A/N Sorry it's been a while. I have only one word...life...Anyways, here it is, and I cannot say how glad I am that I finished it. After last chapter being about Angelica, I wanted to have this one be about Jack. The only thing is, it might be a little bit lack luster, slow, unexciting. I guess it's more of a thoughtful chapter, but I do quite like the ending. (Also, I did the editing at 1:30 this morning, so please, excuse any typos)
Thank you, thank you, thank you, for the positive reviews. They are always delightful to read, and they are so motivating. :)
Please, enjoy. :)
He hadn't slept hardly at all. The same words buzzed around in his head; his promise to never leave her again, and that cursed three word phrase that had been spoken too many times between them in recent days. As he lay there, thinking, he almost felt guilty and it was eating him up on the inside. Over and over he would tell himself that he wasn't feeling guilty, that it was nothing, that it wasn't his fault. Yet, even that wasn't enough to convince himself, because it was his fault he was feeling like this. Compared to his usual carefree nature, he felt bloody awful. He rolled over, trying to fall back asleep, but he couldn't. His mind was too preoccupied.
Bloody feelings. Bloody woman. Why the hell should he feel like this, when she was probably off happily somewhere else. He didn't get it. He rolled over again. If only he wouldn't have said those three cursed words to her. If only he could have just pretended like he didn't care, for his own sake, because now he couldn't even sleep, let alone think about anything else.
It was still very early, but he decide to get up. He couldn't lie there anymore, he needed a change in scenery to take his mind off of everything.
Just after slipping on his effects, he decided a stroll up to the main deck sounded nice.
Most of the crew were still asleep in their hammocks as he passed by them quietly.
A swift breeze chilled the air, but he paid it no attention as he stepped out onto the deck. The sun was still just below the horizon, although the lowest portion of the sky was tinted a bright orange-ish yellow.
He had always enjoyed gazing over the perpetual waves of the sea, and watching the sky light up with the glow of the rising sun. He found that it could take his mind off his worries, no matter what they were. He found peace in it, and it reminded him of pure freedom; the ability to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted. There was not much on earth that could compare to standing at the helm of a ship with a bottle of rum and the warm feeling of the sun on his skin with nothing but the open sea ahead of him. It almost made him feel stronger; like there was nothing that could stand in his way.
But not now, he didn't have the luxury of being on his own ship. He couldn't give orders. He couldn't change their destination on a whim. He had no control here. Here, he was a prisoner of the wooden hull, guarded by the endless waves that crashed against the ship, and escorted by the maroon sails that flapped in the wind. Here, he most certainly was not free. Here, he was alone; cut off from anyone and everyone he could have ever claimed to have feelings for.
But for now, he at least felt calmer, and he let his mind drift.
He was leaning over the rail close to the bow of the ship. Breathing deeply, he could smell the crisp freshness in the air. The sea was fairly calm, letting the large ship glide smoothly over the rolling waves. The natural creaks and groans of the ship against the water were almost music to his ears. To some, he imagined, it could get annoying after a while, but he could have stood there and just watched the serene view and listened to the creaking of the ship for the rest of his life. It was simply breath taking. No doubt, he had seen this same view on countless occasions, but it always seemed new, exciting, perfect and no less beautiful every time. And of course, the creaking of the ship was nothing new either, but it was relaxing to him. In that moment he was without a care in the world. Nothing and no one to worry about. It was just him and the sea, but some quiet footsteps and low murmurs on the deck behind him quickly brought him out of that fantasy.
He had probably been standing there for twenty or so minutes before he had heard the other people shuffling around on the deck. He sighed, letting go of what he had just felt and returned to the reality of his situation.
More of the crew had woken up and had now begun to start on their duties. He wanted no part in it. As far as he was concerned, he wasn't part of the crew, and therefore he wasn't required to work. Although, he didn't want to test his luck with Barbossa, so he decided he would find some more rum and just return to the cabin below decks.
He found a few bottles and carried them back to the cabin, setting them down on the desk. There wasn't much to do. He sat down at the desk, and pulled out his compass. It spun wildly, around and around before it stopped. It pointed more off to the left of where the ship was now headed. He blinked at it in wonder, but that didn't last long. He grimaced and snapped it shut remembering where it would probably always point. He chucked it away from him with more force than he had intended, but it landed, unharmed on the bed.
Opening a bottle of rum and taking a drink, he decided that now would be as good a time as any to go through Angelica's stuff. He had done a good job of taking his mind off her that morning, but, staying in her cabin surrounded by her belongings would force him to think about her again. There was no way around it, so he decided to start with the drawers of the desk.
He pulled out piles of papers. Most of them were ripped, folded, or burnt around the edges. Many of them were maps with various routes drawn and labeled on them. Others were newspaper clippings, mostly the articles were about pirate hangings, or any type of news about the royal navy. He skimmed through some of them stopping on one titled "Black Sailed Ship Targets Port Royal". Beneath it, there was a depiction of the scene; a rendition by an artist. The ship was in the middle of the harbor surrounded by and erie looking fog, and it was firing cannons at the naval port. He recognized it immediately. He remembered seeing a similar scene that night all those years ago. He had been locked in that prison cell overlooking the bay, watching the Black Pearl fire, and hearing the cannonballs rip through the air, colliding with buildings on land. He was curious about why she had that.
He flipped through a few more maps before finding another article that caught his eye. Except this time, his name was on it; "Pirate Jack Sparrow, escaped or released?". It was dated not but a few weeks after the other one. He assumed that was when he 'jumped' off the wall of the fort after escaping the in the world would this woman have been interested in that. Why would she care?
He continued, skipping past a few more maps, stopping on yet another article. The title read; "The Infamous Jack Sparrow Dead: Lost At Sea. At Last".
"Thats a bloody lie" He murmured. "I was eaten, not lost. Left to die, stranded on me own ship" Beckett must have sent news to the King or something after he had been eaten alive by the kraken. He read the story that went along with the title, but some of the words had been smudged out as if water had been spilled on the page, or it had been raining. He sat back a moment, pondering this peculiarity. Or perhaps tears.
That bloody woman cried over me? All those years ago, she had still cared enough to cry? Wow, he thought. He would have grinned if he hadn't been telling himself that it didn't change anything.
He moved on to the next article; "Sparrow, Dead or Alive Wreaks Havoc on Navy Vessel". He smirked at that. It must have been the time when his very complicated plan came together and actually worked out, ending in the destruction of his long time enemy, Beckett.
The last article was more recent; "Infamous Jack Sparrow, Escapes; Dangerous Pirate Loose in the City of London" He almost chuckled. He remembered the sneer on Barbossa's make-up covered face as he skillfully escaped the King's royal guard.
He put the papers down and looked back at the maps. They all had a different set of lines drawn messily on them. Some showed trips to and from an unnamed location he recognized as Tortuga. Others showed paths to various other unnamed locations that were all too familiar to him.
"Bloody hell" He took another drink of rum. She had been tracking him. Not only that, but she would have had to do a ton of searching to compile all of these things. Not to mention the amount of time this must have taken her. He was amazed, but slightly horrified that she actually had been looking for him that extensively, and that she was doing a very good job of keeping track of where he was. It felt strange to him. He wasn't sure if liked it. He thought about it some more, and in light of fairly recent events, he realised that she must have done that so she could set him up. Get to know where he went, when he went, and why he went so she could set up a trap for him, and force him to help her. True enough, he was probably the only living person who, at that time, had been rumored to have found the fountain of youth, but he hadn't. Of course she wouldn't have known that, but he hadn't actually been that helpful on their little journey. Apart from 'lending' them his compass, retrieving the chalices, and saving them a few times, they hadn't really needed him. What was still perplexing to him, was the vast amount of work that had been put into finding, and capturing him since they really didn't need him.
He sat back in the chair and pondered that thought for a moment. Why? It didn't make sense to him. Certainly she didn't want him around just for the pleasure of it, for everything he knew, she was still angry at him for leaving her. So, that ruled out it being her choice, but if not for his compass, Blackbeard wouldn't have required his presence. He thought back to everything she had said to him whilst on that ship.
He almost dropped all of the papers he was holding.
Unless, it was him who was supposed to be sacrificed to save Blackbeard. She had said it while they were fighting at the fountain, but he hadn't taken her seriously. But, then again, no one ever plans that extensively just to bring someone along for no reason. She was planning that. The whole time, she had been planning to kill him. Damn her.
He was more angry at his attempted murder than he was when she had actually killed him. Sure he had actually died, but he understood why. He was going to leave her on that beach with nothing after confessing feelings for her, which he was beginning to believe had been the biggest mistake of his life. But to drag him all the way to the fountain, so he could be the unfortunate soul sacrificed to let Blackbeard live, she had no reason! No motive, no excuse! He hadn't seen her for years, she was supposed to have moved on. She should have gotten over whatever she had felt for him, whether that was anger or love, she should have left it in the past.
So, it was her fault. It was her fault that he is in the current situation. If not for her, he would probably be in Tortuga, with multiple full bottles of rum, or using a better devised plan to get his ship back.
He kicked the desk and threw the papers, making a mess. He snatched another bottle of rum off the desk and nearly chugged the whole thing down.
He had to get up, he couldn't sit there anymore, he couldn't think about this anymore. Although it pained him to go onto the deck, and possibly get pressganged into doing actual work, he need a better distraction for a while. He could go through the rest of her stuff later when he calmed down.
He was still miffed as he stomped his way onto the main deck.
The ship was sailing smoothly, and the sun was higher in the blue sky, but that was no longer good enough to calm him down.
"Oi, Sparrow! Get up 'ere!" Barbossa barked.
Rolling his eyes, he trudged up to the quarterdeck where Barbossa was standing.
"What do ye want" He grumbled.
"Yer in quite the mood t'day. Ye look bloody awful" Barbossa said in a taunting tone.
"I am fine" He said through gritted teeth. "Now what do ye want?"
"I require yer compass to be sure we be on the proper course."
"And, why don't ye look at a map"
"I did, we are on course for shipwreck cove, I just wanted to be makin sure"
"Wait what? Are you sure thats where we're headed?" He hoped that he heard wrong, cause that was not what he wanted to hear.
"Aye, the maps don't lie, nor does yer compass unless I be mistaken. Perhaps if I were to have a look at it, I could verify that we be on the proper course."
"That wont be necessary, I'm sure this is the right way"
"Then shipwreck cove be our destination."
"Oh" Jack said glumly. He was not looking forward to that. "How long do we intend on stayin?"
"We be stayin no longer than two days, that should give you plenty of time to find the charts"
Jack's eyes lit up, he could use that to his advantage. "Why can't you get them yerself?!"
"Cause, Sparrow, there be other things that have to be dealt with" Barbossa snapped.
"Like what 'things'?!"
"It be no concern of yers, but it needs to be done b'fore we depart" He stepped away to yell a few orders to the crew.
"Great" Jack said sarcastically. He followed him over to the top of the stairs. "I'm having a thought here, Barbossa"
"What?" Barbossa grumbled.
"What say, since we're clearly not in a hurry, we run up a flag of truce, and after the finding of these bloody maps, we celebrate with a stop at Tortuga"
"Now why would I be doin that?"
"We could resupply, make any repairs, have a drink er two eh? Plus, I think yer crew could use some shore leave"
"Oh fine then, but yer not leavin the ship, now get out of my way and make yerself useful!"
He started walking away, but Jack stepped in front of him again.
"I will be leavin the ship, you can count on that. Consider it an extension of our previous agreement, savvy" Jack smirked.
Barbossa rolled his eyes. "Fine, but I require somethin else of ye too in that case."
"I demand the return of Jack to me"
"Me, but I'm right here"
"Not you, the monkey"
"Blasted little devil, gladly, he's yours, I'll be sure to return it to you the next chance I get. Although, it'll be a while"
"Agreed, now get off my deck! We will arrive within a few hours, so be ready to go"
"Aye" He considered himself lucky that Barbossa didn't force him to work, but then again he was basically banished back to his cabin.
He trudged back below decks. He returned to the desk to finish what he started.
The other drawers mostly contained stationery supplies: some fountain pens, paper, ink, compasses, seals, and the occasional stick of wax. In one of the drawers, there were only two items, a loaded pistol, and a sharp looking dagger. Having no real reason, he took the dagger and slid it into his right boot. Who knows when one might need a weapon, and besides it wasn't like anyone was using it right then anyways.
He leaned back in his chair, drinking more rum. Where else do women keep things of importance besides on their person, he wondered. He glanced around the room before his eyes came to rest on a trunk. It likely only had her clothes in it, but what the heck, might as well go though that too. It wasn't like he had anything else to do.
He moved away from the desk and kneeled in front of the trunk, pulling open the lid. It was as he suspected, clothes. It was more organized than he expected though. All of her white flowing shirts were folded neatly on top of her pants, which were next to a pile of other various pieces of fabric.
He might have felt bad for going through her stuff if she had actually been there, but she wasn't, so he didn't. Digging through her clothes, tossing them over his shoulder, making quite a mess in the process, he stopped when he came across one of her bandanas. She had been wearing it the night they danced, before they had reached the fountain of youth. He held it up to his face. It smelled of her. Not in a bad way, but in a way that reminded him of her stunning beauty. He tied it to his belt to serve as a reminder or her, and more generally to not trust anyone with his feelings like he did with her, again. Turning his attention back to the trunk, there was not much left in it apart from another white shirt, another pistol and dagger set, and a dress.
She must have been bloody nervous about somthin for havin all these weapons about, he thought.
He glanced back at the dress, he became slightly curious so he pulled it out and laid it on the bed. It was draped cream fabric, with maroon sleeves. The bust was fitted, and the rest of the fabric looked as if it would flow beautifully. The only thing was that he couldn't picture her wearing it. Well, he actually could imagine her in it. Twirling gracefully around, without a care in the world, letting her hair cascade over her shoulders, with a smile on her face. The thing was that he couldn't imagine her willing to wear it. Not that she would look bad in it, in fact she would probably look stunning in it, but she never wore dresses. Her father must have bought it for her or something because there was no way she would choose to get it on her own, he thought. Or maybe it was her mothers; that was probably more likely. He realized that he didn't know much about her mother. He thought it odd, that after all those years he'd known her, she hardly mentioned her at all.
But, he was getting bored of that, so he piled every piece back into the trunk, not bothering to fold any of it.
There was only one thing left in that room that he hadn't gone through. There was a small-ish box near the foot of the bed. He strode over to it, and moved it onto the bed. There was a short stack of letters, two leather bound books, and a folded map. One book was easily recognizable as a Bible, but the other was smaller, and the binding had much more wear. The smaller of the two books was of more interest to him, but he planned on going through the letters, and studying the map at some point so he set them both aside. He opened the cover of the book and scribbled on the first page was, "Diario de Angélica". Now he was really interested.
But before he had a chance to look into it any further, there was a sharp pounding on the door.
"Sparrow, get out here!" He recognized it as Barbossa's voice. He tucked the letters, the map, and the journal into his jacket, grabbed his compass, and strutted over to the door.
"We've arrived, now get out of there, and go find those charts!" Barbosa demanded.
Jack shrugged and sauntered off the ship, and up the dock. He knew the first place he would look. He didn't really want to, but if he was ever going to talk to his father, he might as well go see him first. Actually, he rather disliked the way his father would appear out of no where, and then disappear before he could get any real answers or information, so he was determined to find him first. He was nearly there, he had probably taken at least half an hour, but the all too familiar voice from behind him made him stop. He sighed, damnit, he turned around.
"'Ello Jackie" Cap't Teague said.
"Hello dad" Jack grinned slightly.
"Why are ye here?" Teague did not seem pleased to see him. "And in the company of Barbossa at that?"
"Can we go to yer office er somthin to talk?" Jack asked nervously. Teague nodded. Neither of them spoke again until they reached the office.
"What is it this time boy?!" Teague snapped as soon as they shut the door behind them.
Jack sat down. "How much do ye know 'bout the treasure to…"
"So that's why yer here" Teague interrupted, his expression far too serious for Jack's liking.
"I take it you know quite a bit"
"Unfortunately" Teague sat down behind his desk and sifted through a pile of papers. Finally he handed Jack a map.
"Is this…?" He looked at it. "How did you get this?!"
"Yer great great grandfather Linus Taig was entrusted to it's protection, and granted the ability to read it by a powerful sorceress"
"Bloody hell" Jack exclaimed. "Now answer me this, how does this relate to Isaac Teach?"
Teague sighed. "They were best friends, and they found the sorceress together. They both had been granted the gift to read this map, and the other."
"Well, isn't that just perfect!" Jack growled. "Why didn't you ever tell me this, oh I don't know, anytime before now?"
"Do you really want to know why boy?" Teague asked in all seriousness, ignoring Jack's apparent anger. It was slightly unnerving to Jack how stoic, and cryptic his father was being, he didn't like it.
"Yes, of course I do. What a stupid question!" Jack barked.
"How much do you remember 'bout yer mother?" Teague asked, and Jack suddenly lost all of his anger, and he could feel the color leave his face.
A/N How's that? lol. Well, my only hope is that at least one person enjoyed it lol. Please review with any and all comments, questions, suggestions, or critiques.
Btw, thanks for reading this far!
Also, I am fairly certain about the next chapter so I should be able to update sooner than before. :)