The title is from the poem The Highwayman, by Alfred Noyes. Disney's characters, of course, belong to Disney. Feedback is most welcome.
Elizabeth watches Will sleep. She always relished the privacy of her own room, the one place where there were no eyes on the governor's daughter. Now that she is the blacksmith's wife, she cherishes more the intimacy of their marriage bed.
When he smiles, she knows that he is dreaming of her. When, as tonight, he is frowning and grinding his teeth, she knows that his dreams are of skeletons and a dark watery grave. She dreams of these things too. They both know – though they do not say it to each other – that they dream of these things when the moonlight falls through their window and across their bed.
Elizabeth caresses Will's furrowed brow. At her touch, he opens his eyes. He looks startled, and for a moment she is irrationally afraid that she is bones in the moonlight. Then he reaches up to touch her cheek, and tells her that even now he is surprised to find her with him. He wants always to be surprised, so that the pleasure is always new.
In answer, she kisses him, and is glad to feel his strong flesh-and-blood arms holding her tightly. Between them they can chase the demons away.
-
James is wakeful. He thought he had exorcised Elizabeth, but tonight the knowledge that she was nearly his haunts him. He wants to be free of her.
Standing by the window, looking out at the sea and the stars, he sees clouds like old rotting lace float across the moon. They look very like the sails of a ghost ship. It was on a night much like this that the Black Pearl glided into Port Royal and his chance of life with Elizabeth began to die.
The pain recedes. He feels sure that there will be one who loves him.
-
Jack sleeps fitfully. The ship enfolds him and the sea rocks him. On a clear night such as this one he prefers to sleep on deck rather than in the confines of his cabin. The Pearl is all around him, yet he feels closest to her here.
He breathes in the moonlit air. Perhaps it is this that changes the tenor of his dreams. He twitches, and mutters, "Doesn't apply to Will, Liz'beth 'n' me."
"What doesn't?" Anamaria asks from the helm, irritated. She wishes that Jack would sleep in his cabin instead of getting underfoot on deck.
Her voice wakes him. He blinks. "Hello, love …"
Despite herself, she smiles indulgently at his sleepy face. He staggers to his feet and she steps aside to let him take the helm.
Jack handles the wheel with reverence. She is sleek and smooth under his touch, exactly as she was the first time he laid hands on her, exactly as he had remembered throughout the ten long years spent without her. Had she known during those years that he would come to her, would brave any hell for her?
She creaks gently. She had known, and she loves him for it.