Restlessness ran in the air, rustling through the distant pirates' fleet like an ominous rumor followed by a held breath, and Elizabeth's heart roared within her. While not all of what they'd done had been anticipated or made complete sense, pushing along Jack and Will's unspoken plan had cast their dice, and their numbers were... well, maybe not wholly promising but certainly not committed to calamity either. She wasn't sure she could even call it "hope" that was lifting her chin, straightening her back, settling her step into a steady, determined rhythm with Will's. The moment was too full of potential for too many firsts and lasts, too contingent on Jack's success, to settle on only "hope." No, this... this was something else entirely, though no less invigorating.
What was it again Will had said about fighting for lost causes?
The sand became sodden as she, Will and Barbossa reached their longboat and cooperatively pushed it into the shallows. Once the boat was deep enough to totter in the tides, Barbossa and Will positioned themselves near its oars in preparation for a final push, and Will silently extended an open hand for Elizabeth's taking. Her eyes flitted to his instinctively, and the warm admiration alight in his features swept her back to years before, to another meeting in the life-or-death moments of a moonlit cavern...
Setting her jaw, she turned from Will towards Barbossa, marching to the older man's side of the boat. "I'll row this time."
Though the veteran pirate cocked a single eyebrow and subtly rolled his eyes, he began to maneuver himself to the bow of the boat without protest, and Will dropped his outstretched hand back on the vessel to steady it with both hands.
Elizabeth mirrored Will's actions directly across the boat from him. Then, capturing his attention with a pointed look, she gave a level command, "We row together."
She caught a whisper of a smile across Will's lips as he bowed his head in response. "Aye, ma'am."
Once Barbossa was boarded, Will raised his eyebrows and chin in Elizabeth's direction as an indicator: her turn to climb in. In a fluid series of steps, she climbed into the boat, settled in her seat, and propped her oar against the seabed to help minimize the boat's rocking as Will also climbed in, kicking the longboat off in a single, practiced motion as he went. With the longboat restored to a calmer sway and Will taking in his own seat beside Elizabeth, the pair positioned their oars with their backs to Barbossa. Taking a moment's glance to confirm each other's readiness, they stroked in synchronized, opposite directions, turning the boat about. Satisfied with their repositioning, Will changed his stroke and the two began to row quietly in time.
The party cut across the waters without speaking for several minutes-the lapping of the water, straining of wood, and snatches of distant seabirds and voices riding the wind all filled their company as they journeyed back to the Pearl. Eventually, Will's elbow brushed Elizabeth's on a single stroke, drawing their gazes together. She saw that look in his eyes again, warm and familiar if almost-forgotten, and his lips curved with a single gentle laugh in apology. In spite of the setting, a flare lit up inside her.
She turned back to face the water, drawing on her oar with a swift pull and breaking the silence at long last: "You're in a surprisingly good mood."
Will waited for the next stroke to reply, "Just feeling more clarity than I have in a long time, I suppose."
Clarity-was that the feeling? Maybe...
Her eyes fell upon the distant shape of Beckett's boat, rowing towards the British fleet with Jack taken as his prisoner. "We could die today."
Elizabeth felt Will shrug beside her more than she saw it. "What else is new?"
A small, somewhat sardonic laugh puffed from her chest at that. True enough: they'd already faced undead skeletons, the noose, a sea monster, and even the afterlife together. At their rate, a pirate war against the might of the British Empire was practically an inevitable addition to that record.
A little cough from Will clearing his throat cut into her thoughts.
"I like your..." he stammered, before trailing off in search for the right word and flashing a quick one-handed gesture at the length of her body to indicate he was talking about Elizabeth's new armored apparel.
She offered a small smile in return-clearly she wasn't the only one reaching for the familiarity of their past. "I have no intention of being mistaken for a defenseless damsel any longer."
"I'm glad to see it," he readily responded, and then paused as if considering his next words. Sure enough, when he continued he spoke more softly, almost with caution, "And... I'm glad you're alright."
The implications of his concern hung in the air. She knew that worry for her had likely weighed on him in her absence, and if she were honest with herself, his worry would not have been entirely unfounded. But there was an assurance in his voice alongside the hint of relief, and she knew what he was trying to say was that he hadn't doubted her strength or tenacity. Somehow, after everything they'd done with and to each other in the past year, he still had faith in her. The thought brought a knot to her throat, and she had to take a moment to swallow it away.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm glad you are too."
She heard him let out a heavy breath, maybe a sigh, and noticed Will's next draw on his oar was longer and more relaxed-she adjusted her stroke accordingly.
"You made it on and off the Dutchman?" he spoke so lightly it almost felt misplaced.
Initially, Elizabeth suppressed a laugh-he was being remarkably conversational, and she had to wonder what it was about the moments where he was looking into the face death that ironically seemed to bring Will to life. Call it courage, call it foolishness; scored in her mind was the image of him at Jack's hanging years ago, burning with a decided fire in his face as he greeted and farewelled her with a profession of his love, then dove headfirst into a death sentence. It hadn't been the only time he'd looked at her that way... Her eyes drifted once more to the speck of Beckett's longboat, now nearly at its destination. While he did it in his own way, Will wasn't the only man she knew to stand at death's door with courage. The lightness of his question was dampened by fresher, harsher memories from her short independent adventure: memories of a broken mind chasing the equivalent of its own tail to survive, and a sacrifice that she bitterly believed never should have been made.
The knot was back in her throat, and she dug her fingers into her oar. Their fathers... James... How many more losses would she have to bear before her world's end... ?
She jolted a little as she realized she was ruminating and hadn't answered Will's question: he'd noticed she'd been on the Dutchman and had made an escape.
"With help, yes," she answered, in a measured attempt to keep her tone light.
While she could feel Will's eyes on her and sense his curiosity, he didn't press her. Instead, he rowed with Elizabeth past the halfway point to the Pearl without a word, and she found herself remembering the pleasant feeling of the comfort and ease with which they had once opened their souls to each other-what it had been like to share each other's burdens instead of keeping them as secrets in the dark. Somehow it felt a lifetime ago when she'd last really confided in him or he'd allowed himself to lean on her. And yet, here they were, rowing into battle with his eyes shining and her heart roaring... Here they were.
She took a long and deep stroke with her oar, and Will matched it, finally returning his gaze to the greying sea.
"When we have more time," Elizabeth offered tentatively, "I would like to speak to you properly about what happened. There's been a lot on my mind, and I could use a listening ear."
He turned to study her again, and she found herself holding her breath. Another deep stroke together cut their boat across the choppy waters, and the shudder of the wind caressed Elizabeth's face before carrying Will's soft reply to her ears like a prayer, "Nothing would please me more."
Why'd he have to speak to her like that now? There was so much to be said between them about things that had been kept buried for months-about regrets and sorrows and fears and the aches of a longing that had never really left, feelings all tearing at her insides while driving the two of them apart then suddenly pulling them back together again. He was so close-closer than he'd been in months, in some ways. But there just was no time for them, no space. Here they were, steadily approaching what would likely be their final destination, with a sea of guns bearing down on them. And as much she wished the world could stop for them for just one day, the world was so much bigger than just her and him.
Elizabeth sensed a hesitation from Will before he finally opened his mouth, daring to ask what had undoubtedly been on the tip of his tongue the entire time: "How was my father?"
She knew he would ask, and yet her breath still caught.
"He knew you, he knew me," she began. Another pull at the oars. Two. Will's eyes were on her, waiting, piercing. Was there a gentle way to say it? "... I'm afraid he may know little else anymore."
Will's gaze dropped, and a heavy silence fell over them with another stroke or three. For a moment in her mind, Elizabeth could see again the grey-blue eyes of Will's father, flickering in a cycle between confusion and agony and hope. But in the next instant, the blue eyes she envisioned had hazeled, and the confusion in them had given way to a familiar pain and pride that had suddenly slipped into a darkness beyond her reach. That damned knot in her throat tightened even more.
"If it were my father, Will, the things I would do..."
"I know." His voice had grown husky and quiet, and he paused noticeably to clear it. "Thank you for understanding."
The stinging of tears began to prick Elizabeth's eyes. "I wish I had sooner."
She thought she heard him let out a small laugh. "There's a lot of things I think we both wish we understood sooner..."
'God, yes.' The past year had been hell-how much worse had it been all because of avoidable 'misunderstandings?' Why did it have to be that way? They had had troubles in Port Royal-maybe not on the scale of deadly betrayals and curses, but troubles all the same. They'd faced disapproval, social rejection, financial upheaval, and legal hurdles. They had made mistakes with one another, offended, argued. Their year of courtship hadn't been simple or easy. But in the end, all she could remember of those days was the anticipation and joy of their companionship: the whispers, the duels, the walks, the dances, the touches, the laughter, the escapes into the starlight and getting lost in his eyes... He had trusted her with his whole heart back then, and she him. Any secrets they'd had were the ones they'd shared or meant for a pleasant surprise. And even in their disagreements there had been no shame-only remorse and forgiveness.
How had they lost it all so quickly?
Elizabeth turned to look at Will beside her, taking in the sooty creases crossing his brow and the way the sea breeze teased the escaped tendrils of his hair. With his black coat and heavy boots, she couldn't help but wonder at how very different he looked from the polite boy with the sweet smile that she had first blushed at in the marketplace. But he noticed her watching, turning to greet her scrutiny with a questioning look followed by that sweet smile, and through the softness in his eyes she realized not everything about him had been changed by the hardness of the world-the compassionate man she had once yearned to marry may have wandered a little, but he was far from lost.
She felt so foolish. Why had she been so afraid of facing herself, facing him, before she'd rectified her mistake? What good had it been swearing to have faith in him, but forgetting to have faith herself-or his faith in her? And how different would the past year have been had they kept their secrets together instead of apart? They'd been a team once, fighting like fools for all their hearts' desires, together. There was a point in her life where being with Will had been the greatest desire of her heart. And maybe she had new desires and ambitions for herself, maybe she was a fool, but inside the desire for him had never left.
She turned her eyes over the armadas of ships around them, at the men racing about the Pearl in preparation for their approach. She thought again of the helplessness she'd felt as her father had slipped away from her into the unknown...
'If there is but one fool left to fight...'
Her heart roared louder. If they survived this day, as she was determined to, she refused for this love to become a lost cause.
Elizabeth took Will's gaze into her own once again, her voice now firm with certainty, "Will, there can be no more secrets between us-not now."
Will's eyebrows rose in surprise for an instant before settling into a sober expression of agreement. "No."
Her heart crept into her throat. His eyes were penetrating, and she tore her own away from his anticipation to face the direction of Beckett's ship, where the opposing longboat had finally arrived. No more running. "The truth is that Jack was never a hero. I was selfish and took the choice from him, by sending him to his death to save us all. That is why I went to rescue him."
She sensed Will also turn his head towards Jack, and heard him sigh. "I wish you'd have just told me."
"I'm sorry," she replied as relief swept her. While he'd mostly discovered the truth in the Locker, saying it herself made it feel as though the last of her ugly secret was out-and like before, his disappointment had been far less than she'd managed to imagine. She looked to him again. "Afterwards, and after all you'd done to try to save the crew, I thought you might think less of me… Somehow I felt unworthy of you."
His head snapped in her direction, his expression incredulous. "... How could you think that, after all we've been through?"
"Please," she had to scoff. "You used to say the exact same thing to me, in Port Royal. 'I have to prove I'm worthy of you.'"
He conceded her point with a flash of his eyebrows and a tip of his head. "That's in the past now, I suppose."
Whether or not he meant for it, her mind briefly recalled his secret mutiny aboard the Pearl-and the shock she had felt at his callousness. "It is."
A gentle bump from his shoulder broke her away from falling deeper into that reverie, as he leaned into her and his breath brushed her ear conspiratorially. "You want to know what I actually think?"
"What?" she breathed, his suddenly playful proximity affecting her with an unexpected infectiousness.
"The scoundrel deserved it."
A quiet laugh escaped her before she could stop it. She had been so hurt and angry with Jack for his betrayal of Will, for his lies, for rowing away while the rest of them fought for their lives. He might have deserved it at one point... But in the end, he had returned on his own-and she had once claimed to have believed in him doing the right thing. "Maybe. A good slap might have sufficed."
They drew their oars back, and the motion of the waves temporarily bumped Will's face against Elizabeth's ear-she felt him grinning in laughter.
Then she heard him sigh, and his voice returned to a firm seriousness. "No secrets." She could sense him steeling himself, and resisted the urge to look in him the eyes-he'd given her space, she would give him his. He continued, "I set out to save Jack for you. But I thought that once we'd rescued Jack, you would finally have what you really wanted-so it wasn't long after that I planned the mutiny of the Pearl for my father... and I supposed so I could have one last thing for myself."
Hearing Will say it himself brought the rawness of his betrayal surging back, the anger. She didn't fight it. "What you said and did hurt, Will."
"I know," he responded earnestly, drawing back from her ear and the pretense of secrecy. "I'm truly sorry-hurting you was never what I'd meant or wanted."
No, no, no. Now the knot was back in her throat, and now was not the time. They were maybe fifteen strokes away from the Pearl's hull, and Barbossa was already barking orders to the crew. They needed more time-why had they wasted so much time?
Will continued in a low voice, "I'd been afraid you were falling in love with him, and the possibility of losing you made me feel as though I was drowning… I grabbed onto the one certainty I had left. By the time I knew the truth, it was too late to turn back."
Elizabeth finally turned and pierced her partner with a pained look, gasping, "And how could you think that, after all we've been through?"
His face contorted for a moment in pain of his own. "All I saw was your kiss and your despair, Elizabeth. What else could I believe?"
The incredulous feeling fell away as her stomach dropped. She hadn't realized Will had seen any part of what she had done-she had always assumed his sudden withdrawal was due to him reading past her lie about Jack making his own choice, due to a disgust for her treachery. Now everything made so much more sense-his confusing mix of bitterness and sympathy... God, why had she been so stupid? Why had he been so stupid?
"You could have asked," she blurted out.
Confusion mixed with the pain in his eyes, and he retorted with a hoarse voice, "Why do you think I was so desperate to speak with you?"
The question hung between them in the air, mingling with the cloud of regret, and Elizabeth cast her eyes down to fixate on her white-knuckled grip on her oar. Yes, Will had read her heart incorrectly, and he had become aloof as a result. But he wasn't the only one to read the other's heart incorrectly-she had misread him as well. And unlike her, he had also come to her more than once seeking answers. She had run away, because she'd feared facing herself through the questions she thought he'd ask. And just like she'd done with Jack, she'd once professed to have faith in him, only for her profession to become a lie at the moment of truth.
Why?
Elizabeth moistened her lips before speaking carefully, "... It seems we've both made many mistakes these past few months."
"Story of my life, to be honest," he sighed as he gave one final long haul at his oar.
"Being honest…" His turn of phrase comforted and irritated her at once. She was glad he was apparently accepting her concession as an apology for them both, but at the same time it called to mind how so much hurt had come from their late dishonesty with one another-how understanding his perspective on his mutiny brought both resolution and a renewed sense of betrayal, together.
"Would you have left me with him?" The question left her lips before she could stop it.
He took longer to respond than she would have hoped, his brow furrowing in contemplation. After a moment, he spoke and his voice was somber, "Not anymore."
Elizabeth felt her heart seize for a moment. "Anymore," he said... meaning at one point that had likely been his exact plan, regardless of whether or not he could have actually gone through with it. She hadn't realized how close they'd come to falling apart completely.
The boat began to sway in the Pearl's wake, and Will withdrew his oar from its rowlock to allow for the longboat's final approach-it was her turn now to close the final gap. The real world was back upon them.
"Well," she sighed, as she carved a slow and elegant J in the water with her oar. We have our battles ahead. Let's try to survive this one first, then afterward... maybe you and I can tackle our own battle, together."
Will turned back to capture her face with his eyes and smiled warmly again, the tension inside of Elizabeth melting away.
"I like that plan," he said, then leaned one arm against the boat's gunwale with a suddenly flirtatious air. "We're overdue for crossing blades again anyway."
She smiled back reflexively in a silent laugh, her cheeks coloring lightly as she recalled the outcome of their last duel in his smithy. "I'm going to hold you to that."
"Good." His smile widened for a moment, and he stared at her openly-eyes darting across the corners of her face, until they settled back into her gaze. Their smiles slipped at the pull rising between them. "I've missed you."
"And I you..."
"And I yer rowing, Yer Highness."
Elizabeth started and turned about in her seat to face the scowl of a decidedly unamused Captain Barbossa. She had managed to forget he was there, that the battle was mere moments away-and apparently had also forgotten to keep paddling, leaving the longboat to drift too early. She flushed and scowled back before dipping her oar into the water again with an outward stroke, bringing the boat within a rope's throw. She could sense Will's amusement beside her as he stood to catch a line, but she chose pointedly to ignore it.
She cleared her throat, and stowed her oar. "So, Mr. Turner: fill me in on how you and Jack have cooked up this gambit-maybe we can actually fill in the blanks with a proper plan if we put our heads back together."
Their secrets were out; the fight for freedom was afoot; the glimmer in Will's eye as he dove back into business reassured Elizabeth that maybe there could be light at the end of this tunnel.
And Elizabeth's heart roared at it all.