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The Only Rules That Matter (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

"Three girls?" Scarlett mused. "You might just have an idea there, lad." She gave Giselle a half smile. "Why don't you just go crawl into bed there, and we'll see what we can do for you."

Head spinning, Jack staggered upright and aimed himself at the nearest of the beds that swam in his vision. His rolling gait was a reasonable approximation of his father's, at this point, but then his knees crashed into the edge of the mattress and he pitched face forward. "Meant... meant to... do that..." he slurred, struggling to turn over. "Just... just give me... a minute..." He tried again. "Stupid.. bed... fights dirty..." After a moment, he stopped trying. "Just... just need... to rest up..."

The next thing Jack knew, the sun was blazing a few inches from his face and his skull felt like Uncle Sean had belted him. He cracked an eye, and the throbbing agony exploded as the sun burned into his eyeballs. "Uhhh..." he groaned, closing his eyes and trying to quell his heaving stomach. "Uhhh...."

"Ah, lad, you're awake!" Giselle said cheerily.

"Not... not so loud..." Jack whimpered. "What... happened..?"

"Hung over," she told him. "Ain't you never been drunk before?"

"No..." he admitted. "I... I've had beer, before. But..."

"Oooh, that makes sense. You'll need to get used to it, though, if you want to pass for Captain Jack. Your dad can drink rum like water, he can." Jack winced as she stomped towards him, obviously wearing boots made of solid steel, and his stomach heaved and rolled as the bed lurched. "Here," she said, pressing a glass to his lips. "Drink this."

"What... is it?"

"Water, mostly. With a shot or two of rum, to help take the edge off things. A bit of a hair of the dog. Get it down you, lad." Jack sipped and swallowed, and made a gagging sound as his stomach rebelled. "Here now, none of that," Gieselle told him. "I just washed those sheets."



"Here's the thing, lad," Scarlett said. "You can be Captain Jack all you want, but you'll still need cash. Boats ain't free, and crews wanna get paid, and you can't do either one with a noble story about rescuing your mother."

Jack still wasn't feeling his best, but the throb in his skull was manageable and his stomach had settled down to the point that he could eat porridge. Bland porridge. Slowly. "That's the rub, isn't it?" he muttered, swallowing. "I mean, I'm good at cards. But - unlike my dad - I don't have any gold hidden away."

"Maybe not," Giselle remarked. "But we know who does."

"Who?" Jack asked.

"Why, the Sisters of Charity, in Port-au-Prince," Giselle remarked. "They've got a convent school and hospital there, and the Church uses it to bank tithes and offerings they've collected until they can be shipped off to Paris." She grinned. "Seems like a clever man like Captain Jack Sparrow could find a way in and get his hands on some of that gold..."
 
Jack blinked at Giselle's suggestion. He blinked again. Then he shook his head, then he shook his head more slowly and carefully as the porridge threatened to come up. Would his father really rob a convent?

"No dice," he said before taking another spoonful into his mouth. "For one I just came from Port-au-Prince. For two might as well just slit me throat now because if--no, when--when my ma finds out she'll murder me. Just straight murder. And she'll find out you mark my words." In the absence of the ability to speak loudly he gestured at them with the spoon to emphasize his point. "She always does, no bloody idea how. Bad enough I've gone off pirating just like the useless bastard and his before him, and she'd dropkick me off the cliffs she would, if she found out I'd knocked over a convent!"

How Jack found himself back in Port-au-Prince he never could figure out. But the carriage pulled away and he was left standing there across the street from the Sisters of Charity convent. They even had charity in the name! And there out front was a particularly pretty novice and he blew out a deep breath.

"Forgive me Father, for I'm about to do a lot of sinning."
 
Despite his bold words, Jack couldn't quite work up the nerve to start walking. He just stood, gaping at the convent and feeling the wrath if the Lord God - not to mention his mother - an the back of his neck like a stirmcloud. But the thought of his mother made him remember her plight, and the reasins he needed the money. Crews didn't work fir free, after all. And surely, if God hadn't wanted thim to get the cash here, then He would have provided another way.

Right?

Right.

Hitching his swordbelt and hooking his thumbs in the leather, he crossed the street. The pretty little sister - was it a sin to think one of the brides of Christ was pretty? - watched him approach. "Good afternoon, sister!" he called, doffing his hat. "I've... uhm... I've, that is..." God. What was he going to... inspiration struck.

"How can I speak with one of the physicians?" he asked, trying hard not to think about hiw pretty the young nun's eyes were. "I... my sister, that is. She's badly sick. Can't... can't walk, and..." he felt himself choking up, "and has troubke breathing, and I wanted to... to see if the doctirs could, could help."
 
Sister Angelica watched the young man cross the street. He was about her age, maybe a little younger, and had seemed to be working up the nerve to cross the street. At first he couldn't seem to find the words but then began to tell her about his sick sister. Her eyes widened a little and her heart broke for him when he choked up.

"Poor thing!" she cried. "Here, come with me and I'll find Mother Superior." She took him by the hand and pulled him through the doors of the convent. "My name is Sister Angelica," she whispered as she led him through the cool corridors, "I am a novice here. Is your sister very far away? People come from all around for help but some of our physicians are very old and cannot travel far."

Sister Angelica brought Jack to a parlour of sorts and deposited him in a straight-backed chair. "Wait here, I'll be right back." She gave his hand a little squeeze before hurrying off to find Mother Superior.
 
"Angelica? The name suits you," Hack heard himself saying. "You belong among the host of Heaven, not the dust of the Earth." And then he blushed scarlet, stammering as what he'd done sank in. He'd flirted with a nun. Flirted! That was the sort of thing, he was certain, that got you condemned to Hell! And worse, he was thinking it might be worth it! Because she looked to be right around his own age, and beautiful, and he was going to Hell!

"Ah... my sister? No, she's..." He thought hard, trying to come up with something believable. "She's in Kingston. I came here because, well, the doctors there couldn't help her. And because, um..." The best lie, he knew, was mostly truth. "Well, we're Catholic. My family. And... the doctors there weren't really excited about helping a Catholic girl. So I took a chance."

Sister Angelica brought Jack to a parlour of sorts and deposited him in a straight-backed chair. "Wait here, I'll be right back." She gave his hand a little squeeze before hurrying off to find Mother Superior.

Jack's hand seemed to tingle, even after Sister Angelica released it. Was it his imagination, or did she... no, no, terrible idea. Terrible ideas. It was bad enough that he was trying not to imagine what she looked like under her habit. It would be worse by far to pretend she thought he was...

"Focus!" he muttered, looking around. "What would dad do?" He chuckled at that. "Fuck off to a life of piracy and leave mom in the lurch again, probably. So, Jack, what are [i[you[/i] gonna do?"

Perched on the chair, he thought hard. Step one, get inside. That was easily done, as testified by the fact he had done it. Step two would be to find the treasury, and remember the route. Step three would be to come back at night, break in, and carry the gold off. Easy, right?

Right.

Jack blew out his breath. How the Hell did one go about breaking in to a convent?
 
Sister Angelica had blushed and giggled when the young man flirted with her. He looked to be around her age, after all, and he was incredibly handsome and charming, and... And no, she couldn't think that way! Oh God she was going to Hell. She was taking her orders in the morning!

... Because her father wanted her to. He wanted to keep her "safe" from the world. How could she be safe from something she'd never known? She was only sixteen after all, and sure maybe she could see taking orders someday, but now? In the prime of her life? How was that fair? How was any of this fair?

"That's not fair!" Angelica declared when the boy told her where he was from, and that the doctors in Kingston wouldn't help an ailing Catholic girl. "You've come to the right place. Wait here, I'll be right back."

It was fifteen minutes by the time she found Mother Superior. Sister Angelica explained the whole thing in a low whisper as she led the way to the parlor where she'd left the young man. He wasn't there.

"But... He was here!" she said, baffled. "I touched his hand, he was real! Mother Superior he was right here I swear!"

Mother Superior looked thoughtful for a few long moments while her novice promised she hadn't been lying. "It is the eve of your vows, child," she said at last. "Sometimes the Holy Spirit will come to us in such times to test us or to reassure us that we are on the right path." She turned her sparkling, unfathomable eyes to Angelica. "I believe you were visited by the Holy Spirit, my child, and whatever it was He wanted of you, you performed admirably."

Angelica wasn't satisfied with that answer. She opened her mouth to protest, but Mother Superior only smiled gently down at her. She knew that smile, and knew when she was being dismissed to return to her chores. She bowed her head and left, but couldn't get her mind off of the handsome boy who had flirted with her. Did the Holy Spirit flirt with nuns? That sounded like sacrilege to her.
 
In order to break into a convent, Jack decided, you had to know where things were. So, after wrestling with his conscience for a minute, he lept from his chair and chose a hallway mostly at random. He knew where he'd been, after all, so any other direction would be somewhere new. And since he had no idea where he was going, anywhere new was equally likely to be helpful.

Still, it was a pity he had to leave without seeing the pretty Sister Angelica. But maybe that was for the best. After all, she was - almost - a nun. And while he might not have enjoyed church, mom always made him go. The specific subject of lusting after nuns had never been addressed in the homilies of Father Shovel, but he was pretty sure that it woukd be covered by the sins of lust and adultery.

Ten minutes later, Jack was... well, not lost, precisely. He knew how to get out, after all. But he had no idea where he was, other than in the convent. Possibly in the living area for the sisters, because he'd had to evade them more than once. Also because he was currently hiding in a small room with a simple cot and a small chest. Damn it all, how was he supposed to do this? A strange young man with a cutlass stoid out like a sore thumb in... in...

He stared down at the chest, and a slow smile slid over his face. It was stupid, but it just might work...



Carefully adjusting the whimple, Jack smoothed the front of tbe habit over his legs. Yes, good. The cutlass he'd strapped to his thigh couldn't be seen. Then he stroked his face, glad for the first time ever that his beard hadn't started to grow. Because, while Jack Sparrow would stick out like a sore thumb, Sister Jackie would blend right in...
 
It was unsettling. Angelica wasn't satisfied with Mother Superior's explanation of the mysterious boy at the door, but she'd been dismissed and that had been the end of it. She went about her chores silently--most of the day was conducted with only the absolutely essential amount of noise and talking, though she often couldn't help but hum to herself--thinking over the boy. Why would he ask for a doctor only to disappear into thin air? Unless...unless he didn't actually want a doctor. Unless he wanted to get into the convent for something. But what? What was in a convent that was worth stealing? She didn't know about the gold stored in an underground vault accessible only through the Abbot's office, so that thought never even crossed her mind. Oh God what sort of evil had she let in among them?

These were the sorts of thoughts which preoccupied her throughout the day and even during the social hour after dinner during which they were allowed to speak. After vespers Sister Angelica was still deep in thought when she rounded a corner on her way to her cell and nearly barreled into someone else. She gasped and staggered sideways, banging into the wall to try to avoid her.

"Sister I'm so sorry! I--You!" Perhaps he'd been able to disguise himself well enough to fool any other sisters he'd passed during the day, but she'd already seen him once. The boy had dressed himself up as a nun. Sister Angelica slapped him. "How dare you put on the habit of a bride of Christ!" she hissed in a harsh whisper before glancing around the hallway. It was empty. She grabbed him by the wimple and dragged him to her cell, slamming the door and pushing him. "Why did you disappear?" she demanded. Her voice was still low in case someone was passing by her door. "And why are you posing as a nun? You made me look like a fool to Mother Superior!"
 
Hours had passed. Hours! And after all of that time, he was still no closer to finding the gold! Frankly, it was the sort of thing that made him wonder if he was really going to pull this whole 'pirate' thing off. But he'd have to, wouldn't he? His mom needed help and, like always, his dad was fucking nowhere to be seen. The worst part, of course, was that after he'd seen to that bastard Ben, he'd really started to think his father was all right after all.

More fool him.

So it was up to him, again. But he needed money, and he wasn't finding it. Once or twice he'd even considered threatening a sister with his cutlass, but he decided against that. He was probably enough trouble with God without adding that to the mix. But at least his disguise was working - although he wasn't sure if he should be happy he could be so easily taken for a woman...

His thoughts were wrenched back to the present as he rounded a corner and suddenly had to slam up against a wall to avoid a nun. "My apologies," he began, even as she started saying "Sister, I'm so sorry," in a familiar vouce, and then they both exclaimed "You!" in startled voices.

It was Sister Angelica, and she looked shocked and outraged by his appearance. "Hi.." he began, and her open hand struck his face with enough force to rattle his teeth. Pretty, yes. Weak, no.

"Hiw dare you put on the habit if a bride of Christ?" she hissed.

"I... may have deserved that," Jack hissed, rubbing his face. Then she grabbed his wrist and dragged him into one of the cells, shoving him backwards as she slammed the door and peppered him with questions. He was too busy trying to maintain his balance to answer right away, but then the wall helpfully caught him. "I was just... looking around," he started.

She slapoed him again.

"Right," he muttered. "I definitly deserved that." He thought hard, then sighed. No way out now, probably. "I'm here trying to, uhm, steal the fees. The donations the hospital receives. Enough to hire a ship and a crew, at least."

He ducked back from the next slap, but banged his head in the wall for his trouble. "Ow! And, for the record, what I told you is true! Mistly. My sister's just in Ireland, now!" He rubbed his head. "But pirates took my mither, and I need a ship to go after her."
 
"What?" Angelica wound up to slap him again. The hospital was just next door; she supposed it made a sort of sense they would store it here, because who would steal from a convent? This lout, apparently, that's who! She missed her mark, but when the boy jumped back he banged his head into the wall. "You're stealing from orphans and sick people, from a house of God for a ship?" she hissed.

"And, for the record, what I told you is true! Mostly. My sister's just in Ireland, now!"

Angelica rolled her eyes. "Fool me twice," she snarled and pulled back for another slap.

"But pirates took my mother, and I need a ship to go after her," he added quickly.

She caught her hand midair and gawped at him for a moment. "Pirates?" She had no illusions about who her father was, about the sorts of things he did. If he was mixed up in this... Sister Angelica lowered her hand, putting it instead on her hip. "What would pirates want with your mother? Who are you?"
 
"Pirates?"

That seemed to shock her, which was good. Because it also kept her from slapping him again. He was tired of getting slapped. "Yes, pirates."

Sister Angelica lowered her hand, putting it instead on her hip. "What would pirates want with your mother? Who are you?"

"I'm Jack Sparrow." He held his hands up quickly, defensively. "Not that Jack Sparrow, obviously. Although I'm tall enough that, with a little grime on my face I can pass for him if you've never met him. He's... well, Captain Jack Sparrow is my father." He snorted at that. "More or less. But... what would they want with her?"

That was something he wasn't entirely sure about, to be honest. "I... don't know," he confessed. "Last I saw him, he was leaving again. Sailing for some big...thing, out here. Involved the Company, I think." He grinned at that. "I listen in, sometimes, when I'm told not to. It's the only way to know what's going on. The Company, and someplace called Calypso, and some guy named Dave Jones." He shrugged. "Dunno, really, and I haven't found much out. But I assume he screwed someone over, and they're looking for revenge."
 
Angelica's eyebrows raised when he claimed he was Jack Sparrow. They raised even higher when he claimed that his father was Captain Jack Sparrow. She'd heard of him of course, by virtue both of living in the Caribbean and of being a pirate's daughter herself. This boy rattled on about Calypso and Davey Jones and her eyes grew wide. He didn't know? The son of Captain Jack Sparrow didn't know about the old gods and Davey Jones, or about what had happened a few months ago? She'd heard about the maelstrom that had destroyed dozens of ships as the Brethren Court faced off against the Company, about the destruction of Davey Jones and the man who had taken his place aboard the Flying Dutchman, and she was stuck in a convent for Christ's sake!

"How..." She frowned and shook her head. "I didn't know he had a family. Keeps it under wraps I suppose, and for good reason. They want her because she's his wife. The Company, Calypso, Davey Jones...they're all taken care of. But Captain Jack Sparrow has many more enemies than that, and any one of them could have found out about you and your mother. I suppose he'll be getting a ransom any day now."

She paced for a moment, then sat on the bed, thinking. She wanted to help this boy--innocent children of notorious pirates needed to stick together, after all--but there had to be some way to do that without stealing from God. Finally Sister Angelica looked up at him. "The fees are collected every few weeks and taken to France, right? I mean, there are guards who come every few weeks anyway. I never knew why but that makes sense, and they should be due to come in the next few days. What if you just stowed away on that ship, hm? It'll be full of gold anyway so a prime target for pirates, and even if you don't find the ones you're looking for you can find another ship to sneak onto. You don't have to steal the gold." She looked up at him hopefully. "Deal?"
 
It was startling, hearing Sister Angelica spell things out. The same things that his father had said - he had enemies, and they'd come after his family if they knew about them. Jack knew his father was a pirate, and had known it for a while. But he'd never really considered what that meant before. Now, hearing it from a comparative stranger? It made it seem real, far more real even than when Scarlett and Giselle had talked about his father's exploits. "A... ransom?" He shook his head. "No, I can't imagine he'd pay a ransom." The words seemed to say themselves, and it surprised him as he listened to his own voice. "I... helped him deal with someone who... who tried to hurt my mother." He licked his lips. "He might tell them he'll pay, but... he'll probably kill them all."

It had been a thrill, taking care of Ben Christian. In the heat of the moment, at least. But the realization of the cold way his father had planned that, and how he'd likely do the same to the men who had taken his mother, chilled his blood. What sort of man was his father, really? And... he hadn't flinched from his role in Captain Jack's revenge. Was he all that different? Did he want to be different?

"The fees are collected every few weeks and taken to France, right?"

The question intruded on his thoughts. "What?" he asked, looking up to see her staring back at him.

"I mean, there are guards who come every few weeks anyway. I never knew why but that makes sense, and they should be due to come in the next few days."

"Really?" He straightened up, thoughts racing as he considered the implications of the statement. "What if..."

"What if you just stowed away on that ship, hm?"

"Yes!" he agreed. "It'll be full of..."

"It'll be full of gold anyway so a prime target for pirates, and even if you don't find the ones you're looking for you can find another ship to sneak onto. You don't have to steal the gold." She looked up at him hopefully. "Deal?"

A grin spread across his face. "Deal!" he nearly shouted, then clapped his hands over his mouth as he stared sheepishly at the door. "I mean," he said in a softer tone of voice, "deal. That's a brilliant idea. But..." He peered at her, curiously. "Why... are you helping me? I mean, I'm grateful and all, but I am trying to rob your convent. I'd have thought you'd turn me in for that."
 
Sister Angelica's face screwed up when Jack said his father wouldn't pay a ransom. "But she's his wife..."

"He might tell them he'll pay, but...he'll probably kill them all."

Angelica paled. She'd heard that Captain Sparrow was brave and daring, but not quite that bloodthirsty. Not like her own father. Perhaps they'd all underestimated him because they'd never known anyone who would harm his wife. Captain Jack Sparrow with a wife...it sounded bizarre even in her head. And not only a wife but a child. Children, a son and a daughter. She couldn't quite imagine it. But they worked out the plans and when he nearly shouted "deal," then clapped his hands hands over his mouth she giggled. He was just as handsome as she'd heard his father was, though the senior Jack Sparrow was said to be a charming rogue where this boy was guileless and cute. Perhaps that charm was a trait he'd pick up with time. When he asked her why she was helping him she had to think about it for a moment. Why was she helping him?

"God will offer every way out when we're on the path to damnation," she said finally. In truth she didn't want to see another pirate in the world, but she decided to keep her own father out of it. "I didn't want to see someone like you led down the wrong path, and the prisons are just schools for crime and sin anyway. Only when you go...take me with you?" Angelica turned her large brown eyes to him. "My home is in Spain. My father, he sent me here to take orders because he's afraid of what the world does to girls. He is...overprotective and I am his only child. But I miss my mother, my grandparents, my friends. I ah...I don't think a life in a convent is what God is calling me to do." She sighed and looked away from him, ashamed of the admission. "But if my father knew he'd sail straight here and try to talk me or force me back into it, or talk Mother Superior into forcing me to take vows. He cannot know."
 
"He'd what?" Jack exploded, forgetting himself and then clapping his hands over his mouth once more. For several heartbeats he stared at the door, as if expecting to see a nun burst in at any moment. "Force you to take orders? That's... that's... monstrous! The service of Christ is a sacred thing, not a... a prison!"

He knew what he had to do. "Of course I'll take you with me. I just can't promise I'll be bound for Spain right away. But, but once I've rescued my mother, I'll escort you there myself."

Suddenly he rose, pacing the narrow cell. "Plan, plan, we need a plan..." he muttered. "All right, we need to know exactly when they'll be taking the fees. I can't do that part, not well - it's blind luck that I've managed to avoid being caught out this long. So, that'll be up to you."

He paced some more. "Meanwhile, I'll need to get you some different clothes - a habit isn't a good choice for stowing away. And then, once you find out when, I can scout out the ship and figure out how to stow away." He chuckled. "Hell, if we're lucky, we might be able to load a chest ir two into a ship's boat the first night. It'd be a hard pull, but we could make it back to Haiti from that distance."
 
When Jack exploded at the idea of being forced to take orders, Angelica smiled sadly. "I am my father's property, I must do as he says," she said with a shrug. "You don't know the life of a woman and you never will. My situation isn't all that uncommon." But Jack promised to take her with him, and to escort her to Spain once he'd found his mother. That wouldn't do; he'd be going by sea where she would be far more vulnerable to her father's spies and mercenaries.

"I only need to take this ship," she said. "I can walk to Spain from France; it'll be quicker that way for me. But you will always be welcome in our home." But Jack was now more concerned with having a plan. He suggested getting a few chests into a row boat and rowing back to the island after stowing away and her eyes widened.

"Are you daft?" Angelica demanded. "I said stow away so that you can get to France, and then to wherever else from there. I can't let you steal from God!" She folded her arms across her chest stubbornly. "I won't budge an inch to help you if you plan on stealing any of that money."
 
Oops. Clearly, when dealing with pirates, it was disturbingly easy to srart seeing piracy as the solution to everything. And to have a dozen flippant answers ready to hand. He bit down on all of them, though, suddenly wanting Sister Angelica to think well of hims. "Uhm... sorry," he managed. "I guess, uhm, I've been talking to too many pirates, recently."

He thought, hard and fast. "That doesn't change most of what I said. But... we'll need food, then. And water. We'll need to raid the ship's stires eventually, but the longer we can put that off the lower the odds we get caught." He laughed a little at that. "Can't imagine a treasure ship would be happy to see stowaways, if we got caught."

For a moment he hesitatd, imagining being flogged or thrown overboard. Then he set his jaw resolutely. "We can do this," he said, assuring himself as much as Angelica. "And I'll get you back to Spain, and it doesn't matter what your father thinks! Property?" He'd have spat, but there was only stone beneath his feet. "People aren't property, Sister, and what he wants don't matter!"
 
"Yes, I guess you have," Sister Angelica agreed tepidly. "Once you've found your mother, probably best you stay on land if you don't like how your father ended up." Which was one of the many reasons she herself wanted to only be at sea as much as she had to and no more. Piracy was in her blood and she didn't want to lead herself into temptation. Jack agreed to just stowing away and hitching a ride, though, and she nodded with approval.

"We can raid the larder later tonight. Sister Fleur doesn't keep too close an eye on it. Better to borrow from nuns who have just enough than to steal from orphans and sick people who have nothing at all."

When he insisted that people weren't property she smiled gently. "I'd heard he doesn't run slaves,"she commented. "Unfortunately most people don't share your father's views on that. I would be very interested to see the sort of person your mum is, being married to the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow, raising his two children, and he doesn't think of her--or you--as property. You should bring her to Spain, once you find her."
 
"Yeah, you'd probably like her," Jack agreed absently, distracted by something the Sister had said. Stay on land. It made perfect sense, didn't it? Stay on land. Be a blacksmith. Don't follow your father and his father into piracy. Don't be like them.

And yet...

There had been the times when he'd sat on the beach or the cliffs, staring out at the horizon and wondering what was out there. And the feel of a deck beneath his feet, when he'd worked passage from London to Jamaica had been... exhilirating. He'd not been the captain, obviously, but he'd absorbed every lesson offered. Because somehow, the ship had felt like... like freedom.

"We might want to hold off on raiding the larder until we're ready to go, though. Or near ready, at least." He rubbed his chin in thought. "Cause if we grab it now, we'll need to store it somewhere. And I can leave some money behind to cover the cost." He winked. "I may nit be able to hire a ship or a crew, but I'm not broke."

His stomach made a gurgling rumble. "Speaking of which, I need to get back out and find a meal and a place to sleep."
 
"Well at least it's not outright stealing..." Angelica agreed reluctantly. She still didn't like what they had to do, the laws they had to break and people they had to take things from, but it was a necessary evil. And after all she had saved Jack from having the sin of stealing money from orphans on his soul, and the orphans themselves of course from going without. A boy that cute shouldn't have that sort of a sin on him.

Wait, what?

"I can get you a meal," she offered. "And ah...you can sleep here, if you'd like." Wait, what?? "On the floor, of course," she added quickly, if nothing else then to appease that little voice telling her to stop this. "I may not be able to get you much, but if I get caught I can just say I was getting a midnight snack or something. Sister Fleur is soft-hearted and kind, doesn't like anybody going hungry even if she's not supposed to."

Later, when it seemed like Jack just couldn't wait any longer for a bite to eat, Angelica did manage to sneak down to the larder. After dodging several of the older nuns as well as Sister Fleur--who she could have sworn would have caught her but only passed by with a wink--she managed to bring back enough food for a small meal for Jack. A day-old loaf of bread, a rind of cheese, and two mangoes were all she was able to swipe and she apologized for the meal being so small. Captain Jack Sparrow had money enough she was sure, famous as he was, and Sister Angelica figured he was used to larger meals.

"There's only so much I could take without arousing suspicion," she said apologetically, handing him the food and a knife to cut the mango.
 
"On the floor! Yes! Of course on the floor!" God, he was babbling! And, no doubt, going to hell. Because the idea of sharing a bed with the oretty young novice - not nun, novice - was very, very nice. "Sure. I'd be happy to sleep here. On the floor."

Time passed slowly, until his stomach finally gurgled audibly. Sister Angeluca clapped a lovely hand to her sweet mouth (wait, what?) And hurried from the room. He sat there, trying to think what sort of pennance would be required for lascivious thoughts about a Bride of Christ. Except she wasn't, not yet. She was pretty, and his own age or nearly, and even under the habit he'd seen the outline of breasts that were smaller but firmer than...


Shit. That thought right there probably demanded half a hundred Hail Marys on its own. And woukd the uncomfortable hard-on he had from the thought require seperate pennance? Or be part of the original?

Fortunatly, she was back soon with food. Bread, and cheese. And some unfamiliar apple-like fruit he didn't recognize. "There's only so much I could get without arousing suspicion," she apologized, handing him a small knife.

"It's fine," he assured her, trying and failing not to notice the warmth of her hand. "It looks great!" Tearing off a hunk of bread, he took a bite and sawed off a lump of cheese with the knife. Then he bit into the frui learning rapidly that it was more peach than apple. Butter skin and sweet fruit, with a large pit and a lot of juice. A lot of juice, dripping down his face and fingers. "Uhm... I guess I should have cut this?"
 
When Jack took the food from her their fingers touched and Sister Angelica tried not to notice the feel of his hands. They were rough from work, but warm and nice in their own way. She stifled a sigh and mentally reproached herself; these were inappropriate thoughts to be having, especially about the son of a pirate. It wasn't like she'd ever see him again anyway. He'd find his mother and they'd go home, and from his accent alone she knew that his home wasn't hers. Instead of cutting the mango Jack decided to just bite into it, and Angelica put a hand to her mouth but couldn't quite stifle a laugh as the juice dripped down his face.

"Here," she offered, handing him a face cloth for a napkin and taking the fruit from him. Angelica brought what was left of the first mango as well as the whole one and sliced them both in half around the pit. After removing the pits she carefully cut gridlines into the flesh of the fruit, creating little cubes of mango that Jack could eat straight from the peel. Bringing the cut fruit over to him she sat down on the bed and watched him eat.

"You're from England or somewhere, aren't you?" she asked. "Everyone here knows how to cut a mango, even if they weren't born here. You're not supposed to eat the skin, you know." Angelica smiled gently and leaned against the wall.
 
"Yeah, I, uh, I worked that out," Jack managed, rinsing his mouth out with a little water as he watched Angelica work. Sister Angelica, he reminded himself. "And I'm not from around here." He accepted the fruit back and tried a bite of the flesh without the skin. Much better, he decided. "I'm from Dover, just a little north and east of London. Although my mom's family's from Ireland and I don't rightly know where half my dad's family hails from."

More greedily than he intended, he downed the mango and started in on the bread and cheese. "I asked Grandpa Teague actually. Twice. First time, he said his people hailed from Tortuga. Second time, he claimed they all made their home a day's sail from the gates of Hell itself." He shook his head at that. "Big thing I learned is that dad's a lot more like his dad than he likes to admit, because both of them lie."

He paused for a moment and considered himself, squatting on a stine floor in a stolen habit, and chuckled nervously. "Ah.... hmmm... uhm..." In an effort to change the subject, he offered some of the cheese to Angelica... to Sister Angelica! "Hungry? And... how about you? If your dad's Spanish, how'd you end up in a convent in a French colony? I'd have thought..." he wtacked his brains, "Hispaniola, maybe. Or one of the cities of Greater Colombia."
 
Jack babbled on about his family and Angelica smiled. The smile faded a little when she claimed that his father and grandfather were both liars, but he seemed to remember himself and became nervous. "Your father's family comes from the sea," she said gently. "All the Teagues do. Or whatever their family name is. They've all got different last names so that makes it all a bit confusing."

But she allowed him to change the subject, then instantly regretted it. "My mother is Spanish," she corrected. "My father is an English sailor. He thinks that the French would give me a better education, keep me out of trouble more. Not that I go looking for trouble, just that...well, just that he thinks that the Spanish colonies are more dangerous places than Jamaica." She smiled sheepishly. "I don't understand it much either, but he said 'go' so I went."

Angelica shifted nervously, searching for a change of topic. Maybe if she just stayed away from his father's side of the family, since he seemed to love his mother very much. Taking a cube of cheese, she stretched and laid out on the bed, looking down at him from the pillow. "So you and your mom and your sister, you just stay in one place then? If she's Irish, why do you live in England? I thought that the Irish hated England and vice-versa, thought it was dangerous for Catholics to live there."
 
"Why do we live in England? I dunno," he said, a note of bitterness in his voice as he shrugged. "She's not done much for my family, for all that my granpa says otherwise." Chewing and swallowing some bread, Jack washed it down with a mouthfull of water. "He moved to Dover... well, before my mom was born, I think. And she met my dad there, and he'd been an apothecary's apprentice and thought he'd make something of himself. Only, he didn't."

Memories of privation flickered, and boom and bust fortunes as his father's loot trickled home. Memories of fighting to protect his sister, and himself, and his mother's name. Whoreson. Papist bum-boy. Pirate whelp. Irish pig. "Dunno why he stayed, or her either. Nothing for us in England, but poverty and abuse. Getting treated like scum and crooks."

Yo, ho, haul together...

The bitterness had banked into fury, now, deep and cold. "Grampa... mom... both loyal to a Crown that spits at the mention of them."

Hoist the colors high...

He snorted. "Drake waged war on the Spanish crown, single handed."

Heave, ho, thieves and beggars...

"A Sparrow's smaller than a Hind, but England's smaller than Spain..." he murmured to himself.

Never shall we die...

Suddenly, Jack blinked and then laughed self-consciously. "I'm... sorry," he muttered, nervously running his fingers through his hair. "I'm just tired, I guess, and spouting off." He grinned, sheepish. "Ignore me."
 
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