3.
"Elizabeth, dear, your father is waiting for you at the table."
"Oh, just a few moments longer, Miss Stein! I just was about to—" Elizabeth stopped her spinning, her voice catching. She instantly hid her hands behind her back.
"About to what?" The maid stood before her, a hand on her hip, impatient.
"I just was about to meet… the fairies," she decided on, folding the parchment sword she fashioned out of an old assignment from her governess small enough to hold in her fist. She wouldn't make the mistake of going on about her make-believe pirate adventures. Not after the long talk with her father.
Miss Stein laughed and smoothed a hand over Elizabeth's hair, tucking away stray strands. Elizabeth fought the urge to swat the hand away. She wished she was allowed to wear her hair more freely.
"Fairies need their dinner too. Come on then." Miss Stein led them to the front door, none the wiser of Elizabeth slipping the folded parchment into her boot.
That night, after Miss Stein brushed and braided her hair, placed hot coals at her feet, and took her leave, Elizabeth laid alone in bed. She rushed to open the drawer to her night stand, as if she would still be caught even while alone, then slipped a medallion around her neck, thumbing over the skull engraving.
"How I wish I were a pirate," Elizabeth whispered to no one but herself and the moon. She imagined in that same instant somewhere a true pirate was looking at the sky, thankful he was, indeed, a pirate.
.
Above the bedcovers, Elizabeth laid with a book in her lap. She lifted the book to hide her face, feeling a blush form at the thoughts she shamelessly indulged in. A pirate was in her bath tub. A pirate was in her bath tub. Not just a pirate, the pirate at that. The pirate who she would hear stories about first-hand as a child. Captain Jack Sparrow was in the next room over—in her bath tub.
The sentence repeated again in her mind. Biting her lip, she chanced a glance at the door, her bedroom lit solely by the bedside candle. She slid her hand underneath her nightgown and the slip underneath that and the layer underneath that—Why must she wear so many layers? She smoothed her fingertips over the skin below her navel and was just about to lower her hand when she heard a creak in the floorboard.
Elizabeth smoothed out her nightdress, grabbed her book, and adjusted her face in a thoughtful look.
"Forgive me if this sounds forward, Swann, but where is it I'm meant to retire if there's only one bed?" Jack stopped in the doorframe and Elizabeth shut her book, placing it in her lap. Elizabeth looked at the governor's scarlet silk pajamas hanging off of Jack's frame, the neckline too large, even buttoned to the top it showed Jack's chest.
Elizabeth realized they both were quiet a moment too long. She cleared her throat and stood, meeting Jack in the doorframe.
"Hands." Elizabeth looked at Jack expectantly then raised her eyebrows when he just stood, staring at her. He reluctantly brought his hands forward. "Jack, clean underneath your fingernails next time. And your eyes—"
Elizabeth returned to her bedside, pulling out a handkerchief. She leaned towards Jack in the doorframe, smoothing the cloth underneath his eyes, wiping away the remainder of kohl. To get a better handle, she rested a hand against his jaw.
"There. I can see your eyes properly for the first time," Elizabeth said, a shyness in her voice she didn't bother to hide. She looked into his dark eyes which now appeared wider, softer.
"Not sure either of us will like what you find there," Jack replied, putting little effort into a smile. "Now that you're finished playing mum, back to the question at hand—You have me as your prisoner, so where's my jail cell to sleep, hmm?"
Elizabeth turned away, wringing the handkerchief in her hands momentarily. She placed the handkerchief on the bedside table then faced Jack again.
"I haven't had a visitor in a long time," Elizabeth admitted, pacing her offer as not to sound too eager or thought upon. "I haven't known company in, well, months, really. True company." Elizabeth breathed in deep through her nose, trying to calm her racing heart.
"Is this your roundabout way of asking me to hold you while you sleep, Lizzie?"
"Not hold," Elizabeth corrected, adding an edge to her voice. "But it's had to be quite some time since you slept in a proper bed, and—alright, I'll just be out with it—I miss the closeness of another person."
"Closeness." Jack stepped forward and leaned into Elizabeth long enough for her to smell the fresh scent of soap on his body, all the while eyeing her like prey. But Jack didn't strike at all, just fell back onto her bed, relishing in the comfort by the look of his expression. "All you had to say, love." After a moment, his expression changed and he dug underneath his back, feeling the book. He snatched it up, skimming the cover. "What do you need to read about sailing for? You lived it!"
"To remember what it was like," she said wistfully, then, more determined, "and be ready when I return."
"Oh, the sea is ready for your return. I feel it, hear it even," Jack told her, nodding thoughtfully. "The waves, they have their way of talking, you know." After a pause, Jack scooted to the right side of the bed, tapping the spot next to him. "Well, off to dreamland."
Elizabeth barely sat on the edge of the bed before Jack stretched across her to blow out the candle on the bedside, enveloping them both in darkness. Elizabeth slowly pulled the covers over herself, swallowing down the rapid beating of her heart. She trusted Jack, mostly, so why was her heart beating so fast? Maybe it wasn't Jack she was worried about.
Elizabeth adjusted underneath the blanket, feeling her back brush against Jack's.
"If you're a blanket-stealer, we won't get on well," Jack warned, his voice low.
She smiled. "A pirate chastising the prospect of me stealing?"
"I don't steal, I borrow."
"Then you won't mind if I borrow some more blanket." Elizabeth tugged at the comforter.
"Oi, no starting that." Elizabeth felt Jack tug back, harder than she had. "Or I'll have to hold you to keep you from borrowing."
"Go to sleep, Jack."
Elizabeth laid there, remembering their time together on the Black Pearl before she reunited with Will, and when she was sure Jack's breathing was slower and steadied in the rhythm of sleep, biting her lip, she tugged on the comforter once more. Elizabeth drifted into sleep that way, her hands gripping the top of the duvet.
.
Elizabeth's mind knew to wake her before Jack. She ignored the disappointment at not awakening in an embrace. In fact, she was irritated by it—the disappointment. As quietly as she could, Elizabeth snuck into her bathroom to hurriedly wash her face and plait her hair. She gathered Jack's clothes—unsurprisingly unfolded in a bundled mess strewn across the bathroom floor near the tub—and placed them in the laundry basin. By Jack's belt and various accessories, Elizabeth noticed his trusty compass. Her hand hovered over the compass momentarily, but she thought better of wasting time, knowing it would point to Will's heart beneath her bed. Protecting Will's heart was her life now. She filled the basin with water and soap and crept outside. Elizabeth washed Jack's clothes thoroughly but hastily then left them to dry in the sun on the hedgerows.
Back in her bedroom, Elizabeth found Jack still asleep, now resting on his other side, facing her absence. She returned to her side of the bed, sitting atop the covers. Elizabeth half-expected to awake to exaggerated, almost humorous snoring. But no, Jack was breathing softly through his nose, his mouth slightly parted. She watched his brow furrow slightly, and his parted mouth close. Wrinkles formed in his forehead and his fingers dug a deeper hold into Elizabeth's pillow.
Elizabeth smoothed her hand over Jack's forehead, soothing the troubled wrinkles. His features were back at ease, for a moment, then his mustache twitched once, twice—Jack's eyes shot open and he jumped at the sight of someone over him. Elizabeth gasped at the blade Jack instinctively held against her throat. Once Jack became fully aware of his senses, he instantly dropped the knife which clattered to the floor in an ugly sound.
"Sorry." His hands flew up to his head, and he looked regretful. "Not used to waking up to someone else, especially someone else not trying to kill me," Jack said in a quieter tone, his eyebrows drawn together.
"Apology accepted." Elizabeth was breathless, and yet, she wasn't an ounce upset. She had felt something, and even if it was fear, a feeling—any feeling—was welcomed. "I shouldn't have intervened but you looked like you were dreaming of something unsettling."
"Yes. Unsettling," Jack agreed shortly. "Well. Good morning, then." Jack left in a rush, which was unexpected for him when not being chased by something. He was usually more lackadaisical in the mornings, from what she could remember. Then, called out from the bath, "Where are my clothes?"
"They're drying," she replied, smiling at raising her voice to speak to someone from another room away. It was so improper. "I'll bring you something to change into."
Elizabeth looked over the governor's abandoned closet, finding an outfit she thought would suit Jack then brought it to the bathroom door, knocking with a light hand. Jack's hands shot out and she placed the clothes in them, watching the hands instantly retreat, punctuated by the door snapping shut.
Elizabeth hastened back to her room, ensuring to lock the door, then looked through her own closet, suddenly unsure any clothes would suit her at all.
Not like that, she chastised her own mind at the thought of meeting Jack in the hall wearing absolutely nothing.
Elizabeth pulled a pastel yellow dress adorned with pink roses off the rack. Too girlish. Then a sage green option. It made her look sickly in some lighting. She settled on a burnt orange velvet dress, hanging it in the front as she put on her undergarments. Once dressed, she unlocked the door then sat at her vanity, pinning her hair in a chignon at the nape of her neck. Elizabeth added a ribbon, adjusting it just so, assuring that one end barely brushed against her clavicle and the other trailed down her back. Hearing the handle turn, Elizabeth glanced up in the mirror, watching the reflected door open.
"I feel ridiculous."
Jack looked rightfully common and proper, and to look rightfully common and proper was anything but Jack. The dark black slacks were fitted to him near-perfectly. These must be the governor's old clothes, she thought. The white ruffled shirt was not too different from his usual, but stark white and more refined. Jack didn't bother to button the black vest. She wondered what he would look like with his facial hair detailed and his hair like his younger sketched image in the "Wanted" sign she secretly stowed away around the age of twelve, however, instead of worn out, pulled back to show his prominent cheek bones. What it would be like to set his hair free and kiss the side of his neck right under his jaw and smell the faint scent of sea breeze on his skin and feel him, all of him, before sunset—
"Well, that's because you look ridiculous," Elizabeth decided on. Jack gave her a look, resting a hand on his hip which jutted to the side at the comment. "You didn't do up the front of your vest," Elizabeth explained, standing and stepping in close, buttoning the vest halfway until Jack's hands rested on her own. "You cleaned under your nails."
"Your house, your rules." Jack finished buttoning the vest and looked at himself in the vanity mirror. "You're right. Ridiculous." He turned to face her. "But you—What's the occasion, Swann?"
Elizabeth felt Jack's eyes focusing on the ribbon brushing against her collarbone. She straightened her stance and glanced to the window then drew her eyes back to the pirate turned gentleman standing before her.
"I have an idea of how to get us a ship, but I figured we could go to the orchard while you tell me the real reason you're here."
"After all the time we've shared, you still don't trust me?" Jack smiled through his words, it just missing his eyes.
"I'm simply curious what you've been up to." Elizabeth circled Jack, looking him over. "Just in case we're spotted from away, we can hide most of your hair under a hat but I think we'd better get rid of the dangly bits."
Jack frowned. "But I like my dangly bits."
.
After some convincing, Jack reluctantly agreed to leave the hair beads and pendants in her nightstand and wore the black wide brim hat Elizabeth offered. Elizabeth took Jack to the stables and they rode Sparrow out to the orchard on the land the governor owned. She watched Jack pick apples as she groomed Sparrow. Elizabeth let Jack get a basket full in before she prompted him.
"Go on. Explain yourself."
"Will you stop treating me like a child?"
Jack looked around, assuring they were alone, then he threw the hat to the ground to let his hair free. He shined an apple on his vest, took a bite out of it, then wiped away juice off of his chin with his sleeve, much like a child. Jack tightened his jaw and straightened his vest, aware of his own irony, before taking another bite and throwing all decorum out the window once again by speaking with his mouth full.
"Alright, I suppose I owe you a lick of honesty. We did share a bed, after all." Jack smiled wide enough to show his gold teeth. "The crew of the Pearl are still sailing with Barbossa, bloody bastard—but I trust he'll keep her well. I spent my time trying to find the Fountain, didn't succeed, whatever. Spent a few moon cycles fantastically drunk—for me," he amended, giving the moment its proper weight. "Once I tired of that and the incessant thought of not cracking the Fountain still weighed heavy, I went to Tia Dalma's. Even in her absence, surely there would be someone or something woo-woo enough to help."
"Help?"
Jack pointedly ignored her, taking another bite of apple. "The Englishmen ransacked her bayou. They took as many items, and people, as possible. I'm sure they destroyed much of it, considering most of the witchy bric-a-brac unholy. Idiots. But if there's a chance any of Tia Dalma's—Calypso's," Jack corrected, "belongings were salvaged, they would be hidden in the governor's library."
"The governor? Have Calypso's belongings? I know the new governor, Jack. He wouldn't—"
"You don't fancy him the type to believe in the supernatural? Elizabeth, I thought you would know the bloody Englishmen better, especially being the daughter of one. One of the better—may he rest in peace," Jack was quick to amend. "Where Englishmen sense a threat, even imaginary to them, they will sniff it out, then snuff it out for good measure. I'm sure you've noticed, after our success against Beckett's crew—"
Elizabeth raised a challenging eyebrow at Jack.
"Your success against Beckett's crew," he corrected, "they view pirates as more of a threat than ever. We don't fit in their order. Their systems." Jack fed the rest of his apple to Sparrow then reached out to pet her mane. He stuck his tongue out at the horse when she nudged his hand away. "I hate to admit it, but there's no better a time for me to be without the Pearl, without the fanfare. Lay low."
Jack plucked a new fruit off the tree, tossing it and catching it repeatedly, his eyes following the movement. He picked two more apples and, seemingly just to entertain himself, started to juggle.
"I may not have found the fountain, but I may find something that will do. Something of Calypso's. An enchanted"—Jack topped the already full basket with two of the apples he was juggling—"something."
He held out the one apple left to Elizabeth.
"'An enchanted 'something?'" Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at him. "You are usually much more calculated, Jack. Either you're losing your touch or,"—Elizabeth took the apple from Jack—"you're purposefully keeping something from me. Or somethings… What is this 'something' for anyway?"
Jack stared the countryside, frowning at the wide expanse of land. After a long enough silence, he rolled his eyes at his own avoidance. "Best just to be out with it—Those few months I was not merely in flirtation with but positively married to the drink, I…" Jack trailed off, refusing to meet Elizabeth's eyes. He cleared his throat. "It's important not to care a bloody lick what other people have to say about you, Elizabeth, but sometimes it can be rather telling. People used to say 'stupid pirate' with a smile on their face. When I lost my senses, it became, 'stupid pirate' and that was that. No smile. The smile matters. That's when I knew I was out of touch with myself."
Elizabeth looked at the green apple in her hand then back to Jack. "But why? What turned the great Captain Jack Sparrow into just another man?"
Jack bristled at those two words: "the great."
"Fine. Out with it then—Guilt is eating me alive, alright? The 'something' is to save Will. Mostly. Alright, Elizabeth, is that what you wanted to hear?"
Jack did not leave a moment for Elizabeth to answer. She was clinging to that word. "Mostly."
"Sure, it was the only way, but knowing I bound Will to the Dutchman, apart from you, and after all the times I slighted him?" Jack drew his hands down his face dramatically, the pressure showing more of the whites of his eyes. "I've never felt this kind of guilt in my life, and trust me, Swann, I have plenty I should feel guilty about! Sleeping with countless betrothed women? No guilt. In a roundabout way to blame for whatshisname not having an eye? Not a trace of remorse. The whole bit with the goat—?"
"That was why you were trying to find the fountain," Elizabeth whispered, finally understanding. "Stab Will's heart and then have him drink. You give the Dutchman its captain, give Will freedom, and all would be righted as you originally intended."
Jack sunk to the ground, his head resting in his hands, looking thoughtful as he stared at the grass. "Time hasn't been kind to me, sure, but it really hasn't been to Will. Most days, Elizabeth, I wonder how much of it I have left. To be honest, I've gotten further than I ever thought I would." Jack's mouth turned down, nearly comically. "The hell am I to do with that? The hell am I to do with further?"
Elizabeth stood then picked up the bushel of apples to thrust them into Jack's arms. Then she placed the apple he gave her on top, ignoring his look at the uncomfortable weight.
"You keep going without knowing how far, like sailing." The two shared a brief smile. "While I appreciate your honesty in that regard, I won't chase after a 'something' or go along with 'mostly' saving Will. I want the full story, Jack. No more half-truths."
"Please, Elizabeth, I can only take so much spilling of my guts at a time," Jack said, his cheek pressed against the pile of apples. "Isn't it enough knowing my heart's in the right place?"
Absent-mindedly, Elizabeth's hand drew to her chest. A heart in the right place. This was the longest she ever went without checking on Will's heart.
"It is. For now. I hope you enjoy carrying that bushel all the way back."
.
After stifling laughter at Jack's many different attempts of carrying the bushel comfortably, Elizabeth was surprised to find she now enjoyed time spent in the governor's second home. There was an air of domesticity, a true home—she wasn't sure she had felt that on land before, but she felt it now, peeling apples with Jack.
Elizabeth left Jack to prepare the apples for the stockpot to busy him while she checked on Will's heart. Still there, still beating, still confined to a chest that was not her husband's. Elizabeth wanted to talk to Will as she would when she was alone, but she didn't want to possibly stir Jack's curiosity. She trusted him. Enough. But she wouldn't chance what was left of Will's life.
Elizabeth returned to the stove, admittedly impressed that Jack willingly finished preparing the apples for cider. She added in the vanilla and spices and was in the middle of squeezing in an orange when she glanced over her shoulder into the drawing room to find Jack thumbing through books on the floor. Beforehand, he looked through the entire shelf for a sign of Calypso, but Elizabeth insisted the governor wouldn't house anything out of the ordinary outside of his study. Anyway, she read every book on that shelf already.
Jack skimmed over a text about the French on the left of him before returning his attention to a book on dance on the right. His feet were kicking in the air, swaying back-and-forth in time, as though moving with the phantom-rocking of a ship. Elizabeth tried to focus on the stovetop but it couldn't hold her attention for long. She glanced over her shoulder at him once more, swallowing down another laugh. Jack was still poured over the dance book, mumbling the words "one, two, three" repeatedly while referencing the illustration. He scooped up the book, standing and adjusting his posture before trying to embody the stance of the drawn demonstration.
After a while of this, Elizabeth joined Jack in the drawing room, placing her hand on his shoulder, stilling him instantly
"If you didn't choose the life of a pirate, I would say you would make great company at garden parties." Elizabeth straightened out Jack's vest which wrinkled from him lying on the floor on his stomach.
"The life of a pirate is the only choice some of us got, love. I don't have a cushy life to crawl back to. We're from different worlds."
"That may be," Elizabeth started coolly, "however, it's almost as though you forget we shared the same world before, even if for a moment or two... or three," Elizabeth said in time with Jack's third step.
Jack ignored her, having returned to his solo waltz. His head was ducked into the book, trying to follow the numbered pattern.
"It works better with a partner. May I cut in?"
Jack's eyebrows drew together and he looked unsure.
"Come on, you've sword fought countless pirates, sailed the seven seas—"
"There's nine but no one believes me."
"Nine seas," she corrected, not having the interest or patience to counter, "and even come back from the Locker, the prospect of death itself—and you're afraid to waltz with me?"
At the challenge, Jack chucked the book down then pulled Elizabeth into him by the waist, taking her hand in his. Jack wordlessly lead them in the dance, wearing a look of false arrogance even as he faltered.
"It's easier with music," Elizabeth said comfortingly.
"It's easier by myself," Jack countered.
"Well that's not how it works, is it?" she met his eyes, challenging. "I suggest you get used to this now as you'll have to stomach dancing with me at the ball."
"Ball?"
Elizabeth went to her bookshelf and pulled out a card that was acting as a bookmark.
"I told you I have an idea of how to get us a ship—Tomorrow is the governor's ball." She offered Jack the invitation. "We'll have to infiltrate it and get the 'something' it is we're after."
"A plan! At last." Jack's hands danced at his sides excitedly. Jack grabbed the invitation then held it up to his eyes, studying the embellishments in gold.
"And I still know the way to the governor's study."
"Perfect. I wish it was tomorrow already!"
"Be glad it isn't. You still need to learn to dance, and we'll have to do something about that facial hair."
