Summary: "Elizabeth Swann, the Elizabeth Swann, still lives. He seeks her out. He doesn't expect to actually find her, but it's a small world, now." Decades after the Black Pearl wrecks in the Antarctic, Jack Sparrow returns and meets an elderly Elizabeth Swann. One-shot. Post AWE. AU.
A/N: Inspiration taken from Steve & Peggy in Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
Prompt: "Times have changed, but you haven't."
The Strongest Souls Battle The Harshest Winters
Jack doesn't like the cold. He never did, really, being raised in the tropical parts of the world, sailing across warm waters. But now, the cold haunts his nightmares. He still remembers the crash, the shipwreck. Sometimes, it's all he remembers.
"Hard to port!" He barks, his voice carrying across the deck of his beloved ship.
"Port side's locked in! Starboard too!" Marty calls back. He sits at the starboard railing, casts a frightened glance up to the quarter deck.
Jack grits his teeth. "Less sail! Drop the anchor!"
"But, Jack, we'll freeze in!" Gibbs points out.
"Would ye rather crash? Either way, we're goin' to be stuck 'ere for awhile."
But the sails are too heavy with ice to hoist up, and the anchor is frozen to the ship. The Black Pearl keeps pushing through the icy water. The straight grows narrower, ice scrapes against the hull to make a horrible sound. The ship groans as she struggles to push forward, and her captain knows that it won't be long before a leak springs. It's so, so cold already. Being in the water is unimaginable. There's no way they'll survive.
"Cap'n, it's a dead end! The ice'll sink us!"
At least, it was warm outside when the Kraken chewed him to oblivion. They're so far from home...
He woke up cold, too. It had taken him long to adjust to the new reality he found himself in, and even longer to accept that he had been frozen for seventy years. He still remembers how groggy he had been when he first awoke, how cold he was. Perhaps, he sometimes wonders, his body has forgotten warmth.
Piracy has dwindled down to a mere couple hundred brave men, the golden age long past. It must have gone with the Pearl, for the ship hadn't been salvageable. Most everyone he knows- knew- is certainly dead. He probably would be too, if he hadn't gone and gotten himself frozen, which is very rotten luck if anyone were to ask him. He learns to conform to the modern world, not that it's all that much different. Sure, he's missed out on a few big things, but most is the same as it was. It's easy to blend in with the beggar population, he doesn't have to change his attire to blend in with them.
He learns of a war in the New World, of it ceding from England and declaring itself as the United States of America. It will always remain the New World to him, however. He always gets odd looks over it, but he's Captain Jack Sparrow- who doesn't give him strange looks? Even in his own prime days, it was a recurrence that he'd learned to ignore. Not that anyone seems to recognize him for who he is, now. So, he does just that now, calling places and things as he knows them.
He began to track down familiar names almost the very moment he became aware that the year is 1800 rather than 1730. He's too busy to let the guilt drag him down, of all the men he left behind and lead to their deaths, but he certainly feels it. Gibbs, dead. Teague, dead. Barbossa, dead. The whole crew, dead, save for him. He doesn't recall becoming immortal, knows he's not. And then...he strikes gold. The Flying Dutchman is now a ghost story, her name whispered like the other names told in legends. But he has lived through this legend, knows it's much more than that. But, the gold- Elizabeth Swann, the Elizabeth Swann, still lives. He seeks her out. He doesn't expect to actually find her, but it's a small world, now.
She lives out in the countryside, conveniently in the New World. It's a long hike out there from the nearest town, but he knows all the survival skills. He was a pirate, once, after all. A long, long time ago. The journey takes a few days, but it doesn't bother him. He's well-attuned to such physical demands- living on a ship was far from easy. Inland, the New World really is a pretty nice place. He's never been more thankful to be forced to cross so much land during the season of summer before. He can only imagine how cold it will get when winter falls.
Nonetheless, he's more than glad to finally see the small house when he reaches the top of the last hill. It's a cottage, really. It looks so tiny sitting deep in the plains before him. There's a small farm beside it, and even a stable. An old wagon sits beside it. As he crosses the grasslands, his keen eyes catch a flicker of movement, a man with golden, white-streaked hair emerging from the stable. The man spots him, ducking back in the barn and leaping out with a newer model musket in his grasp.
"Stop right there!" The man calls. "State your name and business."
"Well, if ye must know...The name's Smith. 'M visitin'."
"I've never seen you before in my life." The man growls.
No, obviously not. Jack rolls his eyes, narrowing them as he takes in the farmer's features. His skin looks to have the same roughness to it as Will Turner's, his brown eyes the same shade to them as Elizabeth's...Ah, another Turner. Seems as if I'm in the right place after all, then.
"Perhaps not, but who said I was visitin' you?" He finally replies, flashing a hint of his old golden smirk. He scoffs as the man pushes forward. "Put the bloody rifle down, son, 'm not goin' to hurt either of ye."
The Turner boy- really, what else is Jack supposed to call him- hesitantly lowers the musket and frowns at him. "You know my mother?"
"Aye. But, by the looks of things, she doesn't have many visitors 'round, does she?"
"You're the first." He admits uneasily. "Everyone she knew is dead, and the rest have simply gone missing."
"Well, 'Missing' is 'Back', now." Jack informs him. "What's your name, boy?"
The man hardens a little at that. "My name is Henry. Henry Turner. And, for your information, sir, I am much older than you are."
Out of his place in time or not, this is one of his best laughs in his life. His chest rattles in the beginnings of a cough and he has to wipe at damp eyes by the time he regains himself. Oh, lad, if only you knew.
"Who are you?" Henry asks again.
"Cap'n Jack Sparrow, at your service." He ducks into a sweeping bow.
The man's eyes widen.
"Mother, I've brought someone to visit you." Henry quietly calls as he swings the cottage door open, nodding back to Jack to close it.
The responding voice is frail with age, a bit higher pitched than the last time he heard it, but he would recognize it anywhere. "A visitor? All the way out here?"
"I could hardly believe it either. But it must be urgent, as he's walked the whole day." The son tells her.
"Who's insane enough to walk that far?" But when Elizabeth pokes her head out of one of two side rooms, all traces of incredulousness vanish from her wrinkled face, replaced by shock and so much emotion that he doesn't want to even begin to decipher. "Jack?"
The old captain smirks sadly, tilts his tricorn to her. "Long time, love."
It's no surprise that she faints, and a miracle that her heart doesn't give out.
Jack patiently waits at her bedside, his coat pulled around his shoulders to preserve what little body heat he has. Strange thing, how cold it can get from merely ducking inside.
Outside, Henry tends to the crops. They talked a little, initially, after Elizabeth fainted. The man is sixty, born ten years after the Pearl wrecked in the ice. He's met his father a couple of times, before his mother grew too weak to travel for each decadely meeting. The woman's ninety, now, and that makes Jack himself nearly one-hundred and ten. It's a very unsettling thought that he's lived to this age. Most men are lucky to reach fifty, and he's already more than topped that, thanks to the ice. He doesn't feel like he's that old.
He fidgets with the rings on his fingers, absently twisting them about. Every now and again, his eyes will flicker over Elizabeth's frail body, checking up on her. He misses the golden hue of her hair, from back in the days that they knew one another. He had frozen, and the world truly had just gone on without him. It's something he'll never get used to.
"Jack?" Her whisper catches him off-guard.
His worn old mask snaps back in place, and he glances over at her. "Hmm?"
"You're really here? I'm not dreaming?"
"Aye, love. 'M 'ere, in the flesh."
A hand feebly reaches out to grasp his coat. Her voice is laced with emotion, and he can see the joyful tears brimming in her once-strong eyes. "Jack...How?"
"I froze." He shrugs, then grimaces, his voice falling. "For bloody seventy years." Trying to lighten up, he adds,"'M still freezin', too."
"Times may have changed, Jack, but you certainly haven't."
"Haven't exactly had the chance, though, have I?" His voice becomes somber.
"I suppose not." Elizabeth murmurs. "Jack, why are you here?"
"The Pearl's gone. The crew's with her. Don't have much left, love. Oughta seek out a familiar face if I know it's out there, eh?"
"I missed you, Jack. When the rumors went around that the Black Pearl disappeared...I didn't know what to think. So soon after we defeated Davy Jones, too. I couldn't bear to think that you'd gotten yourself killed again." Her eyes are misting up again, her jaw trembling.
"Well, never fear, Lizzie. 'M right 'ere, now." Jack quirks his lips in a small smile. "He's a good man, that lad of yours."
"Oh, he tends to take after his father." She smiles weakly.
"Good. William would be proud o' 'im."
Elizabeth lets out a watery laugh. "I know he would."
Outside, the sun shines through the top of the window as it begins to set, forcing Jack to squint against the light. The land is darkening, shadows setting over it. Henry's shape is silhouetted as he works. The wild grass sways gently in the evening breeze. He's spent most of his life frozen, and before that, out on the open ocean. This is a nice change. Maybe, if he chooses, he could get used to this. Might as well start over now anyway, right?
"An' ye? How've ye been, love?" He asks.
"Well enough, thank you, Jack." She murmurs. "Did you hear about the war? Henry fought in it."
"Ye mean the one I jus' missed?" Jack teases, shakes his head. "The lad comes from a line o' blood born for battle, love. I wouldn't expect any less o' him. He's strong, jus' like Will an' yourself."
She hums softly, a smile slowly appearing on her features. "So he is."
He can see the effect of their conversation on her and his heart drops. She's easily ninety, now, and it's evident that she likely doesn't have more than a few weeks left ahead of her. To think that if he hadn't gone searching for her, he wouldn't have met her again. That day she rowed away from the Pearl to give her farewells to Will, it could have so easily been the last time he'd ever see her. There's a pang that stabs at his heart at the thought of how much time they've lost. The world was dangerous, seventy years ago. Still is. But now that he's finally here, he has to make it worth something.
Jack gently unfastens her hand from his coat, presses a kiss to it. When she rolls her eyes fondly in response, he gently lays it back on her chest. He reluctantly rises to his feet to leave. "Rest up, love. We can talk more tomorrow."
"Will you still be here?" Elizabeth asks, her old skepticism flashing up for a moment.
"Got nowhere else to be, darlin'." He doesn't intend to speak as softly as he does, but he finds that he doesn't regret it. He's not sure if she's ever heard this tone of his voice. She's never really heard much of the real him, outside of his manipulations. He wishes he had allowed her to see that side of him sooner, when they could have done something about it. He'll forever regret not letting down his guard back then.
"Oh, Jack." She breathes. "If I had known…"
"Ye didn't, love, an' I don't blame ye. Rest, now."
The door gently shuts behind him.
She slips peacefully, in the night. Jack still doesn't like the cold.