Pirates of the Caribbean Oneshots

Illness

Jack rolled onto his stomach and flipped his pillow over so the cool side was against his aching head.

A light knock on the door startled him.

"Come in," he croaked, swallowing painfully.

The door opened and Elizabeth stepped into his cabin, a bottle in her hand.

"Rum?" he asked hopefully, sitting up.

She shook her head and Jack pouted at her.

"Bu-"
He was interrupted by a bout of violent coughing, body shaking with the force of it.

Elizabeth watched, knowing he'd snap at her if she approached.

The coughing stopped.
"Sorry," Jack muttered hoarsley.

"Don't apologise. Let me help you," said Elizabeth softly as she crossed to stand by the bed.

"Don't need help," he said, taking the bottle from her and raising it to his lips with a sigh, which set off another bout of coughing.

A hand was laid on his upper back, rubbing in circles.

He caught his breath and Elizabeth's gaze flickered over him.

"You're not well."

"Tell me something new," said Jack sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

She sat down on a chair beside the bed, her gaze moving over his upper body.

"Is your swallow your only tattoo?"

Jack shook his head and turned onto his stomach again, pulling his dreadlocks over one shoulder and sliding his shirt up to expose his back.

It was covered in black writing and symbols, extending to the tops of his arms too.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked, as it didn't make any sense to her.

"A poem called Desirata. I got it years ago after nearly dying and getting branded. I was drunk."

"Spanish?" she guessed.

"I believe so," said Jack, sneezing.

He yawned, sneezed again and rubbed his temples.

"Get some sleep, Jack," Elizabeth said softly.
"You'll feel better then."

"I'd feel better if you were lying beside me," he responded, a sparkle in his half-closed eyes.

"So you can infect me too?" she said jokingly, though her heart was racing at his words.

"If it kept you in my bed," Jack murmured.

"I'm going to tell myself you're feverish and ignore that," said Elizabeth, her heartbeat quickening even more as she ducked her head to hide her flaming cheeks.

Jack reached back to fix his pillow and his shirt rose up to expose his stomach.

"You've got a tattoo there," Elizabeth said, gesturing to just below his navel, at a barely-visible splash of dark ink.

"I do," Jack said, pulling his covers aside slightly to reveal a heart with letters inked inside it - E, D & J.

"Dad, Mum, me," he said quietly, pointing at each letter in turn.

"E?" Elizabeth said, frowning.

Jack's father was Captain Teague. She didn't know his first name.

"Edward Teague," Jack told her, laying his finger on the "D".

"Delia Sparrow. My mother. I never really knew her but her heads on my belt now," he said quietly.

Elizabeth's eyes flickered to his clothes, lying in an untidy pile by the bed.
Both his belts were there and she caught sight of the grotesque shrunken head tied to one of them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Coughs shook Jack's body again, leaving him unable to speak for a moment but he nodded in response to her words.

Then he smiled tiredly.

"I've enjoyed your company Lizzie, but I'm afraid my eyes are closing."

"Don't worry. You'll feel better after a good sleep," she replied.

"Mm hm," Jack agreed, rolling onto his side, pulling the covers around himself.

Elizabeth gently straightened them, then stepped back.

"You're welcome to stay," he murmured, dark eyes half-closed, his rasping breathing deepening.

Silently, Elizabeth sat down.
"Get better soon Jack," she said as he slipped into sleep.