Things Fall Apart

01 prologue

Disclaimer: PotC isn't mine. ;\

Author's Note: Hullo darlings, I'm back! Told ya I was goin' ta do the sequel immediately. Anywho, to those of you who don't know, this is sequel to my other fic "One More Taste of Freedom", so you should go back and read that first. You really don't have to, considering I won't pull many things from it that you'll need to know, but it'd be cool if you did, anyway. The only thing that is different from the canon of the movie, is that Jack and Elizabeth are together, if you want the how's and why the hell's, like I said, other story. Savvy? This chapter's just a prologue type of thing, settin' the stage, so its not uber long. The next one's longer. Hope you enjoy!

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The noose was tighter than he remembered, so tight that the rope threatened to cut into skin. Hands were bound behind his back, and he was only vaguely aware of blood dripping down his face from a rather nasty looking cut on his brow. Eyes were kept down, as if ashamed to look into the crowd, and he mentally noted that the floorboards of the scaffold were in desperate need of repairs. If he managed another daring escape, he'd let the Commodore know.

Yes, he definitely in Port Royal. The scenery hadn't changed a bit, nor had the hospitality.

Suddenly he felt a presence on either side, and looked up, finally. To his right was another unlucky man with a noose, a fellow pirate, and old friend, John Rackham: also known as Calico Jack. But, sometimes it was easier to call him John than to get confused, while drunk, trying to figure out who was who. To his left was a man of legend, a man he'd only shared a few drinks with. Edward Teach. Blackbeard, the most notorious pirate in the world. It looked as thought there would be a triple hanging.

Kohl lined eyes reluctantly scanned the crowd, until they fell on one that was all too familiar. Elizabeth Swann stood just in front of the scaffold, weeping silently. It was only after a few seconds of studying her that he realized she too was bound, and probably next in line for the gallows. Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat he searched the sea of faces again.

Will Turner stood there, amongst the sneering townspeople, arms folded across his chest. The smile he wore was twisted, one of revenge. The boy seemed content, almost happy, in knowing that man who had stolen the love of his life, as well as the woman who'd broken his heart, would die that day.

The blacksmith's twisted smile was rivaled only by that of Commodore Norrington. The naval officer stood next to the executioner, waiting to give the order. He seemed thrilled about it.

He nodded.

The hooded man grasped the lever.

All three victims gasped in the second that they were air born.

In the second before the rope caught.

Jack Sparrow shot upright in his bed, sucking air down as if he'd been deprived for an eternity. His eyes darted around the room desperately for signs that it had all been a dream, settling only when he felt the gentle rocking of the Pearl, and the comforting warmth of another body under the blanket. Releasing the death grip that he held on the sheets, Jack smiled down at Elizabeth and placed a kiss on her forehead, careful not to wake her.

It was that damned dream again. No, not a dream, a nightmare. The images had been haunting him for almost a month now, each night there was a different guest list. Thomas Tew, Stede Bonnet, Bartholomew Roberts. But that's all that changed. The reality of the rope around his neck and the floor falling from under him remained the same. But it was just a dream, right?

Searching the floor for his usual attire, Jack slipped on his breeches and shirt, followed by his boots, and coat. He straightened the dirty red bandana that was permanently attached to his head, before going topside. There was no way he'd be able to get anymore sleep, for fear of a repeat performance. Joshamee Gibbs stood at the helm, as he usually did once Jack turned in for the night.

"Mornin'," Gibbs said, "S'a bit chilly out `ere, eh?"

It was still dark out, but technically morning, Jack nodded.

"I suppose," He said thoughtfully, "Looks like there may be a storm comin'."

"Aye."

Jack always knew these things, so there was no sense in arguing with him. A coming storm would explain the breeze and sudden drop in temperature. Yes, the Caribbean is a tropical zone, but even the tropics can get a bit nippy sometimes.

Judging by the earliness of the hour, as compared to how late Jack had gone to bed, and the regular occurrence of this situation, Gibbs deduced that the Captain wasn't sleeping. It was also obvious, to the entire crew, that something was wrong. Though no one had the courage to call Jack on it. No one but his first mate. Being that Gibbs had a lot of years on Jack, he felt obligated to impart wisdom, and lend an ear, when needed.

"Somethin' botherin' ya, Cap'n?" He asked.

Jack looked thoughtful for a moment, as if he was going to give a real answer, but finally shook his head.

"Nothin's wrong." He said, avoiding the subject, "Now if you'll step aside?"

"Aye, sir." Gibbs moved and let Jack take his rightful place at the wheel.

Lovingly running his hand over the rough wood, Jack smiled, nightmares momentarily forgotten. All was right with the world. After a few seconds of reverie, he finally noticed that Gibbs was still there, staring.

"Eh." He shifted uncomfortably, "Y'can retire now, if you're so inclined, mate."

It sounded more like a suggestion, a request even. Jack wanted to be alone, with nothing but the horizon and his thoughts. The older man nodded and disappeared below, leaving Sparrow to think. He grasped the wheel, and smiled, speaking reassuringly to himself.

"No, no, nothin' s'wrong at all."

Miles away in Port Royal, Commodore Norrington was just beginning his day. It'd been almost six months since he'd sent the Evanescent after Jack Sparrow, and almost a year since he'd been made a fool. He'd shown mercy to a known criminal, and now Elizabeth was gone. Finding the fastest ship in the Caribbean, when it doesn't want to be found, is hard enough, even without the war he had on his hands.

The order had come directly from the King of England. Rampant piracy in the Caribbean was killing their economy, and His Majesty didn't feel that there was enough anti pirate activity to counter their attacks. So he was sending more ships, and entire fleet, in fact, as well as skilled pirate hunters to Captain them. Some of them, it was rumored, had even been pirates themselves, but they'd acquired privateering commissions and were now being used to hunt old friends.

Norrington found all this very ironic, of course, but it was no matter to him. Sparrow was all he cared about, and when the pirate showed his face again, he'd be made the first example of what happens to men who think they are above the law.