AN (3/22): This is not really how I pictured this happening...but it seemed right, as I wrote this in English after reading 17 pages too far in Heart Of Darkness.
(3/26): Well...this is the last chapter. It was a blast, ya know. Writing from Jack's POV has given me a very skewed view on the world. And now I can ramble like him. Which is nice. I guess. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this sequel. I don't plan on writing another. It exhausts me, to write from Jack's POV...not as hard as it used to be, mind you. But keep your eyes open for another romance from me. I'm sure I'll get around to writing another one, once I have a dream that tells me what it should be about. And please read my other fanfics, if you think I'm a good writer. Read and review. I'm insecure, remember?
One More Day: Chapter Eleven
"Luv?" I asked, my voice catching somewhere in my throat. This was not good. Women weren't supposed to stare up at the ceiling with absolutely no expression in their eyes after giving birth the first time, right? Unless my education on the matter was even more miserly than I thought it was, she should be cradling the child in her arms in a few short moments to begin the bonding process.
Neither the small midwife nor Elizabeth seemed to think anything was wrong with the mother at all. They were busy trying to soothe my daughter-they ended up bumbling and nearly dropping the squalling child as they both tried to help at the same time. Women.
I didn't care that they'd nearly dropped the newborn. In fact, I'd hardly even noticed the near-disaster. My hand found its way to my love's pale cheek-and I felt my heart actually stop beating for three horrible seconds. When it finally restarted, there seemed to be a giant animal with gnashing teeth on my chest. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't see. I couldn't feel anything but her rapidly cooling cheek below my fingers.
She was dead.
My mind reeling, I barely noticed Elizabeth pat me on the shoulder to show how excited she was for me. When it finally registered what she was saying-"You should be very proud, Jack"-I turned to face her. The look on my face must have been absolutely appalling because she screamed lightly, saw my once-vivacious love's dead eyes, and started bawling.
I sat there and watched Elizabeth for what seemed to be the longest time as the midwife deposited my child in a bassinet and slowly covered my love with one of the white sheets, solemnly closing those unseeing eyes in the process. "I'm sorry," the midwife mumbled. "It happens." Her eyes shone with sympathy as she gently pried my hand from my love's cheek.
"It happens?" I numbly repeated. She nodded and pulled the white linen over my love's face this time. Gone. Gone forever. And it was my fault.
"I did all I could, sir," the midwife added a few seconds later. "She wasn' strong enough-her hips were a bit too narrow."
"Not strong enough?" I asked hollowly. How could she not be strong enough? More delicate women than her had babies every other year and were perfectly fine.
"Not strong enough," the midwife confirmed, looking just a little worried. She gently put one of her grubby little hands on mine.
"How would you know?" I questioned sharply. Anger was filling me as fast as I'd once seen undertow pull a child out to sea.
"I've seen 'er type before, sir. Mothers 'fore they really should be." Her eyes filled with anger as well. Which really was reasonable-she knew much more about birthing babies than I wanted to even think about.
"What d' you know about her, though?" I asked. A sob was threatening to surface-I reflexively suppressed it with anger and increased the likelihood of me exploding by about ten percent.
"I...uh..." She was clearly at quite the loss for words. It wasn't often she had to deal with the grieving husband/father. Men weren't allowed inside to see the birth of their children. My lass had probably asked for me specifically...and the miserable bag of flesh in front of me probably had seen she was going to die so she acquiesced. It was disgusting, the way her words dribbled from her mouth like a child taking a drink of something and then opening their mouth just to spite the efforts of their parent.
"Exactly!" I ripped her hand off of mine, throwing it against her side like a child moves a doll's arm out of anger. "You know nothing about her! She...she died under your care!" I'm almost positive my eyes were completely feral as I grabbed the midiwife's elbow. She cowered slightly and looked at the floor, her sudden burst of courage and anger gone as fast as rum in the Pearl's galley that wasn't locked up disappeared. "This is all your fault!"
The midwife looked just about ready to burst into tears or scratch me in the eye with her fairly long nails or both. "These things happen," she murmured, trying to get rid of that monster of anger she saw in my eyes. To achieve that, she almost seemed to be begging me to strike her.
So I did. Right across her cheek. And then in the eye. Then across the cheek again. I felt no shame as I heard her nose break. I felt no remorse as she started crying. I felt nothing except for the rage and grief welling up to an almost unbearable level inside of me. Perhaps I should stop masking my emotions so much...it was undoubtedly making this tsunami worse.
In fact, I probably would've continued to hit her if it hadn't been for that blasted Elizabeth. She'd regained her composure and grabbed my hand with surprising strength before I could hit the midwife once more. "Jack!" she said, her voice absolutely horrified. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" I retorted, biting back a sarcastic comment about me taking care of trash. The midwife wasn't trash. She'd just killed my love. That's all. She was a scumbag...worse than those bootlickers I sometimes had in my crews that would never leave me alone and would always mess up schemes in my head.
"Jack," she said softly. "Think." Her voice was pleading with me to stop...and I knew it. But..the midwife...that cowering pile of bones had killed something perfect. And she didn't even care! And she'd even said that I'd been the one to kill her. It wasn't my fault she'd gotten pregnant...sure, I knew that I was the one who'd put her in that state, but she could've been more careful. If she hadn't been so inexperienced. It was my fault, wasn't it?
I blinked six or seven times before weakly letting go of the midwife. "Sorry," I muttered, taking a seat again next to the bed. She was gone. And it was all my fault. Again. I'd killed someone I loved again. She hated me. That was the last thing she'd said. She hated me. She hated me because she knew that I'd killed her. They all hated me because they knew I'd killed her. Elizabeth was looking at me like I was going to burst into flames or something. Or kill her too. I could see the fear in her eyes as she put a hand gently on my shoulder.
"Things like this just happen sometimes," she said smoothly, rubbing my shoulder in an almost matronly way. This was just wrong. This situation, all wrong. I would've given anything to have someone else comfort me. Elizabeth didn't know anything about hardships. Sure, she couldn't have a bloody baby. But so what? I'd lost the third woman that had meant something to me. First my mother...then Meagan...and now her. I couldn't stand to lose someone else. I was definitely not going to do anything but lust after women after this. I wasn't strong enough to lose another woman. I just...I couldn't handle it. So I wouldn't.
I shook my head slightly. I couldn't say anything in response to that. Now that I wasn't beating the poor midwife up any longer...I was having a very hard time controlling my other emotions. If she said much more, I'd probably start crying. Now, I fully intended to cry about losing my love...but not now. Not in front of other people. I'd do it on the beach and it wouldn't be the hysterical sobs that seemed to want to tear free from my soul at the moment. I couldn't cry in front of Elizabeth...that would just be too...well, hurtful to my pride.
Elizabeth seemed to sense that I needed some time alone, because she walked over to the cowering and blubbering midwife and started to soothe her before leading her out of the room. Once I was all by myself, I looked numbly at the shroud covering my love's face.
She really was gone, wasn't she? And it was all my fault.
The sea always had a calming effect on me. No matter what sort of mood I was in, it could always be dampered by just staring at the waves as they crashed along the shoreline or swells that would become waves playing with my ship. Something about that color of blue just seemed to...well, never change. Even during storms, there was always a hint of that playful blue in the water. The sea was something you could always rely on. Sure, sometimes things happened that were unexpected, but the sea will always crash against the shoreline. There will always be tides ebbing in and out. And there will probably always be people fascinated in the sea, people floating on the sea. People trying to outsmart the sea.
I felt a lot better out here. Out of that horrible house. That deathtrap. I don't know how I'd managed to make it through the funeral, frankly, especially since Commodore Norrington and Governor Swann had attended. Why? I don't really know. Maybe they thought it would start to breach the rift between themselves and the Turners. I didn't care. I really probably wouldn't have cared if someone had recognized me and I'd been locked up in a cell. I would've liked to dance the hempen jig right now, actually.
I deserved it. I'd killed something perfectly innocent and loving. It was my fault she was dead. I hadn't even had the decency to marry her...or really tell her that I loved her. It had just been a game. And now it was too late. She hated me. I'd killed her. I was doomed...I could never get close to another woman again.
Sighing slightly, I brushed sand off of my shirt as I slowly stood up. There. I'd had a good cry about losing her. Now it was time to move on. I had to get back to the Pearl. Will and Elizabeth had already offered to raise my child for me. Which was a good thing. I couldn't be a father by my onesies...and they wanted a child desperately. It was almost too perfect. Now I wouldn't have to worry about having a toddler during my efforts aboard the Black Pearl. I could focus on being a captain. Which is how it should be. We'd shared a dream...a ridiculous dream. Children didn't belong on pirate ships. It was too dangerous.
It was time to move on.
"Hardly," I responded with a laugh. "It was hardly in me control a' all, Gibbs, an' you know it." The rest of the table laughed as I took a drink of rum. Amazing how comforting that liquid can be, you know. It was the cause of a lot of problems, yes, but it also helped you forget about things you'd rather not remember. There were a lot of things I'd rather not remember. Like breaking that midwife's nose. I'd rather not remember me losing my temper like some child...
"Right, Cap'n, an' I'm the Queen o' England," Gibbs replied with a grin. He took a drink of his rum himself (purchased by myself) and looked around at the members of my crew sitting with us. They'd banded around me, after I'd returned a month ago without my lass...as if that would make me feel better. Well...it had helped, I must admit. If you want me to be truthful. The fact that they cared for me enough to spend time with me rather than strumpets...well, it was reassuring. "Am I right? Cap'n Sparrow saved all of our skins."
There was a hearty "Aye!" around the table as members of my crew took another sip of their rum after banging their cups together. Who cared that a lot of it had spilled onto the sticky floors? I was paying for it, after all. We'd managed to plunder a very wealthy merchant ship four short days ago...which was the cause for the celebration. For some reason, my crew seemed to think that I'd brought on that good luck. Apparently when I'd been gone, they'd been attacked twice and hadn't been able to get even a single piece of eight after a few unsuccessful attacks on what they thought were merchant vessels. Maybe I was good luck. But it was ridiculous, them thinking that. I was just an experienced pirate and could tell that the merchant ship we attacked would be an easy pick. It was nice, to feel needed.
Maybe I wasn't so horrible after all.
Anyway, I shook my head slightly and took another drink. "Crazy, the lo' of ye," I commented once I'd swallowed.
"Crazy t' boot," Gibbs agreed with a laugh. The rest of the crew laughed as well and we continued in our merry making until quite late that night. I excused myself from their drunken presence and started making my way back to the Pearl. I hadn't...I couldn't betray her memory so soon. So, therefore, I always excused myself once the strumpets started showing up and displaying their wares. I knew that I would be back to my old ways in a little bit...but I needed a bit more time.
Once out of the dirty atmosphere of the Drunken Clam, I made my way towards the beaches of Tortuga. They were probably the quietest place on the whole island. Most of the noisy people stayed up near the taverns and brothels...so the beach was an attractive alternative. I wasn't exactly tired yet, or I would've just gone back to my hopelessly empty cabin. As it was, a walk on the beach sounded quite nice.
Humming softly to myself as I reached the sand, I pulled my boots off just so I could experience the wonderful sensation of the sand beneath my toes. That, and, I liked to wince each time I stepped on a sea shell. No, actually, I'd forgotten that shells also liked being on the beach. Frowning as I balanced on one foot to pry one of the shells from the bottom of my foot, I heard someone crying. Now, I don't know why I let that bother me...it really is none of my business, when other people cry. But my first instinct has always been to try and help them to stop crying. I didn't like seeing or hearing people in pain. So, I tossed the piece of shell into the water and turned towards the direction I could hear the crying coming from.
There was a beautiful woman, on the beach, curled up in a little ball. I could just barely see her face in the starlight...what I saw of it was enough to make me want to know her and comfort her...yeah. Anyway, I walked over to where she was laying (and trying to stifle her sobs) and kneeled near her in the sand. "Are you all right?" You know, that is probably the dumbest question in the world. Of course she wasn't all right...she was crying. But I couldn't think of any way to start a conversation with her. Sure, I could ask her what she thought about the stars, but that would be completely ignoring the fact that she was crying.
"I'm fine," she replied miserably, desperately trying to keep tears from spilling out of her blue eyes like rain on a summer's day. "Can't you tell?" A slight smile graced her slightly swollen lips...
From this close, I could tell that someone had beat her. That was horrible. And it brought back visions of me hitting that midwife... Guilty, I gently touched her hand. "Can I help you?" All right...maybe it was bothering me that I'd never made amends with that midwife. Maybe helping this poor battered redhead would make up for that fact.
"Maybe," she replied, a few tears spilling over. "I don't know...can you?" Obviously her sarcasm was a defense. She didn't want to trust me because I was a man and could potentially hurt her again. How did I know she'd been beaten by a man? Well, a woman would've scratched up her face and would've pulled hair out. She only looked bruised.
"May I?" I asked softly. She slowly nodded and uncurled from her little ball. This would make up for the evil I'd inflicted on that blameless midwife...after all, it had been my fault she'd died. Not the midwife's. I needed to learn to take more responsibility, didn't I? Maybe helping this redhead would help me do that.
Lady Fae: Sorry...she's been supposed to die for a while now. And I'm glad you like this one as much as the last...tis quite all right that you haven't been reviewing. Thanks for leaving one this time.
Raisin: Tis perfectly understandable, loff. I don't mind that it took you so long to review. I'm just glad you did. )
Yeah, Jack thinks Bootstrap is scum. You'll see why if you read The Emerald Eyes: A Tale of Mutiny. Jack doesn't trust him...I mean, Bootstrap was on that ship that left him on that spit of land, same as Barbossa. He just doesn't like to speak ill of the dead.
I hate ticking clocks. Especially when I'm sleeping over at a friend's house and they have a ticking clock...means I can't fall asleep. Which isn't good. Me and sleep deprivation don't get along very well.
Yeah, I knew that men weren't supposed to see any of the birth. But thanks for telling me. Twas very considerate of you.
And Jack referring to the baby as a demon child...well, he was scared about the whole process. Nervous, if you will. He's afraid the child will be absolutely horrible. And it was causing his love a lot of pain...and did kill her...so maybe it is a demon child.
The whole birth was in fast forward to Jack. I'm glad you caught that...I delibrately had everything else really slow. Because he was completely shocked by what had happened. Poor man...he's never been around a woman giving birth before. Which is completely understandable, since he's a scallywag and a man.
And I lurve cliff-hangers! They're fun!
As are surprises! I want a surprise! Did I update soon enough? And I do plan on majoring in English with an emphasis on creative writing.
Thanks for the review! I lurve reading your reviews! An' tell your mom hi for me!
CrazyPirateGirl: Very true. Not all stories can be happy. The sad ones seem to stick with people better. Thank you for the compliments and the review!
blossomlite: She really is dead...sorry. Look at it this way: Jack's a bachelor again. If you ever get a time machine built, you'll be able to chase after 'im. Thanks for the review!
sunkist3208: Perhaps Will really is. I'll have to ask him... -giggles- "Did it hurt?" Of course, I dont' think he'd answer...but I should ask him anyway. Don't worry about not reviewing, Whitney...I haven't reviewed your stuff in ages. Sorry 'bout that...I'm so bloody lazy. Anyway, Thanks for the Pookie beanie buddy! I lurve it! And thanks for the review. I appreciate it.
Daisy: Yep, she's dead. And I hope you noticed that the person on the beach is...well, you. Happy? You're in there. And that is so not true. Most of what you say is very important. And I like hearing (or rather, reading) it. Honest.
I can definitely understand that you're lazy. I'm lazy most of the time myself. Thank you for your constant encouragement, nevertheless.
IamCaptainJackSparrow: I've often heard that mothers in labor will tell their husband they hate them. Of course, I'm sure they don't really mean it...for long. Anyway, you should be worried about that blank stare. Because she's dead. As I'm sure you've discovered. And he shouldn't be with women for a long time...he ends up with children and ends up with them dead. Bad track record, if ya ask me.
And you were very right with the title. He wanted one more day with her...even though he never said that...I should've had him. Oh well. Thanks for the review. Since you're first...you get a lovely monitor! How does that sound?
