Regret

A/N: Takes place during AWE, some time after Jack is rescued.

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"I’m going crazy in here, mate," Jack said, pacing around the cabin. "Too much being dead and too much you and too much rum. Speaking of which… why am I the only one drinking? Bottoms up, eh?"

Barbossa shrugged and drank a little. "Y’be the only one drinkin because y’be the only idiot trustin enough to pass out cold in front of a crew you can’t trust farther than you can throw."

"Well." Jack looked at himself in the mirror and touched up his eye makeup. "I think I could throw little Elizabeth pretty far. Throw her… among other things." He shot a very meaningful look through the mirror.

"I must admit I’ve missed you, Jack," Barbossa chuckled. "But it’ll be good to be rid of ye just the same."

"What’s the first thing you’ll do once you’ve got your own ship?" Jack flopped down into an armchair, one leg thrown over the arm and his rum resting carelessly on his thigh. "You being alive again and all."

"Y’have to ask?"

"Ah. Tortuga, then," Jack said, flashing his gold teeth. "Unless you can find somebody around here who’s game."

Barbossa laughed again. "Somehow I don’t think Elizabeth would be willin."

Jack’s smile vanished. "I didn’t mean her." He took another sip and then leaned forward to hand off the bottle. "Any port in a storm, right?"

Barbossa took the rum and eyed him suspiciously. "And that’s supposed to mean what?"

Jack realized that subtlety was getting him nowhere, and that he was too drunk at this point to try being clever about it, so he just came right out and said: "You know I’m never averse to a tumble, mate – no matter who’s doin’ the tumbling."

"Ah. I see."

Encouraged by Barbossa’s frank acknowledgement – if not yet acceptance – of the suggestion, Jack felt around in the cushions for something to supplement the rum. "Haha! Wine?"

Barbossa had already uncorked it when he thought to ask, "Jack Sparrow, you wouldn’t perchance be tryin to get me drunk, would you?"

"Now why would I want to do that, mate?" Jack’s smile was all innocence.

Barbossa shot him a dirty look but kept drinking. The only thing that had kept the two of them alive thus far was their tacit agreement to remain constantly inebriated – so very inebriated that they couldn’t summon up the spirit necessary to draw weapons on each other.

Lest Jack take his silence as encouragement, Barbossa warned, "If I wake up tomorrow havin done somethin I regret, mate…"

"Ah, but who says you’ll regret it?" Jack scratched his chest idly, pulling his shirt open just that little bit more.

"I don’t follow," he said with genuine puzzlement. "Why push me? I don’t understand, Jack – what on earth be in it for ye?"

"I don’t know." Jack’s smile was back, more mischievous than before. "Maybe I miss being the brand new cabin boy who needs the big, bad deckhand to look out for him."

Barbossa slammed his bottle hard on the arm of his chair. "H’many more times must I apologize for that? I’ve said-"

"I’m not asking you to apologize. I’m serious," Jack insisted. "Maybe I miss it."

Barbossa didn’t even have to tell him he was crazy – his look said it all for him.

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TBC.

Next chapter will be a flashback to the time for which Hector has just been apologizing. Short, and perhaps an eentsy bit squicky for those with tender sensibilities. Ye be warned.