Drunken Confessions
Though I dearly wish I owned Pirates of the Caribbean and the ever so loved Jack Sparrow and other such characters, I don't.
She stood, leaning into the wind on the prow, a bottle of rum hanging loosely from her fingers. "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me..." she sang softly, her eyes glazed over like the drunken sailor she had become in the months at sea. Visions of a fire and an island flashed through her head, making her close her eyes and lean back, finishing the last drops of the bottle. Dropping it, it rolled down the deck, crashing against the mast.
Grinning distractedly, she looked over the side of the boat, looking at her rippling reflection in the water. Her face was flushed, and her hair fell down from the bun she'd tied her hair in, cluttering the sides of her face. She let out a loud, raucous laugh, then slid down the side, resting her face on her knees as her shoulders shook with mixed laughter and tears.
We're never going to find you, Jack. You'll be stuck in that place, wherever you are, forever. And I can marry Will and forget about you, and there'll be no more trouble, and no more tears, and no more madness. I can forget about that kiss we shared, the kiss that ruined my mind. I hope you're happy.
She thought of these drunken speeches to Jack in her mind each night, when she'd sneak out of her cabin, trying not to wake anyone, and drink herself silly on the decks.
Oh, what would Will think of me now? Sneaking out at night to get drunk and lament about a bloody pirate and his bloody kisses and his bloody good looks and his bloody allure, and his bloody –
Her thoughts cut off as she noticed a figure come up from belowdecks. She tried to be invisible, until she heard Mr. Gibbs' rough voice call "Oi, who's out there who's drinking all this rum?" He was standing near the mast, peering at the bottles assembled there.
Elizabeth got to her feet with difficulty, waving. "It's me, Gibbs." She slurred loudly. The old sailor went over her, staring at her wide-eyed as she let out a drunken giggle.
"Mother of god, Miss Elizabeth, exactly how much rum have you had?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not more than one or two..." she said, letting out another giggle.
Gibbs raised both eyebrows. "Come on, Miss Elizabeth, tell me what's happened? Have you and Will had a falling-out?"
Elizabeth glanced at him, sliding back down, wrapping her arms across folded knees. He followed, peering intently at her face, with its unnatural flush and glazed eyes.
"No, Will and I are doing fine. He wants to get marr- married -" she made a slight face "- at the next port." She looked utterly displeased.
Gibbs shook his head. "Does this have anything to do with Jack?" he asked, noticing the snap in her eyes at his name.
She sobered quickly, straightening up quickly. Her jaw set itself. "No. This has nothing to do with Captain Jack Sparrow."
"Miss Elizabeth, it will take much less time if you don't try to preserve your honor as an engaged woman." He informed her, glaring.
"Fine, I'll tell you." She collapsed against him, snuggling up to him like a daughter to her father in the cold. Gibbs flinched, but didn't do anything, waiting patiently.
"I'm in love with Jack." Gibbs raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. "I'm madly, irrevocably in love with that annoying, unprincipled, promiscuous man who will chase after anything that's got a chest and a pretty face." A tear ran down her cheek. "I tricked him. He didn't want to stay on the boat. I made him. I chained him to the mast." She let out a laugh that was too loud. "I kissed him. I kissed him, and chained him to the mast. I didn't have to kiss him, but I wanted to. The compass pointed to him…"
She began sobbing, the heavy sobs of someone who was drunk as Gibbs patted her shoulder awkwardly. She lifted her head from his shoulder so that he could get up.
"Well, Miss Elizabeth, I'd love to tell you that Captain Jack is in love with you, but I can't. Sorry, lass." He smiled sympathetically, then walked back down to his hammock, leaving Elizabeth on deck.
"Thank you for listening to my drunken confessions, Gibbs." She called after him, staggering to her feet to go to her cabin. He either didn't hear or didn't listen, because there was no response.
Good night, you Captain Jack Sparrow.
And somehow, she heard the wind reply.
G'd night, love