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Jack was…. Upset.
It was unlike him to be upset over something that wasn’t a failed plan, but he felt it all the same.
He knew that James was gone. Elizabeth had witnessed his death herself. And despite the complicated relationship Jack knew the pirate king had had with the late admiral, he also knew Elizabeth would never lie about such a thing.
Another thing the captain knew was that James had hated him. And even if James had survived, the most they could have become would probably have been acquaintances or allies.
But one could only hope that it would have blossomed into something more.
Jack hadn’t missed the way the compass had been pointing at him when it was in James’s hands despite the fact that Elizabeth had been right there.
It had to have meant something, right?
He sighed, looking around his empty quarters. Even his other selves weren’t there to lighten the mood.
“What I wouldn’t do for some rum right now.” he muttered, forcing himself to sit up on his bunk. Gibbs and the others might start worrying about him soon, and he didn’t want them to see him looking like this.
He was Captain Jack Sparrow, after all.
He spotted a flicker of navy blue out of the corner of his eye. His gaze snapped in that direction, but there was nothing there. Then his coat fell off of the chair by his desk, and the lights flickered unnaturally.
Jack had dealt with his fair share of ghosts throughout his life, and he was sure that some sort of spector was present. He could feel its presence, as thick as morning fog.
“Alright…. I know you’re there, mate, you might as well show yourself.” he said as he got to his feet. He grabbed his pistol - even though he knew it wouldn’t really be able to do anything - and made his way around the room, if only to catch a single glimpse of the ghost again.
He heard the creak of a floorboard behind him and quickly turned around. He found himself face-to-face with the very man he had been grieving.
James would have almost looked like he was alive, if it weren’t for the huge stab wound in his chest that no man could survive and the slight transparency of his body.
The way he seemed to almost be an ordinary man was what truly broke Jack.
“N-Norrington…..” he said quietly. He wanted to reach out, but he couldn’t. He felt like he was frozen in place. And James would hate such a display anyways….. wouldn’t he?
James stayed silent as he continued to stare back at Jack. “……. You always were one for dramatics, Sparrow.” he said with a small, sad smile.
He reached out, as if to caress Jack’s face, but his fingers never actually brushed against Jack’s skin.
Jack felt like a starving man trapped in a brig while the food he needed so desperately to survive was just out of reach. It was torture to have this beautiful man so close to him without being able to actually hold him.
He gave into his impulse, trying to wrap his arms around James and pull him into an embrace. But the ghost disappeared into thin air before Jack even touched him.
Such was the way of spirits, he supposed.
“…. And you call me dramatic.” he said with a small huff. He grabbed his coat and put it on again as he started to make his way back to the deck.
Now wasn’t the time to linger.
He’d seen a lot of strange and heartbreaking things in his life, yet he had continued being captain anyways. Why should this time be any different?
He felt the phantom brush of a hand on his shoulder, and he slowed his gait. He ran his own hand over the fabric of his coat, an acknowledgment and a self-reassurance all at once.
“I miss your stupid face already, Admiral.” he said, glancing back at where James would be standing if he was ‘actually’ there.
Maybe James didn’t hate Jack as much as he had thought. He felt just a little less hopeless at the thought.
He finally headed out onto the deck, a bit of the weight lifted off of his shoulders. He would be alright. Who knew, maybe James would visit him again…. Death couldn’t keep two people that were so drawn to each other apart forever, even if they themselves didn’t know the reason for the magnetism they felt.