A/N I was just happily thinking about life, when out of nowhere (I lie - I was reading Pirates fics) I wondered what would happen if Jack and Jack were locked in the same room. I was writing funny, then it turned to angst, and I had to rewrite some, but I fear it's not as light-hearted as I wanted. Like, ol' Jackie boy complains like heck. But that's okay; I complain, too.

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I have and will never own any part of Pirates of the Caribbean. This was simply written for the love of the story. I recieve nothing but (hopefully) reviews.

"Oh my goooooddd..." Jack Sparrow muttered to himself. Jack the monkey was tugging heavily on the captain's dreads, lithely dodging every blow sent in its direction.

In a fit of rage, brought on by God knows what (Jack suspected PMS), Elizabeth had locked him away in an empty storage room with Jack. That blasted monkey Jack. And poor Sparrow was already suffering.

"Screechscreeeeechscreech!"

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

"Screeeeech!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, just sit down and shut up. You'll have ol' Mother Elizabeth rolling in her grave. Bugger, that requires her to be dead. If only..."

He spent a few seconds fantasising about that eventuality, going as far as to remember he kept a small amount of cyanide for special purposes in his cabin under a loose floorboard. He paused for a moment, wondering why exactly he had poison when he could just as easily run someone through with his sword or throw them overboard. It was only then he realised he'd spent a whole paragraph considering how one would go about murdering someone.

"Bit early in the day to be thinking those thoughts, Jackie," he mumbled.

Looking up, his eyes were suddenly and cruelly forced upon Jack biting his prized leather hat which had been stolen unnoticed.

"Actually, dear boy, there could not be a more appropriate time."

Thoughts once again finding themselves beneath a certain loose floorboard, Jack was wrenched with a dreadful shriek to the truly awful sight of the monkey spitting all over his sash. Jack had no idea whatsoever how it managed to acquire his sash either, but worse, he thought, was the way the monkey screeched. How did it manage to screech and squawk while spitting?

Resigning himself to at least a few hours torture, the weary captain pondered what had driven the evil harpy Elizabeth to lock him up. It wasn't as if he'd actually done anything. To be truthful, he'd been on his best behaviour. Not even the mildest lewd comment had left his lips, and he'd had hardly anything to drink in days. Jack decided it was time to rethink his offer of Elizabeth's stay on his ship. She'd only been here a couple of days, but already Jack was convinced of Mr. Gibbs' superstitious theories. Women were bad, baaad luck.

Shifting slightly, Jack's eyelids grew heavy. He hadn't had a proper sleep in months, and it was starting to show. The nightmares from the Locker kept him wakeful. The monkey screeched again. No worries, Jack, you won't be getting any sleep here anyway.

The absolute worst thing about this whole situation, Jack decided sullenly, was that there was no rum. Rum was Jack's answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything, but there was not a bottle in sight. That damned Elizabeth had made sure of it.

Four hours later, Jack was still sitting in his corner, slightly wild eyed. The monkey, amazingly, was still energetically doing his very best to drive the captain over the edge.

It had taken to running at him if he even shut his eyes and jumping on his lap, forced what sleep Jack may have gotten far, far away. At least three hours ago Jack had stopped reacting, and to the uninformed eye, he was calm, peaceful even.

Finally, eight hours after he had been locked in the Jack, the captain was let out. He, without looking at anyone, checked over his ship, and adjusted its course a few degrees south. He took up residence at the wheel, and stood with a hard gaze at the dark sea. It was night, and the waves were gentle.

The crew watched warily from a distance. Jack had never been so quiet. And what they expected when he was released, was not quiet, but rage. Not that Jack was a very angry person, Gibbs acknowledged. He personally wouldn't have been surprised at babbling, actually.

Mr Gibbs turned to Elizabeth, who was crouching in the dark.

"Missy? What were ye expecting?"

"Not this, certainly."

"So...why did ye lock him up? What did the capt'n do?"

"He made a comment about me. He said, 'Love, please move over a spot. I can't see through your waist, darling'." How could he say that? My waist is so tiny everyone could see around it."

"I think he was just politely asked you to move. With respect, your waist isn't as tiny as you believe."

"I suppose. But I still think he deserved what he got."

"But the rum, Elizabeth, why did you dump the rum?"

When Jack had looked over the Pearl, he had noticed there was no rum. Lizzy must have dumped it. Not willing to open his mouth, for fear he would say things he'd regret, he changed the course for Tortuga. A right beeline.

First thing he'd do was ditch the monkey. Whatever it took.

Next thing was drain -drain- the blasted island of rum.

And lastly, he'd give darling Elizabeth a choice. His way, or the highway.

Oh, and, of course, he was going to extend the trip catch system he had in the brig, so if he were ever locked in he could escape, to all cabins, cupboards, and closets, and for God's sake, storage rooms.

A/N2 Any good? BTW it's my first ever Pirates fic. For some reason, I forgot to put that up top. Suppose that's what AN2's are for...

R&R?