Sorry it's taking me so long to get these chapters up, I'm so busy and I still have to formulate the definite plot, but at least it's getting done!
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Chapter Two
The Sea Goes On For Miles
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The sun beat down on the deck of the ship and the sailors that stood upon it. The rays had turned the brown of Serenity's hair a lighter shade, as she observed the strands of hair that had fallen from the messy braid that she had tucked under a floppy hat. Her arms and hand had browned also, the result of working for a month up in the sunlight.
A curiosity concerning the sailor that had pulled her back onto the ship the first night she had been here stirred in her heart for a moment, before her mind rendered it a swift death. Her first night on this ship had been torture, the second night hell, but she had been numb. She was still numb. It surprised her every time she looked in the mirror that she saw a reflection instead of a ghost.
Actually, being numb was not entirely true. She still felt some things- the fear that every morning she would wake up and vomit out of the porthole. Serenity knew in her heart that she wasn't strong enough to kill two people. Killing herself wouldn't be a problem, but an innocent unborn child…
She knew that she wouldn't be able to live if she wouldn't let the child see the sun.
If only Will was still alive, she thought. He is the only man whose children I would want to bear. Not these men… Not like this…
Inside her heart a calmer voice awoke. You're not with child yet, Serenity, said the voice. They haven't beaten you yet.
"They haven't beaten me yet," she whispered to herself. "Not yet."
~*~
"Hoist the sails! Get moving you land-lubbing scallerwags!" called a shrill female voice.
Will climbed the rigging to help some of the more agile crewmembers get the sails into position. The sails fluttered like black shrouds in the sea wind. Anamaria's hair kind of looks like the sails now, Will thought. Amused, he watched Jack cower in fear of the woman that ruled him and the rest of the crew with an iron fist. Will knew that Jack was afraid of no other woman, and that was why the captain loved Anamaria so, maybe not in the way that Will loved Elizabeth, but the pirate had more respect for Ana then he had for any man.
Jack consulted his compass and then consulted Gibbs as Will slid down the rigging to join their conversation. Gibbs had a worried look on his face, a line creasing his weathered forehead.
'Where too, Mr. Gibbs?" Jack was saying.
"We be runnin' low on some supplies, Cap'n," said Gibbs.
"Ah, I see," said Jack, resting a hand on the wheel and tapping the toe of his boot against the wooden top of the deck. His thick braided, beaded and dread- locked hair swung heavily in the ocean winds. It was amazing to Will that he had managed, in such a short time, to befriend such a character. He marveled at how he had once considered the dank, dark workshop to be his home, even though he missed it at times; he understood fully what the old sailors meant when they talked about the ocean-
The ocean was pure freedom.
"What be it that we're runnin' low on, Mr. Gibbs?" queried Jack, a glint in his eye.
"Uh…it be…the gruel, cap'n, and the rum…" added Gibbs. If it was any other person that Gibbs had been talking to, they would not be low on rum, they still had two full crates of it left…but it was Jack that Gibbs was talking to, and any amount of crates under three was a state of emergency.
"Not the rum, Gibbs!" said Jack, abandoning pretense.
"Ay, the rum, cap'n."
"Let me put on me thinkin' cap, mate," Jack said as he ran his finger absentmindedly along the brim of his hat. He was deep in thought. "Where's the nearest town?"
"That would be Tortuga, cap'n," muttered Gibbs. Will couldn't help but grin as he remembered Gibbs's last adventure in Tortuga. It had ended with some angry women and some spilled rum. Jack was also apparently thinking along the same lines as his friend.
"Good times, mate," he said. "Tortuga it is. Anamaria!" he shouted. A scowling brown face appeared from the door on the floor of the ship that led down to its bowels.
"Aye?"
"We're goin' to Tortuga!"
Anamaria shook her head and disappeared again, grumbling as she lowered the door. Seeing her retreat below the deck like that reminded Will of everything past for some odd reason, and a feeling of guilt crept into his heart at having been happy for a moment. He leaned on the railing of the ship and gazed at the deep expanse of ocean that stretched out below him. The sea goes on for miles…
Is Serenity down there? Could I be standing above her very corpse at this instant? I could be getting nearer to her at every moment…every second could be bringing me farther away from her.
Is it wrong to hold on to her like this? Should I just let her go?
One part of his heart answered yes, another no. Once again, William Turner was torn.
~*~
Elizabeth sat on the small balcony that opened off her room, scratching a few notes into her journal. I saw Will of a few days ago, she wrote, he's off on another one of his adventures. I do wish that I could be with him. Every moment I spend without him, my heart misses him a little more. The wind played with her curls as she paused for a moment to look out at the beautiful Caribbean scenery. The quill went slack in her hand, grazing the paper as her eyes scanned the horizon. Still I search the skyline every day for a black dot that could be the Pearl returning to me. Returning Will to me.
From inside the bedroom came a knock on the door, followed by the telltale "Elizabeth?" It was the governor, her father. Elizabeth stood and deposited her writing materials on her desk before crossing the room and smoothing her skirts.
"Yes?" she called daintily. The mahogany door opened, and her father's bewigged head poked through the opening.
"You have a visitor, darling."
"Why did you have to come and tell me this yourself?" asked Elizabeth. "Couldn't one of the maids have done it?"
"It's…a special visitor, dearest," said Governor Swann, a slightly guilty look passing across his face. Daddy is so bad at hiding his emotions, thought Elizabeth, laughing before she realized what this could mean.
"I do hope you're not trying to match me with some new Commodore, Father," said Elizabeth, "you know my heart belongs to…"
"The pirate, yes," said her father hurriedly, "but he called on his own accord. It would not be polite to refuse him a visit."
"It's the Commodore, isn't it?" asked Elizabeth, biting her lip gently as she waited for her father to answer. He clasped his hands behind his back and shifted his weight from foot to foot.
"Yes, it is Commodore Norrington," he said. Elizabeth sighed. "Make yourself decent," he added as he began to close the door. "We can't have you receiving the Commodore while you look like a ragamuffin."
"What difference would it make?" Elizabeth asked the closed door. She huffed and crossed the room to her bateau, where her silver brush sat. She ran it through her hair a few times before she reached for some of the diamond hairpins that had been brought on a ship from Austria. With lithe fingers she adjusted her corset and then ran her hands over her skirt, smoothing out all the wrinkles before she adjusted the neckline of her dress. She made one last pause to slip on her black buckle shoes before she exited her room. She held her head high as she regally descended the sweeping staircase, wanting to look her best, as Norrington would have his first look at her since she had denied him at the botched hanging a month ago.
Norrington was in full military dress, looking quite awkward with a rose clutched in his hand as he stood in their parlor. Elizabeth had the grace to honor him with a smile as she approached him. He bowed sharply, his heels together- a military bow. Everything about this man was military since she had seen him last. He hadn't changed a bit.
Is there a heart under that starched coat? She wondered. He reached for her hand and she gave it. His lips felt funny upon her skin as he brushed them against her hand.
"Miss Swann," he said.
"Commodore Norrington," she said.
"May I have a moment?" he asked, gesturing towards the couches that were set up neatly opposite each other in the center of the parlor. Elizabeth slid a sidelong glance at her father, who nodded his approval and swung the double doors shut. Norrington offered her a seat, and she delicately rearranged her skirts as he sat.
"I know this might be awkward," he said as he handed her the rose. "I just wanted to say that…if you ever change your mind…"
Fat chance, thought Elizabeth rudely, observing that the Commodore had gained a bit of weight since she had seen him last.
"I will always be available for you," he finished eloquently.
Elizabeth smiled tightly. "I'm afraid that I've already made up my mind, Commodore," she said, "but the rose is beautiful."