"Her" – Thump, Thump

"What manner of beastie are you?" Jack Sparrow asked as he beheld the speaker, who defied most common ways of describing a, uh…being. For one thing, he was blue. And not in the mopey, depressed, "Life is dreadful because my wife ran off with me dog, and I am drunk for a month, and I don't give an ass-rats if I live or die" kind of blue, but the color of the sky, sea, and cornflowers sort. For another, he was gigantic. Granted, it didn't take too much to be taller than Jack Sparrow, but this creature was massive. Should he stand flat on the bottom of a harbor, his head would reach past the top of the Pearl's mast.

"Beastie?" the figure repeated slowly. At the sound of the being's voice, most of the inhabitants of the plain moved out of sight behind their respective stick piles.

"Terribly intimidating and frightfully awe-striking beastie?" Jack added worriedly.

The being tapped an enormous foot against the ground.

Jack frowned and looked out of the corners of his eyes for anywhere else he could go.

"You aren't fond of authority, are you?" the being asked.

Jack crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm a pirate."

"Is there not a greater authority that even a pirate must answer to?" Jack stumbled back as though shot. Her words, her exact words thrown into his face when he least expected it. "No answer, Jack Sparrow?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow," he said reflexively, but without his usual strength.

"No, not a Captain any longer," the being said amiably, smiling down at Jack. He turned abruptly and headed out over the dead plains. Those in his way scrambled out of it.

"Does death wipe away honors gained in life?" Jack yelled bitterly after him, his mind in the past.

The being chuckled and turned. "No, I'm afraid it doesn't. However, one who was the rightful Captain has revoked your claim to that title," Jack stared at him in a manner reminiscent of the way he had looked when Turner had first tried to sound like a pirate.

The being cleared his throat and said meaningfully. "And I don't think you want to mess around with that rightful Captain." He turned again and walked away.

"Hey," Jack yelled, running after him, waving his arms. "Hey, stop." The being obliged. "Who says I'm not Captain?" Jack demanded, waving his arm in an arc, then pointing at himself.

The being smiled cruelly, leaning down until his face was only fifteen feet above Jack's head. "She does."

Jack backed away, hand coming up to rub his jaw. "Oh," he muttered. The being smirked and straightened up. "Oh," Jack repeated, softer, staring into the ghostly green eyes of memory. "Her." He reached down to his waist, feeling for her gun, the gun that he had found drifting in the water amongst the wreckage of the devoured ship. His fingers closed on empty air.

He looked down and sorted through all the loose bangles. Compass. Sword. No pistol. Frown deepening, he sorted through them again.

"If yer wondering where her pistol went, think Jack," the being said. Jack looked up.

"Think Jack? Well, that's just maddeningly unhelpful. Why are you things never clear?" he griped, shaking his compass as though it might hold a foot-long gun in its three square inch space. . "What, per say, do you think me brain has been doing?"

The being just chuckled again. "You've been remembering, Sparrow. But not the right Jack. The monkey. Think about the monkey."

Jack pulled his sword out of its loop on his belt and shook it. "Monkey?"

"What happened the last time you tried to shoot the monkey?"

Jack looked up. "The monkey didn't die, and I handed the gun to Gibbs."

"Then?" the being prompted, bending down to have his face closer to Jack.

"Tia Dalma let the monkey out of his cage, and he ran in and jumped on somebody's boots," Jack muttered, flipping open his compass. The needle spun wildly.

"Did Gibbs ever give the gun back to you?" the being asked, tapping a blue foot and shaking the surrounding area.

Jack looked up from the compass. "Of course he did." The being raised a blue eyebrow. "Didn't he?" The being shook his head. Jack exhaled loudly, shaking his own head.

"Take what you can."

"Give nothing back."

"He took the advice of a long gone friend," the being said with another chuckled before turning and heading across the plains again.

Jack looked back down at the compass and jumped in shock. The needle wasn't moving. It held stock-still, pointing directly at the center of his chest. Jack touched the spot with a grimy hand, brushing a half-closed wound from his encounter with kraken teeth. There, in the center of his chest, he had always been able to feel the steady thump-thump.

No welcome vibration met his wet fingers this time.

Jack drew his hand away and held it in front of his face. He stared at it for a moment, watching the dark blood drip down his fingers.

He had lost his thump-thump.

Jack's eyes suddenly snapped forward and locked on the blue being now a good distance away. "Hey, you," he shouted, breaking into a run and snapping the compass closed. "Beastie!" The figure paused. "Do you know where I might happen to find a devil she-pirate?"

A/N: Well, it's been awhile. Hmm...a very long while. I'm not sure anybody actually reads this, but if you do, and you started in the beginning, bravo. Anyway, I'm not sure this chapter will stay in this position, but I felt like I needed to put it up. It's going to be the last of Jack for awhile...so bid him a fond farewell and pray I can figure out how to write him in character when he appears later.

I won't guess as to next update time. I'm thriving on spontenaity (is that how you spell that?) at the moment.

Darkened Starlight