Chapter 5

Shipwreck Cove, six years earlier...

He never called her Elizabeth after she joined his crew. When she asked one day, he told the reason: Elizabeth Swann had been a spoiled governor's daughter, someone whom she'd left in Port Royal at the age of twenty. She rather agreed, and didn't mind the names he did call her. He had a dozen names for her, one for every mood he said.

On deck, when he was Captain Sparrow, she was Swann, a shipmate who could and would take commands like any other on the boat. She swabbed and tied ropes with the best of them, though she was rarely allowed to take the helm – and never allowed to cook, as she had proved dismally bad at both on early tries.

At night, alone in his cabin they would be tangled up in one another, legs wrapped around legs and waists, fingers in hair, he inside her and she touching everything that was him, and he would whisper "Beth" in her ear, reverent at times and commanding in others.

It was the quiet times she loved best though, when he stood with her on deck and taught her the stars, or pulled her close at his desk to show her how to read and later write maps. "Bess," he would call to her, and she would slide into his arms, leaning against the perfect of his chest that seemed designed to fit only her. She loved those moments, the sound of his voice as he caressed her name, the one she'd not allowed anyone to call her since her mother died.

Of course they fought however, always with as much passion as they loved. When she was angry, he called her Lizzie, always in his soothing, rational voice. When he was angry she was Mrs. Turner, and his voice was as coldly bitter as it had been when he spoke to Hector Barbossa.

She did not appreciate the references to the life she had abandoned, which was of course why he brought it up.

"Why are you here then?" Jack spread his arms out, looking around their room. "You're free to go. Personally I've never asked you to bind yourself into misery for me."

"He just asked me to be loyal Jack!" Elizabeth's voice was rough with anger. "And regardless of what he is or isn't now, the fact remains that he was my best friend for the better part of a decade, and that's a bond not easily disregarded. And that's completely ignoring that he is my husband, because I think we can both accept that as a moot point by now -"

"Well allow me to un-moot the point dear lady," Jack interrupted her, none of his bluster of flourish present. "Return to your little island if you wish, or stay here in the cove. I will be on my ship."

"Jack you are being unreasonable!" Elizabeth shoved his shoulder roughly. "Please stop and listen, I'm not leaving you nor returning to wait on Will. But I have to settle somewhere, eventually. I'm not a lifelong pirate like you are, even if I'm not there all the time I have to have somewhere – could you just listen?"

"Is this you earning forgiveness then?" He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. Her eyes went wide and she reeled as if he'd slapped her. "Lizzie -" any other moment and she would have been amused at how quickly his tone changed from furious to repentant.

She turned and walked out the door. He didn't follow her.

She wasn't sure where exactly she was headed, but the moment she arrived she knew it.

Captain Teague looked up from his guitar and pulled the chair beside him a little closer. "Down love," he clucked, and she wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or the cat that jumped off the seat a moment later. Regardless, she found herself in the chair, staring at her, more or less, father-in-law.

"I don't know what to do with him these days," she said quietly. "I feel like all we do is fight."

"He feels trapped ducks," the old sailor replied, plucking idly at a guitar string. "You're changing and he feels it, doesn't know what to do."

Elizabeth closed her eyes, fighting the tears she felt welling up inside. She had to be stronger than this – she was stronger than this. Despite her best efforts however, the tears began to escape the small corners of her eyes, and she knew they would be drawing tracks in the dirt that always covered her face.

'He hasn't called me Beth in weeks,' she thought, and it was only when Teague replied that she realized she'd spoken aloud.

"And you don't know the whys and wherefores? You're confusing him lass," he took a long look at her. "You've not told him yet I take it?"

She looked down at her waist and chewed her lip. "Is it so obvious?"

"To a trained eye. To anyone not lookin', you just look like you're gaining a bit 'round the middle."

Elizabeth looked as if she found that rather insulting. "I have not -!" she cut herself off with a frown. "I'm afraid," she admitted after a long pause. "You told me before, the sea is no place for a child and – and I have to go get Liam soon, I can't leave him in England indefinitely. It's been just a year but it feels so much longer." She rubbed her eyes, ready to deny to her dying breath that she was crying. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her cheek against them. "Will you tell me a story, Captain Teague?"

Suddenly there was a hand gently rubbing her back. "Aye lass, I will," he took a deep breath. "Once upon a time, there was an ungrateful fool from Ireland. He never seemed to know what he wanted in life, and couldn't hold onto a thing once he decided on it..."

"This story sounds familiar," she half-whispered, turning her face to look at the elderly captain.

Teague smirked a little to himself, but nodded. "Aye, that it does love, just a bit of a change in cast. One day, this boy you see, he happened upon a heavy-bellied ship crossing to France...and our little pirate couldn't help himself. The ship surrendered, and he caught the greatest treasure of all...a beautiful woman who craved adventure. For ten years she was his greatest companion, his wife and lady-love...she gave birth to three sons aboard his ship, two of them joining Davy Jones' locker within their first year. Well after she lost the second one she were different, tired and lonely in the eyes. She took to dotin' on the boy they'd got left, and spoiled him something awful. She told him about her people, who were touched by the gods if they could but learn to harness it. When her son grew up and left, she left too, leaving her foolish man alone with naught but the sea and his memories for company." He smoothed his hand over her back, feeling some of the tension leave her. He let out a soft, low chuckle, and continued. "Even after seeing the fine example his father had set before him, that fool's son got it in his head that he was special, nigh immortal. He held nothing closer to his heart than the sea, too much like his da, he risked things, never stopped to think about what he was doing past living the next day."

"And so he lived through a lot of things that had killed a lot better men than he," Jack's voice made her jump. He had appeared in the doorway sometime during Teague's story – and she knew somehow that the old captain had known from the moment his son approached. Sometimes they were so alike it frightened her.

Captain Teague removed his hat as he stood, and bowed low to her. "King Swann, goodnight." He winked at her and she smiled weakly back. With that, he turned and left – as always, acknowledging his son with barely a nod. It amazed her how he could speak so warmly of his family when in private, but the moment Jack appeared it was all coldness...

She watched Jack warily as he approached her. He leaned down toward her and she felt his breath on her neck.

"I'm sorry love," he whispered in her ear. He let his hands knead the back of her neck, his thumbs pressing into the single pressure point he knew always made her moan her approval. He kissed her shoulder softly. "We will find a way, somethin' to make it work darlin'."

"I want to get Liam," she confessed in a broken whisper. "I miss him so much Jack."

He pulled her to her feet and into his arms. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and held her tightly. "Lizzie Swann will have her cake and eat it too," he promised, rubbing her back through the soft cotton of her blouse as she . He dropped his chin to rest on her head as she snuggled into his arms. "We'll find a way love."

Elizabeth nodded, still fighting back the tears she didn't want him to see. In her mind's eye she suddenly saw the shackles she had once upon a time used to chain him to a condemned ship, and felt her heart constrict.

The shackles she was using to bind him now were an invisible sort, but somehow she felt that they were all the more damning.

She heard him whisper 'Beth' in her ear as the entered the cabin, and allowed herself to forget their problems for a little while.

Aboard the Black Pearl, present...

The little girl spoke now. He had broken her silence through cruelty, thoughtless and unintentional though it may have been. He honestly hadn't intended to cause her any pain, though he would hear echoes of her sobs in his ears for days after.

When it happened she was curled up on his bed, just waking from a nap. She had panicked, looking around the room with more energy than he had seen on her in all the days she'd spent with him. She met his eyes, hers round with fright – for a moment he marveled at how tiny she seemed, her stature made her seem even younger than the five years she held to her name.

He stood up and crossed the room, reaching for her automatically. "What's wrong Peg?" She climbed into his arms – with the most enthusiasm he'd seen from her yet. She clutched at him, beginning to sob. "Bad dream love? Oh come now, no pirate lass will cry over a bad dream..." he pushed her hair behind her ear and lower his voice to a near-whisper. "You can tell ol' Captain Jack, I won't let on."

She sobbed for a few more seconds and shook her head, holding out her arm. She gestured to the crook of her elbow and sobbed. "Miurne!" She finally let the name out.

Jack understood suddenly and a pained expression crossed his face. "Oh love, the bunny?" She nodded frantically. "I just had Cotton wash it darling," he explained gently, drying her tears with his thumb. "You got it close to some bad cargo, didn't want it getting lice on you. It'll dry soon and you'll have it back."

She let out a low keening sound and pressed her face against Jack's neck. "Miurne!" she repeated, her sobs raising in volume as she hugged him tightly. "Momma!" That cry tore at his heart, and she clutched at his shirt. She began to wail, a long wordless cry of fear and misery that brought Gibbs to his door in fright. Jack glared at him with enough fierceness in his eyes that the old sailor crossed himself and left the room post-haste.

"There lass...let it out," he rocked her gently, stroking her hair. "We'll take care of it...your Da won't let you down, we'll have her back." He wasn't sure when it had entered his mind to keep Elizabeth Swann-Turner with him once he found her, but he knew at that moment that he wasn't letting either of them go again. This...this was his family.

She slowly calmed, and allowed herself to be put back on the bed. She had tired herself out again, in just a few minutes, and was soon asleep again.

Jack sat at his chair and watched her, his eyes alert for any signs of further distress. He hated this feeling – he was terrified of that little creature and the power she held. He'd sworn years ago that no one would ever hold such a sway over him again – not since...

His eyes were drawn to the little drawer on his desk. There was a false bottom in it, and it held a single note with nine words in an elegant script. He didn't have to look at it, he had memorized it a long time ago...still he went to the desk and removed the sliding back panel. He couldn't see it in the dark, but nonetheless he stared at the wrinkled, half-ripped page and felt a pang he thought he'd pushed out of his heart many moons ago. He didn't need the light to see the sloping hand of his former lover, even without he felt the old pain of it – the shock, amazement, confusion! How had this happened, his bonny lass gone with nothing but a note? He couldn't understand – so he'd pushed it away, pretended to the best of his extensive abilities that no such person as Elizabeth Swann-Turner had ever existed. And still he kept the note...for nights when the ocean was a cold lover, and found himself alone with more bottles of rum than he could be expected to drink – but would regardless.

He hated himself for a fool, but he found himself praying to every god his heathen mother had taught him, that he could just find his Bess, even if only long enough for her to break his heart one more time. He didn't know why she'd left, but he couldn't survive knowing that she had gone to a place he couldn't follow – that someday he might look to his compass and find it pointing to something other than his Bess.

But oh how he wanted to hate her. To damn her and curse her name, to call her a harpy and heartless shrew.

Her cold words stared up at him, though he could scarcely make them out. The mocked him and his misery.

'Jack,

I'm sorry. Don't look for me.

Yours, Bess – this had been scratched out

Elizabeth Turner'