Freedom Is In the Eye Of the Beholder --by StillLife

Jack/Elizabeth

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Pirates of the Caribbean, but I check the classifieds every single day for Johnny Depp. Heheh.

Author's Notes: This is going to be a strict romance of the happiest sort. Jack and Elizabeth's relationship throughout the movie, starting with Jack's capture in Port Royal. The first few chapters are nothing but a recap of the movie, but I felt it necessary to define Jack a bit further before writing on my own. Things will be a bit different, but it's all just leading up to my own story, so bear with me, you PotC perfectos. LoL.

Chapter One - Meetings

Jack Sparrow was not a happy man. Things had not been going his way for several months now, and his good humour was just beginning to wear thin. First, he had lost his ship to Toredo worms, a common occurance in the warm waters of the Caribbean. The things thrived in the temperate climate, multiplying at an alarming rate during the more arid months of July and eating away at the ships' timbers. Jack's boat had, in the end, quite simply rotted away beneath his feet, the tunnel-laden wood holding its weight in water.

Despite that, he had still managed to reach Port Royal in relatively good spirits. He still had his hat, and that was good enough for him. In fact, a bit of investigation had revealed a perfectly good ship nearby just *begging* to be borrowed. He went over to inspect the thing, his spirits rising with each step.

Giving those two dimwitted excuses for guards the slip had been easy enough, and before he knew it he was on the deck of the Interceptor, fastest ship in the Caribbean. His day was already looking up.

And then that girl had ruined everything. Falling right out of the sky from who knows where, she had miraculously missed the rocks and sank like a stone to the bottom of the ocean where, Jack presumed, she would be making busy drowning.

"Are you going to be saving her, then," he'd asked the bewildered guards.

"I can't swim!"

Turn to the other gentleman expectantly. No help there.

"Pearls of her majesty's finest, you are. Do *not* lose these."

His effects were quickly dispensed into the shaking hands of the Royal Guards and he dove into the warm waters of the Caribbean.

She'd sunk straight to the bottom, her heavy dress acting like a lead weight. Jack quickly realized this and unceremoniously ripped the offending garment from her limp body. Together they'd bobbed to the surface, only one of them gasping for breath. He hauled her up on the dock and checked over her still body.

"Not breathing...!"

Jack pulled out a wicked-looking knife and reached into the girl's petticoats, slitting the corset that held her lungs prisoner. It had fallen away into his hands and she'd begun gasping greedily for breath. Jack sat back onto his heels with a small sigh of relief just as the commodore arrived, flanked by a dozen of Her Majesty's finest.

Jack should have realized the commodore would suspect him of piracy, but he was taken quite by surprise when the man had pulled his sleeve back, revealing the carvings and tattoos in his arm. The sparrow flying over the horizon had been a tipoff, as had his name in that beautifully curling script just below it, but the real clincher had been the "P" etched deeply into his forearm.

"Had a little run-in with the East India Trading Company?"

Jack only grinned back at him as his fingers ran over the puckered scar tissue. He'd almost got away with that one, too, he remembered. A small chuckle escaped him.

"I'm glad you find the humour in this situation, Mr. Sparrow. However, I assure you things will be put in their right perspective from the gallows."

This hadn't put Jack off in the slightest, even when they'd placed the cold steel chains over his wrists. He always had a way out of things, and this was no exception. The girl, Elizabeth, had pleaded for his life, but it was useless. He was a pirate, and that was the end of it. Fortunately, Jack didn't need her help to get himself out of this one. ....Then again....

She'd worked perfectly as a bargaining chip. Even had the decency to put his effects back in their various rightful places, albeit a tad more rough around his goods than he would have preferred. He didn't mind; she was a beautiful thing.

"I want you all t' be remembrin' this as the day ye almost captured Jack Sparrow," he'd said in that mischievious air of his, and then he was off.

Pretty damn near escaped too, if it hadn't been for that hornswagglin' blacksmith. His apprentice had been doing pretty well at besting him with his sword; they'd been going at it for quite some time when the man had come up behind him and smashed his brains out his ears with that rum bottle. Dirty blighter...

And now here he was, sharing a cell with naught but his own thoughts and a pot to piss in. Letting out an insufferable sigh, he turned towards the cell door.

"Gents," he began, shifting his weight onto one hip, resulting in a somewhat surreptitious appearance. "I was wondrin' if ye might be sparin' ol' Cap'n Jack sommat to drink, ay?"

The soldiers ignored him, just like they had the last time he'd asked. He sent a scowl in their general direction.

"Bloody brigands, not even the polities to quench a man's thirst, is that it? Fine."

He flopped down into the crackly straw with a thump, limbs splayed out in all directions. He had to think of something to do before he went mad with boredom....

The mates in the cell next to him were naught but local felons, their mean little eyes constantly on the lookout for an escape. He didn't even bother talking to them, his spirits sinking with each passing second. Of course, the man would never let it show. He'd sooner hang the jib over something serious; this was merely a discomfort. He would escape, sooner or later.

As it was, things seemed to be leaning towards later. The Black Pearl had attacked that night, creating general mayhem and destruction. From his vantage point he could see what went on fairly well despite the darkness. It appeared as though the entire town was aflame, people running and shouting like mad. Dying too, it seemed. How depressing. He suddenly wanted out of this place with a passion.

A cannonball had come blasting through the wall of the prison, sending chunks of stone and mortar in all directions. After the dust had settled Jack had percieved a gaping hole in the wall of the next cell, from which his 'mates' had promptly exited. If the thing had come just a bit farther in his direction... But he was left with a crack just barely too small for his head to fit through. Of all the rotten luck...

Fortunately he had proven a desireable asset to Mister Turner, and after an impressive show of ingenuity on his part they were off. Jack was instantly in command again, heading towards the port with a determined air.

There it was, the Interceptor. Sitting back on his heels, Jack thought for a second. Bootstrap's son this lad may be, he still needed to know this was not going to be a stroll through the park.

"How far would you go for this lass?"

"I would die for her," he'd said quickly.

Too rash, this boy. That would prove a problem later on. Nonetheless, Jack was going to need him in the long run.

"Oh good," he'd replied.

Stealing the ship had been ridiculously easy, however Jack had expected nothing but. After all, this *was* the Royal Guard. Before long they were maneuvering the vessel out to sea, a smile gracing Jack's lips. Things were working out perfectly.

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