4.
"You'll stick out like a sore thumb," Elizabeth said, staring at the braided hair on Jack's chin.
Jack frowned. "What did a sore thumb ever do to you?"
"It will grow back," she insisted, sounding like a mother coaxing a child.
"Fine. But I won't like it." Jack crossed his arms momentarily then began unbraiding, relenting. Elizabeth went to the bath for supplies then set the kitchen table where Jack joined her, playing with his beard. Elizabeth pulled the ribbon from her hair, noticing Jack staring at her bodice. He shifted his eyes, suddenly interested in the ceiling, and she swallowed down a knowing smile.
Elizabeth tied Jack's hair back then started to somewhat regretfully shave his face. She used the moment to indulge in studying the sharp contours of his face in the light of the golden afternoon. Once she was finished, she couldn't help but say—
"Oh my."
"What? What is it?" Jack's mouth twitched and where his mustache would normally raise—nothing.
"I never would have thought—It's just… I can see your face better," she settled on, laughing at her own unhelpful comment.
With Jack's hair pulled back and his facial hair gone—A proper face. A proper gentleman's face. Elizabeth steadied her breathing and reminded herself it was Jack Sparrow who sat before her. Wiping his face clean, she couldn't help but cradle his face for an instant too long, meeting his deep brown eyes.
"Elizabeth." Jack placed his hands over hers then gently returned them to her sides. "I'm just as foul and untrustworthy and pirate as ever."
Elizabeth wrung the towel, scolding herself for giving in so easily, and yet, she met his eyes again. She saw before her the man Jack would have grown to be in a stable home with a stable education and a stable income. Perhaps selfishly, she was glad he had none of those things, because a man who was raised with those things, right and proper, would not have introduced her to the kind of freedom of living she knew during their brief times alone together—the playful pirate of her childhood dreams.
"Jack?"
"Elizabeth," he answered, straightening his shirtfront.
"Sorry, it's just your eyes," she started, preparing what she knew she must say. "Your eyes are the only ones I have seen in a long time that," Elizabeth took a shallow breath, "knew Will's," she finished. Elizabeth hid her hands behind her back, playing with them, as if folding a parchment sword.
"Yes. Of course. Naturally." After a pause, Jack laughed an awkward laugh then his wide brown eyes danced, searching for an exit. "If you'd excuse me."
Elizabeth watched Jack leave the drawing room and, once she was sure he was out of earshot, exhaled the breath she was holding. She was so entangled in her own messy thoughts that she didn't hear from the bath—
"Ridiculous."
.
Elizabeth poured Jack and herself a cup of cider and they both sat, not drinking, in painful silence until Jack broke it.
"Well, am I going to learn to bloody dance or not?"
"Right." Elizabeth cleared her throat then took his cup and her own, leaving them on the kitchen counter. She led them back into the drawing room. "You'll offer your hand, something like—"
"Like this," Jack offered, extending his hand with a flourish and then bowing.
"A little more understated at the ball maybe, but yes, along those lines. Then I will curtsey, like this." Elizabeth dipped. "And at first we will meet palm-to-palm."
Elizabeth ducked her head slightly at feeling Jack's palm rest against her own.
"But eventually you'll put your hand on my shoulder." Jack drew Elizabeth's left hand up to rest there.
"And your hand on my waist." Elizabeth took Jack's hand, feeling it rest on the ribbon of her skirt.
"Easy enough."
"But now the footwork—"
"Can't be any more complicated than sword fighting footwork."
"Yes, but in this you have to lead. You are the man, you have to lead."
"But I don't want to lead."
"For God's sake, are you not a captain?"
Jack's mouth set in a straight line and he started them off in a slow but respectable waltz.
"You're doing fine, Jack, just fine," she encouraged.
"You could do better."
Elizabeth shot him a look.
"Teasing, love," he said, a sly smile resting on his lips as he refused to meet her eyes.
Elizabeth looked at his eyes still but her gaze softened, no longer feigning cross. She knew he usually rimmed his eyes with black to protect them from the sun but she wondered if it was also to protect people from what rested there, the depths of his past.
"She wasn't a mermaid, was she." It wasn't a question.
"What?"
"The woman who braided your hair," Elizabeth explained, taking the lead instead. Jack's feet shuffled, adjusting to the new pattern. "She wasn't a mermaid."
Jack laughed. "Back on that so soon? Why is it of interest to you?" he asked, finally meeting her eyes, challenging.
"A woman can't have curiosities?"
"Makes a man wonder why she's curious in the first place," he said, voice low. "But fine, I'll tell you, Swann." Jack took the lead again then leaned in close, whispering, "Esmeralda."
"Esmeralda."
"The Great Esmeralda," he amended, a wistful smile on his lips. "Can't be forgetting that." Jack stepped back, freeing his hair from Elizabeth's ribbon and placing it in her hands. "She had a hold on me much in the way Will has a hold on you. Watch out, Elizabeth." Jack looked out to the kitchen window, shaking a hand through his dreadlocks. "If you keep trying to romanticize when the world crosses you, you'll go mad, know that."
"What did she do to you?"
"What didn't she?" Jack answered, and there was that tone again, accompanied with a distant sparkle in his eyes.
Elizabeth glanced away for a moment, her face growing hot, feeling as if she was hearing too much in those words and in his eyes, but she didn't dare miss studying Jack as he shared. She had to observe everything in great detail when it came to him—each expression, each movement, the subtext—to wipe away what was put upon to see into what was genuine. She was nearly an expert at distinguishing the two. Nearly.
Jack offered his hand again, clasping the ribbon between their palms as they started up the waltz again.
"It's a dangerous thing," he mused, "for a pirate to fall in love."
"You fall in love with a woman, you fall in love with leverage—I know."
"Leverage if your woman is loyal. Or, it's the woman herself who turns on you." Jack paused, a thoughtful look washing over his face.
Elizabeth wondered if Jack was remembering her shackling him to the Pearl to go down with the ship which felt so distant now. But of course not, he was thinking of—
"Esmeralda. What she was—is—all depends on who you ask... To some she was Aztec, to others Spanish, others Romani, others African—you get my point. Tell you the truth, she had the look about her that she could be the mix of all four—or none at all. It didn't matter. She transcended… everything. Earthly beauty, race, any kind of limitation—she transcended it all. In fact, 'she' doesn't even begin to cover Esmeralda. Her essence was too big for that word—'she'—but like life, language has its limits." Jack glanced at Elizabeth, gaging if she was still listening. Elizabeth maintained her deeply focused stare, urging Jack on. He cleared his throat. "What couldn't she do? Who wouldn't she do? She was older than me. Taught me a thing or two, sometimes with a friend or two." He looked thoughtful again, an undeniable smile curling his lips enough to show his gold-plated teeth. "Well, anyway… our story, all depends on who you ask."
"I'm asking you," Elizabeth reminded quietly, "Jack."
"Right. Well, that which vexes all men is a woman," he started slowly, borrowing words that weren't his own because it was easier that way, to start. "And Esmeralda vexed me alright. She gained a hard thing to come by, my trust—then traded it like one of her tarot cards. She ratted me out, divulging my frequent whereabouts on land and sea."
"To who?" Elizabeth's eyebrows rose when Jack answered her by revealing the pirate brand on his arm. "Beckett?"
"The last I saw of her was also the last I saw of Mum. Alive," he clarified after a beat. A memory. "Thanks to the trollop's loose lips—how stupid of me, knowing good and well how loose her lips could be..." Jack cleared his throat. "After that, I vowed to never stay on land in one place for too long. If you haven't noticed, I have a way of making everyone around me a target." Jack met her eyes. "Just built that way, I suppose."
"We're alike in that way." Elizabeth shared his empty smile, remembering how every kiss she shared with a man was followed by his untimely death or a circumstance of nearly equal misfortune.
Jack glanced down at his feet, nearly stumbling the dance pattern when he watched. He drew his eyes back above Elizabeth's head, his eyebrows drawn together, focused.
"I also vowed to never trust a woman in that way again. I'm lucky she only combed and braided my hair, the parts that had fought loose from the vagabond women's style. I guarantee she would have chopped it off to spite me had she not had her plan to use me… Last I heard of her name, she was hanging around with the likes of men like Fortune Red. Fortune Red," Jack repeated, exasperated, as if Elizabeth knew who the mentioned pirate was. "Not my favorite breed of pirate—not that I'm too fond of any pirate whose name doesn't start with 'Cap' and end with 'tainJackSparrow.'"
Elizabeth danced in the silence with Jack, letting the relived memories roll off his back for a moment. It was probably just his recently shaven face, but she swore he looked younger as he recalled the earlier memories.
"Your mother," Elizabeth said, a knowing quality in her voice. "I'm sorry."
"Me too. She wasn't a good one, but she was a mother." Jack shrugged. "'Just a nice girl is what you need. Nice girl who can cook, Jack. And keep those feet nailed to the ground if she can manage with you. That's all you need.' But no. I went for 'The Great.' Could never be satisfied with just 'nice.'"
"All part of what shaped you into who you are today," Elizabeth offered.
"Awfully kind, Swann. But we both know that's not exactly reassuring." Jack lowered his eyes, really looking at Elizabeth for the first time since he started speaking. Jack stilled their dance then outstretched his hand and, once realizing what he was gesturing for, Elizabeth gave him her ribbon back. Jack tied his hair back, tight. "You chose right, Elizabeth. You chose 'nice.'"
"And look where 'nice' got Will."
"For now. None of us know what's to come in"—Jack spookily waved his fingers at Elizabeth—"the afterlife. William will go where the goodie goodies go no doubt. Hoping I can just get to somewhere in the middle after all the trouble I've caused."
Elizabeth took his hand. "Somewhere in the middle can't be too bad."
"Mmhm, sounds like a perfect fit for me," Jack agreed. "Maybe for you too. Pirate," he said in nearly the same way he did when Elizabeth chained him to the Pearl, although lighter, teasing, all forgiven.
"So, the 'something,'" Elizabeth murmured, "is linked to Esmeralda."
Jack danced palm-to-palm with Elizabeth in silence for a few beats before stilling her suddenly, taking her by the shoulders. She froze in his grasp, allowing herself to fall into his dark eyes. All the while, Jack removed a ring from his finger and placed it on hers—gold with a deep purple stone, almost deep enough to be black in certain lighting. The longer she gazed upon it, she wondered if her eyes were playing tricks on her, as seemingly dark waves—an entire miniature sea—rested inside.
"Pendant," Jack supplied. "The 'something' is a pendant. Matches the ring." He studied the ring on Elizabeth's dainty hand, his tired eyes shining faintly before he returned the ring to his own hand. "Should a pair, truly linked, wear the objects in time, all the pair should do is think, to be rejoined or realigned."
Elizabeth repeated the phrase in her mind, hearing the phrase spoken in Tia Dalma's voice.
"The jewelry reunites two people."
"Or switches their places," he added, sharing a weighted look with Elizabeth. "It's a long shot, I know, but the ring and pendant are bound by Calypso's magic, the same magic that created the need for a keeper of lost souls at sea in the first place, a Captain of the Dutchman. It could be a workaround."
"And Will and I could visit you," Elizabeth added, realizing the excitement in the thought was noticeable by Jack lifting her chin before starting their dance one again.
"A married woman has no right visiting a man like me."
"A Pirate King has every right visiting a Pirate Lord."
"Who never wanted to be in the first place," Jack sighed.
Elizabeth's feet caught on Jack's and he grabbed her waist, catching her.
"The pendant will save your beloved blacksmith and also hopefully put a sailor's knot in the loose ends from my past catching up with me once and for all."
"Do you think the Royal Navy salvaged it or…?" Elizabeth hated the thought that saving Will relied on the actions of the governor's men.
"We'll see at the ball, but I'll know it when I see it," Jack replied, narrowing his eyes. "Couldn't forget that. Like I said, some memories are a feeling, Elizabeth."
Jack looked to Elizabeth and his gaze almost felt like too much without a reaction. Too inviting. She felt invited to rest her hand against the side of his face or affectionately adjust his shirtfront only to let her hands linger on his chest or snake her arms around his neck and sway, back and forth, her feet resting atop his like a child. But Elizabeth did none of those things. She simply stood there, frozen with Jack, in the anticipation of a possible moment.
Jack came down from his own reverie, squeezing Elizabeth's hand in his own to fully come down, grounding himself. Then he shook Elizabeth's hand awkwardly before letting go to straighten his shirtfront and a few of his rings, his hand lingering on the subject matter of their plan, before meeting Elizabeth's eyes once more.
"So, how was that for a dance lesson?" Jack asked, his voice quiet and crisp.
"You did just fine, Jack." Elizabeth offered a smile. "Just fine."
