Disclaimer: I don't have permission to be writing this.

AN (5/20): Sorry it has taken me so long. I've had the first half of this in a folder (not typed) for what seems like ages, really. But here it is. The explanation of the scar on his left arm. I bet you've been dying to know how he got that, eh?

Chapter Five: Faith and Hope

"What is that?" the woman asked, huffing from the exertion of swimming in a soggy, heavy dress. Jack was starting to get sick of drinking sea water and was quite tempted to rip her dress off. He could barely hear her because his ears were plugged up with the salty sea and everything, including his beating heart, seemed muffled. She was pointing towards the peacefully deceptive Man-O-War floating in the water. The pinkish bubbles floating on the top of the water like peaceful ducks were clearly visible now.

Not to Jack, however, since he was still facing the beach. He didn't want to lose his bearings and end up having to be rescued himself; that would be no fun. Instead of answering her, though, Jack murmured an apology softly , took a deep breath, and went below the water. Once there, he ripped her fine and waterlogged skirts off. The woman didn't start struggling until after the skirts were off, unfortunately. She kicked Jack in face as she tried desperately to get away, confusing the pirate. What had startled her so bad?

Mentally cursing, Jack struggled to surface, clawing at the water with his bare arms (he'd pulled his sleeves up before jumping into the water to keep them from limiting his grip because they were slightly longer than they should have been) like a cat clawing desperately on a slippery surface after jumping to avoid embarrassment. A sharp jolt of pain in his left arm made him gasp and swallow quite a lot of water as he neared the surface. The pain was far more intense, unexpected, and concentrated than anything he'd ever felt before. He knew he had to surface so he mastered the impulse to pull the offending creature off his arm right then so he could get a better look at it above the water. He didn't want to find out too late he was doomed to die. His lungs were calling for oxygen and Jack had never been one not to listen to his lungs, as well.

Upon reaching the surface, Jack's lungs exploded into ragged gasps and feeble coughing as he expelled sea water from his precious lungs and weakly lifted the afflicted arm out of the water. It felt like it was made of lead, truly, rather than flesh and blood. He blinked for a moment, struggling to make sense of the blurs he was seeing (as a result of the combined efforts of the salt water and shock) as he stared at his wounded arm. When his eyes focused, he realized the woman was staring at him in shock and that there were a few mean looking tentacles clutching to his now furious red skin. It almost looked like a burn combined with a scar from a whipping and it hurt a lot. It would almost undoubtedly scar.

Jack's attention snapped like a unraveling rope pulled too tight as the woman screamed. He turned slightly and noticed the Man-O-War floating near him. Putting two and two together in a split second, Jack figured this curious animal was the cause of his pain so he started swimming away. Unfortunately, another tentacle hit him in exactly the same place as the first one. He cried out in pain as another surge of fresh adrenaline started his legs and arms again and he swam towards the woman. Once they were both safely away from the Man-O-War, Jack examined his arm again. "D' ye 'ave any suggestions as to how I can get this off?" he found himself asking in a rather strained voice.

The woman merely shook her head. She'd never seen a Man-O-War attack or even a jellyfish attack before in her life. Many proper Christians believed that the devil had control over the water, so they never bothered learning how to swim. She'd been taught by her father after nearly drowning in England after falling into a pond. The incident had embarrassed her fat-faced father enough to teach her something her mother had forbidden in their home. Even though she did know how to swim (which was why she was out here in the first place), she did it very infrequently.

"Lovely," Jack muttered, wincing as the swells of water tickled his arm. He knew that if he tried removing the tentacles with his bare hands, his hands would be stung and scarred even though the tentacles were no longer connected to the Man-O-War. Frowning as he tread water, Jack pulled his right sleeve up over his hand (it was too long, after all) and quickly pulled the painful tentacles off his arm. The floated serenely down to meet Old Hobb, glad to have fulfilled some purpose in life. Jack continued treading water for a few minutes, dipping the injured arm into the salty sea every so often. Once the pain was manageable, he looked back at the woman. "Sorry I ruined yer dress," he said thickly.

"Quite all right." She smiled slightly, looking at the angry red welt on his arm for a bit. "Are you going to be all right?"

"Aye." Jack motioned towards the shore with his good arm. "We need t' get moving. Don' want to be trapped out here forever."

The woman nodded fervently and started swimming towards where he'd indicated. Jack cursed softly under his breath and then followed. How could he help her, with his left arm like this? Of course, she seemed to be having an easier time swimming, now that she wasn't wearing her heavy skirts.

"Thank you." The woman smiled tiredly over at Jack after she'd regained the ability to speak. Her breathing was still quite ragged and indicated her complete exhaustion, but her smile was quite enchanting indeed.

Jack slowly sat up and waited for the world to stop spinning. "No problem." He offered to help her up to a sitting position. "D' you live nearby?"

She nodded quickly and took his hand, sitting up. Jack then stood and helped her pull herself up to her feet. "I live this way." She only seemed slightly embarrassed to be in her under dress as she lead him towards a modest house up on a hill near the beach. The view from the house would be spectacular, during the day. If Jack were somehow forced to live on land for the rest of his life, he would live in a house like her's.

"So... This is it" she said a bit nervously as they reached her apparently gleaming front door. The moonlight was bathing everything in silvery overtones, making her seem that much more beautiful and the house that much more appealing. Of course, Jack realized a lot of what he was feeling was probably due to exhaustion. "Thank you so much. Is there anything I can do to help?" She pointed towards his injured left hand that seemed to be the only ugly thing under the moonlight. It also seemed to be swelling. His sleeve, which was still rolled up above it, seemed to be cutting off the circulation. It could always just be a trick from the bored moon, but she was quite sure he was still in a lot of pain.

"I'm fine." Jack smiled at her reassuringly. "I've had worse." Definitely true. Jack had nearly died several times thus far (though, he hadn't been in that much pain for quite a while) and his back was a myriad of scars.

"If you're-"

"Well, you could give me yer name," Jack interrupted. "I like knowing who I rescued."

The woman smiled and curtsied slightly. "Faith Purdue, at your service, Mister..."

Jack smiled, astounded to hear who she was. Faith Purdue was the opera's star soprano and he was supposed to have heard her sing tonight. Obviously that wouldn't happen unless he asked for a private performance since he'd missed the show and had no money to buy a new ticket unless he picked some plump pockets. "Jack. Jus' call me Jack." He bowed and gently took her delicate hand, caressing it with his lips for a moment before returning it. He didn't miss that little sigh of pleasure that escaped from her lips. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Purdue. Your skill and reputation are well known, bu' all the stories about your beauty do no' do you justice."

She laughed pleasantly, clearly pleased to hear him say something so nice and romantic. "Quite the charmer, Mr. Jack. Have you seen any of my operas?"

"Actually, I have tickets for tonight's performance." Jack reached into his pocket and frowned. "Or, rather, I 'ad tickets. Quite wet, you see."

"A pity," Faith replied softly. "I could give you a private performance, as a token of my appreciation." She smiled warmly at the excited look on Jack's face. "But only if you know the music and can sing it with me. I find it a little unnerving, singing for only one person."

"Oh, I know the music," Jack responded eagerly. "And the chance to perform wiv you, in your home? Well, how could I refuse?"

The robed man continued speaking, though hardly any of it made any sense to Jack. He was in too much pain because of those evil chains. Chains were probably the worst invention in the world. Jack really wanted to hit who first discovered you could lock people up in them. It gave sadists too much power. If he hadn't been locked up, Jack was fairly sure he could've taken down this creepy guy in the robe.

"Now I shall actually marry you," the man said almost proudly, finishing his spiel about how Pâquerette had permission to use Jack however she wanted to and that he wouldn't be able to say no at all. Jack suddenly found that the chains weren't as heavy and that they weren't as constricting. He could breathe!

"I don't think you can," Jack said, wheezing slightly as he struggled to at least look at his tormentor. Of course, he didn't really think the man in the robe could be giving him pain like that. It had to just be a fluke. The chains were just rather cold and were constricting. And the feeling of dizziness… Maybe it was something to do with the naked women behind him that he couldn't look at. Or, perhaps it was just the food that Pâquerette had given him to eat last night. He was allergic to something in the food she kept serving him. Had to be. It would make it hard for him to breathe. He just was still trying to determine what it was that bothered him in the sludge he was given to eat. If he was going to be married…well…

"I do think I can," the hooded figure replied, sounding annoyed. The man clearly thought that Jack was protesting for no real reason. Who wouldn't want to marry the redhead Pâquerette? Though her teeth were quite crooked, she was a beautiful woman. Plus, Jack would "have" his own ship again. Wasn't that something to celebrate? Some people were so selfish. Jack could do a lot more with an all female crew than he probably realized. Pâquerette was the sort of woman that shared all the booty with her crew.

Jack was having a very hard time staying conscious, suddenly. The world was blurring and becoming some black color. Most disgusting. The slight titters from the women behind him seemed to echo inside his head a million times and amplify themselves. This would make his head explode! There was no other explanation for that feeling. Couldn't be. "Why?"

The man smiled slightly, the smile just barely visible beneath the hood. "Well, I own you."

"Impossible," Jack spat, struggling to his feet. "You can't own someone."

"I can and do, Captain Sparrow. I suggest you forget your notions about life before I reveal something you don't want to know. Let me marry you to this fine specimen and stay out of my hair. You're not the man I thought you were."

"You can't own me," Jack protested weakly. "Jus' like Pâquerette could ne'er get me to really do what she tells me."

The man sighed and opened the book. He glanced to Pâquerette. "Do you, Pâquerette Jouer, take Jack Sparrow to be your husband? Do you promise to control him forever and keep him from causing trouble?"

Pâquerette was silent for a while, glancing between Jack and the man. "I do."

"Good," the man replied, smiling again. He glanced towards Jack. "Since this is a marriage under duress…you've already given your consent, by consummating the marriage already. So…I now pronounce you man and wife!" A curious blue light appeared from his fingertips and Jack felt himself go unconscious. The weird thing about it was that he could hear absolutely everything and was very much aware of what was going on. He felt…trapped.

Pâquerette kissed his prostrated form gently before standing up. "All right, girls! The promised orgy is about to begin. Don't wear out guest out." Jack assumed the man took his hood off to reveal his face, because he heard all of the women get excited. Based on their reactions, the robed man was rather attractive. Pity he couldn't see anything. He liked knowing what his enemies looked like.

Jack was wishing he could move before the orgy started, actually. Or that he could at least go unconscious. Instead, Pâquerette snapped, "Get up, Sparrow." Jack felt his body get itself up to walk to her side. He had to obey her. Lovely. Just lovely. A pirate that had to listen to his lover. "Come on," she added, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the ruckus going on with the nude women.

Jack couldn't see a thing but his body was surprisingly able to dodge all of the debris along the way. Maybe he was just running on basic brain functions without sight. Or his body was a cage for his soul. Jack didn't want to think about it.

Pâquerette suddenly stopped and helped him sit down before kissing him in a way that meant only one thing. After the kiss was done, Jack put his hand up for a moment. "Is it normal for me to not see?" he asked, his voice far too refined for his tastes. It sounded like someone completely different.

"Aye, I believe it is," Pâquerette replied, sounding a bit frustrated. "Don't worry." A direct command. Jack was no longer allowed to worry until Pâquerette decided he needed to be worried. "Now, kiss me."

This was going to get rather old fast, wasn't it? Just what would a woman like Pâquerette do with him now? And what was the robed man talking about? How could he be owned by someone he'd never even met before in his life? Jack hated unanswered questions, but he couldn't worry about them.

When Jack awoke the next morning, he was completely exhausted and covered in sand. And alone. But he could see the sun rising in the East. It was a very reassuring sight. Maybe he'd been left by his bride already. Jack didn't want to be married. He didn't want to have to listen to Pâquerette for the rest of his life. He didn't want to be here. This was almost as bad as being betrayed by your best friend and left on an island to die.

"Ah…the sleepy boy is finally awake," Diane said as she walked towards Jack and sat down near him. "Should I end his misery?" She was holding a pistol in her hand, stroking it lovingly. It took Jack a moment to recognize it. She was holding the pistol he was saving to use on Barbossa, the next time they met.

"No," Jack replied, holding his hand out for the gun. He was too tired to exchange witty banter. Pâquerette could be quite violent when she wanted to be. "He'd rather be miserable for the rest of his life."

"Apparently," Diane rejoined, slowly handing him the pistol. Her dark eyes were full of a mysterious mixture of emotions as she contemplated Jack carefully. "I warned you, Jack."

"Warned me about what?"

"Everything." Diane sighed softly. "Pâquerette has been speaking of you since I met her the first time. Absolutely obsessed with revenge."

"Why in the world did she marry me, then?" Jack asked, a tired bite to his voice. "Doesn' make sense."

"No. It doesn't." Diane frowned. "I don't know why she married you. Must be something to do with the gentleman last night." She tilted her head slightly, alarmed at the bite to his voice. He was Jack Sparrow…he could handle this.

"Who was he?" Jack asked after a long pause, toying with the pistol in his hands. This was boring. Where was Pâquerette, anyway? Couldn't they leave this island so that he could figure out how to get away?

"I'm not entirely sure. We found him in London, if that helps. He seemed to know a lot about Pâquerette. Too much, maybe. Promised her that if she got pregnant with your child he'd give her everything her heart desired." Diane looked down at her hands. "She's pregnant."

"I know," Jack replied softly. He did know. Women couldn't really hide that for long from him. "I know. An' I thought it might have somethin' t' do wiv that…but…" He frowned. "I don't know why she bothered marryin' me if she got what she wanted."

"She had to. The man changed the terms a week ago." Diane looked up at Jack again. "She was absolutely furious when he did…but then he promised that you would have to listen to her. Pâquerette didn't ask any questions as to why he wanted to ruin your life. But I think you did something to offend him."

Jack laughed bitterly. "Who haven't I offended, eh? Me captain is going t' wonder where the heck I am, by now. All the friends I 'ave in the Mediterranean will forget abou' me. I'll be unknown again because of a bloody redhead."

"Something wrong with redheads, then?" Diane smiled softly. "Relax. It isn't as bad as you think it is. There's always a way out. Always."

"I doubt ye'd believe that in me situation," Jack replied with a frown. "Bu' thanks for the advice. I can handle the situation meself."

Diane scoffed and stood up. "Fine. Just kill her before she tells you you can't." With that, she turned around and walked away, her dark hair bouncing against the back of her light shirt. She really was a beautiful woman.

Sunkist3208: a cult is close enough to what it really is. Creepy naked women. And I'm sorry it took me so long to update. I'm a slow poke. –grins- Thanks for the review, Whitney!
Mystic Moon Maiden: I've heard that he's captured by cannibals in the next film, too. I can't wait! And also some stuff about Davy Jones. I wish it were next year… And the Moineau/Sparrow bit will be explained shortly. Very shortly. Hope you like this chapter! It's rather weird…
Raisin: Jack actually is very liberal with his views on women. Very liberal. Men really did think they were the superior sex. Some men still do. And yes, Jack has to obey the redhead. Poor Jack. Perhaps someday he'll find some woman to control him that won't control him, if that makes sense. Anyway, I would love being around in the 20's too. I like the whole Women's right movement. Tis cool.
And the Salem Witch trials were very interesting to study, too. I've heard a few theories where they think some fungus in the bread gave those girls hallucinations… The naked women thing…well, that was kinda last minute. This is just going to get weirder and weirder… But her crew are devil worshippers.
I saw a trailer for Charlie too…and I can't wait! I'm totally going opening day. Thanks for the very informative review!
CrazyPirateGirl: That's because I'm getting weirder and weirder all the time. Trust me, it'll get to be normal by the time Jack meets up with Anamaria and Gibbs. Which will happen, honest. We've seen the robed man before. –cough-laststory-cough- And I'm glad you liked it! Thanks for being such a loyal reviewer! You rock my socks!
Daisy: I like Pâquerette's method too, frankly. I think more women should have complete control over their husband.
I din' like her method, frankly. Pâquerette was a crazy woman, an' she's only loosely based on ye, luv. An' I think ye've probably caught the name this time, eh? If not, well, I'll jus' 'ave t' give ye a thorough talk abou' life. Or somethin'. Bu' thanks for leaving your sentiments again, milady. Erica would be even more crazy wivout you.
Eccentric Banshee: You still have to show me that picture. And Artemis would do very nicely. I couldn't remember her name, hence me dancing around it there. As I'm sure you could tell. The naked women were the robbed man's idea. Because, you see, he likes orgies. –uncomfortable cough- Thanks for taking the time to leave me a review! Since I'm still at school, you gets a snazzy invitation to the School of Technology banquet next Wednesday.