(OT: Verging on one of my favorite chapters, and I'm not even sure why. I wanted the end to teeter on the edge of Jack's vexation in the second movie...Obviously. Anyway, don't forget any suggestions are welcomed and thank you for the reviews, once again. Much more to come! Enjoy!)
Elizabeth drifted in a lurid, hazy sleep, the heat of the simmering fire wafting against her agitated figure and the stale rum still pulsing through her system. It lured her.
Will's hand stroked her silky thigh, his daring eyes dazzling as he rolled into her grasp, his lips inches from her face. Her name was whispered hoarsely. Elizabeth nestled against him, resting her head on the man's muscular chest. Her slender hand slipped into his v-neck ebony-black blouse, and he released a gentle, enticing groan. The lady's smile spread as her hand glided down his waist, nearly to his taut waistband, while the other tugged on her creased, billowing skirt, scrunching the material into her fist before draping one leg tenderly across his.
"More," she hissed. "Closer."
A hand enveloped her thin, covered arm, softly towing Elizabeth into a blessed embrace.
"Do you welcome all of your friends like this, love?"
The woman's appalled brown eyes flicked open. Warmth was in her palm…Jack Sparrow's hand, along with his emerald green ring that her broken fingernails fiddled with. He smelled of sweat and delicious sea-salt, with a tinge of peppermint on his blouse…Making Elizabeth briefly wonder where the scent emerged from. Her limbs were numb as she felt his face angle closer to her blonde head. How could she curl up next to him? She refused to think…That a dream carried her away. Sure enough, Elizabeth's right leg was intertwined with Jack's, and he smirked in an elated laughter.
Elizabeth quietly and slowly slithered from his grip that she initiated, praying that she was still in a dream and that Jack wouldn't notice her movements. Go back to sleep, she almost whispered. He released her hand willingly, flesh grazing flesh, and then propped both hands behind his head, watching her with an amused expression. Elizabeth rose, anchoring one hand on her hip and the other in her musty, golden locks.
She looked like an angel, with the embers of the driftwood glowing behind her figure and the darkness surrounding her pretty feet and delicate fingers. Their eyes locked; he couldn't stop foolishly smiling. She wasn't even flustered, he thought. The lass merely seemed a bit embarrassed. With Elizabeth's beautiful fingers laced in her loose tresses, Jack's heavy lids brightened as she rounded up stray branches and prodded the ashes before chucking more wood into the drowsy flames.
"I didn't mean to," she murmured in passing. Her gaze remained on the flowing smoke.
Jack said nothing: He knew Miss Swann had no scandalous intentions for the evening, and he also didn't possess the energy to taunt her heartily.
"It was a dream."
"And the rum." The words caressed his tongue before he could even close his mouth.
Elizabeth swiftly spun around, and they stared at one another again. She could hear her own strange, labored breathing and was entirely uncertain of why her chest felt so constricted, like a corset was squeezing her to unbearable limitations. Then, it struck her. Every suppressed emotion was beginning to rise, and she quickly slung the fallen rum bottle into her hands and then up to her lips, downing the coherent thoughts about her and Will's ultimate fates.
"It's dreadful," she said after a deep draft.
"It's good!" He recovered his own onion bottle and hoisted it into the air before tipping it up. "What?" he asked at her grimace. "Afraid of tarnishing your good name, Miss Swann?
"It doesn't matter."
"Well," he continued, not minding her crestfallen frown. "After this bout with pirates, you're well on your way to becoming one yourself. You already know the code. Now all you have to do is kill your first scallywag and perhaps wield a sword…And you've taken the first step."
She glanced at him. His tone was slurred yet balanced, and he certainly had an unusual air of soberness at this late hour. Her…A pirate? Doubtful. If she did make it back to Port Royal, she would become a wife of the Commodore and ultimately wear that wretched mask of society she so despised. The horrible emotions played across her face before she flopped on the ground, cradling the cocked bottle, and coiled into herself several feet away from the man.
Jack drunkenly observed her slight movements and smiled. She was lovely in that honey glow, and the glistening stars overhead seemed to cast a fascinating feature, even without their magnificent moonlight. Miss Elizabeth Swann, Will's Elizabeth, would regret this, he knew. And in that moment, a surge of desire flooded his rum-soaked mindset in a peculiar deluge. A stunning woman was once under his arm and wanting to wrap her legs around him, and he could've allowed her sweet caresses. Alas, his bloody good heart would not comply. And he wouldn't have minded having her…Or not having her. It was a crossed path in his mind when he weighed the level of attraction to this businesslike, fetching woman, his sole companion on the godforsaken spit of land. But the Pearl was his gal interminably, but…A nagging thought, but he couldn't help but think about Elizabeth lying so close, yet so far away, and he couldn't be certain if he would have that surreal, intriguing opportune moment with the lass ever again.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
She could no longer resist the painful ache of her calf muscles that urged her to massage her legs or the agonizing throbbing of her head that started at her temples and seared in a zigzag motion to the base of her neck. With one hand supporting her head, Elizabeth stared out to the ocean, once dark and ominous that was now beginning to blush. The brilliant Caribbean sky was inundated in a soft, salmon-pink hue, the bulbous clouds immobile and lined with the lurking orb of great light. Seconds passed and the vivid sun gradually inched over the rim of the tranquil ocean, and the light bounced over the waves and washed over Elizabeth's feet. A smile slinked at the corners of her mouth, and her entire being was directed toward the simplistic view of the horizon.
What did it hold for her? Another day, trapped on an island with the infamous and drunk Captain Jack Sparrow? A seething sun more than likely merely cradled a horrible sunburn and the torture of another day in a place no where near paradise. The sun had now risen high into the sky, and the tiny isle was illuminated. She cautiously crawled toward Jack and eyed his solid, undisturbed slumber on his back. It would be a terrible idea to rouse him. She then scratched her head, ignoring the thudding of the migraine as she gazed dumbly into the fire that someone…More than likely Jack, had once again, stoked.
His words from the awkward encounter still echoed in her mind. A pirate was devious. She had never looked at people as advantageous…As someone to deceive and trick so that she could get exactly what she wanted. And a pirate, unlike herself, would have a plan by now. Jack's scheme was to wait. Well, waiting was not for Elizabeth. She rose and tapped her foot, coarse sand wriggling between her toes. What could Elizabeth do? She clenched her fists as the foggy trail of grey smoke coasted into the palm trees. God! Why was it so hard? After kicking the sand, the woman bent down, gripped the rum bottle that was three-quarters of the way empty, and chucked it into the fire. Elizabeth dodged a massive explosion that rocketed into the air as soon as she tossed the bottle, and an idea began to bob in her mind. The Royal Navy was out to find her. She knew that much, purely from imagining James and her father's immediate reactions. They would spot any sign of distress. It was their job as the Navy to save those in the way of danger…Therefore –Elizabeth grinned— a smoke signal would definitely work.
With her heart and head pounding, Elizabeth galloped through the palm trees and nearly dove into the hatch, exerting every ounce of force left in her body to lug barrel after barrel into the sunlight. She gathered fallen, fringed leaves and spare debris from the beach fire and thrust them into the hefty pile of strong liquor. The lass then grimaced as she wiped her grimy hands across her shift before returning to the beach. Jack lay motionless. She crept around him and pulled a spare bough from the brush, igniting it immediately when she placed it in the almost extinguished fire. She carried the torch carefully toward the alcohol and then hurled the lit branch into the mound, watching it immediately explode into massive, swirling orange and red flames.
Smoke began to rise above the treetops. It was perfect. They would find her and Jack, and Will would be saved. She could not waver in that fact even with the persistent irksome truth that it took three days for the captain to be rescued. Elizabeth grabbed a small cylinder-shaped barrel that had rolled away and flung it into the screaming rum, ducking as the flames curved into the sky and singed the palm trees' leaves. She glanced up, balancing on the balls of her feet and the palms of her hands, waiting for the fire to calm once again, and then heard Jack's wail.
"NO!"
She knew he was thundering after her. She picked up another stray container and added it to the mass as well.
"NOT GOOD! Stop! Not Good!"
Elizabeth whirled around, her arms swinging with black, sooty cinders buried in her hair and coating her off-white shift. His flailing arms were quite comical, but without a smile, she stalked right past his words.
"What are you doing? You've burned all the shade….The food...The rum!"
Her eyebrows were furrowed and her teeth were bared like a rabid dog. It was not the time to question her actions.
"Yes," she said, relieved and happy that the night was finished and in her past. It was not a revolting regret…Just not something she wanted Will or her father to ever know about. "The rum is gone."
"Why is the rum gone?" His eyes searched the back of the woman's head. She whipped around with one concise motion, her hair flapping to one side of her shoulder. Bugger. Bugger. BUGGER. Bad decision, Jack, ol' boy. Very bad! Here came the speech, the lecture, and the consequences of last night. And there was the dramatic fire in her eyes that he hadn't decided whether he liked or not.
