Birds of a Feather
Author's Note: I sure hope you understand the irony of the title. I don't think any of you are that stupid, however, so you can figure it out. That is, if you haven't already.
Summary: "Do you really think there is even the slightest chance"
Elizabeth craned her neck to see more of the ship. Those arn't black flags... sails! She shivered as she remembered that night, the night she met Jack Sparrow. Canons boomed, rocking the foundations of her town, the crashing and crackling in the streets bellow, the calls of thieves, criminals and pirates. She remembered thinking that somewhere below her Will and Jack were running through the streets, finding their way to friends, family, or safety. She had run out of her room as those filthy toads shot the butler who had served her tea not but hours before, and they just laughed. They laughed and laughed, it was a hideous, menacing sound full of evil and hatred of the world.Before they could see her, she ran back into her room and darted under her bed, sure not to leave any sign she had been there. Tucking herself in the darkest and dirtiest corner, she listened in pure horror as her friends and maids and butlers and cooks were shot, taken, or run through with rusty, dirt coated swords...
It had been horrible, the worst night of her life, far surpassing the night she first laid eyes on the Black Pearl. She had never heard such terrible sounds, screams and yells and groans of agony. And when it was all over, she only ever felt guilt. I could have helped them, I could have saved their lives had I had enough strength and courage to just run the other way! Their lives need not had been wasted because she ran for her bed like the little brat she was. The coward she was. No good came of that night. Even Will deserted her. He got it in his mind to go hunt down the Black pearl, and who better to do it with then Jack Sparrow? Elizabeth was left with no choice what-so-ever but to marry Commodore Norrington and live her live in petticoats and corsets, sewing her way through the rest of her tired, lonely life. She had also lost the pirate medallion that night, the only thing she could have had to remember Will. When she had run back so suddenly, it had unlatched itself, slipping from her neck to the floor. The greedy pirates must have taken it with them, not thinking anything of it except that it was odd to find a pirate symbol in a known politician's mansion. Nothing more.
But then of coarse, Will returned with a beautiful woman acquaintance of Jack Sparrow's on his arm, married and his mind erased of her. James, all of a sudden, was even more formal when he returned, as if he could sense she still had feelings for this other man. Of coarse she had, she had spent half of her life thinking of him! The other side of the situation was that she could finally be at ease: she no longer had to face the choice of embarrassing her father by marrying a blacksmith, or marry someone else. She had James, who cared about her, and she herself had affection for, and she was as happy as she had ever been.
Except for the lack of freedom in the Commodore's household. She, being a woman, had never had true freedom, but the stone walls of his large estate were confining in a way that at times she felt she was in a prison. She could have gone with Will to sail the seas and find the pirates who killed our friends, but no. He thought her too delicate, to breakable, to take... to use. Like fine china, she was decoration, not meant for the food life can offer. Not worthy because she was thin and womanly, not strong and brawny like... like Will never was himself!
She blinked, regaining consciousness of the situation. The Black Pearl had returned, probably to help Jack Sparrow to escape or to pillage yet again. She had to find Will, to tell him, so he could decide what was best. James would never allow her to leave if she told him there was a pirate ship say, twenty miles away. She would have to make an excuse, some way to get away from his view and speak to the blacksmith by the dock. His wive would probably be at their home at this time, sewing, or out having more freedom than she ever had.
Twisting around, she glanced at James, who was reading a letter from the Admiral, and back out to the ship, still speeding forward at some unearthly rate. "James, darling, I - I need to pick up some clothe from Mrs. Higgins. She said our order would arrive today, I had forgotten until just now. Her shop will be closing soon, I must hurry," she lied hurried, jumping up as he eyed her. Rushing out of the room, through the halls to the front door and out into the bright sunlight, her thoughts turned around sparrows, swans, and black sails.