𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 ─── jack sparrow

𝟏𝟓. The Moonlight Escapade

AS THE SKIES became darker, so did Marion's mood. She had been confined to the commodore's quarters for hours. Not that she accomplished much within that time, other than ruminating on the poor hand fate had dealt her. She'd used to be so content and now she felt like anxiety would never leave her alone. But Marion could live with anxiety, as long as tragedy didn't follow.

There had been a knock on her door about an hour ago; a man had come in to bring her dinner. Salt pork, mashed potatoes, and a spoonful of peas. It had been a while since she'd had the pleasure of such a meal. Having not eaten in over a day, Marion tucked in and scoffed half of it down in minutes.

Then she'd vomited into one of the bedside drawers.

She hadn't touched any more of the food after that. Instead, she lay down on the cotton-lined bed and tried to sleep. It should've been easy, what with the terrible nights she'd been having since Tortuga. But the quality linen sheets brought her no comfort. The bed was too soft, too clean. It didn't sway with the moving tide.

And thus sleep abandoned her and Marion tossed and turned for seemingly forever before she gave up and headed outside for some fresh air.

The moon hung above her like a ghostly spectre, and the waves were caressing the hull with the tender strokes of a lover. Even with the red coat on, the night was cold. The wind crept up her sleeves and chilled her heart.

There was a lone figure leaning over the gunwale, staring out into the dark abyss. She approached him quietly. Still, he knew when she drew near.

"And what has brought meself the pleasure of yer company tonight, Miss Swift?"

Jack wasn't looking at her, but perhaps it was better this way.

Marion sighed, her breath visible in front of her. "I want to apologise," she admitted, "for what I said earlier, on the beach. Those things I called you—"

"All of 'em true," he interrupted her with a half-smile.

"Maybe," she chewed on her lip, "but I shouldn't have said them. I was angry at myself and I took it out on you."

Jack waved a dismissive hand. "Sticks 'n stones, love."

She nodded, almost imperceptibly, grateful for his easy forgiveness. How unpirate-like of him. Though Jack had never been a man ordinary of his ilk.

They were both silent, gazing out into the sea. They had been like this before, hadn't they? Back on the Interceptor, just before he'd had her swabbing the decks and doing all manner of horrible tasks. James would never have allowed her to stoop that low. He would be scandalized by the mere thought. But a part of her felt indebted to Jack. If she hadn't broken her back working alongside the crew, she would've never earned their respect. And as silly as it sounded, it felt good to know she belonged somewhere in this hellish world. Even if it was amongst thieves and beggars.

"You didn't tell him about the curse," she said suddenly.

Jack didn't need to ask to know who she was referring to. "I noticed neither did you. For the same reason, I imagine."

She pursed her lips together, feeling the guilt worm through her stomach. "He wouldn't have risked it," she said, more to herself than him.

"You could have gotten him drunk," he offered and she shot him a look. "Don't get me wrong, love, I admire a person who's willing to do whatever's necessary."

His words did little to ease her conscience. If it suited Jack's agenda for her to keep quiet about it, perhaps she should be doing the opposite. He was as untrustworthy as ever. And yet she still believed that, deep down, he was not a selfish man. At least not when it came to matters of the heart. She stayed quiet, thinking—thinking about all the things she dared not think about before.