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Title: Completed
Author: Miss ‘Drea
Rating: R for surprise!nosex.
Pairing: Jack/Will
Summary: The world doesn’t need The Flying Dutchman anymore, and Jack, his crew and the lumbering ship itself passes on into legend, and shadow. Jack finds someone waiting for him.

Sequel to Fracture.


He leaned his head against the mainmast, breathing in the salt air of above water. The air never really changed, not leagues out of sea, no matter how much time had passed. The sky was still blue, there were still clouds.

But no one died at sea anymore. Not since the last world war. And that phrase, “world war” was another modern invention he just didn’t understand anymore. There were too many people in the world now, people who could fly, travel great no one died at sea anymore.

“Captain,” a familiar voice said from behind him. “Are you well?”

Captain Jack Sparrow, his once long hair in a short, concise military cut turned to look at his second in command. “Anamaria,” he drawled. Though many things had changed about The Flying Dutchman and her Captain, the way he said her name was not one of them. “I have recently begun to realize how little the world needs us anymore.”

It had taken better part of two hundred years to heal the damage Jack had sustained at the hands of William Turner. Though neither Anamaria or Jack held him responsible for his lengthy bout of madness, Jack’s nature had greatly suffered for it.

Two hundred years into his own Captainship, did Jack finally learn to live again. He joked frequently that it took true death to help him find life. Anamaria reckoned that it was Will’s death that had ultimately changed him - he never did do well with the idea of sacrifice.

“Needs us?” Anamaria chuckled as she said it. “The world hasn’t needed us in almost fifty years. About the time you got that hideous haircut.”

He ruffled his shorn hair. “It’s not exactly me, is it?” he chuckled. “But no solider who wanted to be saved ever followed a Brit with dreads.”

The ocean bubbled, and both Anamaria and Jack turned as one to face the incoming tidal wave. “My lady,” Anamaria murmured, dropping a vaguely mocking curtsey. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

Calypso’s preferred human form swirled up from the wave, collapsing the left over water against the side of the much changed Flying Dutchman. “You are correct, Jack Sparrow,” she said, laughing the end of his name away.

Glibly, Jack spread his hands. “About the hair or the world?”

Her eyes swept him. “Both.” Delighted, Jack laughed. “But dem words yeh spoke have truth to dem.” She gazed from Anamaria to Jack. “An’ I release yeh from yer promise.” The ship rumbled beneath them. “Jack Sparrow,” she said. “Go home.”

The man disappeared before he could say another word. Anamaria whirled. “My lady!”

“An’ you, Anamaria...” Calypso said. “You have been more dan what I ever hoped for. You too may go home.”

The news that evening spoke of a huge rogue wave, though there were no casualties.

Jack had been right. There was no more place in the twenty first century for The Flying Dutchmen.


When Jack opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was blinding sunlight. The second thing he noticed was his hair was long again, braided and beaded. He turned and behind him was a large rainforest, with what looked to be large huts built in the even bigger branches.

Before him was a rising sand dune, and when he crested that, there were people on a large, white, sandy beach. “Cap’n!” cried two voices, and Ragetti and Pintel raced up the slope to greet him.

“Ha-ha!” Jack allowed the dual embrace - Charlie and Ed had moved on years before. “It’s good to see you!”

Charlie Ragetti tugged on Jack’s sleeve. “Come, Captain! You must come!”

Down on the beach were more hut like structures, some smoking for meat and some that looked like it had ice. Jack snorted quietly to himself. “How very Swiss Family Robinson,” he muttered.

Charlie led him down the slope where a woman was waiting. “Jack Sparrow,” she said, amused.

“Captain,” he protested, “Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please, love.” He held out his arms and Elizabeth Swann launched into them for a tight hug.

“I have missed you,” she said fiercely, directly into his ear. “What the hell took you so long?”

Jack held her at arms length, taking in the long white dress and happy smile. “The sea, love, she is a fickle mistress.”

Elizabeth laughed and hugged him again. “There are so many people here who wish to see you!”

He looked a little alarmed. “All at once?”

“Just be glad you look like yourself,” she said. “That haircut was absolutely awful!”

Jack could only roll his eyes.


Bootstrap Bill met him next, sitting in a wicker chair half submerged in the imaginary sea. Then, Murtogg and Mullroy, together as always as they played in the surf. Then, to his eternal shock, James Norrington who seemed much more relaxed and almost pleased to see him.

It was Norrington himself who led him to an enclosed grove of palm trees where a banging was heard. “In there,” James directed.

Jack slipped through the leaves and stopped cold. Standing in front of a hot, glowing red anvil was William Turner.


The sword, or what would be a sword, clattered to the ground. “Jack.”

They stood there for a long moment, neither breathing, neither moving, their eyes locked on each other. Will was unable to even blink, his body held in still suspension, waiting to see what Jack would do.

What Jack did was surprise him. He cleared the sand pit in two steps, and pulled an unresisting and relieved William into a fierce embrace. “William,” he said again. “My God, William.”

He pulled him down by the neck and kissed him - of his own wanting, free volition. With a groaned sound, Will returned the kiss. He wrapped long arms around Jack and pulled him closer, knocking the hot metal and hammer to the ground. He lifted Jack one smooth move and rested him against the anvil.

Their mouths twisted together, tongues caressing, teeth nipping, and Will pulled away with a gasp. “Jack.”

The pirate’s lips turned up in a grin. “Hello, dear William.”

Will kissed him again, pressing him back more fully against the anvil. “You’re home,” Will said against his mouth.

“Aye,” Jack said. “Home for good, too.” He pulled off his hat and tossed it to one side. “Now shut up,” he growled. “And kiss me.”

“I’ll do more than that,” Will growled against the skin of Jack’s jaw. They began to kiss again when a decidedly female voice cleared her throat behind him. Will looked up. “Elizabeth,” he said, “must you?”

“Aye,” she teased him. “Shag the man later. Come and join the rest of us,” she implored.

Jack grunted, leaning his forehead against Will’s. “Lets go, love,” he said. “Do as the lady says.”

Will took a reluctant step away and let Jack slide to his feet. They turned to follow Elizabeth out of the grove, but Will caught the other man’s hand. “Welcome home,” he murmured in his ear.

Jack leaned his head briefly against Will’s. “Thanks, love. Glad to be here.”

And for the first time since he arrived on his strange island, he felt his heart heal, beat; and when the sun hit him in the eyes, he smiled.


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