A Pirates of the Carribean and Bleach story

A/N: Don't ask. No really, I have no idea why I wrote this. I was watching Pirates of the Carribean with my brother and I was thinking "Wow, Jack always has a plan. And when he doesn't, he improvises and sometimes that turns out better than one of his plans! Then I thought "Hey! Aizen also always has a plan. Wow, these two are really similar!" (not exactly like that, but you get the idea) And this fic was born. At first, I though I would make it yaoi, but I just couldn' do it. I have no problem with Aizen sleeping with men (the guys a bi-sexual man-whore lol) but I just couldn't do it with Jack. He's too much of man. ;) So there be only friendship here, not romance. Please enjoy and leave feedback!

Disclaimer: I own neither series, nor do I own Captain Jack Sparrow, Aizen Sousuke, Grimmjow Jaggerjack, Szayel Apporo Granz, Coyote Starrk, or Lilynette Gingerback. Ulquiorra, however, is mine~! Cuz he is a sexy Emospada (jk lol!)

"This is perfect!" Captain Jack Sparrow yelled to the empty shoreline. "Perfect, just what I wanted in fact!" He stumbled backwards until he was sitting in a hammock that seemed to have been conjured up out of nowhere. "Thank you!" he called out to thin air. "That was most convenient," he continued, grumbling to himself now. Sighing, he raised his ever-present (now on this God-forsaken island it was ever-present. He didn't see how anyone could go through this experience sober) bottle of rum to his lips and took a long drink, falling back to lie on the hammock.

He shook the bottle next to his ear, hearing the contents slosh around delightfully. It still seemed to be half full even though he had been working on it since mid-afternoon. "At least I don't have to worry about the rum ever being gone here!" he yelled to the empty landscape. He let out a short bark of a laugh and then cut himself off. Get a hold of yourself, Jacky, he thought, taking another drink to steady himself. If there's no one here, then who are you talking to?

"I'll have it be known," his voice was beginning to slur now and he was still speaking to the air, "that Captain Jack Sparrow is no crazy."

"'Course you're not mate, that would mean I was crazy too," came a voice from his left. Jack looked over to see a simulacrum of himself and groaned.

"No, not you again; go away," he said, closing his eyes. When I count to three, he'll be gone, Jack told himself. He didn't like the strange copies of him that inhabited his own personal Locker. To be quite honest, they freaked him out. 1…2…3! Jack opened his eyes and to his relief the clone was gone. He sighed and took another deep drink from his bottle. Things were beginning to get a bit fuzzy around the edges, but that didn't deter Jack. Perhaps if he drunk himself into enough of a stupor he would find his surroundings – and company – more tolerable.

"And really bad eggs," he sang softly to himself, draining what should have been half the contents of the bottle in a single gulp. However, when he brought it back down to rest beside him, the contents still sloshed around as if he'd just opened it. Things were exceptionally fuzzier now with blackness beginning to creep in around the edges. Jack briefly wondered if he had ever been this drunk before, but soon gave up. Right now he was so far gone that he could barely remember why he was here let alone what had happened over the course of his lifetime.

He settled himself more comfortably in the hammock, pushing off with his foot to set it swaying lightly before bringing his feet in, crossed at the ankles. Nestling his rum safely beside him, he crossed his arms behind his head. He looked up at the night sky, strewn with stars, feeling himself getting sleepy; which was odd, all things considered. He didn't know that one needed sleep in Davy Jones's Locker. Granted, he hadn't been here long enough to make any guess as to the rules governing this place. The brief thought crossed his mind that perhaps it wasn't quite safe to be sleeping with his level of intoxication before he let his eyes slip closed, welcoming the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness.

The first thing Jack became aware of when he slowly made his way back to consciousness was the sand underneath him. I must've fallen out of the hammock, he thought. Groaning at the pain in his head (sure to become a migraine in the following hours) and the soreness in his limbs, he sat up. Almost immediately, he let out a small yelp of surprise. He closed his eyes and opened them again but his surroundings didn't change. That was when he realized he was most decidedly not in Davy Jones's Locker.

Looking around, he took in the new landscape. It seemed to be a desert of some sort, grayish-white sand stretching for miles in all directions, occasionally broken by the grim skeleton of some sort of tree. Jack got to his feet and made his way over to the nearest one. Upon further inspection, it was nothing like any of the trees he had seen before while alive. It wasn't wood, but rather a hard crystal-like material twisted into sinister shapes that reminded one of the claws of an animal. He reached out his hand to touch one, but on second thought, drew it back. The edges looked sharp, sharp enough to draw blood.

The crescent moon shone down on him as Jack scanned the horizon for something to break the monotony of this desert. His search turned out to be fruitless except for a smudge to his left that may or may not be a building of some sort. Having nothing better to do, he decided to head towards it.

Not more than twenty steps into his walk, something occurred to him and he stopped in his tracks. Am I dreaming? He thought. It was a definite possibility. And much more comforting than the alternative: that he had died from alcohol poisoning in the Locker and now inhabited a much more grim purgatory than the one he had recently vacated. Shrugging, Jack decided to keep walking until he either woke up or met someone who could explain where he was. Surely, there had to be other souls as deserving of purgatory as himself; other pirates, perhaps.

He continued his trek across the sands for a mile or more when he began to get the distinct feeling that he was being watched. He stopped and spun around, keeping one hand on his sword in case whatever he met turned out to be unfriendly. Satisfied that there was no one behind him, Jack turned back around to continue walking only to be confronted with the sight of a tall man with sky blue hair. He jumped back a few paces; such was the shock of the appearance of this stranger. Besides the unconventional hair color, the man was strikingly pale with what looked to be the jawbone of an animal attached to his own. The strangest part of his countenance, however, was the perfectly circular hole in his abdomen.

The man's eyes glittered dangerously. "What the fuck are you staring at man?" he asked, not without malice.

Too late, Jack remembered that it wasn't considered polite to stare. "Uh, nothing," he said, wrenching his eyes away from the man's stomach to his face. "I don't suppose you could tell me where I am?" he asked pleasantly, offering a tentative smile.

It wasn't returned. "You're in Hueco Mundo." The "you're an idiot" was implied.

"Right," Jack said, still confused. "And where exactly is that?"

The man snorted. Clearly he thought him too stupid to even offer an explanation. "Whatever. I don't know what your deal is, but you better come with me. Mister Supervisor," the words were harsh and sarcastic, "wants to see you, intruder."

So I'm an intruder, Jack thought as he turned to follow the blue-haired man across the desert to the smudge he'd been heading towards before. This can't be good.

After a few hours of walking, they had reached the smudge and Jack could see now that it was a castle, entirely constructed of white stone. "Lovely place you've got here," he commented, trying to start a conversation.

"This is Las Noches," the blue haired man said shortly, offering no further explanation. Jack took that as a sign to be quiet and made no more attempts at conversation as they both entered in through the front door which closed ominously behind them.

As he followed the other man through the twisting corridors, he tried to remember each turn – a right, two lefts, another right, go straight for a bit – but soon gave it up as being hopelessly confusing which wasn't good for his escape plan. Not that he had one (yet), but the confusing layout of this castle wasn't helping in that matter. The couple soon reached another door, imposing in the way it towered even over the height of the blue-haired man. "In you go," he said roughly, gesturing Jack in before him. Swallowing hard, he entered.

The throne room, as it unmistakably was, was breathtaking. Jack found himself admiring the architecture of it, even though he knew very well he could be killed within minutes for being an intruder. Sleek columns of a deep blue stone rose up around the edges and on the sides of a raised partition in the center. The walls were the same white-washed stone that made up the outside of the palace, though they had more of a blue tint to them because of the columns. Along one of the walls stood nine people, dressed in the same white as the one who had brought him here. It was clear they obeyed whoever sat on the throne above them. The floors were constructed of shiny marble, polished so that Jack could see his reflection below his boots as he passed over it. On top the partition, sat the throne. It was also carved of the same white marble, yet it was not overly ornate as all the thrones Jack had seen in his lifetime. It was simple which only made it all the more elegant with an undertone of muted power. It was obvious that whoever sat in the throne had complete control, especially over the others in the room.

Indeed, the man on the throne had a countenance fit for a king, Jack observed. No crown was needed, this man simply oozed power. And arrogance, he noted. The man had medium-length dark brown hair with one curl hanging just to the left of his nose. His eyes were dark and sharply intelligent. Jack got the feeling nothing went on in Los Noches without this man's knowledge. He spoke: "Grimmjow, what is this you have brought me?"

The blue-haired man who had lead Jack to this room replied. "An intruder I found wandering in the desert, Aizen-sama." The words were not particularly submissive but not spoken with enough defiance to get him in trouble. It was clear Grimmjow did not like being under someone else's control.

"So I see," Aizen's voice was light, interested. He didn't seem to be in a murderous mood and so Jack relaxed a little.

Taking off his hat, he bowed with a flourish. "Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service," he introduced himself.

"Ah. Are you a pirate, Mr. Jack Sparrow?" Aizen's voice still had that polite quality to it.

"One of the best," he grinned cheekily.

"Do you have a ship and crew?"

Jack's smile dropped a little. "I'm in the market, as it were," he explained. As this relatively pointless conversation was going on, Jack was looking around the throne room, trying to plan his means of escape. No matter how even tempered this king seemed to be, he wasn't going to take any chances and end up dead. There were no windows and the only door seemed to be the one through which he had entered. Jack swore silently in his mind. Aizen noticed his preoccupation and decided to call him on it.

"I see you admiring my throne room," he said to the strange intruder. "Do you find it pleasing?"

Jack started. It was clear he hadn't wanted to be noticed. "Uh, yeah, it's very nice – simple, but nice. I noticed you don't have any windows though. Doesn't it get stuffy in here, you know in the summer?"

Aizen chuckled. "It's never summer here. It's always night."

"Interesting," the pirate remarked. That's useful. The dark could provide a good cover, provided I ever get out of here. "So," he said briskly, deciding to try and talk his way out of trouble since the escape plan had gone down the drain. "I'm terribly sorry to have intruded on your territory, my Lord, and I'll just be going now." He turned around to leave but found his way blocked by the fellow with the strange name – Grimmjow – and another man, also dressed all in white, this one with deep green eyes and jet black hair. Aizen's laughter rang out again behind him, but this time it had a sinister undertone.

"I don't think I can allow you to do that Mr. Jack Sparrow, pirate or not," he said. "Ulquiorra, please go and set up the meeting room. The captain and I can finish our little chat in privacy."

"Hai, Aizen-sama," the black-haired man replied and left the room.

Jack turned back around to the face the arrogant king. "What else could we possibly have to talk about?" he asked, confused as to where this was heading. Did the man want to kill him privately, without an audience?

The man gave a conspiratorial smile that made Jack's skin crawl. "Not now, Jack. Not in front of my inferiors." He gestured to those standing against the wall. The pirate fell silent and decided to wait this out. Maybe this meeting room – wherever it was – would have windows.

The black-haired man – Ulquiorra – (they all have strange names around here, don't they? Jack thought to himself) returned shortly. "All is ready Aizen-sama," he spoke with no emotion in his voice and his eyes were just as cold. Jack shuddered. Aizen rose and descended from the throne.

"Espadas," he addressed the people arranged along one of the walls. "You are dismissed. Captain, you are to follow me." He swept out of the room, followed by his subordinates, and last of all, Jack. He thought that perhaps by going last he could lose himself among the crowd and escape. But Aizen was more powerful than he had given the man credit for. He caught on to the plan almost immediately. "And don't even think of escaping Jack Sparrow. The consequences will be worse for you if you do." Jack cursed under his breath and assigned himself to his fate at the mercy of the mysterious King Aizen.

It turned out that the meeting room didn't have any windows either; just a lot of high-back chairs around a long table. The main color was white, as seemed to be the theme around Los Noches. Aizen pulled out a chair at the head of the table and sat down, gesturing for Jack to take the seat to his right. "So, Captain Jack Sparrow, tell me a little about yourself…"

"What do you think they're doing in there?" Szayel addressed the question to the group, but it was Grimmjow who answered.

"Screwing each other's brains out, most likely," he said callously.

"Grimmjow!" Szayel admonished. "There's no need to be so crude. There are children present." He looked pointedly over at Lilynette, who was sitting on Starrk's lap, quiet for once except for the tapping of her feet.

Grimmjow snorted. "She's not as innocent as you'd believe Szayel."

"True," Szayel agreed. "But still, I'm quite sure that is not what Aizen-sama and that intruder are doing." Not that he could be one hundred percent sure. The Espada had all gathered around the meeting room after Aizen had dismissed them, for lack of anything better to do. However the meeting room, like many of the rooms in Los Noches, was sound-proofed and they could hear nothing but a low murmuring. The two could have been doing anything in there.

"So you really planned an entire escape around a cream puff?" Aizen's voice was interested again, but Jack could somehow tell that it was genuine this time, unlike in the throne room.

"It was nothing," he protested modestly, though there was a self-satisfied grin on his face. "I'm much more impressed with your betrayal of all your little co-workers." This man would've made a good pirate, Jack thought. Certainly he had the selfishness and the arrogance needed in the profession.

Aizen cocked his head to the side. "You are not disgusted with my behavior? How I betrayed those that trusted me and killed those in control of me?"

Jack shook his head. "No, my good sir, I am truly impressed." Heaven knows he had betrayed his friends enough times. "If you don't mind me saying so, you would've made a good pirate."

"What makes you say that?"

"You have the temperament for it. You are selfish, desire to be free of all rules, and are obsessed with treasure."

Aizen raised an eyebrow. "I am not obsessed with treasure."

"Ah, then I will tell you what I once told a good friend of mine: not all treasure is silver and gold mate. You desire power, do you not?" Aizen agreed. "Then you would make a good pirate."

"I thank you for the compliment, Mr. Sparrow. If you don't mind, I'd like to return the favor. I think you would've been a valuable asset to my conspiracy."

Jack gave him a toothy grin. "A pleasure to serve you, my Lord. As long as I get a share in some of the glory."

Aizen threw his head back and laughed. "Well, you certainly have given me adequate entertainment for the afternoon. I will have one of my Espada show you to a room. I'm sure when you wake up again; you'll be back to wherever it is you came from."

"So you're not going to kill me?" Jack asked tentatively, just to make sure.

"Not today Captain," he replied, standing up from the table. "Luck seems to be on your side yet again." Jack gave another flourished bow, and then stood up to shake the other man's hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, King Aizen."

"A pleasure to meet you as well, Captain Jack Sparrow." The two exited the room to find the Espada lingering around the corridor. It was obvious they had been eavesdropping – or attempting to at least. "Szayel, could you please show Mr. Sparrow to one of our spare rooms?" A pink-haired man stepped forwards with a nod. "Goodbye," Aizen called as he left. The Espada dispersed as well. "Cheerio," Jack called cheerfully, elated at having escaped death. The slender man led him through another maze of corridors to a door, this one smaller and made of wood. The pink-haired man unlocked it and then left Jack with a bow.

Stepping inside, he found a comfortable bed, which he promptly stretched out on. All that walking around the castle had made him quite tired.

The next morning Jack found himself back in Davy Jones's Locker with nothing but the memory of an arrogant king who would've made an excellent pirate.

A/N: Yes, I know Aizen is not a king, but Jack doesn't speak Japanese and therefore would not have refered to him as Aizen-sama. I figured King was the next best choice. Probably pissed off Baragan though. Ah, well. Can't please everyone. REVIEWS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED~!