Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, no matter how much I would like to… however, I do own my thoughts and interpretations for a future storyline. xP… (heart) yay!
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Pirate Quote! where is the thump-thump?
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H e a r t I n A H e a d l o c k
His hand was still on her hip, still on his prize.
"Now what ever to do ye mean, Mr. Sparrow." Her brown straight hair was piled upon her head and smelled of lavender. Rum stung his tongue and the back of his neck. Red silk, warmed by her flesh, it felt a lot like blood, actually, except for it wasn't sticky or wet, was the only thing keeping his head in a business where normally his libido ruled. It was hard to believe that such a vixen could really be responsible for blowing each and every finger off of a man's hand, but I guess you should really never underestimate the female creature -- and even more an insane female creature.
"Captain, luv. Captain. Jack." His voice was soft, only for her in the candlelit barroom, yet it held a bite, an edge, that make shivers run up your spine and keep you coming back for more. He was good at what he did. "Sparrow." She squirmed a little in obvious delight and for a second he doubted all together that this was the woman who stole the artifact from the shop. She would have to be an actress, of course, but Jack had never seen a woman -- especially a woman capable of disastrous things -- have her guard down like this. To shiver in his grasp, it made him feel completely in control, like a man, and it was something a strong woman would have never stood for… this couldn't be her.
However, it was. He was looking too far into it. The silk under his fingers was ruby red, blood red, -- cherry red, and the Gilded Garters was the only shop on Tortuga who cared much, or at all, about the quality of dresses. It could have been someone that had no ties to the island, that much was true, but it would be impossible to track a lead like that -- someone who just came in and then left without a word. No, this was the girl. The one that looked like a queen, had a voice of an angel, and -- he was betting -- held the mentality for torture.
"Very well, Captain Jack Sparra', what is it that ye 'ave planned for me?" His lips curled into a wicked smile. Yes, she was a very good actress, wonderful diction, perfect delivery; however, as he generally was, --- Jack was better. He leaned in close, he could feel her side firmly against the front of his chest, yet tugged her closer still, she was the type of woman that needed to be possessed. He was the type of man that wanted to own something… until the next morning anyway, or in this case, until he told the girl to hand over the artifact she had taken from a now digit-less shopkeeper. Yes, that was definitely going to cramp any future growth for them.
He settled his lips at the piece of soft skin directly below her earlobe, Blaze turned just a little away from his grasp before relaxing. "I suggest… we take ye and me plans for yer person tah a place a li'le more private, lest red should besmear me lady's cheeks." He didn't know that she could smell the rum on his breath, and that she hated the drink herself, but it did nothing to change her answer. It would have been the same no matter who or what asked her to leave. There were rules and she wasn't raised as someone to ignore them. If you ignored the rules you had to face the consequences and, she had learned over time, the end never justified risking it all.
She pulled away only a little, to smile sheepishly like she always did, it gave her great enjoyment to tease the men and it kept the crowds big… so in a way it was just an extension of her work. Blaze had been with very few men in her life; she was wary of them and their actions that very frequently left her with a broken heart. It took a lot more than any old drunken sailor with kind phrases to get her to lift her skirt. Normally, anyway, but this Jack Sparrow held an enigmatic something that made her want to be spontaneous and do things she had never wanted before. She was always the good girl, the sharp-eyed friend, the level headed female… why now did she want spontaneity in her life? Why did she find herself wanting to do what she wanted to do because she wanted to? It was maddening and made her feel very much like a school girl. He made her feel like a school-girl. Yes, there was something.
There was something magical about this man whose lap she sat in. "I cannot, much to me regret. There are rules that even I be 'ard pressed to folla'. Ye be quite a fine man to 'ave for the night, Cap'n Sparrow, but me job be a might finer in me eye." With that done her fun was completely over again. Steven had decided, months ago now, that they were to sleep where they lived and if one of the girls reported the other missing then they would have to report to him. Esmeralda would definitely tell if any of the others were not there; she was always fishing for a way to crawl up the figurative ladder.
Touché. She had successfully cut herself off from his maneuverings and without even so much as lifting a finger. Perhaps she really did know what she was doing and wasn't just some beautiful, brainless thing with … two rather large things. He pulled his eyes back up from those matters in question and focused on her light brown eyes. "Well, luv, ye do present a problem for us, but as I don't see yer keeper anywheres as so 'e could keep ye from escaping yer convent, and mum is the condition to which the other dancers will keep yer absence after they receive a little pre-planned incentive -- I see no reason why we could not leave right… now." He smiled wolfishly; he almost wanted to see his sheep escape this corner he had laid out for her,… almost.
Planned. He had planned all of this. She looked at him not quite believe all he had told her. Somehow this man had organized a private rendezvous for them. Part of her told her that this wasn't to be trusted, that anything planned by a man was sure to be of evil intent, but the rational part of herself to her the only evil thing he had in mind lived in his pants --- which she had an idea wouldn't really be all to evil. For the first time in years the blood pumped to her cheeks and the tips of her ears, flattery normally was false in her line of work so it was awkward when you actually find an individual that actually suited you fancy and cared… for you… even if just a little bit. "You went through so much trouble?" She let her eyes drift uncertainly over the contours of her weatherworn face before drifting back to his dark, unreadable eyes. "Why?" It was a simple question, or so one would think, but the question always came off to general. Why what? Why…why? She wasn't even quite sure what she was asking so how could she expect him to give an answer.
She didn't know how she could expect such a thing, but she did….
She wanted him to give her -- something.
He slid his callused hand up the side of her soft, tanned arm. "The reward, I am sure," that arm drifted back down her arm and settled back down on her silk-covered waist, "will be worth well more than any physical sum we could ever imagine." He took a break to down the rest of his almost-forgotten rum. She raised a brow at the action in obvious distaste, but said nothing of it. There was not better way to finish off a romantic turn of phrase than downing some alcohol. "Now, what do ye say, luv, shall we get out of 'ere while the going is good?" Blaze still looked hesitant towards the object of leaving. She didn't want to lose her job, a smart gel, but when Esmeralda made a clear shooing motion -- she had been very well-paid to assist him courtesy the pocket of some other bloke here -- at both of them it seemed to end all of the girl's pangs.
He had won. It hadn't been that difficult, truth be told, but winning always made him feel much better. The spoon was practically in his grasp. After watching the girls' warm up, the way Blaze clucked around the other dancers like a mother hen, he had been a little worried that she would be the 'I hate men' type of woman. He had purchased the green one's assistance fairly simply; she seemed more than willing to get the red girl out of the way for a while. Steven McCook would definitely be in for a show tonight from her.
Whore. Jack thought rather affectionately, the world needed a few more desperate whores.
Once Blaze had gotten up from her placement upon his lap the members of the Black Pearl scattered around the room relaxed. Jack had won this battle; everything was to go as planned and they were going to live it up before the scheduled move tomorrow. As they left, the pirate captain's arm wrapped around his would-be lass's shoulders, Steven and Louene walked back into the front room both of them obviously brooding. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyebrows, eyes glinting for a reason to fight about it, yes… they were obviously brooding.
Candles drowning in their own wax began to flicker away to death. The room wouldn't be empty though until all of them went out and the only light was the oil lamp behind the bar. Yes, Saturday was always a wild day full of more than enough entertainment for all. That was why, in the dimly lit room, they paid no mind to the reason why they couldn't find Blaze when they gave it a once over. There were probably a hundred faces, in this kind of light it would be easy to overlook one or two. Lou found a red-haired sailor who looked a bit lonely and joined his table, not his lap, for a few glasses of rum before the night died. He seemed honest, but then again it was the honest-looking ones you should always expect to be dishonest. I mean, look at her, she was just about as evil as they came and her face could rival any silly puppy-dogs.
He glanced at her, fixing only one eye upon her, before glacing back to his rum and keeping his gaze there. The solemn type, Lou recognized. Serious to a fault, never allowing himself to loosen up. Unfortunately for him, she had a certain attachment to the "strong and silent" archetype. "Well, luvly. I do believe it be considered bad manners tah ignore a lady in yer presence." She took the glass in front of the little boy next to him. They gave off the appearance of being close, but one look at one and then another at the other was all you needed to tell they were not related. A swig later informed her that the boy nigh but twelve was drinking some rather strong whiskey. A soft cough left her because she wasn't expecting such a burn. The boy fixed her with a laughing look that made her want to pop him… or hug him, either one.
He, the older one, let his eyes drifted towards her again and she offered him a toothy smile. He hadn't expected her to be demur, had he? Oooh, that was a mistake on his part to assume she would a sweet brainy thing and wait for his action. No, that was for one of the other girls to do, she was strong and violently in your face. It was part of her charm; it made her the Queen.
No, she reminded herself. She was no longer the queen.
Her smile turned into a grin and she hid it with another pull from the whiskey. The land legs that had been attached to her for so long were coming the hell off, and she was going to get back to her beautiful sea of blue-green waves and unpredictable gusts. By the strength of her back she would create as much for herself as she could; she would be honest and dishonest and make and take and devour the entire world… Again, for the second time, she would join those of legend and take up the place that was rightly hers at the Brethren court. Too long that idiot has had her piece, too long had she been rotting here. "It is also considered bad manners to not ask permission to sit at a complete stranger's table." His voice held less rogue to it than was usual for a deck hand.
He definitely wasn't a noble soul willing to take pain for the lady. There wasn't even so much as a pleasant line upon his face to show sign of that being a joke. He obviously wasn't one of her admirers, Lou found that she liked him much more because of it. She didn't like it when battles were won too easily. They always, those easy triumphs, seemed to mean less to you when the day faded; she never wanted to look back at a day she lived and think it wasn't meant everything she had made the day before. It was the way she lived, constantly growing, and it was how she hoped to remain. "Aye, that be true. I suppose we can look over each other's wrongs in favor of a more … fertile relationship, neh? Tit-a-tat and all that. Might I ask yer name, sailor… I assume ye be one considering I do not know ye and thus ye must just be passing through, also may I have the name of your young companion who so politely supplied me with drink?" She winked over at him and the teenage boy had the decency to smile a little. Normally most adults just ignored him. He quite liked it when they didn't.
"I'm Mack." The boy answered instead of the gentleman, but she didn't mind the switch. It was pleasurable just to hear someone was pleased to have her there. She had begun to wonder if she had lost some of her charm. The boy leaned over towards her and she didn't move to lean away, she was rather used to the same old scene, even if he was young enough to be her son --- maybe.. "This be Robert. He never really talks much." The red-haired Robert only narrowed his eyes at the boy for apparently making him look like a jerk. Lou let out a loose bit of laughter. They were quite the endearing duo. "As for the whiskey, I wouldn't have allowed it, but ye left me quite tongue tied for a while, luv."
If Lou had thought them cute before she positively loved them after a few minutes of chatter. She laughed and let out a few savage quips. They were good men, and it was hard to find good men these days. They had another round of drinks. "Ye must tell me, young Master Mack, what ship is privileged enough to have ye as a member of it's crew?" She affectionately rubbed at the boy's long hair playfully tossing it in his face. Perhaps after all of this was said and done, and if she lived through it, she could look up these two and enlist upon the same vessel. They would certainly make for an entertaining time, much more so than crazy rapists would.
The boy could hold a surprising amount of alcohol for his size, then again… so could she, but it was completely evident that his head was a little out of the game after two glasses of pure whiskey. "We sail 'board the Black Peal; she be cap'ned by Jack Sparra's" He spoke the words with a blind kind of pride. She heard a dull thud from Rob kicking Mack under the table. The boy looked at him, his eyes grew just a tad wide, and his silenced himself with another helping of whiskey. What had that all been about?
It took her about ten seconds to put it all together. Jack Sparrow, Black Pearl, Undead Pirates, Barbossa, Aztec Gold, Undead Pirates, Undead, Undead, Undead, undead, Immortal, …. immortality. Eternal life, Jack Sparrow, nogoodsoddingbastard, Jack Sparrow, Barbossa, Jack Sparrow, Eternal Life. That took ten seconds. Blaze. It seems a lot longer. She looked around the room for any glimpse of red silk or rum drunk pirate. Blaze and Jack Sparrow. They weren't here; she was sure of it. Ten seconds, it seems much longer when you have a moment that gives you a fork in the road. Jack Sparrow had Blaze because he thought that she -- because of the red -- … it was her fault.
Ten Seconds. It took her ten seconds to throw back her chair, and tear across the room towards the door. He had her; why had she forgotten about who was on his lap? This was all of her fault. Dammit, why hadn't she worn Esmeralda's dress? She knew the answer, because it would have been noticed missing, but she didn't want to know why. It was easier to not be rational in moments like this. Steven didn't say anything to her when she left; after all, she had given him her resignation all ready, what could he do to make her stay her last night? Nothing.
The warm, wet ocean air gave her none of the normal relief it usually brought. Her heart was beating so loudly she could hear it, every vein was shaking with life. She had forgotten about this part of the job, the harsh terror for those few you cared about. How could she have put little Rosalie in this kind of danger. It wasn't couth to tell the others anything other than your stage name, but Blaze knew hers "Lou Rivera" and she knew her's "Rosalie Hawkings." They were each other's best friends and she wouldn't allow anyone to touch her. No one would touch her. She took a deep breath and looked down the busy street both ways. She attempted to think like the no good piece of crap that had taken her friend, but came up empty handed. She didn't even really know him. She slowly set down the street her costume getting a few catcalls -- well maybe a few dozen.
No one would touch her.
It had taken Blaze quite a while to realize just how much of a fool she was. Jack Sparrow had skillfully played to every romantic, female cell in her body. When he locked eye with her in the dance she should have suspected something, her hackled should have been raised; when he had planned some elaborate way to get her alone, she should have been suspicious; when he had pulled her away from the main street into the dark alley, she should have thought something other than, 'So the boy 'as a dark alley fetish.' She wanted to bang her head against the wall for being so blind, for forgetting that all men are scum and that you cannot trust them. She really did want to take her head and smash it repetitively against the stone wall behind it, but -- Jack was doing that for her.
His eyes were narrowed in malice, his upper lip raised like a pissed off dog; what had she done to deserve catching the eye of some sadistic rapist. "You stupid gel, where is it?" He hissed in a voice that sounded much to menacing to ever come from someone like him. The seriousness was material, floating through the air, where previously had hung small-talk and idle chatter. Blaze had absolutely no idea what he was looking for or where it was… so she told him that.
"Let go of me! Let go of me ye soddin' rum-drunk, scrotum-suckin', lily-livered piece of infected jackass!" Well, she had thought about telling him that, but then decided to tell him exactly what she thought about all of this. In any place, other than Tortuga, that would have been enough to alert some noble gentleman to her whereabouts and for her to be saved. But, unfortunately for Blaze, this was Tortuga, and rape and death were just part of the credo. It was allowed; those were rights preserved by the freemen who lived here. It's crazy but true. Jack's hand, which smelled of dirt, rum, salt, and fish, knocked her back against the stone pushing the side of her face into the grooves of uneven bricklaying and keeping it there.
His face got right near her exposed ear and drew to a low, menacing volume. "Don't try to play dumb with me, woman. There is only one place that 'as red dresses of such quality in all of Tortuga and it 'appens to be yer closet. So, where 'ave ye 'idden it?" From underneath his hand she attempted to growl out a few more hexes at him and all of his piratey kind. She talked of his mother, father, brother, sister's cousin's former roommate -- but it all came out as a gurgle, a very angry gurgle. "I am goin' tah assume that was nothin' of value." She set her lips into a deep scowl apparently deciding that silence would be perhaps warrant him raising his hand. It didn't; he kept his hand right where it was. He wasn't getting anywhere, but the saddest thing was he didn't know how to even begin. Half of himself even doubted she was the girl he was looking for and the idea of torturing an innocent dancer with a physic to die for just didn't appeal to him at all. Was she really just the actress of a century; was he wrong?
Something in him immediately recoiled. She was just a good actress, because he couldn't be wrong. His logic was undeniable. The sweat from her forehead was dripping down into his hand making his fingers slide against it's contours. He dug his fingernails in a little to keep his place. She was a criminal, not an innocent, and he was a criminal too, not an innocent -- actions between them shouldn't hurt him. He was doing what was right by him. "I will give you three more chances." With his free hand he pulled a small "utility" knife of no great beauty from his belt. It was used, normally, with cutting rope or other such things. "If you tell me what I want to know then…"
The blade slashed clean across her bare collarbone. Red started in little droplets welling up from the skin and eventually poured out onto her dress. She squealed in pain and thrashed against him violently. He laid his body against her whispering pacifying noises into her ear. "… then, I will give ye a few fancy marks before handin' you over to this fine brothel next door. There is a party already set up for ye if ye prove to be… too spirited." Her breath became ragged. Obviously, Jack smirked, she had figured out who was to wear the pants in their short-lived relationship. Her eyes were large, pupils huge trying to suck in the light which wasn't there. There was no light to shine her way; she had taken the next part of his puzzle and he was going to reclaim it.
Jack took his hand off of her mouth and pushed instead on her wounded collarbone. The air left her lungs and scooted through clenched teeth to make a hissing noise. It hurt her… good. "I don't 'ave it with me; we will 'ave to back to the tavern to fetch it." The shaky reply seemed honest enough. He looked into her eyes for a long moment before pushing her far more angrily against the brick wall behind them. She felt all the air leave her, which is good for Jack because Blaze would have screamed with every ounce she had in her a second later. He took the knife sliding it a quarter inch into her skin and made a large semi-circle above the line. Her dress was now two-tone, fading from a thick, bright red to some man's apple addiction.
Tears were running down her face as well as sweat now. "Why… why would ye do that?"
A deep noise of distaste left him like a growl. "I will not be lied tah, Blaze."
Her eyes, if they had previously been wide, now turned into saucers. She had no way to escape this mad man in front of her, because as much as Jack didn't want to think about it, Blaze was an innocent. She had never taken the spoon from the fat clerk's shop. She had never blown off a man's finger with a pistol. She had never even thought about chasing after something like eternal life… thought it impossible. Port was her home, not the sea, and innocence, not debauchery, was her way. Yes, Captain Jack Sparrow had made one doozy of a mistake this time, but by the time someone found out about her death he would be long gone. Hiding in the shadows away from the responsibility of something as horrible as an innocent girl's death -- well, innocent relatively speaking.
She closed her eyes very tightly, trying to forget he was there, but the pain and the humid, sticky air that kept the stench of blood surrounding them wouldn't allow her such a pleasure. No, the fates hate you today Rosalie Hawkings. Her father had been murdered by some workings of the Port Royale ton; that had led her here. She had never been quite a lady, but she had been a vital part of society, her father a notable captain who still believed in honor of loyalty. That was what had ended up getting him killed. Her mother had hung once everything went all pear-shaped thanks to the East India Company, and she had been smuggled out by a few honest members of her fathers crew. She should have hung, hanging probably didn't leave you in as much pain as these cuts and bruises did.
A deep breath brought some semblance of sense back to her. She needed to remember her father, a Captain, who had been so much more than this man. Living… she had to keep on going for them. They had died for country and honor and so should she one day. Another day --- today was not her day to die. "Ye are bloody mad. I 'ave told ye the truth, ye just refuse to 'ear it. I do not 'ave yer bloody artifact, I 'ave taken nothing, I am innocent." She was firm and proud of her little speech. Proud until she blade cut across her skin again in short, painful bites.
He let out a dark chuckle. She was innocent. It was simply laughable. "Luv, yer skirt be far… far too short for ye tah be innocent involvin' mucha anythin'." He was bitter and taunting and going to kill her. Her eyes locked his black ones. She tried to convey innocence in a look. Sorrow for things left undone and a longing to live, but it was too much. He wasn't receiving it. She could tell by the way he grew bored with waiting and glanced up at the sky as if praying for speed. As soon as she answered this time there would be nothing left… her three chances would be up and her life would be practically forfeit. Steven would never look for her in a brothel.
She couldn't blame the man either; she wouldn't have looked for herself in a brothel.
Maybe she would die of blood loss. Her life-force was slowly leaking out and soaking into the silk of her dress; it was clinging morbidly to her chest living nothing to the imagination really. They should think about wetting the girls down every once and a while for the act. It did marvels for showing off your body. She tried to keep herself focused, but her mind kept slipping. Her mouth opened, obviously intending to tell him her third answer. She didn't even know what her third answer was… she closed her mouth. Open. Close. Op -- She felt like a fish just pumping water in and out.
"I. I-I-I… I!" She knew that whatever she said wouldn't change the outcome, but nothing would come out anyway. "I… I-"
Luckily for her, and her fraying psyche, Jack Sparrow chose that moment to fall rather unconsciously upon Blaze. He just sagged, like an old doll tossed across the room, into the blood he had caused to churn from her before settling into a pile on the ground. The girl, who had been thinking about ways to kill herself after this if she happened to be left alive, could only blink with eyes unseeing. She hadn't expected a rescue. This was bloody Tortuga, honor was left with the whores between the sheets, apparently someone hadn't gotten the memo.
The sound of soft-leather boots broke the deafening silence as the figure moved into the light. Lou. She gave Jack's ribs a soft kick to make sure he had been pistol-whipped into oblivion. Using a gun as a club was the ultimate way to use a gun… other than shooting it. "Are ye okay, Blaze?" Lou stepped over his limp body and checked over the torture wounds that Blaze had been inflicted with. They weren't that bad, really, though she kept that fact to herself. She smiled in a motherly down at Blaze. She bent down and ripped off a sleeve of jack's white linen shirt. It looked decently clean. She split the cloth a little so that it would last longer and wrapped it tightly and neatly around the wound. "Are ye okay, Blaze?" She voiced the question again with a soft tone careful not to disturb the younger woman if she had drifted into shock.
"I think I will-- I just… I just don't understand why all of this be happenin'." Before Lou could even plan on what to do the girl had flung herself on her and wrapped her arms about her. The warmth and salty smell of tears would be embedded in the neck of her blouse. The salt of tears and the sea weren't really that different though. It would fade after her first trip on the waves. Awkwardly she patted Blaze attempting to hush the pitiful thing. Some women could handle the throws of battle and others could not, apparently, Blaze was of the second type.
With a petting motion Lou smoothed out the tangles from the now loose, straight brown hair next to her own light curly. It had been in a beautiful bun, but apparently buns and brick don't agree with one another. "I know ye don't." She hugged her for a little while longer before continuing. "I know ye don't, luv, but I don't 'ave time to explain everything right now. We 'ave to leave; 'e 'asn't come alone." Louene felt the shaking of the other woman's head under her chin. It was rather childish of her, it was, to want to sit here and await there doom. After all, Jack would wake up and she had nothing but a small knife. Although that knife would be enough against most pirates she needed a bit more security when fighting another lord. Lord's tended to have a bit more cunning than the other brainless bunch. "We 'ave to go, gel."
Blaze exploded out of her hold leaving nothing but the wet of tears on Lou's neck. "WHY?! Why do I 'ave to do anything other than walk back into Steven's tavern and 'ide? Tell me why I must." She was suddenly angry and hurt and tired. It was like she had forgotten whom had been holding her only moments before, comforting her.
"They will come after ye, right now, Blaze. They think ye 'ave something very valuable, and they will keep coming until ye are really, really, really dead, not just in that brothel on the other side of this wall. They will kill ye without a second thought, do ye understand me? That is why you must come with me. I will take ye tah Nassau Port, I know someone there strong enough to 'ide and protect ye until 'e decides ye can return 'ome… 'ere… whatever this place be to ye. It will not be for very long, and I am sure when ye return Steven will still 'ave the job open for ye. This is the safest way, ye 'ave to understand."
Blaze did understand. She could see the fire of friendship, of a need to protect, and of -- something that could have been regret burning in Lou's blue-green eyes. This was all for her. Lou was going out of her way, when she didn't have to, to save her because they were friends. Letting out a long sigh while thinking how much easier it had been two days ago, Blaze walked over back to Lou and took her hand. She could hear each of her steps echo off of the walls and fade into eternity. She would remember this moment forever; she knew it. "Let's go."
A pig walked up the alley and laid down next to Jack. The girls, despite the seriousness of the situation, let out an amused chuckle at the sight. Pigs attracted their own kind.
A/N: Remeber!! REVIEW! and something else to remember. REVIEW!!! and a third thing! I am looking for a new beta. Thanks for reading guys! 3
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