She wanted to tangle her fingers in his hair, to feel in real, textured intensity the dark curtains that surrounded his sun-beaten face.

She wanted to wipe that grin from his eyes; that constant mocking expression that turned every comment into a subtle jab at your personal integrity.

She wanted to hurt him- to see him fall to his knees in a fit of human weakness.

She wanted to see him naked before her, every inch of him exposed- in his eyes, in his skin- in his very soul.

She wanted to wipe away the myth of Captain Jack Sparrow, and witness the man.

She wanted to taste the wind and the sea and the sky- the flavors of freedom that she knew he kept on the tip of his tongue.

She wanted to own him, to chain him to her and settle him beside her- to break a wild thing.

She wanted to set him free.

She wanted to touch him- to feel if his skin were as jaded and hard as his soul, or as hard and smooth as water.

She wanted to define him- to find the answers to all his mysteries, and keep his truths all to herself.

She wanted to know him, to understand what went on inside his wild mind- to know why his eyes sometimes sank like a stone in the ocean, and to know what made them glitter, like sunlight on a wave.

She wanted to learn his language, to speak what only he and the Pearl could comprehend.

She wanted what only Jack seemed capable of giving.

She wanted freedom.