This was insane. More than insane, really. I was stranded here on a deserted island with a pirate who was at best a bit touched by sun and rum and at worst absolutely barking mad. And he had the only weapon in sight. He waved said weapon in my direction accompanied by a rather bizarre command.

"Off with yer shoes, mate."

I looked at him. "What was that?"

"Your shoes, Commodore. Remove them. Stockings too."

I bent to comply, not truly certain that he would use the pistol on my person if I did not. After neatly rolling the stockings and stuffing them into the toes of my shoes, I straightened and again set my gaze in his direction, keeping an eye on the weapon. He waved it at me once more and then motioned me over to the shoreline. I tried not to wince as I trod upon the sharp shells that littered the sand.

"Not over there ye bloody fool!" He continued his clichd waving of the pistol. "Over to your right where the sand is nice and soft." I did as he wished and it was indeed much nicer on my feet.

"Good boy. Now walk over to the water nice and easy and stand there at the edge. Good. Now squish your toes about."

"Sparrow, you want me to squish my toes in the sand? Or you'll shoot me?"

"Exactly." He showed a sudden broad smile, nodded and stared at me.

I commenced with the ordered toe squishing. Oh, that did feel good. I stopped for an instant, feeling the warm sun on my face and the cool water swirl around my ankles. It is possible that I smiled then. And maybe let a small sigh escape. I dug my toes in again.

"You don't do things like this much, do you?"

"Getting kidnapped and stranded on deserted islands by pirate crews? No, not usually." What kind of idiotic question was he asking?

"No, no, not that. I mean taking a few minutes to go barefoot on the beach and let yerself relax for a bit."

"I don't have time for relaxing. I'm usually too busy fighting the French. And chasing pirates. The life of a commodore in the British Navy does not leave large quantities of time to waste frivolously."

"Well then it's a good thing I brought you here. You probably need this a lot more than I do."

"Need what?"

"A holiday, of course. We've got three whole days here before the Pearl comes back for us. Three days of fun in the sun with as much rum as a man could want. You look like you could use a little sun and a little more rum for that matter. And as I'm rumming things here as it were, I'll see that you get all that and more." Sparrow looked gleeful. I could feel my head start to pound.

"Sparrow. Why am I here with you?" I thought perhaps to torture me to death with faulty logic and bad puns.

"Dunno, really. Was Gibbs's idea. Thought you'd make a fine birthday prezzie for me. You know, you shouldn't wander around Tortuga all by your onesies like that anyway. You could have gotten hurt."

"What exactly is your definition of hurt, pirate, if it does not include getting clouted on the head by your overenthusiastic quartermaster, dragged onto your ship and left stranded with the likes of you on this godforsaken spit of land?"

"There's where you're wrong, luv. This is not a godforsaken spit of land. I've been on those before and this is not it. And we're not stranded. They'll come back for us after our nice holiday. So wrong on both counts."

"And what about the head injury?" Was I whining when I said that? Petulance, thy name is Norrington.

"If ye weren't so bloody stubborn, that would a never happened. It's your own fault, you know." He was spreading a large blanket out on the sand as he spoke. He then placed his pistol in its center, and began disrobing.

"What are you doing now, Sparrow?"

"Takin' me clothes off. What's it look like?" He leered at me. I glanced away.

"I know what you're doing. Why are you doing so?"

"Cause I'm about to have meself a nice swim. Care to join me?"

"What? No! Sparrow! You can't just run around completely unclothed on in broad daylight. Suppose someone sees?" I averted my eyes from the sight now emerging from the ever-growing pile of discarded garments.

"Desert island, remember? I highly doubt we'll be interrupted by any blushing maidens here." He saw me trying not to stare at his body. Leered again. "You're not a maiden, are you James? I can call you James, right? Seeing as how we're all alone here and swimming together and everything." He winked at me.

"Of course I'm no maiden."

"Then you've been with a man before? Good. Makes my job easier then."

"That's not what I meant. I've... I'm... Oh never mind." I sighed in frustration and rubbed the bridge of my nose.

"So do you like what you see?" He preened for me. Rather more a peacock than a sparrow. But he was, in fact, a fine figure of a man, the multitude of scars and tattoos enhancing his lean form rather than distracting from it.

"You are incorrigible."

"Pirate! Now guess how old I am." He strutted in place and struck a pose.

"Judging by your actions, I'd have to say about ten years old."

"Wrong again, Commodore. This is how a pirate looks at forty." He twirled in place, showing off his straight back and firm buttocks. "You wish you'll look as good as me when you're my age." He was right. I'd never have guessed he was that old. And I did hope to be in such cavortingly good shape in another seven years.

Suddenly I saw my chance. He was prancing to the water, showing off for all he was worth and paying no attention to his 'effects' on the beach. I sprinted for the blanket as fast as I could and dove for the pistol. I had it in my hand. I rolled back up to a standing position and aimed it at him. Actually, I aimed it a bit to the right and in front of him in case of accidental misfire but he didn't need to know that.

"That's far enough, pirate. Stop right there."

He turned and looked at me. Inexplicably started to laugh. He leisurely ambled back up the beach to me, getting closer and closer and finally much too close.

"I'm warning you, Sparrow." I was relatively certain I would shoot him if necessary.

He grabbed the barrel of the pistol and wrenched it from my astonished hands. He held it to his own head and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. My eyes felt as if they might leap from my skull.

"Sorry James, wrong again. T'weren't loaded. I thought you might try something like this. Had to take the necessary precautions.

"You mean you've been threatening me this whole time with an empty weapon?" I was torn between outrage and hilarity. The sheer ridiculousness of the situation was beginning to tell on me.

"Now, now James. It's not that bad, really. I've taken greater men than you with less. How do you think I managed to sack Nassau town without a shot fired?"

"I'd assumed it was through happenstance and utter dumb luck. Perhaps they mistook you for a different pirate, a better pirate."

"Oh, that hurts, Commodore, it really does. The intimidation factor of Captain Jack Sparrow is not to be denied." He struck a pose that might have been fierce had he not been naked and staring up at me. I could not resist taking advantage then. I reached out and patted him on the top of his head, as one would a cat or an especially prized hound.

"Yes, Sparrow, of course you're the best pirate I've ever seen, I don't know what came over me."

The face he made at me nearly made up for the false pistol incident. It was my turn to laugh then. I realized that despite myself, I was starting to have fun. After all, I really was on a forced holiday with a nonlethal pirate who, truth be told, was rather easy on the eye. And rum. Lots of very high quality rum, judging from the bottles strewn about. I couldn't remember the last time I had let my guard down enough to get drunk on rum. No, that wasn't true. I did remember. That had been the night of the debauching lieutenants. A night I'd rather forget, though it had seemed such a good idea at the time. It was weeks before I could look either of them in the eye again after the things they had done to me.

"You know, Sparrow, I believe I am not yet inebriated enough for this situation." I sat down on the blanket, uncorked a bottle with my teeth and took a good swallow. Sparrow was watching me with mingled annoyance and was that appreciation? I think it might have been. I returned the sentiment. "By all means, Sparrow, please continue your frolicking, you are rather amusing to watch." I waved the rum bottle at him in a passable imitation.

His look changed to disappointment then. I could not fathom why. I had acquiesced to his strange game and was no longer attempting to kill or injure him and I was wholeheartedly embracing his ideas about the rum.

"Commodore! You shouldn't be doing that now!"

"Why ever not, Pirate?"

"Don't you realize that you shouldn't go in the water for at least an hour after eating or drinking?"

"I never said I was going in the water." I settled back and put the bottle to my lips again. Set it down after another healthy drink and removed all my despicably hot and uncomfortable clothing, including the wig. Soon, I was down to breeches and an unbuttoned, untucked shirt. I took up the rum again. I was beginning to see the advantages of deserted islands.

Sparrow was watching me voraciously as I undressed.

"Don't get your hopes up, Sparrow. I'm still not going swimming." He gave me an exaggerated come hither look and ran for the water. I watched his clean dive through the waves and his strong strokes. Just beyond the surf zone, he stopped and waited, floating there. When a big wave approached, he suddenly turned and swam with it. He was caught in the wave, body straight as a spar and he let it carry him to the shore in its curl. Just before it looked like he would have been smashed against the beach, he folded up and disappeared from sight. A moment later, he reappeared, stood up, and looked delighted. Honestly, it did look exhilarating. After watching a half-dozen more demonstrations, I had to put the rum down, rid myself of my remaining clothing, and try it myself.

I walked to the edge of the water, squished my toes a few times and followed Sparrow out to where he was waiting for another wave.

"How did you do that? Where did you learn that trick?" I asked.

"Dunno. Just picked it up from spending too much time on beaches, I guess. The important thing is that you swim fast when the wave approaches. Otherwise you won't get pulled along by it. The other important thing is to drop down just before it hits the beach. Otherwise you get a bit damaged. Got it, James?"

"Yes, yes. I understand. I've been watching how you do it this whole time." I was impatient to try it.

"All right, Commodore. The next one is yours."

I looked at the wave towering over me. Now or never, I thought and swam for all I was worth. Suddenly I was caught, lifted up in the grasp of the water and propelled along toward the beach. So enthralled I was with the sensation that I forgot to follow Sparrow's second directive. The wave pounded into the beach, me along with it. I was caught in the swirling and tumbling water, desperately trying to find up and finding only the hard and abrasive sand into which the wave dashed me.

Almost instantly, Sparrow was there, helping me up, pulling me out of the water and to my feet. I looked down ruefully. Both my knees were abraded and bleeding, along with one elbow and a large part of my chest just below my left nipple. I was also covered in sand and seaweed. Blood mixed with water dripped off me in a pink tinged rain.

"Ye bloody fool. I knew I shouldn't have let you in the water so soon after all that rum."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me along with him, up the beach. We passed the pile of blankets and clothing where I had expected him to stop. He kept going, never letting go of my hand.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To get you cleaned up, luv."

At the top of the beach, near the rocks, I heard the sound of falling water. A waterfall. Not an especially large or impressive one. The water fell in a curtain from mossy grey rocks into a shallow pool below. Sparrow dragged me through the pool, stirring up silt as he stomped along. The water was enticingly cool and refreshing for all its unassuming appearance. He positioned me under the steady flow and set to work cleaning my self-inflicted wounds. His hands were on me, delicately washing sand and debris from my chest, my arm, my legs. He followed the runnels of water streaming over me with his fingers until I could no longer tell the difference between his touch and that of the water over my body.

He traced and retraced random trails across me long after the abrasions were clean and all the blood had washed away. His fingers danced across my nipples while the cooling water played counterpoint against the sensitized nerves of the tender red skin below them. I was utterly fascinated with his hands on my body, the contrasting colors, their slightly rough texture and I watched as the water flowing over them magnified and distorted the lines of dirt and wear, the rings made gaudy in its embrace. They waltzed circles around my nipples again and I shivered.

"What's the matter, mate? You cold?"

Yes, that must be it. I was cold.

"I'll keep you warm." A dangerous promise, indeed. He wrapped his arms around me, crushed his body against mine and I thought steam might rise from the heat of it. I knew then that my battle with sensibility was over. I had The Pirate in my arms; or rather I was in his, though it didn't exactly matter at this point. After I had spent so much time chasing him, ironically it was he who had caught me. Somehow, this moment seemed inevitable now that it had arrived. Perhaps I had always known on some deeper, not entirely rational level, that this was how the chase would end.

I kissed him then. It seemed to be the only thing to do after embracing destiny. I put my hand up to the back of his head, twined my fingers in the confusing array of locks and souvenirs, felt the warmth radiating through the matted tangles. I pulled him closer and we opened our mouths to each other. The clear, sweet water ran between us, flavoring the kiss with its freshness. I drank it down with his intoxicating exotic taste. He took my lip between his teeth and bit. I thrust my tongue far between his lips in retaliation. I plundered his mouth for answers and I found them in the secret heat of his passion.

The kiss continued and expanded until every part of my body was involved in it. I could feel his heart beating through my own chest. I followed its quickening rhythm through arpeggios of sensation. I traced my hands down his back, exploring the slick planes and curves. It seemed to be the most natural thing in the world when I slipped my hand around to his front and took his yard in my hand. Slick and hard and so like, yet different from my own. His fingers ghosted over me, catching up my heavy length and pressing it against his. We moved our hands together, learning the rhythms of our pleasure and desire.

At first slower, then faster, then slower again, the fall of the water a constant counterpoint to our heated pleasure as we teased and indulged, soothed and tormented each other until I was nearly frantic with the intoxication of him and the heady power of our coupled hands. I was at the very brink and I could not contain my insistent body. Fast and hard, I brought him with me to the point of no return. He shouted his crescendo into my mouth and I felt his hot seed spurt over my hand. I immediately followed him over the edge, gasping for breath and collapsing, boneless against him.

We continued to hold each other for long minutes as the pounding of our hearts quelled and the pounding of the cooling water washed our bodies clean.

"You know, Jack? I think I might not find the next three days to be too oppressive after all."

"Told ya so. You needed this."