Chapter Eight:

The Lonely Grave of the Unknown Sailor

The Black Pearl rested in the deep water just off the Isla Cruces. Elizabeth was climbing down the side into a rowboat, saying to Gibbs, "Give me four hours. If I haven't signalled you by then, come after me."

"Cap'n," he leaned over the side a bit more, "what'll yer signal be?"

She just sent him a toothy grin. "You'll know it when you see it."

Gibbs didn't like that sound of that, but said nothing as Elizabeth rowed off to take down Hector Barbossa.

-KW-

The dark figure stealthily moved from gravestone to gravestone, sneaking up to the restored chapel of Isla Cruces. Her katana was in her hand, flashing in the dusk sunlight. She came up to the door, and peered through the few holes still in it. Then, seeing no-one, she kicked open the door, brought her sword to the ready—

And had it kicked out of her hand by a black boot. The sword flew off and embedded itself in the wall. She spun to look at Hector Barbossa, who stood there, lowering his leg. She stood in her jujitsu stance, ready for an attack.

That didn't come. He smiled wanly, saying, "Hello, Miss Swann. Please, sit down." He moved towards the table that was right there, and sat down to the two cups of wine.

Uneasy, she continued to stand. "What trick is this, Barbossa?"

He shook his head. "No trick. I merely believe that we are both civilized enough to have a bit of wine together. Are we not?"

She stared, incredulous. "You know what I'm here for?"

He nodded.

"And yet you still sit here, asking me to have a drink with you?"

He sighed. "Please, sit." She did so. "I understand your anger with me. And honestly, I deserve it. I did a terrible thing to you."

"You murdered my friends and killed..."

"I know, my dear; I was there, remember?" His smile did not even begin to reach his eyes. "And I tell you with no subterfuge that there is nothing more in this world that I regret doing than what I did there, that day."

She stared. "What?"

He looked at her after setting down his wine. "I'm saying I'm sorry, Miss Swann." He looked at her wine. "That isn't poisoned, you know. I have no interest in killing you."

She could see that if he had wanted to, she'd be long dead, so she drank hesitantly. It was good wine.

"If you regret it so..."

"I do. I didn't like Jack, and I still don't, but he owed me nothing, and you had done nothing to me at all. I had no right to murder your friends, attack your husband, or stand there and watch them try to kill you," he told her.

"I did notice that," she recalled. "You never did anything other than shoot the reverend."

"And that was because the slimy bastard welched on a debt he owed me, if you'll pardon the indignity done to the Welsh by that statement. And, as you can see," he gestured around the church, "I have since been making my penance for the sin."

"A fine job of it, too," she praised.

"Thank you," Barbossa nodded.

She couldn't help but ask, "You know why I am here. You won't run. You won't fight. You know I'm going to kill you. Why...?"

This time, the smile did reach his eyes, however wanly. "Well, you see, I have only one request. There's a grave right outside this church. I'd like to be buried in it, with no tombstone bearing my name; just put me in the ground, and let me rest. Will you do that for me once my life is ended?"

"I can do that for you," Elizabeth conceded.

"Thank you. Now," he straightened in his seat, his wine finished, "You are only right on three of four counts." He held up four fingers. "Whoops, too much wine," and, glaring at the fourth, it went back down. "First, I know why you're here; you're here to get your revenge." He ticked the third finger down. "Second, I won't run, because that's cowardly, and of the few things I pride myself on, not being a coward is one of them." Down went the second finger. There was only one left. "And third, I won't fight; it would be futile, if it is true that Ashido Yukira herself trained you." Then his hand went to his belt. "But you are wrong on the fourth; you won't be killing me." Then his hand came up.

He held a pistol, aimed dead on. He fired.

And blew a hole clean through his heart.

Shocked, she stared at the man who had brought her new world crashing down around her. He had killed himself. Rather than let her kill him for what he'd done, he had committed suicide. Well, it had been his choice, and she would not try to take it away from him.

She rose, took two steps towards the door, and stopped. She turned, and looked at the dead man lying on the floor. He'd done a good thing for her, she conceded, in telling her he was genuinely sorry, so she would acquiesce to his final wish.

-KW-

As she patted the dirt down on the grave, she looked at the headstone she'd carved. As per his request, the headstone did not bear his name. It did, however, read The Unknown Sailor; Rest in Peace, Men of the Sea. It would fit him, and all men who were lost to the sea.

She gently leaned the shovel against the headstone, believing that the man beneath her did not deserve his death. But he had quite literally brought it on himself; it had been his decision, not hers. And she admired the old man for it.

She would let him lie in peace.

She turned and began to go back towards the ship.

And was stopped cold in her tracks by the man who stood before her.

He was dressed in rugged garb that may have at one point been a Royal Navy uniform. The full moon in the night sky above cast an eerily familiar skeletal look to his harsh features. The scabbard at his belt was empty, and his hand held a sword that was far too fine for a man of his station in life. His hair was long, tied back in a messy ponytail. His face was scarred and bearded. Yet Elizabeth still recognized him.

"Why, hello, Miss Swann," said James Norrington.

Author's Note: Next chapter--gore time. If you're under fourteen...you probably watch that '24' show anyway, so you won't be scarred for life...further...