Disclaimer: PotC does not belong to me.

A/N: I know that I have left this story hanging for too long. I am so very sorry, but your patience has been rewarded by not one, but two chapters. I hope that starts to make up for my absence!

Chief:

Alone on one of the most beautiful white sand beaches in the West Indies, Jack Sparrow sat beside a dwindling fire. His ship had sunk below the water line early that morning. He had watched the sea for hours afterward, hoping against hope that his Pearl would some out rise up again from the ashes and come rescue him. Knowing, though, that his ship was now well and truly lost, he had built a fire, more out of habit than out of a desire to keep away the cold. The scent of blazing timber swirled up to the dusky hued sky encircling Jack in a smothering blanket of loss and regret. He couldn't, however, bring himself to douse the flames. Almost as though he needed the reminder. He needed to remember what his foolhardiness had cost him. Curled up in that miserable blanket, Jack drifted off to sleep, desperately wanting never to wake.

But, wake he did only to find his hands bound behind him. He was tied to a wooden post and standing in front of a much larger fire than he had constructed. A smattering of small stick huts surrounded the bonfire. On any other day, Jack's mind would have reeled thinking instantly of escape. He would have needed to know where he was, how he came to be there, and who he would have to deal with to get away. A self depreciating smile came to the pirate's face. Who was he kidding? On any other day, no one would have been able to take Jack Sparrow in his sleep. On any other day, he would have sprung up and faced his assailant. Today, however, he had been taken, and his mind did not go to escape. His thoughts went nowhere. The legendary pirate captain simply sighed and bowed his head. He was weary and only wanted a swift end.

Movement on the opposite side of the fire attracted his attention. A slim figure now stood in the doorway of one of the huts. The man stood not much taller than Sparrow. He had dirty blonde hair and skin darkened by the sun. Naked from the waist up, he had a huge tattoo of a rose that extended from one side of his stomach across his chest to his shoulder. The man approached Jack, stopping to regard the bound pirate thoughtfully.

"You put up very little fight, sailor," he said, his voice light, colored by the memory of a French accent.

"Clearly, you have the advantage," Jack answered, all thick pirate bravado missing from his words. "Why fight when the odds are so obviously stacked against me."

The man inclined his head in a show of agreement. "Yes, I just would have expected different from the dread Captain Jack Sparrow."

"How do you know me?" For so long, he would have reveled in the infamy that allowed a man on a secluded island to recognize him. But, he no longer wanted to be recognized as Captain Jack Sparrow. He didn't even want to be Captain Jack Sparrow.

"There is only one ship that flies black sails as well as the black flag, and only one man who would be so grieved by her destruction. No?"

Jack made no reply. He closed his eyes, expecting to see the remembered images of his dear ship. Instead, however, he saw a pair of amber eyes staring back at him. He was devastated by the loss of his ship. His crew. But, in losing her, he had lost his life. "Who are you?" he said, not wanting to dwell on her anymore.

The man's light eyes descended into shadow. "My name is … Nathaniel de Chouette," he said, softly, his accent thickening as he spoke his name. "I was known to you, and the rest of the world, as Woodes Rogers."

Jack kept his face a mask of impassiveness. Captain Rogers was, himself, a legendary pirate, known far and wide, for acts of unparalleled deviousness and cruelty. Stories told of Rogers' crew cutting off the ears of their captives and forcing them to eat their own appendages. His ship, the Duke, had been sunk by the Navy more than four years ago. "You died …"

Nathaniel smiled dolefully. "Captain Rogers died. I was snatched back from the clutches of death by the natives of this island. The people were starving at the time. I taught them to raise farms and in gratitude they declared me their leader. So, I have been ever since."

Jack almost laughed at the irony of that statement. If she were with him, she would have laughed. How many times had he told that same story with himself playing the staring role of island chief? He never dreamed such a thing could really happen.

Nathaniel snickered quietly, seeing Jack's reaction. "Yes, Captain Sparrow, I had heard your story too." Drawing his cutlass, he walked behind Jack. With the skill of a seasoned swordsman, he swiftly brought down his blade, severing the ropes that held Sparrow captive. Coming back to face Jack, Nathaniel explained, "a man so broken by the loss of his ship is no threat to me. Feel free to enjoy the hospitality of my adopted people."

"And what would I do with said hospitality?"

The ghost of understanding haunted Nathaniel's eyes. "Your ship is lost, Captain. Your life is not."

Jack's eyes flared. "Do not pretend to understand what I have lost," he snarled. Maybe this Captain Rogers had been in Jack's shoes. Maybe he had felt the stabs in his heart for the members of his crew or a family left behind. Still, he could not know how cold the world felt without her. He could not understand what it was to yearn to hear her voice, and know it would never happen. Nathaniel de whatever his name was, could not possibly understand the pain of knowing that the one woman in the world who had been truly loved by Jack Sparrow had gone to her grave without knowing his heart.

The other man raised his brow. "Not the loss of your ship that you mourn, but the loss of one on that ship," he said.

Sparrow's black eyes threw daggers at Nathaniel.

He bowed respectfully. "Forgive me. Of course, you can do whatever you will with my offer."

"Why do you stay here?" Jack asked, hastily changing the subject.

"Penitence." Nathaniel lowered himself to sit on the sand. He stared into the fire. "There are two kinds of pirates in this world. There are the ones who fight honorably and break the law because the laws are wrong, then there are those who fight without honor and break the law for their own enjoyment," he paused. "You are one kind. I was the other. My hope is that by living out the remainder of my days as the benevolent protector of these people, I will repay some part of my debt."

Still standing, Jack crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"When a man thinks his life is over, he has a lot of time to reflect on how he lived it. Time to contemplate mistakes he's made."

All of a sudden, her face once again flashed before Jack's eyes. Her scream, seconds before the powder magazine exploded, echoed in his ears. Her last words had been a warning to him. Her last thoughts had been for his safety. She died trying to protect the man who had sailed her to her own demise. Jack turned away from the fire. Away from the penitent pirate seated by the blaze.

"Have a look at my island," Nathaniel spoke on. "Take a walk. Listen to the sea. Watch the stars. I'll meet you in the morning. If then, you still long for death … I will bring it to you."

TBC

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