Lizzie remembers before. Sometimes so clearly, it sends a pain shooting through the empty cavity where her heart should be.
She remembers being Elizabeth. Miss Swan. She remembers ball gowns and tea time, sitting with other girls, her friends, as they chatter and gossip about silly things, so carefree. She remembers James Norrington. She remembers being friends with one of his younger sisters; remembers thinking maybe it wouldn't be so bad, to be Mrs. Norrington, to have all these other sisters and brothers and never want for anything, even if she didn't truly love him. She remembers his attempts at courting her a bit (and sometimes, just sometimes, she wishes she had let him, because she might very well have been better off and because if she had maybe he wouldn't have ended up dead.)
And then she remembers her husband. No, not even her husband, just Will. Before he was anything else. Strong and handsome and gentle, always so gentle with her. The love that was always so clear in his eyes. And it was clear. Love – he'd loved her. Some small part of clings to that, never stops clinging to that. It had been there once, that love, for both of them. He'd loved her and she'd loved him and it was good at one point, it was, truly. Right?
…
She remembers things changing, well, just beginning to, for the better at first. They had their little adventure with Barbossa and the Pearl and Jack and that would've been enough for her in the end. She had her pirate and he was also a very good man and her father had given his blessing, albeit reluctantly, but that was alright. Or she thought it was. But maybe it wasn't very alright, she realizes, because she also remembers Will growing a little distant, a little restless. Remembers him trying to talk to her, to tell her…but she hadn't entirely, really listened.
She understands now, of course. She'd gotten her adventure and been nearly killed and had been more than satisfied, but for him the opposite had been true. He wanted to be out at sea again. But he would never have left her, she knows this, so he dropped it after a while and gave every appearance of being all hers again and that might've been the end of it.
…
Then came the wedding. Pouring rain and Will in chains. Lord Beckett demanding Jack's compass be found. Will leaving, left with no choice. And there they were again. Off on another adventure, complete with a massive, slimy sea-squid and a crew full of fish-men. All to save Jack. And then there was the kiss. But it had meant nothing. She meant to tell him that. She should've. But no, it was hers to deal with, her burden.
'It wasn't your burden to bear.'
'But I did bear it…'
…
She remembers the weeks that followed, the month that saw things changing again. But not for the better this time. No, not for the better. They talked so little, all that time… He thought she'd given her heart to someone else. The epitome of irony.
…
A battle in the pouring rain.
'Marry me!'
'I don't think now is the best time!'
'Now may be the only time!'
Barbossa, fighting off the fish men now, trying to spit out the words.
'Oh, just kiss!"
And they do.
…
She's dying, slumped against those steps, a sword in her chest, and she can't…can't think…can't breathe…can't speak…just can't. And then she's in Will's lap. And he sounds panicked as his shaky hands run through her soaked, light brown locks, and he's murmuring to her, begging her to stay with him and Will, I'm dying, and I love you so much, and it's just not fair!
…
Jack…that's Jack. And in his hand…what's in his hand? He's at her side now. Where did Jones go? Maybe it doesn't matter anymore. Will presses something into her hand, something sharp. On the deck, it's the heart.
Stab the heart. Part of the crew. Part of the ship.
Part of the crew.
They help her, Will and Jack, she doesn't have the strength on her own. All goes dark…
…
She's under water when she comes to. Under water, the whole ships under water. But she can breathe. Wait. No. She's just not breathing. She doesn't need to.
Her chest. There's a scar. She can feel it. And it makes sense. The heart. Jack had had the heart and he'd given to her. And she'd died and Jones was already gone now but she knows just who else is going to pay for it all.
…
The roar of the cannons is music to all their ears. Beckett's ship is obliterated. It's a truly beautiful thing, in its way.
…
They have that one day. She'll cry, almost certainly. But later. Right now they have just that one day. And she loves him and he loves her and they are married, she doesn't care what anyone else might try to argue.
She gives him her heart. It was always his. It makes sense. He promises.
'I love you, Will. So very much.'
'And I love you, my Elizabeth.'
…
And then came Emily. Her pretty little Emily. Their baby, hers and Wills. She has his eyes.
Lizzie remembers this too. Remembers the tears that came with the realization; she can't keep the baby. A ship is no place for a baby. Especially this ship. No. It was all up to Will from here.
All up to Will.
Tears. She remembers tears. How long has it been since she allowed herself tears now? Now that, she can't remember.
…
Bootstrap finds him in a tavern with Jack Sparrow, she learns later. Will had been scarcely more equipped to handle a baby than her, Bill says.
Lizzie thinks he never tried very hard, it seems, because look how their little Emily turned out.
…
Letters. She writes as often as she can, although her letters are never as long as his, but that's just because he tells her everything about Emily. He tells her about when their little girl first starts to walk and what her first word was (please, apparently, for what reason neither of them knows).
He never mentions Her.
…
He sends her gifts. Things crafted in the small port he's living in now. Books. And then a ring. The ring. A very plain gold band, but that's alright, he says he'd made it. And for a moment in time, just a moment, it seems like maybe, just maybe, they can be ok this way.
…
He mentions nightmares, nights spent sleepless. She wonders, a little later, if that's what possessed him to start up with the rum. Not that that makes a good excuse.
…
She remembers seeing him again. Out at sea, on the Pearl, fitting in perhaps too well, but she didn't care because he was there and she hugs him and kisses him and for a moment all is bliss.
And then there's Emily. The pretty little dark haired five year old with the big, brown doe eyes. And she looks like him.
'Mother?'
'Yes, dear.'
…
It's Emily that mentions 'Miss Jade'. Elizabeth (and she was still Elizabeth, then)…she doesn't want to. But she jumps to conclusions. Because Will hadn't mentioned her. If he'd found someone else to help with Emily, that was fine. But why hadn't he written about it?
Emily tells her all about it, though. About the things 'Miss Jade' says, the way she tells Emily how to act and the way she seems awful close to Will, even from a five-year-olds perspective.
Elizabeth asks Will, later, when their alone. He makes it seem all very innocent, harmless. She allows herself to believe him. Because she still loves him so much, and she's so far away and lonely all the time, so maybe she's paranoid. Maybe…
…
Then her goddess comes for her one day, so sad. And it should be exciting, the news that Elizabeth might be freed. But her goddess gives her the truth, just the truth.
The man she's allowed to watch for a moment is a stranger. And she wants to hope that he'll stay true, but really, that's the moment she begins to mourn for what once was. She knows now, she'll never have that back again.
…
The dream. She'll never forget that dream. The one where her Will turns into the stranger, the rum-soaked-wobbly-legged-pirate that she did not marry, and she realizes he's done it, but hopes that she's wrong.
She cries the first few times. Then, she just gets angry.
…
She remembers him telling her about Emily being taken. Remembers everything about that conversation, from the drink he smelled of to the realization that he and Jade really had…really would…
He's damned her forever.
…
Lizzie remembers the other dream too, this one even stranger, seeing what he sees and feeling what he feels. She understands a little better for it. She does. But it only helps so much, and he's gone and crawled into a bottle, and it makes her sick. He's not her Will anymore.
Where did her Will go?
…
They take Emily back. Of course they do. There was never any other option. She's not herself; she's too thin and doesn't smile and clings to her father tightly, refusing to leave his side.
Elizabeth sinks the Revenge. The two large triple guns blast boom boom boom through the already crippled ship and it sinks in flames and she smiles, because they'd had it coming.
…
'What's she like…Jade? Is she beautiful?'
'Yes. Yes, she's very pretty.'
'And Emily…is she good to Emily?'
He tells her yes. Lizzie remembers…she'd hoped, maybe, that would help. But it didn't. It made it worse. How dare he allow another woman to care for the daughter Elizabeth had labored to give him? She can't bear the thought.
'Do you love her?'
Such stuttering. No straight answer.
'I don't know if I do…she thinks you're dead…lost to the sea.'
Lizzie is the sea.
It's impulsive of her, her cursing him. But she's angry and wants to hurt him back somehow so she does it and sends him off and Bootstrap comes back and says Will had explained things to Jade and that's the end of it.
(Except Lizzie now knows it wasn't because she has Jade, Mrs. Jade Turner, and had even met the spitfire little whelp that was her son, his son, their son. She should've kept the boy too, but some part of her just couldn't…wouldn't allow…she's spent much time since trying to beat that small, stubborn part back into submission.)
…
She remembers her one day on land, burying her heart along with all other traces of Will that had been in her cabin. And she remembers, oh so very, very clearly, the moment that Elizabeth Swan finally and truly died.
…
She remembers it all, including her goddess abandoning her (or perhaps it's more that she'd given up on her goddess, but she's not concerned with those details by now). All she knows is that years had passed, several of them, and she'd felt nothing of the goddesses presence. Until the day she could feel her own daughter on the edge of death and begged, with everything she had left in her, for Calypso to spare Emily.
Why? She doesn't understand. Any of it. Why did she still care what happened to Emily, why did Calypso see fit to reassure her that Emily would be fine? Just…why?
…
She's only half aware of herself as she gives the orders that lead up to her standing before a very grown up Emily Turner.
'My. You have grown, haven't you?'
'Mother.' There's an edge to Emily's voice. 'What can I do for you?'
The young man just behind her; tall, with dark hair rebellious long, and goddess, there can be no doubt of who he is. He even holds himself a little like Jack. Who else could he belong to? He hovers near Emily in a way that is, unmistakably, protective.
Emily. If she could still manage to care, Lizzie imagines she might be stuck somewhere between pride and vague horror at where her little girl has ended up. Because she is, undoubtedly, a pirate. But she's done well for herself to that end. The leg, though. She does manage to feel thoroughly curious about the leg.
'I'm looking for something.' The compass. 'I've reason to believe you have it.'
'What could I possibly have that you would need?'
She denies having it. Lizzie steps forward, casually intimidating, and Emily's young man doesn't like this. His hand flies to his sword…and Emily's hand flies up to hover over his, and there's a by now very familiar spark of jealousy accompanied by the realization that the pair are more than friends. But she ignores it because this could prove useful. Her daughter had the potential to become a problem and Lizzie's learned that problems are best dealt with when you have a little leverage to work with in the dealing with of them.
Emily goes on to insist that she doesn't have the compass, and she even sounds like her father. It's strange, really, because the boy – Emily's half-brother, she connects for the first time – seemed to have been more his mother's son.
She has a feeling Emily is lying. But that small part of her, that little voice, it just won't go away, won't shut up. She can't bring herself to do anything about it, although she very much so could.
She leaves empty handed.
…
But it got her nowhere. Calypso begins giving her visions of Emily, almost as though the goddess is still inside Lizzie's head. As though She can tell that maybe, just maybe, Elizabeth wasn't so easy to kill.
Not that Lizzie doesn't continue to try. That little voice. Sometimes, if she ignores it thoroughly enough, it does get quieter. But the fact remains that some small part of her does not want to have some kind of stand-off with her daughter. And certainly, she does not want to end up killing the girl.
But she can't let anyone get to her heart. She's come too far now…too much has happened…she's too far gone. She's afraid of death. Possibly even more so than the men who end up as her crew. She doesn't want to kill her daughter. But it's a cruel, twisted world they're living in, and she will do what she must.
…
The visions change up. She doesn't dream of fighting Emily, she just sees her…being a captain, finding trouble, being with her man – her Alex, taking care of her brother.
This doesn't do much in the way of helping either, well, not in the way her goddess seems to be hoping for, that is. That small, quiet voice…it has to go away! Lizzie's fate has already been sealed. There's no point. Right?
Right?
…
But it won't go away. In fact, when her goddess changes things up a little again, starts showing her a different Emily, this lady pirate called Peg, that little, quiet voice gets louder and stronger. Because Peg has Elizabeth's spirit – and her father's just about everything else.
And then Emily takes up drinking, and that voice becomes so much more persistent, so much louder, it's almost enough to…
…
Lizzie feels she's going truly insane now, but ignores the voice with a cold resolve. Emily Turner is going to give up that compass. Because if she gets her hands on the heart, she will die if that's what it takes for Lizzie to retrieve it.
…
(But the fact remains that the woman she once was still exists somewhere within her, and that means that nothing that's about to happen will be even remotely that simple).
Surprise! A whole, long-overdue chapter devoted to this fictions namesake. And I mean, loooooong overdue. I know it's a little short, but hey I updated twice in one night here, so you're welcome. :)
I know there's some funky-ish things going on with the tenses in this chapter. This is Elizabeth kind of working through things in her own head, so it's supposed to reflect her getting lost in her own memories.
Thanks for reading!