A/N An update.  Sorry it took forever.  I was feeling very lazy.  I apologize.  grins You can start throwing things at me.  I love presents.  I think this is the last chapter, unless…. Well, sorry it's pretty short, but I'm at a lack of inspiration, and it's bad to leave a character at the brink of death for so long, eh mates?  So, here it is. 

            Jack was 'indisposed' all day.  Some time after the cabin boy had edged out of the room nervously, he remained locked inside the captain's quarters of The Revenge, not answering any questions asked by the crew, who were left to deal with the aftermath of the battle on their own. 

            They're competent, Jack told himself.  They can deal with it. 

            He refused to let his glance shift back to the figure still laying on the bed.  He had not moved her; had not wanted to. 

            She may die, Captain Sparrow.  Those words kept playing back in his head… why did he suddenly feel so useless?  When she had gotten those injuries before, he had been able to clean her up… he was good at the little stuff.  But he had no idea what to do. 

            There's got to be some rum around here somewhere.  He searched the cabinets around the room and even looked under the little table beside the bed.  Spacious, He thought to himself.  No wonder she liked it so much…

            Then the thought occurred to him that she said that before when she was on this ship, she wasn't the captain.  Her friend Calico Jack was the captain, not her. 

            But she also said that she had had a… relationship with the captain.  He sent another glance toward the bed, before realizing that he didn't want to know what sort of act's had been committed on that bed. 

Not that his own bed was any more innocent.  He quickly shook off those sorts of thoughts. 

Where is the goddamn rum when you need it?  He paced for a moment, thinking of any possible place that Antonio might have kept an extra stash of rum.  Finally, giving up, he sat down on the bed with a sigh, refusing to look back down at the red haired figure still unconscious beside him. 

There was something poking him through the mattress, so he shifted positions and felt something else poking him. 

Looking suspiciously at the mattress, he inspected the seam and found that it had been sewn shut with neat stiches.  Not stitches of a handsome Spaniard. 

Cutting open the seam, he pulled out two rum bottles, one full and the other half empty.  How long have these been here? 

"Rum doesn't go bad."  He told himself, pulling off the cork on the half empty bottle and downing the rest of it quickly.  Slow down, Jack, you don't know how long these bottles have to last you. 

"Who cares," He told himself.  "Not me."  Taking another swig, he rubbed his forehead and sat back against the headboard of the bed.  "You're going crazy, Jack.  Talking to yourself and obsessing over insane redheads."  He took a long drink and placed his forehead on one of his hands. 

"Jack?"  He jumped about three feet in the air when he heard a familiar voice.  It was faint, but he could definitely identify Anne's voice.  He turned slowly.

"Red thank goodness you're alive we all thought you were goners are you okay how do you feel what can I do?"  Jack let out a stream of words all at once and Anne smiled. 

"Calm down, Jack, I'm fine.  At the moment."  She looked around the cabin.  "I assume we won then?" 

"Yes."  Jack said, a little unsure.  This was awkward.  He had spent a lot of time waiting for her to wake up, but now he didn't know what to say.

"Damn."  Anne said, her eyes looking everywhere but at him.  "I remember all of this so well… It's a shame…" 

"What is?"  Jack asked, alarmed.

She vomited suddenly, onto the wooden floor beside the bed.  Jack grabbed one of her hands, his numerous rings pushing into her skin. 

"I'm sorry, Jack." 

"It's okay," He said, thinking she meant the vomit. 

"No," She said, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him toward her, kissing him sweetly on the mouth.  "I meant, I'm sorry I've been all this trouble.  You came all this way for me and got y ship back, and now… I'll never even get to Captain it." 

Jack pulled her back against him for another kiss.  "You're going to live." 

"No, I won't live.  You know as well as I do that those gunshots were fatal, and you're lucky I'm conscious right now."

Jack didn't say anything.  He pulled back the blanket that covered her, and, without saying a word, picked her up in his arms, pulling up the loose clothes she was wearing. 

"Jack!  Ahhh!  Put me down, what are you doing?"  But she was helpless to fight him. 

He carried her up on the deck, where the sun was getting ready to set.  Pink and orange beams of color were cast out over the rolling silvery waves.  Jack set her on her feet in front of the helm of the ship, and the few crewmembers who had gathered about were watching as she reached out toward the helm, and… stumbled.  Jack caught her and she leaned against him, holding the wheel.  She seemed to relax, and Jack kissed her again gently. 

"Jack, you're an angel." 

"How are you so calm?  You're going to die." 

She sighed deeply, and didn't answer for a while.  Finally, she said,  "There's nothing I can do about it, so why should I fret?" 

"It's good that you're not afraid of death." 

"It's the risk we take, as pirates." 

"I love you."  Jack said. 

"I love you too."