A Note from TurtleHeart: first of all, i've got nothing to prove i own PotC but an idea for an alternate ending to On Stranger Tides.


Tragic Happiness

-Beautiful Tragedy-

And then it happened all at once. Edward Teach, Blackbeard, the pirate all pirates feared, fell. Poisoned he was. Poisoned with a scratch on his hand. Poisoned with the very blade through his belly. Blackbeard had fallen by the hands of the one legged man as the prophecy stated.

Marines loyal to King George and his Crowned Kingdom looked on with awe. The man who lay dying before them was a man who was Lucifer himself upon Earth. His mighty reign ended with an "old man's hobby". Just like that, the man that had been wanted for months was there before them dying. Countless expeditions. Countless ships. Countless sums of money. Countless hours of planning. All for the glorious moment of Blackbeard's death. The man caused more pain and suffering than any soul on Earth, for his soul was not of Earth. His soul was from the very center of Hell itself and his soul was going back to where it belonged. Justice.

Men under the Brethren of the Coast stood silent and watchful. The man who was said to have his head severed from his body and the body that swam around the ship three times only to climb back on deck, the man who was said to be immortal was lying before them dying. A painful reality it was to watch a man believed to be immortal dying. All men die. The hard truth of it was before them.

He did not understand why, but part of him felt mournful. He was one of the souls wanting Blackbeard dead. Perhaps, his feelings of mourning were simply because Blackbeard was the mightiest of all mighty pirates, far better of a pirate than him. A good man no. But a pirate, Blackbeard was every definition of the thought pirate. Cunning. Ruthless. Pillaging. Frightening. Murderous. Fascinating. Tempting. Yes, even envious fell into his name. What man did not envy Blackbeard? He was a man who was loved and hated. Feared and admired. Immortal nearly. Nearly.

Jack Sparrow lowered his eyes for a moment of mourning. He felt it appropriate. A member of the Brethren of the Coast he was and therefore did deserve some credit at that.

Sudden movement before him caused him to turn his gaze. "Angelica, don't!" he cried rushing forward knowing her thoughts. "It's poisoned!"

Fear compelled him to move quicker. Fear he had forgotten he possessed in the form of love caused him to wrap his long, slender fingers around her arms and pull her back just as she began to kneel before the fallen man. She struggled to free herself in his grasp.

"Angelica, the blade is poisoned," Jack told her.

Playing every card she had, Angelica struggled against her captor who attempted to pull her away. She was a ravenous animal, a wild beast as she bit and scratched and kicked. Her captor would not take her away from her kin. She did not believe Jack. He wanted her father dead and she could save him. All she had to do was pull the sword from his flesh and bone and return him to the Queen Anne's Revenge. There, she would stitch his wound and bandage him and nurse him back to health. She would have a father in her life. She would.

Screaming in frustration, Angelica finally pulled from Jack after the heel of her boot flattened against Jack's stomach. She fell to her knees.

"Father," she whispered.

One palm pressed onto her father's shoulder and four fingers and a thumb curled around the hilt of the sword causing him his pain and anguish. Surely she knew there was no quicker and painless method of removing a blade from a body than simply pulling as quickly as possible and she did.

"Shh. Shh," she calmed her distressed father.

"My child," said Blackbeard.

Angelica set the sword on the rock beside her father. She smiled through her tears. Both hands were placed upon her father's cheeks. Her thumbs gently caressed his cheekbone. She loved looking into his eyes. His eyes themselves were a hurricane during a typhoon in the wickedest sea there was. Such changing color, yet beauty. His eyes were bright, the only brightness upon his person. They shinned like the full moon after a storm.

"Angelica," Jack's voice softly called. "He cannot be saved. The chalices are gone."

The young woman shook her head. She would not allow herself to believe him. She would have a father. She would.

"Sparrow," Blackbeard called.

"Yes?" Jack inquired.

"Come closer lad," Blackbeard softly said.

Accepting his summoning for matters of curiosity and wonder, Jack leaned forward.

"I did not make it to the Fountain," stated Blackbeard. "And neither did you."

Jack breathed through his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. His forearm. The center of is right forearm burned with a thousand hot knives. The feeling was not of simple sharpened metal cutting through flesh. No, it was much more painful than that. His arm went numb with pain nearly instantly. He felt every drop of blood within his arm boil and bubble, carrying the poisonous substance to his heart where his heart would distribute poison throughout his body for the next few minutes until he was dead.

Calming himself, he inhaled deeply and exhaled just as deep. The calmer he kept his heart the longer he would have. He turned to Angelica and awkwardly smiled.

Angelica shook her head. Her body trembled. She was unable to move. No, no, no. This wasn't supposed to happen. Her father was dying not Jack Sparrow. Yet, she continued to look upon him. She watched him gingerly take hold of his right arm. Gently, he moved his right arm above his head to rest the underside of his forearm on the center of his head. He swallowed hard and breathed through his nose. His eyes squeezed shut suddenly. When they opened, they turned to her. Were those tears in his eyes? Was that fear in his eyes?

"Jack," she whispered.

"Help," was his only word as softly spoken as a prayer.

Driven by fear of losing the two men she loved, she pushed herself onto her feet. The chalices. She saw the chalices somewhere around the right of the Fountain. Desperately, she dropped to her knees. Her trembling hands fumbled through the water, groping all things smooth.

Jack sat on the broken platform beside Blackbeard fighting himself to keep his arm above his head. Blood couldn't work its way through his arm as quickly; it had to work against gravity. The burning was becoming something much worse, something much fiercer than he ever felt. He once believed the white hot brand marking him a pirate was torturous pain. He felt his flesh sizzling beneath his skin and burning away. Presently, that seemed like a simple sunburn. Bullets ripping apart his flesh and cracking bones were a simple scratch compared to what he was feeling then.

The poison was something different, something fierce. With every beat of his slowly quickening heart, he felt surging pain soar through the cut on his forearm. His eyes were falling shut as his mind was going through shock. His arm was burning and cutting into him. He felt each little cell keeping his skin intact being eaten away by the poison. The teeth ripped at him after clawing into his skin.

And it happened. A god awful, horrible sound echoed through the cavern. A concussive thud erupted from the fallen rock. Pieces of rock from marble size to boulder fell and rolled. Water splashed upward into the air then rained down upon them.

No soul spoke. No soul moved. All eyes were upon the destroyed legend. The Fountain of Youth, Aqua de Vida itself, a common children's tale, a sailor's legend, crumbled before them. The unholy temple was destroyed. The gift of immortal years rained down upon them. Once beauty was now lost. Magic of the fountain crumbled.

Nothingness ensued.

Surrendering, Jack felt himself falling through darkness and hitting hard at the fate that awaited him. So this was his fate. He was to die upon the crumbled pillars before the Fountain of Youth, cringing and whimpering from the pain so unfairly given to him. All of a sudden he couldn't breathe. Raising his heartbeat too quickly, he gasped in breaths as quickly as he could take them. He was lying on his right side with his right arm out before him. His head was laying on his bicep. His legs curled, the right bent beneath the left. There was no greater desire in him than for the pain to end. He whimpered and thrashed about, his legs curling and uncurling and his fingers on his left hand groped the rock.

A dark shadow settled itself clumsily beside him. The lankly figured reached forward and he felt some comfort. A withered, trembling hand caressed his hairline and back down his head. The other hand reached for his left hand and tightly held.

Jack squeezed the hand. His small measure of peace and comfort ended. The poison was moving to his heart. Coughing he gasped for air and cried out. He whimpered again and shifted uncomfortably. He could not stop thrashing about, he was dying a painful death and the stabbing, acidic burn ate every portion of his flesh and very bone.

"Hurry!" Barbossa yelled from Jack's side, his attention on Angelica full well knowing her quest.

Emotion having controlled her completely, Angelica could not move her hands. Her body and every bone inside of her trembled. She was unable to breathe. Unable to move. She could not move. The Fountain was destroyed. The chalices were lost. Jack Sparrow was dying before her eyes and her father was beside him suffering. She wept before the water. Her reflection was looking back upon her with failure and misery. Prayers were spoken off of her tear moistened lips. Prayers for an easier passage for both her father and Jack.

Through the water and her reflection she saw what she prayed. She saw the chalices rising toward her. Her tears covered her eyes as her head lowered. It was not true. The pools surrounding the crumbled rock ran deep. With her eyes closed she continued to see the misshapen circle mouths forming a partly shattered cup connecting to the base. Aqua de Vida they spelled together. Water of Life was there purpose.

A small ting, like metal on rock caused her to open her eyes. Through the overcast of tears, she saw the misshapen circle mouths forming a partly shattered cup connecting to the base. The words Aqua de Vida faced her.

"Do not waste my tear."

Angelica blinked and raised her head further. Syrena gave a nod of her head and then whipped back into the deep pools.

Driven by madness and compelled by adrenaline, Angelica flew across the ruble searching for something. Just a few drops. She needed nothing more than a few drops of water dripping from the Fountain. All she truly needed was a single drop. Desperately, she circled the rubble to locate where the center once was. Then she heard the sound. Beyond the struggled, pained cries of the men she loved she heard water droplets.

Time stood still as she watched droplets pulled by gravity and fall through air itself magnifying all behind it. Ultimately, it contacted another object. Weaker than that object, the single droplet became several, bouncing upward as if it was its own miniature fountain. The individual droplets formed from the larger single droplet danced outward in all directions.

With time still standing nonexistent to her clock, Angelica reached outward with one chalice collecting a few drops and then the other. One chalice contained seven drops and the other just two, one more than was needed and plenty for her task.

Half the task through, she flew over rubble again and fell between the men.

The chalices were set between the men equal distance from each other. She did not recall reaching into Jack's pocket and procuring the tear. Instead her eyes saw the tear that glistened in the vile.

"Ye must choose lass. Ye must choose one of them," she heard someone say hastily.

Choose one of them. But which?

Her father lay nearly absolutely still. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. He was lying on his side by the torso and his legs were lying flat. Although his pale face and eyes were facing the young man before him, he did not see them. They gazed beyond him toward his daughter pleadingly.

He was her father. She always wanted a father. Her reasoning for disguising herself as Jack Sparrow was to gain Jack Sparrow's attention himself to lure him in. Jack knew what she did not. Jack knew where everything was. Jack knew how to get it all for her. All she wanted was a family. Her mother died when she was barely old enough to remember her and she was forced to live her life under the will of the Spanish Convent. A father should have been a simple request to fulfill. Everyone had a father. Jack had a father so why couldn't she? She cared not that her father was a creation of the Devil. She cared not who she killed if he dared attempt take her father away from her. She hated all men who attempted to kill her father.

Yet, he angered her more greatly than any man had ever done. She watched him torture innocent lives of men simply to keep a reputation of being Lucifer's child alive. He caused men suffering anguish for his own pleasure. No man alive should have caused more suffering than he did. She hated him for his love of pain. A man should not have delighted listening to sailors suffering screams or watch them die slowly. He cared not of a man's suffering so long as he enjoyed himself.

There was good in him. She knew there was. All she wanted was to feel his hand against her cheek and his arms around her. The few times she felt him love her and smile while looking upon her, made life worthwhile again. She had seen what they did not. He was a bad man but a good father. He had to have been a good father. It was only after she mentioned Jack knowing the location of the Fountain of Youth did he truly turn evil. The incident with the five loaded pistols among the seven was mishap. She knew he did not know which two had the shots removed, but surely he would have not killed her. She knew there was desperation in his eyes. He wanted to live.

As she looked on him, he was eyeing the chalice closest to him. A smile looked back up at her from his bloodied lips. Blackbeard, her father, was smiling. She had to smile back at him through her tears.

"Angelica," Jack's voice called distantly. He spoke through his gasps and pain. "Choose him. Take my years. Be happy with your father. Can't have both. Just want you happy."

And then Angelica turned her head to Jack Sparrow. He was lying in the arms of his Navy friend. His face was not white, but a ghastly pale blue. Red rings rimmed his eyes like his famous kohl. His skin appeared paper thin. The cut on his arm was bleeding bright black. The convulsions ceased at last save for the occasional spasm. He was choking and struggling to breathe as though a hand was around his throat. She saw the vein in his neck thrashing fatally swift.

Jack was her love. He stumbled upon her and ruined her life, as she was exiled from the Convent after being seen sneaking with him. All she did that day was hide him from the men he was running from. To repay her for his misdeeds, he took her on a ship and showed her the world. He taught her everything he knew to protect her from the evils of the world. They were in love. They loved each other once, long ago. She recalled the many nights she sat in his arms kissing and feeling. Never did they go as far as each other's bed, but they came close. All he ever wanted was for her happiness.

Breaking her heart killed her. She never let herself love again or allowed emotion to come forth. She taught herself to be a heartless cur. Jack Sparrow once asked her to marry him. She was just out of her teenage years and he dropped to a knee and asked her. Since she was barely a teenager the two of them had been off and on and he proposed. Yet, on their wedding day, he changed his mind and was never seen again when she turned her back. He wounded her to the core and finding her father was the happiness that begun to mend her heart. All Jack's teachings were turned against him. She vowed she would cut out Jack's heart or cause him as much suffering pain as she had been through. Hate was the word she associated with Jack Sparrow.

But she saw it killed him too. His eyes were moist as he told her he couldn't marry her. There was love still there between them. When Jack was hauled back to the ship after the dart poisoned him unconscious, she saw the lace around his arm. He had no time to secure the lace around his arm from discovering she was him until he fell unconscious. So, all that time in between their departure and meeting, he kept the lace around his wrist. Still, right there before her, Jack wanted her happiness. He told her to use his years for her father if it made her happy.

Who made her happy? She had never been happy and Jack knew it.

The man who caused her happiness would be given the years of the one who caused her suffering. But which?

Simultaneously, both men gagged and choked. Air was struggled to come through their swelling throats. She watched her father's blue eyes then Jack's brown eyes roll into the back of his head. White foam emerged from both sets of lips, the very cause to their choking; the final threshold of the poisoned death.

"CHOOSE NOW!" Barbossa wailed.

Angelica shut her eyes as she tipped the tear into a chalice. She handed Barbossa one chalice to administer to Jack and she herself lifted her father's head to help him drink.

Barbossa gently cupped the back of Jack's head in the palm of his hand. He raised the young man's head while the other hand pressed the mouth of the chalice to Jack's lips. Knowing Jack did not have strength to swallow, he held Jack's head at the angle that would allow the water to drip down into his mouth. Jack's throat was clogged by the foam, but the liquid nonetheless would be administered into his body one way or another.

The chalice was thrown from his hand. Gently, as if it was his own child, he allowed Jack's body to fall onto the rock bone by bone beginning with his lower back and ending with his head. He took care in removing his hand from the back of Jack's head, yet that hand resumed caressing his hair. Inside, his own heart was thrashing about, as he failed to notice which chalice contained the tear. Silent prayers fell from his lips as his own eyes gazed onto those of Jack's failing eyes.

His own brilliant plan turned against him as usual. When it came to situations of life and death he should have just known to take it into his own mortal matters. Every situation he recalled involving his life ended badly when he brought the unearthly into the deal. He lost his leg, his life on Isla de Muerta, his ship, and now he was losing the one person who felt like his son. Jack had always felt like a son to him. They fought like cats and dogs, but he cared for the boy. He never truly put Jack in harm's way. When taking the Pearl, he always ensured Jack had the fighting chance to come after him. Tortuga was an obvious place to leave Jack. Rumrunner's Island was another obvious choice. Unknown to all including Jack Sparrow himself, Barbossa left Jack there knowing there was the necessities of life and passing ships.

He and Jack locked eyes for a moment. Never once did he think he would see it, but there was always that first for everything. A lone tear emerged from the corner of Jack's left eye. The shimmering crystallized in the pale sunlight. All elements resembling water appeared as crystals in the temple. Jack's tear was the most tragically beautiful of them all. The teary crystal kept on the corner of his eye for a seeming eternity. Gravity took hold and it followed the contour of the side of his face, leaving a crystal tear trail behind.

Barbossa raised his head to the sky with his eyes squeezed shut. He was unsuccessful to prevent the two tears that followed Jack's path, one emerged from both eyes. Never, never, would he forgive himself. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. Slowly and mournfully, his head fell to his chest and eyes opened.

They widened at the spectacle before him.

All at once, color returned to Jack's face as the red rings blended into his normal bronze skin color. It was not just his face painted with bronze; his chest and arm wholly glimmered with life. Right there in the center of his right forearm, the black, poisoned wound healed itself, fading inward until becoming a simple scar.

Jack inhaled a great amount of air and exhaled. As he coughed, thick saliva emerged from his lips. Several great amounts of air were inhaled then exhaled. His head turned to the right.

Angelica continued to hold her father's body against her chest. Her tears were consistently falling from each eye, one after the other. "I'm sorry Father," she whispered.

Not quite dead yet, Blackbeard's eyes shot open as though made of springs. His head turned to the side where he saw Jack Sparrow supporting himself by his right forearm and his left palm planted into the stone, staring back at him wondrously.

"My years?" wondered Blackbeard to his daughter.

"I love him Father. He makes me happy," replied Angelica.

Sudden life coming over him, Blackbeard roared with anger. He shoved his daughter away from his person. Betrayed by his own kind. No, she would not live to be happy. He scrambled for the sword that caused her to choose between his life and Jack Sparrow's. Determined to destroy Jack Sparrow once and for all, he raised the sword above his head.

"Father no!" Angelica pleaded.

However, the pirate was unable to move and the sword fell from his hands. Water rushed in like torrents from a maelstrom.

Angelica turned her head away, burying her face within her arms and the safety of the stone. She curled her legs against herself not bearing to watch the sight of her doing. Listening, she knew it was not just wind and water howling and screaming. Unable to bear the sound, she shrieked and pressed her palms against her ears. Rather than hearing her father's cries of agony, she much rather preferred to listen to her own until there was no breath inside of her.

Dead silence followed the ending resonance of her cries.

Wearily, Angelica raised her head. As if a clock itself, her head turned in increments to peer over her shoulder. Bones. Human bones pulled clean lay in a pile where her father once stood.

Beside those bones, Jack Sparrow turned from the human remains and then to her. He smiled sheepishly at her and pointed to the bones with a trembling finger. "Blackbeard," he announced.

A few awkward laughs passed his lips and his left shoulder shrugged. His gaze met with several faces as he motioned to the bones with the repeated word "Blackbeard". With a moan, his torso fell forward from where he positioned himself on his right side. Altogether, he passed out before his head smacked against the rock.

Angelica's eyes met with Barbossa's.

The only thing Barbossa found himself capable of doing at the moment was giving her an uncomfortable, awkward grin and a shrug of the shoulder.


A Note from TurtleHeart:

you know that feeling you get when you know you shouldn't do it but do it anyway? i just had it. an afternoon nap brought this about and i simply had to write it down. it'll only be a two chapter story, i think, so no worries for lengthiness at that, as i have several stories that require my time.

whew, well how's that for an alternate ending? did i at least put a little fright into you? thoughts? comments? likes? dislikes? let me know!

Happy Readings!