Disclaimer: I still don't own anything from Pirates, unless it's a character I created (like Helen). But everything else belongs to Disney.

Author's Note: I'm back. Maybe. I will finish this, though. It just might take a bit longer than I had previously hoped, because school's going to be crazy until– well, for the rest of the school year. Currently, I'm trying to find a way to wrap this story up in as few chapters as possible, because I hate making you all wait for months between posts, and I have other stories I want to write. In the meantime, thank you so so so much to all of you who have kept on reading this! It's those random little reviews in the middle of my hiatuses that guilt me back into writing the next chapter. I hope that you'll see this out to the end! (: Enjoy reading; and please review!

Chapter Twenty

Helen was none too pleased to see Jack again. She didn't say so, but she looked like she would if she weren't so frightened and so busy keeping as close as she could to the door without angering him further.

Jack was still pacing when she came in, sometimes pounding his fist in his open palm, sometimes crossing his arms, sometimes muttering to himself. But when the door closed behind her, he stopped and stared at her for some time, with enough intensity to make her visibly nervous.

She took a few steps back. "What?" she said, and the sharpness that was supposed to be there was overtaken completely by her fear. Her voice shook.

How hard was it to hold a normal conversation? He could keep his thoughts – the thoughts that were nagging him, absorbing all his attention, threatening to make him crazy until they were put down – he could keep them to himself. What could he gain from revealing them to her when he hadn't had enough of a chance to fully examine them first?

All he had to do was ask her for her opinion on what they should do to catch Jones. Kill three birds with one stone: a normal conversation would possibly get her to hate him a bit less violently, she would feel more involved in her fate thus improving her mood some, and Jack might get some ideas out of her that would work, because his strategy was currently taking a vacation.

Instead, he said, "Love or money?" and the words came out in a rush, slurring together like he just couldn't wait to get them over with.

Helen stared at him with increased caution. "Beg pardon?"

"How should we catch Jones?" he said suddenly. Skillful save, he thought to himself.

She looked half curious and half as though she didn't want to know. "No, what did you say before?"

"Before? I didn't say anything before."

Another part of his mind was slowly taking control, drowning out the panic from perhaps making a misstep and the equally urgent cries for a plan to find Jones. Shut it, you two. With me in charge, you have nothing to fear. Not only will we crush Jones like the little squid he is, we will win ourselves a bonny lass. And in this state of sudden calm, he could hear the creaks of the rocking ship, smell the salt in the air, and, for once, think clearly.

It was so obvious to him now: obviously, part of him had actually been fearing for Helen's life, quite desperately, and this was why he had been feeling so scattered and drained over the past weeks. And now that she was safe back home on the Pearl, there was only one thing left for him to do before he could have full possession of his faculties – he would have to bed her.

It was the only way, and it made perfect sense to him.

He felt a bit like a predator stalking its prey, his mind in the same calmed and focused state that he imagined the great hunters also experienced. He took a few purposeful steps towards Helen, thinking ahead far enough to approach her from the side so she would have to back away from the doors, away from her mode of escape.

"What are you doing, Jack?" Her voice rose to a breathless squeak at the end when she ran into the low cabinet that contained all his rum.

Perfect, the predator inside Jack said. No place to run, all mine now. "All mine," he whispered.

She tried to dart quickly to the side, around the cabinet, but Jack stopped her and pinned her against the wall in one fluid movement. His face right next to hers, he murmured, "Now, where were we?"

And he kissed her.

This was something Jack knew, something he understood very well, something he was comfortable with: the prey, the chase, the capture, purely physical, an arching body pinned beneath his, moist lips, teeth, warm breath. He was used to owning things, he was used to possession.

Helen was pushing against his chest with tightly balled fists, but he hardly noticed; it just made him push harder, excited him even more.

Finally, nature got the better of him and he had to pull away to take a few deep breaths.

She stared up at him and Jack noticed for the first time how large her eyes could get, and their color – a dull brown. He leaned in again. Helen turned her head away, and he ended up with his nose practically in her ear, but he had always been good at improvisation. He bit her earlobe lightly and delighted how she shivered beneath him.

Helen seemingly used this momentum to finally push him far enough away that she was able to slip out from beneath him; he gripped her arm.

Her face was bright red and shining. There was no desire mirrored in her eyes, just fear. "What– what the hell are you doing?"

Jack gripped her face tightly between his palms and caught her lower lip between his teeth, steering her towards the bed when she was caught off-guard. Before she could struggle free, the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed hard and she fell backwards. Women looked the most beautiful like that, Jack decided: her hair radiating out from her flushed face, her most lips–

He moved to trap her beneath him but she somehow managed to squirm her way out and jumped up the minute she was free. "What the hell, Jack?" She was by now in hysterics.

"What?" To say he was annoyed would be ignoring the vast ocean of adjectives that might better describe his mood: enraged, fuming, frenzied, maddened, raging, vicious, wrathful. He felt especially wrathful.

He couldn't remember the last time a woman had denied him – well, not counting Elizabeth, but he had never really approached her outright or exercised his full charm to woo her – and he didn't like it, he didn't like it at all.

Helen stood very still but for her shaking, her arms clutching her shoulders as if to hold her innards inside her chest, or just to keep Jack from lunging and grabbing. Her mouth gaped rather unattractively. "What are you going to do to me? Are you going to rape me?" She seemed to come back to herself after this, little by little. "Leaving me for dead isn't enough for you?"

He twisted around so that he was lounging back onto his bed with an ease that he didn't feel. "And what if I were rich?"

"–What?"

"If I were rich, would you let me bed you?"

She stared at him, and her cheeks grew to be a bright, unattractive red. "Are you suggesting– that I would have sex for money?" She snapped, "I am no whore, Jack."

"All women are the same. You're motivated by one thing and one thing only: money and prestige. Well, that was two things, but they're basically the same. You would choose a rich man over a poor one that you love, just because the rich one has all the ways and means." He paused, then added in a quick, low voice, "I bet you would fuck Norrington or Beckett for the sheer virtue that they're powerful–"

"No!" Her voice was raw and shrill. "What are you saying? They're the ones responsible for getting me into this mess in the first place, they're the once that sentenced me to death and put me on that goddamned ship. If it weren't for them, I would still be back at home and happy and not tired and hungry and cold all the time–!" She stopped when she saw Jack's bitter smile.

"And yet you won't sleep with me, a man who obviously cares so much about you, much more than they ever will. I saved your arse, Helen."

"You aren't so different from them in my mind."

Jack growled, "I am a world different from them."

"If you were so different, you would have saved me from their ship. It's not like you didn't have a chance."

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe I didn't want to save you?" It was the most hurtful thing he could think of saying, and it worked.

She did stop now. "I don't–"

"Think?" Oh yes, if she wouldn't let him get the tension out that way, then he would make her hurt for it. "You never do think, do you? Did you ever stop to wonder why I kept you on after I found your little map?" He stood up and walked over to her slowly; she didn't back down, but she didn't look him in the eyes either. "You're no use to me any longer, Helen. And if you won't cooperate, then you have nothing that I want. You're just a nuisance, a waste–"

She shifted suddenly, and Jack braced himself for the sound slap that he knew he deserved this time – but nothing came. She lightly cupped her hand over one side of her face, as if she were the one that had been slapped, her eyes blank and staring. She swallowed hard, murmured something indistinct, but Jack thought he heard fool.

"I'm through with you," he said, turning away from her. His pulse was faster than he cared to admit; it wasn't as though he'd just stood against Jones or anything. She was just a girl; and the fact that she wouldn't give herself to him – well then, what use was she to him?

So why, when he heard her badly concealed sob, heard the door shut quietly behind her, did he want to run after her and apologize?

Jack Sparrow never apologized.

Author's Note: Don't forget to review! (: