Author's note: This is a little altered Sparrabeth one-shot. It's a little weird. I want you to decide if I should go on writing it. R&R if you wish to praise/flame.
Disclaimer: Fuck this, I do own it. XD
Aprés Moi
Elizabeth smiled at him from across the table.
A shock surged through him like a sweet poison as he smiled back at her.
They both rised at the same time, still smiling.
She could read every word in that smile, for she had seen it countless times before.
He looked at the knife, glimmering in the candlelight.
He could see his tired, yet handsome reflection in it. He could not help but smile when he thought that this was the face she had once looked at and saw trust in and safety and love in.
The deathly cold of the knife against the tanned skin of his arm felt right.
It was the first thing that had felt right in a long time, a long, long time since he had left her.
Was she still waiting for him, looking out to the docks every waking minute, hoping that his figure would appear on the horizon?
Their lips met for the umpteenth time.
Elizabeth felt a burning tingle in her lips as she kissed him, and kissed him harder.
She wondered if he felt like this when he kissed her.
He gripped the back of her neck as he pushed her onto the bed.
She always said she trusted him, he thought as the blade met his skin again, splitting it open.
Although he felt no pain.
The dark blood glistened on the knife, and he counted the scars on his arms.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
One for each month he was away from her.
One for each month he was with her.
He kissed her neck an eleventh time, with much more pressure this time, bruising pressure, enough to cause a love bite, perhaps.
He began to remove her dress from her body.
The knife dug in an eleventh time, this time more deep, but he knew he could not die.
This thought made tears appear in his eyes.
There was no worse fate than this.
To be fighting for the woman he loved against a seemingly immortal man.
Immortal in spirit.
If he had ever killed him, his spirit would haunt him, making Elizabeth seem further away.
He was almost certain that she loved that other man more.
That other man.
Her nails dug into his bare, tanned back as they embraced tighter underneath the covers.
She thought, their relationship had always been a bit risque, what with them being from different classes and all.
She then stopped, not believing she was still thinking like that.
She was past that, she was a pirate now.
Or, at least she thought she was.
Captain Jack Sparrow.
A great pirate, a great man, on the outside.
But on the inside, no one knew how desperate he was.
But he did.
Captain William Turner.
No, doesn't sound right, does it?
Not as good as his title, no.
He was never cut out to be a pirate.
He never had wanted to be a pirate, he was almost forced into it.
Because of Elizabeth.
'He's a pirate,' she had said before the first time she had kissed him.
His eyes welled up again, and a couple of tears escaped down his cheeks.
He bit his lip, not wanting to give into the unbearable sadness.
He knew the only way he could end it would be to take his own life, a think he had tried several times whenever he had let the reality of Sparrow and Elizabeth get to him.
But it was useless.
He was shackled to this bloody ship to infinity and beyond.
His heart was in a locked box, and she had it.
God only knows, she could have sold it by now.
Or Sparrow could have.
Sparrow.
Bile bubbled inside of Will when he thought of him.
Him and his swaggering, charming, sensual demeanour.
Will almost scoffed.
He had calculated what Jack really was.
Captain Jack Sparrow was nothing but a ignored, attention-seeking boy, cloaking himself in romantic fictions and a bohemian exterior.
Elizabeth would come to realise that soon enough.
Soon enough, Will thought to himself, is not nearly soon enough, though, is it?
It took her a bit of time to realise that I loved her- love her, didn't it?
What was it, twelve years?!
This often happened.
Bitter thoughts about Elizabeth would enter his mind and would not go away.
Captain William Turner stretched out on his bed and lay staring at the ceiling of his bedroom on the Flying Dutchman.
It was going to be a long night.
She shook her curly black hair out of her face and licked her lips in relish at the autumn sunshine.
She wasn't used to autumn sunshine.
But then again, she hadn't been living in the Caribbean that long.
Her name was Pearle Bienaché, and she had given up her dressmaking job in East London two years ago to live in the Caribbean.
Apparently, this was where it all happened.
Well, if it was, it was taking some time to start.
She snapped up an apartment in Tortuga, a 'legendary pirate port'.
Anyone in London would find this terribly exciting, but not Pearle.
Because, you see, Pearle had already experienced clinging on the arm of a legendary pirate.
Yes. She was an ex-girlfriend of Captain Jack Sparrow.
But she was not just any old ex-girlfriend.
She felt she had changed him in some way.
Left her mark on him.
But, then again, I bet that's what they all say.
They had met one stormy night in the local tavern.
She was drunk, and he was... wet.
She couldn't remember much about that night, only that he fucked like a god.
How she missed that.
Anyway, that began an almost typical relationship.
She stayed in Tortuga, waiting for him every other week when he'd come and they'd spend quality time together.
The definition of 'quality time' here means mainly having endless sex.
He seemed to like it.
Anyway, this relationship lasted around a year or less, but Pearle still often thought of him and wondered when he'd come back to Tortuga, and whether he'd remember her.
Elizabeth Swann ran her fingers down Captain Jack Sparrows bare chest.
The early morning sunshine was breaking through the curtains of his bedroom and shining on his beautiful face.
It illuminated his features. His poetic features, Elizabeth liked to think of them as.
His deep brown eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply.
Elizabeth watched him and her hand went up to touch the latest love bite on her neck. It stung a bit.
Then, all of a sudden, his eyes flickered open and met her own light brown eyes.
She smiled at him.
"'ello, love," he said, "How are we this morning?"
"Very well," she replied, resting her blonde head on his chest, "And you?"
"Excellent, love," he said, tugging at a few strands of her hair.
"How did you enjoy last night?" she said, smiling cheekily.
"Absolutely mind-blowing," he replied, smiling too.
"You did most of the work," Elizabeth told him, "Unusually enough."
"Let's not get into this now, Lizzie," he moaned, "It's too early for it!"
Elizabeth sighed.
"Fine, fine," she said, "but are we getting up at all today?"
"Are you sure you want to?"
Elizabeth giggled.
She heard a lot of giggling round here, especially when she talked about him.
"All I want to know is what you know about him," she repeated for what seemed like the hundrenth time.
"You're asking the wrong girls," the waitress said to her, "Who you need is them over there."
Kristina White turned her head to look at some heavily make-upped prostitutes.
"Already did," she said.
"And?" the waitress asked.
"They just scoffed at me."
"What did you say?"
"'What do you know about Jack Sparrow'."
"Oh," the waitress nodded wisely, "Well you'd want to put it differently to them."
"Oh, like," Kristina said, "'Oy, yah whores, what the fuck is going on with that Sparrow bastard?'"
"Yeah, like that."
"Oh, okay then," Kristina drained the rest of her drink and exited the Faithful Bride.
She made her way over to the prostitutes again, this time with a touch more demanding anger in her step.
"Hey!" she said, "You whores! What the fuck is the story with this Sparrow bastard?!"
They turned to look at Kristina, with one hand on her hip.
"Oh, well, if you put it like that..."
William Turner was looking from a distance at illuminated Tortuga.
Night had fallen, and he decided to float ashore from Tortuga, just to look at it.
He had not done this before.
He liked how the energy from there was coming off it in rays.
He then wondered if Elizabeth was there...with...him.
He pushed the thought away once again.
But, he'd have to face it sooner or later.
That seemed to go quickly. Anyway, yeah, review coz I wanna know EVERYTHING. Did I write Jack good? Did I write Will good? Did I write - well, Elizabeth, that doesn't really matter to me too much. What doo ya think of Pearle? DIDI MAO AND REVIEW or I'll come at you like a nun sandwich.