Unforgivable

Thanks once again for the great reviews! Funny thing is, I had a feeling before I posted the last chapter that it might be received with a few mixed feelings...hopefully all will become clear in this chapter! And the weird thing is, I didn't know myself why Jack reacted the way he did until I started writing it. It was almost as if he were sitting behind me and telling me the story himself. Spooky!
Anyway - I hope you like it.
Oh and Rosa - welcome to my brain! Scary place, isn't it? *Hands you plate of cookies and large bottle of rum*


He’d scrubbed the boards until there were no traces left. Paced the cabin back and forth for almost an hour, hands clenched into fists, face set and rigid. Finally his restless gaze had fallen on the jar of oil beside his chair.

He’d stared at it for several minutes, considering. Picked it up, weighed it thoughtfully in his hand.

Then, with an anguished roar, Jack hurled it viciously across the cabin.

It hit the wall in a shattering explosion of oil and glass. Something flew back and stung his cheek; he’d touched the spot absently, felt the tiny sliver still embedded in his skin and the slow trickle of blood.

Oil dribbled down the planks in slow drips and splatters that glistened in the lamplight. He’d stared at the mess for a long time as his fingers worried at the piece of glass, grinding it deeper into the wound.

It hurt.

But not nearly enough.


In the end he couldn’t bring himself to face her. Adding ‘coward’ to the long list of names he’d called himself, he escaped to the helm, hoping to find solace in his beloved ship. If Mr Gibbs had any comments to make about his Captain’s blood-smeared face, or the fact he’d been relieved of his watch several hours early, he very wisely kept them to himself. Nor did the older man question the order to find Miss Elizabeth and tell her Captain Sparrow would not be returning to the cabin that night.


The hours passed, and the hot Caribbean sun rose once more to flood the Pearl with its unrelenting heat. Captain Sparrow remained at the wheel, grim-faced and weary, curtly rebuffing any man who dared offer to relieve him.

Elizabeth had not fared much better. She’d cried at first, bitter tears of shock and disappointment. The remaining hours had been spent going over and over the events that had led to this. Analyzing every word and gesture in a desperate attempt to get things straight in her head.

Was she being unfair, blaming him? She’d granted him permission, after all. But how could she have known what her curiosity would unleash? Jack must have known. Had even tried to warn her. Then again, he was well aware of her inexperience; he could have – should have – stopped it before he went so far.

Perhaps she should have made herself clearer? Yelled at him, shoved him away? He’d claimed not to hear her pleas for him to stop – but did that really matter? Surely he should have sensed her trepidation, remembered her nervousness He knew it was her first time. He should never have gone ahead without making doubly sure they BOTH wanted him to continue. Should have listened, should have heard her breathless whimpers, should have kept his promise.

Morning found her red-eyed and exhausted. She needed to tackle him, tell him how betrayed and let down she felt – but she was in no fit state to deal with such a confrontation. She needed to sleep – but how could she sleep until this was resolved?

Finally she dragged herself off the bunk, staggering like a drunk, stripped off her crumpled clothes, washed herself and pulled on a fresh shirt and clean breeches. There would be no rest, no peace until she faced him.

“Go an’ talk to ‘er lad. This is bloody stupid.”

Jack threw his first mate a furious glance.

“That’s Captain Sparrow to you!”

Gibbs shook his head.

“It’s lad when yer behavin’ like one. Don’t know what’s ailin’ the pair of yous – don’t want to, neither – but I do know you bein’ a stubborn ass won’t make it better.”

Leaning his head against the wheel, Jack groaned.

“Ain’t no way t’make this better.”

“C’mon now, surely it can’t be that bad...”

“Broke me promise. Broke her trust. M’not a stubborn ass, Mr Gibbs. I’m a stupid, selfish sod.”

The older man sighed.

“Standin’ out here won’t make ye less of one, if that be the case. D’you love the girl or not?”

“Course I bloody do! Not so sure she loves me right now though.”

“Then go and find out. Face it, lad, whatever it is. If yer guilty of a crime then ye have t’be a man and face yer punishment.”

Jack straightened up, gave Gibbs a long, speculative look.

“Punishment? Aye. Ye could be right at that. Take the wheel. I’ll be in me cabin.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. No more procrastinating. She would go now, seek him out. Demand explanations and apologies. But as she stood up to carry out her plan, Jack himself burst into the cabin in a flurry of dreadlocks and coat tails. She stared at him, heart thudding madly in her chest, and the words she’d been rehearsing for the past hour died unspoken on her lips.

He slammed the door behind him, dark eyes burning into hers. She waited. Tried to ready herself for the inevitable onslaught of cockeyed reasoning and persuasive double talk, designed to convince her that she was in the wrong. ‘Not this time, pirate’, she thought to herself, and raised her chin defiantly. ‘Not this time’.

“I’ve a request t’make of ye Elizabeth – if ye’d be so kind.”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief.

“I hardly think you have the right to request ANYTHING of me right now, Jack Sparr…”

“Hit me.”

She blinked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Hit me,” he repeated, stepping closer. “Slap me. I want ye to hurt me.” He flicked one hand towards his crotch. “’Want ye t’aim a hard and hefty kick, right there. Please.”

“Why?”

“Cos I deserve it. An’ it’ll make ye feel better.”

“No. It’ll make YOU feel better. And I’ll not ease your guilt by resorting to violence, no matter how tempted I am.”

He scowled.

“What, then? What else can I do, Elizabeth? Can’t take it back.”

“You can tell me why.”

“Don’t know that I can. Don’t know meself.”

“Try.”

Jack sighed heavily.



“Alright then. Because I’m a selfish bloody bastard. Because I should never’ve foisted me depraved an’ sullied nature on you. Because of all the stupid things I’ve ever done, thinkin’ I’d a right to end me days wiv someone like you was undoubtedly the stupidest.”

Elizabeth was stunned. This was totally unexpected – no defence, no argument, no acid sarcasm coated with honeyed charm? This was so different to what she’d expected after last night’s belligerence that for a moment she could only stare at him, nonplussed. Then the meaning of his words hit her and she bristled with indignation.

“Then you think me stupid, too.”

“What? No, of course I don…”

“But you must! If you consider yourself stupid for presuming to be with a governor’s daughter then surely the governor’s daughter must be even more stupid for choosing a bloody pirate!”

“Elizabeth…”

She stalked towards him, fury building with every step.

“I threw away a life of comfort and luxury, my place in society…I gave up EVERYTHING I had because of you, Jack Sparrow!”

Her voice rose steadily until it was almost a scream. She was inches away from him now, and when she met his eyes the resignation she saw there was the final straw. Drawing back her arm, she slammed a fist hard against his chest.

“Doesn’t that make me more stupid than you? Doesn’t it?”

He staggered slightly under the force of her blow, but made no attempt to defend himself. His apparent indifference to her attack ignited something in her and she flew at him, pummelling him with all the force she could muster.

A distant part of Jack’s mind thought proudly that she would surely hold her own in any tavern brawl; each blow was delivered with a force and conviction he would doubtless bear the bruises of tomorrow.

The other, more pressing thought was that she had been right. It DID make him feel a little better; each painful strike was a salve to his guilty conscience, and he welcomed it gladly.

Finally she turned away, exhausted and trembling, reeled across the cabin and collapsed onto the bunk.

“I hate you Jack,” she sobbed. “I HATE you!”

“Good. I hate me too.”

She heard the wobble in his voice and glanced up in time to see him swipe a hand angrily across his face.

“No! Don’t do that, don’t make me feel sorry for you!”

“M’not,” he lied. “Was just – m’tired, is all.”

“Then for heaven’s sake sit down. Before you fall.”

He nodded meekly, and started towards the chair, shoulders drooping despondently. Elizabeth wiped her eyes and sniffed. This was not her Jack – the swaggering charmer who claimed every moment for his own and seemed able to make the world turn just the way he wanted it. She felt better for venting her fury on him, shattered and weak but a lot more clear-headed. But what she saw in him now made her heart sink and filled her with a deep sense of unease.

“Sit by me,” she whispered, suddenly desperate to have him near, to make it right again between them. He dutifully changed direction and sank on the mattress beside her – careful to leave the largest gap between them he could manage.

Instinctively she started to reach for him – then stopped, let her hand fall back into her lap and sighed.

“It’s alright. I won’t scream any more. My throat hurts now and I’m far too tired. Same goes for hitting you – my arms ache too much to even consider it.”

The ghost of a smile quirked his lips -then quickly died. Shifting uncomfortably, he cast her a quick, troubled glance then turned his gaze back to the floor.

“There’s blood on your cheek,” she said, noticing for the first time. “And your shirt! What happened?”

“Don’t matter.”

“Of course it matt…”

“Need ye t’know the truth of it Elizabeth. Need ye t’hear me out.”

“Then tell me. Because I need to hear it.”

He looked up then, and her heart lurched. There was more to this than what had passed between them last night. And judging by the agonised, haunted expression in his nearly black eyes, it was something dark and poisonous.

She met his gaze steadily, silently praying he trusted her enough to confide in her – and that she had the strength to bear his confession.

“Go on,” she murmured at last. “I want to know all of it.”

He cleared his throat, blinked hard – then, falteringly, began to speak.

“Never meant to hurt ye. Never meant to – to push ye. Should’ve known how it’d be. The way ye make me feel – oh god, Elizabeth! Ye make me lose me mind. Just the thought of ye – drives all else out o’ me head and I knew that, I KNEW that! Was bloody stupid t’think last night’d be any different. If I’d any sense I would’ve seen to meself first.”

He glanced down, made a moue of distaste then yanked his coat firmly across his lap.

“Should never’ve laid a hand on ye in that state. Should’ve – should’ve asked fer yer hand, yer mouth – done it me bleedin’ self while ye watched. Christ!” He shook his head ruefully. “Wouldn’t have taken but a minute, the state I were in.”

“But I wanted you to feel it with me – I wouldn’t have let you do that. If I’d known it would take you so fier…”

“Can’t tell ye how much I hate meself right now,” he interrupted “Told ye last night – I know what it’s like t’be taken against yer will. For me t’have done that t’you – makes me sick to me stomach just thinkin’ about it. Makes me want t’get me knife and make a bloody eunuch of meself, rather than risk it again.”

His gaze faltered – but not before she saw the pain that flared bright in his eyes. Here it was, then. The thing that had bought that awful, defeated expression to his face.

Surreptitiously she slid a little closer to him.

“I asked you to tell me all of it. I did mean all of it, Jack.”

“S’not a pretty tale. Best forgotten.”

“Evidently you can’t though – can you? You have to do this – need to do this. If you trust me with your heart, you have to trust me with your secrets, too.”

“I – tis best not to –” he mumbled – then groaned. “Alright. I’ll tell what I can of it. Not times and places – or the nasty, sordid details. They’re buried in the darkest places of me mind an’ I’ve no wish t’drag them to the surface. But I will tell ye – I’ll tell ye of –”

He faltered, and she reached out to catch his fingers in her own.

“Go on. I’m listening.”

“I were just a lad, Elizabeth,” he mumbled. “Nothin’ but a cocky young lad wiv an urge fer adventure an’ the call of th’ocean in me blood. Was me first voyage. I’d stowed away, after I – well, no matter. That’s fer another time. But once they’d found me an’ thrashed me, I was took on as cabin boy - an’ I thought all me dreams’d come true. Was on the way to gettin’ the only thing I ever wanted – freedom, and the sea-breeze fillin’ me lungs.”

“What happened?” she coaxed, when he fell silent again.

Jack smiled grimly.

“I were a pretty little lad, by all accounts. Knew it, too – weren’t averse t’flutterin’ me lashes an’ charmin’ me way round the rest o’ the crew, when it suited me needs. I’d practiced it some, on the wenches afore I left port – but I’d no inklin’ that such things would have the same effect on grown men.”

Staring down at their joined hands, he went on;

“Was below decks. Me an – an him. A man I’d called friend. A man I trusted. Twice me size and stinkin’ drunk. Never stood a bloody chance.”

“Oh Jack…”

“Said it were me own fault, I’d goaded him to it. Was askin’ fer it. Don’t know about that. All I remember – all I recall were the things in me head. The fear. The pain. Terrible pain, Lizzie. Felt filthy and used, like he’d stolen a part of me soul. Remember comin’ back to meself, after. Lying on the floor covered in muck and blood an’ – an’ him. Wanted t’bawl like the little lad I was. Couldn’t though. Was cos he’d made me a man, he said - made me like him - an’ men don’t cry. They drop their breeches and take it wivout a fuss.”

Elizabeth clung tightly to his hand, tears spilling down her cheeks. The thought of him being abused that way filled her with such anger it robbed her of speech.

Glancing up, Jack read the horror in her eyes and, misconstruing it, snatched his hand away.

“Told ye it weren’t a pretty tale. Should never’ve told ye. Makes what I did t’you last night inexplicable, don’t it? Forcin’ ye like that.”

“You didn’t force me. You took me by surprise - shocked me, scared me a little. But you make it sound as if – as if you – you didn’t rape me, Jack!”

“Did I not? What’d you call it then? Takin’ you like that? Forcin’ meself on the one person who means more t’me than any other?”

She shrugged miserably.

“I’m not sure. But it wasn’t that. I know it wasn’t that. Jack - last night, before we – before it happened - you told me you liked to have that done to you – to be taken. I don’t understand - after what that man did to you...”


“Inconceivable ain’t it?”

He hesitated, as though he could barely bring himself to speak. Finally, in a voice so low she could scarcely hear him, he told her the rest.

“Once weren’t enough fer him. Said now he’d – he’d broken me in, so t’speak – he’d best make use o’me. An’ he did. Often – an’ hard. But I were a fast study, see? Well-versed in the art of self-preservation. Learned it hurt less when I stopped fightin’ it.”

“Oh god, Jack…”

“An’ that’s when I found the sick truth of it. I liked it, Lizzie. Craved it, even. I’d been wiv a lass, afore - but only the once. This – what it did to me – felt like nothin’ on earth. Each time I’d fight a battle in me head, hatin’ meself fer lovin’ it so much. Feelin’ dirty an’ revolted but not able t’stop. Truth is it got me hard an’ wantin’ like nothing else I’d known.”

He rubbed a hand across his face and shook his head in bewilderment.

“Didn’t understand it then - m’not sure I do now. Try not t’think about it too much. Were disgusted wiv meself fer it. An’ it didn’t take him long t’catch on. After he’d finished he’d use his hand on me. Watchin’ me all the time, wiv this vile, knowin’ look in his eyes . Lovin’ how desperate I got, tellin’ me what a dirty little whore I was while he worked me. Knew full well I despised meself fer it - knew how badly I needed t’spend. He got off on that as much as the other. And after – after I’d spilled all over his fingers an’ the floor he’d be so – so – smug. Like what he’d wrung from me body was his reward – his proof that I was what he said, a cheap and worthless little trollop. A tramp he could bugger an’ humiliate. An’ he’d leave me there in the dark, wiv me breeches round me ankles, me heart full o’ shame – an’ a filthy black rage consumin’ me soul. Knowing I’d come back fer more of the same, soon as he felt the urge.”

Elizabeth felt sickened. She knew the telling of this tale and the memories it forced him to revisit were horribly painful. Part of her wanted to run from the cabin, to escape from the dark and frightening world he was describing. This terrified, traumatised child he spoke of bore no relation to the man she knew. Yet it was part of his past, part of what made him who he was – and she needed to hear it as much as he needed to let it go.

As she watched him now, hunched miserably beside her, his behaviour last night – and her own reaction to it – was suddenly, disturbingly clear.

“You never let go of that rage, did you?”

He made a sad, desperate sound in the back of his throat.

“I – I felt it, Jack. That’s what I was afraid of, I think. More than the act itself. There was something in you I didn’t recognise – and it scared me.”


He drew in a long, deep breath. “There’s somethin’ evil in me, Lizzie. Something dark and stinkin’. Somethin’ that made me want a taste of the thing he got from me. Jumped ship as soon as we made port. Found meself a lad. A lad who was stupid an’ desperate enough to trade his arse fer a sailor’s coin. Had him in a filthy alley – an’ I took him hard. Slammed meself into him over an’ again, not carin’ how much it hurt him. Like each thrust were a vindication; revenge fer every time I’d had it done t’me.”

Elizabeth frowned, trying to reconcile the man who shared her bed with the one he was describing. She couldn’t do it.

“Didn’t help,” he continued bitterly. “Made it worse, in fact. After I’d finished I just felt empty. Dirty. Knew meself t’be an evil, nasty piece of scum.”

“No! No you weren’t, you aren’t, don’t say such things!”

He shrugged miserably.

“I know what I am. What I was, at any rate.”

She bit her lip in frustration, desperately seeking a way to comfort him, to refute his words, but none came to mind. Then another thought distracted her.

“But you said – before, you said – there’ve been other men, since. Why, if you felt so awful about it?”

“Cos I evidently couldn’t do wivout it. An’ over the years I was taught the art of it – the ways t’make it pleasurable fer both parties. Thought I’d learned it well - never had no complaints, at any rate.”

Jack glanced at her then, and his eyes were full of pain.

“Thought I’d put it all in the past – but I was wrong, eh Lizzie? An’ twas you who bore the brunt of it. You, at the mercy of me demons. An’ I’d no idea until ye turned on me, after. Too bloody self-centred an’ stupid to see it fer meself til it were too late.”


He swallowed hard, steeling himself for what he was about to say.

“Mebbe you should go, Elizabeth. Cut yer losses, get away afore I really hurt ye. Can’t take ye back t’Port Royal but there’s other places…places ye’ll be safe from bloody-minded bastards like me.”

She let out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding and answered him in a voice that was surprisingly calm.

“I can’t believe you think so little of me.”

His head jerked up and he opened his mouth to speak, but she hadn’t finished yet.

“Have you no faith in me? I gave up everything to be with you. Demanded your name - your life - the right to bear your children. And I want those things forever. Do you think me so weak and fickle, able to walk away from you so easily?”

“Lizzie…”

“Listen to me, Jack! The way you behaved last night was wrong. But now I know the reason for it, how can I blame you? What happened to you wasn’t your fault. You were a victim - an innocent child, for goodness sake! Last night – yes you were rough in the end, but before that you were the same gentle, considerate, and thoughtful lover you’ve always been. And I can understand and forgive you the rest – now I know why.”

Gently she reached out and placed her palm over his.


“You didn’t force me, Jack. You went too far too fast, got carried away . It did scare me – but I could have pushed you off me, could have screamed at you if I’d really wanted to.”

Very slowly, he curled his fingers around hers.

“Lizzie, m’sorr…”

“Do you love me, Jack Sparrow?”

“More than me own life.”

“And do you want me to go?”

“No. Not ever.”

“Then let me make this plain. The Pearl is my home and I’ll not leave it. More to the point, I’ll not leave it’s Captain. You may well be a bloody-minded fool of a pirate – but you’re MINE, and I love you. Forever. Don’t you ever forget it.”

Jack did not reply. Couldn’t, in point of fact. He tried – even got so far as opening his mouth – but all that emerged was a strangled sort of croak. Thoroughly alarmed, he tightened his jaw and blinked frantically. But he could still feel it, rising up from deep in his chest, gathering somewhere in the base of his throat, making his eyes sting and his vision blur.

When she whispered his name he tried to twist away, mortified, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

Elizabeth saw his face work furiously; lips clamped shut in an attempt to stop them trembling, kohl-darkened lids squeezed tightly shut to contain the flood of emotion he so desperately needed to release.

“It’s alright,” she told him, and pulled him towards her.

Jack made an awful choking sound that wrenched at her heart. Clung on tight and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

And proceeded to fall quietly and very thoroughly apart.

She held on to him with all the strength she could muster. Rocked with him, patting his back as he shook in her arms, as her collar grew damp and her own tears fell unheeded on his tangled mane of hair.

Seeing her self-assured, devil-may-care lover like this was devastating. But she knew his distress was very long overdue; a deep and painful secret he’d carried for too many years. Elizabeth felt incredibly moved that he felt safe enough now, with her, to finally let it go.


At length the storm began to abate. And as the last tremors of it shivered through him Jack was overwhelmed to discover he’d survived the experience. Felt better for it, even.

Weak and trembling and utterly drained, but still, a lot better.


He felt – at peace. A sense of absolution. He’d revealed one of the dirtiest, darkest parts of himself, fully expecting her contempt, bracing himself for her rejection. But instead she’d listened without judgment, offered him compassion and forgiveness. Enabled him to unleash his pain in a way he’d never thought possible.

She had seen him through it. She’d anchored him.

He tried to remember the last time he’d felt this safe. Probably, he mused, easing himself up at last, it had been as a tiny lad. Back when he’d known himself only as the adored son of a sailor’s widow, shielded from the truth by loving lies.

Elizabeth stroked damp strands of hair away from his face, kissed his swollen eyelids, wiped away tears and smudges of kohl. The dried blood on his cheek had been washed away to reveal a small but angry looking cut so she carefully kissed that, too.

She had wept with him, agonised by his grief. And now that it was over her love for this tear-stained, grubby-faced pirate burned more brightly than ever before. This man had received harsh, bitter lessons about the perils of trusting others - the harshest of all at her own hands. She could only imagine the courage he’d needed to entrust himself to her this way. Yet he had – proving beyond words that her love for him was reciprocated in full. She felt proud and immensely privileged to hold the heart of such a man.

As she gazed at him, lost in thought, he gave a wry grin that was hearteningly familiar.

“Lizzie-beth, y’know I – ” he croaked; then stopped to clear his throat. Surely that shaky, tremulous voice did not belong to him?

“Lizzie darlin’”, he tried again, “Ye know I’d die fer you. An ye know that I love an’ adore ye beyond all rhyme an’ reason.”

“Yes. And I also know your next sentence will begin with the word ‘but’.”

The grin widened.

“But - If ye ever tell a soul about this I’ll throw ye overboard meself. Savvy?”

“Savvy! Now lie down with me. I love and adore you too, and I need you to hold me.”

“Good plan,” he mumbled, then nodded down at himself. “Help me get some o’this off, will ye darlin’? M’feelin’ a bit…well, y’know.”

“I know,” she smiled, reaching for his baldric.

Finally divested of all but shirt and breeches, he pulled her down with him, face to face, with her nose brushing his and their limbs tangled comfortably together.


Very soon those wonderfully expressive, deep brown eyes slid shut, and she angled her head to press the softest of kisses on his lips. Then, snuggling close, she surrendered at last to her own exhaustion. She could sleep now, safe and secure in his arms, his body warm and relaxed against hers.

Elizabeth knew his outpouring of grief would not be discussed or referred to again.

But it’s impact would be there, all the same. Something between them had shifted today. Her relationship with this enigmatic and mysterious man had reached beyond the passion they shared and was grounded now by something much deeper and more profound.

She’d never felt closer to him – or more certain of his love.