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REMEMBER ME Author: Ellie Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I most probably don’t own. I give credit to Disney for the wonderful creation that is Pirates of the Caribbean. And the main plot of this story was the doing of Jac, so that belongs to her, too! I really, really don’t own anything here. However, I do own any original characters, places, stories/legends and ship names that appear in this story. Summary: You thought that running away from your troubles could change the world. And when you stumbled into a certain Sparrow, for a moment, you thought it had worked. You knew the legend, and loved the man behind it, after all. But trouble, it seems, has a way of catching up with you. And even the greatest legends and dreams must come to an end one day. You do not fear happy endings… you only fear that they might not happen to you. Warning: Character death! No like, no read. Author's Note: I took this story up as a fic challenge, and it is the first You-fic that I have written that I deemed worthy enough of OM. I’ve been having a little trouble getting started on the Blood Red Rose (I’m so sorry!), and I think a one-shot was a good way to get me into the swing of things. And, as terrible as it may sound, I have been thinking of how this character would die. And this was a good way to write it out… though, of course, it’s never nice to kill off your favourite pirate. *snifftearcuddles* * * * * * CHAPTER 1 – Without Further Ado Wicked flames from torches illuminated the steely dusk, their flickering light casting sinister shadows upon the deck of the Black Pearl. Shouts and roars of the pirate crews could be heard even in the lowest level of the proud vessel, where the harsh words cried out were muffled to a dull echo. You were almost certain that amongst the mixed voices were the fierce clashes of cutlass upon cutlass. The cruel whistle of cannon balls splintering the wooden hull was painful to bear, but more so was seeing the expression on the face of the pirate before you. “Jack!” You tried to call his name firmly, calmly; but your shaking voice betrayed your true feelings. “Please listen to me; don’t do it!” Of all the nights, it had to be this one, didn’t it?! Boiling anger surged through your body, coursed through your veins, suddenly overwhelming the cold fear. It was bad enough that those men (ghosts? Demons?!) had relentlessly pursued you and Jack throughout the Caribbean, but when you were in the middle of something! Something important, profound, and with Jack, then they come – bursting out of the shadows of the evening, like a foul creature of the deep. You had no weapon – how could you: your only blade was tensely gripped in Jack’s hand, his own lying useless and broken somewhere in the middle of mêlée. The gentle and loving expression had vanished from the Captain’s face, leaving a carefully expressionless mask; yet his eyes didn’t deceive you: they were dark – and furious. Dark eyes blazing with a cold fire. Jack's back was rigidly straight, and you could see that he was clenching his jaw - hard. Jack was holding himself back with every bit of self-restraint he had, and you knew that, had you not been standing behind him, he would have already charged into the fray. “It was my choice,” he said softly, not turning to face you. “And I still stick by what I chose.” “But for this, Jack? For all this? How could you possibly… can’t you see what’s happening? To your crew, your ship! Gods, Jack, your beautiful ship –” You were cut off as yet another cannonball pounded into the hull, as if to prove your terrible point. Then you spoke again, faster, more frantic. “If I stay here any longer, everything, all you hold dear, will –” You broke off as the man turned to face you, the blade lowered at his side. He slowly brought his gaze up to lock with your own, his eyes fierce and determined, as he spoke quietly. “…I know. But I can’t just let him take you like this.” He touched his fingers – calloused but gentle – to your chin and tilted your head up to face him fully. Your breath caught in your throat as you noted, through the rush of the unexplainable flurry that shot through you at his touch, the shadowed solemnity that haunted his rugged features. It made him seem so terribly austere that it appeared, to you, that this man before you could not have been your pirate. He could not have been your eccentric, carefree, perfectly arrogant pirate. Yet it was. You knew it was. Had it not been for the sad smile that tugged at the corners of his lips, he could have been any other ruthless scallywag. But his smile was the same… no one could match that smile, no matter how faded it was. No one could ever match Captain Sparrow (as many were constantly reminded). “A pirate’s heart is his most guarded treasure, ashy-pet,” he murmured, using his silly little nickname for you as he tenderly brushed back a lock of hair from your eyes in an almost absentminded manner. Once again, a little shiver ran up your spine at his touch and words; only he could speak to you in such a way that even the simple use of a nickname could effectively muddle your thoughts. Damn that pirate, you thought fondly. Then the mood changed, as sudden as the sea breeze. He sighed heavily, turning slightly to look over his shoulder, silent for what seemed an age. The silence hung in the air; it was a thick fog that had seeped through the cracks and crevices of the dimly lit cabin, enshrouding the two pirates within, pressing on their ears. The silence was so loud, it was deafening. You stood, uncertain of whether to speak or not. Another attack slammed near the Pearl, angry waves rocking the ship and causing you to stumble on the shuddering deck – an empty bottle of rum rolled across the floor, coming to a stop with a dull clink at the table leg. The sound seemed to snap Jack out of his reverie. “And,” he growled, “By God, I will not just stand and watch –” His voice held a dangerous calm, now. “- while this bastard steals away my treasure.” His words echoed in the silent cabin, leaving you in a stunned silence. His treasure…? What words you had died in your throat; what could you say to something like that? Clearly Jack thought the same thing, for without further ado, he nodded curtly, paying no heed to your stunned expression, and spun on his heel; without further ado, Captain Jack Sparrow strode purposely through the doorframe, paused, and spoke, so quietly that you might not have heard him, “…stay here. And whatever happens, I don’t want you to watch.” He left. And without further ado, you followed him. * * * * The battle on deck ceased as Jack made his appearance on deck, the fierce crews instantly stilling. Jack looked impressive, standing there, hand on the hilt of his blade, backlit by the chilly steel grey of the winter sky. It was imposing, the way his dark eyes flashed with suppressed rage at the pirates who had dared board and hurt his precious Pearl. You quickly darted behind the stairway, watching from between the gaps of the planks of wood. No one, not even you, knew what was going to happen… but you hoped that Jack would be unharmed. You had seen enough of bloodshed in your life, but to see it happen in what was most probably for your sake? Gods, no! “Captain Basingstoke.” Jack’s drawl broke the frosty silence with a wry smile of glinting gold as a rather burly (and unattractive) man whirled around on the spot, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. He uttered Jack’s name in a vehement hiss, clearly resenting him as much as Jack hated him. “…Sparrow.” “I prefer Captain Sparrow, actually,” came the glib retort. “I don’t care if you were the bloody Queen of England! All I know is that you’ve got my lass – no doubt trussed up and locked away – in your cabin!” Jack tutted, shaking his head. “Is that all you know? Pity. I would have assumed a man of your… upbringing would know so much more than that. And if I were the Queen of England, then, by all means –” He made a sweeping gesture with his hands. “– bow.” It was all you could do to stifle a laugh from your hiding place. Even in the face of certain danger, those sorts of comments could not be subdued. He still stood in that cocky pose, evidently waiting for the heftier Captain to kneel before him and beg forgiveness - or something similar. Basingstoke seethed with suppressed rage. How dare that pirate speak to him so! “That is it!” he roared. “If you will not hand her over to me, then, damn it, fight like a man worth killing!” A flash of steel cut the air as a keen blade was drawn. The metal rang through the darkening sea, echoing and fading into the shocked silence – the crew dared not interrupt. Jack surveyed the scene with mild distaste and amusement. “Any last requests, Sparrow?” “Just one, aye?” Jack said, resting his hand upon the hilt of his blade with a grin. “If you win, leave me here and let me take me chances. I’ve managed worse before. I don’t much fancy dancing my last on any gallows that you might have in mind.” Indeed, the worry was far worse than he’d admit, but he rather warranted Basingstoke already savvied as much. Basingstoke was quiet. But he said, “We shall see.” Jack regarded him shrewdly. “Did you come here to capture the Pearl, the lass, or me?” “All three,” replied the other Captain smoothly, sneering. “And even now, you’re willing to sacrifice your own life for your ship, the girl, and your men? How… noble.” You frowned. What was that supposed to mean? What was his game? “Much the same as yourself, I expect,” Jack shot back, watching as the implication hit Basingstoke. But Basingstoke scowled at him. “Quite the opposite, I assure you.” The reply aroused a ripple of dark mutterings from the assembled crewmen, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Come what may, I’m bringing you and your filthy ways to justice.” “Justice?” Jack repeated, brazenly giving him a half-smile at this and a knowing look. “Whose? Yours? Surely the good Commodore wouldn’t listen to a pirate like you. And you’ll have to forgive me, but I don’t see you behaving very… justly. I see you pleasing yourself, in point of fact. You say you came here to collect your treasure, of sorts. And here you are now, challenging me. The stories were quite right to point out that I am, in fact, a pirate (much like yourself, except better, of course). If you ever came across a young Mr. Turner, he can tell you that I don’t fight fair.” He quirked an eyebrow, finishing slowly, and coolly. “…not when I’m fighting for my own life as much as hers.” “Oh, I would be the first to agree. I don’t trust you even as far as I could throw you. As for justice… well.” Basingstoke smiled tersely at him. “I’m not going to argue semantics with you, Sparrow. Draw your sword.” Jack cocked his head. “No pistols?” Basingstoke glared. “No. The sword is a gentleman’s weapon. I may be a pirate, but I’d rather be a more honorable one than you, I’m sure.” “Good. It’s much less sporting to draw first blood by shooting holes in people (or their ships), no matter how accurate one’s aim.” Jack drummed his fingers on his sword idly. Basingstoke ignored the sarcasm and asked, “Are you truly prepared to surrender everything, once I win?” Jack ignored the airy overconfidence of the statement. “On this rare occasion, I’ll be quite honest with you: I’m not. I’ve in fact no intention of winning, or losing. Are you quite prepared to surrender, should I win?” “Now, really, Sparrow. I’d almost have to say you’re afraid to follow through, the way you’re stalling. And it’s a bit late to ask me that, now that you’ve already offered up your challenge and I’ve accepted it.” Jack frowned. “Au contraire, my good man, it was you who issued the challenge. Not I.” He drew his own sword, returning to advance upon Basingstoke. He gave the Captain a sly look. “You do realize I’m not stopping at first blood?” Basingstoke snapped back, “Neither am I.” “Excellent,” Jack tossed at him, and, deciding to take the opportunity to make the first move, attacked. He thrust at Basingstoke, swiftly, already planning where to move this duel to, forcing his adversary back across the deck, and intending to make towards the ship’s edge. Basingstoke’s blade sliced through the air to meet his easily, and the clash of steel resounded throughout the sea. “I certainly wouldn’t want you fighting at anything less than your best, now would I?” He growled. From your position behind the stairway, you couldn’t help but grind your teeth in frustration, once again reminding yourself that your only weapon now tore through the air in Jack’s hand. If he hadn’t taken it, you’d be out there next to him! But would he let you fight? No. You knew that the two men wouldn’t stop until the other was dead… You knew that they would want to finish it on their own terms… And you knew that if you didn’t run away from that foul Basingstoke, none of this would have happened. With each clang of blade upon blade, you winced at the sound, grateful that the swords didn’t hit their mark, but that eventually… they would. At first, the two pirates were too wary of each other, Jack realizing that Basingstoke would have to gauge exactly what kind of swordsman he really was, although he was also facing the same challenge. But as their blades met, parried, and blocked, followed by lunges that never really quite struck home, they began to both find a rhythm that wasn’t so much a fight as a dance. A deadly one, to be sure, but one nonetheless. The surrounding crew dared not interrupt. Many dared to barely breathe. The hatred in their respective Captain’s face for the other was clearly palpable. And all for that girl… that one girl… You… But Jack had always enjoyed the savage grace and purity that could be found in combat. As Basingstoke met each of his lunges and easily blocked, however, he saw the determination on Basingstoke’s face and realized that he wasn’t playing any game at all. As the men spun around into your field of vision, with horror, you, too, realized it. The man was close to that edge, beyond which lay madness – bloodlust, even. It wasn’t a game for him, as you or Jack had suspected. He was giving this his all, and knowing it drove a splinter of cold fear into Jack, fuelling the desperation to actually win this little competition of theirs, by any means. The broad-shouldered man really intended to run him through. He hadn’t exactly counted on it; sure that Basingstoke would force Jack back to face his “lawful” justice upon the gallows of, if not Port Royal, then his own town. As the rival Captain’s blade struck Jack’s again and again, their moves almost faster than either of them had expected, judging from the expression on Basingstoke’s face at the exchange of these blows. Jack tried to move down, away, finding himself instead being driven back up against the rail. Damn. They were very evenly matched, but Jack hated to admit that Basingstoke might just surpass his own skill – might. Only one other man had come so close, and that was Will Turner. “So I take it you’ve been practicing?” He jibed, finally breaking the heavy silence. Basingstoke gave a curt smile. “Indeed.” His next thrust lashed out towards Jack’s left arm, nearly sliding between his arm and his side, nearly skewering him, and he ended up beating it back while stepping backwards to avoid the next one. By some fluke, in a wildly mistimed lunge of his own in an attempt to compensate for the defensive position he’d been forced into in the fast few moments of engagement, Jack’s sword flashed upwards, grazing the right side of Basingstoke’s neck. It sliced through the man’s dirty cravat and left a bleeding trail in its path. You cringed as the crew broke out in whispers. Basingstoke stopped, and moved back, his hand going to the cravat and pulling it off, finding it now useless except as something to staunch the cut. It was deeper than he thought. And Jack grinned at him, victoriously. “First blood after all, Captain. Care to yield?” Coldly, Basingstoke replied, “Certainly not.” He brought up his blade again, charging forward intently, forcing Jack backwards again until Jack could inch to the left and circle around Basingstoke, who was slightly distracted by the wound on his neck. The blood was running down into the man’s collar and tunic. Jack smirked as their blades rang together. “That pretty shirt of yours is going to be ruined, mate.” Basingstoke didn’t answer though, and his eyes flashed dangerously as he met the next few thrusts with a counter-attack of his own. To Jack’s surprise, Basingstoke’s lightning-fast sword next caught him across his shoulder, then abdomen, and he barely managed to whip his blade up to parry, even as the sting cut open his shirt and skin. You bit back a gasp and shout as crimson began to soak Jack’s dirty-white tunic. The wounds looked deep, especially the one across his stomach, while his shoulder sported a shallow gash. But it seemed to you that Jack hardly cared – he merely winced and looked up to sharply meet the gaze of his opponent. You could hear Anamaria filling the air with unpleasant insults and examples of how someone can die a slow and painful death. Gibbs was trying to hold her back. “HOW DARE YOU – ” “Anamaria, no, don’t – ” “BY THE RULES, JACK WINS AT FIRST BLOO – ” “Damn woman, calm down!” But at this point, it mattered little, as Basingstoke merely continued on, pressing forward still, and Jack finally found his way to the ship’s edge once more. Basingstoke frowned, and they stopped, breathing heavily. “Where do you think you’re going?” he said, very unkindly (and rather unpleasantly). Jack gave him a half-hearted smile, pressing a hand to his wound and grimacing at the blood that stained his fingers. “Hardly think that deserves an answer, really.” To be sure, he’d much rather swim back towards land than be run through by an insane, coldly-possessed and ill-tempered pirate on the same ship where he had been subject to mutiny and betrayal. Jack could even fancy he heard Barbossa’s ghostly, whispered laugh hissing through the air, taunting him. You were torn with indecision: run back into the cabin and hunt for a spare blade, or simply rush out onto the deck, thus risking your own life as well as Jack’s? You worried your bottom lip with your teeth, steeling yourself to hold back a little longer, but the conflicting emotions and thoughts within battled ferociously for dominance, tearing your will apart. Your grip on the wooden steps of the staircase intensified, turning your knuckles white. You didn’t know what to do, and you couldn’t stand the feeling of helplessness that had engulfed your being. Damn it, you were a pirate, and this was all you could do?! “Let’s finish this,” Basingstoke barked. As he advanced upon Jack once more, Jack realized that Basingstoke was just crazy enough right now, and determined, to finish their fight, even if it meant following him into the water. That could get messy, as his front was beginning to send sharp stabs of pain shooting through him, while Basingstoke’s neck wound was hardly even slowing him. With a growl, he met Basingstoke’s blade easily, his own flashing in the bloody light of the sinking sun, and surprised both of them by forcing Basingstoke backwards a good few paces or more. And then, completely unfairly to Jack’s way of thinking, it was Basingstoke’s superior height and weight advantage that ended it, in that instant, as he was standing on the first step of the stairway (you hastily pulled your hands away, holding your breath tightly) and managed to block Jack’s next blow and simply turn his blade down, hard, while physically throwing himself forward. Jack ended up on his ride side, rolling, half-sliding a little ways across the deck, with Basingstoke grabbing his injured shoulder. The sudden, startlingly blinding pain of it caused him to slacken moments long enough for Basingstoke to disarm him. The crew of the Pearl was in an outrage. You tore yourself from your hiding place, unable to stay there any longer – you knew that if you didn’t do anything now, Jack was going to be killed. The two men, covered in sweat and flecks of blood, were at the centre of a wide ring of pirates, and you shoved your way past the crews to them, crying out, “STOP IT! FOR GOD’S SAKE, STOP IT!” Basingstoke barely spared a glance to you, his vision clouded with the sickening rage of battle and triumph. Jack had frozen, his sword now flung out of reach and Basingstoke abruptly pulling him onto his back and rising up over him to put the tip of his blade to Jack’s neck. Panting, Jack stared up at him. He didn’t hear your words, and he didn’t hear you grab a pistol from the nearest pirate. He didn’t hear you snarl at Basingstoke and his men, nor did the sound of the pistol cocking reach his ears. All he could hear was the confused jumble of voices, sounds, and his own, labored, echoing gasps. He suppressed a shiver – caused by fear of the chilly November air, he knew not. So this is where it ended. Jack closed his eyes, catching his breath, wondering how many he had left in him. * * * * * CHAPTER 2 – Memories Rush In, Like the Tide “He’s on the horizon.” “Aye. I know. He’s been on our trail for a while, now.” “What? But how? We were careful, we left no trail – ” “We didn’t need to.” Jack’s reply sent a wave of confusion washing through you, and you frowned at him, finding it difficult to see his expression in the flickering candlelight of the cabin. What did he mean by that? Unless… “Jack?” you spoke quietly, uncertainty wavering in your tone. “I don’t understand…” The pirate sighed, his posture slumping ever so slightly in his seat; the only indication of his weariness. “I had no choice, luv. I had to tell him.” A sense of unease lingered in his chest, along with a forbidding sense of, not doom, but something rather close to it. He couldn’t take it any longer, this relentless perusal. Jack felt no shame, yet, at the same time, he did; not at the prospect of being unable to take being chased, but at giving up so easily. He didn’t want to, but there were only so many ways to escape this stubborn hunter, this foul fiancée of yours. The only way for it to stop was to end it on his own terms – and for good. A grim smile nearly found its way to his lips at the thought: Basingstoke couldn’t stalk both of you if he was dead. It had to end. You needed no second shadow to haunt your footsteps, and Jack definitely didn’t need another ghost hovering behind his shoulder. Your jaw dropped with incredulous disbelief. But that could only mean… Jack continued softly, his eyes shut, as if he couldn’t dare see the betrayal in your stunned gaze, “I sent the messenger to his ship at dawn. He’ll be here by tomorrow night.” Silence. You staggered back from him, lips parting slowly in obvious horror. This was it. He was handing you over to Basingstoke. You were a nuisance to him, that was the reason, wasn’t it? Best get rid of you and fork you over to the only reason he had to abandon all sense of honour and flee across the ocean. Damn him. Damn him to the deepest circles of – You stumbled back against the window, pressing the heels of your palms into the edge, staring at him with wide eyes as he slowly stood, concern flickering in his own gaze. You tried to take a step back, but found that the wall was blocking your obvious escape. You didn’t want to be in this cabin any longer – who knew if he was going to hand you over to Basingstoke dead? Perhaps that’s what the both of them wanted: you dead. As much as your mind pleaded your body to run, you were frozen, a terrified sort of numbness gripping your muscles. Jack took a tentative step forward, hand hovering uncertainly in the air, to stop you, to grab you, or to simply comfort you, you knew not. Next thing you knew, his fingers, so gentle, so warm, caressed your cheek with the faintest hint of remorse. His eyes spoke a wordless apology. You flinched away from his touch, shoving his hand from your face and glaring at him fiercely. “I trusted you! I bloody trusted you, Jack Sparrow!” The cry tore from your throat, harsh, ragged, and pleading with emotion. Jack flinched at your tone, but did not look away, meeting your burning gaze with stony eyes, behind which lay the will to simply apologize, to make things right, to embrace you and soothe you and to destroy what could cause you so much pain. Which, at the moment, were him and his words. Tears welled up against your will in your eyes, as you thought, with bitterness, that you could no longer find the strength or the courage to speak to him again. Your hands painfully gripped the window edge, knuckles white, and as much as you wished to tear your gaze away from Jack’s face, you couldn’t. The cabin was silent, the last of your words swallowed by the stifling hush of the night. The roaring in your ears was loud enough to drown out the sounds of life. You were shaking; with suppressed anger, fear, or tears, you knew not. Your words were laced with love and hate, Jack thought wryly. He knew you hated him for doing this, and he knew that you still loved him despite it. Suppose that was what love does to people – it makes them feel torn in half. Bordering on the edge of insanity, some would think. Others, trapped in a prison. But it was different to pirates, perhaps. Loving someone deeply gives you the courage to protect them; and being deeply loved gives you strength to fight for them. If he didn’t know you, then the sense of underlying betrayal in your cries would have fallen on deaf ears. And there, the problem lay. He did know you. Hell, he bloody loved you, as much as he wouldn’t admit it. And now, seeing you, standing there – it was not the words that stabbed at him. It was the how they were said; the expression on your face was enough to keep him from leaving the cabin. For a little while, at least. “Listen to me,” he said softly, not daring to touch you, yet all the while wanting to do nothing but. “If you think I’m betraying you, I’m afraid that’s not quite the actual truth.” His dark eyes met your own, seeking any signs that you understood what he was saying. “Please believe me,” he sighed gently, “When I say that I’m not lying.” You bit your lip, searching his face for anything that might contradict his words. But you find none. The panic that had welled up in your chest subsided, and you found that although all you wanted was to get away from him, you were unwillingly willing to listen. Jack took your pause of hesitance as a signal to continue, speaking your name softly, in a tone that one would use to calm a spooked horse. He knew you were scared, confused, and angry, but he had to get you to listen to him. “I had to,” he said simply, taking a step closer, his hand gently cupping your face, turning you to face him fully. “I won’t stand for him doing this. It has to end, love.” He pressed his forehead gently against yours, his lips barely brushing your own, and his gaze dark as he murmured, “I’m going to kill him.” Your body went slightly rigid at the touch, not expecting it, but you quickly relaxed with a huff of breath, not able to keep yourself from covering his hand with your own and even twining his fingers through yours. You turned your face into his palm, not kissing, but letting your lips rest against it, your breath warm on his skin. Your eyes fluttered shut at the gently teasing sensation of his own lips tracing across your own, his breath washing over your cheeks and his words barely even registered anymore as your body began to realize how close you both were to each other. Jack knew you had forgiven him. He felt the tenseness in your body drain away under his gentle hand and he briefly let his lips press against your own, before pulling away, unable to curb the small, satisfied smirk that graced his lips at the small whimper that tumbled from your own. Bloody tease. You had forgiven him for what had transpired earlier, but for that… that, you couldn’t forgive him just yet. It was a crime to leave the barest taste of himself on your lips and leave it at just that. You were about to open your eyes, to look at him, but then he spoke, quietly, yet firmly. “Show me you trust me.” He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “If you still trust me… prove it.” No sooner had those words left his lips did you seize them with your own; and thus, proving, that without a doubt, you still, very clearly, trusted him. Jack was startled by the sudden ferocity of your kiss, but quickly countered with equal fierceness, his hand resting on your cheek suddenly gaining in strength, bringing your face closer to his, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His other hand chose not to lie idle as it snaked up your torso, coming to a stop at the base of your neck, cradling the back of your head. He nibbled at your lower lip, tongue sweeping across, begging access, which you greedily granted him without further ado, allowing him to taste you even more. You were unresisting, allowing yourself to be led by your body much more than your mind, which was fast losing all capacity for rational thought. Your hands found themselves tangled in his long hair, eyes fluttering shut as you pulled him flush against you, a fierce yearning coursing through your veins and seeping into your kiss. Jack suddenly pulled back, his eyes dark with lust, his breathing faintly gasping for air. He wrapped his arms around your waist, at the same time pushing you up against the wall, catching your chin between two fingers to face him as he gazed at you through half-lidded eyes. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmured gruffly. You barely grazed the side of his face with your knuckles in a downward caress as you murmured in reply, “Am I? And why is that?” His eyes closed slowly as he leant into the touch, the barest hint of a smile across his mouth. “Because you make this too easy.” He leaned in to brush his lips over yours, soft, but lingering as his fingers rested at the side of your neck, letting them stroke the tender skin fleetingly. A sharp intake of breath escaped you as your lips touched, kissing back longingly. You whimpered quietly, goose bumps rippling down from his fingers at his touch and you tentatively put your hands on his sides to deepen the kiss. You ran your tongue against his lips, and then into his mouth, fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic, which suddenly felt very much like an inconvenient nuisance between you and the pirate. Jack restrained a groan as you touched him, pressing into the kiss with sudden hunger, his tongue darting against yours, his free hand sliding around your back, which quickly gripped your tunic as you moaned into the kiss at the sudden change. You fisted your hands in the fabric as much to pull him closer as to keep your knees from buckling. You tilted your head some, matching his intensity as you let his tongue explore your mouth once more. He held you up with his arm cradled around your back, kissing feverishly. He broke off with a rough laugh, nose against your hair, and breathing labored. “Gods. I think you might kill me before we’re through.” You laughed breathlessly against his neck. “I think it would be mutual homicide. But…” You kissed him just under his chin and whispered, “I wouldn’t mind.” Jack shivered at the chaste kiss you pressed just above his Adam’s apple, lifting his chin instinctively as he murmured quietly, “Nor would I, truth be told.” You pulled back slightly, regarding him through hazy eyes. “But, we should probably lock the door. It will be light enough, I think, with the windows here…” You stepped away from his embrace, your body immediately feeling cold without his feverish warmth against your skin. Stepping as gentle as you can with jangling nerves, you headed to the door and turned the simple mechanism on the handle, a satisfying click resounding through the cabin. You turned to face him, slinking back into his waiting arms, movements slow. Jack watched as you headed to the door, his body tense and humming with taut excitement. A grin split his features as the door locked, the barest flash of gold flickering in the candlelight. He walked to you, meeting you in the middle of the cabin, and instantly snaked an arm about your waist once more. He began to draw little patterns across the front of your tunic with a fingertip, straying down occasionally towards the swell of your breasts. “And now?” he breathed, smiling lazily at you. You shifted under his touch, unconsciously pressing your chest up to him and replied, “And now…” you reached up, covering his hands with yours, “Now you touch me.” You pulled them down to cover your breasts, breathing shallow as his hands leave a smooth trail against the thin fabric of your tunic. Jack couldn’t quite stop his mouth from dropping open in surprise as you moved his hands. He flicked his gaze up to your face, breathing hard and wetting his lips. He swallowed, gathering the soft weight of your breasts in his hands, thumbs circling slowly, finding your nipples and running over them gently. You met his gaze, your own eyes dark and slightly hazy with lust. You caught your lower lip in your teeth and moaned at his first touch to your breasts. You blinked slowly, but never broke eye contact as your hands slid into his coat to spread over his chest. “Jack, I – ” You broke off with a gasp as he touched you, losing your train of thought almost immediately. Jack leant his forehead against yours briefly, and laid a kiss to your temple, arching into your touch. He lingered there a moment longer before pulling back to smile faintly at you, continuing to tease you slowly, never stopping, even as he spoke, “What is it?” Eyes slipping shut, you let your fingertips brush over his chest then down to his stomach, fluttering softly. Your touch lingered along the waistband of his breeches, and then moved back up along his ribs. You froze again as he continued his slow teasing, whimpering and shaking your head almost imperceptibly against him. “You make it impossible for me to think…” Jack moaned low in his throat, the predatory sound making you arch your back ever so slightly into his touch, his muscles tensing under your fingers. “You make me think about too much all at once…” He let his hands trail down to your abdomen, snaking up your tunic and effortlessly around your waist, caressing the warm, smooth skin with weathered palms as he began to lay kisses down your neck, teasing the tender skin with soft lips. You gasped, your hands stilling, letting your head fall back and your eyes roll into your head under their lids as you gave him full access to your neck. Jack made a low sound of approval, sucking kisses along your jaw then downwards, his lips moving against your flesh, his voice barely a whisper, “Every single part of you. Your skin. Your lips. Oh God.” You tensed again, arching into him as your knees weakened slightly. “Oh yes. All of it. Now.” You tugged at his clothes in annoyance, opening your eyes with difficulty to stare hungrily at him. “Off,” you growled, voice low but urgent. “I want to see you.” Jack’s murmur was almost inaudible, “Gods, woman, you’ll be the death of me for certain.” He took his hands away from you reluctantly, slipping easily out of his coat, dropping his belt to the ground without ceremony, and tugging off his vest. All the while, an impatient groan tumbled from your lips as you watched him slip agonizingly slow out of his tunic and set to unfastening the buttons of his breeches. He pulled off everything, your gaze roaming greedily across the perfectly tanned expanse of smooth, bare skin. You let your eyes linger fleetingly on the twin bullet scars on his chest, a faint pang of sadness finding its way past the predatory sense of awakening in your belly. The candlelight flickered admirably along his bronzed flesh, casting dancing shadows across the perfect skin and setting a stunning blaze in his already fiery, dark eyes. Whoever said candlelight was the best light had obviously known what they were talking about. You studied him hungrily, gaze roaming downwards and then back up to his face when his hands stilled at his breeches. He was looking at you questioningly just as you were, to him. Only your questioning was filled more with a torturous sense of want and need than actual question. “Everything?” His tone was teasing, just like the smile that accompanied it, and just like his movements from not too long ago. Huskily, you said, “Aye. Everything.” “And am I to get the same pleasure from you?” You smiled in reply as you reached your hands up to your vest, letting it fall to the ground. Long fingers untucked your blue tunic and unbuttoned it, skipping the one button at the centre of your breasts. Jack let his breeches drop, kicking them aside and standing unashamedly naked. With a sheepish, but unapologetic grin, he explained matter-of-factly, “Washing day. No pants.” You let a moan escape your lips when his breeches come off, eyes dropping automatically lower. You wet your lips before glancing back up, chuckling softly, “I bet every day is washing day, aye?” Jack laughed quietly, but admitted with a shrug, “Most days, yes.” Without reply, you carefully unfastened your breeches and let them pool to the ground before stepping slowly out of them, reaching up and pulling the worn bandanna that held your hair up, shaking it down and back over your shoulders. You looked up at him and smiled, clad now only in thin lace knickers and a mostly unbuttoned tunic. “How’s that for a start?” Jack’s eyes never wavered as you began to undress further, hands clenching at his sides to resist the urge to take you right then and there. He sighed as your hair came down to tumble gracefully over your shoulders, eyes dark and full with obvious lust. He pulled up flush against you, backing you slowly towards the bed as his fingers wandered irresistibly to your hair. “I’d say it’s a fine one. But it’s only a start.” His eyes roamed down to your nearly-open tunic and back up, tongue darting out to lick his suddenly dry lips. Your body trembled at his proximity, clearly struggling to restrain itself as you felt the edge of the mattress bump against the backs of your knees. You felt your nipples perk under the loose tunic as you watched his tongue flicker across his lips… those lovely, lovely lips… “So finish what I’ve started, Jack.” The pirate took up the challenge with a roguish glint to his eyes, flicking open the last button of your tunic with a seemingly careless motion, a devil-may-care smile gracing his shadowed features. He didn’t pull it off, however, pushing you gently onto the bed and snaking over your trembling form to let his lips drag across your lower abdomen, pressing a kiss on the lowest edge of your stomach without touching your knickers, or, as a matter of fact, going anywhere near where you longed for him, deliberately teasing. You moaned, eyes fluttering shut as your body began to give in to the irresistible sensations of Jack, so close, yet so excruciatingly far from where you wanted him, the heat rushing down and a dull pulsing growing steadily stronger. He made no move to ease your torment; instead, he began to nip playfully at the soft skin of your belly, coaxing another loud moan from your lips as your back arched into his touch, your eyes rolling under their lids. You failed miserably in keeping your hips steady, instead bucking slightly into his gentle ministrations, wordlessly begging for more. You felt his lips curl into a smile against your skin at your reaction to him, moaning into you as you shuddered again, stronger this time, letting the low sound send vibrations translating down to his tongue and lips. He slid slowly up your body, pushing away the blankets that hindered his movements, never letting his lips break contact with your shivering belly. He brought his gaze to look to your face, eyes going darker still at the sight of your lips parted in a soundless moan of pleasure, his own need for you pooling in his abdomen. He dropped his head to suckle at one nipple through the thin fabric of your tunic, keeping it pinched into a hard peak as he moved to the other, eliciting yet another gasp from your quivering lips. Finally, he moved his hands up, shoving away your tunic with ease, casting it aside. He sat back, taking in the golden perfection of your skin with a hungry gaze. “Gods. Lovely.” You let a breathless rush of air escape your lips as your tunic was thrown carelessly aside, automatically arching forward and rubbing your body along his. A low purr sounded in your throat at his husky tone, your heart pounding; you were suddenly blind and deaf to all else but his touch and his sounds, your longing to feel him against you becoming almost painful. Your fingers wandered to his hair, winding into the long locks, pulling him close, body tense and aching for the feel of his fingers, his kisses, his tongue, his touch. You ran one hand down his back, along his hips and lower, all the while pressing urgently against him, your lips leaving a trail of passionate kisses along the corner of his lips, throat, and shoulder. Jack gasped as you moved against him, shamelessly seeking friction against your body with his hardness as he leant into your mouth and hands, nearly bursting with the need to have you naked against him now. He wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, lying on the mattress and pressing your bodies together, returning your kisses with a few of his own, lips moving swiftly downwards this time, between your breasts and further downwards, smiling up at you with a wicked glint in his eye before trailing kisses along your belly, fingers hooking into your knickers and slipping them down your legs. He followed them down one leg with more kisses, ending at the arch of your foot, then switching to the other and working his way back up to your lips. You moaned his name, body tensing and striving to keep in more contact with more than just his mouth. You closed your eyes again, feeling as the lace was removed, breathing increasing with each kiss until you panted in shallow breaths. You twitched under his tongue and made a low sound of desperation, stretching your arms out to grip the blankets, doubting how long you’ll be able to do much of anything right now. Jack growled low, grasping you tightly and leaning into yet another kiss, feverish, passionate, hungry, his hands tangling themselves in your hair, wandering up and down your bare back, tracing over the delicate patches of skin just at the base of your neck, exploring positively every inch of you that he can reach. You responded to his groan with one of your own as the sounds sent a rush of heat downwards. You moaned loudly as his kisses began to wander once again, your grip on his hair tightening ever so slightly. Your breath caught in your throat as your hips began to rock in short jerks under him, his drifting touch driving you close to the edge. The pirate merely slid his hands smoothly over your breasts in reply, teasing you once more, sending a shudder shooting through your body at his touch. He kissed at your throat, moaning, the vibrations from the sound rippling across your skin, causing you to gasp. Your grasp on the blankets tightened, your other hand darting to the base of Jack’s neck, holding him in just the perfect spot to kiss at your throat as your whole body began to tremble. It was just then that Jack brought his lips up to brush against your ear, his speech murmuring. “Mine.” * * * You lay next to your pirate, breath easing into a regular rhythm once more, both of you wrapped in the tangled sheets and blankets and merely lying in silence. Your head rested on his sweat-slicked chest while his hand came to wander to your hair, idly playing with it. Although your mind was still reeling from the moments before, your only coherent thought was really just along the lines of breathless amazement. Jack was along the same lines, in awe of how someone already so beautiful in his eyes could become even more breathtaking under all those silly layers of clothing. He studied you quietly, his hand curling protectively about your shoulders at the thought of Basingstoke daring to come near you again. He would never let that happen. Never at all. You noticed the change in his touch almost immediately, looking questioningly up at him. “Are you alright, Jack?” you spoke softly, meeting his gaze. He smiled a little, nodding slightly in reply, “Aye. I was just thinking…” You raised your brows. “You can still think after something like that?” “Of course I can, love,” he drawled, smirking, “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, aren’t I?” You laughed softly, “Indeed.” “Do you want me to answer your question?” “What question?” “You know that I know that you know that I know you’re going to ask me a question about what I was thinking,” he explained easily, one hand reaching over you to snatch the bottle of rum off the bedside table and taking an idle sip, offering you the bottle, to which you shook your head – you were never much of a drinker. You grinned at his complicated reply, merely waiting for him to continue. “Well then, I must say, you’ve got a lovely figure, my dear,” he smirked. “So lovely clothed, that I had to question how beautiful it would be in all its revealed glory. Lo and behold, I answer that question too.” “Mmm,” you murmured, snuggling up close to him. “And was it a good answer?” Jack pressed a kiss to your forehead, his rum-laced breath washing over your senses as he laughed. “Aye. It was a good answer.” You both fell silent again, listening to the rock of the waves against the hull and the soft sloshing of the rum in the smoky glass bottle as Jack drank from it in small sips. Just as you were about to take a nice short nap, Jack shifted, signaling that he had something on his mind and wished to share. “Did I ever tell you…?” he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment, as if relieving a fond memory, “…of the time I went swimming with the purple fish?” You chuckled, wondering if this was a result of the rum, the passionate moment earlier, simply Jack, or a combination of all three. “No, you haven’t.” “No?” He asked, his dark eyes widening with surprise. “…Well, best you hear it now, then! It really is a fascinating tale…” You groaned softly, in weariness much more than annoyance or want. “I’m sure it is, Jack, but perhaps you could tell me later? I’d much rather like to take a nap right now…” He smiled languidly, regarding you with amusement, “You’d much rather sleep than discuss my adventure with purple marine life, then?” You smiled idly in return, wrapping the blankets closer around you still, settling comfortably in his warmth. He felt nice like this, you thought drowsily. All warm and rummy and yours. “Later, Jack. I promise,” came your lazy reply. Jack simply nodded, and offered the bottle of rum to you again, grinning mischievously. You chuckled, closing your eyes. “No, Jack…” Suddenly, you felt your lips captured by his again and your eyes, too weary to even bother opening them, remained shut as you moaned softly into the kiss; it was different, quite unlike the others from earlier. It wasn’t as unruly, but actually, quite gentle and tender. The kind of kiss that was so rare to receive from him, yet when received – was perfectly breathtaking. You could taste the tingling tang of rum on his tongue and lips, stroking the side of his face softly with your hand before pulling back and smiling softly at him, eyes opening to meet his. “And that, my dear Captain, is the only way you’ll get me to taste rum.” “Oh, is it, now?” he grinned roguishly. “Well, let’s experiment and see how long it takes to get you drunk.” And with that, he leant in to kiss you again. * * * “You bastard!” “Now where do you think you’re pointing that pistol, missy?” “Where do you think?! It’s gone on far enough!” “Too right it has. Why don’t you just come over here and end it, then, hmm?” “As if I’m ending it on your terms; I’m ending it on my own – and Jack’s!” “All I wanted was one last night in your arms, you damn wench!” “Well, too bad I’m not a whore then, eh, Basingstoke?” “Why you – ” BANG. It was then that Jack came painfully back to reality, just in time to see you standing close by, a smoking pistol in your white-knuckled grip, and Basingstoke lying motionless on the deck. Dead. It had ended, alright. And definitely on your own terms. * * * A/N: Yes, well, it’s me again, hoping that I haven’t killed you or something. Thanks very much for reading, and the next chapter will be along shortly! In the meantime, kindly read and review, as I would like to know what the reaction was to my first smutty bit of writing. Be forewarned for the next chapter – it’s a sad one! And that’s all from me for now. Ta! ~Ellie * * * * * CHAPTER 3 – Nothing But Silence A silence – almost breathless, save for Jack – fell over the two pirate crews aboard the Pearl. Basingstoke’s men regarded you with an incredulous, almost fearful expression as you stood over their Captain’s motionless form, head bowed and pistol smoking. Your grip on the weapon was tight, shaking; fury and repulsion rippling close to the surface – and woe betide any man who dared harm Jack now. “Leave us.” The words had barely left your lips, your voice bitterly clear in the tense atmosphere as your tone held a dangerously icy, soft edge to it. Neither crews moved, either afraid to or unwilling to back down from their opponents, Basingstoke’s reluctant to admit defeat. Your head snapped up to glare at them, gaze smoldering, words sharp. You cocked the pistol and raised it, aiming for the closest man, face white and hand trembling. “Leave now!” A man, you assumed was Basingstoke’s first mate, took a confident step forward, face stony in spite of your temper. “Madam, I simply must –” “Leave,” repeated a severely calm voice from behind you. You recognized the accent as Anamaria’s and your emotionless mask almost crumbled in gratitude. “You have no business here. Take your Captain and return to your ship. You are not welcome aboard the Pearl.” A shiver seemed to run through Basingstoke’s crew as the men began to exchange uncertain glances, some in the back of the group inching slowly back towards their ship. Your finger pulled the trigger, firing a shot between the first mate’s feet and into the deck, sending him leaping back with a roar. “NOW!” you barked. Basingstoke’s crew shot the Pearl’s crew a resentful sneer before skulking back to their ship, the towering Bo’sun hefting Basingstoke over his shoulder and trooping away. As Basingstoke’s ship sailed away, the Pearl’s crew now exchanged glances with each other, occasionally glancing at you and Jack. You dropped the pistol to the deck with a shudder, hand gripping your hair, frustrated, as you already regretted your decision of not running into the fray sooner. You had half a mind to cry right then and there – the feelings were present, sure enough. Then Jack spoke – voice steady; almost amused as he struggled to sit up on his elbows to gaze at your hunched form with dark eyes. “You really shouldn’t blow holes in my ship, darling. You know I don’t like it.” You whipped around to face him, eyes wide and glassy, though Jack could see no evidence of tears being shed. You stepped to him, almost dreading what you would see, and dropped to your knees by him, hands opening and closing uncertainly at your sides. You took a deep breath and raised your gaze from the deck to look at him properly. What you saw nearly broke you. Blood. Blood was everywhere. It ran in rivulets on the deck, between the planks, staining the wood an awful, dark crimson. It soaked his once-white tunic and had drawn the colour from his face. Your hands, white and shaking, rested on his chest gently, careful not to touch any wounds – and your hands were slick with it too. Stained. Tainted. Blood was everywhere. Jack’s blood. “Oh God…” you breathed, horrified. “He isn’t much help right now, is he?” Jack quipped halfheartedly, finding it hard to sit up and laying back down with a sharp wince. You just gazed at him with terrified eyes. Jack’s brows knit together, shaking his head imperceptibly as he met your gaze evenly. “Listen to me, love; Basingstoke never got the better of me. He’s a pirate, and pirates cheat – he only beat me to getting around to that tactic before him. He only beat me in that.” He managed a smile, though a burning sort of fire was rushing through his torso with excruciating force. He dared not let that show. He was Jack Sparrow, after all. “I won, otherwise,” he finished in a triumphantly cocky, albeit quiet voice. A small smile flickered on your features, brushing a finger gently over his cheek, biting your lip when you left a trail of blood over the bronzed flesh. “I know,” you murmured. “But Jack, I’m just – I’m so sorry that I –” The pirate cut you off with a stern glance, though his tone was gentle. “No. You’re not apologizing for what I did. Let me have my glory in battle. I am a very infamous pirate who lived very brilliantly and…” His gaze softened, smile faint. “Seems to have died very daftly –” You started. “Jack –” He continued gently; “Very daftly, but not in vain.” You clenched your hands to keep from trembling, though the rest of your body did otherwise. Your eyes burned with the threat of tears and you bit your lip so hard that you might have just drawn blood. “Live for me…” he said softly, bringing up a shaking hand to wipe away the lone tear that had slipped down your cheek, though you had not noticed it. “…remember me...” You smiled shakily, catching his hand and pressing it gently to your lips. “Don’t say that, Jack. You’re overreacting – ” “Just promise me, Ashy-pet,” he smiled quietly in return. “You, of all people know that I’m not always The Immortal Captain Jack Sparrow.” “Stop that,” you said firmly, trying to block out the feeling of cold fear that had gripped your heart. He never said things like that. He spoke your name, quietly, in that teasing little puppy-whine of his. “Promise me.” You had to promise him. What else could you do? He was asking it of you, and who are you to deny it? Some part of you had already grasped the sheer magnitude of the situation, but much of the rest had not. It was all too real to comprehend, and as much as you needed to, you didn’t want to. But suddenly, it was as if everything had hit you full force. You knew where this was going. He did, too. Gods, you thought with horror. He knew it long before I did. The recognition alone was numbing – staggering. It was enough to send a tear rolling down your cheek as you looked at him again, not with pain, or with regret, nor pity. It was an indescribable expression, and for some reason, it spoke much more than any other could. And he knew you had understood. He was watching you; he saw the flashes of hesitancy, confusion, and horror that flickered in your features. “I… I will see it done,” you whispered, brushing his lips lightly with your own. You rested your forehead against his. “…I promise. I promise, Jack… But you’re not going anywhere… it’ll be alright… it’ll be alright… I love you, Jack… nothing will happen…” The pirate gave a weak chuckle. “Of course I’m not going anywhere… I’m staying right here…” His breaths came slower now, not gasping, but softer. It didn’t feel painful to him; he was well beyond pain and suffering now. A cold numbness had spread through his limbs, and all that kept him warm was your trembling form, hugging him close. And quite honestly, he thought that there was no other he’d rather be with at that moment, than with you, and perhaps one last bottle of rum. But then, gradually, thoughts didn’t seem to matter any more. He was light; drifting away. The sky… was it always that blue? He had never noticed it before… Was it always so clear? So untainted? He sighed; it was freedom. “JACK!” Your words died on your lips and your eyes widened in shock as Jack’s hand went limp and slipped from your own. Time seemed to move in slow motion as you watched it land soundlessly on the deck. You spared a hurried glance to Jack’s face, and saw that his little smile lingered still. But his eyes were closed. No. Oh no, oh no, oh no. It couldn’t be… He didn’t move. No, oh God, please, no… A deathly silence had fallen upon the Black Pearl. This is a dream; please let this all be a dream… He had let go. “Jack? Jack, stop playing around. Jack!” You couldn’t stop saying his name, though you realized that your pleas sounded childish and hopeless. But you couldn’t stop saying his name. If you stopped saying his name, then… “…Jack…” You touched his hand, trying to ignore the shocking coolness of the calloused palm. A hand, that, not too long ago, had caressed your cheek, as those lips… so pale… so lifeless… They couldn’t be the same. Those lips had smiled at you, kissed you; they had spoken words of pure and undeniable love. You couldn’t grasp the fact that those beautiful lips would never part again, for kiss, for word, or for even breath. Another hand touched your shoulder, jolting you out of your world of misty haze and numbness. The hand was warm, shaking. You ignored it. You wove your fingers through Jack’s, willing them to squeeze your hand gently, like they always did, in the cold of the night while you lay in bed. When the entire world seemed dead and asleep, he was always there, lying beside you, with his deep, throaty chuckle, and his cheeky, if not suggestive, comments. His sweet words mingled with the exquisite tang of rum had tickled your nose… “Lass…” It was Anamaria. You could hear the choked quality to her normally crisp, strong voice and you knew she was crying. Why was she crying? No one was dead… …no one was dead… “Lass, leave him…” “He’s just sleeping,” you whispered, your tears dripping silently down your cheeks. Your thumb traced small circles on the back of his hand – the hand you gripped so tightly still – as you spoke. “The battle wore him out. Don’t you see…? He’s just… he’s just sleeping… he’ll wake up soon…” Anamaria’s tone grew sharp again, clearly unable to handle your childish hopes and beliefs; your strong certainty that the man before you would simply stand up and reassure them that it was all a joke. Your distantly calm tone, your frantic murmurings to someone who wouldn’t answer back; she couldn’t understand why you couldn’t understand. She turned you to face her and gripped your shoulders, looking you straight in the eye. “Don’t you get it? Jack, Captain Jack Sparrow, he can’t wake up! He won’t wake up! And do you know why? It’s because he’s de – ” “NO!” you cried. “He’s not dead! You can’t say that! Don’t say things that aren’t true, Ana! If you say it… if you say it… then it’s like… it’s like you don’t hope… you – you don’t trust that… He’s Captain Jack Sparrow. He can’t be… he won’t be… no, he isn’t…” Insane murmurings sprung from your disbelieving mind. Of course, the whole crew was just playing some sick joke! “It’s gone far enough – far enough, I say!” You knew you probably sounded crazy, but you didn’t care anymore. You needed to be by Jack. He needed you. You knew he did. You tore away from Ana and dropped to your knees by Jack, your hands caressing his peaceful face. “Jack… Jack, please…” Now your own voice was breaking from the wave of emotion that threatened to spill. “Please tell me that there’s something I can do to make it better – to make you open your eyes…” You leant close to him as you whispered, the words coming out desperate and pleading. “Gods, Jack, your beautiful eyes… please, let me see them… please, Jack…” Nothing. “Damn it, Sparrow! Just drop your manly pride for once and tell me how I can help you! Please!” A silence. A painful, breathless, unbreakable silence. It was too much. A wordless cry of raw agony and anguish tore from your lips as you crumpled helplessly against the unmoving form of what was once the proud, tall figure of Captain Jack Sparrow. Your heart beat wildly against your chest; you forced yourself to take a breath, and winced feebly. It felt like your chest was filled with shards of glass – you wouldn’t have been surprised if that was all that remained of your heart, now. Sobs wracked your shoulders as you realized what Ana said was true. No! It isn’t! It is. Still your heart beat. It felt cruel, almost insulting. You drew another shuddering breath, gripping the front of Jack’s shirt uncontrollably, almost waiting for his hands to gently push you away so he can look into your face. So he could brush away the tears and make the world seem right again. You waited, and waited, and waited. The silence stretched on and on. Despair – hopeless, utter – rolled over you as you wrestled with the tidal wave of emotion that fought to break free. You imagined yourself in one of the great cities of unknown countries, searching aimlessly among the dirty buildings and hordes of strangers for a hint, a glimpse, a taste of your love. The one that had promised to see those places with you. You hugged Jack’s limp form close, torture and fear enveloping you. You cradled him, blind to anything but the desolation of the world as your words tumbled out in a rush, “…you… you damn pirate… you promised you’d never leave me… you promised… Jack…” A light flurry of snow had drifted from the sky, dusting the Pearl in a delicate frost. The snowflakes stirred faintly on Jack’s cheeks, under his nose; a mockery of breath. You absently brushed the snow away, your tears slowing to a trickle. You traced Jack’s jaw line, your eyes studying every detail of his beautiful face until an image shone in your mind’s eye. Not the Jack before you now, but the Jack of before; the Jack you had come to know and love. The Jack that few knew existed – your Jack. How long you knelt there, you knew not. The crew made not a sound, and the only thing heard was the gentle lapping of waves against the hull. A part of you still waited, with bated breath, for the barest flicker of an eye; for the smallest flutter of the heart. You supposed that that part of you will be waiting for a very long time. Perhaps unto your own death. No one had disturbed you. They knew better than to do so. The crew had left the deck, perhaps to grieve in their own, private way. Then Gibbs, good old Mister Gibbs, walked up in silence behind you. He spoke, his voice soft. “…What do you wish to do?” You looked up, as if startled by the sound of a human voice. It seemed a miracle – a wonder – that there were still people who could speak. Who could look remotely happy, who could walk, who could drink rum, who could sail, who could love. All the things that he could do… “We could… give him a proper burial,” suggested the older man quietly. “Yes,” you finally managed to murmur in reply. “I… want him to be at peace. To remain free; he had that in…” You swallowed, a horrible lump in your throat. “…in life. He should have that freedom still… in…” “Aye, I know…” Gibbs said gently. He waited for you to calm before speaking up once more. “That’s what he was always after…” He cleared his throat, as if the horrible lump had found him as well. Again, you lovingly brushed your knuckles lightly across Jack’s face. “A place where the sharks and Davy Jones won’t disturb him. He’d be indignant.” You chuckled weakly. “Though… he’s probably challenging the angels to a drinking game as we speak… the daft scallywag.” Gibbs smiled slightly before asking. “At sea, then?” “Yes,” came your reply, smiling despite yourself. “Definitely at sea.” * * * * * Epilogue – Live for Me, Remember Me The wind whipped your hair back as you stood upon the grassy knoll overlooking the ocean. It had been a few months since Jack’s death, but it was still difficult to come back to this spot – the grave was empty, but it still stood as a memory. The stone marking stood proud, the intricate engraving of a ship flying over the curling waves etched in it. The carving brought a small smile to your lips – Will had indeed become quite the craftsman. Gracefully written were the words under the ship: Captain Jack Sparrow You chuckled fondly, touching the stone. “You silly pirate,” you murmured. “Of course we remember you. But no one can live like a legend.” The wind sighed, and, for a startling moment, almost felt like a caressing hand against your cheek. Your eyes grew hot for a moment, but the feeling died away as soon as it had come – you had shed enough tears over him. He wouldn’t have wanted that. Sometimes you thought you could hear his voice in the waves, when you were alone on deck at night. His presence still lingered in his cabin, in his bed, on his ship. Many would have not understood why you still stayed in the place where he had lived. But you had your reasons. Jack was never truly gone. He was there, in the spirit of the ocean. People would ask, why bury him at sea? You couldn’t visit him there, they would say. But that wasn’t true. You could be with him there and everywhere else besides – because the sea was everywhere. This stone marker would be in only one place, ever, in the world; but the ocean… anywhere you go, there would always be an ocean. And where the ocean was, Jack was, too; that was where he rested, underneath the waves. He had kept his promise: he said he wasn’t going anywhere, and he didn’t. Yes, he was still there; still a legend, still a pirate. And you still loved him. Even in death. You tilted your head back to the sky, uttering the last few lines of Jack’s favourite song, just in case he was listening to you. “Yo ho, yo ho…” Nearby, a little sparrow chirped from his perch in a tree. Your eyes flickered for a brief moment with an unknown emotion as your gaze settled on it, breath almost catching in your throat. I return the gift you gave to me. Then, it flitted away, into the sunset – free. “A pirate’s life for me…” THE END * * * * * (A/N: Well, this is the end. I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading this as I have writing it! The epitaph was horribly difficult to write, and I’m still not happy with it, but I hope it doesn’t bother you all overly much. Comments and reviews are very much welcome, as I would like to see the reaction on how I portrayed the end. I would have written it differently, but that’s what the point of a challenge is, of course. Jac, I hope you liked my take on your challenge! It was a joy to write for. Thank you to you all! -Ellie) |