A Most Unusual Interest

A Most Unusual Interest Chapter Eight (NC-17)




A Most Unusual Interest Chapter Eight (NC-17)

Disclaimers Apply

 

A/N Goddess Foxfeather gets big heap muse cookies for
betaing! J Readers/Reviewers: And here begins the NC-17 part…

 

 

 

Myrtle
staggered out of her cabin and choked on the thick smoke clouding the
deck. Explosions rocked the ship and
rang in her ears along with the shouting of men and screeching of metal as
swords clashed. Panic rose er
er
throat as she stumbled over what proved to be a fallen man. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she gasped.

“No use,
lass,” Gibbs shouted. “He’s dead as a
doornail!” He grabbed her arm and
dragged her back into the cabin, shoving her onto the bed. “ Stay here! Cap’n’s orders!”

Myrtle felt
her breath coming in short gasps. This
was tomilimiliar… “No!” The word was torn from her throat raggedly, almost
louder than the musket blast outside her door.
“No! I won’t hide!”

Gibbs
staggered for balance as the ship rolled to port. “Lass, don’t be daft!” He
shoved her back towards the bed and slammed the door behind him.

The
porthole was too small for her to fit through, she discovered quickly, and even
if she would, it was a good drop to the sea where bodies and debris
floated. She would be exposed, then,
too. Exposed to whichever side wanted
to take aim. Myrtle was still kneeling
on the bed, face pressed to the grimy glass when the door shattered inward, the
blast deafening. She screamed, scared
and surprised, and flung herself face down on the bed, covering head ead with
her arms. Her ears rang and drowned out
noise for a moment, thencamecame flooding back in a thunderous wave. “She’s in ‘ere!”

Myrtle
wondered if playing dead would get her anywhere. She laid very still, holding
her breath and letting tears burn in her eyes.
A rough jerk on her braid lifted her head, though, and she knew she was
caught. Brilliant blue eyes speared her
to the very core of her being, a face tine ine to have known the sea as a
lifestyle loomed large. “That’s
her. Bring her.” He dropped her head and muffled her shout of
shock. Myrtle was lifted and jostled
until she hung over a massive shoulder, her head about the level of her captor’s
mid-back. He smelled rotten, like meat
left out too long. The fighting outside
her door was dying down, the explosions becoming few and far between, the clang
of swords replaced by shouting and meaty thuds as combat became close
quarters. She squirmed and managed to
drop another six inches, putting her face at waist level. Taking a deep breath, she turned her head
and bit his side, sinking her teeth through worn fabric and into flesh. She tasted blood.

 

Jack whipped
around at the sound of the feminine scream.
A huge man, larger than any on his crew, larghe rhe realized, than any
he had ever seen, was struggling with Myrtle mid-deck. Blood covered her mouth and was streaked on
her face and his shirt. “Gibbs! Get ‘er!”

Gibbs
looked at Jack helplessly. He was
embroiled with a younger man from the other ship, both of them perilously close
to the railing. Jack sighed roughly and
kicked his attacker squarely in the chest, sending him tumbling to the sea
below. Taking a running start, he
grabbed one of the dangling ropes torn from the rigging in the initial attack
and swung across the deck, his booted heels striking Myrtle’s captor in the
head. The large man stumbled back but
did not fall. Jack dropped to the deck
and drew his knife, his sword somewhere back on the forecastle. “ Welcome to The Black Pearl,” he
grinned.

Myrtle sat,
stunned, for a moment as the larger man rounded on Jack. The blood in her mouth made her want to
vomit but moit mit made her angry. She knew
now what had been wrong. She knew why
the pirates who attacked The Nautilus had made her uncertain… Jack
lunged at him and slashed with the knife, drawing a welter of blood across the
arm. The man laughed. “No!” Myrtle shouted. “Keep him alive!”

Jack
frowned. “What’d you think I was goin’
to do, dove?” He swung again and
missed, dropping to the deck and rolling out of the way of a booted foot.

Myrtle
scrambled back as her captor turned his back on Jack and advanced on her
again. His eyes, she realized, were
clouded. He did not blink. His movements were fluid but mechanical, as
if he were being pulled by strings. Jack
leapt onto his back, making him sway. “He’s
not…” Myrtle felt her mouth working but
no sound would come out. “He’s not
right…”

“Thank you
for that information,” Jack growled, tightening his grip. “C’mon, lad, let’s go down…” Myrtle gained her footing as Jack was flung
free. He landed on his back with a loud
crack, the air knocked from his lungs for a moment. As he drew in great gasping breaths, Myrtle found her
motivation. She rushed at the man,
leaping the last few feet to tackle him.
Already off balance, he went down.
She pressed her knee to his throat, just like she used to do to Thomas
Johnson when she was a little girl and he would pull her hair or put caterpillars
down her dress. Jack edged to her side,
his breath still ragged but his jaw set.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the man and got his own
stranglehold on him. The ship was almost quiet again, the invaders aboard their
own ship, which was pulling away. The
Pearl was all but dead in the water, masts broken and hull taking on water.
Jack held his knife against the man’s throat and bit out, “Now ‘ow ‘bout you
tellin’ me who you are…”

“Jack,”
Myrtle said urgently, tugging on him. m.


He did not
even notice she used his first name, unprefaced by “Captain.” “Not now, dove!”

“Jack,” she
repeated more loudly.

“What?” he
barked, never taking his eyes off his captive.

“He’s not
breathing, Jack…”

Jack let
his knife drop and held his hands up. “I
didn’ do anythin’,” he pronounced carefully.


“No….” Myrtle crept forward and as she got within
arm’s reach, the stranger’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. He moved as if very much alive, but still
his chest did not rise and fall with breath.
“Get him off me!”

Jack and
Dawson both moved this time, pulling Myrtle back as the stranger sat up. “Someone secure him!” Jack shouted. “Take
him to the hold! And Dawson! Soames! Get to bailing!”

Myrtle was
shaking so hard she felt like her knees were going to give out on her. “It was him,” she squeaked, staring at the
stranger as he lay limp but staring between two of the larger crewmembers. As they passed, the stranger’s head turned
to look at her, his neck craning to keep her in his sight as they headed
towards the hold.

“Aye,” Jack
panted, “I saw…”

“No,”
Myrtle denied, shaking her head violently.
She peered at Jack as he took a swig of rum from someone’s flask, handed
to him as the ship swung to life again.
She reached for the liquor and took a long, burning drink, managing not
to cough as she handed back the nearly empty flask. “Not that.

“What are
ye talkin’ ‘bout, dove?” He reached for
and caught her as she fainted. “Rum’s a
man’s drink, lass,” he sighed. “Gibbs,
you’re my voice while I settle her!”
With a slight grunt, he lifted Myrtle into his arms and head towards his
cabin.

 

A/N Next chapter, UST and a little bit of RST… (aka smut, lol)