Last Stand

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they belong to Disney® and who ever else; they are property of their original owners, whoever that is.

Last Stand

{b{By: J.L.Dexter

-- He had fought for so long, had given up so much. He was supposed to be invincible, the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow who could never be caught. But he had finally met his match, and in the end, he had sacrificed it all simply for another plunder. One Shot

Perhaps it all started back when the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow got the less than brilliant plan to go gallivanting across Spanish waters with one thing in mind: treasure. The Spanish were of wealthy status in parts; parts in which Jack traveled specifically for the plundering.

Maybe the turning point was when Jack convinced a now single William Turner to join him; the lad was torn up over the fact that Elizabeth had caught scarlet fever and was unable to beat it. They were married for less than eight months.

A stepping stone may have even been when Jack caught wind of a wealthy merchant trader taking up residence in an eastern Port of Spain; the riches were untold of, too numerous to name. So, with some coaxing, the crew agreed to follow their fearless leader.

And I think a breaking point for this escapade was when I refused to sail under Jack Sparrow; I knew of the dangers Spain held, especially for pirates.

It was my homeland, my father's country, and the place in which I was raised. Spain: beautiful but deadly. I told Jack I would not participate in this raid, my life was more important than any treasure. So it was with greatest relief and sorrow that I watched the Black Pearl sail away in the distance, myself standing on the rotted docks of Tortuga.

And then the news traveled through the small town. The Black Pearl had been sunk by the Spanish Fleet- Captain Jack Sparrow had bitten off more than he could chew. Rumor was half the crew had perished in a vicious battle and Jack had barely escaped. Any surviving crew who had been captured, were hung immediately.

For weeks afterward there was no news on the captain except that he had been spotted in several areas across the Caribbean obviously making his way back to Tortuga. My heart instantly went out to him as it had so many times before since I left; the one true home I had ever known was resting at the bottom of the endless ocean and the one man I had ever loved was on the run.

It was my surprise when gossip spread through the town that Jack Sparrow had stumbled into a bar nearby drinking himself into oblivion, muttering and carrying on about the loss of his beloved ship and crew. With everything I could muster, I strode into the bar and right up to him, my dark eyes flashing with anger and regret as I approached him.

He reacted like I assumed, an expression of hurt crossing his tanned features as I listened to his side of the story. Apparently, one of his crew had turned him in to the Spanish authorities after Jack had relieved the man of his duties for insubordination. Bad luck always did travel with Sparrow.

With a heavy heart, I offered him a place for the night and he quickly agreed. He later told me of all the details that ensued with the fight, the list of names of the crew who had died fighting for their captain. Ladbroc, Moises, Matelot and Quartetto along with several new members had been slain in the fight. Gibbs, Crimp, and Cotton had been captured and hung. Will Turner, the once young and dedicated blacksmith had been among the many to fall in the battle, the lad dying in Jack's arms.

I remember Jack speaking of the whelp, how his voice quivered with the thought. He placed Turner's death under his responsibility, the young man's blood on his hands. For several days I found Jack drinking heavily, his anger easily coming to the surface.

He was awake all hours of the night, talking to the air, the voices in his head or even practicing with his shadow, his technique careless and sloppy. It was easy to see on his face, the death wish. He pushed himself over the edge, drank and barely ate; Jack Sparrow was failing and he was gladly allowing himself to do so. But every now and then, I could see a spark of his old self returning, trying desperately to get back.

Every day you wish it away.

It was only obvious that someone would have eventually reported Jack for the bounty on his head and soon the British Navy was at my door questioning me. I remember laughing, for Jack was several paces ahead of them with a two-day head start on none other than Commodore Norrington.

I soon found passage on a ship and sailed to the nearby port in which Jack was hiding- I had to warn him of the danger he was in. The memories of docking still haunt me to this day and I cringe every time I think of him.

Bodies swinging in trees-

It was clear pirates were unwelcome at Port-au-Prince for the moment I stepped foot on the dock my gaze was greeted with the sun bleached skeletons hanging from tree limbs as the stench from the recent victim's hung from the gallows. I choked down the anger and made my way through the seemingly crowded streets.

Before long I found myself at the door of a rundown old shack hidden on the edge of some woods outside of town, Jack was here. I pushed the door open and gasped, my eyes landing on the pirate sprawled on the floor, an empty rum bottle close by. I called to him, my voice breaking. He finally lifted his head and stared at me as he pushed himself to his feet.

You struggle to stand, head in your hands- A stoic last stand of a broken man…

I watched him teeter momentarily before taking his arm and helping him sit down, the smell of rum heavily on his breath and clothes. Sighing, I ran a hand along his cheek and forehead checking for fever and was relieved to find none. He downed another bottle of rum, his voice slurred and all I could do was helplessly watch as he destroyed himself. It didn't take him too long to drift off to sleep only to be woken hours later, obviously from a nightmare, screaming.

Wanting to believe as I watched your world crumbling in your hands. Wanting to believe you could win that war in your head I did not understand.

I fought back the anger and the tears as I continued to watch him, the only thoughts being of him on my mind as I wondered how come he was giving him. I didn't understand why he was just throwing his life away; he was Captain Jack Sparrow and he was giving up.

I did not understand…

For a few days I kept vigil over him, keeping a weathered eye out for any sign of fever or the like since he had refused to eat. He spent most of his day drinking and it worried me. Then the questions started and I couldn't seem to find an answer good enough to suit him. His dark eyes held so much regret with each inquiry and I myself regretted that I could not answer any of them.

And at night the questions poured out…

Sometimes, at night as I headed for my own bed, I'd pass by Jack's room and listen as he carried on a conversation. To whom, I did not know at first but the more I listened, the sooner I discovered he was arguing with himself as he occasionally addressed God, his rants more like prayers.

Every day you used to pray…

One day a fierce wind came accompanied with dark clouds shrouding the entire town in a dull darkness. Things had been heating up as the British Navy eventually made port searching for Jack. I still remember that morning as I headed out, walking briskly to the center of town to see if I could find anything out about the Navy's intent. I had told Jack to stay inside out of sight for fear of a guard seeing him and he had reluctantly agreed.

My trek there had been silent save for the lonesome call of a bird from somewhere, the shrill whistle sending shivers down my spine.

When I finally reached the town's center I could see several redcoats standing about, muskets slung over their shoulders. I weaved in and out of the crowd stopping here or there and asking random questions before moving on. After getting numerous shrugs or whispered denials, I made my way to a nearby tavern for a drink hoping to gather some better information there.

With still no hope, I sipped my drink slowly, deeply in thought when I heard the shouts. My head snapped up and I jumped from the stool I occupied as I raced outside, my eyes frantically searching the many faces until they finally came to rest on one.

"Jack!"

I saw him turn around and look among the crowd for the source of the call, and I immediately pushed through to get to him. Form the corner of my eye I saw a splash of red and my heart began beating faster as I called out to Jack again.

Before I knew it, there was screaming and shouts and then everything seemed to go into slow motion as I distinctly heard the striking of flint from a pistol somewhere nearby. My heart leapt in my throat as I saw Jack jerk and crumple to the ground. I stood frozen, gawking, holding my breath as I watched silently as the pirate captain weakly struggled to stand.

You wanted to believe when you fell to your knees, struggling to stand, your life in your hands. The sad last stand of a dying man.

I choked back the sobs and the urge to run forward as another round of pops echoed through the hushed silence; I knew couldn't help him now, it was too risky. If I were caught helping him, I'd meet the same fate. But would that really be a bad thing? I turned my head, to weak to watch as Jack's body slumped to the ground, cold and lifeless.

He had fought for so long, had given up so much. He was supposed to be invincible, the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow who could never be caught. But he had finally met his match, and in the end, he had sacrificed it all simply for another plunder.

Oh, how I wanted to believe, while I watched your world crumble in your hands. And wanting to believe you could win that war inside your head, which I did not understand.

The redcoats shuffled around the fallen body of my captain and friend and I turned a tear-streaked face in memory to him as they drug him off, his heavy booted feet marring the dirt forever.

No, I don't understand…

I didn't understand how Jack would willingly give it all up.

The sight of you falling…

I didn't understand why he didn't keep fighting for what he believed in.

Why can't I understand…

I didn't understand his regrets or his hurts-

The trembling heart of a dying man…

I didn't understand then, and I don't understand now.

Did not understand…

And I did not understand the plea of my own heart crying out.

That sound of your trembling heart…

A/N: I know it seems a bit dark and angsty, but you know, sometimes life gives you a kick in the butt and let's face it, not everything is happy go lucky in life.