Pirates of the Caribbean Oneshots

Letting Go

Six figures stood gathered, looking down at a mound of freshly-turned earth, under which was a coffin. The sun above them threw long shadows and little heat, a bitter wind nipping at exposed skin.

"So, what now?" At length, a tall woman broke their silence, her question soft and hesitant.

"We all go back to the house. There's somethin' I need to say." Edward Teague turned away from his wife's grave, slowly walking back to the cottage.

The others followed, respectfully silent. Jack wiped away tears roughly, glancing gratefully at his godmother as she slipped him a handkerchief, giving his shoulder a supportive squeeze at the same time. "Thanks Sahara," he murmured, allowing her to keep pace with him on the walk back.

Behind him walked two men, one taller than the other, auburn and dark heads now fading to grey. Cormac sighed softly, subconsciously twisting his wedding ring as his eyes flickered to his captain.

"What d'you think he wants to say?" Ciaran asked quietly, turning his shirt collar up to block the wind.

"I really don't know," Cormac said in reply. He tried to conceal his worry about the man he loved as a brother, the captain he'd served loyally for decades. He glanced back briefly at the grave, then continued walking, the grass whispering against his boots.

Soracha brought up the rear, hands deep in her pockets, eyes stormy with guilt and grief. Her head was bowed, the wind tugging at her hair.

Inside the cottage, Sahara set about making tea as the rest of them found somewhere to sit, the small home not designed to host so many people at once. Jack eyed Teague slightly warily, clearly no wiser than anyone else about what his father was planning to say.

After distributing mugs of tea, Sahara sat beside Soracha, who didn't react to her presence, staring at the beverage cradled in her hands. The cottage was silent, the air heavy with loss.

Teague, seated in his usual chair by the fire, gazed at the flames, trying to figure out how to exist in a world that didn't have his wife in it. He took a long sip of tea and stood, placing the mug on the mantlepiece.

"I'm retiring."

The words hung in the air, the shock immediately visible on the occupants of the room as they stared at him silently.

Cormac found his voice first. "Retiring from what, exactly?"

"All of it." Teague's statement was quiet and firm as he looked steadily at each of them in turn. Grief darkened his eyes, the only hint at how hard he was struggling not to fall apart.

"Court?"

"And high-seas piracy, sailing, fighting, plundering, the whole goddamn lot."

Silence for a long moment, broken by Ciaran. "What happens to your crew?"

Teague sighed. "You're all that's left. The only ones I care about at least. Give me a day or two and I'll sort out your payments and you're all free to go then."

"Go where?" Sahara asked softly, visibly uneasy. "Where do you suggest we go? Guess I'll go back to slavery where I belong."

She flinched as Jack turned a dark gaze on her. "Over my dead body. You and Soracha will come onto the Pearl with me. I could certainly use a decent ship's doctor and I trust you can lend a hand around the ship too?"

Sahara hugged him, sniffling quietly as she buried her head in the crook of his neck. Soracha met his eyes and nodded slowly. "Aye, Captain Sparrow," she murmured. "I'd be very pleased to accept that position."

"There are more berths on the Pearl for anyone who wants them," Jack said, unable to bear the thought of his remaining family scattered and destitute.

Cormac gave a slow, sad smile. "Thank ye, Jackie, but this'll be the end of the sea for me too. It's time I gave that life up, while I still have everything needed to enjoy my life here on land." He twisted his wedding ring, then waved a hand at his godson. "Don't worry about me, I'm quite happy to put pirating behind me and stay with my family, living quietly, without having to play mother hen to a bloody Teague who really should know better!"

His lightly-spoken words were a sharp contrast to the sorrow in his expression as he gave Edward a hug.

Teague tucked his head against Cormac's chest, returning the hug fiercely. His frame trembled slightly as he fought the urge to break down in his friends arms, breathing hitching with suppressed sobs.

Cormac held him tightly, protectively, angling his body to provide some privacy. "Go ahead," he said quietly.

"I'm-" a sob cut him off as he gave in to his emotions, crying into Cormac's chest.
Silently, the older man kept his arms around him, one hand gently rubbing his back. He murmured quietly in Gaelic, a stream of comfort which meant very little to Edward at the moment.

When he finally pulled away, wiping his eyes roughly, Jack silently passed him a fresh mug of tea, while Cormac stood to make himself another cup.

"The Troubadour is yours Jackie, and I'm scuttling the Lady." He ran a hand through his hair, a note of finality in his tone that quelled argument.

Ciaran raised an eyebrow. "Meaning you're staying here?"

Teague nodded slowly. "This is home, this is where she is, an' where I'd always intended to end up. I'm staying here."

Sipping his tea, he snagged a quill and parchment from the table, writing quietly for a minute before signing and sealing the note, which he gave to Jack.
"Oh..." Jack said quietly, looking up to find his father looking at him before diverting his attention to his hands.

It took a minute to get the ring off, easing it over knuckles swollen and stiffened by arthritis. But soon it sat in the palm of a weathered hand, the black eye sockets of the silver skull staring at Jack.

Slowly, he took it, studying it in silence.
"You know it doesn't fit me?" he said lightly, slipping it on to prove his point.

"Wait."

To Jack's amazement, he felt the ring adjust until it rested snugly on his finger. He stared at it in silence.

Teague's lips twitched. "Don't ask me to explain that, cause I can't. It ajusts when it's passed down, to fit the new wearer. Did the same thing for me, the previous Keeper's hands were bigger than mine."

Jack nodded quietly. "Not how I expected to get this," he murmured lightly, glancing at the ring.

"Things rarely happen the way we expect. Excuse me." Teague slipped out of the cottage into the cool evening, making his way back to the grave. He sat down beside it slowly, burying his head in his hands.

A sudden breeze stirred his hair and clothes, gently caressing his skin. He looked up slowly, gaze falling on the grave. "Grá go deo, Asthore, grá mo chroí."

He would have stayed there had Cormac not come looking for him, gently escorting him back inside to where his family were waiting.