Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.

The eastern wind was now blowing strongly. It whipped around the unguarded palm fingers, kissing the knuckle of the palms and forcing the fingers to dance a waltz of movement and silence. The verdant leaves swayed uneasily in the dance; the slavery to the eastern breeze shackled them to the lonely hypnosis of the afternoon sun.

A small gust fluttered up from the sands and brushed up upon Jack Sparrow's cheeks, bringing a small pinch of sand up with it.

He watched in silence, simply looking at the cache with forlorn eyes, watered with dryness and sacrifice. It had to be done. The rum would surely ignite a treacherous flame that would blaze into the sky for hours. Jack was not stupid. He knew the worth of his first mate. The entire Royal Navy would be grazing the blue waters, searching behind each wave for a chance at playing the hero.

Kill the pirate, save the damsel, Jack thought with a mournful air. He scrunched his nose up, his brow being creased with the thin lines of sun- kissed gold.

Commodore Norington would no doubt be missing his own little Swann. His rigid heart that uphold the morals of civilized society could only be breached by the small, penetrating light that was Elizabeth. Though, not even that could melt the ice contained in his cold, blue eyes.

He'd only marry her for status. offspring. and society, Jack mused solemnly. He was a man of principle, a man of upbringing. That much was obvious by one look. From speaking with the man (more like being threatened, he countered himself) much more was to be discovered. His duty ruled his world and Elizabeth was to be his queen. Atop the proud throne of a Commodore label he would reign the small world of his and slowly consume the fire in Elizabeth's heart.

All this, Jack considered with a lighter humor, could be seen in one unlikely meeting with a such a scoundrel Norrington had been sworn to do battle against.

"Why curse her in such a way," Jack said, shaking the two bottles of rum he held in each hand, listening with a tuned ear to the swishing sound of it's nectar.

Because, he answered himself sadly- because death on this island would be a far greater curse.

"The ultimate," he pointed out to himself.

How could he condemn such a woman to a miserable few days on an island before hunger and thirst both drove them mad? How could he watch her drink rum as if it was the only escape, the only hope in her now narrowing life? How could he do anything but try, through his own life and death, to protect that burning flame of Elizabeth's beauty; her silken skin, her golden hair; her pouting lips; of her wit and strength?

So, Captain Jack Sparrow uncorked the bottles and let his own life pour out with the rum. He watched with downcast eyes as the liquid fell upon the mountain of palm branches.

"And what will become of Captain Jack Sparrow," he asked himself, the rum still flowing from the upturned bottles. "Death, likely. Didn't make the best impression with the blessed Commodore during the first round. Likely he didn't forget that," he mused with a click of his tongue.

If the sacrifice of rum did work to his plan and ships had been signaled, despite all witty response, he would be condemned. Of course he would escape, to be sure. Or die trying. Either way, he promised himself he would not die at the hand's of such a spiritless creature. He'd rather taste Barbossa's sword than swing from the rope of a high-class entertainment venue.

With that, he took one of the spar pistols from the cache and without looking, held the gun to the pile of gunpowder he had arranged in the middle of the fire. He cocked the gun with his shaking thumb and stopped abruptly as a voice rang loud from the clearing.

"Jack! What in hell's fire are you doing," Elizabeth cried. She ran to Jack and pulled his arm, the pistol being spun away and dropping ungracefully into the sand. His eyes were as wide as they could get as he turned to her, his mouth slightly agape.

"I did some thinking," he responded in an uncharacteristically monotone voice.

"Well, I'm sorry it hurt so much, but what is all of this," she joked, her upper lip curling about to pull her lips into a soft smile. He winced at her joviality and sniffed at the air.

"Look, you're Elizabeth Swann- the daughter of Governor Swann and future wife of a CommoBORE. I mean, 'dore," he said, in almost a vicious tone. Elizabeth's face contorted to confusion and she took a tentative step backward.
"I am not marrying him," she said defiantly, her eyes glinting with warning. Jack understood that look and chose his words carefully.

"Anywho, he does intend for you to be his lawfully wedded wife," he said, picking up the pistol and aiming it at the gunpowder again, "that much is true. What I'm saying Miss Swann, is that I doubt that daddy of yours would let you go so easily. They've probably got the entire Royal Navy patrolling these waters," he said.

She looked hurt at his sudden formality. Her brown eyes became watered with her confusion and she did not say a word.

"We'll signal them," Jack continued, "signal them with smoke. There's only one way to get smoke, right, love? Fire. And only one way to create such a fire. Rum."

"And what if they don't see the signal, Jack? What if we are simply wasting all of our provisions for a fool's dream at escape?"

"Then, we'll die the quicker, love," he responded, looking away at the beach and rolling surf. He sighed and the air he had once thought to taste sweet and refreshing burned his lungs and choked his breathing. "Either way, I'm still dead."

Elizabeth's head jerked up at his words and her mouth opened wide as she finally understood. Norrington would kill Jack. He was an outlaw, a fugitive, a man who had wounded his honor once already.

"Norrington," she whispered under her breath.

"I won't die by Norrington, that much I promise you," Jack said fiercely, a rush of fear and hate creeping up into his cheeks.

"You won't," Elizabeth responded in a weak voice. "You can't."

"Like you said, love- sit on a beach for days drinking rum until we both slowly die away or take the risk of lighting the signal, getting picked up by the fiancée, me not getting killed, and hold onto that horizon of hope that we can save lover Will and take the Pearl?"

Elizabeth's eyes searched for an answer in Jack's eyes. Their eyes locked in a hard stare and the grief of his words melted into her brown orbs and radiated through his.

"I had done some thinking, too," she said, finally breaking the silence between the two.

"Hope it didn't leave a mark," Jack replied, a crooked smile brightening his face.

"I think it has though," Elizabeth agreed, taking a step closer to Jack. It was his turn to look lost. "I want to save Will. I can save him," she said, earnestly, "though I can't save all of him."

She stared fiercely at him, her lips trembling and her voice shaking with emotion. Jack felt a sudden longing to still those trembling lips but he focused on the cool metal of the pistol in his right hand.

"I cannot save what I don't feel anymore," Elizabeth concluded, pure honesty tingeing her voice. "My heart is not with Will and his no longer with mine."

Jack felt his knees go weak and it took every ounce of self-control not to show it. He could feel his own outstretched hand shaking with a sudden emotional wave that washed over his body. The famous Captain Jack Sparrow. he thought, but faded away.
"I've become a heroine in a story, Jack," she whispered now, her eyes rising up to meet his. She took a step forward and rested a hand on his chest. He inwardly winced as her touch sent stabs of fire throughout his body. He held her gaze.

"And I've found my own scoundrel to rid me of that," she said, coming up on her toes. Her lips brushed against his temptingly. His left hand quickly shot out and wrapped around her neck, bringing her closer. Their lips crashed against each others. They tasted the salt of each other's lips hungrily and their two mouths melded into one. He could feel her hand snake around his waist and her tiny body fit perfectly next to his.

Without breaking kiss, Jack's finger pulled the trigger of his outstretched gun. In a burst of flame and rum, the gunpowder was lit and the fire exploded upwards. They were far away enough not to be interrupted, but could still feel the splendid heat of the roaring, dancing flames of crimson and aureate.

Soon, their lips broke apart and Jack stole a look at the roaring fire. The smoke was already billowing up into the sky. Small tendrils of ebony and ash floated into the eastern wind. Just as the palm leaves were shackled to the dance of earth and sky, so were the smoky fingers pushed upwards, soaring to the clouds.

Sure the Commodore would come, and sure he would threaten Jack, abuse Jack, and most likely promise to hang Jack. With the burning sensation of Elizabeth's lips still fresh on his, he shrugged his shoulders at the thought. He would make it, he would figure a way out. He was Captain Jack Sparrow and no death could be worse than not living for the story-telling of Elizabeth Swann.

"A pirate's life for me," he whispered, smiling broadly. He threw the gun away and took Elizabeth in both arms, and resumed the story.

The Commodore through a scope first spied a distant twisting of smoke coming from a small, lonely island in the middle of nowhere. He squinted his eyes and could only see the dazzling water rimming the secluded island, almost swallowing it in secrecy.

Just as the Governor and Governess liked it.

THE END

Well, there you have it. The story of what really should have happened on the Isle o' Rum. Thank you very much to everyone, this number of reviews has certainly surpassed anything I could have imagined. Who knows, maybe I might write a Part Two! After all, how's dear Will going to react to this twist in the story? hehe.

Thank you again!

JadedSky