A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews, alerts and (it was mostly surprising) favorites!!

Whew. This chapter is evil!! It took me much longer to write than I'd thought. But I'm happy I finally managed to complete it, and with the background finally set, the next instalment will include much more Sparrabethness!! :D

Edited 02-11-10 thanks to my BETA, royalpinkdogs. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own PotC.

The Tide of Hope

Chapter II

Elizabeth slumped in the armchair, too exhausted to reach her bed. Oh, that's right – her bed was occupied, so she had spent the last five nights on a pallet in the kitchen of her small house. Thank heavens, Mister Gibbs had some acquaintances in the town to put him up. If not for them, Elizabeth would now have had an aching back or even bedsores developed as she would have slept nowhere else but on the hard floor of the kitchen. It wasn't as if Elizabeth had been hospitable to an unreasonable extent, she simply was the only one not having either two fractured ribs or been bitten by some bloody venomous animal, which resulted in a five-day fever and occasional deliriums. Sinking further into the soft material of an armchair, she drew more groan than breath and felt the events of last Sunday rush into her mind, feeling highly relieved they were now over.

Seeing Jack collapse on the wet sand made Elizabeth's legs so weak that she shortly found herself stumbling on her knees, too. Dusk was already covering the island, but her body felt inexplicably hot and burning, as if the sun had still been high in the dome, at the very zenith; no, as if it had been here, before her... So close Elizabeth could touch it by simply extending her hand. But what was before her, wasn't sun. It was... he was... Oh God.

It was Jack, but not the same sneering and lecherous Jack always on the go; this Jack was ill, unmoving; hopefully, simply blacked out. Simply. The frivolity of her own word scared her. Fainting wasn't the thing people did out of the blue; if it had happened, it must have boded anything but well. Feeling inexplicably slack, Elizabeth nonetheless reached out and touched the man's shoulder, shaking it slightly, but received no response.

"Jack… Jack." A hoarse, pleading call escaped her dry mouth. "Jack, for God's sake…Open your eyes. Jack…" trembling with dread and exhaustion, she was now unconsciously reaching for his neck, embracing it. Elizabeth knew he had only passed out, but sensing a weak thumping of pulse consoled her, if only for a little. He was also soaking wet, but the substance that had covered her palms while caressing Jack's face and neck was by no means sea water. Sticky, cold sweat was still exuding through his pores, flowing down the feverish skin. Elizabeth felt the urge to wipe it all away, and she tried, stroking his cheeks, his brows, the side of his face, traveling her hands down his jawline and neck…But her attempts were in vain, as his body just seemed to be willing to get rid of all the water it contained.

He will die if no one finds him now.

That horrifying phrase rang in Elizabeth's mind, as she recalled who and why had told these words. Gibbs. Gibbs was totally serious, she had seen in it his sparkling eyes and grave tone of voice.

"I found him. But—but what now?" frantic, she didn't really know she if was only thinking or saying those words out loud. "Jack, what has happened? What am I supposed to do?.."

But Jack was lying as still as before, only shallow and hot breathing indicating his vitality. Vitality? Maybe illness? Maybe both…

It seemed as if not only Jack, but also Elizabeth had to come to their senses. While he was utterly unconscious, the woman was more than sensible to make a decision as to what she should do and where she should go; whether she should go anywhere at all. Because she couldn't just leave Jack like that… Could she? Had she any alternative options?

He will die if no one finds him now.

No, there was nothing she was able of doing, after all. Jack had to be inspected by someone with at least a bit of medical knowledge…And Elizabeth hardly had any, despite the fact that she wasn't a noblewoman of Port Royal anymore, and had to take care of her little son herself. Well, not entirely herself, as there was Doctor Smith in the town—

"Doctor Smith!" she exclaimed and momentarily sprang to her feet. How could she have forgotten this benevolent man? He would always come to William's aid when needed, and he would certainly help her now. Casting one worried, but hopeful look at Jack, as if calculating the span of time she would need to fetch Doctor Smith, taking into account her inanition and physical abilities, she came to a decision and dashed southward.

It was odd how Elizabeth found so much stamina within her now, as just a moment ago she had thought she wouldn't be able to stand up anymore. Or, when she had initially run to find Jack, fear had seized her, but not her own inner strength. Now, however, she almost found herself flying a few inches above the ground, her toes not touching the cooling evening sand beneath her. She, of course, was still immensely apprehensive, yet she believed – she wanted to believe, at least – that she would find the doctor and before long come back to Jack, and the doctor would treat him, and then… Then they would share a long, detailed and honest conversation… About what? About anything, everything; his explication for all this current madness being in the first place, of course.

Elizabeth didn't really stop at Gibbs, and breathlessly uttering something about fetching a doctor, ran past his figure.

Within a few minutes, she had reached the port outside of the town, even though her knees were weak and aching. Nevertheless, she set aside her extreme physical discomfort and went on, though slowing down a little. The harbour was desolate, twilight making it even look godforsaken. Except it wasn't – Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief as she spotted two men at the front door of some dockside shop, laughing and discussing something. She recognized one of them, the taller sunburnt one. He had the name of Oliver and was a local fisherman; fairly pleasant person to be acquainted with, as well as rather aggravating suitor. Bearing that in mind, Elizabeth walked to the door of the shop and greeted the men, facing their astonishment. In addition to that emotion, she also identified a ghost of gladness in the eyes of Oliver, and it unnerved her; the predicament she was in was by no means suitable for the man's irritating flirting. So, not waiting for his words of admiration to start flowing, Elizabeth headed him off and said:

"Gentlemen, I ask of you. Please go down the seaside and you will find an ill man there. Well, two ill men… They're my dear acquaintances and they've been stranded, shipwreck I guess…Please go and take the second one, he's terribly ill, I'm afraid he's been poisoned… He— I—" Elizabeth found her voice becoming more and more unsure, a forming lump in her throat threatening to falter it completely.

"Mistress Turner," Oliver slowly spoke out, an overly gentle, yet leery tone of voice. "You do not look very well." He paused, inhaling some air and eyeing her intently. "Are you sure of what you're implying? Where's young William?"

Elizabeth blinked, baffled. Why didn't they start towards Jack already? What had William to do with all this? Why was Oliver staring at her with such an utter dismay and sympathy?

Oh. They didn't believe her.

During the past three years in this fishing village, she had successfully formed an image of one withdrawn, hardworking widow, putting all her mind to her two-year-old son and rather unwilling to establish bonds with the people round about. And now, the same woman appeared, all disheveled, frantic and breathless, still wearing her home scuffs and unawares announced that some mysterious friends of hers had been stranded; while it was already afterglow dark, and she had to be at home, looking after her child…Not really someone to be completely trusted, was she?

But Jack, Jack would…would... if they didn't help him, he would…--

"Please, Oliver!!! I'm serious, can't you see?!" Elizabeth's voice was loud and cracking, exposing all the desperation she felt. No, no, no, she couldn't lose Jack again, not after those three tenebrous years of solitude, not since he was, most likely, her only friend left alive... "Please, go and take him… I'll fetch Doctor Smith and catch up with you. Go now. Go!"

Both men exchanged agitated looks, but neither dared contradict the woman, as she indeed sounded genuinely desperate.

Drawing a deep breath, Oliver stepped forward, nodded, mouthing some trivial words of assurance, and walked past Elizabeth at a rushed pace. The other man also nodded and followed him, groaning inaudibly..

"Hu-- hurry up!" she stammered out to their backs, feeling somewhat awkward for burdening the men, but at the same time quite afraid they didn't take the situation as seriously as it should have been taken. She saw them picking up the pace so that they were now almost running, and as that assured her, turned around and bolted towards Doctor Smith's house. Fortunately, he lived just a couple of minutes away. Elizabeth, however, managed to reach his threshold in less than one. Her heart was awfully pounding, and inside her ears, too; so she didn't really make out the fact that she was practically beating and kicking the door until a terrified face of a doctor appeared behind it.

"Mistress Turner, what is the meaning of this?"

Elizabeth did her best explaining the situation this time, for she couldn't afford any more time wasted. There was one extremely ill-looking man lying on the shore, passed out; perspiring to excess; blood-poisoning, probably. She knew him, and she could provide a bed for him, cover the treatment financially. Doctor Smith just had to come along with her…

And he didn't give an opportunity for Elizabeth to doubt his benevolence as, by the time she had finished speaking, he was already ready to go.

Throughout their travel, Elizabeth constantly prompted them both to move faster, and so it didn't take very long for the pair to reach their destination. Which was, at the moment, the very place that she had initially found Gibbs at, as Oliver, his friend and – Jack – were already there. Apparently, it was those two men who had carried him there, as he seemed to be still unconscious, but how on Earth had they managed to bring him all this distance so soon? Had Elizabeth taken a look at Oliver's face, she would have seen a proud countenance there, but she didn't; Jack wouldn't let her take her eyes off him. Involuntarily, unwillingly, of course, because he hadn't even regained his consciousness yet. But she just stood there, drinking in his image...—

"The state he's in doesn't suggest anything well." She didn't even notice when Doctor Smith had got to Jack and squatted, inspecting his pulse and body temperature. "He's critically feverish and sweating--"

"I figured that much." Elizabeth caught herself impudently interrupting, but it was already too late, as those bitter words had already flown out of her mouth. Her cheeks reddening, she shortly amended: "I mean… What is it? What's wrong with him?"

"It seems you were right, Missis Turner. It looks like a blood poisoning. I just am not able to know what caused it."

At that, a different voice appeared:

"A sea shell." Groaning with pain, Gibbs was trying to sit up, but all in vain, and he momentarily slumped down on his back. "Bloody sea shell, shaped like a cone. Foolish Cap'n wouldn't believe it was dangerous and strode away. And in me condition, I couldn't follow 'im… Had not Miss Elizabeth turned up--"

"Mister Gibbs!" the woman cried, wide-eyed. "Mister Gibbs – Doctor!" she turned to face Doctor Smith, who had already pricked his ears up at her voice. "Doctor. Is it, by any chance… deadly?"

But Elizabeth could hardly make out her own words. Her heart was unruledly racing; almost succeeding in breaking through her ribs and jumping out.. She could even imagine it falling at her feet, all gorey and blood-soaked, its weak thumping ringing in her ears.I would have to obtain a chest and keep it there, she thought, sneering inwardly. But then, suddenly, the meaning of the sentence crashed down on her with all the bitterness and grief that it carried and Elizabeth swayed, feeling so bad and guilty for daring even think that.

"It is, by all chances, deadly," doctor's voice shook Elizabeth out of her grim reverie, and she cast him a questioning look. And then she remembered her own inquiry—"but an antidote can be applied" he elaborated. "Our apothecary should still have some of this."

"That's great news!!" she announced, finally allowing some optimism to colour the tone of her voice. "Now. You, Doctor Smith, go and get that medicine, the men will carry Jack – that's his name," she pointed towards the lying figure, "– to my place, and I will help Mister Gibbs walk. Let us all meet at my house."

And with that, Elizabeth marched to help Gibbs get up, a sly smirk appearing on her face. God, how she had missed it… Missed being bossy, missed ordering others around… Missed being a Pirate King. That she still was, of course, but leading a miserable widow's life hardly counted as doing her royal duties, didn't it?

"I… I guess that's a possible scenario." Doctor Smith stammered out, exchanging incredulous looks with both men. Strange lady Elizabeth Turner was, but he was almost certain her eccentricity didn't bode anything ill. She was by no means demented… The woman just seemed to be restraining herself for some personal reason, hiding something from everybody… And she definitely was out of place in this town. The majority of folks liked her, nevertheless.

Elizabeth and Gibbs hobbled up to road to her house. The older man could almost walk by himself, as it soon developed, but Elizabeth still insisted on him holding to her, his right arm slung over her shoulder. He occasionally let out some pained groans, which didn't slip Elizabeth's notice.

"Should we stop and rest?" she asked, tilting her head to the left.

"Nay. I'll be just fine, lass." He drew a sharp breath, coughed, and continued: "An' I could be perfectly capable of walkin' by me own, if--"

"Shh!Do not talk," she squashed, casting Gibbs a stern look.. "I can see it pains you."

"Not…-- really." He allowed a trace of smile. "I reckon ye'll want to know what happened, anyway… So the sooner, the better, huh?"

"If anything comes to hold my interest, I will kick Jack out of his bloody coma and have him tell everything to me." She murmured under her breath, gazing fiercely at her feet. Elizabeth was deeply annoyed. Really, what had Jack been thinking, letting some shoddy sea shell sting him? He also must have known she would come to his aid, hadn't he? Of course he had, bloody Jack Sparrow always tended to know things concerning her even before she did. And what now? Now, a poor single mother would have to put up and attend to two ungrateful pirates. Where was their beloved ship, anyway?

"But where is the Black Pearl?" she found herself spilling out.

Gibbs immediately acquired a gloomy countenance and was silent for a while, contemplating something.

"Commandeered. Maliciously stolen… Bloody mutineer."

"Barbossa's work, isn't it." Elizabeth cut him off, not really asking; rather stating a fact. She already knew the answer. Well, not knew, but had a feeling, a suspicion… And her flair, accomplished during all her pirate ventures, very rarely let her down.

At the question, Gibbs peeked at the woman. How did she know?

Elizabeth caught his mistrusted look. "What? Am I right?"

"Ye are." A tone of shame and defeat was obvious in his hoarse voice. "Shortly after we left you at the island with Will," the man once again cast her a sideways glance, checking whether his reckless words didn't come out as an irritant. Elizabeth's face strained at the name, and her eyes darted to the dusty road beneath their feet, but she shortly tilted her head up, encouraging him to continue. "Shortly after that…We sailed to Tortuga. Ye know, needed to mark the demise o' the two wretches… How were they called… Ah, Becktett an' bloody Jones. So… Ye know, we were partying fer some time…An' one day, when Cap'n and I went to the dock…" he inhaled a shallow breath, winced and, lowering his hoarse voice, mouthed: "She was gone."

Elizabeth squinted into the distance. "Why on Earth did you even keep Barbossa onboard? After all he'd done in the past?"

"Well… Cap'n Jack had some surprise prepared for 'im, once we finished celebrating…" Gibbs chuckled, but when a sequential searing pain stung his chest, realized it wasn't very smart idea to do so.

"Well what a wretch of a captain," spat Elizabeth. "Always putting rum before anything else."

"That's Cap'n Jack for you…"

"Right," she whispered. Gibbs wasn't looking too well and talking obviously required much effort from him… But Elizabeth just couldn't restrain her curiosity. "I suppose you haven't succeeded in your quest for the Pearl so far?"

"Miss Elizabeth, still as perceptive as before." He said with a smirk.

Mistress. I'm mistress now…Elizabeth was already parting her lips to correct Gibbs, but fell silent. Her marital status now should have been understood, and it wasn't the right time for her meticulous corrections. Meticulous? Truth to be told, It wasn't meticulous, it was, on the contrary, essential in her life…But she nevertheless stuck to her opinion she ought to not have burdened Gibbs with anything of the sort now.

"Cap'n was furious." His statement averted her thoughts back to their topic. "So, at first he sailed away… alone… on a boat."

Little by little, the first mate of the Black Pearl narrated his and Jack's last three years, outlining the main events. While listening to him, Elizabeth could already draw a conclusion she wasn't the only one having had an awful period of time… And for some reason, the fact comforted her. When she and Jack had parted their ways, Elizabeth knew she was sentencing herself to an exile, a hardly bearable solitude; while Jack had been sure to continue sailing, continue running ventures and risks… Continue living the life she had always craved for. And with each passing day, with every month going by, the two of them would grow further and further apart… Or, more accurately, Elizabeth would fall abysmally behind, and Jack would recede, inexorably sail away from her, from her lonely, petrified figure…The decade had to be endured, and she should have come to terms with it. Yet she simply wasn't able, knowing that somewhere in the Caribbean, somewhere in the world, was the ship she actually could have been onboard. Knew there were adventures she could have experienced; the person she could have-- could have -- could have… been with. And, much to her frigid fright, it wasn't Will she had in mind.

An unwished smirk forced Elizabeth's lip corners to curl up, as she couldn't fight it anymore. She couldn't deny the fact she was extremely joyful to know that Jack was here, finally; eventually. And he was to remain, at least until he got over the illness… He would stay in her little house, sleep in her bed and receive her care, building up his strength, his health…Elizabeth didn't allow the thought proposing all its temporariness enter her mind, and for the rest of the road home she felt just… happy.

The woman closed her eyes and rubbed her temples in order to relieve the now constant headache, but to no avail, as suddenly a child's wailing echoed throughout the house and made her instantly spring to her feet and rush towards its direction.

"William, dearie, what's wrong?" She uttered, leaning over the boy's crib and casting him a worried look. "I've just laid you down, and here you're awake again. Is it too cold, too windy? Should I close the window?" Elizabeth inquired, ever so lightly swaying the crib. William seemed to calm down a little at that, but still eyed her somehow reproachfully. "Now now, don't you want to sleep anymore?"

William shook his head and wriggled under his blue cover, seeming uncomfortable.

"Ol' man" he pronounced, irritatedly.

"Old man?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, puzzled. Where had that sweet mommy gone? She chuckled and reached out, tickling her little boy's tummy. It looked as if she wouldn't need to wait for very long until the riotousness of William exposed itself, after all. Here he was already replacing those typical childish diminutives with some… not so pleasant appellations, to be honest. But what the heck, he was just too vastly cute to be angry at. Elizabeth would shorten the span of time Gibbs spent with her child, though. Bloody old man seemed to be a bad influence upon William…Bloody old man!!

"William. Do you want to see the old man?" she asked, cautiously.

"Aye", came a nonchalant reply.

A vein popped up on Elizabeth's temple. Pirate slang, already?! She had been able to teach her son only a few words during the last half a year, yet Gibbs had somehow managed not only to do that, but also make William use them on right occasions in mere five afternoons of his peculiar baby-sitting.

"So, no sleep again, huh?" she let out a sigh, defeated. "He should come soon, then." Elizabeth adjusted the bed cover over William, bent to kiss his forehead and turned to leave the kitchen and take a look out her hall window, to see if there was Gibbs' approaching figure somewhere in the distance.

Walking down the small laden hall she, however, stopped at her bedroom's door, her hand lingering over the door knob. The woman hadn't checked on Jack for some time now, but she also noticed she was somehow trying to evade those check-ups. Was it because he was gradually improving and didn't require as much attendance as before? It must have been… Elizabeth could see that, even though Jack hadn't woken up fully, yet.

She lowered her hand on the knob and deliberately pushed the door open, letting a beam of dim light spread over the room. Jack was lying among the puffy covers and pillows, his chest rising and dropping slightly, in steady accordance to sleep breathing. At least he didn't run so high a fever as before… Walking to the side of the bed and sitting on the edge of it, Elizabeth tilted her head to have a more decent look at the sleeping man beside her. He didn't perspire as much, too. Maybe his deliriums would also end, finally…

"Lizzie…"

A hoarse call was hardly audible, yet Elizabeth could almost feel the atmosphere around her suddenly turn much hotter. No, apparently the fever hadn't ended. And so hadn't his constant, feverish repeats of her name; which one was it now? Twentieth? Thirtieth? Hundredth?..

"Lizzie…"

Thirty-fourth.

Who would she delude? She was hearing every one of them, counting them… Shamelessly, yet willingly counting each pronouncement of her name that flew out of between Jack's hot, chapped, parted lips… A small smile appeared on Elizabeth's face. With the number of thirty-four,Lizzie had finally got in advance of the Pearl, which had thirty-three repeats at the time, and oh so greatly outnumbered bloody Barbossa with poor, ignominious six. She leaned on the headboard of the bed, shoving one of the pillows between her bony lower back and hard cold steel frame, and let her eyes flutter shut.

What would Jack say when he woke up? Would he be aware of the time he was so awfully bed-ridden? Would he, she chuckled, remember his vehement deliriums?

Suddenly, one mad, crazy, queer thought crossed Elizabeth's mind. She had just imagined… Oh God.She couldn't… yet… it was shameful just to ponder on that… No, really, it was… it would be utterly ridiculous!.. Jack's first words after coma being… Is it heaven? Are ye an angel? Elizabeth couldn't stifle a laugh. Now where had that come from?! Stupid romance books must have made a bigger influence on her young vulnerable teenage self. Still with her eyelids down, she elaborated the ludicrous idea. Now really, if he actually said that, she would—

"Lizzie!…"

A delirious call once again interrupted her thoughts, but she didn't quite comprehend the fact that it was one different, more intense pronouncement this time. And hence, not fully disengaged from her reverie, Elizabeth uttered:

"No, silly Jack. It isn't heaven and I'm no angel."

Realizing she had actually said the sentence out loud, Elizabeth immediately acquired a hot flush on her cheeks and snapped her eyes open… Only to find a pair of dark orbs eyeing her with utter astonishment.

Jack. Jack was awake.

Had he heard her? Had he??

And… why the bloody heck was he forming that irritatingly slanted smirk?!

"I don't recall saying that, darlin'."

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews and also critics appreciated!