Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and dialogue belong to Disney.
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Nytd and XxIcexX – thank you so much for your wonderful comments, and I hope you're enjoying these lengthy offerings, although this chapter is a bit shorter than last time.
Summary: As Jack ferries Elizabeth Turner between her island and her husband, their relationship grows into something no one could have ever foreseen.
Between Dark and Light: A Decade of Love
By: Sinnamon Spider
Year Two
The baby squalled, the sound echoing around the little cottage, and Elizabeth paused to wipe her hands on a rag before scooping up her son. He was not hungry or wet, and as soon as she had him in her arms, he stopped crying and beamed at her. She laughed. "Bothersome, you just want attention when Mum is busy, don't you?" She cast an eye at her dough, sitting in a white lump on the table, and bounced the baby gently. "Well unfortunately for you, Mum's got to get back to being busy, or there'll be no bread for supper." She tucked him back into his cradle, pausing to tap him lightly on the nose and smiling at the giggle that burbled from his little chest.
She had been breathless with fear when Miriam Able had cleaned off the red, shrieking newborn and gently laid him in her arms, as though the child would have a brand that read "Fathered by Jack Sparrow" across its forehead. And even now, after three months, she found herself searching her son's ever-changing face, looking for some evidence that would damn her to hell as an adulteress.
The baby had dark brown hair that curled in gentle ringlets, but this provided no answers. Her own hair was dirty blonde and stick-straight, so clearly the child had inherited his father's hair, whoever that happened to be. Will's hair was dark and curly, which lightened Elizabeth's heart until she realized that Jack's hair was almost the exact same colour, and she had no idea how it looked when not tightly bound in dreadlocks.
When he had first opened his eyes to stare at her, she had been shocked by the sight of grey-blue eyes – who in heaven did those belong to? Will's eyes were mahogany and warm, Jack's coffee-dark and glittering, and her own were more hazel, edged with green. Blue fit nowhere into the equation. But Miriam has laughed at her dumbstruck expression and gently explained that newborn babies always had bluish eyes, and that the colour would change gradually.
Now, his eyes were a bright chocolate brown and they crinkled in the corners when he smiled at her, which was often. His cheeks were plump and rosy, his nose was small and rounded and tipped up at the end, which seemed to be the only feature Elizabeth could identify with certainty; it was her nose, without doubt.
She sang a lullaby as she kneaded the dough, watching idly as her son waved his hands in the air, catching dust motes that glittered golden in the sunlight. She had never really considered motherhood, at least not in the last few years. When she was younger she had entertained visions of a brood of bright-eyed, curly-haired children, herself smiling and perfect in the background with Will as the loving and respectable husband. When she found herself on a whirlwind adventure with pirates and skeletons and fish-faced sea captains, she hadn't had much time for daydreaming and when she did, it wasn't about herself and Will and a gaggle of lovely sons and daughters, but rather herself and Jack Sparrow, alone together as they sailed the seas and where each escapade was greater than the one before.
She knew where babies came from, of course; she remembered a painful discussion with her blushing, blithering father when she was twelve, and a dry and somewhat frightening exchange with her governess at fourteen, when she had first gotten her courses. She had done the right thing and remained a virgin until her wedding day, unconventional as it was, and her first time was on a sandy beach with Will, tousled and gritty and enjoyable. She wasn't his first, she was certain; he was a commoner, after all, and the blacksmith and butcher boys were playing with the milkmaids and shepherdesses long before a well-heeled lady ever learned of carnal relations. Elizabeth had never considered herself a well-heeled lady until Will had whispered in her ear and she felt her face flame like a fire had been lit in her cheeks.
But in all of her imaginings, actually being a mother had never really come up. She had been worried, all through her pregnancy. What kind of a mother would she be; a pirate, a Pirate King, no less. A faithless wife. A motherless child.
But smiling, cheery Miriam Able had taken her neatly under wing. It was Miriam she had gone to with shaking hands and a whispered question. The older woman had nodded sagely and soon became a fixture at her pretty young neighbour's secluded cottage. Elizabeth, without a mother since she was seven, eagerly accepted the woman's motherly affection and sure advice.
And when Miriam had handed her son to her, tucking him securely in her uncertain arms, Elizabeth was floored. She was a mother. She was responsible for this little life, for guiding him and shaping him and keeping him from trouble and suddenly she felt the loss of her family as she had never felt before.
She had adjusted to child-rearing aptly, earning Miriam's approval, and after the first month, the other woman only stopped by every few days, checking on her little village's newest member and his quick, adaptive mother.
And now, even with all of her misgivings about his paternity, Elizabeth was hard-pressed to remember how she had ever lived without her merry little boy.
Jack had come to get her himself this time, not bothering to go through Willand, and as he climbed the sandy ridge up to her little house, he found himself anxious to see her, which was a new feeling. He had been anxious around women before, especially this woman, but normally for entirely different reasons.
He treaded water at her door for a good five minutes, feeling like a fool. As he fisted his hand to knock on the door, it swung open and he stumbled back, startled, and fell in a heap on the neatly swept dirt path.
"Jack!" Elizabeth sounded shocked, and he scrambled to his feet, offering her a bow that almost made up for his earlier clumsiness. "Lizzie," he greeted, but his voice trailed off when he saw the baby balanced on her hip.
She frowned at his sudden silence. "Jack?"
He could only gape, open-mouthed. Elizabeth looked no different then she had the last time he had seen her, just under a year ago, except for light shadows under her brown-green eyes that spoke of a few sleepless nights. No doubt she had been sitting up with this bright-eyed baby that beamed a toothless smile at him, reaching out to grab at the string of beads that swung in his hair.
"Who's the tyke?" he said, trying to keep his voice even. "One of the village babies? Getting a feel for motherhood, love?"
She snorted indelicately. "This is my son Willam, Captain Sparrow."
He tilted his head, feeling his eyes bugging. "Is it, now?" he replied, fighting harder than ever to put on an air of urbane disinterest. "So formal, Miss Swann?"
She turned away, beckoning him to follow her into the little house, and he used the time her back was turned to collect himself. When she faced him again, after putting the child in a beautifully carved cradle that sat in the corner, he was composed.
"I don't know whose baby he is, Jack, before you ask." Her voice was flat and matter-of-fact, as though she had already dealt with the emotions that had to accompany a statement like that, and he realized belatedly that she must have. All alone without husband or lover, Elizabeth had had to come to terms with the uncertainty of her son's parentage. He nearly reached out to her, but snatched the hand back. She gave no indication that she had noticed.
He crossed the floor to stare down at the baby, now sleeping soundly. Elizabeth stayed where she was, her hands twisting in her apron, her flour-smudged face watching him.
"I was with both you and Will, and there is nothing that has indicated whose he is, with any certainty."
"Except the nose," Jack corrected, glancing over his shoulder at her. "That's yours, to be sure." He walked back towards her, extending a dirty finger to tap her nose, but she dodged him neatly. He scowled at her. "What now, love? Do we spend our time being cold and ignoring each other? Or can we not get past what happened, and be the friends we've been for ages now?"
She laughed, low and mocking. "Friends, Jack? Can we be friends?" She shook her head. "I don't think we can. It seems to only be one extreme or the other for us."
It was his turn to laugh. "Love and hate aren't opposites, Liz, only different sides of the same coin."
She stomped her foot and he arched an eyebrow. "I have a son named after a man who may or may not be his father, Jack Sparrow. That is not coin I am happy to be trading in." But her voice broke and her anger dissolved and he caught her in his arms, stroking her hair. "I know, love, I know, but really, who knows aside from you and I? Do the people here treat you with scorn?"
She shook her head mutely.
"Does the tyke have a stamp that says "Property of Captain Jack Sparrow" on him anywhere?"
She laughed through her tears at that. "I thought of the same thing, although I didn't include the Captain part."
He gasped dramatically. "How could you wound me so, Liz?" She laughed again, and he chucked her lightly under the chin. "Now. Buck up, love, you've a handsome boy and whoever's he is'll be proud of him, and unless he has such a stamp on him, only you and I will ever know there's anything to be worryin' about."
She nodded firmly, swiping away the tears with defiance, gritting her teeth in an approximation of a smile.
"Now then!" His voice was bright, his eyes impish and snapping. "Shall we be off to see your fish, my dear?"
Elizabeth nodded again, picking up the satchel she had already packed, ready for him when he came for her. She carefully lifted her sleeping son, bringing an extra blanket to shield him from the cooler air on the water, and led the way from her tiny cottage.
Jack gallantly extended a hand to steady her as they made their way down the sandy ridge toward the harbour. "Seems I'm never to be rid of these William Turners," he commented lightly. "Couldn't you have picked a more excitin' name, love?"
She flinched and he grimaced. "I thought it best, considering…everything," she replied quietly. "Right, right," he agreed, too quickly.
The Peal came into view and Elizabeth gave a little shriek, startling William, who woke and began to fuss. She bounced him unthinkingly as she stared over his head at Jack, horror-struck. "What on earth happened?"
The beautiful main mast of the Pearl was gone, leaving only a shattered stump where it once stood, proud and full of rich black sails. Her remaining sails were shredded and torn, her paint chipped and gouged. She looked like she had wrestled the Kraken again, and Elizabeth was painfully reminded of that incident.
She forced it from her mind as Jack laughed unconvincingly, scratching his head. "Just a few mishaps, that's all," he said lightly, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Complications arose, ensued, were overcome. You know how it is on the seas, Lizzie, sometimes y'run into a spot of trouble or two."
"A spot or two?" she echoed, taking in the damage. "Did you sail through another hurricane? Or two? Or five?"
"That was Norrington, not me," he reminded her sharply. "I'm not fool enough to risk my ship in a storm." They were onboard now, and Elizabeth cringed at the sight of the weary-looking crew. Even Gibbs, who spotted them and came over, looked tired and battle-scarred.
"Liz," he greeted her. He noticed the baby in her arms and arched a white brow. "Who's this? Bringing us some help to clean up the Pearl?"
She didn't laugh, though Jack did. "This is my son William, Gibbs," she replied. "He's a bit young to be of much use, but I can certainly lend a hand." Gibbs looked up from making faces at the giggling baby and frowned. "Now, then, that's not necessary, we've plenty of hands without making a lady work."
She didn't answer him, addressing his captain instead. "Jack?"
"Ah." The man was casting around for an escape route. Elizabeth deposited her son in Gibbs' surprised arms, and planted her hands on her hips. "Did you sustain the damage before coming to get me?"
He nodded, looking at her somewhat fearfully.
"Without enough time to send a message telling me you would be delayed?"
He shook his head, but started to speak. She cut him off ruthlessly. "You should have taken the time, then, Captain, and not further endangered your ship and your crew." She stalked off, snapping orders to the crew who found new energy and stepped to, those who had never seen her before staring after her with wide eyes.
Jack watched her whip his crew into shape, even going as far as to ask Cotton's parrot, perched on his master's shoulder as he steered the ship, how far away the next island with trees suitable for a new mast was. He looked at her son, who was laughing delightedly at Gibbs as the older man babbled nonsense at him. The first mate met his captain's eye and broke off mid-babble, but Jack only threw up his hands in defeat and walked off, muttering about madness and Pirate Kings and babies.
When the Pearl arrived in the cove just off Pelegosto, she was in much better shape. She had a new mast, neatly patched sails, and fresh paint on her decks and rails. But when the Dutchman burst from the waves, glittering and golden in the sunlight, Jack whimpered and ducked behind the new mast.
Elizabeth stifled a snicker as she and her son peeked around the mast, watching Jack stew about his beloved ship's condition. "Now Jack, you know Will won't judge."
The captain snorted. "Like hell. He's always looking for an opportunity to show me up, and now he's got one, all gift-wrapped."
Elizabeth tried to affect a stern face, but she lost the battle and began to laugh at Jack, who scowled at her amusement. "Really, it's your own fault. If you hadn't been such a fool and fixed the damage before you came to get me, she'd look just fine now. And don't forget that you only got this far because of me."
"Enough, woman!" he cried, but his eyes were twinkling. "Begone with you! Go gloat with your blasted husband. Let him meet his boy, and stay off my ship!"
She laughed again and William laughed with her. Jack moaned and climbed into the rigging. Elizabeth made her way across to the Dutchman. Will was waiting for her with an eager expression that changed to confusion and then wide-eyed bewilderment at the sight of the baby in her arms. "Will, meet William," she said softly, and watched her husband's eyes fill with tears as he took his son into his arms.
She looked back to the Pearl, to the dark man in the rigging whose dark eyes watched her and her family with undisguised longing.
"Elizabeth?"
She swatted away the hand that brushed lightly across her hair, burrowing deeper into the blankets. The hand returned, undaunted. "Liz, you've got to get up."
Swearing under her breath, she dragged herself into a sitting position, seeing her husband through sleep-dimmed eyes.
He was fully dressed, carefully cradling William, wrapped in blankets. "What's wrong?" she asked, stumbling from the bed. Will caught her arm. "I've been called." He handed William to her, and they hurried from the cabin into the frigid night air.
Jack was waiting by the deck rail, looking dishevelled but wide awake. He held a rope out to Elizabeth, who handed William back to Will, kissed him quickly, and swung out into the dark. She landed in a heap on the deck of the Pearl, scrambling to her feet, and her heart stopped as she saw her son, in his white blankets, skimming across the diamond-hard black water.
Jack landed on the deck with much more grace, William clutched tightly to his chest, and he relinquished the baby to his ashen mother. Elizabeth whirled just in time to see the Dutchman's disappearance, the night sky and the inky water flaring green and fading to black.
"Now you see why I need t'be stickin' close, love."
She nodded, silent as she cradled her son. "Shall…shall we wait for him here? How long is he usually gone?"
Jack shrugged easily. "Sometimes only hours, sometimes days. Depends on how many he's got. We can wait for a few more days yet, I've nowhere to be for a time."
The fear she had clung to, the fear of letting him close to her again, letting him worm his sneaky way further into her heart and her life, was slowly dissipating, and she wished it would remain. She had been living in that fear, keeping him at bay with cool words and distance, and he had stayed away, respecting her feelings and the need to keep her nose clean. But this ship at night had a magic for them, and she couldn't deny it. She turned her attention to William, but the baby could not distract her from the smoky eyes of the pirate captain that stared at her.
"Liz," he murmured, stepping closer. She didn't move, let him sweep a long-fingered hand across her cheek, let him follow his fingers with his own stubbled cheek, let him nuzzle into her hair. But her hand caught his as it brushed against her neck, not pushing away, just holding still. She felt him tense.
"Hot and cold, Liz," he said, just as low, but with an edge in his voice. "I'm just a man. Can't keep up with you."
She tightened her grip on his hand, knowing he was about to leave. He stayed for a second longer before pulling his hand from hers, stalking across the deck. Just before he disappeared, her voice stopped him.
"I don't know what I want, Jack, will you fault me for it?" William fussed at the volume and anxiety in her voice, but for once she ignored him. Jack looked over his shoulder at her. "No, not fault, love. But I won't be toyed with, Elizabeth, and you've not got the chops for it anyways. Whatever you decide you want is fine wiv me, but until you've sorted it out, I'll be keepin' my distance." He disappeared into the darkness and Elizabeth gritted her teeth and stared after him.
They waited for two more days, but the Dutchman didn't return, and at sunset on the second day, Gibbs came to Elizabeth with apologies and talk of Singapore. She brushed him off, assuring him that she had to get home anyways, but when he left she threw her hairbrush across the room and swore loudly.
As her island appeared, Elizabeth waited for Jack to escort her home, but he was conspicuously absent, and with a guilty face, Gibbs puffed and wheezed his way up the ridge with her, leaving her at the door of her cottage with an regretful smile and a promise that they would return for her in a year's time.
Elizabeth deposited William in his cradle and dashed back outside, stopping on the very edge of the ridge. She watched the Pearl slide around the bend in the coastline, her eyes searching the empty rigging for the captain that was not there.