Title: Why is the Rum Always Gone?
By: Vivian Tanner
Rating: T (for Jack's language)
Summary: When does the nightmare world become better then the waking world? When does life copy dreams? What will Jack do without rum?

Characters: Captain Jack Sparrow, the Black Pearl, and an appearance by Elizabeth Swan
Disclaimer: I do not own POTC, Captain Jack Sparrow, the Black Pearl, or Elizabeth Swan and am no way getting paid for this story.

A/N: Originally wrote in response to the October monthly challenge with the Free Spirits yahoo group. Subject- Nightmares. This is my first POTC fiction, so please be nice with the reviews.

Why is the Rum Always Gone?

Captain Jack Sparrow looked out over his ship, that's right, HIS ship. He was once again in control of the Black Pearl. Who would have thought that when he sailed out of Port Royal with the Whelp that this would be the result, Jack hadn't actually planned on them succeeding in their quest to get the ship back, save the girl and turn out heroes . . . no, when he convinced young William to open that cell he had planned to get them as far as the next port and let the lad fall behind.
Will Turner had been a surprise for dear old Jack, seeing as they got out on the sea Will began to act more like his father, the friend Jack had lost and now wanted to help by helping his son. With the change of heart they had set out after the boy's Bonnie Lass and
Captain Hector Barbossa, the villain who had held both she and the Pearl prisoner. To make a long story short they won, with a few twist and turns on the way, but won none the less. Will got back his girl, and Captain Jack Sparrow had gotten back his lady.
It had been three weeks since Jack had jumped from the fort walls at Port Royal to swim out to the Pearl, and now they found themselves back in Tortuga picking up new crew, and supplies. Seeing as that was the first mates job, Jack had left it to Mr. Gibbs and Anna Marie to handle, he had stayed behind on the ship to reacquaint himself to everything, or at least that was his story. Truth be told Jack Sparrow was afraid to walk off the Black Pearl, he was convinced the minute he left her he would discover this was all just a random dream, that he was still rotting away in that cell, waiting for one
Commodore Norrington to decide his fate. So while the rest of his crew was enjoying shore leave in Port, Jack had decided to enjoy the peace and quiet he had on the ship.
"Yes, if I do say so myself never could find a better way to relax than a bottle of rum, your ship below your feet and the gentle sway of the sea to rock you to sleep." He didn't need to keep up the image of being have crazy, but honestly he had done it for so long now it was hard to stop. "So I have me ship, the sea is rocking, so off to get the rum."
That had been where he was heading before he was stopped by the view and his reminiscing to the storage room below decks, it seems that in his celebrating the night before he had finished off the supply he kept in his cabin. Now he held the key to the storage room lock, and was on a mission for rum.
"Right . . . here we go . . ." The one problem with the sway of the deck was that it made it near impossible to get the key in the lock on the first try, and unfortunately for Jack his celebrating from the night before had left him less graceful then he was naturally. Just as he got the key lined up the ship was hit by a sizable wave which threw the Captain to the side a bit, and his key out of his hand and under the door he was trying to unlock. "Bugger!!!! Why is the rum always gone? Why is it this hard to get more?" Staring at the door for all of two minutes Captain Jack Sparrow made a decision on how to solve his problem, he would shot the lock open. "Can't be helped, I replace the lock later." With his mind made up he reached for his pistol, and reached . . . and reached? "Where did the bloody thing go?" Think mate you must have left it somewhere, but where is this somewhere? "Damn, it's still in me cabin!"
Now Captain jack Sparrow faced a life altering question . . . Should he head back to his cabin for the pistol facing the possibility of yet another problem causing to not reach his rum . . . Give up on the idea of getting any till Mr. Gibbs arrived back with his key . . . Or find something else to open the door with? Picking up the blacksmith hammer Mr. Turner had left behind Jack began trying to break the door down. The entire time he was going through this he found himself apologizing to the Pearl.
"I'm sorry love, but you know how I needs me rum . . . I love it near as much has I love you. Just let me in to the storage room, and I'll buy you a bigger and better door after our next take." Just as he was about to succeed defeat and wait for Gibbs, the door finally gave. Now after all of that work Jack had worked up quite a thirst, so as soon as the door swung open he ran straight to the first bottle of rum, not seeing the key and bottles on the floor in front of him.
The crash that resulted from him hitting those bottles was no where near as spectacular as the series of swear words he let out when he realized how many bottles of rum had been destroyed in the act of him falling into the shelf. From the looks of the storage closet there was one bottle left, and it set on the top shelf, at least a foot above Jack's head.
"Thank you for leaving me that one." Jack said with a glance heavenly, now how to get it down, in ONE piece. "This looks stable enough?"
The ship's shelving was designed to hold up to storms at sea, surly it would hold up to him scaling to the top to reach that bottle.
"Well no way to know, but to try."
Half way up the shelf there was another sway of the ship, the bottle rocked a little but held its spot. Then just as he reached for it and his fingers brushed the side, the Pearl gave a mighty push to the left sending Jack, the piece of the shelf he held and the bottle to the floor. Time seemed to move in slow motion as he watched the bottle connect with the floor and shatter into a thousand little pieces, as he lay there staring the rum slowly slipped into the cracks of the deck, Jack found himself unable to form any complete
thought, he yelled the only thing that came to mind, and it seemed appropriate for the case.
"NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOO! !!!!!!"
"Jack? Captain Jack? Are you okay?"
"Who said that? Where are you? Do you have any rum?"
"Jack . . . Good he's still out, now to make sure the Commodore finds us on this island."
"Strange that sounds like Elizabeth . . . Why do I smell smoke? Is my ship on fire? Why do I smell burning rum? What's going . . ." With a jerk Jack woke up from his dream/nightmare to find himself still on the island Barbossa had marooned him and the
Swan lass on. Trying to get his bearing he saw smoke in the distance, and again smelt rum. "No the rum supply!!!"
"NNNNNNNOOOOOO! !!!!!"
Running as if his life depended on it Jack made his way to the burning trees, the sight he saw made him begin to wonder if he was awake or still in his nightmare. Has he watched their food, shelter, and rum go up in smoke all he could ask was one simple question.
"Why is the rum always gone?"

A/N: Thanks to Ruby Sparrow for beta reading this and many of my other fictions, and for creating the Free Spirits group. It supports a nice group of boys to hang out with . Please review, good or bad I love them all.