Chapter 2: The Prettiest Thing

I'm dreamin' again
Like I've always been
And way down low
I still know

The prettiest thing
I ever did see
Was dusty as the handle on the door
Rusty as a nail stuck in the old pine floor
Looks like home to me

The Prettiest Thing by Norah Jones

The hours had passed by remotely, leaving the residents of Shipwreck Cove tied to their sheets or the nearest tavern, this including the servants of the Sparrow household as well as the master himself. Elizabeth left alone and far from sleep, wandered the halls in hopes of entertaining her saddened mind. There was always the option of taking up a chair in Teague's library and indulging in any book she could muster to hold. Or the beach, a nice quiet place to walk and think. But she had done too much thinking today as it was.

'Jack's room…' She thought to herself, recalling all of the many trinkets and treasures it held, things she had examined many times since being here. It was everything Jack Sparrow's childhood room ought to be. Except clean of course. 'I cannot continue to think of him. I need to stop, I'm a married woman. Jack Sparrow is a memory and he must stay that way.'

'Then why are you in his house Lizzie, taking under the wing of his own father? Why are you still thinking about him then?'

'I'm not!' She pitted against herself, running her fingers through her soft, golden curls. 'Wait…Lizzie? No, I'm not. Jack is gone, and soon so will I.'

Exhaling into the skylight of the corridor, she took notice of the stars high above the Cove. They were mapped out across the sky like islands in the night. 'Islands…like you and Jack, like your island together.'

'Enough Elizabeth! Drop it…!'

"Leave me alone Jack…leave me alone." As she whispered through the thick air, she spotted a doorway just feet away from her, one she knew well but had never ventured into since her stay. Part of her had always wanted to go exploring, see what might lie inside, but she thought it rude and out of place. Of course now, in the loneliness of the night, with no one around but her inner thoughts, she found it intriguing. 'Go ahead…no one's stopping ye luv. Venture on t' the unknown, be a pirate!' The voice was Jack's; it was no longer her own voice insisting upon her mind, it was now his. Feeling slightly unnerved by it, she halted at the door, pressing her hand against it's cool wood. 'Go Lizzie!'

She pushed the door open without a second thought, closing it directly behind her and falling against it. The room was dark as she imagined it would have to be, her skin was shivering, the curtains drawn and only an ounce of moonlight peering in through the separated silk draperies. Her bare foot scraped along the outer edge of the room, attempting to find a light source. 'There's a candle near the window…' It was still Jack's voice, somehow he was leading her through the dark again, and somehow he was there. If only in her mind. Seconds later she made it to the window shelf, where sat a candle and a fuel pick. 'How did he know that?'

'I live ere' remember…'

'Oh, right.' She smiled to herself, lifting the candle and shining it through the room to take notice of all the surroundings. Numerous scenic paintings and long hand spun quilts covered the walls, tables were scattered everywhere, housing uncountable jewels, shells, glassware, and anything else they could hold. Elizabeth slowly paced from corner to corner, stroking interesting pieces, holding certain ones to the light, brushing her fingertips along the faces, the beaches in the paintings. "This room is beautiful."

'Was me mum's room Lizzie, everything me and Teague brought er' back from the seas.'

'Two good men…' She repeated to the inner visitor, hoping he took it as cue. Still though, she couldn't understand the motive behind him being there, telling her these things, without the physicality of an actual visit. Jack wasn't there. 'But I am ere' luv. Cause ye want me ere', I'm here.'

'I don't want you here Jack, I want Will, my husband. I love Will.'

'Keep telling yerself that darling…'

For now she ignored him, his outlandish remarks and the wit that seemed all too real to be a dream. Moving across the room to a small dressing table she took a seat before the mirror. Spread out near her palms were gold bowls full of pearls, emeralds, all sorts of precious jewelry, most of it pillaged without a doubt. Every piece was precious, delicate, something she could only picture settling on the collarbone of a Sparrow woman. 'I wonder what she was like, Isabella Sparrow.'

'One day I'll tell ye about er'.'

'When?'

'When I do.'

'Right.'

The conclusion came upon the moment Elizabeth's eyes scanned into one of the small boxes of jewels, noticing a sterling hairpin of some sort, painted with small pink roses and touched with what appeared to be rubies. It was the most stunning piece in the collection, fitting in the palm of her hand as she touched every bit of it with esquire. 'It's the prettiest thing I've ever seen before.'

'It was er' favorite. Ye should ave' it Lizzie. She would want you to.'

'No.'

'Take it. Pirate.'

'Go away Jack. Go away.'

Night was slowly forming into day on the distant horizon, the grays turning to harmonic blues, and the breeze blowing the thick Caribbean fog against his face as Jack stood at the helm of his ship. Nothing had ever been more right, well, almost nothing. But the Pearl suited his fancy for now. Part of him was jumping with anticipation, trying to determine whether or not Elizabeth was at the Cove where he had left her, or if she had possibly moved onward into the open waters. There was no telling with her, she was a pirate after all, adventure was her weakness as much as it was his. Of course she was married, and not only married, but tied to Turner's debt no different than he was. For it was his ten year sentencing that forced her to be alone for that long at a time, stuck in a one sided relationship, a one sided loneliness.

'I should ave' let that whelp die…' These thoughts had crossed his mind for almost six months at sea now, trying to contemplate how he might have changed the situation. Of course it was always a matter of time before he hit a wall, unsure of whether Elizabeth would have been with him or not, whether she would have stayed on the Pearl. 'It's practically er' home.'

That is, unless she was at the Cove. Had his father taken her in as a proper King to his piratical empire? Had the residents of Shipwreck taken pity on her losses? Had Elizabeth stayed put for a change? 'No, she must be sailing somewhere.' He began to concoct an elaborate scheme for her present location in the back of his mind. 'Lizzie's on some trade ship right now, dressed in the whelp's garb, threatening the poor bastard at the wheel. Trying to commandeer the ship, the spices, the jewels, all of it on her own.' He chuckled smugly, realizing that the possibility of such a thing was not so far out of reach, and this made him smile more. While he dreamed of a certain charming colleague, he had hardly taken notice of his first mate sliding in behind him at the helm.

"Mornin' Cap'n."

Jack was startled from his thoughts, his smile twisting into an expression of shock as he turned to face Gibbs. "Ah, Master Gibbs, come t' take o'er?"

"Aye Jack, ye need rest fer certain lad."

"I dare say I do. I'm seeing ghosts."

"Ghosts?"

"No matter mate, sail er' steady and thick. An at' noon bring the sails t' full rise eh?"

"Aye!" The groggy, older man shouted taking the spindle like wheel from Jack's grasp as the Captain moved down the steps of the helm and across deck to his cabin doors. Throwing himself inside, he quickly found the soft pressure of the sheets against his cheek. Resting beside him on the mattress was a half empty bottle of Jamaican rum, and so he indulged himself as was daily routine. The spiced liquor was gone before he was able to stand from the bed again, and the thoughts continued to haunt him, strangely, and rather wonderfully at the same time. He tried to imagine Elizabeth the last day he had known her, tangled at his waist, a hundred feet into the dusty sky. Even through the pounding rain, he could feel her tears on him. Her fingers pressed lightly into his back, clinging for life, resting against the beat of his skipping heart. 'Saving Lizzie, at's wot' I'm good at.'

'It's coz' ye love er' Sparrow.'

"Oi! I thought I was rid of ye two!"

'We're ere' till ye say so Jacky.'

"Well in that case, by all means, leave!"

'Sorry, can't go just yet!'

"An' why is that may I ask?" Jack stammered, talking to himself as he travelled across the room to where his rum cabinet was, pulling a fresh bottle from the seemingly endless shelves.

'Ye need us.'

'That ye do mate, ye need us to solve yer problem.'

"The only problem I seem to ave' is with the lot of ye, racking me brain!" He threw himself into the hard chair at his desk, kicking his foot onto the table edge against Barbossa's demands and smirking as he threw his head back with the sipping of the bottle.

'The Captain said not t' put yer slimy feet on is' charts Jacky!'

"I'm the Captain of this ere' vessel, or does no one seem to listen, ever?!"

'We hear everything ye say.'

'And think.'

'Ye love er' Jack. Mrs. Elizabeth Tur-'

"STOP!"

'But it's the truth mate, ye do.'

"I do not. I do not love her. Jack Sparrow doesn't love, Jack Sparrow takes whatever he can, and ne'er gives any o' it back! Love is impossible."

'If ye say so Jacky.'

'We'll be ere' when ye change yer mind.'

"I won't change my mind." He fell back in the chair easily, curling into its confines with his bottle, feeling himself drift off into another world. A place where only Jack could go.

"Are you…the pirate I've read about or not…? How did you escape last time?"

"And you'll be positively the most fearsome pirates in the Spanish Main!"

"Oh Jack…are you telling the truth?"

"I have faith in you…want to know why?"

"You came back. I always knew you were a good man."

"It would never have worked out between us."

"To freedom!"

The sights and sounds were familiar, the touch of her skin, the light in her eyes, the heat of the flames. Every memory he had of her whizzed by in a startling exasperation. Jack was ready for another reckless sleep of dreams. 'To freedom…'