A/N: Well, this is certainly new for me. I don't usually write fics other than HP:L/J, but here I am, wondering how on earth I'm going to be able to stave off a whole year of wondering what the hell is going to happen to all of our favorite PotC characters. You can't blame me, really—I had to write one of these fics: it was inevitable.

Plus, I'm a sucker for the type of story in which one doesn't realize their affinity/attraction to the other until the very end.

I know it goes against the wishes of a great many fic writers and POTC fans, but I can't help but hold up a tiny, itty-bitty red "J/E" flag. Oh dear.

It's quite drabble-filled…Still, enjoy.

Disclaimer: Most assuredly not mine. CONTAINS SPOILERS.

Pirate

He's not gone. He's Captain Jack Sparrow. Of course he'll get out of it alive. I can almost hear his voice ringing through my ears—I can almost hear the slurred, rum-soaked word issue from his mouth:

"Savvy?"

Still, leaving him, there on that ship—as exhilarating as something like that was…it was far from honorable. It was something, well it was something Captain Sparrow would do. It was something a pirate would do. I can just remember that look in his eyes as he smirked down at me before saying in an accusatory, slightly proud voice:

"Pirate."

And kissing him like that—I can hardly imagine what was running through my mind. I was…distracted, really. I just wanted to get away from those tentacles, from that screaming, creaking, crushing ship, doomed to oblivion. We had to get out of there, and Captain Jack Sparrow was the only one the Kraken wanted.

How can I regret it? It was all of it his fault, really. He sold Will to Davy Jones—paid his own debt with the one man who had saved him! How Jack—Captain Sparrow, could have done that! And I thought he was a good man. But he came back…he was a good man. Is…he still is a good man.

There's something in the pit of my stomach, though. Something churning and burning in the very core of my body, and I'm afraid I know what it is.

Guilt.

I shouldn't have left him. I shouldn't have trapped him there on that boat, doomed just like his beloved ship was. Who am I to leave behind Captain Jack Sparrow? What was I thinking, leaving him there on that boat? I was distracted.

There's no denying it. I was distracted by that kiss. I was so angry with him! Why couldn't he just stand up and be an honorable man? Yes, he came back to the ship. But for what? For his compass? For the broken compass that seems only to point at Jack himself? He can't really be that vain, can he?

Yet, that guilt just keeps churning away. I know it was wrong. It was all so wrong. But it had to be done; I needed for it to be done. He sold Will's soul to save himself—he couldn't be a good man for just one moment? He was Captain Sparrow. He was the one the kraken wanted. The one the compass pointed to. The one I wa—

Tia Dalma's question comes pounding through my head—through the guilt, as I sit on my stool in her run down hut in the dark, foggy bayou up the river. When she handed me my drink, she looked at me as if she knew. She does know. She knows what I did.

Really, I can only say one thing. I know it was wrong of me to kiss him like that, lock him up like that, and to leave him like that. And he is, after all, Captain Jack Sparrow. How many times now has he saved me? How many times has he saved Will? Doesn't he deserve someone to save him back?

I can feel the word building in my throat, exploding out of my mouth. My answer to Tia Dalma's question. It sounds so much more forceful than the rest of Jack's old crew:

"Yes."

So what if Jack is a pirate? We all are pirates now. And I know I've done the dishonorable deed. Captain Jack lost what he loved the most, and some way or another, I've got to give it back to him—to show him that there are such people as honorable pirates…and that his compass…

Maybe it wasn't so wrong.