Chapter Four: A Change in the Winds

Disclaimer: I do now own any of these characters

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Jack awoke to the pungent smell of burning embers and sand. The soft ocean breeze wafted the dying fire's smoke towards him and as he opened his eyes wide, they burned and watered. The softening night sky was being diffused into an array of pale pinks and oranges. The sun's eager flames seared through the darkness and burst from the ocean's horizon as the stars struggled to burn brighter and overcome the foe of daytime, only to fall back weakly to the dominant rising.

The air was cool and his skin prickled with goosebumps as the dying embers gave little heat. However, he felt a great warmth from his nude right shoulder. Almost surprised, he looked down to see a head of tousled brown hair resting heavily on his shoulder. He eyed the sight carefully and uneasily until he clearly remembered what had led them to that position.

And I thought it was only in Tortuga that a man would never feel unwanted, he thought on impulse and almost jerked back as those words echoed in his head. The famous Captain Jack Sparrow fancying a night's impulse as more than an impulse, as more than a fulfillment?

He shuddered at the thought. His heart raced and his mind whirred with panicked thoughts.

This can't be happening, he thought harshly, I've never dabbled in these waters!

The images of the night flooded him at once. Her impressive drinking of the hard rum. Her flushed cheeks that only illuminated her unruly emotions. Her wry grin as she retold the story of his escape ( a rather good one, he must admit). Her hand brushing against his. Her brown hair turned golden by the firelight. Her tender lips grazing his as first, almost tentatively. The not so tentative waltz of tongue and lip that proceeded. Her soft skin. The taste of her skin, salty and clean. How she had whispered his name in almost a sing-song way.

Jack shuddered and quickly changed train of thought before he lost himself again in the blossoming beauty that now was Elizabeth Swann.

His attention was caught by the lazy sun that struggled to overcome the horizon. The soft sound of waves lulled him to a daydream state and he felt a flutter of bliss as he took in the moment.

Here I am, he thought with a nostalgic air. Captain Jack Sparrow lying on a Caribbean beach, looking at the sunrise, listening to the waves and feeling utterly captivated by the soft movements of the woman next t'me. Your bloody losing it, ol' Jack. Remember the days when a woman's kiss was just a fulfillment? Remember the days when the ocean just the background noise with grunts, orders, and cheering pirates? Bloody losing it, savvy?

It had been a long time since Jack had ever stopped to breath. He called the sea his home, of course. He would never feel complete without it. However, it had become such a normal everyday setting that he had forgotten the rare sense of serenity that washed over a first-time sailor as the waves did the sand.

When was the last time I breathed just to breath, he asked himself. He took in a long breath of air until his lungs hurt with the capacity overload and then, after holding the air for a few seconds, he let it sail out of his partly opened lips. His body deflated and he suddenly became more aware of the sand scratching his unclothed back. The tranquil reflection of air and sea, had however, awakened his first mate and she yawned and groaned as she rolled off his shoulder and hit the beach unceremoniously. She burst up with a start, clearly forgetting why she was not nestled in a white down comforter and rather, dry, shifting sand.

Jack propped his head up with his arms and watched as she took in all the pieces of why, who, where, and when that concerned her. She turned to him, after a few awakening gasps and surprises and her long eyelashes batted the sleep from her eyes.

"Captain Sparrow," she said, groggily.

"The only," he replied with a wicked grin.

"I dare say we had a long night," she mused with those flushing cheeks again as she worked with her clothing claspings. Jack looked suddenly to his left and saw his shirt lying in a damp bunch, the sea just beginning to muster the energy to send it's waves further up the beach.

"I dare say we did, love," he agreed, sitting up. He took hold of his hair and began to shake furiously. A shower of sand fell from the tangle black and scarf. Buttoning his pants, he crawled toward his shirt. Taking it in his hand, he took a quick smell of it and was pleased to smell the ocean and not himself. Shaking the sand from the white folds, he flung it on.

Small feet appeared in his downward vision and he glanced up quickly, though cursed as he did, for the sun slashed at his unshaded eyes. He shaded his vision, now able to see past Elizabeth's kneecaps and dress's end. However, he wished he had not done that either. He felt an odd turn of stomach as he took in the look of utter distress and worry that creased her brow and forced the edges of her lips downward.

"What's the matter, love," he asked cautiously, "missing the rum already?" Not even his toothy grin and quick turn of head could send a flicker of amusement over her features.

"Do you think what we did was wrong, Jack," Elizabeth asked in a toneless voice.

Why is it that they keep forgettin' I'm a pirate, he thought bewildered to himself. First Will almost binding him to a fair fight now Elizabeth asking if a roll in the sand was a sin.

Of course, as he blinked up at Elizabeth's pained eyes, he found the thousands of witty responses and quips fade from his mind.

"Well, depends how much you think dear William a pansy," he muttered with a click of his tongue, stretching his hand up to her. She took a weak hold of it and pulled him up. Now, Jack stared slightly down at the viciously contemplating woman and waited for her answer.

Talk about going soft, he thought mournfully. Talking of matters of the heart and eagerly awaiting a woman's answer to a question about one- a question that he, himself, brought up!

Best be gettin' off this bloody island, he thought with a gulp.

"I just don't know anymore," Elizabeth finally cried to herself and turned away from Jack. She began to pace around the dying fire. Jack shrugged and threw a couple of palm branches onto the weakened embers. They burst up again as the gingerly licked at the new victims.

"You think about that for a bit, then ay? And I'll go romp aroun' and try to call some sea turtles to the shore so we can start figuring out how to get off this here Isle O' Rum. Savvy?" He watched as she spun around and smiled at him. The soft tip of lips brought her cheeks up and Jack raised an eyebrow as he was hit with how beautiful she was again.

"Thank you, Jack," she said, and began to poke a stick into the fire.

"'Right then," he said, beginning to walk off the beach and into the sparse forest of palm. "Be sure to yell if you see any of the turtles. They're already late!" he called back to her, not turning his head. He snuck a soft smile as her soft laughter bubbled up from the fireside and diffused into the crashing waves.

Jack wandered aimlessly through the palm forest and came out on the other side of the island, facing more beach and more water. He staggered along the beach, kicking up as much sand as he could. His feet soon burned from the harsh coals of sand and he fled to the lapping waves. Water sprayed up and cooled his body.

However, as much as Jack tired to concentrate on thinking of a way out, as much as he pushed himself to listen to the symphonic rhythm of the seashore his thoughts kept fleeing his buzzing mind. Elizabeth.

"What a mess you are, Captain Jack Sparrow," he cried aloud to himself, kicking even more water up. A spray of water hit his face and he automatically parted his lips and tasted the salt. Bitter, yet home.

And what was home? Was home the ever-moving ocean? Yes, of course. Yet, home was such a lonely place. He had his crew, of course. They were his brothers, his partners in crime and true friends (despite whatever that blasted code!). Though even brothers weren't worth as much as someone else to share that home with.

AnnaMaria had been the closest womanly "friend he had ever had. Bloody screwed that up, now didn't I, he questioned himself. He had met Anna after a brief visit to Tortuga. She was gorgeous, no doubt. Gorgeous and dangerous- the makings of a true pirate. Though Jack had to be Jack. By borrowing her ship, unbeknownst to her of course, he had severed all ties between them. Anna had only come to get another ship, just as Jack had done a year ago. A double-edged blade, no doubt.

And what now?

"No ship, no way out, no crew," he paused mid-rant, "and no woman."

Elizabeth was already attached to Will. That much was obvious. The horror on her face as she struggled with tears when they first walked onto the beach together blossomed in his mind. The side-long glance she had shared with Will as she walked the plank. Tears fell that time.

Even after last night, Jack knew it was impossible for her to want anything but a sea-turtle charter off the island and back into the arms of her lover. She had been slightly intoxicated, too boot. Not even rum could replace the gash she had received. That being her broken heart.

"Did I mention she's a governor's daughter," he called out to the sea. "Give ol' daddy a heart-attack if he were to know," he laughed bitterly.

"Probably would think the blacksmith a worthy suitor after flirtations with a pirate!"

Not that it would matter if he was alive to Jack concerning Elizabeth. After his poor betrayal of Jack back in the caves, he deserved to lose a woman to him! He absent-mindedly rubbed his forehead where the board had met skull.

"Will's already dead," Jack murmured to himself. The words fled from his mouth and were caught on a sudden burst of wind, drifting lazily away from him.

"Wait," he whispered to himself. He stood straight and tall, his dark eyes darting all around him. He swaggered around and felt a cool north eastern breeze hit his face.

East. An eastern wind.

"The Pearl was hurt pretty bad after that poor-excuse for a battle," he mused aloud. "Barbossa's heading west." He paused, his eyes now fixed upon the ocean. As he thought, he did not blink. Nor, did he breath.

"Barbossa's making slow time, if any time at all," he cried suddenly, throwing his arms up. A strong wave hit his unprepared body and he fell back into the receding waters and sand. He felt nothing besides two emotions.

Hope. As the eastern wind rippled the swirling waters around him, he felt elated with the sudden gust of hope that flooded his veins and coursed through his damp body.

The other emotion stung him in the place where that hope was pumped from- his heart. It was pain. Pure and utter pain. He knew what he had to do. His breathing became more ragged and he sniffed the air, in attempt to balance his sacrifice's burden. He stood up and began to walk towards the palms again.

"I must say goodbye to my beloved," he soberly said to the soft wind. "I'll miss her like hell, but it's the only way! No, there must be another. I cannot live without her touch! No, Jack! Get a grip of yourself. You've got to," he choked out, "you've got to say goodbye to your beloved, your friend, your foe, your lover through all time."

".the rum."