Title: As A Memory
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Summary: No
matter how many times they openly acknowledged that a relationship
between them would never work, Elizabeth could never find it in her
to believe the words they said. But still, "It'd never
work out anyway," right?
Rating: PG
Pairings/Characters: Jack/Elizabeth
Length: 700 words
Spoilers: slight for AWE
Genres: angst
A/N: Totally and completely inspired by the Kenny Chesney song "Better As A Memory" which has captivated me for no good reason as of late. Recently, I noticed that there was a line that said, "And all my friends are pirates..." which of course launched me straight into PotC-mode. And I realized that, even without that line, the song reminds me alot of Jack: "I'm never sure when the truth won't do/I'm pretty good on a lonely night/I move on the way a storm blows through/I never stay, but then again, I might/I struggle sometimes to find the words/Always sure until i doubt/Walk a line until it blurs/Build walls too high to climb out..." So of course fic came forth. :)
As A Memory
No matter how many times they openly acknowledged that a relationship between them would never work, Elizabeth could never find it in her to believe the words Jack said, or even the words she herself spoke. No matter how many times they said, "It'd never work out anyway," she could never take the sentiment to heart.
Hypothetically, it might have been true – many, many circumstances did stand in their way – husbands, girlfriends, ranks, situations, opinions, ambitions… But in reality, those circumstances seemed very small to Elizabeth, and their smallness invalidated all of the statements they made about their inability to have a relationship.
Because despite those constant words, they always carried on a "relationship" anyway. It was never anything serious, of course. Elizabeth truly did doubt that Jack was capable, at the moment, anyway, of a real relationship with her. It was only endless flirts and jokes, stolen kisses, quick embraces, perhaps a night spent in his cabin – tantamount to nothing, if one really counted it up.
Still, Elizabeth hoped – expected, really – that it would become something. Slowly, maybe, but it would become serious and real one day. Of that she was progressively certain as time went by, despite the constant, even ever-increasing remarks to the contrary. She endeavored to hide this notion, this belief, from Jack, though, knowing it wouldn't sit well with him. But things of that nature can scarce be hidden forever. No matter how Elizabeth might have striven to keep it concealed, she unknowingly let hints of her expectations slip through.
And Jack Sparrow was a very observant man.
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At first, she thought he was joking. Of course he was – how many times had she heard him remark that, "it would never work out between us, love"? How many times had they both made that remark and then "forgotten" it immediately thereafter?
So she simply smiled and muttered a sarcastic "agreement."
It was only when Jack refused to return her smile that she began to consider the possibility that this time was not like all of the others that had come before.
"It's just who we are." There was such seriousness, so very rare from Jack Sparrow, in his voice. "I'm just a bandit and a pirate, love. A good one, perhaps, but still just a pirate. Nothing more. I've given all my love to the sea and my ship. You should know that before it's too late."
The words were a battering ram, but Elizabeth's heart collapsed before they ever reached her. As her heart shattered and the pieces of it stuck in her throat, she was silent, unable to speak.
"We'll be into Tortuga within two days' time," Jack continued. His voice and expression were equally flat and indifferent. Elizabeth's heart, losing all hope in a single instant, shattered further. The fragments were now shards. "You can get passage from there to anyplace you'd like to go."
Finally, Elizabeth sound some voice, even though the sticking shards made for difficult speech. "Jack," she said, all but croaking it out, "why?"
His expression did not change, nor did his tone. They were solid, carved as stone. "I'm better as a memory," he answered. "A thief in the night, come and gone, setting sail before morning arises."
The words were poetic - indescribably odd from Jack Sparrow - and too true. He had come like a thief, alright. And she had been foolish, sitting wide-open, an easy target for burglary. And he was exactly what he claimed – only a pirate. He came, he stole, he kept, and felt no remorse. She'd been foolish to ever think otherwise.
She understood in that moment that it was who he was. He was a pirate, and he was going to be a pirate. His heart, even if broken, even if that were possible, would never bleed like a normal person's would; he had built for himself walls that were too high to climb over. It was simply who he was.
Elizabeth had chosen this life, life of a pirate, for herself. But she had not yet lived up to it in all regards. But Jack was entrenched in it; it was in his blood.
"Someday," he continued, voice so low she could hardly hear, "you'll understand, love. Go wait on William Turner and leave me to your memory where I belong." And then, turning, he was gone, just as he'd said.
THE END