An Eye for a Bargain

Title: An Eye for a Bargain 8/

Title: An Eye for a Bargain 8/?

Genre: Action/Romance

Pairing: J/OC, W/E, N/OC

Rating: R/NC-17

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am serious. Even this machine is a rental. Pirates of the Caribbean, all its characters/places/things belongs to Disney. "Drawn to the Rhythm" was written by Sarah McLachlan and is taken from the Nettwerk records release "Solace." I take no credit for the recognizable. I make no profit from this.

Summary: A romance of sorts for Jack Sparrow.

Notes: Italicized words denote thoughts. IMPORTANT: most of this chapter is a flashback. To illustrate the flashback, I’ve written those sequences in italics. Most of those sequences are character thoughts. I hope it doesn’t confuse you too much.

Comments: Aye, tis another Sarah McLachlan song. I wonder who’s a fan, eh? I’ve taken liberties with the lyrics, changed them about the way I hear Abby singing it in my head.

Thanks again to everyone who’s reviewed. I appreciate all your comments dearly.

~*~*~*~

When we wore a heart of stone,
we wandered to the sea, hoping to find some comfort there,
yearning to feel free.
And we were mesmerized by the lull of the night and the smells that filled the air,
and we layed us down on sandy ground,
t’was cold but we didn’t care.
Drawn to the rhythm
Hmm, hmm, hmm,
Drawn to the rhythm of the sea.
Aye, we were drawn to the rhythm,
Drawn to the rhythm of the sea.
Hmm, hmm, hmm…

She rocked back and forth on the cold sand, humming softly to herself in an attempt to ease the ache swelling in her heart. The tide had come in but a few hours ago, the waves cresting just beyond the reach of her fingers. Anar was coming up over the horizon, reaching blindly with his scarlet arms, weaving celestial patterns with Ithil’s fading kiss. A blinding fog had settled over Port Royal in the dead of night, the tattered remnants of its cover now being washed away in the morning sunlight. T’was a fresh, new day.

A single black cloud lingered far off in her sight line, and while she could not make out its shape, the cold fist clenching her heart told her exactly what it was. The Black Pearl, ever faithful, had returned to secure its captain and the newest member of its crew. Aye, if one could call her prospective duties crewman’s work. She shuddered, gazing helplessly at her newest decoration: a single band of gold braid, settled uncomfortably upon the second finger of her left hand. Such a small trinket, though it seemed to her it weighed more than any anvil in a blacksmiths shop. T’was a symbol of her newfound imprisonment, securing her more tightly than iron bars ever could.
We were drawn to the rhythm. She sang softly, a mere whisper against the roar of the waves. The tremor in her voice, however, was more than audible, and she winced when she knew he’d picked up on it. The ‘he’ being Jack Sparrow or course. Jack stood not a yard away, squinting towards the sunrise and his approaching vessel, and grumbling something about being sober. He’d not let her out of his sight since their reunion the night before last, and had only once been daft enough to allow her out of his grip. That was until this morning, when the fight in her had all but died, and she’d lost the will to run.
Now all she could do was hope someone would come to her rescue before she disappeared with the tide, never to see those she loved again. Her head was spinning, and the constant fear that chilled hr soul was now embedded in her bones. What she did remember of the past few hours was a blur. It had all happened so fast.

Drawn to the rhythm of the sea…

She stopped the song, meant to bring comfort but was now only inspiring tears. "What that ye be singin’?" She glared up at him, her distrust of him evident with the feral gleam in her eyes. She held her tongue, biting it with all her might to keep silent. The last thing she desired was conversation with him. "Aye, ye curvy shrews all be alike. Singin’ all fair and teasin’ with yer seaside manner. Then, the minute a man tries to strike up a talk, ye be turning yer noses up, like ye be too good fer me questions. That’ll be just fine then. If ye not willin’ to talk bout’ it, ye best not be openin’ yer mouth to sing about it either." His manner indicated nothing short of a pout, his arms crossing and uncrossing refvelyvely across his chest. She noticed for the first time that Captain Sparrow never really stood still. He swayed, as though his body itself were a ship, rocking to and fro with the swell of the waves. His kohl-lined eyes were narrowed now, and she distressed over his obvious temperament. She’d not meant to hurt his feelings, if such thing were indeed possible, only deter him from suggesting their "relationship," as it were, was anything more than the obvious: scoundrel villain and ive.ive.

"I don’t know what it’s called, though I would assume "Drawn to the Rhythm" would constitute an appropriate title. My nanna used to sing it to me as a child." She answered. "It gives me comfort, and I would ask that you allow me this one small thing, my only device as of now for keeping the bile from rising in my throat."

The sting in her words was not lost on Sparrow, but he merely shrugged it off. T’would not be the first time a woman scathed him with her tongue, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He’d heard worse insults from this lass in the past day. Raising his eyebrows in reproach, he turned to her, an overly dramatic display of courtesy as he bowed slightly in acknowledgment of her request. "I don’t mind yer singin’. It sounds like a pretty song, and you at least have a pretty voice. Tis a relief you were gifted with some fairness from the heavens, at least."

Abby stood sharply, her breath huffing from her chest as her face reddened in anger. "You mean to suggest my voice is the only fairness I’ve been ‘gifted’ with?"

Jack winced, clapping his hands together as if to pray. Bloody hell, you’ve gone and done it now. "Luv, I meant no insult, but yer hardly a china doll, if ye be takin’ my meanin’." He smiled warmly in an attempt to soften the blow, but it didn’t have the desired effect. He was forced to step back suddenly as she plowed forward in an obvious effort to slap the grin from his face, but somewhere lost her footing in the sand, and ended up in a heap of gritty lace and muslin the beach.

Crouching down beside her, he spoke in a low, even tone. "Luv, if I was you, I’d refrain from these theatrical displays. They really don’t suit your person. I never meant to insinuate that yer not a pretty thing, ye just have a certain, flavor that dotes acquirin’, savvy?" She glanced up at him, a scowl on her face that did little to hide her feelings on the subject. Jack grinned broadly. "O’course, me men aboard The Pearl haven’t shared a woman’s company in weeks, and I doubt they’ll be takin’ notice of yer looks, so much as the fact yer female."

Abiageal sat up, gazing at the rumpled ruin of her dress in disgust. She hadn’t put much thought into choosing attire the other night, such was her haste to remove her family from harms way. In her rush, she’d chosen the only garment she owned that would satisfactorily cover her without the need of a corset. She certainly wasn’t about to ask the Captain to tie her corset strings for her. The result had been a well-worn work dress that was several seasons old. And while it certainly wasn’t her prettiest garment, it had ld fad far better yesterday than it did now. Her coppery curls hung in wet lumps down her back, clinging to her brow in a most un-fashionable way. Of course he would think her un-pretty. First he’d seen her in that awful pink extravagance, and now a ruined moldy work dress. Not that she cared for his approval. He was just a filthy pirate after all. A sudden thought ored red to her, and it turned her stomach upside down in a way it never had before. "What do you expect of me when we board your ship, Captain? Am I to serve your crew?" She hung her head in shame as she asked her question. T’was an honest thought, she had been dishonored a number of times by this scurvy dog, why shouldn’t she be forced into humility by his men?

Jack Sparrow outright laughed, a hearty chuckle that bordered on an insane cackle. "I don’t believe I heard you right, luv? Ye be misunderstandin’ the situation. In case ye haven’t yet realized, ye belong to me, an I don’t let me crew touch what’s mine. Yer role aboard me ship is for ye to decide. Remember though, for all intents and purposes, ye will remain me wife."

Wife, ye will remain me wife. Wife?

With sudden clarity, the events of the past day came back from their respective hiding places. Her memory snapped to attention as she realized exactly what she’d done, exactly what she’d been trying to deny.

In the name of god, by the powers vested in me by the holy church, I now pronounce you man and wife.

Jack Sparrow: feared villain, pirate, and scoundrel. Captain of the infamous Black Pearl. It appeared one could add the title of husband to his list of accomplishments. Too much, too fast. I can’t handle this. All of her dreams were taken away from her instantly, every hope and wish she’s ever had decayed quite suddenly into ash. With naught else to do, Abby succumbed. The embracing blackness was comforting, gentle even. Her last thought before she sank into its blissful hold, sailing away from consciousness, was that her knight in shining armor had come, and he rode upon the devil’s wings…

"Bloody hell!" Jack cursed. "Damnable woman!" Slumping into the sand gracelessly, he contemplated his terrible luck. Only he would wed a fainting wench such as the one before him. By god Jack, what have gone and bloody well done this time? "I need a bloody drink."

~*~*~*~

We fell asleep and began to dream,
when something broke the night.
Memories stirred inside of us,
the struggle and the fight.
And we could feel the heat of a thousand voices,
telling us which way to go.
And we cried out,
Is there no escape,
from the words that plague us so?

 
I now pronounce you, man and wife..

 
The pistol was as a knife in her back, a constant reminder that she was in a life-threatening situation. If not for the weapon, she felt confident she’d be able to foil her kidnapper, whom she’d labeled a buffoon in thet hot hours they’d been together. She wasn’t sure, but there was something "off" about Captain Sparrow. T’was in the way he walked, or swaggered, for a better term. It was in the way he gestured wildly with his hands when he spoke, his limbs flying in every direction. The man positively defied all male laws of gravity and physics. It was also in his constantly slurred speech, though if she did her calculations right, she could determine that it had been weeks since he’d had the chance to consume a copious amount of drink. Of course, she couldn’t be giving him enough credit. He had, after all, managed to escape the gallows not once, but twice to her knowledge. Commodore Norrington was a considerable foe, and if Captain Jack Sparrow had outwitted him, he couldn’t be as stupid as she’d like to think he was.
She was rather surprised they hadn’t been seen yet, lurking in the considerable foliage Port Royal had to offer. Thus far, she’d seen no band of troops dispatched to search for her, and it troubled her somewhat. Hadn’t her family yet noticed her absence? Had they not immediately called for help?

Sparrow seemed to pick up on her train of thought. "Ye was upset yestereve, before I barged in o. Pe. Perhaps yer family thinks ye be needin’ time to yerself? If ye’ll remember correctly, I made sure to lock yer chamber door before we left."

Abby whimpered. Of course, he’d thought of everything. Though he had yet to explain himself. He’d had plenty of opportunities to strangle the life from her body, or rape and plunder her innocence, but he hadn’t yet laid a hand on her. He was the strangest pirate she’d ever met. But hen, he was the only pirate she’d ever met.certcertainly wasn’t anything like what she’d heard or read about. Her curiosity was getting the better of her. What did this lunatic want with her? She had nothing to offer him. No wealth, and it was certainly not her beauty.
She was completely dumbfounded, especially when, after hours of hiding in the trees, they arrived at what appeared to be their destination: the church. Why would Jack Sparrow drag her to the church? Did he plan to kill her in the house of god? Perhaps force himself upon her at the alter? Her blood ran cold at the thought. No, Jack Sparrow was nothing like the tales she’d heard in the London markets: he was far worse.

~*~*~*~

I can practically taste this girl’s fear, so thick does in hang in the air between us. Obviously confused, though I certainly can’t clarify things to her, I myself have no blasted idea what this is all about. She keeps lookin’ at me like I’s Lucifer himself, her eyes all wide, glazed even.

What are ye gonna do, Sparrow? Ye’ve always prided yerself on bein’ a man of chance, seizin’ the day an’ all that bloody nonsense. Ye know this all began as some half-witted plan fer revengin’ yerself against that bloody fool of a Commodore. Tis entirely his fault, taunting ye with his ramblings and lack of good drink for over a bloody week. The man is hardly good company, savvy? Ye know deep down ye feel somethin’ akin to pity for this poor girl, but she’s hardly the issue here. Ye have a chance to give that bastard the kick in the arse he deserves. Why not start by ensuring Commodore fucking Norrington never gets the chance ta seize McLeod’s fortunes for himself? T’would be easy enough, just rid him of a bride. She’s right here, under cover of darkness, with nary a soul around ta witness.

Nay. There are plenty of stories that fetch the wind about me, an’ less that half of em’ got the right idea. I’ve always looked out for myself, that’s for sure, but lookin’ out for number one doesn’t mean I’m the hell spawn I’ve been made out to be. Truth is, I’ve gotten soft in my last years.

Aye, tis been many a season since ye’ve rightly gutted an opponent, and there’s no way in hell ye’ve got it in you to drain the life of Norrington’s girl. Ye can think about it though.

I can think about it, I have thought about it. I’ve planned every last detail, but when I saw her at my execution ceremony, all the plans went out the window. She’d obviously felt mercy for me, and any person willin’ to give someone like me the benefit of the doubt deserves ta keep breathin’.

So now the cae can’t kill her, and there’s no way in hell you’ll kill Mr. Commodore himself, ye’ve got to be more creative. It’s all about the game, eh mate?

So I keep telling myself.

What are ye gonna do Jack, what are ye gonna do? Ye’ve been sittin’ here fer hours in the blasted trees, hiding out, listenin’ to her mewing, without a plan. That simply will not do.

I know.

What other options do ye have? Yer a fool for comin’ here with no bloody clue.

I’ve got the papers in my et. et. I’ve had em’ for over ten years, and they’re yellowed and worn. Too much time spent at sea, like their owner. Ol’ Bootstrap an I got em’ in England, all they need is a name and a signature and it’s done.

Perfectly legal, perfectly binding. Are you sure though? That "perfectly binding" clause applies to ye just so much as it would her.

That’s the trick, ain’t it? Though as it were, I doubt the formalities of such a thing apply in this situationose ose to prevent me from havin’ my way of things? Just cause a piece of paper says I’s married doesn’t make is so.

But imagine Mr. Commodore’s reaction to yer weddin’ of his fiancée?

T’would be worth all the gold in the Spanish Main.

I wouldn’t take it that far. Methinks ye spend far too much time obsessin’ over Norrington. The whelp is hardly worth the effort. Surely you have some intimate reasons for pursuin’ this arrangement?

I’m the last of my bloodline, lest I sire an heir. T’would be easy, I know many a whore over the Caribbean who’d be honored with the privilege.

Sure, but yer a pirate Jack, it’s in yer blood, and naught can be done ta change that fact. There’s a possessive treasure hunter in you, always present: a strong desire for ownership, control and dominion.

That’s why it never took me long to rank Captain. Is always better given’ the orders than takin’ em yerself.

That’s why ye have those papers in yer hand. Ye want control.

I told him I’d not have use for em, but ol’ Turner told me to take em’ anyhow.

He knew. Knew the thought was always there, lurkin’ in the back of yer head. Those thoughts have been louder of late, haven’t they? They become more defined, the older ye get. They don’t have to stay thoughts anymore, Jack.

I can have it, easily gain the upper hand.

It appears ye’ve already made up yer mind. Just lookin’ for a good opportunity? Or a good excuse? Time to get yerself married Jack.

Tis as good a time as any. She’s still a whimperin,’ though I suspect that’ll stop soon as we get inside. Then the roarin’ and screamin’ will take over.

 
I really need to stop this. Hiding out talkin’ to me onesie ain’t all that fun.

~*~*~*~

"Wake up, luv." Jack nudged the sleeping sand princess beside him. "Yer chariot awaits."

Groaning, Abby slowly opened her eyes and sat up. Her head was pounding, and a sudden bout of nausea had taken over. She sighed deeply. "I’d hoped it was all some horrible nightmare." She croaked, her voice hoarse from misuse.

Sparrow smiled. "Nightmare, luv? Why me heart bleeds to here you say that." He mockingly griped his chest in pain. "I can be the knight in armor ye dream of, here ta carry ye away into the sunset."

She shook her head. "Captain, with all due respect," the sarcasm bleeding through every forced word. "You’re hardly the man of my dreams."

"I bloody well rescued ye from that miserable military quack! What more can ye ask for?" He raged. He’d damned well had enough of her whining, simpering, complaining…

"Rescued me?! You held a shotgun to my head as I said my wedding vows! You threatened to murder the preacher! Threatened to do unspeakable things to my family! If this is what constitutes a rescue, hav have no part of it!" Standing up abruptly, and using the last of her strength, Abiageal McLeod began to scream bloody murder. A terrible shriek that would raise the dead from their eternal slumber, begging to any whom could hear to come to her rescue.

"Would ye shut the hell up, woman? Jesus, yer hurtin’ me head." Sparrow began waving frantically to the approaching rowboats, eager as ever to get the bloody hell off this cursed rock. Gibbs eyed his captain in confusion as they reached the shore, wondering again at the mysteries of Jack Sparrow.

"What the devil’s goin’ on, Captain?" He asked, bewildered at the sight of the banshee woman in rotten muslin, shriekin’ hells wrath on the beach. It was a wonder she’d not drawn the whole of the British fleet to their location.

"Mr. Gibbs. Tis a pleasure to introduce to ye me wife, Abiageal." Sparrow announced with a wince, gesturing to Abby as he did so. Abby stopped screaming then, taking a moment to catch her breath.

"WIFE? Jack, are ye daft?" Gibbs exclaimed, the rest of the small party looking at their captain in shock. "Me thinks ye haven’t had near enough rum these past weeks. Come lad, best be getting ye aboard, and some decent drink put in ye. Then ye’ll get back ta thinkin’ straight."

"I’m perfectly serious, gentlemen. I’ve taken Abiageal McLeod as my lawfully wedded, and I don’t plan on leavin’ these shores without her. Unless o’course, she sees fit to return to the village. I’m sure all will be forgiven, and her family and the Commodore will be perfectly willin’ to overlook the fact that she’s been wed to me." Jack turned to Abby with a whirl, aiming for her response.

Abiageal was at a loss for words. That miserable dirty bastard! Look at what’s he’s done to you! You can’t go anywhere, do anything! You’re a complete and utter failure to society! A damned pirates wife! She hung her head in shame, swallowing the last of her pride. "I’ll do as you wish, Captain Sparrow. Please, refrain from telling all about our arrangement. It would be best of my parents thought me dead."

Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Why little one, where’s the fight in ye?"

"Tis gone, as I’ve nothing left to fight for." Came the simple, tight reply. She briefly allowed him to help her into the small boat, and upon being seated, immediately drew as far away from him as the small space would permit. She allowed her grief to surface as they slowly rowed away from the small island, a river of tears streaking down her puffy red cheeks, drowning out her vision.

"And we were drawn to the rhythm of the sea…"

~*~*~*~

"Is bad luck to ave’ a woman on board, Cap’n." Gibbs croaked. Jac Jack considered his crewman’s words before reply. The ol’ wives tales had more merit out on the water, and it was true, what they said about women on ships. Queer happenings fw a w a vessel carryin’ women. "Aye, " Jack replied. "But Annamaria’s been on board with us well o’er a season, and we’ve had nothin’ but good fortune since."

"That’s different!" Gibbs protested. "Anna’s one o’ us, not no bloody English maiden, all prettied up an pampered."

"By the look of er’, this one ain’t no helpless whelp of a woman. And if I ave’ me way, she’ll soon be no maiden either." Jack spared a glance toward his less than willing wife. He’d ordered her silent upon boarding The Pearl, and surprisingly, she’d obeyed. Odd, she’d seemed like fighter in Port Royal. Jack was slightly disappointed sadn’adn’t put up more of a fuss. Shuttin’ er’ up would have been fun. Unknowingly, his eyes had darkened with emotion. It could have been lust, or perhaps an angered fueled desire. The crew wasn’t so sure. After all, Abiageal had nothing on some of Jack’s past conquests. Jack Sparrow had bedded beauties the world over, or so the stories claimed. Regardless, the mans reputation preceded him, and he’d had plenty of, ahem, "life experiences." It couldn’t have been love either. There was no room for women in a pirate’s heart. Nay, Captain Jack Sparrow was actin’ somethin’ odd, but none of his crewmen could pin down what it was.

"Jack, I digress, it ain’t good news." Gibbs continued pleading was wearing on the Captains nerves.

He sighed. Ye mae made plenty of mistakes in yer life Sparrow, but I be thinkin’ this one takes the prize. Why’d ye marry er’? Weren’t satisfied with simply stealin’ er’ away for a few hours? Nay, ye wanted Norrington to know he couldn’t ever have er. You wanted to claim er. Look at the poor thing. She’s terrified. Ye took a decent, well-bred lady and made her into a pirate’s wife. She’d a’ve been better off drownin’ in the sea.
"What’s done is done. The woman stays with me."

"Are ya so sure about that captain?" Annamaria inquired. She directed them toward Abiageal for evidence. Crouched low on the far side of the deck, the woman was positively glaring at Jack, the fury in her eyes boring holes straight through him, if such things were possible. The Captain couldn’t help the slight shiver that accosted his nerves. She could be frightening when her temper was up. Good, her spirit isn’t quelled after all.

"I’ve seen plenty o’ women gaze at ye wit’ stars in their eyesp’n.p’n." Gibbs continued his plea.

Annamaria cut him off. "This woman ain’t got no stars in er’ eyes Gibbs, at least not for Sparrow, here. Nay, it’s hatred in her eyes. She’s gonna kill him if she gets the chance."

"There ain’t gonna be no bloody chance." Jack intervened on his own behalf. "She’d better be learnin’ her place, and right quick. Lest I lose me temper and do something we all regret." With that, Jack made his way over to the frightened young woman. Abiageal glared up at him upon his approach. He didn’t give her the chance to speak. "Ya see’ darlin’, I don’t mean ya no harm. You my dear are an unfortunate bystander that got herself stuck in the wrong place, at the wrong time. To put it plainly, I hate your former fiancée. I realize you’ve been forced here against yer will, and I offer my sincerest apologies. Rest assured that I’ll be doin’ everythin’ in me power to make ye comfortable. How, th, that doesn’t mean ye’ be getting’ yer way of things. You’re to learn yer place, savvy?"
She refused to comment. She simply stared silently at the deck, her vision weaving in and out as she fought back more tears. Jack felt his frustrations mount. What was with this girl? Did she not understand? She certainly wasn’t mute, her earlier display providing clear evidence of her incredible vocal talents. He huffed. "Gibbs, Cotton, take er’ to me cabin please."

Abiageal’s eyes widened in horror. His cabin? Why did he want her there? A thousand horror stories filled her mind at once; tales about the things pirates did to captured young ladies. He wouldn’t? Would he? Be calm Abby. You ought to be rememberin’, that devil of a man is your husband now. Perhaps he’ll take of his privileges?
Was she expected to perform wifely duties for this savage? Her heart sped up and she fought valiantly against her turning stomach. No. She wouldn’t let it happen. Not ever. Not with him.

Gibbs and Cotton helped the violently trembling woman to her feet. Surprisingly, they were gentle, and proceeded to usher her slowly across the ship. There was no need to rush, and she was obviously scared to death. They felt sympathy for her. A pirate vessel was no place for a woman like her. She’d only yet borne witness to one side of Jack Sparrow, and unfortunately, it was his ‘less than light’ side. Jack didn’t really have darke, le, least not that they’d seen. Perhaps with time, she’d learn that there was more to Jack than met the eye, if in fact she survived that long of course. "Come along Miss. Twill be alright, you’ll see." Gibbs reassured.

Cotton nodded his head, and his parrot squawked. "Argh, matey."

Abiageal felt her stomach turn faster, and the bile rise in her throat at the site of the Captain’s chamber door. She suddenly felt dizzy, her head becoming light, and a heat enveloping her in its welcome embrace…

In the still and the silent dawn,
Another day is born
Washed up by the tireless waves,
The body bent and torn,
When you wake in the face of the blinding sun,
And you search only to find
That heaven is a stranger place,
Than the one you’ve left behind…

~*~*~*~

Notes on Jack: Jack’s conversation with himself is decidedly "off." Those readers with an eye will notice that one half of the conversation is subtly less educated than the other. It’s been brought to my attention that Jack Sparrow has an educated banter in the film, something that he lacks considerably in this work. I’m still working on getting Jack’s character in order, and making attempts to accurately display as many aspects of his persona as I can. He’s notoriously difficult to write, and thus far, I’ve yet to see two authors with the same handle on him. I appreciate all criticisms of his character. If you have something to add, please don’t hesitate to mention it. I take all comments into consideration, and while Jack will continue to speak with his "drawl" (if only in the interest of preserving the flow of the story) I do appreciate your bringing it to my attention (you know who you are).
That said, please don’t flood my Inbox with complaint’s that a pirate would never marry and bring his wife on board the ship. All will be explained in due time.

Thank you to all those who’ve taken the time to read thus far.

Suggestion Box: nymuea@yahoo.com