Well done to those who spotted where the "Arrr, swash swash buckle buckle" line came from; you have all watched the DVD far too often. And so have I. Lady Russell Holmes asked if I could get Jack to say it, and, since I immediately thought of somewhere that it would work in, I couldn't resist. So, thanks for that one.

Um, L.M.Bell, if you are meaning that the action is slow, I apologise. If on the other hand you mean my updating is slow then I pray to any god that may watch over fanfiction writers that you're being sarcastic cos one chapter a day is as much as I can reasonably handle.

Cast of thousands: Wimp.

Rhadeya; no, the criticism is very helpful and you're totally right about that sentence. I'll get round to correcting it as soon as I've finished both stories. Now there's an odd thought.

By the way, this is going to be very short, just a little coda.

Cast of thousands: Great, now you're warning people off on the basis of chapter length.

Me: Never mind. Also, this is back in the same timeline as the prologue, if anyone remembers that.

********************************************************************

He woke up, which immediately told him that he'd fallen asleep. He was leaning back on the chair and the first thing he was aware of was that his neck hurt. He rubbed it, gently grimacing; it would be painful for the rest of the day now. It was then that he became aware of the second thing; he was being watched.

He sat up straight and found himself looking directly into his captain's eyes. Jack was still lying in bed; which strongly suggested that he too had just woken up. There was a slightly odd expression on his face; thoughtful and cautious.

"Good morning captain," Gibbs said, deciding that cheeriness could be the best approach. "How are we feeling?"

"I have no idea how you might be feeling, mate. For myself, I'm feeling fine."

He leaned over and checked Jack's temperature. The younger man did his best to pull away, but Gibbs was expecting that and grabbed him by the shoulder first. The fever seemed to have subsided, as it had the last time Gibbs had checked, immediately before he had fallen asleep, but it had still been an uneasy night between his worry for Jack and the memories of another time, which had seemed so real at moments as to almost overwhelm him.

"Well?" Jack asked impatiently. "What, then, is the result of your prying into me health?"

"You're better."

He watched unsurprised as his friend immediately sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He wondered, idly, whether it would have made any difference to Jack's actions if he had said that he had only minutes to live.

With one boot on and the other in his hand, Jack turned to look at him. "What happened anyway? Don't remember going to bed."

"That's because you didn't. Once again seeking to keep your reputation as the daftest man in the Caribbean, you pushed yourself too far."

"I collapsed?" A pause, an apprehensive look, "Where?"

"At the helm." The sound of the boot hitting the floor made Gibbs jump. He was concerned as Jack closed his eyes and leaned back on the bed. "No-one thinks any the less of you, Jack."

"They saw." It was a statement, not a question and a mumbled one at that. He knew 'they' meant the rest of the crew. What would it take for Jack to lose his fears of a new mutiny?

"No-one thinks any the less of you," he repeated. And it was the truth. Jack's crew looked up to him, frequently in bewilderment, but there was admiration and a genuine liking nonetheless. A great many of them had been by during the night, just peering in the door to check if their captain would be alright. He knew, without trying again, that Jack would neither welcome nor believe this information, so he kept silent and watched Jack retrieve his boot and pull it on, every line in the man's body speaking of determination and pride.

At least, that was his intention. But he was nothing if not persistent, and his friend's attitude was frustrating to say the least. "Except me."

Jack swivelled round and, in other circumstances, Gibbs would have found the expression of disbelief on his face comical. "You think less of me? You think I'm weak?"

"I know you're not weak Jack. Everyone aboard knows that. Everyone in the Caribbean knows that. So there is no need for you to half kill yourself to prove it. You have a fine crew here, every one of them willing to sail with you to the gates of hell." He was standing over his captain, and though he was not shouting, his voice suddenly seemed far too loud.

"I don't have the bearing." Dark eyes fixed on his. Amusement, and perhaps an acknowledgement. His anger subsided; he stepped aside.

Jack stood up. He remained standing still for a second, swaying slightly although Gibbs couldn't tell if it was because of his injury or simply because he was Jack Sparrow. Then he headed towards the door. Moving faster than he had previously considered himself capable of, Gibbs darted in front of it, blocking his captain's way.

Jack stopped, immediately in front of him and waited. Gibbs found himself unaccountably nervous. "You're staying here until you give me your word on something." At least his voice was level.

"And what would that be?"

"That, for the next week you'll rest or eat whenever me or Anamaria tell you to. And if you're tired, or your leg hurts, you'll tell us that and go and lie down."

A flash of annoyance and resentment, quickly stifled. "I'm not a child."

He folded his arms and leaned back against the door, saying nothing.

"You said yourself mate, I'm better."

He began humming under his breath.

"Alright then," a moment of calculation "But, not a week. Just for today."

"Five days."

"Two."

"Four."

"Three." There was a warning look in Jack's eyes. Gibbs decided he'd better not argue much more; he didn't want to wear out his friend's patience.

"Agreed." He had worked out they'd settle on four, but three days in which he could ensure that Jack wouldn't exhaust himself were a lot better than nothing.

He was about to move away, but the memories that had surfaced the night before were still fresh in his mind. "Jack," he began. Obviously thinking that there was some new way being thought up to keep him of the deck of his ship, Jack glared ferociously at Gibbs, who ignored him completely, focussing on saying what he had to. "Do you remember when I made the choice to turn pirate, I told you it would only be till I found where I wanted to be?"

The anger quickly turned to apprehension, then to a kind of saddened acceptance. "Where is it that you have found to settle down?"

Gibbs was startled; he hadn't thought of his words being interpreted that way. "No, I just wanted to tell you that there is nowhere else I'd rather be. No-one that I would more willingly call captain. Or friend."

For a second he saw Jack smile, a genuine, warm, gratified expression. Then it was gone. "This ship 'as no use for such sentimentality from her quartermaster, do I make myself clear?"

Gibbs grinned at the gruff tone. "Inescapably," he said, trying to reflect Jack's own voice and mannerisms.

The corner of the captain's mouth twitched. "Well, stand aside, man. Let me past."

"Aye, sir." He moved out of the way, then followed Captain Jack Sparrow out of the cabin and onto the deck of the Black Pearl.

Fin

********************************************************************

Wow, never thought I'd get to write "The end"

Cast of thousands: You didn't, you wrote fin.

Me: Well, it's basically the same idea. Anyway, that was the story for good or ill. So tell me what you thought, of the epilogue and overall.

Apology OK, this is annoying. This was actually finished yesterday, but I failed to realise that the library shuts earlier at weekends and I couldn't post it. So the answer to the question, "Can I put up a nine chapter story in nine days," is no. Ah, well hope you enjoyed it anyway.