A/N: Number two lol. Never thought I'd see the day. It's kind of linked to my other story "His World's End" but you don't have to read that to understand this. It's a scene addition, something that could have happened without changing the actual story. I think I might make a series of them... who knows?

His World's End
Respite

The waters around the Black Pearl were calm and still, a small respite before the war that the pirate king had commanded begun. Stars glinted off the murky waters below, a few ripples dislodging their perfect reflection. His back was to the ramshackle of a fortress that was Shipwreck Cove, his eyes watching the stretch of sea just through the rocky alcove. He loved the sea; almost as much as he loved the Pearl.

But he supposed it wasn't really possible to separate the two.

He sighed as he leaned back against the mast of his silent ship. He loved moments like this; they were hard to come by on a ship but when he got them he seized them. The rest of his crew was indoors preparing for the battle at dawn – their preparation included drinking buckets and buckets of rum in what could quite possibly be their last consumption of rum. Normally, he'd be with them and, had it not been for having one of those conversations with his father – he shuddered at the thought – would probably still be there, out drinking each and every pirate lord there.

But as it happened, he wasn't because he had had one of those conversations with Captain Teague. Which was why he found himself at the top of the main mast of his beautiful Black Pearl, staring out at his life – and most probably his death. The sea mesmerised him, drew him in and he had known from when he was a young boy that it was where he belonged: to sail free as the wind, to wherever he wanted for as long as he wanted. But those days had long gone by. Now, pirating the sea was not about knowing the sea but about who a person knew. It was no way for a pirate – well, it was no way for Jack Sparrow to live.

'The immortal Jack Sparrow.'

He had liked the sound of that not so long ago. But now, now he wasn't so sure. If they were defeated, each and every last one of the pirates would be dead. His only escape was to stab the heart of Davy Jones and become captain of the Flying Dutchman. He wondered if he'd be able to trade the Dutchman for the Pearl – she was, after all, his ship. But then, would that mean he would be under the control of the East India Trading Company, under the control of Cutler Beckett?

"I don' li'e the sound of that," he murmured quietly as he scratched at his head. His whisper sounded so loud to him after sitting in silence for who knows how many hours. The sound hurt his head that was still aching from when he'd been rescued by his crew of miscreants. He knew the reason, of course, and that was his lack of consumption of rum. He'd tucked a bottle into his jacket pocket when he had left the brethren court and it still lay there, heavy against his side.

He couldn't bring himself to drink it.

Captain Jack Sparrow would admit that he was little, tiny bit nervous about the day that lay ahead. He wasn't ashamed to admit it, for there was no man – or woman, for that matter – in the pirate fortress that didn't feel apprehensive at least. This was the fate of their legacy that lay ahead.

("I know, curious, isn't it?")

Jack snorted. Not as curious as some might think. Eliz- Captain Swann ­was the only one willing to head into a fight against Jones so he had sided with her. He did have to be on the ship to get the heart in order to stab it, did he not?

He shrugged to himself.

He'd been sober for far too long. He took his bottle of rum out of his pocket and popped the cork and sniffed the liquid that gave him life. Never before had it had this effect on him. He wanted to be sick. He shrugged and tipped his head back, waiting for the soothing effects of the rum sliding down his throat-

"Jack?"

He spluttered slightly and he sat up so fast that he almost fell of his perch. He only managed to keep his place by grabbing onto the handy sail rope that was nearby.

He looked down and his eyes fell upon her body – she looked utterly ridiculous in that outfit she'd somehow procured and he would gladly tell her that… if he was talking to her. Which he wasn't.

Which begged the question as to why she was on his ship, and not calling him Captain Sparrow? He'd had time to think about whether he should forgive her or not and he had resolutely refused not to do so. But then that blasted old man had to go meddling and talking a load of nonsense and he was just as confused as ever.

("Can you live with yourself forever?")

Of course he bloody well could. Wasn't that why he wanted to live forever in the first place?

("Since when does the great Captain Jack Sparrow side with anyone?"

"I 'ave my reasons."

"And not all of 'em to do with your plans for immortality, I imagine.")

Why Teague had looked to Elizabeth with that look on his face, Jack didn't want to know. But he did know. He was too like his father. His father was too like him… they were too alike and Jack knew it would not have escaped his notice had it been the other way around.

His eyes followed her as she moved about the deck looking for him and he was relieved slightly that she didn't know where he was. He thought she'd have seen him as she walked down from the... he didn't know what to call the collection of ships that made up the complex that they were in. He leaned his bandana-ed head against the mast and continued to watch her in silence.

She'd changed a great deal since he'd first met her. She wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty anymore, and she was so commanding and demanded attention whenever she spoke.

Not that she didn't always, mate.

Jack ignored the little man on his shoulder and continued to look at her, his rum bottle swinging loosely in his fingers still uncorked. He saw her disappear below deck and he sighed once again and settled back to looking out over the water.

He tried to tell himself that it didn't sting that she hadn't felt his stare on her.

He pulled the bottle back to his lips and took a tentative sip, feeling his stomach roll once again at the smell.

Jack Sparrow, afraid of a little rum?

"Oh shut up," he muttered to himself again and closed his eyes, letting the slight breeze waft his braided hair away from his face. His trinkets jingled slightly and he smiled. The sound was relaxing and familiar, something that was hard to come by recently.

"Jack?" Her voice was softer this time and he could almost see her head tilted up as she questioned him. "What are you doing up there?"

He didn't open his eyes, or even move when he replied.

"Learnin' to fly, luv."

He could only imagine the frown on her face, her look of annoyance and he smiled slightly to himself. He liked making her annoyed. It made him feel in control – something that he hadn't felt for a long time.

("The thing about being the last of somethin' is that by and by there be none left.")

He sat forward slightly and opened his eyes. The wind had picked up and he felt his body rock with the ship. It truly was an amazing feeling, watching the horizon from the highest point of the ship. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

"I didn't think I'd find you out here, Jack."

He jumped at the closeness of her voice and once again had to steady himself. He turned to her as she pulled herself up onto the same seat he was on. He watched her with a blank expression as she made herself comfortable.

What the bloody hell was she doing? She could have fallen.

Would that really be so bad?

He shook his head and turned his eyes away from her. He wasn't going to speak first. What did he have to say to her? Nothing, that's what.

"It's beautiful up here."

He eyed her from the corner of his eye and grimaced as she wavered a little as a gust of wind hit them. Her ridiculous hat floated off her head and she moved suddenly to grab onto it. Jack, seeing what was going to happen before it happened grabbed onto her by the waist to stop her from toppling to her untimely death.

She flushed slightly and smiled sheepishly at him.

"There's a lot you've still got to learn, your majesty."

He watched as she scrunched up her eyes at his condescending tone. He smiled smugly. He wasn't going to play nice to her.

Silence followed and he was glad. He didn't want to be anywhere near her, right at that moment. Hadn't she realised that by sneaking out of party-central and climbing to the top of the highest mast that he wanted to be alone. As in, without company?

"I wanted to thank you, Jack," she said quietly, her eyes riveted to the horizon.

He turned his eyes to her and studied her face slowly, his eyes lingering on hers. He knew that look in her eyes. He'd worn it for years – still did, apparently – when he looked out at the sea, to the horizon.

("That's what a ship needs… but what a ship is… what the Black Pearl really is… is freedom.")

He licked his lips and slowly turned his eyes back to the horizon.

"No need luv. I was going to side with someone; it was just that your name was said last so it was the one I remembered quickest."

He didn't want to look at her face to see the flash of hurt there. He knew it would be.

"I don't believe you."

He turned his head drunkenly towards her – he wondered why his body still did that when he was completely without drunken…ness – and stared at her with a disinterested look on his face. It was difficult when she looked so beautiful.

He turned quickly away and wobbled slightly.

"Believe what you want, luv." They were silent again, a palpable tension between the two. "Why'd you come 'ere?" He asked eventually, his mind unable to handle the silence for much longer.

He heard her sigh and saw slight movement from the corner of his eye and when he turned he saw her rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"I don't know," she answered finally. She turned her eyes to him and they were caught in a stare. He wanted to look away but she had captivated him, her murky eyes swimming with so many emotions that he was unused to. She'd have to learn to hide her emotions better if she wanted to survive the high seas. "I… I just saw that you weren't inside and…" She trailed off unsure of what to say.

He smiled again but it lacked its usual malice and cockiness.

"You got curious."

She looked down for a second but it was all it took for his spell to be broken. He looked away towards the horizon with a quick glance behind him to see if anyone was coming towards his ship.

"Curiosity…" she murmured the word as though it was a plague and he felt his chest tighten a little at the memory the word conjured. He heard her gulp in the sudden sound vacuum that her mutterings had created. He heard the almost imperceptible 'smack' of her lips as she licked them. "Jack… I lied." He turned to her then, all the usual Jack Sparrow qualities gone. "When…" she faltered as his eyes bore into hers. "On the ship when… I am sorry."

He smirked again and his eyes turned cold, though his heart was thundering in his chest.

"You are now. But you weren't when you did it. It's the guilt, luv, don' worry about it too much. You'll realise soon enough that you're not really sorry." His tone was bitter but he was Captain Jack Sparrow and he could hold a grudge like no one else.

Tears filled her eyes and Jack instantly rolled his eyes at her. This time he did see the hurt flash across her face.

"Jack…"

Jack spun his body towards her – well, as much as he could given his precarious situation – and held her head between his hands.

"Look darlin'. You killed me, awright? You din't jus' leave me stranded on an island somewhere as you sailed off in me ship. You tied me to me ship and you left me there to be eaten by that beastie," his venomous words spat in her face but she didn't flinch and Jack was inwardly proud of her. "Now, I think I'm being very courteous lettin' you board my ship at all, never mind actually sidin' wiv you in an argument amongst pirate lords."

"Then why did you Jack?"

"It's Captain Sparrow, darlin'. And I've already told you why."

She smiled angrily and Jack wanted to laugh at how ridiculous her face looked squashed between his two hands. But he didn't. His unyielding anger wouldn't allow him to.

"I came back for you, Jack."

He smirked again and lowered his face to hers, so close that he could feel her breath warming his face in the cold night air. So close that he could see the gold flecks in her otherwise abyss-like eyes. So close that his lips were but a hairs breadth away from hers.

"Guilt, Miss Swann, will make you do strange things."

He released her head and moved so he was hugging the mast, the rope between his two hands, ready to slide away.

"I am not a good man, Miss Swann. I'm just a pirate."

And with that he was gone, shimmying down the mast, his eyes never once wandering up to her features which had softened once again. He told himself he imagined her gentle words that floated down to him.

"You are a good man, Jack. You just don't know it yet."