Summary: "The slightest movements required him to pull on every ounce of his willpower." TW- mentions of rape. Even months after tragedy strikes in Shipwreck Cove, Jack is still burdened by the consequences of one horrid day. Only the victim can make him begin to see the world the way he used to, but she needs to recover first. One-shot. Sparrabeth. Post AWE AU.
Prompt 1: The door was closed, and as I put my hand on the handle, I felt afraid of what we might find.
Prompt 2: "Well, this is awkward. I'm sorry for your...um...pet? Haha...I will be showing myself the exit now."
Burdened Birds
The first cause for concern had been the smashed in door.
Uncertain of what they would find, he led her deeper into the Keeper's home. It was deathly silent. But then again, his father was not a loud man. The familiar tune of the older man's fingers plucking away at the guitar did not come from the study.
He worried; something was wrong. He could feel it in the air.
They reached the study, the door to that room wide open as well. He hesitated, not peering inside. Part of him had a strong inkling of what he would find.
He suggested that she search the rest of the living quarters for an intruder.
She asked him if he was alright, but he ignored her and pushed into the study.
His knees almost gave out at the sight that greeted him. He had to lean against the nearest wall for support. The Keeper laid with his head on the desk, a sword hilt protruding out his back. A familiar crimson liquid stained the floor, the desk, the chair.
Without checking, he knew that his father was dead. He closed his eyes as a wave of grief washed over him.
But his eyelids quickly jerked open at the sound of a shrill, bloodcurling scream coming from down the hall of his father's rooms; it was the companion he'd sent off searching for any signs of a remaining intruder.
He snapped to life, drawing his sword as he raced in the direction of her scream. He wasn't surprised when he stumbled upon another wide open door, the sounds of a struggle coming from within the room.
He slipped inside, stopping in horror at the sight before him. She had found the intruder alright, and it was a large, bulky man. He could not see the young woman he'd come to count as a friend, but the intruder was buck naked and hammering down on something beneath him. Sobs came from underneath the intruder.
He could only make a strong assumption on what he'd stumbled into.
"Oi, get away from her." He ordered coolly, sword prodding the assailant's back and drawing a little blood.
The man stopped his actions, half turning away from his victim to face the newcomer. His eyes were alight in fear at the weapon that pointed at his throat. Holding his hands before him, the intruder rose to his feet.
"Well, this is awkward. 'M sorry for your, er, pet." A nervous chuckle. "I will be showin' meself the exit now."
He never even got close to exiting the room.
Jack Sparrow struggled, even after performing the funeral. The months flew by. The slightest movements required him to pull on every ounce of his willpower. Somehow, he still managed to keep up his father's duties as Keeper of the Code and care for the seemingly lifeless Elizabeth Swann, who had yet to recover from the fateful night that had shattered both of their lives.
She rarely said a word. The few occasions she did, she was in a frenzy of panic over the memories of the ordeal she had been through. She never spoke to him directly.
But he tried to keep hoping she would get better. He forced her to eat at least once a day, though he brought her three meals. She didn't seem to have an appetite or a will to live anymore. She was all but dead to the world, now.
His scar collection grew. Many pirates had not accepted that he was now the Keeper of the Code. On several occasions, he'd had to pull bullets out from beneath his skin and stitch up deep sword cuts.
It was all so tiring. It weighed down on his shoulders. The wrinkles around his mouth rearranged into a permanent frown. It felt foreign to smirk like he had used to. He missed his days of being carefree, of feeling as if his energy was unlimited.
But he had to push onward for Elizabeth, if not for himself.
Jack found solace in his father's guitar, discovering how the late Pirate Lord of Madagascar had dealt with the burden of his duties and the darkness of the world. He slowly began to teach himself different tunes that his father had played in his childhood, playing them to provide some familiarity to what was now an unrecognizable world.
He kept his father's- now his- living quarters cleaned up the best he could.
He never thought of his stolen ship and where it could be now. He was too busy to care. He was too busy to even leave the Cove if he wanted, for Elizabeth was in no shape to sail anywhere.
And, somehow, he didn't even notice how much he had really changed.
Even as his hope began to wither and die, he kept visiting his companion a couple times each day. He was impatient with her dissociative state, but couldn't even muster up the energy to express it all that much. He was beginning to feel as lifeless as she looked.
"Ye need to eat, love." He murmured, his motionless companion staring off into space with a full tray of food on her lap. "When the world pushes ye, ye oughta push right back. Things won't get better if ye don't bloody do anythin' 'bout it. I've been doin' my part for five bloody months, it's time ye start doin' yours."
His words fell on seemingly deaf ears.
He sighed, stood up, and hopelessly dragged himself towards the door.
His hand had begun to twist the handle when a soft voice stopped him in his tracks. "Jack."
The energy he possessed was enough to spark curiosity, but nothing more. He half-turned back toward her. "Aye?"
Though her gaze was still distant, her lips moved. "Stay with me."
"'M always 'ere, darlin'." He promised, remaining by the door.
"I miss you." Elizabeth whispered, her hand raising up and reaching for him.
Jack blinked, crossing the room to sit beside her. "Ye have no idea."
"Stay with me." She repeated, latching onto his coat like a lifeline. "Don't leave me alone."
"'M a busy man, Lizzie. I can only spare ye a few minutes for now."
"Don't leave."
"Believe me, I don't want to, but someone has to run the place."
"Can't someone else?"
He gently shook his head. "Unfortunately not, love."
As they lapsed into silence, we wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. But he didn't move further, for fear of alarming her and sending her back into her silent trance.
He gazed at the opposite wall, the one with the door, noting that some of the boards could do with being replaced or polished new. He sighed at the thought of the work, nose wrinkling slightly in distaste of the idea.
A hand cupped his cheek, startling him from his thoughts of wall repair. He allowed his companion to turn his head to face her. He felt a small pang of pleasant surprise to see that her eyes were no longer distant, but sorrowful as they gazed upon him.
"Oh, good. Ye're alive." Jack mused quietly, painfully not sounding as he'd hoped, like his old careless self.
"Oh, Jack. You've changed so much." She murmured sadly.
"No more than I had to." He told her, scratching at the chin beneath his untrimmed beard.
"You look awful." She informed him, respectfully retracting her hand from the skin of his face.
He snorted lightly, offering a small shrug. "I've had more important things to take care of than meself these past few months. Been so bloody busy."
Elizabeth's brow furrowed. "Why?"
"Oh, ye don't know..." He realized it after a moment of confusion, a stab of emotion jabbing at his weathered heart. A frown crossed his face as he pondered how to explain everything, on where to even begin to tell her it all.
Jack sighed, running his hands up his face to his forehead. He rested his elbows on his knees, closing his eyes as he felt the full force of his burdens return to him. It's been five months and I still can't get over it. What the bloody hell.
"Jack?" His companion asked, worried, moving the food tray off of her lap as she peered at him.
He didn't even know what to say, so he said nothing.
It was quieter for a little longer as she reflected on what she could have possibly missed in her time of ignoring the world.
A sharp gasp indicated when she realized what must have happened. "Your father? He's dead, isn't he? You're the new Keeper of the Code."
He slowly let his arms fall, his eyes tiredly flickering over her. With a sad, ingenuine smile, he gave a small nod. "Sounds 'bout right, aye."
"And you still looked after me, even with all of that." Elizabeth shook her head softly. "Oh, Jack...hopelessness really doesn't suit you."
Jack chuckled bitterly, though his lips quirked upward in fondness for the return of her personality. "No, I s'pose not." His voice softened. "An' bein' lost the way ye were really doesn't suit ye at all, love. I missed ye."
She grabbed ahold of his shoulders and pressed her lips against his. He hesitated before he reminded himself that it was she who had initiated the exchange, not someone else. She'd not get scared and drawn in on herself again.
He allowed her to deepen the kiss, but he wrenched his lips from hers as she pressed against a deep bruise on his stomach that he had received the day before. She gave him a questioning glance, so he lifted up the bottom hem of his shirt to reveal the discoloring of his skin to her as he fought to catch his breath.
"What happened?" Her slightly horrified eyes met his searchingly.
"People don't like me out there. Jack Sparrow the son of Edward Teague? I wouldn't believe it if I didn't know it." He pointed out, giving a half shrug. "I've had worse in these past months, I'll be fine."
"Is there anything I can do to help you with any of it?"
"You're the Pirate King, love, your influence would help loads."
"You said you needed to go out again." Elizabeth recalled.
"Aye. Funny enough, Barbossa was plannin' on meetin' up with my father today. Reckon he'll be surprised to see me instead. But that's why ye don't plan meetings like this in advance." Jack explained. "Might steal the Pearl back from 'im while I'm at it, he's had 'er for far too long now."
"That sounds like it'll be quite the ordeal." She mused, rising to her feet- for the first time since the attack- and stretching.
"Are ye sure ye're ready for this?" He asked, watching her with a small frown.
"Yes. Yes, I'm positively certain." She assured him, turning to glance at him.
He nodded, not wanting to start an argument with her. Climbing to his own feet and making his way toward the door with a little more purpose to his step than in a long time.
He threw a few last words over his shoulder as he left the room to prepare for the meeting ahead. "Don't forget to bloody eat b'fore we leave. An' weapons. This is Barbossa we're dealin' with. Not goin' to be easy."