I never expected to see it again…the great ship with black sails that somehow managed to change my life every time it appeared in our harbour. Yet…here it was, returning, long after I'd gotten the last letters from William, long after I'd gotten word from the former first mate – now the captain of the Pearl, of my husband's demise, of the demise of Jack Sparrow. It did not surprise me that they were both gone…William could not live without his Sparrow; that had been proven time and again. Yet some of the crew of the Pearl had survived, and some had returned and…I cursed my fluttering heart, my wayward thoughts, my hopes that it was me for whom they were returning. In a strange sort of calm I told my son to run along and play with his cousins, a request that he was more than happy to fulfill. He loved his cousins, he loved sitting at his uncle's forge – loved that even more than the allure of the sea. It was a love I had tried hard to cultivate in him, in my son, my little Will. More than anything, I feared losing the last man left in my life to the sea, as I'd already lost all the others. But perhaps…perhaps I hadn't quite lost them all.
One of the maids came upstairs and said that I had a visitor, and so I calmly got to my feet and straightened my skirts and went down to meet him. It was, of course, Hector…Hector Barbossa, alive and here, and there was something terribly alluring the way his tired eyes lit when he saw me coming down the stairs. I crossed to his side and offered my hand, and some sort of soft pleasantry about what a pleasant surprise it was to see him. He ignored the proffered hand and reached out to pull me into a fierce embrace, murmuring something incomprehensible about life and death and apples and waiting for something at last to seem warm and real and substantial. I asked him to come in for tea, and apologized that I hadn't any apples – they were out of season, after all. He reached for my hand and squeezed it for a moment, murmured that it didn't matter, not when he had me, and he seemed rather pleased at how much I blushed at that. Tea lasted far too long, or perhaps not long enough; when it was over, I shyly took his hand and led him upstairs. He was charming, he was attentive, he was passionate, he returned to me…and I was no longer married. Perhaps this excuses my conduct. Perhaps it does not.
Later, much later, I awoke to the sound of soft weeping. I was, after all, a mother – and accustomed to waking on such occasions. But my son was away and it was the pirate who shared my bed who was hurting. I reached out, offering silent comfort; he accepted it, moved chastely into my arms. His tears were warm, his voice was anguished as he spoke, telling about how he never believed in children's stories, in faerietales, in curses…but that was the only explanation he could find for what was happening to him. He was losing his humanity, he said, he was falling apart, he was going insane; he could feel nothing, anymore, not even…his voice broke and shook, there, and I offered soft reassurances, soothed, the best I could. It wasn't enough – could anything be enough to heal a hurt that bad? – but somehow it sufficed. He slept, calmly, in my arms; I sat awake and watched him sleeping, because there was nothing else I could do.
He spent a week at my side, the days in my house, the nights in my bed. I awoke one morning to find him gone, and although I spent some time wishing he would return to me…he never did. The Pearl had sailed away in the night.
And once again I was left alone.
No earthly ships would ever bring him home.
Author's Notes:
Firstly, I must say that this chapter is entirely dedicated to my Cielness. *pets Cielness*. For some reason, I blame it entirely on her – perhaps it's just too too ironic, for one that I am blaming her for writing blatant heterosexuality, and for two that I'm blaming her for writing piratefic when she hasn't even seen "Pirates". Ah well, somehow, someway, this is all for her. And all her fault. Or something. *laughs*
Secondly, I hope this wasn't too squicky. I live in a bubble, where ten years ago, Barbossa was sexy. Sexy and vulnerable and not decrepit and falling apart and all skeleton-y. I have this set right after they've taken the gold…and he said that it took them a while to understand the curse, and so I'd assume if it was taking them a while to figure out the curse, I'd imagine that they weren't turning into skeletons in the moonlight right away. *laughs*. (As to why Jack Sparrow did…all I can say is that he's Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy, and the rules don't apply, especially if it's a convenient plot device. ;)). So. There will be more, in which…things are explained. Whee. Explanations. But in the meantime, enjoy.
Oh, and a word to the wise – once you get Sexy!Barbossa in your head, he's very difficult to silence. :-p Just so all of you know.
Up next from Elske – the next chapter of "One Night More", a ficlet starring PeterSmithKingsley!Norrington, and…maybe something mangoy, if I find myself incapable of resisting the impulse. ;)
Ee, I almost forgot – thanks to both of you who reviewed this. :) *snuggles both of you*.
Peace,
~*Elske~*