[ For whatever too-brief moment in time it lasts, Jack is grateful for the other man's arms around him, that he feels warm and solid and not like a ghost that could disappear from his vision if he were to blink at the wrong time. And when it's done, he's all but pushed away, moved carefully into a position of his choosing, that won't disrupt what he's got going on inside. It's what he deserves, Jack knows this, that it's exactly what he's been doing to Charles this whole time. It doesn't soothe the sting.
It's impressive, how a single sentence can cut right through him, make him feel selfish and stupid for being here at all, but this is the only chance he's got. He missed it when Charles disappeared, and from what Anne told him, he'll miss it back home. ]
I need to be able to say goodbye to you. Now you can hate me, all you like, from the heavens, for not giving you what you needed, here. I've earned that. But if this is it, if this is the end of us, and the end of you, then after all that we have been through, I can't let it go on a sour note. Please don't make me do that.
[ His tone isn't quite pleading, but solemn. Resigned. Charles seems to have his mind made up, and any promise he could make about doing better or trying harder would be empty. He knows. Having so little time left has a way of making things clear. Charles is better off spending his last day alive with Daphne, who never struggles to put him first and loves him so fiercely that anyone can see it. Jack will return to Irving, to the comfort, the peace, and the warmth that he won't find here. It's not the outcome he envisioned, but it's one that he can live with. What he can't live with is Charles' disdain. ]
[if the end of them had come sooner, the temptation to lash out and twist the knife might well have been too great. or maybe it would have been worse, like it was with eleanor - an ultimatum he would lose, and they would leave that place as enemies.
seems that woman somehow keeps managing to teach him a fucking lesson, because he still wants to spare them that, if he can. charles sighs, looking at the edge of the water through the trees.]
Eleanor and I never had the same vision of the future in mind. Even when we were moving in the same direction, our paths would have diverged sooner or later. [he looks over at jack again.] Had I realized that sooner, I'm not sure it would have salvaged anything. Not when I was that thing that would have prevented her from getting what she wanted.
[one thing he'll say for this place: it's given him the time and space to finish getting his head right. he's sure jack doesn't need him to explain why he'd be considering such a thing now.]
I wouldn't have been that thing for you.
[he's not sure, really, what it is about him or what he's offered that wasn't enough for jack, or seemed a thing not worth trying to have. but it doesn't really matter. it wouldn't have, even if they weren't standing at the end of the world. both of them were living their lives here as they want, with as much freedom as they could manage, and charles simply could not have allowed what became of him and eleanor to happen to him and jack.
the truth is, he doesn't think he would survive it.]
I just wish one of us had the balls to realize it sooner.
[ Being compared to Eleanor feels like a blade in the gut, twisting in search of a major organ. He has to bite back a cough, an argument, a reason or ten why itās absurd to be talking about her now, because despite his instinct to rise in defense, it isnāt. Jack would never betray him in a way that brought him real harm or threatened his standing...
Unless it was for a love he couldnāt live without. Itās happened before, and it would happen again if it needed to. Chewing his lip and averting his gaze, Jack admits to himself that heās right, that itās better to call it off before the knives pierce too deep, and all thatās left of this relationship which has shaped much of his life is hurt buried under rubble. Jack knows this, but it doesnāt change the fact that the knifeās still in him. Charles says he doesnāt hate him, but heās not sure he believes it. By putting another person in front of him, heās betrayed him. It wasnāt malicious, but itās not the intent that matters. The results do.
And the result is behind held at armās length, with emotion welling in his eyes that he must now squeeze shut to control. ]
I know you wouldnāt. [ Jack looks back up, the fight knocked out of him. Thereās just no time for it. ] This is not what I wanted. You know it isnāt. I didnāt come here to make excuses, or to change your mind, I just wish... [ he sighs, scratching at his mustache. ] If I had known, that you needed more than I was giving you, then I could have...
[ Maybe. He didnāt see it, and he wasnāt told, and after giving all of himself to Anne, and all of himself to John, maybe there wasnāt enough left. Maybe he was afraid that Charles would choose Daphne, or that being too open would reveal parts of himself that Charles would hate, maybe their history and the dynamics of power between them prevented him from giving in fully, or maybe what he really wants is a wife and heās found something close enough. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Not enough time to explore them all. He shakes his head. ]
I donāt know what. I donāt want to waste too much of your time. I only want to be able to call you a friend, still, at the end.
[he listens patiently, because for all that he doesn't want to have this conversation, it is something he owes to jack. not because of any debt between them, but because of who he has, and has been, to charles. he doesn't interrupt, not even to defend himself or his decision to cut ties now, instead of bringing his concerns to jack like he didn't know exactly what would have happened. jack would have made promises, convincing himself and charles in the process that they could have it all, still, with some superficial changes that inevitably would have degraded over time, leaving charles to dig himself out of an even deeper hole. ultimately, there's nothing jack could have done that he would have been willing to do.
this way, charles gets to have his say in the matter. funny how that felt so important before he found himself once again staring into the void ahead of him.
his silence lingers, before he speaks up again.]
Did Anne tell you why Teach returned to Nassau?
[it might sound like he's either trying to evade the question or he wasn't paying attention, but jack should know him well enough not to suspect either. bear with him.]
Edited (maybe i could repeat more words) 2023-04-17 22:01 (UTC)
[ Jack looks up, confusion etched into the wrinkles of his brow. Which is, in a way, better than the grief that had inhabited it before. He canāt imagine how that would be relevant to the two of them in this moment, the only moment they have left, but yes, he doesnāt suspect Charles of suddenly going on weird tangents. If he wasnāt going to listen to him, he would have shut the door in his face. ]
She said he wanted to recruit you to sail with him again. Why?
[this time, despite himself, he hesitates. he isn't unwilling to tell jack any part of this, but he is - for whatever reason - unwilling to explain it in a way that gives him more credit than he deserves. particularly considering how it all shook out in the end.]
He talked about his legacy. Made it sound as though... that's what he saw in me.
[he doesn't say that teach all but called him a son. that feels like something meant to stay between them, even in death. jack doesn't need to know how it affected him to hear it - enough, of course, to turn him away from the thing he'd been trying to build, back toward the life that defined him for so long. maybe jack will be able to read between the lines there anyway; he has to trust that, really, or else he might not be able to get his point across. when you see things from a new perspective, it can take some time before the ability to describe it catches up.]
This desire he had to leave something behind carried him back to Nassau, despite the years and the manner of his leaving, despite the legacy of his name alone, already so well-assured that even now he's more notorious than you and I combined.
[it stuck with him, turning over and over in his mind like sand becoming a pearl. charles himself had never put value on such a thing; even his name was no good to him dead. but that was before he'd started building a future, or even knew what one might look like. it had always been hard to define a thing that he always understood, deep down, he wasn't meant to have. but he'd allowed himself to abandon all of it in favor of ghosts out of the past, luring him back to... what? the thrill of the hunt, a few more months, and then the noose?
flint was the one who made it click.
they took my home.]
Thought about the worth of that. Being able to say you left a mark somewhere in the world in a way that couldn't easily be undone. To know, even if you went to your death, that something else carried on because of you - something worth being proud of.
[maybe jack, too, will struggle to understand that at a glance. to him, the name itself was the legacy, along with the legend attached. maybe he'll think charles is a fool for this, hopelessly sentimental after all, making connections out of nothing and for no good reason. fortunately for charles, he's already endured the ordeal of waiting for death before - no longer unknown, that makes it a little less frightening, and certainly inclines him to give zero fucks at all if jack finds any of this particularly hard to swallow.]
That's what I was to Teach. [he regards jack very steadily.] It's what you are to me.
[nassau was home because they made it so. different than the civilized world, yes, rough and unstable and ugly in ways that even he could hardly bear to look at, and perhaps charles was never meant to see her come to fruition. but jack would. jack rackham, whose vision extended far past what charles vane could see, farther than james flint could see, whose mistakes made him a stronger man, who had stood by charles longer than anyone.
they've been more than friends. more than brothers. more than lovers, now, though that's probably the least of it, all things considered. he recognized in jack the potential for a true partner - and it's brought them here, to this moment, wherein charles is convinced he'll be happier if he never sees jack again, and the certainty that he won't is still very little comfort.]
So you call me whatever the fuck you like, Jack. In a few hours, it won't make much difference. Spend them better than this.
This kind of sentimentality might not be Charlesā usual mode, but it is Jackās. He thinks in symbols and ripple effects and what-ifs, desperately trying to assign meaning to every mistake and random circumstance, wiggle himself into an ongoing story that he feels he deserves to be a part of. On the rare occasion that Charles talks like this, he doesnāt think it foolish, but listens with the utmost seriousness. From someone not prone to the same kinds of fanciful musings, theyāre worth all the more.
Strangely enough, itās what he needs to hear right now. Itās what you are to me. Present-tense. Still, after everything heās done here and who heās done it with, when he crosses over that threshold tomorrow, heāll still be worthy of his position. A proper fucking pirate, to the end. Tinged with sadness as it is ā over everything, over Charles, over the two of them ā Jack manages a smile, as he receives his next directive.
Spend them better than this.
Jack nods, once. He can't spend his last few hours here mourning. Charles wouldnāt want him to, even if the thread between them hadnāt frayed like this. Thereās another dead man waiting for him at home, ready to cling to him until the guards arrive to pry them apart. Thatās where he needs to be. ]
Youāre right. Go back to her. Sheāll love you better than I could.
[ He reaches his hand out to shake, the ring that Charles gave him still prominent on his middle finger, as is the etching in his skin reminding them both of where heās going from here. Itās not as firm a shake as it probably should be, an excuse to touch him again without asking too much. ]
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no subject
It's impressive, how a single sentence can cut right through him, make him feel selfish and stupid for being here at all, but this is the only chance he's got. He missed it when Charles disappeared, and from what Anne told him, he'll miss it back home. ]
I need to be able to say goodbye to you. Now you can hate me, all you like, from the heavens, for not giving you what you needed, here. I've earned that. But if this is it, if this is the end of us, and the end of you, then after all that we have been through, I can't let it go on a sour note. Please don't make me do that.
[ His tone isn't quite pleading, but solemn. Resigned. Charles seems to have his mind made up, and any promise he could make about doing better or trying harder would be empty. He knows. Having so little time left has a way of making things clear. Charles is better off spending his last day alive with Daphne, who never struggles to put him first and loves him so fiercely that anyone can see it. Jack will return to Irving, to the comfort, the peace, and the warmth that he won't find here. It's not the outcome he envisioned, but it's one that he can live with. What he can't live with is Charles' disdain. ]
Chaz?
no subject
seems that woman somehow keeps managing to teach him a fucking lesson, because he still wants to spare them that, if he can. charles sighs, looking at the edge of the water through the trees.]
Eleanor and I never had the same vision of the future in mind. Even when we were moving in the same direction, our paths would have diverged sooner or later. [he looks over at jack again.] Had I realized that sooner, I'm not sure it would have salvaged anything. Not when I was that thing that would have prevented her from getting what she wanted.
[one thing he'll say for this place: it's given him the time and space to finish getting his head right. he's sure jack doesn't need him to explain why he'd be considering such a thing now.]
I wouldn't have been that thing for you.
[he's not sure, really, what it is about him or what he's offered that wasn't enough for jack, or seemed a thing not worth trying to have. but it doesn't really matter. it wouldn't have, even if they weren't standing at the end of the world. both of them were living their lives here as they want, with as much freedom as they could manage, and charles simply could not have allowed what became of him and eleanor to happen to him and jack.
the truth is, he doesn't think he would survive it.]
I just wish one of us had the balls to realize it sooner.
no subject
Unless it was for a love he couldnāt live without. Itās happened before, and it would happen again if it needed to. Chewing his lip and averting his gaze, Jack admits to himself that heās right, that itās better to call it off before the knives pierce too deep, and all thatās left of this relationship which has shaped much of his life is hurt buried under rubble. Jack knows this, but it doesnāt change the fact that the knifeās still in him. Charles says he doesnāt hate him, but heās not sure he believes it. By putting another person in front of him, heās betrayed him. It wasnāt malicious, but itās not the intent that matters. The results do.
And the result is behind held at armās length, with emotion welling in his eyes that he must now squeeze shut to control. ]
I know you wouldnāt. [ Jack looks back up, the fight knocked out of him. Thereās just no time for it. ] This is not what I wanted. You know it isnāt. I didnāt come here to make excuses, or to change your mind, I just wish... [ he sighs, scratching at his mustache. ] If I had known, that you needed more than I was giving you, then I could have...
[ Maybe. He didnāt see it, and he wasnāt told, and after giving all of himself to Anne, and all of himself to John, maybe there wasnāt enough left. Maybe he was afraid that Charles would choose Daphne, or that being too open would reveal parts of himself that Charles would hate, maybe their history and the dynamics of power between them prevented him from giving in fully, or maybe what he really wants is a wife and heās found something close enough. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Not enough time to explore them all. He shakes his head. ]
I donāt know what. I donāt want to waste too much of your time. I only want to be able to call you a friend, still, at the end.
no subject
this way, charles gets to have his say in the matter. funny how that felt so important before he found himself once again staring into the void ahead of him.
his silence lingers, before he speaks up again.]
Did Anne tell you why Teach returned to Nassau?
[it might sound like he's either trying to evade the question or he wasn't paying attention, but jack should know him well enough not to suspect either. bear with him.]
no subject
She said he wanted to recruit you to sail with him again. Why?
no subject
He talked about his legacy. Made it sound as though... that's what he saw in me.
[he doesn't say that teach all but called him a son. that feels like something meant to stay between them, even in death. jack doesn't need to know how it affected him to hear it - enough, of course, to turn him away from the thing he'd been trying to build, back toward the life that defined him for so long. maybe jack will be able to read between the lines there anyway; he has to trust that, really, or else he might not be able to get his point across. when you see things from a new perspective, it can take some time before the ability to describe it catches up.]
This desire he had to leave something behind carried him back to Nassau, despite the years and the manner of his leaving, despite the legacy of his name alone, already so well-assured that even now he's more notorious than you and I combined.
[it stuck with him, turning over and over in his mind like sand becoming a pearl. charles himself had never put value on such a thing; even his name was no good to him dead. but that was before he'd started building a future, or even knew what one might look like. it had always been hard to define a thing that he always understood, deep down, he wasn't meant to have. but he'd allowed himself to abandon all of it in favor of ghosts out of the past, luring him back to... what? the thrill of the hunt, a few more months, and then the noose?
flint was the one who made it click.
they took my home.]
Thought about the worth of that. Being able to say you left a mark somewhere in the world in a way that couldn't easily be undone. To know, even if you went to your death, that something else carried on because of you - something worth being proud of.
[maybe jack, too, will struggle to understand that at a glance. to him, the name itself was the legacy, along with the legend attached. maybe he'll think charles is a fool for this, hopelessly sentimental after all, making connections out of nothing and for no good reason. fortunately for charles, he's already endured the ordeal of waiting for death before - no longer unknown, that makes it a little less frightening, and certainly inclines him to give zero fucks at all if jack finds any of this particularly hard to swallow.]
That's what I was to Teach. [he regards jack very steadily.] It's what you are to me.
[nassau was home because they made it so. different than the civilized world, yes, rough and unstable and ugly in ways that even he could hardly bear to look at, and perhaps charles was never meant to see her come to fruition. but jack would. jack rackham, whose vision extended far past what charles vane could see, farther than james flint could see, whose mistakes made him a stronger man, who had stood by charles longer than anyone.
they've been more than friends. more than brothers. more than lovers, now, though that's probably the least of it, all things considered. he recognized in jack the potential for a true partner - and it's brought them here, to this moment, wherein charles is convinced he'll be happier if he never sees jack again, and the certainty that he won't is still very little comfort.]
So you call me whatever the fuck you like, Jack. In a few hours, it won't make much difference. Spend them better than this.
no subject
This kind of sentimentality might not be Charlesā usual mode, but it is Jackās. He thinks in symbols and ripple effects and what-ifs, desperately trying to assign meaning to every mistake and random circumstance, wiggle himself into an ongoing story that he feels he deserves to be a part of. On the rare occasion that Charles talks like this, he doesnāt think it foolish, but listens with the utmost seriousness. From someone not prone to the same kinds of fanciful musings, theyāre worth all the more.
Strangely enough, itās what he needs to hear right now. Itās what you are to me. Present-tense. Still, after everything heās done here and who heās done it with, when he crosses over that threshold tomorrow, heāll still be worthy of his position. A proper fucking pirate, to the end. Tinged with sadness as it is ā over everything, over Charles, over the two of them ā Jack manages a smile, as he receives his next directive.
Spend them better than this.
Jack nods, once. He can't spend his last few hours here mourning. Charles wouldnāt want him to, even if the thread between them hadnāt frayed like this. Thereās another dead man waiting for him at home, ready to cling to him until the guards arrive to pry them apart. Thatās where he needs to be. ]
Youāre right. Go back to her. Sheāll love you better than I could.
[ He reaches his hand out to shake, the ring that Charles gave him still prominent on his middle finger, as is the etching in his skin reminding them both of where heās going from here. Itās not as firm a shake as it probably should be, an excuse to touch him again without asking too much. ]
So long, Captain.