A Means to an End
by Luvvycat

- Epilogue -

The longboat skimmed the surface of the Pantano River, on its way to Tia Dalma's shack with the last of the Black Pearl's survivors. As they neared the area where the river spread out into marshland, out of the darkness came little points of flickering light like a host of stars twinkling in the night sky, competing in the deepening twilight with the flitting fireflies. As the boat moved closer, these were eventually revealed to be dozens of swamp denizens, each holding a lit candle, their solemn faces set in expressions of deep sorrow ... like mourners at a funeral ...

Will looked around in awe. There seemed to be hundreds of people there – men, women, and even children -- standing in the waist-deep water. It was eerily chilling ...

"What are they doing?" Will asked in a hushed voice, respectfully, as though speaking in the sanctified air of a church.

"Grieving, likely ..." Gibbs said.

"You mean ... for Jack?" Will's face was a mask of wonder. "How could they know? How could they have already heard ...?"

Gibbs gave him a meaningful look, his eyes sad and weary. "She would know ..."

"You mean ... Tia Dalma?"

"Aye. Knew as soon as it happened, I'd wager." He lowered his voice, mysteriously. "She has ways of knowin' ..."

"But ... all these people. Why would they mourn Jack's passing?"

Gibbs smiled wanly, his grizzled, weathered face looking more worn and lined than usual, as if the past few hours had sucked away years of his life. "Nigh on eight years ago -- right after the Royal Navy and I parted company, and I first hooked up with Jack -- he was mortally wounded in a skirmish during a raid ... took a couple of bullets, he did, right in the chest. When, after a few days, the wounds festered and started goin' gangrenous, we figured him for a goner ..." His eyes darkened with the recollection. "Tia Dalma saved his life, with her potions and poultices and peculiar sorcery. Pulled him through, though he still bears --" he caught himself, then corrected, with a woeful sigh, "-- bore the scars of those mortal shots ..."

Elizabeth glanced up sharply, Gibbs' words penetrating her fog of grief and guilt. She had seen those scars -- fingered them, kissed them -- and wondered about them ...

"Jack was so grateful at bein' snatched from the jaws of death, he asked her what he could do to repay the debt. As payment, she asked him to help her people ..."

They looked at the dark faces around them in the water ... perhaps a hundred or more faces, shining like polished mahogany in the lambent glow of the candles ...

"Ever since then, Jack has honoured his promise to Tia Dalma, and made sure that a portion of the profits from our take comes here, to the people of the swamp. Took it all out of his Cap'n's cut, too ... says it ain't fair to deprive the crew of their share of the swag, when it was his debt to pay."

Will darted him a look, no doubt thinking that Jack had had no such compunction about using him to pay his debt to Davy Jones.

Gibbs smiled sadly, his mournful eyes touched with remembrance, and a measure of fondness for his lost Captain. "Like some piratical Robin Hood, he was ... takin' from the rich, and givin' to the poor." He cast his eyes around him. "No tellin' how many lives he's saved, by providin' for these unfortunate, lost souls -- mostly escaped slaves, with nothin' to their names but the clothes -- and the cat-stripes -- on their backs." He sighed, "Don't know what they'll do now, without the Pearl and Jack to provide for 'em ..."

Listening to Gibbs extol Jack's well-hidden charitable virtues, it was as though a knife had twisted in Elizabeth's heart. Jack ... self-serving, self-indulgent Jack ... pirate, thief, liar and coward ... benefactor to all these people?

As she looked upon the faces of the people in the water, it seemed to her that they regarded her accusingly, as if they knew what she had done, and were condemning her for it ...

She recalled the words Jack had once told her:

"... in my line of business, you learn to be cunning, and sly, and untrustin' ... or you're like to be caught with a knife between the ribs ..."

Or shackled to a mast on a doomed ship, she thought.

More of Jack's words came to her, reverberating through her head like the echoes of a shout in a cave …

"... a man never knows what he'll do in a desperate situation until he's faced with it, and is forced to make those choices …"

"... rage has a way of makin' a man do things he ordinarily wouldn't be capable of doin' ..."

"... if me back was to the wall, certain death was starin' me in the face, and there was absolutely no other way out ... then, yes, I may very well have sacrificed you ..."

Yet Jack hadn't done any of those things, tempted though he might have been in his desperation or rage at the time ...

He had not harmed her on the docks of Port Royal ...

He had not shot her in the head on the rum-runner's island, nor raped her, either there, or that night in the groundskeeper's cottage, when she had been so drunk she likely would not have been able to stop him, had he really wished to do so ...

He had not abandoned them all to the Kraken ...

At the end, Jack Sparrow, scallywag pirate whose moral compass was as eccentric and inconsistent as his actual instrument, had, after all, proved himself a good man -- coming back to help save them all, when he could have continued running, saved his own life, at the cost of their own ... While she, Elizabeth Swann, proper governor's daughter, so supremely, arrogantly confident in her own sense of morality, with a Judas kiss, had chained Jack to the mast of the Black Pearl and left him to die ...

What did that tell her about Jack?

What did that tell her about herself?

The answer was unsettling, to say the least, and left her plagued with guilt.

She realised she had sorely misjudged Jack, deliberately hardened her heart, in her anger and disappointment, and blinded herself to the good in him in order to go through with her act of betrayal. Convinced herself that her actions were justified, her motives altruistic, her treachery necessary in order to save Will, herself, and the crew ...

… And to forever erase the memory of that night, those few pleasure-filled hours that threatened to destroy the future she had carefully plotted out, a life as Will's wife ...

A life she wasn't sure she wanted anymore after all ... or even deserved.

She had hoped, once Jack was gone, all of those memories would disappear with him, dissipating like wisps of smoke over an extinguished campfire. Ironically, rather than exorcising that night from her mind and from her conscience, she had only succeeded in resurrecting the ghosts of those experiences, solidified them, made them stronger. Even as she strove to banish them forever, the whole of that night came back to her, in startling clarity – each memory becoming sharp and clear, fresh as if it had only happened yesterday – every word they said to one another, every touch they shared, every kiss, every moment of stolen pleasure.

And now those regained memories that could have brought her such secret joy … that she could have hoarded and cherished like precious mementoes – like the letters and the silver sparrow ring secreted in the compartment beneath her dressing-table drawer -- would now haunt her forever, eternally, inextricably linked to her hideous crime …

In killing Jack, she had only succeeded in adding another burden, another secret, another lie to weigh heavily upon her tainted soul ... and, in the process, lost her innocence irretrievably, every bit as much as if she had let Jack complete his ravishment of her, all those months ago …

Could Will ever forgive her, for being Jack's murderess?

Could she ever forgive herself?

The group of survivors huddled together in Tia Dalma's shack, trying to glean warmth from the fire that might warm their bodies, but had no hope of touching their heavy hearts. Jack Sparrow was dead, and no amount of fire, or rum, or sympathetic words could change that.

Elizabeth looked up as the obeah woman, dark skin gleaming like rich russet satin in the candlelight, leaned forward and offered her a tankard of rum from a tray. Elizabeth declined. Rum reminded her of Jack, and her tortured mind was already filled with him, images and memories crammed into every dark corner, clamouring in her skull until she feared her head would split and spill them all out …

"Against the cold," Tia Dalma persuaded, gently, "And the sorrow …"

Elizabeth nodded. Sorrow … yes, plenty of that. And guilt as well. She took a mug, cupping it between her hands, but making no move to drink.

She didn't deserve any comfort. Didn't deserve a surcease to the pain she was feeling in every fibre of her being.

The scent of the rum wafted up at her, enveloping her in its heady perfume, bringing tears to her eyes …

Jack's scent …

If she could trade places with Jack right now … hand herself over to the unforgiving tentacles of the Kraken, ride the Black Pearl on its final voyage to the bottom of the ocean … she would. She would do anything to take back what she did … to erase her sin, reverse the outcome … to see Jack come swaggering through the door, that patented cocky gold-flecked grin pasted across his sun-browned face, sable eyes dancing with dark mischief …

She could feel the weight of Will's eyes on her, watching her. Already, something had changed between them. She could sense it, see it in the shadows in his eyes whenever she turned to find his gaze upon her … wary, cautious, confused. Did he know what she did? Did he suspect?

Tia Dalma was now moving on to Will, offering him the tray, speaking to him. "It's a shame. I know you be tinkin', with the Pearl, you could have caught the Devil and wrested free your fadder's soul …"

"It doesn't matter," Will replied, dejectedly. "The Pearl is gone … along with its captain …"

Again, that knife through her heart!

"Aye. And already the world seems a bit less bright without him," Gibbs said, on a sigh. "Tricked us all, right to the end. But that streak of honest finally won out …"

Another dagger! Elizabeth winced silently, and died a little more inside ...

Gibbs raised his tankard, in tribute, and announced, "To Jack Sparrow!"

Everyone raised their own vessels, echoing Gibbs' sentiments.

Pintel and Ragetti, oddly, looked close to tears. That struck Elizabeth as strange, considering they were part of the contingent that opted to side with Barbossa when the mutiny against Jack went down …

"Never another like Captain Sparrow," Ragetti said, sadly.

"He was a gentleman of fortune, 'e was!" added Pintel, with a slight tremble of his lip.

"He was a good man," Elizabeth added, quietly, her face crumpling as she struggled to fight off the tears that were threatening to come, that still managed to escape and slip down her sweat-sheened face. She raised the mug to her lips, but couldn't bring herself to drink … she doubted she could get anything past the constricting lump in her throat.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Will turn toward her, fixing his gaze on her, intently. "If there was anything could be done to bring him back …" He let the words trail off.

But Tia Dalma took the opportunity, and pounced on it like a cat with a mouse. "Would you do it?" she said, an eagerness in her voice, and a strange, slightly mad gleam in her eyes. She looked up at the circle of crew. "What would you … would any of you … be willin' to do? Would you sail to de ends of de eart' and beyond, to fetch back Witty Jack and his precious Pearl?"

For a moment they all looked at her, then at one another. Gibbs was the first to speak. "Aye!" he said, emphatically.

Pintel and Ragetti also responded with a pair of resounding, "Aye!"s.

Elizabeth glanced toward Will, met his eyes for a moment, before responding, with quiet passion, "Yes!" Indeed, she would sell her very soul to the devil himself if it meant bringing Jack back from the dead …

Will nodded, and looked away, seeming to come to some conclusions, and a decision of his own as he added, strongly, "Aye!"

Tia Dalma's lips spread into a wide grin. "Very well! But if you are to brave the weird and haunted shoals at world's end … den you be needin' a captain what knows dose waters …"

They heard a heavy tread on the stairs as Tia Dalma turned and looked up them, an infinitely pleased and anticipatory look on her dusky face. There was a feel permeating the air, like static electricity, and Elizabeth felt the hairs on the back of neck rise. As all assembled rose from their seats and moved forward to look, a pair of dusty, worn boots came into sight, descending the stairs.

As the figure slowly came down the stairs, everyone's eyes widened in shocked surprise and, in Elizabeth's case, abject horror. Impossible! I saw him die! she thought as the figure reached out a gnarled ring-encrusted hand to snag a large, green apple from a barrel next to the stairs. Not quite the devil, then … but bloody near close!

And, yes … even though the prospect filled her with a cold dread and a thrill of remembered terror, she would do anything -- even deal with Hector Barbossa -- if it meant getting Jack back …

For that's who stood on the stairs, looking extraordinarily lively for a man one year dead, Jack the undead monkey perched, as ever, on his left shoulder, looking quite at home. Barbossa swept them with his menacing gaze, and it seemed for just a moment a hellish light burned in the depths of his eyes, then he declared, loudly, "Now, tell me – what's become of my ship?"

As they all looked on in fear and amazement, he brought the apple to his mouth, taking a huge, lusty bite out of it. Juice dripping down his bewhiskered chin, he threw his head back and laughed maniacally, as the monkey cocked its head to one side and screeched, it seemed, in triumph ...

Author's Note: Well, that's it -- until the AWE instalment, that is! (You KNEW there'd be one, right?) Thanks to everyone who has been moved to leave comments, which to my delight, have been uniformly positive! They're much appreciated, and provide impetus for me to keep on writing ...

Hope you have enjoyed!

'Ta for now!

-- Cat