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WHERE'D YOU GO? Author: cr8zee4rum Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC, and Fort Minor owns the lyrics to “Where’d you go?” Summary: One shot. Your free time is spent waiting and usually debating on telling him that you’ve had enough of him and his career. The man was full of broken promises. Just another broken promise… Dedication: To “Joxer the Mighty”, love ya, chica! Author's Note: : Dar and I were discussing of what the song “Where’d You Go?” reminded us. For Dar, it was her boyfriend joining the army and not being around very much anymore, and for me, it was a mixture of this and a past experience. That’s all this note was for, just the background info on why I wrote this fic, and of course for the credit that needs to go to Dar and “Joxer” for a few of the lines. Yeah, I know that I should be working on the other fics, but this was just bugging me since lunch so I typed it up. Enjoi! * * * * * Where’d you go? The sea slowly swallows the sun, painting the sky with bright reds and oranges. The warm Caribbean breeze whispers, carrying unfinished conversations, careless lies, and broken promises off the edge of the cliff and into the horizon. Muttered words and sweet nothings follow closely. The cursed wind carries the bribes and whispers that lure him to the sea. The all-powerful sea that keeps him away from home. The creaks and shivers of his beloved ship, the itching desires to sail off into the horizon, the things that make him a pirate. Everything that keeps him away, everything you hate. That blasted breeze now blows your dark brown hair in front of your face as you stand at the edge of the cliff, watching and waiting—no, hoping—to see a glimpse of black sails on the horizon. Some days I just want to quit and just be normal for a bit. But you can’t be normal, and you know that. Not with him and his career. You’re always working your schedule around his promises to return, even though in the back of your mind, you know that he hardly ever arrives anywhere close to on time. When the end of the day comes around, you feel like a complete idiot for still waiting for his return. “I don’t understand why you always have to be gone, Jack. I get along, but your trips… they keep getting longer,” you whisper, silently pleading for the wind to carry your message to the infamous pirate captain. Always leaving with a soft kiss on your forehead and a promise to return in two months, yet the promises are always broken. Always, always… And at times, you tell yourself that you’ve had it with him and his career, yet each time that he returns, you’ve not the courage to confront him. You’re always off on some grand adventure while I’m stuck here waiting. The wind dies off briefly; after a moment it picks back up with even softer whispers than before. You can almost hear them. Listen, listen, and I will tell. An idea, an idea! Listen, listen… Closing your eyes helps you to reflect back on all those times before his calling to the sea. You just allow your mind to wander: to the place where you and he used to live, to having parties at Christmas with candy piled high on the kitchen table. To the hours spent on the beach, neither speaking, only basking in the beauty that surrounds you. To the midnight walks. Your mind wanders to the fiasco of cooking a grand dinner for his family. Memories of the life that has vanished before your eyes… Now he only stops in every once in a while. The worst of the situation is that you know. You know of all the women he has, of how unfaithful he is to you. Just another broken promise. The man was made of broken promises. “I love you.” “I’ll always be there for you.” “I’ll be back in two months.” “I won’t miss your birthday, luv.” “I didn’t forget our anniversary.” “I mean it this time, luv.” “You’re not the reason I leave, luv, I swear it.” “I’m not leaving this time.” “You’re the only one, darling.” These were the most painful ones that tore at your heart every time that he utters them. Many a time that he had uttered such words, you had half a mind to shout at him to shut up and to stop lying to you, but you never did. The reality is that you are too afraid to get into a fight with him because you worry that something tragic would happen and that the last thing you would have said to him would have been something nasty. You don’t want to live with that on your conscious. No, you can’t shout at him, no matter how much he deserves it. Where’d you go, Jack? Where is my Jack? The one that I could talk to when I was down, the one who would help me sneak extra pastries before dinner at my house, or the one who kept his promises? I miss you, Jack. Now your free time is spent waiting and usually debating on telling him that you’ve had it with him and his career. This time, there will be no more debating. No more being afraid, you don’t deserve this. He can have his mistresses, his rum, his ship, and his sea. Let them please him, but you won’t do it anymore. You won’t be his little relief anymore. You’ve let it get too far, so now you’ve decided to cut the cord. No more broken promises, no more reminiscing, no more feeling useless waiting… Blinking away the tears that were threatening to spill, you pivot on your heel to head back to your house. Just before you step onto the dirt road, you glance back at the horizon one more time and whisper, “Why am I not good enough for you, Jack? Am I the reason you leave? Do you hate me that much that you can’t stand to stay with me anymore?” * * * * Pinned against the front door, the parchment flaps in the breeze. Furrowing his brow with confusion and worry, Jack pulls it off the door to read it. I don’t want anymore broken promises. I’m sick of being played with. The days I feel awful and just need someone to hold me, someone to utter sweet nothings to comfort me, where were you, Jack? I thought that you’d “always be there for me”, that you “wouldn’t miss my birthday or our anniversary”, and that you “would never forget me”. Promises are made to be broken, so they are better left unspoken. It seems that only one thing was true all along, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. I’m tired of sitting and waiting, making up excuses for why you’re not around. I guess I’ve had it with you and your career. When (and if) you finally come back, I won’t be here and then you can wonder… It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but when they do, “Luv!” Jack throws open the door, hoping that this was all just a practical joke. “Luv, this isn’t funny!” The sway in his hips is lost in his frantic search through the modest house. Even the small, provision-filled bag that you kept near the door is gone. He calls out your name, and of course receives no response. He swears under his breath; this was not a good joke. “Darling, I didn’t—” His apology catches in his throat as he sees the glimmer of your diamond ring on the table with a half sheet of parchment underneath it. Where’d you go? THE END |