Disclaimer: Don't we all know by now, that I'm not lucky enough to own PotC?

Chapter Seven: "Longing"

Lying on his back, staring up at hundreds of thousands of stars, Jack Sparrow could almost forget the horror that had become his life. He was trying to forget. But, he could not. He had spent too many years navigating his beloved Black Pearl by those stars. He had spent too many night watches, with her by his side, gazing out at those very same stars. He could still see the way their twinkling light had reflected in her eyes. He could hear her voice, telling the stories of the constellations. Stories of gods and goddesses, monsters and heroes. She had never told the crew anything about her past. She never disclosed that she had been an educated aristocrat from Kingston. The tales spun about her beginnings were almost as fantastic as the stories she told about the stars, but she never bothered to set the record straight.

Only he knew her for the lady she had once been. The lady who had stood defiantly in her garden, when he had been attempting to rob her blind, and told him in no uncertain terms that he was going to leave empty handed. He had just escaped from one of the most horrible prisons in the Caribbean. He was wounded, and had no ship and no plan. She had cared for his injuries and ended up helping him getaway from the very tyrant who had imprisoned him, all without thought for her own safety or reputation. No one had ever done something like that for him, before or since, and what had she gotten in return for her selflessness? A thankless life of danger on a pirate ship captained by a man who could not even tell her what she meant to him.

The countless stars above began to fade with the light of the rising sun. He could see the break between the water and the sky that he had chased for so many years. The former Captain Rogers' words came back to him. "I'll meet you in the morning. If then, you still long for death … I will bring it to you." Death. His whole life up until this point, had been spent in a desperate struggle to cheat death. The reaper had come to him many times in the form of a bullet, a sword or a noose, but always he had managed to barely escape with his life. How many times had he faced insurmountable odds, only to come out on top? Now, fate had played a cruel trick. The one time that he would have happily followed his crew to their dark watery grave, still he survived.

He was vaguely aware of someone approaching from behind, but he made to move to acknowledge the intrusion. A basket of fruit was set on the sand next to him. "I did not think you would want this, but …" the French accented voice trailed off as Nathaniel situated himself next to Jack. The blonde pirate's eyes were also fixated across the waves on the horizon. Long moments passed, before he spoke up again. "A woman sailed with me on the Duke," he said, his voice quiet and far away. "Not by my choosing. She hid in my cabin while I was ashore, and when I discovered her, she refused to leave. She was just a whore, with whom I'd spent a few nights, but she was the only person who ever saw anything worthwhile in Woodes Rogers."

Jack stared at Nathaniel as he recalled his story. The only woman who saw the good in a dread pirate. The tale sounded familiar, but why had this pirate decided to share his story? Was Jack so transparent? Was his grief so obvious? A pair of amber eyes materialized over the water. Yes, his misery was probably painted on his face, he thought, beating down the lump that was rising up in his throat.

"I treated her terribly, of course," Nathaniel went on, bitter memory coloring his words. "What she saw and why she stayed, I'll never know, but stay she did. I used her for what I had always used her, nothing more. One night, a few of the crew came for her, and I let them. She cried out for me to save her, but I did nothing … I found her the next morning, my own sword plunged in her breast." The man laughed depreciatingly. "How's that for symbolism?"

Jack remained silent, knowing Nathaniel did not expect him to answer.

"We threw her body over the side and raised a glass to getting rid of a thorn in our sides … but, the bed where she used to lay with me was colder, and my cabin was emptier without her."

"Why tell me this?" Jack asked, fighting against the void in his own heart.

The French pirate met Jack's gaze, understanding in his eyes. "A ship, no matter how fast or how beautiful, can be replaced," he said. "A woman cannot."

Nathaniel's words burned Jack's ears, blazing their way down to his chest and exploding in a flash of consuming fire. A pain more agonizing than any physical injury flared up from his heart, scorching his whole body. He burned with hatred for the man sitting next to him, complete hatred for a man who saw straight through him and pretended to understand. The death of this whore was nothing like losing Anamaria. He was infuriated by the comparison. Woodes Rogers never cared for this woman, he said so himself. Jack loved Ana. Everyday since meeting her, he had loved her.

But you never told her.

The blonde pirate's lips had not moved. He hadn't said a word, but Jack heard the accusation loud and clear. The words thundered inside of his head, and sliced through his anger like a bullet. Jack clenched his jaw. Had Anamaria felt as neglected as that whore. Had she gone to her grave thinking that Jack cared nothing for her?

"Forgive me, Captain Sparrow," Nathaniel rose from the beach. "I digress. I only came down to ask you if you've made your decision."

Jack, too, stood up. He turned his back to Nathaniel, in an effort to hide the emotions that he doubted he could keep from his face.

"Do you still long for death?" the French pirate, repeated the question.

Hearing the sound of steel emerging from the scabbard at Nathaniel's side, Jack lowered his head. His shoulders sagged. He knew what she would say. She would curse him for a coward, slap him on the face, and tell him that death was the easy way out. She would be right. Dying would be a thousand times easier than living with only her memory to keep him warm at night. Death would be so much simpler than starting a new life, alone. But, did he truly want to die? "No," he heard himself answer.

A blade re-sheathed behind him, and he felt Nathaniel's hand on his shoulder. "Then come, I have something to show you."

Jack let the older pirate lead him through the trees, and the tiny village, to the other side of the island. Dark skinned natives, naked as the day they were born, fished in the protected harbor. Women made meals around fires, and small children ran back and forth at the edge of the water. And, out a ways from the shore, bobbed a single-masted fishing boat.

"I always thought, someday I would leave these people. Go back to my old life," Nathaniel's hand dropped from Jack's shoulder. "But, I can build another boat, if that is what I really want."

Jack swallowed, having no idea what to say.

"Perhaps, she can take you somewhere that you will not feel so alone."

"Thank you," Jack said, finally. "But, I don't know if such place exists."

Nathaniel shrugged, pulling a bone-handled knife from his belt. Handing it to Jack, he said, "at least try to find it, before you seek oblivion."

TBC

Ooh, the angst. Well, sorry this update took a bit longer, I hope it was worth the wait. Please, don't forget to leave me a review before you move on.