[A/N- do I still have Jack? I feel like I don't, in the last chapter, or this one, and it's bothering me sorely. Thank you for being such promiscuous reviewers, even after my long absence… I believe I shall write you a sex scene in gratitude. Soon, soon. smile Much love to all of you, old and new readers alike.]

They'd landed in Singapore for a while. The boys had plenty of gold, and Jack wanted to start drawing up plans for his ship. Not to mention that Alinnya was barely speaking to anyone, much like a ghost haunting the ship. He'd relieved her of all her duties, and the crew avoided her, unsure of what to say, how to act. He'd avoided the brothels from their last stay, and gotten them a room in a respectable inn. He had not seen her once in the week since they'd made berth. And he'd looked for her. She was not there when he went to bed; she wasn't there when he awoke. He never found her in any of the taverns he'd frequented, and it was getting harder and harder to leave each night with arms empty of that certain female sensuality. His resolve was cracking.
It was ten days before he saw her.
He closed the door behind him, leaning his forehead against the wood for a moment, willing his breathing to steady. His pants were still far too small. He had almost cracked. He had almost followed her. He didn't want to, but this damned loneliness was almost too much for him. He loved her. She'd shunned him for it, and he felt so numb. He wanted the bottle of rum that was on the dresser, and to snuggle into the numerous pillows and cry. If she did not come back tonight, she wasn't going to come back.
What the hell had he done to deserve that?
So he turned around, his head moving slowly from its downward facing, and stopped midturn. He knew his face couldn't hide his shock.
She looked much like that first night on the bow rigging, in that her face held that same angelic sorrow. Her eyes were harder, her back straighter, her arms loosely crossed at her sides. The biggest change was her hair. It was braided in a dreadlock fashion, with barely any left loose, different colored wooden beads hanging from the ends. He walked over slowly, fingering the trinkets.
"Seventeen red," she whispered, "four black, one white."
"Seventeen?" he asked, looking in her eyes.
"I have slaughtered a ship's crew, and the ship. Seventeen. I lost both my brothers and parents. Four," she bowed her head momentarily, before bringing it back up. "And I love you. Just you."
He kissed her then, so hard that he could feel her lips being pushed against her teeth, brutally, wild. He tried to convey every emotion, all the worry and hurt and loneliness, into that kiss, and felt like he failed miserably, but maybe not.
"Why did you leave me alone, why?" he hissed at her, her face in his hands, inches from his own. She closed her eyes, grimacing slightly.
"All my life I have been someone's. Everything I've done has been someone else's. I wanted to die, Jack. On the auction block, in your arms, on Brady's ship. I was never happy. I wasn't… I didn't know who I was. I didn't know what I wanted. I had to do that alone. I'm sorry. You don't know what it does…" she bit her lip to hold the tears, forcing her breathing to slow. "You don't know what it's like to want death. I wanted death like you wanted your own ship. It was all I could think about."
"Well," her hair clacked as he ran his fingers through it. "Don't do it again."
He smirked at her knowingly, then grabbed her upper arms and threw her onto the bed.
Her eyes widened in surprise, and he noticed a trace of fear in them, but as soon as he noticed it, it was gone. She gave him a coy little grin, and he pinned her underneath of him, both her tiny wrists gripped in one hand. He traced some of the clawmarks that hadn't fully healed delicately, the sensation of his fingers against her skin causing her chills. He followed it with his lips, tracing the trail of scars down her jaw and neck, his lips brushing against the collar of her shirt. She moaned, her hips grinding against his, and he abandoned his hold on her wrists to slide his hands down her waist, pulling at the hem of her shirt till his hands found skin. Glorious skin. There was something electric about having her underneath him, completely helpless under his hands. He wanted nothing more. The ship could sink, the gold could run out, and he –almost- wouldn't notice.
He'd really meant to tease her a little longer, but he wasn't even thinking about it when he forced her out of her pants, and found himself inside her.
He stopped for a moment, fully sheathed, staring into her eyes. The world swam, and her pupils were trying to conquer her blue eyes, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen and red. She was beautiful. He kissed her then.
"I love you."
"And I you," she replied, running her hands through his hair, across his chest.
He smiled, the traditional Jack Sparrow smirk, and shifted his hips, causing her to gasp. He chuckled, adding to the bruises on her mouth as he continued.
It was going to be a long night.