Chapter Eighteen - No Relief
"To be honest, Gibbs, it really was a pretty terrible plan." Marty took a swig from the flask in his hand and raised his eyebrows at the first mate. "You thought forcing the poor woman aboard was going to make her all fine and dandy with Jack?"
Gibbs folded his arms defensively.
"Well it was better'n just leavin' her with Anamaria. At least now they have to live with one another."
"Not for much longer though. We're going to have to make port sometime, and somehow I doubt she'll be choosing to stay."
Slapping a palm against the wall, Gibbs sighed. He hadn't quite factored in exactly how blind stubborn Jack could be, and had barely considered at all that the delightful Miss Swann was quite identical in that respect. If she disappeared on shore and the Pearl left without her again... it might well be the end of the road for Jack's captaincy, at the very least.
"If only they'd just bloody talk to each other... I've felt like takin' an oar to Jack's head before now, but it's gettin' a sorer temptation by the day."
"Take an oar to Elizabeth too, we can lock 'em both in the brig together." The tiny man chuckled. "Could be interesting at least."
Gibbs glanced over to Cotton, who sat regarding them both with amusement. The mute man shook his head, and prodded the parrot on his shoulder.
"Anchor's aweigh," cried the bird. The man frowned, and prodded it again. "Dead men tell no tales! Rawk! Lock 'em up, me hearties!" Cotton nodded at that one, and looked back at the other two men, raising his eyebrows.
Marty burst out laughing.
"I was joking! We can't lock up the captain." He paused, and turned to look at Gibbs. "Can we?"
"Not in the bloody brig! Can you imagine...?"
"It's not the only place on the ship with a door and a lock though."
Gibbs looked incredulously at his companion.
"Jack's cabin?"
Jack sauntered down the ladder towards the rum store. It wasn't the best of weather above decks and he fancied a little distraction from the grim clouds, and grimmer thoughts. Every day with her aboard things got worse, every day he did his utmost to avoid her but he couldn't stem the feeling that he'd be doing a Davy Jones and leaving his heart behind the next time they made landfall. And he really would rather forego the tentacles.
He turned towards the nearest bottle rack and groaned inwardly. Apparently these days one only had to think of the devil. Seeing him, Elizabeth swiftly slid back the bottle she had half pulled out and jumped to her feet. They regarded one another silently for a moment in the confined space, the creaking boards seeming to press in around them, the air thickening from their shared breath.
"I'd, ah, best be getting back on deck."
He nodded, far too vigorously. There was silence for another moment.
"Could you get out of the way?"
He blinked, and looked around, realising he was blocking the stairs. For a moment he was tempted not to move, but he pushed the thought aside, taking a step to clear the way.
At that precise moment, the Black Pearl pitched violently. Normally Jack could keep his balance even when the deck turned at the most alarming of angles, but his foot caught on something and he tripped as Elizabeth stumbled...
He had fallen on top of her.
Her expression was panicked, something wild and fearful in the brown eyes boring into his own. He could feel his blood pounding as her breath ghosted hot across his lips. It would be so easy, so easy to just close the bare inch between them, to kiss her senseless and let loose the growling hunger that ached and grew the closer she was; it had set his blood burning now, feeling the length of her body beneath his own, leanness and softness that had taunted and tempted him in sleep for three painful years, and far longer when all he had was imaginings.
He shouldn't, he mustn't; the woman could doubtless have a pistol in his ribs sooner than he could blink, but the threat of death made the sweet fruit no less tempting, and if ever there was an Eve to make him fall it was Elizabeth...
"Yer completely daft, mate"
"Well Cotton agrees with me. Or the parrot does, at least."
Gibbs threw up his hands.
"Oh, aye, let's go basin' all our mad reckless actions on the opinions of a... a bird-brain!" Cotton straightened defensively. "No, I meant yer parrot." The man looked even more offended.
"So kidnapping a young lady to join a pirate ship in an attempt to get her to patch over whatever bad blood there is between her and the pirate captain, knowing full well that both of 'em are more stubborn than barnacles, is not a mad reckless action, but speeding up that patching over by locking them in a cabin together is." Marty spread his hands. "Don't know what kind of fancy education they might have got you in the tin mines and the navy, Gibbs, but I haven't the brain to follow your logic."
The first mate rolled his eyes irritably and took a swig from his own rum bottle.
"Look, do you have a better plan?" Marty continued. "Because I don't know about you but I'd rather not have to go back to how things were the last time she left the ship, and I'm even less inclined to leave Jack behind somewhere too."
Gibbs grimaced at that.
"Ye make a fair point."
Marty grinned.
"So where does Jack keep the key to his cabin door?"
Gibbs regarded him carefully, then glanced back into his bottle. This really was completely insane... but then that made for a fair description of a lot of the things they ended up doing on the Pearl. And if Elizabeth and Jack were managing to walk around with their eyes shut that didn't mean the rest of the crew were blind; clear enough to him at least what was going on. Perhaps the plan involving an oar hadn't been such a bad idea after all- they could probably both use it.
Mind finally made up, he looked back at Marty.
"Ye used to be a pickpocket, didn't ye?"
"Aye."
"Bottom pocket on the right of his coat. Best think of some excuse to have a quick word. I saw him on the way down for some rum earlier."
Elizabeth ought to have felt uncomfortable, pinned between rough boards and the weight of Jack's body, but his dark eyes were so focused on her own, fierce even as something almost like panic shrouded them, that she could barely think of it. He did have quite beautiful eyes, so brown as to be almost black, lantern light reflecting tiny stars in their depths, and she was suddenly reminded of gasping in air again as she gazed up into them, of feeling like she'd died and been changed, caught up in the ocean's trumpet call and the twinkling shafts of sunlight and made somehow new on the day she had first met him.
His gaze dropped from her own and those eyes flicked down to her lips before sliding shut so slowly, as slowly as he was beginning to close the gap between them. The tiny braids of his beard tickled at the underside of her chin as her breath caught. Her heart was already going apace, but now it raced faster and with shock she realised she could feel Jack's heartbeat pounding too, through lean muscle pressed against her, speeding in tandem with her own. But she had no time to think on it because she could feel the soft bristle of his moustache as his lips brushed against hers and right then she didn't- couldn't- care what this was, what he might want from her, if she could only get this fraction of what she wanted from him-
"Cap'n?" Marty's voice from the top of the top of the stairs sliced between them like a knife. Jack jerked backwards, looking at her with genuine fear for a second before practically leaping off her and to his feet, turning towards the stairs and disappearing to the upper deck without even a backwards glance.
Elizabeth drew in a long, shuddering breath, and pulled herself into a sitting position. The man tied her mind in knots worse than any tangled reefs and splices. She still half- more than half- wanted to give him a good kick, but only if she could follow it with a far better kiss, if she could reach out to feel that racing heart under her hand again, its swift avian flutter against her palm and Jack's lips inking that invisible line down her neck that they had traced once, indelibly...
She drew out the nearest bottle and took a long pull. The thought of going ashore, of taking another ship, seemed to grow more painful by the second, but what on earth else could she do? Go and confront Jack, seduce him... kill him? Well it would remove the problem... as much as it had last time she'd tried it. She bit her lip, remembering the sharp, searing grief as she had watched this very ship be swallowed by the waves, unable to tear her eyes away even as she'd wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner and maybe even die herself.
Wiping her mouth, Elizabeth clambered to her feet, still clutching the bottle. Finding some job to do would take her mind off things for a little while at least. She picked her way up the ladder, thankful that there seemed to be no-one in the immediate vicinity to wonder why they hadn't seen her go down after Jack had emerged. She was sure she'd seen some of the crew whispering behind their hands when she was around.
Nearer to the galley, she was met by Gibbs. The man started slightly, then smiled very broadly at her.
"Ye couldn't be doing me a great favour, could ye Lizzie?"
"What is it?"
He pushed a few sheets of paper into her free hand.
"Inventory. Jack needs to take a look afore we make port. Could ye take 'em up to his cabin?"
She breathed in sharply. Jack's cabin... she hadn't set foot in there since... her mind was desperately failing in attempts to think of a reasonable excuse. Bugger. She'd just have to be quick about it; open the door, put the papers down on the desk, and be out before Jack had the chance to start unnerving her yet again. She nodded, and Gibbs' smile only broadened before he walked away.
On the main deck the crew still struggled against the day's irritable elements. Elizabeth glanced up into the rigging, hoping she could be of use up there; there was nothing quite like physical labour at a great height in difficult weather to keep your mind entirely off anything untoward. There was a slight prickling at the nape of her neck, as if she were being watched, but it was unlikely that no-one at all was looking at her with so many men aloft.
Forcing down the nervousness in her belly she turned the handle of the great cabin door and pushed it open. The room was quite dark; she blinked and it was a moment before she could discern Jack, sat hunched over the table. His head turned towards her and she stepped into the cabin, holding out the papers but not daring to speak. Both of them jumped at a sudden noise behind her.
The cabin door had been slammed shut, and as she twisted to frown at it she heard the ominous click of the key being turned in the lock.
Gibbs folded his arms defensively.
"Well it was better'n just leavin' her with Anamaria. At least now they have to live with one another."
"Not for much longer though. We're going to have to make port sometime, and somehow I doubt she'll be choosing to stay."
Slapping a palm against the wall, Gibbs sighed. He hadn't quite factored in exactly how blind stubborn Jack could be, and had barely considered at all that the delightful Miss Swann was quite identical in that respect. If she disappeared on shore and the Pearl left without her again... it might well be the end of the road for Jack's captaincy, at the very least.
"If only they'd just bloody talk to each other... I've felt like takin' an oar to Jack's head before now, but it's gettin' a sorer temptation by the day."
"Take an oar to Elizabeth too, we can lock 'em both in the brig together." The tiny man chuckled. "Could be interesting at least."
Gibbs glanced over to Cotton, who sat regarding them both with amusement. The mute man shook his head, and prodded the parrot on his shoulder.
"Anchor's aweigh," cried the bird. The man frowned, and prodded it again. "Dead men tell no tales! Rawk! Lock 'em up, me hearties!" Cotton nodded at that one, and looked back at the other two men, raising his eyebrows.
Marty burst out laughing.
"I was joking! We can't lock up the captain." He paused, and turned to look at Gibbs. "Can we?"
"Not in the bloody brig! Can you imagine...?"
"It's not the only place on the ship with a door and a lock though."
Gibbs looked incredulously at his companion.
"Jack's cabin?"
Jack sauntered down the ladder towards the rum store. It wasn't the best of weather above decks and he fancied a little distraction from the grim clouds, and grimmer thoughts. Every day with her aboard things got worse, every day he did his utmost to avoid her but he couldn't stem the feeling that he'd be doing a Davy Jones and leaving his heart behind the next time they made landfall. And he really would rather forego the tentacles.
He turned towards the nearest bottle rack and groaned inwardly. Apparently these days one only had to think of the devil. Seeing him, Elizabeth swiftly slid back the bottle she had half pulled out and jumped to her feet. They regarded one another silently for a moment in the confined space, the creaking boards seeming to press in around them, the air thickening from their shared breath.
"I'd, ah, best be getting back on deck."
He nodded, far too vigorously. There was silence for another moment.
"Could you get out of the way?"
He blinked, and looked around, realising he was blocking the stairs. For a moment he was tempted not to move, but he pushed the thought aside, taking a step to clear the way.
At that precise moment, the Black Pearl pitched violently. Normally Jack could keep his balance even when the deck turned at the most alarming of angles, but his foot caught on something and he tripped as Elizabeth stumbled...
He had fallen on top of her.
Her expression was panicked, something wild and fearful in the brown eyes boring into his own. He could feel his blood pounding as her breath ghosted hot across his lips. It would be so easy, so easy to just close the bare inch between them, to kiss her senseless and let loose the growling hunger that ached and grew the closer she was; it had set his blood burning now, feeling the length of her body beneath his own, leanness and softness that had taunted and tempted him in sleep for three painful years, and far longer when all he had was imaginings.
He shouldn't, he mustn't; the woman could doubtless have a pistol in his ribs sooner than he could blink, but the threat of death made the sweet fruit no less tempting, and if ever there was an Eve to make him fall it was Elizabeth...
"Yer completely daft, mate"
"Well Cotton agrees with me. Or the parrot does, at least."
Gibbs threw up his hands.
"Oh, aye, let's go basin' all our mad reckless actions on the opinions of a... a bird-brain!" Cotton straightened defensively. "No, I meant yer parrot." The man looked even more offended.
"So kidnapping a young lady to join a pirate ship in an attempt to get her to patch over whatever bad blood there is between her and the pirate captain, knowing full well that both of 'em are more stubborn than barnacles, is not a mad reckless action, but speeding up that patching over by locking them in a cabin together is." Marty spread his hands. "Don't know what kind of fancy education they might have got you in the tin mines and the navy, Gibbs, but I haven't the brain to follow your logic."
The first mate rolled his eyes irritably and took a swig from his own rum bottle.
"Look, do you have a better plan?" Marty continued. "Because I don't know about you but I'd rather not have to go back to how things were the last time she left the ship, and I'm even less inclined to leave Jack behind somewhere too."
Gibbs grimaced at that.
"Ye make a fair point."
Marty grinned.
"So where does Jack keep the key to his cabin door?"
Gibbs regarded him carefully, then glanced back into his bottle. This really was completely insane... but then that made for a fair description of a lot of the things they ended up doing on the Pearl. And if Elizabeth and Jack were managing to walk around with their eyes shut that didn't mean the rest of the crew were blind; clear enough to him at least what was going on. Perhaps the plan involving an oar hadn't been such a bad idea after all- they could probably both use it.
Mind finally made up, he looked back at Marty.
"Ye used to be a pickpocket, didn't ye?"
"Aye."
"Bottom pocket on the right of his coat. Best think of some excuse to have a quick word. I saw him on the way down for some rum earlier."
Elizabeth ought to have felt uncomfortable, pinned between rough boards and the weight of Jack's body, but his dark eyes were so focused on her own, fierce even as something almost like panic shrouded them, that she could barely think of it. He did have quite beautiful eyes, so brown as to be almost black, lantern light reflecting tiny stars in their depths, and she was suddenly reminded of gasping in air again as she gazed up into them, of feeling like she'd died and been changed, caught up in the ocean's trumpet call and the twinkling shafts of sunlight and made somehow new on the day she had first met him.
His gaze dropped from her own and those eyes flicked down to her lips before sliding shut so slowly, as slowly as he was beginning to close the gap between them. The tiny braids of his beard tickled at the underside of her chin as her breath caught. Her heart was already going apace, but now it raced faster and with shock she realised she could feel Jack's heartbeat pounding too, through lean muscle pressed against her, speeding in tandem with her own. But she had no time to think on it because she could feel the soft bristle of his moustache as his lips brushed against hers and right then she didn't- couldn't- care what this was, what he might want from her, if she could only get this fraction of what she wanted from him-
"Cap'n?" Marty's voice from the top of the top of the stairs sliced between them like a knife. Jack jerked backwards, looking at her with genuine fear for a second before practically leaping off her and to his feet, turning towards the stairs and disappearing to the upper deck without even a backwards glance.
Elizabeth drew in a long, shuddering breath, and pulled herself into a sitting position. The man tied her mind in knots worse than any tangled reefs and splices. She still half- more than half- wanted to give him a good kick, but only if she could follow it with a far better kiss, if she could reach out to feel that racing heart under her hand again, its swift avian flutter against her palm and Jack's lips inking that invisible line down her neck that they had traced once, indelibly...
She drew out the nearest bottle and took a long pull. The thought of going ashore, of taking another ship, seemed to grow more painful by the second, but what on earth else could she do? Go and confront Jack, seduce him... kill him? Well it would remove the problem... as much as it had last time she'd tried it. She bit her lip, remembering the sharp, searing grief as she had watched this very ship be swallowed by the waves, unable to tear her eyes away even as she'd wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner and maybe even die herself.
Wiping her mouth, Elizabeth clambered to her feet, still clutching the bottle. Finding some job to do would take her mind off things for a little while at least. She picked her way up the ladder, thankful that there seemed to be no-one in the immediate vicinity to wonder why they hadn't seen her go down after Jack had emerged. She was sure she'd seen some of the crew whispering behind their hands when she was around.
Nearer to the galley, she was met by Gibbs. The man started slightly, then smiled very broadly at her.
"Ye couldn't be doing me a great favour, could ye Lizzie?"
"What is it?"
He pushed a few sheets of paper into her free hand.
"Inventory. Jack needs to take a look afore we make port. Could ye take 'em up to his cabin?"
She breathed in sharply. Jack's cabin... she hadn't set foot in there since... her mind was desperately failing in attempts to think of a reasonable excuse. Bugger. She'd just have to be quick about it; open the door, put the papers down on the desk, and be out before Jack had the chance to start unnerving her yet again. She nodded, and Gibbs' smile only broadened before he walked away.
On the main deck the crew still struggled against the day's irritable elements. Elizabeth glanced up into the rigging, hoping she could be of use up there; there was nothing quite like physical labour at a great height in difficult weather to keep your mind entirely off anything untoward. There was a slight prickling at the nape of her neck, as if she were being watched, but it was unlikely that no-one at all was looking at her with so many men aloft.
Forcing down the nervousness in her belly she turned the handle of the great cabin door and pushed it open. The room was quite dark; she blinked and it was a moment before she could discern Jack, sat hunched over the table. His head turned towards her and she stepped into the cabin, holding out the papers but not daring to speak. Both of them jumped at a sudden noise behind her.
The cabin door had been slammed shut, and as she twisted to frown at it she heard the ominous click of the key being turned in the lock.