Jack smiled. Not that that was an unusual thing of itself, he was
almost always smiling. It was more the way he was smiling that was
odd. It wasn't the usual smile that he wore, the one that led many
people to label him as insane even before they knew him enough to
know he was. Rather, this smile was one of relief.

And he had good reason to be relieved. It wouldn't be much longer
until he reached Port Royale, and hadn't dreamed of its destruction
the night before. With any luck, he'd have Will and Elizabeth
leaving on the Black Pearl with him before nightfall. The idea of
being on time was what had made him smile, and the idea of getting
around in time only made his smile widen.

They were *safe*.

Only when he thought that very sentence did he begin to relax. Port
Royale was slowly drawing closer, and there was nothing to worry
about at all. The demons only ever attacked at night, and that time
was thankfully far away. He allowed his smile to relax back into
insanity as he stares casually across the water at the most
beautiful sight he had ever seen. Everything was going to be fine.

That was when the pain started.

It had begun with a barely noticeable throbbing at the side of his
head, but Jack knew it was only a matter of time before the pain
grew infinitely worse. He had experience this type of headache
before, so this one didn't really bother him. Still, he knew it was
always better for him if he laid them out instead of being up and
about doing things as he usually was. Knowing everything would be
fine if he left the wheel for a while, he handed it over to one of
his crew and then began the way to his room. But the pain he was
experiencing reached it's crescendo early, and he found himself
stumbling down the last few stairs, where he promptly fell into a
heap on the deck, clutching at his aching head.

People were around him almost immediately, but he scarcely noticed.
He had begun to panic as soon as he's stumbled, frightened of how
bad and how quickly the pain had risen.

And then blurry pictures appeared in his mind, pictures of death and
destruction, and those horrible demons. Port Royale was being
attacked in broad daylight. He didn't want to believe it, didn't
want to think that they would go *that* far just for revenge. He
tried to stand and return to the helm so he could watch the
hopefully unharmed city as they drew ever closer to it, but the pain
kept him on his knees.

After a while, the pictures were playing out smoothly, just as they
did in his dreams, and he could see everything as clearly as if he
was there himself, watching everything but not taking part in it,
willingly or otherwise. But the worst part came when he began
recognizing a few of the figures before him. There was Commodore
Norrington and a few of his idiot soldiers, battling the demons with
disgusted looks on their faces. The good thing was, he wasn't being
dragged to watch that fight. The bad thing was that he knew exactly
where he was going, had expected it from the very first vision. But
was he going to be taken there *first*, or were they going to play
with him for a bit?

The answer wasn't good. He was taken straight to the two of them, to
what appeared to be their wedding. Something in the back of his mind
took the time to wonder what had taken so long, but he didn't dwell
on the thought. They were at the altar where the two were standing,
staring at the approaching figures as if in a horrified trance. One
of the demons grabbed Elizabeth, pulled her down to the ground right
there. She was putting up a great fight, but he knew she wouldn't be
able to do much. And Will, of course, had jumped to her rescue
almost immediately. But without his sword, the boy wasn't much of a
challenge for them. He was finished almost before he began.

And then the pictures began to break apart again. Second long images
flashed through his mind as he watched Will being dragged on the
ground, all the way down to his shop. He noted that despite the
fires burning everything around, that one building had been left
standing. A note was written, stabbed to the door before he had a
good look at it. And they left Will in the dirt in front, untouched
by the fires raging around him, but not dead. Then there were more
scattered images flitting around randomly. Rape and death and fire
and destruction and—

And his eyes snapped open to the image of Anna Maria watching over
him. The girl stared at him, and he stared back for a moment before
suddenly standing up. A wave of dizziness and nausea stole over him
as he did so, and he immediately leaned over the side of his ship.
Funny thing was, he didn't think he'd been at the side before. Crew
must've dragged him over. But as he was emptying the contents of his
stomach, he decided it was a very good thing, really. He didn't want
vomit all over his deck.

"Captain?" he heard Anna Maria behind him. He turned slightly,
wiping at his mouth. She was holding a flask out to him, almost
certainly filled with water. He grabbed it from her immediately,
poured some in his mouth, swished the freshwater around and promptly
spit it out over the side. The taste in his mouth was definitely not
a good one, and he didn't even have the excuse of being formerly
drunk to have it.

Now all he wanted was some rum. A lot of rum.

When he was finally done with the swishing and spitting, he shoved
the empty flask back at her and stumbled back up the stairs to the
helm. He felt her walking up behind him, but he didn't really care.
All he wanted to do was stare out in the direction of Port Royale
and be assured of its continued existence. No raging fires, no
crisped bodies littered the ground. No dead Elizabeth, no
unconscious Will in the dirt with a scrawled message hanging in the
door above him.

But when he finally got to luck out, he simply sighed. Well, at
least he didn't have to deal with the raging fires. It was just
smoke. In the shape of a leering skull. Wonderful. And to think
they'd only been able to control fire before. Now they'd gone and
discovered the beauty of smoke. At least they hadn't spelled
out "Hello, Jack!" in nice, big, smoky letters, mocking his failure.
Or maybe it would be something to do with the marriage they had
interrupted, or *exactly* what they'd done to Elizabeth. Their sense
of humor was almost as disgusting as they were, after all.

"We should turn around," Anna Maria said, a hitch in her
voice. "There won't be any…survivors."

Jack smiled his insane smile at her, but his eyes were
uncharacteristically frosted in his anger. Anna Maria flinched back,
undoubtedly thinking that he had become even more insane then anyone
had previously had reason to believe. But she didn't know the half
of it.

"One survivor," he corrected her cheerfully. "Just one."

And he proceeded to ignore everything else.


He decided not to bother walking as he normally did, though he kept
with his smile. Too bothersome when he was in such a hurry, really,
all that drunken swaying about. Though him walking like a normal
human being seemed to scare the few pirates that had dared to come
with him, as they kept a safe distance from him. A very safe
distance.

The fact that they took their time staring around at everything as
they walked helped that distance as well, of course. Bloodthirsty
and ruthless pirates they might have been, but even they had never
seen such complete and utter destruction before. Not a sound could
be heard in the barren wasteland that had once been the beautiful
Port Royale. Nothing had been left standing except a few charred
bodies, and that one, single building with the still form before it.
Everything else had been burnt to ashes.

But Jack Sparrow had seen it all before, and nothing around fazed
him in the slightest. He easily continued his swift pace through the
ruined city, not stopping until he reached the door.

He ripped the note from its place pinned on the door (absently
deciding that the distorted dagger was a nice touch, really). He
read it quickly and the smile instantly disappeared to be replaced
by an ugly scowl. They had obviously found the message they'd left
amusing. He didn't. Staring down at Will's body, he slowly crumpled
the parchment into a ball, the simple sentences running over and
over in his mind.


*Thought we would leave you a little present. After all, it is your
birthday, isn't it?*