Chapter 16: Conversations with Revolutionists

Human Nature

by Quilapayuna

Conversations with Revolutionists

1720, Small Island in the middle of the Caribbean

Jack Sparrow was a man that perplexed Iris. She wasn't sure if it had to do so much with his ataxia-like behavior than his actual character.

What was his character? Who was Jack Sparrow?

His eccentricity distracted an incredible amount to ever truly understanding him on more than a superficial level.

Iris wanted to say that there were many things about Jack that probably haunted him and she often felt a lot of his behavior was used to camouflage those defects he probably couldn't stand himself, sort of like the person who does things in exaggeration to make up for whatever they felt they lacked.

Jack gave off that vibe.

He was a man with too many things to try to understand. If Iris were to set her mind on simply thinking about Jack, she'd get as much of a headache as when she dedicated her brain to thinking about religion. There was also her fear of settling her thoughts on this man who was clearly not as simple cut as the rest of the male species. Taking into consideration that she was traveling with this man, she preferred to ignore any alarms in her head for now. Because, lingering on the notion that this man could easily be bargaining the lives of everyone for his own means was too much for her to be weighing...even if to some extent she already knew he had...and probably still was. Where else could she go? It was pretty clear that by normal standards she didn't quite fit in and being the odd one out in the 18th Century was already looking like a scary situation.

"If you let him go, I'll show you what's in the bag."

Was this her opportune moment? She had to come clean at some point and what was in the bag was already weighing her down physically carrying it around everywhere...they would find out sooner or later and now that they were all stuck in the same situation, maybe they would understand...?

Jack still held his sword pointed at Pedro who did not fluster even a bit. The expression on Pedro's face made her think of someone who had already been threatened more than one time. He looked rather disinterested and the lines on his face suggested he was tired of this same power stance – the European threatening the Indigenous.

"Just let him go to the other side of the island and you don't have to see him...please Jack," her pleading made Jack take a step back and sort of refocus on the scene before him. The man did not seem to look like he was going to harm him. His expression seemed blank, if not sorrowful to some extent. Iris's eyes betrayed she clearly knew something he did not and he was not about to pass up the opportunity to find out interesting piece of information or what was in the bag. The former pirate captain lowered his sword and said, "I don't want to see ye'r face on this side until I say so."

Pedro without as much as a bat of an eye, took his own sword and walked into the shade of the island, passing to the other side. Iris stared at the shore next to them, finding a strange sensation to be left alone with Jack. She could only define that feeling at the pit of her stomach as awkward.

Iris saw that he was already making way for the bag and she quickly walked in front of him. "Wait..."

"We have an accord, luv - "

"I know, I know that. I just need to show you myself what's in here," she said pressing the deteriorating bag to her. It was strange how she felt it difficult to look at this particular man's eyes. His stare was intense, not in the same way Pedro's was but it was this penetrating stare that made her feel like she was completely exposed, like an open book...and most of the time Iris knew that she wasn't...for the most part.

"What I show you in this bag...you can't freak out about it. You understand?" Jack looked perplexed but seemed to have understood what she meant.

"Agreed," he said falsely smiling and made a rushed gesture with his hands for her to get on with it.

Sighing deeply, Iris took a seat on the sand, crossing her legs Indian style and opened the bag and began to pull things out. Jack joined her, seeing how anxiety provoking this whole thing was on her.

His eyes narrowed as he saw the objects she pulled out. A rectangular object that looked metallic with a lens that seemed similar to sailor telescopes. She took out another item much larger, somewhat flat also rectangular with the finely printed insignia of Dell on the top. Finally she took out some other things like books and strange trinkets.

Exhaling deeply, Iris felt the nervous wreck. What if this man also thought she was some witch or demon and would kill her for the benefit of the safety of them all? She didn't want to think about that. She crossed and uncrossed her fingers and began to speak with a shaky voice.

"So that day...the day they put you in that cell with me and I told you I was from New York, I wasn't lying," she looked into his brown eyes that seemed to be looking at her...in her. "I am from New York but not from 1720."

Raising an eyebrow, Jack took Iris's camera and began to look at it, weighing the item in his hands. "Then precisely what year are you from, luv?" he asked nonchalantly, as if they were talking about the weather. She wasn't sure if she liked him reacting that way either.

"Jack, I'm from the year two thousand and eight...I know that sounds ridiculous, impossible but all I can say is that ever since I ended up on the shores of Port Royal I've been living this strange backwards dream and I don't know how to go back."

Iris felt her eyes burn, watering up. She didn't want to cry in front of this man but didn't she deserve at least that? She was so tired and for once she wished she could go back to her stupid little life that consisted of the bitch of a school life she had, not so long ago. The exams, the unfair teachers, the nonsensical education system...all of a sudden she felt a burst in her chest that made her realized how easy her life was and how ungrateful she had been, never once bothering to weigh her own life to someone like Jack's or Pedro's who lived day to day, trying to make it through an existence through any means possible.

Sniffing, she let out a cynical laugh, "You probably think I'm nuts now."

"Luv," began the brown-eyed pirate with that grin that was Jack Sparrow's trademark. "I've had my fair share of the supernatural to be sure...although time-travel is a bit more questionable..."

Sighing once more, Iris took the camera from Jack's hands ignoring his comment and began to explain. "This right here is called a camera. You use it to capture the image of a moment. It really is all a matter of...advanced mechanics."

Jack looked at the device as if it were possessed than looked at her. Iris turned on the little machine where the lens popped out and explained. "Now you just focus with this button and press down completely to capture the picture. Look." She focused on Jack and the sun setting before them and pressed down. "And here's a picture of you looking at me with a pimp expression..." she said handing Jack the camera.

"Interesting..." Jack whispered wide eyed mesmerized by the still-moment. "Very interesting..."

"Wouldn't have imagined it, huh?" asked Iris catching Jack slightly off-guard.

Jack smirked beginning to touch the buttons, "Like you said luv, its progress...who's this?"

Iris grabbed the camera towards her to look at the screen. Her face changed its expression to something between nostalgia and disgust, "That's Frankie."

This time it was Iris's turn to grab Jack's bottle of rum and take a swig. She snorted and continued, "I almost beat the shit out of Elizabeth when I first saw her...they could be twins, I swear."

"Spittin' image, honestly...I think I like Ms. Swann better though..."

Iris laughed at that, "Yeah, Frankie's a bit...darker...hahaha. I'll show you more photos later...that's what they're called photographs or photos."

Picking up her laptop, she flipped open the screen and turned it on. It was pure luck that it was dry...not that it mattered because ultimately the battery would die and none of these things would be of any use...hell they weren't of much use now in this time period.

"This is a computer," explained Iris, sitting closer to Jack to show him the screen. "It can do a multiple amount of tasks, I usually use it for writing up my school work. It also has the ability to connect to...mmm...a virtual network of information so you can research. It's like a giant database where you can find out almost anything you want to know because more than likely someone has shared it or knows about it. You can also edit photos or create art, listen to music...pretty much anything. Um we also have the ability to capture moving images, like a moment in movement. Here..."

Passing the machine to Jack, he held it on his lap and she rubbed her finger against the touchpad and clicked on an icon. It opened to a video of her and her family last Christmas. The figures were cheerfully dancing and laughing to what her father considered classico Puerto Rican salsa while she could hear her mother's laughter from behind the camera as her father did some silly dance moves that gave the moment a carefree happy holiday feel.

Iris began to blink to avoid that watery eye feeling. "That's my dad...being ridiculous at home during Christmas Eve."

Jack just grinned and took glances between the screen in front of him and the girl next to him. Her expression of nostalgia was impossible to disguise. She looked at him and at the screen again.

"I feel so ungrateful... I've been so ungrateful," she declared with her brows knit together. "I'd do anything to be back home again, in my normal routine...I'm not cut out for...this."

Who was she kidding? Iris Uriquiza from the 21st Century didn't belong in this time period with pirates. She was being everything but of use. She had no purpose here; she was just a tourist in a non-touristic destination. But at the same time she was curious. If you were given the chance to see how shit really went down in history, would you give that up? The ability to verify if you were being lied to by your teachers, your textbooks...your country? To see how much of the past was written in convenience of the present? But she wasn't fit to survive in this time period. She was brought up to make it in 2008 but not in 1720.

Jack's expression became concentrated on the screen in front of him. He continued to stare at the mysterious object while he asked Iris, "Suppose I believe said story of you being of said time...how exactly did you arrive here, luv?"

"Let's just say that my former friend, Frankie, has a lot to do with it although I wouldn't exactly know how to go about explaining exactly how I got here." Iris preferred not to go into any details or even mention anything about crazy rituals or witchcraft or satanic cult spells. After all, she was trying to avoid this guy to think she was a witch...or a nut-job.

Unconvinced, Jack looked to see if there was anything else in the bag and made a move for. "What else is in there?"

Iris handed it to him, it was just books and her notes. Looking at the books she realized something. "Those are my books, one is a history textbook, and the other one is my notebook with my schoolwork...I probably shouldn't let you look at the history textbook though..."

"Why's that?"

Iris shrugged, "You might change the natural course of things."

The pirate opened to the middle of the book. Iris looked at the titles and the contents of the pages he landed on, sighing she remarked, "And of course you would end up on the French Revolution. Stop looking at that."

"Oi, what happens with the French?" he asked while he tried to grab the book away from Iris who was pulling it towards her.

"You'll find out in a few years, calm down!"

"Why should I wait a few years when I can know now!"

"Let go! You're going to rip it and then I'm going to punch you in the face you jackass!"

Iris was about to bite Jack's arm when he beat her to it and pinched her hand, "Ow! That hurt, douchebag!"

He grabbed the book and flipped threw the pages. Iris just lied down on the sand and sighed deeply. It seemed that was what she did a lot of on this island. She rolled her eyes, so what if he looked at the book, one person alone couldn't change history and he was nuts already. Plus, it wasn't like they had anything better to do.

Jack looked concentrated as he flipped through the pages. Trying to absorb more than he could read at a time. "American Revolution...?" he asked more to himself.

"The thirteen colonies rebel against Britain and declare independence," explained Iris who kept her eyes closed, a shade of orange glowed behind her eyelids from the sun shining on them.

"Not all America," stated Jack, looking at the text and the pictures enthralled.

Opening her eyes a bit, Iris covered her eyes away from the sun and looked at him, squinting. "No, not all America...at least not all at the same time but since those who came from the thirteen colonies were rather ego-centric, I guess they thought they represented America. I'd call it the British Revolution really...there weren't any "Americans" involved...just a bunch of patriots. That's what makes British colonies different you know? They never...mixed...at least not like the Spaniards did. The British, all they've ever done throughout history is try to repress or exterminate the indigenous populations of the lands they claim. No offense.

Jack made a gesture that he wasn't and for her to continue.

Iris flipped through some pages to show Jack what she was talking about.

"And well, if you read any further you'll see that after the colonies up North become independent to become the "United States of America", that sort of behavior continues among the descendents of patriots, like one of the U.S. presidents, Andrew Jackson who murdered so many Native American peoples, it was genocide really. But of course no one really talks about that.

"Throughout the centuries, the US has become a refuge for immigrants from all-over the world...with a preference for certain peoples over others...but still a refuge, for the most part.

"But the point is that no, not all of "America" is involved in that revolution, just those who were interested in breaking away from Britain up North," finished Iris feeling a little strange giving this sort of monologue. The last person she has talked to about this was Frankie who was rather detached, logically explaining that war was war and that law of life was that there was always someone weaker to stomp upon and unfortunately those weaker ones suffered while others made it through. The blond from London felt neither offended nor sympathetic.

Iris attributed it to the difference of their upbringing and simply the difference in mentality. When Guy Fawkes was as passionate as you got, you knew that there was little hope for any Che Guevara figures in the UK anytime soon.

"Why do you live up North?" asked Jack having listened to her words.

"For the same reasons every other immigrant has gone to the US. For work, for money, for a future."

"Shouldn't those reasons inspire gratitude rather than accusatory resentment?"

Iris looked at Jack and thought for a bit. How do you answer that?

"I don't hate the US. I can't, I love NY and love its way of life... but there are things that you can't ignore. The way I see it is sort of a vicious cycle. This country, I mean the US, has been responsible for many things...many not nice things. That book skims through a lot of the political problems it's involved itself in, uninvited. Latin America fell from the claws of Spain into the hooks of the United States and the US has manipulated things to their convenience generating more corruption and more poverty.

"But you see that's just it, people will always argue that the poverty and backwardness is just a product of our failure. But guess what, others won because we lost. Latin American underdevelopment is what feeds the development of the capitalistic society of my time. So why am I living in New York, Jack? Because my parents sought out the opportunity that was stolen from them by political upheaval, generated by the US government. And they sought it out in the country that was responsible for their decision to immigrate in the first place. My parents aren't milking any cow. The US has milked every single wave of immigration, that giant cow from the Irish to the Italians to the Chinese to the Hispanics.

"And some people would prefer to turn a blind-eye to that, you know? But the people of the US shouldn't feel offended. Why should they? The decisions, the interests formed weren't made by them. Unfortunately, like history has shown us, those small groups of people, like the Caesars of the Roman Empire, like the Pope during the Crusades and like King George with his privateers, it's a small bunch who manipulate the rest of us for their gain."

The pirate looked at her with narrowed eyes and said, "Still sounds like your resented, luv."

"Then how do I explain this to you?...Alright, here's another example," she said as she grabbed Jack's bottle and took a sip. "Just so you know, slavery has been over for a while in my time but if I went up to someone in NY who was African-American and said, 'Hey, you know that slavery thing, we're over that right?' What do you think they would say?"

His brows creased as he took back the bottle of rum from Iris's hands and began to chug.

Iris continued as the pirate drank, "Even if the people who were responsible for all that pain no longer are alive or even if you didn't live through that, those feelings don't disappear. They might fade a bit with time, but they don't become non-existent especially knowing that that moment in history, those cruel acts were directed towards your people and if you had been alive then, they would have been directed at you."

Jack's expression was pensive. Iris had caught him only a few times thinking in that way. Sometimes he spoke to himself, like during the storm before reaching Isla de Muerta, but aside from those moments. He had a somber look upon his face. More flat with less of his ataxic behavior, Jack added,"It's when you start thinking about what people do unquestionably that you realize exactly how the world works."

"Is that why you became a pirate?" asked Iris flatly. It was rather odd, how comfortable and casual that came out.

Jack just snorted and took another drink from the bottle, the rum was almost completely done.

"I used to work for the East India Trading Company, tried sailing the seas on the right side of the law, as it were. When I realized what some of that trading cargo entailed...I came to the conclusion that the right side of the law wasn't all that right."

"What were they trading?"

"What every colony can't go without, Iris."

That was the first time he had said her name and for some reason the way he pronounced her name brought chills down her spine. Somewhere in the corner of her brain she identified the feeling as arousing but...it was probably just the rum.

"What every colony can't go without," repeated Iris. She was about to say water, but that obviously didn't make any sense...and then Iris realized she must have hit home somehow with what she had told Jack. "They made you transport slaves."

The marooned ex-captain looked at the bright oranges and pinks that laid in front of them, glowing like a something out of a painting onto the shore before them.

"I was born into piracy, luv. Born right in the middle of the ocean. Me dad was a pirate, only natural I become a pirate in the end."

"What about your mother?" asked Iris. What was it with this century and mothers? Did no one have a mom? Will didn't, what he had said about Elizabeth, neither did she.

"Don't have many memories of her, luv." He grinned handsomely...did he always have that beautiful grin? "Me dad took me from Tortuga when I was but a brat running around. I'd see her every time we made port there though. Didn't see much of her again after I ventured off on my own. She was dad's favorite though."

"What do you mean she was your dad's favorite?"

The pirate just laughed and took another sip as he gave her a look. Realizing what he meant, Iris just said, "Oh" and felt herself blush. If his father had been a pirate, it was only reasonable that his mother, in Tortuga, would have been a prostitute.

Iris just stared at Jack and all of a sudden a series of unanswered questions popped into her head. Did having a mom make a difference? Iris couldn't imagine her life without her own mother because as much as she loved her father, her mother was...well, her mom. And then she thought about how there were many kids without either one or the other and sometimes without both. But maybe that was also survival in the 18th Century? Iris's mind came up with this strange social Darwinian explanation that maybe, just maybe, not having a mom made you better suited for survival in this time-period. Just looking at colonization, moving to the New World opened doors of opportunities. You might not have been jack-shit in Europe...but here, you could make yourself into something...legally or illegally. But moving in the 18th Century wasn't like in the 21st where you could easily just say "bye mom and dad, see you in a few months." If you moved to a colony you were more than 99.9% likely to stay there. So mothers...mothers were an emotional attachment – a vulnerability that prevented progress in the 18th Century. Moms were for nurturing and Dads were for toughening you up. Dads increased your chances of survival while Moms (or Mom like behavior) inhibited your chances of survival...or at least getting your sperm to the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. Well, that was her conclusion...her rum induced conclusion.

"Just because you were born in a pirate environment, doesn't mean your "destined" to be a pirate...whatever that means. It's not like anyone took a gun to your head and said you must be a pirate. If you honestly believe you were destined for that then it's because you wanted to be a pirate."

"Not being one didn't turn out so well, did it?" he retorted in defense at her accusatory tone.

"What exactly happened?" asked Iris, digging her toes into the sand.

Jack took a final swig at his bottle. "I was a merchant sailor, and when I became aware that I was transporting slaves to the Caribbean I at first didn't think over it, tried not to. It never sat well with me, but...I ended up freeing them at one of the ports on our way. With me crew, we set for Tortuga. It was only a matter of time until they found out about the loss of their cargo and I would be held responsible. They did catch me in Saint Domingue and sunk me ship, The Wicked Wench.

Rubbing the outside of his wrist with the branded 'P', "And then they gave me this..."

"Who's they?"

"East India Trading Company."

"Private companies are allowed to do that?"

"When they're given power of the crown, they can do whatever, luv."

"How did freeing slaves make you a pirate?"

"The man in charge...was only concerned with his investments. He told me before he branded me, 'Was it really worth it...they were just a few Negroes, just good business.'

The pirate looked at her and added somberly, "There are too many misfits out in the world...and less good mates in it.

Jack picked himself up from the sand and changed the subject. "While this has been a most...instructive conversation I think we ought to make fire, otherwise we find ourselves freezin' on this bloody island."

Iris followed Jack into the shade where strangely enough there was a door in the ground. "What is that?"

"Where the rum runners kept their rum. Apparently they've been out of business for a while." So that's where Jack had gotten his rum.

Through the shade of the trees Iris could make out a light flickering and the sound of two people conversing. It seemed that Pedro and Elizabeth were now on better terms chatting it up, as strange as it seemed.

"Wonder how Will and them are doing with Barbossa..."

Jack with three bottles, one which he handed to Iris, reassured her that they would have to wait till tomorrow to find Isla de Muerta from where they were, otherwise night would make it difficult for passing.

"How is it you manage to find it normal to talk about Isla de Muerta and whatever crazy shit that is going on without freaking out?"

Grabbing a few twigs and a large branch, Jack got to work on their sand spot where they had sat before. Iris watched as the pirate began rubbing the ends of the twigs on the branch. She felt like she was part of that TV series 'Lost' or the movie 'Castaway'. It all seemed so surreal and completely backwards.

She took hold of her bag and looked at the computer and camera. The two things that bonded her to the technological advances of her time...and yet, what uses did they have? When the batteries died her in 1720, it would be useless. The only thing of value, of true, dangerous even, value was that history textbook. Ink and paper, something so simple that goes back to god knows when…and it was the only thing worth anything. It was the reminder that this moment she was living today would one day unwind itself into events that would shape history somewhere on this planet. This planet that has seen every single thing man has done.

"We are insignificant little things in the bigger scheme of things," declared Iris as she laid arms thrown on the warm sand. Who would have thought she would be here, right now, siding with a pirate against some paranormal situation that fit nowhere in her 21st Century skeptical thinking. And in that line of thinking religious figures like God and the Devil were sort of metaphorical figures. For Iris, God and the Devil were on the same level of Greek Gods who held a purpose when it came to the natural unfolding of the earth. It served to teach humans lessons in how to lead a good life, keep social order and ultimately teach common sense.

But now, sitting on this island as the result of hellfire was still making her flip out. All this was turning around that organized plan she had in her head of what life was and how the world worked. It was like knowing for sure that 2+2 was 4 and then someone proved it wrong and said, "No, bitch. YOUR WRONG." She was freaking out every second that went by even if she wasn't showing it out on display.

"Aye, luv. That we are," agreed Jack. "Being born into piracy, ye' learn that the supernatural isn't anythin' more than natural."

"It's humans that do unnatural stuff," stated Iris pensively. The more she stayed in this time-period the more she learned about what a person was capable of for reasons that more than often held incomprehensible logic until they reasoned it out for you. Barbossa, Pedro, Jack, Will, Elizabeth...all were involved in the same problem, stuck in the same circumstances but all for different reasons and different purposes. Hell, she was a tag-along with a purpose even if it was to simply 'stay safe and alive.'

"Why is the Pearl so important...why not...any other ship?"

"The Pearl's freedom, luv. She's not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails, that's what a ship needs."

"Any other ship could provide the same thing. I'll give you that, from what I understand, the Pearl is fast...but as a pirate you could probably afford having a faster one made."

Jack looked at her as if what had come out of her mouth were blasphemy. "It's more than just that, luv. Much more..."

"Why'd you name it the Black Pearl...I mean did you name it?"

"It's a pearl among ships, luv," he answered not divulging much more.

"And Black?"

Jack didn't answer as he managed to ignite a spark in the wood of the branch.

Iris figured he just didn't feel like telling her...but knowing Jack, if he didn't want to say why he would have lied about it. That was the thing about Jack...he usually didn't leave you hanging for an answer because you could always expect for him, at the very least, to pull something out of his ass.

If she would name a ship...she'd name it after something epic...like someone important...an event...

An event...?

Of course, why not a name that stuck with the most important thing you've done in your life. Being supposedly born into piracy, treasures, women...those things were nothing out of the norm to really move a man. More moving would be a moment in your life that forced you to make a decision that didn't concern your interests and ultimately determined your place in life.

"The Pearl is the ship you sailed when you freed those slaves," concluded Iris. "Black is after them..."

Any other person would have thought that The Black Pearl was named after something tainted but no; it was named after the action taken by its Captain – Freedom. Jack gave those slaves, those humans, the most beautiful treasure of all, their liberty. And that truly was the pearl, the greatest treasure of his life. It was probably the only treasure he hadn't stolen or taken – he created it.

Continuing to ignore Iris, Jack took a large chug of his rum. "The Wicked Wench sunk...I had to change her name to something more...pirate-y"

Iris would have laughed at that overly simplified excuse but she was too caught up in her own thoughts. All of a sudden Jack was brighter in her vision than ever before because there was evidently much more to this man than she had thought. A man who she had no doubt had seen the weirdest and strangest things, had been marked a decision that haunted him. It was a decision that did not benefit him and furthermore shed light onto an ideal he had, a way of thinking he held and refused to manifest. He was a good man.

What was the difference between Jack and Pedro? While Pedro freely admitted and did everything in his power help those he wanted to free (even if his strategy was a bit narrow-minded), Jack did everything in his power to not think about those ideas or linger on those feelings because unlike Pedro he saw too much, all the complications and not being able to have everything work out freaked Jack the fuck out.

Iris stood up and walked towards Jack who now had a fire in front of them and was chugging the rum like it was going to save his life. She grabbed the bottle and threw it in the fire, the flames crackled and the fire expanded. "Stop it, stop that. You can't run away from yourself, Jack! It's not them, it's not what you did! It's what's inside you! You're a good man and no matter how hard you try to be a shameless pirate, in some corner of your mind what you believe, what you know to be right will always haunt you. ALWAYS. And the Pearl isn't the answer to your peace of mind. Instead of chasing after whatever ideas you have about eternal life and overly romanticized concepts about freedom, you should be doing what you can to give freedom. Because the truth is that you'll never be free until you do what you know is right!"

At this point Iris's voice had gradually risen turning her completely red, heaving in frustration. It was then that Iris felt a hand behind her head, grabbing a handful of her hair moving it towards a tanned face with brown eyes. Jack stared into her green eyes, eyes that to him reminded him of the sea right after a storm, it wasn't long until his vision focused onto a pink pair of lips that were swollen with the heated speech she had given.

Iris could smell the rum laced into his breath and instead of being disgusted as she had expected, she felt something warm in the pit of her stomach travel lower to...other regions. And then quicker than she could register her lips felt like they were on fire. The moistness of Jack's mouth captured her own and it was the strangest and most exciting feeling. His mustache brushing against her mouth as his tongue opened her lips apart and sought her own. She found herself pressed upon this man's chest and it felt delicious. She couldn't lie, it was the most exquisite feeling and as quickly as all that happened...it stopped.

The New Yorker found herself overwhelmed with dead weight as Jack Sparrow had clearly passed out. She didn't blame him. They hadn't eaten a thing and he had drunk about two full bottles of rum. A feat really if she thought about how hungry she was. Sighing, she laid the pirate down and watched the crackling fire.

She really had to be drunk because there's no way Iris would have said half of the things she had during her "telling-Jack-off" moment. And if she had been sober she certainly wouldn't have allowed him to steal her first kiss.

Running a hand threw her salty, beach hair, Iris sighed frustrated with herself.

What did any of this mean? Was understanding Jack a bit better? Or did it just bring up more questions?

But most importantly who the fuck did she think she was? Who the fuck was Iris Uriquizá?

She was nothing but the little high school teen from NYC living an average life and she had the nerve to tell off a pirate who probably had seen more shit than she ever would. Here were Jack and Pedro, two men who had done and were doing something for what they believed, acted on their ideals, strive for something worthwhile on the bigger scheme of things. The most she ever did and probably was going to do was complain and whine about Republicans and other political problems that she would never do anything more to solve since she already deemed them unsolvable with the corruption and overall global knot of problems of the 21st Century.

Iris Uriquizá was a hypocrite lecturing half-assed revolutionists. But even being half-assed, they at least had done something. What had she done...what was she going to do?

In the middle of the Caribbean with that beautiful clear starry night overhead, Iris pondered that last question and wondered where this revelation would place her on the greater scale of things.

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