A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting new chapters. Thanksgiving vacation interfered with it all. With these next two chapters, I have crossed the finish line in NaNoWriMo and have over 50,000 words! blinks How did that happen? But do not fear! There is more to come in this story. After a day of traveling and a hectic day at work, I'm back working on the story and will hopefully finish it sometime soon!

Thank you to all my wonderful readers. Your reviews make me very happy!

Chapter 24

It actually took Jack another day before he went looking for Elizabeth. He had spent much of his time at the helm, keeping an eye out for her, hoping she would finally leave her cabin and he could go talk to her. He never saw her. Of course, the helm was in a poor location for keeping an eye on Elizabeth's cabin. If she walked out and went immediately to her right, he would never see her. If she took even a step or two forward from the door, he would. It was tricky and he had relied on her not realizing he was at the helm watching for her in order for it to work.

Several hours later, he had finally given up the helm, turning it over to Gibbs with the explicit instructions that if he saw Elizabeth emerge from her cabin, he was to immediately come find him.

In all the time he had spent holed up in his cabin alone with a bottle of rum, Gibbs had not come for him. He left the cabin when all was silent on his ship, when the moon had risen high into the clear sky, and most men were asleep. The ship was making quiet progress toward her final destination, moving fairly swiftly through the calm waters.

He found her at the bow of the ship, leaning out over the sea. He watched her for a few moments, noting she barely moved, just hung there, drinking in the smell of the sea air and no doubt feeling the occasional splash hitting her in the face. Jack took another step toward her.

"His name was James Weatherby." Jack stopped in surprise at her voice. It was quiet and straightforward, not a hint of anguish in the calm tones.

"James?" he questioned.

"Not after Norrington." There was a hint of humour in her voice. "My uncle. Father's brother. His name was also James. He died many years ago. I was just a child then." Her voice was clipped and the words came out rushed.

"It's a fine name."

"It was. I miss him, Jack." Jack had the sense that she was including all of them, her father, her uncle, and her son, in that one sentence.

"I know you do." What else could he say?

"Everyone I love dies." She turned to him then, her look pointed.

"Will's not dead." He cringed. He hated bringing up the boy's name, hated reminding Elizabeth of all that she had lost.

"No? He might as well be." She turned back to watching the sea.

"But in another seven years, he can return to be with you." The unvarnished truth. It was a reality he had no choice but to face.

"Can he, Jack? I don't think so anymore. I have been unfaithful."

Jack winced. Would Calypso really hold to such a tight interpretation of the clause she had built into the position? Unfortunately, Jack knew that was all too likely.

"I'm sorry."

"Why? This was not all your fault. I hold myself to blame just as much." Jack remembered her last kiss, harsh and beautiful, and completely initialized by herself.

"But we didn't…"

"No, but we might as well have…"

"Then let's." It was as close to an admission of what he truly wanted as he was capable of. The words were accompanied by a bit of light humour. She didn't know if he was serious.

"The ultimate betrayal? We can't, Jack." She paused, waiting for a reply that did not come. "Not that I don't want to."

"You do?" Did she really just say that?

She turned around, leaned her back against the rail, and looked at him. "But we can't."

Jack nodded. Did he dare take a step toward her, see her reaction? Yes, in the wake of her latest admission, he did dare. She didn't step away, didn't back off. He took another step toward her. And then another. When he stopped, he was less than a foot away.

"Can't," he repeated. "Or won't."

"Does it matter, Jack?" She met his eyes, didn't look away.

Jack sighed. "No, I suppose it doesn't." He leaned forward and still she didn't flinch back. He pressed his forehead against hers. "I'm so sorry, love." Reaching a hand up, he touched her cheek lightly and then backed off, intending to leave.

"Jack, wait." She grasped his wrist in her hand. "Please. I need to tell someone about him."

He nodded. "Come to my cabin, Lizzie." She tilted her head to the side at his words. "We can talk about him there."

"Jack…"

"I promise I won't seduce you." He raised his right hand in the air as he spoke.

She studied him for a moment, unable to read the look in his eyes. "You really promise, Jack?"

"Aye." She pushed herself away from the rail to follow him to the cabin. His voice came over his shoulders. "Unless you want me to."

She stopped, rolled her eyes, and smirked. There wasn't much she could say to that, so she followed him quietly into his cabin.

"Rum?" Jack offered her one of the bottles he kept in his room. He pulled down a glass, blew the dust out of it, and handed it to her.

"I think I'll just drink out of the bottle." The words were accompanied by a small smile.

"A girl after me own heart." Jack raised his bottle and clinked it against Elizabeth's before taking a deep swig of the golden coloured drink. She followed suit, needing the burn of the liquid.

"He was born around eight months after I arrived on the island. He was a month early and I was so scared he wouldn't live. He was so tiny, such a fragile little life. But he did. And he thrived. I had to deliver him myself, Jack. I'd never been in a birthing room so I had no idea entirely what to expect. It was a day and a half of agony, but I did it all on my own and he lived." All was said in a rush. She never looked at Jack as she talked, as she told the story of her beloved James. She described the first difficult year, of having to nurse a child, never knowing if he were getting the proper nutrition, as she was sure she wasn't.

She told Jack of the humourous times, the silly games they had played. "His first word was 'sea.' Can you believe that, Jack? Not 'mama,' not 'mum'…just 'sea.'"

"Yes. Actually, I can. He sounds like his mother."

"He was very much like me!" she exclaimed. "He had pirate blood in him. He was always staring out to sea, always talking of ships. I had to tell him the stories many times, relate to him the adventures of his mother with the great Captain Jack Sparrow."

"You told him about me?" Jack was surprised yet again. It seemed that nothing this woman ever did was what he thought she would do.

She shrugged. "Your stories are more interesting than most. And besides, I knew more of them than I did about anyone else. I was able to tell true stories, and when I ran out of those, I was able to make up something that sounded like you would do it."

Jack grinned. "I am legendary, aren't I?" He puffed himself up.

"Or at least daft enough to be interesting." Jack deflated.

"At least it's something."

"Indeed." She continued on to recount their adventures as the Pirate King and her right-hand man, how they had games where they sacked the port, or defended their pirate stronghold against various threats. She didn't dare tell him that sometimes they pretended Jack had come back for them and they had taken to the high seas as part of the crew of thePearl.

She fell silent. It had all been so wonderful, so amazingly perfect. For two years it had been just she and her son, a tiny little family lost in the midst of the sea.

"What happened, Elizabeth?" Jack's voice invaded her thoughts quietly.

"He died." The words came out choked.

Jack waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he put a hand on her shoulder, a small encouragement.

"Fever. One moment he was fine, playing by the sea. The next he told me he wasn't feeling well. I…I put him to bed and went out to fetch some dinner. When I came back, he was hot to the touch. His face was flushed. The next three days were hell. He was delirious, crying out in his sleep. I tried my best to keep him cool. I held him as he cried in pain. And then he got quiet. Too quiet. I could hear his final breath." She took an unsteady breath then. "And then there was no more. He was gone. And I could do nothing to bring him back."

One tear made its way down her cheek and she brushed it away angrily. "The fever took me next. I thought I would die there beside my son's body."

Jack shuddered.

"But I woke up, cool, not long afterward. The fever was short and nothing that really harmed me."

"Where did you bury him, Elizabeth? We should return, put a marker down to remember him." It was a sweet gesture.

"I didn't. I buried him at sea. I sent him to his father."

It seemed fitting. Elizabeth looked into his eyes then and he noticed that something had broken through, a little bit of light chasing away the haunted look that had been there since he first saw her on the island. She suddenly reached out and hugged him. It was an innocent gesture, worthy of their conversation about the death of an innocent child.

He held her and murmured how sorry he was into her hair. If he had just gone back…if he hadn't left her there…if…if…if….

No, thinking about whatmight have been was dangerous, thoughts he had to put out of his mind.

"More rum?"

She backed away from him. "I have plenty." She took another swig. Her heart laid bare, she was suddenly awkward, something Jack quickly recognized and sought to remedy.

From there, their conversation turned to more inane subjects, anything to stay away from the more dangerous area of feelings, of wants and needs. She had told him everything he needed to know about her son and she felt lighter for it. Someone else could share her burden.

She hadn't realized how much she needed that, how much she needed someone to know his name, his personality, even his death. His father could never have been there for them, would never know him, but Jack could know him through her. It didn't matter that Jack was not the fatherly type and in fact, most likely the type to turn tail and run if he discovered he had gotten a woman pregnant. But he cared enough to ask, to listen, and to allow her to cry on his shoulder.

That was all she needed right now. Taking another swig of rum, she toasted the night, theBonny Lass, and even the Pearl with Jack. She smiled her first real smile since James had died, and turned her thoughts to lighter subjects for the remainder of the night.