Song of the Sea: Sunsets and Black Sails

Chapter 15: Just for this Moment

Jack

Jack had seriously considered abandoning the charts and maps and the frustrating search in favor of simply curling up in bed with Aria. It wasn't as if she would have noticed, after all. She had fallen asleep. At least, he was quite certain she had. But she was far less stubborn that way. When she slept, she stopped trying to push him away. Her arms would find their way around him, clinging close, and she would rest her head against his chest. When Aria slept, the distance she attempted to force between them was nonexistent, and they were lovers once more.

He had wanted so badly to hold her tonight. But he couldn't let himself. Each day she pushed him away, the more his sorrow grew, along with his frustration, not at her, but at whatever it was that kept her from him. But no... tonight, the bottle would soothe him, rather than his woman's embrace. His darling, beautiful, clever, stubborn woman... Oh Aria, why? They had no secrets between them, so what could possibly be so terrible as to make her push him away?

His thoughts raged on as he made his way through the crew's quarters. There had to be some plan, some clever scheme that he could dream up to fix things between them, whatever it was needed fixing...

A particularly loud snore interrupted his plotting. More and more he questioned the worth of these Tortuga hands...

"As you were, gents..." he grumbled to no one, heading down another flight of stairs, deeper into the belly of the Pearl.

Jack brought out his ring of keys as he reached the door. He picked the right one and quickly slipped it into the lock, not bothering to even attempt at stealth or silence. The door swung open with a creak, and he eagerly entered the black abyss, lantern held high in front of him.

Everywhere he searched, the shelves and racks were empty. Where was the bloody rum? Just as he was about to give up, to return to the cabin and find his way into Aria's embrace for his comfort, the dusty neck of a lone bottle caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

"Aha..." He reached out to take it, but when he grabbed the bottle upside down, naught but sand poured from the unstoppered glass.

"Time's run out, Jack," a low voice startled him.

The bottle fell from his hand and smashed to pieces on the floor below. Jack whirled around, lifting the lantern into the dark, searching for that all-too-familiar voice. There, in the back... a figure huddled on top of a barrel. He stepped closer... The figure dripped with water, like a drowned man. The light fell upon his form, but not yet his face. That was enough to give Jack a dreadful suspicion.

"Bootstrap," he whispered. "Bill Turner."

Finally, the man turned his face towards Jack. He really did look like a man drowned. Barnacles and all sorts of underwater growth covered half of his face and his shoulders. His cheeks sagged, and his eyes were baggy and weary. That green complexion dripped and trickled from some unseen source.

"You look good, Jack," the man said, water pouring from his mouth with each word.

Jack could only stare in surprise and horrific curiosity.

"Is this a dream?" he asked.

Bootstrap frowned.

"No..."

Jack sighed.

"I thought not. If it were, there'd be rum, and my fiancee wouldn't be able to keep her hands off me."