So here's the skinny… this is a joint fic between Sammich Coquette ( and GroggyRae, and Rae's first time at fanfiction instead of original fiction. Drop us a line and let us know what you all think. Muchas gracias. And if anyone knows Spanish well, please check this. You know how online dictionaries can be, and I (Rae) am still learning. Thanks again!
Disclaimer: We don't own Pirates of the Caribbean…blasted mouse!!
Jack Sparrow stood in silence, a thoughtful reverie that consumed him completely and left him an empty shell, devoting him to the exhausting task of pursuing a past and present that presented unimaginable challenges. The crew bustled around him excitedly, but he heard none of it; all he heard was the heady swish and whistle, the flap of the sails as they sang to his soul, fluttering erratically in the gusts of mid-day.
"Jack!"
The Captain's brown eyes slowly focused on Barbossa, his first mate's pale face echoing the edge in his voice as he hovered expectantly to his side; Jack closed his eyes, feeling the fog part around the reality and finally registering the full presence of another.
"What is it?"
"I think you should take a look at this…"
Despite all the mental preparation in the world, having seen the most disparaging, horrific, deplorable atrocities against the human race, none could prepare him for what he saw next.
The remnants of the massive schooner lay scattered ablaze in the water, the current sending crates and barrels, articles of clothing and other amenities sweeping against the Pearl as she plowed further into the site. Jack grimaced despite himself, his mouth going dry; corpses now raked near, mutilated and battered beyond recognition. The blazing wood crackled and groaned, the ship apparently on its last leg as the mast pitched forward into the sea, crashing into several barrels of gunpowder that had until now managed to escape the fire. Explosions rocked those in close proximity, sending the water into a tumult, tossing the bodies like rag dolls. A second barrel detonated, sending chips of wood and debris flying aboard the Pearl; a voice cried out in the ensuing silence, a devastating sound that begged for aid.
Jack blanched.
The voice howled again, more desperate and obviously pained. Jack turned his back to the scene, attempting to turn a deaf ear to the call, to ignore the plea and continue to live his life as before. He had to continue.
Again and again the voice called out and again Jack fought it, reeling as he clutched for a handhold, his mind clouding over with the darkness that sob evoked and the nausea of the sights…the smells…
"Go!" he shouted, "Go search for survivors!"
"Captain!?" started Barbossa who, wide-eyed and clearly surprised by his superior's command, stood unmoving at the order while the other crew quickly made preparations for the long boat.
"You cannot be serious…"
"Do you refuse an order?" clipped Jack, glaring at the offender as he turned on his heel, closing in on Barbossa within a hair's breadth. The first mate matched his look, biting his tongue against the rush of angry words, curses and gripes, as well as a dozen dirty looks from the loyal wretches swearing devotion to Sparrow. Oh, how he desired such devotion and admiration – such power and control.
"Go!" shouted Jack again, his voice rising to a ferocious new note and barked order, the men busying themselves once more before they fell prey to their Captain's crooked and deviant vices and an almost child-like disposition and fierce temper.
Calmly drawing his spyglass from within the folds of his coat, Sparrow eyed the rescue from the scope, dismayed to see his men pulling two flailing and shouting bodies from the wreckage. One of the exhumed stood upright in the boat, punching and wrestling with one of the crew as they attempted to return to the Pearl. Jack swallowed the lump forming in his throat.
Not another woman…
Her dark hair was matted; clinging to her face, slick strands switching from cheek to cheek as she fiercely shook her head and growled at the crew.
"Liberais a el!"
Pintel and Ragetti were struggling to restrain her, trying as hard as they could within the constraints of the swaying longboat. Bootstrap was in another craft beside them holding a small boy whose appearance was similar to the girl's and who was fighting just as strongly as she was; his energy, however, was wasted in the face of Bootstrap's large arms.
The child was brought onto the deck first, his resistance fading quickly, only to be replaced by steadily rising whimpers. The Captain's attention was again drawn to the female, as screeching and yells of pain emitted by said creature resounded across the ship. His first mate quickly began in that direction, seeing the hard time she was giving. Just as he reached the row, Pintel was suddenly knocked to the ground by a wooden quarterstaff that seemed to have appeared out of thin air and in a complete stupor Ragetti loosened his grip on the girl, rewarded promptly by being swiftly socked in the stomach, propelling him backwards into the water below.
Barbossa reached for his cutlass, only to hear the distinct sound of unsheathing and the metallic sting of a blade against his neck. His gaze followed the blade to its handle, noting the lack of filigree and ornamentation on it, and continued up to glare at the wielder – none other than the drenched girl.
"Conoce que hacer" She sneered, rage barely controlled beneath her dripping face and smoldering eyes. His gaze narrowed and he allowed himself a once over, bathing her in his stare as he took in the appearance of the silly girl they happened upon. Her eyes were a deep brown, almost chocolate in their radiance and her hair was beginning to curl as the harsh sea air began to pick at the strands, lifting them out of the way of her flushed visage. Her skin was a delightful shade of bronze made resplendent by a light sheen of sweat and the moist kiss of the sea. He smirked, not doubting that her pleasant appearance only hid her tart persona, a sickly sweet warrior wrapped in the cocoon of a virgin.
"I wouldn't be doin' 'at, love," pronounced a smooth baritone; within the commotion the unsheathing of another sword was very much missed. The girl didn't even seem to notice its immediate closeness to her own nape.
"We don't react kindly to threats." The Captain here paused and glanced at his stunned crew, still in a daze over the current developments.
"Do we, gents?" he pursued again, baring his teeth in an inhibited grin, amused with how easily his band of miscreants had been intimidated. The men shook their heads like dogs, drawing their respective weapons and closing in on the menacing presence of the girl. Her eyes, slowly diverted from her quarry, redirected in a fleeting sideways glance at their leader. She scoffed, rolling her eyes as Jack's lips drew back from a confident smirk to an affronted pout. Had she just disregarded him? That wouldn't do at all. An attack on his crew he could understand – they were idiots after all – but an attack on his self image? Such abhorrence would not go unpunished.
Only beginning to take a step forward, he saw her recoil and he grinned at his apparent victory – until she pounced, pivoting on her right foot and turning as if to attack him, but only spinning the quarterstaff into Barbossa's face. The blow sent him flailing into the now twice-stunned crew. Not even acknowledging that she hit her mark, she focused again on Jack, slicing upwards towards his shoulder.
Jack danced out of the way of her well aimed blows, skirting around her and cornering her against the crew who brandished knives and all manner of distasteful weaponry as they closed in on the dangerous vixen. Jack continued to eye her as she parried and dodged various strikes. Though her lips maintained a stoic line, her eyes gave her away; inside them was the fear of someone who realized that they just might lose.
Jack signaled to his left, sword loosely gripped in his palm, not willing to underestimate this new arrival again. The captain's own chocolate eyes widened as a particular imbecile drew a gun and fired at the femme fatale, however, shock was just as quickly replaced with irritation, as said debutante reeled back in avoidance of the bullet, and the ship found a piece of lead gouged into its railing. The aforementioned crewmember gulped audibly seconds later, finding himself with a pistol cocked at his own head.
That was not supposed to happen.
"I'll have you know that we did just pull her up from a watery grave and I am not especially looking to send her back there so quickly..." Jack's voice lacked any of the normal joviality that filled it, a discovery that sent a discomforted ripple through those gathered.
"…At least not yet."
The surrounding assemblage bore all types of hideous attempts at smiling, allowing the girl time to fully realize the precariousness of the situation, instincts kicking in as she slowly started backing away. Jack noticed her withdrawal as well and - suspiciously raising one elegant eyebrow, smirk returning with renewed fervor- pursued her like a shark, creeping closer to her even as she retreated further.
Her eyes were intensely fixed on his, trying to read him as much as he her, as she continued to back up until she bumped into something hard, warm and vaguely human. Before she even had time to utter a protest, two gargantuan arms had roughly seized her, crossing her arms over her body, thereby efficiently locking her in place. A large leg subsequently wedged itself between her own two; the man's foot appeared beside her right foot, completely inhibiting even the slightest movement.
"Now then, since we've decided t' calm down, love," Jack slurred out, regaining his composure, "mind tellin' me firs' why you attacked us, and secondly exactly what happened t' ye that made you go all…asinine and irrational." He had replaced his gun in his sash - removing it from the dejected wretch who first threatened its use - and confidently strutted up to her.
Barbossa chuckled darkly and a knowing smirk graced Jack's lips as he invaded her personal space, their noses practically touching as the crew grew rowdy with her mounting agitation. Her grimace became so dreadful it almost made Jack want to turn away.
Almost.
She had meant to hit Barbossa again, she really had, but the captain's attitude demanded he receive attention – and attention he received. With a flick of her wrist her quarterstaff was spun heavenward, knocking the Captain to the deck with a mighty strike to the jaw. Barbossa stepped forward, his cutlass cocked and aimed to kill, yet he ended up on the defensive as the Bo'sun's grip was upon her forearms, leaving her wrists and hands free. The first mate suddenly stopped moving, her blade nestling itself under the curve of his jaw. He swallowed, steely gray eyes consuming her soul in a look that would've sent the Devil in a run for his money. How did her weapons have so far a reach?
"It'd be'n yer best interests t'step down, missy."
Jack's groan brought her back to the drama – the crew had advanced close enough to count the hairs of her head, the force evoked by the Bo'sun's grip felt as though her limbs would snap under the sheer force. It was becoming difficult for her to breathe, her face twisting in distress, a scream threatening to erupt from within as she bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood – hard enough to quell the frenzy whirling inside. Barbossa, in the meantime, had wrapped one hand around the edge of her quarterstaff, pulling it down and away from her person, still wary of the katana pressed to his flesh. She rasped a breath she never knew she had been holding as her sword began to shake in her grasp, her fingers growing slick with sweat as she looked down at her recovering victim, a satisfied smirk taking over her features upon the sight. Jack was sprawled on the deck, one hand propping him upright while the other poked and prodded his face, which, she noted with delight, had already begun to bruise.
Upon being hefted to his feet, Jack shouted something inaudible, carefully walking around the tense female lest his beautiful features suffer such an onslaught again. Peering cautiously around the Bo'sun's shoulder, he watched her intently as he caught it – her eyes shifting, albeit only for a second, to the right when he realized it: where was the little brat? He tilted his head curiously, straining to wrap his mind around this bizarre woman, around her savage actions since being rescued.
Jack moved from behind his human shield, her eyes on him like a hawk; clenching her katana tighter and struggling to steady it, she turned her head to fully to face him. Barbossa now seemed bored and set Jack a reproachful look. A slight exclamation later, Jack walked between the two and inserted his sabre between the oriental one and his crewman's jugular. Barbossa took one large step backward and, drawing as little attention as possible gingerly rubbed his neck. It had been many a year since anyone had gotten that close.
"Now then, where were we?" Jack coolly started, pausing and noticing the muscle between her shoulder and neck as it twitched before promptly adding, "wit'ou all the fuss." Nodding his silent command to the Bo'sun, the larger man uncrossed her arms and shook them until she dropped her munitions. Regarding him with a vicious scowl, particularly when he resumed her previous bondage, she twirled her wrists to loosen his grip as well as promote circulation, while the rest of the crew prayed she would not be released anytime soon.
"Firs' question…" Jack pretended to be unfazed by her heated countenance, sneaking a peek as she peered again to her right and then swiftly forward as she knocked her head back. Jack nodded emphatically in approval before turning to address his crew.
"Good news mates, she's onl' actin' like 'is because we're pirates."
Silence only met his enthusiastic revelation. Grunting and looking quite put-off he twisted back to his new captive, "And we got someone she cares about." he whispered just to her, grinning triumphantly at her apprehensive expression. Squinting intensely in the direction she had indicated seconds before, he prodded the deck, checking crates and containers – a whimper signaling his find, a small dirty hand scratching and punching the Captain's much larger hand as he hauled the boy bodily out of his hiding place and onto his feet. A man's dark head popped from the cargo hold a few feet away.
"Oh ye foun' 'im cap-"
"Mauricio!"
"Mauricio? What an interesting name…"
Jack ushered the boy, no older than seven, into the middle of the group. The family resemblance was unmistakable – the boy had his sister's same untamable hair, although shorter and much wilder as it poked out in all directions. Everything about them was virtually identical, from their tanned skin, to their facial structure. The one thing, however, that made him truly unique was his eyes: the child's eyes were a striking shade of green, electric and pulsing – a shade that reminded Jack of the healthy palms of Port Royal, vivid and alive as the eager rays of the sun lit them from all angles. His eyes flickered, showing every emotion, betraying the brave and haughty way in which the boy now attempted to present himself. Jack chuckled, taking a renewed interest in the girl as he was handed her katana.
"This is a fine weapon." He fingered the filigree laden hilt, enjoying the way his fingers slid effortlessly along the slick gold designs and textures; an action devised to incite agitation and ferocity, but only gave him disappointment as she remained stoic and unmoving to his attempts to vex her. He cocked his head as he watched her. Her breathing remained smooth and not even a muscle twitched; so much so was her puzzling serenity that even the Bo'sun had to see whether or not she was alive. He lowered his attentions, grinning beside himself; she may not have said a word, but her eyes were screaming.
"Ye don't strike me as a MOOn-TEegUU." Remarked Jack as he scanned the name engraved near the hilt of the blade. To his growing inconvenience and list of peeves he observed her unchanged stance and cursed his inability to coax a rise out of the female. Remarkable even to him was the fact that she held her head up, eyes glued to the heavens as she appeared to study the sails, lips pursed in a distasteful pout as they fluttered sonorously over the conversation's lull. Confident in the Bo'sun's infallible strength, Jack approached her, leaning close and pressing his lips to her ear as he stared officiously at the shining tendrils laced across her shoulder.
"I don't like to be ignored." He whispered brusquely, removing himself from her personal sphere almost as quickly as he had intruded, moving to lean casually against the railing as the Bo'sun drove her below to the brig with her crying brother in close suit. Jack turned back around, languidly gliding to the helm with his flourish of impossible balance, letting the strange sword slice the air as he swung it back and forth.
"Montego." announced a smooth, yet serious voice behind him. He swung back around, his curiosity demanded by the vixen herself as she craned her neck to look at him.
"Its name," she enunciated, each letter clear and fortified with complacency, "is Montego." she finished with impudence before being forcefully shoved below deck. A sharp glare, however, ended that harsh treatment.
"Careful wit' th' cargo, mates!" Jack beamed down to his men. Despite the amiable look, they knew the weight the words carried. By all definitions, a complete stranger and now a prisoner – female no less - had gained the Captain's respect.
After her head had disappeared past the stairs, Jack brought the blade again to his face for further inspection, lips parting in thought.
"Careful, indeed."
Translations: "Conoce que hacer" -- "You know what to do" "Liberais a el!" – "Release him!"
Author's Note (groggyrae): And like I said before if anyone really knows Spanish and would like to help us out with this, feel free to do so. Reviewers will be given fried chicken, collard greens, cornbread, hamhocks, baked macaroni and cheese, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, and sweet potato pie. Oops sorry! That's what I'm going to be eating in Georgia this week. Hahaha, but seriously reviews would be greatly appreciated. Ta!