You didn't really think I'd leave it there did you?
* * * * * * * * * * *
And Ana-Maria? Stranded, lost to the world for ten years. Ten years doesn't seem to matter, when you live them day-to-day, trying to survive. It would have been easier for her, to submerge beneath the riff-raff, to find her way to Tortugua, where all the lost women go to flaunt the little wares they have to the world.
But Ana-Maria never took the easier way, the hopeless way. Her crew disbanded, her men casting her knowing looks, grumbling over their cups over the 'failure of women.' There was little to be said, really. Without a ship, her family and the life as she knew it fell apart. The crew went after the hoard, leaving her penniless and alone.
Her hatred for Jack fuelled her, but more then anything, her desire to understand what had gone through his mind that day. Especially when she heard the gossip, carried by the wind and salt to sailor's ports far from Jack and his new ship, that he'd been betrayed. That he'd been lead into a treasureless trap.
And that he'd sunk to Portella.
It was gone. There was no golden pursuit of it in her future, no goal that got her up every morning. Only a mixed embarrassment towards the man she'd told she loved the morning he had betrayed her. A man who' undertaken one of the most dangerous rescue missions she'd ever heard of, at her expense.
So she didn't confront him. She didn't have the words to confront him.
She let the winds take her, scatter the years of her life, take her from port to port. She did odd jobs on ships, her face covered and her breasts bound. But the ocean, though it still held its thrall on her, reminded her too much of the past. And so she fled from it.
And that's when she fell into thievery. Working in the shadows, pick pocketing and black jacking until she found something better. She was one of the best, her hands quicker, her built inconspicuous and her face easily forgotten.
And then Jack had saved her from the gallows. The old feeling, the one she'd been trying to bury inside herself as lust or to cover with anger, broke out a new.
There had been others of course, men taken out of desperation, or out of a common alliance. But to often they wanted something of her, information, or privileges or commitment. None of these things she was able to give. Once you've been burnt, it's easy to avoid the fire all together, even if it means you receive no warmth from it.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Jack and Ana-Maria stood at the Helm of the Black Pearl.
Ten years had changed them both. He was no longer the plucky lad of sixteen, who seemed to have fate slap him in the face at every turn.
He was indescribable.
And she was not what she had been, no longer a captain, no longer the lonely hellcat she had been. Like the ocean herself, the winds and the weather still made Ana-Maria capricious and dangerous, and she still had a wicked tongue, but she had a deep-seated calmness now that couldn't be shaken.
It was easy with Jack; she knew that, to forget about the past, to live for the minute, for the constant banter. But it wasn't just that when she was with him, she saw the love of the sea that she'd instilled in him and all the possibilities that she'd lost. And it felt like he was teaching her to regain them.
And she knew where she was going.
She was going with Jack.
Jack passed her the rum, the early morning breeze ruffling her hair and clanging his beads. He rested one hand on the helm possessively. Ana-Maria leant against the railing, leaning back over it so the wind court her hair.
"It's like having Turner back, isn't it Jack?" Ana-Maria said, watching Elizabeth and Will canoodling further down the ship. Elizabeth said something to Will, and he laughed, his stern face relaxed, his heart lightened.
"Old Bootstrap? Yeah, it is a bit." He said pensively. He pursed his lips, watching the lovers. He thought suddenly of how much Elizabeth had reminded him, on that first day when he plucked her out of the ocean, of Julia. Of how her blonde hair falling over her face and the pirate trinket had only strengthened the image. And yet Elizabeth had not been for him. Maybe Julia had never been either.
Ana-Maria passed the rum back to Jack, and he slipped it back into his pocket. She reached out to hold his hand where it rested on the wheel.
"You still miss him?" She asked.
"Yeah, a bit. Who would thought, me, you and Turner's son and a bottle of rum."
"Jack, I think you mean Elizabeth, not a bottle of rum."
"Ah, yes." Jack said guiltily. "Will's so much like Bootstrap." Jack added thoughtfully. "When we were fighting Barbossa, it was like back in the old days, me and Bootstrap, I knew he had my back no matter what." Ana-Maria's hand squeezed his.
"We can't keep them." She said, referring Elizabeth and Will, with a small shake of the head. Jack grinned, and gave Ana-Maria an affectionate whack to the head, drawing her to lean on his shoulder.
"Nope. Gunna have to return them." He agreed. Elizabeth caught Jack's eye and waved, her blonde hair blowing softly in the wind. Jack grinned, flashing her his teeth. Ana-Maria looked thoughtful.
"They're going to be sublimely happy aren't they? And there's no way we can stop it." She said. Jack laughed, and pulled her body to his, feeling the soft small of her back beneath his arm, and the flutter of her hair against his chest.
"No way in hell we can stop it." He agreed.
"We're just going to have to kill them." Ana-Maria joked with a small shake of the head. Jack grinned again.
"Something like that." His eyes grew distant as he spun the wheel at little, changing their coarse, so they sailed towards the pink smudge rising sun. Then Jack started to hum.
"Da, da,da, da,da,da, We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot," He crooned crudely. Ana-Maria made a face, pulling away from him slightly.
"Don't sing that song." Ana-Maria said with a shake of her head.
"Why not? It's a good song!" Jack replied indignantly. "Elizabeth taught it to me!" He glared down at Ana-Maria, affronted.
"Jack, it's a terrible song. I've never heard a worse song." She said laughing softly.
"What? It's brilliant." Jack said shocked.
"Jack, it gives pirates a terrible name," She said.
"But that's what we do! We do pillage and plunder and bloody loot" He cried out. "Its about us! It's a song about pirates. It's a great song!" She turned her head away.
"Jack, it says we smell like bad eggs. It's just not a classy song." Jack frowned, sniffing Ana-Maria, and pulling a face. Ana whacked his on the arm.
"Well, I like it." He sulked.
"Fine sing it." She leant up and made to kiss him on the cheek. He pulled her into a long kiss and ruffled her hair. She wrapped her arm around his waist once more, and leant her head against his chest, listening to the thud of his heart.
"Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho." He continued, unfazed.
And the Black Pearls dark sails fluttered against the soft wind of the Caribbean, it's beauty mirrored in the clear unbroken waters. And it sailed forward, into the cool blue light of the new day, into a new dawn. * * * * * * * * * * * *
And that's it. Except for one last word.........
And Ana-Maria? Stranded, lost to the world for ten years. Ten years doesn't seem to matter, when you live them day-to-day, trying to survive. It would have been easier for her, to submerge beneath the riff-raff, to find her way to Tortugua, where all the lost women go to flaunt the little wares they have to the world.
But Ana-Maria never took the easier way, the hopeless way. Her crew disbanded, her men casting her knowing looks, grumbling over their cups over the 'failure of women.' There was little to be said, really. Without a ship, her family and the life as she knew it fell apart. The crew went after the hoard, leaving her penniless and alone.
Her hatred for Jack fuelled her, but more then anything, her desire to understand what had gone through his mind that day. Especially when she heard the gossip, carried by the wind and salt to sailor's ports far from Jack and his new ship, that he'd been betrayed. That he'd been lead into a treasureless trap.
And that he'd sunk to Portella.
It was gone. There was no golden pursuit of it in her future, no goal that got her up every morning. Only a mixed embarrassment towards the man she'd told she loved the morning he had betrayed her. A man who' undertaken one of the most dangerous rescue missions she'd ever heard of, at her expense.
So she didn't confront him. She didn't have the words to confront him.
She let the winds take her, scatter the years of her life, take her from port to port. She did odd jobs on ships, her face covered and her breasts bound. But the ocean, though it still held its thrall on her, reminded her too much of the past. And so she fled from it.
And that's when she fell into thievery. Working in the shadows, pick pocketing and black jacking until she found something better. She was one of the best, her hands quicker, her built inconspicuous and her face easily forgotten.
And then Jack had saved her from the gallows. The old feeling, the one she'd been trying to bury inside herself as lust or to cover with anger, broke out a new.
There had been others of course, men taken out of desperation, or out of a common alliance. But to often they wanted something of her, information, or privileges or commitment. None of these things she was able to give. Once you've been burnt, it's easy to avoid the fire all together, even if it means you receive no warmth from it.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Jack and Ana-Maria stood at the Helm of the Black Pearl.
Ten years had changed them both. He was no longer the plucky lad of sixteen, who seemed to have fate slap him in the face at every turn.
He was indescribable.
And she was not what she had been, no longer a captain, no longer the lonely hellcat she had been. Like the ocean herself, the winds and the weather still made Ana-Maria capricious and dangerous, and she still had a wicked tongue, but she had a deep-seated calmness now that couldn't be shaken.
It was easy with Jack; she knew that, to forget about the past, to live for the minute, for the constant banter. But it wasn't just that when she was with him, she saw the love of the sea that she'd instilled in him and all the possibilities that she'd lost. And it felt like he was teaching her to regain them.
And she knew where she was going.
She was going with Jack.
Jack passed her the rum, the early morning breeze ruffling her hair and clanging his beads. He rested one hand on the helm possessively. Ana-Maria leant against the railing, leaning back over it so the wind court her hair.
"It's like having Turner back, isn't it Jack?" Ana-Maria said, watching Elizabeth and Will canoodling further down the ship. Elizabeth said something to Will, and he laughed, his stern face relaxed, his heart lightened.
"Old Bootstrap? Yeah, it is a bit." He said pensively. He pursed his lips, watching the lovers. He thought suddenly of how much Elizabeth had reminded him, on that first day when he plucked her out of the ocean, of Julia. Of how her blonde hair falling over her face and the pirate trinket had only strengthened the image. And yet Elizabeth had not been for him. Maybe Julia had never been either.
Ana-Maria passed the rum back to Jack, and he slipped it back into his pocket. She reached out to hold his hand where it rested on the wheel.
"You still miss him?" She asked.
"Yeah, a bit. Who would thought, me, you and Turner's son and a bottle of rum."
"Jack, I think you mean Elizabeth, not a bottle of rum."
"Ah, yes." Jack said guiltily. "Will's so much like Bootstrap." Jack added thoughtfully. "When we were fighting Barbossa, it was like back in the old days, me and Bootstrap, I knew he had my back no matter what." Ana-Maria's hand squeezed his.
"We can't keep them." She said, referring Elizabeth and Will, with a small shake of the head. Jack grinned, and gave Ana-Maria an affectionate whack to the head, drawing her to lean on his shoulder.
"Nope. Gunna have to return them." He agreed. Elizabeth caught Jack's eye and waved, her blonde hair blowing softly in the wind. Jack grinned, flashing her his teeth. Ana-Maria looked thoughtful.
"They're going to be sublimely happy aren't they? And there's no way we can stop it." She said. Jack laughed, and pulled her body to his, feeling the soft small of her back beneath his arm, and the flutter of her hair against his chest.
"No way in hell we can stop it." He agreed.
"We're just going to have to kill them." Ana-Maria joked with a small shake of the head. Jack grinned again.
"Something like that." His eyes grew distant as he spun the wheel at little, changing their coarse, so they sailed towards the pink smudge rising sun. Then Jack started to hum.
"Da, da,da, da,da,da, We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot," He crooned crudely. Ana-Maria made a face, pulling away from him slightly.
"Don't sing that song." Ana-Maria said with a shake of her head.
"Why not? It's a good song!" Jack replied indignantly. "Elizabeth taught it to me!" He glared down at Ana-Maria, affronted.
"Jack, it's a terrible song. I've never heard a worse song." She said laughing softly.
"What? It's brilliant." Jack said shocked.
"Jack, it gives pirates a terrible name," She said.
"But that's what we do! We do pillage and plunder and bloody loot" He cried out. "Its about us! It's a song about pirates. It's a great song!" She turned her head away.
"Jack, it says we smell like bad eggs. It's just not a classy song." Jack frowned, sniffing Ana-Maria, and pulling a face. Ana whacked his on the arm.
"Well, I like it." He sulked.
"Fine sing it." She leant up and made to kiss him on the cheek. He pulled her into a long kiss and ruffled her hair. She wrapped her arm around his waist once more, and leant her head against his chest, listening to the thud of his heart.
"Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho." He continued, unfazed.
And the Black Pearls dark sails fluttered against the soft wind of the Caribbean, it's beauty mirrored in the clear unbroken waters. And it sailed forward, into the cool blue light of the new day, into a new dawn. * * * * * * * * * * * *
And that's it. Except for one last word.........