Author's Note: I haven't written any fanfiction for quite some time, but I was incredibly inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean, seeing as how I've wanted to be a pirate since the age of 6. I'm still doing research, and I'm still learning… so if I have historical details wrong, please inform me. It is devastatingly important to me that Jack and Will be appropriately represented and "in character" at all times, and I hope that I have done a reasonable job in making them so. This story will be updated approximately once or twice a week at least, and please do review if you like it. Constructive criticism is welcomed.

Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, or The Black Pearl. I'd love to have all three, but they belong respectively to Disney.

It was a dark, humid night on the noisy island of Tortuga. The kind of night, in fact, that one would normally find Captain Jack Sparrow pitifully drunk and in the arms of a random "lady of the night" at the nearest pub. This, however, was not the case. Jack Sparrow remained on his newly recovered ship, The Black Pearl, as the rest of the crew took their leave, laughing and singing obnoxiously about fine women and too much rum. Jack watched them go, but made no move to join in their antics. He had only just gotten used to being captain again… he had only just gotten used to really having the wheel of The Black Pearl back under his weathered hands.

"Captain, what work shall I attend to?" The voice belonged unmistakably to AnaMaria, and Jack started slightly at the intrusion into his thoughts, turning unsteadily at the wheel to face her. He made a show of thinking about her question for a few moments before responding.

"I suppose she's in good enough order for the time, luv," Jack replied, looking over AnaMaria's shoulder to observe the overall condition of his precious ship. "Why don't ye join the crew, have a few drinks." A sidelong glance. "I can manage here all by me onesies."

AnaMaria nodded once, sparing Jack an odd glance, and then turned on her heel and left. Jack remained still for several minutes, running his hands over the wheel of the ship before an expression of uneasy concentration came over his features, and he shook his head as if trying to clear it. "Too much thinking," he murmured to no one in particular. "I've got to get bloody well drunk."

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"Yo ho, and all that… really bad eggs… drink up-" Jack Sparrow abruptly cut himself off from his drunken song by raising a fat bottle of rum to his lips, only to miss them by several inches and spill a great deal of his precious drink onto the deck of the ship. Jack's kohl-lined eyes widened as he surveyed the mess, his movements slow and unsteady. "Bloody waste, that is…" he murmured, and then snapped his head up to survey the deck with slightly glazed eyes. "Kindly fetch your Captain another bottle, luv!"

If anyone had been standing nearby, they undoubtedly would have thought that Jack was insane. However, not a soul could be seen or heard on the docks, and therefore Jack's delirious ramblings continued unnoticed. The Captain seemed to regain some of his senses after he received no answer, and gripped the ship's railing for support to raise himself from the ground, having no memory of how he ever had gotten there to begin with.

Stumbling and staggering, Jack made his way down the stairs to the main deck, where he once again plopped unceremoniously onto the hard wood panels, rolling the now empty bottle of rum between his forefingers. "You're all mine, luv…" He whispered, staring up intensely at the quarterdeck of the Black Pearl. "Mine as ye were from the beginning." He ran a calloused finger along the edge of the railing beside him with uncharacteristic gentleness. "They may think me mad, but I know, luv… nothing could be better than this. Freedom. Freedom again, and…"

Jack stopped suddenly, brows furrowing as he struggled into an upright position and listened carefully over the muted song of the waves. It was hard for him to register anything in his half-conscious state, but it seemed that the sound of unknown footsteps was echoing in the night, becoming louder, as though someone or something was on the docks. 'No,' he corrected himself silently. 'On my ship!'