The Black Pearl sails on through the endless seas of the Locker, its main deck a regular bustle of crew labouring under the command of two captains, both determined to stake their claim on the vessel
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Will retreated down here under the pretense of stowing unneeded rope. Then he stayed down under the pretense of checking on the powder stores. Now he's beginning to wonder how he can explain why he's been down here so long.
And he still doesn't know how to talk to Elizabeth.
He's worked it out, of course, mostly. He thinks he knows why she was kissing him; understands what a distraction it would be; he understands that what he thought was mourning the man she loved was remorse for a friend she murdered, and above all he knows why she had to do it.
But he can't stop feeling so angry. It's a relief, after nearly a year of mournful resignation.
It's not that Elizabeth is hiding, exactly. She's not; if she wanted to hide, she would find a much better spot to do so than the stairs to the main deck. Sitting tall and proud, hands clasped together above her knees, she is illuminated by the light from above and perfectly visible should anyone come looking.
There's little surprise on her face when she turns her head and sees that Will is nearby, hovering in the shadows; somehow she knew he'd be the first to seek her out. She is painfully aware that he's the most deserving of an explanation.
Their eyes meet, Elizabeth's expression guarded. Quickly looking away, she goes back to contemplating the darkened wood before her.
It's not that she's hiding. She simply feels too numb to move.
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And he still doesn't know how to talk to Elizabeth.
He's worked it out, of course, mostly. He thinks he knows why she was kissing him; understands what a distraction it would be; he understands that what he thought was mourning the man she loved was remorse for a friend she murdered, and above all he knows why she had to do it.
But he can't stop feeling so angry. It's a relief, after nearly a year of mournful resignation.
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There's little surprise on her face when she turns her head and sees that Will is nearby, hovering in the shadows; somehow she knew he'd be the first to seek her out. She is painfully aware that he's the most deserving of an explanation.
Their eyes meet, Elizabeth's expression guarded. Quickly looking away, she goes back to contemplating the darkened wood before her.
It's not that she's hiding. She simply feels too numb to move.
Reply
"You left Jack to the Kraken."
To save her life. To save his life. It's as good an opening as he's got, right now.
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"He's rescued now," she says, "it's done with."
Her voice is even and almost too calm.
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