Hey! okay, so, thank you so so so so much for all the support, I really appreciate every single thing you guys say…say more? If you haven't reviewed yet, I urge you to. It honestly correlates to how quickly I'll respond with a new chapter. Thank you so much, guys, though, really, it means so much. I love all of you, guys! don't forget to review!

-Han

Jack moved in time with his impersonator, an archaic dance no one could fully replicate, his moves were his own. And this newcomer was trying to him. But Jack's movements could never fully be copied; the fluidity of his movements was something gods lusted after, like water crashing over rocks, he was more dangerous than he appeared. Anna could watch him for days, and never fully understand the grace behind his movements, the rough ability to move like he was built to do this.

The one playing him could never measure up; it was the only way Anna managed to keep track of who was who as Jack vaulted himself into the fight. The fray before her eyes seemed to block her out, an opening nonexistent as two swords rang out within the dark storeroom, fingers of candlelight playing with shadows across the two pirates. Anna watched, enraptured by his movements and waiting, stilling herself, body poised.

"Love, now would be fantastic," Jack muttered, ducking forward into a balestra and finishing the attack with a perfectly executed fleche. She smiled to herself, loving how controlled he was when he fought, how his form was always perfect and his face always impassive, yet the passion he let loose on his opponent was unmatched. She'd never met his match, and not even Will could truly best him.

Her grip tightened and she launched herself into the fray, making space between the two with a flourish of her sword and an easy glace of reassurance to Jack. Her ribs protested a quick jerk to the side to avoid a slash from the imposter. Anna growled low in her throat, the greatest indication to Jack that the fiery pirate he knew was rising to the surface, pushing back the pain of her past and the insecurities London brought down on her. He moved next to her, his shoulder bumping hers and he could feel the worried, painful tension melting off of her, pushing her outside of the recent wounds, the old aches. Her lunges held an edge of viciousness he hadn't seen since the Dutchman went under in a crushing black oblivion, a cruel smile on her lips that reminded him of Beckett's end.

She moved with him, letting his body guide hers as they parried the imposter with ease, the fake struggling and stumbling and trying to fend off two attacks at once and still retain the mannerisms he was emulating. The imposter spun, slashing wildly until Jack and Anna were forced to nearly bend in half to avoid the bite of a blade, and ran behind a blazing fire pit, a roasting pig on a spit between him and the crazed pirates.

There was a light in Anna's eyes that Jack would never tire of, a blaze of passion and excitement that never fully died but sometimes grew into an engulfing fire that lit her blood and ignited sparks in her movements. He could see the desire to let loose in a swirl of violence and fire and sea water pulsing through her body as she flitted around the edges of the pit, large flames casting ominous shadows across her face, looking like an agitated bird. One of prey, Jack thought wryly.

The imposter across from them, caught in a moment of stilled energy and heavy breathing, sword reflecting the warm light of the fire. Jack moved easily in the circle, his drunken grace a sway in a nonexistent wind while Anna glared across the expanse of flame as the imposter mimicked.

"Stop doin' that," Jack commanded, looking indignant at just the thought of someone being anything close to himself. Anna had mentioned to him once that being anything like anyone makes you unlike yourself and like another, and that would be a terrible shame. He agreed. But now it was him being compared, not Anna to the flaxen-haired and beautiful Elizabeth. Now they didn't have his impending contract drawing to a close with cursed ship on his tail. It was just him and his image, haunting him with the vicious smirk he wore so well.

He wondered how it was possible that this new apparition of himself was allowing him to see his faults so clearly, the stark outline of his mistakes worn against the impersonator's leather jacket and blackening silver. He recalled failed attempts at normalcy, an instance on being solitary, the intent to cause pain in another surfacing more often than he would like, and a recklessness that got others hurt. Will hung over the edge of the Black Pearl with a gun held in his own hand against his head, and Jack couldn't stop him, Elizabeth felt the raw pain of having her fiancé pulled away from her on Cutler Beckett's orders and Jack couldn't help him, Anna felt her brother ripped from her fingers by Jack's own choices.

She took hit after hit on his watch.

Blurred rage blanketed his eyes, and he was moving, launching himself across the space, felt the flames licking against the edges of his coat, and struck down. Steel on steel was a sound he relished, that close-to-death moment where your life is more beautiful than it ever could have been if he had lived a life without the reality of death. He didn't appreciate his life until he almost lost it. His father called him stupid, Anna called him free.

His imposter couldn't compete with this new energy, this feral need to eliminate the alter-ego of himself, the fractured image he held in his mind of a man not as strong as he liked to believe. He felt himself grinning, felt like Anna must have every time she let this passion take hold of her. He felt off balance and alive and on the edge and falling at once and he loved it.

He pushed harder, watching Anna smile at him and follow, always following like she was tied to him around the waist but it didn't inhibit her. She was still as free as him, and he knew it. So when she followed, he let her, smiled, held her hand because he wanted her there, but couldn't ask her to stay. She had to make the choice. When her sword entered his line of sight and landed a shallow flick along the shoulder of his imposter, he was sure.

He could read a flash of doubt across his imposter's face in a moment, a flash, a second and it was gone but that was enough. Jack pressed forward, allowing Anna to roll off of his back and appear on the other side of him as the Other attempted to feign left. He relished the small moments where her body was pressed against his, but nothing could distract him from the pounding of blood in his ears and the sound of steel reverberating through the air.

The ran onto a ramp, and images of a dusty smithy with light filtering through the rafters and a pair of fascinated eyes on him sprang to his memory, the flashes of a life when Will could have grown old and Anna loved piracy from a distance. But those days were gone and now all that mattered was his balance and the firm grip he applied to Anna's forearm as the barrels of rum pulled loose and started tumbling.

Barrels rolled beneath his feet, his body swayed precariously, but he didn't let go of the vice grip on his lover. Anna scowled at him, but couldn't deny the gratitude that rose in her chest at just the thought of his care. The imposter was not so lucky, the landing was faulty and the faint groan that rose from him sounded vaguely feminine.

Anna jumped, landing catlike on the dirt covered floor and not caring when it jolted her images. Jack eased to the ground with more finesse than he could get himself credit for as rum crashed to the ground and gave the appearance of blood spatter. The exotic patterns drew his attention long enough for Anna to take the brunt of another attack, her moves less graceful than her lithe body suggested, the edge of an animal in her movements.

A slash left and her body twisted, narrowly avoiding the stinging bite of steel she knew so well. Her body spun, violently kicking out a leg and finding only air as the imposter jumped back, climbing swiftly onto another set of ramps, swiftly moving onto the rafters with flexible movements. Anna frowned, watching the elegant tilt of Other's body and thought there was no way it could be a man.

Jack found an elevator, went up, easier than it usually was for him to keep up, or so it seemed. He grinned to himself as he stepped onto the rafters, glancing down at Anna with a wistful feeling consuming his chest.

"Where do I recall this?" Jack wondered aloud, loud enough for her to hear and chuckling at her huff of annoyance. Other moved, lunging at him with form just good enough to be masterful and shaky enough to make him grin.

"One day, Sparrow, one day…" Anan swore, though both knew the threat was empty. The amusement in her voice was clear to him, a warmth in his chest that nearly surpassed his need for a duel, for violence with rules, for a way to win and make something just a bit more clear. Fighting was easy, black and white, you won or you didn't, you died or you lived. There was no fractured image of politics and confusing swirl of emotions that love reflected in his soul like poison and ambrosia, heaven and hell warring in his body.

"One day you will measure up to anonymity, the enigma, the perpetually gorgeous pirate Captain of the Caribbean," he finished for her, dodging another swift attack by the Other, and refusing to let his grin drop. His footing was unsteady on the rafters, and he knew Anna was replacing his enemy with Will for a moment, the darkness of the room replaced by soft sunlight and a fascination she could never fully shake.

"One day I'll bring your head down from the clouds, and you may see I stand beside you," she grunted, and he realized she'd found a rope, slowly pulling her body up one painful inch at a time while her body protested, until she hauled herself onto a rafter with a kind of grace he couldn't describe; rough and beautiful.

"I'm not in the clouds," he said like a child, like this argument was more important than the impending flash of steel within his vision. The Other showed no emotion, a giveaway in Jack's eyes. He could never play the Great Jack Sparrow without the telltale brightness in his eyes, the glimmer that spoke of lust and love and sea and life and death and beauty. "I'm in the sea, you ought to know that," he said calmly, covering her quickly as Other feigned right and swung his sword towards her neck.

"Would I still be here if I didn't?" She asked, her words beginning to slur together with hints of enraptured involvement, pain, and the edges of her world was fading and sharpening too quickly. She turned quickly, cutting loose a pulley system before Jack could be sure what was happening, wrapping an arm around his waist as if she was the strong one.

They swung air beneath them as the rope changed hand and she allowed him to carry them, turning in his arms to kick out, pushing the Other back against a moving bar, sending the imposter falling through warm, dry air and towards another high stack of barrels swimming with the liquid courage sailors needed to sign their first roster.

The two pirates landed easily on the ground, Jack leaning down towards a river of rum, more holy than the Styx before him and took a long swallow, relishing the pleasant burn that gave him just enough to press on, to move as Anna needed him to, a reflection of himself in her endless blue eyes. He often wondered where he would be without her, still search8ing circles around the world for a way to live forever with no reason other than the horizon never fully in reach. It was odd, he thought, to have someone worth living for, worth chasing to the ends of the earth and a part of him could never tire of it.

A woman had never held so much meaning to him, and the easy smile she gave as he wiped his mouth made the little things worth it, made the threat of a sword and the imposter he fought seem miniscule, seem easy. She was his favorite puzzle.

His attention was drawn back when Anna growled, a feral thing he could admit made him shiver, rolling pleasure and lust down his spine. He wondered if she would make that sound when she hovered above him, biting her way down his neck in the cover of darkness that could protect them from the rest of the world. He grinned, watching her take the offensive and loving it, quickly being caught up in the way her body moved, like a caged animal.

When Other punched her, a swift and quick move to the jaw that could never mean anything but bad form and bruises, Anna drew back a hateful look in her eyes and her body language demanding Jack to end this. It was surprising to him, even later when he would think back to it, that she was able to restrain herself enough to let him take the end, to let him finish this war the Other had started. A sense of retribution in his core that she understood, could read easily through a nose beginning to drip blood.

That was enough.

Jack attacked, too quick to really be seen, pushing Other back until his back warmed with the roaring fires that must be burning the pig by now, but he didn't care. The smell of burning coals and charred meat and spilled rum were consuming his senses and all that mattered was the way his sword clanged against his imposter's.

Other grunted, a sound Jack could read within the moment and he swore, sure a move he wouldn't anticipate was rising. A heavy stomp down on his boot had him running curses through his mind as a quick spin and kick followed, a slice of a sword he barely matched.

"Only two people alive know that move," he said softly, spinning confidently, an assuredness replacing his lust for violence, his need to hear the ringing of a sword. The tip of his blade caught the edges of the Other's wig, sending it flying into the fire pit, the sickening smell of burning hair consuming his lungs, but he didn't show it.

Long dark brown hair cascaded down in well-manicured waves, reminding Jack of intricate woodwork, carved by an artist's hand. Wide mocha eyes caught his vision, the first time they weren't caste in shadow, too murky for his liking, and he found he missed the blue. Before his attacker could recover he leaned forward, a moment of sensation passing over his skin like it was on fire but he wasn't tempted, something that would forever astound him. His nimble fingers reached out, and ripped, a fake moustache made of some type of animal hair stripped from the upper lip, exposing the fully dusky mouth of a woman that used to haunt his dreams.

He swallowed, stepping back far enough to brush his fingers over Anna's waist, an unspoken promise, a soft whisper of affection the woman across from his couldn't read. Blue eyes trained on the woman as if wondering if she could still attack, a satisfied smile rose to Jack's lips at only the thought.

"Jack, this woman looks like she had fallen into a mold made of you, I didn't know they had those," Anna said thoughtfully, the bright look that swam in her eyes made her seem to sparkle, shimmer like sun on the ocean, blinding. "I suppose this means I was right," she added, her eyes cutting to Jack for only a moment. "You did appear full grown, from the foam of the sea with a lust for freedom and adventure."

"And where did you find this one, Jack?" The woman asked, an alluring Spanish accent coloring her words until they flowed and sounded rhythmic, like music twining its way through his mind and his heart.

But he grinned, gold-caps glimmering in the half-light of burning fires and shadows that dragged like fingers against his skin. The moment was frozen to Anna, a trust she'd never really considered rising in her chest and somehow, the woman wasn't really there, she was an image reflected in a taunting mirror, the woman Anna had always wanted to be. Free in a way sexuality could mirror, overtly beautiful and wild. But Jack's touch lingered on her, his eyes flicked to her as if she was something soft, something beautiful in a way she didn't understand. She knew men found her pretty, found her an object of affection they could take to bed, but Jack looked at her as if she was as beautiful as the woman she still considered enemy knew she looked.

"Washed up in Port Royal with the same lust for freedom," he answered, his sword still raised and he made no move to be rid of it. The smile still rested on his lips, but discomfort was settling into his body. He needed answers, and the woman in front of him carried the weight of even more unanswered questions. "But what brings you to my dashing image…Angelica?"

The name seemed to have weight to Jack that Anna could never understand, that she could never fully read because she couldn't see past the smoky image that Jack was. She wondered if she would ever have the opportunity to ask him, to have him explain the mystery that surrounded him, the shroud he wore that covered him. She wondered if, when she finally spilled her soul to the pirate she could count on, that he would mirror her, whisper things into her soul that she could understand, whisper what he couldn't speak too loud because that would make them too real.

Anna wondered if the rise of Angelica would keep her form the soft secrets Jack could tell her, if it would stop words from leaving her lips and from bringing him into the world she never acknowledged. Where her father was more than just an abstract monster and her wounds were more than skin deep.

She wondered if this woman would stop her scars from healing and from reading Jack's, and she would be left with a dark sky blank of stars she could relate to, without the swell of the sea to lull her to sleep next to a warm and loving body.