A/N: On a sudden stroke of inspiration from my usually-uncooperative muse, this idea came along and was completed in fifteen minutes flat, despite my inability to write decent PotC fan fic. Enjoy.

Untouchable. It was normally such an insignificant utterance to him. Full of artificial fear that someone might never be obtained, when in actuality, they could; so long as there was a fool willing to try hard enough, again and again, to find a way to break the rule.

It had a certain ring to it, that silly little sound – a ring of bravado, even of delicacy. As though it could never be caught up with, forever on the run from those who had the potential to. As though nothing in the world mattered; as though it felt like it was safe because it was different; special; unique. It was definitely a curious word, but then again, only the most curious of people ever merited its usage. There was an odd sort of comfort about that.

And, now that he thought on it a little more, the expression had a certain seclusion to it; a certain deceitfulness that suggested a very tender, broken sort of soul within a well-spun web of lies. Anyone untouchable had to be at least a little lonely, all by themselves, no matter what they tried to tell others. It just took the right person to break through the bubble, join the untouchable and make them…well…touchable.

A faint grin played casually at the corners of Captain Jack Sparrow's mouth as his long, agile fingers – decorated with what looked like all the filth the world had to offer – gripped tightly to his half empty bottle of rum. Elizabeth Swann, Governor's daughter and insane Pirate King to boot, had always claimed to be untouchable, at least through her rash, oft-selfish actions. That was why he thought of the word to begin with.

This made him smirk, but shift would-be-unconsciously as he leaned against his beloved wheel, cuddling his rum with a rare, thoughtful sort of silence lingering around his person. He knew the only reason he understood her was because it took an untouchable person to know another – no one else could do it right.

He, too, had always fancied himself untouchable. When she came into (or, rather, fell into) his life and took him over by storm, that had become his undoing. Now, even though he was miles away from her, he hoped that he would, in time, become her own undoing.

He took a particularly large and triumphant swig of his drink; that lass, he decided grimly, could definitely use an undoing or two.