Prologue: Something

"…What has the world done to you?..." …Elizabeth Swann

The door burst open, with him hanging onto the handle; he staggered looking up at her with bleary eyes, not really seeing what was in front of him. His beads jangled, his mattered braids falling somewhat into his face, his hat was crooked and almost falling off, he swayed horribly, his hands moving to try and maintain a balance which had hardly been there in the first place. His beard was wet and dripping as were some of his clothes with what smelt like rum. His eyes were red and blood shot, gaunt shadows hung heavily over his face, speaking of past deeds which could not be undone, things seen which could not be purged from his memory. His bandanna was faded terribly, so were the rest of his clothes stained and torn. He held a bottle of rum, empty, in one hand. He had a harness with no pistol, a sheath with no sword when once both those effects would have been at the ready. The sword sat on the palate, the pistol on the floor of the dim candlelit old tavern room.

He staggered in, managing to move away from the support of the door, he promptly fell onto the floor after taking two steps. He sat up, and held up the bottle of rum to her.

"Drink up," he roared, his words slurred his voice rough and hoarse. She hesitantly stepped closer to him from the corner she had retreated to when the door had burst open almost off its hinges so suddenly. As she moved closer she could smell that scent of rum and sweat, and barely tangible, though it used to be so strong on him, was the scent of the salty sea. It still had not left him, even though she had heard he had not embarked on it these six years, it still hung over him like a whispered memory of a pale and disappearing legend. Tears began to prick her eyes as she looked down at him; he was looking at his rum bottle, and seemed to be completely unaware she was even there. He looked almost like a child, bewildered as he tried to find out where all the rum had gone. She moved closer to him and the movement seemed to catch his attention, he looked up at her blearily, craning his neck.

"If your here to show me sumfin love I ain't interested," he mumbled, "Don't have two bob to rub, so don't waste your time. Ain't looking for anything anyway, leastways I don't think I am, not tonight, not in the mood…too many..." with that he trailed off a lost look in his eyes.

A lump formed in her throat, she had expected….well she hadn't known what exactly she had expected but not this….not this…. Everything about him seemed to be gone leaving this…this thing which hardly seemed to be living. And this was the man her whole future, her hopes lay on, he was not even a man anymore, she doubted that if she told him to throw himself out the window, he would even resist.

"Jack," she said softly, it was almost a desperate plea, to find something of him, something which remained. He looked up at her again, and their was a slight flicker, a slight bit of recognition, then it was gone and he turned back to tipping his rum bottle over, trying to gain a few drops from it. She knelt down, clasped his face in her hands, his cheeks were rough and unshaven, the stubble brushing her hands, prickling against her skin. She turned his vacant gaze towards her, he looked so lost and she just wished he would find himself. She held his face there for a moment, searching his eyes, he did not move, no resistance came from him at all, he just gazed, Elizabeth was about to let him go, tears trailed down her cheek, as she couldn't seem to find him.

"Lizabeth," he suddenly slurred, seeming to realize what he was looking at, he lifted a heavy hand as if to wipe the tears from her cheeks but it seemed too hard a thing to do and it fell back at his side lifeless. His brows furrowed in confusion, then the smile slowly spread a quick grin showing a few gold teeth, even they seemed dull though, and it was only a shadow of his once mischievous grin. "Well ello Miss Swann."

"Jack," she gasped through the tears, smiling although his had quickly disappeared, "You remember me." Happiness seemed to fill her like warmth, she wasn't alone, there was something still left in him.

"Course I do love," he murmured, his eyes rolling in his head, he lent closer to her and she could smell the strong fragrance of rum and sweat even more pronounced. "You're Lizabeth, burnt my bloody rum." He furrowed his brows as if trying to remember how this exact event had occurred, but it seemed too difficult for him, anyway the details weren't important, all that mattered was there was rum and then it was gone, he had no further interest in her. He swayed slightly then lay back, positioning himself more comfortably on the cold dirty floorboards of the tavern room.

"What…Jack what are you doing?" she asked, confusion etched her features, she had thought once he'd recognized her… he would….well not this.

"Sleeping of course," he slurred up to her, his eyes closed. He managed to push his hat so that it was cocked in a manner which hid his eyes. "Almost bloody….morning…." his sentence drifted off as he gave a loud yawn. He wiggled slightly, trying to find a more fitting position and small snores soon emitted from him.

"Jack?" Elizabeth called softly, desperately not wanting to be left alone. She shook him slightly, the beads in his braids made a slight chinking noise but he did not stir. She ceased, the noise was so haunting and seemed far too loud. She was hesitant to use other means, afraid of what would happen if he awoke in a rage in the state he was in.

Elizabeth felt the tears threatening to overcome her again; she hugged her knees, rocking slightly. She would not cry, she had promised herself that and she would not break that promise a second time that night. The old gown she donned was tattered and frayed, ripped in some places, burnt in others. The dust from the road covered her slightly, she was cold, hungry, tired and thirsty and all she had was a small bit of hope which seemed to have been dashed at the entrance of a pirate legend that now seemed to be a legend no more. To think she had placed all her hopes, the small scant she had, on that man, that disgusting intoxicated creature who was as filthy as all the pigs on the godforsaken island. Her cheek throbbed horribly under her eye and she tentatively reached up and touched it, she winced, it was slightly swollen and she could only imagine the large bruise which probably now painted her cheek.

The tears began to fall and she did not check them, she had reasoned that if the situation she was in was not enough for her to cry nothing was. Only a few fell though, it appeared from all the weeks of tears her body had simply run out of supplies. She cursed herself, she got up and cursed Jack, she kicked him but this did not even move him and she cursed him more the louder, hopping around the room with a hurt foot. Finally her energy left her, or maybe it was that she had run completely through her vocabulary of curses. Either way she collapsed on the floor in the middle of the tiny room and sat there panting, her hair falling like a curtain in front of her face. After she had gained some control of herself she looked up, pushing her hair away. At a loss for what to do she inspected the rest of the room, looking for a bed in which she could lay her weary and burdened head for the night. She had not had a chance earlier to inspect the room, being too consumed in thought, but she now realized it was even smaller then she had perceived and was quite bare. She could see all it contained from her vantage point with minimal movement.

There was a small palette in the corner of the room, merely a bundle of sheets really and they were almost black. There was no hope of finding some comfort in them. The floor was littered with rags and broken bottles, candles were cluttered in candle holders all over the room, despite their expense Jack seemed not to care if they all burnt, Elizabeth, smelling the rum which one could not escape, doubted that anything much mattered to him in the intoxicated state he was in. Hay littered the floor, an attempt to keep it clean, but it seemed no-one ever bothered to sweep it up and lay new hay. Now Elizabeth had time to notice such things there was a horrible odor, surprisingly not coming from Jack, it smelt like something rotting and Elizabeth shuddered to think what small creature had succumbed to lady death in the room, or even more frightening what large creature. There also seemed to be a distinct smell of urine, even though there was no chamber pot provided in the rooms. The smell of the room burnt Elizabeth's sensitive nose, the smell of Tortuga plagued her and this room was no different, it may have been her imagination but it seemed to smell even worse then the streets and alleyways the tavern was set in, something she had thought could never be possible.

She could now hear the loud crashes, screams and bangs from downstairs, no one appeared to be ready to go up to bed yet, but she was sure soon some 'couple' for want of a word, would come up and pass through the corridor. She had seen enough of Tortuga and been there long enough to know that men had no qualms about taking others women, especially if they thought they were 'paid' for and the other man was knocked out, which Jack certainly was. She hardly thought that trying to explain to them that she was not that sort of woman would protect her much, all the men in the bar would be too intoxicated to know or care, and not all of them were happy, or sad drunks as it were now, as Jack was.

Elizabeth rose, stepping over the slumbering Jack, though she would have rather stepped on him, she closed the door. She lent against the heavy timber, and glanced at the room once more. There was no window so no light could shine through but the candles provided enough light to illuminate the room, even though it was dim. Elizabeth was grateful of this, she could not bare the darkness, not after….everything. She looked down at Jack's unmoving form, his chest rose and fell lightly and his snores were small, soft and gentle, it was almost comforting, a steady rhythm a pattern. She noticed that the coal he used to line his eyes was now rough and ran, some of his braids were shorn roughly, providing an effect with his hair which was a combination of small tufts and long tangles. She noticed that many of his trinkets were missing; she moved closer looking down at him, trying to decide how many braids and trinkets were meant to be there, which used to be there to frame his face. She tried to call up an image, a memory of what he had been before but she could not seem to, just as she could not seem to recall a time where things were not so despairing, where she had love and support and was happy, when she knew who she was. She was just certain that these things had once been so, a certainty which was beginning to waver now that she looked down at this man who was so different to the idea she had painted in her head, from what she thought she remembered.

He moved suddenly, causing her to jump and retreat backwards a few steps, she bit her lip stilling the scream, which had been about to erupt. He merely turned over muttering something incoherent, his eyes closed, and then the soft snores continued.

Elizabeth stood there for a while, not sure what to do. She was so exhausted she could lay down and sleep even on the dirty pile of sheets. She hesitantly moved towards them, and then with some disgust which stemmed from her dignity, she lay down upon the palate pulling the grimy sheet over her. She shuddered but soon she realized it was not only from disgust. She closed her eyes but she still shuddered and her teeth began to chatter. She was cold, freezing in fact. Their hardly ever were Caribbean nights which were chilly, but they did exist. This one was a bit more then chilly, and to Elizabeth who was accustomed to warm temperatures, and was scantily dressed, it was too cold, it seemed to seep into her bones. Elizabeth could not go to sleep, despite her exhaustion, her head began to ache. Finally her eyes snapped open and she sat up, looking over at the peacefully slumbering Jack, it annoyed her that he seemed to have no qualms over the temperature. An idea began to form in her head, and as unpleasant and disgusting as it seemed she was desperate and after a few more minutes of sitting up in the cold, exhaustion biting at her, her body begging her to sleep, her dignity broke and she rose.

She dragged the dirty sheet over to the slumbering form. Lying on the floor, she reasoned, was no different then lying on the disgusting palate, and it may have been even cleaner, it was lying next to…that man which made her hesitant. But as she stood there, barefoot, the coldness and exhaustions seemed to wrap around her and she just wanted to succumb to sleep, whatever it took. She knelt, he did not stir, and she slowly lay down beside him, and wrapped herself in the sheet. She lay the side facing away from him, her eyes could not seem to close still and she thought it was a wasted effort. She inspected the candles instead of thinking of her disgust; she couldn't even rise now even if she had the will left.

They lay scattered all over the room, like she had observed before, but she noticed now that there was no wax on the floor, some candles were even lighted though they had almost dissipated and in a corner she noticed a few full ones lay. All the candles had a candle holder of some sort, either an old rum bottle or a piece of wood. This was not the hand of a careless man, and a thought occurred to Elizabeth. All these candles would have taken a while to light, and to find a holder for each one would have taken some searching in such a bare room. This did not sound like the work of any of the tavern workers, who didn't seem to offer any services at all really, joining in with their patron's fun and taking their rent. Of course the tavern wasn't high class so she did not expect any better. But if the workers had not lighted the candles, that meant that Jack had. Elizabeth was not complaining, she was extremely grateful for it, and gratitude began to spread to that man sleeping beside her, and understanding. It appeared that she was not the only one afraid of the dreams which lay in the dark. She sat up one last time, looked down at him, even in his sleep she could still see the shadows, he was far too thin and gaunt, she turned herself towards him and laid down once more.

She rested her head down on the bare floor, looking at his mattered hair and the end of his bandanna. His chest kept on rising and falling, his snoring continued. She felt much warmer now, and she snuggled slightly closer to him unconsciously. After a thought she covered him with the sheet as well. She had experienced things which had changed her since the last time she had met him, and it dawned on her that he had experienced terrible things too. There must have been something horrible which had caused such a change in him and this comforted her somewhat. It seemed like some things weren't as impossible as they seemed, and she was not as alone as she had felt like for so long. She had someone…. Someone who could understand (once he was sober that was) and that was enough for now, that was all she needed. Even though they were both still lost at least they had found each other and together maybe they could find a way back to what they were once before. She moved a bit, finding a comfortable position, and she breathed in deeply, behind that smell of sweat and rum there was the sea, and there was that legend, and that meant that there was hope, no matter how small…. it was something.

Explanation: Hey, I just randomly began typing this. I began to think what happens not three or a few years ahead but in the far future. I thought it would be really interesting to find a Jack who has sunk down and is no longer a legend and an Elizabeth who isn't strong. The characters losing what makes them…them because of experiences in life, and finding one another, hoping to find a bit of what they used to be, just to find that they've each changed too. If anyone wants me to make this into a story I'm happy to oblige. This is NOT JE pairing. I think the only thing Jack can really love is the Pearl, he's far too selfish, uncommitted and too much of a flirt for anything else. And Elizabeth, she's far too young for him and….no. Sorry to anyone who likes JE, just the way I feel. Please review, I hoped you liked it even if it is pretty random. I'd like to improve on my writing and am trying out different styles so tell me what you think please, constructive criticism is welcome. Oh, and the top and bottom poem are actually supposed to be one poem which begins the story and ends it (or chapter whichever). I can't wait to see the movie…it's finally here….YAY!!!!

: p Sairra

I accidentally deleted this, so I had to post it up again.