They were alone on the deck, beneath the ripe, gawking moon. It pleaded for a spectacular show that night, and it seemed that the two knew they were simply tragic actors in the final act.
She saw this as an opportunity.
He saw an opportunity of a different sort and slunk off towards the cabin.
"Jack," She murmured, gripping his shoulder but he immediately shrugged her off and snapped for her not to touch him. Her hand fell to her side and swung, a pitiful prisoner who'd met his end at the noose.
Jack's back was turned towards her, but he could see her just barely, as his head was down-turned and tilted to the side to catch a glimpse of her sorrow out of the corner of his eye. He felt a pang of guilt as her bottom lip quivered, near tears. "Don't touch me," He said once more, delicately this time, to remind himself of her transgressions of the worst kinds toward him.
Along with tears flowed a question, a terrible inquiry that seemed to be asked by a completely different voice. A small, distant voice that pleaded to know, though all present parties already knew the answer save the moon, their audience.
"Why not, Jack?"
Both knew the answer. None moved to supply said answer. The question hung in the air like a forgotten spider web, into which you walked on accident and, no matter how much you picked and scratched and pulled, you could still feel its fibers attached to you.
"Don't do this to me," Elizabeth finally implored, just above a whisper. "I never meant…I shouldn't have-" Jack finally turned to her and held up a hand to silence her. "You shouldn't have," He repeated, with a sneer. "You never meant…Lizzie, I know precisely what ye meant by it all. Bloody hell, even the blubbering idiots caught on about what you intended by it. You were very sure of your choice, as always, and you needn't drag it all out as far as you have. You and Will are a twosome. Great. Couldn't be happier for you. Now leave me to my lonesome, will you?"
On his last request, he pivoted and head for the Captain's Cabin once more, but Elizabeth caught his arm defiantly. "You are not running from me, Jack," She hissed, her disposition shifting rapidly.
Jack whirled and back-handed her across the cheek, a completely unfortunate mishap. He stared at his hand as if he wished he could detach it that instant. Elizabeth clutched the side of her face, her jaw set indifferently as if she didn't care about what he'd just done.
"I didn't mean…I shouldn't have don't that," Jack stuttered, feeling mighty thick for sounding unerringly as Elizabeth had moments before. She simply glared at him, unmoving.
"Elizabeth," Jack sighed, regretting not fleeing when he had the chance. "We're not on identical levels of sins, but I suppose we're almost equivalent now. Still, leave me be. I'm not prepared to face you just yet." Elizabeth shifted and her hand drifted back to her side. Jack winced at the sight of a brilliant red blotch invading her perfect skin.
"How, Jack?" She asked, a hint of a quiver marking the question. Whether it was fear or rage or something completely different, neither of them could tell. "How am I supposed to take no notice of you every time you walk past?"
Jack didn't answer.
He didn't have the answer.
"I've envied you since I met you," Elizabeth suddenly told him. "I envied your for who you were and for what you had. I wanted to be a part of your life and to taste that freedom you spoke so lovingly of. It sounded just as I thought it would always be. Perfect."
As he stood on the deck, Jack realized he was trembling. It wasn't a particularly cold night and he wasn't nervous, he was just trembling because…why was he trembling? Maybe because he'd never thought he'd hear such words from Elizabeth Swann. Maybe he'd been anticipating them too much, and now that they had finally been said, he couldn't hold in his anxiety. What would he say in return?
"Then the compass spun to point at you and I was so afraid…" Elizabeth's voice trailed off as her gaze traveled southward, till it rested on the planks. "So afraid that you would never feel the same as I did."
Without warning, Jack was standing right in front of her. It was as if her words had triggered something in him. Tenderly, he smoothed a hand over the angry red mark. "Nonsense," He merely said.
Then Jack Sparrow kissed her for the second time and he feared neither death nor betrayal, yet he had no sensible reason why his fear had been swallowed other than pure stupidity.