A few months ago, I started writing a little ficlet, which turned into a multi-chapter fanfiction, divided into four main parts. Today I give you part one, which consists of 3 chapters. Many thanks go to sparrowsswann and True Romance for the beta.

Title: Exorcism

Part: I

Genre: Romance, Angst

Pairing: J/E

Rating: PG, this part

Warnings: Slight AU (if you consider AWE spoilers as canon), implied torture, language

Disclaimer: Jack and Lizzie belong to each other, everything else belongs to the mouse

Summary: After the events of AWE, Elizabeth decides to return to England. With Governor Beckett still residing in Kingston, her only hope is a man hiding in the ruins of Port Royal ...

Feedback is greatly appreciated!


Exorcism I - Part 1

So that was what Tia's – Calypso's fury had brought about. As far as the eye could reach, there was only chaos and desolation, a forlorn area, littered with stones and wood. From time to time, one could make out the remains of what had once been a house, broken furniture on the floor, covered with dust and subjected to the elements that would soon claim what had been spared by the horrible earthquake. Which was not much, considering what Port Royal had once been: The proudest city in the Spanish Main. And her home. Once, a long time ago when home had been more than just a word in a language she had been accidentally born to use. Home – a place she felt she belonged to, people whom she cared about and who cared about her. Home was no more. Elizabeth Swann had lost everyone she loved, first her father and then Will.

There, just around the corner – if there was still such a thing as a corner and a street – had been the blacksmith's shop where he had lived. The very place he had made the sword she was still carrying with her, where he had practiced ten hours a day, only to impress her. Where he had dreamed about her. All dreams had died, along with the brave young man she had once known. Loved. He was forever gone, not dead but still gone and out of her reach, sailing the seven seas on a cursed ship, without a heart to guide him back to where he belonged. He didn't belong with her anyway. She belonged with no one and no one belonged with her. Like the city of Port Royal, she who had once been full of life and hope was now empty and deserted.

Strangely, after all of this, after she had lost everyone and everything, she had reached her goal. Now she was what she had always dreamed she would be: Free. Free to go wherever she wanted to go and free to do whatever she wanted to do. But she didn't appreciate that freedom. Not anymore. For had she known that freedom could only be gained at such a disproportional cost, she would have done without.

Maybe you could only be free and delight in your freedom if you were an indifferent person, self-centred and bare of any morals. Like Jack. She looked at him, striding across this field of destruction with his head held high, mimicking the picture of an entirely pleased ruler finally plucking the harvest of his rule. Another town in ruins – why should he care? He who had neither cared about the battle they had lost at World's End, nor about the many deaths that had occurred. If he had been solemn and thoughtful these days, it was almost certainly because of that goddamned ship of his. Barbossa had got his hands on the Pearl again, leaving Jack and the remains of his crew with a junk which was, in fact – junk! Well, he'd probably start working on retrieving the Pearl as soon as he had brought her to Kingston, the governor's – Lord Beckett's - new residence. At least that favour had he been willing to grant her. Even former Commodore James Norrington would have done as much, had he lived.

But still, she didn't quite understand why they'd had to come here, into this town of death and destruction. Was there any use in challenging the gods and evoking unnecessarily painful memories? And even if there was no other way, he could have spared it to her; after all, he didn't seem to place value on her company anyway, rushing ahead as if she wasn't there.

"Jack! Jack, wait!"

"What is it, luv? Haven't had a little afternoon stroll for quite some time, he?"

"Where are we going? I thought we were here to meet someone. That friend of yours. Anyway, I don't see, why …"

He abruptly turned round, facing her with a fierce expression.

"Shhh …! The man we're going to meet is not exactly a friend of mine. So if you don't see the necessity of finding someone to take you to Kingston and get you a save and adequate passage to England, we can turn on our heels and leave this rather –", he paused and looked around, pulling a face as if some foul odour was in the air. "-uninspiring, wholly uninteresting and unpleasant place. That's perfectly fine with me. " He turned around and she thought he looked – well, serious. And though he smiled, there was a quiver in his voice and – could it be? – a strange glitter in his eyes which she would have taken for fear, had she seen it on any other man. But not on Jack Sparrow. Oh yes, Jack Sparrow feared those who threatened his life or interests, but he would not have come here if this were the case. After all, there was nothing in it for him. Well, maybe except for the fact that he would finally get rid of her.

Being honest, she couldn't say she'd miss him, either. There was nothing to keep them together. Nothing at all. And though there had been moments when he had made her believe he actually cared, she knew it was just an illusion, part of a legend like himself. When he had told her how much he admired her newly acquired skills in reading the charts, when he had fetched her from the Dutchman, tearing her away from Will, even when he had held her in his arms, comforting her, she had always felt that it wasn't real. He had made her part of his own story, another sea-turtle tied to his feet.

No, she'd rather rot in England than ever see this man again for no stranger could ever be more alien to her than Jack Sparrow.

"So what is it now?"

"Walk on," she replied, recognizing that there was no use in getting into an argument. He was in a strange mood today – strange even for him – and she couldn't help but be a little curious about where he was leading her.

When it finally dawned on her where they were going, they had already left behind the former warren of the town centre and reached the outskirts of Port Royal, once a blooming garden, harbouring the vast mansions of the rich. Though nature had already recaptured a large part of the formerly so well cultivated groves, hedges and flower beds, Elizabeth still recognized the familiar surroundings that had accompanied her home for so many years.

For some reason, Jack slowed his pace when they approached the iron gate – or what remained of it – that had once guarded the drive that lead up to the governor's mansion.

And then, they were only one step away … one step and there, behind the trees …. No!

There was no way she could bear this. How dare he take her home when home was no more?

She grabbed his arm, her fingers digging hard into the fabric of his worn blue coat and he got the message and stopped, eyes still focussed on the overgrown road ahead.

"Why are we going – there? Why this place?" she asked, almost hysterically, still pulling at his sleeve.

"Don't ask me," he whispered. "Please don't ask me."

And then, in the oddest of gestures, he freed his arm and took hold of her hand, clutching it so tightly it hurt. She was still looking at their joined hands in disbelief when he progressed, pulling her with him. His hand felt rough around hers and she instinctively tried to free herself, scared by his uncharacteristic behaviour. She had never felt she understood Jack Sparrow, but this side of him – this man who didn't dare to speak above a whisper, a glint of madness in his eyes – frightened her beyond belief.

But he ignored her struggle, dragging her behind him through where the gate had been; what remained was a deformed mass lying on the ground, soon to be gone and forgotten, claimed by the various grasses and climbers that had already coiled themselves around the iron bars. This gate had always seemed impregnable to her, too high and heavy for anyone to overcome or clear away. It had symbolised her fortress and her prison – and now it was gone, just so, in an instant as if a giant had ripped it out and carelessly thrown away.

It was grotesque, everything around them, her hand in his, a terrible, painful nightmare and she knew she'd wake in any second, covered in sweat and relieved to find it was only a dream. There was no way this could really be happening … life was not that cruel. And then, she saw it.

Apparently, the larger part of the front side had been unable to brave the earthquake. The pompous marble columns that had once kept up the entrance were nowhere to be seen, the same was true for what seemed like the entire roof. Elizabeth swallowed hard at the discovery that many of the rooms that had once been located somewhere in the centre of the house were now open to wind and weather, no longer a shelter from the rain but left at the mercy of its destructive powers.

The governor's mansion, once the most beautiful and proudest house in all of Jamaica was no more than a ruin.

She suddenly realized that they were no longer walking along but standing in the blazing afternoon-sun, eyes fixed on the sad remains of what had been the fairytale–castle of her childhood. And it was no longer Jack who was clutching her hand but the two of them holding on to each other while the world seemed to hold its breath for a long and painstaking moment. Even the birds in the trees and the light summer breeze seemed to still, mourning the loss of a past thought long forgotten.

"Welcome home," Jack said quietly, breaking the silence.

And if Elizabeth hadn't known better, she'd have thought he was talking to himself.