The crew was having a rowdy reunion below deck, which caused Elizabeth to stir from her slumber. Since she was a woman, they had allowed the privacy of the chef's quarters. She was thankful for that since she had no night clothes to speak off. She shuffled on Will's old shirt and Ragetti's borrowed trousers, making a note to purchase clothing once they'd come ashore.
As she padded across the wooden planks in her bare feet, opening a door to the ruckus. Even if these pirates were among the annoying and absurd dredges of society, she felt a strange happiness being back in their presence. It was nice not to be alone.
As soon as Elizabeth entered, Jack shouted, "Hide all the rum!" as he clutched the bottle close to his chest.
"Easy, Jack," she smiled coyly, "we're not stranded now, are we?"
"I suppose not," he cautiously placed the drink back on the sturdy, wooden table, "but when it comes to you and rum- nothing good can come of it."
"Was she an awful drunk?" Pintel snickered.
"The worst kind," Jack gave a nod. "She didn't have a drop."
The pirates gasped in unison.
"Miss Elizabeth, ye never been drunk before?" Joshamee Gibbs squinted.
"I-" she bristled at Jack's knowing smile, "I have! I'm just able to handle my liquor better than some people at this table."
The pirates murmured as they glanced to Jack. The captain had personally took it as a challenge. He relished in any opportunity to see the prideful Elizabeth squirm. What was it about the prim and pretty that made him lust for their undoing? This girl. She was the impetus for all this. How nice it would be to see her fall; to see her lower than he had ever felt those empty nights with nothing but his fist. Lower than the depths of Davy Jones' Locker. Dark place, mate. Then again, she'd had empty nights stretching far longer, with no distractions in between. She needed to unwind. He grasped a chalice, filling it a sizable amount. "There," he slammed it down. "You finish that before I finish this bottle, and I'll call you the bloody Queen of England."
Elizabeth grasped the glass. "I like 'Queen of the Sea' better," she grinned, "more far-reaching."
The pirates began banging on the table in encouragement, "Drink! Drink! Drink!"
"Cheers," Jack toasted before tipping the bottle up.
Elizabeth swiftly began to swallow, halting to breathe after the burning in her throat and the roof of her mouth. Civilized wine was nothing like this. What a strange and acidic taste…
"Drink, 'Lizabeth!" Ragetti prodded, "Or I'll lose my wager!"
She gave him a smile before looking back at Jack's calm dark eyes as he swallowed. There was something amazing about his dedication to the drink. Amazing, yet terribly sad. Whatever the case, she would not lose. She held her nose and downed the rest of the glass in one gulp.
"Hurrah!" the crowd cheered.
"It be a tie," Mr. Gibbs observed.
Elizabeth slammed her glass back on the table. "Best two out of three."
"Lizzie, are you trying to get me drunk?" Jack pressed a hand to his chest.
"You forget- I've gotten you drunk. It's quite easy, really."
"Oh, come now."
"I, on the other hand, have not succumb to your tricks," she smiled.
"I'm bound to succeed one of these days," he raised another glass to his lips.
"Well, Queen of the Sea, I think nap time is in order," Jack observed one drunkard passed out at the table, others returned to their hammocks.
"'M not tired," Elizabeth slurred as she lounged her upper body on the table. At this moment Jack was far more sober than she. He could see now what a drunk Lizzie truly looked like. She was completely uncomposed, hair a mess, cheeks flushed with color, and this ever-present smile graced her lips. Her glazed eyes looked at him almost …admiringly. It set a funny feeling in his stomach that he'd hoped never to feel again. No. Perhaps it was just the gash Blackbeard had left.
"Come along now, time for bed."
"Carry me!" she laid back on the bench, her waiting hands in the air.
Had there been any doubt, Lizzie was now drunk for certain. "I don't think you would like that."
"Fine," she pouted, "I'll sleep here."
Jack looked to the pirates' quarters, "No you won't, lass. Come on. Get up. Use yer feet."
She stood stubbornly, tumbling into Jack's arms. The two stared at each other before Elizabeth cradled herself against his throat, "I can't, Jack. Carry me."
Dear Lord in heaven, he'd dreamt of the feeling of her in his arms begging against his throat. Had it been any other woman, he would have spread her wide over the wooden table. Sleeping pirate be damned. Why should it mean any different that it were Elizabeth? Was it because she was married? No. That had never bothered him before, even if he'd known the beau... What was it Lizzie, what was it? He swept her limp form up, as if the only thing he could do was oblige. After all this time, after she'd clasped him to the mast and sent him straight to hell, the only thing he could do was please her. This was not who he was. This was not Captain Jack Sparrow. Whoever this man was, he hated himself for it.
"…strong," she mumbled against the part of his chest she'd bared with her weight.
It wouldn't do to listen to drunk Lizzie. It wouldn't do to think of her ever again. As he'd told her, nothing good can come of it.
"Here we are," Jack kicked open the swinging door and placed her on her waiting bunk. The full moon shining through the porthole was enough to see by. Being in the chef's quarters, he'd noticed a pitcher of water nearby. Jack took a moment to pour each of them a large glass. He turned to her, "You ought to drink-"
He couldn't think, for once in his life he was alack for words, as Elizabeth tossed her worn clothes on the floor beside the bed. She was more magnificent than his dreams, more so than any woman he'd set eyes on in his long and loathsome life. Her wavy locks just nearly covered her pert breasts, the soft curves of her woman's body leading to a sparse triangle of curls and the perfect legs which she used to walk to him. "Thank you," she mumbled as she grasped the chalice and stumbled once more. As he caught her then, feeling the warm and supple flesh bend betwixt his fingers. "Elizabeth…" he breathed.
"Jack?" she looked up at him as her ever-present smile shifted. "I think I'm going to be sick…"