I tumbled down, too surprised to scream. I fell for what seemed like a very short time before I hit the icy water. My whole body was thrown beneath the surface, and I struggled to swim up against the waves the Pearl was making. I finally surfaced, spluttering and gasping for air, just in time to see Jack dive in after me.

He had a rope in his hand, and I marveled at the fact that he didn't drop it. I tried to keep an eye on him, but I had already been swept pretty far from the ship. It was hard to keep my head up for long, so I concentrated on floating. I had never been much of a swimmer, and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to tread water long enough for Jack to reach me.

I gasped as a large wave suddenly came down over my head. I was pushed even farther from the surface, and I had almost no breath. I tried to open my eyes in the water, but they stung from the salt. I accidentally inhaled some water into my nose, making me cough. I needed air! I started thrashing blindly, panicking, hoping I could get to the surface.

Suddenly I felt a pair of strong arms around me, pulling me up. Spent, I went limp. I hoped I would get to the surface before I drowned from the water in my lungs...

Finally. I surfaced, coughing up water. I turned around to see Jack's face.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded, shivering in the freezing water. Jack swam closer, and I wrapped my arms around is neck and shoulders. I looked up and found us closer to the Pearl. Jack must have brought me closer to the ship when bringing me up, I thought.

Jack made sure I had a good hold on him and wrapped one arm around my back. His other hand was wrapped firmly in the rope.

"Hang on!"

That was the only warning I had before we were hauled upward.

I shut my eyes and buried my face in Jack's neck as we flew up. When I felt us coming down again, my eyes snapped open to see the deck of the Pearl coming closer and closer.

Jack and I fell to the deck in a wet, shivering heap. I had landed on top of him, and I quickly rolled off to see if he was okay.

"Blast it, I told ya that girl was bad luck!" Mr. Gibbs let go of the end of rope he had been pulling and pulled Jack up, looking him over.

"No worries, Mr. Gibbs, no one was hurt!" said Jack, pretty jovially for someone who had just had to swim in the freezing ocean twice in one day.

Mr. Gibbs grumbled something about "rotten luck" and "cursed women" before stalking off. The rest of the crew, seeing that their captain was fine, dispersed.

Jack turned around to see me still sitting on the deck, dumping water out of my boots.

"Come along, Miss Connors, I'd like a word in my quarters," he said, without waiting for me to get up.

"Oh, no one make a fuss over me, I'm fine," I muttered under my breath, shoving the boots back on my feet.

Grumbling, I followed him through the wood and glass doors I had seen earlier.

Jack offered me a seat at the table I recognized as the one Barbossa had served Elizabeth dinner on in The Curse of the Black Pearl. He went further into the room, rummaging around in a pile I couldn't quite see clearly, and produced two grey blankets and a dusty bottle filled with a dark red liquid.

As Jack placed a blanket around my shoulders, I noticed his right hand had been badly burned by the rope. His skin was pink and raw in some places, but in most it was red and bloody.

"You're hurt!" I exclaimed, seizing his hand and looking it over.

"Please, Miss Connors--"

"Call me Monica."

"Well, then, Monica, I appreciate your concern, but it's not that bad," Jack said, removing his hand from my grip. "Besides, it hurts worse with your wet, salty hair dripping onto it."

"Oh...sorry."

There was an uncomfortable silence as he pulled up a chair close to mine, the blanket draped over his shoulders and the bottle between us on the table. He took the bottle, uncorked it, and took a deep swig.

"Ah...glad to see the rum's not gone," I remarked without thinking.

Jack stopped in mid-gulp and stared at me, frowning, with the bottle still at his lips. He slowly placed the bottle back on the table, swallowing, and asked carefully, "Why do you say that?"

I sighed in frustration at my slip-up. Why couldn't I remember to keep my mouth shut!

"Look, I'm not from Australia. I'm from the future. I come from a place called Houston..."

I proceeded to describe to him the future of America, reciting everything I knew from my history lessons.

God, this is bizarre, I thought, watching Jack's wide eyed expression. He obviously thinks I'm crazy...

When I was done explaining America and Texas, I began telling him about the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. I described everything I knew about his life, from when he arrived at Port Royal to when he was rescued from the gallows and when he returned to the Black Pearl. I let him know I knew how he got off the island he had been marooned on by Barbossa and the rest of his crew. I explained that I knew he had to pay his soul to Davy Jones, which I had gathered from the Internet about Dead Man's Chest. When I was finished, I took a deep breath and waited for him to speak.

He stared at me. He didn't say anything at first, just...stared. Then, with an abruptness that made me jump, he seized the bottle and took several long gulps.

"How..." He stopped, probably quite disoriented from the rum, swallowed, and continued. "How did you get here then?" he slurred.

I frowned, shocked. The whole movie thing didn't even faze him! Must be the rum, I thought, shaking my head.

"Well, I was doing the laundry, and I opened the dryer while--"

"Hang on," he said, waving his hands in front of his face drunkenly. "What's a dryer?"

"It's a machine that dries clothes," I said quickly, afraid he might keel over at any second. "Anyway, I opened it while it was running and noticed a weird light coming from it, so I stuck my head in to see what it was, you know? And then my head was being sucked in! And then my whole body was, too, and I was tumbling through the air in this bright light and whooshing and the next thing I knew I was here."

I took a deep breath after my rambling and waited for him to reply. He opened his mouth, appearing to be choosing his words carefully. Finally, I thought, I can get his judgment! Does he think I'm crazy? Will he want me on his ship anymore? Now I'll get to find out!

"We could use a 'dryer' right now," Jack slurred.

I stared at him incredulously. Had anything I had just said gotten through to him? Well, besides explaining what a dryer was.

"What? What're you angry about?"

I guess my frustration must have shown through on my face. "It's just...I just spent forever explaining this to you, and you don't even care!"

"Whoa--I care, young missy!" said Jack quickly. "I said we could use a dryer right now, didn't you hear?"

I rolled my eyes and looked away. I had had the strangest, most taxing day of my life, and here sat Captain Jack Sparrow, just going on and on about dryers.

"Hey, come on love," he said softly, leaning closer to me in his chair. "I didn't mean to make you mad."

I looked back at him ruefully. Was he being serious, or was he just drunk?

"Here. Drink this," Jack said, handing me the bottle of rum.

I took it cautiously, noticing that it was still quite full. "Um...no, thanks," I said quickly, setting back on the table.

It was Jack's turn to look incredulous. "What do you mean, 'no'?" he asked, frowning. "It'll warm you up. And make you feel better," he added, pushing the bottle towards me.

"But I'm too young..." I looked at the bottle, and then back up at Jack. He was staring at me intently, as if he was willing me to drink the rum.

Oh, what the hell, I thought, grabbing the bottle. I think I've earned it, after this day.

Without pausing to think, I took a swig of rum.

As soon as the liquid hit my tongue, I spit it out.

"Blegh! That's disgusting!" I exclaimed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I examined the bottle. "Are you sure this is good?"

"You just wasted all that!" said Jack, gesturing towards the spit-out rum that had splattered on the table.

"Sorry...but that was really disgusting," I said, setting the bottle back on the table again. "Are you sure it hasn't gone bad or something?"

Jack, who had previously been miffed at all the wasted rum, now let a smile spread across his face. "'Gone bad'? 'Gone bad! Clearly you've never drunk a drop of alcohol in your life!"

"Hello? I'm only fifteen!" I yelled, but I, too, had a wide grin on my face.

"Well, so much for the rum idea," Jack muttered, pushing himself out of his chair and digging through another pile in the room. "Why don't we find you some new clothes to change into?"

"What about you?" I asked curiously.

He turned back around and smirked. "The rum, love!"

"Oh...right." I sat in silence, thinking. "By the way...I never did thank you properly for saving me."

Jack straightened up and turned around, some clothes in his arms. "So?"

"So...so thank you," I said lamely, feeling foolish.

He walked closer in me, dumping the clothes in my lap and moving his face very close to mine. "You're welcome."

There was another awkward silence as he was leaning over me, staring into my eyes. I broke his gaze hesitantly, my eyes dropping down to the clothes.

"How did you...how do you know my size?" I asked nervously, swallowing. Why did he have to get so damn close to me!

"Simple," Jack said, standing up. (I breathed a sigh of relief...or was it disappointment?) "These were the smallest I could find."

"Oh," I said stupidly. I cursed myself for not being better with words.

Jack moved away from me, picking up the bottle of rum and corking it. "Well, you can go back to your room, Miss Connors. I--"

"Please, call me Monica," I insisted, standing up. "You saved my life; I think we can be on first-name terms."

I had been looking down at the clothes in my hands, too nervous to look at Jack. I looked up at him when he didn't reply, and found him staring at me.

"Uh...unless, that is, you just want me to call you Captain..."

Jack blinked and shook his head a little. "No, Jack is fine...Monica."

I shivered when he said my name, staring at me so intently like that. Oh, right, I thought suddenly. He's drunk!

"Well," he said, apparently over his little spell, "good night then, Monica."

"Good night, Jack," I said, a bit of a smile on my face. I turned for the door, the blanket still over my shoulders and the clothes in my arms.

"Oh...and Jack?" I asked, turning back towards him.

"Yeah?"

I hesitated, unsure of why I had just done that. "Uh...sorry about your rum."

I thought I saw a small smile on his face before I exited his quarters.