Chapter 18: Show Me What I'm Looking For

Jack did not sleep, and strangely enough, he did not drink. There was no use for liquor, not when his mind was capable of bringing on the very same effects with half the effort. The tumbling, the cursing, kicking, screaming, angered fit of his own hatred, not towards the sea, not towards Elizabeth, but towards only himself. He had ruined his own chances, over and over and over once again. Given into the thought of fidelity too many times to be of any real use to his head, and now he had truly done it; led her into the claws of passionate stride, removed articles of her clothing for the very first time since a certain corset on a certain dock, a time away from his own memory even. Jack had left obvious but invisible scars upon her neck, shoulders, cheeks, lips, and everywhere that trailed below to her navel. It must burn still for her; it must after what had happened, again. She had turned away embarrassed, and he, had stood with a prideful gut, never feeling the need to even attempt a following through the door.

It was morning now, and so the time had passed for any true changes in the events of the night prior. From here on out, it would have to be dealt with by apology, assurance, plea, which he had never once been a fan of. The lack of alcohol in his bloodstream gave his body an almost weightless, paper-like steadiness as he walked from the bed to armoire, flapping his coat around his shoulders, one arm through at a time. It warmed him further than was needed, but left him with slightly more confidence as he fastened a belt or two, his gun, and descended out into the purple haze.

"Line er' up, higher…higher!"

"Reel it in, nah…don't, don't ye drop it!"

Calls of duty, of work aboard his finely tuned vessel. Crew doing what was expected of them, pirates, sailors taking to the necessary workings of the ship as it sculled out upon the banks of the Florida coast. Jack stood mesmerized at the right rail, his eyes fixed at the shadowy outline in the October mist. It was unnaturally cool for the Gulf, but welcomed ever the same. Gibbs came to him with a wide smile, and after nods of approval, a few slips of jargon, Jack insisted that the two would go ashore first, with their knowledge of the land leading the way. His first mate was hesitant, but proud to accompany his friend all the same, and took to preparing the needed supplies for their hike to shore and further.

It was Jack himself who captained the Pearl into the Bay for the remaining hour or so, carefully shelling her out into a deep crest at the wide beach, white sands glistening in the growing sunlight by the time anchors were weighed. Approving of his own work in such a task, as ever was his nature, he very hesitantly, summoned Barbossa as the lead on board during his own leave. But in certainty that the devilish and spiteful backstabber would not take off this time, Jack was sure to fasten the map into the bound sides of Gibbs' pack. Hector sneered but smiled all the same at this motion.

"Tis' a matter o' trust Hector ole' boy."

"Isn't it always with men like us, Jack?"

"Wot' kind o' pirate would I be mate, if I didn't agree wholeheartedly with that statement."

"Th' kind that loses a rowboat in the course o' anchoring a ship." Barbossa tossed his head over the side of the rail where they stood, with Jack, Gibbs and a few of the other crew following in the action. Indeed it was true, one of the three boats was missing from its hanger, but from the distance they stood at, it could also not be seen out on the waves. Hector chuckled on at the ignorance of it, and took off back towards the helm, eyes rolling. Jack though was perplexed by the sight, and only sought to think of one idyllic answer to it. His eyes darted past a questioning Gibbs to see the door of Lizzie's cabin, still shut but in such a destitute nature that he was seconded on his reaction to the missing boat.

"There remains two other boats fer our use, Master Gibbs…" Jack swiveled on the heels of his boots when he heard no immediate movement from the man or the other surrounding crewman, "Well…get it in th' water then!"

"Oh, aye Cap'n!"

He had time, another ten minutes at least until the boat would be wavering the cool Florida waters below, and this gave him every reason in the world to walk further towards her cabin, investigate and take leave once again. Jack had to know further that he was right about Lizzie, and that she was becoming what everyone but he had always feared she would. Him.

There was a faint glow of light from the glass of the doorway, a candle once he opened up the room and felt its soft warmth. He walked inside, taking note of the garments scattered on the floor at his boots, a chemise, pants, stockings that almost looked to be Will's. Ignoring this, he continued on towards the bed, which was messy from a quick exit on an early morning venture, but still warm where she had laid, and this he took in with the tips of his fingers, ever so gently sliding across the linen until he came to a thin, white nightgown. It had been torn from her body in darkness more than likely, thrown here beneath his hand in haste of waking anyone on board with her actions, and forgotten as she ran from the room. He could see it all in his mind's eye as he lifted it from the bed, then to his nose, with a strong whiff, deep, sensual intoxication lifting him up and away. It smelled like all good things of treacherous women; honey, fresh air, and the ocean, combined to strangle the one scent he could never get rid of, that wine, the wine of her lips, her breasts, her neck. And had he not been interrupted by the call of his name to the deck once again, he would have liked nothing more than to sit and drink what he had allowed to slip away the night before, inebriate himself with her sprawling scent, her delicate and invisible graces. But instead, he set the gown down again, and turned out of the room, hopeful that he would eventually locate the flesh that had so occupied the cotton only hours before.

"Inner bay, Jack?"

It seemed an eternity later that he heard Gibbs voice awakening him, in the boat, rowing far from the Pearl and into the Florida Bay, water warmer with a heavy humidity, and the sun boiling down from above them. The last he remembered in full was the smell of Lizzie's room, her clothing upon his nose, and now he was settling into the green waters of the coast, sands growing more golden with each stroke he heard Gibbs make in rowing them. Trees stood as high as any he'd seen before, hanging out over the open waves, roots sprouting out from within the water itself, everything deserted from where they were, everything quiet, peaceful, uninhabited. But as they both knew well enough, it probably would not be the case for very long.

"Inner bay sound good or not, Jack?"

"Oh…good. Yes." He retorted with the force it took him to come back from his mind, from the short poetry he had begun to hum between clenched lips, unbeknownst to him. It was something he had never once sang, or even played for that matter, it was something feminine, the song Lizzie had strummed across the deck the afternoon before, while fishing. Something about a flash back…summer air…a love story? He remembered it vaguely, but not enough to continue with lyrics, only hums of rhythm as they rowed in closer to the sand, touching it quickly with the nose of the small boat.

"Made it safe enough, eh. Now comes th' hard part…those men."

"Stay weary then Gibbs, keep yer eyes open to the brink. Don't ease up on that gun o' yers for a second."

"Aye, Jack."

One after the other, they stepped onto the wet sand between a brush of trees and palms, hearing not a sound, and seeing not a soul. It seemed almost instantly that the Gulf was a safer choice after all; the possibility of the tribes coming to this corner of the land was almost unthinkable, based merely on the terrain to arrive. Swamps, from one coast to the other, from north to south, everywhere. The only safe places were the shorelines and southernmost tip, which in all actuality would be most dangerous anyway since across these the Indians were expected to spread. But the Bay, the Gulf bay, seemed to take on a different eeriness, of lonely, sole existence should one make it. The red men didn't have boats, Jack and his crew did.

It wouldn't be until they made their later venture into the swamps that they would need to grip their wits and hold tights to their loins. For now, it was all about finding the route, for him and Gibbs to take to their useful findings and discern the proper use of the land for their inward and continuing journey to the heart of Florida, to where they expected must be the base, the platform for the fountain's depth, it's hellish secrecy.

He and Gibbs trudged on, continuously over the beach, rounding curves, underbrush, until they came to a wider spread, rocks lining the water and a clearing of trees making their path easier. It never even came into their mind how exactly the trees had become un-flourished, removed, cleared for them? Instead they took it for advantage, walking about until they were both halted by Gibbs good sight, a distant view of something sheltered into the sticky sand.

"Jack…the boat!"

He looked up to meet the same scene, walking at a pace while Gibbs darted off towards it, examining it closely before his captain came to aid in the touch. There were few contents left inside of the boat, other than its two oars, one broken and the other strangely left with a faint trace of blood, a jacket, small enough for a woman as he noted, and a jeweled something or other below the front bench. Jack reached down for it, taking in the sparkle that it emitted below the sunlight, and in doing so also realized what exactly it was. A hair comb, to hold back loose strands, and one he knew better than he would have liked to admit.

"Wot' is it? Jewels?"

"No." He replied simply, tucking the comb into the pocket of his coat, and taking off further up the beach towards the trees.

Wait, I'm wrong.

Should have done better than this.

Please, I'll be strong.

I'm finding it hard to resist.

He followed the lining of brush, which then followed a shadowed path of soil, dusted with the sandy boot prints of someone more fragile than he, more delicate in stature. They were consistent, met with his own, each tree revealing more and more of what appeared to be an open space beyond, further inside of the land. Gibbs was not on his trail, for whatever reason he intended on holding, fear of the red men, illness, or desire to not get involved in what might become of Jack. None of these mattered to him though; he was only interested in finding her.

A few more steps, a push of leaves, of palms and grass from about his knees and eyes, and Jack finally laid gaze upon the opening of a murky and swamped terrace. It would only get deeper and more difficult from here on out and he wondered how it would be that she could cross it without a boat, if she had even tried. This inquiry of his mind was met with a simple response, and an even simpler notion from behind him.

"I knew you would come, Jack."

He spun on winded legs, his eyes peering into the darkness of the forested grass, seeing only the golden glow of something wavering against a tree.

"You always seem to want to save me."

His boots were coming closer to the voice, the vision, the body at the tree. It was Elizabeth, lacking a jacket, a rip from the bottom of her shirt covering her palm where it had once bled, and the buttons of her vest, her remaining tunic let comfortably loose to reveal the tops of her breasts in the shaded light between leaves. One foot rested on the trunk of the great tree behind her, propping her knee up seductively in his direction, both bare feet in need of a cleanse, but tempting all the same.

"Don't waste anymore time, Jack. You keep making me wait."

So show me what I'm looking for...

Wide eyed and in fury of whatever she was concocting, he drew in faster until he reached her body, never touching, only scanning appropriately over each inch. Her curls were strewn over her shoulders, still rising with the heat and scent they'd had all along. And the nearer he came to her raised knee and leg, the tighter he could feel the pants squeeze at his inner thigh. She was having her ever popular effect on him, the only one he had ever wanted, and it was his only desire to hear her say what he needed her to say. But would she?

With a kitten like grin, a brush of her hand over his cheek, neck, down his stomach and resting on the stiff juncture at the front of his breeches she moaned softly, "Take me this time Jack. Right here, just do it already. I promise I'm yours."

Yes, yes she would. And yes, yes he did fall into her mouth on a direct instant, salivating further at the taste of her, the feel of her lips, the inside of her mouth, the heat, the continuous passion falling from her throat at each instance of a guttural growl. His body draped comfortably between the open space at the side of the tree and her one propped leg, barely able to contain what he was hiding beneath thin cotton. With a death wish, he spiraled his hand around her thigh, drawing her core into his hardness, tightening it further, enriching the sting, the pang of desire. Elizabeth's breath caught in a wide smile at this, the kiss breaking only long enough for Jack to lift her entire form from the dirt below, both legs straddling him in dark air, her plump backside falling into the tree again with the force of him pushing against her.

Everything went quickly, immediately, desperately as he let one hand fall to untie his pants, as well as the ones she bore. There was no time for formalities, for seduction or fair play of each other. He needed to be inside of her and nowhere else. The humidity demanded it, the sun, the stickiness growing at every meeting place between them, her lips biting his ear begged for it.

"Now Jack…now!"

He tore himself from within the linen of his pants, holding the veined length to the colder air, the openness of the world, keeping it steady at her heating, drenched center. Knowing full well what to do next, he smiled, slowly and with a devilish charm. And Elizabeth chanted for it even more.

"…Jack please…"

He could do it, he could take her right there as she so insisted upon, drive himself into what appeared the safest possible place on this earth, he could remain settled inside of her for as long as he wished, because she would let him. But the beast in him faded off as she continued calling his name, begging, pleading, wanting and needing nothing more, it all stopped instantly.

"Jack!"

It was startling the way he opened his eyes, pried them wide with a rough sensitivity to light. His one shoulder, held tightly to the bow of a tree, leaning harshly into his own weight, while his other arm was dropped below to the painful itch and stinging length of what he feared most would come of his imagination. His hand, lost somewhere between the fabric of his breeches, shifted up and down quickly, still, even as his eyes opened to reveal the brushing trees, the distant edge of a swampy wonderland. Her face was implanted in his mind, and his fingertips still melded with the warmed flesh, the aching stiffness of himself.

He grunted once when he was certain that Gibbs was not around, and had more than likely remained on the beach in his own self pity and fear of this place. Jack though, ashamed or not, continued his act thoughtfully, doting on the supple tartness her breasts revealed to him, her eyes suffocating his only breath, her sweet, still only dreamt bud, pleading, strumming in the light for his intricate actions upon it. The more he saw his fingers, his mouth, his tightly bound organ lost within her body, in his mind, the closer he was brought to the edge he so desperately had needed, the act, the ministration, lash fluttering, toe clenching release that he had thought on for almost a week. And then, when he heard her voice distantly in his head, "I'm yours…I promise…," everything let go, his toes, his neck, his grunting, all given way to the greenery, the peaceful breeze that took his release bit by bit.

"Ugh, Lizzie." This was his final plea, made almost silently into the bark of the tree, a whisper, a call to whoever could or would hear. He had hoped it was no one but him. But then again, he had always hoped for things that were impossible to his ways. The juices flowed down his leg within the linen, sheepishly, coolly, and he smiled out of euphoria for the moment, one he'd done often enough to become an experimental genius, but never once to have taken place within the jaws of his last desires, the ones he would never admit. Jack had never permitted himself to release his passion between the banks of Elizabeth's name, her eyes, her skin. The reason for this being, that it would give him only one more reason to fear her, and everything that came along with his feelings toward her. Instead, he settled for Scarlett's lips or Giselle's eyes, or even Anna's skin. But never, not once, Lizzie. Until now, on accident, without ever having planned to do so.

Never, ever before had Elizabeth seen anything like it. She wasn't a prude, because she was always curious about such things, but watching the event of a man pleasuring himself had never been on the top of her list for the most part. It was one of those things spoken lightly of, mentioned between grown women in corners and empty rooms, with slight laughter and mock. It never appeared to her mind that to actually watch it occur before her very eyes, with the body, the sensitivity, the vulnerability of a man who had captured every of pore of her being, the most beautiful and strong creature she had ever known, it would be so peaceful. It was strange to admit that it was, but indeed, it had been just so. Perhaps this was due to the note of her name at the straddling end of his action, or the soft way he melted into his own release, head tilted in exasperation, stalled breathing, clenched teeth.

Save me, I'm lost.

Oh Lord, I've been waiting for you.

I'll pay any cost,

Save me from being confused.

Please show me what I'm looking for.

Jack had given her something in that moment, whether he would ever know it or not, he had given her a rocking balance on her feelings for him, simply by accepting his own. Whether it seemed righteous or not, he had rescued her heart from a strained destitution, from feeling so alone in the matter of them, it, the us he so briefly spoke of once. It was not a dirty act, or something that should be spoken of in a dark and lonely corner, but rather it was a natural happening, a simply perfect way for her to find out just how he felt, where his head had been all this time, and why he stared at her the way he did at times. Was he studying her for moments like these, private, intimate moments when he could be alone with her in his mind? Was he trying to detail every fraction of her eyes, her body, for use? Why wouldn't he just do the same with her the night before, with her flesh? And of all the questions still left unanswered, the most important to Elizabeth, was he scared of her?

It seemed completely absurd, but at the same time very likely. Her status, what she had put him through over the years, the man she was married to and the power he know held, all of it more intimidating than it ever would be appealing, or even sexually stimulating. For all of this, she cursed herself lightly behind the tree which she hid, and then catching her bearings as he did so from a distance, she stood and walked off towards the open swampland through the trees. Maybe he would follow off and find her, maybe he wouldn't, maybe she would never see him so open, so vulnerable, so beautiful again in her life.

For all the stupid things Jack had ever done in public, this was by far the most inane. Not that pleasuring himself was something embarrassing, but the open quality of doing such in the middle of a swamp, at the center of native infested land, without a care in world or a breath in his lungs, was just beyond proper wit.

Even for him.

After readjusting himself for comfort, he pushed away from the hanging tree branch and narrowed his walk back into the plaited dirt path. It took him a few minutes before he found a swamp, one just as he had imagined in his thoughts coming up from the beach, the desirous fantasy of Lizzie, perched at a tree, overlooking almost the exact muddy waters that were before him now. It was eerie but in a way that almost brought him comfort. There was no voice from behind, no soft whisper of passion or delight. But there was a noise, a rustling sound of grasses nearby, down towards the water. No bodies, no life, just noise. And so, being the ever inquisitive man that he was, Jack stretched his leg to relieve the cramping and started off towards the sound. A wistful breeze took over between the grass and small water plants, as he stepped down into mud and heard an even louder noise, the sound of water splashing this time. He became more and more intrigued, and when he was finally in a clearing enough to get a raw gaze out over the swamp, he saw gold, his favorite kind in fact.

Just ahead of him, between waterlogged trunks of trees and lily pads, he saw a leaping, darting figure, golden curls spiraling down from her neck, waist twisting with each jump she made onto the small landings of moss and dirt. Every time she moved though, he noticed how closely she came to falling right into the murky waters, and it tensed his body. A few more heated moments of only watching and he couldn't contain himself, with a wiry smile Jack called out in an echoed form.

"Liz!"

She turned mid leap, but only so much as to have a lasting glance of what had and would inevitably send her into the water, as he had so imagined something might. A quick second later, when her barefoot caught the slimy moss of a log, Elizabeth screeched as she felt her entire body drift back away from the safety of the air around her, and down into the dark pit of the warmed and thick water. She was gone by the time his brain clicked into gear, hidden well under the green, grey, black and brown marsh, golden locks gone, sweetened skin sullied completely by his own advances toward her. As always was the case, Jack felt responsible for her, for her life, forever. Within seconds he was stripping his effects, coat, hat, boots even, and sliding out across the moss covered rocks to where the water overtook his toes. And from there, it was a darting swan dive, or in this case Swann dive, directly beneath the blackened ripples she had already created at a distance.

Save me, I'm lost.

Save me from being confused.

A foot or so beneath the surface, the marsh separated enough for Jack to open his eyes, bearing them to the sandy bottom of the depth, only ten feet or so. When he didn't see movement, it was his first sign that she wasn't trying to swim back. He swam, as hard and as fast as his body would allow him, until he saw something that wasn't sea weed or marsh, it was yellow in the short light of a broken tree high above the water. He reached out to push past the floating hair, seeing her face, eyes closed, mouth pierced in force of air, legs gently swaying down below. Without thinking, he tucked an arm around her waist; fingers snug in the loose cotton of her breeches where he could also feel her skin, still undeniably soft, tender as he paddled back upwards for air. Breaking the surface again, he filled his lungs and stroked through mud, fallen leaves and twigs, until he neared the dirty bank again, a few rocks. Elizabeth wasn't unconscious as he could hear her struggle for wet breath over his shoulder, a choking manner in his ear, the convulsion of her ribs as they pressed against his side through the movement. She was so full of life, pure life, that it drove him mad, even now.

They sank into the mud at the edge of the water, his arm still pulling at her waist, her arms as she fell against his chest, completely breathless and trembling. She thought hard about trying to move away from him, get up and act as if nothing had occurred, but it would only be false pretense, false everything, so she stayed and watched as her head rose with his breathing. He felt nude beneath her with his clothes wet, the flesh surrounding her both above and below, his hand still cradled at her hip, finger caught in the waistband of her pants nonchalantly. She smiled at the feel of this, but also brought herself to rise from him, hands wrist deep in mud, shirt revealing the hardened peaks of her breasts through drenched cotton, and her hair dripping with crystals.

"You scared me."

"Ah…" he gestured with a thick breath, leaning up on his elbows beside her. "Sorry."

She smiled warmly, still trying to catch her lost breath.

"It's fine. Didn't expect to see you so soon, or to be rescued today."

"Ye mean," he sat up to reach a height just over the top of her head, his hand resting in the mud, purposefully close to her knee, "Ye didn't expect t' ave' anyone ever catch up on yer little solo venture so soon, eh?"

"Yeah." She laughed heartedly while playing with her drenched shirt, "Something rather like that."

"Thought so."

When he stood again, bare feet tapping in the mud to where his boots were tossed, Elizabeth watched him carefully, the strange tightness perplexing his body again. The timid, jagged, strong Jack was reappearing, with the fluidity of his earlier actions quite out of the picture. It made her smile to think on them though, to simply have the ability to know of such, and she continued while she stood as well. With an wide-eyed search of the close ground as well as the distance from which she herself had come, it was almost instantly determined that she had no idea where her boots had disappeared to. Although she searched grass and mud for yards, she couldn't find them. Jack twisted his brow with curious delight as he watched her, eventually coming to speak of his curiosity.

"Lookin' fer something of particular nature, lass?"

"My boots. They seem to have disappeared."

"As is always the case with ye…" he winked as she came back to him, grinned once and held out his hand for her, "Come on…I ave' another pair in me cabin, aboard."

Hesitant to accept the dried mud of his palm into hers, she stared blankly at him, not fully understanding.

"Lizzie? Boots…ship…warm clothes…eh?" Another heated smirk. She was lost in him, completely drowned from head to toe, afraid to move or speak, as if she might wake from a perfectly acceptable dream. A perfectly fantastical one. It wasn't until she watched him come closer to her, his arm held out and a turn of his back directly in front of her that she was startled awake.

"What are you…doing?"

"Bare toes only work fer the natives round' ere'. Hop on."

"You can't be serious. I'll surely hurt you after this..." she made a quick gesture to the water.

Perplexed by her considerable care for his health, he turned his face back with a smile, and in one word, one smile, reminded her of what harm by her hands truly was, "Kraken." It was all he said before turning back around and gesturing his back out further, with both hands over his shoulders to help her jump onto his back, properly. And by surprise she followed said orders, arms draped around his shoulders, curled and locked at his neck, while his own hands held her legs firmly at his waist. From there, they walked, slowly, steadily back down to the beach. And to add to the stimulation of their continuing relationship, they talked, nonstop, completely for almost three full miles to shore, where Gibbs both gaped and laughed at the coming sight before him. Jack could not have planned a meeting with her any better had he tried, especially after the awkward night before and Elizabeth only wished one thing, that their swim could have lasted long enough to finish what had been neglected hours ago. Instead though, she focused on the idea of a warm cabin, his room, his bed perhaps, and the telling of all that she had learned while he dreamt of her against his tree.

Wait, I'm wrong

I can't do better than this.

Please show me what I'm looking for...

Song by Carolina Liar