Chapter 9: We Burn Up the City
"You...you're Captain Jack Sparrow?"
"No need to sound so disappointed, luv; I did just rescue you, after all," Jack said sourly.
"No, no; I just...always thought you'd be...taller..." AnaMaria looked around. "Where's my husband?"
"Yer husband?"
"Aye, a man—"
"One could only hope, though the idea of otherwise is certainly intriguing—" WHACK. "Apologies. Continue."
"A man, tall, mid-thirties, long blonde hair, rugged looks, goes by Sawyer."
"Sawyer got married? Shall have to congratulate him." Sparrow surveyed his boat, then said, "Don't see 'im, luv."
"Well, he must have gone ashore, then; can you go there?"
"Not yet, luv; some mates jumped off, and I'm gonna pick 'em up."
The boat swung around as AnaMaria scanned the water for Sawyer. She saw several familiar figures in it, including Michael, his son Walt, Kate and Jack—since they'd been married, Jack abandoned his life of decency and joined the Oceanic as a pirate—and there were bodies, lots of them; apparently the jump killed far more than it saved.
And one body floated by. Ana recoiled. It couldn't be—
It wasn't possibly—
It was Sawyer.
Ana cried out, grabbing his floating form and hauling him aboard. She ignored the others telling her that he was dead; of course he wasn't, he was just playing with them, he'd wake up any second now, any second...
But the seconds turned into minutes, and the minutes turned into an hour. Finally, sobbing, she gave up, and gave in; Sawyer was dead. She bowed her head as tears fell onto his cheeks, and then looked to the heavens as it began to rain, the rainwater mixing with her painful tears.
Than Jack came up, and embraced her. It was not an embrace of familiarity or intent thereof, but one of comfort, of friendship. She cracked, and buried her head in his shoulder, and cried out nothing coherent at all; just a cry of pain, misery, and ultimate suffering.
But Sparrow was there for her; he silently promised to be her rock, her anchor until she repaired and went on. Little did they know that night that the latter would never truly happen; through thick and thin, ups and downs, almost love and utmost hatred, he'd still be there.
END FLASHBACK
Tortuga was as it always was; half-ablaze, reeking of rum, gunpowder and sex, men chasing women, women chasing men, rum everywhere, and the mayor in the well. Jack Sparrow wandered through the confusion, determined to get an adequate supply of rum for the Black Pearl.
Behind him, Matelot suggested as he rolled two barrels down the hill to the port, "Let's burn up the city!"
"No more rum for that man, Mr. Gibbs," Jack ordered.
"Aye, sir."
The Black Pearl quickly left the town, and made course for Isla de Muerta.