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Star of the Sea	By : KiwiGirl Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > General Views: 3326 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Star of the Sea
- 2-Shadows
- 3-Visitor
- 4-Betrayal
- 5-Purpose
- 6-Guidance
- 7-Payment
- 8-Return
- 9-Amber
- 10-Empty
- 11-Unnatural
- 12-Anger
- 13-Knowing
- 14-Walls
- 15-Resignation
- 16-Truth
- 17-Fear
- 18-Trust
- 19-Intent
- 20-Ready
- 21-Entwined
- 22-Duty
- 23-Time
- 24-Destiny
- 25-Knowing
- 18
- 19
- 20
Her hands were clean, a sweet smelling balm spread over her torn palms, each
then wrapped in soft clean rags. Her hands were clean. But the rest of her was
not and she was conscious of it. As if it was somehow important that she be
somehow pure of body and soul. A preparation, as she would usually meditate and
perform rituals of protection. This was a part of that. Innocence and purity
being something lost so very long ago at least she could be clean of body.

She could hear the crew up on deck, hammering, sawing, all working to get the
Pearl back in some sort of order and every once in a while she heard his voice
amongst the shouts and her nerves would tingle and something deep in her belly would
hum. There was no one below decks; she had the narrow galley to herself. There
was plenty of water now in the barrels that had been lashed to the rails, so it
was without guilt that she began to heat pot after pot carrying them up the
stairs to the bathtub that sat in the corner of Jacks cabin. It was hot and
heavy work but finally there was enough water, no where near filled to the
brim, but enough to sit in, enough to wash the past months dirt from her skin
and hair. Water turned from clear to gray and then to almost black and she
scrubbed and sluiced. But finally she was done.

From the bottom of her pack she pulled the dress, never worn but never
discarded. She had been given it so many years before, with message that she
had never understood. But now she did. It was simple, scoop necked with long
flowing sleeves it draped over her, the lacing over the bodice giving shape,
but hinting rather than flaunting. It seemed right. Never before had it been
right but now she wished to wear it, knew that she should wear it. Her hair she
left loose, cascading down over her back, no shoes, no jewellery, no weapons.
She was ready. She stood and closed her eyes, stretching as tall as she could,
arms reaching skyward, face upturned�

And that was what he saw when he opened the door. A girl/woman in a dress the
colour of the sea.

It was Maia but it was not. Gone was the wariness, the suspicion, the taunt
tension to her body, as if she was prepared always to fight or run. And while
she had seemed ageless before now she looked young, a gentleness to her that
had not been visible before.

He had felt that hardness falling away while he had worked and supervised the
working above deck. The jagged raw edges of her emotions somehow easing inside
of him so that with every moment having her in his head became easier, more
bearable. He had wondered what she was doing, but had not expected this.

He did not step forward; he did not move but waited until she opened her eyes.
She had sensed him there some time ago; he had felt her thoughts brush over
him, greeting him. Before her eyes would have snapped open, she would not have
trusted anyone to be around her while she could not see but now she welcomed
him, included him in what ever it was that she was doing.

He could smell soap, odd that she had washed this way; he had suddenly felt the
need to take a bath as he had hammered in the last nail. There was plenty of
water now in what had been empty barrels, so he gave the order for the men to
begin hauling hot water as he had jumped down the stairs. Making Gibbs grimace
and mutter something about it being bad luck to wash at sea. He had not heard
that one before.

She opened her eyes �Jack�

Now he could move. To circle around her, his hand brushing over her hair, her
shoulder, one finger tracing the neckline of the dress so that she shivered
beneath his touch.

�You look ravishing� words whispered in her ear, his breath tickling sensitive
skin and she shivered. His lips touched her neck, even as his fingers traced
down her breastbone to where the fabric began, dirty fingers, he could almost
see them putting dark lines on her skin. He snatched his hand away just as the
knock boomed loudly at the door.

�Come in�

He stepped away as the first man entered with a steaming pail, a chain of them
filling the tub in the same way as they would have put out a fire. A matter of
minutes before steaming water filled it to the brim and he dismissed them. He
had been going to ask her if she had wanted to scrub his back, on his way down
the stairs he had been having all sorts of interesting thoughts about her and
him in that tub. But now he needed a moment to prepare for whatever it was that
was coming next.

Her face, her hair, the dress. Trust.

�Will you give me a moment Star of the Sea?�

�Of course� she turned and seemed to glide from the room, he watched her go,
admiring the curve of her arse before she closed the door. He liked those
trousers but that dress added a sense of mystery, of hidden magic to be
discovered.

Alone he stripped, throwing damp and dirty clothes into a heap in the corner.
Easing himself into the steaming water with a sigh. He scrubbed and thought and
then scrubbed some more, every inch of skin, every braid and dreadlock until
finally he was as clean as he had ever been. He examined his hand, skin several
shades lighter than before his nails were still dirty and ragged and he reached
for his dagger, to pick and trim until raising his hand above his face he was
finally satisfied. One more moment of lying back thinking and then he climbed
from the bath, water streaming from his body he stood. The sun was shining in
through the windows, it was a beautiful day. He remained motionless for a
moment, then climbed out, wrapping a blanket around his waist as he searched
for his thought, the thing scratching in his memory. At the back of a deep
drawer, wrapped in a scrap of linen, right where he had left it. The mate to
the emerald on his finger. He breathed on the stone polishing the deep green,
the gold of the setting until finally it gleamed.

Long had he tried to trade it but no one had wanted it, he had even attempted
to give it away but not one would take it. Calypso had laughed in his face when
he had offered it to her, telling him that it belonged to only one and he would
know the one. If she let him that was.

He had not thought about the emerald for years, though its mate was a part of
him the pendant had almost been forgotten, he had stopped searching for its
owner. But now he remembered and he recalled the words.

He dressed with care, his finest shirt, partially buttoned so that his trinkets
gleamed against his chest, clean trousers rolled to his calf, a wide piece of
silk wrapped about his waist, but no boots, feet bare, head bare. He was ready.
- 18
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Star of the Sea