For the sake of this, let's assume it took them several days to get to Isla Cruces. For the prompt "What are you hiding?"
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"It's a bit late for you to be wondering about, love."
She manages not to jump in surprise, but still her veins are left infused with adrenaline. If she thought there was a chance of reclaiming sleep, it is now gone forever.
"If your cabin is not to your liking, you are more than welcome to share mine. It's plenty big for us both."
As she turns to look at him, she is transported back to a year ago, a night on a different ship, but standing under the same moon beside the same man, who said something that keeps her awake at night: "Peas in a pod, darling" and she almost expects James to show up right now, to take Jack away and lock her up in her cabin.
Except this is The Black Pearl, and James is nothing but a crew member, and Jack is certainly not going away any time soon, if the look in his eyes is anything to go by.
"I find it perfectly adequate, but thank you for your concern, captain."
A year ago it would've sounded more dignified, authoritative, but now it is nothing more than a friendly jibe, and her heart feels warm and swelled up when he tips his head, one hand over his chest, and responds: "Anything for my guest of honor."
It's such a strange dynamic, theirs. He doesn't shy away from his attraction, lays it bare for her to mock, and only in the darkest hours of night she can admit that she likes it. That he is attracted to her, and that they play this silly game.
But she can't help thinking it's a little too... easy. Shouldn't he be trying harder to seduce her? Not that she wants to be seduced, of course. But she's competitive to a fault and it offends her deeply when others just... let her win.
"Something on your mind, then, dearie?"
She thinks of James' words this afternoon. "There was a time when I would've given anything for you to look like that while thinking about me." She thinks of the bloody compass currently dangling from her belt. She thinks it's odd how generously he has handed it over as if it were a mere trifle, and not one of his most prized possessions.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, there is a question I've been meaning to ask you."
He looks down at his nails, inspecting them for dirt like it is the most pressing matter at hand. "Out with it, then," he condescends. It would annoy her if she wasn't sure she's about to be the one annoying him.
"Where does the compass point when it's in your hands?"
The full moon is bright as the midday sun, so there is nothing to hide the spectacular wince that crosses his face. Even if he hadn't floundered for an answer for almost a minute, she would've known he was about to lie to her.
"Why the interest?"
"I just find it strange," she shrugs and turns back to the sea, "that you need me to want the chest. It's obviously not what you want most, or you would've found it already." She tries to keep it casual, but without meaning to she has taken a step to the side, her forearms now resting on the railing, and she can feel the heat from his body from how close they are now. "So, what is it that you want more than to find the heart of Davy Jones, Jack?"
From the corner of her eye she can see his chest rising and falling just a little faster, his hands gesturing aimlessly over the railing. "I want freedom, love. Freedom isn't a place, it's in no particular heading, it just... is." She knows he's lying, he has to be, there is no way he'd actually tell her the truth, yet there's something so tender in the tone of his voice. The only time she remembers him sounding this sincere was in the rum runner's island, when he told her that a ship was not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails...
He has the same faraway look, in this moment, and she decides to give him the benefit of the doubt for now.
"So if what you want isn't a place, it's in no particular heading, what happens when you hold the compass?" She wants to shy away from the childish curiosity in her voice, wishes she had inflicted more suspicion in it, but this time it takes him half as long to answer and she decides perhaps he only way to get sincerity from him is to be sincere herself.
His voice is so low she has to lean in closer, "It jumps from one direction to another, without ever settling."
"Oh," she says, eloquently, because what else is there to say? I'm sorry your compass is useless to you? But then a different thought enters her mind. "Wait, then how did you use it to find Isla De Muerta before?"
A smirk curls his the side of his mouth up, "Because back then freedom was The Pearl. Now that I have her back, well, freedom has taken a more immaterial form."
She nods to herself for a moment, as she processes this. She knows exactly what he means, and it gives her some reassurance that when she opens the compass and it points to Jack, it isn't pointing to Jack so much as it is the freedom that Jack could give her. It's still a far cry from being alright, but at least it's something she can live with for now.
But it still doesn't explain why the compass is useless to him. "So if a physical object can mean freedom, which is what you want most, and the only way to free yourself from Davy Jones is to find the chest, why isn't the compass pointing towards the chest?"
He's better prepared this time to hide his expression, but she still catches the little flare of his nostrils that he always does when he's left with nothing to say.
"What is the real reason you can't use the compass, Jack? What are you hiding?" from me, she wants to say, but it's not like owes her anything, much as she would love to know all his secrets.
The look he fixes her with is unlike anything she's ever seen. She can't decipher the shadows in his face, the gentle frown and slightly parted lips. James didn't look at her like this on that day, alone in the battlements as he proposed to her. Will didn't have this gleam in his eyes the first time he kissed her. She isn't even sure those are the looks she should be comparing it to, but those are the ones that come to her mind.
Without breaking away, she reaches for the compass.
"Show me," she breathes, because the time for speaking has long since passed. He gulps, a little too obviously, before he looks down at it, still cradled in her outstretched hands, like a sacred offering. He reaches down slowly, fingers caressing the lid and then, before she can suspect his intentions, he opens it without taking it from her hands.
It takes her only a second to realize what he's done, then she's pulling away and holding the compass close to her chest. The infuriating smirk in his face fills her with dread, she can feel herself paling at the thought that he saw, that her secret is out, and she can see it all in her head, his relentless chase now that he knows the attraction is mutual, she can see herself falling, falling so deep into the void with him. Oh, Will, I'm so sorry, she thinks in advance.
But his smirk is the same as it always is, amused and triumphant but nothing more, no irrepressible lust, no animal desire, just... just regular Jack, teasing her to death. "What are you hiding, Lizzie?"
She's caught between relief and wanting to slap that smug look off his face. Her huff of annoyance sounds childish even to her, but she's beyond caring. It was a close call, but this can't happen again, she can't let her guard down so obviously, what is wrong with me?
With her lips pursed tight to keep herself from further aggravating the matter, she tips her head to him in a you win this one manner, before stalking away to hide in her cabin, perhaps for the rest of the journey if necessary.
