1300 hits and only 15 reviews? You make me sad.
Chapter 8. My apologies for the growing number of flashbacks. Hopefully it inspires you to watch your 'At World's End' dvds, and complain to Disney about the lack of special features.
The flags were in position. The pirates were too. Hidden in the thick foliage of the jungle surrounding Tortuga, they waited with baited breath as sails began appearing on the horizon.
"Haven't been this nervous in years," Charles giggled in a whisper next to Jack. "Worse than the time we left that hog's carcass in Bartholomew Roberts' bed. Almost as if you can taste your doom."
Jack ignored him, leaning back against a tree with a skeptical air. He could remember many times where he had been far more nervous and more certain his life was about to end. One time stood out above all…
1 year, 6 months, and a few weeks earlier:
Jack was up when Elizabeth awoke, dressed and cleaning his pistol. She was a heavy sleeper, and she rolled over, rubbing her eyes and pushing her tangled hair away from her face. Then she saw Jack, and met his eyes. For a long moment they looked at each other, neither smiling, a heartbreaking silence between them. Time to say goodbye, the silence warned them. Then Elizabeth rose, still naked, and felt around on the floor for her tunic and boots.
"Sleep well?" Jack asked roughly. He had never in his life been there when a girl woke, and he hardly knew what to do with himself. Reality was back. The sun was rising.
Sleep? They hadn't even thought of sleep until the gray before dawn showed at the window. What a night… and what a horror that it was over, that life had to go on. Elizabeth pulled her clothes on, cursing the question. "Jack, I'll kill if you try to make this into nothing."
Jack smiled and turned back to her; he should have known she would defeat all the careful plans he had made in case she would ignore him, or worse, make excuses. "I'd never do that, darlin'. Don't you know me at all?"
She laced her boots. "Better than I did before last night." Her sense of humor made his whole being smile, and he felt more peaceful than he had in years. "Jack, was I very bad? It was my first time…"
"Tush, darling," he said, their easy camaraderie both surprising and wonderful to him, "I hope I didn't hurt you is all. I'm only a common pirate."
"Common? Hardly. Have you forgotten? You're Captain Jack Sparrow!"
Jack handed her a mug filled with water. "So I am." He paused to tie his bandana around the pile of braids, glad of the way she said his name. "I'm a bit worried you may regret this later, though. When you see—"
"Don't." It came a bit harsh, but Elizabeth softened quickly. She was not going to wreck the deep sense of fulfillment she felt by making excuses. "I didn't think I would ever see you again… I thought you were gone for ever… can't you understand how desperate that made me? I wanted to know you inside and out, so that if I lost you again, I'd be able to remember all of you…"
Jack looked into her honest brown eyes, his heart clenching. He had crossed some boundary in his own being, and he was going to suffer for it. Barbossa had warned him of her once, but Jack hadn't listened. Now he would pay, and pay dearly. I'm a bloody pirate, he thought to himself irritably. Isn't this what pirates are known for? Seducing innocent engaged women and then forgetting them with the tides? Perhaps, but Elizabeth had always been able to see the good man in him. A cursed bother, but it was there, preventing him from disengaging.
"What becomes of us all, Jack?" she asked, laying back onto the pillow. Images of James and her father flashed through her head. Everything had fallen apart, changed: she most of all. In the space of a night she found herself a woman, understanding things that once were a mystery to her. Understanding the difference between love and commitment, passion and fidelity. Understanding how it was possible to be devoted someone with a true heart, and yet wander. Understanding the unspeakable light there could be between a man and woman, and in that bond, understanding her own tempestuous spirit.
"Are you asking me to decide?" he questioned with amusement.
A premonition in her heart whispered that he may have to. But she pulled herself up and set to work clasping the belt around her narrow waist, and tucking her unruly hair into her hat.
"You should wear blue," Jack remarked, studying the heavy black clothing she wore. When she looked up in surprise, he waved off the comment with a quick shake of his head. "Or something besides that black carpet. It fair washes you out."
"Does it now?" She stood and made her way to him, but he put both hands on her shoulders as if to ensure she didn't come any closer.
"We've got quite an adventure ahead of us," he said. "Think you can manage it?"
"I don't know," she said wearily, understanding why he had held her at a distance. She turned away and took a few deep breaths. She had traveled to the ends of the earth to have him back, to have a chance to understand her own heart regarding him. She had taken the risk, given herself up to it. And now, how exquisitely terrible would her choice be! Jack was wrong about her—she wasn't really a pirate. She could never walk out the door and forget what had passed between them. "Well, I guess that's it then," she said to the wall.
"That's what?"
"That's what I'm going to do. Make a deal with Beckett."
"Really? What kind of deal?"
"The kind of deal you won't like," she said with a wry smile. "You've won this round, Sparrow, but I will win the next. Savvy?"
Jack tried to respond, but couldn't, he was grinning so wide. "Say 'savvy' again."
"I'll do exactly as I please, savvy?"
Jack laughed deeply, looking out the window at the gray-green sky.
"Jack… will you promise me something?"
She was disheveled and tired and brilliantly beautiful, and Jack was struck by the lines of her face, wistful in the half-light. He didn't like to think how young and how idealistic she was. She had walked a dark road, and the future may be darker still. Better she became acquainted with its sorrows and disappointments early, right? "It depends on what you ask, love."
"Promise me you'll never betray me the way I betrayed you."
He already had, probably, but the mess of betrayals and plans and schemings had plunged beyond even Jack's mind. He thought vaguely of Beckett and his agreement, and the idea floating at the back of his mind to stab the heart. Only recently he had convinced Will to allow him to do it, in order that Will could rejoin Elizabeth and marry her. Was that a betrayal? He rubbed his head, his nose twitching slightly. He had betrayed all his own plans for what he had done last night. Certainly he would betray her too, sometime. It was in his nature. "I'm afraid I can't promise you that. I can't promise you much of anything, except that I mean to survive and make sure you survive, too. Will that do?"
She stood, lifting her chin with that infuriating look of pride and disdain. "No, it won't. But if that's all you can offer, so be it."
I've still got old debts haunting me, he thought. And for all his clever dodging and dancing through the danger, it was not likely he could elude a final death much longer. The locker seemed to beckon him back with mocking laughter, sifted through every dream, glaring from every friend's promises. There wasn't any way in hell he was going to entangle her in that doom again. "Lizzie, we both know this isn't meant to be. I saved your life, you saved mine. We've enjoyed what may be our last night on earth together. What more do you want from me?"
Freedom, Elizabeth thought dully. The freedom I felt in your arms. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I've gotten everything I want from you. Let's go."
She walked past him out the door, and he stood watching her swift, angry movements. That's not how I wanted things to end, he grimaced. But what can I do? Jack knew this day would forever change their fates. One way or another, night would not fall without Elizabeth knowing her future. The burden of decision was light on Jack, though. Without another thought, he said allowed to the empty room, "I'll stab the heart. I'll do it. No sense in complicating what's really quite simple. I'll stab the heart and be off to my own eternity, she'll marry the whelp and live happily ever after, and Gibbs can finally be Captain of the Pearl. Everyone gets exactly what they want."
Everyone, he thought, except him.
There was an aspect of pain in all the best of life… the pain of desire, the pain of making love for the first time, the sharp jolt of taking risks, even the burning of spicy food. Was it pain that made you value the experiences more, understand them better, remember them clearly? The pain Jack felt watching her walk out the door was delicious in its own depth; there was a strange freshness and purity to his emotions that he reveled in. For so long he had kept his desires locked into a cynical, dangerous smile. He felt human, old, exhausted, thrilled, elated, impassioned, and heartbroken all at once. He was old enough to know that most of the feelings would fade over time, old enough to know that desire diminished, love faded, people grew apart. But he felt a lightness in his spirit, as if all that grown up knowledge didn't matter for now, didn't matter because of how surely he knew that she loved him. Perhaps not in the flighty, romantic way a young girl assumes love may be, but the depth of passion and understanding between them far outstripped both of their expectations.
If this was his last day on earth as a human with a heart, at least he would sever himself from the world knowing what love felt like. But then, she had won this round. She was walking out the door with her chin in the air, her face set, stern, and strong. And he was the one watching her go, the angst of an artist or a poet washing over him. He was the one who would leave with the scars.
On deck things were stirring. At that moment Jack felt all the shock of the world around him; he felt as though he had been gone years instead of a night. Had anyone noticed Elizabeth slip out of his cabin? Gibbs had. He was there with a sly look on his face, which Jack refused to meet. Briskly, he straightened his vest and put on his hat.
"Mr. Gibbs. Is the ship prepared?"
"Aye Captain. The cannons are cleaned, the sails are mended—"
Elizabeth approached and cut him off. "Mr. Gibbs, I noticed a distinct lack of discipline below decks. I would advise you to look into it."
Gibbs tried to hide his curiosity by taking a swig from his flask. With another glance at Jack, he went off. Jack watched him go, suddenly shy. Elizabeth was so cool, so calm! She turned to him, business like.
"We have to start by talking with them. They have Will."
"Ah yes… dear William." Jack squinted into the sunrise, trying to adopt an air as casual as hers.
"We're meeting on Marco's Island at noon. No weapons except swords, we each bring three men. I've already spoken to Barbossa."
Noon? That was hours away! "Why the bloody hell did you do that?"
"Because he's one of the Pirate Lords, and the only one I know well enough to trust in negotiations."
"You of all people should know he's a fiend. I refuse to go with if he's coming."
"Refuse?" she tipped her chin. "I'm king. Obey me, or else."
"Or else what?" Jack asked with a mocking smile.
Elizabeth squared her shoulders and faced him. She licked her lips, remembering what it felt like to kiss him. Older, wiser, a hundred times more experienced, Jack almost frightened her. How did he maintain such composure? Her cheeks were burning. "Or else I'll—"
"Never mind, darlin'. I'll obey. I'm as eager to see the whelp as you. Extremely awkward situations on the horizon: I can hardly wait."
"He never liked you much either."
"He's sure to kill me if he ever finds out about how his charming fiancé was seduced by a wicked and unscrupulous scoundrel. But then, you tend to keep a lot of secrets from him, eh?"
"No more than I keep from everyone else." Elizabeth narrowed her gaze and tried not to sound as young as she felt. "Women are notorious for keeping secrets."
"Why do you think they're bad luck aboard ships?" Jack smirked. He wanted so much to hold her close and stop her from being so defensive, so proud.
"I wonder how Will ended up with them…" She was gazing out onto the horizon, and Jack stuck his hands into his pockets to keep from drawing her into his arms. What was it about her that fascinated him so?
"One look at you and he'll be back here in no time, doing penance." Jack leaned against the rail, his muscles tightening. "He wants to marry you, and you'd be a damn fool not to have him. Why, he's brave, heroic, somewhat good looking, as Turners go…"
"You don't have to talk me into it, Jack." She sounded angry, and he wondered why. "What's your plan here?"
"Get aboard the Dutchman." That was all he had to say. She drew in a sharp breath, understanding. Suddenly, everything made sense. He could perceive a hundred questions about to burst forth, and he couldn't stand to explain to her why. He didn't trust himself to win another argument with her.
"Jack, you don't have to do this!" she finally said, her hand moving to his dark face.
"I know that," he said, forcing a thoughtless smile and waving her hand off. "I'm doing it because I want to."
The look on her face shredded him, but he didn't want to hear a response. With a shake of his head, he walked towards the holds below deck. There was no way he would try to face this day sober.
The Present:
The ships were leaving. Jack emerged from his reverie to the cautious sounds of whispered excitement around him, as they crept closer to the bonfires and buildings. Had they won so easily? It hardly seemed possible!
It wasn't possible. Jack was the first to see the three lone longboats rowing towards shore. The fleet was merely moving to a more defensible position. Damn.
"What do we do now?" Kit hissed to Marta, who was watching the scene with wide blue eyes.
"Who knows French?" she asked abruptly. Kit raised his hand. Elizabeth raised hers halfway and shrugged. Jack frowned. The rest of the crowd, dispersed among the trees, was discussing which escape route to take.
"Quiet!" Elizabeth finally called to them. "We have another trick up our sleeves. TheMaudlin Belle has a fair supply of French Navy coats from the raid they conducted only last week! Hurry, we haven't any time to spare. We have to make ourselves the French Navy!"
An envoy of six British Soldiers trudged through the shallow waves, complaining variously about the red tide and the stench of the bonfires.
"Uncanny, I call it. The French knowing we were on our way," muttered old Adams, wishing he was at home in bed. "If this be some trick…"
"I say we blast them all," cried steely Joe, "and then say it was an accident."
"Yes, because the French monarch will probably not declare war on England if we say it was an accident," Adams returned scornfully. "These be dangerous times. It'll be the noose for us all if we start something up. We have our orders."
"Aye," Joe sighed, cowed. "We can at least do a decent investigation."
"Shh!" another of the party suddenly said, beckoning them. "Soldiers! Ahead…"
Indeed, they heard voices, merrily chattering close by. They were distinctly French.
"Name yourselves, for the Royal Navy of Her Majesty the Queen of England has come to hold talks with the servants of his Majesty the King of France."
The soldiers appeared. There were around twenty of them, all drinking and lounging upon a pack of disreputable women in bodices so low that the civilized English officers cringed. French Heathens, they thought.Wanton and vulgar, all of them.
"English!" one bright eyed and muscular fellow cried in a thick French accent. "Bonjour! Why, welcome to our port, the Jewel of the Caribbean and the toast of our beloved King's eye. What brings you here from your own stuffy ships and prayer-booking?"
The other French soldiers laughed loudly. Adams adjusted his collar and stepped forward again.
"We have instructions from our King to take this port for His glory. The French have left it for some time unchecked, and it has festered into a haven for pirates and worse."
"Sacrebleu! What could be worse than pirates?" gasped the tall fellow, throwing his arm around a pretty woman in a yellow gown. "Allez!" he cried to his fellow soldiers. "We'll kill them all if they come! Our king knows well the value of his own property. Lese Mejeste, no?
"We mean no offence," Adams said. "But we have our orders."
"Tant pis, we must fight to the death!" cried Kit, enjoying the French accent immensely. "A hundred British soldiers dead for every Frenchman!"
"Now, now, I hope it doesn't come to that," Adams said, growing nervous. "We merely mean to assure our crown that this land will no longer be a breeding ground for corruption and lawlessness."
"Oh mon Dieu!" Kit cried dramatically, holding out his polished sword. "Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose, as we say in France, Monsieur. But we can assure you, not a single law shall be broken under our watchful eyes. We even mean to reform these good women into cloth weavers. Tres belle, no?"
Adams glanced around at the small number of soldiers, trying to keep a clear head. The streets of Tortuga looked dark and deserted. "Where is your navy?"
"Only around the bay, storming Port au Prince, what else, my good sir?" Kit cried. "They'll be back at dawn."
Adams glanced back at his men as if to say, thank God we didn't attack. "Very well, soldier. Keep up the good work."
"Au revouir monsieur! Give my respect to your Queen… and vive la France!"
"Vive la France!" cried the pirates lustily. Adams bowed and he and his men headed toward their boat.
"My superior, the Duke of Birmingham, will be here in a few weeks with the rest of our Navy," Adams called back to the surprised pack. "They will be overjoyed to know of the French restoring order. Perhaps they can even assist you in your work. Look forward to their visit!"
Elizabeth felt her blood run cold at title Duke of Birmingham. Without thinking, she fired her gun, and instantly the real fighting broke out...
