In the Still of the Night

Title: In the Still of the Night 1/1
Author: GylzGirl
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Jack/OFC
Archive: Depp Impact. Anyone else, please ask first.
Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC. No infringement intended.
Authors Notes: At end of fic.


Captain Jack Sparrow entered his cabin and set his hat on the table. He smiled to himself and sat down, pulling out a map and spreading it out. They weren’t that far from Martinique and he and his crew would be able to have a proper shore leave of it soon. They’d had a small outing in Barbuda earlier in the day, but Joshamee Gibbs had refused to remain a part of the crew if they stayed anchored off of Barbuda once the sun set on this night.

Normally, Jack would have teased his superstitious friend and gotten his own way in the end. However, Gibbs seemed deadly serious this time, and Jack didn’t really mind moving on to Martinique. The street angels there were by far of better quality and cheaper price. When questioned, Gibbs promised to explain himself in the morning. He flat out refused to elaborate until what he referred to as “this haunted night in these accursed waters” had safely come and gone.

Yawning and stretching his arms wide, Jack stood then froze. He spun in place, training his eyes on the darkened corner of the room. His hand instinctively went to the handle of his blunderbuss. “Come out,” he said calmly.

His eyes widened as he saw the fragile looking girl emerge from the darkness. She was soaking wet and trembling from cold. Her white chemise was nearly transparent from the water. She was only able to save her modesty by virtue of the nearly-shredded green overdress she wore and the fact that her red hair was nearly waist length. She had brown eyes; a strange light brown color. They were wide with fear.

Jack released his gun and moved forward. “You all right?” She took a step forward and dropped. Jack, half-expecting this, lunged forward and caught her before she hit the floor. He walked back to his chair, sat and pulled her onto his lap. His hands moved her hair back from her face. She was still conscious, simply weak. He guessed it was from the swim.

“You awake there Miss? Can ye hear me?” She slowly nodded her head. “What are ye doin’ here? Did you fall overboard?” Her eyes met his and she shook her head. He sighed. He had figured she must have swum from the shore. To be in the state she was in, she would have had to have been in the water awhile. He was surprised the waterlogged overdress hadn’t pulled her right to the bottom though. He stood up and set her on her feet. She seemed a little bit more responsive now.

“Can ye tell me your name?”

“Christine,” she said softly. “Christine Vincent.”

“We need to get these wet things off ye, Christine.” She offered no resistance as he removed her overdress. He lay it over the back of the chair and went to his wooden chest in the corner. Jack opened it and pulled out one of his clean white shirts. He handed it to her. “Here Lass, you can put this on.”

He turned away from her to give her the privacy to change. “Normally, I don’t take kindly to stowaways.” He smiled. “But then most haven’t been as pretty as you. Can ye not tell me why you came to this ship?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the white chemise placed on the chair back. “Because I saw you,” came her quiet reply.

Jack turned to her only to find that she hadn’t bothered with donning his shirt. She stood naked before him. Her skin was still glistening wet.

He smirked. “You’re sayin’ ye went through all this simply because ye saw me?”

She smiled and walked toward him. “I saw you. And I wanted you.” Her hands touched the expanse of his chest visible by his open shirt.

“And now ye be meanin’ to have me?” She did not answer. He watched as her eyes followed the path her hand took across his chest. “I must admit, I’ve had women nearly kill themselves to get away from Ol’ Jack, but never nearly do themselves in to be gettin’ closer.” He took her hand in his, waiting until her eyes met his, then kissed it. “All you had to do for that was ask Luv. Why did ye not come to me when we were in Barbuda?”

“I am not from Barbuda,” she said quietly as she leaned forward and kissed his neck.

“Not from Barb…ah…” His pending question evaporated when she took his earlobe in her mouth. His breath caught and his eyes rolled up under fluttering lashes. He smiled crookedly. That was one of his favorite places. He put his arms around her. “You’re so cold Lass.” He looked down into her eyes. “Jack’ll warm ye right up.”

He lifted her slight frame in his arms and took her to his bed. Laying her atop the pillows and blankets, he stepped back from her and smiled. Her arms rose towards him, beckoning. The desire on her face sent his blood racing through his veins.

Jack quickly shucked his own clothes and moved to cover her with his body. Their mouths met as he moved his body between her legs. As he relocated his kisses to her breasts, he let one hand travel down between her parted thighs where he found her already wet and ready for him. It seemed to be the one place on her water-chilled body filled with heat, so warm and inviting, just beckoning him in.

He pulled back and took in the sight she made. Her face was flushed with passion and her strange eyes held his gaze. “Christi…” he gasped as she suddenly pushed herself onto his erection. He could have sworn he felt her maidenhead break as he entered her but she showed no signs of discomfort; only an odd smile which quickly faded into an expression of complete contentment.

Kissing her again, he began to move his hips, drawing himself in and out of her body. She drew in a ragged breath and closed her eyes in bliss. She laced her fingers in his long hair as he pumped more and more frantically. She wrapped her legs around him and sweetly kissed his neck as he started to groan with his impending release.

She gasped sharply and scratched his back. That and the incredible sensation he received as her inner muscles spasmed around him were the only hint he had that she had reached her moment of pleasure. He, for his part, announced his orgasm by shouting, “Sweet Jesus,” into the pillow beside her head and then slumping onto her, spent.

Regaining his senses after a few moments, he attempted to roll off of her but was stopped by her wrapping herself around him. “Stay?” She protested quietly.

He smiled and kissed her. “I’m too heavy for ye, Luv.”

“Please? I like the way you feel.”

Jack nuzzled the side of her neck. “I like the way ye feel too but let’s try this way.” He rolled them so that she lay atop him. Her slight body rose and fell with his breath. “That better?”

“Mmm,” she said sleepily.

He kissed her forehead and drifted off to sleep.

When the sunlight entered the window of his cabin, Jack stretched and blinked his eyes open. He sat bolt upright and surveyed the room. Christine was gone.

He hastily put on his clothes and dashed up on deck. Looking around briefly, he ran to the railing and gazed out over the waters back toward Barbuda. There was no sign.

“Morning Cap’n,” Gibbs said as he came on deck.

“Gibbs,” he said, sidewinding his way to the other side of the ship and looking out into the water.

“Misplace somethin’ there did ye, Jack?”

He spun in place and furrowed his brown in concentration. “Apparently… not.” He slapped his hand on Gibbs’ back. “While I’m workin’ out where I put what I may or may not have mislaid, I believe yer ownin’ me a story this fine morning.”

“Ye mean, why I would not stay docked in Barbuda?”

“Aye. That’d be the one.” Jack leaned back against the railing.

“Well, about seventy years ago a hurricane ripped through these waters on Halloween night. There were a merchant vessel called the Christine on its way to Barbuda when the storm turned direction and headed straight for the island which put the ship right in its path.”

“Christine?” Jack’s kohl-lined eyes widened slightly.

“Aye. Named for the Cap’n’s daughter. Her mother had died when the girl was but a tyke, and havin’ no other family, her pa just took her along with him on board. By the time this all happened though, she were a pretty little eighteen year old.

Anyhow, the ship got caught in the storm and she were pitchin’ somethin’ awful in the waves. The Cap’n got some rope and lashed Christine to the mast to keep her from being washed overboard, a fate that had already befallen some of the crew.

Eventually, all hands had been washed away, save the Cap’n and his daughter. That’s when the ship struck a rock that tore a gash in her belly. It started goin’ down fast and Christine yelled to her father that she couldn’t get the ropes off. As he was makin’ his way to her, another wave came up over the ship and washed him out as well. What he’d done to save his daughter doomed her. Unable to free herself, she were pulled down with the ship as it sank into the briny. All the men who had been washed overboard lived to tell the tale, including the Cap’n who went nearly mad with guilt over his only child’s death.

He had a great stone erected to her memory back on Barbuda. It’s the biggest one in the cemetery and… Jack?”

“Aye,” he said. He looked somewhat paler.

“You don’t look as though ye feel very well.”

“I think I may have slept wrong. Now I suppose there be a hauntin’ associated with this tale?”

“Well ‘tis said on Halloween night she walks the beach, or sometimes the ships that are too close to the island, searchin’…”

“For what exactly?”

“What she were robbed of. Life. Love. Poor Lass died a virgin so one of the things she seeks is someone to make her less lonely.” He chuckled. “I weren’t about to tell ye that yesterday. Was afraid you’d make us stay on the off chance she might visit ye!” He slapped Jack hard on the back and turned his head. He completely missed the way Jack’s eyes widened in pain when his hand struck the scratches on the Captain’s back.

Jack cleared his throat. “Mr. Gibbs?”

“Aye?”

“Tell the men, we’re headin’ back to Barbuda. There’s business I be needin’ to finish there after all.”

“Jack?”

“’Tis no longer Halloween so I believe you have no further objections to the island?”

“But Martinique?”

“Will be there tomorrow. I’ll only be needin’ the afternoon and then we can sail on.”

“Aye Captain.” Gibbs eyed him strangely but went to tell the men.

Jack manned the wheel and turned back toward the island.

******

A few hours later, Jack opened the gate of the small cemetery on Barbuda. The cemetery itself was on a hill which overlooked the water. As Gibbs had said, there was a great stone marker in the middle of the graveyard and he headed towards it, weaving through the other stones. When he neared, he saw that a crying angel sat perched on the stone. Below, the name Christine Vincent was chiseled into its surface.

Jack ran his long fingers over the lettering and smiled sadly. “I don’t know if ye can hear me or not Lass but… I’m sorry for what happened to you. I thank ye for last night and I understand why it was ye couldn’t stay around this mornin’.” He noticed a much smaller stone next to hers. “I think ye best be lookin’ for your father somewhere where you are. He’s gone on too now and from what I heard, he’d be lookin’ for ye.” He lifted the rose he’d carried up the hill and placed it atop the stone. “Farewell Christine.”

He looked out at the ocean sparkling sapphire blue in the sunlight. He didn’t know how he’d ever explain all this to Gibbs; he only knew that he’d be doing it when it was nearly midnight, just before the superstitious pirate tried to get himself to sleep. Jack Sparrow smiled, placed his hat on his head, and went back to the Black Pearl.


The End

Author’s Notes: The idea of the ghost comes from one of my favorite ghost story books from when I was little, “Will Eisner’s Spirit Casebook of True Haunted Houses and Ghosts”. I don’t know if it was original fiction or true retellings of actual legend, I can’t find my copy to check it, and it would cost ten dollars I don’t have to re-buy it online so, oh well. This is a loose retelling of the gist of what I remember the story to be and I don’t remember the name of the individual story. But if you have ten bucks, you can buy it, find out, tell me and then we’ll both know

Anyway, I always felt really bad for that ghost… so now I’ve given her something nice :)

**Additional Note (8/25/05): Since I'm poking around in this file again to fix garbled text from the database crash, I wanted to add something. I have since relocated a copy of "Will Eisner's Spirit Casebook of True Haunted Houses and Ghosts" from ebay (for less than $10) and the ghost tied to the mast story isn't in there after all. With as many supernatural tales books as I read as a kid, I suppose that shouldn't surprise me all that much but it does. So, if anyone knows what book that story was in, please drop me a line. I'd like to see it again

Thanks be to Cecilia Long for the beta and suggestions. Yer a treasure matie, arr.

Happy Halloween!