The next few days were horrible. Jack's foul temper grew increasingly worse, and his testiness grated on Rose's nerves terribly. The nights were the worst; like she had done before her mysterious adventure, she slept next to him, but with his restless turning and twisting it was impossible to get any rest. The lack of sleep made Rose cranky too, and she and Jack spent most of the time bickering like an old couple.

Several times Rose had had enough of her companion and went on solitary walks around the island, leaving him to mope alone. Often she looked for Otohime, but found no trace of either girl, nor turtle. She still had the white seashell in its cord around her neck, or she would have thought it had been a feverish dream brought on by too much sun.

On one of the last days in the cottage, Rose found a lovely little lagoon with crystal clear, almost still water, and decided to take a bath. Until now she had abstained despite the heat, not wanting to undress in front of Jack's hungry eyes, but here she would have privacy. The pool looked really inviting.

She stripped behind a thicket and walked barefoot on the smooth sand, carrying her clothes over one arm; they could do with a wash too.

The water really was lovely. Rose swimmed a long time, and then used sand to rub the dirt out of her clothes as well.

Afterwards she lay on her back in the warm sand, partly shaded by some tall palm trees. She had put on her underclothes and spread her dress over a branch to dry. She had only brought women's garments with her on this visit, thinking Jack's mother might take offense if she came dressed as a sailor.

Would they go see his mother once he had sobered up?

Rose tried to imagine what kind of person his mother was, but it was impossible. He was such a one-of-a-kind personality; nobody could be like him.

What had he been like as a boy? Child-Jack was even harder to picture. It was almost easier to believe him sprung out of earth as an adult man, complete with a triangular hat and a bottle of rum tucked under his arm.

The mild afternoon sun caressed Rose's limbs and she felt her body relax. It was so good to lie here in this comfortable sand, with nobody tossing and turning beside her.

She would just close her eyes for a short while... Just for a moment...

"Rose! Dammit woman, are you trying to kill me?"

Rose's eyes popped open, and she sat up, dizzily looking at Jack, a dark silhouette against the crimson sky. The sun must have set while she slept.

"Kill you?" she murmured sleepily. How good it had felt to rest.

"I thought that mermaid had stolen you away for good!" He brusquely pulled Rose to her feet.

"She was no mermaid." Rose shook his hand off her. "And I can take care of myself, thank you. I was just having a nap."

"There is a perfectly fine bed in my cottage where you can take all the naps you want. The beach is not a safe place to sleep, savvy? Seafolk and monsters excepted, there are all sorts of wild animals too."

Rose looked at his wild appearance and the irritation left her. It was heartwarming that he worried about her, though he could have shown it in a nicer way.

"That bed is occupied by a pirate on withdrawal. I can't sleep."

"I know," he muttered. "I'll get better soon."

"Thank God." Rose smiled. "Until that happens, you ought to take the floor like a gentleman."

"Gentleman! Ha!" He peered at her. "That outfit suits you, by the way."

Feeling her face heat up, Rose quickly fetched her dress and pulled it over her head. The nerve of that man! His amused chuckle did not help at all.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

The day before the appointment, Jack's tremors were finally gone entirely and thankfully he seemed less cross too. He was not quite as amiable now as during their first day, but almost. They fished, he took another nude swim, they played at dice and Rose lost again, he even boiled some water so they could wash their hair and clothes more properly than in salt water.

At night in bed, Rose tried to pry information about the mystery person they were going to meet, but Jack remained mute as a clam.

"Is it your mother? Gibbs thinks so." She tried to catch his gaze, but he was looking at the ceiling. It was unusual to feel soap smell from his hair, and even more unusual to see it combed and loose, spilling over the pillow in dark curls. She pushed down an urge to touch it.

When he didn't reply, she tried again. "Do you even have a mother?"

"Of course I do. Everyone has a mother."

"Don't be silly. You know what I mean."

"I do." His lips turned up briefly, but then he became serious again. "My mother's dead."

"Oh. I'm sorry..."

"Don't be; we were never close."

"Another relative then? Your brother? Sister?"

"You'll see tomorrow." With that, he turned against the wall and refused to say another word.

She regarded his back thoughtfully. There was nothing she could do to make him speak, despite the curiosity burning within her. Instead she noticed how much better he looked in a clean shirt, and how wide his shoulders were. What would he do if she touched him?

Actually, she knew the answer to that, and it was best not to fall for the temptation, not yet. She had to know his secrets first.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

Jack spent a long time making himself ready the next morning. He trimmed his beard short and combed his hair, tying it back in a ponytail after the fashion of this time, and put on well-tailored clothes he had kept in a chest by the bed. When he was finally done he appeared elegant and respectable, and without the black around his eyes they looked softer, making him seem younger and more vulnerable. He almost had become a different person, as if he had removed his pirate persona together with his old clothes.

"I hardly recognize you."

"For the better, or worse?" He smiled, obviously knowing the answer.

"You look handsome," she acceded. "So, who are we meeting?" If it was his sibling, that would explain a great deal. Perhaps they did not know their brother was a pirate.

"You'll see." He fidgeted with his shirtsleeve, and suddenly looked nervous. "Remember not to call me Jack. Over there I go by the name of Thatch. John Thatch."

"It's your real name, isn't it?" She peered at him imploringly. "John... Jack. It's your name."

"Yes. Please keep it a secret, though." Again he had that vulnerable expression, and Rose fought an impulse to give him a comforting hug. Instead she turned around, indicating her unlaced corset and dress.

"Help me with this, will you? If you are such a fine gentleman, I should at least look somewhat ladylike, right?"

"My pleasure, my lady!" Grinning, he moved behind her and began his task.

It was clear from the ease by which Jack laced her up, that he had done it before. However, Rose had not anticipated the effect he would have on her; how intimate it felt to have him touch her back. His fingers were hot against her bare skin, and her breath hitched – not only because of how the sturdy corset pressed her lungs together.

When he had finished, his hand lingered just a little too long on her neck. His breath tickled her ear when he murmured huskily: "That tight enough?"

"Yes. Thank you." Rose heard how strained her voice sounded.

Jack turned her around, holding her at an arm's length, his gaze trailing over her critically. "It will do," he said at last, but his eyes spoke volumes more of what he really thought.

Rose's mouth was dry. Suddenly she wanted him; she wanted to fall into his arms and kiss him until her lips hurt. Jack Sparrow was always an attractive man, even in dirty pirate's clothes and reeking of rum, but looking the way he did now he was almost irresistible.

Somehow Rose found the strength to tear her gaze away. "Shall we go, then?" she choked, hoping he did not notice how flustered she had become.

"Sure. Why not?" From his mischievous grin it was clear he did notice, and knew very well what had provoked her feelings. 

They left the house, Rose on Jack's arm, walking down the other side of the hill and along another path through the greenery. She had almost regained her calmness and hid the last of her embarrassment by feigning a great interest in the surrounding nature.

"Look, a parrot!" She pointed.

"Nice." Jack did not even turn his head. He was beginning to look very nervous again, and it was slightly unsettling to see.

After the jungle came a large sugar plantation and the path widened into a road. Jack walked a bit faster, and Rose had to almost trot to keep up with his tall stride.

More plantations followed and then they reached a small town. On the edge of it was a large, demure stone building surrounded by a well kept park.

"Here we are." Jack's face was unreadable.

"It's... a monastery? We're meeting a priest? Or a nun?" Rose looked around her with wide eyes.

As they continued she marveled over what was just happening. She and Jack, on their way to a monastery! In a million years she could never have guessed it. Was his brother a monk? 

The building itself was not very impressive, but its surroundings were the more extraordinary. The place was almost eerily still and silent. Rose and Jack walked past deserted rose gardens, several neat flowerbeds, a fruit orchard and a large herb garden. The scents wafting from the latter were heavenly, and she drew deep breaths in passing. 

Suddenly Rose heard steps in the distance, and spotted a girl coming running along the gravel walk. Her dark hair was neatly braided up and her dress very proper, but there was nothing neat or proper about the way she ran; fast and eagerly, caring nothing about appearances. Her legs were long like on a young foal, and both knees seemed to have been repeatedly skinned.

When she arrived, the girl threw herself around Jack's neck. "Dad! You're back!"

"Whoa, you've grown tall." He glanced sheepishly at Rose.

So, it was not a sibling he was meeting after all. A daughter! Who would have thought it?

"I missed you lots and lots. Have you got my present?" The girl looked at him expectantly.

"You obviously only missed my money."

"Yep. That's what I have you for." She smiled shrewdly, looking uncannily like Jack. She apparently had inherited both her father's mischievous smile and the glint in his eyes.

"Who is she?" The girl nodded in Rose's direction, peering curiously at her through narrowed eyes.

"This is Miss Rose Dawson, a good friend of mine. And Rose, this is Pearl Thatch, my daughter."

"How do you do?" Pearl curtsied prettily.

Rose returned the greeting, feeling a warmth at being called Jack's "good friend".

"So. My gift?"

"Alright, impatient imp. Happy thirteenth birthday." He produced a small box. The girl opened it, and gasped happily as she took out a set of pearl earrings that Rose instantly recognized. It was hers. Jack had got them as payment for his help with the summoning.

"Pearls for my Pearl," he said, giving Rose another sheepish look.

Had he planned to give them to his daughter all along? If so, that was kind of sweet, Rose figured. And at least this way her earrings would be put to good use.

"Cheesy." The girl was already putting them on. "Anyway, the nuns won't let me wear them, you know."

"Best not get caught at it then."

"Right. I won't." She pulled a lock of hair from her updo on either side of her face, covering the pearls. Father and daughter shared a sly grin.

Then the girl skipped ahead, and Jack offered Rose his arm again. He wore an odd expression, as if challenging her to show reproof. Maybe in this era having a – presumably – illegitimate daughter was a horrible thing, and come to think of it, it was certainly frowned upon in her time as well – but Rose was not quick to judge. At least he acknowledged the child and visited her regularly, that had to count for something. And frankly, with his good looks and flirtatious behavior, it was not very surprising he should have a child – it was more strange he only had one.

"She's beautiful. Takes after her father, probably," she said calmly. When she met his gaze, she noticed a fleeting look of relief in his eyes before he assumed his normal shrewd smirk.

"Of course she does." He flashed his gold tooth at her and winked.

Had Jack really worried what Rose would think about his having a daughter? It could explain why he had seemed so nervous on the walk here, and why he had been so secretive beforehand.

The realization that he wanted her good opinion made Rose's stomach flip and flutter with a swarm of butterflies. This was not just about physical attraction. She was falling badly for this man; there was no denying it anymore – and just maybe, he was falling for her too.

A/N:

Who had guessed who they were meeting? :D

Hope you don't mind this out-of-character Jack too much... He'll soon be back to himself. ;)

About Jack's real name... most of the pirates of the Golden Age of Piracy went by pseudonyms. Since Jack's father Edward Teague in the movies was loosely inspired by Edward Teach (Blackbeard), also spelled Thatch, I'm thinking they should share surnames.

Also, if anyone wonders about the Blackbeard of the fourth movie (On Stranger Tides), he doesn't exist in this story, since this is an alternate version of what happens after movie 3 (At World's End).

Image Credits:

Screenshot from Chocolat (2000).