(OT: Well, this one has a lightish feel until the end... The marriage thoughts, that is. I hope I did their passion justice. The first part is actually bits of the leaked script, but I added a few more lines and added a little meat. The second part is very simliar to what the script had before the maelstrom, but it really wasn't enough so I kindly elaborated on their reunion.
Now, it is up to you. Do you want me to go one with the maelstrom, cover Will fighting his father, Elizabeth fighting Jones, Will stabbing the heart, Elizabeth being lifted away on the parachute with Jack etc OR do you want me to go straight to the beach scene? I'm very indifferent to either choice, so I figured I would ask what my reviewers would like to see before I take off with the love scene(s). Enjoy! And thanks for any input! )
Lord Cutler Beckett's armada drifted miles away, their ominous colors flapping in the breeze, and their huge vessels formally ordered with the Flying Dutchman and the HMS Dauntless gliding side by side. The crews of the Brethren gazed in utter shock, gradually retracting their glinting weapons and their mouths dropping in awe one by one.
"Surrounded," Barbossa spattered over Jack and Elizabeth, his scraggily graying beard floating in the light breeze.
"Trapped," Jack added without feeling, unable to produce a clever comment.
Elizabeth glanced around the flabbergast crew, unbelieving that none of these pirates had formed an alternative strategy. "Anyone have any ideas?" she asked aloud, her eyes rotating from the two captains to the blank-faced crew. Oh, you must be joking. Not one had a brilliant ploy? Suddenly, Pintel's tubby hand rose into the air. Elizabeth reluctantly arched her eyebrows, knowing that really, all that man was good for was stories. She made a slight gesture with her hand, and his yellow teeth twinkled as he grinned broadly.
"Parlay?" he asked confidently.
"Now there's a thought," Elizabeth muttered, shifting her gaze to Barbossa and Jack who were both grimacing and shaking their heads. Just because they did not come up with the scheme did not mean it would not work, she thought irritably.
Barbossa argued, "They'll never agree to parlay. We've nothing to offer."
Elizabeth contemplated that fact. No gold, no letters... Nothing that you could grip in the palm of you hand, but then again, her stare squared off with Jack Sparrow, and he was smiling. Her eyes dropped to his brown and black buckled leather belt, where his various artifacts dangled, except for the lovely little black and tan compass. Will was no longer of use to the East India Trading Company and was aboard the Endeavor. Jack was aboard the Pearl and had his own decisive ways of creating a scheme in a matter of minutes. Perfect. She stepped toward Jack, about to propose the idea of trading him for Will, when Ragetti chimed into the conversation, careening over the bow of the Black Pearl.
"A signal!" he screeched, pointing fervently to the Endeavor. "They're asking for parlay!"
Sure enough, the Endeavor was hoisting a simple flag into the air, and Mercer's lanky arms were strangly gesturing the proposition. Elizabeth sighed and cast a side-glance to Jack to see his expression reflect her own. Satisfied. Excited. They both wanted this in the most opposite ways possible. He wanted Davy Jones' heart, and Elizabeth wanted Will's. "Then I suppose we'll have to meet," Elizabeth remarked, crossing her arms and tilting her chin upward.
"Great minds think alike, they do!" Pintel added, pleased as he chucked Ragetti in the arm.
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William dotingly offered his hand, and Elizabeth eagerly grasped it as she stepped down from the side of the Black Pearl, her unfastened blonde tresses swirling around her ears as she was pulled into him. She automatically draped both hands across his muscular chest, fingering the curve of his soft black jacket and staring into his eyes. "There can be no secrets between us anymore," she gravely whispered.
"No, there can't," he returned, relishing in her touch. Oh, how good it felt to have her back in his arms. To feel her embrace was so luxuriant. His hands slithered down her slender arms and then gripped her wiry thin waist, his fingers rubbing against the festooned high belt, but his brown doe-eyes never leaving her face.
"I'm sorry, Will," she uttered tenderly, enjoying the way his hands were pulsing even through her thick layers. "I was selfish and stupid this entire time. I understand that your father needs you and that you need him," she inhaled and exhaled, and he didn't speak, knowing she had more to release. Elizabeth had rehearsed this the night before, had made certain to evoke every single tear that evening so that they would not dribble during this discourse. "So don't choose, Will."
"What?" William asked, shaking his head in confusion and fright. Was she saying she didn't want him? He gripped her tautly, and now her delicate face was buried against his coat, and her little figure was quavering. "Elizabeth..." he started gently.
"No, Will." She shoved off of his maroon blouse but stayed in his arms, glancing to his calloused warm hands in comfort. Tears did not bloat or leave deep streaks in her masked cheeks. She held them back, but she inhaled sharply as she uttered, "Don't do this. Don't choose me over your father. I...I... Love you, but this is now between you and your father, not a choice between your father and me." She slipped out of his grasp, but he continued to clasp her hand.
"Elizabeth." It was all he could murmur. He wanted to say more, but droplets of rain began to streak across the deck and then they slammed out every ounce of Calypso's fury, screeching the sirens of the past and forewarning of the impending squall. The young woman was striding toward Barbossa's still figure, and Will sullenly strolled behind Elizabeth as the rain drenched his articles of clothing. He desired to bring her back into his embrace, kiss her parched, pale lips, promise that he would never leave her, and then descend into the perfect world. But he was incapable. If he saved his father, he lost that ability.
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Calypso's vehemence reigned the ocean's whirlpool, swirling the Black Pearl and the Flying Dutchman into near oblivion and suspending increments of time. Crew members slung themselves across the whirling vortex, transferring from one ship to the other repeatedly with mighty screams of hopeful triumph as the exhausting cannons fired and raged war over the stretch of sea. Elizabeth swerved in the blinding torrent, her eyes barely managing to flicker open in time, and her actions stiff from the shivering cold. She thought of nothing else. Only this moment was important. Only this battle and vengeance for her father vibrated in her mind. She lunged and stabbed one person after another, even those soldiers that she once spoke to and teased.
Will was on the opposite side of the vessel, his elegant long black jacket now feeling like one thousand bricks and the pit of his stomach lurching with every demented fish member he sliced open. But now, his blurred choice over the past year was wavering and then clearing as the burden thickened upon him. He had to do something... And he couldn't leave this earth without knowing... Without telling her... His sword was suddenly acting on its own, pouncing on slimy disgusting human beings and avoiding the pitching of the vessel.
"ELIZABETH!" he roared over the storm, groaning as he parried a blow from one of the fish-people and shoving the revolting man off balance and taking one step closer to his beloved. He ducked and grasped the black mast as the man leapt after Will, his sword raking through the air but missing William's head by mere inches.
Elizabeth veered toward his voice; the voice of William Turner. The one she had repeatedly rejected and wanted but couldn't rightfully call her own. Witnessing his struggle as he spun around the crew member, the sopping pair mindlessly slashed their weapons through the slick person's stomach. She panted as she turned away, but now Will was grasping her arm and saying her breathy name and fervently desiring her attention. Now? NOW? In the midst of a maelstrom?
"Elizabeth," he repeated as his hands gripped her moist elbow tautly. They were finally standing still, across from one another, and her slender fingers were gripping his wet elbow as well. "Will you marry me?" he released, every ounce of passion coursing through his veins and sloshing in his pounding head.
What? Ma-marry? Now? Elizabeth wanted to scream at him, her eyes widening and her jaw gaping open. That would be insane. In the middle of a storm, and he asked her that! She suddenly twisted out of his grip, hearing the exultant grunt of another crew member and her personalized sabre dodging another harsh and unfortunate blow. The couple hacked at the manic member that was attacking Elizabeth, and as her sword clashed with another she screeched, "I don't think now's the best time!" Elizabeth swung left and right, stooping and veering and bending as she warded off another blow and severed a man's arm and gritty stomach.
Will was yanked to the side with his own duel, but he was relentless on the tender subject. He couldn't let the opportunity slip away like he had so many times before. He couldn't wait. His heart couldn't wait. "Now may be the only time!" he shouted across the deck, chocolate strands plastering to his face as he deflected a blow from a buttoned-up EITC soldier.
Slash left. Slash right. Up. Down. And through the stomach with a potent rumble as she thrust the perishing man to the floor. She had told him, though. Elizabeth did not want to be chosen like this. Not when his father was still suffering... Still being tortured so mercilessly. She galloped toward the mast again, where she had delivered that fateful kiss to Jack, and William clasped her arm and tugged her close to his damp face. "I love you," he uttered once again, the words so sweet on his tongue and singeing Elizabeth's heart. She was to reject this invitation? Possibly the last one? They weren't getting out of this battle, that much she was nearly certain of. They were separated by fuming soldiers, and Elizabeth and Will thwarted their blows with ease, switching sides and grasping arms once again. "I've made my choice," he expressed right into her face, breathing into her drooping, saturated lips. "What's yours?"
This was it. She did not desire to wait any longer. Keeping his eye contact and knowing she would confuse him greatly, Elizabeth screeched to the captain, "Barbossa!" She watched his face twitch in agitation and mystification. What was she doing? "Marry us!" she bellowed, and Will's expression released as he realized her intent. Yes, yes, that was the way. That was a way! Elizabeth knew the captain would be a bit... Puzzled by the suggestion, but she wasn't intending on marrying herself off.
"I'm a little busy at the moment!" Barbossa countered, slashing his own battle.
Pulling on each other's arms, they veered in opposite directions and continued the battle of Davy Jones' eerie crew and devoted soldiers. Elizabeth couldn't believe she had done that, and Will was absolutely content with the proposal as well. "Barbossa, NOW!" Will shouted, still positioned in front of the mast and gazing through the misty and stinging rain as he attempted to locate the captain's stance. Will poured through the chaotic throng and slinked against Elizabeth's cold, wet back, wrapping one arm around her waist and making her turn her head with a smile so that their noses were almost grazing. Oh, what strange bliss this was!
"Fine then!" With his sword poised, the captain clambered onto the platform with one hand draped over his heart and declared, "Dearly beloved, we be gathered here today..." he trailed off, lunging for Jones' crew and stabbing and kicking a man as he growled, "To nail ye gizzards to the mast, ye proxy cur!"
"What?" Elizabeth barely uttered as the pair separated once again, circling the mast before meeting again, pressing their clammy palms against one another with a giddy smile. So their vows would be done independently. So be it.
"Elizabeth Swann," Will hastily asked. "Do you take me to be your husband?" He wanted nothing more than this. He desired nothing more than knowing she would be bonded to him equally.
"I do!" her voice rose a few pitches as her white teeth glimmered, her feet shuddering on the floor. It was such a jubilant feeling in her bones... Knowing that he was going to be part of her and knowing... Actually not knowing what was going to happen next, whether for better or for worse.
"Great!" Will merrily grinned at their chaotic ceremony, but before any further vows could be announced, Elizabeth's smile strangled and fell, and they were abruptly divided, ducking beneath soldiers' menacing scowls and fish-people's horrid appearance to discover that bond again. As Elizabeth bent slightly at the waist, she offered her hand, and then they were gripping one another's palm and wielding their swords in defense. It was just part of the game, they thought mutually, vibes quivering through the skin contact.
"Will Turner! Do you take me..." she thrust her sword, parried a blow, and then swiveled toward her almost husband, smiling as she finished, "To be your wife?" She arched her hand, and he twirled her in the opposite direction, his expression that of pure glee. They writhed and groaned and grunted as they pierced one man after another. "In sickness and in health!" He was suddenly grasping her slim waist from behind and lifting her almost off her feet as they shielded and stabbed in unison. "With health being less likely?!" She yanked her sabre out of the slippery conk-shelled stomach. It was a difficult reality, but they were both willing to grasp it if they were to spend every awful day together. She slipped out of his taut grip, now taking several steps away and his face becoming increasingly anxious as he shoved and wielded his way through the scattered throng. His arm wrapped around his beloved... His wife. And dipped her slightly. "I do," he replied fervidly, and as raindrops clustered on her eyelashes, she released a little smile. Will and Elizabeth Turner stooped to the ground and rose together without a single glance at the other.
"As captain," Barbossa cried, even though Elizabeth and Will had entirely forgotten about the make-shift priest. What a fine day to marry! "I now pronounce you..." Will lifted Elizabeth, and their lithe figures compressed as their swords stabbed a man on either side, their chests panting in the same motions. "You may kiss..." Barbossa winded to the left and right to thwart blows to his legs as Will swathed Elizabeth with one arm and dipped the woman seductively, their lips almost scraping softly against one another, and their heated breath mingling so deliciously. A soldier hollered, and Will was forced to thrust Elizabeth back to her feet to avoid a fatal blow. "You may kiss!" Barbossa bellowed, leaping down from the platform and losing hope for this ceremony. They were surrounded. Men of all shapes, sizes, and textures were attacking them one after the other. Not a moment. Not a second. And then, their swords were hoisted into the air, believing the opposite to be an enemy, and they just stared at one another for a split second as their weapons rang and clashed. Barbossa gashed one man, swiveled to lacerate another, and then he finally, out of energy and rolling his eyes hollered, "JUST KISS!"
Elizabeth grabbed his arm, Will gripped her slim waist, and their eyes locked as their drenched figures compressed, and their mouths gaped open, their lips grazing and then ravaging magnificently. Their tongues wandered gloriously as they sealed the eccentric marriage, their eyes fluttering closed and forgetting that they were ever apart. The wind and pattering rain whipped against their figures, but their feet were planted, and their hearts pounded in rhythm with one another. Elizabeth popped her foot and then replaced it to the deck as she heard the bleating of the horrific storm. Her saturated hand absentmindedly massaged the back of Will's neck, and her knuckles paled as she clasped her sabre even tighter. This was just...It was everything she could have ever wanted. His moist head tilted farther into the blessed embrace, her lips slaking his every desire and quenching his thirst for resolution. Perilous debris rotated around their clinching grip, and the gigantic maelstrom's wave cascaded over the deck of the Black Pearl, re-soaking their already wet bodies. They were suddenly parting, sliding back into reality from the grunts of sailors and the calls in vain. Still gripping one another's arms, Elizabeth and Will gazed at one another, suddenly shattered after that lovely kiss.
"I love you, Will," Elizabeth finally croaked, feeling the moment passing around them and breezing over their heads. The battle was not over, but a sense of dreadful foreboding was gyrating in the air as their hands slithered off of one another.
"I love you," he returned in a whisper, pulsing her hand twice before being otherwise distracted. Their embrace was broken, their missions separated, and Elizabeth and Will forced themselves to think of only the mêlée, afraid of what lay ahead and yet, hoping that the fear would turn to joy once their burdens lay entirely bare.