At first, it was only one big sip. Then, like unstoppable waves bursting from behind a shattering dam, breaking apart due to the combined forces of mother nature building a way where man had decided there shouldn't be one, you gulped the dark brown liquid down your thirsty throat. It ran over your dry tongue and into your mouth, found its way into your abdomen and filled you with a pleasantly warm and fulfilling feeling.
The dark rum tasted like smooth vanilla with a hint of spice, alongside a surprising, caramelized sweetness that reminded you of long-forgotten days spent together with Chris on the Calgarian, when you had stolen sweets from the ship's galley.
For a brief moment you put the bottle down from your lips to feel the taste of the sweetness on your tongue and at the same time the burn of alcohol in your throat: You had already tried rum in Nassau and later on Tortuga, only this time the sweet taste was different, stronger, and far more intense than anything you had drunk before.
But maybe this feeling was due to the hole in your stomach, the hunger that you eagerly tried to fill with the promising-looking liquor in your hand.
You brought the bottle back to your mouth and when the cold glass touched your soft lips, you gulped the drink down your throat once again, the feeling it left behind in your body too satisfying.
Only quietly, between your greedy gulps that echoed loudly in your brain, did you notice Jack muttering, "Easy, lassie, that's too much at once", but you didn't listen to him. Only when you felt the contents of your bottle becoming emptier and lighter did you remove the rum from your lips and place the bottle beside you in the white, soft sand.
As the rum travelled into your abdomen, a quick shock went through your arms and knees and a brief pang flashed your head. You shivered.
"That's what happens when ye drink too much at once, love. You're not really experienced, are you?", Jack muttered and looked at you with a cocky grin.
You averted your gaze from him and left his question unanswered. Of course, you were inexperienced. The Governor's Mansion in Nassau wasn't the best place to get drunk. Especially not if you were the daughter of the family living there, the Governor's daughter. And on Tortuga you had been too busy trying to survive to drink more than just two or three sips during your shifts as a bartender. So yes, you were inexperienced. He was right.
And it definitely had been too much at once. He had been also right about that: Now, that the sugary, all too tempting taste of sweetness that had persuaded you to take more sips to begin with, was starting to disappear and all that was left was the sharp, sour burning in your throat and mouth, you regretted to have drunk half of the bottle at once.
But you wouldn't give Jack the satisfaction to admit that. You were way too proud to do that.
So, instead of giving Jack an answer, you hissed and focused your view on the horizon, the colours of which were beginning to fade until at a certain point only the black of the Caribbean night would be visible, and silence returned: Jack left you alone and was fixed on emptying his bottle again, and Elizabeth was quiet.
You looked over to her, but the young woman was no longer present with her mind, only body. She was sitting a little away from you, her eyes on the horizon and the rising night, the stars, and the moon, far away with her thoughts, probably thinking about Will or her brilliant plan. The brilliant plan, you, unfortunately, weren't allowed to know anything about.
So, you turned back to the horizon, as the last memories of the sun died in a show of red, orange, yellow and pink light, and the darkness took over the sky to make room for the stars and the moon of the Caribbean night.
It had become soothingly quiet again, only the crackling of the fire, the sound of the sea, and once in a while Jack's drinking noises could be heard.
And when the pleasant silence and the dark night came over you, thoughts flooded your head as well.
Annoying thoughts, uncomfortable thoughts that you found difficult to think about.
For example, the cocky pirate next to you: Jack was a mystery. Like a cold case, an unsolved puzzle, an impossible challenge. You never knew what he was thinking, what he wanted, what his hidden agenda was.
Today, you had thought, feared, for a brief moment that he knew about you and your true identity. His targeted questions and his personal inquiries had put you in trouble, in need of explaining yourself.
Why would he do something like that if not to show you that he knew exactly who you were, if not to put you in your place? And if that was the case, for how long? For how long had he known the truth about you? Not already on the rotten port of Tortuga, right? Or when he had ordered you to be taken to his cabin during the storm? Or afterwards on the deck at night?
Bit by bit you relived the moments you had spent with Jack since the morning you had left Tortuga.
You thought about how he had allowed you to sail under his flag, how he had ordered Gibbs and Will to bring you into his cabin after you had nearly drowned during the storm, how he had watched the Caribbean night sky with you, how he had given you his coat, how he had flirted with you the next morning. You thought about the moments you had spent together on the Isla the Muerta, how you had tried to protect him, but had failed miserably, how he had touched your check later on the Black Pearl, had caressed your hair, how he had protected you during the canon fire, later against the ruthless pirate, and finally, how he had almost kissed you... what was all this about?
How did you feel about Jack? It couldn't be love. You didn't even know each other, right? And what you knew about Jack wasn't exactly something to fall in love with: he was a lying traitor, a ruthless egomaniac, and a felonious pirate. And yet, your simple heart skipped a beat when he touched you, your mind faltered when he protected you, your cheeks burned red just at the thought of him, his fingers left a hot trail of desire on your skin, and you couldn't imagine anything more beautiful than finally kissing his soft, artful lips.
But this still wasn't love, or was it?
You had no idea. Your thoughts raced past you aimlessly and your head was in chaos. Ideas abounded, came within reach, and then disappeared again. Your thoughts repeated themselves. Was it love? You didn't know.
But at least you knew that it wasn't the love you had read about in books, the love that was patient and kind, not hot and passionate, the love that formed slowly like a seed growing into a precious fruit, the love that did not hurry and did not rush.
You knew for sure that what you felt for Jack wasn't the love you had known and dreamed about before you had left Nassau: before leaving, you had longed desperately for a love as kind and gentle and loving as described in books, a love so caring it could make up for all the lost parental love you were never given.
You were certain that what you felt for Jack was different, what you felt for him was much more than what you had thought love had to be: it was much more than just the kind of love your parents had missed to give to you. This feeling was attraction, desire, intimacy, attachment, adoration, and a whole new, undiscovered repertoire of feelings, all at the same time.
And even though you knew all this, you still didn't know how you felt about Jack: It wasn't love, no. Especially not in the old and standard way. And you weren't in love with Jack either because the truth was that you didn't really know what love felt like besides the love you felt for a friend.
But what you did know for sure was that you were definitely falling for him, for him and his charm and his looks. And your desire, to find out whatever "falling for someone" meant, was growing with every minute.
And finally, the thought you had tried to grasp was there, for a brief second: You were falling for Captain Jack Sparrow.
But this thought was short-lived as well, only there for a moment and then gone again, joining the chaos of thoughts in your head that was constantly spinning like a wheel.
At fault, the alcohol that came dancing through your blood and brain.
The same alcohol that now infested not only your mind, but also your body: Your arms and legs suddenly felt very heavy, as did your head, your eyes lagged when you tried to look in a new direction, your surroundings floated past you like a boat, and suddenly the colours of the campfire became bright and alive.
So, that's what it was like to be drunk.
You giggled. It was not at all what you had expected. It was much more vivid, much more real. Suddenly everything around you felt so alive. Colours became more colourful, sounds louder- Wasn't that exactly what you had wanted for yourself after leaving Nassau? A colourful, vivid life? Adventures? Freedom?
You giggled again and this time your giggle caught Jack's attention: He lowered his third bottle of rum he had already brought to his lips and grinned at you curiously.
"What's so funny, dear?"
"Nothing, dear", you replied and to your surprise, your mouth grimaced into a cheeky smile.
Then you let yourself fall back into the soft sand so that you could look at the bright stars in the sky that began to dance and blur in front of your eyes, and exhaled satisfied.
"It's just- it's just-... everything is suddenly so bright and happy, you know? The colours, the sounds, the sky...", you said and turned your head to face Jack.
And when you turned your head around, you noticed that Jack was now also lying on his back in the sand, next to you, and the tips of your noses were only a few inches away. But you didn't pull back, you didn't back off, because as you stared into Jack's brown, now almost black eyes, there was nothing else you wanted to do. Suddenly you felt so cheerful and happy, and you were in an unusual, good mood. So, you stayed right there, looked into Jack's beautiful eyes, and giggled again.
You felt like you had never been this happy before.
"Quite happy, eh?", Jack grinned.
"Yes."
You looked into each other's eyes for a long time. And then, completely unexpected, Jack placed his rough hand on your hot cheek, cupping it carefully. He stroked your face with his thumb, triggering a shower of sparks on your skin with every touch. You held your breath and tried to concentrate your blurry vision on his beautiful face, his features, his lips. And then you slowly leaned in, got closer and closer until you could already feel his breath on your skin.
"You know what, Jacky? Maybe it is a pirate's life for me after all", you whispered with a dreamy and satisfied smile on your lips.
How these words could leave your lips was unclear to you and if you had been in your right mind, you would have banished this thought out of existence forever. You, a pirate? Never.
But fact was that you weren't in your right mind; you were drunk.
You closed your eyes and then waited for the long-awaited moment when your hungry lips would finally touch Jack's. But the moment never came. Instead, you felt Jack suddenly pull away and when you opened your eyes you saw him eyeing you critically, nearly mockingly.
"You want a pirate's life, lassie?", he asked.
And while you looked at him puzzled and the questions were racing in your head, while disappointment was spreading in your heart and you were desperately trying to find an answer to why Jack had pulled away, the pirate in front of you just smiled cockily and suddenly, by grabbing both your hands, pulled you to your feet.
"My dear (y/n), do you want to have fun like a pirate?"