Title: Into the Sea of No Regrets
Authoress: Tokyo Nightingale
Genre: Fan-Fiction for the movie Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
Rating: G
Summary: For Captain Sparrow to name Barbossa his first mate, a friendship must have once existed between the two men. So what did Barbossa think about as he sailed away and left his captain stranded at sea? Greed is the pirate doctrine, and no-holds-bar on the sea of no regrets . and what goes around, comes around. Introspective Ficlett. My First 'Pirates' fic, so be nice. R/R appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Pirates' or any of the names contained therein; trust me, they're far too sane to be my characters. I wish I could put a big bow on Jack and give him to Kelly for Christmas (and keep Will for myself!) but like all semi-rabid fan girls, wishing's the closest I'll get. The briefly mentioned Galilee is mine, though; I pinched the name from a Clive Barker novel.
A/N: I don't write fan-fics as a rule, because I have a hard time working with other people's characters. But I'm making an exception here because I love Barbossa and he's woefully under represented here at ffn. Kudos go to Wistful Gypsy and her wonderful Barbossa Poem 'Ashes of Roses', which inspired me to wrote my own Barbossa-centric ficlett. Go read! It's worth it! R/R, please! As to flames . "sticks an' stones, luv." I'll just give 'em to Hisoka-kun to throw at Muraki anyway (if you get that reference, you really need to e-mail me ^.~). Ahem. Enjoy!
This is dedicated to Kelly for her ability to recognize my writing and because really, it's all her fault anyway.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jack didn't open his eyes again until he heard the sound of the pistol being tossed down onto the sand in front of him, that muted thud stronger affirmation than the coarse rope that bound his chaffed wrists and the swollen bruise that throbbed painfully above his left eye put together. "C'mon, mate . ye don't want to be doin' this," he tried quietly. Anything louder just might have split his aching head. Of course, these things weren't helped by the fact that one of his captors had a fistful of his hair and insisted on using it to hold his neck at a decidedly painful angle. An angle that only allowed him to see the shiny pistol glinting maliciously against the pale Caribbean sand, and the toes of Barbossa's scuffed and salt-scoured boots. He briefly considered spitting on the cracked leather, more because it was the only real act of defiance he could manage in this position than because the action itself warranted any true merit.
But before he could even reach a decision, Barbossa knelt down to his level, the pistol left pointedly between them. "Aye, mate, I don't," he responded simply, his voice equally soft. Jack searched hard for any trace of sarcasm, but the rock-steady gaze that bored into his own was painfully clear. "- But I'm afraid ye leave me little choice. Ye said yerself, our Lady Pearl was always a capricious mistress at best, and ye were too jealous a lover to be sharin' her anyway. So I'll be takin' her off your hands." This time, there was no mistaking the insolence in his dark smile.
"Traitor," Jack hissed - and earned a painful thump to the back of his head for his troubles.
Barbossa's expression darkened. "Fine time to be bandyin' insults about, now that its your neck in the noose!" he growled. "It was you who taught me that every pirate's first loyalty is to himself, Jack. That greed is the only doctrine we need be botherin' to adhere to." His grim smile was back in place. "But then, your memory was always a tad selective." He dropped his gaze down to the pistol that rested between them, two calloused fingers trailing lightly along the scarred barrel. "What about this, Jack, hmm? Do you remember this beauty? The pistol you pinched off of our dear friend once his dead carcass washed up on shore? No? Well, I do; allow me to refresh your memory. I remember standin' beside ye on that shore, watchin' as Galilee and his heavily out-gunned crew struggling alone agin' an entire British fleet. We were ship mates of 'ole Galilee's once-upon-a- time, you an' me, and with The Pearl's help we could've saved him. But you said it was his problem, not ours. SO we watched. And do ye remember what ye said to me when ye took this pistol off his water-logged corpse?" Jack was ominously silent, so Barbossa continued on blithely, "Ye said, 'better him than me. Everyone's on their own in this little game of ours - good riddance to the competition, anyway. This is the sea of no regrets.'"
Barbossa stood then, waving off the men who held their fallen captain. "A pirate's loyalty is to gold, Jack. But you an' me were mates one, when we were young without half a brain between us. So, behold! I'm givin' ye this entire island in exchange for one little ship!" There was approving laughter from the surrounding crew. Jack just settled for glaring. Menacingly. Out of his one good eye.
Barbossa held up his hands for silence, and when he got it he finished, "- and I leave you this pistol, with its single shot. May it serve ye better than it did 'ole Galilee." He smiled again.
"It will," Jack promised, his tone a low growl that only Barbossa could hear, "when it finds its mark at the center of your rotten heart."
"Always defiant, even in the face of complete ruin. I always did admire that about you," Barbossa mused, and he meant it. In a way, that was the worst thing of all. "Little good it'll do you now, though. Farewell, Jack; mayhap I'll buy ye a drink in hell someday."
Jack just glared.
~ * ~
As the Pearl rounded the curve of the little island's sandy shore and Jack's tiny form fell beyond sight, Captain Barbossa pulled his hat lower over his eyes and trailed his worn hands along the Pearl's helm in a loving caress. She was his now.
'Sorry, Jack. But this is, after all, the way of the pirate; and all good things must come to an end.
You were my captain, my partner, and my friend; but there's no room for remorse on the sea of no regrets.'
Authoress: Tokyo Nightingale
Genre: Fan-Fiction for the movie Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
Rating: G
Summary: For Captain Sparrow to name Barbossa his first mate, a friendship must have once existed between the two men. So what did Barbossa think about as he sailed away and left his captain stranded at sea? Greed is the pirate doctrine, and no-holds-bar on the sea of no regrets . and what goes around, comes around. Introspective Ficlett. My First 'Pirates' fic, so be nice. R/R appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Pirates' or any of the names contained therein; trust me, they're far too sane to be my characters. I wish I could put a big bow on Jack and give him to Kelly for Christmas (and keep Will for myself!) but like all semi-rabid fan girls, wishing's the closest I'll get. The briefly mentioned Galilee is mine, though; I pinched the name from a Clive Barker novel.
A/N: I don't write fan-fics as a rule, because I have a hard time working with other people's characters. But I'm making an exception here because I love Barbossa and he's woefully under represented here at ffn. Kudos go to Wistful Gypsy and her wonderful Barbossa Poem 'Ashes of Roses', which inspired me to wrote my own Barbossa-centric ficlett. Go read! It's worth it! R/R, please! As to flames . "sticks an' stones, luv." I'll just give 'em to Hisoka-kun to throw at Muraki anyway (if you get that reference, you really need to e-mail me ^.~). Ahem. Enjoy!
This is dedicated to Kelly for her ability to recognize my writing and because really, it's all her fault anyway.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jack didn't open his eyes again until he heard the sound of the pistol being tossed down onto the sand in front of him, that muted thud stronger affirmation than the coarse rope that bound his chaffed wrists and the swollen bruise that throbbed painfully above his left eye put together. "C'mon, mate . ye don't want to be doin' this," he tried quietly. Anything louder just might have split his aching head. Of course, these things weren't helped by the fact that one of his captors had a fistful of his hair and insisted on using it to hold his neck at a decidedly painful angle. An angle that only allowed him to see the shiny pistol glinting maliciously against the pale Caribbean sand, and the toes of Barbossa's scuffed and salt-scoured boots. He briefly considered spitting on the cracked leather, more because it was the only real act of defiance he could manage in this position than because the action itself warranted any true merit.
But before he could even reach a decision, Barbossa knelt down to his level, the pistol left pointedly between them. "Aye, mate, I don't," he responded simply, his voice equally soft. Jack searched hard for any trace of sarcasm, but the rock-steady gaze that bored into his own was painfully clear. "- But I'm afraid ye leave me little choice. Ye said yerself, our Lady Pearl was always a capricious mistress at best, and ye were too jealous a lover to be sharin' her anyway. So I'll be takin' her off your hands." This time, there was no mistaking the insolence in his dark smile.
"Traitor," Jack hissed - and earned a painful thump to the back of his head for his troubles.
Barbossa's expression darkened. "Fine time to be bandyin' insults about, now that its your neck in the noose!" he growled. "It was you who taught me that every pirate's first loyalty is to himself, Jack. That greed is the only doctrine we need be botherin' to adhere to." His grim smile was back in place. "But then, your memory was always a tad selective." He dropped his gaze down to the pistol that rested between them, two calloused fingers trailing lightly along the scarred barrel. "What about this, Jack, hmm? Do you remember this beauty? The pistol you pinched off of our dear friend once his dead carcass washed up on shore? No? Well, I do; allow me to refresh your memory. I remember standin' beside ye on that shore, watchin' as Galilee and his heavily out-gunned crew struggling alone agin' an entire British fleet. We were ship mates of 'ole Galilee's once-upon-a- time, you an' me, and with The Pearl's help we could've saved him. But you said it was his problem, not ours. SO we watched. And do ye remember what ye said to me when ye took this pistol off his water-logged corpse?" Jack was ominously silent, so Barbossa continued on blithely, "Ye said, 'better him than me. Everyone's on their own in this little game of ours - good riddance to the competition, anyway. This is the sea of no regrets.'"
Barbossa stood then, waving off the men who held their fallen captain. "A pirate's loyalty is to gold, Jack. But you an' me were mates one, when we were young without half a brain between us. So, behold! I'm givin' ye this entire island in exchange for one little ship!" There was approving laughter from the surrounding crew. Jack just settled for glaring. Menacingly. Out of his one good eye.
Barbossa held up his hands for silence, and when he got it he finished, "- and I leave you this pistol, with its single shot. May it serve ye better than it did 'ole Galilee." He smiled again.
"It will," Jack promised, his tone a low growl that only Barbossa could hear, "when it finds its mark at the center of your rotten heart."
"Always defiant, even in the face of complete ruin. I always did admire that about you," Barbossa mused, and he meant it. In a way, that was the worst thing of all. "Little good it'll do you now, though. Farewell, Jack; mayhap I'll buy ye a drink in hell someday."
Jack just glared.
~ * ~
As the Pearl rounded the curve of the little island's sandy shore and Jack's tiny form fell beyond sight, Captain Barbossa pulled his hat lower over his eyes and trailed his worn hands along the Pearl's helm in a loving caress. She was his now.
'Sorry, Jack. But this is, after all, the way of the pirate; and all good things must come to an end.
You were my captain, my partner, and my friend; but there's no room for remorse on the sea of no regrets.'