Author's Notes: Written for the 2011 Remix-Redux challenge. (on AO3) Based on the double drabble, "Really Bad Eggs" by ranalore. Many thanks to my betas, Whymzycal and Inksheddings, and to all of the people who helped cheerlead and provided encouragement.

I'll say right off the bat that I've completely ignored the language issue. (Canon anachronisms FTW!) The story is set between Dead Man's Chest and At World's End, because yes, I actually did try to fit it into Pirates canon. The Saiyuki timeline is not specific. Slot it anywhere you like (pre-Blast) during their journey west. Yes, of course it's a crack premise, but damn, it was fun to write!

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It's a searing heat and bright sunlight stabbing through his closed eyelids that wakes him. He raises a hand to shield his face and attempts to open his eyes, but then closes them again quickly. Even the shade from his hand isn't enough to dispel the glare. His mouth is dry, and he realizes that it's more than an absence of moisture; the grit of sand on his lips and tongue is familiar, if unwelcome.

Stranded on another bloody beach. Brilliant, he thinks, and tries to sit up. His head feels as though it has been bludgeoned by a cannon, and he struggles a moment, his body shifting awkwardly in the sand before he finds his purchase. There's a low dune of sorts behind him, and he fumbles a bit, leaning against it, and slowly opens his eyes. He squints into the dazzling light, and it's a long minute before he realizes that it's not the brightness obscuring his ability to see clearly. There is literally nothing around him except more sand and not, as he had expected, the familiar white sand of tropical beaches, but rather a darker, dirty-yellowish color.

He blinks in rapid succession, but the scene doesn't change, nor does the pounding in his head.

"This is interesting," he says. His voice is little more than a rasp. He clears his throat and looks around again, sniffing the air. Not a hint of salt, much less water or anything green. No sign of the Pearl either. The sun is high in a blue-bronzed cloudless sky with no hint at which direction might be which, and the lack of shade is beginning to become a problem as the sweat evaporates from his skin almost as quickly as it forms.

"Bugger," he says, reaching into his pocket for his compass. He flips open the lid, but the needle continues to spin without stopping. He tries to focus, and then he remembers. "Bugger!" he says again, this time with feeling.

He looks around once more, squinting, but there's no sign of the giant beastie, the wily but traitorous Elizabeth, his crew, or the sea for that matter. He thinks perhaps he dreamt he was swallowed by Davy Jones' pet Kraken but then reconsiders. If anything, this impossible desert must be the dream. Or maybe not. If his memory is correct—and it should be as he was stone sober at the time for a change—he should be dead after all.

Trouble is, he doesn't feel dead.

All things considered, it's not as though he'd never pondered what Davy Jones' Locker might be like. Alas, Jack cannot recall 'endless desert' ever being one of the scenarios to suggest itself.

He sighs and gets to his feet, taking in his surroundings. He spies something that looks like a rocky outcrop and stumbles off in that direction. Good a direction as any, he thinks, pocketing the useless compass. Afterlife or not, if he doesn't get out of this heat and find some drinkable water, he will be dead soon enough. Relatively speaking, perhaps, but if he's already died once, he'd rather not do it again so soon.

..oOo..

There is no water, but there is some shade as he staggers the last few steps and collapses on the lee side of a jumble of gray rock that protrudes a few feet from the sand. He left 'parched' behind at least an hour ago, maybe two, the only sense of passing time the slow-moving sun, still fierce but thankfully lower in the sky. Alas, the chances of rumrunners having buried a stash in the middle of the desert is essentially zero, but the thought of drink sustains him as he closes his eyes and falls asleep, his back pressed up against the rough stone.

He wakes sometime later, the shade of his open haven having stretched several yards ahead, and he's not blinded when he opens his eyes. It wasn't the sun that woke him this time, but rather a faint rumbling that stirs the sand and vibrates against his skin.

He sits up and spies a large dust cloud moving swiftly over the sand from the east. At first he thinks he's hallucinating. Anything is possible at this point. It could be a storm, but it's much too small and fast, although he's seen water spouts move at incredible speeds over the open sea. Perhaps the desert has similar phenomenon.

As the cloud moves closer, his eyes widen in surprise. It's not a storm after all, but a strange, open-topped metal carriage. A horseless carriage, no less, practically flying across the desert at a speed even the Pearl couldn't manage with a favorable tailwind.

He shakes his head in amusement, staggering to his feet with new energy, and he runs out into the open desert towards it, arms waving.

Ah, Jack, my boy, he thinks, grinning, your rumrunners have arrived at last.

..oOo..

The carriage comes to a stop a few feet away and the four occupants stare at him from beneath blankets and bandanas which cover their heads and parts of their faces. The one closest to him in the front seat is casually holding a very tiny pistol in his hand. They don't appear to be dead, and he takes it as a good sign.

He bows with a flourish. "Gentlemen," he says, "how fortuitous your arrival! And in such a grand carriage as this, no less. Now I'm sure you're thinking, 'What is the famous—or infamous, depending on who you've been speaking with—Captain Jack Sparrow doing stranded in the middle of a desert?' but I assure you lads, it is in fact you who have encountered good fortune even moreso than I, if you would be so accommodating as to assist me in returning to my ship, that is. I seem to have misplaced it. I don't suppose you've seen it during your recent travels, have you?"

"Hey, buddy," one of the men in the rear says, "I don't have a clue what you just said, but what the hell are you doing out here alone in the middle of the desert? You don't exactly look, er, local."

Jack saunters over to the vehicle and leans in close to the man who spoke. He's taken aback by his unusual red eyes, but he shrugs it off. He's seen stranger things in his time.

"My good man, it is a rather long story, and I'm sure you'd much prefer to be on your way, so if you wouldn't mind, I'll just hop in, shall I? And we can have our little chat on the way. By the way," he adds as he gracefully climbs over the side of the metal carriage and squeezes in between the two in the back, pointedly ignoring their staring, "you wouldn't happen to have something to drink, would you? Some rum would be most appreciated. It's a bit … dry."

The man in the front left—a blond, Jack notices, as the blanket covering his head has fallen—scowls and points the pistol barrel at Jack's face. The small one to his right is gaping openly, but nevertheless, he leans down and produces an unusual-looking flask, which he offers to Jack.

Jack gulps down half the contents in one go and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. It's not rum, alas, but it's wet. "Thank you, lad. And might I say, that's a lovely little bauble you've got there on your head. Gold, is it?" he asks and reaches up to touch it, pausing when he hears the cock of the pistol.

"You really don't want to touch that," the other man in the front—a brunet with a chainless monocle over his right eye and silver cuffs adorning his left ear—says, his voice mild. "Unless you wish to die, of course."

"Family heirloom, I imagine," Jack says, diverting his aim and slinging his arm around the young man's shoulder instead, to give it a friendly squeeze. "Good on you, I say. So where are we going, and might I inquire, will there be a pub when we arrive?"

The young man squirms a bit under Jack's arm. "Um, what did you say your name was?"

Jack tilts his head and grins, ignoring the veiled death threat from moments earlier. Then again, it is a rare day when he isn't threatened with death or dismemberment, and the monocled gentleman had been ever so polite about it. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, mate. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Mr. Sparrow?"

"Captain," Jack corrects.

"Captain Sparrow?"

"Call me Jack," he says, his voice a friendly drawl, eyes still fixed on the gold diadem.

"Um, Jack. It's not—"

"Yo, Jack," the red-eyed—and red-haired, Jack sees as he turns to face him—bloke interrupts, "you don't seem bothered that Sanzo here is pointing a gun at you." Jack is pretty sure there's an undertone of amusement in his voice.

He sets the flask between his legs on the seat, unwilling to relinquish it just yet, and slings his other arm around the red-head. "Well, Red—do you mind if I call you Red? That's a smashing shade, by the way. Knew a woman with a dress that color once. Could choke the life out of a man with her thighs, but a hell of a looker—where was I? Oh, yes, that interesting pistol your friend is holding. A bit . . . small, isn't it?"

There's a loud noise that momentarily deafens him, and he nearly bites his tongue when something whizzes by the side of his head. "Not that size matters, or so I've heard," he adds as Red explodes with a string of expletives at this "Sanzo" person. Sanzo moves the muzzle of the pistol, aiming it at Red instead. Things are already looking up.

"Now, now, Sanzo," the monocle man says, laying a hand on Sanzo's arm. "We can't just leave him stranded out here, and we still have several hours to travel before we reach the next village."

"Tch," Sanzo says, and turns a disgusted look on the monocle man. "We're not a fucking charity."

Red laughs loudly. "You really are a shitty priest," he says, and ducks as Sanzo fires again.

Jack is impressed; he didn't even see Sanzo reload the ball and powder. "Wait a minute," he says, raising his eyebrows. "A priest?" Jack tilts his head and studies Sanzo. "He doesn't look like a priest. You'll pardon me saying, I'm sure, but he doesn't act much like a priest either."

"Heh. I had a similar reaction when I first met him," Red says. "And the name's Gojyo. Don't call me Red." He jerks his thumb at Jack's other side. "This here's the Monkey—"

"Hey!"

"—and that's Hakkai," he says, pointing at the monocled man behind the wheel. Hakkai smiles at Jack, and Jack feels a slight prickling on the back of his neck. Hakkai may be unfailingly polite, but Jack has survived for far too long because of his keen instincts. He vows to keep an eye on this mild-mannered fellow, if for no other reason than to find out how that monocle manages to stay in place all by itself.

"Don't be rude, Gojyo," Hakkai says, gesturing to the lad next to Jack. "That's Goku."

"Yeah, ya shitty kappa," Goku says sullenly.

"Shut it, monkey brains," Gojyo retorts, taking out a package of perfectly-rolled cigarettes and offering one to Jack.

"Stupid pervert kappa!"

Jack retracts his arms and hunches in his seat, shaking his head at the proffered tobacco. "Bad for the health, I hear," he says to no one in particular as his seatmates are too busy shouting insults at each other.

"Oh dear," Hakkai says, turning around and shaking his head. Over the sound of the fracas, Jack could swear he hears a sharp, bird-like "kyuu" as the carriage begins moving with a smooth, vibrating hum. They pick up speed quickly and Jack ducks as he sees a flash of silver, holding fast to the flask as another shot rings out into the desert air.

"Both of you shut the fuck up, and you, asshole"—Sanzo gestures at Gojyo—"give me your damn lighter!"

Jack raises his eyebrows, watching with some relief as Sanzo puts the pistol back into his sleeve, exchanging it for a crumpled package of cigarettes, and grabs something from Gojyo's outstretched hand. His eyes widen as Sanzo flicks his thumb on a tiny metal container and a small flame shoots out the top, lighting his cigarette. He releases his finger and the flame disappears.

Well, Jack thinks. That's interesting. Perhaps I'll stick around for a bit. So many wondrous new treasures are worth a little inconvenience.

..oOo..

"China?" Jack asks, incredulous. Davey Jones' Locker is in China? Is China? Granted, some of the tales he's heard about this vast land have been . . . extraordinary, but it seems absurd that there should be a connection. Perhaps, he considers, it's more like a brief stop in between, rather like the Pearl putting in to a strange new port to take on food and water supplies. The fact that they also used those occasions as an opportunity to restore their treasure coffers as well …. He glances around for Goku and his alluring headdress, and sees Hakkai watching him with an expression of mild curiosity.

He leans toward Hakkai and shifts his gaze to the map that's spread across the front of the carriage. There's far too much land and no seas or substantial rivers anywhere in the vicinity. "I knew some Chinese sailors once. Actually, I insulted some Chinese sailors once." He leans in closer and lowers his voice. "They're probably not too happy with me at present, so it might be best if we avoid any port cities. Though," he adds, frowning at the map and the foreign pictographs he can't read, "that doesn't seem to be a problem for the immediate future."

He looks at the gaping chasm before them and the remnants of the former bridge that hang from weathered and split wooden beams embedded in the scorched earth, oddly reminiscent of Shipwreck Cove. The fact that there are no trees within sight, much less any sign of human habitation, is a good indication as to why the bridge has not been repaired.

His fingers twitch—what he wouldn't do for a drink of anything that wasn't water right now—and he pulls his compass from his pocket, turning it over and over in his hands in an attempt to hide his edginess.

"Sanzo," Hakkai says, "I don't see any indications of another crossing in either direction for hundreds of miles. Of course, this map is rather old." His fingers trace a line on the map. "This cleft extends far further to the north, but the topography here," he says, pointing to an area an inch or two to the south, "appears to be mountainous, so unless you're inclined to a grueling hike, I'd suggest we head north instead. We're already dangerously low on supplies as it is."

"I'm hungry," Goku whines. "I want yakiniku. And ramen noodles. And eggrolls and shumai. And pork rib soup."

Sanzo curses under his breath and lights another cigarette with his magic fire, though it takes several swipes of his thumb to produce a flame.

"Hey! Give that back," Gojyo says as he emerges from a patch of scrubby brush and finishes fastening his trousers. "I didn't say you could use up all the damn fluid. Get your own fucking lighter."

Jack shakes his head and turns away, playing with the clasp on the lid of the compass. It's a strange group he's fallen in with. Ostensibly, Sanzo seems to be the one in charge—the captain of this merry band, as it were. Unfortunately, Sanzo clearly dislikes Jack. He still can't quite bring himself to believe that one is a priest, despite the robes. Sanzo is unlike any man of the cloth Jack's ever met before. Not that he's made many acquaintances of that nature. Sailors are a superstitious lot, and none moreso than pirates, but a different set of gods preside over Jack's world.

Nonetheless, he doesn't need Sanzo to like him, he just needs Sanzo to take him somewhere so he can get a bloody drink. And food for the kid, who's still whinging …. He glances down at the compass out of habit and a smile spreads across his face.

"Hey, kid. You there. Er, Goku. Come here for a moment. Hold this, will you?" Averting his gaze from the gold diadem, he places the compass in Goku's outstretched hand. "Now I want you to think about that soup and whatever else you were just talking about. Your favorite foods. And while you're at it, perhaps some drink, too. Then I want you to open the lid."

Goku eyes the compass warily. "Why? Thinking about it only makes me hungrier."

"Yes, exactly!" Jack says and claps him on the shoulder. "That's very good. It's what you want most in the world right now, isn't it, lad? The hungrier you are, the better for all of us. Now concentrate and open it."

Goku shrugs and opens the compass, and Jack claps his hands in delight as he peers down.

"That way," he says, pointing.

"What was that?" Hakkai asks, looking up from his contemplation of the map.

"We need to go that way."

"That's south. There's nothing in that direction except mountains," Hakkai says, frowning.

"I think you're wrong, mate."

"I mean no disrespect, Captain Sparrow, but if I'm not mistaken, five minutes ago you didn't even know you were in China," Hakkai says.

"This may be true, but in an instance such as this, location is irrelevant, my good man. I admit, I may not know my exact whereabouts at any given moment, but never let it be said that Jack Sparrow doesn't know exactly where he's going or how to get there, savvy?"

Gojyo stares at him. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that we should head that way," Jack says again. He turns to face south and sniffs deeply at the air. "Yes, definitely that way. I'm never wrong about these things. Well, except for that one time when I accidentally sailed into a British naval blockade, but in my defense, they'd been caught up in a storm and were a good hundred miles off course. And we did outrun them in the end, after all."

"Where exactly are you from?" Hakkai says, glancing at Jack with a bemused expression.

Jack waves his arm, gesturing absently. "Oh, here and there, depending on the season. And whether or not anyone is out to kill me."

"Tch," Sanzo says. "Great. Like we need any more assholes coming after us."

Jack raises his eyebrows, curious, but doesn't ask what Sanzo means by that remark. Instead he turns back to Hakkai, eyeing his monocle. "Doesn't it ever fall off?" he asks.

Hakkai smiles. "Only if I want it to," he says.

Jack nods. "I see." He doesn't, but Hakkai doesn't seem willing to elaborate.

"You seem reasonably confident we should head south. Why should we trust you?" Hakkai asks. His voice is curious and without any hint of malice.

"You shouldn't," Jack says. "I can't say that I'd trust me either, in your situation." He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, coughing from the dust. Bloody hell, he needs a drink. He glances at the compass in Goku's hand, its needle still pointing south. He bows to Goku, takes the compass back—which immediately sets the needle swinging wildly—and clicks the case shut, pocketing it.

"But think on this, mate. Many men have doubted me over the years, to their great peril, I might add. You don't have to trust me, only my infallible sense of direction. Savvy? Besides, it's your young companion you'd be trusting. Not me. So unless you're implying that you don't trust your friend here," he says, cocking his head in Goku's direction. "It's not as though you have many alternatives, though, unless your wondrous carriage there can fly…."

"Well, Hakuryuu—"

"Can it, you stupid ape," Sanzo interrupts and turns his piercing glare on Jack. "I don't trust you," he says flatly. "If it's a trick, I'll shoot you and leave you behind for the crows."

Jack raises his arms, his hands palms-up in supplication, and his eyes wide as he flashes his most winsome 'who, me?' expression. Not a very trusting soul—for a priest. None of that matters as long as they agree to head in the proper direction.

A soft jangling catches his attention, and he turns away from Sanzo.

Goku is now sitting on the ground, rummaging through a sack and pulling out various items, many of which Jack has never seen before. His eyes fall upon a box of some sort with a very lifelike image of two women on its surface. Two extremely well-endowed women in a shocking state of dishabille. His interest piqued, he leans closer for a better look, but his eye is drawn by a new object even more enchanting to his discerning eye. There is a bright flash of gold as Goku tosses a small golden crown onto the ground.

Jack's eyes widen, and he purses his lips. Another pretty bauble. How fascinating, he thinks, and takes a step closer, his fingers twitching.

"I thought you said there was food in here," Goku says, upending the bag. A tunic of some sort falls over the crown, hiding it from view. "I'm starving!"

"Hey!" Gojyo says, bending over Goku's sitting form and nudging him roughly in the back with his knee. "That's my stuff, asshole. Those videos are rare. Worth a lot of money."

"They're worthless out here," Hakkai says, grinning, and folds up the map. "Goku, I have the bag with the food, or what's left of it."

"Yay!" Goku says, bounding over to Hakkai and leaving the mess on the ground.

Jack ignores them as Gojyo starts roughly shoving things back in the bag, a scowl on his face. "Stupid Monkey," he mutters, and picks up the tunic and the crown.

"Hey, your Holiness," Gojyo calls, holding up the crown. "Why do I have to carry your shit?"

"Shut up and put it back in the bag before I put you in there."

"Huh. I'd like to see you try"

"Oh, I can carry that for you," Jack offers, stretching out a hand to stroke the smooth, shining surface. A shot rings out, and Jack feels something pass less than an inch above his hand.

Gojyo drops the crown, turning on Sanzo. "Would you stop fucking shooting at me, you asshole?"

"Put it back in the goddamn bag and get your ass in the jeep."

Gojyo takes a step towards Sanzo, but Hakkai is there with a gentle hand on Gojyo's arm as he bends down to retrieve the crown from beneath Jack's outstretched fingers.

Damn. So close.

Jack sighs as Hakkai stuffs the crown into the bag, closing the buckles and shouldering it as he stands.

"Gojyo," Hakkai says, and although his tone is gentle, Jack can hear a note of warning in it. "Hakuryuu is starting to get tired, and this doesn't look like a very pleasant place to make camp."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Gojyo says, tosses his cigarette to the ground and grinds his foot to extinguish it.

Jack idly wonders who or what Hakuryuu is as it's the second time one of them has mentioned it. However, it's not enough to distract him from his thoughts of treasure.

"Move it, Goku. And take your damn garbage with you," Sanzo says, climbing into the front seat.

"Sorry, Sanzo," Goku says. He swallows the last of whatever it was he was eating and picks up several empty cans before climbing in behind Sanzo.

"You too," Sanzo says, gesturing at them to get into the carriage. "I haven't got all day."

Jack humbly follows his companions, his eyes never leaving the sack on Hakkai's shoulder.

..oOo..

He opens one eye to darkness, forgetting for a moment where he is until he hears the susurrations of slow, measured breathing around him. He lifts the blanket and rolls over, and in the light of the waning moon, sees three prone forms. He slips out of his makeshift bedroll and tiptoes over to the smallest bundle. Goku's mouth is agape, and he's snoring softly. The gold diadem glimmers in the moonlight, and Jack crouches down beside him, licking his lips in anticipation.

As he eases it off Goku's head, Jack's fingers begin to tingle, but not in a familiar way. It's as if the gold itself is emitting a strange surge of energy, and he pauses. Goku's ears seem to be slightly elongated and pointy, and did his hair reach below his shoulder earlier? A faint motion draws his eyes back to Goku's face and Jack starts in surprise; Goku's eyes are open and gleaming, but the gaze is unfriendly and practically feral.

On instinct, he quickly lowers the diadem back into place and leans back, watching in fascination as Goku's eyes close, his ears return to their original shape, and his hair recedes, shifting back to its short length. He stares at the sleeping boy, wondering if he'd merely imagined it. Goku's soft snuffles would seem to indicate he had.

A whiff of tobacco blows by in the light breeze, and he sits up, looking around for the source. From the silhouette seated on a nearby rock, he recognizes Gojyo, his hair like an insect's antennae atop his head.

He stands, softly clearing his throat, and tiptoes away from the three sleepers. The tip of Gojyo's cigarette flares as he inhales, and Jack walks over to stand beside him.

"Trust me. You don't want to mess with the Monkey," Gojyo says. "He'll fuck your shit up, and then when he's finished, Sanzo'll kick your ass for the inconvenience you caused him. Sanzo, not the Monkey," he clarifies. Then, "How did you know this road was here?"

Jack shrugs. "Lucky guess."

"Huh." Gojyo exhales a stream of smoke and stubs the cigarette out on the side of the rock. "You're a pretty lucky guy."

"I have a way with the ladies," Jack says, flicking his fingers absently. "But the life of a pirate? Is all about risk. That's what makes it exciting, mate. The trick is to know when it's time to run, savvy? And when it's time to run, it's best not to trust to luck alone. Best to have the fastest ship of them all." There's a chill in the air, and he shivers, though it's welcome after the oppressive heat of the day. The desert had given way to rocky foothills, and while the vegetation could hardly be called 'lush', it's a damn sight better than perpetual sand. What would make it an even better sight would be the wide beam of the Pearl, her black sails billowing in the wind.

He shakes his head and turns to Gojyo. "You'd make for a fair pirate. Ever thought about a life at sea?"

Gojyo laughs. "Too much work, and no hot chicks. Besides, I hate the water."

Jack scratches his head, fairly sure his companion isn't referring to warm poultry, but his opportunity to question is interrupted by a familiar "Kyuu!". Gojyo is on his feet in an instant, and Jack blinks as a long metal staff materializes in Gojyo's hand. The other three spring from their blankets, and the next few minutes are a blur for Jack.

They're surrounded by men who aren't men. Well, they look like men, except for their unusual ears—and teeth, Jacks sees, as one of them grins and brandishes a sword at him. He ducks the initial thrust and scuttles behind the boulder, looking for some kind a weapon. He spies a branch under a nearby tree, but before he can reach it, the man is attacking again, screaming, "Die you traitor, die!"

He easily dodges several more thrusts, dancing on the balls of his feet—this is familiar territory for him, after all, and this man … creature … bandit … is far less skilled than his usual adversaries. "Hey, mate, look at that!" Jack says and points emphatically over the bandit's shoulder. Before the bandit can even begin to turn his head, said head is flying—sans body— across the clearing.

Jack, his eyes wide, looks beyond the collapsing body in front of him and sees a sickle on a retracting chain soaring back to Gojyo's metal staff. Gojyo flicks his wrist and the chain and sickle fly off in another direction, wreaking havoc in their wake. Jack bends down, his eyes never leaving that magical staff, and frees the bandit's sword from his dead, still-warm hand. Except for his now-dead dance partner, the other bandits are pointedly ignoring him and appear to be clustered around Sanzo. Goku is running around felling more bandits with a long, sickle-less, gold staff that seems to grow and shrink before his eyes, and Hakkai is—

Jack rubs his eyes and blinks. Hakkai is discharging what appear to be balls of energy akin to St. Elmo's Fire from his bare hands. Quite a handy little trick to have at one's disposal, he thinks. Given time, he might actually grow to like his erstwhile companions. They're awfully handy to have around.

"Get the Sutra!" one of the bandits screams just before he falls to one of Sanzo's bullets.

Until this moment, Jack hasn't even wondered why they were being attacked. He'd simply reasoned that Sanzo's sunny disposition had afforded them any number of adversaries. He himself has had entire fleets chasing him at any given point in time, so he is no stranger to the concept. However, this particular company seems to be a religious sect of sorts. Perhaps that explains their unusual physiology—though he's sure he's seen those ears before.

The battle is over within minutes, though Goku is visibly crestfallen that there are no more enemies to fight. Crestfallen, but hungry, which Jack has slowly come to realize is a perpetual state of being for him. They ignore the dead bodies and converge around their makeshift campsite. Jack prowls through the carnage, inspecting the weapons for anything of value, but the swords he finds are simple and unornamented, scratches and nicks marring the rudimentary blades. Religious zealots do tend to be poor; it's their masters who garner all of the wealth. He does find one that is serviceable, if plain, and he buckles on the scabbard, sliding the blade home after wiping it on his sleeve.

"If you're done picking over the dead like a scavenger over there," Sanzo calls out. Jack turns and finds his companions loading their belongings into the carriage, Sanzo leaning casually against the side and smoking while the others do all the labor.

Jack scurries over, sidestepping a dead body. "Quite the excitement," he says. "Good show, lads. Impressive work, if I do say." He eyes the scripture hanging over Sanzo's shoulders, wondering at its value. The intricate design of the green border is striking, but whatever secrets the document holds are lost on Jack. Still, if those bandits were willing to sacrifice their lives for it—and a sacrifice it was, indeed—perhaps he should pay more attention to it. It could possibly fetch a high price on the black market.

And speaking of striking objects of value, he glances around wide-eyed, standing on his toes to look over Sanzo's shoulders, but Goku and Gojyo's magic weapons are nowhere to be found.

"Tch," Sanzo says and shakes his head in disgust. "Get in the goddamn jeep. You're a real pain in my ass, but at least you don't eat much."

Jack tries to pat him on the shoulder, but Sanzo glares at him. He wants to get a closer look at the scripture. He can see that it's made from papyrus, and obviously good quality for its apparent age, but it doesn't strike him as anything out of the ordinary. "Thank you kindly for the compliment, my friend. You're a real prince among men."

"I don't have any friends."

"Damn right about that," Gojyo says.

Jack ignores their banter as he hops into the carriage, his mind already devising new ways of getting his hands on some of their treasure. He really is starting to enjoy their company, though. Perhaps he'll feel a little guilty when he leaves them. But only a little bit.

..oOo..

By the time they find the inn in the late afternoon, Jack is considering revising his earlier opinion. They had finished the last of the food rations the night before, and Goku had spent the entire day describing just how hungry he was. Gojyo and Goku wouldn't stop squabbling because of it, and apparently Sanzo had run out of munitions for his pistol, because he had taken to smacking them both with a very large fan that he'd been hiding up his sleeve. Literally.

As Jack had been seated between them, he was the inadvertent victim of a number of blows, though considering the source, Jack is fairly certain at this point that Sanzo is never inadvertent about anything. Throughout the entire ride, Hakkai had said very little, and Jack wonders if those ear clips he wears have special powers that can block out noise. All of them are a bit strange, but Hakkai seems to be the strangest of all.

They walk into the inn and Sanzo procures rooms, getting a separate one for himself. When Gojyo complains about having to share, another argument erupts until Hakkai plucks a small gold rectangle from Sanzo's hand and sweet-talks the frazzled innkeeper until they each have their own rooms.

"Why do I have to pay for him," Sanzo grumbles, pointing at Jack while Hakkai signs the register.

Gojyo rolls his eyes. "Like you're the one actually paying for anything on this damn trip anyway. Cheap bastard."

Hakkai ignores Gojyo and Sanzo, and inquires about whether or not pets are welcome in the establishment while Jack studies the gold card up close. It isn't made of actual gold, alas, but it appears to have even greater value than solid bars of bullion many times its size. Hakkai takes the card from Jack before Jack can pocket it and thanks the innkeeper. He excuses himself to go back outside to their carriage, and when he returns, there's a huge white bird perched on his shoulder.

Jack cocks his head to the side, puzzled. "I see that when you were asking after pets, you weren't just making idle conversation. That's an impressive looking bird—"

"Kyuu!"

"—er, bat. Albino bat?"

"Kyuu!" the bat-bird says again and stiffens on Hakkai's shoulder, stretching its long, sinuous neck and flapping its wings indignantly. Hakkai turns and says something to it, stroking its neck. Jack realizes what he thought were feathers are actually scales.

Jack leans close to Gojyo. "I suppose it's been with us the whole time and is not in fact a new acquisition? Also, if I might inquire, its name wouldn't happen to be Jack, would it? Not that I'm suffering from an attack of narcissism or anything of the sort; I merely have a … how shall I phrase it? Oh, let's just say I have a somewhat unfortunate history with animals, and I don't think this one likes me much, seeing as I seem to have insulted it."

Hakkai answers before Gojyo. "This is Hakuryuu. He's a dragon."

Jack raises his eyebrows and takes a step backward. "Bit small for a dragon, isn't he? Not that there's anything wrong with that," he adds as Hakuryuu glares at him with his red eyes. "I like dragons. Dragons are much preferable to monkeys, at any rate."

"Can't fault that logic," Gojyo agrees.

"I just didn't expect one to be so … compact. He doesn't really breathe fire, does he?"

"Only if you antagonize him," Hakkai says, and ushers the group through a door and into the taproom.

The other patrons in the room stare openly as they enter, but soon turn back to their drinks and card games.

They sit at a table, and a pretty young serving girl brings them leather books, which Jack learns are menus. This doesn't actually help much, since he can't read the language it's written in, but it's not food that Jack wants.

He waves to capture the girl's attention. "Ah, my sweet lady, if you would be so kind. I could do with a spot of rum, and since I have no wish to add to your burdens, and for expediency's purposes of course, you can simply bring me the entire bottle. Though now I think on it, I shouldn't neglect my generous companions here, especially since they're the ones footing the bill—does the dragon drink too?—so why don't you just bring us all the rum you have in this fine establishment."

"Rum?" the young woman says, frowning. "I'm terribly sorry, sir, but we don't have any rum. Can I bring you a beer, or perhaps some wine?"

Jack stares at her in horror. "But why is the rum gone?"

"I'm sorry, sir," she says again. "We do have a nice plum wine, or Ang Jiu, which is a local favorite and a house specialty."

"But why is the rum gone?" Jack repeats. Maybe China is hell after all.

"Just bring us four beers and some juice for the Monkey," Gojyo says.

"Kyuu!"

"And some sake for Hakuryuu. He likes it very hot," Hakkai says.

"Sorry Hakuryuu," Gojyo says and turns to the serving girl, handing her back the menus. "And then tell the cook to make us two of everything."

"Three," Goku interjects. "I'm hun—"

"We know," Sanzo says, smacking him over the head with his fan. "Shut the hell up or else you get nothing, you stupid ape."

The girl nearly drops the menus. "Three of everything," she repeats, her voice faint.

"Extra spring rolls," Goku says.

Supper is quite the experience for Jack. He's never seen anyone consume so much food so quickly in one sitting, and considering the company he's kept, this is a feat in itself. He's also never shared a meal with a dragon.

The food is actually quite good, but he eats less out of hunger and more out of the habit of never knowing if and when his next meal might come. He edges his chair away from Goku and turns to Hakkai, who doesn't seem at all distressed. In fact, he looks more relaxed than Jack remembers seeing him. Gojyo is preoccupied with nicking food from Goku's plates when Goku isn't looking, and Sanzo is drinking steadily and smoking like a chimney stack. Hakuryuu had finished his meal and three bottles of sake, and had flown off to do whatever dragons did after eating.

The beer helps, but it's not enough to rouse him from his unexpected despair. He discovers that not only do they not have any rum, but not a single person in the inn has even heard of the drink before. The old barman, who claims to have traveled extensively in his youth, tells Jack that he's fairly sure that there is no rum in all of China.

Damn that bastard Jones!

"Made from sugarcane, you say?" the barman asks, scratching his head. "I can't say as I've ever come across it, no. But if you're looking for something that'll put hair on your chest and knock you on your ass for sure, I can help you with that," he adds, rubbing his hands together as though he's been presented with a challenge.

Jack looks at the man's meaty hands, which perfectly match his broad shoulders and barrel chest. "I'm not inclined to disbelieve that," Jack mutters. "Ah, what the hell. As they say, 'When in Rome …' Not that this is Rome, and I haven't exactly been to Rome before, but I'm certain the Romans would have rum."

The drink is a milky white and tastes like liquid fire that's been distilled in an old boot for fifty years. This explains quite a lot with regard to the Chinese pirates of Jack's acquaintance.

He wipes his mouth on his sleeve, and slams the glass on the table, blinking back tears. "Another round for everyone," he says, his voice raspy and raw.

Goku is too busy consuming everything within his reach, along with a few things that aren't, to care much about alcohol, but the others join him and actually seem to enjoy the drink. They enjoy it so much that Jack begins formulating a new plan, anticipating a profitable evening.

..oOo..

"Ah ha ha," Hakkai says, and at least the bastard has the decency to look contrite as he lays his cards on the table, displaying a royal flush this time.

Gojyo slaps Jack on the back, laughing as he downs another shot of whatever it is they're drinking now, and signals the serving girl for another round. "Told ya you shouldn't play against him."

Jack's brilliant plan isn't quite turning out as he expected.

Goku is sleeping in his chair at the table, his head leant back, snoring and completely oblivious to the boisterous crowd in the tavern. Gojyo is drunk, flirting shamelessly with the serving girl, and once Sanzo discovers that they have something called 'karaoke', he hasn't stopped singing. When another patron tries to take the black singing stick away, Sanzo starts chanting something, and the scripture on his shoulder transforms into a paper Gorgon, requiring Hakkai's swift intervention before the gentleman suffocates to death.

And speaking of Hakkai, Jack decides that the man is a menace. There's far too much going on behind that infallibly pleasant demeanor, and in all his years, he's never seen anyone consume that much alcohol with no outward sign of intoxication. Jack had won a substantial sum playing poker with the locals, and then Hakkai had joined them, and that was the end of Jack's good fortune.

Jack throws down his four-ace hand in disgust as Hakkai scoops up the pot with both arms. The other men at their table look even less happy, but the round of drinks Gojyo ordered appease them, averting any immediate violence.

Jack has played with the biggest swindlers from six continents and seven seas—he knows all of the tricks, and makes use of several himself—but for the life of him, he is unable to find any hint of deception on Hakkai's part.

"I'm terribly sorry," Hakkai says, "I'm just lucky at cards, I guess." He takes his winnings and stows them in a small leather pouch at his waist, and then excuses himself from the table, bowing to each of them. Gojyo tries to stand but sinks back onto his chair, his head bobbing before falling onto the table with a thunk.

Trying another tack, Jack turns to the other men and says, "Gentlemen, since it seems we've all been bested at cards, might I interest you in a game of dice?"

Unfortunately, he has no takers. Not out of lack of interest, but rather due to lack of finances. Hakkai has cleaned them all out. Jack slides his chair over next to Gojyo and deftly rummages through his pockets, but the only effects Gojyo has on his person are his cigarettes. Even the magic fire canister is missing. He pats Gojyo on the back, straightening the pockets he mussed. He's only vaguely disappointed because Gojyo is his favorite of the four. He turns around, looking around for the rest of the party.

Hakkai is trying to lure Sanzo away from his singing stick with little success. Goku is awake but yawning, and Hakkai calls him over. The two of them half-drag, half-carry Sanzo out of the inn, and Hakkai returns moments later, walking over to where Jack is sitting beside an unconscious Gojyo.

"Will you be turning in now, Captain Sparrow?" Hakkai has never addressed Jack by his first name.

"That sounds like a smashing idea," Jack says, swaying a bit as he tries to rise from his seat. He gets to his feet and stumbles into Hakkai, steadying himself by leaning on the back of Gojyo's chair. "Sorry, mate. Least I'm not as far gone as old Red here."

"Yes. He always thinks he's capable of drinking more than he actually can." Hakkai shakes his head and leans down, threading his arm beneath Gojyo's shoulder and around his back. "Up you go."

Jack fumbles a bit, trying to help Hakkai lift Gojyo by getting his own shoulder beneath Gojyo's right arm. Gojyo is a dead weight, and Jack is surprised by how heavy he is. "He's a good man," Jack says. "Heavy though."

"I can manage by myself," Hakkai says, but Jack waves his arm expansively and almost falls over from the momentum.

"No, no. I've got it."

Hakkai eyes him dubiously but doesn't comment further. Maneuvering up the narrow stairs takes some doing, but they manage with only minimal spectacle, mostly on Jack's part. After unceremoniously dumping Gojyo onto the bed in his room, he bids Hakkai good night.

"Sanzo likes to get on the road early," Hakkai warns him. "It's also likely he'll not be in the best of moods."

"I shall endeavor not to provoke him any more than necessary," Jack says. "Until tomorrow, then, I shall bid you a good night, and thank you for a most illuminating evening."

"Good night, Captain Sparrow," Hakkai says, and closes the door to his room.

Jack stumbles down the hall to his own room and opens the door, checking behind him to make sure the corridor is empty. He closes the door without entering and tiptoes back down the stairs, all semblance of drunkenness now absent. He pats the inside pocket of his waistcoat, grinning to himself as he slips outside and around the building to where the carriage is parked.

In the end, he's given up on the two gold crowns, the sutra scripture, the magically appearing and disappearing weapons, even the magic fire canisters. Instead, he's pilfered the not-really-gold card because it's much more compact to carry, and ultimately, it is the only treasure Jack is able to get his hands on.

Well, maybe not the only treasure.

The alley is empty, and after making sure he's alone, he climbs into the front seat of the carriage. He's been watching Hakkai during their travels, and he's pretty sure he can manage to steer it by himself. The problem is that he doesn't know how to start the engine. The carriage engine merely started as soon as Hakkai shifted the lever on the floor to his left. However, when Jack tries, the carriage remains still and silent, and the lever refuses to budge.

He gets out and walks around the front, looking for some kind of latch to open the metal casing. He feels around in the dark, running his hands deftly over the smooth metal surface, but finds nothing.

He climbs back into the driver's seat, pushes the floor pedal, and jerks roughly at the immoveable lever.

"Kyuu!"

He recognizes the sharp cry of the dragon bird and looks up, searching the sky for it when he senses the carriage shifting around him. There is a bright flash of light, and he feels himself falling. He blinks away the afterimages, rubbing his sore arse as he finds himself sitting alone on the dusty ground. The carriage has vanished and the white dragon bird is diving at him, screeching.

"Kyuu!"

"Hakuryuu doesn't take kindly to strangers trying to drive him, Captain Sparrow," Hakkai says, emerging from the shadows of the inn. He holds out his hand, palm-up. "I'll also take the credit card, if you please."

Jack stares at Hakkai, then shifts his gaze to the dragon, who flies to Hakkai and perches on his shoulder, before looking back to Hakkai's face. He doesn't look angry, and his voice, as always, is unfailingly polite, but Jack remembers the St. Elmo's Fire erupting from his smooth, empty palm.

He stands up and brushes off the back of his breeches, straightens his shirt and waistcoat, and saunters over to Hakkai. He removes the gold card from his pocket and shrugs his shoulders, cocking his head.

"I know you're probably thinking that I was trying to steal your treasure, and you would be absolutely correct in that presumption; however, if we take a moment to look at it from a different perspective, I'm sure we can find some way to come to an accommodation, savvy? You don't happen to be carrying a pair of handcuffs, would you?" Jack asks, peering around Hakkai's shoulder, and then stepping back quickly as Hakuryuu sticks out his long neck, fangs bared. "No, I don't suppose you'd need those, would you.

"Well," Jack continues, placing the gold card on Hakkai's upturned palm and feigning a yawn while backing away slowly, "I think that's my cue to turn in. I thank you for the hospitality, and for not instructing your wee beastie to eat me, unlike a previous acquaintance of mine. I can assure you, it's not a very pleasant experience—not that I'm suggesting you might ever find yourself in a similar predicament. I wish you the most pleasant of dreams, my friend," he says, and bows with a sweep of his arm, adding, "This is the day you will always remember as the day you almost—"

"Kyuu!" Hakaryuu cries and takes flight, circling above Jack's head.

"—caught Captain Jack Sparrow," Jack finishes as he runs back to the inn ahead of the flying menace, slamming the door behind him. Upon entering his room, he immediately locks the door, closes the window, and draws the curtains. It would probably be smarter to leave the inn altogether, but the room is paid for, and it would be a shame to forego the comfort of a proper bed. While the possibility of his erstwhile companions seeking revenge is a thought at the forefront of his mind, he's more concerned about the very angry beastie swooping around outside his window. Considering his history, he prefers to take his chances with men, no matter how formidable their weapons might be.

When he wakes the next morning after a long, mostly-sleepless night, his four companions and their dragon carriage are gone. The innkeeper kindly provides him with breakfast and a pint of ale, and he sits at a table, trying to figure out a new course of action. Being stranded in a town is fathoms better than being stranded in a desert, but it doesn't erase the fact that he's still stranded.

He barely notices when two local men enter the bar, but when he overhears the word 'boat', his ears prick up.

"I could scarce believe it myself, Shen. An honest to goodness boat just sittin' there in a spot that ain't seen water in a million years."

Jack pushes back his chair and stands up abruptly. A boat?

"T'wasn't a boat. T'was a ship," the man's companion says.

"Boat, ship, what's the difference? The point is it shouldn't be there, now, should it?"

He saunters over to the two newcomers, winking at the barman as he slings his arms around their shoulders.

"Gentlemen, I couldn't help but overhear your quandary. I happen to be an expert in both boats and ships, and I'd be more than pleased to assist you in your determination. By the by, she wouldn't happen to be a rather large boat—or ship, if you will—with a wide beam, black with three masts and black sails, would she?"

The two men stare at him with wide eyes and Jack squeezes their shoulders in a friendly grip. "You don't have any unusual pets, do you? Dragons? Monkeys? No? Music to my ears. Barman," Jack says, "ale for my new friends."

Perhaps things are looking up after all.