Author's Note: Here's the next and final part of this short two-shot! Thank you to everyone who's taken the time to read. Please let me know what you think - constructive criticism is welcome, I'm always looking to improve my writing.
Thank you again for the support, I should be back very soon with some more one-shots and perhaps even a full-length Sparrabeth story for you all to enjoy (after I finish my exams, of course).
Another reminder that POTC, and arguably more importantly, Jack Sparrow, are not mine and instead belong to Disney *sad face*.
It was the next morning before Elizabeth even considered going back on deck again. She didn't want to have to face either of them: not the smarmy, self-conceited, arrogant, utterly charming pirate or the honourable, kind, caring, albeit rather boring ex-commodore. Why was everyone so concerned with the way she lived her life? Her father... her fiancé... even her ex-fiancé... the only one who didn't seem to give a damn about something as trivial as principle was Jack.
He offered her the freedom that didn't exist in her day-to-day life. Just being on the Black Pearl, in the open ocean, free from responsibility and duty, made her happier than she had been in months - she understood why the lifestyle was so appealing and why many a navy officer had abandoned their post and headed to Tortuga. And she hated to admit it but there was something so mesmerizing about the way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her, the way she felt whenever she was near him. It scared her how effortless their conversations were and how much she trusted him. He could tell her that the sun was green and she would believe it. They were, as he so rightly said all those months ago, two peas in a pod - it was as though there was this mutual understanding between them.
Yet they didn't understand each other. There was still something behind the eyes that she couldn't work out. But it was that mysteriousness that constantly drew her attention back towards him. In comparison, it was easy to decipher Will and James' emotions - Elizabeth knew exactly what to say in front of them and how to persuade them to do what she wanted. Jack, on the other hand, was difficult to predict and persuading him to do anything that wasn't in his best interests was nigh impossible.
Everything was on his terms, which made him utterly infuriating to someone equally as used to getting her own way as she was.
She cursed inwardly for letting her thoughts drift back to that man. She loved Will. He was the man that had risked his entire reputation and made a deal with a pirate to save her. He had gone off to find Jack again just to ensure her safety. He deserved her affection, not Jack.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Everything would just be so much simpler if she was already married. There would be no temptation, no risk of abandoning the man she really loved.
"My tremendous intuitive sense of the female creature informs me that you are troubled," Jack observed wryly, rum in hand, as he sat down next to her on the steps leading up to the helm.
Elizabeth sighed. He wouldn't just leave her alone, would he? "I just thought I'd be married by now," she mused quietly, not looking him in the eye, "I'm so ready to be married."
There followed a moment of silence before, out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth noticed Jack holding out the rum bottle towards her. It was a vile drink, but she felt like a vile person for even considering a life without Will in it so she took the bottle from him and lifted it to her lips, taking a gulp of the liquid.
It actually didn't taste that bad... and the warming feeling she felt in the pit of the stomach after swallowing was quite... comforting. Ugh, what am I turning into?
"You know..." Jack cleared his throat decisively, "Lizzie," Elizabeth frowned at the frighteningly familiar tone of his voice, "I am captain of a ship... and being captain of a ship I could in fact perform a..." there was a pause, "Marr-i-age," he emphasised every syllable distinctly, "Right here, right on this deck, right now," she recoiled as he leaned in towards her, but it seemed to be his breath that put her off more than his proposal.
"No thank you," she replied sharply, handing him back the rum bottle and walking off towards the railing.
"Why not? We are very much alike you and I, I and you, us," Jack reasoned, leaning on the rope that secured the mast.
Elizabeth tried to keep her gaze fixed on the horizon in front of her, "Oh, except for sense of honour and decency and a moral centre," she turned her head towards him haughtily, "And personal hygiene."
Jack smiled presumptuously, "Trifles. Ye will come over to my side I know it."
"You seem very certain." Elizabeth countered, trying her best to remain unimpressed by his display.
"One word, luv. Curiosity," he replied matter-of-factly, but with an air of mischievousness aglow in his dark eyes, "You long for freedom, you long to do what ye want to do because ye want it. To act on selfish impulse. You want to see what it's like. One day, you won't be able to resist."
How was it possible for him to read her thoughts as accurately as he could? How was it that she felt she could relate more easily to a pirate than her own fiancé? "Why doesn't your compass work?" she asked in an attempt to change the topic of conversation, feeling uncomfortable at his superior perceptiveness.
Jack froze for a moment, taken aback by her sudden question, before narrowing his eyes as though offended by her insulting such a cherished part of his effects, "My compass works fine." He protested defiantly.
"Because you and I are alike. And there will come a moment when you have the chance to show it," Elizabeth continued, resting her arms on the railing of the Black Pearl, "To do the right thing."
Jack's gaze moved from her to the horizon, "I love those moments, I like to wave at them as they pass by." He made a waving motion at the open sea and it took all of Elizabeth's resolve to not smile at his insistence that he wasn't a good person. He wasn't like most other pirates - he didn't come across as someone who would inflict harm out of pure maliciousness.
Elizabeth turned to him and leaned in closer, "You'll have the chance to do something, something courageous. And when you do you'll discover something. That you're a good man."
An unconvinced smile flickered on his lips, "All evidence to the contrary."
"Oh, I have faith in you. Want to know why?" Elizabeth asked innocently, interested in proving James Norrington wrong. Jack may be a flawed individual, but that didn't make him evil. And there was still the possibility of convincing him, persuading him to act benevolently and with honour.
"Do tell, dearie."
She smirked at him, "Curiosity. You're going to want it. A chance to be admired, and gain the rewards that follow. You won't be able to resist," Jack turned towards her, "You're going to want to know... what it tastes like."
He leaned in closer, caressing her cheek and chin with the back of his hand, "I do want to know what it tastes like."
Their lips were inches apart, and she became entranced by his intoxicating scent, "But, seeing as you're a good man I know that you will never put me in a position that would compromise my honour." She shut her eyes, testing her own resolve as much as she was testing his. But as every moment passed with him standing so close to her she could feel her self-control weakening, her barriers being torn down. She reached for his lips but met with none, and upon opening her eyes she saw Jack jerk away from her.
She pulled away and smiled faintly at him, despite there being a small part of her that ached with disappointment, with longing. She quickly threw all of those notions to the back of her mind and held her head up to him, immediately aware that he was deliberately averting his eyes from her, "I'm proud of you Jack."
Realising that Jack wasn't going to offer her any more conversation, Elizabeth turned away from him and wandered off. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her quickening heartbeat. Being there... with him, his lips so close to hers, their bodies almost touching, the touch of his hand on her cheek, every minuscule movement serving to kindle a fire deep in her soul, a fire she didn't realise could be kindled in such a passionate way.
There she was thinking that her actions would serve to quench the curiosity coursing through her veins, but their near-kiss had only increased her desire for something more. She thought their brief flirtation would help her get him out of her system, remove all traces of him from her thoughts, convince her that he wasn't worth her time, but his fingertips were indelible on her mind.
She hated herself. Why was she doing this? Why couldn't she be happy with Will? He was wonderful, articulate, caring, courageous, and she was going to risk that for a fleeting (because that's all it would be, with so many pretty wenches in Tortuga just waiting for him after their quest was over) moment with a pirate, a moment that was so sweet but so incredibly deadly, to both her honour and her chances of happiness.
She had told Jack to do the right thing, to be the good man she could see behind those mystifying orbs, without even considering applying her own advice to herself. The right thing was to forget all about him. She had Will. He would be free from the grips of Davy Jones, they would exchange Jack's compass for their pardon, they would be married, and they could spend their whole lives together.
And Jack would sail off into the setting sun, likely to never return. Elizabeth would probably never see him again. Which was exactly what she wanted...
Her eyes were drawn back to the compass, hanging loosely from her belt. According to that supernatural piece of voodoo, she wanted Jack. But did he really want her in return? For all she knew, this could all be a game to him, a way to pass the time. She was the only woman on the ship, not to mention that she was promised to somebody else, the perfect challenge for him. If she surrendered herself to him (not that she would, she would never betray Will in such a way), would he still care about her the morning after?
She knew the answer, and that hurt her more than she would ever know.
Elizabeth looked up to see James walking towards her, the rest of the crew yelling behind him to make preparations for weighing anchor. "Do you think me a bad person, James?"
Hesitation and confusion briefly flickered across James' features. "Of course you're not, Elizabeth."
"Then why do I feel like I am?" Elizabeth asked, more to herself than him, glancing around the ship before noticing Jack, up at the helm staring out onto Isla Cruces, the island on which Davy Jones' chest was buried. The chest that would save Will.
James joined her by the railing. "What did Jack say to you?" he said with a wry look in her direction.
Elizabeth grimaced. "It's what I said that concerns me."
There was a pause before James spoke again, in a low voice. "The compass, it doesn't point to Will."
"Neither does it point to the chest that Jack spoke of." Elizabeth admitted. "At least, not anymore."
James gravely nodded, leaning on the rail. His eyes wandered to her hand, resting limply on the rail as her gaze fixed on the crystalline waves lapping the ship. Cautiously, he extended his hand over hers, instantly drawing back when he saw her jerk her hand away awkwardly.
"I'm sorry," he said, inwardly cursing himself for his impudence.
"Don't be," Elizabeth assured with a small smile that didn't extend to her eyes.
Not knowing how to act, James stiffly put his hands behind his back. He looked at her intently, gazing into her spirited orbs, still full with wide-eyed hope and lofty ideals, yet to discover the real evils of the world. "Desire and love shouldn't be confused, Elizabeth. You may desire a man but not love him, and you may love someone without desiring them."
"I always thought they were one in the same," she replied, James perceiving the distinct spark in those eyes, the flicker of stubbornness that he had always admired about her.
"Sometimes they converge, if the fates allow it." James lightly drummed his fingers on the railing. "But desire is almost always fleeting, whereas real love never really fades."
There was another long moment of silence between the pair, Elizabeth's eyes fixed on the horizon. "What of the chest?" She turned to him, lines of worry on her face. "What if we don't find it? What if we can't... because of me?"
James gave her a small, reassuring smile. "I know you too well, Elizabeth. You would never let that happen." He was relieved to find that in response, her lips curled into a smile, uncertain but at the same time determined.
"To the rowboats!" Mr Gibbs called out from the other side of the deck, approaching them decisively, Jack following reluctantly behind with what looked like a jar of dirt in his hand.
Elizabeth's gaze moved from Gibbs, to whom she nodded and gave a small smile, to Jack, who couldn't quite meet her eyes. "Will James be permitted ashore, Captain Sparrow?" she asked, mock politeness in her voice.
Jack met James' eyes with evident disgust, twitching his nose. "Better to have him on land merely entertaining thoughts of mutiny, than on my ship where said thoughts could be realised." His eyes briefly locked with Elizabeth's, and James could see the tension waging war with the obvious attraction they had for each other.
"We wouldn't want another mutiny on your hands, captain, now would we? A captain without his ship is a very poor captain indeed." said James with a smirk, leading Jack to turn and narrow his eyes at him.
"Speaking of what can only be described as matters of perspective," Jack began, waving his free hand in the air, "They also say a good captain goes down with his ship, but he's not a very good captain if he's gone and sunk his ship in the first place, is he? So, abandoning his ship would make him-"
"A poor captain on two counts: firstly for letting his ship sink and secondly for leaving his crew behind," answered James concisely, drawing another steely glare from the captain.
However, the anger was quickly replaced with characteristic nonchalance, Jack shrugging his shoulders. "As I said, all matters of perspective. And from my perspective you are nothing but a washed up, rum soaked mess, former commodore."
"Oh, I just take my lead from my superiors, captain."
"I take it we're in a hurry to find this chest, yes?" Elizabeth interrupted impatiently, deliberately walking in-between Jack and James with a huff, heading with Mr Gibbs towards the rowboat.
"You can't claim to know her mind, Mr Sparrow." James continued after Elizabeth was out of earshot. He stepped closer to Jack, speaking in a low, menacing tone. "And I've known her long enough to know that whatever this is won't last, particularly once Mr Turner is back in the picture."
"If Mr Turner returns to the picture, ye mean." Jack replied with a cunning smile. "Or if someone can take his place in said picture before he makes his appearance."
"I will not involve myself in your game." James said resolutely, "Not least because I know that she can play this game just as well, if not better, than you."
Jack gestured towards the jar he had in his hand with a grin. "Jar of dirt, mate." James gave the captain a blank look. "Solves all life's major problems."