Well, if you are reading this then thanks for not hating me. I know, Gibbs's death hurt me just as bad. However, the show must go on! The author's note for this chapter is only that the longer chunks of italicized text indicate flashes of the day. You'll get it as you read.

...TanzFieber

The rest of the day had passed in a haze for all involved. Seeing as how Jack had managed to put a bullet directly into the heart of Twigg, the battle had ended with the crew of the Black Pearl the victors. The men of the Sea Serpent immediately threw down their weapons at their captain's death, and this would usually signal a rousing cheer from the victorious crew. However, at the end of this particular skirmish the decks were strangely silent. Word had spread like wildfire of what had occurred up on the forecastle whilst chaos reigned the decks, and any 'hurrah' that might have been was quickly stifled.

Marty the dwarf crawled out from behind a broken spar, a triumphant grin on his face, when he was nearly knocked flat by Jack Sparrow. The captain swept past, an unreadable expression on his normally relaxed face, and Marty wrinkled his brow in question. "Wot be th'matter wiv 'im?" he asked Duncan, another crewman.

"...Gibbs..." was the only thing the other pirate would say, his shoulders sagging dejectedly.

"Y'mean th'captain be worried? Bad wounded, is 'e?"

"Dead."

That was how the rest of the day went: in a haze. There were the usual after-battle tasks to be performed, of course– the scouring of bloodstained decks, the checking of the hull for leaks, the clearing of breakage, and locking up the opposing survivors– but all of these things seemed futile. The other thing was sewing up fallen comrades in the traditional sail cloth coffins. There was one body, however, that nobody had been allowed near except for two.

Jack Sparrow rolled the still body of his longtime shipmate onto the clean white canvas with a grunt. His mouth was set in a hard line and his brow furrowed intensely as he went about his work, flipping the edge of the sheet over and beginning to sew the entire entity shut with furious energy. Kelsea Sparrow sat by, dry-eyed and blank-faced. Her hand still clutched the now cold one of the shell that had previously been her surrogate father...

The day had passed in a haze, and by now night had fallen. Few words had passed between the newly christened father and daughter, and even fewer glances. Each was coping with the situation as best they could... and neither was having an easy time of it. After an afternoon of stifling silence, Captain Jack had finally mumbled something about how the child must be hungry, she should go eat.

Hearing a shaky sigh, Jack looked over at the girl on his left for the first time in a few hours. She was staring off at the gray horizon, her eyes vacant. He wanted to say something –anything– to her, but no words were forthcoming. Finally, he reached out and touched her shoulder. "Lass..."

Kelsea jumped as if his light touch had been a heavy blow. She glanced up and, eyes flickering dimly with recognition, raised an eyebrow.

"Er... I've noticed ye haven' eaten all day..."

So bloody what! Her dark eyes seemed to scream, but no response came from her lips. Jack quailed under the pained gaze and dropped his own to his lap.

"Jus' that... Well. Think it's best that ye head t'the galley."

The nine-year-old seemed to ponder this awkward proposition before finally just nodding. She got to her feet and slowly made her way towards the ship's kitchen, ignoring the feeling of Jack Sparrow's eyes upon her back.

Now Kelsea was in Gibbs' former cabin (the adjacent to the captain's quarters), and Jack was in his. The pirate captain of the Black Pearl had retired early, leaving the rest of the crew to look after his ship without really giving any orders. If his day-long silence hadn't been clue enough that Jack Sparrow was badly shaken by the death of his first mate, his sudden lapse in caring about the well being of his beloved Pearl certainly was. He had paced, drank all of his rum and even smashed a few chairs completely to smithereens... but nothing seemed to make him feel better. There was an aching hole in his stomach, and no amount of amber alcohol could fill it up.

Why was Gibbs gone? Why hadn't he, the infallible Captain Jack Sparrow, been able to save him? Why..? Jack Sparrow was a vacant, defeated shadow of his usual self as troubled sleep finally found him that night.

"NOOOO! NO, STOP– PLEASE NO–!"

Jack awoke with a start and immediately toppled backwards out of his chair where he had been dozing fitfully. "What the bloody–?" He grunted, the first thing hitting him being pain in the broken arm he had just re-fallen on. "Motheruv–!" However, the next thing that came back to him was the exact reason he had been asleep in a chair... The battle... Gibbs...

"NOOO! SOMEBODY HELP ME–! PLEASE–!"

The pleading shouts came again, and cut off Jack's thought process. Rubbing the back of his head and gingerly cradling his arm against his body, the pirate sat up, cocking his ear to the noise that had awakened him. Softer sounds came to him again, and he decided that they were... whimpers? Not only that, but they were coming from the room next to his own–

Jack rose to his feet and scrubbed a hand across his haggard face as he made his way to the door. He tugged it open and crept across the hallway to a different portal where he stopped and pressed his ear to the timbers. More stifled cries, definitely coming from within. Instinctively, the captain cautiously raised a hand and pushed the door open. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light, but eventually he could make out a desk and chair in the small room, and over in the corner a bed. It was the contents of that bunk, however, that made everything else superfluous.

Little Kelsea Sparrow was tangled up in the blankets making pitiful noises whilst tossing, and it was only after a moment that Jack realized that she was actually asleep– obviously having some sort of dreadful nightmare. She called out for help again, whimpering and pleading, and before he knew what he was doing, he had crossed the room and was standing over her.

"N-no... I c-can't... Please d-don't..." the child cried out to someone only she was seeing in her dreams, and the sight of her small body quaking with sobs caused something to give inside the pirate captain's heart. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out a calloused hand and touched her forehead.

"Shhhh..." he whispered, and soft as his voice was, the young girl immediately awoke at the sound and at the touch. The nine-year-old started awake and her eyes shot open, but apparently she couldn't see very well in the dark yet either. She felt the hand, however, and grabbed it desperately.

"M-mr. Gibbs..?"

Jack's heart broke just a little bit more and tears pricked at the backs of his eyes for the first time since he'd been listening to his first mate's last words that afternoon. With a shaky sigh, he shook his head before answering in a quavering whisper.

"No, lass... Tis jus' ol' Jack..."

She said nothing for a moment, as if taking the moment to remember just as he had... and then a new sound reached the captain's ears– the sound of none-too-well-stifled sobs. Kelsea's hand slid out of his own as she wrapped her arms around herself and there, in the dark, finally gave in to the tears that had been building up all day.

Jack Sparrow was beside himself. He stood awkwardly at the bedside, not knowing what to do as the girl was racked by sobs... but then he was crouched down, shushing her and stroking her hair.Feeling her clutch desperately at the hem of his untucked shirt, Jack kneeled down by the head of the bunk and lay his hand on the girl's. She grabbed it tight and whimpered pitifully.

"Shhh... Lass, s'alright... Everythin's gonna be okay..." he soothed nonsensically, whispering into her dark curls. "Okay, Luv... Shhhhh..." Jack closed his eyes and continued to murmur softly to the child who held on to him so tight... this brave little girl... his daughter–

And in that moment, for the first time in a long time, his reputation as a pirate ceased to matter. He no longer cared that these gestures made him soft, or what the crew would think if they found out. In that moment, all that mattered to Captain Jack Sparrow was comforting this small girl who needed him so badly... and finally letting himself find solace in the same act.