FOR YOUR EYES ONLY

28—The Kraken

DISCLAIMER: Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews!

Enjoy!

Elizabeth stayed awake that night long enough to make sure Jack got some sleep himself.

After his heart-clenching rendering of his experience inside the prison, she said nothing. Instead, she leaned in, kissed him very softly on the lips, and gently pushed him down against his pillow.

She then proceeded to lightly trace his hairline with her fingernails, just watching him with an easy, comforting smile on her face, as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Feeling a bit like a mother soothing her child, she kissed him again, this time on the forehead, as he finally gave up and let sleep take him. Only then did she curl up beside him, allowing his steady breathing to lull her into rest.

Instinctively she knew that opening up and sharing such personal details with her was not an easy task, especially for a man as guarded as Jack, and she was touched that he was able to confide in her. She knew that they would not be discussing his experience again, at least not any time soon, but his storytelling told her told of his trust in her, and as she began to doze off, nestled up against him, she silently swore that she would make herself worthy of that trust.

The exact passage of time was indistinct, for Elizabeth hadn't been entirely aware of the time when she had fallen asleep. What she was aware of, however, was that when she nodded off, she had a warm, firm body next to her. Now, said body had vacated its spot, and there was a cold, slight indent where Jack had once been.

She sat up slowly, rubbing one bleary eye with the back of her wrist as she pulled the sheets up around her torso. Her available hand reached out and touched his side of the bunk and she frowned slightly when she felt the spot. Judging by its absolute lack of warmth, he had been out of bed for some time, and a part of her wondered if he had feigned sleep earlier to get her to sleep herself. Had she taken the time to sit and ponder, she might recognize such an action as a sweet attempt to allow her to sleep with an easy mind. But she didn't. Instead, she muttered a profanity (with his name attached to it), rolled out of bed, and hastily dressed herself.

Elizabeth swung open the heavy red curtains that separated the sleeping quarters from the main cabin (which Jack had so considerately closed) and was immediately faced with an empty space.

Jack's desk was a mess, which suggested he'd been working at it for quite some time. One candle had been snuffed out already and the other was close behind. An empty bottle of rum sat on the desk's corner. She scowled as she picked it up, distinctively able to remember throwing a near-full bottle out the window earlier that evening. Someday, she thought to herself, she would find the cabin's hidden stash and rid Jack of the drink for good… well, temporarily, at least.

She was about to march outside and find him, whether he retreated to the wheel or, more likely, the rum cellar, and haul him back to bed by his ear when she heard shouting… Jack's shouting.

Startled, she dropped the bottle to the floor, jumping when shards of broken glass stung her bare toes. She winced in pain and looked down at them for only a moment when Jack's distant shouts continued.

"Movement!" she faintly heard, from somewhere below deck. "I want movement!"

She thought for a brief moment about bandaging her wounded toes, but instead ignored the pain, her mind racing with a thousand different thoughts. Involuntary tears, both out of pain and fear, flooded her eyes. Were they being ambushed? Had the navy discovered them? Had… she gulped, truly frightened… had Davy Jones found him? Was he angry?

Her feet stung with harsh, unimaginable pain as she ran from Jack's desk towards the door, grabbing one of Jack's old jackets on the way out the door. It was one he didn't wear anymore and had given to her, for her use. She loosely wrapped it over her shoulders as she made her way out on deck.

When she got there, Jack had his back to her, and the crew was standing in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes and puzzled expressions. He had clearly just finished saying something, for he turned around, ducking past her and hiding beneath the stairwell that flanked one side of the entrance to their cabin.

"Jack?" she called gently after him, taking a brief moment to look over her shoulder at Gibbs, who was right behind her.

"I thought I'd seen the last of his crazy antics," Gibbs muttered under his breath to her, "but once again, he's proven me wrong." He sighed heavily, turning directly to her. "Miss Elizabeth, I honestly can't fathom how ye put up wif 'im."

"Neither can I," she muttered back as Jack's first mate walked past her, going directly to their captain.

"Jack?" Gibbs asked cautiously, Elizabeth following close behind.

"Shh!" was all Jack responded with. His eyes refused to make contact with either of them, fixed upward instead.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Jack, what's gotten into you?" Elizabeth asked crossly. There had been no sign of any ship anywhere in sight. This sudden outburst of his, though not entirely unusual (by Jack's standards, anyways), was still off-putting.

Jack was silent for a moment before he forced a grin on his face, one of those all-too-charming grins that immediately told her he was in trouble. Again. "Nothing," he said, his words dripping with false good-humor.

"Jack…" she said, crossing her arms. "You're lying."

"No I'm not," he said, the grin not falling from his face. He slowly, guardedly inched out from his hiding spot, looking up towards the sky as if expecting something heavy to fall on him. He gently took hold of Elizabeth's elbow before turning halfway towards Gibbs. "Back to the Caribbean with all haste," he said.

"Sir?" Gibbs asked, puzzled.

"Tell the crew if they can get us there in less than a week, then it's three extra rations of rum for the lot of 'em. Now, Gibbs! On the double! Tout suite!"

Elizabeth could hear Gibbs "aye, capt'n," as Jack shut the cabin door behind them, shoving her in first. She watched his face as he was greeted with the sight of the broken bottle, along with a small puddle of blood. His eyes instinctively darted to her, then down to her feet.

"Sit!" he instructed, all too loudly, ushering her towards the desk chair.

"No," she replied firmly, her arms still cross. "Not until you tell me what's happening. Why are we headed back to the Caribbean? What's going on, Jack?"

Jack winced, a wince that was partially humored and partially pained. His voice almost cracked (out of discomfort, she surmised) when he finally spoke. "Sit down, Lizzie, an' I promise to tell you all about it."

Elizabeth glared at him though did as she was told, the sharp pain she felt getting the best of her. She watched as he fluttered around the room, tearing off a piece of cloth from a sheet in the trunk beneath the window. She looked down at her bloody toes for only a moment, a moment in which Jack gathered another bottle of rum in hand, and was on his way towards her. He said nothing, much to her annoyance, as he soaked the cloth and proceeded to tend to her cuts. She yelped, the burn of the alcohol searing her to her core, and she instantly wished for some of it to drink… to calm her nerves, at least.

"Sit still," Jack said firmly.

"How dare you!" she cried. His eyes immediately shot up to hers. "You have no right to be ordering me around when it's you who's keeping secrets."

Jack said nothing, but smiled at her again, that uneasy "I'm-hiding-something" smile.

"And ye took yer frustrations out on yer poor, helpless little toes I see," he said, smirking. She had half a mind to yank her foot from his grasp and kick him heartily in the chin, but refrained.

"It's your fault," she said angrily. "You started screaming and I dropped the bloody bottle."

"Ah, I see. I wonder how many hapless, ill-fated bottles will meet their demise at your hand, dear Lizzie."

"Please, it's an inanimate object," she replied. "And you're still avoiding my question."

Jack sighed before tying off her makeshift bandages. She watched, still mighty irritated, as he rose to his feet, frantically fluttering around the room. Finally, he spoke, his eyes avoiding hers. "Ye remember the night I told ye about my debt to Jones?"

"Yes…"

"And ye remember what I told you said-debt incurred?"

"Yes, of course," she replied. "A hundred years of servitude aboard the Flying Dutchman." She sat silently, watching him as he grinned at her, wringing his hands together nervously. "That wasn't a lie, was it, Jack?" she asked sternly.

"No! No." He said quickly. "Well…"

"Jack…"

"Not entirely."

"What do you mean, 'not entirely?'"

"Well, there's just a bit more to it, is all."

"Jack!" Elizabeth quickly jumped to her feet, her arms crossed, but the sharp pain that shot through her feet and up through her legs urged her to sit down again. She did so, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. "What more is there?!" she nearly shouted, her heart racing with a mix of anger and fear.

"Well…" Jack was now rocking back and forth on his feet. He spoke slowly and cautiously, as if any given word would cause her to shatter into a hundred tiny pieces. "Well, if a man avoids Jones to a certain extent… that is, if he refuses to go to him to pay his debt… he sort of… well, he… well, let's just say that Jones has other means of makin' 'im pay."

"What other means? And be specific. I'm tired of you dancing around this as if it isn't of grave importance," Elizabeth said.

Jack sighed deeply, his eyes growing serious. He stared at her in silence for a few moments before speaking again. "There's a small detail that I left out, Lizzie."

"Why?" she asked, her voice small and sad, all previous notions of trust and faith starting to wither. How could he not be honest with her? Did he not trust her after all?

"Well, you already had so much goin' on, is all," he replied. "I didn't want to burden you further. Ye know… give ye more to worry about."

Elizabeth closed her eyes before speaking. She suddenly felt very tired. "Just tell me, Jack." When she opened her eyes, he was no longer looking at her, but instead at the floor.

"Jones has… a pet. A beast, really. A creature he can summon what does his biddin' whenever he pleases."

"Oh?"

"Aye. S'a giant sea creature what can take down an entire ship without battin' an eyelash." Somewhere deep inside, Elizabeth could feel her heart breaking, a combination of fresh panic and fear.

"I take it that's why we're headed for land, then."

"Aye."

"And I take it it's after you."

"Yes." The vision of Bootstrap Bill's barnacle covered face flashed through his mind. In light of recent developments (like a large, splotchy black spot in the middle of his palm), such a detail hardly seemed significant. He'd make a point to tell her about it later, though, when she wasn't so cross with him. "Jones sent one of 'is henchmen to inform me that it's on its way."

"I see," Elizabeth said quietly, nodding. A pit was forming in the middle of her stomach. "And does this beast have a name?"

The pit that was rising in Elizabeth's stomach was doing the same in Jack's throat as he watched her face, sad and disheartened, from across the room. Had he only known those thirteen years ago that this unimaginable beauty would come into his life, that he'd have her safety, her emotions and feelings, in the palm of his hand… he would have found a very different way to bargain for the Pearl. Or… dare he say it… the Pearl would lie where his mother had left her… at the bottom of the ocean.

Finally, he nodded. "The kraken."

A/N: Reviews please!

Thanks for reading!