Fate
by Luvvycat
- Epilogue -
Ten Years Later
Captain Elizabeth Swann, now Mrs William Turner—hair loose and fluttering in the wind like the billowing sails above her, dressed in mannish attire of breeches, shirt and waistcoat—stood at the helm of her ship, the Empress, which she had just reclaimed, along with the rest of her Singapore crew, from the repair docks of Tortuga. She was returning to Shipwreck Cove after a brief sojourn to Port Royal to reclaim those personal possessions which belonged by right to the Swann family, belongings that she and her father had been forced to leave behind at the Governor's mansion when Lord Cutler Beckett arrived and started wreaking havoc on their lives.
Since the decree of death upon her head had yet to be rescinded, despite the fact that its initiator, Lord Beckett, had been dead these past two weeks, Elizabeth could not personally appear and claim them for her own. With Gibbs disguised as a merchant trader, piloting a hired ship with a mostly hired crew, bearing forged papers purporting to be from surviving Swann family in England, they had, happily, encountered no trouble whatsoever in retrieving the desired items.
Behind her at the helm, in full pirate captain regalia—including his well-loved leather tricorne hat which, like its owner, had been everywhere and seen everything, including the insides of the Kraken and the sere, desolate wastelands of Davy Jones' Locker—stood Captain Jack Sparrow, pressed closely to her back, his suntanned hands wrapped around her fairer ones on the wheel's spokes, guiding her hands as he instructed her in the fine art of piloting a ship.
"Feel that?" he murmured in her ear, his lips just brushing her earlobe, his well-modulated voice low and artfully seductive. "How she responds to even the slightest touch of your hand?" His fingers moved to stroke hers lightly, and Elizabeth responded by leaning back against him, her eyes drifting half-shut.
"Ye-esss," she practically sighed, and Jack gave a sly smile as he bent to nuzzle the sensitive spot just below her ear, where the angle of her jaw met her neck.
"Y'see, the trick is keepin' your grip firm, yet gentle ..." His hands released hers, then moved to slip around her waist, firmly but gently encircling it, "... let her speak to you ... tell you what she wants ..." His lips drifted down to caress her neck, and he was gratified to hear a slight moan pass from her lips ...
Oh, yes ... he knew what she wanted, and it had nothing to do with the Empress ...
"And if you do it right ..." his lips wandered up and down the delicate length of her neck, and he felt her tremble beneath them, "by givin' her what she wants ..." his hands slid in opposite directions, one drifting north toward the swell of her bosom, the other south over her abdomen, and points below, "you'll also get what you want from her ..."
He felt Elizabeth draw a shuddery breath, and he lifted his head from her neck as she turned her face up toward his, her hands still gripping the wheel, her lips hovering just under his. "Jack ..." she breathed against his mouth.
"What, luv?" His mouth opened, and started lowering to hers. Another second, and her lips would be his ...
She would be his ...
"I—I think the lesson is over for today ..." And then she suddenly released the wheel, and slipped out of his arms, leaving him holding nothing but empty air and the illusive reins of his thwarted desire ...
His darkly handsome face twisted, grew stormy with frustration, even as his hands moved to grip the spokes, none too gently. Bugger! he thought. Almost had 'er that time ...
Elizabeth turned to watch him. As she saw his knuckles go white on the wheel, she said, breathlessly, with sardonic humour, "Remember, Jack ... Firm, yet gentle ..."
His eyes narrowed at her dangerously, and then he bellowed in a gravelly voice, "Gibbs!!!"
It seemed only a few seconds before Jack's former First Mate appeared. "Aye?"
"Take the wheel!"
Gibbs' eyes darted to Elizabeth, and she nodded. She was captain of this vessel, after all ... not Jack.
"Aye-aye!" Gibbs responded, and grabbed the spokes while Jack relinquished control of the wheel to him.
Elizabeth was already tripping down the stairs of the wheel deck, beating a hasty retreat, but Jack's long strides soon caught up with her on the main deck.
"Lizzie," he pleaded, his hands before him turned palms-up, in supplication. "It's been nearly a week now. Surely, that's long enough ..."
"Please, Jack. Can't you see? I'm still in mourning over Will ..."
"How can you mourn someone who's still ..." He almost said alive but wasn't sure that was strictly true, so amended at the last second, "... who still exists?"
"Well, it's at the very least a separation. In any case, it feels like a bereavement to me ..." She frowned. "He was ... is my husband. And the thought of you, me, being together right now." Her face grew troubled. "Well ... I can't help but feel that it would be betraying Will ... cheating on him ..."
Jack sighed in exasperation. "How can it be cheatin', luv, when it's with your husband's full knowledge and consent? In fact, he's the one who bloody suggested it!" He started pacing, to burn off some of the excess frustration roiling within him like steam from an overheated kettle. "And I, for one, am disinclined to look this particular gift horse in the mouth."
Jack thought of the letter that had been delivered to him a week ago now—by way of a shipwreck survivor Will had sent to Tortuga, who had left it with the proprietor of The Faithful Bride, who in turn had passed it on to Gibbs, who at last had put it safely into Jack's hands—asking him, in effect, to take his place in Elizabeth's life, to be the husband and lover to her that Will could not be due to the stringent demands required of him as captain of the Flying Dutchman. Young Turner had explained, in quite eloquent and rather moving prose, how he wanted nothing more than for Elizabeth to live a full, rich and happy life, and if pursuing a relationship with Jack is what Elizabeth decided she needed to achieve that end, she had her husband's permission and blessing to do so. His only caveat was that she safeguard his heart, and, every ten years, on the anniversary of their wedding, at sunset, she return to the island of their honeymoon, and be his for the twenty-four hours allotted them by the terms of the Dutchman's curse.
It was an extraordinarily generous, supremely selfless and heartrendingly noble offer—one that spoke of the depth of Will's love for his wife, in his willingness to set aside his own feelings for the sake of her happiness—and Jack and Elizabeth both knew it.
Jack, naturally, was eager to commence the relations as soon as possible, but Elizabeth had petitioned for time to come to grips with her new situation, the reality of her forced separation from her new husband and long-time love—despite the fact that she still loved him, desperately—and to consider the direction she wished her life to take, from this point on.
Though, initially, Elizabeth had seemed as happy as Jack about the proposed new arrangement, it seemed as each day passed, and the more she had time to think about it, the more consumed with guilt she was about the prospect of engaging in what she, deep in her conscience, considered to be an extramarital affair with Jack.
Not that that would keep Jack from trying, at every opportunity, to change Elizabeth's mind, to seduce her, as he had been trying to do at the wheel. To persuade her to shorten that period of transition ... and let him back into her bed, where he hadn't been since the night before the battle, when she had given him her virginity, and, he dared hope, her heart as well.
"Besides ... it's not as if we haven't slept together before ..." he said, soft and low, his eyes lighting with the dark flame of lust as he recalled the details of their last intimate encounter. "Taken pleasure in one another ..."
Her eyes rose to meet his, and for just a moment he thought he detected an answering fire in her eyes, though she quickly quelled it. "That was different. As you so astutely argued that night in Port Royal, when you were trying to persuade me to your point of view, I didn't yet have his ring on my finger ..."
Jack glanced at her naked hand. "If I may point out the obvious, luv ... you still don't ...." It was true. In their spur-of-the-moment haste to have Barbossa marry them on the battle-besieged deck of the Black Pearl, no thought had been given to procuring a wedding ring ...
She cast him an annoyed look. "You know what I mean, Jack."
He sidled up to her, turning on the Jack Sparrow charm as he slipped his arms around her waist. "And I wouldn't be just your bit-of-fun-on-the-side, luv. More like, your husband-by-proxy ..." He grinned licentiously, "with all the connubial benefits that title implies ..." His eyelids lowered to half-mast, and he bent to kiss her ...
She threw her right hand up, effectively silencing him as well as blocking the kiss. "Jack ... I'm not ready yet. I told you, I need time ..." She extricated herself from his arms and took a step back.
"But, Lizzie ..." he wheedled, and moved to embrace her again, but she would have none of it.
"I said, not yet." Her eyes flashed and her face screwed up in determination, like a petulant and wilful child, that delectable lower lip protruding in a stubborn pout. "When, and if, I'm ready, you'll be the first to know!"
"If??!!!" he said, his voice rising, both in pitch and volume, in outrage. When, he could possibly take, because it implied events would eventually come to pass; but this If ... now, that was exceedingly worrisome! "What do you mean, if?"
"I mean, that nothing is cast in stone until I've had a chance to work things through and come to some conclusive decisions. And come to terms with my own rather conflicted feelings about the issue."
Jack heaved a deep sigh, muttering under his breath through clenched teeth about bloody, indecisive females. He honestly didn't know how much more of this he could endure. She would let him go only so far ... get just this close to having her ... and then slam the door, figuratively, in his face. After a week of this teasing—which was no less maddening for all it's being unintentional on her part—he wanted nothing more than to take her, carry her to bed, and swive her within an inch of her life … with the firm seven inches which, nowadays, seemed to be constantly standing at the ready for such an eventuality …
"Well, what're you waitin' for, luv? Some sort of divine sign from Above, tellin' you yea or nay?"
She gave a harsh little laugh. "I don't know ... maybe. It certainly would make things considerably easier, all round."
"And I'm just supposed to stand around, waitin' for you to make up your mind ... about us?" Jack's face fell into a mild sneer, his voice bespeaking impatience.
Her face softened as she saw and recognised his frustration. "Soon, Jack ... I promise. I won't leave you in suspense much longer." She walked up to him, and planted a kiss on his cheek, her right hand fondling his shoulder through the fabric of his frock coat. "Soon."
He turned his head suddenly, his eyes slipping closed as he captured her lips in a quick but heated kiss, letting it speak more eloquently than any words he might contrive of how much he wanted her, needed to be with her. She let him feed on her mouth for a few moments before breaking the kiss and pulling away, ending it before it could become something more, to his regret. He groaned as their lips parted.
But when he opened his eyes, and saw the flushed rosiness of her face, the lingering traces of desire in her eyes, Jack gave a self-satisfied grin. Yes, he nearly had her. And he would, very soon. After all, he was Captain Jack Sparrow, and there wasn't a woman in the whole, wide world who could resist him, for long ... that he couldn't have, if he put his mind to it ...
Oh, yes. He would have her. And it had to be soon, or they'd both explode with pent-up passion ...
"And don't look so bloody smug!" she admonished him, with stern eyes but the hint of a smile twitching the corner of her mouth, as though reading his thoughts.
He ignored the comment, and decided to turn the conversation in another direction altogether.
"Now, luv, since other, more pleasurable activities don't seem to be in the cards right now ... d'you mind showin' me just what was so important for you to fetch back from Port Royal, at considerable risk to ourselves, given we're both still wanted fugitives?"
She seemed grateful for the change of subject, and a wistful smile curved her lips. "Oh, nothing of consequence. Mostly things of sentimental value. My late mother's china, silver, and crystal. Her jewellery. My father's collection of books. Some furniture ..."
He put a long, ring-bejewelled finger to her lips, stemming her stream of words. "I said, show me, luv ... not recite a catalogue of everythin' ye took ..."
She nodded, and he removed the finger. "All right," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him after her, toward her cabin. "I know of at least one or two things that might be of interest to you ..."
* * * * *
The great cabin of the Empress was accessed by a flight of stairs leading from the main deck up to a door on the quarterdeck, then down a curving stairway to a large circular moon gate leading to the main chamber. With its rich, dark panelling and opulent Asian appointments—large glowing glass-paned lanterns hanging from the ceiling; low couches strewn with silken pillows and bolsters; rich brocade curtains and filmy silk swags draped from the ceiling; thick plush Oriental carpets cushioning its floors; consoles and cabinets and tables fashioned of bamboo and woven rattan or carved mahogany holding Chinese figurines and statuary of all sorts crafted from brass and jade and wood and ivory; brass censers, and even an elaborate water-pipe of the type one used for smoking opium—the room reminded Jack not so much of a ship's cabin than the parlour of a fancy Singapore bordello.
Along one wall, there was a large gap in the panelling, which allowed the gleam of new boards to show through, like a half-healed wound, where recent repairs had been made to the gaping holes left by the Flying Dutchman's cannons.
In the midst of the cabin stood three pieces of furniture, thoroughly English in design, jarringly at odds with the decidedly, overwhelmingly Asian décor: A large, four-poster bed with feather mattress, a tall cherrywood armoire, and a combined dressing table/writing desk. The rest of the Swanns' possessions had been stowed safely in the Empress' hold, transferred from the English Rose, the ship they had hired to make the journey to Port Royal. But Elizabeth had had these three pieces brought up and installed in her cabin, for they were the furnishings from her own bedchamber back in Port Royal. It brought her some measure of comfort, and a sense of nostalgia for her lost childhood, to have these familiar items restored to her.
As soon as Elizabeth released Jack's hand, he removed his hat, placing it jauntily on the head of a large statue of some Asian god or other, and moved toward one of the low couches. Flinging himself down on it, on his back, he arranged himself luxuriously amongst the cushions and bolsters like some debauched sultan in a seraglio, awaiting the pleasure of his harem. He folded his arms behind his head, looking up at her. "Well, luv, what is it you wanted to show me?" His gaze shifted to the four-poster, imagining himself and Lizzie in it, sinking together into that soft cloud of a feather mattress as they took each other to the heights of heaven ...
Elizabeth seated herself at the dressing table, and opened the upper left-hand drawer. Reaching in, she activated the spring that released the bottom panel of the drawer, revealing the hidden nook below. She removed the items nestled in the secret alcove, and lay them out on the surface of the table: a small stack of letters, tied with a blue silk ribbon; two single sheets of paper, bearing notes in two different masculine hands; and a ring on a slim silver chain.
As Jack rose from the couch and approached, she said, "These are the things I most wanted to retrieve." She picked up the ribbon-bound packet, and smiled gently. "Love letters from Will ..." she explained. "Often, he was much better expressing himself in writing than he was with the spoken word."
Thinking of the recent letter he had received from Will, Jack had to admit that was true. He could never picture Will articulating the things he had put to paper ...
Curious, Jack reached for the letters, but Elizabeth snatched them up. "No, Jack ... those are intended for my eyes alone." Her smile turned sad as she ran her fingers lightly over the ribbon binding them, caressingly. Then she brought the packet to her lips, kissed it, and replaced the letters in their secret niche.
"These, on the other hand," Elizabeth handed him the two notes, "you are free to peruse. One of them is from you, the other from Gibbs ..." As Jack picked them up, and read them, a small smile played across his lips as he recalled the morning they had been written ... and what had transpired the night before that morning ...
"You kept these?" he asked, his dark kohl-enhanced eyes crinkling at the corners as he gave her a crooked smile.
She nodded, with a small and somewhat sheepish grin. "Considering your rather extensive self-professed knowledge of the female creature, you of course are aware that we have a bent toward sentimentality and a proclivity for amassing keepsakes ... particularly when they're from someone we love." Jack paused in his perusal, aware of the implied message in her words. She had yet to come right out and say that she loved him, though, according to Will's letter, she had confessed as much to her husband.
Of course, Jack had yet to say those words to her as well, so he supposed they were even on that score ...
He held up one of the two notes, "Well, I'll have to inform Gibbs of the happy news," he joked. "I know he holds you in high regard, but I'm sure he's as yet unaware of the extent of your fondness for him ..."
Elizabeth merely rolled her eyes, choosing not to respond to Jack's quip. Instead, she reached for the last item on the table, closing her hand around it. Her eyes rose to lock with Jack's, and the warmth and affection in them was unmistakable. "I kept this as well." Opening her hand, she pinched a length of the silver chain between her fingers and lifted it from her palm, holding it up before Jack's eyes, letting him see the ring which dangled from its end.
His eyes widened, as did his gold-glinting grin. He tossed the notes carelessly back on the table, and reached for the ring, recognising it ... crafted from chased silver, etched with the figure of a sparrow in flight.
"Ah, yes ... this little beauty," he said, his expression softening as he regarded the ring. He let the strand of tiny silver links slip through his brown fingers like a fragile ribbon of moonlight playing over dark waters. He crooked her an inquisitive eyebrow. "And the chain?"
Elizabeth smiled gently, with a slight blush. "I wore it, under my clothes, close to my heart, every day, all the way up until my wedding day ... the one that was interrupted by Beckett, that is."
"Did you, now?" Jack said, with a smirk. "How very interestin' ..."
Jack rolled the silver ring between the pads of his thumb and forefinger, regarding it curiously, then unfastened the clasp and liberated it from its silver chain. Dropping the chain into his pocket (plunder was plunder, after all, and he was a pirate!), he reached out to capture Elizabeth's hand in his, lifting it as he studied her slim fingers. Then, his dark eyes fixed on hers, he slipped the ring onto her right thumb—the only digit thick enough to accommodate the size of the men's ring—where it proved to be a near-perfect fit.
She flicked her eyes down to the ring, then back up to his, with a puzzled look.
"Well, ye can hardly be any kind of self-respectin' pirate with nary a ring on your fingers, can ye?" he asked, with a mischievous grin and corresponding glint in his eye. He raised her hand to his mouth, and kissed the ring, his lips managing to softly caress several of her other fingers as well, his moustache brushing her knuckles, before he lowered it again. "We'll have to work on findin' you some more."
She smiled, and looked again at the ring. She thought it was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen, with its delicately-etched sparrow in flight and filigreed detail, and the fact that it had belonged to Jack made it that much more special in her eyes.
"It's such an unusual ring. Where did you get it? Is it a Sparrow family heirloom?" she asked.
"No, not an heirloom. Actually, I acquired it quite a few years ago ..."
Her eyes widened, then narrowed as a thought struck her. "Jack ... you didn't steal it, did you?"
He assumed an affronted air. "As a matter of fact, no, I did not steal it." He raised his chin, almost haughtily. "And if I did, what of it? After all, I'm a pirate, luv ... stealin' is part an' parcel of the job. Most of me effects, at one time or another, as you well know, belonged to someone else until they made their way into me pocket, on me back, or onto me ship."
He lifted Elizabeth's hand, and ran his thumb again over the ring. "But this little bauble I found in the mud, actually, outside a Gypsy's wagon on the Docks of London. Some pretty little missy with a rich dad dropped it comin' out o' the wagon. I was goin' to return it to her, but as their ship and the docks appeared to be overrun with Royal Navy at the time, me instinct for self-preservation won out over me natural honesty." The memory brought a smile to his lips. "Felt rather bad about it, too. After all, she did me a favour earlier ... saw me lift some toff's purse, and didn't raise the alarm. Right decent of 'er, too, or else the story and illustrious career of Captain Jack Sparrow might have ended that day on Execution Dock. The London authorities never did take too kindly to the likes of thieves and pirates, y'know ..."
A frown creased Elizabeth's brow. There was something so very familiar about his story ... something that stirred a long-forgotten memory consigned ages ago to the farthest, darkest corner of the attic of her mind ...
Elizabeth's throat was dry as she turned wide eyes up to Jack. "How long ago did you say this was?"
"I didn't say, exactly ... but t'was when I was in London, searchin' for news of Bootstrap, a couple years after Barbossa marooned me on that island and took off with the Pearl ..." His brow knit in thought. "Mebbe 'bout nine, ten years ago. Why?"
"And the rich man whose purse you stole ...?"
Jack waved his hand dismissively with a grimace of disgust. "Just some toffee-arsed whoreson with too much money and too little compassion," Jack said scornfully. "And don't expect me to have any regrets whatsoever about takin' a bit of coinage from the miserable bastard—he deserved to lose that, and a lot more besides." He drew himself up proudly, placing the fingertips of one hand lightly over his heart. "Why, before I did the decent thing an' interceded, he was yellin' fit to raise the dead, and about to beat his servant to a bloody pulp with his cane, right there on the docks, in front of everyone, for no more heinous crime than—"
"Dropping and spilling a cask of the man's wine on the docks ..." Elizabeth interrupted, practically in a whisper, her eyes huge in her suddenly pale face.
Jack's eyes snapped to her, and narrowed. "Aye. That's right. A barrel of wine. But how did ye know ...?"
Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, and she was glad she was sitting down, for she suddenly felt rather faint. "Jack ... you're not going to believe this, but ... I was there. I was that little girl, on the docks. The one who saw you take that man's purse, and hide it under your coat ..."
Jack shook his head slightly, disbelievingly. "That's not possible ..." he began, but Elizabeth interrupted.
"That was the day my father and I were leaving London for Port Royal. I was twelve years old. I saw a handsome pirate save a man's life, take a purse, and vanish into the crowd. I tried to follow him, but couldn't find him ... And there was a Gypsy wagon! The woman ..." she searched her memory, "... Anya was her name! I went into her wagon, and she told my fortune, but then my father called and I had to leave ..."
Her eyes lost their focus, as she continued, nearly whispering, "She said I would meet a man from the sea ... a pirate ... dark of hair and eyes ..." They sharpened again as she looked into Jack's eyes—eyes so dark they were nearly black. "When we found Will, floating in the sea, I naturally assumed he was the person of whom the Gypsy spoke. He seemed to fit the description."
"Did she say anythin' else?" Jack asked.
Elizabeth nodded, rummaging deeper into her dusty childhood memories. "She said this man would save my life, and I his ... and that I would give him a priceless jewel that a woman can give only once ..." Her words trailed off, and she blushed. She now realised what the Gypsy had meant, though her younger self could not have known: that "jewel" had been her maidenhead!
"But before I left, she gave me something ... something she said would help me to know my true love when I found him ... the man I was destined to be with."
Jack's eyes fixed intently on her face, and his mouth had gone dry as well. "And ... what was it she gave you?" he croaked.
Elizabeth shook her head. "I never did see it, because my father was calling, and I was panic-stricken. I took it from her, and thought I slipped it into my dress pocket as I was leaving her wagon. But, when I looked for it later, after we had fished Will out of the ocean onto the Dauntless, it was gone ... it wasn't in my pocket."
They both stared down, then, at the ring ... at the etched sparrow on its shining silver surface, the candle glow limning the engraved wings, the flickering light imbuing them with the illusion of movement.
And Elizabeth looked up at Jack, a mixture of horror and wonder shining in her eyes. "Oh my God, Jack! Do you know what this means? It was you! It was always you! It never was Will!"
"Oh, my God!" she repeated, closing her eyes as though in pain. "I lived for over ten years, believing with all my heart that Will was my destiny ... the one I was fated to be with. I never even considered there might have been another interpretation, another man ..."
Jack came closer to her, dropping to one knee beside her chair. "A man from the sea, who saved your life ..." he said, his voice soft and deep, a hint of a smile flirting at the corner of his mouth.
Her eyes opened and locked on his. "A pirate ..."
He raised her hand, turning the ring on her thumb toward the light. "A Sparrow in flight ..."
Her face melted into a tender expression, and tears silvered her eyes as she reached out to touch Jack's face with her fingertips. Then her face crumpled into a guilty look. "Oh, Jack ... I've made a dreadful mistake, and it's Will who's been made to pay the price for it! Ever since we were children, I've encouraged Will's affections, courted his attention, confident in my belief that he was the one I was meant to be with. And now it turns out our entire relationship was based on a misconception! A fallacy!"
Jack eyed her, shrewdly. "Are you sayin' you don't love him?"
She stared at Jack incredulously. "Of course I still love him! How can you doubt that? That hasn't changed. Only, when I think of the path his life has taken ... what has become of him, all because of his love for me ..." She frowned, "A love that probably never should have happened ..."
Jack took pity on her, and gathered her into his arms. "Don't go blamin' yourself that Will fell in love with you, darlin'. Believe me, luv ... it takes very little encouragement—or none whatsoever, as proven by dear James—to make a man fall in love with you." He smiled ironically, over her head. "It was likely bound to happen anyway, Gypsy's prophecy or not ..."
He drew back and eyed her, sceptically. "Besides ... did you fall in love with Will only because of what the Gypsy foretold?"
"Oh, no," she said. "Well ... maybe, at first. But as we grew older, and came to know each other better, I saw qualities in him that I really admired, that only made me love him more. But I never was sure that he loved me back ... he was so shy, and so aware of the difference in our stations, he held back so much ... until ..."
"Until you were kidnapped by pirates, and he was moved to go after you ... to save you ..."
She smiled, her eyes warming with nostalgia. "Yes. But not before a dashing scallywag of a pirate captain saved my life first ..."
Jack gave her a wide grin. "Dashing, eh?" He smoothed his moustache with his fingers. "You really think so ...?" He leaned closer, dipping his head toward her, angling for a kiss ...
But she pushed him away, with a laugh. "Don't play coy, Jack ... you know how handsome you are, and use it to advantage, quite ruthlessly I might add."
He frowned, sullenly. "Well, at present, my masculine pulchritude seems to be having no effect whatsoever on you ..."
But her mind was elsewhere, her brow knit in concentration again. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she fixed him with an incisive look. "Jack ... why did you jump in to save me that day? You didn't know me ... didn't know who I was, had no vested interest in saving a complete stranger. What made you do it?"
The unexpected question fazed Jack, and he rose to his feet again, and started pacing restlessly, his hands fluttering nervously in the air around him. "I ... I don't really know. I only knew that someone had to save you, and since I was the only one there who could swim ..."
"Or was it fate, intervening? Guiding your actions? Driving us toward the inevitable?"
Jack stilled, not knowing what to say. After all, he had seen and fought undead skeletal pirates, possessed a magic compass, had bargained with Davy Jones himself and travelled to his Locker in the belly of a sea monster, seen a man he had killed miraculously brought back to life, and spent the better part of a year dead himself. Who was he to scoff at the existence of the forces of Fate?
At his pensive silence, Elizabeth continued. "It explains so much ... my lifelong obsession with pirates, and particularly with the stories about you. The connection I felt with you, from the very first ... when I awoke on the docks, and looked for the first time into your eyes ..." She looked at the ring again. "Or, now it seems, even earlier ... when my eyes met yours, as a child, on the docks of London ..."
He smiled crookedly as he approached her with slow, swaggering steps. "And, at that moment, it appears my fate was sealed as well ..." he mused. "And ..." his hands enclosed hers, drawing her to her feet, "It also appears you just may have been given the sign you've been waitin' for ..." He pulled her into his arms. "What we've both been waitin' for ..."
She thought again of that night in Port Royal ... that moment, when Jack's soapy hands had been moving over her, cherishing her body even as his mouth worshipped at hers ... when things had felt so right, so perfect, so meant to be, even though most would have judged her actions immoral or even sinful ...
Had it been Fate, even then, whispering in her ear, adjusting the wheel, correcting her course, setting her back on the path of her true destiny ...?
"Oh, Jack ..." This time when he bent his head to hers, she didn't resist, accepting his kiss gladly, enthusiastically, winding her arms about his neck, holding him to her as if she would never let him go.
After long minutes, when they came up for much-needed air, Jack asked, breathlessly, "Lizzie ... is that feather bed of yours as comfortable as it looks?"
Her fingers started working at the buttons of his waistcoat, even as he eagerly and hastily shrugged out of his frock coat. Smiling up at him with shining eyes, she replied, silkily, "Why don't we find out ... together?"
Jack smiled back, his dark eyes dancing with golden lamplight. "Such a lovely word, that ... together!"
* * * * *
Afterwards, as they lay in bed, wrapped in each other's arms, her head pillowed on his shoulder, she drawled in a sated, lazy voice, "You know, the Gypsy predicted this, too ..."
"You mean ... that we'd make love tonight?" He crooked a grin. "My, she was a gifted prophetess, wasn't she?"
"Jack!" Elizabeth chided, tweaking one of his chin braids sharply. "No, you silly, daft, beautiful man! That my heart would be torn between two men, that I would marry one and make a lover of the other ..."
Jack's eyebrows rose, and he rolled over to trace her face with gentle fingertips, his eyes glowing with affection. "Not just your lover, darlin'," he said, his eyes darkening sensually, "Your loving husband-by-proxy ..."
And then he proceeded, through tender actions rather than effusive words, to demonstrate just how much he loved her ...
