Elizabeth blew out a breath in frustration and leaned forward, latching one
slender hand around Emma's ankle and gently pulling her back. Emma let out
an amused coo as Elizabeth flipped her onto her back and settled the cloth
diaper underneath her again. The baby giggled and kicked out her legs and
then was quickly distracted by her surroundings. Elizabeth took advantage
of the situation to pin the diaper on and pick her up again. Feeling
herself lifted in the air, away from the ground she had been exploring
moments before, tears welled up in her eyes and a moment later erupted into
a full blown wail. Elizabeth paused, closing her eyes and wearily tucking a
strand of hair behind her ear. After a moment she sat down with the crying
infant in her arms and slowly began to rock. The wails did not abate,
however, and she searched her mind for something else to calm the child
down. She had been fed and burped, her diaper had been changed, and she
hadn't been wanting for attention at all. Something else was bothering her
and Elizabeth had a fair idea of what it could be.
Today it had been one year since she had watched her husband die for a crime that he didn't commit. She had watched him hang like an animal and hadn't been able to do anything about it. One hand raised to her neck and gently pulled on the chain around her neck. It came undone and she turned Emma around so that the child was sitting in her lap. She held the chain out in front of her and immediately the wails began to die. One small hand reached out to touch the golden ring dangling from the chain, reflecting in the candlelight. An amused sound escaped her as she grabbed hold of it and pulled it towards her to look. Elizabeth smiled and gently smoothed down her dark hair, watching her carefully as she stared at the ring. It was so big in her tiny palm.
"This was your father's." Elizabeth said softly. She hadn't spoken for most of the day, hadn't felt like it. People who saw her offered their sympathies but she was tired of hearing them. Sympathies would not make her life any better. She had healed some, tried to go back to living a normal life. Her father's pleas to come back to the mansion were refused and she had begged Michael to let her take up a serving job in the tavern to earn her way. For the longest time he had refused, citing that it was the least he could do for her. Finally, under her constant begging, he gave in. Quite quickly she had found out that the job wasn't as easy as it looked. She had been used to being waited on back up at the mansion and then when she had married Will, cooking and cleaning for two and then eventually three. Never a full tavern. At night she would climb into bed weary after checking on Emma and close her eyes, falling into a deep sleep. Her dreams were filled with happy memories, mocking her. Moments she could never have again.
James had started making regular visits to check up on her after he was done with his work. Elizabeth appreciated the visits. He would come to talk with her about the happenings in Port Royal and to play with Emma. When Elizabeth watched him, she thought about what a great father he would make someday. Gentle but firm, patient as well. Sometimes he would bring her a small present, like a toy. Elizabeth felt more comfortable around him and Michael than anyone else. They both felt real in their emotions and actions towards her. Other people would see her coming and smile in false cheer, asking how she was and what she had been doing. Politely listening with those patronizing smiles stuck on their faces and making her feel worse inside. She would respond nicely to them and smile, returning the inquiries and hoping deep inside that she could leave soon. Michael and James were different. Their questions were genuine, really wanting to hear her answers. Michael was always looking for some way to amuse Elizabeth unless he sensed that she needed to be alone. He helped take care of Emma when he had the time, becoming like an uncle to her. James was willing to listen to her talk and offer up any advice he had. When she felt the worse, she would talk to him, knowing that he truly was understanding. It had to be hard for him, listening to her talk about her dead husband and how much she had loved him, knowing that he loved her as well but she had not chosen him.
Emma raised the gold ring to her mouth, about to chew on it when Elizabeth snapped out of her thoughts and gently pulled it out of her hand. She had kept the ring the way it was from the day she had taken it from his finger in her attempts to hold onto him as he was dragged from the town meeting house. He had always kept it with him, even at the smithy. Will would take off the ring and slip it on a chain around his neck to keep it away from the fire of the forge. Even around his neck it had picked up dirt and grime, tarnishing some of its glow. She hadn't cleaned the ring at all. The way it was reminded her of him.
There was a gentle knock at the door, attracting Emma's attention. Elizabeth stood up and placed Emma on the floor before going over and pulling open the door slightly. A sad smile crossed her face as she saw James standing there, smiling back at her. She held up a finger for him to wait a moment for her and went over to Emma, picking her up and placing her back inside her bassinette. She placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead and left the room, closing the door behind her.
"How are you today?" James finally inquired after they had found an empty table in the tavern. On one of the rare occasions that she had gone to see her father, he warned her that people had begun to talk about James visiting her so often. Angrily she had protested that he was a very good friend. She knew her father wouldn't have minded if the commodore had become anything more than that. He hadn't wanted her to marry a lowly blacksmith and in his own way had made getting married more difficult for the both of them. Weatherby Swann loved his daughter dearly and had done what he had thought was right. She didn't see it the same way.
Marrying for status or money was never what she had in mind growing up in England. She had always pictured the day when she would marry the man that she loved with all her heart. He would be standing at the alter, watching her come down the aisle with love in his eyes. She would return that look of love, almost hurrying down the aisle to hold his hands and profess her love for him in front of all the witnesses. Hurry so that she would start a life of bliss with him. For a brief moment, she had been lucky enough to have her dream. She had married William Turner and become Mrs. Elizabeth Turner. She had a daughter that they both loved dearly. Then it had all fallen apart.
"I'm fine." She answered quietly, clasping her hands on the table in front of her. "Today it was one year ago, but I don't feel like crying." She shook her head. "I've mourned so much for him, but it's not going to bring him back." For a moment she fell silent, biting her lip. James waited patiently for her to continue. "I'm strong enough to live on my own, to live without him. But it's not strength. It's that I don't want to live without him. I loved him so much and he loved me as well." James reached across the table and laid a hand on top of hers quietly. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes but not yet spilling onto her cheeks. "Why him? Why did what happened happen? Why are we alone?"
"I don't know why what happened did or why it happened to the family that it did, but I do know that you are not alone, Elizabeth. Never are you alone." He was impressed with her strength. Despite the questions that nagged at her, she was trying to put her life back together and doing an admirable job of it. Taking on a job in the tavern after having been waited on all her life, trying to have her independence from her father, and taking care of a child on her own. She was dealing well with the situation or trying to at least, and he admired her for that.
She squeezed his hand in return and then shook her head, trying to calm herself down. This wouldn't do. She didn't want to be the woman who lived in the past. William would always be in her heart and she would never love another like she had loved him, but she had to face the truth. He wasn't going to come back and she had to move on and hold tight to the memories.
"So what is the news from the fort?" She asked, giving James a small smiled. "Anything interesting that would make good gossip around the tavern?" She felt a little better with him, making a joke to take her mind of the heavy importance of the day.
He smiled in return and shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Another dull day of work to keep the Caribbean safe." He responded. "Eventually something interesting will happen and no one will be ready to respond to it because we've all grown used to our dull little town being so quiet. As much as I hate to say it, I'd almost wish that Sparrow would come back and stir up some commotion." He didn't really mean it, but it achieved the effect he was looking for. Elizabeth laughed, a little spark of amusement in her dark eyes.
"You wish that Jack would come back to cause trouble? Commodore Norrington, I must say you have to be very bored then to wish for a pirate to stir up a commotion here in Port Royal." In all honesty, she wouldn't have minded seeing the pirate captain again. Despite her misgivings she had developed a bit of a liking for the roguish man. The thought of seeing Jack again brought her back to the day again and she wondered if he had ever heard the news of Will's death. Most likely not, being that Will was one, small, unimportant person in the town. She kept the smile on her face though, hiding her emotions and her inner thoughts. "Although I'm sure of all the pirates out there he would only cause mass mischief and not cause too much damage. I could be wrong."
He smirked. "That's why I would prefer Sparrow. He seems less apt to destroy everything in sight." It wasn't as if he liked Jack. In fact, he still resented it that the pirate had gotten away from him. He had let him, true enough, but for months after they had tried to find him and ended up with their hands empty. Finally he had called off the search, letting Jack keep his reputation of the only man to ever have escaped the noose on Port Royal. In a way, he didn't mind it either. People needed stories to tell, new ones, and this one would give them something to talk about.
"You might be underestimating him." Elizabeth said with a wry tone. "You never know what he could do." James nodded in agreement but found nothing else to say. For a few minutes they sat there, listening to the voices and the clinking of ale mugs. The conversations as people discussed their days, gossiped, or laughed at a joke someone had told. They drank, ate, and were merry.
James finally stood up. "Well, I do believe I must be getting home. It is late." He told her, pulling his coat back on and buckling it up. Elizabeth got up from her seat as well, pulling the shawl tighter around her, as if she were cold in the warm tavern.
"I'll see you out." She told him. He nodded and headed towards the door. A few men called out to him and he responded with a polite dip of his head and a smile, even calling back to a few. Elizabeth did the same, speaking to the men who regularly frequented the tavern and knew her quite well. Finally they made it to the quiet of the outside, where his carriage was waiting for him.
The silence remained between them as he regarded her. She looked back at him, her expression unreadable. Then something happened. It happened too quickly for either to register if it had been them who had initiated the action, or why they did it. Later on Elizabeth would assume it was because she needed the comfort and in a way, she had loved James. Not as much as Will, but she had loved him. James would still not know what to think, but he wouldn't dwell on it.
Her lips pressed against his, her arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer to her. For a moment he resisted before willingly kissing her back with a passion he had never known to be within him. It lasted for a brief moment before Elizabeth pulled back, a look of dismay on her face. She touched her lips shakily, a look of horror on her face at what she had done.
"I'm so sorry. I never meant to..." James' words were lost as Elizabeth turned and fled into the tavern. He was left standing beside the carriage in shock. He'd never meant for that to happen, but somehow it had seemed all too right. But it had hurt her and he never wanted that. He thought about chasing her back inside but knew it would only make things worse. Today was not a good day for her and that had been the last thing she had needed. He slowly climbed back in the carriage and closed the door. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and held his head in his hands, quiet.
Elizabeth rushed back to her room and fell down onto the bed, tears that she had thought dried up pouring down her face. Just when she thought she was moving on with her life and putting the past behind her, it came back for her. She had wanted to kiss James. He had been there for her so much over the past year and that had endeared him to her. The kiss itself was wonderful, so full of passion and love. Then she pictured his face in her mind, heard his laugh and his soft voice, felt his rough hands. She had felt like she was betraying him and it hurt her deeply. Slowly the tears began to slow and she laid on the bed, clutching the sheets tightly in her left hand and staring at the wall, willing the feeling to go away. But it seemed to want to stay, to torture her.
"I'm so sor..."
--------------------
"...ry, Jack, but it looks like yer goin' to be losin' this one." The squat pirate captain chuckled from where he was standing beside Jack. There was another crack as wood broke and Jack winced, shaking his head.
The man standing beside him was Captain Bartholomew Anderson of the Whispering Wind. He was short, only coming up to Jack's shoulder and quite large around the middle. No one had ever seen him without a mug or pipe in his hand. He wasn't a very well known man, quite a bit of a coward in fact, but he always felt the need to beat people at their own games. His favorite man to challenge was Jack, the legend of the Caribbean. At first Jack had found it amusing to knock the pompous man down time after time, but after a while it became disconcerting and strange. The contests had started out with which captain could earn the most, plunder the most ships in a months time, or drink the most rum. Jack had easily swept all three and Anderson had almost lost his ship more than once. Then the contests became odder. Which man was the better singer and who was the funniest. Then there came this challenge.
Anderson had recently taken a young man onto his crew with a knack for fighting. Tall and lithe, he had sandy hair and dark blue eyes. The first time Jack had met him, he'd been all too willing to wipe the arrogant smirk off his face. Will had just taken to ignoring the kid, who was about the same age as him, and focusing on the mug of rum in front of him. After looking Will over, Anderson had calmly told Jack that his new crew member could easily knock out Jack's. Jack had rolled his eyes and gone back to his rum. Anderson had tried a few more times to get him to accept the challenge, David standing behind him and looking on. Finally the boy had come forward, leaning on the table.
"I don't think this one's got much fight in him. Probably headed off to sea after finding his wife in bed with another man." That did it. Will was out of his seat in a moment and slammed his fist into David's chin, knocking him into a table. David was back at it quickly, slamming into Will and sending him crashing into a wall. A full blown fight had erupted from there.
Over the past year, Will's attitude and general disposition had gotten worse. He hated to be social and spent most of the time angry. Jack knew what was eating at him on the inside. His whole life, a life he had worked so hard for, had been ripped away and left him no other option except a life that he had never wanted. He had been betrayed by people who knew him, died briefly from the noose and come back only to find that he could never go back to his wife or child. What else was exactly left for him in this life except to commit to a life he never would have had if there had been a choice? He was growing deader inside and even Jack's best efforts couldn't save him. He could only keep him alive and hope that it got better.
"Wi...Matthew!" Jack's voice caught as he almost uttered his real name. Gibbs had brought up a very good point to him earlier on. Elizabeth was a smart, intelligent, and very stubborn woman. If she ever caught word that there was a William Turner aboard the Black Pearl, she would come looking for him and that couldn't happen. The pirate ship was no place to raise a child and she would have to leave him because he could never go back to Port Royal. So Jack had christened him Matthew Stryder, a name thought up while he was good and drunk. "Why are you fighting like there's bloody rules?" He bellowed in frustration. "You're a pirate. Start fighting like one."
David was straddling Will, hands wrapped tightly around his neck to cut his air off. Will was trying to pull his hands off, but had lost the advantage. His lungs were starting to burn and spots danced in his vision, but the anger from the stinging remark still coursed through him and he was far from giving in. Hearing Jack's call, he reached up and clawed at David's eye. David cursed and let go with one hand long enough for Will to smack the other away and push him off. Both men got to their feet, beaten and bloody. David was no longer wearing his cocky smirk. They both regarded each other, waiting for a move to be made.
Wiping the blood away from his nose, David glared at Will. "Must have hit a mark there, eh? So did you catch your wife in bed with a real man? Must have been a nice change from a dandy like you." He chuckled. "I bet she's done..." He never got to finish his sentence as Will quickly slid a sword out of the belt of a nearby pirate and sent it flying in David's direction. The sword stuck in the wooden post just behind him, a thin red line appearing on the edge of David's ear. Against his better judgment, he looked towards the sword with wide eyes. Will took advantage of his shock, grabbing him by the hair and slamming his head into the post. David's eyes rolled up in his head and he slid to the floor unconscious.
Jack turned to Anderson, a smirk appearing on his face. "Eventually you'll realize the folly in challenging me and go bother someone else." He said, emphasizing the last four words. "I win again." But Anderson didn't seem to hear him, having a conniption fit. He stomped his feet and cursed out the boy, telling him to get up and finish the fight, but David didn't hear him, out cold.
As soon as the fight was over, Will had pushed his way out of the tavern and into the streets. He walked a good distance before entering into a rare, empty alley and sitting down on an old crate. His hands were shaking badly and he had to take a few breaths to calm himself down.
He was terrified of the man he was becoming. Back there in the tavern when he had knocked David out, he'd had to restrain himself from taking it farther, from doing further damage. He had been cut deeply by the remarks that had been made. Elizabeth was on his mind most of the time and he still ached for her, longed to be in her embrace. He longed to be a blacksmith again, returning home from a long day at work to his beautiful wife and little girl. But that would never happen again and he needed to stop thinking that way. He began cutting off certain emotions, not wanting to feel the pain or the love anymore. Anger, frustration, and hate had all seemed to fill the void quite quickly. Those were the only emotions that he could count on. In a place like this or in a occupation like he had now, love and the pain of loss were easily taken advantage of. Men died because of them.
To feel made him weak and if he was going to survive, he couldn't allow himself to feel. But that was only most of the time. At times like this, when he was alone, he allowed himself to feel the emotions he tried to hide for a brief time. Tears came to his eyes and he covered his face with his hands. Even these times were growing fewer. He was being hollowed out inside because of the past that he dwelled in and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He didn't want help from Jack or Anamaria or Gibbs or anyone else. He wanted to be left alone.
For a few moments he let the tears flow before he calmed himself down, taking deep breaths. Once he had gotten a hold of himself, he stood up and left the alleyway. His expression was stoic once more, a mask over what he felt deep inside.
Today it had been one year since she had watched her husband die for a crime that he didn't commit. She had watched him hang like an animal and hadn't been able to do anything about it. One hand raised to her neck and gently pulled on the chain around her neck. It came undone and she turned Emma around so that the child was sitting in her lap. She held the chain out in front of her and immediately the wails began to die. One small hand reached out to touch the golden ring dangling from the chain, reflecting in the candlelight. An amused sound escaped her as she grabbed hold of it and pulled it towards her to look. Elizabeth smiled and gently smoothed down her dark hair, watching her carefully as she stared at the ring. It was so big in her tiny palm.
"This was your father's." Elizabeth said softly. She hadn't spoken for most of the day, hadn't felt like it. People who saw her offered their sympathies but she was tired of hearing them. Sympathies would not make her life any better. She had healed some, tried to go back to living a normal life. Her father's pleas to come back to the mansion were refused and she had begged Michael to let her take up a serving job in the tavern to earn her way. For the longest time he had refused, citing that it was the least he could do for her. Finally, under her constant begging, he gave in. Quite quickly she had found out that the job wasn't as easy as it looked. She had been used to being waited on back up at the mansion and then when she had married Will, cooking and cleaning for two and then eventually three. Never a full tavern. At night she would climb into bed weary after checking on Emma and close her eyes, falling into a deep sleep. Her dreams were filled with happy memories, mocking her. Moments she could never have again.
James had started making regular visits to check up on her after he was done with his work. Elizabeth appreciated the visits. He would come to talk with her about the happenings in Port Royal and to play with Emma. When Elizabeth watched him, she thought about what a great father he would make someday. Gentle but firm, patient as well. Sometimes he would bring her a small present, like a toy. Elizabeth felt more comfortable around him and Michael than anyone else. They both felt real in their emotions and actions towards her. Other people would see her coming and smile in false cheer, asking how she was and what she had been doing. Politely listening with those patronizing smiles stuck on their faces and making her feel worse inside. She would respond nicely to them and smile, returning the inquiries and hoping deep inside that she could leave soon. Michael and James were different. Their questions were genuine, really wanting to hear her answers. Michael was always looking for some way to amuse Elizabeth unless he sensed that she needed to be alone. He helped take care of Emma when he had the time, becoming like an uncle to her. James was willing to listen to her talk and offer up any advice he had. When she felt the worse, she would talk to him, knowing that he truly was understanding. It had to be hard for him, listening to her talk about her dead husband and how much she had loved him, knowing that he loved her as well but she had not chosen him.
Emma raised the gold ring to her mouth, about to chew on it when Elizabeth snapped out of her thoughts and gently pulled it out of her hand. She had kept the ring the way it was from the day she had taken it from his finger in her attempts to hold onto him as he was dragged from the town meeting house. He had always kept it with him, even at the smithy. Will would take off the ring and slip it on a chain around his neck to keep it away from the fire of the forge. Even around his neck it had picked up dirt and grime, tarnishing some of its glow. She hadn't cleaned the ring at all. The way it was reminded her of him.
There was a gentle knock at the door, attracting Emma's attention. Elizabeth stood up and placed Emma on the floor before going over and pulling open the door slightly. A sad smile crossed her face as she saw James standing there, smiling back at her. She held up a finger for him to wait a moment for her and went over to Emma, picking her up and placing her back inside her bassinette. She placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead and left the room, closing the door behind her.
"How are you today?" James finally inquired after they had found an empty table in the tavern. On one of the rare occasions that she had gone to see her father, he warned her that people had begun to talk about James visiting her so often. Angrily she had protested that he was a very good friend. She knew her father wouldn't have minded if the commodore had become anything more than that. He hadn't wanted her to marry a lowly blacksmith and in his own way had made getting married more difficult for the both of them. Weatherby Swann loved his daughter dearly and had done what he had thought was right. She didn't see it the same way.
Marrying for status or money was never what she had in mind growing up in England. She had always pictured the day when she would marry the man that she loved with all her heart. He would be standing at the alter, watching her come down the aisle with love in his eyes. She would return that look of love, almost hurrying down the aisle to hold his hands and profess her love for him in front of all the witnesses. Hurry so that she would start a life of bliss with him. For a brief moment, she had been lucky enough to have her dream. She had married William Turner and become Mrs. Elizabeth Turner. She had a daughter that they both loved dearly. Then it had all fallen apart.
"I'm fine." She answered quietly, clasping her hands on the table in front of her. "Today it was one year ago, but I don't feel like crying." She shook her head. "I've mourned so much for him, but it's not going to bring him back." For a moment she fell silent, biting her lip. James waited patiently for her to continue. "I'm strong enough to live on my own, to live without him. But it's not strength. It's that I don't want to live without him. I loved him so much and he loved me as well." James reached across the table and laid a hand on top of hers quietly. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes but not yet spilling onto her cheeks. "Why him? Why did what happened happen? Why are we alone?"
"I don't know why what happened did or why it happened to the family that it did, but I do know that you are not alone, Elizabeth. Never are you alone." He was impressed with her strength. Despite the questions that nagged at her, she was trying to put her life back together and doing an admirable job of it. Taking on a job in the tavern after having been waited on all her life, trying to have her independence from her father, and taking care of a child on her own. She was dealing well with the situation or trying to at least, and he admired her for that.
She squeezed his hand in return and then shook her head, trying to calm herself down. This wouldn't do. She didn't want to be the woman who lived in the past. William would always be in her heart and she would never love another like she had loved him, but she had to face the truth. He wasn't going to come back and she had to move on and hold tight to the memories.
"So what is the news from the fort?" She asked, giving James a small smiled. "Anything interesting that would make good gossip around the tavern?" She felt a little better with him, making a joke to take her mind of the heavy importance of the day.
He smiled in return and shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Another dull day of work to keep the Caribbean safe." He responded. "Eventually something interesting will happen and no one will be ready to respond to it because we've all grown used to our dull little town being so quiet. As much as I hate to say it, I'd almost wish that Sparrow would come back and stir up some commotion." He didn't really mean it, but it achieved the effect he was looking for. Elizabeth laughed, a little spark of amusement in her dark eyes.
"You wish that Jack would come back to cause trouble? Commodore Norrington, I must say you have to be very bored then to wish for a pirate to stir up a commotion here in Port Royal." In all honesty, she wouldn't have minded seeing the pirate captain again. Despite her misgivings she had developed a bit of a liking for the roguish man. The thought of seeing Jack again brought her back to the day again and she wondered if he had ever heard the news of Will's death. Most likely not, being that Will was one, small, unimportant person in the town. She kept the smile on her face though, hiding her emotions and her inner thoughts. "Although I'm sure of all the pirates out there he would only cause mass mischief and not cause too much damage. I could be wrong."
He smirked. "That's why I would prefer Sparrow. He seems less apt to destroy everything in sight." It wasn't as if he liked Jack. In fact, he still resented it that the pirate had gotten away from him. He had let him, true enough, but for months after they had tried to find him and ended up with their hands empty. Finally he had called off the search, letting Jack keep his reputation of the only man to ever have escaped the noose on Port Royal. In a way, he didn't mind it either. People needed stories to tell, new ones, and this one would give them something to talk about.
"You might be underestimating him." Elizabeth said with a wry tone. "You never know what he could do." James nodded in agreement but found nothing else to say. For a few minutes they sat there, listening to the voices and the clinking of ale mugs. The conversations as people discussed their days, gossiped, or laughed at a joke someone had told. They drank, ate, and were merry.
James finally stood up. "Well, I do believe I must be getting home. It is late." He told her, pulling his coat back on and buckling it up. Elizabeth got up from her seat as well, pulling the shawl tighter around her, as if she were cold in the warm tavern.
"I'll see you out." She told him. He nodded and headed towards the door. A few men called out to him and he responded with a polite dip of his head and a smile, even calling back to a few. Elizabeth did the same, speaking to the men who regularly frequented the tavern and knew her quite well. Finally they made it to the quiet of the outside, where his carriage was waiting for him.
The silence remained between them as he regarded her. She looked back at him, her expression unreadable. Then something happened. It happened too quickly for either to register if it had been them who had initiated the action, or why they did it. Later on Elizabeth would assume it was because she needed the comfort and in a way, she had loved James. Not as much as Will, but she had loved him. James would still not know what to think, but he wouldn't dwell on it.
Her lips pressed against his, her arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer to her. For a moment he resisted before willingly kissing her back with a passion he had never known to be within him. It lasted for a brief moment before Elizabeth pulled back, a look of dismay on her face. She touched her lips shakily, a look of horror on her face at what she had done.
"I'm so sorry. I never meant to..." James' words were lost as Elizabeth turned and fled into the tavern. He was left standing beside the carriage in shock. He'd never meant for that to happen, but somehow it had seemed all too right. But it had hurt her and he never wanted that. He thought about chasing her back inside but knew it would only make things worse. Today was not a good day for her and that had been the last thing she had needed. He slowly climbed back in the carriage and closed the door. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and held his head in his hands, quiet.
Elizabeth rushed back to her room and fell down onto the bed, tears that she had thought dried up pouring down her face. Just when she thought she was moving on with her life and putting the past behind her, it came back for her. She had wanted to kiss James. He had been there for her so much over the past year and that had endeared him to her. The kiss itself was wonderful, so full of passion and love. Then she pictured his face in her mind, heard his laugh and his soft voice, felt his rough hands. She had felt like she was betraying him and it hurt her deeply. Slowly the tears began to slow and she laid on the bed, clutching the sheets tightly in her left hand and staring at the wall, willing the feeling to go away. But it seemed to want to stay, to torture her.
"I'm so sor..."
--------------------
"...ry, Jack, but it looks like yer goin' to be losin' this one." The squat pirate captain chuckled from where he was standing beside Jack. There was another crack as wood broke and Jack winced, shaking his head.
The man standing beside him was Captain Bartholomew Anderson of the Whispering Wind. He was short, only coming up to Jack's shoulder and quite large around the middle. No one had ever seen him without a mug or pipe in his hand. He wasn't a very well known man, quite a bit of a coward in fact, but he always felt the need to beat people at their own games. His favorite man to challenge was Jack, the legend of the Caribbean. At first Jack had found it amusing to knock the pompous man down time after time, but after a while it became disconcerting and strange. The contests had started out with which captain could earn the most, plunder the most ships in a months time, or drink the most rum. Jack had easily swept all three and Anderson had almost lost his ship more than once. Then the contests became odder. Which man was the better singer and who was the funniest. Then there came this challenge.
Anderson had recently taken a young man onto his crew with a knack for fighting. Tall and lithe, he had sandy hair and dark blue eyes. The first time Jack had met him, he'd been all too willing to wipe the arrogant smirk off his face. Will had just taken to ignoring the kid, who was about the same age as him, and focusing on the mug of rum in front of him. After looking Will over, Anderson had calmly told Jack that his new crew member could easily knock out Jack's. Jack had rolled his eyes and gone back to his rum. Anderson had tried a few more times to get him to accept the challenge, David standing behind him and looking on. Finally the boy had come forward, leaning on the table.
"I don't think this one's got much fight in him. Probably headed off to sea after finding his wife in bed with another man." That did it. Will was out of his seat in a moment and slammed his fist into David's chin, knocking him into a table. David was back at it quickly, slamming into Will and sending him crashing into a wall. A full blown fight had erupted from there.
Over the past year, Will's attitude and general disposition had gotten worse. He hated to be social and spent most of the time angry. Jack knew what was eating at him on the inside. His whole life, a life he had worked so hard for, had been ripped away and left him no other option except a life that he had never wanted. He had been betrayed by people who knew him, died briefly from the noose and come back only to find that he could never go back to his wife or child. What else was exactly left for him in this life except to commit to a life he never would have had if there had been a choice? He was growing deader inside and even Jack's best efforts couldn't save him. He could only keep him alive and hope that it got better.
"Wi...Matthew!" Jack's voice caught as he almost uttered his real name. Gibbs had brought up a very good point to him earlier on. Elizabeth was a smart, intelligent, and very stubborn woman. If she ever caught word that there was a William Turner aboard the Black Pearl, she would come looking for him and that couldn't happen. The pirate ship was no place to raise a child and she would have to leave him because he could never go back to Port Royal. So Jack had christened him Matthew Stryder, a name thought up while he was good and drunk. "Why are you fighting like there's bloody rules?" He bellowed in frustration. "You're a pirate. Start fighting like one."
David was straddling Will, hands wrapped tightly around his neck to cut his air off. Will was trying to pull his hands off, but had lost the advantage. His lungs were starting to burn and spots danced in his vision, but the anger from the stinging remark still coursed through him and he was far from giving in. Hearing Jack's call, he reached up and clawed at David's eye. David cursed and let go with one hand long enough for Will to smack the other away and push him off. Both men got to their feet, beaten and bloody. David was no longer wearing his cocky smirk. They both regarded each other, waiting for a move to be made.
Wiping the blood away from his nose, David glared at Will. "Must have hit a mark there, eh? So did you catch your wife in bed with a real man? Must have been a nice change from a dandy like you." He chuckled. "I bet she's done..." He never got to finish his sentence as Will quickly slid a sword out of the belt of a nearby pirate and sent it flying in David's direction. The sword stuck in the wooden post just behind him, a thin red line appearing on the edge of David's ear. Against his better judgment, he looked towards the sword with wide eyes. Will took advantage of his shock, grabbing him by the hair and slamming his head into the post. David's eyes rolled up in his head and he slid to the floor unconscious.
Jack turned to Anderson, a smirk appearing on his face. "Eventually you'll realize the folly in challenging me and go bother someone else." He said, emphasizing the last four words. "I win again." But Anderson didn't seem to hear him, having a conniption fit. He stomped his feet and cursed out the boy, telling him to get up and finish the fight, but David didn't hear him, out cold.
As soon as the fight was over, Will had pushed his way out of the tavern and into the streets. He walked a good distance before entering into a rare, empty alley and sitting down on an old crate. His hands were shaking badly and he had to take a few breaths to calm himself down.
He was terrified of the man he was becoming. Back there in the tavern when he had knocked David out, he'd had to restrain himself from taking it farther, from doing further damage. He had been cut deeply by the remarks that had been made. Elizabeth was on his mind most of the time and he still ached for her, longed to be in her embrace. He longed to be a blacksmith again, returning home from a long day at work to his beautiful wife and little girl. But that would never happen again and he needed to stop thinking that way. He began cutting off certain emotions, not wanting to feel the pain or the love anymore. Anger, frustration, and hate had all seemed to fill the void quite quickly. Those were the only emotions that he could count on. In a place like this or in a occupation like he had now, love and the pain of loss were easily taken advantage of. Men died because of them.
To feel made him weak and if he was going to survive, he couldn't allow himself to feel. But that was only most of the time. At times like this, when he was alone, he allowed himself to feel the emotions he tried to hide for a brief time. Tears came to his eyes and he covered his face with his hands. Even these times were growing fewer. He was being hollowed out inside because of the past that he dwelled in and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He didn't want help from Jack or Anamaria or Gibbs or anyone else. He wanted to be left alone.
For a few moments he let the tears flow before he calmed himself down, taking deep breaths. Once he had gotten a hold of himself, he stood up and left the alleyway. His expression was stoic once more, a mask over what he felt deep inside.