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Captain Jack Sparrow had a problem, and not just any problem. Someone else, someone more like normal people might have thought that Jack's problem was not a problem at all, but Captain Jack Sparrow was not like other people. Not even close, which made Jack's situation even more troubled. Unfortunately. And what was worst, the biggest fault for the whole problem of Jack's - was Jack himself. Even more unfortunately.
In a nutshell, Jack had a following problem: he had emotions that didn't belong to his range of emotions. Period. And because the emotions Jack was just now feeling were the ones Jack never ever felt, he had no words to describe them. They were just... emotions. Extremely disturbing ones, true, but in the end they were just emotions. And because of the fact that they were only emotions, surely Jack could capture them behind his mysterious disguise, just like every other emotion he had. Except that so far all Jack's attempts to capture his disturbing emotions had failed for a one reason or another. Well, perhaps not for a one reason or another, because the reason for his failure had always been the same, not that Jack would ever admit it to himself. Never. Not even if Davy Jones appeared out of nowhere and claimed Jack to join his crew for eternity. Oh well, Jack might just consider it for a second before he would happily join the Flying Dutchman to escape his betraying thoughts. Although Jack had this unpleasant feeling that even joining the crew on the Flying Dutchman wouldn't help him to get rid of his problem.
Jack sighed, and continued staring his cabin roof. The more he tried to avoid thinking The One, the more certain The One kept popping up in his mind. Those dark brown eyes man could drown to instead of the ocean. Dark brown hair curling from the ends like little waves on the open sea. Long, delicate fingers, skilled in their work. The captivating curve of back and perfectly tight bottom. Long, muscular feet which... Jack shook his head and groaned in frustration. What bad he had done to deserve this torture? In fact, after more thorough thinking, what bad he hadn't done? Evidently way too many horrendous things, because there was no other explanation Jack could think of for his problem.
Jack groaned again and pried himself up from the bottom of his bed. He needed his rum now. And plenty of him. Probably he would end up needing it more than he actually had in store of The Black Pearl at the moment, but what he had now had to be enough. It was still three more days to Tortuga, and in Jack's mind that was three days too much. Way too much, as Jack was forced to spend the next three days in the close proximity of The One in the middle of the ocean with no way to run away.
Jack stepped outside to the deck and took a deep breath. Sometime not so long ago the ocean had been the sole objective of Jack's deepest emotions. But now... Jack sighed, grabbed a lantern from the wall and strolled straight away to the cargo hold to find the blasted rum to drown his fancies. Even though Jack silently thought there was not enough rum in the whole world for Jack to get rid of his problem so he could be himself again. The charming Captain Jack Sparrow, exclusively.
To Jack's very unfortunate luck The Black Pearl had only one bottle of rum. Just one bottle that should be enough for three long days. At the rate the things were going, Jack would be mad by the time they reached Tortuga. Well, more specifically Jack would be even more mad than he already was and that was saying a lot. While Jack was frantically thinking a way to solve the meagre amount of rum, the voice behind him fazed Jack back to the living world.
"Drinking the rum again, Jack?"
Bugger. This was exactly what Jack was trying to avoid.
"Whelp, what I do in my own ship is entirely my own business. I'm the bloody captain, you're not. Go make yourself useful."
"Yes captain, whatever you say."
Bugger. Bloody Will Turned. Just when Jack had been able to tell himself he should forget the bloody whelp. Preferably forever. Bugger.
Oh bugger, oh bugger, oh bugger.