Playlist: 'The Stairs' from Finding Neverland, and 'Eptesicus' and 'Corynorhinus' from Batman Begins.

15

Old Stormy has heard an angel call
To my way hey, storm along John
So sing his dirge now, one and all
To my aye, aye, aye, Mister Storm-along.

'The Stairs'.

"But enough about meself, as interesting as it all may be." Jack grinned a wide golden grin and nudged her with the shoulder she was leaning on, "Ye must 'ave a story too."

"Not much of one, I'm afraid."
"Come, now. I know nothing of life in grandeous abodes, with... rules." he shuddered dramatically, "I at least 'ave a certain... curiosity."

"Well, if you're sure... I was born in England. Of course. I'm told I was an absolute nightmare until I turned six. Wouldn't let anybody near me for anything, except my mother. Her attempts to turn me into a proper lady were beginning to reap the benefits, by the time I was twelve. I was even beginning to enjoy wearing the dresses, and I'd take the odd princess story instead of a pirate tale at night. Then she passed away, and I suppose I quietened down, and began to give father a chance. He was so marvellous. He never let me see how sad he was. But we moved to Jamaica less than a year later; he was appointed by King George, naturally."

She seemed quietened now, as she sat next to Jack on the sand, bending her neck slightly to touch his hair with her cheek.
Very quiet, in the way she sat hunched into him, and looked at the ground with unmoving eyes.
Without any hint of a sordid thought in his head, he gently placed his arm around her shoulders.

"And on our way, we came across a shipwreck, and I saw the Black Pearl sailing away into the fog. And I spotted Will in the water. And took his medallion, in case James saw..."

She trailed off, apparently leaving the very dull rest to Jack's imagination. There was a long pause in which she sat motionlessly against him, apparently lost in her memories.

He took the chance, now that he was over his genuine stirrings of sympathy, to enjoy the feel of her breath so close to his... the warmth of her body within his casual embrace, the dirtied folds of her chemise spread out around her. The flickering of the fire turning her skin to the colour of honey, and her hand that still rested near to his own.

Music Fades Out.

So softly at first he couldn't make out the words, she began to sing to herself.
It was a tune he knew well.

"... We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot, drink up, me hearties, yo ho.
We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot, drink up me 'earties, yo ho."

Obviously she had been downing more rum than he'd thought during their rambling conversation. He took another long draught himself, and joined in with gusto - not one for singing quietly, not he.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me! We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack, drink up, me 'earties, yo ho!" they sang in (sort of) unison.

They broke away from one another to sing in a more lively, gesturative manner - facing one another, each gladly taking in the sight of the other's beaming expression, waving their bottles around, taking it in turns to go solo for a line while one took a large swig.

Jack suddenly staggered to his feet - he really felt the impact of the alcohol when he actually had to use his balance - and held out a hand to Elizabeth, as they sang louder and louder, their voices blowing the trees overhead and reaching up to the billion stars above.

"Maraud and embezzle, and even high-jack, drink up, me 'earties, yo ho! What are you doing?" she shouted at him through her laughter.
"If yer gonna sing, luv, ye 'ave to dance!" he roared like the roar of their bonfire.

She grabbed his hand and allowed herself to be hauled up, also swaying rather heavily. He linked their right arms together and swung her about in a mad barn dance, "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me! We kindle and char, inflame and ignite, drink up me 'earties -" they intoned, with an emphasis of double meaning upon those words, 'inflame and ignite' - or at least for Jack, anyway.

He caught her eye properly as they whirled, dizzy stars in a world of starlight, and wondered if the rosy blush in her cheek was from the rum.

"We burn up the city, we're really a fright, drink up, me 'earties, yo ho!"

He let her go and she went cavorting off with the momentum, skipping around to the other side of the fire and back again in a wide, wobbly circle.

He followed her lead, frolicking in the other direction so their paths crossed every time they rounded the flames. The fine beverage sloshed in their bottles.

He watched her every movement, over and around the fire. The way her chemise swished and billowed in the night air, the way her hair flowed so effortlessly.

This was the Lizzie he had imagined, all the way back when they were en route to the Isle de Muerte. He'd known she had it in her.
He'd known she'd made a ruddy good pirate. All she needed was a man to show her what freedoms she could achieve.

"We're rascals, scoundrels, villans and knaves, drink up, me 'earties, yo ho!
We're devils and black sheep, and really bad eggs! Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho!
Yo ho, yo ho! A PIRATE'S LIFE FOR ME!"

"I LOVE THIS SONG!" Jack crowed.

They grabbed hold of one another and spun again, before falling in a rather conveniently-placed heap where his head lay on her collar.

"Really bad eggs!" he echoed, holding his drink aloft.
"Black sheep." she agreed, clinking her bottle against his.
"When I get the Pearl back," he said with real confidence, lifting his head to talk into her face, "I'm gonna teach it to the whole crew, and we'll sing it all the time!"

She smiled down at him, twirling one of his dreadlocks around her finger.

"And you will be positively the most fearsome pirate in the Spanish Main." she teased in melodramatic tones, as she tickled his nose with his hair.
He grabbed a lock of her own golden curls and shoved it in her face, gently pushing her over backwards. She squeaked in playful protest.

He sat himself upright and linked his arms around his knees.
"Not just the Spanish Main, Liz. The entire ocean. The entire world!" he smiled mischeviously down at her, "Wherever we want to go, we'll go. That's what a ship is."

"You're drunk." she accused, sitting up herself and grinning wryly.

"Nonono, listen -" he pulled her towards him and gestured out across the dark ocean before them, drawing her attention to the magnitute of what he was trying to say, "it's not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails, that's what a ship needs. But what a ship is - what the Black Pearl really is - is freedom."

He said the last part in an almost-whisper, eyes boring into the side of her head as she gazed out at this freedom wistfully, all traces of humour gone.
He saw that he'd touched her, and felt satisfied.

"It sounds wonderful." she muttered.

Why did she look so bloody upset if it was wonderful?
Complete mysteries... Complete. Mysteries.

'Eptesicus'.

"Wha's got ye in a fluster, luv?" he asked, still perilously close to her, snaking an arm slyly around her waist. He was almost surprised when she didn't shrug him off.
Instead, she turned to look at him full on.

He started slightly, when he noticed the rivulets of tears trickling folornly down her rosy cheeks. She had caught her lower lip between her teeth to keep it from trembling.
Her eyes were like two perfect, dark wells of water, glassy and full, slightly narrowed in her silent agony.

She was painfully beautiful.

"Ey!" he whispered anxiously, moving his arm up instinctively to touch her neck. His other hand dropped the bottle of rum to the sand and rushed to cup her delicate jaw.

She hung in his light embrace, her gorgeous, tragic eyes drilling straight into his own without blinking. It made the moisture from them flow even more freely, and his thumb on her cheek disrupted their path.

"Jack." she said hopelessly, but nothing more came from her full, downturned lips.
"Lizzie. What's going on? Tell me, tell me now." he demanded gently. He was enunciating more than usual, he could hear it in his voice. He was being as serious as she was.

He realised that he... felt for her unidentified pain. He was so engaged, so wrapped up in this insignificant hissy fit she was probably having. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she stopped crying, and finally kissed him.

Yes. Kissed him.
That was what he wanted and he wasn't ashamed to admit it.
To himself, at least.

"I just -" the words she was about to speak hung too heavy on her heart; she hid her face in her hands, as she bared her teeth and her expression crumpled into genuine, exposed misery.

He threw both arms around her and squeezed her with all the comfort he could muster. It was sheer excruciating affliction to refrain from pressing his lips to her hair.

"I would just - really like - to come along - with you..." she managed, her breath hitching with sobs.
His chest tightened.
But it felt... warmer... tender.

"The pleasure would be all mine, luv, don't you worry about that."
"No, Jack, you don't - understand."
"Wha's there to understand? I get me Pearl back, we save the whelp - I mean William - and off we goes, savvy? All the way to the horizon, you an' me, an' me crew, an' me ship."

'Corynorhinus'.

Words were splurging out of his mouth, and he never expected that he would be saying this, actually stating this to a woman, any woman. But he was, without even thinking, and he meant every flaming word of it. Part of him was sickened, and rather mortified. But that part was keeping quiet for now. For now, it was all about her.

"I wish it could be like that." she sniffed and wiped her eyes, and sat up awkwardly, out of his fierce embrace, "That's why I'm so... I don't know. Disheartened."

Heartbroken was more the word for it, he thought.
She hugged her knees and looked back out to sea, trying to avoid his gaze, evidently embarrassed.
She was trying to do that strong, independent, courageous young female charade.

How could she be sobbing encircled in his arms one moment, a fragile, broken thing - and now this barrier suddenly between them?

Complete mysteries, he reminded himself.
But she had a lot more crying still to do. He could see it written all over her supposedly blank expression.

"What's stopping you?" he nudged her with an elbow, trying to lighten the tone.
"Oh, you know what!" she retorted impatiently, and visibly regretted her harshness. She looked at him again with pleading eyes, and suddenly the barriers were down again. Tables turned. Cards changed.

It was so bewildering.

"I can't, Jack."
"Why?"
"Because. I can't be one of you."
"I think you're already rather close, darling."
"No, Jack, I'm not. I'm not at all. I wear London fashion, I make social calls, I have a maid. I'm the Governor's daughter. Can you imagine what father would say if -"

She broke off, apparently not ready to enter those waters.

"Lizzie." he said with intensity, looking up at her from under his dark eyelids, "Ye can't live a lie all yer life."
She picked up the rum bottle beside her and took a gigantic swig.
"Look at ye!" he protested.
"So what. It's the last chance I'll ever get to drink so much. On a beach, with a real fire. And a real pirate."

"But it doesn't 'ave te be."
"Yes, it does. What about prospects? What would I do with myself? There's all sorts of hazards, Jack, for a woman like me. Rape, death by the sword, death by hanging, my father's reputation... It's a risk, Jack. It's a great big ugly risk. And I can't take it, I can't."

There was a long, aching silence.
He stared at her, and she stared anywhere but at him.

"You want this." he stated, making her flinch.
Other than that, he got no response. Which meant he was as right as he was implying. Which was very, deeply, truly.
"You want this more than you've ever wanted anything. You've been dreaming of it forever."

"Shut up." she murmured tonelessly.

He grasped her arm and spun her round, to look her square in the eye. He found himself gripping both her shoulders and even shaking her slightly.

"You've got such spirit, girl! It's been there ever since you was born, you've got a thousand thousand fights hiding away inside you -" she tried to hit him away and he caught her by the wrists, watching her hands balling up with rage, "- in them fists of your's. Why don't you let a couple loose, eh? Why not try for freedom? It's all you 'ave, in this world, is a little freedom to recompense the rest."

"No, you get recompense. I get jewels, and mindless trinkets." she spat back bitterly.
"Ha! So do I, luv. So do I. We're very alike, you an' me."

"I don't want to be like you."
"Yes, you do. Lying isn't going to help anything."
"Says Captain Sparrow, who gets his way in all things honest."
"Yes, dearie, but I don't lie to meself, eh?"

Now, that was a lie. Because he had been lying to himself, about her. And now he was lying to her about lying to himself about her.
Never mind.

Music Fades Out.

He finally let her struggling arms free, and she took the opportunity to slap him across the cheek, hard.
"OW!"
"It's your own fault."
"For trying to help ye?" he asked belligerently, "I'm only trying to show ye what ye won't let yerself see, luv. Yer proving it to us right now. Saucy wench! Now stop throwing a fit about the bloody subject and come sit down, an' we'll talk no more of it, if that's what pleases ye."

She seemed to realise that she was standing up, and descended somewhat awkwardly to the sand, a good few feet away from him.

"Now, now, let's not be hurtful." he chided, scooting over and pressing his side up against her's, "I was vastly enjoying our close conversations, before this little shenanigan."
She pulled a noncommittal face, and stroked his arm once, but that was it.

"I'll go an' put some more wood on the fire, an' when I get back, I expect an apology an' a better attitude, savvy?" he demanded, half-playfully, and got up.