Rose in the Caribbean // Jack Sparrow x Rose

12. Forging a Sword

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The clang of metal against metal rang over the barren beach, where a rather strange scene unfolded. A square brick oven had been built on raised stones in the shallow water, and next to it, Gibbs worked the bellows to make the fire inside burn hot enough while Captain Turner busily hammered out a piece of flat silver on an anvil.

Turner had removed his shirt in the heat, or maybe it was to impress his wife; despite his recent change of occupation he had a blacksmith's arm muscles and Rose found herself enjoying the view as well.

"Come," came Jack's voice from behind her.

"Why?" Rose did not turn her gaze away.

"I need your help to carry something important."

Sighing theatrically Rose stood and followed the pirate. "Make it quick then – I want to see him finish the sword. It's interesting to watch."

"I bet it is." Jack gave her a knowing look, mingled with... annoyance? Was he jealous? Somehow Rose found that highly amusing.

"If you strip, I can watch you too," she offered.

He gave her another look that she could not quite interpret, but said nothing.

They walked towards the center of the small island where a cluster of burned palms showed evidence of an old fire. Near the black trunks, Jack counted the steps to a certain point and began to scoop away sand until he uncovered a trapdoor.

Rose helped him open it and peered down. When she saw what it was, she groaned. "Rum! You brought me here to carry rum. Bastard."

He gave her a toothy grin. "It's for the summoning, love. It is important."

"So, I guess we soon got all we need," said Rose as she carried the last crate of bottles up the ladder and placed it in Jack's waiting hands. "Feeling ready to summon her? I'm thinking it must be rather scary." Even more so for herself, who would be sent to the afterlife in the process.

"No, I'm not ready." Jack sat down next to the crates, catching his breath after their labor.

"No?"

"I got something to do first." He glanced at her. "And I need you to come with me."

"Explain." She sat beside him, burying her fingers in the warm sand.

"It's something I always do this time of year. Finding the sword has taken too long so now I must do this other thing first, it can't wait." He picked up a rum bottle and looked at his distorted reflection in its dark glass.

"Well, like Liz says, you don't have to come to the summoning. It will probably be sad and boring anyway, what with me dying and all that." But when she said it, she realized she wanted him to come. Despite the fact that he would probably be there for the wrong reasons, with some hidden agenda, she did not want to part with him yet.

"Do you want to die?" He was still peering into the bottle, adjusting his mustache and rubbing at some imagined smudge on his cheek.

She looked at him. Was he being serious again? He had appeared less like his usual eccentric persona ever since he recovered from the fever.

"Well, eventually, I do," she said. "But someone once told me I would die an old lady in my bed, so I had kind of hoped I would stay around a bit longer." With a pang of grief and not a little bad conscience Rose realized just how long it had been since she had thought about her Jack.

Jack Sparrow opened the rum bottle and swallowed a few mouthfuls before passing it to her. As she declined, he took another swig. He looked gloomy. Was it because of her impending death? His character was so impossible to read. One moment he would be a demanding, selfish, full-of-himself pirate, but at other times he appeared to be a decent man who cared about his friends. Who actually had friends.