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Description
MY FIRST DRABBLE!!!!! -presses button for applause- Ok! Ok! Maybe it's not THAT exciting... -frowns-
Enjoy!!!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, or the Pearl, but, man, I really DO own these angsty thoughts.

"See, A ship isn't just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails..." Captain Jack Sparrow leaned closer. Elizabeth could feel his hot breath on her face. She could smell the rum on his breath. She inched closer, eager for him to finish his sentence. "...that's what a ship needs. But what a ship is..." He leaned back again, swaying a little from the rum Elizabeth had coaxed him to get drunk with. His face scrunched with seriousness, trying to get his point across that the next thing he said was not just another joke or metaphor he used, but actual fact. An actual feeling he felt that should not be taken lightly. "What the Black Pearl really is, is freedom..."

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Freedom.

Captain Jack Sparrow watched his life, his freedom, sail away 'til it was just a small speck on the horizon. He still stared at the very spot it had been, a tear never filling his eyes, nor a frown ever forming on his moustached lips. He only stood, in his dashing captain way, allowing his freedom to drain away from him every inch his ship sailed farther away from him.

He only slowly sat down on the sand, his eyes still trained to that one spot on the horizon, and his face never changed from the serious expression he wore. Gradually, ever so gradually, his lips molded into a frown and his hands clenched into fists, his short fingernails digging into his rough, worn palms. His rings bore into his fingers as his fists tightened, the urge for revenge ever so slowing flowing over him like a wave of lava.

Yet, he felt no pain. Only blazing anger. Hot, fiery anger. A feeling nothing before had ever evoked from him. Pulsing through his veins, wrath welled up in him 'til he let out a primal scream, throwing his fists down on the rough ground. The fire enveloped him, filling his every being with the blaze of his ever-growing malice.

Freedom.

It had been taken away from him. Stolen! Sailed away by the bloody man he trusted most! His own first mate had betrayed him! His closest friend! ...Or so he had thought. His Pearl was freedom. His Pearl. The embodiment of freedom itself. The very essence of the feeling was stored in the old, tried wood of that ship. Yet, now it sailed away from him. His whole life sailed away from him! Everything! Everything he was sailed away from him.

Everything that was ever his own and ever trusted and ever loved was gone now. Gone!

Freedom. Yes, his freedom. His Pearl. It would always be his freedom. Oh, and he'd get it back. No price was too high to get it back. Especially if that meant the price of the life of Hector Barbossa...

Description
MY FIRST DRABBLE!!!!! -presses button for applause- Ok! Ok! Maybe it's not THAT exciting... -frowns-
Enjoy!!!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, or the Pearl, but, man, I really DO own these angsty thoughts.

"See, A ship isn't just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails..." Captain Jack Sparrow leaned closer. Elizabeth could feel his hot breath on her face. She could smell the rum on his breath. She inched closer, eager for him to finish his sentence. "...that's what a ship needs. But what a ship is..." He leaned back again, swaying a little from the rum Elizabeth had coaxed him to get drunk with. His face scrunched with seriousness, trying to get his point across that the next thing he said was not just another joke or metaphor he used, but actual fact. An actual feeling he felt that should not be taken lightly. "What the Black Pearl really is, is freedom..."

-----------------------------------------

Freedom.

Captain Jack Sparrow watched his life, his freedom, sail away 'til it was just a small speck on the horizon. He still stared at the very spot it had been, a tear never filling his eyes, nor a frown ever forming on his moustached lips. He only stood, in his dashing captain way, allowing his freedom to drain away from him every inch his ship sailed farther away from him.

He only slowly sat down on the sand, his eyes still trained to that one spot on the horizon, and his face never changed from the serious expression he wore. Gradually, ever so gradually, his lips molded into a frown and his hands clenched into fists, his short fingernails digging into his rough, worn palms. His rings bore into his fingers as his fists tightened, the urge for revenge ever so slowing flowing over him like a wave of lava.

Yet, he felt no pain. Only blazing anger. Hot, fiery anger. A feeling nothing before had ever evoked from him. Pulsing through his veins, wrath welled up in him 'til he let out a primal scream, throwing his fists down on the rough ground. The fire enveloped him, filling his every being with the blaze of his ever-growing malice.

Freedom.

It had been taken away from him. Stolen! Sailed away by the bloody man he trusted most! His own first mate had betrayed him! His closest friend! ...Or so he had thought. His Pearl was freedom. His Pearl. The embodiment of freedom itself. The very essence of the feeling was stored in the old, tried wood of that ship. Yet, now it sailed away from him. His whole life sailed away from him! Everything! Everything he was sailed away from him.

Everything that was ever his own and ever trusted and ever loved was gone now. Gone!

Freedom. Yes, his freedom. His Pearl. It would always be his freedom. Oh, and he'd get it back. No price was too high to get it back. Especially if that meant the price of the life of Hector Barbossa...