For some reason, I was inspired to do this after watching Dead Man's Chest. Go figure.
Anyway, this is set roughly eight years after At World's End, so there are slight spoilers for that movie. Yippee-goodie. Enjoy.
Elizabeth's first thought, upon seeing him again for the first time in nearly eight years, is a simple one.
He hasn't changed.
Jack Sparrow hasn't changed at all, even after all those years. He's exactly the same—in appearance, in behavior, in that bloody hat that's still sitting on top of his head.
He hasn't changed, but she has. She knows this. She's a little harder and a little sadder, and she can barely remember the innocent person she was so long ago, back when love was an unknown road and pirates were only legends.
After a long pause, he speaks.
"Hello, love."
She nods. "Jack." Her hand waves in the general direction of the log on the other side of the fire. "Sit down?"
He sits down and pulls out a dusty bottle of rum, offering it to her. "Rum?" he asks.
She takes the bottle and opens it. "Thanks," she says softly, taking a long drink.
He stares at her with dark eyes. "You've been well, I trust?"
Elizabeth takes a look around. "Well enough," she replies.
He notices the sigh in her voice, but doesn't comment. Instead, his gaze wanders to the little dark-haired boy who's fast asleep on a hammock not ten feet away. He gestures towards him. "How old is he?" he asks.
He doesn't bother asking who it is. He already knows.
"Seven," she answers. She hands the rum bottle back to him and looks over at her sleeping son. "You've been well, too?"
Jack shrugs. "I suppose."
"Haven't gotten the Pearl back, I noticed."
"Only a matter of time, love."
Elizabeth smiles for the first time that night. "So what have you been doing with yourself? I suppose you've amassed a new collection of arrest charges by now."
Jack smiles too, although it's only a shadow of the one Elizabeth remembers. "Oh, several. Not as many as I'm accustomed to, but a good few all the same."
"I'm not surprised."
He sighs. "Nothing should surprise you anymore, Lizzie. So what have you been doing?"
She shrugs. "Oh, nothing much. Staring at the ocean, keeping guard over that chest, watching Will." She notices his bemused look and adds, "I mean him," pointing to her son.
Jack nods with comprehension. "Ah."
She stands up, not able to stand sitting anymore. "How did you find me?" she asks.
He pulls out that familiar compass and waves it a little. "Took me a while to sort it out, but once I did…well."
She turns away, crossing her arms. "Oh." She frowns suddenly. "What do mean, sort it out?"
He shrugs. "Had a little trouble finding out what I wanted." He stands up too, tucking away the compass. "So. How long until our dear William Turner comes back?"
She takes in a shuddering breath. "A little over two years."
He moves toward her, but she keeps her face turned away. "And what will you do when he shows up again?" he asks her in a soft voice.
"What do you think?" she replies quietly. She waits a moment, then sighs. "What can I do?"
Nothing.
That's the answer to that question. She's been waiting for Will so long that she's running out of things to give him when he finally does come back. Her son—their son—is all she has left.
He places his hands on her shoulders, and she stiffens but doesn't pull away. "You could come with me," he offers. "Sail the world, search for treasure, help me recapture the Pearl. Be a pirate."
She shakes her head. "I can't, Jack." Her voice is slightly strangled, and he hears a certain desperation behind it.
Oh, she wants to, but she knows that she can't leave, because she made a promise. And Elizabeth is a person of her word, no matter how much she wishes she wasn't.
"I can't," she repeats. She casts half a glance toward her son. "I've got a son to think of. And…William's heart." She gives a shaky laugh. "Literally."
"You don't have to leave them behind."
She finally turns to face him, her eyes pleading. "I have to wait for him," she whispers.
There is a long silence, broken when Jack moves his hands up and places them on Elizabeth's shoulders.
"Is this really what you want?" he asks softly.
She looks down and doesn't answer.
Eventually, he says, "All right, then." He lets his hands drop to his sides, and Elizabeth finds herself wishing that he wouldn't. "I'll be going."
"Where are you going?"
Jack shrugs. "Not a clue, love."
They're both silent for a while. Then Elizabeth forces her words past the block in her throat and speaks. "Jack…I…"
She looks up at him. He waits for her to continue.
"I'm sorry," she finishes.
He hesitates for a brief second, and then surprises her by taking her face in his hands and moving his face closer.
"So am I," he breathes.
In the next second, their lips have connected, and they kiss each other with all the passion in the world, tracing over each other's faces with their fingers and almost falling into the sand as they rock back and forth.
When they finally break apart in order to gulp down some much-needed air, Elizabeth stares at Jack with a pained look on her face.
"Jack—" she starts to say.
"It's all right, love," he interrupts. He gives her a look of understanding. "I know."
They hold each other's gaze for the briefest second, and then he turns away and slowly heads back to the little boat on the shore.
She stares after him in the night, with her heart and her eyes crying silently for more reasons than one.
Although I'm a hard-core Jack x Elizabeth shipper and I'm not particularly fond of Will, I have a strange liking for writing Jack x Elizabeth x Will fics. Ah, the mind is an unusual thing.
RRE.