Title: The Fountain of Youth (title may be changed later)
Pairing: J. Sparrow/E. Swann
Rating: T (may or may not change with later entries)
Chapter Summary: Elizabeth has just seen Will off after ten years of absence. Just as the Dutchman fades, a new ship looms on the horizon with some familiar faces.
Ten Years After Will Sailed Away
Elizabeth stood on the bluffs, her arm around her oldest son, Billy, watching as the sails of the Flying Dutchman vanished in a flash of unnatural green light on the horizon. Tears filled her eyes, just as they had the last time she and Will had parted. But she wouldn't let them fall. She had to stay strong, for Billy. The admiration that had been in his eyes when his father had returned had gone; in its place was hurt, betrayal. He hadn't wanted his father to leave, even though he had known he would.
"Come along, sweetheart," she said, ushering him away from the cliffs and back toward the house. "Time for chores."
Billy didn't budge, though; he merely continued to stare out at the darkening horizon. Elizabeth smiled regretfully and turned to go. As she stepped away, his childish voice rang out, "Mama! Look! He's coming back!"
Startled, Elizabeth turned. There, on the horizon, just barely visible in the wan light, was a ship. But it wasn't the Dutchman; it was too small. It looked to be a merchant ship, but the only one to visit the island wasn't due to arrive for several more weeks. Furrowing her brow, Elizabeth pulled her collapsible spyglass from her apron pockets and clicked it open. Indeed it was a merchant ship, but the sails were wrong. The sails were…No. It couldn't be. The Black Pearl had been commandeered by Barbossa; she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him for ten years. Surely Barbossa didn't want something from her now.
"Billy," she said sternly. "Get to the house."
"But Mama…" the little boy argued.
"Now, William." Elizabeth rarely snapped at her son, and referred to him as William even less. She turned him, none too gently, toward the house. "Hurry."
Sighing, the boy followed his mother back to the little house they shared. Though she hated to see him upset, Elizabeth couldn't, wouldn't, let anything happen to her son. Going to her room, she pulled her pistol from the hope chest at the foot of her bed. The metal felt odd in her hands; she hadn't fired it in years. Checking to see if it was still loaded, she pulled her cutlass and scabbard from the chest as well, strapped them on, and left the room. Billy, ever inquisitive, watched in wide eyed fascination.
"Mother!" he exclaimed. "I never knew you had a sword."
Elizabeth ignored him, heading to the door of the house. Just before leaving, she turned to her son and said, "Stay here, Billy."
"But…"
"No buts, William," she snapped. "Stay here where it's safe. Understand?"
Cowed by the use of his full name not once, but twice, Billy sank to a kitchen chair, pouting.
Better he be upset with me than dead by pirates, Elizabeth told herself. When she was sure her headstrong son wouldn't follow, she made her way down to the beach. The merchantman was fast; what had been barely a speck on the horizon a mere half hour before, now set a longboat in the water. A solitary figure was rowing it to shore. Cocking her pistol behind her back, Elizabeth waited, tense.
The longboat pulled to shore, and the figure rose. He paused to look at her, his body wrapped in a cloak that covered his hair and most of his face. The term nefarious was screaming through Elizabeth's head, and her hand threatened to tremble. No. She would not show fear. After all, she had fought pirates, naval men, and even sea monsters; a lone, seemingly unarmed opponent would not frighten her.
Without a word, the figure returned his attention to the boat, hauling it up the shore so that it would be safe from the tide. Elizabeth watched as he then turned and headed toward her. Eyes narrowing at his boldness, she pulled the cocked pistol from behind her back, aiming it right at him. "One more step and it'll be toward the Dutchman," she growled.
A familiar chuckle sounded from under the cloak, and Elizabeth blinked in shock. "Come, come, Lizzy," the voice said. He pulled away the cloak and her eyes widened further. "Is that any way to treat an old friend?"
Author's Note: What do you guys think? I got this really great Sparrabeth story beginning in my head a few nights ago, and I've been dying to get it down here. I know, to an extent, what will happen, but I'm hoping you guys can give me advice for later on. Like I said, it's only the beginning. So, comments on how you think it is so far would be much appreciated.