His World's End
Absolution
It wasn't that he wanted to be here exactly because there were plenty of other places he'd rather be but it was rather that he had no choice. He wasn't here by summons but yet still from necessity. Towns and ports that had once been a safe haven for pirates had been ransacked by what was left of Beckett's East India Trading Company – he shuddered as the name flitted through his mind – and this place was now one of the few truly safe places for a pirate.
And so, it was events with unfortunate circumstances that lead to him being here, trawling the walkways of Shipwreck Cove for a tavern that was as far away from the Keeper of the Code and the Brethren as possible.
The place was not it's usual relatively quiet self, what with the fearful pirates seeking refuge. The streets were bustling with people of all shapes and sizes, propositioning and being propositioned. Music echoed throughout the wooden walls, travelling far, carried along by the hundreds of voices singing, laughing and shouting. Smoke tainted the air, billowing from pipes and furnaces, sending a melange of burning spices and alcohol up Jack's nostrils.
It was like walking the streets of Tortuga… yet not. There was something quite disconcerting about seeing this and knowing it to be Shipwreck City.
It wasn't only this disruption to this sanctuary that was keeping Jack away from Captain Teague.
He pushed his way through the door of a place that had once been a quiet hole. The room was dark as usual but instead of finding there the usual ménage of hooded, down-turned figures he found the place loud, smoky and entirely un-foreboding, with wenches and scallywags crammed around the smallest of tables. The furthest, darkest corners were occupied with shadows that moved against the wall. He shuddered and looked away.
He'd loved this place once and now found it overbearing and exactly what he was not looking for. Still, he pushed through the tussling pirates and made his way to the bar. He ordered a jug of rum and turned away when it appeared on the bar, sipping as he surveyed. He recognised a few of the men around the corners of the room and he tipped his jug in their direction, sending a nod to their greetings.
"You've not yet dipped your wick, mister, care to join me and I'll set you alight?"
Jack turned to the wench attached to his arm and eyed her with disgust as she flaunted her ample bust in his face. Her dark hair spilled across his shoulder and he shrugged her off and turned his back on her. He heard her huff before she walked off. Truth be told, Jack hadn't 'dipped his wick' in a very, very long time. Too long perhaps but it seemed that no matter how beautiful, exotic or exciting the wench was, he just couldn't bring himself to bed her. He'd cursed himself, Venus and everything else in between for his failings - even his own hand could no longer bring him pleasure – before his curses and anger targeted one person, the only person who could do this to him.
He'd vowed to himself after months of endless torture to never think about her again. He'd been there, he'd done all of that before and, to be honest, he was far too old to go through what he'd put himself through decades before. He'd vowed he wouldn't go back there – especially not for her.
He felt another hand on his shoulder but he didn't turn around, didn't acknowledge the wenches advances. He'd quickly grown tired of being propositioned and had tried to stay clear of places like this – which had been why he'd headed here in the first place. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, setting his still full beaker on the bar again.
The world seemed to be conspiring against him. His ship was gone, his friends had dispersed across the globe and even his favourite place here – well, maybe not his favourite, but he was sure this place came a close second – had been infiltrated by the lifestyle he'd tried to leave behind.
He actually laughed out loud at that. It made him sound so noble when in fact that noble mentality was borne of him running away from his past, his fears. Again.
He walked away from the bar and out the door. It was suddenly very warm and he found that it was difficult to breathe. Ever since he'd caught an infection after Singapore a few months back he'd found that his strength waned at the most inopportune moments. The doctor had told him that his lungs would be weaker if he didn't settle down to recuperate. He wished now that he'd listened to the old bugger. He slowed down and slid into a side walkway that was relatively empty and leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes and placed a hand over his breastbone, trying to aide his lungs breathing processes. He felt his head swirl slightly and he slid down the wall.
In through your nose, out through your mouth… In through your nose, out through…
His breaths were shaky but he eventually got them under control. He didn't want to admit how scared he was that his body seemed to be failing him. It was just another sign that he wasn't as young as he used to be. He took his hand away from his chest and clenched it tightly when he noticed it shaking. A few passers by stared at him and he glared at them until they continued on.
He stood up on shaky legs and used the wall to support him as he walked back into the brightness of the main street. His eyes burned and it felt like a thousand shards of glass had speared his brain. He squinted until his eyes adjusted. Again, passers by stopped and stared but he bared his teeth at them. He wasn't sure why they were paying him so much attention; it wasn't like they'd never seen someone in pain before.
He moved through the crowd unsteadily, his feet refusing to lift more than a few centimetres of the ground. He didn't even need to see where he was going. When he'd been younger he'd come this way countless times and his feet knew the way there. He walked for what felt to his burning lungs like an eternity and as he neared the edge of the city, the crowds thinned and the noise dissipated. His ears – and his aching head – much preferred it out here. The smell of the sea was once again the only scent in the air and he took as deep a breath as he could to fill his lungs with the purity of the air he'd come to love. A wave of calm quickly doused his body and his muscles began to sag as he found the thin slit in the wall that led to the outside pier. He'd be surprised if it was still in one piece but he just wanted to rest his eyes on it for a while and be at peace.
He was choosing to forget what had happened last time he'd been here.
A slight wind caught his matted dreadlocks and dried the sheen of sweat that had covered his face. Only half of the dilapidated pier looked safe and he wandered to it slowly, watching the moon catch the ebbing waves. He stood there with his eyes closed; his hands spread wide at the side of his hips and let the wind blow through him, around him, calming him. God, he'd needed this for so long.
Slowly, he opened his eyes. The view before him was blurry and he shook his head, dislodging a few tears. He shrugged out of his sweltering coat and let it slide to the wooden dock beneath him before slowly following it. He twisted so his legs hung over the edge and he waved them about slightly, watching the water break over his toe. He groaned as a wave of pain raced through him.
Singaporean doctors did not compare to the witchcraft of Tia Dahlma. It was at times like these that he missed her.
"Jack?" He froze for a moment and then turned his eyes to the voice, almost fearful. His shoulders sagged when he saw the owner. "I heard you were here."
Jack rolled his eyes upwards and stared at the stars, mouthing 'why' over and over again, throwing a shake of the head in for good measure. The world really was conspiring against him.
"News travels fast," he murmured in reply, moving his eyes back to the unforgiving horizon. "I don' even think I've been here for an hour yet."
Heavy boots moved across the moss ridden pier, the owner choosing to stand rather than to sit. Jack didn't move to look in their direction.
"It's a small place, Jack."
"How could I forget?" Silence descended and Jack felt his chest ache. Their relationship had never been a good one and the tension between them now was almost unbearable. "How did you find me out here?"
("However did you find me out here all by your onesies?"
He sat up as she moved around him and propped herself on the dock next to him.
"It wasn't hard really." He raised his eyebrows in question. His eyes trawled over her face and he marvelled at the differences he saw there since the short time he'd seen her last. "I just followed the smell of sweat and rum and it led me here.")
He blinked away the memory and ordered it back to the dank recesses of his mind. Coming here was looking more and more like a bad idea.
"I heard about Singapore." Jack did turn to him then and noticed he looked much older since he'd last seen him.
Jack grunted. "It's a shame, really. Had some of the best bath houses…"
"Tha's not what I mean and you know fine well that it ain't." They stared at each other for long moments before Jack wheezed in a breath. Finally Teague looked down and moved closer to his son. Jack flinched. "I can't let you die here, Jackie."
Jack scoffed as best he could.
"I didn't come here to die."
"Then why did you come?" Jack didn't answer and turned back to the sea.
Jack cringed to himself, and closed his eyes and sighed again.
"Peace." He turned to Teague and his eyes flicked over the pirate fortress and an scathing smirk crossed his lips. "Ironic, really."
Clouds were gathering on the horizon and the air was heavy. Jack could smell rain in the air and the beginnings of a good storm. He was glad he'd made it here when he did. The sea goddess was very unforgiving of her charges.
("I'll have a heartless man to take care of…")
"I thought you were going after the Aqua de Vida."
There was something about the way Teague spoke that had enthralled Jack when he'd been a boy. He never asked questions, he always made things seem like statements. Now it annoyed him. He'd been foolish to ever think the man before him was worth anything to him.
And yet, he couldn't bring himself to tell him to leave.
"I got side-tracked." He hated that his voice was raspy in the humid air, it made him sound weak. He heard Teague sit next to him and Jack felt somewhat pleased by this. It only added to the gravity, the solemnity of the moment. Jack felt a pressure build up behind his eyes and he tilted his head back.
"By what?"
Jack slid his eyes to Teague, not moving his head. He saw the haggard face beside him and he suddenly wished he would be able to see his own face like that. He turned his face to his father and smiled half-heartedly.
"By livin'."
Teague nodded knowingly and turned his piercing gaze on his son. Jack felt something inside him roll and he wanted to be sick.
"From what I hear, living's not what you've been doing."
Jack gulped and glanced away. His father knew him all too well because they were exactly the same. Jack had once liked to believe that they were different, that his father was the bad side of Jack but as time had worn on Jack had realised that there was no one but himself to be blamed for his bad side. Teague had always been his conscience, whether Jack wanted him to be or not.
"I've seen this before, Jack." Never had Jack been called by his proper name so many times in one conversation with his father. "I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out you meant to get shot, only in hopes of dying." Jack didn't look up. He hadn't intentionally gotten himself shot but he had intentionally stayed away from treatment hoping that the deep swells of the sea would swallow him whole. It didn't happen and he'd been found hunched in a corner in a dirty, whore ridden corner of the world all but spent and exhausted, barely breathing. "I knew you wouldn't be able to live with yourself forever Jack." Jack knew he would have been able to live with himself forever, being immortal if it hadn't been for her. She'd ruined him, brought him down and look at him now. He was a wreck of a man, barely alive, barely able to take a breath. He only wished it was from heartbreak and not his body shutting down. "I just don't understand what got you in this state. Last time…" he trailed off not wanting to go down that broken path again and Jack was glad. He didn't want to think about the first betrayal by someone he thought he'd been in love with. It was only a year and a half ago that he'd taken her lace off his wrist.
He'd replaced it with a string of pearls he'd found amongst her things when he'd gone through the trunk she'd left in his quarters on the Black Pearl.
He'd known that after that night she would be gone – he knew that he had not enough will power to leave her – but he hadn't been prepared for just how hard it was to wake up and find her gone. He would have thought it a dream if it wasn't for the marks of love on his collar bone.
She'd changed him and he wasn't entirely sure it had been for the better.
"The only thing I can think of is the death of Bootstrap's boy. And yet, almost two years 'ave gone by – I'd think you'd be over that by now… unless… there's something you're not telling me about your relationship?"
Jack chuckled lightly and turned to his father's almost disgusted face. He shook his head and smiled again, letting a few chuckles bubble through. It hurt too much to laugh now.
"No." He managed out, his breathing unsteady and broken. He raised his hand to his chest again and closed his eyes. He missed the pained, helpless look that crossed Teague's face. "That's only part of it," he whispered hoarsely, trying to smile through the pain. He felt like any air he was breathing in was escaping out through holes in his lungs.
Teague's eyes widened and his mouth made a few movements but no words emerged. Jack frowned at him in confusion but quickly closed his eyes again when the world started to tilt.
"The girl…" Teague managed out and Jack choked on an unwelcome sob. It hurt.
He heard sounds coming from his throat but he didn't want to acknowledge them. He tried to calm his mind, tried to banish errant thoughts that spewed out from Teague's simple words. He could feel sweat dripping down the sides of his face, from his arm pits, down his back disappearing into his already saturated waistband.
"I think I need to lie down…"
He felt Teague's arm around his back pulling him up but Jack objected and the older man laid him down on the sodden wood. Jack opened his eyes and saw the brim of his father's hat blocking his view of the stars. He made an impatient move with his hand and sucked in a rasping breath. Teague moved out of his line of vision and Jack watched the stars above him as they faded in and out of the gathering clouds. Instantly his blood slowed and soon his breathing followed. He closed his eyes for a few minutes before sticking his hand out and allowing Teague to pull him to his feet.
"You shouldn't be walking around, Jackie. Let's get you a bed."
He didn't murmur a complaint but he did shrug off his father's guiding hand on his elbow once they got back to the busy city. Teague grunted at those who tried to come up to them and Jack kept his eyes down turned. He hated that he'd broken down like that in front of his father. He was the one person who he had to be strong in front of. He slowed his pace as he wandered and he eventually brought his head back up. He felt like there was something he should be seeing. They were almost back to the main hub of the Cove, where the meetings of the Brethren were held when Teague was stopped by a man carrying a book.
Jack watched his father step to the side and he leaned against one of the walls, trying to catch an evasive breath. His whole body ached from exertion. He breathed deeply and slowly his eyes scouring the crowds for a familiar face. He hissed as someone bumped into him on the way past and he spat a few choice words in their direction. It was when he turned back to his crowd watching that his breath caught in his throat and any words that may have been spoken would have sputtered past his mouth.
The world seemed to have stopped as his eyes landed on her. She was no less beautiful than all the other times he'd seen her but she was certainly wearing too many clothes for this to be another one of his mirages. The crowds gathered again and he lost sight of her. He stood up straighter and tried to see over the top of the people wandering around but there was nothing. He searched for another minute or so before falling back against the wall and sighing.
Of course it hadn't been her. Why would she be here? The moment had been to fleeting for him to be sure it was her. He closed his eyes. He thought he was past all of this.
Teague made his way back over to him and made a growling noise in the back of his throat when Jack curiously asked who that had been.
"Just someone else wanting money, Jackie, tha's all."
Jack simply nodded.
"Jack?" His knees buckled at the sound of her incredulous voice.
He felt his father's strong arms around him, hauling him back to his feet. Slowly, he turned towards her, afraid that if he moved too fast she would disappear; that's usually how it went. But she didn't and all he could do was stare. He didn't even notice that is all she did as well. He wasn't aware of his father's curious gaze or the burning in his lungs.
He couldn't breathe.
"Elizabeth?" He whispered and watched with quiet wonder as a smile erupted across her features. He couldn't help but smile back.
"Jack…" Her arms were around him then and he gripped her as tight as he could and buried his face in her hair. "I didn't think I'd see you again…" she murmured and he started slightly. A rush of anger seared across him for a moment.
"Well, you did leave." He didn't add the 'me' at the end that he wanted to. He still had some pride left.
He felt her stiffen in his arms and he realised how long they'd been standing like that. Suddenly, it was awkward. He pulled back from her and tried to take a breath. Seeing her was like an instant balm on his wounds and that alone made him ponder over the state of his mental health. Surely he should hate her and certainly a part of him did but he was just too damn happy to see her then to care.
"Jack…" she trailed off and dipped her head for a moment. He waved his hands about in front of his face and pursed his lips.
"No need, luv." He didn't want to hear her apologies or her words of regret because there wasn't a shred of him that regretted anything they'd done together. Not the first time, and certainly not the second.
"What are you doing here? I thought… I heard you died in Singapore!"
Jack smirked at that and shook his head while patting himself down.
"Nope."
He caught her eyes again and he was helpless. He'd always imagined their reunion but none of them compared to this. He'd imagined heated words, sword fights, removal of clothes but not this. Not this helpless, foolish staring he was partaking in. And yet he couldn't stop. He should have known she'd be here. The call to this place was stronger than it normally was and his delirious mind knew that it had been her calling him and not the City.
"You need to lie down, Jackie."
Jack snapped out of his trance at the sound of his father's gruff voice and he turned towards the pirate with a startled expression on his face. He chose to ignore Teague's quirked eyebrow.
"Why? What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing!" He denied and smiled tightly at Elizabeth as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Just a scrape or two." He smiled at her tranquilly and hoped she didn't see through his lies. Her eyes darted to Teague and when she settled her eyes back on Jack he knew she didn't believe him.
"Come Jack, we'll find you a bed," his father spoke and Jack, like an obedient puppy nodded and turned away. He didn't know what to say to her.
"Captain," he acknowledged her before he walked away. He didn't allow himself to look back.
He sighed as he went through the doorway into the sleeping quarters of Shipwreck City. He didn't look at Teague though Teague kept sending curious glares in Jack's direction. He really didn't want to think about what had just happened. He'd made a fool of himself in front of her, his father and probably half of Shipwreck City.
"They found 'er, you know," Teague murmured as they began the painful ascent of the staircase. Jack barely heard the words over the rushing of blood in his ears.
"Who?" He murmured as he tried to concentrate on his breathing.
He let himself lean on Teague's proffered arm. They were silent as Jack negotiated the last of the steps and he had to stop at the top to catch his breath.
"Grace."
Jack froze at the name and stared into his father's eyes that were so similar to his own.
"What?"
A bubble of anger floated to the surface and Jack elbowed the wall behind him and clenched his jaw as raw pain scorched through him.
"They found her in a cell in Paris."
Jack didn't know what to say. Grace… he'd been so in love with her… he had thought he would marry her one day… He couldn't breathe. He thought she'd been dead all these years and… Oh God… Oh God…
Breathe, Jack, breathe…
It didn't work.
"When?" Teague didn't answer and Jack drew his pistol and pointed it at his father's head. "When?"
"Years ago."
Jack hissed and pressed the pistol further against his father's forehead. He would shoot him if he didn't answer him.
"When?"
"Just before you lost the Pearl to Barbossa."
Jack dropped to his knees, his pistol clattering loudly to the floor.
"Fourteen years… You've lied to me for fourteen years! You told me she was dead!" Teague levelled him with a stare and Jack stared at his father horrified. "You… you…" killed her.
Teague looked down.
"I did what needed to be done. She sold you out to the East India Trading Company Jack. You know the code…"
Jack gawked at that feeling his temper flare.
"And yet I don't see you slaying Barbossa for mutinying against me…" Jack trailed off. Could his father… Barbossa's fight against Spaniard's… the Pearl. It all made perfect sense. Jack had wondered how any ship could have caught up to his beloved Pearl let alone sink her… But… no. No. Teague knew what that ship meant to Jack… he wouldn't… "You bastard." Teague didn't say anything. Jack raised his pistol again and aimed it at Teague's chest. As he stared at the man above him, he couldn't bring himself to do it because he knew, deep down, that he'd have done the exact same thing if their situations were reversed. He lowered his weapon and leaned back against the wall, pulling his hat down over his face to hide the anguish there. "Why are you telling me now?" Jack tried to breathe but his heart was beating wildly, his lungs inflating and deflating with as little air as they possibly could find.
"Absolution…"
Jack peered up at him from under his hat and sneered.
"I didn't come here to die."
"You're dying?"
Jack flinched and sighed, following it up with a cough. He didn't say anything and he heard her sob. Jack looked up to Teague, his eyes sad and jerked his head, ordering Teague away. The older man nodded without any argument. Jack was thankful.
"What's wrong with you, Jack?"
He tried to rise but his legs were soft and weak. He used the wall as leverage, glaring at her when she made no move to help him. He didn't really want her to help him. He didn't want her to see him at all.
"Dammit Jack, answer me!"
Coolly, he turned his eyes to her and stared at her, watching as she shrivelled under his intense gaze.
"Why should I?" He saw her frown and take a tentative step towards him. "Last time I checked, you didn't care so much about me so why does my well being matter now?"
"Jack…"
"No…" he looked down. "I need to lie down."
She nodded and he tried to smile but it was difficult. His lungs ached, his whole body wanted to crumble like a sand castle. His head lolled on his neck and he felt her thin arms surround him as she guided him into the closest empty room. Her hair was shorter than it had been last time he'd seen it, sitting on her shoulders and she looked tired. He wondered what kept her awake at night.
Thoughts about her cursed husband, no doubt.
He quieted the voice and tumbled onto the bed face first when she let him go. Like treacle, he tried to turn over but it was no use. He wanted her to leave but he knew from the sound of her pottering about that was an event that was as unlikely as his getting up and walking out of Shipwreck Cove the same man he'd been last time he'd been there.
He felt her hands on his shoulder pulling him around, helping him sit up against the pillows she'd fluffed up behind his head. He settled into them with a welcoming groan of appreciation.
He closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. He tuned into the world outside and he heard the faint sound of rain hammering against the walls; the swelling sea; the gusting winds…
--
He awoke to the feel of her fingers rubbing soothing circles across his bare chest. He groaned at the contact and the chill in the air. He opened his eyes and saw her tawny brown eyes staring back down at him. He blinked a few times and tried to lick his lips but his tongue was dry and thick. He felt like he had a really bad hangover. Her hands disappeared from his body and he winged at the loss of contact. He felt something press against his lips and he opened his mouth to let the cool water in. He swallowed and smiled in gratitude when she took the bottle away.
She sat at the edge of the bed, her fingers touching his, her eyes never leaving his face. He couldn't bring himself to look away from her. She was beautiful, angelic almost and he wanted to touch her, to make sure she was real.
"The doctor told me you have septicaemia, Jack." A tear fell from her eye onto Jack's chest and he looked down at the vicious rash there. He glanced away from her. "Teague spoke to him, demanded that he heal you…" Jack smiled tiredly at her and tried to raise his hand but it was a dead weight. He felt her take his hand and bring it to her lips. "You're so cold." He coughed and writhed in pain once the fit had subsided.
"There's noth…" he cleared his throat and licked his lips. "Nothing they can do for me…"
"He gave me this balm," she continued as though he had not uttered a word. "I think it might be the same one that you gave me for my scratch." Jack smiled as she lifted the ointment to her nose and sniffed. "It certainly smells the same but… well… Tia's gone so I don't imagine it's from her…"
Jack was surprised by her ramblings. She was never one to ramble, really, that was his job and he knew that she must be nervous.
"Elizabeth…"
"I mean, how can it be, unless he got the potion – is it called a potion, or a recipe? – from her…"
"Elizabeth!"
"That might explain why he has something so similar to it…"
"Lizzie!" She stared at him then as though shocked to hear his words. "Are you trying to talk me to death? Because really, the blood poisoning is doing that quite well enough on it's own."
"Jack…" She trailed off as tears spilled over her eyes and onto his chest. She hugged him and he hissed as she squeezed him to her. "You can't die! There's so much I have to be angry at you for! Why didn't you tell me the real story of the Dutchman? Why do you think you have the right to come in to my life again and then just leave?"
Jack smirked at that amusedly.
"It's not like I have a choice luv," he murmured as she pulled back. Tears streaked across her face and Jack tried to reach up to wipe them away. It was no use. He felt her take his hand and raise it to her lips.
"You're so thin," she murmured in a pained whisper.
"So are you."
She brushed the dreadlocks away from his face, her lukewarm hands framing his face, her thumbs rubbing over his lips.
"I knew you'd leave." She froze at his words and tried to draw her hands away but somehow, Jack managed to lift his arms and cover her fingers with his own. "Do you regret it?" He would die there and then if she said yes, he really would but somehow he knew that she wouldn't. Even if she didn't mean it, she wouldn't say she regretted it. She shook her head and he slid his hands up her arms, over her neck and fanned his fingers through her hair. "The only thing…" he broke off and winced as a wave of pain consumed him. "The only thing I regret is not holding you tighter…"
Tears dropped from her eyes straight onto her dress, her eyes searching his, imploring and he could only sit there and let her do it.
"Jack… There's something I need to tell you…"
He shook his head. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't care what it was; he just wanted her to help him forget, like she'd done before. He drew her face to his and urged her lips unto his. She didn't protest. Her lips were like a godsend, sucking the pain right out of him and in that moment, he felt like he could live forever. He wanted nothing more than for this moment to last for an eternity. Her hands gripped his face, her tongue demanding entrance to his mouth and he consented, wanting it, helpless to stop it.
It was only when his body protested and tried to suck in air that he pulled away. She looked at him, startled, panicked but he shook his head, reassuring her that he was fine. He coughed again and he felt moisture on his lips he raised his hand slowly, saw it shake, and wiped away. He looked to Elizabeth whose mouth had dropped open and fresh tears were making their way down her face. His fingers were red with blood. He could taste it in his mouth and he could feel it trickling down his throat. He choked and dropped back onto the pillows.
"I'll get the doctor!" She stood up but he grabbed her hand and tried to shake his head. He didn't want anyone else. He only wanted her. Her and the sea. Her voice was faint when she called out to him and he tried to open his eyes. Words mingled together but he could not make sense of them. "…I have a son…be yours… -ove you… Jack? Jack?..."
He stopped struggling then as darkness overcame him: welcoming; forgiving… endless.