Chapter 13

Soft afternoon waves rocked my small vessel as I rowed ever closer to the island, basking calmly in the orange glow of the setting sun.

Peace.

For the first time in a long while, my heart felt peace.

As my arms circled tirelessly, each rotation returning me to the crew of the Pearl, I considered the events that had transpired since I'd departed from my friends in an effort to save bloody James Norrington from certain death. James had, cleverly, taken the heart of Davy Jones and tricked the undead crew into retrieving the empty chest. As a result, said crew pulled me back to their ship, where I was forced to watch the near demise of my only friends. My heart, left barren, bloodied, and broken, stood irreparably changed. For, although the crew of the Black Pearl was spared, the man I'd believed to be the love of my life held no love for me in return. Rather, my sister gained his affections in the end, just as she ultimately garnered every man's love in Port Royal.

For the first time, I wondered if separating myself from James Norrington was truly the best decision. Had I continued our courtship, he would have been the only man to choose to love me over Elizabeth. Perhaps the events on Isla de Cruces would have taken a different turn had I chosen to ignore his lies.

I shook my head softly to shake loose the thought. As a result of his abandonment, a calm had settled over me. As a result of his abandonment, I had truly found my father. If that was the love I was destined to win, then it was a battle well fought and a pain, no matter how excruciating, that I could bear.

The island drew closer and, for the first time, I could see someone on the beach. I stopped for a moment, considering the other horror I had faced on the Dutchman. Blood still caked my skin, dried around and over the scrapes latticing my arms. From the dull ache, I knew my abdomen and legs likely looked the same.

Brief images of the lustful men flashed across my mind, mixing with the haunting faces from my youth. My breathing hitched, my face flushed. Heart racing, mind raging, I drew into myself, burying my face into my knees. The oars cluttered to the floor. Soon my breathing matched the uncontrollable rhythm of my heart, my skin clenched with sweat, and my thoughts could not be controlled.

I vaguely registered my name, and the sloshing of water. Arms reached out with a familiar warmth and hugged me close. A breathy voice on my neck urged me to breathe deeply.

I drew in a shuddering lungful of air. Pause. Release.

The voice directed me through a few more breaths before I could feel my pulse slowing, my mind regaining conscious thought. "I'm here for you, Rachelle," the voice said. "I'm right here."

Untangling myself from his arms and suddenly registering the oppressive heat clinging to my skin, I dipped out of the boat and into the waves. I hissed as the salt investigated every laceration, but focused my attention on my best friend.

"Oh, Will," I whispered, launching myself to properly hug him. "I'm so glad you're alright."

He nodded, still looking concerned, and returned, "Are you?"

My hand found the side of my dinghy and I glanced down. "I will be." I answered, moving my gaze back up to meet his own.

"What happened?" the former blacksmith queried softly as we trudged in towards the beach.

I wondered where to start. "I was right."

"Huh? About what?"

"My father."

Will reached for my hand and gave a soft squeeze. His tone grew darker. "What did that monster do to you? Did he—"

"He saved me." I interrupted. "His crew nearly…" I trailed off, gesturing to my marred skin and fresh clothing. "The important thing is that I learned the truth."

Sighing, I left the dinghy where it lie and settled down onto the sand. Will sat beside me and took my hand again. "Look, Rachelle, I did not wish to tell you on top of such terrible things, but you should know that Jack—"

"I saw."

My gaze never left the sunset.

"So you've guessed."

"I suspected beforehand, but nothing could've prepared me. The terrible ache in my chest. The emptiness behind the aching. I didn't realize I loved him so much."

Leaning over, my head rested on Will's shoulder and I knew right then that this man knew the most genuine me. This man, practically my brother, was the one person in the world who could truly say they knew Rachelle Jones.

His arm stretched up, pulling me closer and sitting in silence as we watched the sun sink beyond the horizon.

Finally, when the moon appeared low in the sky, a quiet voice left my lips. "So what do we do now?"

"The crew spoke about going upriver. I don't know much from there."

Giving him a resilient nod, I rose to my feet. "I should go see them."

We tromped to the encampment and were met only by the men. Elizabeth sat unmoving before the fire. "Welcome back, Miss Rachelle," Gibbs nodded.

I returned the gesture, instinctively looking around for Jack. "He's not…" Gibbs started, and my mind returned to reality.

"I know." My voice was thicker with emotion than I expected. "Jones gloated."

He nodded sharply, squeezing my shoulder lightly before moving away. Will nudged me gently, supportively, as he opted to move further away from his fiancée. As I took up my own spot away from the fire, my mind raged away. I obsessed over the one event I had not processed before learning of my father, before coming to the island.

Jack Sparrow was dead.

Truly dead. I had seen it this time.

Although I had spent months mourning him the first time, although my heart and soul hardly knew how to react to his betrayal and a numbness had consumed my emotions, I could hardly believe that he was no longer on this earth. A feast for the Kraken, he had gone to the Locker.

"Miss Rachelle," a voice murmured.

Three men, Marty, Pintel, and Ragetti, stood before me with concerned expressions. "He's gone," I whispered, missing the presence of my witty captain.

"Your captors hurt you." Ragetti commented, indicating the lesions criss-crossing my skin.

"Aye," I assented, my mind putting the matter of Jack Sparrow to rest for now. "But I shall endure."

Marty stood next to me, still only taller by a few inches despite my seat on the sand, and tentatively touched a finger to a few of the cuts on my forearm. He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it when he noticed the vacant expression on my face. "If we can help at all…" he offered.

"Thank you, but I think I just want to be alone right now."

The pirates obeyed my orders with concerned looks of sympathy and walked back towards the campfire. Without a word, Gibbs approached slowly to wrap a blanket around my shoulders. "For the chill," he explained softly.

Nodding once, I pulled it close as Jack's loyal first mate rested on the sand beside me. "Thank you."

The phrase had hardly passed my lips when he answered, "Always, Miss Rachelle."

With a small smile, I laid on my back and gazed up at the stars, thinking peacefully about the quiet father figure I'd had by my side for so long. Between Mr. Gibbs and my own father, I knew I would be well loved.

A man so desperate for his own freedom, a man incapable of committing himself to me was not what I needed.

Oh, but how I mourned him.