Disclaimer: I don't own it. Everything you recognise belongs to Disney. No infringement
is intended and I'm certainly not making any money from this story.
Summary: A Jack and Elizabeth scene, set directly after "Reasons to Believe".
Author's note: My entry for the Valentine's Challenge at The Black Pearl Sails Group.
For those of you who haven't read "Reason to Believe", the premise here is that Elizabeth
is a widow. When Jack was lost at sea, she and Gibbs went in search of him and found
him alive, on an uninhabited isle.


In the Dark Watches of the Night
by Hereswith

He slept fitfully and because he did, Elizabeth did not sleep a wink. When the chair grew
too uncomfortable, she walked around in the cabin until the ache in her back had eased,
then returned to her chosen seat once more, waiting for dawn, or for Jack to wake,
whichever of the two came first.

She wondered if it was pain or memories of the island that plagued him, dearly wishing
she was wiser in the ways of healing such wounds. They would soon reach Tortuga and,
even with a spyglass, even from up in the crow's nest, that particular, godforsaken spit
of land could not be seen.

But though they had left it behind, in body, the mind lingered and would not let go. In
her own dreams, she ran across that beach again, each step as slow as if she was
knee-deep in mud, and found him dead, not living and breathing, but dead, and she
knew him only by the beads that rattled like bones when she touched them.

She had not been able to believe that he was gone, she scarcely dared to believe, now,
that he was here.

Jack cried out, suddenly, voice tinged with sharp desperation, and Elizabeth scrambled
to her feet, hurrying to the bed. In the flickering light of her small, nearly burnt out candle,
his face was hollowed and shining with sweat.

"Hush," she whispered, feeling his forehead for signs of fever and finding none. "It's all
right. You're safe."

He jerked and his eyes opened, but the expression in them was distant, as if the nightmare
had not relinquished its hold. "Elizabeth?"

"Yes."

Jack frowned. "You burned the rum."

Elizabeth gave a slight snort. "You'll never let me forget that, will you?" She shook her head,
annoyance inextricable mingled with worry. "Jack? Do you know where you are?"

"Aye." His throat bobbed as he swallowed, once, twice, blinking like an owl. "I'm on
the Pearl." And, with that, broke into a fit of rasping coughs.

She placed the candle on the nearby chest, so as to be able to help him drink some water.
To her relief, the precious liquid, tepid though it was, seemed to bring him to full awareness.

Jack slumped against the pillows, wearily, and regarded her with a critical gaze. "You
look a positive fright, love."

Elizabeth grimaced self-consciously, rubbing her right temple. "I suppose I do. I've
not—slept well."

"Won't do either of us much good if you push yourself to exhaustion," reasoned Jack.
"Besides, Gibbs'd be sorely displeased, I wager."

"He'd grouse at me," she admitted, biting her lower lip uncertainly. "I'd rather not
leave you."

"Didn't say you had to," he replied. "The bed's large enough." Caught by surprise,
Elizabeth blushed and Jack, noting her consternation, added dryly, and with some
regret, "Couldn't, even if I wanted to, darling. I'm as weak as a bloody kitten."

"I wasn't—" The blush spread like wildfire down her neck. "Perhaps for a moment,
then."

Decision made, she turned away from him, to gain a reprieve, but his smile still warmed
her as if was golden indeed, like the sun, sending a flurry of sparks along her spine.
Elizabeth took off her shoes, putting them neatly together, then, after a brief hesitation,
blew out the candle and gingerly stretched out next to him, grateful she wasn't wearing
a corset and that he, the pirate, wore breeches, at least, if little else.

When her arm bumped against his, she started, drawing back.

"I won't break, Lizzie," he pointed out. "Nor bite."

She felt ridiculous. It should not have bothered her; she had nursed him these last few
days, after all, without any difficulty or foolish fluster. But it was different, like this, with
both of them lying down in the dark, in so intimate, if innocent a fashion; it skirted the
edges of her most reckless flights of fancy, and that unnerved her. "You had better not,"
she muttered.

"Which?"

"Either," she said. "Both."

"Agreed! Now, if that's settled, will you stop this devilish fussing!"

She did, eventually, she was far too tired not to. At some point, though, her hand
strayed up to his beads, in an attempt to convince herself, to make herself believe.
They were blessedly ordinary, solid and smooth; they did not rattle like empty death.
"Jack?"

"Aye?"

Elizabeth sighed. "Nothing, merely—Jack."

His low, quiet laughter untied the knots in her stomach, one by one. She fell, fast
and oddly contented, into a deep slumber that lasted a great deal longer than a
moment, her fingers tangled in the seaweed of his hair.