Gibbs came to stand next to Rose by the railing, where she had been gazing at the waves, thinking about nothing much. Sailing could be very relaxing, cathartic even.

"Have you decided whether to go with Jack yet?" asked the old sailor.

"No... How can I decide when I don't know what he's going to do? I don't like the secrecy."

"Jack is a man of many mysteries," said Gibbs dramatically. Lowering his voice, he continued: "I have a hunch of what it's about, though."

"Tell me."

"Well, you see, Jack leaves on this unknown errand twice a year. He never seems to look forward to it, and afterwards he drinks for days at an end."

"No news. Jack always drinks a lot."

"Not like this, nowhere near this. Anyway, adding up those clues, I'm thinking this biannual appointment is with...," he looked about him to make sure nobody was nearby, "...his mother. You have to admit it makes sense."

"That would depend on what his mother is like, but I suppose it does." Rose tried to imagine a female version of Jack Sparrow and failed. "Who is his father?"

"His father's a famous pirate and buccaneer. Edward Teague, or Blackbeard as some call him. I don't think the two are very close."

"Blackbeard... that actually sounds familiar. I think I read about him in my time."

"Don't tell that to Jack. He would hate it if his father's name made it into the history books but not his." Gibbs grinned.

"So, you think he wants me to meet his mother?" she asked after a while.

"Aye. Aye I do. And that's an honor indeed. As far as I know he never brought anyone else there. He likes you." Gibbs winked.

Rose could not hold back a pleased smile at that.

"I think I'll go with him," she decided.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Jack and Rose were dropped off on an empty looking strip of beach, surrounded by jungle. In ten days the Barnacle would pick them up again, and in the meantime the others would search for a suitable uninhabited island with a lagoon where they could safely summon the sea goddess.

It was with a great deal of nervousness Rose waved goodbye and saw the fishing boat sail away. What if Gibbs had been entirely wrong about the purpose of Jack's errand, and that this was just a way to take advantage of her? He wanted her in his bed, he had said as much, and though she had come to like him lately Rose did not want to sleep with him. She knew too little about him for that sort of thing, and she still did not trust him entirely.

"So, what's this mystery mission about?" she asked, pushing back her anxiety as she followed Jack along a barely visible path through the dense foliage.

"You'll see." He seemed tense, and his face had an unusually grim expression. Was his mother really that bad? If that was who they would visit.

The jungle opened up and they came to a steep hill, covered with bushes, and on the top stood a small wooden building. When they had climbed the hill, Rose stopped to admire the view. She could see the beach where they had landed, and beyond, the blue expanse of the sea.

"Amazing!"

Jack came to stand beside her. "Indeed," he agreed, his features softening as he lovingly gazed at the horizon.

The house was sturdy but simple, built of rough wooden planks, and had glassless windows covered by shutters. Jack opened the shutters to let in light, and Rose looked around in the single room with surprise. The furniture was very modest; a bed, a few shelves, a table with one chair, a wood-burning stove, but the walls were decorated with several beautiful coal drawings. With a sharp pang Rose was instantly reminded of her Jack, but where he had drawn people, this artist had exclusively drawn ships.

She went closer to one of them, reaching out to touch the yellowing paper. The ship was black, with black sails on three masts and a black flag with the familiar pirate's skull and bones motif. The detail was exquisite.

"You drew this," she guessed, and Jack's silence confirmed her suspicion. Walking around the walls, Rose came across a shelf with two wooden ship models, one of them half finished. They seemed to be the same ship as the drawings had pictured. "And those? You made those too?" she asked.

"It's a pastime." He shrugged.

"Is it the Black Pearl?"

"It is, but enough questions for now. Let's eat." He unpacked the provisions they had taken with them from the Barnacle, hardtack crackers and salted meat, and then went to rummage in a small cupboard beside the stove, taking out a bucket, a wooden plate and a tin cup. "I only have tableware for one, but we can share." He went outside with the bucket and soon returned with it full of water.

Rose could hardly believe her eyes when he dipped the cup into the bucket and placed it on the table.

"We'll drink water?"

"Aye." He had a very odd expression and Rose suddenly realized one thing he had not brought from the fishing boat.

"Where is the rum?"

"Didn't bring any."

"You brought no rum for a ten day's stay?" Rose blinked in surprise.

"No." Jack pushed the table closer to the bed and sat on it, indicating Rose could take the single chair.

They ate in silence, soaking the hardtack in water. This mission kept getting more mysterious. Jack always drank, but in his house there was no alcohol. Why? And what was his errand here? There were no mothers around as far as she could tell, and the surrounding jungle seemed deserted.

"So, what do we do now?" she said at last.

"We'll stay in this house one week, and then I have an appointment. You can come too if you want."

"An appointment with who?"

"You'll see."

"Dammit, Jack." She scowled at him.

He grinned mischievously, clearly enjoying her frustration.

"And during the week, what will we do?"

"Passing the time. Fishing, picking coconuts, that sort of thing. Maybe nude swimming together?"

"You wish."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

It really became the oddest afternoon. Jack spent most of it fishing just like he had said, catching a few weirdly shaped fish and one squid. He went swimming too, with Rose pointedly turning her back as he unabashedly stripped all his clothes right in front of her. She only peeked a little at his back when he walked out into the water, secretly admiring his firm buttocks and broad shoulders.

On the way back to the cabin, they found two old, dry coconuts near the path, and Jack used his long knife to cut some young palms, peeling off the leaves and bark and taking out the white cores that he claimed to be good food.

Seeing Jack prepare dinner was another novelty. With practiced ease he boned the fish and fried them on the stove together with the squid, and then sliced up the palm marrow and the coconuts. The fish tasted lovely, and the sweet coconut meat and palm cores made a nice side dish.

They did not speak much. Jack was beginning to look gloomy again and Rose did not want to ask why, knowing he would probably refuse answering anyway. She just had to be patient. In time she would find out.

When they had finished their meal, the sun was already setting, and thanks to the house's location on the hilltop Rose could watch the amazing panorama as the large red orb sank below the horizon. This view alone would make the week enjoyable, she figured, and the languid afternoon had been very relaxing after all the adventure lately.

When she returned inside, she saw Jack had found a couple of bone dice.

"Want to play?" he asked.

"Sure, if you tell me how."

This he did, and soon they were pleasantly occupied. Jack won nearly every round, and gathered the pebbles they used for tokens in a big heap in front of him.

"Cheater."

"Prove it." He smirked.

"You're a pirate, right? You guys are not exactly known for your honesty."

When it had become too dark to see the dice, Jack proclaimed himself the winner. "And this means I get the bed," he decided.

Rose looked at the simple bed, dismayed as she realized there was only one. "Then where will I sleep?"

"Ah, I'm feeling generous today, love. I'll share."

"I'm not sharing a bed with you!"

"No? Suit yourself then. There is always the floor."

Grumbling, Rose spread the blanket Jack offered her and laid down on the hard surface.

It was awful. No matter how she turned and twisted she could not find a comfortable position. "Damn you, Jack," she cursed. "A real gentleman would give up his bed."

"I'm far from being a gentleman." He chuckled.

"Clearly."

Rose held out a little while more, then she sat up with a sigh. "If I come to the bed, will you leave me alone?"

"Rose... I'm a bastard, I know that, but not that kind of bastard." He sounded uncharacteristically serious. "I won't touch you – unless you want me to."

A little less apprehensive, Rose crawled down beside him, feeling him move back to accommodate her.

The bed was narrow and she was acutely aware of his warm form so close. At least he had bathed. "Goodnight," she murmured.

"Goodnight." After a while he silently added: "I'm glad you came."

She did not know if he meant to the bed or on this errand. Maybe both.

A/N:

Ahh the classic 'there was only one bed' trope hehe. Why didn't he bring rum, do you think?

Image Credits:

Stock Photo.