Like the Ocean Needs the Waves
Disclaimer: If I owned Pirates of the Caribbean in any way, I probably wouldn't be writing fanfic about it, would I?
Summary: …I have no idea how to summarize this in a way that doesn't give stuff away. Some reminiscing, a confession, a resolution. That's all I can say.
Rating: PG, pretty much
Pairing: You should be able to figure it out. It's my OTP. xD
Warnings: No real plot. Slightly WAFF, if you look at it the right way. Written between midnight and two in the morning, so may make no sense whatsoever. Pirate speech may be incomprehensible (I tried to make it simple…).
Title and some inspiration from the song "The Ocean" by Mae.
A small rowboat docked on a beach that had no port or pier, its bow digging into the white sand of the shoreline with a soft combination of scraping and hissing. With a clank, the oars returned to their repose at the bottom of the little vessel: waves lapped against the boat's almost black sides, dark and barely transparent in the dimming light. A pair of dark boots, punished by years of the briny spray of sea water, stepped into the water and headed for the bow. Gnarled, coarse, dirty hands grasped the bow of the rowboat firmly and dragged it further ashore. It was not completely necessary to pull the boat very far from the shore, since the Caribbean tides were notably minor, but he liked to be sure in any case. With a content sort of nod, almost a small congratulation to himself, the man lifted his gaze from the little boat to the skyline.
It was nearly sunset – yet it was not only a sunset. This was a Caribbean sunset, and there is something in particular about those sunsets that serves to amaze and calm the human psyche. The sky had turned a pale hue of yellow, and the few clouds that marred its perfect clarity had become a deep hue of slightly pinkish purple: the sea below was a constantly shifting plain of chipped silver, and was almost too bright to look at. A few black crags of rock jutted from the rippling sea, so enveloped in their own shadows and cast sharply against the light that shone from behind them that they appeared as nothing but irregular voids of black. As a single dolphin leapt through the surf and disappeared again into the depths, the man standing on the shoreline narrowed his eyes, lips curving into a gentle smile.
The island he had landed on was small. It housed perhaps half a dozen palm trees and some long grass: the man, pondering for a moment, selected the one palm tree that curved out over the water, its leaves sharp black silhouettes against the sky. Walking over to it with a slightly stiff gait, he sat down next to the tree and slowly slid off his boots, not even attempting to sit upon its arched, coarse trunk. For a moment, there was the rustling of dry sand as he attempted to get comfortable: then, there was silence. After a moment of staring out to sea, the man spoke.
"Been a pirate for forty years now. Mighty long, those years 'ave been..."
A resounding sigh escaped his lips as seventy long years flashed through his mind in images both sharp and blurred: a mournful look appeared in his eyes, one of which seemed to gleam in a slightly sharper fashion than the other. There was so much to recall, and on this night, there was too little time to remember it all. He'd have to try, though. If he didn't try, she wouldn't come. She wouldn't recognize him after all these years if he didn't try hard enough. With a hoarse cough, the wizened figure continued.
"I'm all alone now, you know. Pintel died long ago – think it's been fi'teen years now. Could be more. My memory's not what it use'to be. I remember how he died, though… bravely, in a sea battle. He died jus' as he wanted to die, sword in 'is hand an' boots on 'is feet. I watched as he fell over the Pearl's railing and disappeared in the depths: I wanted to go after him, o'course, but the cap'n said it was no use. Never felt as hopeless as I felt in that moment. After that, I haven't slept 'til the day, not once."
Another heavy sigh escaped from the man's chest, leaving his chest feeling so hollow he felt like he could have died in that moment. With a slight rattle, the breath returned: hurriedly, determined to not start being emotional so early on. This would be a long night – the longest one of his life – and he'd have to be able to make it through. Still, the memory of losing his best friend and only true confidante stung him worse than any sword had ever managed to. Every night when he'd awoken to his own screams or sobs came back to him all at once, and it made his head spin and his stomach reel. He never slept again in a night after he awoke in that manner. He couldn't.
"I had to go on, though. The ship needed me – the cap'n needed me. I was one of the few men left from the crew that sailed from Isla de Muerta, an' I needed to show all the whelps what had taken over everyone's places how the work was done. Old Gibbs and Cotton were the first to go: after that, it's all pretty much become a blur until Pintel went. Those two idiots who appeared on the Pearl after the big sea battle jus' disappeared at some port. Guess they couldn't take it under Barbossa's command. I know we lost Marty in a storm. We was lookin' everywhere for 'im, an' he was jus'… gone. Poor fella. I miss 'im… but no' as bad as Pintel, o'course. Barbossa, now he just hung on somehow. In the end he hung on a rope, tho' it wasn't 'til far after most o' the rest o' the crew was all dead. No idea where cap'n Sparrow is. Dunno about cap'n Turner or 'is lovely lass either. Guess that's all the update I can give ye 'bout everyone."
The sun was creeping towards the horizon at a steady rate: transfixed, almost holding his breath, the weathered pirate gazed into the distance with slitted eyes. Suddenly, almost as if it had never been there, the golden disc of the sun had slipped under the horizon and could be seen no more. A tear welled in the old man's left eye, and he let it flow free. He missed everyone so much… and after he was gone, nobody would be there to miss them. Nobody would be there to miss him, either, he realized with something of a start – the thought had not crossed his mind at any point. In any case, the sunset was a sign that his time was slipping away, and he had to hurry.
"Anyway… I stayed on the Pearl after the big sea battle with the Company, as you could figure out, o'course. Watched me friends fall all around me, one by one. It wasn't much of a life, really, but I knew nothin' but piratin'. Still don't, as a matter o' fact. It was like I was still an immortal, you know? Never realized jus' how cruel immortality can be… Having to watch everyone die… You know, don't you? Age got the better o' me in the end. Odd fate for a pirate, if you ask me. Stayed in Tortuga for a few years, but in the end, I jus' knew I couldn' die in that town. Snuck away in the dead of night in nuttin' but a little rowboat. I sensed I was gonna die, jus' like an animal, a cat or sumthin', and I snuck away to die, away from everyone else."
By now, the sky was growing dark, and the first sharp, glaring white dots of stars were appearing in the sky. Clouds were gathering in the distance: they promised rain, but no more than that, for there were too few of them to create a full storm. It was enough to make him smile. Perhaps there was hope. Perhaps she had heard him. It encouraged the scraggly old man to stumble to his legs, standing with slightly quivering posture but still with his head held high and his gaze level. A crooked smile, the sort you see on the face of a man who attempts to contain his mirth but is rapidly beginning to fail, was visible on his face as he called out to the sea, as if challenging someone who was just within hearing of him.
"I ain't dead yet… But I will be soon. You wanna know why I'm still here, Calypso? I'm here because I wanted you to know something…"
He hesitated, not sure how you were meant to phrase something like this to the goddess of the sea, the supreme ruler of the world he had been a part of since he was a young lad and had always loved in the way only a true man of the sea could muster. However, there was something far more personal in his relationship to the sea. He had met her, up close and personal. He had touched her, spoken with her, watched and admired her from afar… and when he'd been given the opportunity to speak to her and free her from the bonds she so despised, he had grasped it with the very core of his heart and soul. She had heard it, he knew. If she hadn't heard it in his voice, she would have never been able to go free: though it had seemed like nothing but a soft whisper to others, it had meant something to her. It had shaken her. It had touched her core. It had been the whisper of someone who truly loved her – a sound she had longed for since Davy Jones had become lost to her. He had carried that moment in his heart ever since. Now, it was time for him to tell her that he knew.
"…Calypso… I love you."
There was an ominous kind of silence in the world for a moment. Even the rain-promising clouds in the distance seemed to halt for a moment. Nothing even moved. It made the pirate think of how she had been then: shivering, imprisoned, yearning to be free once more – and then still, for just one fleeting second, as she found herself surprised by the emotion that released her. Suddenly, a gust of wind brushed against the man's dark, worn clothes, almost pushing him over as he stood there, forcing him to brace himself against the palm tree he'd previously been sitting by. The distant dark clouds were rolling in the island's direction again, and he could feel his skin chill as the unnatural wind tore through his tough clothes. There was no going back now, no place to hide, no weapon he could defend himself with. He'd have to deal with the consequences of his claim.
"I know your heart's been broken before, Calypso! I know what Davy Jones done to you… But I ain't never been nothin' but faithful to you, Calypso. I always longed for you. Dreamt of you, of what it would be like to touch you, to confess my love to you. I always wanted to come lookin' for you… but the cap'n needed my service, an' by the time I was free to pursue what I will, I'd become old. I was ashamed, Calypso… didn' want you to see me like this. It took me a long time to realize I was bein' worse than he was to ye – I hadn't even shown up for our meetin'! I… I need you, Calypso. I need you like the ocean needs its waves. I need you like growing things need rain..."
The rain was upon him now: it fell in fat, glistening droplets like tears, at first slowly but then at increasing pace. He let it fall, raising his wrinkled and weathered features to the sky's zenith, stretching his arms wide to his sides as a sign he would accept whatever fate the fickle sea goddess was willing to give him. The wind wrapped around him, and he felt as if he were on the verge of being ripped from the ground, but felt no panic. She had not announced her arrival, but she was here – he could feel it.
Slowly, as the whirling wind and falling rain stripped him of his senses, the old pirate took a step towards the now fiercely lapping surf. Barely noticing as his feet entered the froth the highest waves had left on the beach, he paused at the very brink of the ocean, eyes firmly closed. It was as if someone was touching him… touching his weakened body with the warm hands of a lover, caressing his marred form in a manner that brought strength back to his quivering body. It was as if he were young again. His body slowly relaxed as he felt it lose contact with reality: a shiver passed through him as a voice whispered to him through the pleasant, velvety darkness, and then, there was naught but peace.
"Ragetti…"