Infuriatingly Right

In the weak light of a sun nearly set for the evening, Will gazed out over the vast waters. There was no sight of land anywhere near, nor had there been for quite some time.

Thoughts of various character drifted in his mind, causing his streaks of worry to grow further distinct. His son had been robbed of his life due to Jack's mischief which always seemed to gain them all trouble of some sort. Elizabeth, his beloved wife, his first and only love whom he had been wishing to lay eyes upon again for the last six years. Since their last encounter all those years ago, he had thought of her every day, wanting nothing more than to be at her side; To be the husband she deserved. He knew she could take care of herself, yet it was not the material necessaries which needed to be filled, but the necessaries of love. Nevertheless, he had a purpose to fulfil, a duty for something greater than the both of them and any other mortal in the world. He could abandon his duty, but then all the souls which were entrusted to him would be lost, he could never do such for the simple reason that was his own happiness. Another fate had crossed his mind – to die, and so soothe his ache for good. But then who would fill his part? Who would be cursed with the fate of being Captain of the Dutchman. There were surely ones who would think it not a curse, but a chance of gaining immortality – such as Jack once had thought over that possibility – and Will could never feel content passing over his duty to someone who would not follow it for its purpose, but for its attached qualities.

Another fear which was nagging his mind was that of his wife's state of heart towards him. The longer he was bound to the Dutchman, the longer he was away from his beloved. What if her love for him was withering away? What if it grew for some other who sought the task of gaining her heart? His heart would always belong to her since there was no other he would entrust it with in this world. That did not necessarily mean she would feel the same for him the remaining years of her life.

He was not the man she had fallen in love with when they were young to this world; That he knew, and this thought scared him. Being Captain of the Flying Dutchman took its toll on a man. The work and the place one was bound to, changed his character. He knew she sensed this, and so he avoided her. Not wanting to disappoint her, nor wanting to look her in the eye for it was he who their son had sought out, he was partly responsible for the events which caused their son's death.

Jack had been right; he had been proven to be annoyingly right at times.

The ship was as still as the water was beneath the vessel. The crew had gone below deck to rest for the night in hammocks, apart from Jack who was resting in his own cabin. Will had commanded Jack to let his son, his wife, and Camilla rest in the comfortable bed and settee which were in there, but before Jack could protest, Elizabeth had told she would not care to stay in there for the night, but wanted to rest in one of the hammocks below. His son, William, had also said they wanted to rest below with the crew. No doubt, the youngsters wanted to hear other intriguing tales from Mr Gibbs. Jack seemed content with this and clasped his hands together only to say: "Well I'm certainly on cloud nine! Everyone's on with their own business then." And so he left the scene to lock himself in his cabin for the night.

There was only light wind for the sails to catch. The night was still, light waves and vague mist rested on the waters. On the deck before him, Will suddenly saw Elizabeth as his eyes were drawn to the sudden moving shadow. Gazing down, he saw her looking up and walk in his direction. She was not wearing her dress anymore, but had changed into clothes which seemed far more practical to wear when on sea: Men's clothing. Some from the crew must have borrowed her a garment or two, or she had taken them as they were unused at the time; It didn't matter.

Will Turner looked away from her form which drew nearer to where he was standing by the helm. Hearing her steps up the stairs would have made his heart beat more rapidly, yet he possessed no heart in his chest.

He felt her stare in the darkness of the night. Unable to gain his, Elizabeth came yet closer to stand by his side.

"I feel it you are avoiding me." She confessed in a low voice.

He steadied his grip on the rudder and steered it to starboard as it had turned a bit to the portside while he avoided meeting her gaze, nor answered her.

"I thought there'd be three more years until I would be granted to lay eyes upon you again." She could not suppress the smile of joy which needed to linger on her features as she thought of it.

Three years and two hundred forty-four days, Will thought as the countdown had been a constant guest in his mind during his years upon the given ship.

"Now you're here." She stated with a soft tone, enhanced by happiness.

"We're to regain our son his life" he said coolly, making Elizabeth feel as if he had stamped on her streak of joy. "I cannot let him fall to the fate of which Sparrow caused him… the fate which he gained unwillingly, only to find me."

"You're not responsible for what's happened." She said at once, feeling his pain as it was her own. Her hand, coloured by days in the sun, placed itself upon his shoulder. Will tensed as he felt her warm touch and swallowed hard, before slowly daring to look her in the eye. "You're not." She said conclusively. The warm brown eyes of hers were reassuring, yet as tender as ever.

"I will save him from the fate which I bare - if I so must search a hundred years and let my purpose be unfollowed for that time. I will free our son."

"As will I." she said, feeling his breath upon her chin. "If I so must die for the cause."

Just as she felt his face draw closer, closing her eyes when his forehead was on the verge to connect with hers, he drew away. The lips which she had expected to taste, were already far away as she opened her eyes.

Once again he was gazing away, his hands steady on the helm, and his presence as stern as it was cold. Elizabeth turned her eyes to the floorboards of the old deck. Her eyes saddened. Then she walked away, not wanting to be in his reserved presence any longer this dark night.

In the very early morning the next day, Captain Jack was already awake when no other seemed to have any awareness of that the light of the day to be, had become visible. He realised that his bottle of rum was already gone, and for this time, he would be sure to bring at least two back with him to his cabin. Though, the best space to store them in was low beneath deck, for the cool environment suited them; he so left the many other there to keep the fine within them.

As he stepped below, nearly not escaped the morning sun yet, Elizabeth was blocking a few of the steps. He was met by her back. She was sitting there, and he very well knew of that expression which was present on her face as he had reached her level. For the reason that she did not even bother to look up, he assumed she already knew it was him.

He had not consumed enough rum for this sort of moment such an early morning as this, and so decided not to utter a word to her. His boots steered past her, and then they stopped at the words of Elizabeth:

"Is Will still up there… by the helm?"

After the halt, he turned to her with a curious expression on his face.

"I believe he is." He said, not really caring for it.

Elizabeth looked all the more miserable at this, an expression which Jack was all but fond of. Though, neither could he lack sympathy for it. He took a step closer. Eyeing her in a manner which she did not care for at the moment.

"Trouble in the turtledoves' nest?"

Elizabeth heart felt heavy in her chest. Her briefly glanced at him and then sighed nearly unnoticeably. Being accustomed to Jack's behaviour, she did not bother with being hurt for his, on the verge of rude, way to ask a question about her damaged relationship with Will. "He's slipping out of my reach." She said.

Jack saw her interlocking her hands in a quite convulsive grip as she spoke of her misery. The line between his dark brows became further evident at this observation.

"We've been apart for so long, I fear…" she let the oncoming words fade into silence.

"I believe your worries which are naggin' yeh to be right, m'afriad." He said. The expression on his face told her that he, in near to all honesty, was being truthful of his sympathy towards her.

They exchanged a glance to which he at last nodded cautiously.

"As much as I'd love to stay'on down here in darkness with your state of mind for the remaining hours of this bright morning… I have something waiting for me below" he pointed in the direction of the depths. "Which needs to be fetched, for it needs to be emptied very quickly."

So he left. Elizabeth just shook her head in misery and realised to what extent she yearned to hate him, yet she could not. He had killed their son, although he was now helping them to regain his life, nonetheless he had killed their son – the one who was dearest to her in this world. She could never forgive him for this, however, she could not fully hate him either.

The day she had seen him on the duchess, she had been glad to set eyes on him. Also, less glad because of that she had led Groves to him and then imprisoned him to give him the same fate which he had decided for her. The feelings which had grabbed a hold of her could still make her feel goose bumps on her forearms by the mere thought. This was beyond shameful.

Also infuriating.

She heard him coming up the steps and before too soon, he was on her level again. With two bottles in hand he went to her and reached one out for her. She took it.

Jack knew it was foolish to let her get to his feelings of sympathy in this way, yet he could not help but to give her one of his bottles, although it was not his intention to do so when he had been in the storage. While down there he had cursed his softness as women had a tendency to cause him more trouble than they ought to. For every step on his way up towards the sun, he had told himself: 'Do not – I repeat – Do not do anything foolish. Do not do anything foolish. Do not do…' and so he laid eyes upon her miserable form again. Her well-shaped face, her other so warm brown eyes, troubled beyond world's end.

'DO NOT!" the voice screamed in his ear, and so he reached out one of them precious bottles to her as if his hand worked on his own, not his mind controlling it, but his all too tender heart was doing the commands of working nature.

"Why didn't the duchess fall to the Pearl?" she asked, as if this question had been on her mind for quite some time. This was to Jack's dumbfounded surprise. "I thought the pearl would destroy the duchess when I was in the hold." "Then you, along with the rest of your crew were tossed below with me. And the pearl was not blown to bits but in Groves possession. How come?"

"There are an absurdity amount of how come to all sorts of subject in this world, none which I feel obliged to answer in this particular moment." He opened the bottle in his hand; the cork made a pleasant popping noise as the air was set free.

"You wouldn't have given it up easily, your precious pearl… Groves must've had some sort of hold on you, otherwise you'd never surrendered as easily as that."

Indeed, Theodore Groves had threatened something else which was precious to him. Also, his agreement to whelp-number-two had surfaced in his mind – it seemed quite honourable to see it through and not let the young one's mother die.

"Jack?"

"Mmh?"

"Jack, look at me?"

"Whatever for?" he took a gulp.

"For…" she seemed frustrated, judging by her breathing which he heard. "courtesy, at least."

"Never been one for courtesy, I'm afraid." He grinned, as if some old memories of his past played in his mind, making him very much amused.

She rose to her feet. "I'm serious." She said.

"I do not doubt it." He said, now glancing in her direction. The memory of yesterday's scene of happenings between the two of them, still played in his mind, as it had all day – it was a tough one to supress from one's memory.

Elizabeth sensed this by the sight of his stare and looked away. Her cheeks heated slightly in embarrassment, as well as anger. She sat down once more.

"You cannot tell Will." She then said quietly.

Jack raised his hands, along with the bottle attached to one of them. "I wouldn't dream of it."

She believed him, as she had managed to do many times in the past – even when they were lies.

"May I ask for what reason you decided to undress in my cabin? – not that I object to the decision, love. I'm merely curious."

"Haven't you always been." She stated quietly, cantankerously, though the comment was meant for her own ears to hear. She sighed and took a new hold on the bottle where she sat, placing it on her knee. She saw in the corner of her eye, Jack's lips curling into a smirk; which disheartened her further.

"I needed to change into something more comfortable whilst on ship at sea – the dress was soiled, and trousers are far easier to wear when one engages in swordfights." She took a sip from her bottle.

Jack raised his dark brows patiently, yet now even further curious.

"The reason for deciding to do the necessary change, in your cabin – was for the simple reason that it's the only place on this ship where no one ought to strut in – but you, and I thought you were busy at the helm – and so I did not expect for you to walk in during those two particular minutes when I was undressing."

Jack wore a smug look on his features. He took a content gulp from the bottle before looking at her once more. "I picked a fine time, didn't I?"

"You certainly did not!" she protested through her teeth, glancing away. "Do not think for a second that I wanted you to see me… improper."

The daughter of a governor, she was still, proven by her delicate choice of words. Jack would use any other synonym for the state she had been in than the discouragingly loaded word: improper.

"You can tell me such again, darlin'." He said and walked closer, the bottle dangling from his relaxed arm. "an' you know as well as I: You won't believe it half as much as I do." With that statement he walked past her, his steps fading away as the sunlight beamed down upon her from the opening to the deck above.

She knew very well what he had meant, and she dreaded the realisation that there might be some truth in it.

A ray of sunlight seeped through the floorboards above them and lit parts of Camilla's face. Making her skin glow, and her thick hair showed thin strands of gold amongst the dark. Her lashes appeared long as she kept her eyes closed.

As her eyes suddenly fluttered, and opened to view the day, William quickly closed his and forgot to breathe in the process. He laid there completely still whilst he heard her yawn and slip out of the hammock. Only when it became silent did he slowly allow himself to breathe.

He soon let out small noise of surprise when something pinched him in the leg. Rapidly turning his eyes to the cause he saw the lovely dark eyes of Camilla.

"Morning sailor." She said with a teasing smile. "Or should I rather call you pirate now?"

He grinned back, still a little shaken he tried to rub his eyes due to tiredness.

"It's a tired pirate." She said with a pout.

"Oh shut it." He scoffed, "Call me William or nothing." He turned over in his hammock, resting his face against the tainted fabric.

"Is the pirate mad?"

No answer.

"Come now, everybody's already up on deck – on an' about their business."

There was a silence before he turned again, so that he could look at her. While waiting, she was fiddling with the hem of the fabric to his hammock; It had threads which were loose.

"Do you think we will find it?"

"What?"

"Amrita." She told him solemnly.

"Perhaps." He said. Then exploring further of the thought.

Camilla was thinking in silence as well,

"What if we don't?"

The thought was madly discomforting, and by the look in Camilla's eyes William knew she truly feared it. Perhaps more than he did.

By mere impulse he grabbed her hand, and held it comfortingly. She looked at him with mild surprise and then the corner of her mouth twitched.

"You'll ruin my hammock." He then said to defend himself from embarrassment, At this she smiled further – to his dismay.

The pearl sailed for days and nights long, and within a two weeks they reached the west side of Africa. The heat soon became almost unbearable. There seemed to be a drought in this area, and sharks soon swam at the sides of their vessel. The view was wavering when one gazed over the horizon, just as it did when one stared above of a lit fire.

"Here I was, thinking that the Caribbean was the hottest place on earth." Elizabeth waved her hand in front of her face to cool herself whilst lying on the stairs to the forecastle. The effect was next to none.

Camilla was sitting on the railing close to the helm, drinking water from a bottle, which was mixed with rum for the sake of its expirations date. Sweat gleamed on her temples, other than that she seemed near to unbothered by the heat.

Young William was steering by the helm, accompanied by his father who stood beside him. Young William dried sweat off of his brow with his sleeve, as it managed to burn his eyes.

"A little to the left." His father said. "Good." And laid a hand on his son's shoulder encouragingly.

"What's that?" Camilla said and spotted something ahead while narrowing her eyes.

"Could be another boat?" William suggested.

"Could be." Captain Turner said.

One Jack Sparrow suddenly emerged from out of his cabin, which the others' lacked interest for. No one payed him as much as a glance as he strutted across the deck, past his fellow pirates, until he reached Elizabeth. He then settled himself beside of her on the very same stairs where he had once proposed. She eyed him now, very suspiciously.

"What are you up to?"

"Oh nothing" He said casually, then snuck his hand under his coat and took out an orient fan to show her. "I'm merely seeing to your needs."

"You don't have to worry about my needs - I can take care of them myself, thank you."

"Your hand is going to fall off if you keep doing that for another hour – wouldn't this exotic fan be of greater help?"

Elizabeth eyed it for seconds whilst feeling her wrist ache. She remembered what it was like to have a fan; during her days as a governor's daughter she had owned quite a few. They were all a blessing on a hot day.

"I don't need it." She said promptly.

"Are you certain?" he said and opened it with a quick movement, to slightly wave it in her direction.

At once Elizabeth felt the pleasant breeze soothe her mind. She closed her eyes in pleasure, sighing. After a few seconds, she suddenly realised that Jack was watching her intently as she enjoyed the cool gust. Abruptly she blinked and straightened her posture.

"I don't want it Jack!"

"Suit yerself luv." He said, and took it and himself away from her.

Elizabeth did not think well of the smirk which he had left with.

The heat soon became unbearable again, and drops of sweat ran down her temple, and down her back. She threw her head back and rested on the steps of the stairs, closing her eyes in what was close to agony.

Captain Sparrow stepped onto the forecastle of the ship to stare across the south Atlantic Ocean as he waved the fan pleasantly at himself. He did not seem to have a care in the world at that moment.

"Jack." The low voice of Will Turner was heard next to him as he gained closer.

Jack stopped the waving for a moment and looked at him, wondering.

"Could I have a look at that compass of yours?"

"Of course…" A little hesitant, Jack reached for it and placed it into the hand of the other man. Then he eyed him carefully, yet somewhat discretely, as Will opened it.

The arrow spun around and then settled in the direction which pointed towards Elizabeth. Clenching his jaw, he slammed it shut and handed it over to Jack.

"There'll be no killin' me yet then." Jack grinned. Even his foul breath annoyed Will more than it repulsed him.

"You never had these problems since you never cared for anyone but yourself – Do not take it as a compliment."

Jack's grin faded slightly.

"for once I envy you." Will told him with a sigh near to a laugh, as if he thought it depressingly amusing.

"It's not all easy being me either." Jack argued. "It's an awful lot just to care for oneself as much as I do."

Will shook his head resignedly and left to assist his son by the helm once more.

He resumed the occupation of waving the pale, embroidered fan. The sea was deep blue, rich in colour for the eyes. Smelling the salty sea, he let it fill his nostrils and then his lungs with a content breath. Then a few breaths later he did not smell the fresh salty breeze anymore, but something acrid. It burned slightly in his nose, and made his insides turn with disgust. That smell could make anyone spew with no bounds.

He lowered the fan and peeked over the railing. As he had thought: it was the smell of death.

A raft, floated by their ship. On it lay two dead men. Burned by the sun, they possessed blisters on parts of their bodies. Sunken faces, attached to skeleton lean bodies laid there unattended. Sharks swam around it, following, and perhaps they would soon tilt it over to feast.

"Gheah" Jack made a face of disgust, and felt glad he was not in their place at the moment. He walked away from the railing and stepped down on the main deck.

"Capt'n!" a man called from his right. Jack turned to the man in a distracted manner.

"What?"

"Are we to make port? Before we find this… item which you seek? What is it exactly."

"Something that is worth more than gold and silver, I assure you. And no – we will not make port, but shall sail and reach our destination as soon as we possibly can. For Mister Captain of the dead there has wished for it to be thus. Now… " he was to turn away.

"It would be good for us crewmen to get a drink or two, and a wench – I'm certain we would sail twice as effectively afterwards since we'd all feel an awful lot of good."

Jack let the thought linger as he considered it. "We shall see." He said and walked away.

The thought was tempting; he himself could use a taste of a few refreshments ashore. Then again, Will would never agree to it and he wanted to get this 'You killed my son business – so I will strike you through if you do not regain his life' – business, untangled as soon as possibly manageable.

While deliberately inspecting the mast, and the state of the wood of it, he could not help but to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth in the corner of his eye. Unable to help himself from keeping his eyes averted, he watched her discretely. Panting from the heat, her chest rising pleasantly, sweat making her skin glow in the light of the sun, hair which was pushed back lay golden on her head, eyes closed.

This was not at all good.

They needed to make port before he did something he would regret.