Disclaimer: My owning of all things Pirates, it has not happened yet.
The Anti-Angst
"She's only a ship, mate."
She's only a ship? There was a lie if Elizabeth had ever heard one. Only the ship he'd sold his bloody soul for in the first place. In fact, on the list of things Captain Jack Sparrow would never say and mean that had to rank second only to 'I think I'd like to settle down on a nice farm.' And Jack, who told the truth quite a lot, actually, and yet people were always surprised, lied when he was scheming.
The others – such a pitifully small handful of them left after the kraken's attacks – were dashing about, lowering the longboat, salvaging all they could in half a minute. Jack paid them no mind. Then the crew, and Will, began climbing over The Pearl's rail, while Jack hung back, running his fingers over random and various of the ship's fittings.
Oh, God. She had known he was a good man, and he had already proven her right, and now… Her heart twisted under her breastbone in a way she would never, ever mention to Will. She wanted to do something for him, give him something in these last moments. Trying to talk him out of it was out of the question – she couldn't take this from him, and besides it would be stupid and get everyone killed.
Christ, she was standing here watching a man martyr himself, thinking about secrets to keep from her fiancé and calculating survival rates. He'd been right about her too. Well, thank God. She could give him that.
"Thank you, Jack," she called to him and was relieved when he looked up. So he could be distracted from his ship, at least for the minute she'd need.
"We're not free yet, love." Oh, terrible. It had been irritating when he'd called her 'love' before, but it had never hurt.
"You came back. I always knew you were a good man." And you always knew about me. You'll see. She leaned in to kiss him, and she could feel his surprise in the way his lips took just a moment to respond, but when they did, oh… At least this had worked out well and neatly – giving him what she could, she got this taste from him.Give and take was lovely, almost a fraction as lovely as this kiss. His hands stayed at his sides as she pushed him back toward the mast, and she suspected he was feeling what she was feeling – that to grab hold would mean never wanting to let go. Neither of them could afford that now.
Her hand slid down his arm, and her fingers traced fleetingly over his before she lifted the shackle and clamped it around his wrist. "It's after you, not the ship. It's not us. This is the only way, don't you see?" she asked, as if he didn't. She leaned in to kiss him again, but that would have tempted her to do something stupid and heroic like Will was always doing and stay with him. It would ruin the point she was trying to make if she let herself die in someone else's sacrifice. She pulled back.
"I'm not sorry." And that was another lie. She was sorry for a lot of things – that he'd been such a damned fool as to sell his soul in the first place, that Norrington was a tricky bastard, that she didn't have Neptune's trident hidden under her tricorn, all pointy and perfect for skewering a kraken. But she wasn't sorry for the kiss or that he'd been right about her, and if he'd been a coward and made this necessary, she wouldn't have been sorry for doing it then.
And she wasn't sorry to see Jack was smiling at her, looking smug and proud and awed and covetous all at once. What he was not looking was melancholy like he'd been when she interrupted his caressing of the ship. That was good. "Pirate," he pronounced, and he could not have understood her better.
He didn't try to hold her as she stepped away; men never seemed to have much trouble letting her go for her own good. In the longboat she announced, "He elected to stay behind to give us a chance," her voice brittle with the effort of reminding herself she was proud of that, not sorry. Goddamn him for being so good. She sincerely hoped God did not listen to prayers of pirates.
- SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS -
"Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger!" It was a lovely gesture Lizzie had made, one the thought of which would doubtless keep him warm on the cold…cool on the hot nights in hell; still, he'd really hoped to have his sword hand free for his triumphal exit. To the end, though, he was Captain Jack Sparrow…Ahh, a lantern.
- SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS -
When Tia Dalma declared that they could get Jack back, Elizabeth was overjoyed. Well, in shock first, but then overjoyed. Nearing giddy. Piracy, it seemed, was the mother of all loopholes. Or loopholes were the essence piracy. Either way, this was indeed the life. Yo ho.
A/N: Well, OK…but for a death scene it was low angst! Still lovin' the feedback. Kiss it good-bye and send it along to me.