Dedicated to Sav, or NancyintheskywithDiamonds, or SJ2, or even Nancy, for reading this first and sending back quite possibly the best review-in-an email the world has ever known. D

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He had passed out.

At last.

Elizabeth had to admit she was impressed. She'd never known anyone to drink so much in a few hours and not keel over out cold within fifteen minutes. She supposed that was the pirate blood in him - evidently made of stronger stuff than lesser - or more superior - mortals. She herself had only had several gulps, and the island was whirling around her in the most amicable of fashions.

She decided she liked being drunk.

Turning, she regarded the motionless figure slumped back on the sand beside her. The fire was throwing his features into sharp relief, making his trinkets glint and the fine line of his eye underneath almost-closed eyelids glow eerily. When he wasn't up and swaying around, he looked oddly innocent lying there. With his dry lips slightly parted and dreadlocks scattered about the white sand around him. And one hand almost touching her, slumped lifelessly on the sand.

She shivered. Now the sun had disappeared beneath the sill of the world and stars spangled over the deep black sky, the air had become very cold. Even with the heat of the fire striking her from one side, Elizabeth felt the dark chill of the wind, and her trembling increased. She placed her top level of teeth on the opening of the rum bottle, out of the instinctive need to feel something solid in this strange, wild place.

His breathing was just audbible above the sigh of the wind, and the crackling of the fire. She took another thoughtful gulp of rum, then rested her cheek upon her knees. She focused on his arm this time - scarred with that familiar raised 'P' that marked him as an outcast forever. Stamped with a tattoo of his own mark, the sparrow. Slim, and yet tautened with muscle from everything he had done in his life, and weatherbeaten from the merciless sun reflecting from the sea. The palm was upturned toward her, and unbidden, she found herself turning to examine it more closely. Fingers gently curled in upon themselves, blackened with dirt and shimmering with stolen rings. Pieces of leather and lace, torn and filthy, strings of battered beads and charms were knotted about the delicate bones of his wrist. Idly, she slipped three of her own fingers onto his palm, to feel how rough they were, then jumped out her skin when he snorted slightly, and snatched her hand back, an apology automatically forming on her lips. But he only sighed, and continued to sleep just as deeply.

The fire spat sparks as a log crumbled loudly behind her, and she gasped aloud, her heart hammering. An eerie chatter from some kind of animal rang out in the depths of the trees, and Elizabeth found herself clutching at the material of Jack's shirt, a whimper of terror escaping her throat. Good Lord, what was happening? She was a Governor's daughter, she wasn't supposed to be here, on some uncivilised island, she should be at home safe in her bed, with her father in the room next door...

Another deep, snorting sound came from the body beneath her, and she hastily released her grip as Jack stirred, his eyes flickering hazily open. Another wild, savage sounding snarl rang out in the forest, and she made to clutch at him, changed her mind, then pressed her knuckles to her teeth, tears starting wildly in her eyes.

Jack's eyes were staring quietly up at her, glowing a deep umber in the light of the fire. "Waz-a-ma'er, love?" he muttered, and his voice, no matter how inebriated and scratched sounding, was nonetheless another human voice. Elizabeth felt herself calming down a little.

"I'm scared," she whispered, and her own voice sounded like a little girl's. She blinked furiously, attempting to wipe at the tears in her eyes. "But I'm fine," she added, attempting to speak in her ordinary voice, but the tremble broke through her words. "Honestly, I'm fine, I'm absolutely fine, I'm just a little - "

She didn't see his arm rise up in the dark, but as soon as his fingers touched her shoulder, the words dried up in her mouth. He pulled her clumsily, and she let herself fall without protest, into a curved position against his side, with her head resting just beneath his collar bone. She could feel his heart beating steadily from this position.

His arm wrapped around her waist, and squeezed her tightly. "Don' be scared, love," he mumbled into her hair. He gave no reason as to why she shouldn't be scared, he simply said it gently to her, with his eyes falling closed. Even though Elizabeth wasn't convinced he knew exactly who she was and what they were doing there, the warm feel of his arm around her, and the steady beat of his heart beneath her head suddenly made her feel safer than she ever had before.

"Thank you, Jack," she whispered, reaching out an arm to rest around his waist, feeling her own eyes start to fall shut.

She had to admit, it was a giddying feeling, lying in a sleepy tangle with the infamous Jack Sparrow. A notorious black-hearted outlaw was out cold and sleeping as calmly as a baby beneath her. Drowsily, Elizabeth turned her head, and pressed her lips against the warm skin of his collarbone, and ran her fingers down the side of his face, tracing his mouth with one curious finger. His eyes flickered under their lids, and she felt his muscles tense up slightly beneath her. Moving up his body, she stroked her palm thoughtfully down his bandana, then lowered her face to brush her lips on his, stopping abruptly when she was a breath away. Will's face flashed without warning into her mind.

Breathing heavily, she pushed herself away from his face, feeling her own heart pulsing deeply inside her, but she couldn't bring herself to shake away his arm that curled around the curve of her waist. Shifting away from him slightly, Elizabeth tried to feel shocked at what she had almost just done. At what she had nearly done to her and Will.

She couldn't though. A flurry of emotions pattered through her chest as she rested her head beneath his collar bone, and once more felt his heart thump beneath her, but shock refused to be one of them. There was something giddying about lying with the most infamous pirate of the Caribbean, Elizabeth thought, with a small secret shudder of pleasure that guilt could not quite contain.

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