Title: Legends and Myths
Author: Drey'auc475
PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN
Rating: slight angst/general
Spoilers: all three movies
Genre: general
Setting/Season: after 'At World's End'
Summary: All those friends, long gone. All those enemies, gone even longer (he hoped). There were still a few out there that wanted money, or his head. Either way, both would result in an untimely death.
A/N: This was written before AWE came out, and is sort of an AU. Also, I had hoped to turn this into a bit of a series, so if anyone has any fresh ideas, please review – I'd be interested to hear them.

Jack looked out over the vast expanse of ocean, rubbing his chin. A storm was brewing to the north of the island and Jack fleetingly wondered if there was possibly a ship trapped in its unyielding hold. He adjusted the strap of the water bag on his shoulder as he remembered what it was like to be thrown about on the ocean, about to be swallowed whole by the sea.

Memories of his old life, the life that his little girl knew nothing of, and he hoped never will, floated about in his mind, briefly fogging his vision. Some moments brought a small smile to his lips, and some made him feel small, insignificant and sad. But those were days long gone, times best forgotten. His old stomach wound gave him too much trouble nowadays to ever think about going back to that way of life again.

Jack heard a voice, carried on the wind, and looked up towards their hut at the base of the cliffs. Janelle stood at the door of the hut, waving to him. He had gone to fetch some fresh drinking water over three hours ago, even though it was only an hour walk to the fresh-water spring and back. It took him increasingly longer to travel to the spring and back, age finally beginning to catch up with him, making his joints stiff and sore in the mornings.

And, as great as his little girl was, Jack felt that he needed some time alone, away from Janelle, and time to himself. He had needed time to himself more frequently nowadays. Jack wasn't sure entirely, but he was fairly certain that he was approaching the sixty-year mark. The older he got, the more often he would think of what he had once had and what he didn't have.

All those friends, long gone. All those enemies, gone even longer (he hoped). There were still a few out there that wanted money, or his head. Either way, both would result in an untimely death and he shuddered to think of what would happen to Janelle.

Jack remembered the look on his friends faces when the dirty, crippled man handed him a baby. The man had told them that the child was his sister's, and that she was dead. The man also said that she had Jack's eyes. Elizabeth especially was… less than happy, let's put it that way. Even though she was (stubbornly, in only Jack's mind) still with Will, Jack could sense her resentment. He noticed that it soon evaporated when it was her turn to watch the kid.

Jack waved back in the direction of the hut and kicked at the sand for a moment. It was still a strange feeling to have solid ground beneath his feet. Even though the last ship he had been on was the Pearl, nearly sixteen years ago, it had been entrenched so deeply in his mind, that he had trouble letting go of it. He subconsciously felt himself sway in time with the waves crashing on the beach, as though there was a rolling, timber deck beneath his feet.

After years of being a sailor and a pirate, it was hard for him to give it all up for the sake of one little kid. For as early back as Jack could remember, he had been captain of that ship, and had cherished her. The lifestyle she provided him with was one of death and ill-fortune, true, but it was also freedom. Jack cherished freedom far more than his own life. He would rather die at sea or be hung as a pirate, than die a slave or a prisoner.

He could have gone on for years as a pirate, had it not been for the East India Company. Jack could have raised Janelle on the Pearl, maybe as a privateer, had Beckett not declared all-out war on piracy, including those in the employ of England. That battle was almost over by the time the Pearl was sunk off the coast of Cuba. Barbossa, Will, Gibbs and Cotton were still aboard when she went down, something that he would never forgive himself for. Marty, Ragetti, Pintel and Vinnie all drowned attempting to swim to the nearest spit of land. Jack had dumped the two-and-a-half year-old Janelle in an empty gun-powder keg and Elizabeth and himself had held it out of the water. The three of them were the only ones to reach the beach.

Elizabeth had died a month later from grief and a sever fever. Jack and Janelle had been cared for by some of the local islanders, and when his wound had healed and he was strong enough, Jack had built them the shack at the base of the cliffs, away from the main population of the island.

Jack hoped that there were still pirates out there somewhere. He had been a long time out of touch with the gossip, and hoped that the Company didn't control the ocean. The sea was in his blood, it was his life, his love. He hated to see it at the mercy of someone as ruthless as Beckett.

Maybe, one day before he died, Jack would tell Janelle all his stories. It would be a shame for all those legends and myths to go untold.

A small smile graced Jack's lips as he turned towards the hut and carried the water bag up the slight slope to his waiting daughter.