Disclaimer: Disney owns everything.

A/N (2013) - Timeline: PRESENT, Post-AWE. Jack left Tortuga (without Gibbs) in search of an old acquaintance in Nassau.

The Air (3): Acquaintance

Nassau was a strange port. Nothing could truly destroy it– neither cannon fire, nor natural disasters. It always rose from its ashes, shaping itself into a new form with a new name. Jack came to a halt on the sandy beach and brought an open palm to his brow, attempting to shield his eyes from the intense sunlight as he squinted into the distance.

The harbour was visible. Sailors and traders paced the area, loading and unloading goods onto their ships and boats. Their cries and shouts mingled with those of the bleating livestock and the unmistakably laughter of children somewhere in the distance.

The trees rustled gently in the warm Caribbean breeze. Nearby, some fishermen were setting out to sea, going about their usual jobs – fixing the nets, mending the sails, tightening the knots. Some had returned, unloading the day's catch into baskets that were carried by their daughters or wives.

Jack frowned and scrunched his nose slightly as he scanned the panorama for a familiar figure. There wasn't one.

Good news.

Nassau and Jack went way back– but encouraging the residents to reminisce about that was neither necessary, nor beneficial. Nevertheless, Captain Jack Sparrow smiled his golden smile and confidently set off into the direction of the market place.

Jack should have seen it coming, but he stood still, head turned to the side and eyes squeezed shut as he brought a palm to ease the sting radiating from his left cheek.

"And DON'T tell me you didn't deserve that!"

There was a scuffling noise followed by a quiet half-cry, before dead weight was thrown upon him, trapping his arm awkwardly against his face, and nearly throwing him off-balance. It took a moment for Jack to interpret the scenario, and another moment before a smile broke across his face and his free arm slipped expertly around the girl's waist. She immediately disengaged him from the embrace and stepped back, as though suddenly aware of their close proximity. A few passersby threw amused glances in their direction, but quickly moved on to the next stalls in the market.

"Anamaria," Jack announced.

She narrowed her eyes.

"You." She took a small step towards him and jabbed his chest with one sharp finger. "You come back here months and months and months after you leave me here to... to..." she looked around frantically, "'deliver' a letter, to a bloody address that doesn't bloody exist in the whole of bloody Nassau, while you sailed away with the Pearl?" she exclaimed. Jack held out his hands in a pacifying gesture.

"Actually..." But Ana's fury was not to be tamed with such simplicity.

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to run through every street, every tavern, every whorehouse in this bloody place, looking for bloody 'Captain Fulham' who is – did I happen to mention – bloody nonexistent," she fumed, "You–" She gritted her teeth and breathed heavily. The angry fire dancing in her eyes caused Jack to recoil slightly. "You– OH– Damn you, Jack Sparrow; I ought to drown you and your bloody ship! You're–" Jack saw the opportune moment.

"I'm terribly sorry, darlin', but someone's already beaten you to that."

Ana ceased her rant abruptly, and raised an eyebrow.

"What?" she asked in a low disbelieving whisper. A pause. Jack regretted his words immediately – she obviously wasn't thinking along the same lines...

"YOU LOST HER AGAIN?" she shrieked. A few heads turned in their directions, some of the nearby vendors watching with mild amusement. Jack opened his mouth wide as if to blurt into full explanation, but then pursed it again, deciding that there was far too much to be said in order to update Ana completely. Unfortunately, she took his lack of answer as an affirmative reply. SMACK!

Jack was not ready for that one either.

Though Ana was watching him sceptically, Jack continued outlining the final battle scene with much enthusiasm, punctuating it with flamboyant hand gestures, sieving out any... irrelevant information.

And occasionally adding some.

"Hold up there. You want me to believe that you remained on the Pearl." She hitched an eyebrow. "Without a row or a tantrum."

"That'll be the," – he did an exaggerated finger count – "fifth time you asked me that in the last turn of the hourglass, love."

She wasn't convinced. "I can believe Barbossa returning from the dead; I can believe Tia Dalma being Calypso; I can even believe that you were swallowed by a great big mythological monster, but how can I possibly believe that you, of all people, selflessly allowed the beast to drag you down with the Pearl, Jack Sparrow?"

"Captain," he corrected automatically, rolling his eyes. Then seeing the fire spark in Ana's eyes, he hastily altered his sentence; attempting to diminish another one of Ana's emotional explosions could prove near-fatal. "... goes down with the ship."

She seemed to detect his judgement and grinned triumphantly. "Do you seriously think living in Nassau has desiccated my brain... Jack Sparrow?"

Jack narrowed his eyes momentarily, assessing her impertinence and smiled daringly, ready to cajole. "Come now, darlin', it can't have been that bad."

Ana looked down at her toes, deliberately digging them further into the sand. "It was," she replied quietly.

Jack's smile faltered, "Look, it's not so easy when the crew demands –"

"He came back."

The words went dry on his tongue as he stopped mid-speech, his mouth agape.

The coast of Nassau was visible now. The final rays of sunlight kissed the lamp-lit docks, causing them to flicker like overhead stars in the darkening sky. The ebony vessel glissaded towards the harbour, dancing serenely in time to the lull of the gentle waves beneath her hull. Despite the near-nonexistent wind, she glided more smoothly and quickly than usual, causing her captain to cast a proud but puzzled glance at her billowing dark sails.

He stood on the forecastle deck, breathing in the ocean air, as the fingers of one hand brushed absentmindedly over the head of his animal companion. The sea smelt different today. Today the salty spray of the ocean did not caress his roughened cheeks with the charm and smoothness that signified freedom; instead, it called like the woeful gulls, as though it were spelling defeat.

"He's here."

Barbossa knew.