FOR YOUR EYES ONLY

35—Jack's Compass

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

A/N: Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! You guys really make writing so worthwhile and make me feel like updating more frequently, which hopefully I'll be able to do now that it's summer break!

I took some more creative license in this chapter, regarding Jack's compass and where he got it.

Thanks again! On with the chapter!

"You just couldn't resist, could you?" Elizabeth asked, not bothering to hide the silly grin on her face as she helped Jack overboard. He glared at her, but said nothing. Instead, he shook his wild mane of hair, delighting in the squeal she made as water droplets sprayed all over her. "Wretch," she muttered.

"I may be a wretch, Lizzie, but I'm a wretch that you care a great deal about," he said, winking and smirking at her. Before she could come up with a clever comeback, Rosalind intervened, her urgency clearly evident with the worried expression on her face.

"Yes, well, as adorable as your banter is, we have more important things to worry about," she interjected. "Remember Will?"

"Oh, yes," Jack sighed, seeming like he couldn't care in the slightest bit where Will was or what he was up to, but Elizabeth knew better. She'd spent enough time with him and gotten to know him well enough to know he was willing to help. But he'd never admit it out loud, at least not in front of anyone but her. "In jail, is he then?" He sauntered off towards the wheel as the crew madly dashed about, carrying on with their escape. Rosalind huffed out an angry breath of air and Elizabeth quietly followed behind, wondering if Jack would do the right thing without having to prod him.

"Yes, for helping you, no less!" Rosalind cried, trailing after him as he made his way up the stairs to the quarterdeck. "And he'll hang whenever Beckett sees fit if we don't make all haste back to Port Royale with your compass."

"Me compass?" Jack quirked an eyebrow and Elizabeth watched him from the railing, her arms crossed, knowing he was not as ignorant as he pretended to be. Jack knew exactly why Beckett wanted his compass. He sighed, then groaned, when Rosalind continued, her voice seeming to escalate in pitch as she went on.

"Yes, something so trivial will save Will's life, so you see, there's really no reason why we shouldn't be on our way there right now!"

"For God sakes woman, take a deep breath," Jack encouraged, his dark eyes trained out on the sea. "Don't worry yer pretty little head, Will won't swing from the gallows."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because Beckett needs 'im as leverage. Besides, for the time bein', Lizzie's pop is still supreme authority on that sorry little excuse for a settlement, an' I can guarantee you bloody, dear William is safe."

"You don't know that!" Rosalind screeched. "For all we know, Will is already dead, and as soon as we make it back to Port Royale, we'll all hang as well!"

"Well, then that's not a very good reason to be moseyin' on back, then, is it?"

"Jack…" Elizabeth interrupted, her voice carrying a tone of warning.

"What does it matter anyways?" Rosalind asked, crossing her arms. "All Beckett wants is a stupid little thing and we're all granted pardons. What's so special about your bloody compass that you're willing to let a man die for it?"

"Cotton, wheel," Jack said, looking over his shoulder casually at the other man. Once the wheel was secured in Cotton's hands, he turned on Rosalind. "First of all, I never said I was goin' to let Will die, did I? Second of all, it is not a 'stupid little thing,' as you so kindly put it. And third of all, if you must know, it was my mother's, and I'd rather be dead with a knife in me back than see it in the hands of Cutler Beckett. Savvy?"

Without another word and without giving Rosalind the chance to respond or apologize, he stomped off down the steps. The slam of his cabin door could be heard from any point on the ship.

"I didn't mean to offend him," Rosalind said quietly, turning to Elizabeth, her eyes large and sad. "I just wanted to save Will."

"It's not you," Elizabeth said, sighing, as she gently squeezed her friend's upper arms. "He's always this frustrating and mysterious. Give me some time to work on him, I'm sure we'll find another solution."

Rosalind nodded meekly, watching Elizabeth follow where Jack had gone.

Elizabeth was pleased to find that the cabin door hadn't been locked, a clear sign that Jack wasn't so upset that he wanted to be completely alone. When she stepped inside, however, she made sure to turn the latch so that they wouldn't be disturbed.

She followed the trail of sopping wet clothing and small puddles left in Jack's wake, finding him at his trunk, struggling to pull his wet boots off.

"Sit down," she said quietly. He glared, though she knew it wasn't directed at her. He sat without saying anything, holding his leg up when she knelt to help him get his boots off. When she got the second one off, she placed them both neatly at the foot of the trunk. She kept her position, crouched down in front of him, waiting for him to start talking. When he finally did, it wasn't what she thought he would say, though she was hardly surprised.

"I see you took a bit o' creativity with the window, there," he said, tilting his head in the direction of the gaping hole she'd left.

"Yes, well, if you hadn't locked me in here to begin with, we wouldn't be experiencing this lovely breeze, now would we?" she said, grinning at him.

"I suppose I deserved that."

"Yes, I suppose you did."

He sighed, remaining silent for another several minutes before speaking again. "Ye know, Lizzie, you make the worst choices when it comes to friends. William. Norrington. Her."

"I chose you, didn't I?" she replied, gently taking a hold of several of his fingers, bringing each one to her mouth and kissing them softly.

"Suppose you did," he said with a small grin. "Come sit, Lizzie." She rose to her feet and sat on his knee, ignoring the sopping wet breeches he was still wearing as she leaned into him. "I meant what I said, ye know. I've no intention of lettin' the boy die."

"I know," she said. "But Rosalind doesn't know you like I do."

No one knows me like you do, he wanted to say, but didn't. "Has she always been such a pain in the—"

"She's feisty, that's all!" Elizabeth said, smiling. "And besides, I thought you liked that in a woman."

"I like it in some women," he corrected, holding a finger up. "In others, it's annoyin'."

"I see."

"Yes, I really got the compass from me mum," he said. Elizabeth's eyes widened a little bit. Jack's ability to read her mind was always incredible, if not frightening.

"I never doubted that you did," she said quietly, her eyes subconsciously falling down to the bullet scars on his chest. "But why would Beckett want it? I understand the emotional significance it hold's for you, but why would he care?"

Jack sighed. "Go an' fetch it for me, Lizzie, while I put on some dry trousers."

She did as she was told, jumping off his lap and moving towards the door where she had last seen his effects lying in a heap besides his shirt. She quickly untied the compass from his belt, holding it carefully in her hands now that she understood how important it was to him, and turning around towards Jack. She grinned ear to ear, catching a quick flash of his bare bottom as he pulled on a dry pair of breeches.

He turned around and caught her grinning at him, and he smirked. "Like what you see, darlin'?" he asked.

"I always do," she said coyly, walking to him and holding out the compass to him.

"Good to know," he replied. "You hold it, luv," he instructed, walking away from her towards the other end of the cabin. "When I say so, open the lid and tell me which direction it points in."

"What good will that do?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Trust me." She couldn't argue with that, for she (almost) always did.

He stopped about a foot away from his desk. "Now, Lizzie."

She flipped open the lid of the compass, her eyes flashing to the name Captain Isabela Morrego engraved in the lid. Scrawled beneath her name was Captain Jack Morrego Sparrow. She smiled inwardly, wishing she could have met Jack's mother, for he was clearly more than proud to be her son.

Her thoughts returning to matters at hand, her eyes moved downward to where the needle was spinning in circles. She watched it for several brief moments before it began to slow down, stopping in Jack's general direction. "It stopped," she reported. "I hope there's a point to all this," she said, looking up at him.

"What direction, then, Lizzie?" he asked.

"Northwest."

He grinned, a big, toothy, feral grin. "Really??"

"Yes, really. But this doesn't explain a thing to me, Jack."

"It explains a lot to me!" he said, the grin never fading.

"Jack…"

"Alright, fine," he said, waving his hand at her. He marched a few passes in the opposite direction. "Now tell me the direction, Lizzie."

She let out a groan of discontent and looked down at the compass, which swayed slightly in Jack's direction again before settling dead on him.

"Northeast…" her voice was uneasy. "It points to you? I don't understand."

Jack, his silly smile still plastered on his face, walked to her, clasping his hands over hers and over the compass. "This compass, Lizzie, is a unique compass. It does not point north."

"Yes, Jack, I already know that."

"This compass," he continued, "points to whatever it is you want most in this world. And apparently, whatever it is you want most in this world is me."

"Please," she snorted. "It's a coincidence, that's all."

"So good for me ego, luv, really, but watch this." He jumped several paces to the left. The needle followed him. After a moment's pause, he moved quickly behind her. She whirled around, watching him, then looking down to see that, sure enough, the needle pointed right at him. "Believe me now?"

"That's incredible!" she admitted. "Where did your mother get this compass?"

"Bartered it from a priestess not far from here," he said. "She left it with me in Shipwreck Cove all those years ago an' it's been in my care ever since." He moved close to her again, looking down with childlike glee to see that the needle of the compass, while in her hands, was still pointing at him.

Her eyes, all serious now, went from his face to the compass, then back to his face again. She gently placed the compass in his hands. "Where does it point to when you hold it?" she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Jack smiled at her. "Where do you think, Lizzie? Come see for yerself." She stifled a smirk, her heart nearly pounding in her chest, as she peered over his hands and down at the compass. The needle rested, unwavering and steady, in her direction. "How do you think I was able to find you on that island, Lizzie? Out of all the huts they could have place you in… I found ye on the first try without a problem."

"You arrogant man!" she cried, playfully swatting him in the arm. "You had me hold the compass and assumed it would point to you!"

Jack laughed before shrugging nonchalantly. His eyes, now seeming boyish and innocent, darted from the floor to her, before purposely avoiding her line of vision. "Hoped it would, anyways."

"Oh, Jack…" It wasn't the frank I love you that most women would have preferred to hear, but coming from Jack, it was as much a declaration of love than the words themselves. She stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck, firmly pressing her lips against his. She felt him smile into their kiss, prompting a smile from her in return. When the need for air interrupted her desire to kiss the very soul out of him, she pulled away, her eyes still half-closed in a passionate daze.

"So you see then," he said, slowly opening his eyes, another silly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, "why Beckett would want something as simple as a compass."

"Yes, it makes sense now. But a compass like this in the hands of Beckett could be disastrous, for many," she concluded.

"Precisely. A compass like this could be dangerous in the hands of anyone, however, so we best keep this between you an' me, at least for the time bein'," he explained.

"We'll have to find another way to save Will, then," Elizabeth said, sighing. "Any ideas?"

"O'course," he said, nodding. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

A/N: Was going to make this chapter longer, but I think that's a good place to stop for now.

Thanks for reading, now go review! See you next time!