Chapter Six - All We Have

He was on the deck. My very own, slice-and-dice pirate whose razor sharp cutlass wasn't sold separately. He made sure to give me a knowing, promising glare as I moved past him, even with Jack – his captain and leader – at my side.

I made sure to avoid the blood stain on the deck, but Jack noticed my discomfort as we stepped over it. "Don't have to worry. Few more showers an' it'll be gone," Jack promised. He barely got his sentence out before I seized his arm.

I lost my breath. The sea no longer stretched to the endless, clear sky. It stretched to the gentle swirls of pinks and oranges. The sun was nestled into the edge of the sea inside the vortex of pastels. My first thought was that it would be gone soon. The empowering desire to speak fell upon me. "This is it. Isn't it?"

Jack was smiling, sensing my eagerness. I slapped the back of my hand lightly to his chest. "Isn't it?" I repeated.

"It is."

"This is why you're a pirate."

"Well, yes – not entirely, o' course."

"Yeah. But, this is definitely a big part of it," I pressed on, wanting to get as much out of him as I could.

"The sea, yes. I mean, a ship, a sunset, the sea. It's one of those cycles. The ship sails to the sunset on the sea, an' if the ship never reaches that sunset. . . your cycle is ruined." There was simplicity to his words, but the meaning was so much deeper. Everything was there in those words – the dangers and the pleasantries of piracy. He used his hands to speak. I even found myself utterly believing that had he not even said a word, by reading his hands, I would've understood his metaphor. Jack pointed far out into the ocean although we both knew there was nothing there except for water. "An' a pirate – we depend on that cycle."

". . .Because it's all you have," I finished quietly, understanding. It was silent for a second until I sighed heavily. I slipped my arm through his and leaned my head on his shoulder.

"Don't get me wrong, love. I wouldn't have it any other way."

I learned a lot from Jack Sparrow that night. Apparently there was a little more to piracy than murderous, drunken rage, and a bit more came to the pirate captain than I'd at first imagined. Sunsets must've been his weakness.

When we went back down to his cabin, he closed the door behind us and checked the lock twice.

"That was beautiful," I said, and not for the first time that night.

Jack must have been drinking earlier on the deck, because the sway in his walk was unusually emphatic. I stood slowly to meet his height and crossed my arms. "Well, Captain Jack Sparrow, you've been drinking."

He waved his arm in front of his face passively. His usually honest, gentle eyes came alive with a swift sort of untidiness. Jack slipped his jacket off and unintentionally dropped it to the ground near his desk. His hands curled at his sides and he reached up to whisk the side of my face. To me, his eyes became nearly emotionless, if not silently impatient.

Jack Sparrow leaned forward. My shoulders tightened, my own fists clenched. Anger seethed through my body and my only outlet was in my arm. Muscles twitched, my power seemingly lent its entire self in one, quick strike to his cheek. I almost apologized when his drunken, glassy eyes snapped closed very briefly.

"W'ot was that for?"

I was outraged. "Jack!"

His arms flailed to his sides. "Carrie!" he mimicked in some way of presenting his utter confusion.

He even had the audacity to play innocent. "You were trying to kiss me."

He eyes read to me, Yes, and. . .?

It took everything I had not to snap my other hand up and slap his other cheek. Instead, I whipped past him, nudging his shoulder with my own in the process.

"Careful, Jack, one more drink and that would've knocked you off your feet."

"Carrie. Where ye goin'? You don't need to be runnin' off, gettin' yerself into any more trouble," he said plainly, following me nearly at my heels.

"Oh, it's nice to know what you think of me. So now I just go out and look for trouble, right?"

"Tha's not what I meant," he drawled, raising his finger.

"Not what you meant. . ." I murmured disbelievingly to myself.

"Why are we even trying to get along, tell me this, Carrie?" Jack queried, suddenly serious.

Each word made every sense in the world, but the answer was completely lost to me. I opened my mouth slightly, but ultimately shrugged, showing my defeat. "I don't know. You're a pirate. . .I'm not."

"How 'bout you're from the future. . .? That's a big one, as well, aye?"

"Actually, you're from the past," I informed him.

"And exactly how did you conclude this, darlin'?"

I rolled my eyes. "Never mind. Look, just as long as we get me home – soon – I don't care who's from where."

"Fine."

I nodded firmly once to him, crossed my arms, and left his cabin. He called after me once, but I ignored him.

On the deck, I couldn't find Mr. Gibbs. I'd wanted to talk to him previously. He seemed nice – gentlemanly, even. The older pirate wasn't anywhere to be found.

Anna Maria was at the helm, one arm flailed across her forehead, blocking the crisp, midnight wind from her eyes.

Jack's white shirt whipped around me. The temperature had dropped considerably, magnified by the mist of the ocean which lifted with the uncomfortable breeze as if a light rain was beginning to fall.

Seconds passed – minutes, they dragged so slowly that I could barely understand time. The process was numbing. Waves crushed waves, the ship drove down on them – suffocating them. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. I felt the waves suffocate me. My breaths came in short, tight gasps.

For the first time in my life, I felt truly overwhelmed. I wasn't bothered with too many classes, suffocated with homework or math equations that didn't make sense; I was lost, suffocated by waves and pirates – two, maybe three, hundred years ago.

Becoming so entirely lost in the complete insanity of my movie-material situation, I leaned over the side of the ship, my arms falling limp as if to reach the water below.

"Don't fall in, lass – sharks aren't as friendly as you'd think."

I'd know the voice anywhere. That gritty voice I used to hear in nightmares. My mind was forced to focus at that moment. I whipped into a standing position and met those yellow eyes, surprised when I didn't see his knife at my throat.

"Capt'n sure doesn't mind leavin' you all 'lone with his good pirate mateys as of late, aye?"

"I can take care of myself."

"Yer nothin' but a burden on this ship. . .but ye are a pretty, little lassie, aren't ye?"

"Burden?"

"Cap'n hasn't been 'imself. Almost got us all killed back at Tortuga. All in knots, he was – waiting to come back, keep watch o'er the Pearl an' his new trollop!"

"So this is about – what? – jealousy? I'm taking up too much of your pirate-captain bonding time? Not leaving a large enough margin of time to go raid and plunder?"

He turned his head and spat.

It was then I noticed the sword he held at his side. I choked out a harsh chuckle that sounded more to my ears like a cry. Still, I couldn't help the mix of fear and adrenaline. I would not be bullied.

The pirate wouldn't know that – not yet.

I fixed my voice to quiver. "What are you gonna do?"

He laughed heartily and threw his head back. Cleverly, I took advantage of the moment and swiftly swung my knee high into his crotch. The laugh turned quickly into a groan of pain and his sword clattered to the ground. I wasted no time retrieving it.

The pirate was on his feet though, more quickly than I had anticipated. His leg shot out and whipped my feet from beneath me. I clattered to the floor, but retaliated by thrusting the sword upward.

It tore his shirt and left a bloody tear in his stomach. He screamed, throwing himself on top of me and violently crushing my wrists against the deck, doing anything he could to take the sword. I would never let him have it. I refused to die in the hands of this monster.

Thrashing, my mind focused on being free, but was otherwise blank. He back-handed me – and freed his hand from my wrist just long enough for me to bring the sword up. . .only to have it clatter from my grasp.

I cried out, desperate to come out the winner in retrieving the weapon. He kicked it with his foot, releasing me. Scrambling to my feet, I threw myself to the side of the ship.

He clumsily grabbed hold of the heavy sword. Serious for a moment, his demeanor fell back into the lazy, oafish arrogance he'd previously possessed. Now, those yellow eyes were nearly on fire. I eyed the weapon he held before him.

"I'll be damned. . ." he murmured darkly.

Instincts kicked in, tiny alarms rung in my head. I looked around frantically. No way out. Nothing but to outrun him, but he was so close. Suddenly, the sounds of waves rushed me. I could jump, fall into the water. He surely couldn't follow me. But, I would die, still. Starve, drown, be dinner for the sharks. Anna Maria, I remembered! But she was gone. . .

Jack. . .? Mr. Gibbs? Any half-decent pirate. . .anywhere?

No. . . just you and him. Didn't those karate lessons from Dad teach you anything?

I closed my eyes, desperate – watching him close in on me. "Goodbye, darlin'. It was a pleasure," he muttered sarcastically.

He thrust the sword at me. And I ducked, planted the left foot, swung the right leg – and sent a strong, ruthless elbow into his ribs. I thought I felt them crack, felt him stumble – and felt the sword slice my arm.

I barely felt the pain. My adrenaline rushed, I struggled to back away, make space, but not let him go. The sword hilt nearly fell into my hand, and I struggled with its weight momentarily. The pirate cried out, cursed me and brought back his lethal fist.

Without a second thought, I drove the sword into his chest with both hands – feeling it hit bone. It was the worst feeling I'd ever experienced. . .followed very closely by the most victorious I'd ever felt before. My body experienced emotions I'd never known existed. I was changed. A different person; I could never be the same I'd been just moments ago, and I didn't know what that meant.

I watched him die and fall to the ground. It was a odd moment to suddenly feel the pain in my arm, but it was then I grasped the bloody cut.

I didn't cry. I couldn't. – Mourn, I would not. I murdered somebody.

Very simply, I walked away from the corpse. Dragging my feet, I moved down the steps to the cabins and stood outside of Jack's door. He would be asleep by now – or, more specifically, he would be passed out.

I opened his door and moved inside. It was dark. I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face. Jack took in a breath – a sharp one. He was awake, and very much aware.

"Carrie?"

Even clogged with sleep, his voice was very strong.

"Yeah," I replied.

"You all right, love?"

I felt him stand. His voice came closer, and I heard him step on a creak in the floorboards.

"Have you. . .have you ever killed anybody?" I questioned simply as if asking about the weather.

He paused in the darkness, somewhere a few feet away. "Yea. 'Course I have. Why. . .what's –?"

I reached out and my hand grazed him. . .and what I assume to have been his bare chest. "I haven't. Never saw anyone die. At least not before I came here."

"What? Carrie. . ."

He came closer and my eyes adjusted. I could see the outline of his shoulders, his hair was tied loosely back and his bandana was tight around his forehead. It was the first time I'd seen him like that.

I touched his shoulder, and finally saw his eyes. The dark orbs found me quickly, and I assumed he could see me better, as I was paler, and my eyes, just a bit lighter of a brown than his.

"I killed him."

"Killed who?"

"That pirate."

Jack shook his head, but slowly, I felt him slide his hand to the cut the dead man had left on my neck.

"You. . .killed him?" Jack questioned slowly, his brow creasing, his jaw tightening in recognition.

"He threatened me. He cut me – "

I slid his hand down my arm and his hand brushed my blood-soaked arm. It was then he tugged me closer, observing my arm. "Ow, Jack!" I hissed.

His grip loosened and I slipped away from him to retrieve a lantern from outside of his cabin. When the light filled the room, I was able to take in his appearance. Wearing only his black pants, he looked amazing.

"And he hit you." Jack's hand ran along my cheek. I could see the edges of his jaw clench in the shadows.

I'd almost forgotten, but as he reminded me, I realized the back-hand must've busted my cheek. "But I did it," I murmured. Reeling a little from the rush of emotion I'd experienced, I said, "I took care of myself. Just like I told you."

Jack supported me, hugging me to him so I could rest for a moment. His arms were tense around me. "Yeah. . . it's more than that, though, me darlin'."

"I'm a murderer, I know that," I said into his chest.

He laughed lightly, hard enough so I could hear the rumble inside his chest. "You learned something very few of us in this world learn. The power of true victory, defense. To do it, you had to kill a man. Take a life. And rightfully so. A lesson I'd rather you have not learned."

"I don't know who I was back there. I just. . .killed."

He pulled back and watched me closely, intensifying the moment. "And you just lived. Not unscarred, but alive, nonetheless."

It was then he really saw me, I suppose, because his face fell and twisted in near-misery. It was my turn to recognize his emotion. "No, no, no. Don't even try making this about you, Jack Sparrow. Not your fault." I sighed. "I just need some time. Maybe a bandage."

That night, Jack wasn't the dutiful captain of the most feared ship in the Caribbean. He was a friend, a listener, a nurse – and a talker. He told me about his plans, some of his dreams and discoveries. A different man. I knew he was trying to make me forget about what had occurred, and perhaps make himself forget momentarily as well.

"Where do you want to end up?" I finally asked, hours later, curled up Indian-style in his bed.

Jack was spread in the chair mere inches from the bed, slouched down, his arms over the sides of the chair arms, and his fingers nearly scraping the ground. He remained shirtless. "End up? Why, right 'ere. . .On the sea."

"You mean you'll never settle anyplace but the ocean?" I asked, intrigued. "All of this traveling on the sea, it's like you never get anywhere. That's how you want to. . .end it all?"

"That's right – be my grave, the ocean will." As he had been doing for some time now, Jack turned the conversation over onto the subject of me. "And you, Carrie? Tell me your story, as you are so anxious to hear old Jack's."

"I don't really have one."

"No story? No grand tragedy or adventures to share?"

"Nope. I have minimal interesting details." It was true. Jack's life was absolutely storybook. Mine. . .basic and run-of-the-mill. "I'm just some teenager from Pennsylvania. Parents still have complete control of me. Well, until the twelfth, then I'm eighteen and I'm on my own. Finally. . ." I smiled at the thought.

Jack touched his chin and then pointed his index finger in a gesture of thought. "Carrie – 'tis the twelfth."

He was right. The early morning light began to pour into the cabin. It was the eighteenth anniversary of my birth. I had big plans for this day – and instead, I was here. Jack must've recognized my moment of thought, because he stood up and offered me a hand. "Well, if 'tis in fact your birthday, a day of celebration is very much necessary. . .and well-deserved."

I shook my head and my eyes widened. "Jack, no, no, no. Not a chance. Celebrate with a bunch of pirates? I don't think so."

"And why not?" he questioned, very offended. "My dear, you're never celebrated until you've celebrated with a bunch o' merry pirates, you've my word."

"Your word?" I chuckled, staring into Jack's dark, earnest eyes. "Fine. But no birthday punches, pinches. . .spankings - or birthday anything-elses."

Thanks bunches for all those great reviews – InToDepp, Captain-Ammie (sorry 'bout the name thing, my bad!), Gremblin, Mrs Capt Jack Sparrows, and VioletAshkevron. I really appreciate the comments, very inspirational. ;-D

Sarah-