A/N: New chapter! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, favourites and follows, they really do mean a lot :)
Reminder that I do not own POTC or its characters because I am not a pirate and I can't go around stealing things
Spoiler: Jack Sparrow at the Palace of Versailles?!
Two days later
She saw it in the distance, at first just a tiny speck at the end of the long cavern they called the Devil's Throat. But as the Fancy emerged from the dark, eerie straight, that unimportant speck had grown to become a surprisingly recognisable vessel. The Black Pearl, her distinguishable black sails billowing in the wind, was docked at the Cove, completely deserted, which suggested that she had been anchored for a fair amount of time.
What were they-rather, what was he doing here? Wasn't he meant to be on a glorious trip to a fountain of promised youth? What had happened? Why would he and Barbossa have any need to come here? Had they come to see Teague, perhaps?
Or fate intervened.
She shook the voice from her head, knowing full well that she had her own agenda to pursue - finding the Empress and then finding the Flying Dutchman - and this time she knew there would be no similarities with any of Jack's motives. She would be better off spending as little time as possible on the island, promptly asking for the last known location of the Empress and, if necessary, procuring a ship to head to Singapore and take back her title. Not before letting Teague know of her return though, of course.
"Are you still so sure that you are only seeking a ship in your journey?" An amused and smug French voice remarked from over her shoulder.
"I had no idea he would be here," she replied briskly, continuing to gaze at the Pearl as they came into port, "I was told he was presently engaged elsewhere."
"That is the thing about Jack Sparrow, chérie, you never know where he may end up. I'm not sure even he knows where the winds choose to take him, content with the element of surprise." Turning to Chevalle, her interest piqued by his mention of Jack, she noticed him turn on his heel and walk off, commanding his crew to weigh anchor.
She rushed after him, "You know him, then?" He stopped, turning to look at her, "You've met him before?"
Chevalle made an indignant snort, "Oui, we met before the meeting of the Brethren. Sparrow has had dealings and discord with every one of the pirate lords, which explains why he rarely visits the Cove of his own accord."
"What was your discord?" Elizabeth asked curiously, following the captain around the ship as he continued to order his crew around in his native tongue.
"They do not call me the penniless Frenchman for no reason."
"He stole your money," Elizabeth came to a halt, searching the Frenchman's face for any signs of bitterness or anger, finding it strange when she found none. Usually those slighted by the wily captain were hell-bent on revenge, but in this instance Chevalle seemed neither interested nor concerned about the presence of Jack and his ship at the Cove.
Meanwhile, Chevalle continued to adjust the rigging, preparing the ship to be docked, "I lost my estate and property to him in a card game in Marseille three years ago."
Elizabeth blinked, incredulous, "You gambled away your estate in a card game?"
"I was sure of winning," said Chevalle with a shrug, his lack of shame or embarrassment of his blatant frivolity leading Elizabeth's eyes to widen even further.
"And then what happened?" Elizabeth prompted when it was clear Chevalle was not going to continue the story of his own accord.
"Sparrow lost my estate, surrendering it to the Crown in exchange for his freedom when he was caught breaking into the Queen's private chamber in Versailles a few weeks later."
Elizabeth didn't think she could be surprised any further by Jack's actions but she was proved wrong, "How did he get into the palace?"
Chevalle met her eyes, a hint of disgust evident, "I hear it was by invitation of the Queen herself," he replied with a grimace.
Elizabeth couldn't help but smile to herself. She should really have felt just as much disgust as Chevalle did for Jack's impropriety in fraternising with such an esteemed European monarchy, but she just found that the whole story was so amusing, and so much like him. Part of her desperately wanted to find Jack again, just so that she could ask him how true this story was, but she quickly disregarded the thought.
"Did you seek revenge on him for what he did?"
"It was revenge enough when I heard of his descent to the Locker." As he regarded her Elizabeth found she couldn't meet his eyes, whether out of shame for her actions or anxiety that, by looking at him, he would figure out she was responsible she wasn't entirely sure. He appeared not have noticed, however, as the final preparations were being made for going ashore, "But I cannot say I wouldn't pull the trigger if I was ever holding the pistol poised to kill him."
There it was, an unmistakable glint of enmity in his otherwise fairly placid features. Elizabeth wisely chose not to speak any further and let Chevalle return to the pressing matter of bringing the ship in to port. It was only after they had disembarked the Fancy that she caught up to him again, graciously thanking him for allowing her passage on his ship and promising that as soon as she was in command of the Empress again she would reward him for his trouble.
They parted ways and Elizabeth knew the wisest thing to do would be to find Teague, as he was the most likely person to know if Tai Huang or the Empress had made port here recently, being the Keeper of the Code and a constant presence on the island. There was also a small part of her that desperately wanted to see Jack again, and she knew that there was a better chance of bumping into him on this expansive island if she sought out his father.
The first port of call was the main fortress in Shipwreck Cove, a place now left virtually empty and deserted in complete contrast to the hive of activity it had been during the meeting of the Brethren. Entering the main council chamber, the exact place of the meeting of the pirate lords, Elizabeth was struck by how different it looked in the light of day and without dozens of pirates inside. The room still had the musty smell that had stuck out during her first visit, suggesting that there was nobody in charge of keeping the place clean.
As she opened the door and entered one of the long corridors leading to the many personal chambers in the fortress designed to house all of the pirate lords and their crews, she suddenly caught sight of a pirate she vaguely recognised from the meeting.
Hearing her footsteps, the boy turned to face her, his round face immediately piquing in recognition, "King Swann?" he asked quietly, looking no older than about seventeen years, the grime and dirt on his face suggesting he'd spent the majority of his life in this besmirched setting. Elizabeth nodded and the boy's eyes widened even further, "So it is true what they say, that you are truly the most beautiful pirate to ever live."
Elizabeth struggled not to blush at the boy's flattering comments, unaware that she had gained a level of reputation at the Cove, "Do you know where Captain Teague is?"
"He's not here, ma'am," he replied with a dialect that suggested he or his family had originated from London, "Sailed on the Troubadour over a week ago. No-one's seen him since."
Elizabeth supposed that was to be expected. Despite Teague's apparent preference for remaining on land, she guessed there was no way that the father of Jack Sparrow could ever remain there permanently. Though that did still beg the question of what his son was doing here, if he was here at all. Perhaps... perhaps Barbossa had mutinied again. It wasn't out of the question.
"What about Jack Sparrow? Have you seen him?" said Elizabeth, inwardly cursing herself for once again forgetting her whole reason for being here. She was here to find the Empress, not ask after the health of an infuriating pirate.
"Teague's son?" Elizabeth suppressed a chuckle that, here at least, Jack was known only by his relation to his father, not through his fabricated myths. Perhaps that was why he didn't visit often. "Not sure. Came here sayin' he was on an errand from Teague and then just disappeared. Perhaps you should ask him where Teague is."
Elizabeth was about to turn around and walk off when she remembered the real purpose of her being here. "Has the Empress made port here recently?"
The boy furrowed his brow, deep in thought for a passing moment, "I don't recall a ship of that name makin' port here, ma'am."
Elizabeth's heart sank. She knew it was unlikely that a ship berthed in Singapore would have any need of visiting a far out pirate cove, but she had hoped that she might have been fortunate enough to arrive and see it docked at the Cove. She would have to think of another way of obtaining a ship and finding the Dutchman.
The boy had appeared to notice Elizabeth's disappointment, as he tentatively took a few steps closer to her, "There's plenty of ships here what can take you to your destination, miss."
Elizabeth met the boy's eyes, sparkling green and eager to please, and gave him a small smile, "Thank you." She politely nodded and then continued past him, heading for the main staircase that led to the private chamber that had been hers during the meeting of the Brethren.
...
It had been a long time since Bill Turner had stepped foot in Port Royal, so long that he'd forgotten how beautiful the island was, with its idyllic town and docks and sublime cliffs and hillsides. If you were lucky enough to live here, there was really no need to travel anywhere else, the various beauties of the Caribbean combined to form this splendid isle. But he and several other members of the Flying Dutchman's crew weren't here to see the sights. They were here on what they'd been informed was a very important task.
They were to find Elizabeth, the girl his son William had taken for a wife, and the woman cursed with ten years of life away from her husband. Supposedly, she was here in Port Royal, living a quaint and pleasant life, however Bill could tell from the manner of Will's voice as he instructed him to perform this task that he wasn't entirely convinced she was even here. And that, Bill surmised, was the main reason why they were here. To check up on her, under the guise that they'd come to fetch her for a brief reunion with her dearly beloved.
The four of them had been personally chosen by William as the most trusted members of his crew (since he had spent the last two months trying to reform some of the crew's cruel attitudes, moulded under the tutelage of Davy Jones). As they walked the streets of the bustling town, Bill couldn't help feeling uneasy, forced to constantly remind himself that he was no longer a barnacled creature, with an unfortunate starfish permanently fixed to his face, but an actual man, a human being. Every time he locked eyes with someone he instinctively looked away out of embarrassment, feeling as though he didn't fit in with this civilised race, despite no longer being any different from the other sailors that inhabited the port.
Undeterred, they pressed on through the town, before Bill came to a stop, realising that none of them had any idea where this Elizabeth lived. The only solution his fellow crewmen could offer Bill was the thoughtless scratching of their heads, so he took it upon himself to find somebody in the town that may know. He continued walking up the street, relieved when he spotted a tavern on the left hand side of the street and a busty barmaid shouting at some drunken scoundrel outside. If there was anyone most likely to know things about the town, it would be the unfortunate man or woman forced to listen to the ramblings of intoxicated curs on a daily basis.
The young, red-headed barmaid rested one hands on her hips, standing in the doorway of the tavern and pointing angrily at the old man that appeared to be causing the bother, "I told ye once, I ain't gonna tell ye again. Yer kind ain't wanted here."
The drunken man continued to slur incoherently, Bill unable to make out exactly what he was complaining about, but when he noticed Bill and the other crewman approach the tavern he backed off and fled into a narrow lane.
The barmaid fixed Bill with an almighty glare, "An' what is it you want? Bar ain't open yet, fellas. This ain't Tortuga."
"I was wondering if ye could help us," Bill took a hesitant step towards the woman, slightly intimidated by her coarse and rough accent, "We're lookin' for someone."
The barmaid's face softened slightly and she regarded him patiently, Bill realising after a few moments that she was waiting for him to continue. She tapped her foot on the ground in frustration, "Come on then. Out with it. Who are you lookin' for?"
"Elizabeth Turner," said Bill with an uncertain smile, "Formerly Swann."
At the mention of Elizabeth's maiden name, the woman's eyes widened in recognition. "The former governor's daughter?" Bill nodded. "Rarely leaves her house, so I've heard, after her altercation with pirates several months ago. Father lost at sea - it's anybody's guess whether he was killed by the pirates or the East India ilk." Gone was the harsh, bitter expression on her face, replaced with pity, "Poor girl, at the mercy of those rotten scoundrels for all those months, worst of all that notorious Jack Sparrow."
Bill had heard that, rather than being entirely at the mercy of pirates, Elizabeth had actually led the pirate brethren that had defeated the Dutchman and caused the Armada to flee, but he supposed this was the only way for her to retain her reputation and stature. "Do you know where her house is?" he asked after a moment.
"A small cottage on the western side of the island," the barmaid pointed over towards the hills, "You follow the path that leads up that ridge and it'll take you right there."
Bill nodded his thanks and they ascended the winding path that reached right into the heart of Port Royal's spectacular mountain range. From here, they had a breathtaking view of the docks, of the various Navy and merchant ships entering and leaving the port and of the imposing Fort Charles that stood atop the cliff. He could see why Elizabeth liked it here: she was secluded enough to escape the prying gaze of the world, yet near enough to be able to observe the ocean in all its glory and at the same time long for what she'd lost.
They turned a corner and there it stood, a small and modest cottage nestled by countless palm trees. Bill approached the front door and gently knocked however after a few minutes it was clear that nobody was going to answer. Undeterred, Bill grabbed the round handle, pushed and the door opened to reveal Elizabeth's home to be completely deserted.
Bill turned to the other members of Will's crew, "Check upstairs," he instructed, taking it upon himself to explore the downstairs rooms in case Elizabeth was there or there were any clues to suggest where she might be. Walking around the living area, Bill's attention was suddenly drawn to a piece of paper lying on a desk. He carefully picked it up and read it.
To whoever reads this,
It is likely I shall be gone for a considerable length of time and unfortunately may never return. See to it that this wonderful house is properly taken care of during my indeterminate absence.
Elizabeth Swann
It was rather an abrupt letter, to be sure, leading Bill to wonder how much thought had been put into her apparent flight from Port Royal. Had she been considering it for weeks or made the decision on the spur of the moment?
What was apparent, though, was that William had sorely misjudged Elizabeth's ability to remain in Port Royal for the ten years it would take for him to step forth on land once more.
...
Jack paced the length of Teague's private chamber for the fifth time that morning, for once in his life at a complete loss of what to do. He had thought coming here would help his current situation, he hoped it would provide closure, allow him to move on and focus on the real task in hand. But it had only made everything so much worse.
He was furious with himself for letting Teague's death get to him. In truth, he had hardly known the man. They'd spent so many years apart that it had been a long road to rebuilding their relationship, overcoming each others' barriers and feeling ready to trust each other. It had only been the last few years that Jack felt as though he knew Teague as well as Teague seemed to always know him. And that was probably the worst part of all. There was too much left unsaid between them. There had been so many missed opportunities.
And while Jack would never admit to actually being upset at the old codger's passing, he knew that it was the regret that hurt the most. The man might have been stubborn, often insufferable and deliberately vague whenever Jack was searching for specifics, but he had supported him, in his own off-kilter, peculiar, nonsensical way. When Jack had first turned pirate, Teague had offered him a way of thriving in the environment, and when he had lost the Pearl, he had provided him with a ship of his own to help get it back (even though that ultimately failed because the ship was such a slow and meek vessel to begin with and never had a chance in hell of catching up to the Pearl).
That was why Jack owed it to Teague to find his murderer. He knew that he would need to concentrate the entirety of his tumultuous emotions on avenging Teague's death, rather than in letting him indulge in his own self-pity. It was his feud with Barbossa all over again, except this time the identity of the mutineer was still a mystery.
Jack stopped in front of Teague's old, creaking desk, brushing his hand across the many papers that lay across it. He'd not even stopped to take a look at any of them yet, too busy figuring out how he was going to hunt down the murderer, and what he was going to do once he'd found him.
He wanted more than anything to just leave, jump back on the Black Pearl and set sail for... well, anywhere. But with his crew god-knows-where trying to find mystical mermaid tears, he would have to wait a few more days before he could leave port. Not forgetting that when they finally would leave the Cove, Jack's whole crew would be intent on heading to the fountain, somewhere that Jack was no longer quite as hell-bent on finding, for a reason he was strangely unable to pinpoint.
Jack grimaced as he noticed Teague's guitar propped up against the wall, a frank reminder that this time only a week ago Teague would probably have been in this very room, most likely playing the bloody thing until the early hours, much as he did when Jack was a boy...
"What am I doing here?" Jack grumbled, putting his left palm to his face wearily.
"Ye're putting off the inevitable."
Jack spun around to find a vision of him lounging on Teague's bed, staring up at the ceiling. Jack grunted and narrowed his eyes, "You really do choose the worst moments to appear."
"Ye can only blame yerself for that, Jackie." The vision lifted his head, using his arms to support him. "And besides, there's nobody better to tell ye what to do than yer own conscience."
Jack just stared at the vision with a blank look on his face, "Go on then. Tell me what to do. Dependin' on how helpful it is, I may just take yer advice."
The vision matched his gaze with a look of boredom, "Leave. Run away. It's how you deal with most problems. Whatever happened to that noble pirate tradition, eh?" The vision suddenly sat upright. "Remember when Mum died? Remember how fast you ran until ye found that cave, an' how long it took for Teague to find you?"
"I was seven years old at the time," said Jack in a low voice, looking down at the floor.
The vision raised his eyebrows in mild amusement, a smirk playing on his lips, "You may not be a child anymore, but ye're still a coward, Jackie. That'll never change."
"Whatever happened to playing the hero?" Jack turned away from the vision and strolled over to the guitar, picking it up and turning it over in his hands, in desperate search of a distraction.
"You know where you ended up last time you tried doin' the noble thing."
Jack stopped inspecting the guitar and put it back down, "Dead."
"Not just dead though, was it?"
Jack was about to turn around and offer an incredibly witty and thought-provoking retort to the irritating figment of his imagination when he heard the door creak open.
...
Elizabeth stood in front of the door to Teague's chamber, ready to knock, when she hesitated, realising the absurdity of knocking on a door with nobody on the other side to answer. Teague was busy traversing the wide ocean, meaning that his room would be empty. And if his room was empty, then what was the point in being here in the first place?
That was the same question she'd asked herself when she'd left the confines of her own quarters and ascended the stairs that led to Teague's room. But, no matter how much she tried to stop herself, her inherent curiosity proved infallible and brought her here anyway. And it wasn't just her curiosity, Elizabeth also had a distinct feeling that she'd find answers in Teague's chamber - whether it was passage to Singapore, or a ship, or the last known location of the Flying Dutchman, she just felt that all of the answers would be behind the door.
But then she heard the familiar voice coming from the other side of the wooden door and her blood ran cold.
"Whatever happened to playing the hero?"
Her breath hitched in her throat, identifying the speaker immediately. She could never forget that voice. But one question remained. Who was he talking to? Elizabeth heard no response, but the next word Jack Sparrow uttered sent shivers down her spine.
"Dead."
What was going on? Without giving it much thought, she pushed the door open and was both relieved and confused when she found Jack stood on the opposite side of the otherwise empty room, facing away from her, no hat or coat on but looking exactly the same as he had done those couple of months ago.
He hadn't yet noticed her presence and Elizabeth really wished it would have stayed that way, except she wasn't able to stop herself from calling out his name.
Her voice had a peculiar effect on him, for she noticed him stiffen slightly before he whirled around to face her. They both regarded each other intently for a long moment, Elizabeth taking in the details of his face, no different to when she last saw him, trinkets still adorned in his braided hair, his trademark bandana still in place, kohl still smearing the outlines of his entrancingly endless eyes.
And then he smiled. However, it wasn't his usual charming and mischievous grin, but a humourless and cold smirk that took her completely by surprise. It was a smile reserved for only his bitter enemies, and it grieved Elizabeth more than she would ever admit to see him regard her in such a manner.
Jack then turned his head to look at Teague's empty bed, the humourless smirk replaced by a grimace, "An' what is this supposed to be?" he said to the bed with an apathetic wave of his hand in her direction.
Elizabeth tilted her head to the side and frowned, completely bewildered by his behaviour. "Jack, it's me. It's Elizabeth."
Jack met her gaze and pointed to her, "Aye!" he exclaimed with mocking amusement in his voice, raising his hands and looking around the room, "It's Elizabeth! Miss Swann! Everybody's favourite murderess."
The guilt came as a wave, crashing over her, dragging her away, though her feet remained securely fixed to the floor, paralysed along with her voice, which caught in her throat as she tried to respond. She was drowning, and this time he wasn't there to save her. He had pushed her in, provoked her. He was spoiling for a fight.
And she couldn't give it to him.
She saw that Jack had noticed her hesitation but he instantly disregarded it and continued talking. "Can't you get it into your head," he paused and wrinkled his forehead, briefly pointing to himself, "Which is in my head, that I'm no longer interested in what you have to say? Get out of your head," another hesitant pause, "I mean, my head, and let me talk to the other me," he pointed at the bed decidedly, "in peace."
The guilt began to slowly ebb away, sincere confusion settling in its place. There were a lot of things seriously off with this conversation, and with the captain, leading Elizabeth to wonder if he was hallucinating again. But surely that was only reserved for the Locker? It had been two months... hadn't Jack recovered from that by now?
Jack stared at her a few moments before his hopeful expression with replaced with immense irritation. Without turning his head, he glanced over at the bed, "Why hasn't she disappeared?" he said through gritted teeth, speaking as though Elizabeth wasn't able to hear him. His eyes moved back to the bed as though there was somebody sat on it having a conversation with him, "I'm willing her to leave, but she's not leaving."
"Jack," Elizabeth was finally able to find her voice, "I'm here. I'm real. This is real."
"No!" Jack shook his head at her, "Not real. I'm not fallin' for that one again." Not knowing what else to do, Elizabeth took a few steps towards him, but stopped when Jack nervously backed away, "Bugger. This one moves."
"This is ridiculous!" Elizabeth cried in exasperation, "I'm not an illusion, Jack. I'm really here." All of a sudden, she rushed forward, raising the palm of her hand, which collided forcefully into the side of Jack's face and sent him reeling.
Elizabeth wanted to feel guilty for slapping him, but she had been left with no other option. The only way to show him that she was real was to reach out and touch him, and she definitely wasn't prepared to kiss him again after what happened last time. Plus, it would probably only make things worse anyway.
However, as Jack clutched his cheek protectively, head still turned to the side, Elizabeth's attention was drawn to the sudden creaking sound from behind her. She cautiously turned around and her eyes widened at what, or rather, who she saw standing in the doorframe.
A/N: Heehee! The moment you've all been waiting for! I hope it lived up to the build up from the last nine or so chapters, and I promise that now they're back together they're going to be spending little time apart! I really hope you enjoyed the chapter, and the next one will probably be up sometime next week :D
Response to reviews - River: Thanks for the review! I'm really glad you liked the chapter :) Yes, there is a definite convergence of characters that will continue in the next few chapters, and several major plot threads will come to a head as well and hopefully quite a bit will be explained (such as what Barbossa is up to). Thanks again! :D
As for the ludicrous Versailles story (I'm really tempted to write a story about Jack Sparrow in pre-revolutionary France, not sure why), the Queen would most likely have been Marie Leszczyńska, married to Louis XV of France (1715-1774) to fit in with the vague timeline of the POTC universe. There'll be more on that particular tale later in the story ;)
Please don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think! Till next time!