Give me Love, Give me Life

TITLE: ABH- Give me Love, Give me Life
Part 3 of ?
PAIRING JS/OF
RATING NC-17 This part R
DATE POSTED: Nov 1, 2003


DISCLAIMERS:
I sorely wished I owned Jack and his compatriots, but I do not. I am only
borrowing them and will returned them relatively unscathed. Go see the
movie! Give them MORE money. Everyone say SEQUEL (Now a reality in the
making!
YAAH US!)
ARCHIVE INSTRUCTIONS: Will be archived eventually at wildbadgers.net.
Anyone else must
ask first please.

AUTHOR NOTES:

You have two chapters coming for the price of one... PArt Three....and PArt Four
Part Four is in THIRD person, dealing with JAck... Its one of Jacks chapters that he beat me into writing...

I would love feedback. ITs been a while
since Ive written much so Im a bit rusty. Take flames and visit old hobs
with em ye scabberous dogs!


Chapter Three

You blinked sleep from your eyes looking round your room to gain your bearings, and carefully extracted yourself from under the limp arm of your lover. Surprisingly you had fallen back asleep that afternoon after your rampant escapades with the pirate, and now it was very late in the evening so it appeared by the clock on your desk. Almost nine o clock… A small, lit oil lamp sat on your desk, a gift from Ester no doubt for when you did get up.

Slipping from the covers, you wrapped your housecoat around your naked body and padded over to the door leading to your veranda. Jack lay in a dead sleep on his stomach, face sideways deep in the pillow, his arm flung out over where your body used to be. Glancing back to check, he hadn’t even stirred at your leaving. Jack just lay there in the bed so peacefully, such a change from before. Jack had gone to sleep the first couple of nights with the loaded pistol under his pillow in his grasp and the cutlass well within reach. He had stirred a lot, tossing and turning, speaking to unseen ghosts of his past, never slumbering for more then a couple of hours without waking, murmuring something about it being too still.

He needed the extra sleep now, having gotten none too much the restless days before from this, the sex, and the storm. You wondered how much true rest he ever really got. The life of a hunted man did not afford one much serenity you figured, even on the perceived safety of his own ship. He was always trying to stay ahead of something; the law, other pirates, even his own crew. He had survived a horrible uprising once only through the miracle of luck or the kindness of fate. You tried to imagine being rousted from your bed at knifepoint by the same men whom you entrusted all your dreams and endeavors to, and being forced overboard to swim to some strip of an island, expected to die an excruciating death by either your own hand or the elements. It did not leave one with much trust you expected.

Today he dozed like a baby, completely relaxed, his weapons not even near him and not once awoken in a near full eight hours that you knew of. Was he used to the solid ground now? Or was he actually comfortable here, not worried that any minute he was going to be strung up, or raided, stabbed in the back, have his throat cut or have mutiny committed upon his person?

The silence outside was almost deafening, and your heart skipped a joyous beat that it might be actually over. Carefully you opened it not wishing to wake him. You could not see in the darkness the devastation that the storm had left. The waves were again the normal soft breakers you were used to hearing, and not the monsters that had been pounding the island. Leaving the door ajar to allow in some of the fresh gentle breezes that the islands were known for, you tiptoed to your desk, setting the burning lamp off further to the side. You slid open the right hand drawer and quietly as you could, pulled out a neatly folded letter. The red wax seal was already broken from when you had earlier read it several days prior to when Jack had arrived.

It was from a Frenchman by the name Gabriel de Clieu. His family was associated with the vineyards you owned back in France, and they still worked them for you in your absence. Gabriel had chosen a life in the French navy though, working his way to an Officer by his titular signature you saw, and you were very intrigued to have been first contacted by him back in your previous home. It was upon his urging you had come to this island, where he had sworn to meet you with an urgent business proposition. The second letter, the one you held in your hand, had arrived, informing you that de Clieu should have been arriving tomorrow on the ship Le Marde du Monde, and that you should meet him down by the docks that afternoon. Now with that awful storm you did not know when his ship would come in, if at all.

He did not state what the meeting was about specifically, just that it concerned coffee. You did not understand why he would want to deal with coffee, as many merchants dealt and transported the beverage beans from Alexandria and Smyrna, the two largest exporting cities of coffee. Coffee was a hot commodity, but it was quite difficult to get ones hands on a steady supply of the beans outside of the normal shipping companies. There were small groves of coffee trees in Paris, originally a gift to King Louie XIV, and an effort by the merchants to cultivate them more homebound, but the climate was not too hospitable in Europe for the plant to really take hold there. That is why Yeman, Arabia and Egypt, the main Arab growers were so successful in holding the monopoly on coffee, and they used that to their full advantage.

Did he want to see you try and open coffee houses down here in the Caribbean, akin to the penny universities in England? Edward Lloyd’s coffee house was very successful and he was able to market in other avenues of business rather successfully into that simple business. He had branched out into an entire line of insurance he was now calling Lloyd’s of London. Cafés in Venice and Paris were quite successful. Venice itself had close to 2000 coffee houses, but it was a lot easier to get coffee to Italy then to the South Atlantic.

You must have been deep in thought, for you screamed wildly when a hand snaked down your front from behind to fondle your breast under the robe. Leaping up, you whirled around to see Jack standing there wrapped in a decorative wool knit blanket from your bed, a tad surprised by your reaction, but with a gleeful smirk of amusement.

“Dear lord Jack. You will have my heart someday,” you gasp out bringing your hand to your neck like an old woman with vapors.

“You mean I don’t already?” Jack suggestively asked, with just a tinge of staidness behind it. His dark eyes twinkled in the soft glow of the lamp.

You wanted to believe that the undercurrent of seriousness in the glib little statement was real. You wanted so desperately to admit that you had fallen in love with him harder and faster then you thought ever possible in the history of men and women. The logical part of you feared that revealing such information could be the move that sent the sparrow flying away to another perch because you got to close to him. You were standing on a precipice, a foot on either side, not knowing which way to jump to, not knowing quite how to traverse this chasm.

As off the cuff as you could muster, keeping your voice and face as straight as you could, you nonchalantly replied, “I suppose for good or ill you get into everyone’s heart eventually. Whether they want to kill you or kiss you is anyone’s guess.”

If he sensed anything out of the ordinary from you, he didn’t let it show. “So, do you want to kiss me or kill luv?luv? I definitely have my own preference.”

“Right now, killing you for scaring me to death is looking like a workable option.”

Jack leaned forward, whispering in your ear, “I’d rather have you kiss me.”

You smiled. “I’m sure you would,” and calmly turned away, slipping your letter back into the desk.

“So what’s with all the French?” Jack inquired nodding towards the drawer where you had placed the parchment.

“Merely business.” You slid back into his arms, slipping against him under the blanket, feeling his nakedness and enjoying it.

Jack wrapped the edges tightly around you. “What kind of business?”

His impetuousness never ceased to astound you sometimes, but strangely enough you expected it. “Business business. The business that brought me here to begin with. My business, Mr. Sparrow. Why do you want to know?”

Jack shrugged. “Just curious, that’s all. I don’t know all what you do to get all this that you have. I know what I do to get mine. You know what I do to get mine.”

“Okay,” you say, twisting to face him and come nose to nose, “you tell me where your island is, and I’ll tell you what my letter says and what my business is.”

“Oye, now,” Jack sputtered. “That’s not right. My island and your letter aren’t even in the same league.”

“And how do you know that? Perhaps my letter is concerning a shipment that I would prefer not being waylaid by someone who’s fortunes tend to rely on waylaying just such shipments.”

Jack got a hurt expression. “Sweetness, I would never do that to you.”

You watched him very closely as you asked, “Even if it were a huge cargo of gold and jewels and silks?” Jack had a pining flash in his eyes at the thought. “Which it isn’t, mind you! Jack, you are a pirate. I would not leave a loaded pistol in the hands of a young child, and I will not tempt you, yet, with the knowledge of my goings on.”

“Ah, so little faith in me?”

“Then tell me where you keep your treasure.” When Jack hesitated in responding, you added smartly, ”Ah, so little faith in me?”

A gleam lit up Jack’s face, and he gave you a silent ooh with pursed lips. “Thinking you’re a right smart one there aren’t ye, missy. Testin’ ole Jack aren’t ye? That little cherub that sits on ones shoulder for the conscience, opposite of that little devil that gives me my weasly black guts.”

You kissed Jack chastely on the lips and said solemnly, “Jack, I don’t think you would honestly do anything to hurt me like that, or hope so anyway, but dare I lay the temptation there, and I wonder if I merely set myself up for a fall that would harm not only me but you.”

“It’s not your money, or potential for money, that draws me to you like a bloody moth to a flame. I have debated this in me own head for hours on end, woman.” He slipped his hands under your robe to caress your skin. “I can only relate it in my own terminology, being a simple pirate and all, so I speak to ye of what I know and are familiar with, treasure, booty and victuals. Booty can be hidden away, and as much as you treasure it, it can remain hidden and out of sight, out of mind for ages. You’re more than that. You are as compelling as the strongest drink, full of the fire that burns in a man’s belly, salves his senses and numbs his pain, driving him to have more to feel that slow spread of warmth and contentment. But ye aren’t like rum… “ Jack lined your throat with a string of nibbling kisses, catching the skin in his teeth ever so softly as he made his way down. You gasped softly and leaned into him. Then as was whispering again into your ear, his breath searing every nerve you had. “No… Rum is a guzzlin’ drink, made for any man, and one to make you forget quickly. Quick pleasure, quick release.”

The pirate’s hands slid over your sides to your buttocks, cupping them firmly. He took your earlobe between his teeth, biting it gently, and tracing the small ridges with his tongue. You shivered under that experienced touch, amazed not only that your body was responding again so soon, but had so many times since he returned. “ Nay luv, you are more… like a sweet Brandy. Sophisticated and smooth. A drink that needs to be sipped…” He sensuously took your lips with his for but a moment. “…and savored…” And then a few moments longer, with his fingers wandering across your skin to make you whimper quietly as he teased your senses. “Yes. A brandywine that one loathes to share because it is so rare and wonderful, so full of flavor and personality. Something that a man with any wit about him wants to hoard in his own personal stock. My sweet, searing Brandy, with her kisses that simply set me afire….”

“Are you trying…” you forced out, trying very hard to ignore the incredible desire he was building up in you again, ”… to butter me up… and steal my sensibilities, Mr. Sparrow?”

“Mebbe,” He chuckled. “ Why? Is it working?”

“It’s working… in a way, but not in the exact way you might want. I’m still not going to tell you.”

“ Hmmmmmm, but do ye really know what I really want right now?” he smiled, capturing your lips with his.

Jack took his time on this kiss now, his tongue delving into every crevasse in your mouth he could reach, fighting with yours for dominance and control. He sighed long and loudly, his arousal growing more evident every minute. Then he pulled away, and out from the blanket, drawing it around you as he stepped back. There was an almost anguished cloud in his gaze as he looked longing upon you.

“And like any fine drink,” he regretfully said, “there is a time when you must put it on the shelf, to keep your senses clear for what must be done. And for the moment, my sweet Brandy, I must take my leave of your sirens call, before I am set back and taken in the waves of its intoxication any further then I am right now.”

“Jack?” There was an uneasy tremor in your simple one word question.

Seeing your anxious and bewildered expression, he apologetically said, “ I need to run and do some of my own business.”

“At ten o’clock in the evening?” Had he figured out you were in love with him, and this was his retreat? You weakly sat down in your desk chair.

“The best time for slippin’ off wi’out prying eyes. I need to go make sure Gibbs is set, that’s all. It’s a several hour walk across the island to the sandbars. Tis best not to let the whole place know where she is holed up. I picked the place ‘cause ship traffic don’t want the sandbars and shallow bay, but in my case, I do, so I be somewhat assured that I am relatively safe there exposing me poor lady’s bones. It’s a lot more noticeable when I take off into the jungle for no reason in the daytime, than the night. Took me about three hours to walk in, and that was in mostly daylight, so I’m figgerin’ it will be at least four for me to navigate back though the dark.”

The pirate, needing the chill in the air to help him regain some of his own control, walked naked over to a small wooden trunk that you had gotten for him to keep his clothing in while he stayed. He opened it up and took out another set of pants and another new shirt and started to puem oem on. Part of you wondered if you were merely a way for the pirate to get new attire without having to beg borrow or steal for it, as you always seemed to be adding to his wardrobe each time. Actually it was more Ester’s doing. She just sort of showed up the day after Jack came back with an armload of clothing for him, which he accepted with a flourish and a comment about her remembering his taste.
.
Jack buttoned up the grey pants, and pulled the white shirt over his head, leaving the ties unfastened.
Within a minute he had donned all his gear, and capped it all off with the long deep blue Captain’s coat with its gold trim and buttons that he had arrived in. He had that dashing roguish look that caught your eye the first time you saw him.

Though you said nothing, it seemed Jack could read you well, even with your masks up. He sighed and came over to you. “I’m not running off, my Brandy. I promise you. I may be a pirate but I’m a man of me word. You know that.”

“Even if you were, Jack, running off that is, it’s not my place to hold you here,” you nervously replied in a barely audible whisper. You did not want to believe what you said anymore, having grown quite enamored of his presence in your life

Jack knelt down on one knee, and took your hand, bringing it to his lips. His eyes bored into you, and as much as you wanted to look away so he couldn’t see your apprehension, you couldn’t. He wouldn’t let you. “Like they say, although I’m not quite sure who these they are really… you cant rape the willing. You’re not holding me anywhere if I’m willingly staying now. Isn’t that right luv?”

“I..I suppose. It’s just…why me?”

Jack was rather taken aback by your question. “I don’t know exactly. Why not you?”

Why not you indeed? You couldn’t answer his question and chose to remain silent, forcing yourself to stare at the open wooden slats on the floor. There was nothing about you in your opinion to make you special in the eyes of a man who dealt with riches and adventure every day of his life so it seemed; a man free to come and go as he willed in every aspect of his life. So you could answer his question, really, and chose not to. You could not tell him how you feared so much the inadequacy of your own existence, and how you barely believed he took notice in the first place of it, even for a moment. You were petrified of that moment being whisked away.

“You don’t think too highly of yourself now do ye?” Jack questioned. “I’m not talking your talent nor your sense, cause you know you have that in spades, and ye work that to your full advantage. I’m talking about what’s in here,” he reached out and tapped you on your chest, above your heart,” that makes you special. Makes you YOU. Makes people give a damn about you, and maybe get close to you. But you don’t get close to people now do ye?”

Perhaps it was almost being murdered by your husband so long ago, but you had felt no desire to form any manner of a relationship of any sort past convenience to yourself and your goals. Until Jack, finally feeling something for someone was unspeakable. For years it had not concerned you in the least about what someone thought of you, especially of the male persuasion. You had no interest in pursuing anything, so it did not matter if they stayed or went. In many cases you encouraged them to go through your disinterest. Why now did you so desperately want him to stay?

That was the unspeakable question and the unattainable answer. Why now and whyh thh this man (who most certainly was not the solid steadfast fellow women searched for) did you suddenly get rocks in the pit of your stomach when you thought of him being gone. Why did you miss him already? Why were you so afraid?

Pushing his braids and trinkets back behind his shoulders, Jack rose up on both feet to a squatting position between your knees. “I have to go now, ‘fore it gets any later, but I want you to stop and think about something while I’m gone. Number one, I said I’ll be back, and Captain Jack Sparrow keeps his word. Number two, is it smart to be doubting the judgment of a pirate when it comes to things of value? Any pirate worth his cutlass is not going to waste their time on common junk, so if they be after something, you can lay money on its inherent worth.”

As he rose to leave, you blindly grabbed the large, ornate cuff on his coat. “Jack,” you said with a catch in your throat.

“Yes, me Brandy?”

“Be careful. Please”

The pirate grasped your hand and pulled you to your feet. “I always strive to,” he grinned in that cocky, sardonic way of his. Before you could respond he swept you backwards, and strove to kiss you into unconsciousness. He set you back upon your feet as the giddiness began to over take you, making a few odd gestures with his hands when he released you. You thought you heard him mutter,“Shelf shelf shelf.”

“Now,” he said loudly and dramatically, “ I must find my boots and my hat, and perhaps have me a nip o’ tucker before I’m on my merry ole way.“ With a flourish he swung an arm out towards the door. “After you, me Brandy. I believe I left them out in the common area.”

He followed you out in that odd, floating gait of his, to the kitchen. Ester sat at the table, reading some old book by lamplight, not seeming surprised to see you two there, but surprised to see Jack dressed to leave. Grabbing a couple pieces of fruit from a bowl, he stuffed them in the pockets of the great coat. You picked up the weathered leather hat, and held it patiently as he searched the room.

“I should be back in a day or so,” Jack said as comfortingly as he could muster as he grabbed his tall brown boots and pulled them on with a grunt. Whisking his hat from your hands with a small bow, he set it smartly atop his head, swaggered away toward the door and stopped with his one hand on the handle. His leather-covered hand played with the hilt of his sword, not out of fear, but out of nervous habit. On the sole of one boot he slowly circled one hundred eighty degrees, and regarded you with his cocked head as silently as you had been following him.

“You’re a fine lass, me Brandy.” Jack solemnly stated. “An’ don’t you be forgettin’ it, cause I ain’t gonna be letting ya’. If’in it weren’t fer the fact that me lady was going up on her dry sides…” He sounded almost apologetic.

“Go, you sodding pirate you,” you replied with a small smile. “She’s your ship Jack. How can I not understand? She’s to your life like my music is to mine. It’s not like I can’t take care of myself.”

Jack broke out into that thin, pleased smirk of his that just curled the edges of his lips. “That’s me girl,” he almost laughed. “That’s me Brandy that I love.”

Ester suddenly stuffed something into his hands. It was a folded and tied cotton cloth with something in it. “For your journey, Mr. Sparrow,” she stoically said.

Jack leaned forward and gave the old woman a peck on the lightly wrinkled cheek. “I’d swear if I didn’t know better, milady Ester,” he crooned, “that you had a thing for this old pirate here. I think you almost like me.” The housekeeper made an exaggerated sigh and gesture of irritation, but you swore you saw a quick blush flash across her cheeks as she stepped back.

As he started to move, you blurted out, “Jack?”

He froze. “Yep?”

“You know quite well my name is not Brandy.”

Jack beamed quite wide and gave you a wink. “It is to me luv,” and with that vanished into the darkness.

You sighnd snd sank down into one of the straight-backed chairs after the door shut. Ester set a small plate of foodstuffs in front of you. “Won’t do you any good to be wasting away now,” she said, “so eat up, and I’ll get us some cards to play for a mite before I turn in. He’ll be back, dear. No need to fret.”

“What makes you so sure of that when we both know he is a man of questionable character and obvious reputation?” You wistfully asked, nibbling on a hunk of cheese.

Ester shrugged and simply replied,” Because he has that look in his face every time he sees you.”

Your eyebrows rose in uncertainty. “Look? What look?”

“The one your deceased lord husband, may he burn in hell forever, never ever had for you.”