Disclaimer: I don't have permission to write this.

AN (4/19): Sorry for the long delay. I've been…well, a goober. And I have senioritis. Really badly. I haven't wanted to do anything. But I've decided to at least get this started to maybe get rid of my writer's block.

AN (4/21): Er...sorry about the odd title.

Chapter Three: New Orleans and Mysterious Clothes

Nearly invincible. Jack had to admit that phrase had been bothering him for the past year. Why? Well, he couldn't very well test out that claim. If he tested that claim out on purpose and Swarthy had been lying, he definitely would end up dead. Jack seemed to have the worst sort of luck, lately. Ever since that night he'd sacked Nassau. It was disgusting, the way people talked about that. They seemed to think that he'd done it without firing any shots or spilling hardly any blood. Ridiculous. If Jack had been in the Caribbean when those rumors had started, he would've squashed them and would have claimed that Barbossa had been the one to suggest it. Barbossa deserved the credit, right? He was clearly a better pirate because his crew hadn't mutinied.

Upon coming back to the Caribbean, Jack learned that perhaps all was not well with Barbossa. Whispers of an almost nameless evil seemed to be just lurking on the lips of even the most tempting strumpets. Stories of slaughter were talked about in hushed tones in even the most "civilized" homes. Of course, Jack wouldn't know anything about the upper crust talking about Barbossa's evil, right? It wasn't as though he ever wanted to wear anything but simple pants, a slightly dirty shirt, and maybe a vest once in a while. It was too stuffy, being what was considered normal. If you were going to be just as smelly either way (people had a serious aversion to bathing), why not enjoy yourself?

Though he had yet to actually test Swarthy's statement, Jack seemed to be taking bigger risks than he'd ever taken before. For example, in Singapore, he'd had a riotous time visiting brothels, taverns, and opium houses getting into all sorts of brawls and disputes over women and rum. Why? Well, there really was nothing better to do. Swarthy had stayed in Singapore for nearly a month and Jack had gotten tired of the same old routine. What was the point of staying loyal to a dead person's memory? Meagan wouldn't know if he was having a good time or not, just like no one would really know what had happened in Nassau. There was no point in staying loyal to her memory. People died all the time. She was dead; Jack was over it. Right?

It had taken him a while to get used to strumpets again. They had such a coarse manner, after all, especially in Singapore. It was clear that those women knew how to display their assets well and were good at exciting even men of the other persuasion, though Jack was always anxious to stay away from such men (they had a nasty habit of following him around like many women did). It wasn't all that hard for Jack to realize he wanted women again. He hungered for them just like he hungered for life, rum, and the pursuit of all things piratical. Celibacy surely was overrated and those Catholic priests had no idea what they were missing (assuming they were good priests).

Jack was currently in New Orleans. It was a very cultured town, even though it was relatively new. French culture was everywhere. The Cajuns and Creoles gave their own spice to the fledgling city. A grand opera house stood on Bourbon Street. Every time Jack walked past, he seemed almost enthralled by the dulcet tones he could hear from there. Though Jack would never admit it, he really had quite a soft spot for singing. He enjoyed singing almost as much as he enjoyed listening to a beautiful soprano hit every note perfectly as a story unfolded. Opera could be very soothing, if you let it be. And going to the opera house the one time his family had visited England had been the only good memory he had of his past, actually. His father had laughed at him for being so entranced by those sirens; his mother had been very confused; but Jack had actually behaved, in an attempt to go to hear those women again. Unfortunately, his father made a rash decision to go back to the Caribbean once it started raining. He said it would snow, even though it was the middle of May.

Jack really hadn't forgiven his father for that. Of course, there were a lot of things he'd never forgive his father for, so there was no use singling that one out. He still had that odd appreciation for opera and operetta and theater, in general. Being a pirate, however, he couldn't very well attend any shows. That would just be too weird.

Yet…now he was under no contract. He was his own man. And he could go to the opera and appreciate it, in some sort of disguise or something, right? No one would ever know that Jack Sparrow was going to visit the opera house tonight. No one in New Orleans knew who he was, anyway.

Humming softly to himself as he strolled along the beach, staring out at the water, Jack was in an oddly contemplative mood. His inside seemed to be fighting with his outside for having the audacity to forget what being a pirate was, even if it was just for one night, to visit an opera house. But Jack really wanted to. It was a better way to spend money than on the women in the drab house that already knew his name and his preferences. They seemed to sense the inevitable truth: he was running out of money. That's what happens when you're a pirate. You can never stop plundering because money seemed to always be slipping through your fingers. It didn't help that Jack had lost all of his savings when he'd lost the Black Pearl. He needed a way to make money, desperately. And yet…he was going to spend the rest of what he had in his pocket by going to the opera. Perhaps he could steal some unsuspecting patron's money. Those rich individuals who attended the opera were sure to have some money, right?

Jack desperately needed doubloons and even just pieces of eight. He was trying to save up for a ship and a crew to go after the Pearl. Revenge would be the best medicine for his anguished and tired soul, right? When he was captain of the Pearl again, everything would be all right. He could plunder to his heart's content…and he'd be able to get into his very secret stash of money hiding almost in plain sight. Hopefully…well, Barbossa probably hadn't been told by Calico Jack about that, right?

Regardless, it really was time for him to go. Shaking his head in an attempt to get rid of the thousands of angry flies swarming inside his head, Jack brushed a few imagined pieces of sand off his nicest pair of clothes and started swaggering his way towards the opera house. Thankfully, not many people could remember that Captain Jack Sparrow couldn't walk straight unless they'd known him. And if they knew him, they'd now know that he wasn't a captain anymore and probably didn't want to talk to him.

"Why am I here?" Jack asked suddenly one day as Pâquerette sat next to him on the bed, slowly massaging his chest. They'd been spending a lot of time with each other. Truthfully, Jack was getting quite sick of it all. Sure, Pâquerette was a beautiful woman, and sure, he wasn't about to complain about the nights they spent together…but it was dreadfully monotonous. She locked her cabin door during the day now. Jack was fairly sure it was to keep Diane and other members of her crew out. He didn't know for sure, of course, but suspicion in a "relationship" is never a good thing. The redhead now fed him herself every day, when she remembered. She seemed to be the perfect companion for him; neither of them wanted a serious relationship.

Yet, now whenever Pâquerette was with him (intimately) it seemed…different. Almost like she had something sinister in mind. What Diane had said really was getting to Jack. What if he was being used? What if the captain of this (from what Jack had gathered) all-female crew was slowly poisoning him? It was a distinct possibility. Poison has been used for ages to dispose of people in a fairly inconspicuous way. A few Popes of yore had even used poison to take people's property and to keep their power absolute. Pâquerette could be slipping arsenic into his food, for all he knew. Of course, Jack didn't feel any weaker. But…this was seriously starting to confuse him. Why would he be kidnaped to be a man toy? Didn't Pâquerette want his help sailing or something?

Pâquerette glanced into his dark eyes for a moment, apparently a little hurt that he'd asked such a question. "Haven't you been perfectly content, my Sparrow?" she cooed, leaning over him and kissing his cheek.

Jack frowned slightly. This is always what she did. When he wanted to discuss something important, she would kiss him. Or drag him down to the bed. Just last night, he'd tried slipping out of bed without her noticing (so he could have a quick look around before she awoke, of course). She'd caught him and had seemed quite angry with him for a moment before distracting him in a way that always seemed to work. Not this time. Jack would not be distracted by the promise of intimacy. He pulled away, scooting along the rather comfortable bed as fast as he could. Just to distance himself from the oft-times rough redhead. Maybe he could think clearly without her tongue in his mouth. "Well…I suppose so. But why?"

Pâquerette sighed heavily and swore softly. She didn't want to answer this question. It had taken him quite a while to get around to asking it, though, so why should she complain? "Isn't it obvious, Sparrow?" she nearly spat out of her mouth, her slightly crooked teeth seeming to glare at Jack as he stared at her. Where had all the bitterness come from?

"If it was obvious, I wouldn't be asking," Jack responded quickly, trying to keep the sudden awareness of his stupidity to hit really hard. Jack now realized he was being used. A man toy. But for what purpose? Was Pâquerette merely trying to pleasure him to death? Was she trying to keep him from getting a ship? Was she trying to kill him and have a little fun along the way? Why?

She shrugged her affirmation in a way that could be construed that she didn't really think that was the case. It had to be obvious. How could Jack be so blind? She sighed, slowly getting up off the bed and standing next to it. "I'm not at liberty to disclose that yet, Sparrow."

"Why not?" Jack asked, very much aware of the fact that she was threatening to leave. She only stayed in her cabin if she was on the bed. That's the way it had been working.

"It'd take all the fun out of our relationship," was her simple reply as she pulled her dress back on over her head. "Sparrow, questions are dangerous." She pouted for a moment as she stood at her cabin door, staring at Jack with a mixture of hatred and slight pity in her sparkling blue eyes. She stared at him for nearly half a minute before leaving the room.

Jack caught that warning clearly. He was probably in for a rather long and boring ride, now. Why did he have to open his big mouth? The same activity each night was better than nothing…

"Up," Pâquerette barked, stepping into her cabin. She was dressed in men's clothing today. Very tight and revealing men's clothing, rather than some of the outfits women pretending to be men wear. She obviously had nothing to hide. "Get dressed."

Jack stifled a yawn as he did as she demanded. He'd been having the most pleasant dream, actually. The Black Pearl had been his again, and he was sailing off towards the horizon littered with scantily clad women bearing fruit. But dreams were useless, weren't they? They ended immediately when you woke up, even if you didn't want them to. Grasping onto dreams was like trying to climb a waterfall by using the water as a ladder. It just didn't work. No matter how much your subconscious wanted something, it didn't work out in real life without effort. Once dressed, he arched one of his eyebrows and looked at her curiously. "What is it tha' you want?"

"Come on, Sparrow," she growled, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the door. "No more funny business."

Jack wasn't about to do anything that could be deemed "funny". She was taking him outside of her cabin! How exciting was that? In the month (as far as Jack could figure) he'd been aboard this ship, he hadn't seen anything but this room and Pâquerette and a few crew members. He was going to taste the sun again! The thought seemed to warm him from the inside, even though it was the middle of the night at the moment. Maybe she was sick of having him prisoner. He certainly looked as though he'd learned his lesson. He was no longer the nice even tan color he'd been when he'd had that drugged cognac. There was an unhealthy white glow to his skin and he looked almost as though he hadn't eaten anything in a week. Well, that was the case, since Pâquerette had stopped feeding him after their little argument…but no matter. Jack had certainly been in worse conditions before.

She pulled him out of her cabin, nearly knocking him to his knees as she continued on towards the longboat waiting on the side of her ship to be lowered to the ocean below. Over rigging, ropes, and all sorts of clothing. Apparently Pâquerette's whole crew was naked. Either that, or they'd all disappeared without their clothes. Unfortunately, Jack had no time to examine why there were clothes all over the main deck because Pâquerette soon reached the leeward side and forced him into the boat. He could just make out a small island in the distance.

Thankfully, it didn't look familiar. A small stab of worry had pierced his side when he'd noticed that small shape in the distance. What if Pâquerette, with a desire for irony or something, decided to maroon him on that same godforsaken spit of land he'd been marooned on before? That would've been painful. He very probably couldn't handle that.

Pâquerette bound his hands with a piece of hempen rope and disappeared for a moment. She returned with a few women Jack hadn't seen before. Unfortunately (in Jack's humble opinion), none of them were without their clothes. Maybe it was just laundry day or something. Jack really was still mystified by the clothes. He hadn't even thought to try and escape. What was the point? He had nowhere to go. His money was back with his things aboard his old ship. He couldn't even get a ride, unless he pick pocketed someone or managed to get in someone's good graces. That was an unlikely outcome.

The women stepped into the longboat and one with long brown hair slowly started lowering the ship into the waiting water below. This would undoubtedly be an adventure. Jack would've been excited to be going to an apparently deserted island with several women if he hadn't noticed the look in Pâquerette's blue eyes. She meant business. Bother.

The ride to the small island had been quite boring. None of the women maintained eye contact with Jack for more than a moment or two. Maybe they'd been warned he was evil and would leave them after only a night. Or maybe their tongue would be cut out if they so much as smiled at him. Or maybe they weren't into men at all.

Whatever it was, it really bothered Jack until they reached that small island. It was a beautiful island with approximately fifteen palm trees. The leaves were swaying peacefully high above everyone's head as they stepped out of the skiff and onto the sparkling white beaches. There seemed to be nothing marring the beach at all. No loose driftwood, no seaweed, no crabs, no shells...it was almost pristine. Maybe nature had been afraid to touch such an island.

Though the island was beautiful, Jack got the worst feeling of dread as he was forced up by the woman with long brown hair and almost pushed out of the boat. His dark eyes stared up at the trees. Was it just him, or did the air seem darker around here? Maybe the cloud hiding the sun would go away...but Jack really doubted it. There was no sound at all in the dense undergrowth in the center of the island as Pâquerette and her crew forced him to walk forward, leaving his footprints on the unnaturally clean beach. They were warped by the footprints of some of his armed female escorts, though. At least Jack didn't have to worry about stepping on something poisonous with his bare feet. That was a plus. Pâquerette had hidden his boots some time before in one of their little games. She really was an odd redhead in bed, wasn't she?

As he was told to march into the foliage, Jack shot Pâquerette an odd glance. What was this all about? Why was she avoiding answering his questions? It was getting quite old relatively quickly. Jack enjoyed solving riddles, after all, and it is impossible to solve a riddle or two without the slightest hint of a clue.

Special Note: I will eventually post another chapter of One Night Stands in which I reply to the reviews for Number Four and Number Three. Sorry about being so lazy.

Eccentric Banshee: It is very fun to abuse Jack. Which is why he's being treated so cruelly now. He should've left when he had the chance. Because I have a sneaking suspicion Diane would've helped him out...
Mid thirties is a very good age to guess. And I can see why you aim lower. Johnny is just one of those timeless people...
Thanks for the review, loff!

Raisin: I like to read your replies, too. Dunno why. Oh, wait. Yes I do. Very entertaining! I like being entertained.
I should've had Klaus say something like that. Unfortunately, we're not going to see him again. We're moving on to the weird part of the plot that I'm mainly putting in for kicks and to mess with people's view of Jack. But don't worry, he'll be doing it for all the "right" reasons. I hinted at it a lot...
Gibbs would definitely have a heart attack with that many women. Imagine him on Pâquerette's ship. -shudder- Not a pretty picture. He'd probably explode.
Jack probably won't spread word around that he's nearly invincible. I'm assuming. Dunno for sure, though. But I think that's one thing he'll keep to himself. Even in the next two movies. )
The whole crew is women. I'll probably explain why. Maybe not. But I plan on having Diane in the next chapter, at least. 'Cause she rocks.
It bothers me when people think Jack is twenty five in the movie. How could he really know Bootstrap Bill if he was only twenty five? He would've had to be captain of the Black Pearl at the tender age of fifteen. Which is silly. A man couldn't be a captain at the age of fifteen and have Barbossa as first mate.
I'm so sorry it took me so long to update!
CrazyPirateGirl: Yep. Nearly invincible and cute. The perfect man...well, except for his whole spending time with nearly every woman he sees... I'm sorry it took me so long to review, I hope to review again in the next while. Unfortunately, the AP tests are the week after this next one and I have an internship next week...
And Jack can't die. He's gotta make his appearance in the movie.
Jack: Glad you liked it.
Daisy: Erica likes reading your fluff, luv. She's heartbroken tha' ye mentioned ye din' think there was a point in reviewin'. If she doesn' get reviews, she goes nuts. An' we don' want t' see tha'. Trus' me.
She does thank ye for botherin' t' leave a review, though. An' tole me tha' I can reply t' yers as often as I want t'. If tha's not incentive t' leave fluff, I don' know what is.
Mystic Moon Maiden: I don't mind short reviews. I just like knowing that people are reading what I put online. Thanks! Since you were the first to review, you get a snazzy Pez dispenser!