Disclaimer: Well, here is a surprise, I do not own Pirates. Though, at the risk of sounding horribly cliched, I really wish I did.

My One and Only

The bells in his hair jingled softly in his ear, it was a sound he rarely noticed now. They had been there for so long. Just like his hate for Barbossa, his red tattered bandana, his hat, his ship.

Ah yes, his ship. Of course it was only recently that she had come back into his possession, but ever since he had first seen her, she had always been his ship.

Fondly, Captain Jack Sparrow, ran his hands along the old wood railings of The Black Pearl. His one and only love. Oh yes, drink was delicious, prostitutes were fun, treasure was fine, but if he had nothing in the world but this wonderful ship of his, he would not care. Of course, some rum would always be nice.

People called him a cruel-hearted bastard, a tyrant, a scallywag, a drunk (though that one was true), a foul, honourless cur on day leave from the Underworld. Had he been born anyone but himself, these names might have bothered him. However, being born himself, he knew they only called him these worthless words for one reason: he was a pirate. And as such he was free to sail from the Americas to the English Channel if he so desired. And all those tired insults merely reminded him of his freedom, something their furious, better-than-thou speakers would never have. He could almost feel sorry for them: stuffed shirt Norrington, his band of red-coated, land- locked idiots, and all the other earth-dwelling mortals hell-bent on hanging him.

The Captain smiled his crooked grin; he had once told Elizabeth what his ship really was for him. Not a mast and a hull and a deck, but his only reason for living. And how happy he was now that she had been returned to him, ready and willing to bring him the horizon.