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23.

"Ah." Jack said, in his best attempt at a disdainful tone, "Look who we 'ave 'ere."

Elizabeth - Lizzie - emerged from behind the door, her eyes wide and shy like a deer's.
Why did she have to look so vulnerable? It made him feel cruel for wanting to spite her. And it was his right to be spiteful. She had no business winning both ways.

She grabbed a barrel and moved it to his cell bars, where she perched upon it gracefully.
She was in a navy uniform, which in itself was startling, and also strangely sexy.

"Here." she handed him a full napkin. He unfolded it, and found soft, fresh bread, chicken legs, and a fair cut from a side of ham.
As he was devouring the chicken first, she reached into her boots and pulled out a flask, a banana and more bread.

He went for the flask like an animal, hoping for alcohol. It was only water, but he relished it anyway.

"You got anything in there for me s'well?" he asked, glancing at her pressed white shirt.
She only rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry I haven't got any keys. But you'll be out of here soon enough. They need you to negotiate with the pirates, I'll bet."
"I know that." he snapped, his mouth full of ham and bread, "I plan to scurry along to the island and convince your esteemed navy to wait outside, while I do all the plotting."

"Then once your crew is freed from the Black Pearl's brig, and the curse is lifted and Barbossa's men surrender - well," she looked up at him from under long lashes, with a wistful edge to her voice, "You will be free. And Captain."

"Tha's all I'm after." he agreed noncommittally.
He had polished off every morsel of food, and went back to staring at the wall opposite him, once again tilting his hat over his brow so he didn't have to look at her.
He could feel her looking at him, though.
He could sense the crestfallen appearance of her bonny face and the sinking of her heart.

He didn't care a trifle for it.
Because if he did care, he was a sentimental yellow-bellied runt and not worth the title of Captain.

He wasn't just any man, and he wasn't going to lie down flat on his face for any woman.
If only she were just any woman.
Any other woman.

"Jack, please. You can do anything but hate me." she pleaded very quietly.
"I don't hate ye, luv." he retorted, in stony cold tones, "I jus' understand that we don't mean anything to one another any more."

"Oh Jack, don't think that!" she cried, "I could be giving you the cold shoulder this minute, like I am my father and James -"
"Ah. James. Is that his name?"
"- But you are the only man I want to be honest with!"

"Honest?" he snorted, and was about to rise up in his anger, but decided against it, and instead remained still as a statue. It would hurt her more to show that he wasn't overwhelmed by agitation, "If you wanted to be honest with me, darling, ye'd have done it the minute we got stranded. The minute ye stepped into me prison in yer home town."

"You know it's far more complex than that." she bit back just as swiftly, taking him by surprise, "You're a smart man, Jack. I don't have to explain my dilemma to you all over again. Anybody in my position would have done the same."

"What, tease a bloke to within inches of his life only to drop him like an anchor?"
"I am not a tease!"
"Then what on earth do you call your own actions over the past 'owever many hours?"

She looked at her hands, cradled in her lap, and scowled the worst scowl he had ever seen.
This was going to be more than a little distressing for the both of them.