Jack had been wandering the island for a mere quarter hour when the inevitable happened. The rain started. Just a drizzle, but being a seafaring man, he knew that these things had a way of strengthening unexpectedly.

The few alcoves he'd found in the giant rock which made up most of the middle of the island would not be suitable long term, but might make do for the evening. He could take the parachute material and try to fashion some sort of a roof perhaps, so they would be relatively dry for the evening.

He started off in a trot for the beach. Several moments later, he found Elizabeth. She had obviously seen the direction in which he had headed and followed.

"Jack…the rain-," she stared, looking at the sky, still fairly dazed.

"I know. Been lookin' for a place to rest for the night."

"And?"

"We'll make do," he said, brushing past her to the beach where the parachute lay. Another clap of thunder rolled around, almost shaking the ground they were on. This was going to be a bad one. He knew it.

Elizabeth followed him, starting to break out of her state. The thunder must have shook her out of it, for she helped Jack in gathering the parachute, careful not to tear any of it. It was wet, but it might work.

"Follow me," he said, with one last glance to the ominous sky.

They traveled through the sand, through the indigenous plants, palm trees and such, until the rock formation in the middle of the island came into view.

"We need to find an area of it that's wooded," he said, as the thunder rumbled once again, this time releasing a torrent of rain.

Elizabeth let out a gasp of surprise as the water began to barrel down on them. She followed Jack as he surveyed the large rocks. Staying close to the rocks, and to him in general, they moved quickly. Eventually the rock caved in; covered on the top, empty inside. A space almost five meters in length and perhaps three deep with enormous overhanging rock; it would be perfect.

"In there!," he called, pulling the parachute behind him. He motioned for her to sit.

"Stay here, I'm going to try and find some dry wood."

She nodded, partially terrified at the idea of being momentarily alone again.

Jack must have seen it in her eyes, for he said, " I'll be right back. I promise."

In an instant, he was gone, and she shuddered at her wet clothes and the dampness of the cave. The rain was merciless now. Elizabeth strode to the parachute. Well, at least she could try to fasten it over the entrance as a sort of barrier against the wet. If the rain were to change direction they would be soaked.

Her small, cold hands grabbed the remnants of rope that held one end, and desperately searched for some sort of jagged place in the rock to tie or wedge the rope between. Putting all else out of her head, she managed to climb up several feet off the ground, and secure the last bit of rope to the rock overhang. Hopping down, colder and wetter still, she grabbed the resilient fabric of the sail, wedging it onto the left side of the entrance to the "cave" created by the overhang, and holding the remaining section down with a heavy rock. She was about to do the same with the other side, but she could barely see through the acidic rain. A voice behind her made her jump.

"Well I'll be a Dutchman! Leave you alone for two minutes…," Jack started, and was surprised to be immediately wrapped in a hug.

"Inside," he told her, noticing how her thin frame trembled in his arms. She was horribly cold.

She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off.

"Now," he started. "I'll take care of this," he said, gesturing to the sail.

He stepped inside with her, but only to put a few small bits of wood on the floor.

"I'll be right back," he said again, to reassure her. It seemed to work, because Elizabeth nodded, the corners of her mouth raising towards what could only be termed a smile.

And out into the torrential rain he went. She watched the flap almost immediately become taut as it stretched over the alcove's opening, then saw Jack, sneaking under and securing it with another large rock inside.

"That ought to do it for a bit. Nice work on the sail," he smiled at her, and moved towards the wood.

"Now we'll see if we can't get a fire going."

Elizabeth was sitting, her arms on her knees again, smiling faintly. "Can I help you with something?," she spoke, her voice sounding more human than before.

"I don't even know if I'll be able to get it going. Everything's wet."

"Have you anything to start it with?"

He smiled at her. "Luck."

She sat back, satisfied by his response. Her head twisted in the direction of the sheet, the raindrops pelting past. "Do you think it will rain like this all day?"

Jack stopped trying to start the fire with his knife and a rock of what appeared to be flint, and responded.

"I've seen these storms come up and leave unexpectedly, or brew and last forever. I hate to say it but I think this is the latter." He went back to his rock.

"I suppose. I…..I'm so cold," she said, her hands around her small back this time.

"I'd give my coat, but I think that would do more harm than good."

She suppressed a smirk, and spoke softly. "Yes, I suppose so."

With one final grunt, he got a spark from the knife to actually light the wood.

She immediately came out of her reverie, excited. "Jack, I can't believe you got that started!"

He looked at her, obviously pleased with himself. "What did you expect, love? I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

Her smile broke on a laugh, and it was the single most encouraging thing he'd heard since Will had…

Well, no matter.

"You know what would make this a lot better?," he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I know you are not going to say rum."

Jack's face fell. "Well I was, but now I'm not."

Elizabeth started playing with the torn hem of her trousers. "Jack I…I wanted to thank you."

He looked down, not directly at her and shrugged it off.

"I wanted to thank you for getting me off the Dutchman and away from…everything."

He didn't look at her but responded. "Anyone would have."

"No," she started, shaking her head sadly as tears glossed her eyes. "Not anyone," she said softly, her voice breaking as she began to cry.

Her head was in her hands now and if there was one thing that made Jack Sparrow uncomfortable, it was a crying woman.

She looked directly at him and said his name, reaching an arm out. He was at her side in an instant, taking her proferred arm, and pulling her to his chest. They were on their knees, but he sat back against the cool rock, pulling her to him, gently stroking her hair and rocking her. In response, she curled her fingers into the material of his shirt, clinging, it seemed, to the only thing she had left.

And he thought, for a moment. Her father had died. James was dead. And now Will. It couldn't be easy. He held her, more tightly, resting his cheek on her head continuing to rock her and let her sob into his chest. He needed her. Not in a physical way, but he needed her the way she needed him. They had to comfort each other, for in this moment, they were all each other had.

He continued to stroke her hair and hold her, until the rain lulled her into a deep sleep.