A/N: The first part is written through Jack's daughter's eyes, the second is through Jack's, and the third is through Elizabeth's.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean.
October 8, 1713
It is strange having her around. It was always just me and dad, the two Sparrows, the two legends. We were always together and I did not mind and he did not either. Or at least I do not think that he did. Now, I hardly see him and when I do he is always with her. They are too wrapped up in each other most of the time to notice me but sometimes they will. He will look straight at me, his eyes boring into mine that are so like his. I study his eyes, searching for some emotion but to no avail. He does not look away as I start to twitch under his fierce stare. It feels like his black eyes can see right through me to my soul. He does not talk to me though. It is as if I do not exist anymore. I am just a ghost to him.
I can see her lurking around the ship. She does not speak, she does not laugh, she does not smile. I can see unshed tears brim her dark eyes when she looks at us. I want to talk to her, I want to help her but I can not. I am afraid. I do not want to hurt her but I know that it is too late for that. I do not know what I did to offend her. I had thought that she wanted a mother. Someone that she could go to whenever she needed someone to talk to or when she needed help with something. I guess I was wrong though.
I can tell by the way that he looks at her that he wants to help. The young girl looks absolutely miserable. I know that I am the cause of all of her pain and I am sorry. I am truly sorry. I am not trying to steal her father away from her, I want them to be close. I want her to be able to go to him when she needs to and know that she can come to me as well. I want her to be happy. I would like to take part in her life, not be the one to destroy it.
October 9, 1713
They walked back to my – his cabin. Hand in hand, lust clearly visible on their faces as they slipped into the room and closed and most likely locked, the door behind them. Soon disturbing sounds and screamed names will follow no doubt. I sighed then turned back to the moonlight bathed ocean. Instead of doing that every night why can he not spend time with me? I have grown used to being alone but I still do not like it all that much. It is, well, lonely. I tried talking to him when he was alone on the deck today but he just looked at me as if I was a complete stranger. Is it so much to ask? To want to know if I am wanted? To want to know if he is proud of me? To want to know if he loves me? To want to know if he ever did…
She tried to talk to me. I did not know what to do. I do not know her anymore. It kills me to admit it but it is true. I wonder what kind of parent I am. I wonder what is wrong with me for rejecting her. She wanted someone to talk to. That was someone that I was trying to give her that distanced her from me, from everyone. I could have asked her why she is avoiding us. I could have figured out what was wrong. But I did not. What kind of parent am I to ignore her? She is just an eleven year old girl who needs comforting and security, two of the many things that I did not give her. We reach our cabin and I wonder if she knows. I step inside with her in tow then I spin around. It is clear that she knows what I want, or not want to do tonight. I sigh then drag myself over to the bed and sit on it. I bury my face in my hands. I feel the mattress heave next to me then I feel her slip her arm over my shoulders and rest her head on my shoulder. I wonder if she feels the same way as me.
His head is hung and he does not have that mischievous glint in his eyes. I look past him and see her staring at us, hurt written all over her face. I wonder if she knows that we are not going to the cabin to shed any clothing. She probably does not. We reach the door and he opens it and slips in silently. I glace at her one last time then follow. He sighs then meanders over to the bed and sinks down on to it. His dreadlocks are covering most of his face and the part that they left visible he now covers with his hands. I tentatively sit down next to him and wrap my arm across his shoulders and lay my head onto his shoulders. They should not be this way. They should be happy like they were before I entered their lives once more.