Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
A/N: This is kind of a companion to "My Captain", which is from Elizabeth's POV. I've seen a lot of Jack-during-the-kiss fics, and a lot of Lizzy-after-the-kiss stuff, but not much of Jack. So I decided to write one. I don't know how I feel about it, but we'll see.
I always knew you were a good man.
Most don't realize I am rarely as drunk as I seem. But I am usually drunk. So having a clear head is a new feeling for me, and one that I can't quite seem to enjoy. Firstly, because it is harder to imagine that I am surrounded by beautiful women, naked but for the rum bottles in their hands. Secondly, because the one beautiful woman I can imagine isn't helping much.
I always knew you were a good man.
The worst part? It's not the kiss that is running over and over in my mind. Not the feel of her pressed up against me, her lips smashing into mine. Not even close. It is her, standing on the deck, her eyes wide.
"I always knew you were a good man."
I never wanted to be a good man. Never. Pirates are, in general, bloody cads. I was no different. But being at world's end, being dead, makes you think.
I always knew you were a good man.
She thought I had come back from the goodness of my heart. I wanted to smirk, laugh. But I couldn't. Because though I am not a good man, suddenly I wished I could be. For her. Because that is what she deserves. A good man. Like Will Turner. Like the Commodore. Not like a black-hearted pirate captain.
I always knew you were a good man.
She thought I had come back to save the ship, in return for my own life. But that wasn't the truth. I had come back to save her. And, for once, I was willing to sacrifice myself for someone else. It was an odd feeling, that. It left a somewhat bitter taste in my mouth. Before she kissed me, that is. But that is the truth. I would have given up the Pearl, my crew, Bootstrap Bill's son. But not Lizzy Swann.
I always knew you were a good man.
The phrase had become a sort of mantra, running through my mind until the words ceased to mean a thing. Being dead is not all it is cracked up to be. Rest in peace is codswallop. With my very last bit of hope, I felt around in my belt, coming up with what I wanted. My hand wrapped tightly around the familiar grip, and I pulled the gun from its holster. I paused to reflect for a moment. It had been with me for a long time. It had followed me to death.
In the pitch black, I fumbled for a moment before hearing the familiar click. Then, slowly, I set the barrel to my temple. Never before had I thought about killing myself. Not even when I was marooned on a desert island. The first or the second time. Then again, this probably wouldn't kill me. I was already dead, after all. But maybe, just maybe, it would make the voice stop. Of course, with my luck-
Huh. And what was that? I lowered the gun slowly, and I knew a grin was spreading across my face. Because what I saw was a ship. A ship with white sails and a lantern at the top of its mast, sailing towards me.
It wasn't the Black Pearl. But it was almost better. Because I knew who was there, standing on the prow and staring out over the inky waves. And suddenly, being dead didn't seem so terrible anymore.
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