Life at sea wasn't all it was hyped up to be. Jack Sparrow, a
pirate and conman by trade knew this better than most. He lifted the
blue-green bottle to his lips again, parting his saltwater reddened
lips for the hot alcoholic tongue that blinded his desires to have a
companion. A pirate vessel was no place for the sort of love he
craved. The only love he'd felt for the last 13 years was for his
beloved Pearl. She spoke to him through her creaks and groans, and the
way the wind tossed her black sails. It was this ship, he thought,
that had been his companion when no one else dared to. He tossed back
another burning mouthful of rum. He rubbed his kohl-rimmed eyes with
the heels of his hands, smearing inky streaks over the better part of
his face. It was getting late. He sighed. 13 years was a long time to
feel alone. Granted, he had had his share of quick fucks over the
years, probably too many to count. But they never seemed to amount to
anything, except perhaps the occasional infection. The wood of the ship
groaned and rocked, perhaps in an attempt to calm her master. Jack
made his way toward a nightstand with a pitcher of water. He splashed
his face, the cold water briefly bringing him into a dreadful
sobriety. He sunk onto his bed, slipping into the blanket of
intoxication that had started to ensconce his ever-wandering mind. "
Bloody hell." Jack said out loud. He hated the feeling that had been
growing inside him ever so steadily over the years. To him, it was
weakness. He was, after all, a pirate. He loved the sea, his crew, and
his beautiful ship. Despite all of this, however, he had begun to
privately wish for someone to hold at night, to leave their warmth on
the sheets when they rose in the morning, and love him for whom he was.
But that was all a fantasy in the mind of Jack Sparrow, he thought. He
lackadaisically removed his loose gauze shirt, and pulled a rough
sheet over his bare skin. He was soon enveloped in a deep, dreamless
sleep that would last until first light, thus beginning a new day for
Captain Jack Sparrow.

The next morning jack awoke from a troubled sleep, sheets soaked in sweat. They might have been soaked in something else too, but that was indeterminate. He groaned in frustration and staggered out of bed with an almighty hangover, banging his already aching head on a wooden beam and falling over with a thud and a "Bloody hell!" Will Turner had just stepped out of his room to head up to the deck for some fresh air. He had been sleeping irregularly too, after the trauma of Elizabeth leaving him for the Commodore. His offer of a respectable and wealthy life of comfort and been too much for Elizabeth to refuse; she had been craving fine society again after her adventures aboard the Pearl. She had lost her taste for pirates, danger, and Will as well; she had had enough. Will knew he could not provide for her either as a blacksmith nor as pirate, so he headed off to sea again with a heavy heart.
Will heard Jack's fall and muffled cursing and ran in to help his friend; indeed, one of the few people Will could
still count as a friend. "Jack? What happened?" He rushed over to the lean and bare-chested man and tried to pry him off of the floor. Jack appeared to have gone limp; his response was a faint grunt. Will rolled his eyes, wrapped his arms around Jack's toned shoulders, trying to heave the sweaty man onto the bed. He had no idea
that jack was in such good shape. He had only seen the dirty muslin shirt he always wore. Not the beauty that lay beneath. It was a startling revelation for Will, and he wasn't sure if he liked what that meant.

Jack's head rolled limply as Will draped his body onto the bed. Jack's
eye rolled open slightly and he mumbled incoherently, trying to grasp
a concept of where he was. " Hush." Will offered. " You're not well,
Jack. You keep poisoning yourself." Jack rolled over, not feeling like
hearing a sermon from young Mr. Turner. " Fine." Will huffed. " Have
it your way, then." Will stormed out of the cabin, annoyed that this
man who was supposed to be the captain of a ship was a pathetic boozer
who was lucky to be alive. They would be stopping in Tortuga for an
extended time, since the Pearl was badly in need of repairs, and a pirate
port was the only reasonably safe palace to do so. To avoid detection,
Jack and his crew had rented out a large boarding house for a month to
ensure their safety and privacy. It was strategically located near a
pub, with a passage underneath for easy escape should one be
necessary. After all, the crew were all growing weary, and the rest
would do them good, too. After all, a captain can't sail with a ship
alone. Jack slipped back into an uneasy slumber until he heard the
ship grating against the edge of the wooden dock. " We've made it, old
girl," Jack whispered to the Pearl. He snatched up a duffel bag, and
joined his crew in their trek to their home for the next month.