(standard disclaimer applies)
If the idea of three people sharing a bed squicks you, please look elsewhere for your fic needs.
Elizabeth was as genuinely curious about the outcome as she was interested in winning. Although Will had a better reach and greater upper body strength, he was still uncomfortable without his feet solidly on the ground. His movements weren't slow, exactly, but they were deliberate. He often looked down or up to carefully measure his shifts. She, on the other hand, looked straight at the blue sky beyond the rigging, letting her fingers and toes seek out their own support. According to Gibbs on their last jaunt aboard the Pearl, only Jack looked more at home when clambering heavenward.
The commodore was on watch and, all right, the two of them had gotten bored and perhaps imbibed a bit more than they should have, but their bare feet on deck were still steady. Neither became dizzy or disoriented when they shaded their eyes and looked up to the highest point on the mainmast. Will took the count, wary of Elizabeth's wide-eyed promise not to cheat, and they started climbing at his shout of 'three!'
Her muscles started to protest fairly soon, but she ignored them as she flung her body against the call of gravity and nice, sensible wooden deck. She could hear Will's faint grunts of effort nearby, although she didn't dare distract herself by looking at him. It was only when she reached the crosstrees that she turned her head, just in time to see Will's palm slap down at the same moment as her own. Having proven herself even, if not superior, she grinned across the distance at him. The wind blew too fiercely for her to hear his reply, but his face was lit by an equally jolly expression. He started to descend while Elizabeth flung her arms over the wooden spar and enjoyed the rocking of the Dauntless for a few minutes. Although her husband would never really be at home aloft, it suited her better than any other shipboard activity she'd insisted the men in her life teach her. It was not so blasted hot up here, even got downright chilly at times. Taking a deep breath of the clear air helped settle her faintly queasy stomach.
Hearing Will shout her name from below, she rolled her eyes and muttered, "I'm coming, I'm coming." Cracking the knuckles on one hand, she gripped a stay and began picking her way down.
It was some combination of her own confidence, the wind shear, the condition of the ship's rigging, and plain bad luck. As she was pushing her windswept braid back over her shoulder, the ratline on which her feet rested snapped, the Dauntless took a sudden plunge under a wave, and she found herself hanging by one hand. Her slender body was buffeted by powerful gusts. For a sickening moment, she was staring out at nothing between herself and the frothing sea. Vertigo prevented her from doing anything but dangle.
Just as quickly, the Dauntless righted her angle. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut and groped for a hold with her free hand, ignoring the alarmed shouts rising over the roar of wind and fear in her ears. She didn't dare open them until she'd found her footing once more, having to wrap her legs around the thick shroud and shimmy down a bit until her toes met a roughly horizontal perch. When she looked down, she saw the deathly pale faces of Will and James turned up towards her. The commodore was holding tight to the blacksmith's forearm, too frozen to move, while Will shifted nervously beneath his grasp. Their immobility was broken when her eyes fell upon them; both began climbing to reach her, James still in his soft-soled shoes.
Men, thought Elizabeth with a scornful, shaky, somewhat hysterical laugh. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to pry one white-knuckled fist away from its safe clutch so that she could wave down to the onlookers. Only when they saw her start to move downwards again did Will and James hesitate, exchanging a look, and drop back down to the deck.
She made her way more carefully than before, using the extra time to quell the bursts of terror and relief in her heart. It would show her as no equal to the men if she were to fall into a swoon at their feet. Only Will, clasping her fiercely to his chest before her feet could fall upon the deck, felt how she trembled. She buried her face in his neck and took a deep, calming breath while he babbled breathless nonsense into her ear. Then she raised her head and smiled at the gape-mouthed sailors, who went into a whooping cheer for the uncommonly brave lass they'd claimed for their own.
Trying a sweeter smile on James did nothing to alter his stony expression. Without a word, he pivoted on his heel and strode away.
Elizabeth and Will shared a mutual wince, still clinging to one another, and followed.
In the cabin allotted to the Turners for their brief stay, they found James pacing from one corner to another. He threw his hands up and tore at his lapels and stabbed a forefinger at the pair as he ranted.
"Of all the ridiculous, childish impulses – interrupting a hard day's work – should have you both horsewhipped – what might have happened –"
"We're sorry," said Will in a small voice, his head lowered. Elizabeth nodded vigorously.
James turned to face them. His short-cropped hair was on end from having fingers dragged through it. His green eyes were wide with indignant frustration, making him look like nothing so much as a parrot with its feathers ruffled.
She knew that mirth was the last reaction he wanted at the moment. A giggle escaped her lips all the same.
Her lover and her husband regarded her with twin expressions of bafflement. Unbidden, the laughter rose in her throat, fueled in no small part by the wine she'd consumed with lunch and the near-disaster she'd managed to escape. She could see the absurdity of it start to affect Will as well, though he hid his snickers behind his hand and cast sheepish glances at James.
Anger and consternation flickered on his face for a brief instant. Then James shook his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling, although he did not begin to smile until Elizabeth stepped into his arms. His lips didn't extend to their gentle curve until his chin rested on the top of her head and Will's arm went around his waist. He laughed as well, from relief and the simple joy of tumbling into bed beside them, and from Elizabeth tickling his ribs with her short nails while Will blew wet kisses against his neck.
Later, when they stretched out the moments before he would have to go back to business, James lay curled up between them and whispered, "You've never lost someone to the sea, you don't know how..."
"I have," Will reminded him softly. Elizabeth reached over to touch his cheek, and he kissed her palm while he looked steadily at James.
"I have as well," she said. The sheets rustled crisply as James turned onto his side and Will's head popped up over his shoulder.
"Who?" he wanted to know. James's eyebrows asked the same question.
Elizabeth bumped her nose against his collarbone. "Myself."
James chuckled and Will mm-hmmed thoughtfully. It was not, Elizabeth supposed, a strictly accurate statement; she had given rather than lost herself, this second time. But Will understood because he had done the same; James understood because it was to him they'd pledged. There was no more need to explain it than there was to exchange another set of vows.
She fell into an afternoon doze, barely noticing when James rose to dress. He leaned over the bed to kiss them both before he left, fingertips lingering on their joined hands. Elizabeth smiled sleepily and dreamed of flight.