Flights of Fancy

By Illoria

A/N: Argh. I know I don't like it when it takes as long as I've taken to update this story… :\ I'm sorry. I really want to make it good and I have been doing a bit, a bit, of semi-procrastinating and the like. I'm sorry and I'll try to be quicker from now on. *nods nods* :)

And I know this chapter is fairly short. I figured I would leave it like that and update anyway. :)

And - thank you thank you thank you for the reviews! I love you all. :D I really do appreciate those who reviewed, all of you, for all the positive feedback. *verybiggrin* :D

Chapter Three:  Following the Compass

          There was something beautiful about this.    

Elizabeth was standing at the bow of the merchant ship Cordelia, her off-white dress billowing about in the same fortuitous winds that filled the ship's sails. It was a funny thing, really, when she thought about it. Never had she thought she would be sailing away from Port Royal and heading to Tortuga in hopes of finding the Black Pearl there. But lo and behold, there she was. Not looking back.

          She had looked back at the smithy that morning, though, at Will standing in the doorway in the dawn, when she had told him what she'd needed to tell him. And a bit of what she hadn't necessarily needed to tell him, but that she had told him anyway: where she was going. He hadn't asked why and she hadn't offered a reason. She knew he didn't need her to tell him.

          The navy would be out looking for her. After her previous experience with disappearing from Port Royal, they would be chasing pirate ships for her. And she knew that she was putting Jack in danger by trying to find him, because the Pearl would be even further up on their list after Elizabeth suddenly disappeared. But somehow she fancied that he might like the challenge…

          The navy would be out looking for her even though she had left her father a note. Not telling him where she was going, just that she was going. That she loved him but she could not stay any longer. And that was how she had left it. She wasn't sure if she regretted writing so little or thought she had written too much.

          She had left the note while her father was still sleeping. Right after she had taken the least decorative dress she owned and a pouch of coins. And then, after it was all done, she hastened to the docks without looking back and convinced a merchant ship's captain to let her pay him for passage to Tortuga, extra money for confidentiality. (Luckily the merchant captain did not know whom she was, and he was easily persuaded by the sum of money to refrain from asking any further questions.)

And then she had boarded the ship. And she hadn't taken her place at the stern looking at Port Royal shrinking in the distance. She stood instead at the bow.

And there was something inexplicably beautiful about it.

**

          Eventually she went below decks upon the first-mate's persuasion. She would've liked to stay up on deck giving navigational advice, warnings about coming squalls – like she had last time aboard the stolen Interceptor. But now there was no urgency, no "Quick! Someone think of a plan before we all die!" Elizabeth was a little disappointed at the lack of adventure. Yes, she had realized that her standards were set very high and had even heightened after the whole adventure with the cursed treasure and whatnot. That once she had gotten a taste of that spice she simply could not settle for anything less biting.

She looked up with a start as footsteps announced that someone had entered. Her eyes met those of a stranger with grey hair and wrinkled skin but bright eyes.

"Hello, Miss," the man said with a short bow. "I presume you are our guest?"

She nodded. "Yes. My name is Elizabeth-" A quick pause. This had happened before. Best be safe. "-Johnson." No, there would be no mistaking her for the heiress of a cursed pirate this time. Though she did find herself wondering what would happen if she said her name was Turner again…

"Nice to meet you, Miss Johnson." Oh well. "You can call me Edward. Edward Samson. I'm the ship's cook… just checking to see if you would like some lunch, Miss?"

"Oh," she said. "Yes, that would be nice. Thank you."

Another quick bow and Edward disappeared. Elizabeth was left alone with her own thoughts again (and she still wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing or not). She was thinking about the island of Tortuga. She knew it only from stories; a tortoise-shaped pirate haven that was seemingly the very birthplace of chaos itself. Pirate ships docked there to stock up on supplies for the next voyage, to have more than a few drinks and to make merry all about the place.

The Black Pearl would surely dock there soon; it was only sensible, right? She would need the supplies for wherever Jack was taking her next. And – no matter how far away it seemed – it had been yesterday that the Pearl had sailed out of Port Royal. The Pearl was the fastest ship in the Caribbean, so she would arrive in Tortuga soon. And Elizabeth's little merchant ship would be there maybe a day afterward, if there were no delays.

It was all set, then. Tortuga it was. The isle of her storybooks, of all the histories she'd memorized. All right.

She was steadily realizing how insane this really was. Did she just expect to disembark at Tortuga and hop onto the Black Pearl and have Jack take her away just like that?

Honestly? Yes, she did.

So maybe she was crazy, then. Suitable enough for a pirate. She smiled slightly to herself at the absurdity of the whole thing. Oh, but the world was quite an absurd place. And that enthralled her because all her life her world had been a stifled place where absurdity was condemned with the worst of them, and now it was as if the small box she'd been placed in had had its walls collapsed and she was running away before it could be rebuilt, not quite sure where she was going but going there as fast as she could.

Edward reappeared in the room and startled her again. He placed a tray on the table, laden with some food and a drink.

He started to leave again, but she looked up at him. "I could use some company."

Truth be told she was getting scared again. Damn it. Why was she getting frightened? If she was going to be a pirate, she would most definitely have to do away with that fright. Not a positive quality at all, that. But truth be told, she was frightened that when she got to Tortuga, Jack wouldn't be there after all. Or that he would be there and would just turn her around back to Port Royal, and she'd have to explain the unexplainable to her father while he watched from behind his desk, tip-tapping his fingers on mahogany and wondering how his daughter had gone so very wrong.

Edward smiled and re-entered the room. "All right, miss," he said, taking a seat in a chair from the corner.

There was a moment of silence. Then Edward said, "So, Miss Johnson, what brings you aboard the Cordelia?"

A corner of Elizabeth's mouth arced upward. It's a funny story, really…

"It's kind of a long story."

Edward leaned forward in a gesture of interest.

Elizabeth leaned backward slightly.

"I… I'm not really at liberty to say, Mr. Samson."

Ha. That was an amusing cover-up…

Edward paused. Then he looked at her and smiled again. "You're disembarking at our next stop, I presume?"

The next stop would be Tortuga, obviously. Elizabeth hesitated. Then she nodded.

Edward raised his eyebrows as this was confirmed. He must've been confused, Elizabeth thought. What was a woman doing getting passage to Tortuga? She had on no face powder, no corset, no fancy hairdo, and the only plain dress that she owned; deliberate things to erase the traces of aristocracy from her appearance. Edward wouldn't be able to tell where she was coming from, but he knew where she was going. Plenty of things could be inferred and guessed and filled in, but this ship's cook would surely not be able to guess her real reasons…!

Elizabeth wasn't going to inform him, either. So Edward leaned back in his chair again.

"Captain says it'll be three days until we dock in Tortuga," he informed her.

Elizabeth nodded, her mind flashing with images of the Black Pearl speeding on ahead of them. Her dark hull gliding through the water, sails skimming through the sky. Jack at the helm. A shiver ran unbidden up her spine.

The captain of the Cornelia called for Edward up on deck. He bowed quickly to Elizabeth and then hurried up the stairs to answer the captain's call.

She was left alone once again, her mind's eye still focused on the Pearl.

She had never seen Jack as captain of his beloved ship. (When he'd gotten the Pearl back, she'd been, of course, busy kissing Will. At this point, it was just a bit ironic. But that fact aside…) She hadn't seen Jack with the Pearl, but she'd heard him talk about her. She'd heard the reverence in his voice as he raised his bottle to his ship, and the passion simmering under the surface when he'd told her that the Pearl was freedom.

A thought occurred to Elizabeth.

What if this really was nothing but a fool's errand? A silly little girl practically skipping off to find her captain. And it turned out that the pirate didn't care about her; just himself and his ship.

Well, he had saved her life. In more ways than one, though he might not have known that.

Perhaps he did care. Perhaps he didn't. But there was really no way of knowing – other than finding out for herself, of course. Perhaps this was a fool's errand. But what she would never have to do was waste away wondering.

**

          Elizabeth spent the following days on the deck of the Cordelia. Some of the sailors protested, saying didn't she want to be below decks, out of the sun? She smiled at them and said no thank you. She would rather feel the wind on her face, tangling her hair.

She had but her one dress, which was, really, getting a bit worse-for-wear by now. Rumpled and with a general deflated look about it. The Cordelia's captain had asked her to dine with him on that first night, and had taken out a dress, saying that she could borrow it for the voyage if she'd like. He didn't question as to why she had only the clothes she was wearing, nothing more.

The captain was nice enough. He didn't seem stuffy and pompous, like most of the merchant captains she'd met along the way, through her father. Elizabeth thought fleetingly that it wouldn't surprise her at all if this particular captain eventually went on the account himself.

During the days, she kept her eyes open for black sails on the horizon. During the nights, she had trouble falling asleep in her stuffy cabin below-decks. She wondered if she would chance going up on deck.


          Eventually, she decided – where was the harm in that? So she got up out of bed and went up the stairs to the deck.

When she opened the door at the top of the stairs, her breath was literally taken away. The decks were empty save for the man on watch, who paid her no mind. The sails barely stood out in the darkness against a sky lighted by millions of brilliant stars, the full moon glowing in a pool of otherworldly light up in the sky.

It really did take her a moment to get her composure back. The scene was so beautiful; the starry sky so boundless that she felt that she could yell and her voice would go on forever.

There was only one day left to the voyage. Eventually she crept back down into her cabin and slept. She dreamt that the Black Pearl was sailing through the stars, the moon a giant compass.