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Devil's Bargain	By : EvilE Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female > Jack/Elizabeth Views: 9090 -:- 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 7: Red Sky in the Mornin' (Sailor Take Warnin')

Jack held the compass, glinting in the evening sun, silently begging it to tell them something useful. The bloody dial spun. And spun.

“Come on, Will, where are you,” he said.

Things had gone downhill since he emerged from his cabin, the morning after he had been with Elizabeth, to find the sky was red. Not good. Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning, was how the saying went.

That was three days ago. Since then, they'd gotten blown off course by a storm, nearly run aground in the shoals, and when he threatened to call of the rescue mission entirely in the interests of leaving the ship in one piece, Elizabeth had gotten into a royal snit and barely spoken to him. His crew stared agape at him, thinking he had gone daft (er) when he'd relented and continued sail.

Now, he had a funny, sinking feeling he knew where they were headed. He'd been there before. In the brig.

Porto Sant'Anna.

He had heard something about a pirate ship sunk and crew captured, near there, when he was back in Tortuga. But he wasn't sure how Will was mixed up with it.

The compass seemed to make up its mind, swinging into a northeasterly slot. Jack sighed. That was a direct course for Porto Sant'Anna. “Bugger.”

“Is there any news?” Elizabeth's skirts swished on the deck.

“I think I know where it's pointing us. Little place called Porto Sant'Anna. They have a nice jail there.”

He was somewhat satisfied to see her whiten. “Jail? You think Will's in jail?”

“Well, that would explain his extended holiday, wouldn't it?” Jack swaggered toward her, his patience thinned by her frosty attitude. She hadn't visited his bed for two nights. He suspected their little bargain had been weakened by that shouted argument in a lull during the storm. He'd called her a stupid, lovesick puppy when she insisted they not turn back. She'd called him a heartless pirate swine.

Sticks and stones.

“Then we'll have to get him out. If that's what's happened.” Elizabeth said, watching Jack warily.

“We'll know soon enough. We should reach port just before dawn.” With that, he snapped the compass shut and strode broadly down the deck.

That night, Elizabeth lay curled on the bunk in her tiny belowstairs cabin. Her eyes were wide open despite the rocking motion of the ship that would have normally lulled her to sleep. She should have been concerned about Will, she knew, but she couldn't help thinking that her adventure was nearly over. She had refused to see Jack, speak to Jack, since the storm, when he'd revealed himself for the coward he really was. There was nothing she despised more than cowardice.

Except, perhaps, for betrayal.

She squeezed her eyes shut to banish the images of the two of them, hungrily devouring each other's mouths in his cabin, the wistful look in his eyes that she knew was lit with desire, when he'd begged her to tell him she loved him, right before he'd -

She turned to her other side, ignoring the twisting feeling that was becoming an ache between her legs. It was bad enough that she'd lain with him and admitted she loved him. He couldn't really think she would return to him, night after night, to betray Will again and again.

But he seemed to be angry with her, and she could understand why. She also understood that tonight was the last night she had to make anything right, before she was - hopefully - joined by Will. At the thought, she smiled. But then, an image of Jack, naked, popped unbidden into her mind. From behind, as she'd seen him when he'd risen in the morning light, her cheeks burning but still she couldn't look away. Taut, lean muscle, not too wiry or thin but with enough meat on him to be totally delectable. Black hair dusting the backs of his legs. That was all she'd seen before he slipped into his breeches. But not before her hands itched to slide over that bottom, as they had when he was buried deep inside her.

She groaned. Enough.

She rolled off the bunk, and, too impatient to dress, found her dressing gown and wrapped it around herself hurriedly. She took a breath in the corridor to calm her nerves. It was important that she not be seen.

She climbed the stairs to the deck. Ragetti and Pintel were on night watch again. She heard something clink against the deck, and roll in her direction. She flattened herself against the wall.

“Oi! Come back 'ere!” Ragetti haplessly chased his glass eye. It was in front of her toes! He would see her!

Then, suddenly, the ship pitched the other way, and the eye rolled back, Ragetti calling after it. Elizabeth let out a breath. Then she inched her way, slowly, to Jack's cabin and slipped inside.

He was asleep, sprawled on his stomach on the bunk, an empty bottle of rum rolling sorrily underneath his outstretched fingertips, his arm hanging limply from the bed. His torso was bare, and his boots were off, tossed carelessly at the foot of the bunk. A candle burned, seemingly left abandoned. A soft snore emanated from his lips. His other arm was flung across the pillow, and she saw he had something clutched his hand.

The stupid compass.

It was open. And it was pointing straight at her.

“Oh, Jack,” she whispered, reaching down to lift a few locks away from his face. He looked different asleep, when all the eccentricity had melted away and left handsome, nicely rounded Mediterranean features, browned by the sun, dusted with black hair and eyelashes so thick any woman would be jealous. She moved closer, only to accidentally kick the empty bottle with her booted toe, sending it rattling against the wall.

His eyes flew open. When he didn't immediately lift his head, she looked at him curiously. Didn't he see her? He must be exhausted.

Then his gaze fell on her, and his eyes caught the candlelight, sending it shooting in little sparks in his brown depths. Not exhausted, she realized. Drunk. Very drunk.

He smiled slowly, warmth returning to his eyes, together with something else. Something dangerous. “Hello, love.”

She said nothing, only stared. “Are you drunk?”

“Usually.” He looked her up and down. “You seem to have blundered into my cabin. If you're lost, I can have someone escort you belowstairs. I'd do it meself, but something tells me standin's not somethin' I can do at this very moment.” His tone was mocking.

Still she could say nothing, feeling transfixed. “A-are we going to reach port soon?”

“Unless we sink before then. Never count that out as a possibility.”

She nodded, then. He still did not move, only regarded her. Feeling suddenly embarrassed, she whirled to go. But he caught her elbow.

“Where you goin', love?”

“B-back to my cabin. Coming here was a mistake.”

“Was it now,” he said, his grip on her elbow frighteningly strong. She could see he was even more drunk than she'd thought. His words were more slurred than usual, and he had a fierce glint in his eyes.

“Let me go. You're hurting me,” she lied, hoping he would take the bait and release her.

A shadow of something hungry flickered across his eyes. “Am I? Good. I want to hurt you.” And with that he pulled her helplessly into his lap, and claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss.
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Devil's Bargain