FOR YOUR EYES ONLY
45—Arrangements
DISCLAIMER: Jack'n'Lizzie etc. do not belong to me. I make no money from the writing of this fan-fiction.
A/N: After much delay, here is the next chapter. I would just like to take this opportunity to thank you all for your patience and remind you that no matter how long it takes, I will finish this story. I have a lot of ideas for later parts of this story and very few for the part I'm working on now, so please bear with me! I will finish, I promise!
With that being said, on with the story.
The night was eerily silent, the sky an inky, dark black. A surplus of clouds blocked out the moonlight, keeping any stars that might shine at bay. The ocean was a glassy calm that Jack found more than unsettling. In fact, he almost prayed for a storm, some sort of discourse that would keep him occupied enough to divert his troubling thoughts.
He sat leaned back in his desk chair. One hand lay rested upon one of the chair's arms, his fingers lightly drumming the wood with an impatience that would drive his Lizzie crazy. The other hand was cradling his jaw, coming up to cover his mouth. Every now and then his light, quiet breathing would take in a deeper, more restless breath. It was nights like this that he hated most… nights when the rest of the world seemed to be asleep, and he was left alone with his worries.
About every five minutes or so, he would look up from his trained spot on the desk's smooth surface. He would look to the melting candle, which was sure to extinguish within the hour. Those dark eyes would then flit over to rest on his sleeping Elizabeth, so calm and peaceful in her slumber that it made him ache. She had no idea what was coming. That wasn't to say that he had a definite idea of the unforetold future. But it would be bad. That much he knew.
She had so much faith in him. She had every confidence that he would come up with a way to escape his dreaded fate, or at the very least, they would derive one together. While Jack had more than enough doubts to keep him awake most nights, his overwhelming lack of success in Tortuga was the final nail in his coffin of uncertainties.
His options were very quickly running out. He had just two more days to rack up more souls, which he full-well knew wouldn't happen. He knew it wouldn't happen the moment Jones had assigned him the daunting task. At the very least, however, it had bought him more time with Elizabeth, and had given her hope when there was none.
All the while, his thoughts kept returning to Tia's unnerving, if not puzzling, words of prophecy. Death is a choice. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. Tia had always been a frustrating individual, never one for just coming out and saying it the way it was. Whenever he went to her with a problem or a question, she always answered him in riddles. He half-chuckled, wondering why he even bothered. He'd be better off with a random guess pulled from the deepest depths of his imagination. Death is a choice.
"What the bloody hell does that mean…" he muttered, just barely above a whisper. His head snapped up when he heard the bunk sheets ruffle and saw Elizabeth turn in her sleep. She let out a deep exhale before her breathing steadied. Confident that she was still deep in slumber, Jack again began to ponder Tia's ominous words.
Death is a choice, he thought. A fairly poor choice, indeed. He once again sat back, his thoughts drifting to all the choices he had made in his life, most of them bad ones. Selling his soul to save the Pearl? Bad choice. Picking Barbossa for a first mate? Bad choice. Pursing Elizabeth when he knew it could one day lead to a noose? Suddenly he felt uncomfortably warm. A pit dropped in his stomach and his throat felt tight.
Pursuing Elizabeth was undoubtedly the best decision he had ever made in his entire life. He again glanced up to where she was sleeping, peacefully unaware of the turmoil that was swirling through her fiancée's mind, and anger began to seep through him. Not at the envious rest she was able to achieve, but at the precarious situation he had put her in. He knew (and knew that she knew), that their life would not be an easy one. There would be more than their fair share of danger. But this was unacceptable. He hated himself for doing this to her.
Death is a choice. He sighed. Was it a certain prophecy? Or an avoidable one? Maybe it was a warning. Perhaps it was neither. He let out another deep sigh. He was more than frustrated now, and with a huff he stood up and marched across the room towards the window and his bookshelves. He was determined now more than ever to alleviate his mind from his thoughts, his eyes scanning the shelves when they came to rest on a hand-carved wooden chest.
The tightness in his throat came to reside in his chest, his hands trailing along the locked lid. Without giving it much thought, his fingers came to the smallest key on his belt. He carefully grasped the others in his fist, so as to not make noise and wake Lizzie. He swiftly unlocked the lid and lifted it, his hands grabbing onto the thick stack of folded letters that were housed within. He began to shuffle through them, carefully selecting one. The cabin's light growing ever-dimmer, he unfolded it.
I am glad to hear you are so happy at having your ship. I knew you would be, but to hear you speak of it makes it all the more satisfying. In your letter, you spoke of her being in Barbossa's possession, which must have been tremendously difficult for you. However, the Black Pearl has never had a finer captain than the one whose eyes are reading this letter. I know you must think you are lucky to have her, but I think it is quite the opposite. It is the Pearl who is lucky to have you.
He smiled, and not only at her elegant penmanship scrawled across the parchment he clutched in his hands. She had no idea that he'd kept each and every one of her letters—the letters that would eventually bring them together, the ones that helped to bond him to her more than he'd ever been with another living soul. Each one had been carefully read, more than once, and vigilantly stored in the safety of his cabin.
He knew long before she ever wrote the first letter that she had worked her way into his heart, not to ever be removed from it ever again. And quite frankly, he didn't want it that way. He never wanted to go back to his life the way it was before her. She was everything. She was security. She was the ability to be entirely at ease, completely himself without the guise of Captain Jack Sparrow. With her, he was just Jack, and completely happy. She was life.
He carefully folded the letter and tucked it behind the others, reaching for another. Just as carefully, he unfolded the next, his eyes scanning her words, practically able to recall each one as perfectly as the first time he'd read them.
Worry not, you silly pirate. The briefness of your last letter upsets me not at all. I am still pleased to receive anything from you, however long it may be.
He again smiled. That was the first time he fully dared to hope that she might feel for him the way he felt for her. Even from the very first moment, he had seen something of himself reflected in her. She was a pirate, truly, but her heart was bigger and fuller than any other pirate to ever live, and he loved her for it.
I understand completely if my poor actions are cause for you to cease contact with me, though I hope with an anxious heart that this is not the case. Your friendship means so much to me, Jack, and I don't know what I would do without it. I do recognize, however, that the loss of it would be my fault, and in such an event I take full responsibility for my actions.
He almost laughed reading the words that had been written what seemed like so long ago. As if there was anything she could possibly do to alienate him from her. There were far many things that he himself had done that warranted her never-ending hatred, yet she stuck by him, as loyally and faithfully as he could ever hope for.
He remembered that had been one of the last letters she's written him, aside from a brief one begging him to come for her when her untimely wedding had been rapidly approaching. She finally agreed to sail away with him and the rest… he sighed. The rest was history. They were supposed to go on, ravaging the seas and taking that they wanted for their own. They were supposed to be the two most notorious pirate names the history books would ever know. But now, it looked like death was rapidly approaching them both.
Death… is a choice. Suddenly, with her letters clutched in his hands, it hit him. He felt unsteady as his heart sank in his chest and he thought that a part of him might be dying right then and there. Death is a choice. He knew what he had to do.
Ever so carefully, as if it would be the last time he ever see them, he placed the letters back in their chest and locked them up tight. He swiftly, yet quietly, made his way back to his desk. The candle was about to go out and so, he lit a new one, snuffing out the old one with a lick on his fingers. He pulled a clean sheet of parchment from the top drawer of his desk, his hand reaching for the quill and ink across from him.
Slowly and surely, he began to write.
My Dearest Lizzie…
Jack lightly blew on the still-wet ink as he quietly and cautiously shut the cabin door behind him. The Caribbean's night air was cool and refreshing, kissing his skin with comfort as another bead of sweat trickled down his back. The letter he'd just penned had undoubtedly been the most difficult thing he'd ever written, but it was more than necessary. He had to do it, and not only that, he'd do it again if he had to.
He had made it halfway across the deck when his eyes, half-clouded in the din of the night, spotted the individual he'd been looking for.
"Ah, William," he said, again turning on his trademark personality. There was no need for the young blacksmith to know what was going on in his head… not all of it, anyways. "You're so very much the person I was looking for."
"Evening, Jack," Will replied with a sigh, leaning forward against the rail and looking out at the sea ahead. "I take it you want something, then?"
"Want something?" Jack retorted, feigning offense. "Since when can I not simply partake in the pleasure of your company?" Will said nothing, but turned to him, his eyebrow arched. Jack rolled his eyes. "Fair enough. I need to have a word with you… an important word… and not here."
"Where, then?" Will asked, seeming utterly disinterested.
"Follow me," Jack instructed, brushing past him and heading towards the mast. He heard Will let out another heavy sigh when Jack started to climb.
"We're going to the crow's nest?" Will asked.
"Yes, well, I have it on good authority that the poor wretch who's supposed to be up there is, in fact, passed out below decks. S'what I bloody get for lettin' my men have a good time in Tortuga. An' besides, it's the only place we can go where we won't be overheard, savvy?"
"Not hardly," Will replied, grunting with the effort as he began to follow Jack up the rigging. After a silent and almost painfully awkward climb, Jack made it over the edge into the crow's nest, offering Will a hand. The younger man ignored it, his pride and need to prove himself preventing him from accepting it. "Now what's so important that you found the need to drag me up here in the middle of the night?"
"So hostile," Jack said, clicking his tongue. "What's it to you? You were up anyways and, by my watch, not doing anything."
"Jack, I doubt you brought me here to bicker. What?"
Jack sighed, still more than uneasy, but forced it out anyways. "How much do you know about Davy Jones?"
"I know of your predicament. That's all."
"Do you know of his heart?" Jack continued.
"That it's buried on an island of unknown whereabouts? I've been informed." Will's brow furrowed, his interest suddenly piqued. "What are you getting at, Jack?"
"What do you know about his crew?" Jack asked, lowering his voice, even though he didn't need to.
Will shrugged. "Not much."
"Well," Jack smirked. "Allow me to inform you. They're press-ganged, the lot of them, into a hundred years of servitude." Will grimaced and Jack continued on. "Each."
"Desperate men with death as their only alternative," he concluded.
"Aye. Or, in specific, an eternity under the crushing pressure of the deepest of the oceans depths." Jack watched as Will's eyes narrowed. His lips parted, but he did not speak. Jack knew he was starting to formulate what he was getting at, but was so astounded that he could not form the words. "That's right, young Master Turner. Your father is one of those men."
"My father…" Will said, his voice low and quiet.
"Yes," Jack confirmed. "Bonny Bootstrap Bill was plucked by Jones from the ocean's floor with nowhere else to go, no other options."
"Are you certain?" Will asked, still half in disbelief, half in awe of what he'd just been told.
"Entirely. Came to remind me of my debt."
"I…" Will was nearly speechless. "We… I have to save him."
"Precisely what I'm getting at. I knew you'd catch on, always were a bright lad."
"Jack."
"Yes, right," Jack said, quickly unhooking his compass from his belt. He pressed it into Will's hands. "My compass is unique. Not only will it provide you with the tools you need to set free your father, but will provide me with the tools to kill Jones, once and for all."
"I don't understand," Will said quietly, his eyes averted and focused on the compass.
"This compass," Jack said, grabbing Will's wrist and raising the compass upwards, flipping open the lid as he went. "Will point to whatever you want most in this world. And right about now, I'm thinking what you want most in this world is to free your father from his most unfortunate debt."
Will's eyes flashed upwards. "If your compass is so powerful, how come you're yet to use it to satisfy your own needs?"
Jack groaned slightly and looked out at the vast expanse of ocean surrounding them. "I tried," he muttered. "Didn't work."
"Why should I believe it will show me what I want most if it can't do the same for you?"
"Didn't say it didn't show me what I wanted most," Jack shrugged. "It did, quite successfully. Every time I bloody open it."
Will was silent for a few moments before speaking again. "Elizabeth."
"Yes. Elizabeth."
"Now," Jack said, quickly changing the subject. "I have it on good authority, and through my superb talents towards observation that you and the lovely Miss Avery are growing closer. If we don't act now, it might not work." Will scowled, as if offended that Jack had pried into his personal life. "Both you and me have a need to find Jones' heart and quickly. I've only two days left and while your father has a near-eternity, I surmise that one more day in captivity is one too many."
Will said nothing, but stared at Jack for several long moments before allowing his eyes to drift downwards to the compass. Jack watched as his fingers gripped the edge, watching ever-still as the needle spun and spun before settle on a definite direction.
Jack let out a sigh, more than pleased.
"I take it this means something to you," Will said.
"Aye, it does. Gives us a bearing to Isla Cruces, lest I be mistaken. I should've known that's where he'd hide it."
"Oh?"
"Aye. It's more than remote and when the tide comes in, it's halfway underwater. Less than ideal for treasure hunting, eh?"
"Indeed," Will agreed. "Jack?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for telling me. I truly appreciate your honesty."
Jack suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He waved his hand at Will. "S'no trouble."
"Maybe not. But that being said, I feel I owe you the same honesty," Will said. "When we reach… Isla Cruces, is it…? I'll pursue the heart on my own. I can't expect you to use it for my father when your life is on the line. But you'll understand that his life is more important to me than—"
Jack smirked. "I told you once, William," he started, "you're a pirate, whether you care to admit it or not. I wouldn't expect any less. But now we know where we're headed. The rest can be arranged when we get there."
"Yes," Will nodded, and another few moments of silence passed between the two men. Will was about to head back over the crow's nest and down the rigging when Jack stopped him.
"That's not all," Jack said.
"Oh?"
"Oh. As much as I wish to do otherwise, I must ask for your trust, if only this once," Jack said. Carefully, as if harboring the most precious of treasures, Jack pulled his recently penned letter from out of his coat. He stared at it, gritting his teeth with uneasiness, and thumbing over the name he had carefully scrawled on the outside flap. Lizzie.
"What's that?" Will asked.
"S'a letter," Jack finally admitted. "In the event that things don't go my way, which I know they likely won't, I've written this for Elizabeth. All I ask is that you save this and give it to her, should something happen to me." Jack extended his hand, another part of his heart breaking as he watched Will take it. He was, however, relieved when the younger man offered no words of comfort, no false hope.
"I'll give it to her," Will said, watching as Jack watched him tuck it away. "And I promise… she'll walk away from this, even if you don't."
The smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of Jack's mouth. "That's all I ask." He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the two words that he rarely spoke, and when he did, rarely meant. "Thank you."
Will simply nodded, and disappeared down into the rigging.
A/N: That's it! Hopefully there will be more soon—it's summer vacation now, so there will be more time to write!
There are two new links posted at the top of my profile, one for a banner for "Capsized" and one for a trailer for "It Only Takes a Moment," both by KimOfDrac, who is awesome!
Thanks for reading, now go review! See you next time!