This is the beginning of an epic; sixth part.
Okay. I drank a lot of rum before I wrote this chapter. Seriously.
So I lied; there isn't any Will. Next chapter. Cross my heart, loves.
Elizabeth is so angsty. And I'm tired.
And I loffs da reviews!
She felt sick to her stomach. Very sick. Jack Sparrow. On top of Tia Dalma. Her hands clentched into fists; her nails were digging into her palms. She felt dizzy. She knew she was staring. Jack Sparrow. On top of Tia Dalma. She felt blood rush to her cheeks; she knew her face was surely crimson. She knew her mouth was open. Like a hideous fish. Like a hideous, heart-broken fish.
No. Her mind was screaming so loud she could barely stand it. No. Not heartbroken. She couldn't breath. She averted her eyes. She let her fingers unfurl; there were deep marks in the soft flesh of her palm. Not heartbroken. The room was spinning. You can't have your heart broken by someone you don't love. Her knees were weak; threatening to give out. You don't love him. Her heart was going to rip her chest apart. You love Will. She was going to faint.
She couldn't take it anymore. She ran.
Elizabeth Swann was sobbing. She couldn't remember ever crying this hard. Not in her entire life. She was drawing shallow, gulping breaths. Between piercing howls. It was hurting her ears. But she couldn't stop. Her head was pounding. But she couldn't stop.
Why? Why had she even imagined it? Even for one second; even for one sweet second. Why had she let herself fall in love with a bloody pirate? Yes, she loved him. She loved him. She loved the way he walked; permanently rum-addled. She loved the way his words ran together inhis familiarslur. She loved the dirt under his fingernails and the grease on his hands. She loved his tangled mane; she loved the beads and the jewels and the gold. She loved his spice-and-rum scent. She loved the darkness in his eyes.
And she should have listened to her conscience. She should have listened to her head. She should have listened to that voice; that voice had been buzzing in her mind, screaming at her since the first time her heart had fluttered at his touch. She should have shut him out of her heart.
Had she really expected him to feel the same way? Had she really expected Captain Jack Sparrow to love her? She felt a scornful laugh scorch her throat. What had she been thinking? What, exactly, had she been hoping for?
Love? She didn't think he was capable. She certainly had seen enough of the wreckage he'd left behind. Ladies left and right were itching to introduce him to the palms of their hands. Jack Sparrow was guilt free. He was impulse driven. He was hard-bitten. He left a trail of broken hearts behind him, wherever he went.
And she was just one more. One more casualty, shattered and bleeding. Left along the way.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. Trembling. She felt her knees give out; her back slid down the rough, splintered shingles of the river-house's mossy exterior. She brought her knees to her chest. She rested her cheek on the rough, biting material of her crude pants. She cried in silence.
This was so wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It was just so bloody wrong.
But it didn't have to be that way.
What was wrong with her? She was engaged. To a man who loved her. A kind, sweet man. A trustworthy man. William Turner loved her. And she loved him.
Right?
She felt a sharp stinging in her chest. As if a blade was drawn across it. She winced.
Wrong.
Then it spoke again. The voice in her head. You love him. She felt herself relax. You've loved him since the day you fished him out of the water. You saved his life. And he saved yours. You love him. It sounded so true. So real.
Almost convincing.
But Will loved her with all his heart. And Jack didn't.
She jerked her head up so fast it hurt her neck. Will was in there. Thinking horrible things, surely. She knew he'd seen. From every angry stare. Every sad glance in her direction. Every refusal to meet her eyes. She'd known since she'd thrown herself into the longboat. Since she'd lied. Since she'd betrayed the man she loved.
No. Not the man you love. She bit down hard on her knee; the material tasted of salt and smoke. And rum. You love William Turner.
It was a lie. Her heart was broken. That was undeniable. Jack Sparrow had broken her heart.
But it wasn't the end. And it didn't have to be that way.
William was in there.
William was in there.
There was only one thing left to do. Only one thing left that could give her a chance at happiness. Might give her a chance at happiness.
She couldn't be with the one she loved. But she could be with the one who loved her.
She had to fix the damage she'd done.