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Sweet Revenge	By : EvilE Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female > Jack/Elizabeth Views: 10956 -:- 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
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Chapter 3: Unfinished Business

She felt the softness of a mattress - albeit a thin one - beneath her, and a pillow under her head. Her arms were above her head, and she pulled at them only to discover they were still shackled, although to what, she couldn't see. When she opened her eyes, it was to see Jack, leaning over her, watching her intently. He was close enough for her to smell him, and it was this, more than anything, that confirmed she had not, in fact, gone mad. He smelled of salt and sea more than anything, with a twinge of something spicy and exotic and uniquely Jack, that is, when he did not smell of rum. Which, at the moment, he did.
“Jack!” she cried, and smiled in spite of herself. “I can't believe it, you're alive!”

“I'll bet you can't,” he drawled, “especially since you're the one what did the doing that nearly undid me. That is...you were my undoing. Almost.”

She furrowed her brow at him, in an attempt to puzzle out the pieces of that last statement, and became more aware of the pain in her head. The attack!

“Jack, where are we? We were attacked and then someone hit me with something, and I can't-“

“A pistol, love. It was a pistol.”

“And then I can't remember... what?”

“I hit you with a pistol. Mine, to be exact. Back of the noggin. Lights out.”

“You...” And understanding dawned, together with the first stirrings of outrage. “You hit me? You attacked our ship? Where's Will? How did - “

“They're floating about somewhere, still alive, for what it's worth to you. I got what I came for in terms of property, as it were.”

Elizabeth stared, mouth agape. “Me?”
“Jewelry, ammunition, booze, you. But mostly you.” He turned away, forearm lifted in midair, waving about as he spoke and wandered a few steps away. “Welcome to the Queen Elizabeth. Borrowed her out of port in St. Thomas.” He paused, then turned to look at her. “Lovely name, don't you think? I found it...” here he waved a circle - “inspiring.” His eyes suddenly flared as he took in the sight of her, ready for him to wreak his revenge, in his bed sooner than he expected, but that was old hat to Jack. He came toward her again, more purposefully.

“You can let me go now,” Elizabeth said softly, warily, still watching Jack. She suspected he wouldn't, but there was no harm in asking.

“That's true, I can.” He leaned toward her to brush the top of her nose with a finger. “But I'm not going to. Because I don't want to.” His expression became less jovial, more intense. “Not till we sort out this little bit of business between us.”

“What business do we have?” she spat out, perhaps a little more haughtily than she intended, but she swallowed a lump of fear and met his gaze.

He leaned closer, so close she could see each individual black eyelash, and he lowered his lids to regard her. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, his gaze sweeping over her face as though memorizing it, before leaning in so close that his mouth was nearly upon hers. She closed her eyes instinctively and felt something jump deep in her belly. “We were right here, you and me,” he whispered, each word a hot caress on her lips, “right before... you murdered me.” And with that, he stood up and strode from the room, leaving Elizabeth to stare, flustered, at the ceiling.

* * *

Hours later, Elizabeth slept, exhausted. She had tried, unsuccessfully, to free herself from the shackles. Not having slept the previous night, she slept soundly, and for a change, dreamlessly. It was though a weight had been lifted from her chest. The clunk of boots in the cabin woke her, and she decided she had better seize the opportunity to try to win at whatever game Jack was playing with her. Keeping her eyes closed, she sensed him near her, and felt his weight sink on the edge of the bunk. She smelled rum. Again.

He lifted a handful of her hair, and brought it towards him, inhaling deeply. Was he smelling her? What ailed him?

But deep down, she knew what ailed him. It was the same thing that ailed her, what gnawed at her insides when she tried to sleep, what unsettled her and sent her dashing for the deck and for Will.

Desire. So thick it nearly smothered her. So strong it set her insides quivering whenever Jack so much as touched her, on the Pearl, on that tiny island, or even, truth be told, back in Port Royal. And now, they were on his ship, alone, in his cabin. And she did not think she was about to be rescued.
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Sweet Revenge