FicWad

(DISCLAIMER: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean or any associated characters. This piece is a non-profit bit of fun and no copyright infrigements are intended.)

(AUTHOR NOTES: This is my first attempt at writing POTC fanfic. I've always wondered why Scarlett slapped Jack in the first movie, and this is my take on that. Hopefully my version will be somewhat original. Set about a year before the events of Curse of the Black Pearl. Feedback welcome. :)



Red Hot


It was the snoring that had woken her.

Scarlett turned her head. Her client was dozing, no doubt lost in a land of satisfaction and sweet dreams. She would have kicked him out long ago if he hadn't paid for an all nighter.

He wasn't bad, she supposed. He was polite; using her name and not calling her anything degrading even as he'd screwed her. He'd bought her dinner earlier, too, a practice that was almost non existent among her clients.

Sleep wasn't going to come back to her, so she got up, careful not to wake Mr Nameless. She didn't ever get to know most of her client's names and didn't care to. It was their money she was after, not their life stories, though sometimes they liked to pour their hearts out to her, while she pretended she actually gave a damn.

Sometimes she did. Sometimes she met men who genuinely interested her. A rare thing it was but every so often she'd meet a client whose company she truly enjoyed, who she was sorry to see leave.

Thirsty, Scarlett went over to her dresser and picked up the bottle of brandy and a glass that rested atop of it. She poured herself a drink and raised a glass to her lips -

"Spare glass?"

She jumped at the voice and whirled around, nearly dropping the glass she held. Even when she saw that it was Jack Sparrow and not some random stranger who had entered her abode, her heartbeat didn't decrease.

"Or I could just have the bottle. I'm not fussy," the pirate shrugged from where he stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame.

"What the devil are you doing here? It's the early hours of the bloody morning!" Scarlett was careful to keep her tones hushed, not wanting her client to wake and see another man in her room. There could be bedlam if that happened.

"I thought you'd be pleased to see me. It's been -"

"Six months! Where the hell did you get to? You promised you'd come back!" she seethed, fighting the urge to give him the slap she'd been fantasizing about since he'd left.

He was always leaving her. It had been two years since she'd met Captain Jack Sparrow and ever since that first encounter, she'd regularly cursed her luck that they had ever crossed paths at all. Her life would've been a damn sight better if he hadn't waltzed into it and swept her off her feet in a way no other man had ever done.

But Jack never stayed on Tortuga for long. His visits were only ever fleeting. Too quickly he'd be going off again back to his precious ship after they'd shared wild nights of red hot passion where he'd tell her stories of what they'd do together after he'd taken her away from Tortuga with him, for good. She'd never believed the stories - they were just that. Stories. Stupid promises made on the spur of the moment that he obviously had no intention or desire to keep. Jack Sparrow wasn't a man who would allow himself to ever be limited to just one place or even one woman. He'd never settle down, she'd known that instantly.

Why was she angry, then? She hadn't believed the promises or stories. She was smart enough to be able to tell when someone was talking shit. But some tiny little part of her must have done, because if she dared admit it to herself, there had always been that hope in the depths of her heart that he would keep his word and show her the world, would show her that there was more to life than whoring herself out to drunken bastards who treated her no better than they treated dumb animals.

Scarlett glared at Jack, her hazel eyes piercing through him like daggers. He looked just the same as he'd always done, right down to his tatty uniform and battered hat. His hair was still long and scruffy, his brown eyes just as deep as she remembered them and the familiar smell of rum, soot and sea water emitted from his body as always. At her words, Jack looked confused.

"I am back," he gestured to himself, then the room. Scarlett shook her head hopelessly.

"Aren't you pleased to see me?" he frowned; disheartened by the possibility she may not.

"I have a client!" she cocked her head in the direction of the bed, where Mr Nameless still slept on, blissfully oblivious to everything around him. "Jack, go away. If you absolutely must, come back at a decent hour. And find somewhere to bathe before you do, you're stinking the whole bleedin' place out!"

"You're upset because I didn't bring you back any sparklies," Jack decided, as though he'd not heard her requests at all. "I promise, the next time I go fishing for treasure I'll -"

She did slap him, then. Hard, too.

"You stupid bastard!" she hissed as she felt her emotions getting the better of her. "I waited for you! I waited and waited for you to come back and take me away from this dump and you never did!"

She had believed the promises. And the stories. Every word. She hadn't been able to help it. She'd never known another man like Jack Sparrow and he'd got under her skin like nothing else. Jack had was enigmatic. He had a unique charm about him and was different from anyone else, she'd ever come across. A real one of a kind. The only man she'd ever fallen in love with.

She'd loved him. All that time while he was off doing God knew what, God knew where, she hadn't thought of much else other than when she'd get to see him again. Sometimes he'd brought her back pretty jewels or dresses or other little trinkets. She usually ended up selling most of the gifts to keep herself fed and housed but people so rarely gave her presents, she liked to enjoy it while it had lasted.

Presents had stopped mattering to her some time ago. She stopped getting excited over what he might bring her, only caring about seeing him, about touching him, about him touching her. She wasn't sure when he'd stolen her heart but it had happened, and she'd not been able to help herself, despite that she felt herself too old and worldly to for her feelings to be so controlled by anyone.

Scarlett was by no means a weak woman. She rarely cried or showed her real emotions, having deciding long ago that putting a face on was a lot easier than being open. Even in private, she kept up her Me Against The World attitude. But she didn't make an effort to hide the tear that slipped out of her eye and ran down her cheek, or to stifle the hopeless sob that escaped her mouth.

Jack looked momentarily bewildered as Scarlett's shoulders trembled, but he quickly stepped forward and extended an arm. She went to him, allowed him to put the arm around her and hold her. She didn't cry, not after that first sob, but she needed the contact. As angry at him as she was, his hold was comforting, somehow.

She didn't stay there long. Embarrassed, she stopped her display of upset before it had really started. She wiped at her eyes, trying to rid herself of the tears.

"So what do you want now, Jack?" she asked as she pulled away.

The main reason Jack ever come back to Tortuga was when he wanted something there. Sometimes he'd want something from her, sometimes he sought out other people for whatever he needed. Sometimes he used the island as a hide out, laying low there for a time until he felt safe to leave. He'd only ever been using her really, she knew that, but she'd never been able to resist those eyes when he'd asked her for a favour. She was addicted to him like others were addicted to Opium.

Jack's eyes swivelled around, taking in Scarlett's bedroom. He gestured to it for a second time.

"A room," she guessed with a sigh. "You want to stay here?"

"Just for a few nights. Or weeks. Or -" upon seeing Scarlett's put-upon scowl, he added quickly: "I'll pay you!"

"You damn well better do. I'll loose custom while you here!"

Jack put his hands together as if in prayer and stared at her hopefully. She sighed again. Those eyes. What was it about them made her unable to resist?

"He's staying until morning," Scarlett jerked her head in the direction of the bed and her sleeping customer. "Try not to wake him. When he goes I'll close for business until you leave. But you WILL pay me, Jack."

"I just said so, didn't I?" Jack gave her a slightly annoyed look, but she just shook her head, a mixture of hopelessness and affection on her face.

"Make yourself comfortable," she told him, gesturing to an old, yet cosy looking armchair that was near the window on the other side of the room from the door.

"You're a diamond, Scarlett," Jack smiled, bearing gold teeth "There's just one more thing..."

"Oh, God. What?" Scarlett never usually whined, not ever. She was a grown woman, not a pathetic child. Jack seemed to bring out the worst in her.

In answer to her question, Jack slipped out of his jacket. He winced at the movements and Scarlett watched curiously, feeling suddenly nervous.

"Looks worse than it is," he warned her. He lifted up his shirt and Scarlett recoiled a little as she saw the a gash that was a few inches long on his left side.

"What happened?" she demanded, worry in her voice as well as her eyes.

"Like I said, looks worse than it is," insisted Jack "Had a few stitches done on the Pearl but they come loose. Pirates don't really make the best doctors, savvy?"

"This could really ruin my reputation," Scarlett muttered as she realised what she'd need to do.

Without really giving it a second thought, she went over to the bed and shook her client awake.

"Oy, Sleeping Beauty, get up!" she ordered, snapping loudly.

"I-I-I say! Oh my!" spluttered Nameless, alarmed and flustered at his rude awakening.

"Thank you for a lovely night," said Scarlett, using the posher accent she'd learned to put on for her more cultured clients. "But I've got a -"

"Family emergency."

At Jack's voice, Nameless jumped, giving a startled cry and pulling Scarlett's bed sheet over his naked chest.

"Hello, Gov. Don't mind me," Jack tipped his hat in reassurance.

"What's going on here, what is this?" Nameless was more frightened than angry.

Five minutes later, Nameless had hastily dressed and was being bundled out of the door by Scarlett. He'd only not kicked up a bigger fuss because Scarlett had, very resentfully on Jack's suggestion, given him back the money he'd left her.

"You'll be paying me that back!" she snapped at the pirate captain, glowering at him as the first rays of dawn started to come through the windows.

"I pro -"

"Don't say that word to me again. I'm sick to the back teeth of you and your promises. All right, on the bed. Lay down."

As he went to the bed, he turned around again and went to Scarlett's dresser, grabbing the bottle of brandy from it. She didn't try to stop him as he downed nearly half the contents in one go before finally going to the bed and laying down as he'd been told.

"I doubt I'll do a much better job than your pirate doctor. Only time I've used needle and thread is to mend my clothes," said Scarlett as she opened the top right hand draw on her dresser and took out a needle and some thread.

She was talking for her own comfort rather than his, trying to steady her nerves. She might have had some of that brandy if Jack hadn't drank it all himself. He was barely lucid now, already somewhere between awake and asleep.

"Probably for the best if you're not awake for this, I 'spose," Scarlett said as she threaded the needed. She stroked Jack's cheeky thoughtfully, then prepared herself to start sewing. Sewing skin was a lot more nerve wracking than sewing a dress or a curtain.

Gathering all her courage, Scarlett grimaced and then began.




Scarlett and Jack were lost in laughter as they staggered into her bedroom after an evening of drinking and singing and entertaining each other with their stories at Tortuga's only pub.

Jack had been in Tortuga for nearly a month now and was showing no sign of wanting to leave. Even the remnants of his crew seemed settled, leaving Jack to his own devices and not constantly bothering him about setting sail.

Scarlett wasn't complaining. He'd still not told her the cause of the wound she'd stitched up for him weeks ago, or why he wanted to stay on land for the time being, and she didn't demand him to. It was easier to just not ask questions where Jack was concerned...if he wanted you to know something, he'd tell you without being prompted. And if he wanted to stay for a good while, why not? She'd lost a lot of custom, true, but she was having more fun than she'd had in her life since Jack had returned, unable to help getting swept away by him all over again.

She chuckled as he took his hat off his head and placed it on her own and she didn't protest when he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He lowered her down on to the mattress but she quickly kneeled, though only to take her dress off as she gladly offered herself to him.

They'd had several nights like this since Jack's return and Scarlett was happier than she'd ever remembered feeling. Jack made her feel as though life was actually worth living. She loved him, even if she didn't want to. Nobody was able to choose who they fell in love with and she wasn't any different. It was just bad luck that she loved someone who cared more for the sea than his women.

Although, from the way he was touching her as she laid on the bed in only her corset and stockings, she could almost forget that.

She'd screwed a lot of men. Too many to keep count of. All were different. Some actually managed to pleasure her as well as themselves, though most of the gents she took to bed cared nothing for her feelings. Most of her clients were unpleasant men and rough with her, treating her as an object rather than anything that could actually feel. She was used to it and didn't complain, not even when they made her bleed and hurt...it was her job. She got paid. She wouldn't go so far as to say the money made it all worthwhile, but what other career options did she have? She was an uneducated bastard child with long dead parents, stuck on a Caribbean island with no money or social standing? She was lucky she was still alive at all.

Returning Jack's deep kisses, Scarlett's heartbeat increased as he skilfully unlaced the bodice of her corset. In no time she was fully naked and exposed and she relished the feel of the cool air from a summer's night blow against her skin through the cracks around the window frame.

Lost in the heat of the moment, Scarlett eagerly unfastened Jack's trousers and quickly settled back down, desperate to take him. Jack's love making could be anything from fast and furious to slow and tender, whichever he was in the mood for at the time, but no matter what methods he used, he rarely failed to satisfy. She was particularly hungry for him that night too, was desperate for him to take her. The only time she ever felt anything real was when she bedded Jack Sparrow.

"Jack..." she panted his name as he finally entered her, biting back cries as he began thrusting slowly "Jack...promise me..."

Jack grunted something that vaguely sounded like "Eh?"

"Agree that you'll really take me away from Tortuga this time. When you leave, I'm coming with you...promise me, Jack!" she begged, realising then that she would rather die than spend another minute in blasted Tortuga, especially if it was without him.

His thrusts were getting faster, harder.

"Promise me! And mean it this time!" she shouted, feeling herself about to climax.

"Promise," he breathed out, though he barely managed to say the word through the loud moans that were escaping from him as he reached his own heights, groaning and grunting as Scarlett satisfied him as much as any man could be satisfied.

"You love me," insisted Scarlett. She'd become so caught up in her passion that it was as though her any trace of common sense or even reality had deserted her. She wanted, needed, for him to love her. Nothing else was more important at that moment.

Jack didn't answer her. He'd already passed out. Scarlett sighed and rolled him over slightly, so that he wasn't laying on her. She rested her head against his shoulder and quickly fell asleep herself.




It was noise from the streets that eventually woke her.

Scarlett came round slowly, feeling the warm sunlight on her face before even opening her eyes. She smiled as she remembered the night before. The sex had been quick and she'd been tipsy, but she'd enjoyed herself, and she knew Jack must've been satisfied, too.

Jack.

Something was wrong. Scarlett felt it instantly. She forced her eyes open and turned so that she could see Jack's side of the bed. It was empty.

Knowledge already bubbling, Scarlett got out of bed and went to the wardrobe. She didn't even look at the dress she pulled out, grabbing the first item her hands touched. Hastily, she clothed herself and then tore out of the bedroom, running down the stairs of the Inn where she lived, hurrying into the pub that was on the ground floor of the building.

She ran through the tavern, not noticing the strange looks given to her by the Land Lady, who was busy cleaning glasses behind the bar, not acknowledging the morning patrons who had already become lost in a drunken stupor.

Throwing open the door, she stepped out into the street and kept running, charging towards the dock.

The dock was near to the Inn and she reached it quickly. The moment it came into view, her feeling was confirmed.

The Pearl wasn't there anymore.

For a long time she just stood there, staring at the port. She didn't cry or make a scene, but her face hardened and her eyes blazed as she watched the bay.

She'd always prided herself on her realist attitude and her ability not to give a damn about anything. Scarlett had learned early on that dreams rarely came true and she always thought herself above indulging in hope. But that one man always made her throw out all the rules she tried to live her life by. It was like she became a different woman whenever he was around.

Well not anymore. She was tired of relying on him. The only person she could ever rely on was herself. Even if Jack returned again, she'd give him nothing, least of all her heart. She'd had enough of it. Love was for fools.

Anger and determination quickly replaced any traces of sadness. Jack Sparrow could go to hell. Though she wouldn't mind seeing him just one more time, just so she could give him a huge slap.

(THE END)