Author's Note: *sweatdrop* This came out of nowhere this morning, and wouldn't leave me alone 'till it was typed up. So, please read and review! *smiles up at random members* You want to, right?
Author's Note 2: See, I was reading fanfiction (of course) and one story had the idea that Jack Sparrow (Captain, sorry...) was basically immortal. Soooo, I got to work trying to figure out timelines, and realized that that really did seem like the most plausible thing. (in my mind at least) Anyway, this story basically goes on from that.
Cold
Always I stare at that spot on the ground. That spot where my oldest friend and enemy died. The last thing he ever said was that he felt cold, but I simply remember how old he suddenly was.
When I first met Barbossa he was younger than me, and eager to sail under a pirate's flag. Slowly but surely he worked his way up to first mate. That was when we set after the legendary cursed treasure. That was when my crew left me alone on that god-forsaken island. Barbossa was the same age as me. At the time I was first too caught up in the excitement, then too angry, and finally too drunk to notice or care.
The next time I met him I paid no mind to the effect ten years had had on the man. I assumed the curse had affected him, nothing more. He couldn't possibly be older than I, after all.
Then I myself was cursed, but was too caught up in the fight to realize that I still remained the same, if with a few more bones showing in the moonlight.
No, I didn't notice at any of these times. That look of surprise didn't register as any more than its face value; that he didn't think I'd make it off the island. My mind managed no connection until she was mine-until I was her captain once more-and even then the idea was quickly rejected.
Now, finally, I've returned to the cavern where my first mate died. I could pretend as long as I can ships to plunder, taverns to haunt, and seas to sail. No longer. There's no longer a place for a pirate here in this time when even old Bootstrap's great-grandson is gone with age, especially a pirate such as myself. Glancing around, I smile faintly, reliving Barbossa's last fight. I won't allow myself to return to that moment when the sword plunged into me, forcing me into the moonlight. I hate the feeling that accompanies that memory. It's worse than what my crew would have felt because I felt nothing. I felt no change, so sudden emptiness that Miss Swann had been told came with the curse. I had always been as such. There was no change that could occur.
I end the mock fight just nigh of my change, or lack of, and settle down to where Barbossa's body once laid. The sword he once plunged into my body does so again, almost reverently. Even now there is no accompanying pain, but I can feel the beat of my heart begin to ebb. Several minutes later I finally begin to feel.
I was suddenly so cold.