Disclaimer: I (sadly) own nothing. Except this laptop.

A/N: I just sat down and typed this out, listening to Blue October. I kind of imagine Jack sitting on the edge of the ship with his hat pulled down and his leg propped up, resting his arm on it, a bottle of run in his hand. Right after the final battle. Watchin Elizabeth reunite with Will. Imagine it yourself.

Based on the song 'Congratulations'

"It never would have worked out between us."

"Keep tellin' yerself that, darling."

I am happy for her.

I am happy that she smiles, I am happy that she laughs and twirls; I am happy to see the fiery light in her copper-topaz eyes. I am happy she is safe; I am happy that she is alive.

I want to see her smile, I want to hear her ringing laughter and watch her honey-golden curls flutter around her all-aglow skin. I want her protected and safe to the end of time. I want her to live until the last moment possible, and hope the last thing she thinks is that the life she's led has been the best it could be.

I don't want to see her cry. I don't want to see her hurt, angry, or broken. Never again do I want to see despair darken her complexion, or bring water to her sparkling eyes. Keep grief away from her, keep sadness at bay, to the gods that are listening, I hope she feels no pain.

I have watched her. I watch her now, as she wraps her arms around his neck and settles her cheek against his shoulder, pressing her slim form against him and closing her eyes, her lips pursed in a dreamy smile. The battle is over, the fight is won. There's not a scratch on her, she escaped physically and mentally, she risked it all and lost nothing. She has him back in her eager arms, and I am the one to curse the day I tangled myself up in this bloody mess, the only one to really emerge with any damage.

She is his and he is hers, as it was meant to be, as they wanted it, and as I will hate it until the day the cosmos fall to the earth and the seas rise up and swallow the continents. It is them forever, and no one else, and I bestow a suggestive congratulation with a tip of the bottle to accompany it.

He is the undeserving. He has fumbled, scrambled, bluffed, and guessed his way through everything, holding her heart in one hand and her life in the other, and juggling both with precarious inexperience teamed with rash indecisiveness and bold, stupid movements.

Fortunately for the blacksmith, I knew better. I knew when to flip his words behind his back and manipulate his mistakes. I knew to watch her for any clever move she would make that would be the saving of us all, and plenty of those moments were there. He didn't think; he tried to be a hero. He ruined it, he threw it into the winds and scattered it, and she is the unwitting party. I know she will be blind until the moment when it is too late to open her eyes again.

I brought him back to her. Other things I could have turned to my advantage at that moment, there were plenty. Yet I brought him back to her. Have I cursed, or blessed her? She will thank me, or she will hate me. Those ten years when she is alone, she will come to see.

She will cry. She will be angry, she will hurt, she will not laugh; her smile will fade. Will she blame me? I put this on her shoulders, me. I gave her what she wants more than anything now, only to make it hurt more in the long run. Out of spite? Did I do it consciously? I didn't think at the time. And now, which would be worse? To watch her suffer for a blink in time…or for years in time?

I am weak. She cried; I broke. I could see her tears through the rain; she was screaming. If he was her life, then I was her savior.

She has captivated, cursed, bewitched, and murdered me, in every possible way. She has become the north, the sun, and the sails. She is the sea, she is the Pearl, she is a Pirate Queen. She is that which I didn't see coming…and desperately needed. She is my fascination and my hypnotist.

She is his.

She is as happy as she's ever been. In the sunlight, she smiles. She laughs. She presses full lips against his and slings her arms around his neck, unbelieving of her good luck.

I am the silent watcher. The invader. I cannot change her mind; I will not try. I will sail away, and lock her away. I will throw her to the bottom of the ocean and rip the sails she clings to. I will, as I turn my back, and let the sun fall down, give to her what has been hers for years. She will not know, she will not guess. That is not how it is to be.

My heart.

Review: Please do, it's always nice.