Title: When My Ship Comes In
Rating: M (very suggestive situations)
Characters: Jack, Scarlett
Disclaimer: Disney owns them, I just play with them
Summary: To dream the impossible dream? Jack doesn't seem to think so.
When My Ship Comes In
--
"What's this?" Jack asked curiously, pulling a small box out from underneath the bed.
Scarlett hurried over and snatched it from his hand. "Nothing." She carried it possessively over to the window where she'd been sitting.
Jack laughed and laid back on the bed, one arm pillowing his head. "Nothing as in empty or as in not important?"
Scarlett paused for a moment and stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror propped against the wall. It was an apt description of how she felt at the moment, empty… of no importance. She sighed, set the box at her feet and went back to fixing her hair.
"Nothing, as in none of your business, Jack Sparrow." Finished with her task, she stood up and briskly walked to the door. "I have a living t' earn. And, unless you have the coin to stay the night, I suggest you get dressed."
"Scarlett, luv! After this next venture of ours, I'll pay you twice the going rate." Jack gave her his most charming, glittering grin, a hopeful expression on his face. "I rather fancied staying here tonight."
Ever since the incident with that book he had brought from Singapore, he'd somehow manage to connive his way into the room she shared with Giselle, a room normally off limits to men. But Jack was not just any man and that was the problem.
"Do what you will then. I don't have the luxury of lounging the night away." She turned and hurried down the outside stair, into the muddy street below. Hitching up her skirts, she made her way toward the waterfront, where several new ships had made port. With luck, she could make enough that night to meet the week's rent.
The wharf area teemed with activity, as the newly arrived ships unloaded. Along with the whores, vendors hawked their wares, vying for the attention of the sailors, all eager for a share of the coin lining the sailors' pockets. Scarlett wove her way through the crowd, aware that her blazing red hair and matching gown would make her stand out favorably against the dreary drabness of the others. She didn't have to look for long.
"Lookie here boys!" a voice called from behind Scarlett. A group of sailors were making their way up the pier, having just come ashore, judging from their swaying gait. "Ain't she a fair piece." The lead man gave a low whistle and admiring glance her way.
"A right fine doxy she is." His companion agreed.
The third man concurred. "As fine a wench as we'll find in this hellhole."
Scarlett smiled encouragingly. The trio circled around her, whistling their approval and making suggestive remarks. The leader of the group, a sun burnt, fair-haired man wearing the tattered remains of a Navy uniform, took her arm and leered at her. "How much for the three of us?"
Scarlett replied sweetly. "I only take one customer at a time."
"Oh, you do, do you?" the blonde seaman sneered. "Ain't she a right piece, lads? A gimcrack slut like this actin' all hoity-toity, puttin' on airs like she's a duchess or somethin'."
"I don't need the likes of you," Scarlett declared, angrily, pulling her arm away. "Go find yerself another girl."
The man grabbed her once again, with a menacing look. "I don't believe me and the gents here were through with you, just yet."
Scarlett struggled to free her arm, glancing quickly around to get her bearings. To her dismay, she found the men had been quietly herding her toward a seedy alleyway, a deserted, dead end passage. Her alarm growing, she tried to cry out, but the first sailor clapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her down the dark lane.
Instinct taking over, Scarlett kicked outward, a well-placed shoe catching the second man in the groin. He buckled over in pain, but the third assailant soon caught up, seizing her again. It became apparent then, that the men were going to have their way with her, one way or the other. As they pushed her down into the mud, fumbling with their flies, the sound of a sword being unsheathed rang out in the night.
To Scarlett's relief, she heard a familiar voice.
"I have cutlass and pistol at the ready, mates. Unhand the woman, unless you wish one or the other in your gut." Jack's pistol was aimed at one man's heart, a gleam of madness and malice in his eyes.
It only took a moment for her two attackers to make their choice, scampering away in to the darkness. Jack waited until they were well away before he slid his sword back into his baldric, and held out a hand. "Are you hurt?" he asked her, gently.
Scarlett found herself suddenly shaking. "No. No." She clasped her arms around herself to stop the trembling. "Thank you, Jack."
He peered at her in the gloom, his head tilted slightly as if he were going to say something. Instead, he gestured to her muddy gown. "Want me to walk you back to the room?"
Scarlett wiped a stray tear from her eye and squared her shoulders. "No, I'll be fine. I best be getting back to work; I need to pay the rent tomorrow."
Jack fished in his pocket and produced a handful of coins. "No need for that. I'll pay for the night."
Scarlett glanced at the gold and frowned. "You lied! You told me you were skint broke, Jack Sparrow!" She tried to sound angry, but was relieved, nonetheless, to not have to be watching over her shoulder for the remainder of the evening.
Jack chuckled and took her arm. "Not a lie. I am… now."
--
"So what's in the box?" Jack was lying on his side, playing with a lock of her hair, watching her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Scarlett sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. "My past," she said quietly. She could feel the tears threatening again." Why do you care?' she asked, angrily. "Always asking questions."
Jack laid back and stared up at the ceiling, shrugging slightly. "Curiosity, I s'pose." He grinned at her. "Now, don't tell me you haven't been curious at times."
Scarlett frowned at him. "No, Jack. I learned long ago not to ask. Easier that way." She reached down and pulled out the box he had found earlier. "Go ahead and look, if it'll make you happy."
Jack removed the lid and inspected the items inside, a small smile playing at one corner of his mouth. He picked out an old-fashioned cameo broach, and held it up in the candle light. "Your mother's?"
Scarlett nodded, a swell of emotion momentarily choking her. She'd never allowed another soul to see at her small collection of memories, not even Giselle. Somehow, Jack had once again wheedled his way into her confidence.
One by one, he selected and examined several other items – a tarnished ring, a broken comb, some ribbons, faded with age. Without a word, he carefully tucked them back as he had found them, and replaced the lid.
"I don't believe in fairy tales anymore, Jack." Scarlett took the box and returned it to its place. "No more knights in shining armor or happily ever afters…. as much as I want to," she added sadly. "That's why I don't ask questions."
"No damsels in distress, either?" Jack teased gently, leaning back. "Not even after tonight?"
Scarlett shrugged. "Wasn't the first time; won't be the last. Comes with the trade, I suppose."
Jack shook his head in disgust. "Still no call for it."
"No call for a lot of what goes on in this town." Scarlett said resignedly, as she stood and pulled on her faded robe. She went to the table and poured them each a glass of rum. Handing one to Jack, she perched on the side of the bed. "Unlike you, I'm not free to sail away from all this." She paused for a moment, then softly added, "Not like I've got me anywhere else to go."
Jack ran a lazy hand up her arm, wearing a thoughtful expression. "And where would you go, if you were free to go anywhere you wished?"
Scarlett pressed her lips together in grim tightness. "I would go someplace respectable: Boston, perhaps, or Charleston. Open me up a little shop, notions and mending. Perhaps, earn enough for a cottage of my own, with a garden filled with flowers." She allowed for a bit of fanciful dreaming, before bringing herself back to reality. "Won't ever happen, though, will it? No point in dreaming."
"That's where you're wrong, luv. You need to hang onto them dreams of yours. Keep a weather eye on the horizon, that's what I always say," he said cheerfully. "No reason not to believe in 'em. It's been me personal and extensively knowledgeable experience that you never know what life might bring you."
"Just waiting for my ship to come in, is that it?" Scarlett gave a hard laugh and rose, as she moved to the open window, and looked out at the Tortuga night. The street was teeming with drunken sailors and other masculine forms, carousing, fighting… the usual. Her life had become an endless routine of rough hands and nameless faces. She had become accustomed to the stench, but the cheap disregard for life was far more difficult to bear.
Jack rose and came up behind her; wrapping his arms around her. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he gazed at the nightlife below. A cool breeze wafted through the window and he drew closer, naked and needy, running his hands beneath her robe, caressing her breasts.
Scarlett felt him, hard against her back. Sighing she turned. After all, he had paid for the night. One corner of her mouth curled as she led him back to the bed, allowing her gown to drop onto the floor.
At least, she still had her looks.
Jack responded with glee, running his hands along her sides, dark against light, rough against smooth. His mouth exploring, he took charge and gave her a rare treat, allowing Scarlett to feel the pleasures of the flesh.
Afterwards, lying in the crook of his arm, listening as he slept in sonorous satisfaction, she almost wished he hadn't…. hadn't shown her how it might have been, if her life had gone in another direction. It was easier not to feel, neither pain nor pleasure. She wasn't a fool, and expected nothing. Yet, at times like these, she allowed a small part of her to wonder what it would be like to have someone desire only her. She quickly put the thought out of her head.
"When my ship comes in," she thought, bitterly, "it'll be full of men wanting only one thing. Best be getting used to it."