Jack stood at the bow of the ship until it got dark. He didn't know that she was going to fall into a coma. He had mixed feelings on the situation. On one hand, he was glad that she didn't have to be awake and in pain all the time, even though it was still ravaging her body as she slept. But, on the other hand, it scared him. It scared him to know that this meant she was at the end of her rope. They were almost there. They would be at the Island de Cruces within the next two days. It was almost the moment of her salvation and she was on the losing end of the battle. If she didn't make it... he didn't know what he was going to do. He looked down at the ocean and wondered what happened to Will. Will, who had tried to help them, and possibly died in the process. Jack sighed, exasperated. He turned around and began walking towards the middle of the deck.
"Mr. Gibbs," Jack called up to him, "How much longer?"
"I'd say a little over a day, Captain," Gibbs said.
"How is the crew doing?" Jack asked.
"A little tired, but still following orders. Are you sure Miss Elizabeth is... is..."
"Yes. She isn't responding to anything," Jack said, looking down.
"I'm sorry, Jack," Gibbs said, sympathetic. Jack shook his head.
"Don't tell me you're sorry, yet, Mr. Gibbs. We're going to get to that island and get that antidote, and then she'll be better. There's no need for apologies," Jack stated. Gibbs nodded. "I'm going to go... sit with her," Jack said, and then stomped off towards the cabin. He walked inside and she was still lying where he had left her this morning. He sighed and closed the door, and then slid down to the floor, his eyes never leaving her.
"Liz..." He called, his voice gruff. "Can you hear me, love?" He asked. She didn't respond. He ran a hand over his face, wondering why his hands were so cold. Probably because they weren't holding hers.
"You've got to wake up, love... I miss the intelligent conversation," Jack said, looking over at her. He pulled himself off the ground and walked over to the bed. It was nice to see her looking so peaceful; not coughing up blood, crying or throwing up. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard a voice tell him that he was never going to look into her eyes again. He couldn't let that be how it all turned out. He had to save her. They were almost there. They had come too far for him to lose her now.
"You told me not to leave you, love, the same applies to you. You're not allowed to leave me, either, Lizzie," He said, running his hand over her smooth skin. He closed his eyes and took her hands in his, praying for a miracle.
He opened his eyes and studied her face. It was pure milky white, having lost all its color in her time of sickness. There were dark, black rings underneath her eyes, the lids red and the veins standing out prominently. The lips he had so loved to caress with his own were chapped and fading into the rest of her face, indistinguishable except for the line parting them. A bit of blood was smeared on her chin, and he gently reached forward and tried to wipe it off, leaving a slight red mark. He leaned down, his hands on either side of her face, and pressed a kiss to her cheek, and then another on her forehead and one more on the tip of her nose. A tear fell from his eye onto her face and slid off, looking it was coming from her own eye. He rubbed his cheek against hers, sighing.
"I love you, Lizzie," He whispered into her ear. "Come back to me. You can't leave me now, love, you're going to make it through this. I might not, though, Lizzie, if you keep playing this 'Let's not look at Jack' game. It's not very amusing," He said, caressing her cheek and he pulled up to look at her. He wanted her to wake up and make one of her witty retorts, but she didn't. She just lay there, the only sign of her being alive was her chest moving up and down. Murderous thoughts of Barbossa raged in Jack's mind as he remained by Lizzie's side till morning.
