The sun had set behind the horizon a while ago, leaving a dark blue sky behind it. Jack loved this moment. Night had begun, but the day was not completely over yet. Slowly, all colour drained from the world until there was nothing but the secure blanket of darkness left.

"Lower anchor," he cried out to his crew. "And Ana, go and get me some rum."

He ran his fingers over the dark wood of the helm for the last time of the day. Tomorrow, they would set sail early. Now it was time to rest.

He walked down to his cabin and removed his boots. For what had to be the hundredth time in the last week, he took his precious charts from a drawer and unrolled them.

The Fountain of Youth.

His index finger trailed the ink that marked their way. They would have to cover some distance on the shore, not exactly territory that Jack liked very much. But it would be worth it. Immortality. Sailing the seas forever.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in," he called out, rolling up the charts with a fluid motion of his hand and placing them back in his drawer.

"Funny how you always knock these days," he said with a chuckle, turning to Anamaria.

Had her arms not been crossed in front of her chest already, balancing five or six bottles, she would have moved them there. Her eyes threw daggers at Jack.

"Oh, come on, luv. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy my handsome self all naked."

Her eyes narrowed. It was probably a good thing she carried the rum. Jack feared that otherwise, she would have slapped him already. What a shame. Having her run into him while he had been changing was one of his favourite memories. Probably the only time he had seen Anamaria flustered.

"Are you planning on getting drunk tonight?" Jack changed the subject, deciding not to push his luck too far, and letting his gaze travel to the bottles while speaking.

Anamaria exhaled audibly and lowered the rum on Jack's desk. "I'm just not in the mood to keep running below deck to get you more."

Without asking, she helped herself to a bottle of rum.

"We're not sailing through the night." It was pronounced as a statement, not a question, yet, her eyebrows were raised in a questioning manner as she looked at Jack.

"No," the captain answered, uncorking a bottle for himself. "I wouldn't want to work my crew to death. Not while we're still mortal."

He realised where this conversation was going and decided he really didn't want to spoil his evening by discussing crews and lost ships with Anamaria.

Before she could get a word out, he added, "So how's the lad doing? Thomas? I watched him today, he seems quite capable."

"Now that he isn't hungover anymore, yes. He talks highly of you, said you were his rescuer for taking him along."

Was it Jack's imagination or did Ana's face actually soften when she talked about the boy? The captain softly shook his head. It had to be a trick of light, the flames dancing too much for him to be able to tell.

"He wouldn't mind working 24 hours for you," she added.

"Now that's the right attitude." Jack took a large gulp of rum and the smirk vanished from his face. "Look, luv, we both know where you want to take this conversation and we both know I'm not in the mood for that. So why let us ruin this evening and talk about something we don't enjoy and get all in a bad mood, if we could also be talking about something more pleasant that we want to talk about and then be in a good mood?"

Anamaria didn't reply. She just raised her bottle to her lips. Even with her head tilted backward, she still glared at Jack.

"Good, now that we have that out of the way, why don't you tell me what you're going to do once we find the Fountain of Youth?"

"I don't know."

"But you must have some plans."

"No."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "And that, my dear, was far too quick to not be a lie. Come on, you must have an idea for once we're immortal."

Anamaria studied him for a long moment. When she finally looked away, it was to take another large swig of rum.

"Being immortal is not bad for a start, don't ye think? You should know, seeing as you've already been dead."

"Touché." Jack touched his heart and smirked.

But deep inside, he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to his Anamaria and since when she had become so full of secrets.

The first thing Jack noticed when he woke up the following morning was the headache. A skull-splitting, blinding pain that took hold of him the moment he became conscious.

The second thing was the object next to him. It felt warm and alive and …

Anamaria?

Jack momentarily forgot to breathe as his eyes flew open. It was indeed Anamaria, here in his bed. She was so close to him, whether she had come to him or because he had drawn her closer with his arm that still lay over her upper body, he didn't know.

All he knew was that she looked far too peaceful for the Anamaria full of secrets.

And that he was in trouble.

She was wearing clothes, at least a shirt, her shoulders were covered. Jack reluctantly removed his arm from her body to feel his own breeches. Still on, as well as a shirt. That was a good sign.

How had they both ended up in his bed? The previous night was foggy in Jack's mind, hidden behind a curtain of rum.

Bloody hell! He'd never have that much to drink again when she was close.

Jack stood up, carefully and reluctantly pulling himself away from Anamaria. His body felt cold without her warmth next to him.

Now that he stood, the headache set in again. Jack had to suppress a groan, the last thing he wanted was for her to wake up and see him standing so close to the bed.

Maybe he should go outside and pretend that none of this had ever happened. Judging by the number of bottles on his floor, Anamaria must have had a hell lot to drink and chances were high that she didn't remember the night either.

But what would she think if she woke up in his bed with him nowhere in sight? She could too easily come to the conclusion that he had been lying next to her all night.

Jack briefly thought about carrying her down to her cabin, but rejected the idea immediately. He didn't want to wake her up and with his head feeling like it'd split in two, he wasn't sure he was able to carry her all the way down there.

Finally, he settled for his armchair. Let her think that he had slept there while she had been in his bed. That wasn't too close and reduced the chances of her coming to wrong conclusions. Because the last thing Jack needed was for Anamaria to run away again.

Bugger!

He really should have stayed away from her. Hadn't he decided not to come too close anymore only a few days ago? Then why was it so difficult? And why did the thought that she may leave bother him that much?

Well, first of all, because she was an excellent sailor, Jack answered his own question while settling in the armchair.

Second, because she was one of the few that he could actually trust. Anamaria would not betray him. She had come back for him in Port Royal, had given up her position as a captain to give him back the Black Pearl.

There were more reasons than the two obvious ones.

Jack liked having her around. He felt comfortable when she was close, reassured that he could read her, even if she carried around secrets lately. She was just as good as guessing what was on his mind and even though it scared the living daylights out of Jack, he wouldn't have her any other way.

The idea that she could leave him again, now that he had gotten her back on his Pearl, was unbearable.

Jack sighed and closed his eyes. If he had known how much trouble this woman would be, he never would have stolen her boat.

A soft groan woke Jack up later that morning. He half opened his left eye to see Anamaria sitting on the edge of his bed, holding her head in her hands.

"Morning, luv," he whispered, the voice feeling too loud in his pounding head.

Anamaria rubbed her face and looked at Jack. Her eyes were bloodshot, but he doubted that his own looked any better.

She groaned and stood up, steadying herself on the wall as she walked to his cabin door. Just before leaving, she turned around to look at him again.

"Morning, Jack."

Then she disappeared outside, leaving her captain to wonder if her behaviour was a good or a bad sign.