Fic: "Final Farewells"
Title: "Final Farewells"
Author:luvvycat
Characters: Elizabeth Swann/Jack Sparrow, Weatherby Swann, Will Turner
Rating: PG
Word count: Approx. 5,000
Disclaimer: PotC is Disney's, not mine. *sniff*
A/N: Today is the fifth anniversary of my dear father's passing and, as has been my practise for the past three years, I am posting this fic, with love, to commemorate his life, and to honour his memory. Please note that, due to time constraints on my part, in order to get it posted on the correct date, I have not run it past my fantastic and highly capable beta, so it's a bit on the rough side, and any errors or inconsistencies are completely my own.
Jack noticed it one morning, just as the dawn was breaching the horizon, washing the Empress's boards and sails, and her captain, Elizabeth Swann Turner, in pale rosy light. She stood at the rail, crossed arms leant against the weathered wood, gazing out at the sea, her face a study in pensive sorrow. There was a shine upon her cheek which might have been a spray of morning mist, or the telltale residue of tears.
As he drew closer, though, she drew herself up, swiping at her dewy face with the sleeve of her frockcoat.
"What's the matter, luv?"
"Nothing's the matter, Jack…"
"Don't give me that, Lizzy. Something has you troubled."
She turned a silent glare upon him, but he held his ground, refusing to give her quarter, and she at last relented, with a sigh.
"I've just been thinking of everything that's happened, since I fled Port Royal. What happened to Will, to me, to my father, to James…"
"Now, you know none of that was any fault of yours…"
"Somehow, I feel that it was. If not for me, if not for trying to protect me, my father might still be alive, Will might still be alive…"
"You can't assume that. Beckett had his own agenda, after all. He would have used anything, and anyone, to achieve those ends."
"I suppose, on some level, I know that. But there was so much I took for granted, before Beckett arrived … I thought that Will and I would have our happily ever after, would build a life and a family, grow old and grey together. I had also assumed that my father would be there to see us happily wed, to see his grandchildren born, to dandle them on his knee and spoil them in the manner that only a doting grandfather can, to spend his twilight years in the bosom of his loving family, and pass peacefully out of this world into the next surrounded by familiar and beloved faces." Her face hardened from grief to anger. "Cutler Beckett robbed me of all that." She looked down, and Jack could see her lower lip tremble, just a bit. "Worst of all, he's denied me the knowledge of exactly where and when my father died … I have nowhere I can go to grieve, no gravesite, no headstone to mark his remains, nowhere I can lay flowers and pray for his poor murdered soul."
"Well, luv … we know he died upon the water, so in a way, one might consider the entire sea to be his grave."
Elizabeth shook her head. "It's really not the same." She smiled in sad memory. "When I was five, my mother died, and my father told me she was no longer with us - that she had gone to heaven. Nevertheless, I saw her lying in her coffin, saw that coffin sealed and carried to the graveyard and laid to rest in the family crypt. So, in my child's mind, she resided not in heaven, but in that tomb." She tilted her face up, as though contemplating stars that had already begun to fade in the growing morning light, and Jack could see the shine of tears in her eyes, her face taut as she struggled not to shed them.
"Many a time, when I was sad, or troubled, or upset with my father, I would go to the graveyard, sit outside the gate to the crypt, and 'talk' to my mother. Though I couldn't see her … and though, of course, she never responded … it gave me great comfort, thinking that she was there, only a few feet away, and that she was listening to me. So close, that I swore I could still feel her love for me." Elizabeth sighed heavily. "The last time I visited her grave was the day before Father and I left England for Jamaica. Though it pained me to leave her 'presence' behind, it was safe in the knowledge that I knew exactly where she was - that she would be there still, interred on the Swann family estate, waiting for me, when I returned.
"But Beckett has denied me even the small comfort of knowing where Father is buried. The chance to return his remains to England and lay them where they belong, next to my mother. And for that, perhaps more than anything else, he deserves to burn in the eternal flames of Hell," she hissed between clenched teeth.
Jack's arm slid around her, pulled her close against him. "I'm sorry, darlin'. But at least the bastard is dead now, and good riddance to him!"
"I only wish it had been in time to save my Father, save Will from his fate…"
"Water under the bridge, luv. Can't help what's already happened, a body can only move forward…"
"It's just that, sometimes I also find myself wishing…" She stopped.
He turned and regarded her profile, his brows dipping below the lower edge of his head-wrap in a deep frown. "Wishing wot?"
She opened her mouth, closed it again, darted him a quick look. "Never mind."
But from that one glance, the anguish in her eyes told Jack everything he needed to know, and the truth shook him, turned his blood cold.
She wished she had died … with Will, with her father.
Perhaps, still wished to die - to join Will on the Dutchman, or her father in the Afterlife…
That night, when Tai Huang took the helm, and they retired to her cabin and their shared bed, Jack made love to her, slowly, thoroughly, taking extra care to take her to, and beyond, the threshold of ecstasy, again and again. And when they were finished, and she lay safely in the circle of his embrace, clinging to him in the aftermath of pleasure, he held her shuddering body close to his heart, hoping that all her wishes might come true, save one…
* * * * *
Barely a fortnight later, coming round a promontory of one of the larger islands in the Lesser Antilles, the Empress was caught unawares by a French trader vessel and its brace of heavily-armed escort ships. Apparently recognising the Empress for the pirate ship she was, the French unleashed a volley of cannonfire upon her. Outnumbered three to one, Elizabeth and Jack mutually decided that, in this case, discretion was definitely the better part of valour, and beat a hasty retreat. Though the Empress easily outran the French ships, a few of the cannonballs hit their mark, and Elizabeth's ship sustained some relatively minor damage, as well as a handful of casualties amongst her crew.
For the most part, the injuries were not serious. However, one of the newer crewmembers they had recently signed on in Tortuga had taken a piece of splintered railing through the chest, and clearly was beyond their ability to heal him. Seeing the poor man sprawled on the deck, as Gibbs and one of the Singapore crew tried to stanch the flow of blood, Elizabeth's mind was suddenly taken back, in quick succession, to Sao Feng (who had suffered a similar fate), as well as her own dear Will, pierced with a sword he himself had lovingly crafted for James Norrington's promotion ceremony, and the former Commodore himself, who had also been skewered to death.
As Captain, Elizabeth knew it was her grim duty to see the poor man through to the end. Moving forward with leaden feet and heavy heart, she knelt beside the mortally wounded man (little more than a boy, really - certainly several years younger than she, telling from his face already grown ashen from loss of blood). Clearly terrified, the whites of his eyes showing all round as they locked on hers, he latched desperately onto the hand she offered to his grasp.
She met Gibbs' gaze, and he shook his head grimly. "That's all right, Gibbs. You've done all you can. Go, now, and help the others."
The boy's lips worked as though he was trying to say something, but he could make no more than gasping, gurgling noises. She felt a hand alight on her shoulder, and looked up to see Jack standing above her.
"You go along with Gibbs, Lizzy, and tend to the injured. I'll see to this one."
She nodded, grateful for Jack's offer, and, after extricating her hand from the boy's grasp, rose to her feet.
"That's a good lad…" Jack was saying. "You held your post, as a proper sailor should. A captain can't ask for more than that…"
Jack's voice faded as she moved away, following Gibbs as he and one of Tai Huang's men (no, her men-still a strange concept for her) performed triage and began treatment on the rest of the injured.
At one point, she looked up and saw Jack still tending to the dying man, bent low over him, lips moving, murmuring no doubt further consoling words to ease his passing. Watching him, she was deeply moved by his obvious concern for a fellow crewman.
Next time she glanced up, in the process of tying a crude bandage around a deeply-scratched arm, Jack was passing his hand over the boy's face, tar-stained fingers gently closing now-lifeless eyes, a look of sorrow and contemplation on his own face.
It was the first loss they'd suffered since she took command of the Empress, and though she barely knew the man whose body now lay cooling under the hot Caribbean sun, Elizabeth's heart ached nonetheless. She thought again of James, of Will, of her father, of the recent losses she herself had suffered, and the hurts that had only begun to heal were torn open anew.
And, again, the pain brought that almost irresistible wish to join her loved ones who'd already passed on…
Once all wounds were bandaged, the dead man sewn into a shroud of sailcloth and, with appropriately solemn ceremony, consigned to his watery grave, she went to Jack, and allowed herself the luxury of seeking the comfort of his strong arms.
* * * * *
Two nights later, just as the setting sun dipped below that line that divided sky and sea, a flash of green lit the horizon and, when it faded, the Flying Dutchman was there, coursing toward the Empress.
Its appearance caused natural consternation among the Empress' crew, who still recalled the horrors wrought by the fabled ghost-ship when she had been under Davy Jones' command. But rather than dread, the sight of it stirred a sense of hopeful joy in Elizabeth's heart, for she knew that her husband's hand was guiding the Dutchman to her…
As she strove to calm her agitated crew, Jack joined her at the helm, adding his booming voice to hers to bring the crew under control. She glanced at Jack's face. He was watching the Dutchman's approach with dark, narrowed eyes, but the corner of his mouth was turned up in an almost self-satisfied grin.
As the Dutchman pulled abreast of them, a figure suddenly materialised on the deck below. This caused a fresh wave of alarm to ripple among the crew, until their captain ran down the stairs and flung herself into the new arrival's open arms.
"Will!" she cried out, throwing her arms around her husband's neck, and kissing his mouth with great enthusiasm. Her heart soared, pounded against his still breast as her kisses were returned with equal fervour.
When at last they pulled away from one another, and Elizabeth's eyes feasted on the sight of that beloved face as eagerly as their lips had just been feasting on each other's, she exclaimed, "But … what are you doing here? It's been barely two months since we made our goodbyes…" She couldn't help blushing as she recalled the nature of those goodbyes, delivered over the course of twenty-four hours. "I wasn't expecting to see you again until our tenth anniversary." A horrible thought struck her, that perhaps he had come to claim one of her crew, but before she had a chance to voice her fears, Jack cut in.
"William! To what do we owe the privilege of this impromptu visit? Are you here on business, or pleasure?"
It seemed to her that Will and Jack exchanged a significant glance before her husband responded. "As it turns out, a bit of both. You see, I've brought my wife a visitor…"
No sooner had the words left his lips than she heard a familiar, well-loved voice calling her name: "Elizabeth!"
She froze, eyes widening in disbelief as they stared up into Will's. He smiled, and nodded his head slightly at the desperate question in her eyes: Can it be?
She turned slowly, afraid to dispel what was no doubt a wishful dream, and cast her gaze toward the Flying Dutchman.
There, standing upon her deck, looking exactly as he did the last time she saw him adrift in a tiny boat upon the haunted waters of World's End, was her father!
She felt her knees grow weak, her head swimming with the unreality of it all, and both Will and Jack darted forward to support her.
"Oh my god!" she gasped. "Father!!!" Pulling free of the two men she loved, she flung her arms out, beckoning. "Is it really you? Come to me…"
Her father smiled, sadly. "I'm afraid I cannot…"
"Elizabeth," Will interjected. "He cannot come to you. In fact, he cannot leave the Dutchman at all." When she turned confused eyes toward him, he continued. "Those are Calypso's terms. You see, she has allowed this visit, allowed us to fetch your father from the other side, but until his return, he is bound to the ship."
"Visit? You mean, he's not returned from the dead? Permanently?"
"No," Will said, gently. "Calypso has granted you and he twenty-four hours to spend together, to make the final farewells that Beckett denied you. One day, from sunset to sunset … even as we had, before being parted. A very generous indulgence on her part, don't you think? It seems that, though transformed back to goddess, she still recalls Tia Dalma's sorrow, her sympathy for your plight, and was persuaded to allow you this one, small comfort." As she gaped at him, Will smiled. "Now, go to him. You've only the one day, so there's not a moment to waste…"
Whilst she and Will had been talking, Jack had arranged for the Empress' crew to lay a plank between the two ships, and now Will turned her toward it, and with a little push against her back, started her on her way back to her father…
* * * * *
As the two Captains watched Elizabeth traverse the plank, and throw herself into her father's waiting arms, Will turned to Jack.
"Thank you for contacting me. I didn't know she would still be so despondent, after all she's already survived. Certainly, not enough to contemplate taking drastic measures."
"Well, couldn't have her arriving more than nine years early for your reunion, could I?" Jack quipped, before adding, in a more serious tone. "Make no mistake, William … that girl is as strong as they come. But to lose so much, so quickly…" He shook his head. "There are limits, lad, to what a person can bear. Been on that precipice meself, during the darkest days in me life, but've never had the courage to take that final step." He flashed a cocky grin. "Thank the lord for that, eh? Can you imagine a world without Captain Jack Sparrow in it?"
Will smiled. "Hardly bears thinking on, doesn't it?"
Jack sobered. "I just hope this is what she needs, to pull her back from that brink. A world without Elizabeth Swann Turner in it doesn't bear thinkin' on, either."
* * * * *
Tears coursed down Elizabeth's face as she lost herself in the well-remembered comfort of her father's embrace. How she had despaired at the thought of never feeling those arms around her again! The last time she had seen him, he had been little more than a wraith drifting upon a haunted sea, and now here he was, solid, in her arms again!
"Oh, Father! I can't tell you how much I've missed you!"
"As I've you." He patted her comfortingly on the back. "But I understand that congratulations are in order, Mrs Turner. I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for the wedding, but of course circumstances dictated otherwise…"
"Yes, well … it was a very extemporaneous affair, thrown together in the midst of a raging battle. But you might be interested in knowing that, as with our first attempt at a wedding, it was pouring rain."
"I also understand that you've done well for yourself since last we saw each other. King of the Pirates, eh? Leave it to my darling, ambitious girl, to set her sights on nothing but the highest achievement! Why, your own father never made any higher than Royal Governor!" he harrumphed with a mock-pout, before a fond smile lit his features. "And just think … not so long ago, you were a little girl merely wishing to meet a pirate. Now you've contrived to become their leader!"
She laughed and leaned back, studying his dear face. "Well, 'contrived' is hardly the word I'd use. Believe me, I never aspired to such a position. I actually came into it by accident, quite literally: first, a mortally-wounded Pirate Lord, for reasons I won't go into now, bequeathed me his title. Then, mere days later, the Brethren Court elected me their King - entirely due to Jack's Machiavellian machinations."
Weatherby laughed. "Well, all I can say is that's likely the smartest thing that malodorous, malingering scoundrel ever did!"
"Please, Father …you must be kind to Jack. He saved my life, and Will's as well, after a fashion. If not for him, Will would be on the other side with you and Mother, rather than captaining the Dutchman. And, likely, I would be there with him, for I was completely prepared to follow him, when Jack plucked me from that sinking ship and carried me away to safety."
Weatherby touched her face tenderly, as though it were a precious and fragile heirloom. "Then, for that, I can be grateful to him, for it would kill me all over again, knowing you'd met such an untimely end." He eyed her, shrewdly. "And it does seem the man has practically made a habit of saving you from certain death. One might think that he actually loved you!"
Elizabeth felt the blush heat her face, but held her tongue. There were just some things she was not prepared for her Father to hear, especially about the nature of her relationship with Jack.
"Father … I'm afraid I must ask, but … how did you die? Was it Beckett?"
Weatherby's brow knit in a frown as he struggled to remember. "In truth, I can't recall exactly what happened. One moment, I was in a small boat with Beckett's clerk, Mercer … and then … nothing, until I heard your voice calling to me."
"But … you didn’t suffer? It was a quick and painless death?"
"Yes, apparently so. Having seen his work before, I suppose that, as assassins go, Mercer certainly knows how to go about his business with swiftness and efficiency," he said dryly, before his face twisted in obvious disgust. "Not that I didn't suffer, in those months you were gone! It was absolute hell, serving-under duress, mind you!-as Cutler Beckett's 'tame Governor': forced to sign arrest and death warrants-Lord, I've lost count how many he put before me!-and using my influence to put Company men in positions of power, like playing pieces in some mad game! Believe me, if it were not for his constant (and, may I say, very graphically detailed!) threats to make you pay for any lack of cooperation on my part once you were caught (and he seemed supremely confident that day would come, sooner or later), I likely would have leapt from Fort Charles, rather than continue aiding and abetting that odious little upstart! As a young man, I knew him as a brat, a blackmailer and a rakehell; apparently the accumulation of years as well as a title have not served to improve his character."
"Then you'll no doubt be happy to know that your death-and countless others-have been avenged, for Lord Cutler Beckett can no longer be counted among the living," Elizabeth said, with great relish. "Will and the Dutchman, and Jack and the Pearl, took care of settling our debt with Lord Beckett."
Her father stared at her for a long moment, before stating, "Well, not to be uncharitable to the dead … but thank God for that!" He paused. "And Mercer?"
"Dead as well. Jack said he nearly tripped over your killer's corpse as he was making his escape from the Dutchman with Jones' chest."
"Well, then," Weatherby said, his expression one of relief, satisfaction, peace, "it appears all accounts have been properly settled."
* * * * *
Not wanting to miss a single moment of the time she had with her Father, Elizabeth stayed up through the night and all the next day as they spent the time talking, plying each other with question after question, touching hands and faces as if to confirm that each of them really were there, that this reunion was not merely some dream or wishful fancy. And when the day was ending, and the sun making its way toward the horizon in a sky painted in rose and purple and gold, she and her father returned to the deck of the Dutchman to make their final farewells.
Weatherby pressed a kiss to her cheek, his lips as warm and loving as they had been in life, and wrapped her in his embrace one last time. "Please know, Elizabeth, that I'm so proud of you, and that no matter where I am, I will always love you, and hold you close in my heart."
A tear slipped down her just-kissed cheek, and she clung to him as though she would keep him by her forever. "I love you too, Papa," she said, using a name she had not called him since she was a small child. "I should have told you so, every day of your life. I'm so sorry I never said it often enough."
His palm traced circles upon her back as she lay her head upon his shoulder. "I've never had any doubt about that," he whispered into her hair. "Even had you never, ever said it, I've always known you've loved me." He pulled a lacy handkerchief from his sleeve, and dabbed at her eyes. "Now, dry your tears, and go say goodbye to your husband, before it's too late. It's nearly sunset."
She managed a wan smile as she pulled away. "Yes, Papa. And do remember to give my love to Mother, when you catch up with her…"
He smiled. "Yes, eighteen years is a rather prodigious head-start, isn't it? But never fear … I'll find her."
As she kissed him one last time, and turned away, her father added, in a low voice. "Oh … and take good care of that grandchild of mine."
She stopped, and turned back. "I'm sorry, Father, but there is no grandchild…"
He frowned in confusion. "Isn't there? My mistake then." Then he gave a tiny smile, just a little upturn of one side of his mouth. "But, trust me … there will be!" He raised his hand in farewell. "Goodbye, Elizabeth … and always remember, I love you."
"I love you, too, Father! Forever, and always!"
Then her father turned away, and she was left puzzling his cryptic statement about a grandchild.
Will was standing at the gangplank, waiting for her. He smiled at her approach. Taking both her hands in his, he pressed them warmly though his own flesh was cool. "Elizabeth! You are well, I trust?"
"As well as can be, given the circumstances."
"Jack is taking good care of you?"
"Excellent care," she said, before drawing herself up proudly. "Not that I actually need taking care of!"
"Of course not! I never meant to imply that you did." He bent and kissed her, full on the lips, and her hand cupped the back of his head, knowing that time was running out, but wanting this moment to last as long as possible. It would be years before she saw him again.
As the kiss ended, she rested her forehead against his, and murmured against his lips, "Thank you, my love. For bringing my father back to me, however briefly."
He smiled, and ran his fingers through her hair. "I was happy to do it, but I'm afraid I cannot take the credit. This was all Jack's doing."
"Jack's? I don't understand."
He took her hands again. "A few days ago, we collected the soul of one of your crewmembers who had died at sea. He brought me a message from Jack: 'Your wife needs to see her father, urgently. It is a matter of life and death. If there is any way to arrange this, please do so, posthaste.'"
An image came to her mind of Jack, bending low over the dying crewman, murmuring words she assumed were meant to comfort, to balm the soul, to ease a troubled spirit. Now, she knew it was much more than that…
Elizabeth's gaze immediately turned toward the Empress, where Jack, looking completely unconcerned with the events transpiring on the Dutchman, stood conversing with Tai Huang. As though sensing her eyes upon him, Jack looked up, directly at her. He flashed her a quick smile, then jerked his head toward the red disk of the sun, just starting to be consumed by the sea, his meaning clear. Time's up. Hurry back.
"But how did you arrange it? How is it possible to bring a soul back from Beyond?"
Will's smile was tinged with sadness. "Calypso does not grant favours, without levying a price. Balance must be maintained, between the lands of the living and the dead. One cannot bring a soul from one side to the other, without another taking its place. A fair exchange, as it were…"
It struck Elizabeth then that there was someone who ought to have been on the Flying Dutchman, serving at Will's side, that she had yet to see.
"Will… where's your father? Where's Bootstrap?"
"A fair exchange," Will repeated. "A father, for a father."
Her heart lurched. "Oh, no … You don't mean to tell me…"
"In order for us to bring your father back to you, mine agreed to step across to the other side, and take his place."
"Oh, Will!" she said.
At the despair in her tone, he quickly added, "Fear not. The exchange is not a permanent one. Remember, Calypso has only granted your father a single day. Once I return your father to the other side, mine will be released back to me. I have Calypso's word on it."
Relief flooded her. She would have never, ever asked Will to make such a sacrifice for her sake - to give up his father, from whom he had been separated nearly half his life, and for whom he had risked so much, for her. "Then you must extend my thanks to Bootstrap, on my behalf. And also to Calypso, for her generosity in granting this boon."
"I will." He glanced at the horizon. The sun was nearly gone now.
He raised her hands to his lips, kissing them. "See you on our tenth anniversary?"
"I wouldn't miss it, for the world!"
He released her hands, and stepped aside. "Now, you must go!"
She had just enough time to press her mouth to Will's, with a quickly-whispered, "I love you!" and then she was scampering across the gangplank, back to her own ship.
No sooner had her feet touched the deck of the Empress than she whirled round, hoping to catch a quick, final glimpse of Will, and of her father. But in the time it had taken her to cross over, the Dutchman had vanished from the Empress's side, and was now leagues away, a dark silhouette against the dying red glow of sunset. A moment later, the sun dipped below the horizon, there was a flash of green …
And the Dutchman, Will, her Father were gone, back to a land where down was up, and a ghost-ship ferried the sea's dead on to the Afterlife…
Back to World's End.
She sighed, and felt two arms slide around her waist, pulling her back against a strong, solid chest. Lips brushed her ear. "You all right, luv?"
She smiled, turned in Jack's arms, threw her own around his neck. "I am, now." She leaned forward, and kissed Jack soundly. "Thank you, Jack."
He drew his head back, looked down his nose at her, frowning. "Fer wot?"
"For making it possible for me to see my father again, one last time. For giving me the chance to tell him all the things I should have, every day of his life. For letting him recall my last words to him being 'I love you' rather than me screaming at him like a bloody banshee." As he opened his mouth to protest, she put a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Don't bother denying it. Will told me what you did."
"He did, did he?" Jack scowled. "Well, don't let it get about, luv. I've a black and rather scandalous reputation to uphold, after all!"
She brushed her lips across his cheek, whispering in his ear, "Well, once we go downstairs, you may indulge your scandalous side, to your heart's content." She smiled against his tanned skin. "And mine!"
"My dear Mrs Turner, you may indeed count on it!" And with that, he took her hand, and started leading her toward their cabin…
Author:luvvycat
Characters: Elizabeth Swann/Jack Sparrow, Weatherby Swann, Will Turner
Rating: PG
Word count: Approx. 5,000
Disclaimer: PotC is Disney's, not mine. *sniff*
A/N: Today is the fifth anniversary of my dear father's passing and, as has been my practise for the past three years, I am posting this fic, with love, to commemorate his life, and to honour his memory. Please note that, due to time constraints on my part, in order to get it posted on the correct date, I have not run it past my fantastic and highly capable beta, so it's a bit on the rough side, and any errors or inconsistencies are completely my own.
Jack noticed it one morning, just as the dawn was breaching the horizon, washing the Empress's boards and sails, and her captain, Elizabeth Swann Turner, in pale rosy light. She stood at the rail, crossed arms leant against the weathered wood, gazing out at the sea, her face a study in pensive sorrow. There was a shine upon her cheek which might have been a spray of morning mist, or the telltale residue of tears.
As he drew closer, though, she drew herself up, swiping at her dewy face with the sleeve of her frockcoat.
"What's the matter, luv?"
"Nothing's the matter, Jack…"
"Don't give me that, Lizzy. Something has you troubled."
She turned a silent glare upon him, but he held his ground, refusing to give her quarter, and she at last relented, with a sigh.
"I've just been thinking of everything that's happened, since I fled Port Royal. What happened to Will, to me, to my father, to James…"
"Now, you know none of that was any fault of yours…"
"Somehow, I feel that it was. If not for me, if not for trying to protect me, my father might still be alive, Will might still be alive…"
"You can't assume that. Beckett had his own agenda, after all. He would have used anything, and anyone, to achieve those ends."
"I suppose, on some level, I know that. But there was so much I took for granted, before Beckett arrived … I thought that Will and I would have our happily ever after, would build a life and a family, grow old and grey together. I had also assumed that my father would be there to see us happily wed, to see his grandchildren born, to dandle them on his knee and spoil them in the manner that only a doting grandfather can, to spend his twilight years in the bosom of his loving family, and pass peacefully out of this world into the next surrounded by familiar and beloved faces." Her face hardened from grief to anger. "Cutler Beckett robbed me of all that." She looked down, and Jack could see her lower lip tremble, just a bit. "Worst of all, he's denied me the knowledge of exactly where and when my father died … I have nowhere I can go to grieve, no gravesite, no headstone to mark his remains, nowhere I can lay flowers and pray for his poor murdered soul."
"Well, luv … we know he died upon the water, so in a way, one might consider the entire sea to be his grave."
Elizabeth shook her head. "It's really not the same." She smiled in sad memory. "When I was five, my mother died, and my father told me she was no longer with us - that she had gone to heaven. Nevertheless, I saw her lying in her coffin, saw that coffin sealed and carried to the graveyard and laid to rest in the family crypt. So, in my child's mind, she resided not in heaven, but in that tomb." She tilted her face up, as though contemplating stars that had already begun to fade in the growing morning light, and Jack could see the shine of tears in her eyes, her face taut as she struggled not to shed them.
"Many a time, when I was sad, or troubled, or upset with my father, I would go to the graveyard, sit outside the gate to the crypt, and 'talk' to my mother. Though I couldn't see her … and though, of course, she never responded … it gave me great comfort, thinking that she was there, only a few feet away, and that she was listening to me. So close, that I swore I could still feel her love for me." Elizabeth sighed heavily. "The last time I visited her grave was the day before Father and I left England for Jamaica. Though it pained me to leave her 'presence' behind, it was safe in the knowledge that I knew exactly where she was - that she would be there still, interred on the Swann family estate, waiting for me, when I returned.
"But Beckett has denied me even the small comfort of knowing where Father is buried. The chance to return his remains to England and lay them where they belong, next to my mother. And for that, perhaps more than anything else, he deserves to burn in the eternal flames of Hell," she hissed between clenched teeth.
Jack's arm slid around her, pulled her close against him. "I'm sorry, darlin'. But at least the bastard is dead now, and good riddance to him!"
"I only wish it had been in time to save my Father, save Will from his fate…"
"Water under the bridge, luv. Can't help what's already happened, a body can only move forward…"
"It's just that, sometimes I also find myself wishing…" She stopped.
He turned and regarded her profile, his brows dipping below the lower edge of his head-wrap in a deep frown. "Wishing wot?"
She opened her mouth, closed it again, darted him a quick look. "Never mind."
But from that one glance, the anguish in her eyes told Jack everything he needed to know, and the truth shook him, turned his blood cold.
She wished she had died … with Will, with her father.
Perhaps, still wished to die - to join Will on the Dutchman, or her father in the Afterlife…
That night, when Tai Huang took the helm, and they retired to her cabin and their shared bed, Jack made love to her, slowly, thoroughly, taking extra care to take her to, and beyond, the threshold of ecstasy, again and again. And when they were finished, and she lay safely in the circle of his embrace, clinging to him in the aftermath of pleasure, he held her shuddering body close to his heart, hoping that all her wishes might come true, save one…
* * * * *
Barely a fortnight later, coming round a promontory of one of the larger islands in the Lesser Antilles, the Empress was caught unawares by a French trader vessel and its brace of heavily-armed escort ships. Apparently recognising the Empress for the pirate ship she was, the French unleashed a volley of cannonfire upon her. Outnumbered three to one, Elizabeth and Jack mutually decided that, in this case, discretion was definitely the better part of valour, and beat a hasty retreat. Though the Empress easily outran the French ships, a few of the cannonballs hit their mark, and Elizabeth's ship sustained some relatively minor damage, as well as a handful of casualties amongst her crew.
For the most part, the injuries were not serious. However, one of the newer crewmembers they had recently signed on in Tortuga had taken a piece of splintered railing through the chest, and clearly was beyond their ability to heal him. Seeing the poor man sprawled on the deck, as Gibbs and one of the Singapore crew tried to stanch the flow of blood, Elizabeth's mind was suddenly taken back, in quick succession, to Sao Feng (who had suffered a similar fate), as well as her own dear Will, pierced with a sword he himself had lovingly crafted for James Norrington's promotion ceremony, and the former Commodore himself, who had also been skewered to death.
As Captain, Elizabeth knew it was her grim duty to see the poor man through to the end. Moving forward with leaden feet and heavy heart, she knelt beside the mortally wounded man (little more than a boy, really - certainly several years younger than she, telling from his face already grown ashen from loss of blood). Clearly terrified, the whites of his eyes showing all round as they locked on hers, he latched desperately onto the hand she offered to his grasp.
She met Gibbs' gaze, and he shook his head grimly. "That's all right, Gibbs. You've done all you can. Go, now, and help the others."
The boy's lips worked as though he was trying to say something, but he could make no more than gasping, gurgling noises. She felt a hand alight on her shoulder, and looked up to see Jack standing above her.
"You go along with Gibbs, Lizzy, and tend to the injured. I'll see to this one."
She nodded, grateful for Jack's offer, and, after extricating her hand from the boy's grasp, rose to her feet.
"That's a good lad…" Jack was saying. "You held your post, as a proper sailor should. A captain can't ask for more than that…"
Jack's voice faded as she moved away, following Gibbs as he and one of Tai Huang's men (no, her men-still a strange concept for her) performed triage and began treatment on the rest of the injured.
At one point, she looked up and saw Jack still tending to the dying man, bent low over him, lips moving, murmuring no doubt further consoling words to ease his passing. Watching him, she was deeply moved by his obvious concern for a fellow crewman.
Next time she glanced up, in the process of tying a crude bandage around a deeply-scratched arm, Jack was passing his hand over the boy's face, tar-stained fingers gently closing now-lifeless eyes, a look of sorrow and contemplation on his own face.
It was the first loss they'd suffered since she took command of the Empress, and though she barely knew the man whose body now lay cooling under the hot Caribbean sun, Elizabeth's heart ached nonetheless. She thought again of James, of Will, of her father, of the recent losses she herself had suffered, and the hurts that had only begun to heal were torn open anew.
And, again, the pain brought that almost irresistible wish to join her loved ones who'd already passed on…
Once all wounds were bandaged, the dead man sewn into a shroud of sailcloth and, with appropriately solemn ceremony, consigned to his watery grave, she went to Jack, and allowed herself the luxury of seeking the comfort of his strong arms.
* * * * *
Two nights later, just as the setting sun dipped below that line that divided sky and sea, a flash of green lit the horizon and, when it faded, the Flying Dutchman was there, coursing toward the Empress.
Its appearance caused natural consternation among the Empress' crew, who still recalled the horrors wrought by the fabled ghost-ship when she had been under Davy Jones' command. But rather than dread, the sight of it stirred a sense of hopeful joy in Elizabeth's heart, for she knew that her husband's hand was guiding the Dutchman to her…
As she strove to calm her agitated crew, Jack joined her at the helm, adding his booming voice to hers to bring the crew under control. She glanced at Jack's face. He was watching the Dutchman's approach with dark, narrowed eyes, but the corner of his mouth was turned up in an almost self-satisfied grin.
As the Dutchman pulled abreast of them, a figure suddenly materialised on the deck below. This caused a fresh wave of alarm to ripple among the crew, until their captain ran down the stairs and flung herself into the new arrival's open arms.
"Will!" she cried out, throwing her arms around her husband's neck, and kissing his mouth with great enthusiasm. Her heart soared, pounded against his still breast as her kisses were returned with equal fervour.
When at last they pulled away from one another, and Elizabeth's eyes feasted on the sight of that beloved face as eagerly as their lips had just been feasting on each other's, she exclaimed, "But … what are you doing here? It's been barely two months since we made our goodbyes…" She couldn't help blushing as she recalled the nature of those goodbyes, delivered over the course of twenty-four hours. "I wasn't expecting to see you again until our tenth anniversary." A horrible thought struck her, that perhaps he had come to claim one of her crew, but before she had a chance to voice her fears, Jack cut in.
"William! To what do we owe the privilege of this impromptu visit? Are you here on business, or pleasure?"
It seemed to her that Will and Jack exchanged a significant glance before her husband responded. "As it turns out, a bit of both. You see, I've brought my wife a visitor…"
No sooner had the words left his lips than she heard a familiar, well-loved voice calling her name: "Elizabeth!"
She froze, eyes widening in disbelief as they stared up into Will's. He smiled, and nodded his head slightly at the desperate question in her eyes: Can it be?
She turned slowly, afraid to dispel what was no doubt a wishful dream, and cast her gaze toward the Flying Dutchman.
There, standing upon her deck, looking exactly as he did the last time she saw him adrift in a tiny boat upon the haunted waters of World's End, was her father!
She felt her knees grow weak, her head swimming with the unreality of it all, and both Will and Jack darted forward to support her.
"Oh my god!" she gasped. "Father!!!" Pulling free of the two men she loved, she flung her arms out, beckoning. "Is it really you? Come to me…"
Her father smiled, sadly. "I'm afraid I cannot…"
"Elizabeth," Will interjected. "He cannot come to you. In fact, he cannot leave the Dutchman at all." When she turned confused eyes toward him, he continued. "Those are Calypso's terms. You see, she has allowed this visit, allowed us to fetch your father from the other side, but until his return, he is bound to the ship."
"Visit? You mean, he's not returned from the dead? Permanently?"
"No," Will said, gently. "Calypso has granted you and he twenty-four hours to spend together, to make the final farewells that Beckett denied you. One day, from sunset to sunset … even as we had, before being parted. A very generous indulgence on her part, don't you think? It seems that, though transformed back to goddess, she still recalls Tia Dalma's sorrow, her sympathy for your plight, and was persuaded to allow you this one, small comfort." As she gaped at him, Will smiled. "Now, go to him. You've only the one day, so there's not a moment to waste…"
Whilst she and Will had been talking, Jack had arranged for the Empress' crew to lay a plank between the two ships, and now Will turned her toward it, and with a little push against her back, started her on her way back to her father…
* * * * *
As the two Captains watched Elizabeth traverse the plank, and throw herself into her father's waiting arms, Will turned to Jack.
"Thank you for contacting me. I didn't know she would still be so despondent, after all she's already survived. Certainly, not enough to contemplate taking drastic measures."
"Well, couldn't have her arriving more than nine years early for your reunion, could I?" Jack quipped, before adding, in a more serious tone. "Make no mistake, William … that girl is as strong as they come. But to lose so much, so quickly…" He shook his head. "There are limits, lad, to what a person can bear. Been on that precipice meself, during the darkest days in me life, but've never had the courage to take that final step." He flashed a cocky grin. "Thank the lord for that, eh? Can you imagine a world without Captain Jack Sparrow in it?"
Will smiled. "Hardly bears thinking on, doesn't it?"
Jack sobered. "I just hope this is what she needs, to pull her back from that brink. A world without Elizabeth Swann Turner in it doesn't bear thinkin' on, either."
* * * * *
Tears coursed down Elizabeth's face as she lost herself in the well-remembered comfort of her father's embrace. How she had despaired at the thought of never feeling those arms around her again! The last time she had seen him, he had been little more than a wraith drifting upon a haunted sea, and now here he was, solid, in her arms again!
"Oh, Father! I can't tell you how much I've missed you!"
"As I've you." He patted her comfortingly on the back. "But I understand that congratulations are in order, Mrs Turner. I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for the wedding, but of course circumstances dictated otherwise…"
"Yes, well … it was a very extemporaneous affair, thrown together in the midst of a raging battle. But you might be interested in knowing that, as with our first attempt at a wedding, it was pouring rain."
"I also understand that you've done well for yourself since last we saw each other. King of the Pirates, eh? Leave it to my darling, ambitious girl, to set her sights on nothing but the highest achievement! Why, your own father never made any higher than Royal Governor!" he harrumphed with a mock-pout, before a fond smile lit his features. "And just think … not so long ago, you were a little girl merely wishing to meet a pirate. Now you've contrived to become their leader!"
She laughed and leaned back, studying his dear face. "Well, 'contrived' is hardly the word I'd use. Believe me, I never aspired to such a position. I actually came into it by accident, quite literally: first, a mortally-wounded Pirate Lord, for reasons I won't go into now, bequeathed me his title. Then, mere days later, the Brethren Court elected me their King - entirely due to Jack's Machiavellian machinations."
Weatherby laughed. "Well, all I can say is that's likely the smartest thing that malodorous, malingering scoundrel ever did!"
"Please, Father …you must be kind to Jack. He saved my life, and Will's as well, after a fashion. If not for him, Will would be on the other side with you and Mother, rather than captaining the Dutchman. And, likely, I would be there with him, for I was completely prepared to follow him, when Jack plucked me from that sinking ship and carried me away to safety."
Weatherby touched her face tenderly, as though it were a precious and fragile heirloom. "Then, for that, I can be grateful to him, for it would kill me all over again, knowing you'd met such an untimely end." He eyed her, shrewdly. "And it does seem the man has practically made a habit of saving you from certain death. One might think that he actually loved you!"
Elizabeth felt the blush heat her face, but held her tongue. There were just some things she was not prepared for her Father to hear, especially about the nature of her relationship with Jack.
"Father … I'm afraid I must ask, but … how did you die? Was it Beckett?"
Weatherby's brow knit in a frown as he struggled to remember. "In truth, I can't recall exactly what happened. One moment, I was in a small boat with Beckett's clerk, Mercer … and then … nothing, until I heard your voice calling to me."
"But … you didn’t suffer? It was a quick and painless death?"
"Yes, apparently so. Having seen his work before, I suppose that, as assassins go, Mercer certainly knows how to go about his business with swiftness and efficiency," he said dryly, before his face twisted in obvious disgust. "Not that I didn't suffer, in those months you were gone! It was absolute hell, serving-under duress, mind you!-as Cutler Beckett's 'tame Governor': forced to sign arrest and death warrants-Lord, I've lost count how many he put before me!-and using my influence to put Company men in positions of power, like playing pieces in some mad game! Believe me, if it were not for his constant (and, may I say, very graphically detailed!) threats to make you pay for any lack of cooperation on my part once you were caught (and he seemed supremely confident that day would come, sooner or later), I likely would have leapt from Fort Charles, rather than continue aiding and abetting that odious little upstart! As a young man, I knew him as a brat, a blackmailer and a rakehell; apparently the accumulation of years as well as a title have not served to improve his character."
"Then you'll no doubt be happy to know that your death-and countless others-have been avenged, for Lord Cutler Beckett can no longer be counted among the living," Elizabeth said, with great relish. "Will and the Dutchman, and Jack and the Pearl, took care of settling our debt with Lord Beckett."
Her father stared at her for a long moment, before stating, "Well, not to be uncharitable to the dead … but thank God for that!" He paused. "And Mercer?"
"Dead as well. Jack said he nearly tripped over your killer's corpse as he was making his escape from the Dutchman with Jones' chest."
"Well, then," Weatherby said, his expression one of relief, satisfaction, peace, "it appears all accounts have been properly settled."
* * * * *
Not wanting to miss a single moment of the time she had with her Father, Elizabeth stayed up through the night and all the next day as they spent the time talking, plying each other with question after question, touching hands and faces as if to confirm that each of them really were there, that this reunion was not merely some dream or wishful fancy. And when the day was ending, and the sun making its way toward the horizon in a sky painted in rose and purple and gold, she and her father returned to the deck of the Dutchman to make their final farewells.
Weatherby pressed a kiss to her cheek, his lips as warm and loving as they had been in life, and wrapped her in his embrace one last time. "Please know, Elizabeth, that I'm so proud of you, and that no matter where I am, I will always love you, and hold you close in my heart."
A tear slipped down her just-kissed cheek, and she clung to him as though she would keep him by her forever. "I love you too, Papa," she said, using a name she had not called him since she was a small child. "I should have told you so, every day of your life. I'm so sorry I never said it often enough."
His palm traced circles upon her back as she lay her head upon his shoulder. "I've never had any doubt about that," he whispered into her hair. "Even had you never, ever said it, I've always known you've loved me." He pulled a lacy handkerchief from his sleeve, and dabbed at her eyes. "Now, dry your tears, and go say goodbye to your husband, before it's too late. It's nearly sunset."
She managed a wan smile as she pulled away. "Yes, Papa. And do remember to give my love to Mother, when you catch up with her…"
He smiled. "Yes, eighteen years is a rather prodigious head-start, isn't it? But never fear … I'll find her."
As she kissed him one last time, and turned away, her father added, in a low voice. "Oh … and take good care of that grandchild of mine."
She stopped, and turned back. "I'm sorry, Father, but there is no grandchild…"
He frowned in confusion. "Isn't there? My mistake then." Then he gave a tiny smile, just a little upturn of one side of his mouth. "But, trust me … there will be!" He raised his hand in farewell. "Goodbye, Elizabeth … and always remember, I love you."
"I love you, too, Father! Forever, and always!"
Then her father turned away, and she was left puzzling his cryptic statement about a grandchild.
Will was standing at the gangplank, waiting for her. He smiled at her approach. Taking both her hands in his, he pressed them warmly though his own flesh was cool. "Elizabeth! You are well, I trust?"
"As well as can be, given the circumstances."
"Jack is taking good care of you?"
"Excellent care," she said, before drawing herself up proudly. "Not that I actually need taking care of!"
"Of course not! I never meant to imply that you did." He bent and kissed her, full on the lips, and her hand cupped the back of his head, knowing that time was running out, but wanting this moment to last as long as possible. It would be years before she saw him again.
As the kiss ended, she rested her forehead against his, and murmured against his lips, "Thank you, my love. For bringing my father back to me, however briefly."
He smiled, and ran his fingers through her hair. "I was happy to do it, but I'm afraid I cannot take the credit. This was all Jack's doing."
"Jack's? I don't understand."
He took her hands again. "A few days ago, we collected the soul of one of your crewmembers who had died at sea. He brought me a message from Jack: 'Your wife needs to see her father, urgently. It is a matter of life and death. If there is any way to arrange this, please do so, posthaste.'"
An image came to her mind of Jack, bending low over the dying crewman, murmuring words she assumed were meant to comfort, to balm the soul, to ease a troubled spirit. Now, she knew it was much more than that…
Elizabeth's gaze immediately turned toward the Empress, where Jack, looking completely unconcerned with the events transpiring on the Dutchman, stood conversing with Tai Huang. As though sensing her eyes upon him, Jack looked up, directly at her. He flashed her a quick smile, then jerked his head toward the red disk of the sun, just starting to be consumed by the sea, his meaning clear. Time's up. Hurry back.
"But how did you arrange it? How is it possible to bring a soul back from Beyond?"
Will's smile was tinged with sadness. "Calypso does not grant favours, without levying a price. Balance must be maintained, between the lands of the living and the dead. One cannot bring a soul from one side to the other, without another taking its place. A fair exchange, as it were…"
It struck Elizabeth then that there was someone who ought to have been on the Flying Dutchman, serving at Will's side, that she had yet to see.
"Will… where's your father? Where's Bootstrap?"
"A fair exchange," Will repeated. "A father, for a father."
Her heart lurched. "Oh, no … You don't mean to tell me…"
"In order for us to bring your father back to you, mine agreed to step across to the other side, and take his place."
"Oh, Will!" she said.
At the despair in her tone, he quickly added, "Fear not. The exchange is not a permanent one. Remember, Calypso has only granted your father a single day. Once I return your father to the other side, mine will be released back to me. I have Calypso's word on it."
Relief flooded her. She would have never, ever asked Will to make such a sacrifice for her sake - to give up his father, from whom he had been separated nearly half his life, and for whom he had risked so much, for her. "Then you must extend my thanks to Bootstrap, on my behalf. And also to Calypso, for her generosity in granting this boon."
"I will." He glanced at the horizon. The sun was nearly gone now.
He raised her hands to his lips, kissing them. "See you on our tenth anniversary?"
"I wouldn't miss it, for the world!"
He released her hands, and stepped aside. "Now, you must go!"
She had just enough time to press her mouth to Will's, with a quickly-whispered, "I love you!" and then she was scampering across the gangplank, back to her own ship.
No sooner had her feet touched the deck of the Empress than she whirled round, hoping to catch a quick, final glimpse of Will, and of her father. But in the time it had taken her to cross over, the Dutchman had vanished from the Empress's side, and was now leagues away, a dark silhouette against the dying red glow of sunset. A moment later, the sun dipped below the horizon, there was a flash of green …
And the Dutchman, Will, her Father were gone, back to a land where down was up, and a ghost-ship ferried the sea's dead on to the Afterlife…
Back to World's End.
She sighed, and felt two arms slide around her waist, pulling her back against a strong, solid chest. Lips brushed her ear. "You all right, luv?"
She smiled, turned in Jack's arms, threw her own around his neck. "I am, now." She leaned forward, and kissed Jack soundly. "Thank you, Jack."
He drew his head back, looked down his nose at her, frowning. "Fer wot?"
"For making it possible for me to see my father again, one last time. For giving me the chance to tell him all the things I should have, every day of his life. For letting him recall my last words to him being 'I love you' rather than me screaming at him like a bloody banshee." As he opened his mouth to protest, she put a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Don't bother denying it. Will told me what you did."
"He did, did he?" Jack scowled. "Well, don't let it get about, luv. I've a black and rather scandalous reputation to uphold, after all!"
She brushed her lips across his cheek, whispering in his ear, "Well, once we go downstairs, you may indulge your scandalous side, to your heart's content." She smiled against his tanned skin. "And mine!"
"My dear Mrs Turner, you may indeed count on it!" And with that, he took her hand, and started leading her toward their cabin…