Her
She was back in his life. He knew it even that night in the cells, awaiting the gallows, with that peculiar way he sometimes seemed to know things in advance. She was back. It made his hands itch for the feeling of her.
He knew it when he stood next to the noose, listening to the summing of his crimes. Impersonating a member of the clergy; the memory made him smile. He had gotten up to some positively bizarre things in his life up till now. It was a shame that it seemed that life would be ending somewhat soon now.
But he did not die, and somehow that did not surprise him. How could he die just now she was back? The one he had been pursuing for more than ten years, the one that sat so deep inside him that every day without her seemed an eternity?
Things moved fast then, and before he knew it they were trapped, but Elizabeth spoke, and finally! Will realised that his love was returned by her. Jack had been all but ready to shove them into each others arms. For the son of William Turner the boy could be awfully slow-witted at times.
Then, before the present company could turn their attention to trivial things like his arrest, he made his exit.
The wind rushed past him, making him light-headed, and for that impossibly long moment, plummeting down, he imagined to be the sparrow that was his name, and reached to spread wings that were not there.
When he hit the water all the wind was driven from his lungs, and it took an alarmingly long time to gather his wits and push to the surface. Then, coming up, he could feel it already – she was there. His beloved Pearl.
His body felt bruised by the impact on the water, but he pushed himself to swim to open water anyway. The salt air burned his throat, but it was a good burn, the sort of feeling that told him he was still alive, not the burn of rope on his throat. Anything to never feel that again.
And then, there she was, new sails up, looking nothing like the ghost ship she had been the last ten years, and everything like the elegant beauty she had been before. His ship, his love, his Pearl.
Captain Jack Sparrow stroked his hand lovingly along a railing, grabbed the shroud of the main mast, and quickly climbed up. There it was, his Sparrows' nest, together with his place at the helm one of the best places on board. Sinking down to a sit, he rested his cheek against the mast, and just in this place the wood was smoothened by the hundreds of times he had sat here before. The gentle rocking of his lady soothed him until the past ten years faded away to the background of his memory.
Taking a deep breath, Jack closed his eyes, thinking of all the wonderful places he could let his Pearl take him.
Spreading his arms wide, the sparrow flew again.
Captain Jack Sparrow was home.