Kin

Part Four : In Which Jack Says Some Awfully Brilliant Things

by : epiphanies





Jack knocked lightly on Desdemona's door.

"Elizabeth, would you mind sending Jack up?" Desdemona called, and Jack swung the door open gallantly.

She smiled at him from her bed, "Bright girl."

"She's a good scone," nodded Jack, closing the door behind him and leaning on it, "Knows how to fight, too. Looks lovely in one of those Port Royal navy uniforms. So, how're you doing, love?"

Desdemona half-shrugged, "I'm still here, am I not?"

"About as here as I am, that's all I can promise," Jack grabbed a chair and sat backwards on it, looking down at her with unusually gentle and clear eyes.

"I missed you terribly, Jack." Desdemona whispered after a moment of silence, "I had nobody, for a very long time."

"I'm sorry, love, I just never-"

"No, no. Don't apologize. I understand. I hadn't heard anything about you, I figured you might have just disappeared."

"I did," Jack conceded, "in a sense."

"Drowned in rum?" Desdemona chuckled, and Jack grinned a little bit,

"Well, you know me, darling. But in all seriousness, I always intended on comin' back, y'know? Just...never had me a boat."

Desdemona nodded, "Or a crew."

"A boat," Jack repeated, "Who needs a bloody crew?"

"You have a crew now, do you not?"

Jack shrugged, "They're not too shoddy. Could live without 'em if I had to."

"But you don't have to, Jack," she frowned at him, "Don't always focus on being alone. Why will you not just enjoy being around people, having them to help you?"

Jack sighed, "Because, love, that's when they send you off to die of starvation on an island the size of a blue whale."

"That was another crew entirely, Jack. From what I've heard, your new crew loves being under your hand."

"I love having them under me hand," admitted Jack, and Desdemona touched his rough cheek.

"You were always so dark, hidden beneath all that rum, all that swagger," she mused, touching the braids hanging off of his chin, "Always so furtive. At least, since my father-"

He took her hand off of his face and held it within both of his own, "And you were always the passionate little one, the one that loved to watch us dock in the pier so that you would know when we left port."

"You used to call me your piratess, do you remember?" she said wistfully, looking out the open window that revealed mid-day sunlight, "And you brought me little trinkets and jewels."

"They were from your father," Jack said lightly, and Desdemona laughed, "You and I both know that they weren't. They were from you. After all, Jack, you never had anybody to be passionate about, other than me. I was the only person you knew off-deck, wasn't I?"

"Passion?" Jack repeated, "What did I ever have to be passionate about? Passion doesn't exist, Little Miss Turner. Passion is a reward for containment. If one lives in true passion, they'd never under-appreciate anything. Like me. I appreciate me crew, and me ship, and having you here to come visit. I appreciate Will and Elizabeth and Commodore Norrington not actually following me when I escaped the gallows awhile back. I appreciate a lot of things, and therefore don't need to be overly passionate about anything."

Desdemona considered him, "Jack, you know, for a pirate, you say some awfully brilliant things."

Jack smirked, "That's why I'm not just a pirate, love. I'm a Captain."

"Aye. Captain Jack Sparrow. My father's captain.."

Jack looked pensively away, "You were like a daughter to me, Desdemona."

"And you a father to me. A second one. A fostered one. Like a brother or an uncle, like a father."

He smiled then, and rested her hand onto her bed.

"I should be letting you rest, aye girlie?"

Her eyes were drooping slightly as she smiled childishly back, "Aye."

With her final word, her eyelids fell like shooting stars, and he only sat there, watching her, until he was pulled from his half-oblivion, half-wistful mist by the grumbling of his stomach.