"When you said home, I thought we both meant the place where I still have a ton of dishes to do."

"See?" In utmost mischief, he spread his arms – at least as well as he could while carrying Tia on his shoulders – to make sure she'd properly take the magnificent view in. "The Black Pearl knows no such thing! Right, Tia?"

He let her down onto the dark wooden deck, and with a bright smile on her face she nodded before she ran off to James, up the stairs – since her brother was already examining the steering wheel.

"Only freedom, sure," Tara hummed, watching the kids from afar. "And the ship's all ours tonight?" The doubts on her mind were readable on her face when she turned around to Jack. "No crew? No … Joshamee?"

"They're all enjoying the merits of a harbour." He paused to dramatically add, "If you know what I mean …"

"I do," she said, inching closer, "I used to be one of those merits of a harbour for you."

He smirked, his full concentration on her due to the warmth her body radiated. "Still are – hence my presence."

Tara couldn't quite suppress her smile when she whispered in his ear, "We might elaborate on that, but it seems your twins are about to break the wheel."

With sudden alarm in his eyes he whirled around to face the Quarterdeck as well.

"Oi, here now! No climbing, James!"

"Oh no, I'm just –"

"Less babbling, more distancing to the wheel! And none of you fall into the water, savvy? Tia, away from the edge! I won't get wet again just so you don't drown!"

"I wouldn't drown, I can swim!"

"Play fetch or something. Or better: Hide and seek. Slow and steady!"

"But –"

"No buts, that was no suggestion! What did I just say?"

There was something about him yelling orders, and his tone of voice while doing it – he could be such a joker, but nautical matters were not to be taken lightly in his world.

"No climbing," James eventually repeated, his euphoria significantly dimmed as he let go of the wheel.

Tia still tried to push her luck nevertheless. "But our birthday's not quite over!"

"Couldn't care less, Calypso, drowning's never a good option when the Dutchman's off duty for a night. Away from the –"

"Edge," she talked over him with a sigh, nodding, "got it, alright!"

"Good girl! Now fetch your brother before he touches the wheel again."

They'd probably listen, and not climb or drown, likely so, but there could be no guarantee given their pace when they started to play.

The twins soon switched to less exhausting hide and seek aboard their father's ship nevertheless, and the mild evening wind carried all their sorrows away, for that moment in time. And when the last rays of sunlight had long ceased to glitter on the ever moving surface of the harbour, the myriad of gleaming laterns of Shipwreck City ahead of them would provide for yellow light from afar.

Tara had pulled Jack along in the meantime, up to the foc'sle where they made themselves comfortable leaning against the foremast. He sat down behind her and held her firmly in his arms. She let him know how their lives had gone in the last couple of weeks, and in return he told her of new rumours and legends sailors from all over the world would spread.

Then they'd just listen to the soft waves crushing against the old wood of the hull while glancing at the devil's throat.

"Crucial observation point you chose."

"This area of the ship?" she asked. "Because of the figurehead?"

"Pretty, ain't she?"

"A modest angel."

"Quite the shame most sailors are a superstitious bunch that only feel comfortable with a wooden kind of woman aboard, nailed to the bow."

Rolling her eyes she recited, "A woman in flesh and blood brings a ship bad luck."

"Never understood that either. As though they wouldn't on main land …"

She sighed. "I can see why men aboard might be harmful to us, but what could we do to scare you?"

"You'll have to ask Gibbs that. I've been sailing with women for as long as I can remember."

She let her head rest on his chest. "You've mentioned Arabella now and then."

"Ambitious red-head, aye. At some point she fell in love with Will's father."

"Will Turner's?"

"That one, yes. He used to sail with me as well, right before the mutiny. But Arabella is not Will's mother … Heaven knows what happened. Then let us not forget Anamaria. Whenever she was aboard, I'd only let her take the wheel in my place."

"What about Gibbs?"

"She's more of a natural, don't ever mention it, though, it'd break his old heart. Great intuition for storms she had."

"You also sailed with Lizzy."

"Liz is a storm. She takes the wheel by force and navigates you right into a war – can't recommend that kind of trouble."

"Well, she also chained you to the mainmast and left you to die. Maybe that's shaping a bit of your opinion, too."

She didn't have to see his face to imagine his offended mimic. "That day she ultimately had to admit her true colours to herself."

"Quite the act of piracy it was, yeah. Back when she told me a bit about it, I just couldn't help but wonder … She surely had to distract you? She claimed that wasn't the case."

"But you know a lie when you hear one, don't you."

She turned around in his embrace to watch him closely. "I have a theory. You know what I'd have done?"

He raised a brow. "To distract me?"

She nodded, her lips inching even closer to his while holding his gaze.

"What would you've done?" He tilted his head back to challenge her. "Do demonstrate."

"Anything you'd wish to confess first while we're at it?"

"She really didn't tell you." It wasn't a question, it was a finding, and just like when she'd chained him to his ship, he had to smirk realising that by sailing from Port Royal with Will all those years ago, he'd mainly freed Elizabeth. She'd become the archetype of a true Pirate – ruthless, secretive, manipulative, for better or worse.

And because of him, Tara knew how to take those traits, practiced in seeing through fog. "She forgot to mention that she kissed you. Am I right?"

"You are." He didn't hesitate, there was no point in denying and despite infidelity being a common theme that used to make her throw him out back then, this was one of the calmest conversations they ever held.

"Cunning," she said. "We can't even be mad at her for using the weapons of a woman, I think."

He raised a brow. "I was mad. I died."

"I mourned for you, if that consoles you."

"It does." He winked, then he heard himself ponder aloud, "It wasn't the kiss that distracted me. It was the confirmation I was damn right about her true nature all along, despite her renouncing it whenever she could."

"But does it matter?"

"Probably not. Given you still haven't demonstrated what you'd have done."

"Likely the same." She claimed it while sounding ever so hesitant. "She was absolutely sure the Kraken was only after you."

"Beasty indeed was. But with that piece of information, you think you'd have done the same? Say to my face you weren't sorry and watch me sink to the depths?"

She leaned into him even more, her gaze examining one of his chest tattoos as far as it was uncovered by his shirt. "No." She slowly shook her head. "You know it needed to happen eventually, you couldn't have stayed away from the sea for too long. But nevertheless I'd have tried to force you to live on main land, way before that climax."

"How diplomatic."

She chuckled, stealing a quick kiss – and knowing his lips belonged to her by now suited her bloody well.

"You may try to shoot me at times, that's just your temper rising," he almost whispered as though he actually liked that a lot, "but you're the only soul I could ever fully trust. Besides Gibbs, but look at him. He doesn't count."

"Don't you say that, Josh's a good one …"

"But you're prettier." He sat up, unusually serious and committed, it almost touched her to notice how awake he was. "And that's the fundamental point that kept drawing me back to you. People either love or hate me –" She was about to protest, but he'd already nod. "Works perfectly fine in parallel, too, I know. But see, most of the time, others love us for what we represent, it's rather admiration than love. Tied to the condition of us fitting into the narrative formed by expectant people. It's not for who we are, not about our reasons or our way. In my case, it's them mostly being curious. Elizabeth, for instance, was just that. People want to know what it feels like to disobey the world like I do. Fueled by a longing for the kind of freedom I just took for myself."

"Wish I could humble you now," she remarked, "but I can see that."

"You never loved me that way."

"No. That's what I hated you for. For sailing away, the lack of accountability …"

"Because you don't love the idea of me. You love me. You knew my flaws, but you were there anyway. That's rare as hell."

She gave him a teasing smile. "You seem rather sure about that when for years it didn't mean enough to you."

"No, it always did. I just couldn't consistently appreciate it."

"And what's changed?"

"I see how you love our children, and the way you care for them. That's been quite a foreign concept to me, the only person that ever cared for me was I myself. Until you cared enough to hand me a forbidden fruit."

She chuckled at that memory at once. "I just thought I couldn't let a man starve."

"You were curious, too," he called her out on her white lie, "you knew I would distract you. Thoroughly so. You were grieving, darling, you wanted me to numb your pain. And for a while there, I just thought we were using each other."

"Heavy accusations you're making, but … it's true, I think," she whispered, her head tilted. "Will you also admit what you've used me for?"

"I was infatuated by you, I adored you, you know that. I just hated feeling trapped. I hated feeling responsible for your tears, I never deserved what you gave, and you gave a lot. So I had to get away whenever you loved me the most."

"Well noted, Sparrow, but no worries – I won't love you too much ever again."

He seemed awfully sorry for himself at once. "Now that you've made me father of your children and receptive for it, that'd be rather cruel."

"I wanted to talk to you about that anyway." She took a deep breath and added, "I need us to be a family. We have to be more than just two lost souls that cling to each other after tons of arguments." She pointed at her belly. "We have to be a bit more for them."

"Aha." He seemed a bit coy. "Shall I marry you, is that what you mean?"

"What? No! Hell – no! Sparrow, come on …" She vehemently shook her head, giving him an amused glance as he visibly relaxed again. "We don't need me to wear a ring for you, you have enough for both of us already, I just think … I need to be able to trust you. Sail away when you have to, but be back when we need you."

"Tara, I'll be around too much for your liking." He cupped her face in his hands. "And that's a vow."

"Good." She also relaxed a bit again. "Maybe conversations like that are exactly what Gentlemen such as Gibbs try to avoid on a ship."

He smirked. "Might be. But see – I never refused to sail with women."

"You never refused to do any other thing with them –"

"Slander and calumny! Just look at what a good influence you've had over me, these past years. No more wenches slapping me."

"Yeah, your drinking also used to worry me, but I haven't seen you poisoned in quite a while."

"I don't even gamble that much anymore. I'm practically a saint."

She whispered, "Your halo somewhat thrills me."

"Every syllable laced with sarcasm, though. You ought to work on your praises, love, that's not too motivating."

"You know I never exactly praised you verbally …"

His inappropriate grin made her fall back into his arms, and she felt more belonging than ever when he hugged her tightly to himself to kiss the hollow of her throat.

He was so much calmer compared to when he set sails seven weeks ago. The Black Pearl balanced him, there was no denying that.

And neither was there a place in the entire world, the Seven Seas likely, where he was more like his true self. The essence of his character was thoroughly interwoven with this ship, and its meaning. His feet did not belong on solid ground, even the way he walked only made proper sense once he flamboyantly crossed a ship's deck.

In a way, that awareness saddened Tara – after all, she'd spent most of her time with him far away from the ocean, and for the safety of her children, that wouldn't change too soon.

Salty air and foaming waves, however, reminded her that it was no night for sadness. Not while they were well and alive.

"What's she holding?" she thought out loud. "A dove?"

"The Pearl's black angel, you mean? Aye, a dove. About to take flight."

"Despite your words now – you're just like that, you'll always be bound to sail away from me, won't you?"

"This time you let me leave on purpose, and lo and behold, I flew right back to you."

At these words, she took one of his hands, guiding it to her belly. "To us. Maybe that's newfound freedom. That could work."

"It will. Te amo, tú lo sabes."

"Y qué lindo suena," she whispered. "But it's so quiet, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Too quiet …"

"Oh." It dawned on him. "Sure. Where are our renegades …"

It took a while to find them below decks, they'd fallen asleep while hiding from each other.

They were able to wake James up, though he was still only half aware of what was going on when he followed his parents into the Captain's cabin. Tia, on the other hand, had to be carried. She wouldn't open her eyes, just yawn. And in a way Jack knew she got it from him to thoroughly use up a good opportunity for passivity when it presented itself.

The twins dozed off in a heartbeat again, and even though Sparrow did what he always would – talk, incessantly – Tara soon couldn't keep her eyes open any longer as well. Stories of fair wind and thunderstorms, of old friends and new acquaintances would lull her into the deepest sleep in weeks.

"Yet in a way," he hummed, well aware that they were long since in the arms of Morpheus, "none of that is truly significant. What worth would immortality have without a purpose … Maybe all we ever chase in life is something worth dying for." The last couple of candles were still flickering in dim light, dancing on two little faces that looked a bloody lot like his own. Jack could only imagine how much they'd reminded their mother of him during all those years of his absence. Yet the way she'd always loved them, despite of it – or maybe, just maybe, also because of it – was worth living for.

Dear MulticolourTango (I really like the name btw), thanks so much for your kind words, I had the biggest smile on my face reading your comment! I'm so glad you found this story & enjoy it & that the OCs as well as Jack work here. I hope you keep on having fun reading along :)