One Night

by happy~chaos

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ avast! Thanks for getting this far! Opening the story, I mean. You must be a little interested, right? Why stop there! Why not read the story! And then leave a review! Yay! This story is a little different than most of the stories in the section. It isn't slash, a Mary Sue, or terribly out of character (I'm trying my best)! It's my attempt at an adventure story, but since I'm a romantic there will be tons of romance. Jack/Anamaria and Will/Elizabeth, with a bit of a twist. A twist in the shape of a little boy, Billy, named William for his father and called Billy for a pirate. Billy is Will's and Elizabeth's son. Except, he looks exactly like Jack. Odd, eh? Curiouser and curiouser. ~.^ disclaimer: obviously not mine. Jack's heart belongs to me, he just doesn't know it yet. ~thanks to Beau Porteur De Diamant for being a slinkster cool beta!~ *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

She had tried her hardest to forget; indeed she had, until little Billy had started to resemble Jack so strongly she was reminded.

Elizabeth really couldn't be blamed for it. The rum had been in her, and Jack had been so tender (and, she can hardly admit to herself, so handsome), and his eyes had been just like Will's, the gentlest, softest brown. And, she had thought at the time, that they were stuck on that beastly island together forever. Alone. What point was there in denying her lust? There were no rules out there. One was free.

But freedom has a price, and Elizabeth had paid hers when she woke in the arms of a man she not wanted, but had had. She had wanted him at the time, yes, but not -really-. He couldn't replace her Will. She always had though of Mr. Turner as her Will. It was a private delight, one that she had betrayed now.

When she had woken after that alcohol filled night she quickly shoved herself away from his accursedly warm embrace. Elizabeth straightened and tied up her clothes and fell back asleep, still using his arm as a pillow, but in a much more chaste position.

When she woke again, scant hours later, only a few visions remained of their encounter and she guiltily dismissed them as a dream. She could convince herself of that, easily enough. Jack -was- strangely attractive, in a dangerous, foolish, maniacal sort of way. And it wasn't a sin for a girl to notice that!

But it was also strangely fixed in her mind that that vile, evil, despicable drink must be gotten rid of at once, or it would have dire consequences. So she burned it, all of it, and it made the largest fire she had ever seen, sure to rescue them from certain death. So it was lucky, really. Savvy?

If Jack had any memories, he kept them to himself. It was either that or the rum, which he had consumed in large enough quantities to black out the most embittered drunk.

So Elizabeth's days had passed, in happy, happy contentment with her Will. They had been married three weeks after the departure of Captain Sparrow. Their days were joyful and their nights.perfect. She couldn't have asked for more.

Except the baby came almost a month early, but instead of being small or sickly, he was has hale and healthy as one could wish for. And that was when she started remembering.

Billy was ten, now, and his brother John was six, and Emily was nearly three. John was the spitting image of his father, and Emily, when she was still enough to look at, seemed to be developing her mother's nose.

But Billy, named William for his Father and called Billy for a pirate, was looking more and more like a certain captain every day.

If Will noticed (as he surely must have!) he neither commented or treated Billy any different. In fact, at the moment Billy was terrorizing his brother with a blunt wooden sword manufactured by Will and a pirate's cap on his head.

"Avast, maties!" he cried, waving the sword about wildly. "Shiver me timbers! I'll make ye walk the plank and swim with the fishes in Davy Jone's locker, I will! Aye!" and with that speech, he throttled John, taking him captive and, with an eerily quick skill, roped his little sibling to the legs of the table and cried,

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!"

Elizabeth slammed down her needlework, in a rare show of temper. "William Turner! You stop that this instant! Untie your brother and give me that sword, now!" Surprised at his mother's fury (usually she laughed and gently rebuked him when he played at pirates, as long as he didn't really hurt John) he handed over his sword immediately. He then untied the uninjured John, who swiftly kicked his elder brother.

Elizabeth quickly shuffled the sword into the fire, and muted an ugly cry of protest from Billy with a look colder than ice.

"We'll have none of that, now," she said, although a blush rose on her cheeks. It was a mean thing for her to do, and she regretted it now. Billy adored playing at pirates, and if anyone was to blame, it was her. She was the one who read him stories of Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl every night, before bed and after the Bible. It was her who taught him how to swim before he could walk and it was her who had her father walk him among the sailors and learn the ways of the sea, before he had started his letters.

If he was looking more like Jack- excuse us, Captain Sparrow, everyday, it was only her imagination. He did a convincing act as his hero, and no doubt, was trying to capture the odd little mannerisms of his adoration. The strangely feminine twist of the fingers. The use of eloquent speech, far surpassing the vocabulary of the other children. The twisted look of insane determination lined with sheer brilliance. His round, soft brown eyes, the feature which she was sure kept people from wondering, because they were so like Will's. The coarse black hair. His nose. His lips.

There were all products of her imagination, and his incredible acting skills. She would simply have to start reading him stories starring characters of a more noble profession. That was all there was to it.

But when she looked up to apoligize, and promise his first real sword for his next birthday, he was gone.

And then a sound she had always half longed for, and she had half hoped she would never hear again. Cannons.

And even farther in the distance, so it was a wonder she could even hear it, a song she knew well.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me! We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot! Drink up me hearties, yo ho! We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot! Drink up me hearties. yo ho!