More Than One Way To Live Forever -Chapter 4
Chapter 4: Blasted Girl
Once safely on the Freedom, Elizabeth found herself deposited on the deck, leaning against the mainsail, while Jack scrambled around readying to sail. Seemingly in no time at all they were drifting away from the dock, away from Tortuga, the burning buildings and screams. The dizzy feeling washed over her again, and she slid down the mast to sit on the deck. What was wrong with her?
The further they drifted, as more time passed, she felt her head clearing, as though a fog were being lifted from around her head. All tasks of the launch completed and a rough course set, she found herself being inspected from head to toe. “You came back for me,” she sighed, suddenly struck with disbelief as she felt the faculty for speech return.
After all this time, she never thought he would.
“Aye, luv, I came back for you,” he said quietly, pulling aside the collar of her shirt to inspect her neck. His warm firm fingers felt wonderful on her skin, and he was visibly relieved to find her free of bite marks.
Yet another wave of wooziness came over her. Were she not already sitting, she would have been taken to the deck. “The lantern,” she said dreamily. “How did you know fire...”
Jack took one of her arms in his hand, of which still had some glass embedded in it. “Not a beastie I’ve ever encountered appreciates being set on fire,” he said. “An educated but lucky guess.” When picking at the glass with his fingers was unsuccessful, he resorted to using his teeth as tweezers. She watched passively, somewhat enjoying this strange form of intimacy.
“He was in my head,” she said, recounting the experience just passed. “In my mind. He took me over, and I felt like I was drowning again. I still feel as though I haven’t quite made it to the surface yet.”
Jack pulled a large piece of glass from her arm, spitting it out into some dark corner of the deck. She was somewhat grateful for the pain, it helped clear her mind more. “Hypnotization of some sort. He tried it on me too.”
“What? When?” She was puzzled.
“Bout a month back.”
“What?!”
Elizabeth did not expect this. Not at all. He’d already known about this Francisco? Already met him face to face? Knew about these vampires terrorizing the Caribbean, and had done nothing about it? Of course, what was he supposed to do? What could one do, against creatures like that.
“Seems he’s after me for some reason or another. Hard to keep track of who wants what from ol’ Jack Sparrow these days.”
“So you’ve met before?”
“Aye. I wasn’t quite as lucky as you though. He nipped me neck ‘fore I managed to escape. Still have a bit o’ scar.” He touched the brown skin at the base of his neck, and true enough there was a set of fresh pink scratches at his neck.
She reached out to touch the slick pink skin, but he caught her hand before fingers could make contact, an unidentifiable look in those dark eyes.
Letting her touch him was a bad idea, he reasoned. He would do something stupid, like touch her back. He’d managed this long to stay away from her. How many times had he been on the verge of gliding into Port Royal to find her? Too many to count, and usually after he’d had too much rum.
But she came to find you, a damnable little voice whispered in his ear.
That doesn’t mean anything, Jack snapped back.
Means plenty, chuckled the voice, and Jack did his best to swat it away.
Against his better judgement, he declared, “So in light of the nasty Francisco findin’ me once again, I have decided to aid you in your quest to search and destroy said fanged beastie. For entirely selfish reasons. Don’t want you t’get any ideas in your head about me turning over a new leaf and whatnot. Savvy?”
Elizabeth smiled lazily, still feeling a little drunk on whatever the vampire had done to her. Surely this sudden glow inside was due to that, and not her own pleasure for Jack’s words. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, or anything more, don’t worry.”
“Good. You know--”Suddenly, a blur of motion swept down from the sky, barreling into Jack, and taking them to the deck.
“Jack!” Elizabeth screamed, watching in horror as the demon and pirate captain rolled about the floor, Jack struggling to keep gleaming fangs from his throat. She looked about frantically for some instrument of violence, and the best she found was an old broken pike lying neglected against the side of the ship. She seized the shortened spear, and saw that the creature had gained the upper hand, pinning Jack to the deck and bearing down upon him. With a cry of rage she ran forward, driving the pike into the creature’s back with all her strength. The thing shuddered, and Jack watched wide eyed as it fell off to the side of him, and with a horrible shudder lay still.
Rolling away and standing quickly, Jack brushed himself off with an expression of disgust. And then they watched with morbid amazement, as the thing seemed to shrink upon itself, the skin tightening against the bones as though all tissue underneath was losing its moisture.
Elizabeth poked at it with the toe of her boot, and when it remained still she kicked it over. Its mouth remained in a permanent snarl, lips pulled back over a pair of menacing sharp fangs. Without looking at Jack, too engrossed by the strange corpse before them, she said, “I believe we’re square now, Captain.”
“That we are, dearie. That we are.”
They stared down at the beastie with morbid fascination, before deciding to toss it overboard. “It must have stowed away somewhere aboard. Can’t imagine where though, on such a dingy ship as this.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at the jab, feeling entirely awake now, the adrenaline from the just recent skirmish coursing through her veins. “I wouldn’t demean my ship if I were you, Jack, as you are seemingly without one entirely. So does this count as you losing three ships? I believe you’re two ahead of me, now.”
Jack paid a sliding glare to the woman. He decided he liked her better when she was acting dreamy, and complacent...and allowing him to put his mouth on her skin without a single protest. The thought of his mouth on Elizabeth’s skin made him twitch a bit inside, and not from disgust, as any sane man thinking about a woman who had bloody killed him would...
“So how did you lose the Pearl, at any rate?”
The thought of said story instantly pushed Jack into an irritable frame of mind. “Barbossa,” was all he would say.
And indeed, it was all he really needed to.
Elizabeth nodded, thinking Barbossa would have another bullet coming to him, next Jack had the chance. “You’re hurt.” she said, gesturing towards his arm. “Let me help you.” As she reached for his arm, he jumped away, as though her touch might burn him.
More than she knew.
“No need, just a scratch,” he assured her gruffly.
“Take off your shirt and let me see,” she insisted. She didn’t want Jack to bleed to death for something as silly as modesty.
Jack, in his inherent to be contrary nature, instead pulled a flask from his belt of a thousand effects, and took a swig. “Anxious t’get me shirt off already?” he taunted, hoping that would keep her at bay.
Then, ignoring her best he could, he ducked into her cabin, where he hoped to find some manner of a mirror, that any proper lady should keep in her quarters. He walked in and looked around, for naught. Apparently Elizabeth was no longer a proper lady.
How interesting.
Setting the flask down on the table, Jack stripped off his coat and shirt, craning his neck to assess the scratches on his back. From what he could see, they were already beginning to close quite nicely.
“Doesn’t entering the captain’s cabin usually require an invitation?” said Elizabeth, ducking through the door. Snatching up a rag from the table, she dipped it in a basin, and made to begin cleaning his wounds. Jack watched her hands, eyes wide with alarm. He didn’t want her to touch him, because he’d worked far too hard to forget those hands. But she did not know this, and he surely could not tell her.
Would not tell her.
Did she know she’d been with him, everywhere, from Zanzibar to the far shores of the Japans?
Jumping out of reach, staring at Elizabeth from across the small table, Jack quickly excused, “M’touched by your concern for my person, but tis really not necessary. Truly.”
Eyeing Jack suspiciously, she tossed down the rag with a wet slap. And eyes never leaving his, she reached to uncork the flask he’d left on the table, making to take a swig herself.
It had been a rough night.
Watching Elizabeth, Jack beheld with much horror the woman raising the vessel to her lips. “Don’t!” he cried, scrambling frantically in his animated way to halt the precious liquid’s progress to her mouth. He swiped the flask but some managed to splash out, landing on Elizabeth’s arm. She stood completely startled. “Somebody’s a bit protective of his rum--”
She then realized that had it been rum, her cuts would be stinging. Jack Sparrow drinking from an innocent carafe of water? Surely not. She sniffed her arm.
Smelled like nothing.
And then she noticed something particularly unsettling about the glass wounds on her arm where the water had splashed. Particularly, she didn’t notice them at all. They were completely healed, smooth flawless skin, not even the pink of a fresh scar.
“What is that stuff?” she demanded. Jack smiled, all too smug. He waggled the flask playfully, and took another, very small sip.
“Agua de Vida, luv. Unless you decide you want to live forever, best not be swillin’ out me jug.”
Elizabeth blinked with surprise. And yet, she found herself not so surprised as one might think. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, after all.
She held out her arm in astonishment. “Look, it healed my arm completely. Not even a scar.”
Jack craned his neck to peer at her arm, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Didn’t know it would do that. My experiments with the stuff are still young, as it were.”
“Well, dab a bit more on then, I’ll be good as new.”
Jack shoved the cork back down in the flask. “What’s in it for me? This is precious stuff, you know. Worth far more than its weight in gold, I’d say.”
“Surely you have more than just that. It’s nearly gone.”
“That I do, luv. Not that I’ll be tellin’ you where, you’d go off and find a way to burn it.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Fine then. I’ll just stick it out and fight off infection and disease. I--” There she went again, gabbing about with that infuriating mouth of hers, spouting all sorts of gripe. He wanted to make her be quiet, and he wanted to accomplish said feat with his mouth over hers.
But that would have been a very very bad idea.
So he settled for something a bit more mundane: he gave her what she wanted. As she turned to go Jack clasped her arm, turning her back again. With a pointed glare he splashed a bit more on her arm, and they both watched the wounds re-knit in amazement.
Fascinated, Jack watched the rivulets of water run down her arms, gathering in drops at her fingertips.
It hurt him to watch the precious stuff just dripping away.
Leave it, mate, he told himself.
Apparently, he could take orders from no one, not even himself.
He found himself reaching for her hand, his body seeming to move of its own accord.
Elizabeth watched with fascination and something like fear, as Jack raised her hand to his mouth, slipping one long finger between his lips. It caused something to instantly clench, deep in her belly. She might have protested, could she have found her voice. As it were, she could only watch wide eyed and open mouthed, as the most delicious sensations ran havoc down her spine.
Not fair, Jack Sparrow, she thought. You never play fair.
He moved to take yet another finger into his mouth, eyes trained on hers all the while, but she spoiled his mischief, pulling away slowly.
Remembering his earlier resolution, he let her go.
So much for keeping her at arm’s length. That took precisely…one hour, he mused with frustration.
“That’s quite enough, Jack,” she said, meaning to sound stern, but knowing her voice betrayed her desire.
When is it really ever enough, she asked herself. When had she ever truly had her fill of the pirate captain?
“Waste not want not, luv. And its Captain Jack.”
“Is it still, even when you’ve lost your ship once again?” she asked innocently, only the wicked sparkle in her eyes indicating that she was ribbing him.
Jack narrowed his eyes, in no mood to take guff from this troublesome girl, even if she was a Pirate King. “And is it still Mrs. Turner, even though your husband’s gone off for a decade?” he quipped back
Immediately he wished he could take it back, as he watched the dagger sink home, her face falling. She looked to the deck, kicking at a knot in the decking with the toe of her boot. “You know I’m still married, Jack,” she said quietly, hating the way her heart ached with loneliness in that moment.
She’d felt as though she’d managed to cut out her own heart as well the past five years. It was the only way she’d survived. And now here was Jack, and suddenly she was feeling everything all over again. She loved it and hated it, all at once.
Offering an apology in his own roundabout way, Jack said, “I doubt anyone could blame ye for forgettin’ once in a while, luv. Ten years is a long time to be alone.”
But she hadn’t forgotten. Only Jack made her want to forget.
Bloody pirate.
Elizabeth frowned, lifting that pert little chin to an infuriatingly haughty angle, retreating behind her English wall of ice once more. “I haven’t forgotten, Jack. You’d do well not to either.”
Elizabeth turned on her heel, fleeing her cabin for fresh cool air outside. Five years she’d stayed true to Will, resisting temptations and invitations from James, among others who were decidedly less interesting. But five minutes with Jack Sparrow, and he worked past her hard won armor.
Damn you, Jack, she hissed between her teeth, taking the helm from the steering rope.
Damn you.
Bless you.
Suddenly, despite the carnage she’d just witnessed, with Jack at her side she felt as though everything was going to be all right.
Elizabeth went to take the helm of the Free Swan II, and the instant her fingers wrapped about the pegs she felt better. She looked up at the stars, making a rough evaluation of their course. She could feel her boat beneath her, the pull of the currents on the rudder, the hull cutting through the waves like a butter knife. Dingy, perhaps, but it was hers.
They would be back in Jamaica in three days.
It would be a lean journey. She hadn’t packed for the extra days, much less for another person aboard. Luckily, she always made a point to keep plenty of water and rum for grog. After her time on the deserted island with Jack, she never wanted to be without water in the tropics again.
She wondered if Jack could live off Agua de Vida now, or if he still had to eat?
“Ye sailed all this way from Jamaica alone?” asked Jack. She started, not having heard him exit the cabin.
“Yes.”
Jack seemed to consider the fact. Was that consternation she read on his face?
“In this little thing? These waters are infested with-"
“Pirates?” she asked cheekily, amused that Jack would consider their Brethren a threat to her.
“Aye, pirates.”
She lifted her chin in that infuriating way, a little smirk curling her lips. “I’m still the King of the Brethren Court, Jack. What would they possibly do to me?”
Jack grimaced inwardly for her bravado. Silly little chit.
“Ye don’t seem to know your subjects very well, your highness,” said Jack. “Happenin’ upon the prize of the prettiest lass in the Caribbean sailing all by her onesies in this miniscule tub of a boat? Bein’ the Pirate King wouldn’t save ye, luv.”
Elizabeth and Jack both froze at hearing his words. Jack cursed himself for the embarrassing slip of his personal assessment of her comely features, and Elizabeth’s heart skipped in her chest, her palms suddenly balmy as a rush of heat spread through her limbs.
She gripped the pegs of the helm more tightly, regarding Jack with those doe eyes that held such a profound sadness these days. Yet now, there was a new glimmer within them. Jack was worried about her, which meant he couldn’t hate her so much after all?
She tried to make light of his comment, looking down at her costume with a derisive smile. Her men’s trousers and top boots, her once soft hands now calloused from work, her once pale skin browned by the sun, and her mane of hair pulled back in a simple queue. “You must be going blind in your old age, Jack. Even if it was ever true, I’m certainly no beauty now.”
Frowning, Jack took a step towards her, and Elizabeth quashed the urge to bolt. She was the Captain of this ship, at least, and she was manning the helm. But when Jack hooked a bejeweled finger beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his, the most damning thrill galloped down her spine.
“I can see perfectly well, luv,” he assured her.
In that moment the pair felt the atmosphere change between them, like the barometric drop before a storm.
And here we go, thought Jack with alarm. He’d tried to keep up their usual repartee filled with friendly insults, but his resolve disintegrated alarmingly fast this round. Maybe he was getting soft in his old age.
Maybe Elizabeth just made him that way.
For a long moment neither spoke, caught in each other’s gazes.
A million comments surfaced and sank on Elizabeth’s tongue.
Jack, I’ve missed you so much.
Jack, where have you been?
Jack, why didn’t you come to me?
She could bring herself to voice none of it, and the most annoying urge to cry tightened her chest and welled in the corners of her eyes.
James Norrington looked at her this way all the time. As though she really were the most beautiful woman in the world, and it filled her with nothing but pity. But to receive such a look from Captain Jack Sparrow immediately tied up her insides, like snapped rigging thrashed in a storm. He moved her, with just a look.
Swallowing hard, Jack suddenly retreated to the gunwale, looking out at the black sea. “And besides pirates,” he went on, his voice coarse. “There are French and Dutch and the damnable Spanish, who are decidedly worse if they get your mitts on you.”
Elizabeth had heard of the creative tortures the Spanish perfected in the inquisition, and wondered if Jack knew first hand.
“Why Jack,” she said, trying for sangfroid but coming off as rather shaky. “That’s what the chest of Granados in my cabin are for.”
Granados, named for their resemblance to a pomegranate, were crude but devastatingly effective grenades.
Jack smiled to himself, careful not to let her see, a gold tooth glinting in the moonlight.
“I might have known,” he simply said, and retreated below before he did something ridiculously stupid, like snatch her up in his arms and kiss her senseless.
Blasted girl.
Brave, blasted girl, his Lizzy.
This did not bode well at all.
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Elizabeth and Jack took turns manning the helm. The lass did well, Jack noted, though he didn’t dare say it aloud. But on the close of the second day he was snoozing in the shade of the mainsail, and felt the boat lurch leeward a bit too far.
He looked up to see Lizzy leaning upon the helm, her eyes closed.
He realized then that for the whole two days he had not actually seen the girl sleep. It seemed if he wasn’t watching her, then she was watching him. She watched him like a student eager to absorb the teachings of the master, and Jack maybe enjoyed it a little too much.
When Elizabeth came to, she woke feeling an almost unknown sensation of warmth and security. She blinked, and realized her head was cradled on a masculine shoulder, a strong arm around her, resting upon the helm. When she realized it was Jack’s shoulder she straightened with a start, a surprised “Oh,” escaping her lips.
“I know it’s your turn to steer the ship, but ye tried to turn us back to Hispaniola, so I thought I would take over,” Jack teased with a Puckish grin.
Elizabeth blinked quickly, trying to clear the sleep from her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I haven’t slept…” In days. Which usually didn’t matter to her. She would go through bouts of insomnia frequently, and preferred wakefulness to her nightmares.
She realized this was the first time in a long time she’d had a pleasant dream. Just fragments remained in her memory.
“I was dreaming of the Pearl,” she said, voice airy with the memory.
Jack’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Ye weren’t steering her, were ye?”
She laughed a little for the jealousy in his tone. “No, you were,” she assured him. “We were going…” Where were they going? She realized she didn’t know. It hadn’t mattered. They were just going. “Away,” she finished wistfully, and immediately wished she could retract the confession.
Jack’s black eyes bored into her, filled with equal parts alarm and intrigue.
He’d had that dream before too, more times than he could count.
“Why don’t ye go down for a kip,” he said, nodding towards the cabin below. “I think ye need it.”
Grateful for the opportunity to flee without further embarrassing herself, Elizabeth nodded. Even in the Caribbean heat, she felt rather cold when she left the circle of Jack’s arms. “You know the way?” she asked, and immediately realized what a stupid question it was.
Jack raised an eyebrow, confirming as much.
“Sorry,” she sighed, and began to make her way down. “Wake me when we’re near Jamaica,” she called as she descended. “We won’t use the Port Royal harbor. I have my own cove to anchor that’s closer to my house, and it would be best if the whole town didn’t see you. You do have a reputation still, Captain Jack Sparrow.”
Jack seemed puzzled. “Ye don’t live in town?”
She offered a sad little smile, and Jack was surprised that his heart ached for her in that moment. “I’m quite the outcast myself now, I’m afraid.”
Jack could just imagine the vicious whispers of the “good citizens” of Port Royal, after a Lady returned from an adventure the likes of which Lizzy had. Cavorting with pirates. The sole survivor. Married, but where was the husband? What did she tell people? Surely not the truth of the Flying Dutchman and its cursed captain.
“M’sorry, luv.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m not. Devil take them, they all bored me to tears anyway.” Her lips curled in a mischievous grin, and in that moment he saw not the young woman who had borne so much hardship and disappointment, but the girl he’d known before. The fearless and lively lass who would reel barefoot in a circle about a bonfire chanting a pirate ballad, bottle of rum in hand.
Blasted girl, he thought for the umpteenth time. Stop being so…
So what?
He didn’t know, and with a frisson of fear he knew he didn’t want her, or this, whatever this was, to stop at all.
Click Next Entry for chapter 5.
Once safely on the Freedom, Elizabeth found herself deposited on the deck, leaning against the mainsail, while Jack scrambled around readying to sail. Seemingly in no time at all they were drifting away from the dock, away from Tortuga, the burning buildings and screams. The dizzy feeling washed over her again, and she slid down the mast to sit on the deck. What was wrong with her?
The further they drifted, as more time passed, she felt her head clearing, as though a fog were being lifted from around her head. All tasks of the launch completed and a rough course set, she found herself being inspected from head to toe. “You came back for me,” she sighed, suddenly struck with disbelief as she felt the faculty for speech return.
After all this time, she never thought he would.
“Aye, luv, I came back for you,” he said quietly, pulling aside the collar of her shirt to inspect her neck. His warm firm fingers felt wonderful on her skin, and he was visibly relieved to find her free of bite marks.
Yet another wave of wooziness came over her. Were she not already sitting, she would have been taken to the deck. “The lantern,” she said dreamily. “How did you know fire...”
Jack took one of her arms in his hand, of which still had some glass embedded in it. “Not a beastie I’ve ever encountered appreciates being set on fire,” he said. “An educated but lucky guess.” When picking at the glass with his fingers was unsuccessful, he resorted to using his teeth as tweezers. She watched passively, somewhat enjoying this strange form of intimacy.
“He was in my head,” she said, recounting the experience just passed. “In my mind. He took me over, and I felt like I was drowning again. I still feel as though I haven’t quite made it to the surface yet.”
Jack pulled a large piece of glass from her arm, spitting it out into some dark corner of the deck. She was somewhat grateful for the pain, it helped clear her mind more. “Hypnotization of some sort. He tried it on me too.”
“What? When?” She was puzzled.
“Bout a month back.”
“What?!”
Elizabeth did not expect this. Not at all. He’d already known about this Francisco? Already met him face to face? Knew about these vampires terrorizing the Caribbean, and had done nothing about it? Of course, what was he supposed to do? What could one do, against creatures like that.
“Seems he’s after me for some reason or another. Hard to keep track of who wants what from ol’ Jack Sparrow these days.”
“So you’ve met before?”
“Aye. I wasn’t quite as lucky as you though. He nipped me neck ‘fore I managed to escape. Still have a bit o’ scar.” He touched the brown skin at the base of his neck, and true enough there was a set of fresh pink scratches at his neck.
She reached out to touch the slick pink skin, but he caught her hand before fingers could make contact, an unidentifiable look in those dark eyes.
Letting her touch him was a bad idea, he reasoned. He would do something stupid, like touch her back. He’d managed this long to stay away from her. How many times had he been on the verge of gliding into Port Royal to find her? Too many to count, and usually after he’d had too much rum.
But she came to find you, a damnable little voice whispered in his ear.
That doesn’t mean anything, Jack snapped back.
Means plenty, chuckled the voice, and Jack did his best to swat it away.
Against his better judgement, he declared, “So in light of the nasty Francisco findin’ me once again, I have decided to aid you in your quest to search and destroy said fanged beastie. For entirely selfish reasons. Don’t want you t’get any ideas in your head about me turning over a new leaf and whatnot. Savvy?”
Elizabeth smiled lazily, still feeling a little drunk on whatever the vampire had done to her. Surely this sudden glow inside was due to that, and not her own pleasure for Jack’s words. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, or anything more, don’t worry.”
“Good. You know--”Suddenly, a blur of motion swept down from the sky, barreling into Jack, and taking them to the deck.
“Jack!” Elizabeth screamed, watching in horror as the demon and pirate captain rolled about the floor, Jack struggling to keep gleaming fangs from his throat. She looked about frantically for some instrument of violence, and the best she found was an old broken pike lying neglected against the side of the ship. She seized the shortened spear, and saw that the creature had gained the upper hand, pinning Jack to the deck and bearing down upon him. With a cry of rage she ran forward, driving the pike into the creature’s back with all her strength. The thing shuddered, and Jack watched wide eyed as it fell off to the side of him, and with a horrible shudder lay still.
Rolling away and standing quickly, Jack brushed himself off with an expression of disgust. And then they watched with morbid amazement, as the thing seemed to shrink upon itself, the skin tightening against the bones as though all tissue underneath was losing its moisture.
Elizabeth poked at it with the toe of her boot, and when it remained still she kicked it over. Its mouth remained in a permanent snarl, lips pulled back over a pair of menacing sharp fangs. Without looking at Jack, too engrossed by the strange corpse before them, she said, “I believe we’re square now, Captain.”
“That we are, dearie. That we are.”
They stared down at the beastie with morbid fascination, before deciding to toss it overboard. “It must have stowed away somewhere aboard. Can’t imagine where though, on such a dingy ship as this.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at the jab, feeling entirely awake now, the adrenaline from the just recent skirmish coursing through her veins. “I wouldn’t demean my ship if I were you, Jack, as you are seemingly without one entirely. So does this count as you losing three ships? I believe you’re two ahead of me, now.”
Jack paid a sliding glare to the woman. He decided he liked her better when she was acting dreamy, and complacent...and allowing him to put his mouth on her skin without a single protest. The thought of his mouth on Elizabeth’s skin made him twitch a bit inside, and not from disgust, as any sane man thinking about a woman who had bloody killed him would...
“So how did you lose the Pearl, at any rate?”
The thought of said story instantly pushed Jack into an irritable frame of mind. “Barbossa,” was all he would say.
And indeed, it was all he really needed to.
Elizabeth nodded, thinking Barbossa would have another bullet coming to him, next Jack had the chance. “You’re hurt.” she said, gesturing towards his arm. “Let me help you.” As she reached for his arm, he jumped away, as though her touch might burn him.
More than she knew.
“No need, just a scratch,” he assured her gruffly.
“Take off your shirt and let me see,” she insisted. She didn’t want Jack to bleed to death for something as silly as modesty.
Jack, in his inherent to be contrary nature, instead pulled a flask from his belt of a thousand effects, and took a swig. “Anxious t’get me shirt off already?” he taunted, hoping that would keep her at bay.
Then, ignoring her best he could, he ducked into her cabin, where he hoped to find some manner of a mirror, that any proper lady should keep in her quarters. He walked in and looked around, for naught. Apparently Elizabeth was no longer a proper lady.
How interesting.
Setting the flask down on the table, Jack stripped off his coat and shirt, craning his neck to assess the scratches on his back. From what he could see, they were already beginning to close quite nicely.
“Doesn’t entering the captain’s cabin usually require an invitation?” said Elizabeth, ducking through the door. Snatching up a rag from the table, she dipped it in a basin, and made to begin cleaning his wounds. Jack watched her hands, eyes wide with alarm. He didn’t want her to touch him, because he’d worked far too hard to forget those hands. But she did not know this, and he surely could not tell her.
Would not tell her.
Did she know she’d been with him, everywhere, from Zanzibar to the far shores of the Japans?
Jumping out of reach, staring at Elizabeth from across the small table, Jack quickly excused, “M’touched by your concern for my person, but tis really not necessary. Truly.”
Eyeing Jack suspiciously, she tossed down the rag with a wet slap. And eyes never leaving his, she reached to uncork the flask he’d left on the table, making to take a swig herself.
It had been a rough night.
Watching Elizabeth, Jack beheld with much horror the woman raising the vessel to her lips. “Don’t!” he cried, scrambling frantically in his animated way to halt the precious liquid’s progress to her mouth. He swiped the flask but some managed to splash out, landing on Elizabeth’s arm. She stood completely startled. “Somebody’s a bit protective of his rum--”
She then realized that had it been rum, her cuts would be stinging. Jack Sparrow drinking from an innocent carafe of water? Surely not. She sniffed her arm.
Smelled like nothing.
And then she noticed something particularly unsettling about the glass wounds on her arm where the water had splashed. Particularly, she didn’t notice them at all. They were completely healed, smooth flawless skin, not even the pink of a fresh scar.
“What is that stuff?” she demanded. Jack smiled, all too smug. He waggled the flask playfully, and took another, very small sip.
“Agua de Vida, luv. Unless you decide you want to live forever, best not be swillin’ out me jug.”
Elizabeth blinked with surprise. And yet, she found herself not so surprised as one might think. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, after all.
She held out her arm in astonishment. “Look, it healed my arm completely. Not even a scar.”
Jack craned his neck to peer at her arm, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Didn’t know it would do that. My experiments with the stuff are still young, as it were.”
“Well, dab a bit more on then, I’ll be good as new.”
Jack shoved the cork back down in the flask. “What’s in it for me? This is precious stuff, you know. Worth far more than its weight in gold, I’d say.”
“Surely you have more than just that. It’s nearly gone.”
“That I do, luv. Not that I’ll be tellin’ you where, you’d go off and find a way to burn it.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Fine then. I’ll just stick it out and fight off infection and disease. I--” There she went again, gabbing about with that infuriating mouth of hers, spouting all sorts of gripe. He wanted to make her be quiet, and he wanted to accomplish said feat with his mouth over hers.
But that would have been a very very bad idea.
So he settled for something a bit more mundane: he gave her what she wanted. As she turned to go Jack clasped her arm, turning her back again. With a pointed glare he splashed a bit more on her arm, and they both watched the wounds re-knit in amazement.
Fascinated, Jack watched the rivulets of water run down her arms, gathering in drops at her fingertips.
It hurt him to watch the precious stuff just dripping away.
Leave it, mate, he told himself.
Apparently, he could take orders from no one, not even himself.
He found himself reaching for her hand, his body seeming to move of its own accord.
Elizabeth watched with fascination and something like fear, as Jack raised her hand to his mouth, slipping one long finger between his lips. It caused something to instantly clench, deep in her belly. She might have protested, could she have found her voice. As it were, she could only watch wide eyed and open mouthed, as the most delicious sensations ran havoc down her spine.
Not fair, Jack Sparrow, she thought. You never play fair.
He moved to take yet another finger into his mouth, eyes trained on hers all the while, but she spoiled his mischief, pulling away slowly.
Remembering his earlier resolution, he let her go.
So much for keeping her at arm’s length. That took precisely…one hour, he mused with frustration.
“That’s quite enough, Jack,” she said, meaning to sound stern, but knowing her voice betrayed her desire.
When is it really ever enough, she asked herself. When had she ever truly had her fill of the pirate captain?
“Waste not want not, luv. And its Captain Jack.”
“Is it still, even when you’ve lost your ship once again?” she asked innocently, only the wicked sparkle in her eyes indicating that she was ribbing him.
Jack narrowed his eyes, in no mood to take guff from this troublesome girl, even if she was a Pirate King. “And is it still Mrs. Turner, even though your husband’s gone off for a decade?” he quipped back
Immediately he wished he could take it back, as he watched the dagger sink home, her face falling. She looked to the deck, kicking at a knot in the decking with the toe of her boot. “You know I’m still married, Jack,” she said quietly, hating the way her heart ached with loneliness in that moment.
She’d felt as though she’d managed to cut out her own heart as well the past five years. It was the only way she’d survived. And now here was Jack, and suddenly she was feeling everything all over again. She loved it and hated it, all at once.
Offering an apology in his own roundabout way, Jack said, “I doubt anyone could blame ye for forgettin’ once in a while, luv. Ten years is a long time to be alone.”
But she hadn’t forgotten. Only Jack made her want to forget.
Bloody pirate.
Elizabeth frowned, lifting that pert little chin to an infuriatingly haughty angle, retreating behind her English wall of ice once more. “I haven’t forgotten, Jack. You’d do well not to either.”
Elizabeth turned on her heel, fleeing her cabin for fresh cool air outside. Five years she’d stayed true to Will, resisting temptations and invitations from James, among others who were decidedly less interesting. But five minutes with Jack Sparrow, and he worked past her hard won armor.
Damn you, Jack, she hissed between her teeth, taking the helm from the steering rope.
Damn you.
Bless you.
Suddenly, despite the carnage she’d just witnessed, with Jack at her side she felt as though everything was going to be all right.
Elizabeth went to take the helm of the Free Swan II, and the instant her fingers wrapped about the pegs she felt better. She looked up at the stars, making a rough evaluation of their course. She could feel her boat beneath her, the pull of the currents on the rudder, the hull cutting through the waves like a butter knife. Dingy, perhaps, but it was hers.
They would be back in Jamaica in three days.
It would be a lean journey. She hadn’t packed for the extra days, much less for another person aboard. Luckily, she always made a point to keep plenty of water and rum for grog. After her time on the deserted island with Jack, she never wanted to be without water in the tropics again.
She wondered if Jack could live off Agua de Vida now, or if he still had to eat?
“Ye sailed all this way from Jamaica alone?” asked Jack. She started, not having heard him exit the cabin.
“Yes.”
Jack seemed to consider the fact. Was that consternation she read on his face?
“In this little thing? These waters are infested with-"
“Pirates?” she asked cheekily, amused that Jack would consider their Brethren a threat to her.
“Aye, pirates.”
She lifted her chin in that infuriating way, a little smirk curling her lips. “I’m still the King of the Brethren Court, Jack. What would they possibly do to me?”
Jack grimaced inwardly for her bravado. Silly little chit.
“Ye don’t seem to know your subjects very well, your highness,” said Jack. “Happenin’ upon the prize of the prettiest lass in the Caribbean sailing all by her onesies in this miniscule tub of a boat? Bein’ the Pirate King wouldn’t save ye, luv.”
Elizabeth and Jack both froze at hearing his words. Jack cursed himself for the embarrassing slip of his personal assessment of her comely features, and Elizabeth’s heart skipped in her chest, her palms suddenly balmy as a rush of heat spread through her limbs.
She gripped the pegs of the helm more tightly, regarding Jack with those doe eyes that held such a profound sadness these days. Yet now, there was a new glimmer within them. Jack was worried about her, which meant he couldn’t hate her so much after all?
She tried to make light of his comment, looking down at her costume with a derisive smile. Her men’s trousers and top boots, her once soft hands now calloused from work, her once pale skin browned by the sun, and her mane of hair pulled back in a simple queue. “You must be going blind in your old age, Jack. Even if it was ever true, I’m certainly no beauty now.”
Frowning, Jack took a step towards her, and Elizabeth quashed the urge to bolt. She was the Captain of this ship, at least, and she was manning the helm. But when Jack hooked a bejeweled finger beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his, the most damning thrill galloped down her spine.
“I can see perfectly well, luv,” he assured her.
In that moment the pair felt the atmosphere change between them, like the barometric drop before a storm.
And here we go, thought Jack with alarm. He’d tried to keep up their usual repartee filled with friendly insults, but his resolve disintegrated alarmingly fast this round. Maybe he was getting soft in his old age.
Maybe Elizabeth just made him that way.
For a long moment neither spoke, caught in each other’s gazes.
A million comments surfaced and sank on Elizabeth’s tongue.
Jack, I’ve missed you so much.
Jack, where have you been?
Jack, why didn’t you come to me?
She could bring herself to voice none of it, and the most annoying urge to cry tightened her chest and welled in the corners of her eyes.
James Norrington looked at her this way all the time. As though she really were the most beautiful woman in the world, and it filled her with nothing but pity. But to receive such a look from Captain Jack Sparrow immediately tied up her insides, like snapped rigging thrashed in a storm. He moved her, with just a look.
Swallowing hard, Jack suddenly retreated to the gunwale, looking out at the black sea. “And besides pirates,” he went on, his voice coarse. “There are French and Dutch and the damnable Spanish, who are decidedly worse if they get your mitts on you.”
Elizabeth had heard of the creative tortures the Spanish perfected in the inquisition, and wondered if Jack knew first hand.
“Why Jack,” she said, trying for sangfroid but coming off as rather shaky. “That’s what the chest of Granados in my cabin are for.”
Granados, named for their resemblance to a pomegranate, were crude but devastatingly effective grenades.
Jack smiled to himself, careful not to let her see, a gold tooth glinting in the moonlight.
“I might have known,” he simply said, and retreated below before he did something ridiculously stupid, like snatch her up in his arms and kiss her senseless.
Blasted girl.
Brave, blasted girl, his Lizzy.
This did not bode well at all.
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Elizabeth and Jack took turns manning the helm. The lass did well, Jack noted, though he didn’t dare say it aloud. But on the close of the second day he was snoozing in the shade of the mainsail, and felt the boat lurch leeward a bit too far.
He looked up to see Lizzy leaning upon the helm, her eyes closed.
He realized then that for the whole two days he had not actually seen the girl sleep. It seemed if he wasn’t watching her, then she was watching him. She watched him like a student eager to absorb the teachings of the master, and Jack maybe enjoyed it a little too much.
When Elizabeth came to, she woke feeling an almost unknown sensation of warmth and security. She blinked, and realized her head was cradled on a masculine shoulder, a strong arm around her, resting upon the helm. When she realized it was Jack’s shoulder she straightened with a start, a surprised “Oh,” escaping her lips.
“I know it’s your turn to steer the ship, but ye tried to turn us back to Hispaniola, so I thought I would take over,” Jack teased with a Puckish grin.
Elizabeth blinked quickly, trying to clear the sleep from her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I haven’t slept…” In days. Which usually didn’t matter to her. She would go through bouts of insomnia frequently, and preferred wakefulness to her nightmares.
She realized this was the first time in a long time she’d had a pleasant dream. Just fragments remained in her memory.
“I was dreaming of the Pearl,” she said, voice airy with the memory.
Jack’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Ye weren’t steering her, were ye?”
She laughed a little for the jealousy in his tone. “No, you were,” she assured him. “We were going…” Where were they going? She realized she didn’t know. It hadn’t mattered. They were just going. “Away,” she finished wistfully, and immediately wished she could retract the confession.
Jack’s black eyes bored into her, filled with equal parts alarm and intrigue.
He’d had that dream before too, more times than he could count.
“Why don’t ye go down for a kip,” he said, nodding towards the cabin below. “I think ye need it.”
Grateful for the opportunity to flee without further embarrassing herself, Elizabeth nodded. Even in the Caribbean heat, she felt rather cold when she left the circle of Jack’s arms. “You know the way?” she asked, and immediately realized what a stupid question it was.
Jack raised an eyebrow, confirming as much.
“Sorry,” she sighed, and began to make her way down. “Wake me when we’re near Jamaica,” she called as she descended. “We won’t use the Port Royal harbor. I have my own cove to anchor that’s closer to my house, and it would be best if the whole town didn’t see you. You do have a reputation still, Captain Jack Sparrow.”
Jack seemed puzzled. “Ye don’t live in town?”
She offered a sad little smile, and Jack was surprised that his heart ached for her in that moment. “I’m quite the outcast myself now, I’m afraid.”
Jack could just imagine the vicious whispers of the “good citizens” of Port Royal, after a Lady returned from an adventure the likes of which Lizzy had. Cavorting with pirates. The sole survivor. Married, but where was the husband? What did she tell people? Surely not the truth of the Flying Dutchman and its cursed captain.
“M’sorry, luv.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m not. Devil take them, they all bored me to tears anyway.” Her lips curled in a mischievous grin, and in that moment he saw not the young woman who had borne so much hardship and disappointment, but the girl he’d known before. The fearless and lively lass who would reel barefoot in a circle about a bonfire chanting a pirate ballad, bottle of rum in hand.
Blasted girl, he thought for the umpteenth time. Stop being so…
So what?
He didn’t know, and with a frisson of fear he knew he didn’t want her, or this, whatever this was, to stop at all.
Click Next Entry for chapter 5.