Chapter 12

Disclaimer: If you've read this far and still think that these characters belong to me, yer off the edge of the map, mates. Here there be copyrights!

Warning: Slight sappiness here, teehee!

Thanks must go to whoreoftortuga for being lovely enough to beta this chapter for me.

-

It was not in Barbossa's character to fret or worry himself excessively over decisions to be made.

And yet the third hour was coming up on him since he had gone to his cabin to ponder over what should be done regarding all that had happened in the past month or so, and how it had turned out so very differently from what he had anticipated. His original intentions had been to retrieve Sparrow from his untimely demise; World's End was not a place that he would have wished even upon his worst adversary. He had always intended on retaking the Black Pearl for himself; it had been his primary reason for agreeing to lead their fool's quest. It had also been his plan to secure ownership of the Pearl with as little resistance as possible; as much as he took ecstasy in having regained blessed mortality, mortality meant that no more was resistance by his foes so futile.

Upon the delightful discovery that his former captive would be joining them on the expedition, he had immediately begun to form a plan on how to lure her into his quarters to engage in diversions of a more pleasurable sort, and in turn, give himself the satisfaction of once again figuratively slapping one of the Turners in the face. He still had not forgiven Bootstrap for his actions so long ago, and memory of the past was all too clear as he fingered one of the cursed trinkets, cold and unforgiving in his hand. The monkey had sprung onto his shoulder at the nearest opportunity and proudly presented it to him, just as he had done for the past decade. Barbossa had been reluctant and loathe to even touch it for weeks, fearing that the fate which had so tormented him would somehow return, this time unforgiving and undoable. His undying defiance had eventually won over though, and as of late, he had taken to toying with it during his solitary hours. It led his thoughts now back to a time when he had, by trickery and deceit, though never by outright falsehood, managed to kidnap the Governor's daughter of Port Royal as his personal guest aboard the legendary Pearl.

He remembered the way she had so boldly presented her request to him, and yet he could sense the underlying fear that caused her confidence to waver ever so slightly. How, even after the realization had hit her that she had effectively been taken captive, the reaction was one of someone who had been scandalized and offended; there was not a tear shed while she had been under his care. She had been cheeky and impertinent and only minimally did what he requested of her, growing bold enough to the point of burying his own silverware in his chest. Admirable, but thoughtless, and it had made him smile. She would be capable of much with the proper instruction, and he'd allowed his smile to grow lascivious at the thought thathe could teach her many things, his 'pirate bride'. Likely reluctant at first, but he felt that in time she would come to admire him.

There was something quite admirable about the saucy young woman, and soon his plans of simply wooing her into carnal pleasures had reverted back to his original ideas of keeping her for himself. It was on such musings that his mind dwelt now. He still retained his intentions and intended to carry them out to the fullest, but was sorely reluctant to go about admitting them to anyone, even that one whom he wished to keep. When they had set out all those weeks ago, he would have leapt at the chance to gloat over winning the favor of Will's beloved, but the boy had taken on such an entirely different persona since then. It would seem that he was little interested in Elizabeth's romantic choices.

Barbossa allowed himself a wistful sigh, thinking of how much he had longed for companionship, and for so long a time. Piracy had its benefits no doubt, and yet he couldn't help but think he might enjoy it better had he someone to share it with. Someone of his own intellect who could appreciate more than just the aged wine and shiny coins, and who would also be willing to enjoy what he could offer between the sheets as well. At the last thought, he had to chortle just a bit at his own lasciviousness, but quickly checked himself so as not to let the mind wander. Deducing however, that nothing further could be done while the moon rode high and she had likely given in to sleep hours ago, he resigned to doing the same.

She had not yet been awake for two hours the following morning when she was inexplicably summoned to the Captain's quarters, and there found him sitting at his desk, face devoid of its usual flirtatious smirk, which caused her to be a little uneasy. She sat across from him as he had gestured, and there sat in silence for a moment or two. Unable to bear it any longer, she felt the need to speak.

"Is something wrong, Captain?"

He raised his eyebrows as if roused from deep thought.

"Oh no, nothin' be wrong, Miss Swann. Merely have a few questions for ye, is all."

"Oh - um, alright."

She thought his unusual civility and lack of salacity to be more than unnerving at this point and found herself unable to read in the least as to what he could possibly be up to this time. He very much enjoyed keeping her in such suspense, though he was able to keep it from showing. He kept his hands folded neatly upon the desk and close to himself; there was no usual stretching out to take hers into their grasp as he had been wont to do in the past few days, and it seemed to her that his face bore a look of genuine concern. She could not have known that the Captain was at that very moment inwardly acknowledging the sincerity of this emotion.

"Elizabeth, I'm wonderin' why it is yer still aboard this ship. We did what we set out to do weeks ago, and it's not as if I were holdin' you prisoner this time." She opened her mouth as if to speak, but it seemed as if she had been struck dumb. The expressionless sea captain still waited for a reply that she knew she was utterly unable to deliver without yet again putting a great deal of her own pride to rest. It brought to mind another such confrontation from long ago that she had been equally dumbstruck over.

"You said you gave Barbossa my name as yours. Why?"

"I don't know."

She knew all too well that the dishonest answer she had given Will would hardly suffice in the presence of Barbossa; he had reminded her at the beginning of their voyage about the price paid for her lack of truthfulness with him in the past. Her gaze dropped to the desk as she gave a defeated little sigh before sitting back in her chair, arms crossed and unable to look him in the face, wondering why he had to insist on making her feel as foolish as possible so very often.Though she could not see him, she felt certain that he had an enormously haughty grin on his face, likely feeling quite the victor at causing her lack of speech. Had she been able to look at him, she would have discovered something quite different. He was lost in contemplation, more than satisfied with the answer he had received without words. Of course this didn't mean that he was about to give up his game quite so easily as that; watching her fret was far too entertaining. Besides, it looked as if she were just about to start speaking again and he was curious to see what she would finally produce.

"Captain, of all people I should think you would know why I am still aboard."

"Would I?" was the calm rejoinder. "Pride goes before destruction, Miss." He leaned across the desk, just a bit closer before whispering "And a haughty spirit before a fall." She gave him a small lopsided grin.

"You know when we first met, the thought of you quoting Scripture at me would have been the farthest thing from my mind, Hector Barbossa." He stared at her with steely incredulity; she found the intense gaze a great deal easier to meet than the coolness he'd displayed before and allowed a quiet triumph to spread over her features.

"And how in the Devil's blazes did you come by that information?" he hissed, eyes narrowing.

She shrugged, rising from her chair, and began to nonchalantly stride about the room. "I'd come in one day looking for you, but you had just gone below deck. I looked around." He walked round from the desk, never taking his eyes from her as she continued. "I must say, I was honestly surprised to find an enormous leather-bound Tyndale in your night stand and even more surprised to see it was actually worn from what appeared to be repeated use. Of course I thought you'd likely robbed some poor clergyman of it until I opened it and found it to be dedicated to one Hector Theron Barbossa, born on the fifth day of December in the year of - "

"That be enough!" he barked, wishing to stop her ludicrousness more out of fear that he would begin to show amusement than out of the fact that he was actually annoyed with her actions. Very few people, let alone women, had ever dared behave towards him with such impertinence. Her behavior, however, seemed only to be fueled by his mounting impatience.

"And I learned that you are, in fact, two years older than my father. That is, if the Bible in question does indeed belong to you, which judging by your reactions just now, I would say it most certainly does." As the last word left her mouth, she was not at all surprised to find her arm suddenly taken in a less than comfortable grip and that she was hauled roughly back to the desk where they'd been before and thrown unceremoniously into her seat again.

"Yer a meddling, impertinent little brat, ye know that?"

"So you've told me. Several times."

He gave her a sarcastic nod. "Aye, but you'll still be answerin' my questions." He sank back into his chair, beginning to look a bit tired and frustrated. It made her feel slightly guilty, and she forced herself to behave a bit better towards him. Despite how fun it might have been to get him riled, she resigned herself to putting away her wit for the moment, as he leaned forward once again, the beginnings of a question already clouding his features.

"I'm sorry, Captain," she said a bit remorsefully.

"Never mind it, Miss. Here now, no, look at me." This time he did reach across the desk between them and placed his fingers beneath her chin. "Look at me." She swallowed, slowly forcing herself to meet his eyes, immediately noticing that his mood had changed. It was reminiscent of that first night when he'd been so terribly insistent on calling a truce with her and she found it even more difficult now to resist the pleading blue eyes and surprisingly gentlemanlike demeanor. He caught on to her weakening resolve to be as difficult as possible and thus regained his own composure.

"Now I'll ask ye this once, only once, and God help you if you don't tell me the truth. Would yer choices these past few weeks have been any different should Turner not have backed out on ye?"

She hesitated a few moments before flushing just a bit and shaking her head shamefacedly. He smiled at her, allowing himself a genuine laugh at her abashment; it was something he found to be terribly endearing. "That's a good girl," he smiled, patting her on the cheek and leaning back to regard her thoughtfully for a moment, willing that she might let go of that shred of remorse which insisted on clinging to her conscience, despite how adorable it might have looked on her.

"So long as ye ended up with what ye wanted, 'tis admirable." He rose to his feet once again, walking round to stand behind her. Goose bumps stretched delightfully over her at the feeling of his hands gently pulling the hair away from her face, and the way his nails ever so slightly skimmed across her neck as he did so. Something that would have thoroughly disturbed her a year before now rendered her breathless and weakened. Reluctantly she turned to glance up at him, only to find a quietly salacious grin staring back at her while he continued to run his fingers softly along her neck. While relieved that his bout of confrontation seemed to be over with, she wasn't sure if the return of his usual sensuality was anymore welcome, though it seemed as if he were perfectly content at the moment with his current actions. Coming to the conclusion that this was likely one of those times in which he had put aside his commanding personality to simply enjoy being human, she stood to her feet, slipping her hands inside his coat and taking him in a tight embrace. She closed her eyes, allowing contentment to take over her, the sort that came from having her face nestled onto his shoulder and standing still to better feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. After a while she mustered the courage to ask him what had been bothering her for several days now.

"Are you going with Jack and Will?"

"Perhaps and perhaps not," he replied, shrugging nonchalantly. "Be runnin' low on supplies so I'll not be makin' that decision at least until we make port and get stocked. And I've other business to attend to there as well. Imagine we'll be there at least a few days."

There had been a strange glint in his eyes at the mention of this 'other business' that more than ate away at her curiosity, but with the evasive mood he seemed to have adopted, she doubted he would give her a proper answer. She had resolved to simply return to resting her head against him and to her delight, he began again with tracing his fingers along her neck, stopping on the spot where he'd left a mark.

"Mmm, almost faded away on us, innit? I'll have to do somethin' about that."

She returned his wicked smile. "And how exactly do you plan on going about doing such?"

He pulled her close, their faces barely touching, and whispered, "Wouldn't you like to know." He strode calmly away and towards the door, laughing softly, but not before placing a quick kiss to her forehead, leaving her once again delightfully frustrated with his shenanigans. She began to wonder if one day she wasn't going to simply go insane from it all. She thought of perhaps rummaging through the cabin again as to gain more useful information against him, when she was brought to a halt by her conscience; he had looked so unusually alarmed by her earlier reveal, and whether she simply did not wish to risk getting him too terribly upset, or if the sight of such was just disheartening, she was not sure. She did know, though, that further mischief against him was not something she would pursue for the time being.

-

They were well out of the cold of World's End by this time, and the hot sun once again beat down upon them unmercifully; Barbossa grew impatient with his young charge, who seemed more disagreeable even than usual. He tried to ignore the sweat trickling down his face along with his rising temper.

"You're comin' with me Elizabeth, and I be speakin' as yer Captain!"

In response, she clenched her jaw shut and abruptly sat on the nearest barrel, arms and legs crossed. He felt she was making herself more than worthy now of the title 'brat', but kept his temper in check despite the awful urge to turn her over his knee and tan her. He wasn't even sure why she was so adamantly set against boarding the Pearl with him in the first place; it wasn't as if anything was at stake now, or if they were even hiding something anymore. Surely she did not think that Will had simply not noticed the ridiculous way she'd been fawning over him on that night? As if it mattered in the first place; regardless, he would have no parts of a woman that was abashed at the idea of being seen with him.

"You, Captain, may go over there and attend to whatever business it is that you sailors must attend to so dreadfully often, and I'll be waiting right here for your return." His face took on an expression of quiet fury as he silently, calmly strode towards her with firm resolve.

"You'll be comin' over there with me whether ye like it or not! Now, you can go on yer own two legs, dignified like, or I can throw ye over me shoulder and carry ye. How we get there be entirely up to you, but I'll not give ya long to think about it."

Finding herself suddenly flustered, she felt she would rather retain some dignity at the moment, if he was going to be so insistent on throwing his authority about. She reluctantly left her seat, rolling her eyes as she went. He smiled satisfactorily, casually slinging an arm around her as they made their way towards the gangplank, which would clearly not accommodate them walking abreast across it.

He looked over at her, smirking; it didn't take half a second before she read his thoughts.

"Ugh! Absolutely not! For the last time, I don't need you to carry me about for the whole world to see!" On one hand, she was thoroughly put out that he continued with his rubbish about wanting to pick her up and parade her about like a small child, and on the other hand, she couldn't help but wonder and feel a bit guilty at the almost hurt look on his face at what she had just said. However his recovery from her shun was speedy; she had, with an exasperated sigh, turned her back towards him in stubborn defiance, when he quietly drew his sword and swatted her squarely on the rump with the flat side. She quickly spun around, mouth agape. He merely stared at her with a most self-satisfied expression. She wasn't sure whether she should be smoldering mad or profoundly amused; perhaps either would have been appropriate. Acting upon foolish impulse, she reached for her own sword in an attempt to draw it, but he caught her before her hand had reached the grip. She struggled for a moment to escape his grasp, but the hold he kept on her was firm and unrelenting.

"Ye be makin' this ordeal a good bit more difficult than I'd planned on, Missy."

"What ordeal?" she asked in exasperation. You're only going to go see Jack. I don't see why it's so important that I join you."

Barbossa could only sigh; her naive and somewhat dense side had a way of showing up at the most inconvenient times. However his resolve had found him now. As much as he would have liked to make a grand spectacle of it, it would seem that such boasting would be out of place after all. He felt it was a shame, seeing as how much of his life had consisted of making a grand spectacle of his doings. Yet perhaps some things were better left for a more intimate crowd.

"Ye can be so very daft sometimes woman, you know that don't ya? I woulda thought by now that you'd have learned there's always a reason for what I ask ye to do, but I begin to think that some things will never get into that stubborn little head of yours. Come 'ere." He led her to the ship's bow, if it could be called leading. Elizabeth felt perhaps that it was more like being dragged by one's wrist, but he was not overtly rough about it, so she saw no need for protesting. He took her by the shoulders and turned her about to face the ocean, standing behind her with his chin nearly resting on her shoulder.

"Now you look straight on ahead and tell me what ye see."

She crossed her arms, almost disinterestedly, before replying. "A great enormous puddle of water that is completely unfit for drinking and also harbors terrifying so-called "mythological" creatures that feed on humans for amusement. I do believe it's also quite capable of sinking a ship if it so desires. Altogether very unpredictable, untameable, utterly deadly, and certainly nothing to be trusted." As she spoke, her tone was neither sarcastic nor distasteful; Barbossa smiled and hugged her against himself.

"All those things be true and yet I don't see ye pining for dry land." She did not answer him, and he simply went on. "Been sailin' her nigh on forty years now and never much missed it myself, though I'll admit it gets terrible lonesome at times." She paled somewhat at the comment, moving her hands over his where they rested across her waist.

"Elizabeth, look at me," he said softly. Cautiously she turned to face him; his arms never left their place wrapped about her. "All that time ago when ye were silly enough to invoke parlay, you know I had no intentions of hurtin' you." She nodded, growing ever more unsettled by his unusual gentleness; it was so terribly unlike him to wax emotional, and yet that seemed to be exactly what he was doing.

"Nor did you have intentions of taking me back to shore as you most undoubtedly led me to believe."

"I had my reasons," he smiled.

"And those being?" Her voice hinted at teasing, but was gentle nonetheless.

He had looked forward to that question, always waiting for the opportunity to give someone's words back to them. "Now Elizabeth, surely of all people you would know." He stopped a moment to enjoy the impish look on her face before continuing. "Wanted to keep this fiery Miss Turner, as I was made to believe she was called, fer my own. Thought to myself that she'd make a fine pirate's bride for the captain of the Black Pearl. It would turn out that Miss Turner wouldn't be marryin' the captain of the Pearl, but I be of the belief that Miss Swann would be just as fine a bride for the captain of the Orpheus, if she'll be havin' him, that is. But I do want to let it be known that things have perhaps changed a bit since then; I no longer be wishin' fer only a trophy bride, Miss. Now I expect ye to listen to me just now, and you listen good. Afore now I've only said this to two other people, and one of 'em was me own Mother. For all your blatant cheek and defiance and bein' brattish, I can't help but love ye despite it, and I'd be most pleased if you'd allow me yer hand."

After she had sorted out the dozens of other thoughts and emotions that sped through her in those moments, Elizabeth would recall that the Captain did not stutter and he did not blush. Although she would never have expected him to, it was just a bit odd, a bit different, as the other proposals she had received in her life had been so very awkward. Hector Barbossa was no such suitor; he had exuded perfect confidence and eloquence with both his words and actions, as if he had no doubt in his mind that she would accept. She had gotten momentarily miffed at his apparent surety of her answer, but was unable to allow it to bother her as much as it might have once done, realizing that it was this very quality about him that had been responsible for keeping her around him so long in the first place. He did not tolerate her antics as most others had done, and took nonsense from absolutely no one. She felt that perhaps it was something she had always wanted for in her lifetime, but had never met anyone, up till now, who would have absolutely none of her persuasion, who utterly refused to be manipulated in any way, shape or form. He was the stability she never knew she longed for up until the past few weeks spent with him aboard this ship, and when he so fluently asked for her hand, she knew exactly how she would answer him.

He regarded her with gentle amusement when she looked up at him with a soft and somewhat mischievous smile, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek and using the other to delicately push back a few stray locks of hair away from his ear before softly giving him her reply.

"And despite your tetchiness, ill, lascivious behavior and the unfortunate habit of letting that abominable creature live atop your shoulder, I must admit I've grown to love you as well. I would be most inclined to acquiesce to your request."

"Knew ye'd say that." He pulled her close, kissing her firmly and aggressively on the mouth, not parting until she was desperate for breath. "Now if ye don't mind," he said, fully enjoying the sight of her panting, with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, "I'd like to carry you across that gangplank."

To say that Elizabeth was rendered giddy would have been putting things lightly, and she was more than eager now to allow him to sweep her up as he had been pestering to do earlier. She was, however, given a rather rude awakening when she found herself haphazardly swung up and tossed over his shoulder instead, his hands resting conveniently on her backside with no great amount of tact.

'Of course,' she thought dryly to herself, 'It was me who failed to specify how . . . '

He had bested her yet again. And she would not have had it any other way.

-

A/N: The name "Theron", by the way, is a Greek name meaning 'Hunter'. Complete spec on my part, but I wanted to give him a middle name, and his first name is of Greek origin as well.

I've looked forward to writing this chapter for a long time now, trust me. It was really fun to finally get round to it. There has been speculation amongst fans as to whether or not they would actually marry, and the conclusion I came to is inspired by none other than the lovely Mr. Geoffrey Rush himself. In the CotBP Lost Disc, he spoke of Barbossa having plans to keep Liz as his pirate bride after the curse was lifted. Thank you, Geoffrey!

I hope no one minded the fact that I let Hector get a bit sappy here; with all the Meanie!Barbossa fics I've seen, I figured it couldn't hurt to let us for once see Romantic!Barbossa. Taking a cue from the way he gave that long and elaborate speech at Isla De Muerta instead of just cutting her hand and getting it over with (I always wondered that the crew didn't get impatient with him), he gave a prolific speech that seemed as if he'd worked on it for a long time. So I thought that maybe going a little bit Mr. Darcy on us wouldn't be out of character for him, either. If you missed having growling, slightly predatory Barbossa around, check out my slashfic -evil laughter-

Anywho, we've finally reached the most fun parts of this story. I'd be happy to hear any suggestions on how the ceremony might take place. I've a rough idea of who is going to do it, but I'm not sure where it happen, though I lean towards at sea, of course.