Jack went into the sitting room. Elizabeth was on the divan, crying. Jack sat down next to her; she turned away and tried to clean up her face and get herself under control.
Jack put his arm around her. "Won't do to pretend you're fine, darling, and I've already seen you in much worse states than this. May as well get it all out. I won't tell anyone." Slowly, carefully, as if he was trying to approach a wild animal, he pulled her closer until she gave in and turned to him, burying her face in his shoulder.
He leaned back against the divan, holding her close, and just let her cry for a few minutes. He stroked the back of her neck under her hair and rested his cheek on her head until she quieted.
"Did—did my aunt tell you?" She looked up at him without lifting her head from his shoulder.
He nodded, stroking her face with his hand, wiping away the tear-tracks from her cheeks. "I'm sorry, darling. I know you love the boy." He pressed his lips to her hair. "We'll figure something out, love," he told her gently. "It will be all right, I promise you."
"Oh, Jack," Elizabeth whispered brokenly. She reached out and touched his face in turn, stroking down his high cheekbones and down the side of his neck. She pulled his face closer and touched her lips to his.
For just the barest instant, he succumbed to the heaven of her warm, soft lips on his. But then he pulled back sharply and looked at her, eyebrows drawn together with concern. "No, love," he said.
"What? Why?" Elizabeth tried to kiss him again, but he turned his head aside and reached up to cover her mouth with his fingertips. "I need this, Jack."
"Not like this, love. You don't want this."
"How do you know what I want?" Elizabeth demanded. "Turns out I'm not married after all, and I'm throwing myself at you, in case you didn't notice!"
"I did notice," he replied soberly. "And I'd catch you if I didn't think it would make you would hate me."
"What are you talking about?" Elizabeth asked, angry now.
"You don't want this with me, love," he told her. "If I thought for one second that you did, we wouldn't even be talking, but you don't. You want it with Will, and you'd be using me as a substitute for him. You'd hate me, you'd claim I took advantage of your grief, and you know you would." His eyes and expression were dead serious.
"Darling, I don't ever want to be something you regret. So... no. We're not doing this. Savvy?"
"I don't believe this!" Elizabeth was indignant. She jumped to her feet and turned on him. "I'm getting turned down by Jack Sparrow? The man with two girls in every port? The man who'll swive anything in skirts is turning me down?"
"Oh! Forgive me!" Jack got angry in turn. He stood up so he could make her a mocking bow. "Do pardon me, Your Highness, I beg you, for treating you like a friend and a lady! Now that I know your newfound freedom makes you want to be a port trollop, I'm sure you'll find plenty of men around willing to accommodate your desires. But they sure as hell won't be me!"
She slapped him. Hard.
His head whipped around and then he turned back slowly and glared at her. Eyes blazing, she started to strike him again, but he grabbed both of her wrists in his hands and jerked her closer. He bent down so he was at eye-level with her, scant inches away, and hissed, "I didn't deserve that! I'm no more of a whore than you are. Think on that!" He spat out the last word, then let her go and headed for the door. He didn't slam it behind him, but let it close with a quiet click. He stood in the hallway for a moment, rubbing his cheek and grimacing in pain; Elizabeth had really put her shoulder into that slap!
He passed Agatha on his way to the door, and quickly dropped his hand. He nodded to her, touched his forehead in farewell, and left the house.
Agatha turned and watched him go, eyebrows drawing together into a frown, and then set her chin and went back into the sitting room.
Elizabeth was pacing back and forth, still angry. "Why did you send Jack in here, Aunt?" she demanded.
"I thought you needed a friend. If I'd known all you wanted was a punching bag, I'd have sent one of those in, instead," Agatha said, her voice hard.
Elizabeth whirled around to face her. "You don't know—"
"Oh, yes, I do!" Agatha cut in. "You demanded something from him that a lady has no business demanding. He refused to let you lower yourself—or him!—to that level. He treated you with respect and demanded the same from you, and you slapped him for it."
"Did he tell you—?"
"He did not. He was gentleman enough to pretend it hadn't happened, but I could see your hand print on his face, young lady! You must have hurt him; it was bright red! I hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but I don't think you realize how much your voice carries when you're angry. I must say, I am appalled at your behavior, Elizabeth, I truly am! I thought your father had raised you better than that. You have treated that young man shamefully!" Agatha was furious.
Elizabeth dropped her gaze, flushing a little. "I just wanted a bit of comfort from a friend," she said in a small, sulky voice.
"Yes, at the expense of your friend's broken heart!" Agatha scolded.
"What do you mean?"
"All the time he'd be 'comforting' you, he'd know he wasn't the one you truly wanted to be with. Eliza, if you say he's your friend, why do you torture the poor man so?"
"Torture? What are you talking about?" Elizabeth sank down on the divan, looking nervous.
Agatha sat down next to her and took her hand. "Why, he's in love with you, dear. Head over heels."
Elizabeth scoffed. "Jack Sparrow doesn't fall in love. He has women in every port, but he doesn't love anyone. The only things he really loves are the sea and the Black Pearl."
Agatha smiled sadly. "Can you really be so blind?"
"But he's my friend! He's never said anything—"
"You've been married, dear. It wasn't his place to speak. I daresay he's shown you, though."
"Shown me?" Elizabeth stared off into space, remembering. "You mean… all those midnight visits... bringing me things I asked for… and taking care of me when I was ill...? But he's my friend, that's all."
"He's been considerably more than that, dear. He has gone far beyond the bounds of friendship. Brought us here, for instance. He brought you home to his father. Don't you think that, in all of the Caribbean, he could have found somewhere else for you to stay that would be safe for you? But no. He placed you in his father's protection when your home became unsafe for you, and provided a companion for you while he had to be away," Agatha continued, indicating herself. "He's done a great deal for you, Elizabeth, and you've been extremely unkind to him. He has shown you kindness, care, and consideration—"
"—And in return I tried to make him into my 'port doxy' because I'm lonely, and because I miss Will and was angry to find out I'm not really married to him," Elizabeth said miserably. "And this, on top of everything else I've done to him in the past. Oh, I'm so ashamed. Aunt Agatha, he's never going to forgive me."
"Oh, I daresay he will," Agatha said comfortably, patting her hand. "But you're still under the weather, and overwrought, and hungry. Have some breakfast and perhaps a nap, and when you feel up to it, we'll get all this sorted out."
Elizabeth nodded humbly. She really was tired. It had been more than a fortnight since she had left Flimwell, and aside from the constant and inconvenient level of exhaustion, she felt perfectly well again. She was still very thin, and so was Jacob, but what bothered her most was that she still couldn't get through a day without taking naps. Jacob was the same way, and he had lost some of his abilities in the illness. He could no longer support his own weight to sit up, though Cotton had assured her with gestures that when he was well enough to sit up again, he would. Likewise, when she was well enough not to need the naps, she wouldn't be falling asleep at the drop of a hat.
Clearly, she wasn't there yet. She ate breakfast, but her eyelids felt heavy by the time she had finished, and she headed back upstairs to sleep for the rest of the morning.
*Pirates*of*the*Caribbean*Pirates*of*the*Caribbean*Pirates*of*the*Caribbean*Pirates*of*the*Caribbean*Pirates*of*the*Caribbean*
Note: Jack's "I know you love the boy," and his kiss on her forehead is a callback to another of my favorite fandoms, The Phantom of the Opera. In that, Erik is deformed and deranged, and he has kidnapped Christine and Raoul, the boy she loves, and threatened everyone with death unless Christine will marry him. To save Raoul, she says she will, and then she lets Erik give her a kiss on the forehead. It is the first time he has ever been allowed to kiss anyone, because of his horrific deformities, and he breaks down crying, assures her that it will be all right, and that he knows she loves the boy. He releases Raoul and Christine to go and be married, while he stays down in the catacombs beneath the Paris Opera house until he dies. It is a beautiful and affecting story (and here's a shameless plug: I've published a sequel to the original novel) and I like making reference to the Phantom whenever I can.