The water stung like an angry wasp. It wasn't much of an issue at the moment. The real problem was perhaps trying to get on land.

Jack Sparrow struggled from underwater, ferociously kicking his now rope-free legs and waving his arms, trying to get above water where he belonged. His one working eye was open and searching for something to grab hold of. A few Caribbean fishes darted from his flailing body.

This time, swimming was imperative for his very survival. His many years of being thrown overboard from squalls had trained him for situations such as this. It was no different from other times, except for the reason WHY he was overboard. The thoughts were only slowing down his progress, so he pushed them from his aching head and fought with the angry sea. The darker sea beneath him tried to pull him away from the surface. The blackness seemed to suffocate him and trap him in the ever wavering liquid. Once again, his quickening heartbeat reached his eardrums and pulsed in his brain. Time itself slowed, as it had several times before, but never as close as this. His limbs were weakening and starting to give in to the ocean's urges.

Then there came an unexpected surprise. Jack felt plasmatic sand beneath his feet, which soon turned to more compact and foot worthy stepping stones. His head rose above the surface and he inhaled sharply, almost taking in water. He stumbled onto the shore, still swaying as an after effect from the raging sea. He fell on hands and knees, feeling the grains between his fingers. His body shuddered as he coughed up some salty distasteful water, along with some light blood. Only one thing then ran through his mind. The Pearl. He painfully twisted around to gaze at the horizon. The black ship was moving away, destined for the Isla de Muerta. Jack was not with her. He saw her sails fading away behind forming clouds. In about half an hour they would no longer be visible.

Jack's lips trembled slightly. His mind fell blank as did his features. Then with a thump, his body and head hit the earth and he was out cold.

"MOVE!" Jack said as he pushed another man forward. He quickly followed his friend through the darkened alleyway. His agility was somewhat hindered from the huge bow in his hands and his concentration was half on its safety, making sure it didn't hit anything.

The alleyway ended at a corner. The cloaked figure Jack had pushed ahead backed against the wall, breathing heavily from the effort of running. Jack caught up and set the bow down momentarily. It almost teetered over onto the ground, but the figure grabbed hold of it before it could. His fingers stroked the smooth, polished wood lovingly. An image of the Black Pearl appeared in his thoughts. He was sure his friend felt the same about his weapon as he did for his ship.

The character, who had been stroking the bow, pulled back his hood, revealing his stern yet handsome face. Dark amber ringlets flowed to his shoulders. His face was hollow and smooth, not a scar to be seen except one that curved around his eye, splitting his eyebrow in two. His eyes were determined and of no true color, flashing with emotion.

"Do ye think we lost 'em?" he said with a low, scratchy voice.

"No," Jack said confidently and quietly. "They aren't high authority for losing renegades of the crown easily." He listened intently for following footsteps as his friend nodded in concurrence.

"This might be safe 'round the corner," Jack said. "Be swift!"

They both turned around the corner and dashed down another silent alley, bow in Jack's hand once again.

"What I do for you and yer bloody piece of wood," Jack growled between breaths. Although Jack couldn't see it, the figure blushed slightly.

"I's no ordinary weapon," he retorted. "I'm nothin' without that bow. Lightning struck that tree and --"

"We all know that tale, Hunter. Save it for later if we escape the gallows."

They had reached another corner. The alley was still silent, almost suspicious. Jack used a hand to hold Hunter back.

"Hear somethin', Jack?"

"No," Jack said once again. "That's what concerns me." His hand drifted to his belt and he pulled out an elegant black pistol. He cocked it, the metal sound bouncing off the brick and tarred walls.

"I hear nothing," Hunter told Jack, his tone showing off a faint hint of German accent. He lifted his bow and gripped it tightly. "What ye need that for?" Jack lifted a finger to his lips, indicating silence was needed. His thumb twitched over the back of the gun. In a lightning moment, he turned the corner and pointed his gun at nothing. No one was there. Hanging wash on lines of string swayed slightly in a ghostlike breeze. Jack gritted his teeth in frustration as he put his pistol away, unlocking the hammer.

"S'nothing," Hunter said mockingly.

Two shots exploded in the darkness. Jack staggered and fell to the ground. Hunter immediately pulled an arrow from behind his back and adjusted it to his bow, waiting behind the corner until he thought it ready to reveal himself. He turned his arrow around the corner and let it fly, meeting its target through the heart. The soldier was dead before his skull met the dirt floor. More bullets whizzed through the air, coming from behind unseen crates and wagons. Hunter hid behind the corner once again, pulling out another arrow. Each time he turned back to his enemies, he would let another arrow fly, each time hitting its goal. It was little effort for Hard-fisted Hunter, the best known living archer. Soon, ten more bodies were sprawled on the dirt road. The alley was quiet once more.

Hunter set his bow against the wall once again before he kneeled down beside the fallen pirate, his auburn curls falling into his face. Red flowers of blood had bloomed on his chest, two burnt black holes showing the source. Hunter sighed as he lifted Jack's hand to feel for a pulse.

"Lucky bastard," he muttered to himself. "Lucky they missed yer heart or ye'd be dancin' with the dead by now." The archer grunted as he lifted Jack over his shoulder, weighed down only slightly from Jack's body. He grabbed his bow with his free hand and continued down the darkened alley.

Jack awoke, face in the sand and sun burning ever brighter above him. He groaned as he sat up, wiping the grains from his face. He swallowed with his dry throat, feeling a burn for rum or even water. Then he remembered where he was.

Jack turned around abruptly, cracking his cramped bones. The Black Pearl was no longer sailing the horizon within his sight. If only Barbossa had finished him off on deck, then he wouldn't have to hurt so bad right now.

Front now facing the open sea, Jack surveyed what he could see without getting up. The uneven sandy beach was being swallowed and spat back out by the incoming tide, eating any small footprints made by the occasional sidestepping crab. Sometimes the waves would bring in pieces of broken coral, scattering them jaggedly along the shore. Farther inland was a grassy area, blockaded by palm and deciduous trees. The sporadic rock or shrub was placed at intervals between the trees. A small forest could be seen farther in, giving passage to unknown territory. The branches and leaves didn't sway, as there was no wind. The only sound he could hear distinctly was the familiar sound of the advancing waves.

But he didn't get up to explore this assumed deserted island. He didn't go in search of food or water. Heretofore Captain Jack Sparrow sat in the sand, staring at the horizon with deep longing. Not an eyelash moved nor a joint twitched unless it was absolutely necessary. If only a man, a pirate, could cry. Perhaps that would be able to break his trance. But there was no way he could shed a tear for his girl. The only tears he had were from the flecks of sea water that sprayed his face.

The sun began to hide behind the distant horizon, blazing the sky brilliant hues of crimson, ginger, and violet. White lines that reflected the stars above danced on the surface of the water. Jack had not moved for hours, still staring at the ship that was no longer there. If he stared long enough, she would sometimes appear, the outline barely showing before disappearing once again like a ghost. He remembered betraying her when she tried to rock him to sleep. Wasn't this too harsh a punishment? He looked down at himself, his clothes no longer wet from his earlier swim and his feet covered with sand. He had left several of his effects in his quarters, including his boots, coat, and hat. He didn't even have his sword, dropping it when he had lost the battle on board. It wasn't a big issue. The only thing that mattered was that Barbossa had stolen his ship from him. Kill me now, he thought, but don't take my vessel. He could imagine Barbossa at her wheel, roughly turning the wheel to head in the direction of a different island. He was the murdered husband and Barbossa was the rapist, dragging his woman away from him, his defeating laughter ringing in his dead ears.

Jack cursed loudly, jumping to his feet and running out to shore. His feet met the freezing water, washing away any sand particles.

"COME BACK!" Jack shouted into the darkness. "COME BACK HERE YE DAMN MISCREANT! I'LL SLASH YER BELLY OPEN AND FEED YE TO THE SHARKS! COME BACK, DAMMIT!" Jack kicked the water up, scaring unseen night fish. "SHE'S MINE! THE PEARL IS MINE! THIEVIN' BASTARD!"

His angry words rang through the night but soon disappeared. He gave the innocent waters one last kick before turning back around and trudging through the sand. Night had almost completely revealed itself, but enough light was left for Jack to find a tree to sit by. He leaned against the bumpy bark and sighed, his heart beating in his throat and perspiration forming on his forehead and chest. Pain shot through his cuts and head, his heart as well, a heart that was not settled.

Jack remembered Hunter's warning as he had given him the bearings. He bitterly hoped that Hunter's words were true and his old crew met their worst. Jack felt for something in his pocket and pulled out the bit of parchment he had been holding for over a month. Spider script was scrawled over the top of the paper, giving vague directions to the island of death. Underneath it was a messy drawing, a coin with a skull in the centre. Jack wasn't sure what it meant, but he made sure that he could recognize the drawing. The paper was faded and close to falling apart from being in the water. He carefully folded the paper back up and pocketed it.

Hunter had been bound to a contract, one that was surely broken as of now. Jack remembered vividly the day it had been written.

There was a knock on the door. Jack cocked his pistol.
"Who's there?" he called out.
"I's me," a low familiar voice said from behind the door.

Jack placed his pistol back on the small table beside his bed. "Come in."

The wooden door opened to yield Hunter. He closed it quietly beside him.

"How are ye?" Hunter directed towards Jack who was lying on the single bed.

"Better, I s'ppose," Jack said lazily. "That is for one who took two bullets to the chest." He lightly touched the white bandage under his shirt.

"Aye," Hunter said simply. His russet coat fluttered as he moved across the room to sit in the wooden chair by Jack's bed. Jack's eyes followed the man, intent on some inner thought.

"I didn't see it coming," Jack said with a slight hint of regret.

"Nor did I," Hunter replied. "But ye pulled through, didn't ye?"

"That I did," the wounded pirate whispered, somewhat distracted. A moment of silence followed before Hunter spoke again.

"Somethin' ye need me for, Jack?"

Jack clasped his hands together, wetting his dry lips and raising an eyebrow, as if getting ready for a magnificent speech.

"I think I need a bit or repayment, Hunter."

Hunter's eyebrows furrowed in concern, his strange eyes flashing to a shade of green.

"What do you mean?"

Jack sighed. "I agreed to help you get yer bow back, but I didn't agree to a conflict with the Royal Armies. You make yerself fine enemies."

Hunter frowned but said nothing.

"This," Jack said, patting his wound lightly and grimacing, "Is what I get for a simple retrieval of a bow? Are you out of yer bloomin' mind?"

"I've told ye how important this bow is," Hunter said, reaching back to touch the smooth wood. "I'm nothing without it and I needed help to get it back." He looked at the opposite wall, away from Jack. "These things happen sometimes…"
"I'll have none of that," Jack said sternly. "Now listen closely. I think a few years of service from ye would be sufficient enough, eh?"

"WHAT?!" Hunter yelled, whipping back around to face Jack.

"Yer a smart man, Hunter, a man of the world. You know where things are, where things are hidden. I say you owe me some bearings, hm?"

"I know nothing of the sort," Hunter growled back.

"You might not. But you will find them, won't you?"

Hunter snarled. "What makes you think I'll comply with this?"

Jack blinked as if the thought had never occurred to him. "Well, if it comes to that, then I guess the world won't be much sorry to hear the name of Hard-fisted Hunter die out so soon. It's a simple task, mate." Jack pulled open a drawer and retrieved a crisp page with writing on it. He handed it to Hunter who took it and looked over its contents.

"You made a bloody contract?" Hunter asked accusingly.

"Yes," Jack said slowly. "It's to back up your word, if you will indeed give it."

Hunter finished reading the contract and looked up at Jack. The task Jack was asking him was simple enough, but the feeling of being under his control was too constraining. This was typical piratical business, but he didn't like it. If he refused the contract…he didn't want to think about what could happen. Hunter knew he was good, but he also knew Jack's power. He was no ordinary pirate, not one to take lightly. This would change their camaraderie quite a bit. He held his palm out and Jack placed an inked quill in his hand. Hunter touched the tip to the paper and signed his name in his usual spider script. He handed the quill and paper to Jack who tucked them into the drawer once again.

"Don't leave here bitter, Hunter," Jack assured him. "This should change nothing."

Hunter looked over his gnarled hands, clenching and unclenching them. They always pained him and he constantly moved them around, trying to at least dull the hurting. He got up from the chair and turned his back on Jack, walking to the door.

"Hunter!"

He stopped, back still to Jack and the door open.

"I'd like my first destination by next week, savvy?"

Hunter paused, the words soaking in. Then he walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

It was completely dark now. The light from the stars was not sufficient to any nighttime activity.

Jack let out a deep sigh and leaning back fully against the tree, he closed his eyes, remembering the soothing rock of his ship. His heart ached for what had been taken from him. He fingered the bullet shaped scars on his chest before letting his hand drop to his side, the crashing waves finally pulling him into fitful slumber.