Disclaimed.

Summary: All they had was war.

Leaving
by Cheyenne32

He was never going to see her again.

He knew it.

She was going to stay on that Godforsaken island and wait for the bloody whelp, the damn fish, for decades just for several one measly days.

And there had been so much promise for her.

(She would've made quite the pirate.)

But no, she would waste it all, allow herself to waste away emotionally, physically, just for the chance to see her fiancé, nay husband, for one day every ten year.

Lust he could understand, it was want he found himself feeling for her, but love was completely pointless.

Because if love was so important that they would risk their own lives to save the other than why could the eunuch not risk his happiness for her well-being?

Could he not see that the girl, nay, woman deserved so much better?

Obviously, it shouldn't be a hard thing to notice, after all, he had seen it.

Was Will more bloody selfish than he himself?

And yet it was him who got the wench?

(Him?)

It should've been him.

(He was, after all, Captain Jack Sparrow.)

But no, it was not.

And the worst part is, he did not even receive his immortality.

Damn it all to the depths of Davy Jones', nay, Will Turner's Locker.

(There isn't even a bloody ring to it!)

(The Immortal Captain Jack Sparrow's Locker, on the other hand…)

And just because he let Will stab the bloody heart doesn't mean she was right! No, most definitely not.

("You are a good man.")

But there are other ways to find immortality. Aquí De Vida, for one.

(He acknowledged reluctantly.)

Still, even with thoughts of making Barbossa walk the plank and leaving him on an island without even one shot in a pistol, having the Pearl back, and a (somewhat) faithful crew, there was something missing in his future.

But he prefers not to think about what that might be.

(Or who that might be.)

Maybe it's better for him if he never does see her again.

Because all the other possibilities are frightening.

Maybe love isn't so confusing after all…

(But the thought itself is terrifying.)

So, yes, it is better that she's leaving. For good.

(Forever.)

(This time for real.)

She begins to say goodbye to the crew.

And he yearns to run, sail to Tortuga, and indulge in all the rums and whores he could get his dirty hands upon.

(But it won't work; he won't forget her that easily.)

And maybe he doesn't run because he needs this.

Maybe this is closure.

(But is that not supposed to be comforting?)

Quickly, he is losing his will to wait for her.

(But his feet won't guide him away, bloody traitorous things.)

And finally, she approaches him.

He spares a look at her.

(His last look at her.)

He sees it in her eyes what she is about to do.

If he kisses her, or lets her kiss him, then the war between them would be over.

All they had was war.

(Once would never be enough.)

He turns away from her advancing lips.