5.

Jack left for "a bit of fresh air," so Elizabeth returned to the kitchen, putting away what remained of the cider and apples, leaving the two cups untouched. In her bedroom, Elizabeth kneeled at the foot of her bed to slide out the chest containing Will's heart.

"Oh, Will," Elizabeth whispered, resting against the lid as she had so many times before. She wondered if seas away he sensed her each time, a phantom feeling of his heart quickening at her closeness. Maybe the sudden ache Elizabeth felt due to her negligence of the chest was endured by Will from a distance as well. She hoped not. She hoped he was none the wiser.

Hearing footsteps nearing, Elizabeth hastily hid the chest under the bed and reached for a half-finished needlepoint stowed in her bedside table.

Jack entered, both cups of cider in his hands. He wordlessly offered one to Elizabeth. She took the cup and slid the needlepoint under her bed, her hand lingering to press against the chest. Jack slumped down to the floor, cross-legged, taking a gulp of cider and wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"So, we've ridded me of my beard and dangly bits, got the steps down—Now, about this ball…"

Elizabeth meticulously explained the building, using a parchment and quill for a full overview all of the best potential escape routes and the layout of the governor's study. She explained where the guards usually stood and the kinds of swords they used. She covered more details Jack vaguely listened to, knowing his instincts would kick in once he was there in the adrenaline of the moment. Instead of listening intently to her words, Elizabeth's voice became more so humming inflections while he stared at her moving mouth, absentmindedly playing with the ends of his dreadlocks which now felt bare.

"Although a mascaraed ball, the eligible women are sure to still fawn over you. I keep to myself so much people, especially those who knew Will, are always asking if I have a suitor. You're to introduce yourself as my cousin," she instructed before supplying an alias. "Henry." The name she intended for her son.

"A French name! I'll take it. Although, I always fancied myself a—"

"Henry," Elizabeth pressed. Jack scoffed before downing the remains of his cup. "Now that we have that sorted, I need to go to the market for the masks and such. Can I trust you to keep yourself entertained and out of trouble?" Elizabeth asked, wary to leave Will's heart in Jack's company. Not that Elizabeth truly thought Jack would intentionally cause harm to the heart but, then again, it was Jack.

"Pirate's honor," he said, saluting her with a flourish.

"Good." Elizabeth fetched her basket from the closet. "Oh, this skirt has grass stains, I'll have to change." After a moment, she turned and looked pointedly at Jack who remained on the floor, examining his clean fingernails. "Jack, some privacy, please?"

"Oh, well, I thought I ought to do the gentlemanly thing and offer a hand with your dress—" Jack dodged a heeled shoe. "I'll be going."

Once alone Elizabeth locked the door and grabbed the ceramic jar full of sand used for occasions such as these. She would never admit it to anyone, but she was rather quick at handling her husband's heart. She would take it out for all kinds of excursions. Tea by the ocean, on walks with her horse Sparrow, hidden in her basket as she stalled by the blacksmith's—anything Elizabeth thought might let Will know she was not just keeping him hidden away, unthought of. Some nights she held the jar close in bed and the weight of it on her chest made it all the more difficult to rest. Other nights, the jar's close presence was the only way she could manage sleep, tucked under the blanket next to her, her hand resting atop it.

Elizabeth got Will's heart set, changed into a breezier dress, then hid the jar underneath the usual muslin. She tied a sun bonnet on her head and started for the market, glad Jack was in the bath so she did not have to wish him an unsteady goodbye, knowing he would sense she was hiding something.

.

Jack flicked his compass open and closed absentmindedly, waiting to hear the shut of the front door.

"Gone at last," Jack sighed, instantly starting for Elizabeth's room again after watching her leave through the window. Jack crawled down by the bed. "Oi, Will," he whispered. "Time for a chat, mate."

Jack slid the chest out. He found it on his first night while Elizabeth was in a deep sleep. He had pressed his ear in close. A heartbeat alright, Jack thought. Steady and strong. Yes, that's William. He wasn't sure why Elizabeth avoided mentioning the whereabouts of the chest. Perhaps because Will was a sore subject, perhaps because they both knew she wouldn't trust him entirely knowing where the heart was—but Jack wasn't going to push on about it so early.

"Will! Old friend, eunuch of all eunuchs, Son of Bootstrap Bill, Captain of the Dutchman, former nuisance of the Black Pearl, and keeper of Miss Swann-turned-Misses-Turner's heart—How are you, my boy?" A pause. "The silent treatment, that it? We're doing that, are we?" Jack blew air through his lips. "I know we weren't on the best of terms at the end there but—Hey. Yes, I did what I did but you did what you did. And your wife killed me. Yes, I shared her bed last night but didn't touch her, honest! And who got you locked up safe in that box anyway?" Jack gave the air a moment. "Think the shave looks nice? Well, thank you. It's growing on me too. Lizzie is to thank for that. Which… if she and I were for some reason to—hypothetically… Will, ten years is an awfully long time, awfully long wait to not—Spare me that. She's a woman like any other woman. She will need held eventually! And why not me to do the holding than anyone else? Be glad Norrington's gone or it'd be him in your place, surely. Why not me? I'll tide her over—tide, not tied—naughty Will. What I mean to say is, if she would want it, it wouldn't be bad of me to… would it?"

Jack stared at the chest. His fingers drummed against the top before giving it a hit. Then another, harder. Jack gave the chest a good shake, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose after roughly handling the chest and placing it back on the floor.

"Why did you have to go and get yourself stabbed? Why, Will? For the both of us."

Words of Tia Dalma's rang in Jack's mind as he went to stroke his beard, his hand forming a fist when remembering it was now gone, by Elizabeth's hand.

"Jack Sparrow does not know what he wants."

Jack slumped on top of the chest. "Elizabeth's doing it again. She's causing… stirrings. I see how you got hooked in the first place. I can only imagine, a young man—an easy decision. Mistake," Jack corrected, his index finger lazily tracing the floor in front of the chest. "Even so, if you would, say, give me your blessing… I mean, a quick poke wouldn't mean I'm in love with the woman. Nothing more than a night of passion to get our equal share, just to know, and then,"—Jack whistled, his hand shooting through the air—"as if it never happened! Promise. Just, give me a sign." Silence. "Will?" More silence.

Jack fell back onto the floor. Uncomfortable, he tore off the vest and untucked his shirt. He turned to his side, staring into the keyhole of the chest, registering a moment later the jingle in his pocket. Jack started upright, quickly digging in his pocket.

"If I get heads, if the mood is set and the moment arises and your darling Elizabeth permits, you agree an honest shag won't offend you or get me to the bad place—that you would give me a goodie goodie vote to the big man in the horizon or whoever makes these decisions when I'm called on for good. If I get tails, I honor your marr-i-age and merely watch after Lizzie as I have been—the occasional innuendo not hurting anyone, just making for intriguing conversation. Good? Good." Jack impatiently flipped the coin, then he took a peek with his right eye. "Bloody—" Jack paused, his eyes shifting to the chest. He turned the coin over. "Heads! Heads it is. How I thank you for your blessing, mate—just in case. I mean, there's still the wooing to do. You and I both know Elizabeth isn't an easy ticket."

Jack pocketed the coin then stared at the chest, a rare moment of silence in his mind.

"We'll save you, Will. No matter what else. If she still chooses you, well, that's just gravy for you… It was never supposed to go this far. You may have pirate blood, but it was never supposed to go this far." Jack drew his bottom lip into his mouth, thinking. "We'll save you and you'll go to the goodie goodie place when it's your time. You'll die old and well, a family by your bedside, a respected blacksmith in your older age. A father, no doubt a father—you'll be a great one." Jack was unable to hide his smile. "Perhaps your greatest adventure." Jack stilled. "Alright, fine. You've got me. I won't convince her to my side completely. Just a night or two will do me in. I won't take your joy. I had my chance. Wasted it," he mused, his brain far off, years away. "Well then, I'm glad we had this talk. Lizzie and I will go to the ball, find the pendant, and you'll be a free man again, Will. You'll see!" Jack thumped the chest with his fist then placed his ear to it, waiting to hear a heartbeat. "No thump-thump. Where's the thump-thump?" Jack peeked into the keyhole. "Of course, she took you with her." Silence. "I was talking to a box." Jack held the chest outstretched, frowning. "Well, now I feel like a mad man."

.

"Jack!" Elizabeth called out, entering the front door with two masks and ingredients for a hefty meal that would probably be their last for some time in her basket and a brunette wig carried under her arm.

Having retrieved his dried clothes from the hedgerows, Jack looked more like himself from his spot on the floor, reading again. He was resting on his belly once more, like a child, ignoring the perfectly good chair to his right. Elizabeth sat the basket down, crossed her arms, and leaned against the doorway.

"Lizzie! You're back."

"I'm back."

"And you have the masks."

"I have the masks."

"And… what is that horrible dead animal?" Jack stared at the wig.

Elizabeth knelt next to Jack. "Helped yourself to the books again?"

"I was filled with ennui again, so yes, I did."

Elizabeth stared at Jack.

"Means bored, Swann."

"I know what it means," she laughed, her eyebrows drawn together as she studied the pirate turned scholar. Of course, she mused, Jack always had quite the extensive vocabulary.

"How can you rest when you have access to all this?" Jacks arms spanned out, referencing her personal library. "It makes me want to go everywhere, see everything—even more than I did. I didn't think that was possible," Jack said, his lips turned up in a closed-mouth smile with his face resting in his palms.

Elizabeth nearly assured him that once all was righted he could get the Pearl again and be on his way. The nearly uttered statement caused an emptiness that was twofold: for one, Jack was meant to trade places with Will, sacrificing his life of freedom and, two, she would return to a life without Jack.

"You will return to the seas soon enough," she offered instead. "We will borrow a ship and pray the weather and waves stay manageable."

"I'll leave the praying to you, darling."

Elizabeth's eyes drew away from Jack to the open books surrounding him. Several were opened to pages with maps and a few bearing stanzas and one on—"Gardening?" She picked up the book, opened to an image of a rose garden.

"I liked the pictures," Jack mumbled defensively, grabbing the book back and holding it protectively close to his chest.

"Well, are you quite finished dreaming of garden parties? I was hoping you would help me with dinner."

"I'm not sure I can keep up with all this helping in the kitchen, dearie, that's the work of a wo…" Jack trailed off at Elizabeth's narrowed eyes. "W—illing—willing helper, which that I am."

Jack stacked up the books and returned them to the shelves as Elizabeth cleaned and set out the ingredients. Elizabeth swore she heard a few rips of pages from the kitchen and shut her eyes but lightened when she realized this would no longer be her home. She certainly would not be granted clemency a second time and would have to make a new life, wherever she ended up. A new life, what a wonderful thought.

"Alright, what—"

"Did you wash your hands?"

Jack immediately turned for the bath and Elizabeth couldn't help but smile as she seasoned the chicken in a marinade. A few moments later, Elizabeth's hands slipped and she nearly sliced her finger open along with the lemon when she felt two arms slink around her middle and Jack's mouth close to her ear.

"Alright, what is it we're to be eating tonight?"

Elizabeth's mouth dropped open, still a bit in shock at the feeling of Jack so close, his belt buckle pressing into the ribbon of her apron.

"You are going to start chopping the carrots," Elizabeth said, turning to take in his closeness before pointing a knife at his chest.

"Oi, watch it," Jack murmured, his hands up in faux defense, but the corners of his mouth were turned up in a smug smile.

Elizabeth skillfully turned the knife, handing it to Jack handle-first, then returned to the marinade until she noticed from the corner of her eye Jack's crooked chopping, as if sword fighting the vegetable.

"It's easier," Elizabeth explained, sliding behind Jack much like he had, placing her hands over his, "like this." She held the carrot with one hand and made uniform cut after cut.

"Aye, if you want no flourish, that is," Jack said, still managing to sound superior even as he adopted her method.

After returning to her work, Elizabeth realized Jack got on just fine with cutting apples that morning. Her mouth quirked to the side, bristling slightly at falling into his trap, but her annoyance with herself subsided easily. Elizabeth thanked Jack once he was finished then scooped up the carrots to add to the pot of ingredients. She then reached into her basket, pulling out bread, cutting and buttering two slices. She plated the bread, followed by—

"Wine? Just need less sunlight and less clothing and this is shaping up to be quite an evening of romance." Jack spoke the last word in a French accent, narrowing his eyes and flashing the gold of his teeth in a manner Elizabeth was sure intended seduction.

"Normally I would say we should keep our wits about us but we drink for times lost and times to come. To finding the pendant. To Will."

Jack took the glass of wine and plate from Elizabeth, clinking his glass to hers. "To Will," he agreed, his eyes focusing on the rippling red wine for a moment before downing the entire glass.

Elizabeth suggested they dine outside, in the back, to remain unspotted. Regardless, the sun would set soon. Elizabeth laid down the blanket she normally took to the beach for her and the heart of her husband. Jack sat cross-legged, his empty wine glass balanced on his plate with the bread and the bottle in his other hand. Jack didn't offer his hand to help her sit ore ask to say grace, he just poured himself another glass of wine and started on his bread. This comforted Elizabeth. There was something about the properness of high society that was cold and unwelcoming. She would never go back. Could never.

Elizabeth sat with her legs in front of her, peeking out of her dress, not worried her ankles and calves were showing. She sipped her wine, watching the sun set as Jack worked on his second glass.

"Soon we'll be out, the wind on our faces and sea salt in our hair and those sunsets—those sunsets—looking close enough to paint with our fingertips. Close to brilliantly blue skies that fade to lavender and, all the while, orange sun bleeding into the clouds, highlighting the best parts... You remember the closeness of those sunsets, Swann?"

"Yes." Elizabeth smiled softly. "I dream of the feeling. I think I always did." Her eyebrows drew together, realizing she ached for the feeling of being at sea as a child although she had yet to experience it. "After entire evenings of playing pirate."

Jack whistled a bit of the song Elizabeth taught him on that spit of land years ago.

"And now, a Pirate King. To you, Lizzie."

"And to you, Captain."

They toasted again.

After the meal was prepared and the two had their fill, Elizabeth found herself knee-deep in conversation and raucous laughter with Jack. She nearly forgot how it was in high spirits with him, how he could draw any person in easy and rushed, like quicksand.

"I kid you not, love." Jack laughed hysterically, high and unexpected before gathering himself. Jack crossed his arms across his chest before clearing his throat and setting his voice low. "And a goat never crossed me since."

"You're ridiculous," Elizabeth laughed deep from her stomach, clutching her sides, her eyes shut tight. "Oh, I just might faint."

"Now don't go doing that or I'll have to rescue you."

Elizabeth feigned falling back but actually lost her balance and fell into Jack's lap, prompting another giggling fit which only heightened when Jack tickled her sides.

"Jack," she gasped out before clutching his hands tight at her waist to still him. Finally coming down, once settled, Elizabeth hummed quietly to fill the empty air. She looked up at him then her hands rested on the sides of his face on their own accord. "Mm, smooth," Elizabeth whispered, smiling up at Jack.

"You are positively drunk, Swann," Jack mumbled, his hands still resting at her sides. Elizabeth closed her eyes, feeling the cool evening breeze on her legs and her neck. She breathed in, imagining that Jack allowed his hands to wander, to pull her up into an embrace, a kiss—anything.

Suddenly, Elizabeth rolled onto her side, her hand fumbling in the basket. She felt underneath the cloth, sighing when she felt the jar containing Will's heart resting there.

"Looking for something?"

Elizabeth slipped her hand out from under the muslin and, instead, gripped the mask she bought—made of cream-colored lace. She sat on her knees as she tied the mask on, fashioning a bow in the back, then mimed a fan.

"How does it look?"

"Beautiful," Jack answered, not allowing one beat of time to pass before his answer.

Elizabeth didn't expect the comment or for it to make her feel flush. She was sure it was the wine. She tried to think of some way to counter him, to steer the conversation back into laughter, but she came up short. Jack cleared his throat.

"Actually, could use something."

There. Something familiar she could work with. Elizabeth was preparing a haughty response, but instead, she breathed in deep through her nose as Jack's hands met her hair. She leaned into the touch, her eyes dancing, trying to watching his hands craft a braid. However, facing him, she had no other choice than to watch his brown eyes, deeply focused on his work. Sensing this could go on and sensing her face becoming hot again, Elizabeth turned and sat before him, her elbows propped up on his knees.

"Jack?" she asked the night air, trying to find constellations in the stars and failing as she couldn't focus on anything but the soothing feeling of his hands in her hair. Elizabeth wondered if when she was a child, looking up at the sky dreaming of becoming a pirate, if Jack had dreamt of something too in the very same moment and what that something was.

"Yes."

"Where do you imagine you would be right now if you hadn't met me? Or Will?" she added. "What would you be doing?"

"Oh, don't even want to entertain the idea, love," Jack answered. "I'll let you in on a secret." He leaned in close to her ear. "As great as it's been sharing stories tonight, truth be told, my best ones always have you in it."

"Really?"

Jack untied Elizabeth's mask and reached across her to return it to the basket.

"Always."

Elizabeth turned, her hands resting on the grass on either side of Jack. She felt her face turn hot again and noticed Jack staring at her mouth. She parted her lips to say something, anything, but words escaped her. Jack's hand found her hair again, playing with a braid then smoothing against her cheek and, finally, a finger tucked underneath her chin.

"Elizabeth, I, um…"

"Yes."

"I'm always going to be… ah…"

Elizabeth couldn't bear the weight of the moment and, remembering Jack's words from the orchard, interjected—

"A 'stupid pirate,'" she whispered playfully. Elizabeth made sure Jack saw her drunken smile, made sure he knew she was as dedicated to making him feel alive again as much as she was to making Will feel alive again—and herself for that matter.

Nestled snug against Jack's shoulder, Elizabeth hid her face in his side. She was scared of the moment they shared yet still turned to him for comfort from the very fear he caused. Elizabeth focused on her breathing, but it wasn't enough to pull her into the escape of sleep. Jack leaned them both back onto the blanket, staring at the stars as Elizabeth scooted in closer. Her hand fluttered across his chest momentarily, then, once finding a steady beat, Elizabeth fanned out her fingers, her palm fully resting against Jack's heart. The rhythmic beating of a heart. Familiarity. She smiled, sure sleep would take her now. Right before Elizabeth relented to a deep sleep brought upon by the drink, she felt Jack's arm loop around her own. Jack gently gripped her wrist, the grip loose and unsure, perhaps about to pull her hand away. It was probably a dream, but Elizabeth swore she felt Jack's hand meld with hers, threading their fingers together. Sighing, at peace for the first time in ages, Elizabeth recalled a distant memory of sailing through a sky full of stars.