Caribbean Wind
folder
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Het - Male/Female › Jack/Elizabeth
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
3,002
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Het - Male/Female › Jack/Elizabeth
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
3,002
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Not Dark Yet
A/N: A huge thank you to those who take their time to review my story. It always warms my poor heart when I see my work is appreciated. However, I would also like to thank people who just read my story and check for updates - this means a lot to me as well.
Disclaimer: I only own my plot. But it’s not worth a penny; we all know you’re here just for Captain Jack ;) The characters belong to Disney. The songs belong to Bob D. I still belong to myself. My heart belongs to Jack.
Beta: as always, amazing howlong
Chapter 2
Not Dark Yet.
Shadows are falling and I've been here all day
It's too hot to sleep time is running away
Feel like my soul has turned into steel
I've still got the scars that the sun didn't heal
There's not even room enough to be anywhere
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there
Well my sense of humanity has gone down the drain
Behind every beautiful thing there's been some kind of pain
...
I've followed the river and I got to the sea
I've been down on the bottom of a world full of lies
I ain't looking for nothing in anyone's eyes
Sometimes my burden seems more than I can bear
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there
I was born here and I'll die here against my will
I know it looks like I'm moving, but I'm standing still
Every nerve in my body is so vacant and numb
I can't even remember what it was I came here to get away from
Don't even hear a murmur of a prayer
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there.
“Not Dark Yet” Bob Dylan
xxx
“Can you see the line where the sea meets the sky?” a man asked his son. They were standing on a cliff, the most advanced into the sea strap of land of the whole island. The wind toyed with their hair, and for a moment the only sound was made by the countless trinkets braided into the man’s hair.
The boy focused on the spot pointed at by his father’s hand, and then looked back at him, with unhidden awe and admiration written on his features. “I can,” he answered finally. “What lies there?”
“Dreams, boy... Look around,” he said, and his son did as commanded. “See? Watch carefully - the horizon delimits your domain.”
“But Father, if I move, the horizon will move with me,” the boy protested. “I will never reach it; the territory it bounds is limitless. It makes no sense at all,” he grumbled, looking at his father questioningly.
“No, lad,” the man flashed him a golden grin. “It makes all the sense in the world.”
xxx
There are places which cannot be forgotten. No matter how much you try to erase the vivid image from your mind, it always comes back, sooner or later appearing in your thoughts or dreams. For Jack one of such places was definitely Shipwreck Island, a mute witness to some of the worst events that had ever happened to him, the background of many of his nightmares. Of course after the recent events, he was forced to look at it all from an entirely different perspective and reevaluate the meaning of the word “nightmare”. You are bound to change your opinion on some crucial matters after having your body torn apart by razor-sharp teeth of a gargantuan octopus. Compared to that, even the most unfortunate experiences from your life seem like a tea-party at most.
With every mile Jack Sparrow felt more confident about his decision and more eager to reach his destination. Something was pulling him toward the Cove, and he could not get rid of the nagging feeling that he might arrive too late. ‘Too late for what, exactly?’. He had no answer to that, yet it did not lessen the anxiety rising slowly in his chest.
But he was sailing with full-speed and there was nothing more he could do to be any faster. In fact, he had reduced the supplies to a minimum (all right, he had been forced to eat them all, because he obviously had not taken enough), and now, almost starving, he was just hoping he would get to the Cove before he would pass out from exhaustion. That would certainly be a most unfortunate occurrence.
So when he finally saw the green outline of the island, he sighed with relief. He would not admit it, but there were moments when he actually had doubted he would succeed. When he had decided to return, he had chosen the straightest course possible, therefore steering clear of most of the islands. Many would call him insane for trying to cross the Caribbean Sea in a badly equipped dinghy, almost without food and water, sailing miles from the nearest islands, but he had never implied he was sane in the first place.
Jack would have recognized these shores anywhere. If someone decided to move this island, let’s say, to the Arctic Ocean, he would identify it the second he would see it. After all, he had spent here his entire childhood, taking first sailing trips on these exact waters, in a boat not too different from the dinghy he was occupying now; he was familiar with every tree, every cave, every bloody rock of the Shipwreck Island. He also knew how to sail to the port without being noticed by the guards, and he intended to use this valuable knowledge now. Somehow, he preferred his arrival to be not too loudly announced in the city. For once, he really did owe a lot of money there and, secondly, there is nothing better than a pleasant surprise, is there?
With this in mind, he steered toward the North-Eastern side of the Island, for, as he remembered, there was an almost unnoticeable, to unexpecting eyes, cave there, which led to the heart of the Island, straight to the city. Only few would be able to sail through the ominous sharp rocks and deceitful drifts of the secret passage, but he was Captain Jack Sparrow, and if there were things he was good at, one of them was definitely sailing.
His little dinghy floated into the tunnel, and, to Jack’s surprise, almost the second he disappeared in the darkness, the mast broke with a loud crack. “Oh” he said, clearly astonished. “I guess the water level must have risen up since I was a child. Well, never mind.” Jack took the oars, put them into the water, and begun rowing, slowly making his way through the dark passage.
He had done this so many times before, he could easily do it blindfolded, which was a good thing, considering he had forgotten that use of a lamp was always advisable during crossing the tunnel.
After almost an hour (‘I would swear it took me no more than fifteen minutes when I was a lad’) Jack saw light at the end of the cave and happily steered in that direction. Finally his dinghy appeared in the opening and once again he could breathe the fresh air of the Cove.
Jack took in the beauty of the architecturally impossible construction that grew before his eyes. He did not know how many shipwrecks summed up to the whole city but, he knew that every year, well really with every storm the fortress stretched its arms even wider, enlarged by yet another ship. He would not want his Pearl to end up as a part of this strange cemetery, but nevertheless the sight was impressive.
Slowly, he rowed toward the port, knowing that despite his best efforts, his deprived of a mast boat would draw attention of at least some of the city’s inhabitants. He considered using his, so to speak, back door to the fortress, but then thought better of it, deciding it was more reasonable and decidedly safer to give his visit at least appearances of formality.
The boat hit the shore with a gentle thud, but no one came to welcome the new guest, and so Jack looked around cautiously. The silence was unnerving; where was everyone? He headed to the main entrance to the city, when he saw a high figure walking toward him. Just like this island, he would recognize the dark shape anywhere in the world - Teague Sparrow, one of the most notorious pirates alive, and, unfortunately, his father, was obviously coming to meet his son. Jack prepared himself to greet the man with a sarcastic comment and a smirk on his lips, when his eyes met Teague’s, and he changed his mind instantly. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.
“You’re here,” Teague stated, matter-of-factly. “I’d hoped... but I didn’t think you would get my message that quickly.”
“What message?” Jack asked cautiously, feeling a lump of fear rising slowly in his throat.
“You don’t know then?” his father stared at Jack questioningly. ” I thought... I thought that’s why you came.”
“Bloody hell, stop talking in riddles! What are you talking about?” Jack fought to remain calm, although he had a sickening suspicion he knew exactly what Teague meant.
“Elizabeth... Turner. I’m afraid she’s dying. I’m sorry, son.”
“What happened? Is she hurt?” For a second Jack once again was just a little boy, seeking council with his father, but the feeling passed almost as quickly as it appeared.
“Our physicians claim there is nothing wrong with her body, lad, it’s just her mind that gave up,” answered Teague calmly. “I found her on that island her husband had left her on only a week before. I reckoned I would see how our King was doing and invite her to live among us. What I found... what I found...,” his voice trailed off a bit, but then he cleared his throat and continued. “The girl was all covered in dirt and bruises; it was horrible. Did not recognize me one bit. She was staring at the horizon, repeatedly repeating ‘I’m keeping a weather eye on the horizon.’ Whatever bloody hell that meant to her anyway.” Teague observed how his son’s face kept changing, from guilty and worried to angry; at last his expression became completely blank. “I took her with me, hoping she would come back to us. I sent you a letter immediately. It’s been four weeks now, but the girl remained in her own world, barely eating, not noticing people around her. She is fading before our eyes and we can do naught about it.”
Jack’s fists clenched and unclenched unconsciously all through his father’s story. ‘It’s my fault. I should’ve stayed with her. I should’ve taken her with me on the Pearl.’ “Where is she?” he asked finally, his voice neutral, guarded, and face expressionless.
Teague sighed, knowing that his son fought really hard to keep his composure, and did it if only to not let his father witness a moment of his weakness. “She is in your old room, Jackie," he said softly. "But... please, don’t keep your hopes too high. I have every reason to believe this cause is lost.”
“I will decide on that, Teague,” Jack answered coldly, and with that went past his father, mounting the stairs leading to the fortress. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears, as he was getting nearer to the place which had once been his home. When at last he reached the door and placed his hand on the door knob he hesitated, suddenly afraid of what sight would meet him once he opened the door. He took a deep breath and turned the knob.
xxx
Like it? Hate it? Are they in character? Should I quit pretending I’m a writer and just go find a job at Tesco? ;) Just tell me... I don’t bite (unless you want me to).
Disclaimer: I only own my plot. But it’s not worth a penny; we all know you’re here just for Captain Jack ;) The characters belong to Disney. The songs belong to Bob D. I still belong to myself. My heart belongs to Jack.
Beta: as always, amazing howlong
Not Dark Yet.
Shadows are falling and I've been here all day
It's too hot to sleep time is running away
Feel like my soul has turned into steel
I've still got the scars that the sun didn't heal
There's not even room enough to be anywhere
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there
Well my sense of humanity has gone down the drain
Behind every beautiful thing there's been some kind of pain
...
I've followed the river and I got to the sea
I've been down on the bottom of a world full of lies
I ain't looking for nothing in anyone's eyes
Sometimes my burden seems more than I can bear
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there
I was born here and I'll die here against my will
I know it looks like I'm moving, but I'm standing still
Every nerve in my body is so vacant and numb
I can't even remember what it was I came here to get away from
Don't even hear a murmur of a prayer
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there.
“Not Dark Yet” Bob Dylan
“Can you see the line where the sea meets the sky?” a man asked his son. They were standing on a cliff, the most advanced into the sea strap of land of the whole island. The wind toyed with their hair, and for a moment the only sound was made by the countless trinkets braided into the man’s hair.
The boy focused on the spot pointed at by his father’s hand, and then looked back at him, with unhidden awe and admiration written on his features. “I can,” he answered finally. “What lies there?”
“Dreams, boy... Look around,” he said, and his son did as commanded. “See? Watch carefully - the horizon delimits your domain.”
“But Father, if I move, the horizon will move with me,” the boy protested. “I will never reach it; the territory it bounds is limitless. It makes no sense at all,” he grumbled, looking at his father questioningly.
“No, lad,” the man flashed him a golden grin. “It makes all the sense in the world.”
There are places which cannot be forgotten. No matter how much you try to erase the vivid image from your mind, it always comes back, sooner or later appearing in your thoughts or dreams. For Jack one of such places was definitely Shipwreck Island, a mute witness to some of the worst events that had ever happened to him, the background of many of his nightmares. Of course after the recent events, he was forced to look at it all from an entirely different perspective and reevaluate the meaning of the word “nightmare”. You are bound to change your opinion on some crucial matters after having your body torn apart by razor-sharp teeth of a gargantuan octopus. Compared to that, even the most unfortunate experiences from your life seem like a tea-party at most.
With every mile Jack Sparrow felt more confident about his decision and more eager to reach his destination. Something was pulling him toward the Cove, and he could not get rid of the nagging feeling that he might arrive too late. ‘Too late for what, exactly?’. He had no answer to that, yet it did not lessen the anxiety rising slowly in his chest.
But he was sailing with full-speed and there was nothing more he could do to be any faster. In fact, he had reduced the supplies to a minimum (all right, he had been forced to eat them all, because he obviously had not taken enough), and now, almost starving, he was just hoping he would get to the Cove before he would pass out from exhaustion. That would certainly be a most unfortunate occurrence.
So when he finally saw the green outline of the island, he sighed with relief. He would not admit it, but there were moments when he actually had doubted he would succeed. When he had decided to return, he had chosen the straightest course possible, therefore steering clear of most of the islands. Many would call him insane for trying to cross the Caribbean Sea in a badly equipped dinghy, almost without food and water, sailing miles from the nearest islands, but he had never implied he was sane in the first place.
Jack would have recognized these shores anywhere. If someone decided to move this island, let’s say, to the Arctic Ocean, he would identify it the second he would see it. After all, he had spent here his entire childhood, taking first sailing trips on these exact waters, in a boat not too different from the dinghy he was occupying now; he was familiar with every tree, every cave, every bloody rock of the Shipwreck Island. He also knew how to sail to the port without being noticed by the guards, and he intended to use this valuable knowledge now. Somehow, he preferred his arrival to be not too loudly announced in the city. For once, he really did owe a lot of money there and, secondly, there is nothing better than a pleasant surprise, is there?
With this in mind, he steered toward the North-Eastern side of the Island, for, as he remembered, there was an almost unnoticeable, to unexpecting eyes, cave there, which led to the heart of the Island, straight to the city. Only few would be able to sail through the ominous sharp rocks and deceitful drifts of the secret passage, but he was Captain Jack Sparrow, and if there were things he was good at, one of them was definitely sailing.
His little dinghy floated into the tunnel, and, to Jack’s surprise, almost the second he disappeared in the darkness, the mast broke with a loud crack. “Oh” he said, clearly astonished. “I guess the water level must have risen up since I was a child. Well, never mind.” Jack took the oars, put them into the water, and begun rowing, slowly making his way through the dark passage.
He had done this so many times before, he could easily do it blindfolded, which was a good thing, considering he had forgotten that use of a lamp was always advisable during crossing the tunnel.
After almost an hour (‘I would swear it took me no more than fifteen minutes when I was a lad’) Jack saw light at the end of the cave and happily steered in that direction. Finally his dinghy appeared in the opening and once again he could breathe the fresh air of the Cove.
Jack took in the beauty of the architecturally impossible construction that grew before his eyes. He did not know how many shipwrecks summed up to the whole city but, he knew that every year, well really with every storm the fortress stretched its arms even wider, enlarged by yet another ship. He would not want his Pearl to end up as a part of this strange cemetery, but nevertheless the sight was impressive.
Slowly, he rowed toward the port, knowing that despite his best efforts, his deprived of a mast boat would draw attention of at least some of the city’s inhabitants. He considered using his, so to speak, back door to the fortress, but then thought better of it, deciding it was more reasonable and decidedly safer to give his visit at least appearances of formality.
The boat hit the shore with a gentle thud, but no one came to welcome the new guest, and so Jack looked around cautiously. The silence was unnerving; where was everyone? He headed to the main entrance to the city, when he saw a high figure walking toward him. Just like this island, he would recognize the dark shape anywhere in the world - Teague Sparrow, one of the most notorious pirates alive, and, unfortunately, his father, was obviously coming to meet his son. Jack prepared himself to greet the man with a sarcastic comment and a smirk on his lips, when his eyes met Teague’s, and he changed his mind instantly. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.
“You’re here,” Teague stated, matter-of-factly. “I’d hoped... but I didn’t think you would get my message that quickly.”
“What message?” Jack asked cautiously, feeling a lump of fear rising slowly in his throat.
“You don’t know then?” his father stared at Jack questioningly. ” I thought... I thought that’s why you came.”
“Bloody hell, stop talking in riddles! What are you talking about?” Jack fought to remain calm, although he had a sickening suspicion he knew exactly what Teague meant.
“Elizabeth... Turner. I’m afraid she’s dying. I’m sorry, son.”
“What happened? Is she hurt?” For a second Jack once again was just a little boy, seeking council with his father, but the feeling passed almost as quickly as it appeared.
“Our physicians claim there is nothing wrong with her body, lad, it’s just her mind that gave up,” answered Teague calmly. “I found her on that island her husband had left her on only a week before. I reckoned I would see how our King was doing and invite her to live among us. What I found... what I found...,” his voice trailed off a bit, but then he cleared his throat and continued. “The girl was all covered in dirt and bruises; it was horrible. Did not recognize me one bit. She was staring at the horizon, repeatedly repeating ‘I’m keeping a weather eye on the horizon.’ Whatever bloody hell that meant to her anyway.” Teague observed how his son’s face kept changing, from guilty and worried to angry; at last his expression became completely blank. “I took her with me, hoping she would come back to us. I sent you a letter immediately. It’s been four weeks now, but the girl remained in her own world, barely eating, not noticing people around her. She is fading before our eyes and we can do naught about it.”
Jack’s fists clenched and unclenched unconsciously all through his father’s story. ‘It’s my fault. I should’ve stayed with her. I should’ve taken her with me on the Pearl.’ “Where is she?” he asked finally, his voice neutral, guarded, and face expressionless.
Teague sighed, knowing that his son fought really hard to keep his composure, and did it if only to not let his father witness a moment of his weakness. “She is in your old room, Jackie," he said softly. "But... please, don’t keep your hopes too high. I have every reason to believe this cause is lost.”
“I will decide on that, Teague,” Jack answered coldly, and with that went past his father, mounting the stairs leading to the fortress. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears, as he was getting nearer to the place which had once been his home. When at last he reached the door and placed his hand on the door knob he hesitated, suddenly afraid of what sight would meet him once he opened the door. He took a deep breath and turned the knob.
Like it? Hate it? Are they in character? Should I quit pretending I’m a writer and just go find a job at Tesco? ;) Just tell me... I don’t bite (unless you want me to).