Disclaimer: Still don't own them, though after the amount of times that I've gone and seen it, you'd think the least Disney could do is send me a thank you card. grin
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The Ending of the Last Actual Chapter:
Capturing her gaze with his, Jack said, "The last condition was you have to promise to come back to me. But I was hopin' you'd do that anyway." Winn's eyes filled with longing to stay and never go. But they both know this had to be done. Jack kissed her harshly one last time, before shoving her out onto the gangplank running between both ships. She understood what he was silently telling her, and quickly boarded the Fortune's Run, not looking back.
Walking to the prow of the ship, she looked back only once. Jack had already turned and was barking orders to his crew. If his voice sounded a bit more gravelly than normal, it must have only been because they had spent hours talking the night before. Cursing, she wiped a tear from her eye. I promised myself I wouldn't cry.
Quickly reaching her goal, she looked ahead as the Black Pearl fell behind, soon becoming nothing more than an toy nearing the horizon. For once in her life she stopped looking back, kept her eyes set on their plotted course. The sooner they reached England, the sooner she could return.
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Lesser Ipswich really hadn't changed much in the time that Winn had been away. The village was still small, the roads still worn with wagon and carriage tracks, and the sea still pounded the rocks and the cliffs that the town ranged across. And at the moment, the familiar grey veils of winter rain were falling from the sky. Winn could not wait to get back home.
Alex had dropped her off in Brighton almost three months ago. She had stayed in the town for three days. While there, she had stopped by the solicitor that Governor Swann still kept employed to watch over his English business matters. Apparently Elizabeth had remembered that this man had been given charge over her mother's effects, one of which was a diary belonging to Winn's mother. She had given Jack a note to give to Winn so that she could collect it should she ever want to.
Winn had, and she didn't know what she would have done without it. Reading those pages written by her mother had brought so much of her life back into focus – had reminded Winn of all the good times they had had. But most importantly she had found out how much her mother had truly loved her.
Sitting now in her room in the town's only inn, Winn found herself skimming through those pages once again.
"This is the first day that I have been strong enough to write since the birth of the twins.
I have a beautiful little daughter, who've we've named Winifred. She's a stubborn little thing,
I can tell already. She screams and howls, and yet has this look of mischief in her eye that I
swear she does these things just to make the rest of us pay more attention to her. Maxwell
(Winn's father) says that I'm imagining things, but I don't care. I'm simply so thankful that one
of my children survived that I am willing to believe anything. My only daughter is a joy and a
treasure. She had captivated her brothers and her proud papa and her mother."
"I was so proud of Winn today. She got into a fight with some of the other village girls. They
had been harassing little Elizabeth. They didn't for long. The other mothers don't understand
why I'm proud of her. The called her a heathen, and a tomboy, and a mischief-maker. One went
so far as to call her a changeling. I don't care – she did exactly what I would have her do – stand
up for a friend. Perhaps I do wish that she had found another way to do so, but having grown up
with so many brothers, I am not surprised that she managed to give several girls black eyes and
another a split lip. I think I shall keep her indoors for several say . . . or at least until the bruises
start to fade."
"My daughter becomes more a woman everyday. Maxwell says that she's looking more and
more like his mother every time he sees her. Except for her height – she still remains short and
rail thin, but her personality helps make up for that. I can only hope that one day she finds a
man capable of appreciating that in her, otherwise she'll have a miserable life."
Winn looked up from her reading. The rain was slowing to a light drizzle. She could face that. She had one last thing to do before she left in the morning.
Picking up a heavy shawl from a chair by the fireplace, she left her room. As she descended the stairs, she nodded at the other people gathered in the inn's taproom. Most of these people she remembered faintly from her childhood as they remembered her. For the past two months she had heard whispers of her wilder youth. Not many people approached her, and she was merely polite to those who did. She had not come back to see them, but to see herself.
Walking out the door, she turned left down the main road, towards the cemetery. She needed to speak to her parents one last time before she went home. She needed to let them know that she no longer blamed them for dying and leaving her alone – and that she was no longer alone.
She stopped only once, to pick some wildflowers that had managed to survive the English winter. They were hardy little things, made to last and stand strong against the sea winds and elements alike. They may not have been roses, may not have been perfect, but in her eyes they were all the more beautiful for having survived this long in a environment that was out to get them. She remembered how that felt.
Passing the gates of the cemetery, she walked directly to the place where her mother was buried, and her father immortalized in a simple name graven in granite. Setting the flowers down on the gravesite, she leaned on a convenient tombstone. "Hi Mama, hi Papa. I finally came to see you, to say good-bye. I know that I've been refusing to do so for so long now, but I think I've finally grown up. I think you would be proud of me again.
"Papa, I just want you to know that I don't blame you for causing Mama's death anymore. I don't think that you loved the sea more than you loved us. I know . . . I've been told . . . how rough things were back in my childhood – how everyone was struggling to make ends meet. And with such a large family, I know you had to be gone most of the time to support us. I never thanked you for that, but I want to now. I miss you, but I've never forgotten what you taught me – even when I wanted to.
"Mama, I just want to tell you that I'm so sorry. For a long time I was mad at you for dying, and then I decided that you had never really loved me. That you had given all your love to Papa. But I know now that you simply loved Papa differently than you loved me. I'm sorry for thinking ill of you, when I realize now that you loved me and my brothers so much. Please, I hope that you can forgive me."
Winn glanced over her shoulder. She may have needed to get these things off her chest, but that didn't mean that she wanted anyone else to hear her. No one was around, however; everyone else had enough good sense to stay inside on such an uninviting day.
Turning back to what was left of her parents, she resumed talking. "I just wanted to let you both now that if you've been worrying about me, you can stop. You see, I've married a rather good man. Not too good, because that would be boring, but good nonetheless. I know, he's a pirate, but he doesn't take joy in harming people as far as I can tell. Well, he might have enjoyed torturing his first mate, but that's only because the man led a mutiny against him.
"Anyway, he loves me, and that's all that I find matters. And, I think, I think that I love him to. I definitely want to be with him, I want to spend time talking to him, to know everything about him and to have him know the same things about me." Winn blushed, "I definitely don't mind sharing a bed with him.
"It's just that we fight so much. I can see why loving might not be a good idea. The people you love can hurt you ever so much more than people you don't car about. And I definitely care about him. I guess I'll find out whether or not I love him soon enough.
"I suppose that's what I really wanted to tell you. I'm leaving England again, and I probably won't ever come back. I realize now that my place is with Jack, that I long to simply be with him even if we never spoke another word to each other, never touched each other again. Well . . . maybe not. If that happened I might have to leave and make him come after me again.
"I miss you both, and I probably will for some time to come. But I also miss my husband, and my life, and the sun. I miss the sun. So I wanted to say good-bye, and that I finally understand you, and that I love you."
The next morning dawned dimly and wetly. Winn would have considered staying in bed were it not for the fact that there was a ship waiting for her in Ipswich. She got out of bed and dressed quickly, ready to be back on the road, back on the sea, back in Jack's arms. As she dressed, a piece of paper fell to the floor. She looked at it curiously, wanting to read it, but there was no time. Sticking it in one of her trunks, she resolved to read it once aboard ship.
Walking out the door to her room for the last time, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the room's mirror. She stopped to look at herself. What she saw was a woman who was bright-eyed with anticipation, who's dusky cheeks were highlighted in rose, and who seemed at peace with herself. There I am. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see that image again. I wonder how long it will stay around, and if Jack will like it was much as the rest of me.
She was going to stop and ponder this for a bit longer, when two men came up the stairs to carry her trunks down to the carriage waiting to take her to her ship. No time to drag my feet. She closed the door and nearly ran down the stairs.
She was going home.
Aboard a ship headed towards the Caribbean:
My dearest Winifred,
I write this as I watch you sleeping at my bedside. We are both aware of what you are
waiting for. And I know that you will see this as another desertion rather than a step in
both my life and yours. You are a remarkably stubborn young woman, but I hope that one
day you will understand that death is not a betrayal of love, but instead the opportunity to
remember it.
And while I speak of love, I have some wisdom to impart to you on this matter. I know you
have forsworn love, and I may even understand why. But I know that no matter how stubborn
you are, love cannot be denied. One day it will catch up with you, and that it's not going to
leave you alone until you come to accept it. In your case, this means that it will have to beat you
over the head with a tree trunk. It will have to rile you up, it will have to make you mad, make
you rant and scream and cry, and possibly make you feel as if you hate. But don't be mistaken.
Love may be an inconvenience for a time, but in the end it is an inconvenience that is worth your
time and aggravation and tears.
I feel safe saying this because I see so much of myself in you. I can't tell you the number of times
your Grandfather and I yelled and screamed and swore at each other. The number of doors that
were slammed, windows snuck out of, and even bruises inflicted (although I am the one guilty of that).
There were times that I truly hated being in love, but that didn't change the fact that I was. All it
meant was that in the resolution of the anger came a peace like no other.
So, my darling and only granddaughter, I wish that you will be inconvenienced at some point in your
life. I hope that you find a man who drives you out of your mind with irritation and vexation. A man
that's worth making up with.
Go with love,
Isabella Morgan
Aboard a ship leaving from Swallows Rest:
Jack,
I'm coming home. I've done a lot of thinking and coming to terms with myself. There's something I
need to tell you, but I want, need to do it in person. Should all go well, I will arrive in Tortuga in the
second week of March. Please meet me at the Faithful Bride as we had planned.
Your wife,
W. Morgan Sparrow
Tortuga, March 18th, beginning of the third week:
She was late. She had written and told him that she would meet him here in the second week of the month, and here it was, the beginning of the third week. She'd better have a good explanation for this.
Jack sat at a table in the back of the tavern. All around him were drunks. Happy drunks, surly drunks, unconscious drunks, and worst of all – singing drunks. All in all it was a lively and entertaining scene – one he normally enjoyed. But under normal circumstances he wasn't waiting to see if his world had run aground while he hadn't been paying attention.
She'll be coming. She said she would. I have to believe that.
The Faithful Bride Inn was not the only part of Tortuga that was its loud, vociferous, flamboyant, and flashy self. Everywhere one looked on the small island there was lawless and lurid business conducted, brawls, shifty characters, and even wild animals running freely in the streets.
The cloaked figure remembered why they so disliked this place – it was too much. Too much noise, too much danger. Too much of the worse side of human nature. Sidestepping several drunks who had conveniently passed out in the middle of the street, making sure to not seem hesitant, the figure made its way to a nearby inn.
Stopping inside the doors, she looked around, trying to decide whether or not this was a convenient place to complete her business. It had been a long night, a long week really, and she wanted nothing but to find the one man who would take her away from here. She saw several people who could be likely candidates for her savior, but in the end they turned out to be . . . lacking. She was here to find a very distinctive individual. Someone worth her time.
Ahh . . . there in the corner. Her heart beat faster when she saw how hansom, how attractive he was. There he is. Upon further study he didn't seem to be in the best of moods, but she was sure that the right kind of . . . company . . . would solve that. She watched and smirked as a rather unfortunate young woman was not so politely sent on her way. Perhaps he'll enjoy my company better.
She started to approach his table, seeing the wavering light from several nearby candles reflect off the trinkets in his hair. She swallowed hard, hoping that he would wish for her company as she was wishing for his.
Mind set on her path, she was surprised when a hand reached out and grabbed her arm. "What d'ye think ye're doin' lassie? This is my turf. Leave before the girls and I have to get mean."
The cloaked woman simply looked at the tall prostitute, a hint of a smirk on her face. "I'll only ask you to let me go once. After that you can't say I didn't warn you."
Leaning in, the woman dug her nails into her captive's arm. Before she could make another threatening comment, however, she was abruptly dumped to the floor as her legs were knocked out from underneath her. Looking up in surprised outrage, her eyes suddenly widened in fear as she found herself staring down the barrel of a gun into a pair of mildly amused eyes. "This may be your turf, but that is my man, and I will shoot anyone who makes a move on him. Savvy?" The woman on the floor nodded. "Good."
Jack was growing more and more tired of staying in the tavern. He had had to refuse the advances of three different women so far, and one woman twice. As the night went on and everyone got more and more drunk, he was finding his usual tolerance for such activities was lower than normal. Of course, he was also beginning to believe that his roaming wife was never going to show up.
He was starting to ponder the idea of going after her, never mind whatever ill-thought promises he had made, when he felt a hand trail across his shoulders. As it did, a woman came from behind him to take a seat at the table across from him. As soon as she sat, he felt a foot start trailing up and down his shin. He sighed, wondering what he would have to do to make the local strumpets understand that he didn't want company. Well, I do. Just not theirs.
The woman didn't say anything, just sat and looked at him from underneath the hood and shadows that concealed her face. Just get it over with. "Sorry, luv, but I'm not in the mood for company right now. Why don't you move along to your next target like a good girl, and leave me be?"
Still the woman said nothing. She sat silently for another moment or two before asking in a voice barely audible over the ambient noise, "What makes you think I'm selling anything?" Jack didn't answer her, just waited for her to leave. "If that's the way you want to play it." She shrugged and got up. Tossing a bit of paper on the table, she said, "You might want to look at that," and then she left.
Ok, he had to admit that he was curious. That had been very strange. Picking up the paper, he unfolded it to find two pieces of paper, one folded inside the first. The first simply read, "Bite me." On a hunch he unfolded the second paper which had two drawings on it. The first was a face without any recognizable features, what features there were being blurred and out of focus. The second was easy to identify, however. It was the face of his wife.
Winn was working her way back through the crowd, waiting to see if Jack had as much sense as she thought he did. Or at least as much curiosity. Why wasn't he coming after her? Surely he had had time to see what she had left him. She was on the verge of turning around when the choice was taken from her. She found herself wrapped in a tight embrace, her mouth being attacked by a man not too much taller than herself. If she had to guess, she'd say that she would fit under his chin quite comfortably.
Pulling away, she managed to gasp, "Upstairs. I rented a room," before pulling Jack back down to kiss her again. She had missed him so much, and had wondered what their reunion would be like. This, while perhaps not what she had been planning, was working out just fine.
Somehow they managed to get upstairs. Somehow they managed to get into the room that had been rented to them. Somehow they managed to lock the door. And somehow they managed to not break their embrace in doing all this. Finding himself pressed against the door, the handle digging uncomfortably into his back, Jack asked his wife, "Miss me?"
Deciding that it was somewhat unnecessary to answer that question, Winn merely said what she had been waiting months to say. "I love you. Don't stop."
Jack didn't.
It was morning before Jack awoke. It was a first for him to find Winn awake before he was, but there she was, sitting in the bed, looking down at him with an unreadable look in her eyes. He didn't like that look. "What's wrong?"
He was taken by complete surprise when Winn launched herself at him and started beating on his chest. "How dare you?" she cried. "How could you do this to me?"
Jack quickly grabbed hold of her wrists, controlling the tattoo they had set up against his ribcage. "What're you mad at me for now? I've barely been awake for a minute and already you're bein' unnecessarily confusing. What's got you riled?"
"You! How dare you sleep with a woman who's not your wife? How could you do that to me?" Winn saw the look of complete and utter bewilderment spread across Jack's face. It was too much. She broke down in joyous, abandoned laughter. That look was priceless.
Jack watched his wife wondering if someone could actually go mad from too much thinking. "Love?"
"Yes, I am and I do, and as long as we're on dry land I am not your wife, so therefore you just slept with someone you're not married to, you beast." Winn had never felt so good, so refreshed, so free. "You'll have to make amends for that little oversight by taking me on the Black Pearl as soon as possible."
"And how is that going to help?" Winn wasn't the only one enjoying herself. Jack had never really found joy in anyone else's happiness before, but this was different. He had before him a woman who was happy, and playful, and to all appearances totally at peace with who she was. Not just when she was alone, but when she was with him.
Looking at him with an evil grin, she leaned forward and practically purred in his ear, "I already said that you were going to have to take me on the Black Pearl. Do I really need to spell it out for you, Captain Sparrow?"
It turns out that she didn't. It was midmorning before they actually were prepared to leave to return to the Pearl. Stopping Winn before she could open the door, Jack asked something that had been bothering him. "Why were you late gettin' here, love?"
Winn saw the fading vestiges of doubt in his eyes. She reached up to cup his cheek, his beard tickling her palm. "My ship got blown off course in a particularly nasty storm and had to put in at a nearby island to make repairs. To make up for lost time, I made the captain bring me here before he dropped off any of his other passengers."
"How'd you do that?"
"I believe I made several rather unrepeatable threats. I knew, or at least I hoped that you would still be here." Looking solemn for the first time that morning, Winn repeated what she had said the night before. "I love you, Jack. I'm not sorry that I had to go away and wrestle with myself to admit that, but I would have been if you hadn't been here waiting for me. I'm not sure that I had nearly enough confidence to hunt you down to tell you that." She smiled wryly. "Although I might have eventually, once I had gotten nice and upset over the fact that you had given up on me."
"You wouldn't have had the chance. I would have found you first and demanded an accounting as to why you were late. I don't easily let go of what's mine, Winnie." He leaned forward to kiss her again. "And you . . . are most definitely . . . mine."
That evening on the Black Pearl:
"So, what are we going to do now?" Winn and Jack were on the deck of the Pearl, watching the sun go down. They weren't holding hands, and they weren't whispering, in the manner of many lovers. They were simply walking side by side, every once and awhile saying something to the other.
"I don't particularly care. I'm afraid I worked the crew a little hard in your absence. I think they would be content enough to have an easy stretch for a time. Not for long: they're pirates, they crave action." Jack sighed, "But if there was something you wanted to do . . . ."
Winn nodded absently. "I was thinking that I owe Grandfather an apology. He was right when he said that I would understand why he did this."
"Do you?"
"Um-hmm. I read a letter from Grandmother while away. She did more to convince me of what I was feeling than anything else had up to that point."
"And what were you feeling?"
"Inconvenienced. It's just that I didn't know that love sometimes disguises itself as irritation and annoyance to get the attention of particularly stubborn people."
Jack nodded. He could understand that. He could see how love could be inconvenient. He had certainly thought so at times. "So, after we go thank your grandfather, then what?"
Winn stopped and looked at the man she had once detested, had once avoided like the plague, had once run away from, and had eventually run to. Life is a funny thing, she decided. Turning away and walking once again, she simply said, "Then we find what's behind the horizon."
And so the adventure did not end, but paused before once again resuming.