Summary: "He did not seem to show any favor toward her, but at least he treated her like a person." One the way to the Locker, Barbossa talks to Elizabeth about her feelings for the man they're searching for. One-shot. Implied Sparrabeth. Pre-AWE.
A Word Of Advice
The early morning Atlantic air was almost cold against her skin.
But it didn't bother her. Everything in her life had seemed so cold ever since she did the unthinkable. She had never been forced to condemn a friend, perhaps even a lover, to death before. The gravity of what she had done had left her breathless, then begun to drain the life from her. It seemed as all the warmth in the world had been dragged to the depths with the man she had left for dead; part of her had gone down with him too.
No, the cold had become a normalcy in her life.
Her fiance's eyes were stone whenever he looked at her.
The lovable crew murmured behind her back.
The new captain paid her little attention, other than to bark orders at her.
The familiar territory of the Caribbean had long since been left behind.
Even the stars seemed foreign in this part of the world.
She had never felt more lonely in her life.
It affected her health in a poor manner.
She missed him.
Not her fiance, but the man she had been forced to leave behind.
She often wondered what his first thought of her was, knowing that she had been the one to seal the story of his demise. And with a kiss, no less.
He must hate her.
She would have.
The only person who seemed to hold no ill toward her was, of course, the current captain- his former enemy. But he did not seem to show any favor toward her either. To him, she was just another crewmember. And likely a liability, for the amount of moping about she did in place of said work. But, at least he treated her like a person, unlike most of the others.
In fact, it was his voice that startled her from her vigil at the bow of the small ship. "Here ye be, starin' off at the horizon yet again."
She didn't even turn so as to spare him a glance. Her voice was terse, void of emotion. "Good morning, Captain Barbossa."
"Still thinkin' 'bout Jack Sparrow, are ye?" He mused. "A word of advice, Miss Turner. He's not goin' to be the same as ye left 'im."
"And you know this how?" She requested icily.
"Death changes a man, missy. Been there an' seen it meself, I have."
She did not reply.
"Even if he knew your feelings for 'im, I doubt it would change his mind 'bout what ye did." He warned. "Jack Sparrow be a man to hold a grudge, aye."
"W-what?" She stammered, caught off-guard. "What do you know about me and Jack?"
"A cap'n does not get by for so many years by turnin' a blind eye, Miss Turner." Barbossa pointed out, momentarily dodging the question asked. "I know naught of what he will do to ye, but best keep up guard 'round 'im when he returns. If there's anythin' to know 'bout Jack, it's that he be an unpredictable man."
"I trust Jack more than I'll ever trust you." She nearly spat at him.
"Aye, an' rightfully so. But ye best rethink that, lest ye want the sharks to feed on your flesh." He advised. "We are enemies no longer, Miss Turner, an' the sooner ye realize that, the better. The world is an unforgivin' place for those like us."