Dead Man's Chest

by alicewroteastory

Alternate version of DMC with a big chunk of smut in the middle and a different ending. No WxE, all JxE. Will be a twoshot.

Was this fate, she wondered?

Her hair clung to her face and her neck, the sodden ivory fabric of her dress weighing down her slender frame. She shivered; it gripped her body and her teeth rattled. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed, refusing to cry, refusing to believe that her beloved William had left her.

There was no excusing this, no explaining this absolutely unreasonable lateness. He should have been here two hours ago; they should have said their vows and have progressed onto the wedding feast. They would have been dancing, now, if he had been there.

In that moment, Elizabeth hated him, and she hated herself even more. In choosing to marry below her station, she'd offended the King, she'd offended her father, and she'd offended herself by allowing herself to be swept up in Will's eager affections.

She didn't like affection; she hadn't enjoyed the feeling of vulnerability, the hopeless trust that she was expected to place in him, she hadn't wanted to get married at all, really; it was her loyalty to Will and her longing to please her father that had made her acquiesce to the nuptials. She cared for Will – he was her first love, her sweetheart – and yet, there was something about him that she couldn't place, a weakness, and it had always made her uneasy.

Here was the proof; her instinct had been proven right, and she'd been left at the altar on her wedding day. She would not forgive this.

She'd been willing to give up her longing of freedom, the deeply rooted desire within her to be truly selfish, to act to please only herself, but she'd allowed Will to change her, to stifle the wishes of her heart, and she'd allowed it because she loved him.

Was love enough? She'd often thought of the other man in her life, the flamboyant Captain Jack, the epitome of everything her inner soul craved. No, she loved Will Turner, the innocent, naive Will Turner, but she was not in love with him. And here was the evidence of it.

She was disgusted by the cowardice he'd shown in abandoning her, she loathed him for shaming her in front of all of these people, and yet... she was almost grateful to him, almost thankful that he hadn't come, because now she knew; now she was absolutely certain – she definitely did not want to marry Will Turner. At all. Ever.

The guests to her wedding were huddled together, murmuring amongst themselves: they pitied her, she could see it in their stares, she could feel it burning into her back. She reached up and tore off her veil, throwing it onto the altar and standing to gaze out at the wild, white crested ocean.

The sea was her love, it always had been, a love that she'd only once been able to truly embrace.

She wasn't meant for manors, for elaborate gowns and feasts, no, she was meant to be on a ship with a sword in her hand, the sun tanning her pale skin.

A disturbance behind her roused her from her musings, and she turned to look back at the unhappy face of her father.

Will was shoved into her sight and she frowned, approaching him slowly with menace in her eyes.

She reached out and slapped him, only then noticing that he was shackled, and he flinched away from her as a red welt bloomed on his cheek.

"Elizabeth..."

"Don't talk to me," she bit out, "Don't." She turned to her father. "Father? What's happening?"

"I don't know," he replied softly.

"You look beautiful," Will murmured, his eyes drinking her in. It was only then that he felt regret, only then that he started to wish that he hadn't hidden away in the forge.

Elizabeth resisted the urge to slap him again. "I know." She glanced around uneasily at the armed soldiers that had seemingly materialised out of nowhere, and her eyes fell upon their obvious leader. "What is the meaning of this?" She made to move towards him, and a soldier reached out to grab at her arm. She winced at the grip on her arm, and her father was shocked into action.

"Stand your men down at once!" he demanded, moving through the guests that were slowly shrinking away from the scene. His request was ignored. "Do you hear me?!"

"Governor Weatherby Swann. My apologies for arriving without an invitation." The man turned around and Elizabeth's eyes narrowed as his gaze fell on her, sweeping over her body appreciatively. "That cannot be your daughter, little Elizabeth?"

The Governor opened his mouth. "Cutler Beckett?"

"It's Lord, now, actually."

"Lord or not, you have no reason and no authority to arrest this man," her father spat, "And have your men unhand my daughter."

"In fact," Beckett smirked, "I do. Mister Mercer?" A man stepped forward, opening leather bound sheaf of papers and handing one to him. Beckett passed it to Elizabeth's father and smiled. "The warrant for the arrest of one William Turner."

The Governor looked down at it and his eyes widened. "This warrant is for Elizabeth Swann."

"Oh, is it? That's annoying. My mistake." Beckett glanced over at Elizabeth. "Arrest her."

"On what charges?!" Elizabeth demanded, struggling against the men who would clap her in irons.

Beckett ignored her. "Aha. Here's the one for William Turner. And I have another one for a Mr James Norrington, is he present?"

"What are the charges?" Elizabeth spat again, glaring at him as manacles were locked around her wrists.

"Commodore Norrington resigned his commission some months ago," her father replied to Beckett.

Beckett frowned. "I don't believe that was the answer to the question I asked."

Elizabeth leaned forwards, somehow managing to appear commanding in spite of the shackles that bound her."We are under the jurisdiction of the King's Governor of Port Royal and you will tell us what we are charged with."

"The charge," her father answered, reading from her warrant, "Is 'conspiring to set free a man convicted of crimes against the Crown and Empire, and condemned to death', for which the..."

"For which the punishment, regrettably, is also death," Beckett completed, altogether too pleased with the situation for Elizabeth's liking. He stepped forwards to speak to Will, raising an eyebrow as he spoke. "Perhaps you remember a certain pirate named Jack Sparrow."

"Captain," Will and Elizabeth corrected in heated unison. Taken aback by the clear vehemence in Elizabeth's voice, Beckett turned to face her.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," Elizabeth amended harshly.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," Beckett agreed, "Yes, I thought you might."

...

She sat back in her cell, fiddling with her hair and the hem of her dress, anything really in an effort to keep her mind from wandering to the very real possibility that she could be executed.

A ruckus in the fort above her disturbed her absent thoughts and she looked up, her eyes narrowing when Will rushed down the stairs to her cell.

"Here, now, you can't be here," a soldier protested half-heartedly, falling back when Elizabeth's father spoke to him.

"I think you'll find he can."

The soldier sighed. "Mister Swann..."

"Governor Swann, still. Do you think I wear this wig to keep my head warm?"

"...Jack's compass?" Elizabeth asked, leaning forwards to hear Will a little better, "What does Beckett want with that?"

Will shrugged. "Does it matter? I'm to find Jack and convince him to return to Port Royal." Elizabeth snorted at this; as if Jack was going to willingly return to a place where he was a wanted criminal. "In exchange, the charges against us will be dropped."

"No," the Governor interrupted, "We must find our own avenue to secure your freedom."

Will looked up at him. "Is that a lack of faith in Jack, or a lack of faith in me?"

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "In you, clearly, and with good reason."

The Governor ignored her. "That you would risk your life to save Sparrow's does not mean that he would do the same for anybody else."

"You're wrong," Elizabeth murmured, "Jack would save me. I, at least, have faith in him." Will sighed at her words, but did not argue. "Where will you find him?"

"Tortuga. I'll start there and I won't stop searching until I find him. And then I intend to return here and mend our relationship."

Elizabeth pursed her lips. "We will see. And I will wait."

"Keep a weather eye on the horizon," Will whispered, leaning in as if to kiss her. Elizabeth pulled her head sharply away and averted her gaze, and Will frowned sadly at the thought of the damage that he had done. He stood abruptly and left, and Elizabeth crawled across her cell to gaze out of the barred window.

---

She had not moved from her position against the window for almost two months, save only to use the crude excuse for a chamber pot, eat her poor gaol meals and wash her hands and face in the bowl of water that her father insisted upon. Now, she not only looked like a prisoner but she smelt like one too.

In truth, she had gone rather mad with only four walls, a small view of the ocean and her thoughts for company. She now laughed too freely, her eyes too bright, her smile too sharp. She had almost become like Jack, she mused, uncaring about everything save her freedom. She lolled against the wall, feet tucked underneath her, and she gazed unimpressed at her fellow prisoners.

They reached through the bars towards her, desperate to feel womanly flesh after being locked away for so long, and she alternated between laughter and disapproval at their efforts.

She was a funny one, was Elizabeth Swann, the prisoners thought. Up tight and proud for all intensive purposes, but when they had managed to retract their arms from the bars she had spoken to them absently of her life, of things alien to them: corsets, high heeled shoes, fancy dresses, balls, banquets, courtly affairs. And then there were the more interesting tales, tales of Jack Sparrow and adventures on a ship with black sails, the infamous Pearl, of cursed skeletal pirates and Aztec gold.

In her time in gaol, Elizabeth Swann had become hardened. Few things affected her sunny demeanor, and yet it was entirely too clear that that same sunny demeanor was little more than a mask. The rations that she had been fed had done nothing to nourish her womanly curves, and now she was more slender and lean, her bones sharper beneath her skin.

She had developed a certain ruthlessness, a certain danger that she seemed to exude; danger that she hadn't bothered to hide when a prison guard had tried to have his way with her in the dirty straw that lined the floor of her cage. She had scratched at his face, stuck her nails into his eye sockets, lashed out at him like a wild cat with such a fury that he'd backed away and hadn't bothered her since.

Elizabeth sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. She wasn't altogether happy about the person she'd been pushed into becoming, but how else was she have supposed to have dealt with what had happened?

Abandoned by her fiancé, imprisoned for the foreseeable future, her own execution looming on the horizon...

She looked up at his entry – it had become the norm, the Governor of Port Royal sat on a wooden stool outside of her cell, conversing with his daughter about everything and nothing – and climbed to her feet when he unlocked the door to her cage. Her once-beautiful wedding dress was dirty from her time in gaol, tattered at the hem, stained at the wrists.

"Come quickly," her father instructed, and the prisoners in the cells around her hissed their disapproval at one of them, for truly, Elizabeth Swann had become one of them in her time there, being freed without the others. Elizabeth plucked the key from the lock and tossed it into the adjoining cell, humming tunelessly to herself as her father pulled her away and down the corridor.

"Tell me what's happening," Elizabeth whispered, trailing along behind him.

"Our name still has some standing with the King," the Governor replied, not turning to look at her, "I've arranged a passage to England. The Captain is a friend of mine."

She nodded and allowed him to pull her along. She half-wanted to protest for Will's sake, but then she remembered what he had done to her and said nothing. Her time behind bars had made her cold and cruel, selfish and merciless, and though she knew she would never be able to raise her sword to the man who had jilted her, she would not intervene should anyone else decide to.

"...We cannot count on William Turner," her father agreed, taking her silence as approval to his plans, "Or Jack Sparrow."

"Jack's a better man than you give him credit for," Elizabeth hissed, stopping for the first time since being liberated. Her feelings towards Will had been sullied by his leaving her at the altrar; her father had tried to defend him, blaming Beckett's soldiers on the interruption, but Elizabeth knew that if Will had turned up at the Church when he should have done they would've been married on time and then arrested together.

Her father turned and grasped her arm, tugging her forwards. "Come," he insisted, "This is no time for innocence. Beckett has offered one pardon only – one – and that is promised to Jack Sparrow. Even if Will succeeds, do not ask me to endure the sight of my daughter walking to the gallows. Do not." Ushering her into the awaiting carriage, her father sighed. "Perhaps I can ensure a fair trial for Will if he returns."

"A fair trial for Will ends in a hanging," Elizabeth pointed out emotionlessly, her eyes flitting around as if she expected to be dragged back to her cell at any moment.

Governor Swann was saddened in the changes in his daughter. He reached out and covered her hand with his own, squeezing lightly. "Then there is nothing for you here."

Their journey to the docks was short and rough, and Elizabeth sat back dazedly at the swift and sudden change in events. She had almost resigned herself to her fate, had almost accepted what was to happen to her, and yet, she was now halfway to freedom.

Her father stopped the carriage and Elizabeth's eyes widened. She didn't want to go back to England, didn't want to be passed around the houses of her father's noble friends. She wanted her freedom, wanted to live. And so as soon as the carriage drew to a half, Elizabeth opened the door, peeked her head around it and ran.

...

She leaned provocatively against the wall, catching the eye of a drunken soldier. She jerked her head and indicated that he should join her.

"How much?" he slurred in her ear, smiling as she pulled him out of the busy tavern and into the alleyway beside it.

"More than you can afford," Elizabeth hissed, kneeing him in the groin, slamming his head into the wall and pushing him to the floor. She pulled his pistol from his belt and the dagger from his pocket, strapping the latter to her thigh by the means of her tattered garter. She edged out of the alleyway and slowly walked to the fort, slipping in by the back entry that Will had shown her all those months ago.

It didn't take her long to find Beckett's chambers. They were ridiculously ostentatious, ornaments and military portraits lining the walls.

"No doubt you've discovered that loyalty is no longer the currency of the realm as your father believes," he spoke into the darkness, and Elizabeth stepped out from her hiding place, a sadistic smile pulling at the edges of her lips.

"Then what is?"

Beckett turned to face her. She was bedraggled and dirty from her time in gaol, but still beautiful, still deadly. "I'm afraid that currency is the currency of the land."

She walked towards him slowly, swinging her lips and holding her hands behind her back. "I expect, then, that we can come to some sort of understanding." She smirked at him; it was full of promise, and Beckett moved across to stand in front of her. "I'm here to negotiate."

"I'm listening," Beckett replied, almost reaching out to touch her. His smile froze when she pulled a pistol from her back, pointing it at his head. "I'm listening intently."

"These letters of marque; they are signed by the king?"

Beckett smirked. "Yes. And they're not valid until they bear my signature and my seal."

"Or else I would not still be here," Elizabeth agreed, lowering the gun. She rested the muzzle against his chest, closing the gap between them until only the length of the barrel of the gun separated their bodies. "You sent Will to get you the compass owned by Jack Sparrow. It will do you no good."

"Do explain."

"I have been to the Isla de Muerta. I have seen the treasure myself. There is something you need to know."

"I see," Beckett murmured. "You think the compass leads only to the Isla de Muerta and so you hope to save me from an evil fate. But you mustn't worry. I care not for cursed Aztec gold. My desires are not so provincial. There's more than one chest of value in these waters. And so perhaps you may wish to enhance your offer." He looked her up and down appreciatively; Elizabeth had seen that look before in the eyes of the soldier who had tried to steal her innocence. She pulled back the safety on the gun and gritted her teeth.

"Consider into your calculations that you robbed me of my wedding night." And a good portion of my sanity, she added inwardly. She shoved the papers against his chest.

"So I did," Beckett agreed in defeat. "A marriage interrupted... or fate intervenes?" Elizabeth's gaze flashed to his and she frowned, watching as he signed and sealed the letters. "You're making great efforts to ensure Jack Sparrow's freedom."

Elizabeth scoffed. "These aren't going to Jack."

"Oh really? To ensure Mr Turner's freedom, then?"

She smiled; it was a cold, calculating thing, and Beckett shivered at the look in her eyes. Elizabeth shook her head and narrowed her eyes.

"I'll still want that compass," he whispered, gazing at her with a new found respect, impressed by her ruthlessness. "Consider that in your calculations."

She snatched the letters from him. "Will's fate is no concern of mine," she said coolly, "But I will be sure to pass along the message." Keeping the barrel of the pistol trained on him, she walked from the room, running as soon as she managed to get out into the open air.

---

"...Ye could be a bit more liberal in showing yer gratitude, luv," Jack pointed out, struggling with the knots that bound her hands together, "We could 'ave just left ye there."

Elizabeth glared at him. "You wouldn't have dared."

"How did ye end up half naked and shackled to a mast, anyway?" he smirked at her as her wrists finally came free.

Standing up, Elizabeth scowled as Jack's gaze fell onto her bare toned legs. "That's hardly your business."

A wave of unreasonable jealousy washed over Jack at the thought of another man being the cause of her delicious state of undress and he grasped her upper arms. "I think ye will find it is entirely my business, seeing as me and me crew were the ones to rescue ye from said precarious situation." He pushed her down into a chair and leaned over her. "So I suggest ye start talking, Miss Swann."

Elizabeth stared at him with pursed lips for a moment and then sighed in defeat. "Alright. But I want some clothes first."

"Clothes after," Jack corrected with a purr, looking her up and down and grinning.

...

"... and then I decided that I'd just try and find you by myself, seeing as nobody was willing to divulge any useful information regarding your whereabouts," Elizabeth went on, staring absently out of the cabin window into the black ocean beneath. "You are a hard man to track down, you know."

"Aye," Jack agreed, taking a swig of rum, "And I like it that way."

"I ended up on a merchant ship – dressed as a boy, I might add – that was bound for Singapore. I heard you speak of it before... I thought that might be a good place to start."

Jack tilted his head and stroked his beard. "Very shrewd. 'm impressed."

Elizabeth shook her head and sighed. "But then I got caught. Womanly things gave me away," she flushed a little, "And the Quartermaster caught me washing my, er, supplies. I had apparently underestimated his deduction skills because he said he'd been watching me for a few days and 'had known' that something was 'wrong' about me."

Stiffening, Jack looked up. "Then what happened?"

"He had me stripped before the crew. The Captain was a decent enough man; he insisted on the punishment because I had deceived them, but he made the crew leave my underclothes on and gave me a tattered shirt to wear, but after a couple of days and a handful of dreadfully convenient 'accidents' the shirt was ruined." She gestured down to herself. "Leaving me like this."

"Did any of them... Did they..." Jack struggled to vocalise his question, and was actually afraid of the answer.

"A few tried," Elizabeth admitted, "They did not succeed... much," she added in a small voice. "I might know how to act like a man, how to use a sword; I might know how to fight, how to Captain a ship, how to plot a course, how to navigate... but I'm just a woman, Jack. And on that ship, I was a woman with tied hands and no way to defend myself."

Clenching his fists, Jack stood up. He knelt down in front of her and brushed her hair away from her face, wincing at a bruise under her eye that had been covered. "They didn't manage to..."

"I'm still a virgin, if that's what you're asking," she replied softly, staring into his eyes, "Though they tried, and often. There was one man, Luca... He was the worst. He had huge, hairy hands. He managed to..." She trailed off and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, determined not to cry at the memory.

"How long were ye tied there, Lizzie?"

Elizabeth looked away from his gaze. "Two weeks."

"Was he the one..." he gestured to her bruise, "Was that him?"

"Yes."

"I'll bloody kill 'im," Jack swore, pulling himself to his feet and grabbing the bottle off his desk. He took a long drink, draining the bottle, and threw it into a corner. It made a loud, satisfying smashing noise and he flinched as he felt Elizabeth rest a hand on his arm.

"It's okay, Jack," she whispered, "I'll live."

He glanced up at her and half-smiled. "I can't say the same about dear Luca."

"I'd rather you didn't." His eyes widened and he tried to protest, but she cut him off. "I'd rather be the one to cut it off, thank you."

"It?" Jack asked in amusement, smiling for the first time since she'd completed her tale.

"It," Elizabeth confirmed with a grin, "Now, I want some clothes and some rum. In that order."

"And then?"

Elizabeth smirked, and Jack shivered at the malice in her eyes. "And then I plan on paying a visit to the brig, to dear Luca and his disgustingly hairy hands. Do you have a sword I could borrow?"

"Lizbeth?" Jack asked suddenly, "Why where ye trying t' find me?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "Well, the last time I saw you was at your supposed execution; Will and I were going to get married and live happily ever after. But then our wedding was interrupted by bloody Cutler Beckett and I was locked up for assisting with your escape. A blessing in disguise, apparently." Her last statement was filled with bitterness and Jack glanced over at her.

"And yer jolly fiancé? What does he think of yer latest jaunt?"

"He isn't my fiancé anymore, actually. He disappeared six months ago. Last I heard he was on the Flying Dutchman. Apparently that was something to do with you." She gave him a pointed look and he gazed blankly back.

"Darling, I am truly unhappy to have to tell you this but, through an unfortunate and entirely unforeseeable series of circumstances that have nothing, whatsoever, to do with me, poor William has been press-ganged into Davy Jones' crew," Jack replied innocently, flinching at the unimpressed look on her face that told him that she was all too aware that he was lying.

Elizabeth sighed. "I no longer care, Jack."

"Is that so? How very interesting." He leaned towards her, his eyes raking along her bare flesh, and Elizabeth shivered. It was nice to see him again, nice to fall back into their old pattern so easily, and yet there was something else in his gaze. An open hunger, an unapologetic want, and for the first time since she had been imprisoned in Port Royal, Elizabeth felt a flicker of emotion.

"I am a free woman, Jack. Free to do as I please."

"Is that so? And, what, pray tell, is it that you want?"

She stretched and, deciding to leave the matter until she was more appropriately dressed for a verbal sparring match with the Captain, changed the subject. "Clothes, Jack. Then rum."

"What is it you want most, Elizabeth?"

She glanced up at him warily, sensing an undertone in his voice. "Freedom," she replied quietly.

He smiled. "Are you certain? Is that what you really want?"

"Of course."

"Because I would think that you would want a find to ensure your freedom the most."

Elizabeth raised a calculating eyebrow. "And you have a way of doing that?"

"Well... there is a chest," Jack said with a shrug, avoiding her eyes. "A chest of unknown size and origin, containing the still-beating heart of Davy Jones. And whoever possesses that chest possesses the leverage to command Jones to do whatever it is that he or she wants... including a manner of ensuring your freedom."

"How do we find it?" Elizabeth asked, intrigued in spite of herself.

"With this. My compass." He pulled said object from his belt and held it out in front of her. "It is... unique."

Elizabeth snorted. "Unique here having the meaning of broken?"

"True enough; my compass does not point north." Jack pressed it into her hands.

"Then where does it point?"

He looked up at her, almost taken aback at the fire in her eyes. "It points to thing that you want most in this world."

Sighing, Elizabeth sat down again. "Oh, Jack. Are you telling the truth?"

"Every word, luv. And what you want most in this world is to find the chest of Davy Jones, is it not?"

"For my freedom?" she questioned.

"By finding the chest of Davy Jones," Jack repeated.

He flipped open the compass and moved away quickly, so as not to influence the dial. Elizabeth stared down at it for a moment and narrowed her eyes.

Jack beamed as the dial stopped spinning and pointed securely in a particular direction.

"Mister Gibbs!" he cried, barely able to contain himself, "Mister Gibbs, in here!"

Gibbs opened the door and poked his head around it. "Cap'n?"

"We have our heading."

Gibbs let out an audible sigh of relief. "Finally." He turned his attention back to the deck. "Cast off those lines, weigh anchor, and prow that canvas!"

Jack turned back to Elizabeth. He picked up his coat and draped it around her shoulders, holding the sleeves aloft so that she could tuck her arms into it. "Miss Swann; after you."

She breezed past him and up to the helm, touching it reverently and sighing. Jack recognised the dreamy look in her eyes and was concerned by the difference in her personality. "You alright, luv?"

"I was in gaol, Jack," Elizabeth murmured, her gaze resting on the endless ocean, "For two months. Two months not knowing if I was going to live or die. It changed me."

"Aye," Jack nodded and moved cautiously towards to her, "I know."

A wave crashed against the Pearl and Elizabeth smiled as the water sprayed against her skin. "I missed this." She glanced up at him. "At night I would lie there and promise myself that if I was ever free, I would find the Pearl again. I can't go back there, Jack. I won't. I know how to navigate... I won't be a burden to the crew."

"Elizabeth..."

"No," she interrupted him, "I don't want to be the Governor's daughter anymore. I thought I could go back to that life last time and it was so stifling. The dresses, the ceremony... I just can't do it. That life is a gilded cage. I want to be free... Whatever the cost."

Jack gazed at her for a moment and slung an arm around her shoulder. "Sounds like ye need some rum, luv."

Her solemn expression brightened and she leaned into him a little, appreciating the contact. "I wouldn't say no." The wind caught the hem of Jack's coat and it lifted, revealing her thighs. She laughed and shook her head. "Perhaps I should dress first. Do you have anything I could wear? I have a small bag of my own, but it's mostlyfull of keepsakes. I have a couple of shirts, but that's it."

"Gibbs?" Jack called, "C'mere a moment."

Gibbs looked up from his position at the main mast. "Cap'n?"

"Fetch late master Timmy's trunk to my cabin," he glanced at Elizabeth, "God knows the lad won't be needin' um where 'e is. 'e was about your size."

"I'll need a sword," she decided, "And a dagger. And a pistol. A good one."

Jack grinned. "Anythin' else?"

"Rum," Elizabeth finalised with a small smile, "Lots of rum."

...

The clothes, she found, were much to her liking. Apparently Timmy - whoever he was - had good taste. The breeches were sinfully tight and hugged her legs like a second skin, the shirt was maroon silk with a ruffled collar and poet sleeves that nipped in at the wrist, dipping low on her chest and hinting at her modest clevage. She tugged a comb through her hair and plaited it, keeping it out of her way. Her sword hung at her hip by the means of a black leather belt and a patterned scabbard; her dagger, hidden by her boots, strapped to her calf. She stook her pistol in her sash and nodded in satisfaction. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and smiled. For the first time in her life, she looked like a pirate, like someone to be reckoned with, and she liked it.

There was a knock on the door and Elizabeth turned as it opened. Jack peered around it and stopped dead, his eyes grazing over her figure heatedly. She smirked at his expression.

"Do I look that bad?"

"Bad?" Jack choked out, "Ye don't look bad, luv... 's just different to how am used to seein' ye attired."

She spun in a circle and laughed as Jack let out a strangled groan. She raised an eyebrow, a dark determination in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "Have any of the men in the brig asked for parley?"

Jack shook his head wordlessly.

"Good. Have someone put Luca in his own cell; I'll be there shortly." Elizabeth gestured for him to go and Jack was powerless not to obey.

Seeing her dressed like that had stolen coherent thought from his brain, and it was only after he had personally fulfilled her demand that he realised that she had given him orders like she was the Captain and he was a simple cabin boy.

He stalked back to his cabin to notify her that her wishes had been carried out, and was surprised to find her lying back on his bed with her eyes closed. At the sound of his footsteps, she opened her eyes and smiled. She stood up and crossed the room, stopping in front of him. "Do you want to watch?"

"Why?" Jack asked, intrigued, "What are ye plannin' t' do t' him?"

"Come and see."

She led the way to the brig, Pintel, Ragetti, Gibbs and Jack following her, her eyes widening when she realised the sheer volume of men inside. Not for the first time, Elizabeth thanked her lucky stars that Jack had chosen to attack The Yellow Rose when he had.

The imprisoned crew glowered up at her. "Told you it was bad luck to keep her aboard," one of the cooks grumbled to the Captain, glaring at her. "Should've drowned her when we had the chance."

There was a mumbled round of agreement and Elizabeth stepped forwards. "Gentlemen, contrary to popular belief, I do know how to use a sword. I suggest that you keep your opinions to yourself." She unsheathed her sword and her eyes searched for the large Luca. Upon seeing him, she nodded to Pintel and Ragetti. "Clap him in irons."

Elizabeth pointed her pistol through the bars, allowing the two pirates safe entry into the cell. "Bring him to the middle." They dragged him to the walkway between the cells, knocking him to his knees in front of her. She kicked him backwards and pointed her sword at his throat. "How shall we do this, master Luca? You're not so vocal now that you no longer have the upper hand."

Jack was taken aback by her barely contained fury. Whatever this man had done to her, she was not going to be merciful, and he was intrigued to see just how bloodythirsty the Governor's daughter truly was.

He was not disappointed.

She knelt down, straddling the man's hips, and withdrew her dagger from her boot. She pressed it to his face and drew a delicate 'E' on his cheek, the tip of her dagger breaking the skin and forever scarring his face with her initial. Then, she crawled backwards, cutting open his shirt and slicing down his chest as she went. The brush of the knife was so light that only the droplets of blood that escaped gave any indication that she'd actually done any damage. Then, down to his hands - she cut across his right palm, pressing the blade deep to sever the tendons there.

Luca cried out in pain and Elizabeth gave him a cold smile. "I am going to destroy the things that you used to hurt me, old man."

She repeated her treatment on his left hand, this time twisting the knife and actually piercing the skin on the back of his palm.

Moving backwards again, Elizabeth withdrew his organ from his breeches, wrinkling her nose in disgust at both the appearance and smell of the thing. She leaned back and took Jack's dagger from his own boot; the Captain was too surprised and too horrified to protest. Using the tip of Jack's dagger, Elizabeth held up the shrivelled husk and pinned it againt his stomach, just hard enough to hurt. Everyone barr Elizabeth winced at this action, most of the men present reaching down to cup their own cocks as if to protect it from the same treatment.

With her own dagger, she viciously stabbed his scrotum, relishing in his agonised screams of pain. She nudged his legs open further and her eyes glinted with a steely resolve. Slowly, so as to inflict the most damage, Elizabeth pressed the tip of her dagger against his anus, forcing his body to open to the steel. She twisted the knife savagely and withdrew it, savagely pleased when it was covered in blood.

Satisfied that she'd done sufficient damage, Elizabeth stood up and pressed her foot down on his penis. She stared into his teary eyes and smiled again. "I am not a forgiving woman, Luca, but I would rather you live with the pain than have the mercy of death." Nodding to Pintel and Ragetti to put him back in his cell, she stalked from the brig and back up to the deck, never once breaking her cool and collected demeanor.

All eyes followed her, and then fell onto Jack. He bristled. "What? I didn't do it. Don't look at me."

Luca was writhing on the floor, and Jack glanced down at him. He felt something akin to empathy for the man beneath him - Elizabeth had hurt him in the most sacred of male places - and Jack pulled a face. She had inflicted wounds upon his 'male area' that would not heal easily; on the contrary, they would soon become infected and fester. The cuts on his body were clean and neat, but the wound on his chest had opened wider now with Luca's struggling and was bleeding profousely. And then Jack was reminded of what the man beneath him had tried to do to Elizabeth, and he glared down at him. "Wait til the girl's in bed. Then throw 'im overboard."

"But... Jack, the sharks. They'll pull 'im to pieces," Gibbs protested, wincing at the gushes of blood from Luca's loins.

"Master Gibbs, I do not believe I asked for yer opinion," Jack said ominously, "This man defiled our Elizabeth. She has doled out her punishment, and now I shall bestow mine." He stormed out of the brig and stopped at the rum store, taking four bottles from his barrel and walking up to the deck. He spied her at the helm, leaning on the balcony that looked out over the ship.

He shoved two of the bottles into her arms and took his place beside her.

"You alright?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Elizabeth, ye just butchered a man with yer bare hands," Jack pointed out, half expecting her to burst into tears at any moment.

"He deserved it."

Jack uncorked his bottle and took a swig. "Even so, ye don't seem shook up by it."

Elizabeth mimicked his actions, grimacing when she realised her hands were shaking. "It was necessary," she whispered. She glanced up at him. "Are you expecting me to break down, Jack? Do you want me to cry and say I regret it? Because I don't. That man hurt me more than you can imagine."

Jack's thoughts fell to the last wound that she had inflicted upon the man and he pulled a face. "I saw where ye hurt him, Lizzie."

Elizabeth blanched and took another drink out of her bottle. "Then maybe you should understand when I say that he deserved it." She looked up to him and bit her lip. "Where am I going to sleep?"

Jack clutched a hand to his heart and grinned. "Ye mean to say that ye have no desire to share my bed? I'm offended."

"Regardless of my desires, I still need somewhere to sleep," she replied with a smirk, enjoying the way his eyes widened.

He moved closer to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her towards him. "That's true," he murmured huskily, "If ye were in my bed, ye wouldn't be gettin' much sleep at all."

She laughed and shook her head. "Seriously, Jack. Where am I going to sleep? I trust the crew... but..." She lifted the bottle to her lips and drank deeply, chasing the thoughts from her mind.

"I know, Lizzie. I've got good lads on this ship but yer still a woman," he looked her appreciately up and down, "Then again, after yer little display in the brig I doubt any of them would touch you, even wiv a willing invitation."

"What about you?" She asked him, biting her lip. It had been six months since she'd kissed a man, six months since she'd felt any kind of closeness or intimacy, and she was overwhelmed with a sudden longing to kiss him. "Would you touch me?"

Jack gazed at her, taking in the heat in her eyes and the thrumming of her pulse in her veins. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "And if I would?"

Elizabeth shrugged coyly. "I might be willing to issue an invitation..."

Jack groaned and stepped away from her. "Lizzie, I can't have this conversation wiv ye."

"And why not?"

"What about the whelp? Yer engaged!"

She rolled her eyes. "No I'm not. Will left me at the altar six months ago, Jack. Any feelings towards him that I might have had... They're gone now. I haven't seen him since he left me rotting in gaol with a promise to come back and rescue me."

Jack smirked at this. "I must admit, it is amusing to think of him roaming the Caribbean trying to find a way to save ye, all the while havin' no clue as to yer actual whereabouts."

Elizabeth grinned and turned slightly, so that she and Jack were chest to chest. "Do you know what I really want, Jack?"

He stared at her dazedly, trying and failing to ignore the way her breasts pressed against him. "What, luv?"

"I want to get drunk. Very, very drunk. With you. Now." She looked up at him in such a way that made his loins ache and he nodded.

"Gibbs!" He cried, his gaze never leaving hers, "Take the helm. Miss Swann and I have business to attend to."

"Business, cap'n?" Gibbs asked, emerging from below deck.

"Important business that cannot be postponed." He flailed his arms in the direction of the helm and picked up his rum.

Elizabeth grasped his hand. "Rum. Now." and pulled him down the stairs and into his cabin. She sat down in his chair and sighed, taking a drink from her bottle.

Jack perched on his desk, watching her. "You're different," he observed, "'m not sure if I like it."

"It's my birthday tomorrow," she said with a sigh, ignoring him. "I'll be twenty one."

"I'll have to get ye something, then," Jack replied with a leer, "I can think of the perfect thing."

"I'm sure you can," she smirked, tilting her rum towards him in a toast. "We will see."

...

"...Lizbeth, ye have to go to bed," Jack scolded with a gleeful laugh, thoroughly enjoying having a drunken Elizabeth hanging around his neck.

"Don't want to," Elizabeth moaned, pouting and gazing up at him. "Kiss me, Jack."

"What?"

She didn't reply; lifting her head to his, Elizabeth caught his lips with hers. She swept her tongue along the join of his lips and sighed when his mouth opened, his arms winding around her body and holding her gently against him. She hummed in approval and clung to him, cupping his face in her hands. She pulled away and smiled. "I'll go to bed... If you'll come to bed with me," she whispered, and Jack groaned.

"I can't."

Elizabeth pouted. "Why not?"

"Yer three sheets to the wind, Elizabeth. Wouldn't be proper o' me." Jack shook his head and moved out of her grasp, all the while cursing himself for denying her. He'd wanted her for so long, and here she was, offering herself to him. But no, he had to act like a gentleman.

"I'm not," she muttered, "I'm coherent enough to know what I want, Jack."

Jack groaned again. "And what is that, then?"

"You, obviously!" She sighed. "But, if you don't want me, I'll take myself to my bed and have a celebration all on my own." She shrugged and walked to the little room he had given her, unbuttoning her shirt as she did so, pausing at the doorway. "Goodnight, Captain Sparrow."

...

The next morning, Elizabeth woke up with a start. She looked around fearfully, wondering where she was, and then she remembered the events of the previous day.

She pulled herself from the bunk and used the chamber pot, then opened the small window out to the ocean and emptied the contents outside.

She looked around the cabin and, spying the object she was searching for, she crossed the room and picked it up. She dug around in the bag for a moment and then triumphantly pulled out a leather-bound sheaf of papers. She opened the door that lead to Jack's cabin and entered without knocking, relishing in the hard look he gave her when she entered. He was sitting at his desk surrounded by maps and drawing apparatus wearing only his breeches and shirt. She sashayed across the cabin and handed the papers to Jack, all too aware that she was wearing hardly any clothing under the thin shirt he'd provided her to sleep in. "Shall we go for breakfast?"

"Yer not going on deck like that," Jack growled, "'m not havin' me crew distracted."

She sat down on the edge of the desk, hyper aware that her bare legs were brushing against his clothed ones. "Am I a distraction, Jack?"

Jack clenched his jaw. "Ye know ye are, Lizzie. Get dressed."

She sighed and stood up, walking back to her little room. She dressed slowly; another pair of tight breeches, another ruffled poets shirt with a low neckline. She replaited her hair and pulled on her boots and went back into Jack's cabin.

"Better?"

He swallowed thickly as he took in her appearance. "For me, no, I much preferred ye in what ye were wearing. For me crew, however, yes. Sort of." In the time that it'd taken her to dress, Jack had finished dressing also, and they went out on deck together.

"Good morning," Elizabeth sang, trying not to wince at the bright sunlight.

Gibbs looked up and smirked. "G'mornin, Miss Elizabeth. How's yer head today?" He glanced at the papers in Jack's hands. "Wassat?"

"Signed letters of marque," Elizabeth explained as Jack opened the pamphlet, "By Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company." Jack made a noise of disgust.

"Will was working for Beckett and never said a word," Gibbs theorized, and Elizabeth stiffened as Jack repeated the noise. "Beckett wants the compass. Only one reason for that."

"Of course," Jack agreed, realisation dawning in his mind. "He wants the chest."

"Yes, he did say something about a chest," Elizabeth chimed in.

Gibbs glanced at her. "If the Company controls the chest, they controls the sea."

Jack pulled a face. "A truly discomfiting notion, luv."

"And bad," Gibbs shook his head at the idea of it, "Bad for every mother's son what calls 'isself pirate. I think there's a bit more speed to be coaxed from these sails. Brace the foreyard!" He left the two alone, and Jack turned to Elizabeth with a sly smile. She was now leaning casually against the rail, leaning back and staring out across the ocean. It was like a millpond today, she mused, calm and gentle.

"Might I enquire as to how you came by these?" Jack asked her after a while, gazing at her lounging form appreciatively.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Persuasion."

"Friendly?" Something coiled in his stomach – there it was again, that feeling of disquiet that had troubled him upon seeing her initial state of undress - and he wasn't altogether sure why it bothered him so much to think of her with another man.

Pursing her lips, Elizabeth replied, "Decidedly not."

"Will strikes a deal for these and upholds it with honour, yet you are the one standing here wiv the prize." He smirked at her, almost proud of her actions, and she narrowed her eyes at his expression. "Full pardon, commission as a privateer on behalf of England and the East India Trading Company; as if I could've been bought for such a low price." He folded the letters and tucked them away into an inner pocket.

"Jack, the letters," Elizabeth protested, her mouth suddenly at his ear, "Give them back. I may need them one day."

"No," Jack replied, glancing at her over his shoulder, then, "Persuade me."

"You do know that Will taught me how to handle a sword?" There was something in it, there was nothing in it, and yet the way her lips wrapped around 'handle a sword' piqued his attention and his eyes rolled back a little with pleasure. He turned to look at her; their bodies were so close they were touching, and when he spoke his lips almost brushed against hers.

"Like I said; persuade me."

Elizabeth gazed at him for a moment and licked her lips, glancing from his mouth to his eyes and back again. She nodded once, decisively, and strutted away from him, leaving Jack staring longingly after her.

Watching her sashaying away, he became acutely aware of a pressure beneath his navel and stifled a groan as he turned to move, the stiffness in his breeches uncomfortable and yet deliciously promising.

...

She sighed happily at the feel of the ocean breeze on her skin, smirking to herself as she thought back to her exchange with Jack. It was true; she longed to feel his touch, perhaps she always had, and her mind was spinning with all of the ways that she could persuade him to part with the letters.

"It's a curious thing," James Norrington began, leaning against the rail beside her and sighing, "There was a time when I'd of given anything for you to look like that whilst thinking about me."

Elizabeth glanced up at him and blushed guiltily, unaware that she'd been smiling at her thoughts of persuasion. She turned away and looked at her hands. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you do," James pressed, and she looked up to meet his gaze. "I think you like our 'Captain', Miss Swann."

"Don't be absurd," Elizabeth protested half heartedly, though she couldn't stop her eyes from wandering over to Jack's position at the helm of the Pearl. In truth, she did have tentative feelings towards the Captain and always had; he was the anti-hero, never the villain but never the knight in shining armour, either. She'd had dreams about him, about his touch, about his fingertips trailing over her skin, about his lips... And then the kiss last night, the kiss that had been full of promise and longing... If only she had managed to persuade him to take her to bed...

James scoffed at the clear longing in her eyes and Elizabeth flushed sheepishly having been caught out in her attraction. "So you never wondered how your latest fiancé ended up on the Flying Dutchman in the first place? And to think, here you are, lusting after the man that put him there."

Elizabeth frowned at this – she knew little from the rumours that she'd heard, using logic to piece together the separate accounts of events – and narrowed her eyes. "Do tell."

James raised his eyebrows and smirked, shrugging as he walked away. "Perhaps you should ask the object of your affections." She pulled out Jack's compass from her pocket and opened it, biting her lip when the dial spun and stilled; it pointed directly to Jack, and Elizabeth blushed.

"Will isn't my fiancé anymore!" Elizabeth called stubbornly after him, "So I can lust after whomever I choose!"

James chortled but didn't turn.

"Oh? And who might you be lusting after?" A familiar voice in her ear murmured, and she spun round to find herself pressed against the man it belonged to.

"No-one," Elizabeth muttered, avoiding his eyes and slipping out grasp. "Nobody in particular."

"Ah, Elizabeth," Jack went on, following her, "Didn't your father ever teach you that it is a sin to tell lies?"

"I hardly think that you are one to lecture me about sin," she replied, sitting down on the stairs and sighing.

He sat down beside her, their thighs touching, and Jack turned to her with a secretive look on his face. "My tremendous intuitive sense of the female creature tells me that you are troubled."

Elizabeth glanced at him and sighed, unknowingly shifting into him. "I just thought that... That I'd be married by now," she admitted, "I know that Will and I aren't together – we haven't been for a long time – but it's just strange to think that if things had been different... If he hadn't ended up on the Dutchman... I might have been his wife by now. I thought I was so ready to be married."

Jack considered this and smirked, handing her his bottle of rum. She eyed it warily. "Hair o the dog that bit ye, luv. It'll make ye feel better." She sighed and took a deep drink and looked up at him expectantly, sensing that he was about to say something. "You know..." He began nonchalantly, clearing his throat, "Lizzie, I am captain of a ship, and being captain of a ship, I could, in fact, perform a marr-i-age right here. Right on this deck. Right now."

She raised an eyebrow at his now-all too obvious intentions and stood up. "No, thank you."

"Why not?" Jack protested, "...'t would certainly solve your little lust problem." He waggled his eyebrows and took a drink from the bottle. "And we are very much alike you and I, I and you. Us."

"Oh, except for a sense of honour, and decency, and a moral centre." Her eyes flickered over to him and a smile pulled at the corners of her lips. "And personal hygiene." They both knew that that wasn't a real reason – on the contrary, he was one of the cleaner pirates (and men, actually) that she'd known.

Jack sniffed at his armpit and pulled a face. He looked back at her and smirked. "Trifles." He stood directly behind her; her back brushing against his chest. "You will come over to my side, I know it."

"You seem very certain," Elizabeth replied, not willing to agree.

"One word, love; curiosity. You long to do what you want to do because you want it, to act on selfish impulse. You want to see what it's like. One day," Jack said self-assuredly, "You won't be able to resist." He glanced down at his feet and realised that he was standing behind a loaded cannon. Inwardly, he smirked at the irony; he wanted her.

"Yes..." Elizabeth breathed, slowly spinning around. "Because you and I are alike. And there will come a moment when you have a chance to show it – to do the right thing."

"I love those moments," Jack replied with his usual swagger, "I like to wave at them as they pass by."

"You'll have the chance to do something... something courageous. And when you do, you'll discover something; that you're a good man."

Jack smirked. "All evidence to the contrary."

Elizabeth wet her lips and leaned into him. She gave a little laugh, "No, I have faith in you. Want to know why?"

"Do tell, dearie."

"Curiosity." He looked down at her then and blinked at the look on her face, at the fire in her eyes. It was catlike, predatory, and Jack could not help but move closer to her. Their torsos were flush against one another now, her face angled up to his. If he was just to lean forwards a little more, he would be able to capture her lips... "You're going to want it," she whispered hotly, "A chance to be admired and gain the rewards that follow." She smiled and her delicious, rum scented breath washed over his face. "You won't be able to resist. You're going to want to know what it tastes like."

"I do want to know what it tastes like," Jack admitted softly, all bravado and pretence gone now. This was them; raw emotion in spite of the teasing, and he desperately wanted to lower his mouth to hers...

His train of thought was interrupted – and satisfied - when she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his, softly at first, and then it was as if a feeling had been awoken deep inside of her, and she clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him against her. Jack was frozen to the spot; it was one thing to hope for something, another entirely to have that something happen directly afterwards when one wasn't expecting it.

She spun them around so that he was the one pressed against the rail, and it was only when Jack felt the wood against his lower back that his brain finally realised what was going on. He wound an arm around her waist, holding her tightly against him. He wasn't going to say no this time.

His other hand reached down to cup her bottom, and he shifted her slightly so that their centres were aligned. He wanted her, of course he did, and she knew it.

He kissed her roughly, his mouth ravaging hers, and he was rewarded when she made a little humming noise in her throat. He pulled away, relishing in the flush on her cheeks and the brightness in her eyes. She took a few breaths and looked up at him from under her lashes, until her eyes rested lustfully on his lips.

This time, it was Jack who initiated the kiss; his mouth claiming hers with such a ferocity she arched her back and moaned. He turned them again and lifted her to sit on the rail, parting her legs with an effortless nudge of his knees. He settled between them, growling lowly in frustration when he realised he'd moved her out of reach of his aching erection. He reached up to palm her breasts, jerking against her when her hand trailed down his body to grip his length through his breeches. She giggled – a low, throaty sound – and he smirked at her, glancing around at the sudden conspicuous silence on deck.

The crew had stopped what they were doing and were, as one, staring at them, their actions having shocked most of them into stillness.

Elizabeth wanted to blush, honestly, she did; it was most unbecoming of a young lady to behave such a way in public, but all she could do was shrug and smile coyly. "At least they'll have something to think about when they're alone in their bunks," she whispered, her lips brushing against Jack's earlobe. Her eyes fell on James Norrington; he looked entirely too smug for her liking. Her comment had the desired effect and she shrieked with pleasure when he picked her up, wrapped her legs around his waist and carried her across the deck, ignoring the guffaws and catcalls that followed them.

"...'s about time, sir!" Gibbs chortled, clapping Jack on the back as they passed. Jack batted a hand at him and Elizabeth gave him the finger. "...very ladylike indeed," the first mate said with a good natured smirk. Then, realising that nothing had been done on deck for a good five minutes, "Back t' work, ye nosy perverts! I wanta see me face in the deck before sundown! Git t'scrubbin! Cotton – take the helm!"

"Belligerent uneducated egits," Jack grumbled against the skin of her neck, "Just because they've not had a woman in bloody ages..." She shivered against him, his very apparent hardness rubbing against her centre with every step, and Jack groaned when her hips bucked against him. "Yer gonna have to stop that, luv, or our night together might end prematurely..."

"Can't... help... it..." Elizabeth moaned breathlessly, each nudge of his length causing shockwaves of pleasure below her navel. He kicked open the door to his cabin and crossed the room, throwing her down upon the bed. She bit her lip and looked up at him, her eyes flickering towards the open door, and he hurriedly closed it, locking it doubly and wedging his chair underneath the handle.

"Ought to keep 'em out for a bit," he grumbled, stopping in his tracks when his eyes caught up with Elizabeth's actions. She'd removed her shirt and was walking slowly towards him, and when she carried on past him he scowled. "Where are ye..." He stopped when she draped her shirt across the keyhole and smirked. "Ah."

She turned to him then, bare-chested, her golden hair wild and curly against her sun-kissed skin, and Jack was rendered motionless as he took in her appearance. She walked towards him slowly, stopping when there was an inch between them, and glanced up at him. "Well?"

"One day, luv, ye must tell me how ye managed to get a tan on yer very lovely breasts..." Jack rumbled, recapturing her mouth and backing her up against the door. His hands reached up to grasp said objects, and he smirked when Elizabeth moaned at the contact. She grabbed the back of his neck and held him to her, grinning when Jack knelt down before her. He gently pulled off her boots and reached for her breeches, raising a questioning eyebrow to check that he wasn't taking her surprising mood too far.

She shifted her hips as he tugged them down her legs, his fingertips leaving blazing trails on her heated skin.

He nudged her legs apart with his hands and leaned forwards, blowing lightly on the sensitive flesh of her centre. Elizabeth's breath was already coming faster, and he smirked at her responsiveness. Gently pressing his open lips against her sex, Jack groaned softly at the taste of her; she tasted deliciously of woman, of the very epitome of carnal pleasure, and Elizabeth moaned loudly at the vibration of his mouth. He almost wanted her to protest, to push him away, but he knew that she would not.

He knew, perhaps he had always known, that the unexplained sexual tension between them hinted towards a deeper longing, something that had always been true in his case. He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, supporting her against the door.

His fingers rubbed against her as his mouth continued its ministrations, and when he pressed a digit against and then into her he relished in her feminine mewl. She was so tight, even for the one finger, and Jack knew then that she was a virgin. Again, he wished for her to stop him, he wanted to plead with her to not let him do this... Externally she was innocence itself, the Governor's daughter that was slowly becoming tainted by an inner lust for freedom, by piracy, by blood and pistols and him, and yet underneath she was more like him than anyone could ever guess.

She was still pure in the way that mattered, still unmarred from the welcome touch of a man, and that thought alone awoke a primal urge in him to claim her as his own. He increased the intensity of his touches, increased the pace of his fingers and the pressure of his lips, all the while thoroughly enjoying the noises that fell freely from her parted lips. He sucked roughly on the bundle of nerves at the juncture of her thighs and braced himself to receive her weight, because surely her legs would not hold her up after the event he was going to create.

He felt her muscles twitch around his fingers before he heard the rough moan that was torn from her throat, felt her knees buckle beneath her, her fingers tangling in his hair to press his face to her centre and her hips bucking up against him.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her; Jack felt it in the squeezing ripples of her inner muscles, heard it in the pitch of her womanly moans, saw it in the expression of ecstasy on her face, and when the pleasure had abided, he smirked as her head fell back against the door.

She glanced down at him, almost as an afterthought, and removed her leg from his shoulder.

She slid down the wooden surface, pushing against his chest for him to lie back on the floor, and straddled his hips. Without a thought or question for her actions, she lowered her lips to his, feeling her own taste on her tongue. Jack groaned at her openness; it filled him with promises of sexual adventures to come.

Elizabeth rubbed her wet centre against his clothed length and it was only then that she realised that he was still fully clothed. She pulled away from him and raised an eyebrow.

"Why am I naked when you are not?"

She squealed as Jack was suddenly lifting her, carrying her across the room and setting her down by his bed. He threw off his waistcoat and toed off his boots, and Elizabeth reached for his shirt. He had expected her to lift it over his head, but no; she grabbed the collar and pulled, tearing it down the middle. She shoved it off of his arms and her hands clutched at the fastening of his breeches.

Jack could only watch as she clawed off his clothing; he wanted to be a little annoyed as he didn't really own much of it, perhaps four or five shirts, three pairs of breeches and a spare pair of boots, but his mind was blissfully filled with images of Elizabeth tearing away all layers between them in her desperation to have him between her thighs.

When she had managed to peel off his breeches, thankfully leaving them intact for future wear, she stopped and stared at the length of him.

From the exploration of her own body, she knew that she was in no way equipped to deal with such a thing. It bobbed before her, perhaps a little shorter than the length between her wrist and elbow, and she gaped at it for a moment. Almost tentatively, she lowered her mouth to the head and licked, smirking when Jack groaned. She took him swiftly into her mouth, feeling absurdly proud when she managed to envelop almost all of him. He bucked against her as she serviced him with her mouth, her hands cupping his balls and wrapping around the expanse of skin that she couldn't manage to take.

After a few moments, Jack grasped her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. He pushed her roughly down on the bed and gripped her hips surely hard enough to bruise. He pulled her body towards him, opening her legs and settling between them.

He reached down to rub her folds, finding her deliciously wet and ready for him, and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Enjoyed that, did you?" he jerked his head to where they had just been standing and smirked when Elizabeth blushed.

Jack nudged himself against her and glanced down at Elizabeth. "...'m not exactly built for innocence, luv," he said apologetically, "So I apologise in advance for hurting you."

Elizabeth gazed up at him and tilted her head, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. "You won't," she murmured, lifting her lips to brush against him.

He entered her slowly; he had to, the feel of her stretching around him was almost too much, and when he reached her barrier, he stilled. She looked up at him and saw the hesitation in his eyes, and decided to take the decision away from him. She gave a sudden upward thrust of her own hips and jerked at the stab of pain in her nethers. Squeezing her eyes closed, Elizabeth arched her back and willed the ache to stop.

Jack touched her face and she opened her eyes, smiling at the reverence in his gaze. "Alright?" he asked her softly, wincing as she squeezed her internal muscles experimentally.

"Yes," she breathed, tilting her head to the side and reaching up to kiss his neck as the pain ebbed away. "Better than alright."

She slowly locked her tanned legs around his hips, forcing him deeper into her body. The shift caused his length to brush suddenly against her sweet spot and she moaned loudly.

Jack smirked. "Ah, there it is." Languidly, he pulled out, thrusting back in slowly enough to hit that spot again. Elizabeth bucked against him, her head falling back against the pillows. He moved torturously slow; Elizabeth was senseless beneath him, her entire body arching up to bring him closer.

"Jack," she whispered roughly into his ear, "Harder." She nipped his earlobe and relished in his moan.

He did as she asked, and it wasn't long before Elizabeth was crying out in rapture, her nails clawing at his back as her orgasm crawled up her legs and into her body. He gave a final thrust and Elizabeth half-moaned, half-screamed, babbling his name in a nonsensical burst of energy, and only when her pleasure was at its end did Jack allow himself to release into her.

They lay breathless for a moment, his forehead against hers. "...'lizbeth, I didn't, that is to say..."

"I'm fine," Elizabeth replied softly, meeting his gaze so he knew that she was telling the truth. She whimpered as he pulled out of her, but smiled when he rolled them over and tucked her under his arm. She draped a leg over his and sighed contentedly. "Why didn't we do this sooner, Jack?"

"Not a bloody clue, luv," Jack said with a smirk, gathering her in his arms and inhaling the scent of her hair.

"Jack?"

"Yes, luv?" his voice was thick and his eyes were closed, and Elizabeth trailed a hand down his torso.

She lowered her mouth to his nipple and took it into her mouth, grinning when he jerked at the feel of her teeth against him. "I touched myself last night... Thinking about you."

Jack opened one incredulous eye. "Ye did?"

"Yes."

"Land ho!"

Elizabeth sighed and sat up. "Oh well."

Jack frowned when there was a twinge in his hand. Glancing down inconspicuously at it, he paled when the Black Spot blossomed afresh. "I want my jar of dirt."

They dressed hastily and stumbled out onto the deck, ignoring the knowing looks from the crew as they climbed over the side of the Pearl and down into the longboat.

Elizabeth sat at the back next to Norrington - enduring and ignoring his playful jibes about him always being right - with a small smile. She rolled her eyes at the bickering between Pintel and Ragetti, her eyes fixed on the back of Jack's head. He was brooding, clutching that bloody jar of sand like it was a lifeline, and in an absurd moment she felt jealous of it.

"What are you so worried about?" she murmured to herself, biting her lip as she considered the possibilities.

They reached the island – if it could be called that – swiftly, and when he hopped out of the boat she gracefully followed suit, He picked up a shovel. "Guard the boat, mind the tide, and don't touch my dirt," he called over his shoulder to the two squabbling pirates, smiling uneasily at Elizabeth's narrowed eyes. "The compass," he said quietly, "Open it."

She did so, pouting when it seemed to lead her to nowhere in particular. "This doesn't work," she grumbled, "And it certainly doesn't show you what you want most." She sat down on the sand, crossing her arms and huffing in frustration.

James smirked and raised his eyebrows. She scowled up at him.

Jack scurried over to her position and eyed the compass. "Yes it does. You're sitting on it."

She glanced up at him. "Beg pardon?"

"Move." He shooed her away and she rolled her eyes. He whistled to James and pointed at the spot. "Dig."

...

They were silent until the sound of a shovel hitting hollowed metal broke the stillness, and all three of them moved as one to gaze down into the hole that James had recently created.

They pulled the trunk from the sand and Jack broke the lock with his own shovel. He reached in and pulled out a smaller, more intricately decorated chest, gazing at it with wonder. He lowered his ear to the side and grinned when he heard the heart beating within.

"It's real," Elizabeth breathed.

"You actually were telling the truth," James said in shock, sharing a glance with Elizabeth.

"I do that quite a lot," Jack retorted, somewhat offended, "Yet people are always surprised."

"With good reason," a voice answered from behind them, and Elizabeth stiffened. Jack reached out to cover her hand with his and they shared a glance.

"Will," she observed quietly, "You're all right."

Jack's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How did you get here?"

"Sea turtles, mate," Will said sarcastically, "A pair of them, strapped to my feet."

"Not so easy, is it?" Jack crowed in reply, smirking at the younger man.

"But I do owe you thanks, Jack," the blacksmith-cum-pirate went on.

Jack blinked. "You do?"

"After you tricked me onto that ship to square your debt with Jones..."

Elizabeth glanced up at him sharply. "What?"

"What?" Jack parroted, avoiding her eyes.

"I was reunited with my father," Will finished, gazing longingly at Elizabeth.

Jack grinned. "Oh, well, you're welcome, then." Will moved across the sand and knelt down. "Oi, what are you doing?"

Will didn't bother to look up. "I'm going to kill Jones."

Jack drew his sword and held it against Will's shoulder. "I can't let ye do that, William, 'cause if Jones is dead, who's to call his terrible beastie off the hunt, eh?" Jack held out his hand as Will slowly stood up. "Now, if you please; the key."

Seeing an opportunity, Will reached for Elizabeth's sheathed sword and drew it, shoving her behind him. "I keep the promises I make, Jack."

"That's debatable," Elizabeth muttered, stepping around him and giving him a look. She moved to stand behind Jack, and Will gaped as Jack's free hand reached out to pull her close as she passed.

"I intend to free my father. I hope you're here to see it," Will ground out, his eyes still fixed on Elizabeth.

"I can't let you do that, either," James said apologetically, pulling out his own sword. "So sorry."

"I knew you'd warm up to me eventually," Jack beamed, making to step towards Norrington. He drew sharply back, however, when James' sword was suddenly pointed at him and not Will.

"Lord Beckett desires the contents of that chest," James explained, "And if I deliver it, I get my life back."

"Ah," Understanding dawned in Jack's mind, "The dark side of ambition."

"Oh, I prefer to think of it as the promise of redemption," James said with a shrug.

And then, as one, the three armed men began to fight, and Elizabeth was outraged. "Stop it!" She shouted, running forwards as Jack fell to the floor. "Jack!"

Jack leaped up to run after the other two. "Guard the chest!"

"No!" Elizabeth cried, "This is barbaric! This is no way for grown men to settle... Oh, fine! Let's just haul out our swords and start banging away at each other. That will solve everything! I've had it! I've had it with wobbly-legged, rum-soaked pirates!" Then, seeing that she was, in fact, being unceremoniously ignored, she glanced around. She spied some stones on the floor and starting pelting them at the three, huffing in frustration when she realised that her throwing aim was rather terrible. "Enough! This is madness! Enough!" She decided to change tactics. "Oh... Oh... the heat." She allowed herself to fall to the floor in a mock-faint, opening one eye to see if they'd even noticed.

They hadn't.

She sat up with a scowl, crossing her legs and folding her arms.

A movement to her right caught her eye and she turned in time to see Pintel and Ragetti running away, carrying the chest between them. She leaped to her feet and started off after them.

...

After the arrival of Jones' minions and the continuing sword fight between Jack, Will and James, the party of six eventually all arrived back at the longboat, accompanied by many angry members of Jones' crew. Elizabeth held an oar aloft, unsure as to who to hit with it first.

Will picked up the chest and made to open it, and Jack spun and walloped him with his own oar. She glanced at her fallen ex-fiancé and shrugged.

"Leave him lie," Jack said, "Unless you plan on using him to hit something with."

"We're not getting out of this," she stated resignedly, glancing between Jack and Norrington and the growing number of Jones' crewmen around them.

"Not with the chest," Norrington agreed, "Into the boat."

Seeing his intention, Elizabeth gasped. "You're mad!"

"Don't wait for me," James replied with a half smile. He reached over the side and picked up the chest, running off with it away from the fight.

"I say we respect his final wish!" Jack decided, throwing his oar into the boat.

"Aye!" cried Ragetti.

...

Will opened his eyes and groaned at the light, but smiled when he saw Elizabeth leaning over him. "What happened to the chest?"

"Norrington took it to draw them off."

"Where's the Commodore?" Gibbs asked Jack, and Jack paused.

"Fell behind."

Gibbs considered this. "My prayers be with him... But best not wallow in our grief. The bright side is, you're back and made it off free and clear."

There was a contradictory rumbling behind him, and Jack winced at the noise. The crew spun to face the source and froze as the Dutchman rose from the sea. Elizabeth fell back against Will and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her further away from the edge of the ship.

"Lord on high, deliver us," Gibbs whispered, crossing himself and glancing to the heavens as Jones' crew taunted them.

Jack smirked. "I'll handle this, mate. Oi, fishface!" he held up his jar of dirt and grinned. "Lose something? Eh? Scungilli?" He overbalanced on the stairs and toppled down them. Once at the bottom, he again held up his beloved jar of dirt. "Got it! Come to negotiate eh, have you, ye slimy git? Look what I got. I got a jar of dirt. I got a jar of dirt. And guess what's inside it?"

"Enough!" Jones spat, and Jack grimaced as the cannons on the Dutchman were rolled into position.

"Hard to starboard," he muttered, glancing worriedly at Elizabeth.

"Hard to starboard!" She echoed in a yell.

Will nodded. "Brace up the foreyard!"

The Pearl began to turn and Elizabeth exhaled a little.

And then... "She's on us! She's on us!"

Elizabeth spun and shrank back as she saw that the Dutchman was in full pursuit, her cannons slowly starting to decimate the rear of the Pearl.

It didn't take long for Jack to claw back his advantage and Elizabeth leaned out over the rail to look back. "She's falling behind!"

"Aye!" Gibbs agreed, "We've got 'er!"

"We're the faster?" Will asked curiously, relieved that today wasn't going to be the day he died.

Gibbs nodded. "Against the wind the Dutchman beats us. But with the wind..."

"We rob her advantage," Will completed, and Elizabeth let out a delighted peal of laughter.

She half danced across the ship, throwing her arms around Jack and peppering his face with kisses. "You did it," she crowed, "You did it!" Jack glowed under her praise, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing her against the helm.

"I do me best, luv," he purred, capturing her lips with his. "Where were we, anyway?"

She bit her lip and looked up at him, raising an eyebrow as if to say 'Really? We've just escaped certain death and that is what you are thinking about?'. He grinned at her sheepishly and she smiled back.

"They're givin' up!" Marty cried.

Jack and Elizabeth turned to look; the entire ship was in uproar, leaping around the deck in celebration.

"My father is on that ship," Will said coldly, and Jack frowned at where this line of conversation was leading. "If we can outrun her we can take her. We should turn and fight."

"Why fight when you can negotiate?" Elizabeth asked from her position under Jack's arm, smirking up at her Captain.

"All one needs is the proper leverage," Jack agreed, placing his jar of dirt on the rail.

There was a sudden jerk and the jar fell to the ground below. Jack wailed and ran down after it. "Where is it? Where is the thump-thump?!"

The crew cautiously went to the sides of the ship, gazing down as white froth bubbled around the wooden hull.

"We must've hit a reef!"

Will paled. "No! It's not a reef!" He grabbed for Elizabeth and pulled her close to him. "Get away from the rail!"

"What is it?!" She asked him, eying him warily.

"The Kraken!"

All movement stilled again, and Jack's gaze found Will's.

"To arms!" Will cried.

Gibbs nodded. "Load guns! Defend the mast!"

"It'll attack the starboard," Will theorized, "Run out the cannons and hold for my signal."

Jack stood up slowly and, in the hubbub and rush, slipped to one side of the boat. The longboat was still loose, dangling in the air, and he slowly lowered it into the sea and climbed down the ladder after it, trying valiantly to ignore the tentacles that crawled up the ship.

As soon as his foot hit the boat, he knew that he was making the wrong decision. His heart – his Lizzie – was up there, on the Pearl, fighting for her life, and he was rowing away from her, letting her die for him.

He made it halfway to land and then stopped, dropping the oars back into the boat with a resounding clatter. He plucked his compass from his belt – having stolen it back from her – and opened it.

It pointed right back at the Pearl.

With a loud sigh, Jack spun around in the boat, picked up the oars again, and began to row back. Bloody women.

...

"Oh, you coward," Elizabeth hissed, spying Jack rowing away. "We'll do this without you."

...

"Shoot!" Will cried, "Elizabeth, shoot!"

She waivered, and in that moment she was knocked off her feet by a tentacle wrapping around her legs, dragging her along the floor and into the cabin. Pintel managed to hack off the tentacle before it could pull her from the ship and she yelled her thanks, racing back to the deck and looking desperately around for the musket.

She spied it at the top of the stairs and raced up to grab it, cursing when a boot landed on the barrel.

"Move!" She screamed, trying to pry the boot away from the gun. She looked up and Jack peered down at her, and an overwhelming sense of relief swept over her. She wrapped her arms around his legs and sobbed into him, clinging to his thighs as he raised the gun to fire.

He shot and the barrels of power and kegs of rum exploded. The tentacles hovered in the air and then shrank away, back down into the ocean.

"Did we kill it?" Marty asked quietly, looking around at the debris on the deck.

"No," Gibbs replied, "We just made it angry. We're not out of this yet." He looked up at Jack. "Cap'n! Orders?!"

Jack gazed around, his heart heavy in his chest. "Abandon ship. Into the longboat."

"But Jack, the Pearl," Gibbs protested.

Smiling sadly, Jack shook his head. "It's just a ship, mate."

"He's right, we have to head for land," Elizabeth chimed in softly.

"That's a lot of open water," Ragetti pointed out.

Pintel echoed his thoughts. "A lot of water."

"Abandon ship," the first mate agreed, "Abandon ship or abandon hope."

Jack walked around the deck slowly, pressing his hands to the surfaces as if to commit them to memory.

Elizabeth followed him across the deck. "Thank you, Jack."

He turned to her and smiled. "We're not free yet, luv."

"You came back," she said with a smile, "I always knew you were a good man."

Jack shrugged and took a step back, but Elizabeth moved forwards, capturing his lips and wrapping her arms around him. She moved them backwards along the deck so that Jack was pressed against the main mast. She trailed her hand down his chest and along his arm, her fingertips finding the manacle. She pulled back as the lock clicked, a savage resignation in her eyes. "It's after you, not the ship. It's not us. But this is the only way, don't you see?"

Jack grinned at her, his approval of her actions plain.

"I'm not sorry," Elizabeth whispered.

"Pirate," Jack replied, half-accusingly, half adoringly, and used his right hand to push her away from him. "Go, Elizabeth."

She turned away from him and started to walk back to the ladder, but something stopped her. "Jack?"

"Mmm?"

She glanced back and there it was again; that same look that had made her kiss him for the first time, that same look that had persuaded her to give him her innocence, that look of raw emotion that she just couldn't resist.

In a heartbeat, she was across the ship, claiming his lips roughly again in a wild display of passion. "I can't do it," she muttered, fumbling with the lock on the shackle, "I can't leave you to die. I won't."

"Ye have to," Jack said softly, "Ye have to go, Lizzie."

She let out a wail when she couldn't free his hand. "No. I have to stay. I don't want to live in a world where you don't exist, Jack. I won't let you go where I can't follow."

Seeing her intentions, Jack reached out to grab her hands with his free arm. "Elizabeth," he warned, "Don't do anything..." the manacle fastened around her own wrist, and his eyes squeezed closed. "...Stupid."

"If you have to die, then I'm going to die with you."

"I love you," Jack murmured, reaching up to cup her face. She leaned towards him and he kissed her, so soft and gentle and sweet that she wondered if it truly was him kissing her. "May aswell tell ye now, since I might not get another chance."

She pulled away and glanced up at him. "I love you too, Jack."

A shadow fell over their faces and they looked up. The Kraken let out an almighty roar and Elizabeth shivered, huddling as close to Jack as her manacle would allow.

"What happens now?" she whispered.

"Now," Jack said with a sad smile, "Now, we die."