"You didn't pay, did you?"

Leaving the Faithful Bride after a long evening and meeting all the people that usually urged her to throw Sparrow out for good, she tilted her head at him. She was in her mid-twenties, still so young, and he was years ahead of her, but common sense didn't seem to be bound to age at all whenever she got to witness his way of life.

"You really think that of me?" Tired disappointment lay in his wandering gaze aimed at the horizon. It wouldn't take too long until the heavy rain of the hurricane season would be back at it again. They had to be quick for all he knew. "All my honesty and goodness of heart and that's what I get? Accusations, allegations …"

"Did you?"

"I did."

He was clearly fibbing without any sense of shame or remorse, she could tell, and so she simply went over that wild claim. "You never pay, do you?"

As she knew it, the path along the harbour was almost deserted at that late hour – all the crowds would still frequent Tortuga's many taverns. Like they had. But gradually the bill had become too large and the air just a bit too stuffy …

"Never ..." Jack repeated dismissively. "That's such an absolute."

"An absolute, indeed. And you're guilty as charged ..."

As they kept strolling through the night, he pulled her closer to him to put his arm around her waist.

"Come on," he meanwhile murmured, "that burn scar has to come with some worth, don't you think?" He immediately held his other arm under her nose so that she could clearly see the 'P' on it.

As though she didn't know the scar.
As though she didn't know all his scars ...

"How's your graze?"

"You keep changing that neat bandage, you tell me …"

Despite rolling her eyes, she smiled. "You're fine."

"Why thank you, love, I'm aware – it's quite undeniable." He gave her a lopsided grin just when she came back to him not paying.

"The Bride will regret your visit as soon as they realise –"

"Darling, by the time they do – if even – it'll be too late, since we'll already be far away, savvy?"

He held her gaze as she replied, "Savvy."

"Hate when you do that."

"Answer your savvy with the same?" she chuckled.

He all but nodded.

"Savvy …" She was delighted with him being the one to roll his eyes now, and she even added, "What if we can't stop thinking about the Faithful Bride's grim fate? Your zest for life alone might have caused its ruin tonight."

"Stop worrying, we'll find ways to distract ourselves ..."

They did. With her back against the wall beneath the shabby staircase in her old town house, his lips touching hers were as intoxicating as reassuring.

"What are we up to?" she whispered between two kisses.

Short of breath and with quite an incredulous glance on his glowing features, he paused. He eventually buried a hand in her hair, breathing into her ear, "You know what I'm up to."

"But we're not even good together," she said under her breath, speaking the truth and yet longing to hear him claim the exact opposite.

"Are we not?" Reverently he let his hands slide from her shoulders, lower, to linger decently on her hips. "In case you haven't quite noticed so far – I just so happen to adore you …"

"I can tell. Sometimes." Leaning into him, into his body, she added, "See, now – for instance."

He couldn't help but smirk before indulging in her lips again. Like in a daze he began to undo her dress, and their ecstasy was as pure as it got. The sensation of his hands, his touch on her skin, burned more with every button. And just when he'd almost reached the last one, she broke away from his embrace, holding the dress together herself. She winked at his confusion, and he couldn't quite interpret it.

"Change of plans?"

She just shrugged. "Right here, against the crumbling stairs? Don't think so …"

"I'm not thinking at all anymore," he immediately claimed, his next words were calling him a liar, though. "Where'd you rather be?" He approached her again, taking her free hand to twist her in his arms as though they were about to dance. "We can go wherever you like, I even know where to find world's end," he promised just when her hips touched his side again. "But don't forget the rain that nearly ruined our way here. Bloody wet by now – out there."

"Indeed …" She bit her lips to make sure nothing too unholy could escape her mouth in response just yet, the night was still long. She stole a kiss, whispering, "We stay here, after all you've called it a home at some point – remember that?"

"Did I now?"

His smug grin made her sigh. But never had she done so with more love for him in her heart. "Pájaro loco …"

"I practiced. I understood that."

"Impressive. Will you further demonstrate what you've learned?"

He cleared his throat to dramatically ask, "¿Nos quedamos en casa?"

She smiled nodding, then she led the way, up the stairs. But he quickly caught up to her to throw her over his shoulder – fierce protests in his ears.

"Know what, Sully, I object – I say we're damn good together," he'd said, cherishing all those moments that followed as though he'd finally understood himself how he loved her.

Crashing thunder tore her from her sleep, and while he was far from waking up, her heart rate soared. The hurricane season with its raging storms had a dark, romantic twist to it, but in the middle of the night, it could also be quite eerie to hear the pouring rain so close to the harbour.

She needed a moment to gather herself, gently wriggling out of his embrace to sit up in bed without waking him. Just for a few moments, just until she caught her breath again, and her heart stopped throbbing so much.

She'd watched the rainy night for quite a while. Whenever a flash of lightning struck the sky, she could see palm trees being tossed back and forth by the wind with ease. Skies like this knew no mercy, especially at sea …

It was only when Sparrow moved and moaned next to her that she turned her eyes away from her window.

He was here, right there, closer than ever.
Crushing weather on main land could hardly worry him after surviving it countless times at sea.

But noticing her shivers in the middle of the night did …

"Didn't mean to wake you up," she whispered.

"Or so she claimed, while sitting upright in bed …" he softly mumbled, trying to keep his eyes open to look at her. "What's it, love?"

"Nothing."

"Scared of Zeus?" He stifled a yawn.

She shook her head, barely present. "You?"

"No," he quietly chuckled. "Only of Poseidon. Come here ..."

She placed her head on his chest just when he devoutly covered her in their thin sheet. Like he cared. Like she was everything to him. That night, it seemed like an act of intimacy.

She let her fingertips glide over some of his scars. She'd done that so many times, but in a way, he'd just come to realise what that likely meant.

Jack hated to see them, wounds that had long since healed but still bore witness to his continuous tightrope walk on the precipice.
Tara hated that about him, but she loved the way it would balance him. Exhausting adventures always brought him back to her at some point …

"All your pain," she eventually whispered, lost in thought, "the rage, the scars … What's the point?"

She wanted to take the question back within a heartbeat, but it had already been voiced.

"Middle of the night," Jack mumbled, "and you're pondering about the meaning of life."

The rain steadily pattered against the old window as she sighed. "You know chaos. Suffering. You lost the Pearl." She took a deep breath, then added, "How did you cope?"

Silence fell, as though she didn't even expect an answer.

"Forget about it," she hushed, "I don't want to –"

"I just did," he said. "I never had myself to blame because I never let life force me into doing but a thing I didn't want."

"Still loss changes people." Tara kept glancing at him, the storm still raging outside.

"Loss is a lesson."

"And what did you learn?"

After some hesitation, he'd say, "That it doesn't matter who you trust. It's about whether you can trust someone."

"You trusted Hector," Tara whispered.

"A mistake ..."

They remained silent for a moment there, then she didn't even want to hold it in. "Do you trust me?"

"You?" She could see him grin before he gave her a kiss on the forehead, just to lie through his teeth. "No, darling. I never trust vindictive women."

"Witty Jack …"

She knew that nothing was forever. Still that moment, and his embrace, was eternal. In a way he'd taught her to expect the turning tide whenever she was happiest, but she refused to allow these thoughts to overflow just yet.

"You regret it?" he suddenly asked her, pointing at her and himself as though he could sense her inhibitions.

"This?" She shook her head, still she said, "Sometimes ..."

"That we met some time ago," he specified, quite seriously at that. "Do you regret it?"

"Not tonight," she vowed after a bit of hesitation. "But I know you. You'll make sure I will."

"You know it like no other – I'm as inconsistent as the weather," he teased – and yet it was nothing but the truth.

"You're many things, Jack. But never a man I can trust."

"Oh, quite the pain hearing you say that …" he admitted, looking down at her wearily.

"Well deserved," she retorted, a tad of bitterness lacing her words. "And you know it."

"Yes I do."

And he even cared – still it was a shame. He tried to evade that at all cost, every time, since it got harder to leave and ignore the longing for her, and easier to crawl back apologizing …
But he knew they couldn't endlessly repeat their patterns. They hurt her, he hurt her … Still he couldn't seem to change for the better. Trying to have it all never felt so wrong. And like a wave of impossible pressure crushing over him her rightful expectations were suffocating.

He bloody loved her, but he hated to.
All he ever wanted was independence. He was not one to share. Yet there she lay, binding him to a shared bed with an open heart and the irresistible warmth of her body.

This was the life, he knew well it didn't get any better than that. But out of force of habit, he could only ever bear it for so long. The same old urge to escape her and all those feelings of attachment crept up and he couldn't suppress them. It was just too good to be true, and he couldn't lose her on any other conditions than his own.
Before destiny spoiled it all, he did. Before people dear to him left him as they always would when he was still a child, he did.
He wouldn't stay much longer, he knew it in his heart already, he couldn't. But Tara and him still had the night …

"Let me hold you," he whispered into her hair. Unwilling to restrict himself from enjoying that little piece of heaven just yet, he pulled her into his arms as though it was the last time he ever could. "Even if you don't trust me."

"You don't trust me either."

"Changed my mind. I might."

"Doesn't annihilate my mistrust in you."

"Witty Tara. Knowing me so well …"

I do, still I love you to pieces, she thought, well aware that this time around, watching him leave would be the hardest to date. Missing his touch would soon be, his smile. The freedom he'd brought.

"You were so gentle tonight …"

"Always am," he claimed.

"Not like that."

They couldn't possibly know it was the night she conceived his twins, but in retrospect, it likely was a touch of destiny.

"You were aware."

After not too much hesitation, he asked, "Of what?"

"Why you're here. Why you'll run away again."

She knew she didn't have to say the word. He hated the implications it brought, still it was true. And they were both aware – just not ready.