Title: Freedom
Rating: PG
Pairing: J/E
Warnings: none regarding story, but this hasn't been beta'd.
Summary: CotPB AU. Another little take on the island scenes.
Disclaimer: None of its mine, all of it is Disney, and I'm making no money from it.
Feedback: Oh, yes please. The ending is slightly… clumsy and I would love any advice on how to fix that.
The soft island breeze tousled her hair, sending it into the air, wind tossed lines of gold glowing bright in the firelight. She giggles as she catches the sight, amused and delighted at her own loveliness. She looks through the leaping flames to Jack's dancing form. In the rum filled haze of the night, she swears she sees more of a sparrow then a pirate captain. He is fairly screaming her little pirate song, and a certain joy radiates through his voice that she has not heard except when the Black Pearl is mentioned. She dances toward him, and they catch each other around the waist, comrades in rum. She softly falls onto the soft sand, pulling him down next to her.
She can only half hear what he is saying, and cannot tell at all what she is saying back to him. The rum is having its way with her, little though she had. It has ravaged her more thoroughly then any man or pirate could. She vaguely hears him as he talks about ships.
"See it's not just a keel and a rudder and sails; that's what a ship needs. What a ship is, what the Black Pearl really is, is freedom." He strikes a comical pose: hands outstretched to the darkened horizon, kohl smudged, mustache oddly askew. Yet for all of the comical exterior, Elizabeth glimpses what she thinks might be Jack: a man, still young at heart, who longs only from freedom. There is a sobriety and sincerity in his voice that she cannot mistake, even in her sorry state. It gives her pause. Even his bawdy innuendo does not shake her conviction.
"To freedom."
"To the Black Pearl." He agrees. They both took a hearty swig of the rum. Elizabeth choked on hers slightly.
Jack laughed. "The lady objects to the drink?"
"Of course. It's perfectly vile." Still, she cannot dislodge the delicious red haze that has settled on her.
"Jack?"
"Yes, love?"
"We'll be rescued, won't we?"
"Don't know, love." His voice softened.
"Do you know, I don't know that I want to be?" her voice lowered to a questioning tone. Jack turned toward her, his trinkets tinkling softly. They reminded Elizabeth of a music box, with all its delicacy. Jack had to repeat himself to draw her from her reverie. "What?"
"I said why would you want to stay here?"
Elizabeth leaned into him until she was a hairsbreadth from him. She looked him straight in the eye, gazing into those dark, soul bearing eyes. "Freedom." She whispered. She leaned closer, her lips slowly touching his.
He tasted like infinite regret, a promise unkept. Salt, sea, and rum. Freedom and confinement. He was all of what she thought and nothing like she expected. She kissed him harder, as though his kiss were the key to unlock the cage that bound her. Slowly they moved closer to each other, her hands stealing up to his chest, his hands running through her hair and exploring the neckline of her bodice.
With a start, Elizabeth shivered and woke up. Tangled in her own bed, she found that the hand in her hair was her own and the feather soft sensation on her lips was an ocean breeze that had pushed the window open. She tossed and turned to free herself of the bedclothes. Pulling her knees into her chest, she curled up. She only remembered that night in dreams. The point at which reality ended and fantasy began had long since faded into oblivion. What was her, or Jack, or rum, or pure imagination, she didn't know. She only knew that she had felt guilty about burning the rum, that she had had the decency to look ashamed of herself after Jack had stormed off, that there was some kinship now between her and Jack. She fancied that she remembered a look of sadness on his face that morning. But then, he had been sober, which was not his wont.
Yet every night she rocked herself to sleep, hoping her dream wasn't just a dream. Every morning when she saw Will, she pretended that he didn't remind her of the dark eyed pirate king. Every moment of every day she fought the urge to touch the necklace that hangs underneath her dress—the small golden sparrow that she found in a small shop. She imagines that it has always been associated with him—just as she wishes she had.