"I'm here to find the man I love."
Elizabeth had been rehearsing this ever since she slipped out of Beckett's office, the Letters of Marque clutched triumphantly in her hand. In case she found Jack and not Will, she would have to somehow convince him to help her.
She would start it off honorably enough, hoping a heartfelt entreaty on the behalf of two people who had saved his life would be enough to convince Jack to act unselfishly.
Elizabeth was certainly no fool, however, and she knew that it most likely would not be.
In fact, a significant part of her really wished it would not be.
The success of her…persuasive efforts back in Port Royale had filled her with a strange and not entirely foreign feeling of exhilaration. She felt powerful and dangerous; reckless and in control at the same time.
She wasn't entirely sure what to call it, but the word "freedom" tasted good on her lips.
And no one was more passionately devoted to the pursuit of freedom (or rather freedom to pursue) than Jack Sparrow.
She knew he wouldn't give an inch without a fight, and Elizabeth eagerly anticipated joining the fray.
She had thought of exactly what to say to wipe that smirk off his lips. God, she had been thinking about it every night since she had last seen Jack tumbling over the parapet and into the bay.
She wanted to test the limits of her influence. She wanted to push—nay, break—the boundaries of what was proper. She wanted to take what she willed by any means necessary.
And at the very same time, she was terribly disgusted by herself.
She could very well have destroyed any chance she and Will had of being pardoned by stealing those Letters, and simultaneously made meaningless everything Will was off risking his life to accomplish. She had put the lives of everyone she loved in danger.
Even worse that the disgust was the fear.
How could she face Will knowing she was no longer the elegant and refined governor's daughter he had fallen in love with? What would he do when he realized that she was no better than the man who had interrupted their wedding and sent their pleasant lives spiraling out of order?
In that vein, she was somewhat relieved that Will wasn't with Jack. Of all people, she knew that Jack wouldn't judge her. He might tease her a bit, but he wouldn't be disgusted. There would be no disappointment in his gaze, only a kind of self-satisfied admiration. She had proven correct all the things he had told her about herself; everything she had resisted at the time.
As he had said before, they were peas in a pod, and he understood her with eerie clarity. He understood her in a way Will never could. It was refreshing, and like everything else about him, dangerous.
Just being near Jack was tantamount to throwing fuel on a fire. He made her bold and decisive. He had, and always would, helped her to breathe.
And yet just as she was gearing up for the fight of her life, he thrust his compass into her hands and informed her that what she wanted most was to save Will and return to her small, safe life.
As she silently watched the compass arrow settle in a direction, the thought occurred to her that she really wasn't sure of that anymore.