A/N: Nom! Peanuts!

Thank you Nytd for your beta magic and for being the reddest of all red pens ;)

Inspired by this weeks challenge "reign" at the Broken Compass Forum.

Enjoy!

Day 24

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Night was the moon's beloved and the sun's most hated foe. Night was when words and actions faded out gracefully to let the skies come alive. The disparaging analysis of another beleaguered day had come to an end and all that is truly important became somewhat whole and sound again in unconscious dreams. Hundreds of thousand stars set the sky blaze, causing it to resemble the brightness of day, causing the sun to grow more passionate with each rise, setting fire to the landscape in a sweltering rage over it's jealousy of the moon's reign.

He let his eyes wander along the calm seas of dark blue oblivion above him. There was something haunting about the speckles of light that surrounded the glowing moon. They had all the allure of an ethereal soul and something of their inconceivable mystery caused Jack to quiver inside. Almost as if he was being watched; the moon possessing a mind of its own and beckoning him to its call.

A bell sounded, echoing two chimes of energy along the Pearl's enigmatic decks, indicating that his middle watch had come to an end. Yet, he did not waver from his stance, taking the pegs of his beloved's wheel, continuing to look out before him, letting his eyes painfully scan the brigade of dead sails upon wilted black yards.

The course sail on the lower mast lay limp and disheartened, causing him to feel the same disillusionment in his heart as he watch his beautiful ship slip away to oblivion right before his eyes. He furthered his sights to the fore course, and the course of the main mast; the mizzen's crossjack, feeling the same pain in its loss of life.

He tilted his head back, peering up at topgallant staysail. He sighed, looking down at the peg he held firmly in his hand, noticing a slight chip on its exterior. He gently ran his thumb above it, losing himself in the Pearl's motionlessness tranquility.

"Captain?" a voice called out from behind.

He turned, unconsciously tightening his grip on the wheel and he glanced over his shoulder to the deckhand with a dull, empty glaze.

"I've come to relieve you of your duties, sir," Mr. Sparrow announced, nesting his hands behind his back, averting his eyes to the ground.

"Aye, so you have…" he sighed, clearing his throat as he took a step back, giving enough room to let Mr. Sparrow slide into position. No one could ever relieve a captain of his duties, especially the captain of a vessel that once sailed so gallantly into the horizon; her mighty hull proudly presided over each crest of the sea.

It was a silent exchange, from one hand to another, weary eyes to fresh, capable hands to the incapable. And for what? The hopes to find that something in this bleak landscape might change? He rather doubted it.

His cabin remained the same, countless maps littered across a rectangular chart table, a globe idly spinning, books laid open to pages unread, and calipers carelessly tossed to the side toward a lone candle, dimly lighting the course of a journey never sailed.

His cot lay in the same position, haphazardly turned to a diagonal. A slight sag in the coconut and horsehair fiber stuffing within the mattress accounted for countless backaches in the morning. Yet, it was the best sleep he had ever had. His cold, linen sheets waited patiently throughout the day to engulf his muscular form once more at night.

"Better to have a bit of sleep, Jackie."

"The way you look, you'll sleep like a rock."

"Like a rock, aye?" he thought aloud, wiggling his toes as he began removing his coat, hanging it gently on a chair beside his cot. Slipping his shirt over his head; he groaned, feeling sharp pains in his muscles. He crossed one arm in front of his chest, placing his palm of his hand on top of his shoulder, beginning to knead the muscles in a rhythmic motion at the base of the neck, moving out toward the arm in increments. He wiped away several stray droplets of perspiration from his chest before surrendering to the comforts of his cot for another evening.

"Aye, like a rock."

"Nay, much more better, you'll sleep like a slab."

"A tempting offer, not-so-fleshy one. Surely a slab sounds much sturdier and more enticing than sleeping on a pile of rubble."

He let his body fall upon the roughness of his thin mattress, hearing his bed frame whimper from his cascading weight. His eyes no longer peered up at a sky speckled with stars but instead, lying on his back, he scanned a drab wooden ceiling, thinking about whether that moment of utter bliss was truly made by the hand of he who is named "God", or if it was only happening in his wildest and most imaginative dreams.

"You'll feel better in the morning, mate."

"Aye, we've the Pearl back in our possession, that's the most important thing. S'only a matter of time before we escape."

"Best to think positively!"

"Hold on a minute! Rock! Bloody hell, it's still up there!" Jack exclaimed, rising from his cot. He jolted to the door with an agile spring in his step, slamming against the rough, black doorframe before pushing the two large French doors open with the palms of his hands.

"What was he babbling about?"

"Haven't the slightest idea. Don't know where he gets it from. Quite sad, if you ask me."

Jack ran out on deck to the mizzenmast, stopping for a moment to peer up at the lateen sail that loomed over him like a dispirited ghoul. The lift was attached to the peak of the yard with a more or less complex arrangement of crowsfeet which ran across to the mizzen's mainmast and ended at the deck with a purchase. He spotted the rope he had used to board the Black Pearl just several days prior, finding it still wrapped tightly around the end of the lateen yard.

He propelled himself forward, tightly wrapping his fingers around the purchase. He bit his lip, pulling himself up with every bit of strength he had left in his sore arm muscles. He bound his legs around the purchase, looking above him to the aftermost main shrouds of the mizzen, reaching his arms out to grasp the shrouds as he pounced forward from one point to another.

He climbed up to the yard, balancing himself as he inched his way down to the small object that lay caged within a tight wrapping of knotted rope.

"Thought I'd forgotten about you, aye?"

He took the rock gently in his hands. "S'alright, Jackie's got you now," he cooed, attempting to untie the intricate knots of rope, slightly regretting how much of a fine job he had done at keeping it rather sturdy.

Once he had freed the little geode from its confinement, he carefully made his way back down the shrouds, jumping down to the main deck, the echoing thud of his boots emanated throughout the ship as his feet met forcefully with the old wooden boards.

He stepped forward toward the rail, placing the small rock upon the ledge. "Much better, don't you think?" he stated triumphantly, placing his hands on his hips as he shifted his weight from one leg to another.

"Go on, now!" he exclaimed. "You've got a whole life ahead of you, mate. Don't waste it here with the likes of me."

"Talking to rocks now, are we?"

"I told you he's gone mad."

"No hope for us now, is there?"

He extended a finger to the rock's smooth surface, poking it gently on its side, letting it slide forward just a bit to the edge. "Oi! I know you can hear me."

"Captain?" inquired a voice from behind.

Jack jumped in his skin, unconsciously sliding the rock over the edge of the rail, listening to it plummet to the ground. Turning, he jolted at the sight of Mr. Sparrow staring at him square in the eye in bewilderment.

"What are you doing?" he inquired further.

"Nothing," he squeaked. "Nothing at all, in fact, I was just checking the condition of the bowlines, Mr. Sparrow," he lied, clearing his throat.

"Is there something amiss, Captain?" he inquired, cupping his hands behind his back.

"Amiss, Mr. Sparrow?" he reiterated. "Of course, there is something amiss here. Can you not see it?" Jack continued, shifting his eyes frantically.

"Nay, I do not," he answered, noticing a bit of hostility in Jack's eyes, "Begging your pardon, Captain."

"Son, what do bowlines do?"

"Well, sir, by my reckoning, they're for keeping the leech well out when sailing close-hauled."

"Aye, very good, lad," he stated, nodding his head. "As you know this vital piece of rigging needs to be quick and straightforward to operate at sea, taking into consideration the crew of bumbling fools we've acquired on this journey of ours," he added quickly.

"But, the same principle can be applied for inclement weather just as well. Yet, to my dismay, if not handled properly or with hands capable enough of such a daunting task, then the safety of the entire ship is at risk. With that being said, what, pray tell, is wrong with this picture, Mr. Sparrow?"

Mr. Sparrow nodded his head, darting his eyes along the length of the ropes, still unable to comprehend his Captain's inquiry.

Jack sighed. "Move," he motioned by flicking his fingers at the man. "First off, it's much too complex of an arrangement of rope," he explained, taking the rope in his hands, tugging it to illustrate his point, finishing by gliding his fingers across its rough exterior.

"Secondly, the rope's damaged," he pointed out, handing the rope to Mr. Sparrow. "Perhaps, from the heat," he furthered, curling his lip at its visible change in appearance, that was probably caused by being exposed to the rising temperature. "Still no excuse for negligence," he spat.

"But, it's no matter," he began. "It'll have to be redone in the morning … What are you doing?" he asked, noticing Mr. Sparrow mulling something over in his mouth.

"Nothing," he chimed defensively, visibly chewing some sort of substance in his mouth.

"Nothing, you say?" Jack prodded inquisitively, slowly stepping toward Mr. Sparrow. "So, what's that in your mouth there?"

"Oh that," he chuckled, knowing that his charade would be short lived. "Peanuts."

"Food? We have food?" Jack inquired desperately, raising his brow.

"No, sir, we have peanuts. Lots of them, in fact," he stated knowingly, retrieving another handful of peanuts from his pocket.

"We have food and you didn't tell me?"

"S'not much left," Mr. Sparrow added, picking more peanuts out of his pocket and slipping them into his mouth.

"How much, exactly?"

"Just one more bag in the galley, sir," Mr. Sparrow stated in between mouthfuls.

Before Mr. Sparrow could finish his thought, the gnawing feeling in Jack's stomach began to reinstate its presence. The ravenous hunger pain he had blocked out since the beginning of this whole ordeal had come back with an unrelenting force. It was the very same twinge he listened to each night as his stomach ached for food as he lay in bed.

He backed away. "In the galley, you say?"

"Aye, but, I've got some…" he began, losing his place as he noticed his captain jolting away to the galley steps, "…right here, Captain."

"More for us!"

"Pass 'em over, fleshy!"

"No," He recoiled. "My peanuts!"