A/N: Okay, the first bit is something that takes place in Elizabeth's POV before Jack showed up. I thought her Jack-lovin' needed a bit more explanation before I continued... And the second bit is just like a continuation of the previous chapter's scenario.
All of my life I have been taught to respect and appreciate works of art. My father used to bring me to museums and galleries, making sure I knew what each painting represented; the exact word each brush stroke was trying to say. "Next to form of government, Elizabeth," he would say very proudly, "art is the best way to look into the past and see how people were." I did not disagree with him. In fact, I still find a very large amount of truth in that simple statement.
The first thing I noticed about Jack, besides all the usual features you learn of when first becoming acquainted with a person, was that he had something about him; a surreal sort of passion for living. It was oddly familiar, although I could not place it at the time, and so refreshing. One man with a violent love for something amongst several hundred who couldn't care less was a very large contrast. It caught me off guard.
I have since learned that the expression in his eyes when he is on The Black Pearl is an energy that I have only ever seen in paintings.
Through the course of our escapade, I slowly began wondering things. My feelings for Will were not changed, but I had been thinking about Jack considerably more that I should have. I wondered if he was any good at relating his stories to other people; whether or not he would ever allow me to be a listener; and, more frequently, what it was like to be a member of his crew. Anamaria, the only other female on board, was treated with equality because she could do her part. I wondered, in the little breaks we had, if I could ever show them that I was capable of work.
When Barbossa and his men were pursuing us on the ocean, I had my last question answered. The peculiar thing was this: while several people died, while I was not used to any type of warfare and had no experience at all, I was having the most enjoyable day of my life. I had responsibilities that did not involve looking beautiful, getting married or having children, which was very odd.
And Jack, however unaware he may have been, had given me the opportunity to prove that I was more than a silly little girl who lived in fantasy worlds.
It wasn't until after he had fallen off the battlement that I began to wonder about life again. Surely it wouldn't be filled with the same excitement that Will and I had experienced, but it couldn't be just how we had left it? At least, that is what I thought... and I was very wrong. It was dull again: filled with imitation smiles and polite greetings, and I knew I would grow old and die in a world that didn't do anything at all...
My mother used to say that I was a girl who didn't know what she wanted, only how she wanted it. I think it describes me quite well. For the month between our engagement and our wedding, I was hoping that Will would whip out a sword and the two of us could steal a Navy ship. But I knew he would never do such a thing -- he is much too good to steal for pleasure, or to make it seem as if he had designs against my honor. That was when I began to miss Jack, and his absolute lack of ethics. Jack, and his brazen way of saying exactly what he thought or felt due to extermination of tact. I was so accustomed to people paying polite compliments and making polite conversation, always afraid of offending or causing a rift between to families because of their real opinions...
When Will and I converse, he agrees with me on nearly every subject. I suppose this is something most people think unnatural, but I am so numb to it that I wish someone would simply tell me that I'm wrong. Provoke me to any emotion, because I've felt nothing but longing since I've been married.
"Tomorrow night?" Jack smirked as Elizabeth's eyes widened, an amazed look spreading over her face. "Jack, I -- we -- Tomorrow night!"
"Aye, luv, tomorrow night. 'Nuff time to pack, isn't it?"
She beamed at him, and a very peculiar feeling made itself known. A warm, gentle feeling. He would have shuddered at the very thought, but Elizabeth drew his attention away quite suddenly by throwing her arms around his chest, pulling him very close, and setting her head against his shoulder with closed eyes. Jack wasn't quite sure how to respond. He had seen people behave in this manner several times, and it seemed to be a sign of affection, but he had never been on the giving or recieving end of one of these... embraces, as people seemed to call them. He wondered what he was supposed to do. For a moment he considered placing his arms around her in a similar fashion, but as he considered, a vivid picture came to his mind.
Will Turner, sitting on a table in the smithy, looking ready to die.
The peculiar feeling vanished instantly, and Jack no longer found himself staring down at Elizabeth, but Mrs. Turner. This was going to be bleedin' awful.
But before he spoke, he hesitated. As a pirate, he was used to being selfish. Sometimes you had to fight for what you wanted, and in fighting people get hurt. He desperately wanted Eliz... Mrs. Turner. Words couldn't express how perfect she felt, hair falling over his shoulder, little puffs of air escaping her mouth and wandering over his jaw. But then there was bloody Will, who had already gone through quite a bit for his wife. Bloody Will, who had proved his worth twenty times over. Bloody stupid Will, who wanted her nearly as passionately as Jack did.
I suppose it all comes down to dear Mrs. Turner,
"Elizabeth," he said quietly, "Luv... I need you to do something before we can go -- before you can even get ready to leave."
"Anything," was the reply, which came without a single movement other than that of her lips.
Anything...
"You need to speak to Will, dearest."
He expected at least a minor argument, perhaps an annoyed acceptance. What he got was completely unexpected.
She looked up at him, raising her head from his shoulder, and placed a small kiss on his mouth.
"Alright," she said.
He left that night with equal amounts of hope and dread lingering in his stomach, but on top of the two was an eerie layer of excitement. He had been kissed by a beautiful woman, and for the first time in his life he wasn't starving for anything more.
