Ok this is my first POTC fic, so please be nice xD.
In this story, the "secret ending" after the credits of AWE hasn't happened. Savvy?
Summary: Freedom. It was something she was always reaching for but could never have. Or was it?
***
The young woman smiled as the sea swirled around at her bare toes. She loved the ocean. She loved the hiss of the waves as they rolled across the shore. She loved the slapping sound it made against the side of the boat. But most of all, she loved the salty, warm scent of the ocean. The scent of freedom.
Freedom. It was something she-Elizabeth Swan-was always reaching for but could never have. She could watch it from afar as ships sailed past, barely specks on the horizon, she could brush her fingertips against it when she swam in the clear blue ocean, or when rum-runners landed on the island to store their goods, but she could never fully satisfy the hunger she felt for the open sea.
She knew it wasn't Wills fault. He couldn't help the fact that he was cursed to sail the seas for an eternity, only setting foot on land once every ten years. She was lonely all the same. With no-ones company but her own, the 2 months she had been on the island had been very, very long ones.
"You could have chosen a better island to leave me on Will," she sighed as she stared out at the horizon. It was true, the place was deserted. Beautiful as the beach was, the only living things on it were Elizabeth herself and a few small crabs that took shelter in the small rock pools. The craggy cliffs behind the beach were worse, a barren expanse of land where even the trees refused to grow.
The sun sank lower in the sky, tingeing the sky with red and gold. Elizabeth watched the sun until it disappeared completely below the horizon. The sky instantly darkened, and the first star glinted in the velvet blue twilight. She sighed again and made her way back up the beach to the small cottage at the foot of the cliffs.
Once inside, as always, she instantly made her way to the trap door leading to the cellar. Dropping lightly to the dusty floor below, she lighted the oil lamp on a rickety wooden table and lifted out the chest.
Elizabeth wasn't satisfied that the contents of the chest were safe until she heard the steady thumping of the heart inside. Will's heart.
Why Will? She though sadly. Why did you leave me here? A tear trickled down her cheek, and she furiously wiped it away. She was angry at herself for even thinking that. Will had no choice! He had to leave her here. If Jack hadn't forced him to stab the heart of Davy Jones, Will would be in the Locker.
Jack. Her thoughts had been wandering to a certain Captain for weeks now. And she was somewhat irritated that said captain didn't happen to be her… husband? Despite their hasty marriage aboard the Black Pearl, just hours before Will was killed, nothing seemed official. There were no rings, no vows exchanged. Hell, there wasn't even a priest to marry them. Just Captain Hector Barbossa. Elizabeth smiled at the thought of the cunning pirate.
She missed the Pearl. She missed Barbossa and the crew. She even missed that damned monkey. But most of all, she missed Jack Sparrow, the roguish, charming captain. Sometimes, she had to admit that she missed him more than she missed Will, and that scared her. She was sort of married to him, but these days, her thoughts were more and more often on someone else entirely.
Someone she was well aware that she could never have. Elizabeth scowled at herself and returned the chest to its hiding place behind several dusty bottles of rum. In truth, she had no fondness for the drink, but it reminded her of happier times. Or more specifically, that one night all those years ago, stranded on an island very similar to this one.
"At least the company was better then." She muttered as she hauled herself back into the main room of the cottage.
***
Captain Jack Sparrow leapt out of the dinghy and onto soft sand. He had been rowing the damn thing for near two months now, stopping at several small ports to collect supplies. But now he was finally here. He could barely contain himself as the needle of the compass pointed unwaveringly up the beach.
Just then, something caught his eye. A small cottage tucked into the folds of a cliff. Frowning, Jack made his way over to see if it was inhabited. Chances are it's just a place for the rum-runners. Small islands like these were commonly used to hide or store cargo.
As he reached the house, he heard a voice singing softly.
"We're black sheep, we're devils, we're really bad eggs…" He froze on the spot. He'd know that voice, that song anywhere.
"'Lizabeth?" Jack crept closer, hardly daring to breath. Peeking through the window, he could clearly see Elizabeth curled in front of a roaring fire, a half filled bottle of rum by her side. He could clearly see the tear tracks, sparkling like the finest crystal in the firelight, streaking her cheeks.
He wanted so badly to take her in his arms, hold her until the pain went away. She was obviously hurting badly for something. Or someone, but Jack didn't dare hope that even a single tear was for him.
As he watched the heart rending scene, he thought back to the last time he had spoken to her. Once was quite enough. Why had he said that? Even now, two months later he had no idea what had possessed him to decline her kiss. He remembered all too clearly how sweet her lips tasted.
He would give anything now to taste them, even just once more.
***
Unaware that she was being watched, Elizabeth let the tears flow. She cried for Will, bound to sail the seas for ever, she cried for herself, all alone on this island and she cried endlessly for Jack. For how she had hurt him, betrayed him, left him to die on his precious ship. And she cried even more for the fact that after all she had put him through, he still forgave her every time, praising her for her cunning deeds. Pirate.
As Elizabeth grew tired, she wiped her eyes and stood up slowly. Without bothering to undress, she tumbled into her bed, drained from crying. Her hair clung damply to her face, which felt swollen and hot. Drawing the covers up under her chin, she fell into an exhausted stupor.
***
Jack pondered over what to do next. Clearly he hadn't been so sure of what he wanted. The compass had led him to Elizabeth, not the Fountain of Youth. Was she what he truly desired? Did he really want her more than immortality? He knew it, of course he did. Even as she left him to die, he had nothing but admiration for her. Her strength, her beauty, her cunning…
As stealthily as a cat, he slipped around the side of the cottage until her reached the door. Pushing it gently, he discovered that it was unlocked. Of course. There wasn't another living soul for miles on this godforsaken spit of land.
The room he found himself in was cosy and warm, the embers of the fire still glowing in the darkness. A small scrubbed table stood in the centre of the room, and a washstand sat tucked away in a corner. As he stepped further into the room, he noticed a tin bath hung behind the door. Clearly, the house was only one room.
To his left, the room was divided by a sort of partition. He removed his boots so as not to make any noise and passed over. Behind the partition was a small bed spread with a thin cotton sheet. And beneath the cotton sheet was Elizabeth, her face still tearstained.
Gently, he leaned over and pushed her damp hair back. "Goodnight luv," he whispered. He would wait until morning to speak to her, he decided. He didn't want her to wake up now. Her face was untroubled as she slept, her mind free of worries.
"Sweet dreams, my Lizzie," He leaned back against the side of the bed and close his eyes, until sleep claimed him.