the Dalaverse

Back to Part III




“Wretch!”

Jack squinted up from where Elizabeth had shoved him to the ground. “Had a good swim in, nice t’ see you alive and well, sincerely hope we don’t die out here.”

“Blackguard!” she shouted, kicking sand at him. “You didn’t tell me about the Black Pearl and the curse, not once in all these years!”

“And you didn’t tell me about the medallion,” Jack pointed out reasonably. Elizabeth was unfortunately not in the mood for reason; she tossed her hair back and stalked off. By the time she returned from her circuit, he was seated quite comfortably with his boots drying out beside him, checking the shot in his pistol.

“It’s really not all that big, is it?”

She shot him a dark look, gazing at her small footprints in the sand. “Best keep that away from me,” she said, nodding to the gun. Jack was smart enough to take her at her word and tucked it safely away.

“Is there a problem between us, Lizzie?” he asked, holding up a hand to be helped to his feet, not really expecting her to take it. She didn’t and he heaved himself up with a groan.

Elizabeth planted her hands on her hips. “Barbossa’s got Will. Will is responsible for saving our lives, not to mention being the boy I quite failed to save years ago, and he’s got him.”

Hoping to avoid having to think about Will for as long as possible, perhaps the next three minutes, Jack only shrugged.

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” she demanded.

“Look around,” said Jack, embarrassing himself thoroughly while he mapped out where the hidden trapdoor was. “If y’ see anything useful, do let me know.”

Elizabeth scampered along behind him, holding her skirt up. “But you were marooned on this island before, weren’t you? You’ve talked about the turtle often enough, but you never said how you managed to get off.”

“That is because,” said Jack with a grunt as he pulled on the rope handle, heaving a layer of sand off the door, “last time, I didn’t actually do anything. Last time –” The door creaked as it swung all the way open, the musty scent below making his eyes water. “The rumrunners used this island as a cache. Three days after I was marooned I held their stock hostage until they agreed to give me passage.” He surveyed the dusty bottles with a wrinkled nose. “From the looks of things, they’ve long been out of business. Probably have your bloody beau Norrington to thank for that.” He tossed a bottle up to her, selecting another for himself.

Elizabeth gave him an eviler eye than the one he’d seen on a weather witch in Africa once. “No wonder you never told me that story,” she sniffed. “It makes you look a fool.”

“Aye, well, that’s not so hard to do when one knows how.” He returned to the spot where they’d come ashore, dropping down into the sand. The bottle in his hand could settle for the color of Will’s eyes if he was really pressed to remember it. It wasn’t so warm though, having been buried underneath the ground for years. The rum inside was thick and good and it burned all the way down.

Elizabeth stood before him, silhouetted by the sun. “But we have to do something!”

“I fully intend to do something,” Jack replied, taking another swig. “Get so stinkin’ rotten drunk I can’t feel me own feet, then pass out on the sand.” He clinked his bottle to the one she still held. “Let’s drink to th’ boy, shall we?”

For a moment he thought Elizabeth was going to argue further. Then her clenched jaw relaxed. She settled down next to him with a little sigh of defeat, popping the cork out of her bottle and considering it thoughtfully.

“Drink up, me hearties, yo ho,” she murmured before knocking back a generous swallow.

Jack looked at her askance. “Quite apropos, darling. How ‘bout a round or two?”

“No.”

“C’mon, we got the time.” He needled her in the ribs. “An’ it’s your very favorite tune.”

“Sing it yourself,” she retorted, turning away but leaning back against his shoulder all the same.

“I’ll wear you down yet,” Jack promised her, watching out of the corner of his eye as she sipped at her rum.

By the time he finally got the song out of her, it was full dark. They’d built a blazing fire and Elizabeth had downed three-quarters of two bottles each, which was quite impressive since it came to a total of one and a half bottles. Or, wait, no – he rubbed his eyes and looked again. Just the one bottle in Elizabeth’s hand. Just the one Elizabeth for that matter.

“Really...bad eggs,” he mumbled, tripping over someone’s foot that had gotten in the way – his own, perhaps – and taking a fall. The sand proved so comfortable that he felt compelled to tug a giggling Elizabeth down beside him. She snuggled against his side as she’d done when she was younger, her hair smelling of the sun.

“Will Turner’s a bad egg, y’know,” he informed her in a secretive whisper, proud of himself for going a full two minutes without thinking of the boy. “And he’s shite in bed!” he shouted to the island at large. He remembered in whose company he was and added, “Beggin’ pardon o’ the ladies present.”

Elizabeth fumbled with her bottle, nearly dropping it in shock. “Captain Sparrow,” she said, only a little slurred, “do you mean to say you buggered the boy?”

Jack boggled at her. “Where’d a nice girl like you learn tha’ word?”

“From you,” she said with a burbling laugh.

“Oh,” said Jack, taking another drink. “Well, that’s all righ’ then.”

Poking him in the chest, Elizabeth said, “So you did, though?”

“It weren’t me fault,” Jack protested, clutching the neck of his bottle tightly. “Too pretty for ‘is own good, an’ thrice as sweet as he should be, considerin’.” Suddenly he scowled. “How was I t’ know he’d leave me on the Isla de...de...” His Spanish was a bit fuzzy at the moment. “Mujeres? Mariscos? Nah, can’t b’ right...” He guzzled the last of the rum and rolled onto his back, staring up at the stars which refused to stay still.

“He was planning to come back for you,” Elizabeth said, propping herself up on an elbow as she stretched out beside him. “He told me so.”

Jack peered blearily at her. “Did he? Decent o’ the boy. I take it back, th’ bed thing.” He dug his fingers into the sand, cool now in the dark. “Miss ‘im,” he said, closing his eyes to get that flash of Will again: Will naked and perfect in the moonlight, Will in the storm, Will in the jail, Will sleeping with his head on Jack’s shoulder. “Dunno why I couldn’t hate him properly.” His voice rasped, throat already too dry. “Dunno why I can’t bear th’ thought of losin’ him.”

“Maybe you love him,” said Elizabeth, but her voice was very far away, and he was no more aware of it than he was of the slender hand stroking his hair off his brow. In his dreams, he imagined it was someone else entirely.




Pintel and Ragetti came to collect Will from Barbossa’s cabin. The taller pirate walked on tiptoes, nervous, while the stocky one looked anywhere in the room save for Will. He tried to be angry, resentful, even afraid, but the only emotion he seemed capable of feeling was a weighty sense of exhaustion.

“I won’t struggle,” he told them, meaning it.

Ragetti’s face perked up slightly. “Tha’s good, that is,” he said encouragingly, patting Will on the shoulder.

“No reason to fret, mate,” said Pintel, still avoiding Will’s eyes. “Just a prick o’ the finger, few drops o’ blood an’ we’ll be sailin’ free again.”

Will didn’t need to go by their suspicious behavior to know it was a lie. Barbossa would not take a risk, and at this point he was sure to do Will in out of spite. He hated to be made a fool and Will had done exactly that, even if Barbossa had come out ahead in the end.

So he was not surprised when the captain, his mouth twisted in what could not really be called a smile, gripped him by the hair and pulled his head down. Will nearly stumbled, finding it difficult to keep his balance with his hands tied behind his back. The pirates were gathered around as they had been to witness Elizabeth’s sacrifice. Though they were no longer chanting like they were a cannibal tribe and Barbossa their high priest, the air was thick with tension as they stared fixedly at the tableau before them.

He stared down at the glittering treasure beneath his face. How much blood had been spilled because of this gold, over the years? His own would break the curse, but it would hardly be a drop amidst the total loss.

“Begun by blood,” Barbossa said, his voice echoing through the cavern. The steel edge of a knife pressed to Will’s throat, not quite hard enough to break the skin. “By blood un....” The knife faltered along with the words. Will twisted his neck to see what had made him pause.

Jack was picking his way through the crowd, walking like a half-drunken slattern and smiling vaguely at the pirates. Will couldn’t stop himself from breathing his name, trying to convince his mind that his eyes were telling the truth.

“S’ not possible,” Barbossa murmured, his grip loosening on Will’s neck.

Jack held up a finger, finally staggering to the forefront. “Not probable,” he corrected, all politeness.

“Is Elizabeth safe?” Will asked before Barbossa could react.

Jack’s eyes flitted to him, but too briefly for Will to be able to read anything within them. But it had to be - if Jack had come back for him –

“Safe?” Jack flicked a hand in his direction. “She’s engaged an’ everything, mate! I can see you’re not exactly at liberty to join me in a toast to the future Mrs. Commodore, so we’ll just wait on that.”

Barbossa’s fingers clenched and he drew the knife back up. “Shut up! You’re next.” Will dropped his eyes, not wanting Jack to see the final moment – and how was he to get out of this mess, anyway? What new insanity had possessed him?

“You don’t want to be doing that, mate,” Jack said.

“No, I really think I do,” Barbossa retorted. He found Will’s pulse with the tip of the knife and started to press.

Will could almost hear Jack’s offhand shrug. “Your funeral.”

Barbossa huffed out a fetid breath, but he halted nonetheless. Will was grateful for the bought moments, but baffled by whatever Jack was planning. “Why don’t I want to be doin’ it?”

“Well, because –” Will glanced up in time to see Jack swat the bo’sun’s hand off his shoulder. He bit his lip to stem a tiny grin, incongruous to the situation though it was, and carefully stretched the ropes around his wrists to their limits. “Because the HMS Dauntless, pride of the Royal Navy, is floating just offshore, waiting for you.” It was impossible for Will to tell if he was bluffing; his dark eyes were fixed on Barbossa.

With a short chuckle, Barbossa brandished the knife at his men. “‘F the Navy wants a tussle, we’ll give ‘em what for.” The pirates roared on cue, making the pools in the cavern tremble.

Jack began to climb the mound as Barbossa pulled Will up, Koehler coming forth to catch hold of his bound hands. “Just hear me out, mate,” said Jack, holding his hands up in supplication. “You order your men to row out to the Dauntless, they do what they do best –” Another shout rattled the walls and Jack nodded to the pirates. “– Robert’s your uncle, Fanny’s your aunt, there you are with two ships – the makings of your very own fleet.” He spread his fingers as if enticing Barbossa to picture the scene within them. “‘Course you’ll take the grandest as your flagship, and who’s to argue? But what of the Pearl?”

As quickly as they had risen, Will’s spirits wilted. The ship. It always came back to the bloody ship. One really had to admire the tenacity of Captain Jack Sparrow, though Will had a strong present desire to gut him for it.

“Name me Captain,” Jack was saying, softly and insistently, “I’ll sail under your colors, I’ll give you ten percent of me plunder and you get to introduce yourself as...” His eyes turned grave with import. “...Commodore Barbossa. Savvy?”

“I s’pose in exchange ye want me to not kill the whelp.” Barbossa’s tone indicated just how much that disappointed him.

But Jack quickly set him at ease, waving his hands in dismissal. “No, no, not a’tall – by all means, kill the whelp.” Will set his teeth in a grimace, willing Jack to look at him and see the curses he would have voiced if he had the ability. “Just...not yet,” Jack added. “Wait to lift the curse until the opportune moment.” The phrase struck a chord in Will. Stay here, and try not to do anything stupid...

“For instance...” Jack dragged his fingers over the surface of the chest, scooping up a few pieces. “After you’ve killed Norrington’s men.” Will followed the play of torchlight on gold on bronzed skin. Jack’s eyes were locked on Barbossa’s, his voice dark and smooth. “Every.” He dropped a coin. “Last.” Another flash. “One.” Bright clink to complete his sentence and Will waited for the last coin to drop. It did not. Jack fluttered his fingers, his body curving to its own tune like it always did. His gaze never left Barbossa’s, but Will no longer needed it to.

He bit his lips hard enough to draw blood and threw in his lot with Jack – for this moment and, if they lived, far beyond.

“You’ve been planning this from the beginning,” he said loudly, ignoring the taste of copper in his mouth, struggling against the hands holding him. Barbossa’s eyes narrowed with interest. “Ever since I rescued you from Port Royal.”

Jack tilted his head back and finally looked at him. “Yeah.” There was a glint in his eye and it was all Will could do to pay paltry attention while he and Barbossa haggled over shares and hats and authority. The opportune moment arrived when the majority of the crew had slipped beneath the waves like crocodiles, leaving only burly Maximo, dim-witted Ketchum, and Jacoby with his ridiculous smoking beard. Jack engaged Barbossa himself, and while Will was somewhat miffed at his own three-to-one discrepancy, he decided it was something they could discuss at a later date. Besides which, Elizabeth suddenly turned up in an ill-fitting marine’s uniform and proved handier in a fight than most men could brag of. It all seemed so simple, the adrenaline pumping through his veins and every move feeling strangely rehearsed, as if he’d been born for this one moment, this one fate. Without even a glance spared between them, he and Jack worked their way around the cavern once the three pirates had been disposed of: Jack a few paces from Barbossa, Will at the stone chest. Jack winked as he flipped the coin neatly through the air. Will caught it, dimly aware of the pain when he sliced his palm but more so of Jack’s blood mingling with his own.

The sound of the pistol firing was unnaturally loud. Jack stood unnaturally still, muzzle trained on Barbossa.

Barbossa let his arm drop from where he’d been aiming his own gun at a frozen Elizabeth. “Ten years you carry that pistol, an’ now ye waste yer shot.”

“He didn’t waste it,” Will said, letting the two coins fall amongst their mates. Barbossa whipped his head around to stare, then tore at the neck of his shirt to reveal the crimson blooming against white linen.

With a disbelieving snort and wide, staring eyes, Barbossa said, “Won’t save ye, Jack Sparrow.” His arm drifted up, as if it were remaining stationary while his body fell. Will had turned his eyes to Jack and did not see the flash of the second shot. But he heard it, and he felt it.




Ten years he’d searched, ten years he’d carried this pistol, ten years he’d done nothing but plot revenge on the man before him, and Jack did not see Barbossa’s body hit the ground, nor the poison-green apple rolling from his pocket. There was not a single level on which he cared.

Will seemed to crumple in slow motion, but even so, he was already on his knees by the time Jack got to him, the echo of Elizabeth’s scream ringing in his ears. Jack dropped, catching Will as best he could on the bad footing of the treasure mound. They both slid down a bit in the process.

The boy’s eyes were dazed, staring up at Jack without really seeing him. The shot had missed his heart, probably due to the fact that Barbossa’s life was fading as he fired, but from the wet, choked sound of his breathing, it seemed to have punctured a lung.

“A surgeon,” Elizabeth gasped, her eyes frantically canvassing Will’s shocked face.

“No time,” said Jack tightly. Will blinked, recognizing him, and reached a hand towards his face.

“Jack...”

“Don’t you say it,” Jack snarled, tearing off his headscarf and using it to staunch the flow of blood.

Elizabeth sobbed once, touching Will’s hand where it was closed over Jack’s forearm. “Jack, he’s –”

“No he isn’t,” Jack said, sliding an arm under Will’s shoulders and heaving upwards. Will cried out and he immediately gentled his tone, though it was no less urgent. “I know it hurts, love, but we’ve got t’ get you up. Help.” This last he directed to Elizabeth, who scrubbed tears away and clutched Will around the waist, though her face was still mystified. Together they heaved Will to his feet, staggering under his weight.

Will’s head lolled, dropping onto Jack’s shoulder. Jack freed one hand to hold his chin up, looking him steadily in the eye. “William. Listen to me. You are not going t’ die.” Will’s eyelashes fluttered and he groaned, his body twitching. Jack continued speaking to him, pressing lips close to his ear. “Reach into that chest and take your life.”

For a moment Will did not move. Jack fought off despair with everything he had, willing the boy to do this one thing that Jack could not do for him, however much he wanted to.

Then, with the tremendous effort it took written on his pallid face, Will stretched his arm out. His fingers fumbled before closing around a single coin. He held onto it as Jack and Elizabeth dragged him backwards. When the gold left the stone perimeter, the body in their arms lightened, hollowed, and they released him.

Will looked down at his arms in the moonlight. “So that’s what my bones look like,” he murmured, twisting at the waist to see himself more easily. A dull thunk made them all look down at the small, bloodstained black lump that had fallen from Will’s ribcage.

“What does it feel like?” Elizabeth wanted to know, fascinated by the sight of clean white bone and shifting patches of flesh

Shrugging, Will replied, “Strange. I don’t think I like it overmuch.” He stepped backwards, out of the light, and looked the same as ever. He touched his fingers to where the wound had been, incredulous. “There isn’t even a mark.”

Just then, Jack remembered to breathe again. The strangled noise he made as he did saw caused Will to look up at him, brown eyes alighting.

“Next time you get an urge to question one o’ me brilliant plans,” said Jack after clearing his throat, “please do remember this. Same goes for you,” he said sternly to Elizabeth.

Her face was solemn, though her eyes danced wickedly. “Duly noted.”

Will rubbed his chin, the corner of his mouth twitching as he looked at the girl. “I can’t decide if you’re bad luck or good.”

Elizabeth made a short bow. “At the moment I am only a girl in trousers, Mr. Turner.” She wrinkled her nose, glancing down at herself. “They smell awful.”

Jack felt a laugh form in his chest, but in the end he was simply too tired to make way for it. He put a hand to Will’s elbow, nodding at the coin still in the boy’s hand. “Time you gave that back.”

Will held it up to the light, studying the skull. “It smiles as if it knows something we do not.”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth tartly, “'don’t muck about with the undead.'”

“I’m afraid I have to agree,” said Will. He bent down to retrieve the forgotten knife, having to stick his arms over the chest and into the darkness so that there would be skin to cut. They watched silently as he drew back, dropping the coin and turning his bones instantly back to flesh – for real this time, and for good. Jack stepped up behind him just to make sure, took his hand to check for a pulse. Will smiled at him, but a pained expression crossed his face and he nearly tumbled down the mound.

Jack grunted as he caught him. “Blood loss, I imagine. We’d best get you to bed.”

“I feel fine,” Will insisted. “Just a bit shaky.” All the same, he leaned heavily on Jack while they made their way to the mouth of the cave. He caught Elizabeth shooting them curious glances, but when he raised an eyebrow she just smiled and shook her head indulgently.

There was smoke drifting off of the Dauntless. Elizabeth gripped his arm tightly, her eyes going blank.

“’S fine,” he told her quietly. “Just some fighting. Anxious to get back to your da and your commodore, eh?”

“Yes, actually,” said Elizabeth, heaving a sigh. “Adventure is all well and good, but I think it’s preferable to have some healthy leisure time between near-death experiences.” She gestured at the numerous boats pulled up on shore. “Looks as though we have our choice of transport, gentleman. You to the Pearl and me to the Dauntless, then?”

Jack started, rousing Will from where he’d been slowly drifting to sleep on his feet. “She’s here still? Thought they were supposed t’ keep to th’ –”

“The Code, yes, I know,” said Elizabeth, rolling her eyes. “You pirates are a bloody nonsensical lot, you do know that?” She hugged herself in her red coat, grinning smugly. “It seems I know many of the crew secondhand, thanks to your stories. I managed to convince a few that they owed you a favor or three. Also I described the treasure in sordid detail.”

Jack saluted her. “You’d make a fine pirate, Lizzie m’girl.”

“Yes, well, it’ll take all the savvy of a pirate for me to convince James and my father that we are urgently needed in Port Royal and haven’t the time to go tearing off after you.”

Jack cocked his head to the side and thought about this for a moment, amused that she had used the commodore’s first name. He really did love weddings, especially ones he wasn’t meant to attend. “Try a swoon or two,” he finally said. “It seems to work for you.”

“What?” Will mumbled, lifting his head from Jack’s shoulder to peer sleepily at Elizabeth. “Are you off?”

“Yes,” she said with a smile, “and I’d like to –”

Will suddenly shook himself, pushing at Jack’s arm. “Wait a moment, something needs to be done.” Elizabeth knit her brows in confusion as Will whispered in Jack’s ear. He nodded, peeling the boy’s arms off and making sure he could stand on his own (he wobbled briefly, but held). Elizabeth called after him as he ducked back into the cave.

Barbossa was lying on his back, eyes staring sightless at the rock ceiling above. Jack crouched beside him and looked at his still face. Flies circled it but moved off again, knowing they’d get no sustenance from this flesh

“I could hate you for what you done to me, Hector,” he said, his voice flat. “For what you stole all those years ago, an’ what you tried to take tonight.” And he did; the feelings churned in his gut, warming his insides. He grasped his hatred tightly as he had for ten years, and then he let it go. “This ends here,” he told Barbossa’s body.

It was surprisingly easy, as easy as reaching out to lift Elizabeth’s silver cross free of Barbossa’s neck. He snapped the chain and stood, wincing at the creak in his knees.

Elizabeth and Will were seated on the edge of a jollyboat when he arrived, their heads bent close together. They looked up and smiled at him as one, and his breath caught at what a picture they made. A single meeting ten years ago yet here they were, chattering away like kindred souls. If things, perhaps, had been different...

Will got up slowly and Jack hurried over to steady him. Things had not been different; they were what they were, and no amount of pondering was likely to change that.

Elizabeth stood as well, covering a yawn with her hand. “I’d better get back before they send a convoy after me.”

“Did you get it?” Will wanted to know. Jack pressed the necklace into his palm, hooking an arm around his waist as the boy offered his prize to Elizabeth.

“This belongs to you, I believe,” he said rather shyly. Jack, remembering how familiar he’d been with the women of Tortuga, had to bite back a chuckle.

She gasped as she took it, her eyes going round as a child’s. “I thought I’d never see it again,” she whispered, holding it up so it caught the moon’s rays. “My father gave it to my mother on their wedding day.” Closing her fingers tightly around the little cross, she gave Will a look of deepest gratitude. “Thank you for returning it to me.”

“I always meant to,” he replied. Elizabeth’s throat worked and she threw herself forward into their arms.

“Come back and visit me as soon as you’re able.” Her voice was throaty with unshed tears, but it was a distinct order.

Jack turned his face into her hair. “Not through your bedroom window though, I’m thinking.”

The corners of her mouth turned up. “That’s probably a good idea.”

The three of them were so wrapped up in saying their farewells that they had entirely failed to notice a small boat cruising up to the beach. Elizabeth shooed them behind a large outcrop of rock. Jack watched, Will warm against his side, as she straightened her hopelessly tangled hair and buttoned the coat across her front.

It was the commodore himself who came splashing ashore, taking his fiancé by the arms.

“Elizabeth.” His voice was low and anxious as he leaned down to her. “Are you all right? You should not have left the ship –”

“I’m fine,” said Elizabeth, shrugging him off, and Jack chuckled at her put-out tone.

Norrington touched a hand self-consciously to his wig, luminous in the darkness. “I – if any harm had come to you, I would...”

Elizabeth wrung her hands in clear frustration. “No harm has come to me, James. I am not a glass doll to be protected and kept locked away in a cupboard.”

“I know that,” said Norrington, taken aback. “There’s nothing glass about you.”

“There is not,” she agreed firmly. “Now, if you would move aside so that I could get into the boat?”

There appeared to be a stalemate as Norrington held out his arm, expecting her to take it, and she stood immobile, determined not to. After a moment they reached a compromise; he climbed into the boat and offered just his hand, which Elizabeth gripped as she stepped in beside him.

“I think they might be all right, don’t you?” Will asked while they waited for the boat to return to the Dauntless.

Jack leaned in, kissed the tip of his nose. “I think they’ll be just fine.”

Will slept all the way back to the Pearl, perched between Jack’s legs and leaning back against his chest. It made rowing an interesting conundrum, but he would not have disturbed the boy for all of Cortez’s treasure. He had to knot a rope around Will’s waist to haul him aboard, though the ride up woke him thoroughly. He crawled over the side with pink cheeks and a glare directed at the back of Jack’s head. For the moment, Jack passed him over in favor of the helm. He closed his eyes, holding to the wheel and hearing the Pearl sing to him for the first time in far, far too long.

“She’s missed you.” Will, it seemed, had gotten over his embarrassment. He stepped up from behind, nuzzling past Jack’s hair to where his neck met the hinge of his jaw. Jack pulled one hand away to lay it over both of Will’s clasped about his waist. He didn’t speak until he could pick out the thud of a heartbeat behind him, strong and warm.

“No worries,” he said, turning his head just enough to be able to touch his lips to the corner of Will’s mouth. “I don’t mean t’ see her taken from me again.”

“Good,” Will sighed, aligning the rhythm of his breathing to Jack’s. “Good,” he repeated more softly.

Jack let his head fall back against Will’s shoulder, looking to the sky. The moon had set and the pale light of dawn lingered upon the curving edge of the sea. “It’s ours, you know.”

“What’s ours, love?” He could feel Will’s smile, warm like a summer rain and twice as gentle.

“The horizon,” he murmured.

“Let’s chase it, then,” said Will, tightening his arms.

A wave broke against the ship’s hull. Her sails had been patched and mended as best the crew could manage in the few hours since they’d taken command. Whether the wind at their stern ever bore them to that stretch of horizon was not important, Jack figured; it was the journey itself that mattered. The journey, and who would be alongside for the whole of it.