Thanks again to my stalwart reviewers River, Sleepy Lotus and Scarlet Woman. Reviews are my crack. I love them. Please feed my addiction.

I don't own the things, Disney does. Except for song lyrics featured in this chapter which I borrowed from the Rankin family.

Chp 7

She was sitting at the far end of the dock with her feet in the water and bottle by her side. It had been a long and exhausting day. It was late, but the bars were still packed with mourners and revellers alike. She just needed some space. Clear her head. Catch her breath. It was quiet here and the stars were out.

Three ships full of mourners had sailed out to the location of the maelstrom. Speeches were made. Offerings were dropped into the sea. Elizabeth said a few words of what she felt was a rather underprepared though heartfelt speech. It was well received none the less.

She wanted people to know that she took responsibility for the call to arms. That the men fought bravely. That their loss was not in vain, but a sacrifice to secure the freedom and continued livelihood of pirates everywhere. That she grieved for those lost as if they were family, because she truly felt that she was one of them. She wasn't sure if she conveyed everything she wanted to.

Whatever. She was drunk. Alone on a quiet dock on a warm night. She should probably be home, but where was home anyway? Port Royal? The Black Pearl? The Empress? The inn? She scoffed, losing her train of thought again.

She took a swig from the bottle. She felt lonely and sad. But it was the kind of lonely that wanted to wrap itself up in a cocoon rather than look for company. She could hear faint strains of music coming from the taverns. The sound was only clear enough to know it was music, but not clear enough to make out the tune. She decided to make her own music and hummed a slow sweet song.

"Fare thee well, love
Fare thee well, love
Far away, you must go.
Take your heart, love
Take your heart, love
Will we never meet again no more?"

She sang softly, drawing out each phrase. Perhaps it was the stillness of the water or the way the rim of the cove curved protectively around them. Perhaps she was more drunk than she realized, but her voice seemed to echo back to her in harmony. She took another swig from her bottle.

She would miss Will. She would, really. She would miss the way he followed her around. Sweet Will. He loved her, of that she had no doubt. He doted on her. Put her on a pedestal. He never asked anything of her except to love him back. Simple enough. Sweet simple love. Another swig from the bottle.

"So I'll drink today, love,
I'll sing to you, love
in pirate's glory, my time I'll bide
No home or ties, love,
A restless sailor, if I can't have you by my side."

"You have a nice set of pipes," said a low voice behind her, "you really should sing more often."

Startled, she spun around so fast she almost toppled off the dock. Oh. Why was the dock swaying? "Jack?" she sighed, recognizing his silhouette, she flopped down on the decking, the bare feet kicking up a splash of water. Heart pounding in her ears. She lay back and looked up at him, her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but the light was behind him, so she couldn't make out his expression.

"I always enjoyed your singing, luv," he moved her boots and sat next to her. Her pants were rolled up to her knees. He admired her calves, wet skin catching the dim light of far away torches.

"I didn't know anyone was listening," she said, her hands covering her face. Embarrassed. Or something. She was feeling a little queasy. Maybe if the dock would stop swaying.

"Do you only sing when you're drunk?" he asked, helping himself to a swig from her bottle. "You aren't planning on burning all the rum again, are you?"

She flailed at him with her left arm, "don't tease," she said annoyed, but she couldn't help smiling. He chuckled putting up a hand in defence, amused as she landed a couple of not so gentle blows.

He caught her hand in his. Their fingers interlaced in an awkward tangle. He had been looking for her. She was with a group of them in the tavern. Then she wasn't. It took him awhile to find her. If she hadn't started singing, he probably wouldn't have found her at all. But he followed her voice like a sirens call.

He was a little concerned to find her drunk and alone by the docks. "You are a little tipsy, aren't you? You know it's not really safe for a pretty girl like you to be alone in the dark," he said, his tone serious, "this city's full of pirate rogues and ne'er-do-wells."

In a flash, he found himself pinned to the deck. She straddled his chest and pressed a dagger to his throat. "I'm not that drunk, Captain Sparrow," she hissed, "or helpless."

A year of living with pirates meant she had lots of experience dealing with the male gaze. Not that she hadn't sparred with interested men before leaving Port Royal, but that tended to be more verbal rather than physical. The rules of engagement were a little different. A similar dance with a few new steps. Was it safer to ignore them, smile, talk them down, or draw her dagger?

She leaned over him, their faces almost touching, her thighs wrapped his rib cage, her knees pinning his arms. Both of them becoming keenly aware of their intimate position. "You wouldn't hurt me, would you, Jack?" her voice sweet and innocent, but the cold blade pressing just a little harder against his neck. She felt sick. Queasy from the drink and memories of fending off undesired advances.

"No, never," he squeaked, putting up his hands in surrender. A mix of pride, amusement and concern swelled in his chest. He wonder what happened to her. You don't gain reflexes like this nor the ability to deliver a threat with unshaking hands without practice or reason to practice. She wasn't such an innocent little bird, was she?

She rolled off of him. He was left feeling disappointed, having enjoyed their momentary closeness, though he was nervous about the blade at his neck, especially with her in a state of drunken grief. Blades can slip.

She was sitting again, with her feet in the water, swaying a little as she hummed her song. He pulled off his boots and dangled his feet in the water next to her. He could feel little fish nibbling at his callouses.

"What's the song?" he asked sitting close enough for their shoulders to brush when she swayed towards him. "Not another pirate song?"

She stopped humming and looked at the water. Glowing points of torchlight from the city reflected in its smooth surface. She swung her legs to make ripples. She shook her head, "just a song to say farewell."

"Did you know," she sighed, taking a pull from the bottle, "there are no good songs to mourn someone who's dead but not so dead that you won't see them again in this life."

"I suppose yours is a unique situation," Jack conceded, accepting the bottle she passed to him.

That didn't make her feel any better. Her swaying foot bumped his under water. A reminder of last night. He tapped her back. They were square. She grabbed the bottle from him, took a swig and sang another verse.

"Far away, love
Far away, love.
Across the seas and oceans wide
Take my heart, love
Take my heart, love
No one knows the tears I've cried."

Her head hurt. So did her heart. She took a sip from the bottle. She should stop drinking. "This song," she frowned, "talks about 'taking your heart' in the first verse. But the second verse talks about 'taking my heart'. It doesn't seem fair for one person to have all the hearts. Does it?" She swayed into him, bumping his shoulder.

He considered her query while fighting the urge to put his arm around her and pull her close. Perhaps he would have tried something if she hadn't pulled a knife on him earlier. "Maybe it's a duet and they were exchanging hearts," he offered.

"Maybe..." she said, sitting up but she wasn't convinced. Her feet splashed in the water.

It did raise a question that was circulating about the whereabouts of the deadman's chest. Or more specifically the heart of the dead man contained therein. He cleared his throat unsure if this was a good time to ask. He picked up the bottle for another drop of liquid courage. "Did Will give you his heart?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

She sat quietly for a long time, staring out at the water. Will always said his heart belonged to her. Always. He didn't say it this time. He said he would love her always. His heart was his own to keep now, literally and figuratively. She thought she had run out of tears, but she could feel them welling up. "No," she said, before the first sob could close her throat.

Ah. Well that was news, thought Jack, "sorry." He felt like a jerk for asking and making her cry. He handed her a handkerchief. Peace offering.

She took it and dried her eyes, "it's not your fault."

"I didn't have to bring it up," he said.

She shrugged, "I know people have been talking. I'm glad it was you that asked and not someone else." She blew her nose.

He lay back and looked at the stars. He tucked his hands behind his head and looked at her. Long sun bleached hair catching the faint glow of torch light. He didn't remember her rowing back with a chest. Perhaps she buried it on that island or perhaps the whelp took it with him. Perhaps it was for the best that she didn't have the burden of keeping the Dutchman's heart safe.

There was another question. A more personal question. A question that required more rum before asking and probably a good quantity of rum before answering. He sat up and took a long pull from the bottle, before passing it to her. She rubbed her eye and took a swig. It stopped burning her throat awhile ago, now it just felt warm and tingly.

Maybe he shouldn't ask, but curiosity always got the better of him. She would understand that at least. They were like two peas in a pod when it came to curiosity. "Did you give him your heart?" He held his breath a little waiting for her response.

She looked at him. He wouldn't have been considered handsome by most of her society friends in Port Royal, what with his braided beard and wild hair, gold teeth and tattoos, shabby clothes and questionable hygiene. What was it about him that she found so fascinating? "No," she said, "my heart..."

She almost said that her heart was not hers to give. It had been stolen... by a pirate. A dirty pirate that didn't realize what treasure he possessed. She knew Will suspected as much and perhaps he was right. How could she admit it to someone that was so oblivious? Even now she could only feel pain where her heart should be. So instead she turned away and said, "my heart was broken. It's not much use to anyone right now."

He heard the hitch in her voice, she was going to cry again. He bumped her foot with his. A momentary distraction. A reminder that she wasn't alone in this world. She bumped him back. Bare feet under water. His skin was warm. She liked how he felt.

"Well then," he said, lying back, "no one has all the hearts. You each have your own heart to keep safe. Hearts will mend, darling, they will. Just give it time."

That was entirely too sensible. It didn't make any sense to her. Her head was spinning.

She lay back next to him. He didn't say anything for so long she wondered if he might have nodded off. She felt like curling up against him, but thought better of it. It just didn't seem proper so soon after losing Will. The desire to touch him grew to distraction. "I should probably go," she said, sitting up. Though she didn't really want to leave.

He caught her arm just above the elbow. "Stay, a bit," he said, sitting up next to her, their shoulders touching, "watch the moonrise with me." He pointed to the rim of the cove to their right. Something yellow was just cresting the edge of the cove. "Should be a half moon tonight." He took a swig and passed her the bottle.

She took the bottle but didn't drink. She blew across its mouth, making a low whistle, like a fog horn. He bumped her foot with his. She smiled and sang the last verse of her song.

"Oh come back, love
Oh come back, love
The sun and moon
refuse to shine.
Since you've gone, love
Gone away love
this lonely girl has had no peace of mind"

"It's a lie," he said, "the moon shines perfectly fine." He pointed to the half moon clearing the rim of the cove and continuing across the sky. He bumped her foot. She smiled and hooked her foot around his calf.

"So I'll drink today, love,
I'll sing to you, love
in pirate's glory, my time I'll bide
No home or ties, love,
A restless sailor, if I can't have you by my side."

He did drink to that. He was feeling good. He was feeling happy drunk, which was much better than depressed drunk. He could see her better with the moon out. His arm found its way around her waist, his hand on her hip drawing her close. She was looking at him with those twinkling brown eyes. He could feel her breath on his face. Their foreheads touching. His heart was racing.

"Fare thee well love..." Her song a whisper. She imagined the taste of his lips before they even touched hers. Her body was so filled with drunken longing for him.

"Fare thee well..." a voice echoed.

Jack sat up with a start letting go of her, "did you hear that?"

"What?" she asked, both disappointed and relieved that the moment was lost.

He was standing. Looking across the water. "That echo that wasn't really an echo, did you hear it?"

"You hear it too?" she said with surprise. "I've been hearing it all night. I thought maybe it was the cove or just in my head from too much drink."

"Sing again, luv" he coaxed, his eyes narrowed.

She obliged, a little annoyed at his sudden change in demeanour, "Fare thee well love..."

"Fare thee well..." the voices echoed.

Jack crouched behind Elizabeth and pointed over her shoulder so she could follow his line of sight. "There," he said, "mermaids."

"Fearsome, terrible creatures," Jack continued, "they'll tear a man in two. Pull him down to the bottom of the sea and eat him alive."

She strained to see. It just looked like a ripple in the water. She could hear them singing clearly now, like a cacophony inside her head. It was hypnotic.

"Fare thee well..."
"Fare well..."
"Farewell sister..."
"Fare thee well sisters..."
"Sssssssistersssss..."

She pointed, "ah yes, I see them now." A group of heads disappearing under water, she could see their tails flipping up.

"Ah," he said, a little panicked. He thought to run away, but seemed affixed to his position hiding behind Elizabeth, his hands gripping her shoulders. "They're coming," he whispered, trying to keep the dread out of his voice.

"No," said Elizabeth with certainty. "They're leaving," she shook off the trance. She could feel Jack's grip relaxing. "Did you hear them? Did you hear them call me sister?" she whispered.

Jack shook his head and stood up. "Come on," he said, offering a hand to help her up, "let's get out of here."

Elizabeth took his hand and stood, still distracted by the mermaid sighting. "Do you often see mermaids here at Shipwreck cove?" she asked.

"No one's seen a mermaid here in ages. You can ask Esmeralda about it. Come," he said, still a little shaken by the mermaids trance. Eager to leave, he started down dock with his boots in his hand.

She rolled down her pant legs and grabbed her boots. She followed him down the long stretch of the docks. Her pace slowed, a sense of dread had settled in her stomach, or perhaps it was too much drink. Her chest felt tight. She paused to catch her breath and held her belly to ease the pain. "Are you staying on the Pearl while you're here?" she asked.

He turned around, she had fallen behind. She didn't look well. "Most nights," was his reply before he could think of what that meant. He didn't want to explain to her where he was most other nights, though he was thinking that Ruthy Haines owed him most of a night that he'd already paid for. That is something Elizabeth wouldn't understand. She would judge him poorly.

"Would it be alright for me to spend the night?" she asked, fighting a feeling of panic. "With you? I mean on the Pearl. I mean I don't want to sleep alone." This was coming out all wrong.

"Lizzie..?" his question a whisper. He was standing at her side. She was blushing so hard she was sure he could see it even in this dark. She felt sick.

"I mean, I have nightmares and it was strange to wake alone in an unfamiliar place..." Words were spilling out of her mouth faster than she could think of what she was saying. Wiping away tears with the back of her hand. "I've gotten so used to all the snoring and the swaying of the ship. It was too quiet and still. I just don't want to be alone. Not tonight. I just want to know that I'm not all alone."

Shhhhhh, he hushed. "You are not alone. You are always welcome aboard the Pearl. I said as much last night and meant every word of it."

"I'm going to be sick," she said pushing him out of the way and dropping to her knees, she threw up most of a bottle of rum and her supper into the harbour. He sat next to her and held her hair out of the spray.

"Rum is the work of the devil," she said when she was done. She felt marginally better, her body having expelled a belly full of toxins. She leaned against a pier feeling like she needed something to get the sour taste of bile out of her mouth.

"Then I'll see you in hell, darling," he said smiling, knowing that she had developed a taste for it.

She punched him in the arm. "Ow," he said feigning injury, "I've been nothing but good to you all night and all you've done is abuse me."

"Not true," she said, "you made me cry. Jerk. And I sang for you." She spat out the last of the bile in her mouth and was beginning to feel more human, which was good, and more sober, which was debatable as to whether that was good or not.

Jerk? Well, he probably deserved that. Interesting that she chose to punch him rather than slap him like most women. "I thought the song was for your husband," he said.

He wondered if she would stay faithful to Will Turner. Ten years was a long time, but if Elizabeth Swann - er, Turner was anything, it was stubborn. If anyone could do it, it would be her. He didn't really understand faithfulness. It wasn't something he grew up with.

"He's not here," she said. You are, she thought, imagining the feel of his skin under his shirt. She shook her head. She was too sober to be thinking like this.

"No, he's not," said Jack quietly in her ear. He was standing a little too close. She gave into weakness. She leaned into his shoulder and let him put his arms around her. She slid her arms under his coat and around his waist.

She hated him. She hated this hollow feeling, like a piece of her was missing. She hated being that poor girl who was being emotional. She hated that she was crying again. She hated bring vulnerable. She hated how safe it felt to be in Jack's arms. She was tired. Her stomach growled.

"Hungry?" he asked. "Come on. The Pearl's just over there. I had Cotton restock the pantry today. We'll find something better than ships rations to keep you from wasting away."

A whole chapter of just Jack and Lizzie! I hit most of the moments I was aiming for, though a few of them didn't come out the way I thought they would and this didn't end the way I thought it would. Well, what did you think? Did I drag it out too long? Ever been on a date that you didn't want to end, but didn't want to broach of issue of sleeping arrangements? yeah... that was the feeling I was going for. there will be more. I have a pretty good idea of what's going to happen with sleeping arrangements, but if you have opinions, let me know.

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