Unlucky
By: rainjewel
Disclaimer: If I owned characters from Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, I would be 1) very rich, 2) my own hero, and 3) having lots and lots of…well use your imagination.
Rated: PG for swearing.
Timeline: A twist on the end of PotC.
Warnings: Dark.
Author's Note: Just a shout out—I would love it if there are any beta readers out there who would be willing to come down upon my works with the fury of a Grammar Hammer® and perhaps intellect. If anyone's interested I'd love for you to contact me at esca_rain@hotmail.com
^ ^ ^
Jack Sparrow was an unlucky man. He always had been, even when he was a child. Always the one who fell into puddles, always the one who pulled up the shortest straw.
However, Luck's obvious dislike for him only served the purpose of making him a smart man—the cleverest of pirates, he liked to think. It was he who sacked whole cities without ever having to draw his blade, he who had escaped death when placed upon that godforsaken island when his crew had risen against him. He was one wily dog and proud of it.
Still, Lady Luck is something of a bitch. He had never blamed Gibbs for his fear of her. Jack had never thought of surrendering to fate, but instead spent a vast majority of his time spiting her, and she him.
Luck took his money, in the form of bad poker hands and burlier pirates. Luck took his innocence, disguised as caring men. He'd like to blame her for his loss of the Black Pearl, but Jack had long ago realized that was due to his own stupidity.
Luck had started this whole mess. She had placed him in that jail cell at Port Royal and kept him there. He could still hear the voice of the other prisoners as they leapt free from their chains: "I'm sorry friend. You've no manner of luck at all."
Jack told himself he didn't mind. His life was certainly more interesting than most, especially the last bit. It seemed that as he had escaped that hellish island ten years ago, Barbossa (in what he probably had viewed as an unlucky turn) had been handed the gift of immortality. Of course…the minute that Jack wanted to kill the bastard Barbossa'd have the luck to be indestructible.
And then Will Turner. Jack had about had a heart attack when he'd seen the lad. He hadn't made the connection to Bootstrap at first, but that face was so familiar to him he had barely managed to keep his mind on his sword fighting. The boy hated pirates, unlucky that. Sprang ol' Jack from jail though, and then promptly whacked him over the head with an oar.
So much like his father, that one.
Jack didn't curse his bad luck. Sometimes he could make some good out of his misfortune. He was, after all, them cleverest of pirates. For instance, when that jackal Barbossa sailed off with his ship for the second time, Jack had the girl.
And what a girl she was. Bewitching, that one. She'd read things about him (very flattering) and every movement of her body exploded with a fiery passion for life. Lord, was she smart…and pretty. It was lucky for him that she was there that time around—and unlucky for him that he fell in love with her.
He got to kiss her though. Jack knew he shouldn't have. Hell, he was almost old enough to be her fath—very older brother. But the rum was singing in his veins and breathing fire into his lungs. He'd simply woken up in the night and seen her sleeping beside him as peaceful as all the angels. So trusting of him; so beguiling.
He had leaned over and kissed her softly. Her lips were warm and sweet, but the name she murmured in her slumber wasn't his. Jack left at that.
No, Jack didn't resent the fact that he was an unlucky man. Not even when the drum roll began and the noose fit snug around his neck, or when Will's tormented face disappeared beneath a swarm of Norrington's men. Instead he decided he would have never called her Elizabeth—just Liz.
The drum roll ended. Jack closed his eyes.
No manner of luck at all.