Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Disney.
A/N: Got a nice long chapter for you, with tons and tons of Sparrabeth and very little else. Thanks goes out to everyone who commented; every new chapter brings new readers, and I appreciate everyone who takes the time to read this little story, and especially those who take even more time to leave me feedback and faboulous compliments. You guys make my day.
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 Four
Jack climbed the sandy ridge, grinning at the sight of the little cottage. He had found himself counting the days until he could make this familiar trip, until he could see her smiling face and glowing eyes. The fact that he was taking a married woman to see her immortal husband did not bother him anymore, although he'd never really had a problem with adulterous females. Just seeing Elizabeth for these few precious days was enough.
He raised his fist to knock on the door, but a loud clunk and a man's voice cursing made him pause. He ran quietly around the side of the little house, peering in through the oil-paper window.
A slim man dressed in rags was in Elizabeth's cottage, prying up the floorboards in a corner. He worked quickly, pausing from time to time to listen for approaching footsteps. As Jack watched, he loosened the last of a section and peered into what seemed to be a hole in the ground below.
Jack quickly scanned the room, but Elizabeth and William were nowhere in sight. He crept back around to the door, waiting for the right moment. When he heard the planks start to clatter against each other, he eased the door open and slipped inside. The man had his back to Jack, piling the planks off to the side of the hole.
Drawing a long knife from his boot, Jack made his move. He tackled the man from behind, but despite his slender build, the man was strong and he twisted Jack's knife hand fiercely towards Jack's own face. He jerked back quickly, but not quick enough, and the point of the knife dragged a line along his cheekbone.
He thrust with a knee to the stomach and the man doubled over, but knocked Jack reeling with an elbow that cracked against his head. As the pirate captain stumbled backwards, the man hesitated, and then fled out the door.
Jack cringed, pressing his hand to his bleeding face and waiting for the stars to clear from his vision. When he could see fairly straight, he approached the destroyed section of floor, wondering what the man had been after, buried under Elizabeth Turner's floorboards.
His sword suddenly slipped from his waist, and he could feel the point press firmly against his back. He straightened slowly, still gripping the knife. Then he whirled, deflecting the blade with a quick swipe of his wrist. His assailant flinched back as he followed the movement with the knife in his other hand. "Jack!"
He stopped dead. Elizabeth, white with horror and anger, stepped back further. Her green-brown eyes were wide as she stared at him. The knife clattered to the floor, dropped from his slackened hand. His sword fell from her own hand.
They stayed frozen for a few seconds more, until he grabbed her and crushed her to his chest. Her arms locked around him, and each listened to the other's heart pounding. "I could have killed you, you foolish girl," he muttered into her hair, the scene replaying in his mind. He gripped her tighter.
She returned the fierce hold, and then broke away, only far enough to stare up at him. Colour was flooding back into her face. She inhaled sharply. "You're bleeding."
"Stabbed meself," he said lightly, mercurial as ever. He lifted his hand to examine the wrist he had blocked the sword with, which was also bleeding. Elizabeth moved away and he heard a ripping sound. She came back with two strips of white lace fabric. She carefully wrapped one of them around his arm, and dabbed at his face with the other. He examined the makeshift bandage. "French lace," he commented. She nodded. "My tablecloth."
He started to object, but she pressed a finger to his lips. "It had stains on it anyways. French lace tablecloths weren't designed to withstand young boys."
He looked around. "Where is said young boy?"
Elizabeth swore. "When I saw the door open, I told him to wait up on the ridge. He'd better not have run off." She turned and disappeared, Jack following behind.
William was seated on the ridge, drawing patterns in the sand with a stick. He looked up as his mother approached, slowing her run when she saw her son was safe. "Mama!" He clambered to his feet, throwing his arms around Elizabeth's knees. She smiled and ruffled his hair. He peeked around her skirts at Jack, and Elizabeth watched the thought process displayed on his happy, open face. He looked puzzled when he glanced back up at her. "Da?" But he wasn't convinced, and when she shook her head and said "That's Captain Sparrow," he seemed satisfied.
Jack snorted. "That's a mouthful," he said dryly. "Jack'll do, boy."
William nodded, and looked at his mother again. "Going home?" he asked.
His question made Elizabeth pause. "What in God's name were you doing in my house like that, Jack?" she asked. She shuddered slightly at the remembrance of a man standing over her ripped-up floor, knife drawn.
"Someone was there before me," he said darkly. "Tore up the floorboards, lookin' for somethin'. I tried to stop him, but he got away from me. Then someone up and stole my sword and was gonna run me in." He grinned at her, but she wasn't smiling.
"The heart," she said, aghast. Someone had tried to steal Will's heart.
Jack's grin slid away, replaced with bleak anger. He turned without a word, climbing the ridge and disappearing. When he returned, he had both his sword and knife in his hands. He thrust the hilt of the sword at her. "Take this. If he comes back to the house, kill him." He headed off for the dense jungle in the distance, the direction the thief had run.
Elizabeth stared after him. She hadn't dared tell him that she had thought he was the one after the heart. She had nearly fainted when she came in through the open door of her cottage and saw him, knife drawn, standing over the hole in the earth where her husband's heart was carefully hidden away. Even as she crept up behind him and stole the familiar sword from his hip, she had been praying to see another face when he turned around. But when he had crushed her in that embrace, his fear plain on his dark tanned face, all her treacherous thoughts had melted away.
She grabbed William's hand, towing him back to the cottage, the sword tight in her grip. She had to defend her son if the thief tried again for the Chest.
The sun had already set by the time Jack returned. Elizabeth met him at the door, white and apprehensive, her hands twisting together in fear. She paled further at the sight of fresh blood on his shirt.
"Not mine," he said absently when she flinched and touched the ruby stain, but he let her hands slip beneath the material to run across his chest anyways. "What happened?" she asked, staring up at him.
He shrugged. "I caught up with him in the trees. Dealt with it." His face was emotionless and she cursed silently, not for the first time, at his impenetrable mask. "Dealt with it," she repeated, her voice touched with anger. "Did you kill him, Jack?"
He looked at her, now incredulous. "Did I kill him? Did I kill the man who was robbing you of Will's heart, who was in your house with a knife, who likely would have thought nothing of killing you and your son in the blink of an eye? Yes, Elizabeth," he snapped caustically. "I killed him."
She glared at him. "I don't appreciate your sarcasm. And there was no need to kill him!"
His eyes bugged slightly as he gaped at her. "Have you gone soft on me?" he demanded. "Look, Lizzie, you know I'd just as soon negotiate than fight, but this was not the time for lengthy conversations."
She scowled. She had not gone soft. She had no trouble taking lives, when there was nothing else to be done, and she'd taken more than her fair share. Hell, her wedding had taken place in the midst of a bloody, stormy battle; exchanging vows of love with one hand and slicing off limbs with the other. She was no stranger to bloodshed, and never one to shy from it. But this situation irked her, for reasons she could not explain.
"And what if he wasn't working for himself? What if he had accomplices, someone he told about where to find the heart? Am I to go off gallivanting with you and leave Will's heart out in the open for someone to take control of it?" She was fuming, and the look she aimed at him was poisonous.
His own face closed off again, as it did so often. "Go off gallivanting with you." His voice was flat and unimpressed. "Is that how you see it?" He grabbed her arms, squeezing tightly. "I take my time to bring you to see your feckless husband and this is the gratitude I'm rewarded with?" He was close to her now, close enough for her heart to start thumping erratically. "I know you see me as bumbling, amiable, silly old Jack Sparrow, but I am not a fool. I am not at your beck and call. I will not play this tired game with you over and over again, Elizabeth Turner."
She gasped as his words struck her. Turner. He had never called her by her married name – Will's name – before. She stared up at him, scared of him for the first time in her life. Scared that she had finally pushed him away for good.
He dropped his hands suddenly, and spun away. He stood, ramrod straight but quivering with suppressed anger, one hand white-knuckled on the doorframe. She bit her lip, ignoring the shock of pain as her teeth pierced the skin and blood dripped. Furious words sparked on her tongue, lashing out with rage and frustration, but she bit them back and approached him slowly, wary of his tensed and coiled body.
At her hesitant touch, a tremor ran lightly through his limbs, and his taut shoulders slumped, defeated. She slid her arms around him, turning her head and resting her cheek against his back. When he spoke, his voice was quietly firm. "I meant what I said, Elizabeth. I won't continue this game, cat and mouse. I'm me own man, a free man, a pirate, and I don't answer to anyone for my actions." He turned in her arms, looking down at her steadily. "Not even you, Your Majesty."
She said nothing, simply held his gaze with grave eyes. His expression softened and his hand reached out, feather-light, to wipe away the blood that dripped from her mouth. "Y'didn't have to bite yourself, girl," he chastised, but warmer now. She shrugged slightly. "I was going to yell at you."
He sighed, long and weary. "Can't blame ye," he replied, enfolding her in his arms.
"Mama?" The little voice sounded from the dark corner of the house, where William stood in his nightclothes, barefoot and apprehensive. Elizabeth pulled away from Jack and hurried over to her son, picking him up and settling on his little bed. Jack watched with veiled eyes, still standing in the door.
"Mama's sorry, baby," she crooned to him. His eyes were wide, but dry, and his embrace was not desperate, just seeking comfort. "Man shouting," he observed quietly. She smiled crookedly. "Mama was shouting too. No more, though." She swung him back into the bed, tucking the covers over him. "Go to sleep, now, we're off to see Da in the morning."
William's face brightened. He searched in the bedclothes for something, bringing out the wooden horse Will had given him last time. Although the child could pronounce "horse" now, Hoss' name had never changed, which Elizabeth found amusing. "Da give Will'am Hoss," he said. She nodded. "That's right, Da carved Hoss for you, and he'll be pleased to see that he's still in one piece." She kissed the little forehead, stroking the chestnut curls that she had finally, heartbreakingly, cut short.
She sat on the small bed for a few minutes longer, conscious of the pirate's eyes on her, watching her interaction with her child. When she looked back to him, his face was unreadable again, but something old and deep was not altogether hidden in his expression.
"Will you go back to the Pearl?" she asked softly, padding across the floor, avoiding the nails from the disturbed boards. Jack shook his head. "I'll stick close by, if y'don't mind me. I'll just find a nice rock to curl up on." He winked at her.
She swallowed. "I won't have you sleeping outside," she said, sounding almost as unconfident as she felt. It was one thing to share his berth on the Pearl, rootless and informal, but quite another for them to share her own bed, looking solid and foreboding in the dark of her cottage.
His mouth turned up in a smile, his eyes glinting. He was laughing at her, and she had to swallow the sharp retorts that struggled to get out. There had been enough of that already tonight.
He crossed the floor in three quick strides, pulling the door shut securely behind him. He caught her up in one quick movement, taking them the last few steps to her bed. He laid her gently on it, sliding in to lie behind her, cradling her back against his chest. "Go to sleep, love," he said quietly in her ear, his arm tight around her waist, his heart beating gently against her spine. She entangled her fingers with his at her hip, closing her eyes and falling asleep in his warmth.
Fingers lightly prodding her face woke her up, and she squinted in the fierce sunlight that burned her eyes. "Wake up, Mama," an authoritative, high-pitched voice ordered.
"Yes, wake up, Mama," a darker, honey-smooth voice echoed. She stretched languidly, shielding her eyes as she sat up. William was standing by her bed, arms crossed and wearing an expression of general disapproval, his dark brows furrowed.
Behind him, sitting careless and smirking at the tiny table, was Jack. He winked at her, and she made a face back. "You couldn't keep him from waking me?" she complained, swinging her feet to the floor.
Jack shrugged. "He thinks you've slept long enough, and I don't disagree."
She turned to eyeball her son, whose disapproving air wavered a bit under her stern gaze. "You sleep too long, Mama," he offered in self-defence. "Going to see Da today."
"I don't need reminding," she said, but she smiled despite herself, and William grinned up at her, knowing he was off the hook. She mock-glared at Jack. "You're a terrible influence on him," she reprimanded him.
Jack opened his coffee-dark eyes wide, an unconvincing picture of innocence. "Me?" he demanded. "I'm hurt. Shocked. Betrayed."
She snorted from behind the dressing screen, where she was exchanging her rumpled, slept-in dress for a fresh one. She heard William shriek with delight and emerged from behind the screen to see Jack toss him carelessly in the air again, catching him at the last second. "Shall we be off to see your wonderfully influencing sire, me boy-o?" he enquired, and Elizabeth's heart warmed at his playfulness.
"Yes!" William struggled down from the pirate's hold, looking back to make sure they were following him. "We're coming, we're coming," Elizabeth assured him, watching him carefully as they made their way down the sandy ridge.
The Pearl looked…different. As they came on board, she cast about, trying to decide what was changed.
As the sun came out from behind a cloud, the deck lit up like something from a legend, and she gaped.
"Gold leaf?" she demanded, whirling to look at Jack, who wore a peacock's proud expression. "Where on earth did this come from?" She examined the deck rail, the helm, the carvings, all sheathed in bright, fine gold.
Jack shrugged. "Told y'last year, when there's territory being disputed, there's treasures t'be had."
"Aye, we made a pretty profit in that venture," Gibbs added, joining them and waving excitedly at Williams, who beamed back. Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at Jack. "And the most useful purpose you could put your mind to was gold-plating the Pearl," she said dryly. Jack and Gibbs nodded, exuberant. "She looks a sight, doesn't she?" Gibbs enthused. "Finest lookin' ship in the Caribbean."
The effect was striking, she had to agree. With fresh black paint and the gold leaf glinting in the sunlight, the ship looked majestic, like something a Greek god would captain. She assumed that such a thought had also occurred to the Pearl's captain, and that he had rather liked the idea.
"Asking for a bit of trouble, though, isn't is?" she asked, trying to sound just as excited as the two men. Jack gestured dismissively. "We're well equipped to handle trouble," he said lightly. "Besides, most important thing is to make a good impression, isn't it?"
She rolled her eyes, knowing well enough not to argue. William tugged impatiently at her hand. "Wanna see the ship, Mama," he whined. She levelled a look at him until he ducked his head. "Please," he added obediently. Gibbs laughed. "C'mon then, lad, we'll teach you how to tie a tack line," he said brightly. He paused for a moment, looking back at Jack and Elizabeth. "What took y'so long?"
Jack scowled and Elizabeth cut across him sharply. "Someone tried to steal Will's heart."
Gibbs whistled incredulously.
"I took care of it," Jack said darkly and Gibbs nodded, seeming nonplussed. Elizabeth threw up her hands in defeat. "Be careful!" she called to Gibbs, who had taken William by the hand and was leading him across the deck.
She was in her favourite spot on the Pearl, high in the crow's nest, from where she could watch everything happening below. She saw William and Gibbs, the old sailor patiently tying lines with her son, guiding his small hands through the motions.
Twisting around, she watched Jack at the helm. He looked at home with his hands on the black and gold wheel, the spokes held in a light grasp, the ship responding to his slightest touch. He shifted with his movements, pausing from time to time to squint up at the sun. One time he met her eyes and even from high on the mast she could see his cocky smile as he caught her watching him shamelessly, and when he saw her cheeks flame red his smile widened and he laughed out loud.
He belonged on the sea, she thought absently. While Will had taken to a seaman's life with ease and skill, she surmised that he would have been happy on land for the rest of his days, had he not had to rescue her from Barbossa. But Jack looked like he could never have lived anywhere but at sea. Even on solid ground he walked like he was on a ship, and while most of that could probably be caused by his quirky mannerisms, there was a sailor's swagger about him that was never completely erased.
Lost in her musings, the sudden watery blast that signalled the arrival of the Dutchman made her jump, and she whirled around to watch her husband's ship erupt from the ocean. She climbed down from the crow's nest as the two ships lined up.
The Dutchman was her usual pristine self, but she showed no flashy embellishments like the Pearl. Elizabeth wondered if Will had refused the spoils of whatever plunder he had helped Jack with last year. It would be like him.
He was waiting for her on deck, eagerly smiling at the sight of her and William. To his delight, William pulled away from his mother, exclaiming "Da!" and colliding with Will's knees. Elizabeth smiled at her son, who had plunged into a rambling conversation with Will. For all her misgivings, William had never indicated that he could be anyone's son but Will's, and she was grateful for that, for her husband's sake. If she could keep him from ever finding out that his son might not be his, she would be happy.
But as Jack, who had appeared behind her, greeted Will heartily, she frowned sadly. If she could ever truly discern that Jack was William's father, she would nevertheless deny him the joy and pride of claiming him, forever.
He could never be a father to his own son.
Restless, she slipped from Will's bed, out of the cabin and onto the deck of the Dutchman. She walked along the top deck, stopping at the bow and leaning over the rail. The Pearl glittered in the moonlight, floating like a silent ghost alongside the Dutchman, looking ethereal and she wondered for a split second if it had ever really existed in the first place. The Dutchman was undoubtedly a ship of another world, but with her black paint and sails and her history, the Pearl was not as solid and real as she seemed.
"Beautiful in the dark, isn't she?"
She started at Jack's voice. He was perched in the rigging right above her head, staring out at his own ship. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, casting about for any nearby crewmen. One passed by and she winced, anticipating the scene that was about to take place, but the sailor only nodded to Jack and tipped his hat to her. Jack nodded in return and the man moved on.
"I'm a common sight on this ship," Jack offered, his voice quiet in the dark. "Will and I see quite a bit of each other, even when you're not around." He leapt down, landing silently and gracefully, and came towards her, sliding his hands around her waist.
Her mind squawked that she was on her husband's ship, that he was sleeping, innocent and trusting, just yards away. But her hands acted of their own accord, ignoring her outrage and shame to twine around the pirate's neck. He kissed her, long and deep, arching her slightly over the deck rail.
"Jack," she hissed unevenly as his lips broke from her, but only to brush along her throat. She tipped her head back, hands clutching at his shirt. He continued his attack on her neck, pausing for just a second. "What?"
"Jack, we're on the Dutchman, for God's sake."
He lifted her onto the rail and she remembered the diamond-hard water for only an instant before his arms came securely around her. He nosed the neck of her chemise aside. "And?"
"Will is just below." Her voice was shaking. She pulled her skirt above her knees, opening her legs to bring him closer.
With one arm still tight around her waist, he slid the other from her knee up her leg, his rough hand smoothing over her inner thigh. "Sleeping," he said shortly.
"For now," she retorted, even as she locked her ankles, legs wrapped around his body, arching against him helplessly. "What if he wakes?"
His hand continued its ruthless path, travelling across her skin, goose-pimpled with both desire and the sharp sea breeze. "He won't."
She pressed harder against him, any thoughts of the water that rushed by, dozens of feet below, gone from her head. It was getting harder to remember why she was still speaking. "What if William wakes?"
He raised his face from her throat, looking slightly annoyed. His hand stopped its movements and she whimpered slightly. "Do you want me to go away?" he said, sounding absurdly cordial for a man who had a woman perched on the rail of a ship with her skirt hiked nearly to her waist and her legs twined around him.
Above, a cloud shifted and moonlight spilled across the deck. It lit up his face, dark eyes bright with desire in the silver shine. He looked like something from a storybook, and as with the Pearl, Elizabeth found herself wondering if he really existed.
But his arms were warm around her, his eyes intent on her face, his fingers strong on her skin, and she shook her head violently, silencing herself with a fervent, almost desperate kiss. He continued his teasing caress and her hands fisted on his back, pulling him as close as she could.
She never wanted him to go away.
She and Will spent only three days together before he was called away to ferry souls. He left her with a lingering kiss and instructions to go home, that he might be gone for a while. He tousled William's hair, handed him a beautifully carved wooden lion as a companion for Hoss, and the two of them watched from the deck of the Pearl as the Dutchman disappeared below the waves.
William was subdued as they sailed for her island, missing his father. Gibbs kept him entertained, continuing his instruction on the workings of the ship.
Elizabeth retreated to the crow's nest, to Jack's irritation. She brooded in the small space, watching Jack at the helm without any of her previous interest.
She was wracked with guilt. She and Jack had made love on Will's own ship, gasping and clinging to each other as her husband slept away below decks. It seemed so much worse than when they had been in Jack's cabin, in her own cottage. This betrayal was right under Will's nose and he had no idea; he was as trusting and oblivious as he ever was, secure in the knowledge that his wife loved him.
She did love him. If she didn't, she wouldn't have been struggling with this crippling guilt. But the call of Jack Sparrow in the moonlight was irresistible, as always. She could never resist him. He was an addiction, a poison she couldn't give up, and she loved him with an intensity she had never felt for Will.
It broke her heart.
She wished she could give up on one of them, whichever it was. But Will's innocent heart and steadfast adoration and Jack's dark attraction and electric personality were each unshakeable. Will's open smile and gentle arms made her feel like a wife, while Jack's fierce eyes and passionate hands made her feel like a woman.
She felt eyes on her, and looked down at Jack. He was watching her curiously, something sad and almost defeated about his face. When he gazed at her, the guilt intensified, and she tore her eyes away. Not only was she betraying Will, she was making Jack suffer.
She was a danger to both of them. A constant thorn in their sides, betraying and denying and deceiving. She didn't deserve either of them.
She climbed down from the crow's nest, making her way to her cabin. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jack signal to Cotton to take the wheel, but she didn't speak to him.
She left the door open, knowing he would follow her, and he appeared in a matter of seconds, closing the door behind him. She was sitting on the bed, looking down at her hands, and he drew one into his own, sitting beside her.
"What's wrong, love?" he asked, concern strong in his voice. "You look like you've been cast into the Locker."
She shrugged and he frowned. "Don't give me that bilge. You've been moping around since Will left. Missing him?"
She stared at him now. She wondered how he could speak so easily about her husband, as he stroked her hand and waited for an answer. In a way, he was just as adoring as Will. The thought brought her no comfort.
The door opened and she looked up quickly, but it was only William. He said nothing to either of them, crossing the floor and looking up at his mother with wide eyes. She lifted him into her lap, burying her face in his dark curls, and his little hands were light on her back.
Larger hands joined them, as Jack pulled them both into his embrace. Elizabeth glanced at him over William's head. His eyes were distant, but they focused on her, and he gave her a sad smile that didn't suit him at all.
She hated it, and hated herself for bringing it to his bright, ever-changing face.
But she surrendered to his hold anyways, helpless as ever in his arms.
Their parting on her island was brief and bittersweet. He shook William's hand gravely, and then looked to Elizabeth, questions in his eyes. She had no answers, however, and she knew he could feel the hesitation in her kiss.
When he disappeared over the ridge, she pressed her hands to her face, her eyes dry and unseeing. She stared after him long after he was gone.