Title: Dreams (Island of)
Author: Dreamiflame
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, but to Disney. I'm only borrowing.
Note: I wrote this for a Christmas challenge, hence the unusual grouping. Thanks as always to my lovely beta for the help and guidance.
"Life is strange. Just when you have it all planned out, it throws you something different." Elizabeth Swann, daughter of the governor of Port Royal sat at the table in the captain's cabin of the Black Pearl with her head in her hands. "What am I doing?" she asked plaintatively.
Captain Jack Sparrow shrugged, sliding her a bottle of rum. "Being kidnapped, I think it was. Or at least, that's what you said before. Not sure hostages are supposed to be quite that eager, though." He stroked his chin as he thought.
Elizabeth uncorked the bottle and took a moment to stare at it viciously, before tossing back a large swallow. "Kidnapped. Yes."
"Two days till the wedding," Jack reminded her, reclaiming the bottle. "You could change your mind again, be back in time. You're missing out on a party of your very own."
She shrugged, turning away. The only response she'd ever given him about that was a softly spoken, 'I made a mistake,' when she was first taken on board. Every other time she had pretended not to hear it. "I need different clothes," she said, tugging at the laces of her dress. Jack raised an eyebrow as she shimmied out of the dress, eyeing her shift-clad form. He was probably more familiar with her in it than anyone but her husband or her maid should be.
"And where are we taking you, Miss Swann?" he asked, leaning forward intently. Elizabeth dropped the dress to the floor, spinning to face him, hands on her hips. Jack recoiled, clutching his rum protectively. Not burning it this time, she wasn't. Not on the Pearl.
Appearing to ignore his behavior, she gestured to his waist. After a moment, Jack realized she was referring to the compass that hung there, and not something else. "Where else?"
"The island?" he hazarded, not relishing the prospect of going back. Of course, this time he could take a boat, and no one would sail off with his ship. He thought.
Elizabeth nodded, her face set. "The island."
Commodore James Norrington was a conflicted man. On the one hand, he had been gently, though firmly turned down in his marriage proposal. Miss Elizabeth Swann did not want him.
On the other hand, the aforementioned lady was missing, and her intended seemed disinclined to sail to her rescue.
Will Turner had a look on his face that Norrington recognized. It was the same look of helpless determination he'd had the first time Elizabeth had been taken. "I have to decline, Commodore. I am a busy man, and Miss Swann is not my responsibility anymore."
Women were not James' strong suit, as he would be the first to admit. He was a man of action, and of the sea, an honor bound gentleman, and a good Christian, but he didn't understand women. Or why Will Turner would be willing to let his hard-won prize slip through his fingers.
Will saw the confusion in his face and turned away, the line of his shoulders stiff and angry. "Good day, Commodore. I wish you luck in your voyage."
"Mr Turner," Norrington said, and the boy half-turned, just enough to see his face, "your fiancee's father requested that you go along."
His face hardening again, Will turned fully to face him. "She is not my fiancee, by her own choice."
James was not a stupid man, and he could tell when a battle was unwinnable. "I will see you when we return," he yielded, and Will nodded curtly, reaching for his hammer and tongs. Commodore Norrington let himself out of Turner's shop, still confused at the boy's reaction.
It would be something to ask Elizabeth about, when he found her, he decided, and headed for the docks. The tide would turn soon: it was time to be on his way.
Elizabeth had found an old and very tattered set of clothing somewhere, and pieced it into a serviceable outfit. Rope held the breeches at her slender waist, and the shirt gaped when she leaned forward, but she seemed pleased with it. Jack said nothing, only watching her carefully as she pestered AnaMarie into teaching her sailing work.
The girl hadn't said what had brought her out into the sea in only a small boat, looking to be kidnapped by the Pearl. Jack suspected she had her reasons, and though the absence of Will made him wonder, he didn't push. Elizabeth slept in his cabin, in a hammock Gibbs had helped her string up, and worked as one of the crew. They were sailing for the island, and Jack supposed that when Elizabeth was ready, she would talk.
Norrington seemed to be making a habit of chasing the Black Pearl, through no fault of his own. A merchant vessel had seen the pirate ship overtake Elizabeth's small boat, and the lady herself taken on board. Somehow, though he couldn't say for sure how, James knew they were sailing for the island.
The spit of land where they'd found Elizabeth and Jack Sparrow before was only a few days away. It wouldn't be long now before he could ask Elizabeth why'd she left, even if he'd had no luck getting Will to tell him why the boy had let her.
Answers were on the wind that drove them, and Norrington breathed deeply of the salt air, silently urging the ship on.
The crew was surprisingly eager to go ashore when they reached the tiny spit of land Jack had come to loathe. There was plenty of rum aboard the Pearl, and the trees Elizabeth had burned had grown back, providing shelter for those who wanted it.
Gibbs volunteered to stay aboard and watch the ship, and Jack clapped him on the shoulder before shimmying down the line into the boat. He handed Elizabeth an oar, which she took with no hesitation, stroking powerfully. Jack studied her face for a moment before unshipping his own oar, guiding them to the island.
Most of the other pirates made themselves comfortable on the sand nearest the Black Pearl, settling in for a serious bout of drinking and gaming. It was shore leave, after a fashion, and the crew seemed determined to enjoy it.
Elizabeth picked up several bottles of rum and turned away, heading down the shoreline, away from the others. She turned once, her eyes narrowed against the sun to look at him. "Are you coming, Captain?" she asked expectantly, and Jack grabbed a few bottles of his own before following her.
They settled near the remnants of the rum smugglers' cache, where the trees still showed the scorched bark of Elizabeth's signal. The girl herself was back in her shift, the white dress already gathering sand at its damp hem. She plopped down below a tree, just out of the sun and dumped the bottles beside her, selecting the largest to begin. Bemused, Jack pulled off his boots and sat beside her. It was a lot like having passed back through time, and he almost wondered if the whole year or so had been a dream.
But no, he could see the scar on Elizabeth's hand, the same as the one on his. It wasn't a dream, and he still didn't understand why he was sitting on the island again with Elizabeth Swann, when the girl ought to be Mrs Elizabeth Turner by now. He pulled the cork from his bottle and took a long grateful swallow.
At least the rum still made sense.
They came upon the Black Pearl at midday. The vessel looked abandoned, her sails hanging limp in the wind, but the noise from her crew was easy to hear. Norrington scanned the beach, searching for any sign of the pirate captain or Elizabeth; neither of which were to be found. Frowning, he lowered the spyglass.
"Circle the island," he commanded, and the crew moved efficiently to follow his orders. The other ship bobbed lazily at anchor as they moved away, and the pirates were lost to sight by the curve of the shoreline.
There were two figures on the opposite end of the island. James didn't need the spyglass to know they were the two he sought. "Lower a boat," he told Gillette, folding the spyglass up. "I shall be going alone. I will need to talk to Miss Swann."
"Surely you should take someone along, in case that Sparrow fellow attempts to attack you!" Gillette protested, but Norrington shook his head.
"Circle around until you can see the Black Pearl," he ordered. "I will send a signal if I require assistance."
Clearly unhappy with such an order, Gillette obeyed. Climbing down the rope ladder, Norrington felt a great sense of relief. Finally, he would be able to ask what was going on. Perhaps Elizabeth would have better answers than Will had.
The sand crunched under the keel of the boat as he reached the shore. Bracing himself, he stepped into ankle-deep water, wading swiftly onto the beach proper. His shoes would have to be taken off to dry properly, but that could be dealt with later. For now, he still had a mission to accomplish.
Sparrow, his eyes crinkled with good humor, toasted him as he came up to them. "Welcome to my island, Commodore," he said, and drank deeply. James bit back a smile, crinkling his nose at the man instead. "I suppose you've come for my prisoner."
"I won't go back," Elizabeth informed them, surging to her feet. She swayed, slopping a bit of rum onto the sand, and Jack made a pained noise. "You can't make me, Jack, and I won't let you take me, Commo- James," she said, defiantly. Norrington caught her before she fell, guided the inebriated woman back to the ground. "I won't," she repeated, voice petulant, and drank from her bottle. A trickle ran from her mouth down her neck, marking the dust between her breasts, and James stared at it until he realized he was staring.
Pulling his eyes away from Elizabeth's bosom, he looked hard at Captain Jack Sparrow. "Has she been like this long?" he asked conversationally, and Jack nodded, leaning close.
"Since we picked her up," he confided, and swayed back, groping through the sand. "Have a drink, Commodore. You look like you could use it."
Proper gentlemen did not get drunk on islands in the middle of nowhere with a pirate and an unmarried girl. James looked at the bottle, at Jack, at Elizabeth, and back out at his ship. Being a proper gentleman was hard work, most of the time. He took the bottle, settling onto the sand and peeling off his shoes and socks.
Elizabeth snatched his hat, placing it on her own head and staring at him as though daring him to take it back. After a moment, he dropped his eyes, opening the bottle of rum. The liquid was warm and harsh, burning all the way down.
It was delicious.
The commodore drank, and Elizabeth hummed, still wearing that hat of his. Jack wondered briefly just exactly how he'd managed to get into this position, then shrugged it off. Sliding closer to Norrington, he tugged at the man's wig. "If you're going to get comfortable, you really ought to get comfortable," he said logically.
Norrington shot him a look that made visions of the gallows dance before his eyes, but removed the wig. His hair was dark, Jack was pleased to learn, somewhat thick and matted from the weight of the wig. He wanted to touch it. "Much better!" he enthused, slapping Norrington on the back, and turned away.
"Elizabeth," he called, and she stopped humming, turning again to face him. He reached out and dragged her closer, till they were all sitting near enough to clink bottles if they weren't careful. "You owe us an explanation, love. What's the story between you and dear William?"
Only his grip on her arm kept Elizabeth from leaping away. Norrington caught her other arm, and between them they held her down, waiting out her half-hearted struggles. She'd had too much rum to be very dangerous, and after a moment she seemed to remember that. Elizabeth sagged in between them, letting her head fall onto Jack's shoulder.
"I don't know," she said, almost too soft to hear, and for a moment, there was only the sound of the waves breaking on the shore.
Sitting up, she took a fortifying gulp of rum, then firmly set aside the bottle. She faced them calmly, her eyes dry, and Jack frowned as he tried to figure out the expression of her face.
"I keep having this dream," she said slowly, her forehead crinkling in thought. "I'm here, with you, Jack, so I think it's a memory of our time here before. But then you're there, James, so I know it isn't." She stopped, seeming unsure of herself, or the words, or possibly the world. "And Will is never there."
Norrington beat him to asking her, "And that's reason enough to leave your fiance?"
Elizabeth nodded, looking steadily from one of them to the other. "It is. I can't be happy with Will if I'm having those dreams." She knelt, and the sunlight made her shift see-through. Jack could hear Norrington swallow hard beside him. He traced the curves of Elizabeth's body with his eyes, beginning to understand.
"You're promised to William," he said, and she shook her head, sitting back on her heels. There was determination in her face, and a sad sort of acceptance.
"I was. We talked."
Jack stared at her calmly until she looked away. "He let you go?" Will didn't strike him as the type to allow such a thing, but perhaps he was. Will had been willing to die for him, after all. The boy was like his father, too much so sometimes.
Commodore Norrington looked from one of them to the other. "Why? He said something similar when he refused to follow you," and his voice still held far too much suspicion. The man obviously hadn't had enough rum yet.
Elizabeth picked up her bottle again taking another gulp for courage. Jack looked at her and at Norrington, feeling his mouth twist in amusement. "Well?" he prompted.
The girl settled herself between them, holding the bottle in her right hand as she looked out over the sea. Jack met James' eyes past her profile.
"Elizabeth?" Norrington prompted again, and she turned to him, dropping the bottle onto the sand. Jack caught it before it could spill, watching as Elizabeth cupped Norrington's face in her small hands. "Elizabeth," the man breathed again, and Jack thought she might be smiling, but he couldn't see her face.
Slowly she leaned forward, pressing her lips to the Commodore's.
If pressed, Norrington would admit to having imagined that sort of thing more than once. Generally, however, his fantasies of Elizabeth's kisses did not include the taste of rum, or the sound of a rather annoying pirate trying not to laugh. The proper thing, of course, would be to pull away, but it didn't seem to be his day for doing the proper thing.
Hesitantly, he caught the back of Elizabeth's head, pulling her closer. The hair at the back of her neck was soft and fine, the skin there warm and soft. Her tongue touched his gently, and James swallowed a moan.
"This is all very entertaining," Jack said loudly, causing Elizabeth to pull away, "but I still can't quite fathom why you left Will."
Exasperated, Elizabeth leaned until her face was only an inch or so from Jack's. "Jack Sparrow," she said fiercely, "do shut up."
It was Norrington's turn to try not to laugh. Jack made a face at him, or perhaps at Elizabeth, and set both bottles of rum he held carefully into the sand. "I only want to understand," he told Elizabeth, his hands brushing up her arms. Norrington swallowed down his anger. Technically, he had no right to tell the pirate not to touch the girl.
"I don't see how you can," she said softly, leaning back a bit. Jack met Norrington's gaze over her shoulder, his eyes reflecting the same concern James felt. "I don't understand myself. I just know that I do not want to marry Will anymore."
Jack shifted his attention back to Elizabeth, draping his arms around her shoulders, wrists crossed at her neck. "Why the island?"
She laughed, a quiet, joyful sound. "The dreams. And I like the island." She touched Jack's cheek and Norrington remembered the feel of her hand on his own skin.
The pirate frowned. "I don't," he said, and Elizabeth shook her head.
"Must be terrible," she said in a voice that was half-teasing, and Jack gave her a very dirty look. She laughed, stroking the hair on his cheek, and James brought the bottle to his mouth, more to keep himself from saying anything than from any sense of thirst.
A heavy sigh, and Jack used the hands at her neck to pull her forward. She went willingly, her head on Sparrow's shoulder, and Norrington felt abruptly and uncomfortably like a intruder.
Elizabeth's hair tickled at his neck, and the commodore looked away. Jack still wasn't quite sure why Norrington was there, but he was sure Elizabeth wanted him to be. "We're being rude," he muttered to her, gesturing to James. Elizabeth nodded, pressing her face into his shirt. A moment later, she tilted her chin, placing a small kiss on the corner of his mouth before sitting up straight.
"James, we'll have to teach you the song." Groping around, she found the bottles of rum, handing one back to him. It was, Jack was amused to notice, the one she'd been drinking out of, and half-empty, unlike his, which had still been two thirds full. Shrugging mentally, he took a sip. Elizabeth could steal the rum if she really wanted. There was plenty of it, after all.
Commodore Norrington looked warily at the girl now humming again. "What song?" Elizabeth humored him by bursting into song, and with a smile tugging at his own lips, Jack joined in.
Norrington stared at them both as though they were mad. "You're mad," he said, and Jack had to chuckle at the way his thoughts had so clearly followed James'.
"Just drink some more rum, commodore," he suggested, toasting the man with his own bottle. "You'll like it when the world's a little less sharp."
To his bemusement, Norrington obeyed. Jack studied the man, intruiged by his sudden humanness. Without the wig and the hat, James looked much younger. Jack approved.
Elizabeth was watching Norrington carefully. Jack pulled her closer, whispering into her ear, "I give him two bottles, or till sunset. Whichever comes first." Elizabeth grinned wickedly at him and nodded.
It took a bottle and a half, and four repetitions before Norrington joined in. Much to Jack's delight, the commodore had a decent voice, and a wicked sense of humor: when he forgot what the real words were, he began making them up. The sun set on the three of them, laughing and singing at the top of their lungs.
"Jack!" Elizabeth cried, as the stars came out overhead. She fell to her knees before him, out of breath and laughing. "Jack, we need a fire."
He shook a finger at her, already reaching for his pistol. "No burning the rum," he ordered, and she stuck her tongue out at him.
They'd gathered a great pile of driftwood and fallen branches earlier in the day, and now he lit it, using the flint from his pistol. James swayed over to them, leaning heavily on Elizabeth to stay upright. "A fire?" he asked. Elizabeth nodded, settling him down, then went to fetch the rum. Jack took advantage of her momentary absence to run him fingers through Norrington's hair. He got caught in the snarls, and patiently worked them out with his fingers. Norrington settled closer and purred in his throat like a cat, obviously loving the attention.
"You, mate," he said conversationally, running his fingers again through Norrington's untangled locks, while the man pressed his head into the caress, "need to be touched more often."
"S'true," James slurred, and fell into Jack's lap, his leaning finally overtaking his balance. He chuckled, and Jack leered down at him, which only made him laugh more. "You have the stars in your hair," he said reverently, reaching up to touch one of the coins woven into Jack's matted mop.
Elizabeth plopped down beside them, handing out fresh bottles. "These are the last," she said sadly, and Jack clinked his with hers to cheer her up.
Norrington struggled to sit up, and Elizabeth finally took pity on him and pulled him into an upright position. "Thank you," he told her formally, and kissed her again, swaying as he did. Jack moved his bottle carefully out of harm's way as they both landed in his lap again.
Laughing, Elizabeth pulled away, sitting up enough to lean on his shoulder. Norrington pouted up at both of them, then seeing that they had no pity, managed to sit up again himself. Jack pressed a hand to the man's shoulder to steady him, unsuprised when James covered it with his own. "She's distracted us neatly, you know," James confided, and Jack nodded. Elizabeth had indeed.
"You don't seem to mind too much," he said aloud, and Norrington nodded.
Touching the girl's shoulder as though she were some fragile, precious thing, James pressed himself against Jack's side to reach her. "She's Elizabeth. She's allowed to do that."
Jack shrugged them both off, catching Elizabeth before she fell back to the sand. Norrington's head came to rest against his hip, and Jack looked down at the commodore with a frown. "What about me?"
"You." Norrington snorted, using Jack as a ladder to climb back up. He propped his chin on Jack's shoulder, bringing their faces very close. His eyes, Jack noticed suddenly, were an oceanic shade of green. "I don't like you," he said frankly, and Jack nodded. Norrington didn't have to like him. Half the time, Jack didn't like James either.
Then James tilted his head and pressed closer, and Jack forgot about thinking.
The last man he'd kissed had been Will, but the boy had been asleep, the living, breathing image of his father. There was nothing like Bootstrap Bill in Norrington, and Jack was glad of the lack.
Gradually, sound returned: the waves, pounding against the shore, and the fire popping and cackling. He opened his eyes to find Elizabeth staring at them, enraptured, her rum forgotten halfway to her mouth. "Oh," she breathed, like she was seeing something beautiful, something holy. Jack cocked an eyebrow at her and held out a hand, raising his head fractionally away from James.
"See something you like?" he teased, and Elizabeth grinned suddenly, like a cat who's spotted a wounded bird.
She joined them, and somehow they managed to position themselves so they could all touch, more or less lying down. Elizabeth's lips were softer than James', Jack learned, and her face more smooth, but James was more aggressive and vocal. It wasn't exactly what Jack had expected when the Black Pearl had overtaken Elizabeth's small boat, but it was wonderful anyway.
The fire burned low by the time they all settled back, and Jack listened to Elizabeth's happy humming with a smile. Beside him, James joined in, his voice tired but happy as well. Jack went searching for the rum, but as he was disinclined to actually sit up, his search was unsuccessful. Giving up, he lay back, stretching an arm out to each of his lovers.
"Sun'll rise soon," he said, and Elizabeth pillowed her head on his shoulder and yawned.
"Let it," Norrington said scornfully, and Jack grinned. Sleep called to him like the sea when he was on land, and willingly, he went to it.
Tomorrow, the sun would rise, and the night would have to be faced, or possibly, agreed upon to be forgotten. But for now, he had Elizabeth, and James, and they had him and each other, and it was all as it should be.
Author: Dreamiflame
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, but to Disney. I'm only borrowing.
Note: I wrote this for a Christmas challenge, hence the unusual grouping. Thanks as always to my lovely beta for the help and guidance.
"Life is strange. Just when you have it all planned out, it throws you something different." Elizabeth Swann, daughter of the governor of Port Royal sat at the table in the captain's cabin of the Black Pearl with her head in her hands. "What am I doing?" she asked plaintatively.
Captain Jack Sparrow shrugged, sliding her a bottle of rum. "Being kidnapped, I think it was. Or at least, that's what you said before. Not sure hostages are supposed to be quite that eager, though." He stroked his chin as he thought.
Elizabeth uncorked the bottle and took a moment to stare at it viciously, before tossing back a large swallow. "Kidnapped. Yes."
"Two days till the wedding," Jack reminded her, reclaiming the bottle. "You could change your mind again, be back in time. You're missing out on a party of your very own."
She shrugged, turning away. The only response she'd ever given him about that was a softly spoken, 'I made a mistake,' when she was first taken on board. Every other time she had pretended not to hear it. "I need different clothes," she said, tugging at the laces of her dress. Jack raised an eyebrow as she shimmied out of the dress, eyeing her shift-clad form. He was probably more familiar with her in it than anyone but her husband or her maid should be.
"And where are we taking you, Miss Swann?" he asked, leaning forward intently. Elizabeth dropped the dress to the floor, spinning to face him, hands on her hips. Jack recoiled, clutching his rum protectively. Not burning it this time, she wasn't. Not on the Pearl.
Appearing to ignore his behavior, she gestured to his waist. After a moment, Jack realized she was referring to the compass that hung there, and not something else. "Where else?"
"The island?" he hazarded, not relishing the prospect of going back. Of course, this time he could take a boat, and no one would sail off with his ship. He thought.
Elizabeth nodded, her face set. "The island."
Commodore James Norrington was a conflicted man. On the one hand, he had been gently, though firmly turned down in his marriage proposal. Miss Elizabeth Swann did not want him.
On the other hand, the aforementioned lady was missing, and her intended seemed disinclined to sail to her rescue.
Will Turner had a look on his face that Norrington recognized. It was the same look of helpless determination he'd had the first time Elizabeth had been taken. "I have to decline, Commodore. I am a busy man, and Miss Swann is not my responsibility anymore."
Women were not James' strong suit, as he would be the first to admit. He was a man of action, and of the sea, an honor bound gentleman, and a good Christian, but he didn't understand women. Or why Will Turner would be willing to let his hard-won prize slip through his fingers.
Will saw the confusion in his face and turned away, the line of his shoulders stiff and angry. "Good day, Commodore. I wish you luck in your voyage."
"Mr Turner," Norrington said, and the boy half-turned, just enough to see his face, "your fiancee's father requested that you go along."
His face hardening again, Will turned fully to face him. "She is not my fiancee, by her own choice."
James was not a stupid man, and he could tell when a battle was unwinnable. "I will see you when we return," he yielded, and Will nodded curtly, reaching for his hammer and tongs. Commodore Norrington let himself out of Turner's shop, still confused at the boy's reaction.
It would be something to ask Elizabeth about, when he found her, he decided, and headed for the docks. The tide would turn soon: it was time to be on his way.
Elizabeth had found an old and very tattered set of clothing somewhere, and pieced it into a serviceable outfit. Rope held the breeches at her slender waist, and the shirt gaped when she leaned forward, but she seemed pleased with it. Jack said nothing, only watching her carefully as she pestered AnaMarie into teaching her sailing work.
The girl hadn't said what had brought her out into the sea in only a small boat, looking to be kidnapped by the Pearl. Jack suspected she had her reasons, and though the absence of Will made him wonder, he didn't push. Elizabeth slept in his cabin, in a hammock Gibbs had helped her string up, and worked as one of the crew. They were sailing for the island, and Jack supposed that when Elizabeth was ready, she would talk.
Norrington seemed to be making a habit of chasing the Black Pearl, through no fault of his own. A merchant vessel had seen the pirate ship overtake Elizabeth's small boat, and the lady herself taken on board. Somehow, though he couldn't say for sure how, James knew they were sailing for the island.
The spit of land where they'd found Elizabeth and Jack Sparrow before was only a few days away. It wouldn't be long now before he could ask Elizabeth why'd she left, even if he'd had no luck getting Will to tell him why the boy had let her.
Answers were on the wind that drove them, and Norrington breathed deeply of the salt air, silently urging the ship on.
The crew was surprisingly eager to go ashore when they reached the tiny spit of land Jack had come to loathe. There was plenty of rum aboard the Pearl, and the trees Elizabeth had burned had grown back, providing shelter for those who wanted it.
Gibbs volunteered to stay aboard and watch the ship, and Jack clapped him on the shoulder before shimmying down the line into the boat. He handed Elizabeth an oar, which she took with no hesitation, stroking powerfully. Jack studied her face for a moment before unshipping his own oar, guiding them to the island.
Most of the other pirates made themselves comfortable on the sand nearest the Black Pearl, settling in for a serious bout of drinking and gaming. It was shore leave, after a fashion, and the crew seemed determined to enjoy it.
Elizabeth picked up several bottles of rum and turned away, heading down the shoreline, away from the others. She turned once, her eyes narrowed against the sun to look at him. "Are you coming, Captain?" she asked expectantly, and Jack grabbed a few bottles of his own before following her.
They settled near the remnants of the rum smugglers' cache, where the trees still showed the scorched bark of Elizabeth's signal. The girl herself was back in her shift, the white dress already gathering sand at its damp hem. She plopped down below a tree, just out of the sun and dumped the bottles beside her, selecting the largest to begin. Bemused, Jack pulled off his boots and sat beside her. It was a lot like having passed back through time, and he almost wondered if the whole year or so had been a dream.
But no, he could see the scar on Elizabeth's hand, the same as the one on his. It wasn't a dream, and he still didn't understand why he was sitting on the island again with Elizabeth Swann, when the girl ought to be Mrs Elizabeth Turner by now. He pulled the cork from his bottle and took a long grateful swallow.
At least the rum still made sense.
They came upon the Black Pearl at midday. The vessel looked abandoned, her sails hanging limp in the wind, but the noise from her crew was easy to hear. Norrington scanned the beach, searching for any sign of the pirate captain or Elizabeth; neither of which were to be found. Frowning, he lowered the spyglass.
"Circle the island," he commanded, and the crew moved efficiently to follow his orders. The other ship bobbed lazily at anchor as they moved away, and the pirates were lost to sight by the curve of the shoreline.
There were two figures on the opposite end of the island. James didn't need the spyglass to know they were the two he sought. "Lower a boat," he told Gillette, folding the spyglass up. "I shall be going alone. I will need to talk to Miss Swann."
"Surely you should take someone along, in case that Sparrow fellow attempts to attack you!" Gillette protested, but Norrington shook his head.
"Circle around until you can see the Black Pearl," he ordered. "I will send a signal if I require assistance."
Clearly unhappy with such an order, Gillette obeyed. Climbing down the rope ladder, Norrington felt a great sense of relief. Finally, he would be able to ask what was going on. Perhaps Elizabeth would have better answers than Will had.
The sand crunched under the keel of the boat as he reached the shore. Bracing himself, he stepped into ankle-deep water, wading swiftly onto the beach proper. His shoes would have to be taken off to dry properly, but that could be dealt with later. For now, he still had a mission to accomplish.
Sparrow, his eyes crinkled with good humor, toasted him as he came up to them. "Welcome to my island, Commodore," he said, and drank deeply. James bit back a smile, crinkling his nose at the man instead. "I suppose you've come for my prisoner."
"I won't go back," Elizabeth informed them, surging to her feet. She swayed, slopping a bit of rum onto the sand, and Jack made a pained noise. "You can't make me, Jack, and I won't let you take me, Commo- James," she said, defiantly. Norrington caught her before she fell, guided the inebriated woman back to the ground. "I won't," she repeated, voice petulant, and drank from her bottle. A trickle ran from her mouth down her neck, marking the dust between her breasts, and James stared at it until he realized he was staring.
Pulling his eyes away from Elizabeth's bosom, he looked hard at Captain Jack Sparrow. "Has she been like this long?" he asked conversationally, and Jack nodded, leaning close.
"Since we picked her up," he confided, and swayed back, groping through the sand. "Have a drink, Commodore. You look like you could use it."
Proper gentlemen did not get drunk on islands in the middle of nowhere with a pirate and an unmarried girl. James looked at the bottle, at Jack, at Elizabeth, and back out at his ship. Being a proper gentleman was hard work, most of the time. He took the bottle, settling onto the sand and peeling off his shoes and socks.
Elizabeth snatched his hat, placing it on her own head and staring at him as though daring him to take it back. After a moment, he dropped his eyes, opening the bottle of rum. The liquid was warm and harsh, burning all the way down.
It was delicious.
The commodore drank, and Elizabeth hummed, still wearing that hat of his. Jack wondered briefly just exactly how he'd managed to get into this position, then shrugged it off. Sliding closer to Norrington, he tugged at the man's wig. "If you're going to get comfortable, you really ought to get comfortable," he said logically.
Norrington shot him a look that made visions of the gallows dance before his eyes, but removed the wig. His hair was dark, Jack was pleased to learn, somewhat thick and matted from the weight of the wig. He wanted to touch it. "Much better!" he enthused, slapping Norrington on the back, and turned away.
"Elizabeth," he called, and she stopped humming, turning again to face him. He reached out and dragged her closer, till they were all sitting near enough to clink bottles if they weren't careful. "You owe us an explanation, love. What's the story between you and dear William?"
Only his grip on her arm kept Elizabeth from leaping away. Norrington caught her other arm, and between them they held her down, waiting out her half-hearted struggles. She'd had too much rum to be very dangerous, and after a moment she seemed to remember that. Elizabeth sagged in between them, letting her head fall onto Jack's shoulder.
"I don't know," she said, almost too soft to hear, and for a moment, there was only the sound of the waves breaking on the shore.
Sitting up, she took a fortifying gulp of rum, then firmly set aside the bottle. She faced them calmly, her eyes dry, and Jack frowned as he tried to figure out the expression of her face.
"I keep having this dream," she said slowly, her forehead crinkling in thought. "I'm here, with you, Jack, so I think it's a memory of our time here before. But then you're there, James, so I know it isn't." She stopped, seeming unsure of herself, or the words, or possibly the world. "And Will is never there."
Norrington beat him to asking her, "And that's reason enough to leave your fiance?"
Elizabeth nodded, looking steadily from one of them to the other. "It is. I can't be happy with Will if I'm having those dreams." She knelt, and the sunlight made her shift see-through. Jack could hear Norrington swallow hard beside him. He traced the curves of Elizabeth's body with his eyes, beginning to understand.
"You're promised to William," he said, and she shook her head, sitting back on her heels. There was determination in her face, and a sad sort of acceptance.
"I was. We talked."
Jack stared at her calmly until she looked away. "He let you go?" Will didn't strike him as the type to allow such a thing, but perhaps he was. Will had been willing to die for him, after all. The boy was like his father, too much so sometimes.
Commodore Norrington looked from one of them to the other. "Why? He said something similar when he refused to follow you," and his voice still held far too much suspicion. The man obviously hadn't had enough rum yet.
Elizabeth picked up her bottle again taking another gulp for courage. Jack looked at her and at Norrington, feeling his mouth twist in amusement. "Well?" he prompted.
The girl settled herself between them, holding the bottle in her right hand as she looked out over the sea. Jack met James' eyes past her profile.
"Elizabeth?" Norrington prompted again, and she turned to him, dropping the bottle onto the sand. Jack caught it before it could spill, watching as Elizabeth cupped Norrington's face in her small hands. "Elizabeth," the man breathed again, and Jack thought she might be smiling, but he couldn't see her face.
Slowly she leaned forward, pressing her lips to the Commodore's.
If pressed, Norrington would admit to having imagined that sort of thing more than once. Generally, however, his fantasies of Elizabeth's kisses did not include the taste of rum, or the sound of a rather annoying pirate trying not to laugh. The proper thing, of course, would be to pull away, but it didn't seem to be his day for doing the proper thing.
Hesitantly, he caught the back of Elizabeth's head, pulling her closer. The hair at the back of her neck was soft and fine, the skin there warm and soft. Her tongue touched his gently, and James swallowed a moan.
"This is all very entertaining," Jack said loudly, causing Elizabeth to pull away, "but I still can't quite fathom why you left Will."
Exasperated, Elizabeth leaned until her face was only an inch or so from Jack's. "Jack Sparrow," she said fiercely, "do shut up."
It was Norrington's turn to try not to laugh. Jack made a face at him, or perhaps at Elizabeth, and set both bottles of rum he held carefully into the sand. "I only want to understand," he told Elizabeth, his hands brushing up her arms. Norrington swallowed down his anger. Technically, he had no right to tell the pirate not to touch the girl.
"I don't see how you can," she said softly, leaning back a bit. Jack met Norrington's gaze over her shoulder, his eyes reflecting the same concern James felt. "I don't understand myself. I just know that I do not want to marry Will anymore."
Jack shifted his attention back to Elizabeth, draping his arms around her shoulders, wrists crossed at her neck. "Why the island?"
She laughed, a quiet, joyful sound. "The dreams. And I like the island." She touched Jack's cheek and Norrington remembered the feel of her hand on his own skin.
The pirate frowned. "I don't," he said, and Elizabeth shook her head.
"Must be terrible," she said in a voice that was half-teasing, and Jack gave her a very dirty look. She laughed, stroking the hair on his cheek, and James brought the bottle to his mouth, more to keep himself from saying anything than from any sense of thirst.
A heavy sigh, and Jack used the hands at her neck to pull her forward. She went willingly, her head on Sparrow's shoulder, and Norrington felt abruptly and uncomfortably like a intruder.
Elizabeth's hair tickled at his neck, and the commodore looked away. Jack still wasn't quite sure why Norrington was there, but he was sure Elizabeth wanted him to be. "We're being rude," he muttered to her, gesturing to James. Elizabeth nodded, pressing her face into his shirt. A moment later, she tilted her chin, placing a small kiss on the corner of his mouth before sitting up straight.
"James, we'll have to teach you the song." Groping around, she found the bottles of rum, handing one back to him. It was, Jack was amused to notice, the one she'd been drinking out of, and half-empty, unlike his, which had still been two thirds full. Shrugging mentally, he took a sip. Elizabeth could steal the rum if she really wanted. There was plenty of it, after all.
Commodore Norrington looked warily at the girl now humming again. "What song?" Elizabeth humored him by bursting into song, and with a smile tugging at his own lips, Jack joined in.
Norrington stared at them both as though they were mad. "You're mad," he said, and Jack had to chuckle at the way his thoughts had so clearly followed James'.
"Just drink some more rum, commodore," he suggested, toasting the man with his own bottle. "You'll like it when the world's a little less sharp."
To his bemusement, Norrington obeyed. Jack studied the man, intruiged by his sudden humanness. Without the wig and the hat, James looked much younger. Jack approved.
Elizabeth was watching Norrington carefully. Jack pulled her closer, whispering into her ear, "I give him two bottles, or till sunset. Whichever comes first." Elizabeth grinned wickedly at him and nodded.
It took a bottle and a half, and four repetitions before Norrington joined in. Much to Jack's delight, the commodore had a decent voice, and a wicked sense of humor: when he forgot what the real words were, he began making them up. The sun set on the three of them, laughing and singing at the top of their lungs.
"Jack!" Elizabeth cried, as the stars came out overhead. She fell to her knees before him, out of breath and laughing. "Jack, we need a fire."
He shook a finger at her, already reaching for his pistol. "No burning the rum," he ordered, and she stuck her tongue out at him.
They'd gathered a great pile of driftwood and fallen branches earlier in the day, and now he lit it, using the flint from his pistol. James swayed over to them, leaning heavily on Elizabeth to stay upright. "A fire?" he asked. Elizabeth nodded, settling him down, then went to fetch the rum. Jack took advantage of her momentary absence to run him fingers through Norrington's hair. He got caught in the snarls, and patiently worked them out with his fingers. Norrington settled closer and purred in his throat like a cat, obviously loving the attention.
"You, mate," he said conversationally, running his fingers again through Norrington's untangled locks, while the man pressed his head into the caress, "need to be touched more often."
"S'true," James slurred, and fell into Jack's lap, his leaning finally overtaking his balance. He chuckled, and Jack leered down at him, which only made him laugh more. "You have the stars in your hair," he said reverently, reaching up to touch one of the coins woven into Jack's matted mop.
Elizabeth plopped down beside them, handing out fresh bottles. "These are the last," she said sadly, and Jack clinked his with hers to cheer her up.
Norrington struggled to sit up, and Elizabeth finally took pity on him and pulled him into an upright position. "Thank you," he told her formally, and kissed her again, swaying as he did. Jack moved his bottle carefully out of harm's way as they both landed in his lap again.
Laughing, Elizabeth pulled away, sitting up enough to lean on his shoulder. Norrington pouted up at both of them, then seeing that they had no pity, managed to sit up again himself. Jack pressed a hand to the man's shoulder to steady him, unsuprised when James covered it with his own. "She's distracted us neatly, you know," James confided, and Jack nodded. Elizabeth had indeed.
"You don't seem to mind too much," he said aloud, and Norrington nodded.
Touching the girl's shoulder as though she were some fragile, precious thing, James pressed himself against Jack's side to reach her. "She's Elizabeth. She's allowed to do that."
Jack shrugged them both off, catching Elizabeth before she fell back to the sand. Norrington's head came to rest against his hip, and Jack looked down at the commodore with a frown. "What about me?"
"You." Norrington snorted, using Jack as a ladder to climb back up. He propped his chin on Jack's shoulder, bringing their faces very close. His eyes, Jack noticed suddenly, were an oceanic shade of green. "I don't like you," he said frankly, and Jack nodded. Norrington didn't have to like him. Half the time, Jack didn't like James either.
Then James tilted his head and pressed closer, and Jack forgot about thinking.
The last man he'd kissed had been Will, but the boy had been asleep, the living, breathing image of his father. There was nothing like Bootstrap Bill in Norrington, and Jack was glad of the lack.
Gradually, sound returned: the waves, pounding against the shore, and the fire popping and cackling. He opened his eyes to find Elizabeth staring at them, enraptured, her rum forgotten halfway to her mouth. "Oh," she breathed, like she was seeing something beautiful, something holy. Jack cocked an eyebrow at her and held out a hand, raising his head fractionally away from James.
"See something you like?" he teased, and Elizabeth grinned suddenly, like a cat who's spotted a wounded bird.
She joined them, and somehow they managed to position themselves so they could all touch, more or less lying down. Elizabeth's lips were softer than James', Jack learned, and her face more smooth, but James was more aggressive and vocal. It wasn't exactly what Jack had expected when the Black Pearl had overtaken Elizabeth's small boat, but it was wonderful anyway.
The fire burned low by the time they all settled back, and Jack listened to Elizabeth's happy humming with a smile. Beside him, James joined in, his voice tired but happy as well. Jack went searching for the rum, but as he was disinclined to actually sit up, his search was unsuccessful. Giving up, he lay back, stretching an arm out to each of his lovers.
"Sun'll rise soon," he said, and Elizabeth pillowed her head on his shoulder and yawned.
"Let it," Norrington said scornfully, and Jack grinned. Sleep called to him like the sea when he was on land, and willingly, he went to it.
Tomorrow, the sun would rise, and the night would have to be faced, or possibly, agreed upon to be forgotten. But for now, he had Elizabeth, and James, and they had him and each other, and it was all as it should be.