines, having woven herself among the rigging as she faced into the wind. He watched in wonder as she swayed with the motion of the ship, eyes closed, savoring the movement of the air. She was at one with the sea, air, ship, and all the rest sailing entailed, and he grew envious. He wanted to enjoy the ride, too.

He knew he shouldn't leave the wheel untended in these uncharted waters, but as of yet, they had not had any problems. He had just decided to tie the wheel into place, when the wind suddenly dropped. Even though there were still gusts teasing Jack's braids, there was not enough breeze to fill the sails.

A wail of disappointment issued from aloft as Elizabeth realized their ride was over, at least for the time being. She descended from the rigging with a pout. She glanced around at Jack while he finished tying off the wheel. He knew that they could not handle the anchor by themselves, so he did his best to guarantee they would not change course if the wind should return.

When he was done, he noticed that Elizabeth was headed into the galley. Oddly enough he realized that he was a bit peckish. The earlier nausea had subsided, so he followed her. Hopefully there was some hardtack or a bit of salt pork to stave the gnawing pains in his empty belly. He wondered if the night before had awakened that particular urge and he suddenly hoped that it had not been a mistake. It would not bode well if they had to sail for days without food or fresh water. He had banked on their being dead to prevent that need from arising. Perhaps being away from the Locker had changed things. He shook his head and decided that perhaps he had better consult his compass for a nearby island with some source of food.

He followed his shipmate into the galley and started poking around in the barrels and crates that had been stored in there. He noted there was little wood to stoke the fire for cooked food. He sighed. Perchance a little rum would be more preferable to what he was finding, but he was not willing to listen to dear Lizzie debate its lack of merit. As it was, she was watching him intently, as if she was aware of his thoughts.

"You can relax your watch, luv," he muttered as he found a green apple hidden away in small cupboard, somewhat bruised, but thankfully worm-free. Her eyes took in his prize and winced, as if in recognition. He glanced at his apple suspiciously, and frowned, unclear as to what had caused her concern over the fruit.

Elizabeth swallowed convulsively, and whispered a name. "Barbossa." Jack's eyes widened as her meaning dawned on him. He remembered his first mate's strange predilection for the tart fruit, and he chuckled as he recalled how he had taunted him with the same before the cursed pirate had been able to taste it for himself. He tossed the apple up into the air and caught it deftly as he grinned, stepping from the galley onto the deck. He glanced behind to Elizabeth, inviting her to join him. She followed shortly, clutching a bit of hardtack and an orange she had managed to scavenge from the crates.

"I hope this doesn't mean we will need more food and water later," she said, mirroring his thoughts almost exactly. The lass's quickness certainly surprised him occasionally, but then again, he knew he could not have been so tempted by her if she had been dull-witted. A stupid woman would be an easy lay, but the chase sometimes was the whetstone to a more interesting encounter. For all the verbal battles he had had with Elizabeth through the time they had known each other, he was expecting that he might not survive said encounter … oh, wait. He hadn't. Ironic.

"We will have to find an island, I suppose," he began, pulling out his compass. Elizabeth nodded as he flipped the top back and stared at it, willing the needle to find food. It spun in a circle … then began its erratic dance … pointing at Elizabeth… then out to the sea. He frowned and shook it. There was no change. He sighed and returned it to his belt. "Apparently, I'm not hungry enough to want food," he prevaricated.

"Well, I would wonder what you are hungry enough to want," she retorted. His head jerked in her direction as he divined her meaning, meanwhile feeling a bit vexed that her quickness once again saw through his own. He took her bait.

"Why Lizzie," he murmured in his permanently rum-roughened voice, "I would have thought that would have been clear to you by now." He sidled closer to her, moderately taken aback once again that she would let him so close to her. She stood her ground as he bent to whisper into her ear. "Hunger has so many forms, dearie. Perhaps you have some of your own?" His breath tickled her cheek and he watched it flush from its normal peach to a full blooming red as he continued to taunt her. "First there is the simple hunger for food, one to which we are all very accustomed, that is… when we are alive. Then there is the hunger for knowledge, wanting to know all that there is to know in the world around us. Then there is the hunger for money, riches, wealth beyond measure. This is a hunger that is shared by more than just pirates. We have our dear friend Beckett to serve as an example for such hunger." He circled around Elizabeth as he continued his speech, judging her reaction to gauge the appropriate timing for his final blow. "There is the hunger for children, not a hunger I share in, but a hunger often felt by women of your age." He hoped that stung a little, a mere scratch for a reminder that she could probably never have any in this particular circumstance. He noted her breath was quickening with his nearness and tone. He didn't think that she would be paying much attention to what he was saying anymore if he didn't make his point quickly.

"Last of all, Lizzie, but certainly not the least, there is the hunger for companionship. The kind of companionship between a man and woman, two kindred spirits, who want to share everything together," he whispered, breathing the words into her hair as he stood behind her. His right hand began to play with her tresses as he murmured his words into her ear, his other hand turning her chin to meet his gaze. She turned willingly, her eyes glazed with longing. Her lips were parted invitingly and he leaned in to taste them, smiling at his conquest.

"You forgot one Jack," he heard her whisper. He paused, staring into her hazel eyes, waiting for her to continue. "The hunger for love. The one thing that binds two people together, to help them ease all the other hungers. Is that something you can offer Jack?" she asked. He stared unbelievingly into her eager countenance, flicking his gaze from her eyes to her lips, feeling his own ardor cool. He wished his answer could have been more to her liking, if for no more reason than to finally end the chase, to finally appease the monster she awakened in him when her challenges were flung at him. He could not – nay, would not -- be dishonest with her though.

He grunted as he pulled away from her. Her face fell as she realized he was not going to answer her, at least not in the words she wanted to hear. He shook his head as he walked away from her in the deepening dusk, growling and muttering and trying to talk himself down. He would try a different tactic later. Hopefully, she would not bring the L word into it, again. He was just not ready for that yet.