Just as Aunt Hazel would have been when fleeing from the incarnate, Jack was now startled by brisk footsteps behind him.

His first thought came with the hopes of not getting into yet another mutiny, his second with the fear that the children might be awake again – but he was lucky.

It was just Tara who stood at the entrance to the terrace. Only that very same upset cursing and thus worthy competitor to the untamed oceans he'd been searching for years …

"You've found home."

As if she, of all people, had been the one who'd taken seven years to do so.
The supposed regret in his features was nothing but hypocrisy. It had taken him what felt like a century to put the children to bed after they'd gotten biscuits.

Sugar …

He could have guessed. But he hadn't.
The two little bilge rats could have warned him. But they hadn't.
Only Tara had, before she left.
No sugar.
And he had assumed – foolish as he was – that this rule after sunset simply served to bring clear structure into their lives. Something he didn't think too much of.

However, he hadn't taken into account the fact that the twins were wide awake and full of energy if he would not stick to said rule, until he almost fell asleep himself while crooning old sea shanties.

So maybe some rules were not just the devil's work after all – as much as he hated to admit it to himself.

"You haven't lost one," she murmured, strangely affected, and came towards him less quickly than her previous steps would have suggested.
Perhaps because she was not in such a hurry to get to him now after all.

Or maybe it was because someone was sleeping halfway across the terrace and she didn't mean to wake him up.
The flickering lanterns blithely traced the outline of old prison dog Poochie, and soon Tara's, too, as she made her way past Teague's furry companion.

Jack had always loved to see her silhouette in soft evening lights, and so he deliberately did now.

Without voicing any inappropriate thought, however, he much rather heard himself ask, "Did you count?"

"I actually did, believe it or not." A little dazed, she rubbed the back of her neck – the mere sight of Sparrow was enough for tension of any kind … tension, strain, anxiety – what was the difference … "Both in their beds."

"You're checking up on me?" He tilted his head. "I am in all honesty deeply saddened."

"Trust is good, control is better, as you know."

He couldn't help but pout. "And you didn't count wrong?"

"There are only two, as you put it so well this afternoon."

"Aye, but I'll admit it." At these words, she looked up in quite obvious surprise. "They feel like twenty when they're supposed to fall asleep. And they're just too wide eyed to be shouted at like a good-for-nothing crew of outlaws – though they may well be outlaws …" She chuckled until he added, "They've missed you, Tara."

"I've missed them, too."

Winking, he asked, "And what about me?"

She just shook her head in amusement, but he knew fully well that she wasn't really negating it. She was just avoiding to answer …

Still, he couldn't help but notice that she wasn't entirely sober.

Her glazed look, the blurred pronunciation and the heightened receptivity to his semi-charming ignorance annoyed even her. As did what Ace had told her on the way back when she'd ran into him …

Now that the thought came back to her, her mimic promptly darkened as well.

"Is there anything you wish to tell me, by the way?"

He took in a deep breath, trying to choose inflationary words to play it safe. "A little intoxication suits you well?"

"Not quite what I had in mind. But thank you …"

Heavens, she had to pull herself together. She really didn't need to spare gratitude for that sidetracking remark …

"I'm glad you wanted to find your way back to me?" Jack tried another answer.

"I happen to live here, with my children."

"Oh, what a coincidence!" he exclaimed. "So do I! As of lately …"

She wasn't drunk, she could have sworn she wasn't, yet she laughed. His spontaneous bursts of euphoria could obviously still hit her as unexpectedly as they had then.

"Sounds so much better already," he stated, glancing at her as though he had actually searched the whole world for her.

"What?" Her very tone implied impatience. For when did he start to act so hopelessly sentimental? How did he even dare to act like that. After everything that had been so wrong between them all these years …

Her facial expressions had never stopped him from speaking his mind. "You laugh."

"It's been a nice evening, Jack, far away from you. So let's keep it up. Save yourself all your pretty, meaningless words."

"I'm well aware that my courting doesn't rhyme as effortlessly as what our all-too-inspired son recently put to paper for Kate, but –"

Again, she couldn't hold back a far too loud laugh. She immediately put her hand over her mouth to avoid waking more family members besides the sleepy dog that was now looking up.

"No need to get up, doggy," Jack called over his shoulder. "It's all right, trust me. No barking, savvy? Otherwise you'll put them back to sleep!"

Poochie stared at them for a moment longer – control was better than trust, after all – then he'd finally lower his head back to the floor, panting.

"Good boy," Jack murmured.

"Yeah, and loyal as hell." Her look betrayed that she didn't mean the dog at all.

With his arms crossed over his chest, Sparrow leaned against the railing of the terrace, looking down at her in a strange mixture of joy, pride and wistfulness.

Two heads smaller and yet so snappy.
He loved her teeth, even though she'd never have needed them if it wasn't for him …

"It's good to have you back."

He was so monosyllabic. So cheesily direct. It made her more and more skeptical, and yet her body took the final steps towards him until she was standing way too close.

Until he said, "With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world."

"From the Desiderata," Tara recognised the lines at once. She leaned over the railing beside him, too, glancing up at the flickering lights of the night and the starry sky high above them. "They say even more under your skin. Strive to be happy."

He turned his face to hers for a few heartbeats long. "Then maybe we should finally do just that."

Tara sighed. Her head got too heavy, she undid her hair in the hopes of it easing the strain in her neck a little, yet it was basically hopeless and futile around Sparrow … Besides, she was literally glowing from the heat, or maybe it had been more wine than she wanted to admit. At least the balmy wind that mussed her dark curls cooled her down a little – unlike him.

When he noticed how he was staring at her, he shook himself to just follow her gaze to the distant harbour.
He truly wanted to touch her, it didn't even have to come with unholy colourings – but he missed her.

That first evening and morning she'd let him hold her, moving on, however, she'd tried to punish him with a maximum of distance even when they fell asleep in the same bed, likely for all his years of insolence and absence …

"Happiness is so untouchable," she eventually said. "We've already tried to be happy twice. But we never were."

"You weren't? I was. You really weren't?"

"No. Not often." She hesitated, and actually that revealed too much truth already. Not often didn't mean never. The wine apparently tried to be of some use. "When things were good between us, they were incredible, I'll admit that. But when they weren't …" She shook her head, and there was no need to elaborate. He knew himself, after all.

"Well, but let us not forget: Two witty kids resulted from it."

She glanced up at him for a few heartbeats and eventually nodded. She felt so terribly warm, and that, or the wine, inevitably made her smile.

It also made his mouth twitch. "What?"

"Witty they are … Like you, even if you play dumb all the time."

"That sounds terribly unlike me, I'd never do that."

"And see? They're more honest. Much more honest." Her searching gaze didn't leave his face. "But would they still tell me where they've been after spending an evening with you?"

"So that's what you're about, you want a protocol?"

She nodded in silence.

"Well, then, I confess," he said, raising his hands. "Just so they don't have to … I took them, without thinking, far too late at that, to a tavern where I would've let them try alcohol – which they didn't want to do, good kids they are – and where Ace was nearly beaten to death while the ladies from the harbour were busy as per usual and –"

"You seriously fit all those things you shouldn't have done in such a tiny amount of time?"

He snorted. "It wasn't my intention, but it … turned out that way."

"And you're telling me now." It was more a wondering observation than a question.

Cautiously, he hummed, "I am?"

"In the old days, you would've just lied."

He would have done just as much this very night, too. But he could guess she'd run into Ace.

But then again … Maybe he would've confessed anyway. Possibly because he didn't want the children to have to lie to her for him …
Where was he thinking lately? And if they'd lied to Tara, why find shame in it?
But no … It just didn't seem right. The mother of his children didn't deserve that.
Bloody conventions, he thought, and yet he couldn't quite talk himself out of them anymore.

"I didn't necessarily follow the rules in their entirety," he mumbled into the night. "They shouldn't have had biscuits that late either, they wouldn't sleep for ages –"

He paused at her hearty laughter.

"Huh?" His look was clearly one of tired pain.

"Did you think I said that for fun? Or because I wouldn't begrudge them sugar?"

"A little, yes."

She put her hands on her hips and couldn't stop smirking at him. "You're damn clever, Sparrow – but sometimes also incredibly stupid."

He shrugged – both he was – so why not change the subject while she was still in the mood for it. "We met Jocard."

Her smile at the mention of that name remained an innocuous one. As to be expected. "The kids like him a lot."

"He's a good man, after all," Jack stated. "Oh, and … what's his name … A certain Groves we met as well …"

She gulped, visibly. And all of a sudden she felt as though she was completely sober. "Theodore is in the Cove?"

"Do you know him well?"

"What's with the sanctimonious question? I probably know him better than you."

He hated to hear these words, she could tell right from his face.

So, almost satisfied, she added, "He wasn't as secretive as you. And reliable."

Jack tilted his head and blatantly asked, "Then why weren't you riding off into the sunset hand in hand with each other?"

He'd always insisted on freedom in all his life choices, her jealousy had never mattered to him – his jealousy, however, was still as alive as it used to be.

And secretly Tara was delighted at such seldom displeasure which he for once couldn't quite hide.

"It's none of your business, still you care?"

"Very much so." With the face of a saint, he added, "I am, after all, the father of your children …"

"Crazy, isn't it?" Her lips curved into a smile again, and her malicious joy drove him mad inside.

"Well, the kind and all-too-reliable Groves sends his regards," he nevertheless replied as indifferently as he could. "Shall I perhaps tell him how you know him that much better than myself next time he stares at me or would you rather –"

"He's an exceedingly polite and thoughtful man, I don't think he was staring at you."

"Oh, he was. I'm a mystery, after all … He was fascinated just as much as repulsed."

"What's it about, what do you think?" She shrugged and blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Might he be even more fascinated and repulsed by you than he was by me?"

"Don't deflect from yourself, what have you done to the poor man?"

"Not nearly as much as to you, since he deserved only the best," she grimly whispered. "I have a really high opinion of him, to this day, so keep it together."

"Then why no sunset?" he directly passed over her urgent suggestion in mock-confusion.

Why did he never stop talking, asking, rambling …

"You can literally feel the unwavering decency and resolute integrity welling up inside you while you're standing next to him." He talked and talked. "You know, I was thinking to myself that if I just weren't so hopelessly incorrigible in that respect, it might even rub off how polite and prudent and eminently respectable he –"

"His pace!" she heard herself hiss so he'd fall silent at last – and she immediately felt like groaning because of it. As though she owed him an answer! She cursed the alcohol …

"Ah," Jack all but whispered. As complacent as he got. Once again he'd achieved his goal with a constant drip and a little calculation. Maddening. "What was wrong with his pace?" he followed up with the audacity of the Seven Seas.

She frowned while looking him up and down. "We were … we just weren't entirely made for the sunset."

"He would've married you, I suppose?"

She wanted to never speak again, but the words would just leave her mouth. "We could have gotten married, but –"

"His pace," Jack finished for her with a nod. "Well. Too bad …"

She briefly closed her eyes and sighed. "You got me all wrong, Sparrow."

"Hardly." The shiny night was reflected in one of his gold teeth.

"No, not hardly, very much so!" Her defiance disturbed herself, for now she had irrevocably arrived at the same infantile level of discussion culture as him. The mere realisation of it was bitter every time.

"Well, in that case – I can't blame him for seeming so nostalgic after all."

"Jack, what the hell are you trying to imply?"

"He just couldn't understand why you loved me." Before she could say anything in reply, or protest, he was already continuing. "Essentially like you, judging by the last few weeks – yet I can't help but wonder, like him, why poor Theodore didn't take your heart by storm then. With his politeness. And prudence."

Like a shark in infested waters, he'd always smell blood. He was so good at rubbing salt into the very wounds that plagued her. And he never let go, no, he even brazenly expected an answer.

"You want my hand in your face so badly, don't you?"

"You know, darling," he bleakly retorted, "not exclusively there, but –"

"¡Cállate!" Her hand kept itching, and it got worse. "In his life Theodore wouldn't have spoken to me like that."

He tilted his head from side to side, playfully indecisive. "Doesn't seem to have done him too much good either, though, because I don't see him anywhere around here …"

"No, you're right. Once again, it's only you who's standing before me."

He smiled like innocence personified. "But is that really so bad?"

She didn't answer.

"No one talks to you like I do, Tara, thank goodness. And you don't talk to anyone like you talk to me either. Do you?"

"No, obviously not …"

He smiled, it was barely noticeable. "See?"

Her not-quite-sober state, in contrast to the words that had passed her lips so far, kept chasing the unwelcome raw thought that having him here with her was by no means a bad thing. It was exactly what she'd secretly wanted for years.

She wanted to push him off the next best cliff, but unfortunately she also knew that if anyone in the world knew how to make it up to her, it was him.

"It would never have worked between the both of you," Sparrow snapped her out of her thoughts. "Even the children are an undeniable touch of destiny …"

"You mean destiny intended us to hate and love each other every seven years? You can't be serious."

He looked at her for a long time, so ridiculously devout. Far too devout for his absurd nature. "I don't hate you."

He said that, but Tara knew him long enough. In his world, it almost amounted to the opposite, the famous three words.

She had held Theodore in high regard and always wanted to be a good person for him – a wish that would never have occurred to her by Jack's side – but in the end she was no more herself with anyone than she was with that crazy paradise bird who could never be relied upon. Whether that was good or bad, and she tended towards the latter, remained to be seen. In any case, she'd never fallen in love with Groves the way she had loved him.
It was inconvenient, and truly a pity. But she had only one heart, and it had always belonged to him.

"You don't hate me either, by the way," Jack just had to remind her, "we never hated each other, darling. It was just difficult due to … circumstances."

Indeed. But some periods in between – those had actually been insanely easy.

Maybe she'd become too narrow-minded and petty.
Maybe she just needed to loosen up so the tension could dissolve into excitement …

"You haven't lost one," she repeated, mostly to herself.

He was here. With her, right there.
And his aura, despite all the polemics, was at last as guilty and appreciative as she actually expected him to be.
The impossible had, in a sense, come true.

So Kate's wish snuck into her consciousness once more. In principle, she was someone who kept promises … And in principle, her heart beat already faster when he looked at her like that.

Like someone who, finally, wasn't too sure of what would happen next, and thus kept his mouth shut.

Even if it didn't last too long. "Might be because of my nature-given pace," he mumbled.

He inched closer and offered her his empty hands. As though she finally was to fill them again. He wasn't sure whether she'd be up for it or one hand, or both, would end up in his face. He just had to see …

"Tonto," she all but moaned, though, and glanced at him for what felt like eternity before touching him. Her hands in his. "This … actually, isn't your usual pace at all … You were always in a hurry."

He smiled, almost fatherly, as if he'd recently discovered that for himself. "You're a bit drunk, love."

"Maybe I really can't put up with you otherwise."

"Might be. Come on, venga …" He was already maneuvering her across the terrace, past the dog. "We'll wrap you up in something comfortable to sleep and –"

"Something comfortable?" Puzzled, she stopped. "Not nothing?"

"Oh, no," he whispered, chuckling. "Not tonight."

She didn't move. "For weeks you've been waiting for the tiniest chance to –"

"But this time I'm truly in no hurry, Tara."

Her perplexed expression made any question unnecessary.

"I told you, I want to see them grow up." He lifted her chin, then his hands cupped her cheeks with unexpected urgency. "And I want you. I've realised that long before I found you again. Not a bit of you, not now and then – I want you." Quite lost in thought he blew out his cheeks, suddenly looking into the distance. It was typical of him. "But as a matter of fact, we might need to acknowledge that my pace in regards to us, you and me, has probably been equally questionable thus far, nonetheless –"

"You're here now," she whispered with a nod, studiously refraining from sarcasm. And tears. "And for the first time you're looking at me like you can understand why I'm so mad."

"I can – but I can't undo the reasons."

"No," she said under her breath, "you can't …"

And for the first time she realised what that meant. That she had to forgive him or chase him away for good.

He was wide awake, and as if he could read her mind, he said, "A dilemma, aye. Here's the crossroads." His black eyes were steady on her. "So tell me, Tara, who'll come find us first? Our demons or we each other. Can we strive to be happy, or can we not?"

He held her gaze. She was at her zenith of self-reflection, he at his. And it was a dead spot sooner or later if she couldn't surpass herself.

"Make it up." She hated herself for those words, yet she said them. "Don't just leave for half a life again …"

"I won't," he vowed. And he didn't even lie. "Never without a Goodbye and never again for so long."

A few heartbeats passed. In silence, in old familiar connection that she never wanted to feel again as it was usually the beginning of the end.

"Sounded like a threat, huh?" he immediately questioned his statement aloud.

"Just a little bit." She couldn't hide a tired smile.

It seemed so deceptively promising, the way he shoved her hair back away from her face, only to soon let his fingers hover over her collarbone ever so lightly. Eventually his hands lingered on her hips as though they belonged to him only.

She thought the twins had left their mark on her waist, however so had the constant trouble they'd caused. She wasn't that much more than years ago, but her body had changed.
Yet she knew him well enough to be sure that wasn't the reason for his reluctance at all.

"Your pace seems oddly polite these days," she whispered.

"Love, I can't possibly be accused of taking advantage of your predicament tomorrow."

"I'm not drunk!" she chuckled.

He nodded. "Course not …"

"But you know the risk?"

"Tomorrow you might bark again, not purr. Sure, but so be it then …"

"Amen."

"Though it would be bloody bad luck if I had to regret this bright moment of altruistic renunciation tomorrow."

"And yet today you choose virtue?"

"If we keep talking about it, possibly not."

"You really fear I'd give you hell …" She nodded in amusement. "Maybe I'm too strict after all."

"No, no …" He sighed, then he pulled her into his arms. Her embrace was everything. "You just know me."

"See, this," she said, "I'll always doubt. You wear masks."

"Darling, I hate to disappoint you, but it's actually just a bit charcoal, goes back to ancient Egypt. Makes it a bit easier for your eyes in bright sun –"

"Don't play dumb. I've met a lot of you."

"And I'm all of them," he claimed. "And not one. Depending on the day. And you're slightly drunk."

"You used to be drunk all the time …"

"I'm all for celebrating life when there's a chance to –"

"And why exactly haven't I seen you do that in weeks then?" She regarded him intently. "Because of the children?"

Almost a bit caught, he shrugged.

"That's really nice of you."

"Well, I am just that. Still people act all surprised when they come to realise it."

She rolled her eyes, only to snuggle up to him after all, to his genuine surprise.

He looked down at her black lashes and pretty dark complexion, soon at her lips, too. Still wet with red wine, he imagined. And when their eyes met, she believed him.

That he meant it, that he loved the children – and her. At least as best as he could …

"May I? Finally?"

"What, kiss me?" She whispered in awe, "Since when do you ask?"

"Since you regularly try to shoot me."

"Tonto …" Caught off guard, she added, "You brought this on yourself."

"I know. Now come here …"

Dear ella, thanks so much again, I'm always so happy to see you liked the update! They're almost peaceful again, aren't they? ^^