(A/N: Sorry I've been so slow, mates! I've been busy as of lately but I think my free time to write is starting to open up more so I'm gonna be continuing on with Thrown Into The Future soon. Hope you enjoy my last part of this fic! Sorry the pacing is kinda weird. The story did not flow well in writing as it did in my mind.

Also Thanks for your review Buckhunter! Hope you enjoy the rest of the story!)

Cough, cough.

Oh, no...not again.

Jack sat up and looked around. He noticed Arabella and Fitzwilliam, who were both separately distanced away from each other and him, had both woken up from the coughing as well.

"Who just coughed?" asked Fitzwilliam with a bit of uneasiness in his voice.

"I don't know...It wasn't me," Jack replied.

"Well, it wasn't me," Fitzwilliam shrugged.

Jack and Fitzwilliam turned to Arabella. She looked at them with a terrified look in her eyes. Her eyes moved down, staring at the deck in disbelief.

"I...I can't believe it..." Arabella trembled. "After everything I did...After all the cleaning...the distancing..." Her heart dropped, thinking she was going to die.

"Bell..." Jack breathed.

The night after, Jack and Fitzwilliam sat on the deck together. They were closer than they had been before, sitting on the same side of the ship, but still with a bit of distance.

The two boys had been sailing the Barnacle the whole day in silence. They would occasionally glance over to the spot Arabella slept at, trying the remind themselves she wasn't with them anymore. She was below deck with everyone else. Now the two people who fought the most in the crew, at least before the outbreak hit, were stuck together on deck. However they were too drained to fight and argue. They just solemnly worked or sat around, barely speaking to each other. Fitzwilliam had been getting frustrated over the littlest things, meanwhile Jack felt like something was off. Jack was still weak, but he needed to use as much energy as could to keep the Barnacle sailing since it was just the two of them. They barely had enough food to make it through the next few days, which would be about the time they'd get to New Orleans.

"Jack," Fitzwilliam finally spoke.

"Hmm?" Jack barely turned his head, looking at Fitzwilliam from the corner of his eye.

"I want to admit that...although I think the outbreak isn't what they all make it out to be, after seeing it spread to everyone else...I'm afraid..." Fitzwilliam said. His normally strong demeanor was crumbling by the second.

"Huh?" Jack perked up a little more, turning his head more towards his companion. "Afraid of what?"

Fitzwilliam took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I'm going to die..." his voice started to tighten with emotion as tears started to form. "I'm only so young..." he choked. He hugged himself and slowly began to sob.

A wave of surprise flushed across Jack's face. He was shocked to see the aristocrat break down like that. Jack turned his head back forward, facing away from Fitzwilliam. He always felt uncomfortable looking at somebody in the eyes while they cried. He didn't know why. Maybe he was afraid it would bring out the slightest bit of empathy in him. His heart broke to see how distraught Fitzwilliam was, however he couldn't physically feel anything himself. He was so drained, he just felt numb all over.

"I don't want to die," Fitzwilliam wept.

Meanwhile below deck, Arabella sat on the edge of her bed with Jean and Tumen on either side. Her arms were wrapped around both of their shoulders in comfort. Tumen stared ahead with tears in his eyes and Jean softly pet Constance who laid across his lap.

"It'll be okay. We'll all be fine..." Arabella whispered.

The next day went by slowly. Jack and Fitzwilliam still maintained the Barnacle in silence. They kept their distance from each other at all times. It was not because of the outbreak though, it was because of the growing emotional tension between them.

As Jack shifted through his things he found a piece of canvas folded up. He picked it up and realized what it was the game of draughts he hadn't picked up in a few days, not since before Jean had stormed below deck. Jack managed to convince Fitzwilliam to play with him to keep both of their minds off the situation.

Evening fell and Jack and Fitzwilliam ate a little bit of their rations at their spots. They had furled the sails and steadied the wheel as they saw clouds coming in. They spoke very little, just listening to the light rainfall pattering on the sail above them in peace.

Cough, cough.

The teenagers immediately looked up at each other, their eyes bulging out of their heads. Before Fitzwilliam could say anything, Jack beat him to it.

"You did it!" Jack accused.

Fitzwilliam scowled. "No I did not! You did!"

"I did? I didn't cough! If I did, I would have felt it," Jack said. "Besides, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. I don't get sick, nor do I die."

"What?! Being a captain does not make you immune!" Fitzwilliam argued.

"Not being a captain, but being Jack Sparrow."

"You are absolutely big headed."

They both instantly drew their swords, circling each other around the deck.

"I dare you to try. Come at me, mate," Jack snarled.

Fitzwilliam suddenly ran towards him ready to swing and before he knew it, Jack clocked him in the face. Fitzwilliam flew back and hit the deck unconscious.

Jack sheathed his sword and knelt down to the future Earl of Dalton. "Aw, hi Fitzy!" Jack said in a sweet mocking tone. "Did you get the cough? Aw, yeah? Well I'll take you below deck so you can get all better, okay?"

Jack grabbed Fitzwilliam by under his arms and dragged him to the hatch. He then opened the doors and pushed the unconscious Fitzwilliam down the steps. He then tossed the other boy's sword and the rest of his belongings and rations down the hatch, giving him a little wave before shutting the doors.

Jack's energy gave out and he slumped onto the hatch out of breath. He was all alone. It now felt like he was isolating himself from his crew.

Although he tried to be the voice of reason, keep the Barnacle going and everyone's spirits up, what he didn't tell his crew was that he was actually scared—no, terrified. He was terrified he was going to die. What he also didn't tell everyone was that he hadn't felt like himself the past week, ever since the night Tumen supposedly caught this cough. He constantly felt fatigued and feverish. His head hurt and his body ached. He hadn't been able to smell or taste anything in days. Every breath he took, he felt his lungs constricting, as if somebody laid a brick on his chest. Each passing day, he felt the sense of doom come upon him more and more. Tears that had been welling up in his eyes were now beginning to fall as he stared ahead, listening to the rain and the creaking of the ship.

Cough, cough.

"Jack! Jack! Wake up!"

The last thing he remembered was sailing the Barnacle all on his own, knowing they were close to their destination. Through the slits of his barely open eyes, Jack could see a blur of red and green hovering over him. He thought he was waking up from a nightmare, but he slowly realized the nightmare had only just begun.

"He feels warm! Somebody go fish out a bucket of water," Arabella ordered.

Shortly after, someone promptly poured a bucket of cold water on his face, although it did little to help his temperature. A bit of the water that went through his parted lips tasted salty, which if he had a clearer mind he'd notice it was water from the ocean. There likely wasn't much fresh water left aboard the ship.

"Bell," Jack wheezed. His chest was so constricted, it made it very difficult to breathe.

"Oh, Jack! Ye're such a pain in the arse! Why didn't you tell us there was somethin' wrong with ye?" Arabella asked worriedly.

He wanted to answer, but his mind felt too blurry and he could barely speak.

"We are almost to New Orleans. I can see it on the horizon," Tumen said.

Jack heard sobbing through his muffled hearing. "Don't cry, mate," Jack murmured.

"I'm not," Jean lied, smiling through his sobs.

"Damn it, Jack! You can't let a bloody flu be the one to take you out," Fitzwilliam told him fiercely.

"He's right," Arabella agreed. "You're Captain Jack Sparrow. Remember all the fearsome pirates, ghosts, and sea monsters ye defeated? After everything ye went through—we went through, this can't be how ye die."

Jack felt something cold and wet nudge against his hand. He lifted his hand up and felt what it was, which was Constance's head. He used the little strength he had to lightly swat her away.

"Please don't go!" Jean cried.

"Just hold on," Tumen urged. "We'll get you to port soon."

The barely breathing Jack lifted an arm and shakily pointed at Fitzwilliam. Fitzwilliam glanced around confused when Jack lightly signaled him to come closer. "What is it?" Fitzwilliam asked. With a trembling hand, Jack slowly held up his middle finger at him. Fitzwilliam frowned, but he didn't want to start a fight when the captain was on the brink of death.

"Jack!" Arabella pushed his hand back down. "Just don't move, you'll get help quickly."

His vision faded and Jack slipped back into unconsciousness.

Jack suddenly woke up again. He lifted his eyes open just a little bit, but he couldn't see anything. He could barely hear a thing, only a ringing noise, his heartbeat, his own wheezing, and the hum of background voices. His lungs hurt as he tried to take little breaths.

"Come on, stay with us, Jack," Arabella said with a shaky voice. "Fitz, help me lift him up."

Arabella grabbed one arm and Fitzwilliam grabbed the other. Jean and Tumen rushed to their aid to help Jack up. They tried to take a few little steps but Jack had no strength to move his feet, dragging him across the deck.

"We have to do something else," Tumen said.

"Yeah, he's too heavy," Arabella stated as she struggled.

"I'll try to carry him," Fitzwilliam said. He took Jack from Arabella and picked him up, carrying the limp boy in his arms. "Let's go."

As Jack was being carried, he felt the steps go from the swaying deck of the ship to solid ground and the hum of voices came closer.

"Hey! Can somebody help us here?!" Fitzwilliam called out. Jean also called for help in French.

"Please help us!" Arabella cried. "Our captain is very sick and he's about to die!"

Suddenly, Jack slipped out of consciousness again.