FOR YOUR EYES ONLY

40—Love Stories

DISCLAIMER: Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.

A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't updated—I can believe I let it go this far! But I'm getting ready to transfer soon and I've been so overwhelmed with school work that I barely have time to think, let alone write.

This chapter is a light-hearted and easy-flowing chapter just to let you guys know that I'm still around and still very much invested in the story… it's mostly filler and fluff following the heaviness of the last chapter and proceeding the introduction of Davy Jones in the next chapter, which I hope to have up by Halloween. There are some fine details to pay attention to for further story-lines, however! (Just something to ponder, I guess.) Hopefully this chapter isn't a disappointment to you all!

Anyways, thank you all so much for your patience! Right now its midterms (on top of all the work I have already), so bear with me while they're going on. Hopefully the updates will pick up soon.

Thanks again and enjoy!

The sun had reached its peak in the sky above and Gibbs was growing impatient.

Jack had yet to show his face that morning (or afternoon, rather) and his quartermaster was quickly growing tired of being in charge. He was, after all, a quartermaster, not captain. He wasn't a power-hungry man—he enjoyed his job. After all, being captain often felt like babysitting a group of unruly, vicious toddlers… especially with Marty sick every minute and a half from a fresh hangover, Ragetti going on and on about the splinters in his eye and Pintel going on about how he shouldn't rub it. He didn't even want to think about the troubles with Cotton's parrot.

He finally found solace at the wheel, relieving Cotton of his duties and allowing him to tend to his filthy-feathered companion. He had had just a few moments of silence in which to organize his thoughts when he felt a presence behind him. He turned around slowly, half expecting to see the junior Cyclops or his stringy-haired friend in need of someone to hold their hand (yet again). He was then understandably relieved to see Rosalind, standing casually with her arms behind her back.

She was somewhat of a needy thing, but then again this was a whole new world to her. She was mostly quiet and polite—reserved, which was no doubt a reflection of her upbringing. Other than that, he knew very little of her… not even a last name to go by.

She looked somewhat uncomfortable in the men's clothes that had been provided for her, always shifting and tugging, but she would adjust in time. She was a sweet kid and Gibbs felt an odd sense of responsibility towards her.

"Beautiful day," she said quietly, bringing one foot up and scratching at the back of her calf with it.

"It is," Gibbs agreed, "too bad not all have shared in this glorious afternoon we're havin'."

Rosalind laughed. "You mean a certain captain of ours and his lady-love."

"Precisely."

She laughed again, stepping forward so that her shoulders were parallel to Gibbs'. "I take it, then, you have never seen him in such a state before?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No, and don't suspect I ever will again. That golden-haired lass of his 'as done him in, I s'pose."

"They are a good influence on each other," she agreed. "I know I've never seen Elizabeth so happy and I've known her since the days of our childhood, when all we could do was listen to her mother's stories and build fantastic pirate forts out of the bed clothes and kitchen chairs."

"How every good pirate gets his or her start," Gibbs assured her.

"Still…" Rosalind paused for several moments. "I cannot help but worry that he might cause her heartbreak someday. His reputation with the fairer sex proceeds him."

"It always does," Gibbs chuckled, shaking his head. "Any swag of a pirate seems wholly incapable of lovin' but one woman. In any event, I don't foresee our Jack breakin' Miss Swann's heart."

"No?" She sighed. "I'll trust your judgment, then." She paused again. "Have you ever been in love, Mr. Gibbs?"

Gibbs was silent. He knew the answer, he just didn't know how to formulate it properly.

"Forgive me," his company said quickly, "I have overstepped by bounds."

This made Gibbs laugh. "Now lass, there be no bounds to speak of on a pirate ship." He noticed her visibly relax then, taking a deep breath, as if some invisible corset had been untied. "I was, once, long ago, when I was a lad not much older than yerself. But at the time, I was a lowly sailor and she was the lonely wife of a plantation owner in the countryside outside London."

"She was married?" Rosalind seemed horrified and for a passing moment, he regretted telling her anything.

"Aye, she was, but as stated I was a young lad with no real morals," he explained. He paused, wondering for a moment what his morals were now… were there any? He also took the moment to wonder why he felt he could speak so freely when he previously liked to keep things to himself. He supposed it was because she was a harmless little thing who could do no real wrong, to him at least, and so he shrugged and thought nothing of it.

"If you were a sailor and she lived in the country, however did you meet?"

"By chance, I s'pose," he shrugged. "She told me she liked my uniform and if I would visit her for tea while her husband was away on business—he traveled frequently."

"I see," Rosalind said, her eyebrow cocked, a wry grin on her face. "You were just abiding by her wishes." She liked Gibbs—he was the fatherly type and a natural storyteller. She liked listening to him talk.

"Of course," Gibbs replied. "Ye see, she and her husband had been tryin' for some time to have children, with no success to speak of. And when her husband would travel he went great distances for sometimes a month or two at a time." He sighed. "She was just seekin' a bit o' companionship, is all."

"How kind of you to provide it," she said, a tinge of laughter hanging on her voice. "I take it the affair was short-lived."

"It was," Gibbs replied. "I thought of askin' her to come along with me, but knew she wouldn't. Why leave her plantation for a sailor?"

"You mean you didn't even ask?"

He shook his head.

"She might have said yes! She might have loved you too!"

"Perhaps," he shrugged. "But everythin' turned out as it should have. Last I heard, she'd finally had the child she had so longed for. She would have no use or time for me anymore."

"That's awfully sad… is that why you believe women to be bad luck?"

Gibbs turned and looked at her. He didn't know she knew that.

"Perhaps not all women are bad luck."

"Tell me a story," she whispered.

Jack chuckled warmly and closed his eyes before drawing in a deep breath. "And what kind of story doth mine lady wish to hear?"

"I don't know… you're so good at it," she told him.

It might have been nearing half past noon, but either neither one of them noticed or neither one of them cared. Either way, they were each equally contented to stay in bed until Davy Jones himself invaded their privacy. Elizabeth was comfortable to be nestled in the crook of his arm, her hand splayed across his chest, directly over his steady and smooth heartbeat. As for Jack, he was comfortable to have her there, and as for both of them, they were quite comfortable to be sans any clothing.

There was a long silence as Jack thought of a story she hadn't heard yet until Elizabeth finally said, "tell me how your parents met."

Jack chuckled again. "S'not really a glamorous story, luv."

Elizabeth laughed. "You worry about glamour when we're both lying naked under sheets that have not been washed since I've been here."

"True," Jack agreed, grinning to himself. He was pleased that Elizabeth didn't seem to be bothered by the cleanliness—or lack thereof—in his cabin. "Of course, there was no real relationship to speak of… unless ye consider one balmy September night in a room at the seediest inn in all of Tortuga a relationship."

"Hardly," Elizabeth laughed. She tore herself away from him and propped herself up on her elbow, so as to watch him as he spoke, something she loved to do.

"They met at a pub in a building that doesn't exist anymore… burned down a year or two after me birth," he explained. "Both were just passin' through on their way to better places—which is arguable from a pirate's point of view—and both happened to chose to same establishment for some drink and song.

As me mother tells it, it was more crowded than crowded and as she was on 'er way out the door to retire for the evening, a drunkard who turned out to be the one-an'-only Teague Sparrow stumbled into her and spilled his beverage straight down her back."

"She couldn't have been too pleased," Elizabeth said, grinning.

"Not at first," Jack replied with a smirk. "But he wasn't all that drunk, I s'pose, for he charmed his way out of a real apology. An' she was too beautiful to warrant his distraction, so she agreed to accompany him to his room, where he offered a clean shirt and jacket to replace the one he dirtied.

"One thing led to another an'… me father awoke the next morning with a headache. But at least he was a satisfied man."

"Do you think he cared for your mother greatly?" Elizabeth asked.

Jack laughed heartily and Elizabeth's brow furrowed as she wondered about what she said. "Hell, my father's dalliances with the fairer sex make me look like the bloody pope. But he must 'ave had some affection towards her for every time we visit, he works her into the conversation and always smiles while doin' so."

"That's… somewhat romantic," she said, a warm smile growing on her lips. "Do you think your mother cared for him?"

"Not enough to stick around the next mornin'… an' not enough to seek 'im out and let the poor bastard know she was with-child." He sighed. "But I believe there was some amount of respect there, for his identity was never a secret to me and when she'd tell me stories, they were always magnificent."

"Your talent for storytelling comes from her, then," she concluded.

"Well, he's one for great fabrications as well. At least me mum's were truthful. Perhaps the talent is inherited evenly."

"Perhaps," she agreed. "So I have a pint of ale, good looks and exceeding reputations to thank for having you."

"That you do, Lizzie," he said, winking at her. "I assume it is safe to conclude that your conception was under more proper circumstances."

"My parents were married, yes," she confirmed. "I often wonder how lucky I am to be here, though."

"Not always smooth sailing?" Jack asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, not at first."

"Arranged marriage?"

"Yes, since my mother's birth. My father was already a boy of seven at the time, but their families were old friends and when my mother was born, their dreams of uniting were realized. You see, both my mother and father had all brothers, so when my mother came along, they were quite pleased. And since my father was closest to her in age, they were betrothed from the very beginning."

"Not much choice there, I see."

"No, not at all. Their families lived a great distance from each other and every summer they would bring my mother and father together from August until September in hopes that they would bond and eventually fall in love."

"And did they?"

"Not for many years," Elizabeth laughed. "My father was nearing his twenty-fifth year and my mother had just entered her seventeenth before they recognized something remotely likable in the other. Both just needed to mature, I suppose."

"That's usually how it is, darling." Jack sighed. "Were they at least happy?" He wouldn't say so, but he didn't like the thought of his Lizzie coming from a difficult and uncomfortable household.

"Quite," she said, nodding slightly. "They loved each other very much. I could recognize it in their eyes by the time I was out of swaddling clothes." She was silent for a few moments and her eyes grew soft and sad. "He was devastated when she died. I always thought that a part of him never recovered after that."

"I'm sorry," Jack said quietly, reaching out and softly stroking her upper arm.

"It's alright," she replied, exhaling deeply. "As much as I wish I could have had her growing up, I'm not sure that my father and I would have been as close had she lived. Everything happens for a reason… even death."

Jack was about to respond with something witty when Tia Dalma's parting words again flashed through his mind. Death… is a choice. He must have been scowling for Elizabeth's expression dropped and she leaned up, looking down at him with worried eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he assured her, quickly flashing her a smile.

"Liar," she said, crossing her arms. "You promised, Jack."

He sighed. "It's really fine, luv, I'm sure it's nothin'. And I wouldn't want to go worryin' ye over nothin' now would I?"

"I promise you, Jack, I will be even more worried if you don't tell me."

He sighed again and crinkled his eyebrows. "Just somethin' Tia said when we were leavin', is all."

"Weighing heavily on your mind?"

"A bit," he admitted.

"Well, what did she say?"

"She said… 'death is a choice.' Whatever that means."

Elizabeth frowned. "It must mean something. Otherwise she wouldn't have said it."

"Aye." He rubbed his chin and shrugged. "No use frettin' over it now. We've more important matters to discuss." He watched her as she visibly relaxed and a lazy smile crept across her lips.

"Like a wedding? Like wedding plans?"

He laughed. "A wedding, yes."

"Our wedding," she said contentedly, leaning back into his arms.

"Aye," he said, kissing the top of her forehead. He took a deep breath and tried to listen carefully as she began to chatter about flowers and food and her dress.

He wouldn't admit that he was still worried. What kind of pirate would that make him? But Tia's words kept on echoing through his mind, refusing to let him take part in the lightheartedness that had enveloped his bride-to-be.

Death… is a choice.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you all liked it!

Now be good little readers and go review. ;)

See you at ch. 41!