Interlude

I hear the Commodore approaching. Raise my head.

"Commodore Norrington. Now what is it this time. You changed the straw. You brought me water, and food, and my dog. You sent the doctor around. And you stop by every thirty minutes to inquire about my current state of being. I have to say I begin to feel pampered. Aren't you afraid your Marines will start to worry about you?"

I think I see something like a smile on the dear Commodore's face. "I am glad you are enjoying your stay, Captain Sparrow."

I really have to laugh on that. "Christ in a cannon, Commodore, now there was some irony in that. Sarcasm even."

Norrington regains his countenance. "Captain Sparrow, I am here to inform you that you have a visitor."

My grin fades. I hiss, "But I told you I don't want to see him."

The Commodore shakes his head. "I think it is not who you think it is."

On that, he steps aside. And makes way for a small person in Punjabi clothes. I am on my feet in an instant.

"Rashjid." Two steps and I am at the bars. Norrington gives me a nod and retreats to the far end of the corridor. I stare at the man on the other side. The Hindu pats the dog's head through the bars.

"Why did you come?" I ask. But he just smiles at me. I realize I almost asked him about how Maggie was. Whenever I have seen or talked to Rashjid in the last 20 years, my second line for him has always been: 'How's Maggie?'

"Have you been to … the funeral?" Margaret's funeral. I look into his eyes for a while. He nods. And he is just there, and looks back at me.

And in this moment, I feel all my power leaving me, and I am on my knees on the floor, leaning against the bars, and I am shaking. I am some sort of beyond tears, which scares me all the more. And I whisper to him, searching his gaze, without taking another breath.

"Please help me. I am so afraid. I can't get through this. I can't go out there and face them. I can't walk up and keep standing through it. I don't want to hear the shouting again. I can't bear their anger. I can't look into their faces. I can't go through the pain. I am so scared. I can't see Jack again. If Pearl is there, I'm gonna break down. I can't look at her. She's so much like her. She looks so much like her. God, what can I do? I don't want to die up there, in front of them all. I'm afraid to live, too. What is left? Where could I go? Where will I go if I die? Is she gonna be there? What if there's nothing, just, nothing. I'm so afraid. I can't go through this alone."

I reach out through the bars and I cling to him.

"Please, please don't leave. Please stay with me."

And slowly he kneels down and puts his hands in through the metal strands separating us, and I feel his fingers searching their way onto my shoulders. There is this knot in my throat. I want to cry. For once I really want to. But I can't. And so I try to cling to him, try to press my face into his clothes through the metal, try to disappear in his embrace.

And we stay like that for a while. Finally, my hands come to rest in his lap, and I'm folding my fingers.

Then, I say, and I'm not looking at him: "Will you keep the dog?"

"I will."

"Will you make sure my daughter gets my blade?"

"I will."

I sigh. It is a great thing that I want to ask next. But whom can I ask if not him. They will take my dead body to Deadman's Point, where it will hang and twist in the wind, as a warning to other pirates. It is a crime to take the bodies down. It is a crime to give burial. It is no small matter to risk the life of another. But there is no other who I can ask to do it. If he will. God I can't say this. I don't even want to think it. But my lips say it for me, and a voice that sounds remotely like my own.

"Will you go and make sure my body is burnt, and straw the ashes into a strong east wind far out on sea?"

It is a hard thing I ask. A great risk, to his life. We both know it.

I hear no answer. My heart sinks. I press my forehead against the bars in despair, and sigh as I let go the breath I did not even know I was holding. My hands in his lap tighten the tiniest bit and I am about to pat his thigh to tell him it is alright. I understand.

I look up suddenly as I feel his hands covering mine. I stare into the clearest and calmest eyes I have ever seen. I see his answer long before I hear it.

"I will."

"Good Lord, I thought I wouldn't be able to ask anybody." That is relief. Thank you.

"You do well."

I cough on that. That was almost sarcastic.

"I don't know if you know you want to hear that, but the Black Lotus is at anchor on the other side of the island. Your crew is coming to bid you farewell."

"Are they mad? They will get caught!" I look at him confused.

"They said they won't. They all want to see you. They say they know you don't want to be rescued, and they won't try therefore, but they have been sailing with you for all these years and they won't leave you alone on this day."

Now I am sobbing, and I am thankful of that.

"My God. I love them. I am so thankful that they are here. Although I had rather they wouldn't be. For their sake. For my sake, I can't tell them how grateful I am."

"So I will tell them, though I do not need to do this. They know."

They know. It is good to know that. Some small part of me lightens to hear this. And another part of me worries for their safety. My crew. They will come.

Who else will come? The dear Commodore, well, as a matter of fact he'll be there. But then … who will be there, on my side? Jack? Rashjid? I don't know about them.

Rashjid. I remember the day I met him first. on a slave market in India.