Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom

to have solid earth beneath her feet. But Jack was right; it was too
risky for her to leave the ship. Feeling depressed and frustrated, she
decided to go back to her cabin. Perhaps she’d take a nap.
As she headed across the weather deck, she heard footsteps
thudding up the ladder from the main deck, and Jack emerged. He
was wearing his newly mended snuff-colored coat. “Ayisha!” he
exclaimed. “I was looking for you.”
She tried to smile. “You have found me, Jack.”
“I just took a look in me sea chest, and found your handiwork. I
haven’t thanked you for all that mending you did,” he said. “So…thank
you.” He gave her his most charming smile. The sight of him
inexplicably cheered her, and she found her own smile turning genuine.
“You are most welcome, Jack,” she said.
“Wait, that isn’t all, love,” he said. “I’d meant to return them to you
before, but I forgot.” Holding out his hand, he opened it, to reveal her
Zerzuran gold earrings. “Small enough thanks for what you did, since
they’re yours, after all, but, here you are, darlin’.”
Ayisha smiled. “My earrings! My father gave those to me. I am so
glad to have them back.” Quickly, she slipped the wires through the
holes in her earlobes.
Jack nodded. “They’re beautiful.” He gave her a wry glance. “I’ll
look forward to seeing you wear them as your proper self one of these
days…and when you do, their beauty will fade by comparison.”
It took Ayisha a moment to puzzle this out, but when she did, she
could feel heat rise in her cheeks. She dropped her gaze, not knowing
what to say. “Thank you, Jack,” she managed, after a moment.
“Well, I’m off for a bit of shore leave,” he said. “Robby will be on
watch while I’m ashore, so if there’s anything you need…”
“I’ll be fine.”
She watched him head off across the weather deck, then down
the gangplank, and thought how lucky she was. What if Jack Sparrow
had actually been the man Cutler Beckett had believed him to be? If
Jack had been that man, it would have meant the destruction of her
homeland, the end of all she held dear.
But Jack Sparrow wasn’t anything like Cutler Beckett or Mercer.
He was, as her father had said, a good man, a man who was doing his