Disclaimer: I own nothing except the OCs and the concept. I don't even own the name Sally Sparrow; I lifted it from the Doctor Who episode Blink as an Easter egg for my fellow Whovians. Enjoy this last chapter!

Chapter Six

I am the Lord of the Dance, said He

"Well, maybe if we floated the bottle on a little wave, float the Pearl back out of it?" Gibbs suggested. Jack remained silent, still digging a knife into the small writing desk in front of him, his eyes staring but unseeing. "Or...we could get the monkey to help us pull it back out! I mean, tiny ship, tiny fella..." His tone was forcibly cheerful as he made yet another suggestion. "Or we could—"

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Jack shouted, finally jumping to his feet and whirling to face the mutton-chopped mate. "I don't care about the bloody fucking Pearl, Gibbs! I don't care about the damn monkey and if I ever have the grievous misfortune of encountering yet another mystical bloody enchanted object again it'll be too fucking soon!"

Gibbs stood, gobsmacked, and stared at his Captain for a few moments. He lowered his eyes, crestfallen, and shrugged. "Best I figure dwellin' on it ain't gonna do no good, Jack. Thought I might's well try'n get yer mind off it." Shaking his head, he quietly left the small cabin. As soon as he heard the door close, Jack sighed and laid his forehead on his arms. He could still smell his wife on the parchment near his face, despite its long journey. He needed a drink.

As Captain Jack Sparrow looked around the small room, jingling as he went, he kept going over the contents of the letter in his mind. At first he'd been so proud to see it; Captain Teague had made sure he learned his letters ("An illiterate hand's a stupid hand, Jacky, and a stupid hand's worse than useless; he's a hindrance"), but Jenny had never been so fortunate. Before he'd left on that suicide mission to Florida to find the Fountain of Youth, he'd been teaching her how to read and write. Her notes were usually short and in cramped, painful handwriting, but he was proud of her. This letter, however, had been different.

Jack opened the trunk at the foot of the bed. No rum. Jack, it's time for you to come home. In the wardrobe. No wine. She's sick, Jack; she needs a father. In the desk drawer. No whiskey. We all need you. Please, she's fading fast. Under the bed. Not even beer.

"Damn you, Turner!" Jack spat, punching the wall in frustration. His knuckles split where they had caught the frame of the porthole, causing him to swear further until he had become sufficiently distracted and mesmerized by the sight of blood running down the back of his hand. "All of bloody eternity and not a damn drop to drink," he murmured, still staring at his hand.

Jenny's letter hadn't come by merchant or by Captain Teague, which was her usual way, but by way of The Flying Dutchman and its captain, Will Turner. Jenny Sparrow had written her father-in-law, who met by ship with the immortal ferryman of souls. Jack had written to her about Will's predicament (though he'd left out certain details regarding his own soul), as well as the several times he'd saved her husband's neck, and so Jenny figured he was their best shot. Jack knew his family was aboard his father's ship while the Dutchman carried him toward them. He could only hope he reached them in time.

"Ship ahoy!"

"Ship ahoy?" Jack raised his gaze from his hand and looked out the porthole, as though he'd be able to see the man up in the crow's nest give him a sign that he'd heard correctly. Without further hesitation he threw open the door and scrambled out into the fading sunlight of the top deck. "Will! Is it them?" Appearances didn't matter to Jack anymore; he no longer cared if William Turner (the younger) saw him as a smooth, clever pirate or as the desperate father he really was. "Tell me if it's Teague!"

"Hang on, Jack." Will had been trying very hard for the past two days not to lose his temper with the pirate. He understood the man's desperation; if he were able to know his son he'd move Heaven and Earth to be with him, the way Jack was now. Still, the man had been jumping to his side like a small yapper-dog every time a ship was spotted.

"Well?" He was beginning to grow impatient as Will tried to focus his scope.

"It's them," the younger man said at last, lowering the scope. "We'll hail them; it shouldn't take long."

As orders were shouted, flags were run, and course was shifted, Jack paced the deck impatiently. Gibbs tried several times to get him to sit down, but it was no good. As soon as the plank was set between the two ships—with many wary looks from Captain Teague's crew, who had heard only of the Dutchman as it was under Davey Jones—Jack raced across and jumped on deck.

"Dad—!"

"Cap'n's quarters." Captain Teague was rarely one for many words, but that alone told Jack all he needed to know. The captain had spared no comfort for his granddaughter. Without another word between them, merely a nod of understanding, Jack raced across the deck and stopped only for a moment to gather himself before opening the door.

"I danced on a Friday when the world turned black. It's hard to dance with the Devil on your back. They buried my body and thought I was gone, but I am the Dance and the Dance goes on." Jenny's soft voice didn't break, even when she heard the door open.

"Dance, dance, wherever you may be, for I am the Lord of the Dance said He. And I'll lead you all wherever you may be, and I'll lead you all in the Dance said He." Sally's little voice joined her mother's in the chorus of her favorite hymn. It was a rare moment when she was awake and strong enough to sing, though Jenny had been singing and praying aloud for three days nearly without stopping; it was only at the insistence of her eldest son that she had slept or ate.

Her eldest son...their eldest son. John had grown into a handsome young man, standing taller than his father though not quite so confidently. Not now, anyway. Now he leaned against a wall and watched his mother and sister. His eyes flicked upward at the movement from the door and he gave Jack a disdainful look before returning his gaze to the bed. In the two years since Jack had left to save his own soul from Davey Jones, John had hardened his heart somewhat against his father despite his mother's pleadings. He had taken up with some upstart group who called themselves the Young Irelanders and went around provoking English authorities. There had been a few skirmishes between the two groups—one for Ireland's independence and unity, the other for continued English control over Ireland—and a long, thin scar from John's forehead to the middle of his cheek was a reminder of the price of freedom. Jack had worked hard to try and convince his wife this was just a rebellious phase for the nineteen-year-old lad who was angry at his father (if anyone could relate it was Jack himself), but it was hard to make her believe it when he had his own doubts about whether this would pass.

The twins lay asleep on the floor with their toddler brother snuggled between them. Their mother's singing had lulled them to sleep, despite the dryness in her voice now. Without a word Jack walked across the cabin and stood behind Jenny, putting his hands on her shoulders as she knelt by the bed. Sally's singing had been weak and now he saw she could barely open her mouth and her eyes. Her skin had a faint yellowish tint to it and her breath could be heard coming in rattles in between painful, chest-wracking coughs. The pirate squeezed his wife's shoulders gently as quietly he joined in.

"They cut me down and I lept up high, for I am the life that will never, ever die. I'll live in you if you live in Me, for I am the Lord of the Dance said He." Jack's voice was nearly as shaky with tears as his wife's was with soreness and grief. As he joined in, young Sally managed to pry her eyes open and push her lips into a smile.

"Papa..." she rasped before being thrown into another hacking fit.

"I'm here, baby bird," he said quietly, kneeling next to his wife and kissing his daughter's forehead. "I'm here."

"Papa, I love you." Sally whispered now to try and save herself from the painful coughing. "I'll say hi to Grams for you, promise."

"No, Sally, don't you say your goodbyes." Jack looked up from the bedspread. He had been trying not to let his daughter see him cry, but now he didn't care. He couldn't give her up, not after all of this. "Don't you dare, Sally Anne Sparrow."

But Sally only smiled and with great effort put her hand on Jack's cheek. "It's okay, Papa. I won't be alone, promise. Father Mahoney says Heaven's a beautiful, clean, warm place where you're with all your friends and family gone, so you'll see me again and we can always be together."

"No, Sally," Jack whispered, his voice shaking as tears coursed down his cheeks. "No, don't—" But her hand fell from his cheek to the bedspread, limp and lifeless. "Oh God..."

That broke it for nearly everyone in the room. Jenny collapsed off of her knees—her sore knees that had known only the wood of the floor for three days—against Jack's chest. Jack held his wife tightly and buried his face in her hair, trying to keep from sobbing as hard as his wife was though it was supremely difficult. But one of them had to be strong, and it was usually her. He figured she'd had enough of being strong; he needed to be there for her for once. John allowed himself a few tears, though his pride wouldn't allow any more. He wiped them away quickly and watched his parents.

"Get out." Jenny's voice was muffled after what seemed like an eternity of tears.

"What?" Jack frowned.

"Get out, Jack. I don't want you here. Not right now."

"Jenny...they're our childr—"

"No! They're my children, Jack!" Mrs. Sparrow had found her voice and it was full of rage. "I raised 'em. You were only there for us when you thought it was convenient."

"I was there for you when I wasn't trying to find away to stop this!" Jack protested loudly, taken aback by his wife's anger and feeling his own candle lit by hers. "I did everything I could, Jennifer!"

"Oh God, Jack, how many times have we gone over this?! She needed a father and you were only one when you chose to be!"

"Enough." Young Johnathan wasn't yelling, but his voice was loud and firm. It was a testament to the exhaustion of the vigil that neither the twins nor little Steven woke. "Her body isn't even cold yet. Can't you two leave off at least til she's gone?" John remembered when he was young, when his mother had told him that Sally was sick and now he would have to look out for her; til her last breath he had been ever her protector and it sickened him that his parents couldn't put aside their petty differences for a few hours. "Get out, Jack."

"Johnathan, you call him 'Dad.'" It was a constant struggle at home for Jenny to put down this idea of John calling his father by his name and usually Jack was behind her, but this time he shook his head and stood.

"I'll go." He bent down and kissed the top of her head. "I love you, Jenny. Never forget that." He looked up at his son. "You too, lad. I've always loved you and your sisters and brother. Even if you don't believe me, I'll swear it on any book you want me to."

Without another word, he left.

"Jack?" The pirate felt Will Turner's hand on his shoulder as he sat looking up at the stars.

"Think she's up there?" Sally had been buried at sea shortly after sunset. By his reckoning it must have been nearly ten o'clock, and his family hadn't said a word to him. He wouldn't be surprised if the little ones didn't even know he was aboard.

"I dunno, Jack. I don't know where they go after I take them to the afterlife." Will sighed, wishing he could do more for his friend.

"I just...I was so stupid." Jack had cried himself out by now, mostly below decks in the dark corners where no one could see him or pity him, and his voice was raspy from it. "All I could do was just beg her not to go, to hold on...even though she was in so much pain. I didn't...I didn't even get to tell her I love her."

Will was quiet for a long time, uncertain what to say, and Jack was grateful for the silence. He didn't need consolation, he didn't need cheering-up. All he needed was the simple presence of another human being who didn't despise him, which was rather hard to come by these days even amongst his own family. Finally the ferryman of souls had an idea; he was guardian of those who had died at sea. Sally had died at sea. Certainly they were souls who had died because of the sea 99% of the time...but Calypso usually liked Jack and had been pleased with Will's work as captain of the Dutchman. Perhaps he could twist the rules just this once...

"Papa?"

Jack turned around and needed Will's grip on his shirt to keep him from falling overboard. Sally stood a few feet from them, a faint glow about her, without the aid of any canes. Her legs were no longer shriveled and weak, but strong and fully grown the way they were meant to be. The pirate set his feet on the deck.

"She's only here for a short while, Jack," Will explained softly. "Five, ten minutes at the most. Then we have to go."

"Sally..." Jack's only indication that he'd heard Will was a vague nod. "Sal..." He staggered forward and fell to his knees at his daughter's feet before hugging her around the shins and leaning his cheek against her knees. Her wonderful, strong, healthy knees. "Sally I'm so sorry," he mumbled into her skirt. "Please...please forgive me."

"I always have," the spirit of the eldest Sparrow daughter said gently. "You were trying to save me, Papa. I always knew that, even when I was too little to understand. It's okay." She knelt down to face her father on the same level. "You're the best Daddy anyone could ever have."

Jack lost it. He thought he'd run out of tears to shed but he was wrong. He broke down into sobs, tears sliding off of his daughter's hair like drops of quicksilver. He held her tightly as if trying to be taken with her when she went for the final time.

"I love you so much, Sally," he murmured into her shoulder. "You'll always be my baby bird."

"I love you, too, Papa," Sally returned quietly. "But you gotta stay here; you can't come with me yet, and you gotta take care of Mama. She still loves you, you know. They all do; even John, even though he won't say it." She smiled gently. "Promise me you won't leave them anymore, Papa?"

"I promise." Jack nodded fervently. "I'll stay home and I'll love them with everything that I have, just like I always have...except they'll see it this time." Sally smiled and put a faintly glowing hand on Jack's head.

"I have to go now, Papa," she said quietly. "They're calling me. I love you."

"I love you—" And then she was gone. "...Too," Jack finished lamely, left kneeling on his own in the middle of a dark deck.

"Jack?" Jenny stepped into the light of the lantern hung outside the Captain's Quarters. They had since gone from Captain Teague's ship to the swifter Flying Dutchman, and Will Turner had been gracious enough to give up his quarters to the family until they could be rowed ashore back home.

Jack looked up and gently got off his knees. Jenny had been resting for several hours, unable to walk after kneeling on hard wood for so long, and even now had to support herself. Her husband hurried over to help her. She looked at him, long and hard.

"You and I still have some talking to do, you know," she informed him sternly.

"Yes, mum," Captain Sparrow answered. "Can it wait til we're back on land?"

His wife studied his face for a long moment before sighing wearily. "Let's go home, Jack."

The pirate smiled and kissed his wife's forehead before looking up at Will. "Well, whelp, I'm retiring. How you gonna tell 'em I go out?"

Will gave him a small smile. "Sea turtles, mate."

~Fin~

Reviews are love! Let me know if you cried or if I'm just a baby coz I cried at my own story. For those of you who stuck with me all the way through thank you! I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into the off-screen life of Captain Jack.