Disclaimer: Once again, I have no claim to Pirates of the Caribbean the ride, the movie, or any of the character therein. I don't own any of the actors either, though really wouldn't mind having Johnny Depp as me own.

Thanks: to all who reviewed! You have no idea how much it means to me!

Music: what else but dramatic pirate music?


Part the Second:

Jack stared out into the sea, only the sounds of the waves lapping up softly against the sides of their little boat heard in the night. The sea was black as ink, even in the full moonlight, and it was hard to tell where the sea ended and where the horizon began, even with the stars. The Black Pearl majestic form was nowhere to be seen, the comforting glow that usually emitted from the captains quarters no reflecting softly against the waves. Once again the one thing he had left in his life that was meaningful was gone. And this time, the 'infamous Captain Jack' couldn't pull of a miraculous feat of escape. No, not this time. Where had he to go? Nowhere but back to Port Royale, back to Commodore Norrington and his men, to the noose.

Jack wasn't afraid of death. He was a pirate. He had flirted with death for years, been closer to it than he had to life half the time. All pirates died someday, all humans for that matters. But Jack had always been ready for it. He had just never expected it to come this way. Not at the hands of some high-to-do military men, not in front of the eyes of hundreds of peasants. No, it wasn't even that that bothered him. It was that he had simply always planned on dying at sea. The Sea was his master and his mistress. He loved it more than his own life, was incomplete without it. If he died on a raid, in a battle, he knew he would be buried at sea by his crew. If the Sea deemed it was his time, then he would go peacefully, knowing he would forever rest where he belonged.

Somehow Jack had always planned things that way. Knowing that he would once again know the feel of the Black Pearl's gentle rocking under him, the feel of her smooth wood under his hands as he guided Her through the ocean. He always thought that after ten long years of misery, he would once again get to know the harsh sun on his face, the salty Caribbean wind in his lungs, the sounds of the Pearl pushing through the tide, the creaking of the sails. The sea called to him, it was in his bones.

Quickly Jack shook his head and smiled bitterly inside. Maybe he WAS insane. He heard Elizabeth as if in the distance give a soft apology. He shook his head, thinking about the crew that sailed now somewhere in the open sea.

"They've done what's right by them," he said slowly, almost as if trying to convince himself more than Elizabeth, but knowing deep down it was true. "That's all that matters." They kept to the code, and Jack found himself wondering what he would have done if he were on the other side of the situation. Probably the same thing. Still, the knowledge that he would never see his crew, his friends, Gibbs, Anamaria, or the Black Pearl again made him ache inside. Angrily he pushed it back down. He had come to terms that all that silly self-pity ten years ago. He was a pirate, and that was that. Captain Jack Sparrow had finally met his end, it seemed, and perhaps it was time.

* * *

Jack leaned over the side of the Interceptor, knowing that soon Port Royale would loom over the horizon. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. The journey was a short one, hardly three days. Surprisingly, Jack had been allowed quite a bit of freedom on deck. Though the Commodore had kept a close eye on Jack, he roamed about as he pleased, though it didn't seem any of the Commodore's men were exactly happy out this. Jack kept just as wary of an eye on the Commodore as Norrington did on him. Not that he was complaining, but why did the Commodore not keep him locked in the Brig, where he could be sure to be out of trouble? Jack frowned. Surely not pity. Jack couldn't stand pity. Nobody pitied pirates. No pirate accepted pity. It was if somehow Norrington realised that Jack had given up.

Had he given up, Jack wondered? He glanced around at the people moving around him, most acting as if he did not stand there. Jack liked it that way. After years of forcing attention on himself, living up to the stories, it was nice to have some peace and quiet. There was no need to push, not without having something to fight for. Once he had the Pearl to fight for.

"Mr. Sparrow," a voice said suddenly from behind, startling Jack out of his thoughts, and he glared and turned around with his usual flair, putting on the show.

"Captain Sparrow, if you please," he said with a faint grin, dark eyes fixed on the Commodore before him. "What can I do for you, Commodore?" Jack followed no authority, and the Commodore knew it, but Jack's voice held a faint brush of teasing. The Commodore remained unmoved, always a Commodore first, man second. Jack regarded the Commodore more carefully than he had before as Norrington glared at him. Jack wondered briefly what guise the Commodore wore.

"We are approaching Port Royale. You will have to be bound and kept in the jail until your hanging can be arranged. I'm expecting no trouble from you, you hear? No putting up dramatic fights." Norrington was devoid of emotion, all business. Jack smiled lightly

"You and I are alike, you know, Commodore James Norrington," he said. Jack immediately could see he had thrown the Commodore off. First names were for friends, for family, and Jack was neither to him. " What you see here and what you think I am is two very, very different things."

"I hardly think that you and I are in any way alike, Mr. Sparrow," Norrington began, but Jack quickly cut him off with a wave of his hand.

" Captain Sparrow, I must insist," Jack said. Then his demeanor changed, and his voice was low and serious. "Let me tell you something important." Jack leaned in even closer, and Norrington backed up with a nose wrinkle, either simply from being so close to a pirate, or from the rum left on Jack's breath from the night before. But hell, who was going to deny a condemned man on his last night of freedom his drink?

"I'm not gonna sprout wings and fly away from your precious hanging," Jack said, suddenly serious, the usual glint of mischief gone. " Forget all you've heard about cunning Captain Jack Sparrow. That man is dead. He died years ago. If he ever lived at all. Remember, Commodore. I'm just a man, same as you. This isn't some bloody fairy-tale, savvy?" With that he walked off, the Commodore left staring after the sauntering character in a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

Jack let his hands be tied behind his back as the ship sailed into port. The Commodore stood watching from a distance, obviously still pondering his words from earlier that day. As he was walked to the edge of the boat, Jack took one last look out over the sea, one last glimpse of the light reflecting off the water, the salt on his skin, the warmth of the sun. He saw out of the corner or his eye a glimpse of Will, watching him. The face of Bootstrap Bill still watching over him. Jack turned his head as the Commodore took him and began to lead him off the boat. Turning towards Will, he gave one of his smiles. Whether they knew it or not, Will and Elizabeth didn't need him anymore. Today they would mourn, but their life would move on; nothing good or respectable could have come from his presence. But it didn't matter. Will stared back, something in his eyes Jack couldn't quite place. Regret? Sorrow? Fear? In the midst of it all, Jack winked. Then he towards his death, head high in the noonday sun, a suave grin on his face, and the crowd stared. For Jack, at that moment, a legend died. But to the eyes that saw him, a legend was reborn.