Took me a while to decide what to title F, had several suggestions but eventually decided on this one :) Still needing a title for H please if anyone has any ideas, will be from Angelica's p.o.v.
Thank you to my lovely reviewers:
StarfishOnTheBeach
SunnyLen
Tsuruya-san88
Pencil37
Piratezluver22

All reviews are appreciated :) They make me smile!
Also I have joined the wonderful world of twitter if anyone wants to follow me. I update it as chapters are written and revised so you will know when to expect more from me! MsAngelicaS if you want to follow :)

F is for… Forget

Dark eyes fluttered open then blinked as they adjusted to the morning light. Angelica sat up and leaned back against a palm tree. She had slept through the night for the first time since Jack had abandoned her, but that did not mean she had slept easily. Quite the opposite in fact. She had been haunted by memories of the Fountain and, worse still, of all the good times she and Jack had shared and could have shared in the future.

She sighed and pulled the doll from her pocket, stroking his face gently, a sad smile forming on her face. She and Jack had been through so much together. They had met countless times and each time he had left her. Some of those times had been bad, such as St. Dominique when she had tried to kill him, and others had been perfect, such as La Martinique. The La Martinique episode had almost been recreated during the quest for the Fountain. She had been asked to meet Jack on deck one evening only to find that he had prepared wine, music and candlelight. They had danced under the stars that night and Angelica remembered it only too clearly. She shook her head, coming back to the present. She climbed to her feet and set off in search for water, not that she needed it; she was unable to die due to having drunk from the Fountain, but that made her time here all the worse. She had little hope of escape and no hope that death would release her from her fate.

She wandered into the forest in the middle of the island. If there was water it would be there. The path was covered in fallen branches and roots stuck up out of the ground. Angelica was grateful for this; the concentration it took to negotiate herself safely through gave her mind a welcome distraction from the person who had dominated her thoughts for the past few days.

It took quite some time to find water, partly because of the tricky terrain but also due to the deceptively vast expanse of the forest. When she reached a fresh water spring, she lay down on her stomach next to it and scooped the refreshing liquid into her mouth using her hands. Once her thirst was quenched, or at least the thirst she believe she should have, she splashed some of the water on her face both to cool herself and to wash away the dried tears which, even under torture, she would never admit to having cried. She was a strong woman and had a reputation as one of the best female pirates, if not the best, past or present. She was fearsome and dominant, she didn't quake in the face of danger and her skills with a sword were second to none. She even had her own signature move although only one person knew she was the only person in the world to know it. Jack Sparrow.

She sighed as her thoughts returned to he who she wished not to think of yet was a constant presence in her mind lately. She drifted her hand absent-mindedly through the water as she remembered, not for the first time, her sword fight with Jack in the back room of the Captain's Table in London. Her signature move had betrayed her identity to him and he had locked lips with her in a passionate, yet short, kiss. How she longed it had not stopped, that she had pulled him back to her when he pulled away…

She splashed the water furiously before rising to her feet. She would not let herself think such thoughts, yet the promise was futile. How many times had she promised herself that and failed? She didn't know, and it had only been a few days. The thoughts vanished for a short while as she made her way back to the beach but as she sat back down on the sand, her back resting on the trunk of a palm tree again, they came back with a vengeance. She fought back tears of both anger and sadness and picked up the doll which lay discarded by the tree where she had left it when she went in search of water. She held it close and then, in a rare yet increasingly more common moment of weakness, brought it to her lips and kissed its face. She lowered the doll and held it in her lap, still fighting the threatening tears.

She couldn't go on like this, she needed to stop thinking about him. And yet, she could not forget. Or was it that she didn't want to forget?