Jack stumbled across the ruined deck of the Black Pearl, her sails ripped and torn worse than when Barbossa had control of the ship, the deck having holes larger than the average man and the mast's tilting precariously in the air, ready to collapse at any second, much like her captain.
Blood poured out of a wound in Jack's side as he stumbled along, tripping up on loose barrels and stubborn planks of wood protruding from the deck, he reached the rails and drew in a shaky breath looking out at the ocean. His beloved ocean once seemed so beautiful and blue but now all Jack saw was an evil red sea, churning, ready to kill at a moment's notice, it was no longer his freedom.
The only thing that Jack had left was the Pearl, eye's burning, a tell-tale sign of what Jack hated most, crying. But he refused to; leaning heavily on the black, weathered rails Jack blinked back the tears.
His crew was dead. Gibbs, AnaMarie, Cotton, even Cottons Parrot was dead. Elizabeth and her beloved William, all dead. The burning in Jacks eyes came back stronger than ever, again he blinked back the salty water building up in his eyes.
Even that blood y monkey was dead, not that it was a loss in Jacks eyes' but still, it hit home. Gibbs wouldn't be sailing the seas with him any longer, nor would AnaMarie or William and his bonny lass, Cotton and his bloody parrot. Elizabeth and William wouldn't ever get married like they were supposed to, wouldn't have little kiddies, no.
Jacks eye's burnt, his breathing was laboured and he hunched over the railings shuddering, trying to force back tears. His body caved in on him and the only thing that held him up was the faithful Black Pearl. Jack looked into the water and let go, he felt the pain come down on him in crashing waves and his stomach felt as if someone was trying to rip it out. And right before he slipped out of the living word.
Jack Sparrow cried.