Truth

by Nearing Midnight

He glanced at her for one brief moment, before spreading his arms in an encompassing and thoroughly sarcastic gesture; "Welcome to the Caribbean, love."
Sparrow pushed past, leaving a confused Elizabeth holding a bottle of rum.

She stared at the clear glass bottle; the reddish-brown liquid inside sloshed audibly, the cork sticky with alcohol. Her eyes hardened and she stomped resolutely out of the sparse jungle to find Sparrow lounging on the sand, nursing his drink.

She could barely believe it; the audacity of that man! Somewhere, Will was out there, in the cruel hands of Barbossa and his undead crew of miscreants, and that *pirate* had simply sealed off their fates by giving up. This was NOT the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow she had read about at all! She spluttered incomprehensibly, before finally blurting, "Well, is there ANY truth to the other stories?"

An unfathomable look crossed Sparrow's dark eyes and Elizabeth expected him to come up with another snide retort.

Only one utterance passed his lips; "Truth?"

He pulled back his right sleeve, exposing his sparrow tattoo as well as his pirate brand. Elizabeth had only seen it once before, but only now at close quarters did she notice the charred edges and the depth of the wound; whoever had branded him had allowed him no mercy.
Sparrow gingerly pulled up his left sleeve, and the sight of it was not something Elizabeth had ever expected; a long, deep, jagged scar, the remnants of a burn so severe that scar tissue showed plainly through the skin. She backed up, disgustingly fascinated and yet utterly mortified.

The neckline of his loose shirt was tugged aside, revealing two blackened gunshot wounds on the right side of his chest; how he had survived such an injury was beyond Elizabeth's belief.

Sparrow's last words were hollow and laced with bitterness.

"No truth at all."