Obligatory disclaimer noting the fact that I own nothing from PotC.

a/n: This story is in response to a challenge from the Black Pearl Scrolls. I've characteristically responded with a short angsty fic. Hope you all like it!

Kindling:

As a boy, he'd seen cruelty and neglect. As a young man he'd seen death come to friends and family long before their time. As a man, he'd seen betrayal and defeat, enough to make him want to close his eyes forever. But, he was no longer just a man. He was a sailor. A pirate. A Captain, and what a Captain sees in his lifetime can never compare to what he smells. Strange as it sounds, the ghastly aromas that a Captain finds on his journey can outlast a thousand scenes that play out in front of his eyes. The bittersweet perfume of gunpowder. The stench of infection in a shipmate. The aroma of death, hanging in the air long after a battle. Worst of all, the scent of burning lumber.

In time, though he didn't know how long, he would be able to close his eyes without seeing the beautiful black timbers that had become his home disappearing into ugly clouds of smoke. Someday, he would be able to sit alone in a quiet room and not hear the powder magazine exploding. The screams of his crew as they leapt into the sea. He may indeed find a way to forget the battle, to forget the mistakes, to live with his loss and turn his back on the whole day. But, the sickening odor of his ship turning to embers would still waft in from his past every time he passed a home with a fire roaring in the fireplace or entered a tavern in the dead of night to escape the chill. The smell of firewood would always be there reminding him, taunting him with memories of his failure.

How many years had passed since he had been given command of his black, three-masted mistress? How many nights had he spent on deck guiding her through waters both friendly and dangerous? How many storms that would have felled an inferior vessel? Even on the darkest day of his life, when his lady had been taken from him, he still knew in some corner of his heart that he would find her again. If someone would have asked him ten years ago, he would have said that nothing this side of hell would part him from the Pearl. Maybe he had unwittingly sailed into the devil's realm. Maybe he was doomed to stay there. Alone, surrounded by the scent of blazing fire.

If he'd cared for anything anymore, he might of started scouting his surroundings for a means of escape or at least another cache of rum. As it was, he cared for nothing. He could only stand on the shore gazing out at his ship and ask himself why. Why had he been so careless? Why had he let down his guard? Why did he have to be the only one to survive?

Taking off the hat that had stayed with him for over twenty years, he bowed his head in a moment of silence for the men and the woman that he would never see again. She'd given him that hat, a lifetime ago on the balcony of her house beneath the moonlight. Turning the worn leather tricorner in his hands, he could almost see her brown eyes, sparkling when she laughed or flashing when she was angry. He could still feel sting of her hand on his face when he'd been coy. Those same hands tangled in his hair or on his shoulder in a silent show of unyielding support. Most of all, he reveled in the memory of her scent. She always smelled of orchids, her favorite flower. Every time they made port in any town of class, she would scour the shops for the same orchid perfume, the only luxury she'd brought along from her former life. He always knew when she stood outside his cabin door, trying to decide whether or not to come in, that sweet aroma always came before her.

That night in the moonlight, he'd known he loved her. That he would love her forever. She gave up a life of wealth and privilege to come aboard his ship. She had learned how to sail and how to wield a sword. She had learned how to survive on a ship full of men who said bad luck followed a vessel with a woman on board. She had earned their respect, and his. And she had followed him to the ends of the earth. She fought at his side, and she fought in his stead when he could not fight for himself. In his life, so many people that he'd trusted had betrayed him. Not her. She'd held his heart in her hands for so long and never broken it. Her loyalty had been steadfast, and for that loyalty she'd died. Yesterday, he'd had the rest of his life to tell her what she meant to him. Today, she was gone. The only woman he'd ever loved was dead, and he'd never told her.

Unconsciously, his hand wiped away the tears from his face. He didn't know how long he had been crying, nor did he know if he would be able to stop. Alone on an island in the middle of the sea, he remembered a time when he had gazed out and seen his life sailing away. The emptiness then was nothing compared to the pit in his chest now. Then, he had hope. Naïve, maybe, but hope just the same. Then, he'd known he would live. He would survive if only to seek revenge on the man he had once called friend. Now, he had no one to with whom to exact revenge. His whole world was kindling and he had no one to blame but himself.

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Well, like I said horribly angsty but I hope you liked it anyway! I would appreciate any feedback on this if you wouldn't mind. I've never written from Jack's pov before, and I'm interested in your thoughts about how I did. Thanks!