He had appeared out of nowhere and, despite her constant hostility, felt perfectly at ease, and he might soon disappear again without a word.
It was, in Tara's opinion, quite reasonable to expect it of him.
Yet it seemed less likely even to her with each passing day. He was brilliant with his children, however unprepared she was for it.

Nevertheless, Tara had not let him out of her sight for a second during the first two weeks. Too great was the supposed certainty that he had no idea what he was doing. That he could just shove a pistol or a bottle of rum or some cursed, pagan object into their hands and be thievishly pleased when chaos took its usual course.

But for the first time ever, he did not directly instigate a disaster. On the contrary ... In recent years her pulse had rarely been healthier. Rarely was it quieter in Teague's realm, even when the usual noise took over the rest of the Cove as it always did.
She would be damned if she'd admit that to Sparrow – after all, being on top of things rarely suited him – but he was actually much more useful as a father than she'd thought possible.

And so her reservations became more and more relative. They were his children, after all. If they were covered in mud because they had played in the worst places, he should take care of it. If they suddenly stood next to the bed in the middle of the night and reported of nightmares in great confusion, the least he could do was hum them back to sleep and therefore not be able to fall asleep himself.
She had done it for years, too ...

Still, it took a good three weeks before she finally listened to him for once.

"One night doesn't change the last seven years, though."

"Sweetness, one evening seven years ago changed everything, too, aye?"

He just didn't let her spoil his mood, born standing up. On the shore of a bay she hadn't even known until then at that. She had lived in Shipwreck Cove for years and yet it had taken Sparrow bursting into her life again to show her something new. It was fundamentally infuriating.

Her hand also wanted to twitch too readily towards his face because of his foolish remark. But Tara reconsidered it all as the children kept playing in the water with Henry not far away. After all, she regularly preached that violence was not the answer.

Sparrow, however, generally misinterpreted lack of acknowledgement as an invitation to blithely ramble on.

"No offence – but you're a little ... tense, and constantly so," he revealed to her, as if she didn't know this best herself. "Carpe noctem, love, refill the glasses for Kate tonight, let the corners of your mouth curve up for a change – if you still know how to do that – and please curse me out as much as you need to so that afterwards you might have a bit of –"

"You think I'd spend the first evening alone in ... in years! Even Kate's birthday, to talk about you of all people –"

"I'm often the subject of conversation, Tara, no need to feel caught."

"I could go on for weeks," she began, tapping his chest with her index finger almost after every word, "listing every one of your sins on a pedestal on the pier every night and shouting them to the world and still I wouldn't be satisfied!"

He just couldn't help but give her a suggestive wink. "Told you quite often by now. For a little more profound satisfaction, we could also finally remedy the last years' omission."

"Don't you dare claim in insane hubris that everything will be all right once you –"

"I never intended to say that!"

"Of course you did!" She glared at him and downright growled. "You know what? Forget about it, just –"

"Yes, yes, silencio, or however you'd put it."

"I don't express myself that politely with you anymore."

He smiled anyway, stoic in his cursed ease. "Well, you know where to find me. Though you should not even find your way back home to me tonight, otherwise you won't be drunk enough."

"Sparrow, I won't drink!"

He grimaced as if tormented by regret. "You should. You really should. Let go and catch your breath. It can work wonders, darling, believe me."

She was silent, letting those ridiculous words echo in her head. Until she partially repeated them. "Finding my way back home to you," she murmured in quiet indignation. "And then you're gone again ..."

Faced with her bitter gaze, he blew out his cheeks and finally resigned to his fate. Only very briefly.

Bloody hell. She was absolutely insufferable. And she had been for weeks, there was no living with her, and all of it without a single drop of rum. For the children ...

In waves the spray beat against the rocks of the bay and relentlessly left its white marks, like a symbol of Tara's cold rage that clashed with his long overstretched patience again and again.

If she didn't calm down soon, he would shamelessly engage in endless discussions with her – and this perpetuum mobile would be of no use to anyone. Especially not the kids. However he couldn't for the life of him remain sober for much longer at the same time as putting up with her precarious mood.

But one thing he now knew irrevocably, even if she didn't believe him. He loved her. Obviously. Meeting that nagging with reason and not fleeing to the other side of the world again was definitely proof enough – and yet she didn't seem to let any of it count.

"Aren't you going to say anything about it, Captain?" Snippy was an understatement ...

Nevertheless, and again, he took heart and abruptly grabbed her by both her shoulders. With all the calmness he could still work up, he repeated for what must have been the hundredth time, "You're not getting rid of me, love, not like before. Savvy? Maybe a week or two here, four or five weeks there, maybe eight! But otherwise –"

"I don't believe you." She nodded at him. "No matter how many times you say it, I don't believe it."

"I've noticed, but why? What else can I do –"

"You taught me to be alone yourself. Twice at that. And suddenly I'm supposed to need you? What world are you living in?"

"You don't need to need me, there's no need for that, we only need to get by. That's what we need." He sighed, yet he tried for a smirk. "But you might begin to admit to yourself, for your own peace of mind, that you quite like having me around. In spite of everything. Even if hell hath no fury like you. Trust me, not even the devil would defy your rage."

"What does that say about you?"

"That I'm no saint," he replied, "but we already knew that."

She snorted as the itch in her hand continued to intensify. "Whenever I've had wishes," she then said in muffled annoyance, as though the wind might otherwise carry her voice secretly to the children, "you've destroyed them. Why should I want you here, other than for our children's sake?"

"Why did you never want to let me go?"

"I wonder about that as well by now …"

"Tara, I've been looking for you for far too long to keep –"

"See! Even that! Why should I believe it?"

"Because it's true. Because I wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

"The only thing between us that worked perfectly well was physicality. But then you wanted to be free as a bird again, every time, hence soon there were your lies and the whims. Jack, hell, your mood swings were unbearable –"

"Here now! It's ironic you say that, because yours turn out to be quite unbearable too, if I may be so bold."

"You may not! I've learned from the best, so put up with it like I put up with you back then. I was so clueless and innocent –"

With little success he tried to hold back a laugh, something that made her pause at once.

"No, no, go ahead," he tried to encourage her.

"Innocent in the figurative sense, for all I care," she groaned. "But I've been far too attentive. Far too good to you."

"You make up for it these days, no worries."

"Proverbs 24:29, Jack. Tit for tat."

"That seems terribly out of context to me," he simpered, "doesn't it mention turning the other cheek right afterwards?"

"Not in the Old Testament, no."

"What a pity," he sighed in the most splendid sarcasm. "But let's examine that for a moment, shall we? I deserve all your rage for coming back? Is that what you're saying?"

"Tonto, don't twist my words. You know exactly what you deserve! I was young and in love and gave you everything and you were cold and dismissive most of the time!"

"Tara, I've had some severely complicated issues to sort out at the time, my soul was literally on the line and I was –"

"Me da igual. You were arrogance personified. You were out of line." Upset, she put her hands on her hips. "Like poison. I simply shouldn't have let you accompany me after that market."

"Well, do you regret it that much?"

She had indeed meant to imply that. She held his gaze accordingly.

"What?" he followed up, suddenly serious himself. "We've already had plenty of polemics today, but I'll take what I get. Here I am, listening to you, inclined and patient. Just as yesterday. And the day before yesterday and all the days before that."

Nothing about it seemed patient anymore, perhaps she had finally reached his limits. "So speak your mind," he continued. "Do you wish you had never met me?"

The children who couldn't get enough of the water at the other end of the bay were her everything. But their father meant trouble every time, without exception ... So there was so much to say that she simply remained silent all at once.

Not least because he finally flashed a glimpse of what had bothered her so much back then.
As if to confirm her doubts about him, she had teased him to this point for weeks in anticipatory suspicion.

The probably still recallable and then so abrupt turnaround of his mood was exactly what she had in mind. That from which she wanted to protect herself by proactively barking. Possibly paradoxical in the immediate thought.

And his probing gaze took her back years for a moment. From euphoric lust for life to distant coldness, while the feeling of having to appease him forced itself upon her.

But unlike then, she had no such plans. Possibly an even more unfavourable dynamic had taken on a life of its own between them, for when neither bit to correct, the other was simply doing what they wanted.

"Tara ..." Yet the way he now said her name, soft and selfaware, made her pause. Maybe they had grown up after all, at least a bit. "I know you hate me as much as you love me."

She blinked, indignant by the very idea. "You know – what? That's what you think? Sparrow, I don't love –"

"Silencio, por favor. How lovable I am is obvious, but I realise I deserve the hate just as much."

All puzzled, she eyed him. He obviously believed what he was saying.

"But that it wouldn't be easy with me," he mumbled, "I kept trying to tell you even then. So in a way, I'm washing my hands of it –"

"You don't wash your hands of anything, you just kept trying to create distance right after you'd held me in your arms and kissed me until I literally glowed with your pretended love!"

"No, no, no, I'm many things – but not a pretender when it comes to love," he protested. "Perhaps that was the fault all along, who knows. But in the unlikely case that it escaped you: I've come back to you, again and again." Almost annoyed, he added, "Do you even have the slightest idea just how strange that felt? Having to look for you for years because I couldn't admit to myself in time that I'd miss you? And to even consider becoming more committed –"

"You never were! As if you ever could be!"

"Maybe not by your standards. But by mine."

He let that sink in, and she could hardly say anything about it.

She didn't know everything about him, in fact far too little, but what was certain was that he'd never had a real family. He himself only knew the stale feeling of being on his own. Teague had never been there, his mother, as far as she knew, too rarely. He'd been a child at heart when he decided to be an adult, not needing anyone ever again and never looking back ...

"What we were," he finally said, lowering his voice, "could have been damn good."

"Well, but you ran away from it."

"That's exactly why."

"What?" she asked in irritation.

"All I can give –"

"Isn't enough? Yes ..." She pressed her lips together but still couldn't stop herself. "Nice reversal of guilt, Sparrow, in the past I probably would've even apologised to you at this point. And you, gracious as you can be, would have breathed a kiss on my lips and looked at me and still you'd have said you needed your freedom. I had always asked too much of you by simply hoping for a minimum of self-control and reason, hadn't I? Pobrecito!"

"Tara –"

"You broke my heart!" She frowned, the old familiar frustration fueled. "Not one, but two times. Don't you get it? I can't do it again."

"That was never my intention, I –"

"You'll never understand what it was like to have to explain to them that you were traveling for years!"

He actually rolled his eyes. "You really told them that, didn't you? You could have come up with something so much more original. You had the unique opportunity to tell them the most exciting stories and let it pass, you could've said that I'd ascended to Olympus or –"

"Be glad I didn't tell them anything else, Jack! They welcomed you with open arms three weeks ago without any reservation, didn't they?"

She looked up at him, he nodded indecisively.

"And they trustingly called you their Papá after four minutes, did you notice? They feel comfortable with you. I'll tell you why. Because I wanted to make it as easy as possible for you if you ever stood before them. I never said a single bad word about you in front of them, quite the opposite, although you –"

"Thank you."

She paused in surprise.

"The way they look at me ... The way they listen to me, Tara, I know you vouched for me. For that, I can never give you enough –"

"The crux of it is, Jack, when something isn't easy enough for you, you run from it."

For a second there, he was truly startled. Then an incredulous laugh escaped him. "Easy? You've been scratching my eyes out during every waking minute for the past three weeks, but I'm still standing here. Aren't I?"

Her anger gave way to concern. "You can't be gone again this time. You can't do that to them."

Nor would he. He'd felt immediately legitimised by destiny to stay with her and the children, despite her ever-raging words, since, by his logic, he was unlikely to have found Tara in the universe otherwise ...

"I want to see them grow up."
And he also wanted her, but she wouldn't believe it anyway.

It sounded so simple and true that it seemed almost ridiculous. "You always want a lot," she replied, "until it gets to practice."

"I didn't know they even existed, but now I do. You have my word." Not at all lightly did he give her this promise.

"Pirate," she said under her breath, just like he always would. "Don't you constantly mention that to make clear that nobody can ever expect anything from you?"

"Indeed." He smiled wanly. "But you're not everyone. You've already expected two children from me." Before she could get hopelessly enraged again, he quickly added, "Now – by Neptune – have fun and calm down for some hours, not least so that I can be calm for you once you get back to hating me again. Seriously, you need some time to unwind."

"You are the reason for this necessity."

"So what?" He shrugged. "Off you go, enjoy yourself and thank me later. And no regards to the murderess, aye?"

"But the children –"

"Stay with me." Obligingly, he nodded. "Trust me."

"Are you going to lose one?"

"What?"

"Lose one, are you going to lose one?" she repeated, deadly serious.

"Absolutely not," he replied, all perplexed. "How so? There are only two of them."

She bit her lips. He really had no idea how many they could feel like. But she decided at that moment that he thoroughly deserved to find that out.

Dear ella, again, thanks a ton for your kind words, I was so thrilled to read your feedback again, it's so nice that you like this story ^-^