Chapter Nineteen - The Meaning Fits
"I'm not opening it until you've sorted yourselves out!" Marty sounded triumphant. The thieving, mutinous little... Jack leapt to his feet and strode towards the door, Elizabeth skittering out of his way.
He slammed a hand against it.
"Let me out!" The only reply was a muffled laugh. "I'll have the lot of you keelhauled and strung up for the gulls! Bloody well let me out!" Hearing nothing more, he turned around, slumping against the door with a sigh. Elizabeth had that panicked expression on her face again, like a trapped animal. She was still clutching a fistful of papers in one hand, and he noticed she had a bottle of rum in the other. "Well at least we won't die of thirst."
She frowned slightly, then glanced down as if suddenly remembering the bottle, and gave a weak laugh. Her eyes followed him as he returned to his chair. There was a long moment of silence.
"So what ought we to do?"
He looked at her levelly. Damn it, she was too lovely; not just a pretty girl, a tomboy in sailor's clothes anymore, despite that gamine form- she was a woman now. A bloody dangerous woman, one that he couldn’t have, damn it, but lovely all the same.
"Doubt it really matters for whatever trick they're playing. Best to just sit it out." He gestured towards a chair on the other side of the table. He didn't trust himself if she sat any nearer to him, not after coming so close down in the hold, so bloody close...
Gingerly, she sat down, and took a long swig of the rum. There was silence again, and she looked studiously at the floor
Then, as if suddenly emboldened by something there amongst the boards of the deck, she turned back to look at him.
"I'm sure this must be terrible for you."
Jack blinked.
"What on earth do you mean by that?"
"Being stuck in here with me when you want me off the ship."
He drew breath. She thought he didn't want her on board? He tried to keep his tone smooth.
"And why would you think I want you off my ship?"
Elizabeth threw up her hands.
"Perhaps because you've barely said two words to me since I got kidnapped by your insane first mate? Because if you actually gave two figs you might have tried to talk to me?"
"What do you bloody think I'm doing now?" He reached over the table and snatched the bottle from where she'd left it, swallowing a mouthful. "And you've just been so communicative yourself recently, of course."
She bristled visibly.
"Why exactly should the onus be on me? I don't have anything to apologise for- or had it entirely slipped your mind that you abandoned me in England three years ago with hardly a shilling to my name?"
That hurt. It felt carved into his heart, the day he'd left her; the way her voice had caught when she realised what he intended had left a deeper scar than most blades he'd run afoul of. Of course she’d also left more intentional marks.
He leaned forward, menacingly.
"I don't know if it's entirely slipped your mind, but I happen to recall that once upon a time you chained me to this ship and left me to die."
"And I brought you back." Her voice had quietened, at that, the darkest thing that lay between them, but remained defiant.
"Oh yes, terribly noble of you I'm sure, bringing back the pirate captain so your fiancé could try to steal my bloody ship!" He slammed the rum bottle down on the table, but she didn't flinch.
"I didn't know he was going to do that!"
Jack laughed bitterly.
"No, you didn't know very much about dear William at all did you?" Her eyes widened as he leaned forward again. "Didn't know enough to see what was coming."
She sounded hurt.
"How could anyone have?"
He continued regardless
"Didn't know enough to let him go."
Elizabeth stood up sharply at that, eyes blazing.
"We were engaged," she growled.
He smirked up at her.
"Oh, and that was clearly at the forefront of your mind when you kissed me on the deck." She glared at him, opened her mouth, then snapped it shut and sat back down, determinedly looking away from him. She was quite possibly even more lovely when she was this angry- as long as she didn't get angry enough to pull her sword out again.
Obviously having thought of a suitably biting response, she turned back to him.
“It was at the forefront of my mind,” she spat. "I did what I had to do. Nothing more than that."
She was lying. Suddenly he could see it, see the falsehood clear in her eyes and his stomach turned over.
"Ah, so it was all to save your dearly betrothed? Somehow," he said, leaning back with a satisfied smile, "I don't entirely believe you."
"Of course it was! I was going to marry him!" She was on her feet again now, and with a surge of anger he leapt to his own, staring fiercely into her eyes across the table.
"But you didn't bloody love him."
I didn’t, her mind echoed, an old realisation that, but it had a fiercer edge now, in this place. With him.
From the growing triumphant smile on Jack's face Elizabeth realised that the thought must have been showing somehow on her face, and her pride surged.
"I had to try. I did what was right by him- what was proper." She ignored his slight scoff at the last word. "I had thought that we were meant-" her voice cracked slightly, but she couldn't stop "- that how we'd found each other, it was destiny."
She had expected more sarcasm in response to that, but Jack suddenly looked terribly sad.
"Destiny," he murmured, taking up the bottle and walking towards the stern windows where grey cloud-filtered light trickled into the cabin like rainwater. "Live a little longer, Elizabeth, and you'll know exactly what she is; a trickster, a liar..." His voice trailed off and he tipped up the bottle to drink, before gazing wistfully out over the ocean. " A great conspirator." Slowly, he turned back to look at her, the coldness of the light glinting off the grief in his eyes. "'Which, since I loved in jest before, decreed, that I should suffer when I loved indeed'."
She exhaled very, very slowly. He still had that gaze fixed on her, smirking, sarcastic eyes now looking so old, as if weighted down with sorrows too great even for his years. And those words... she half remembered them from a poem she had read once, as a girl, barely comprehending the pain of the verses with her still unshattered heart. I should suffer when I loved indeed.
The box had been opened. Once. Elizabeth found she could not pinpoint when exactly; whether it had been her own Pandora curiosity or his that had lifted the lid, or whether they had conspired unknowingly in the long dance around one another since he had dragged her sopping wet onto the Port Royal docks and incalculably changed both their lives. But somewhere all their misfortunes had been released; the furies had offered no truce in their onslaught. And in fear they both had slammed it shut again.
It had been fear that had driven her out of Jack's bed, away from him; had he simply reciprocated in pushing her even further? In trying, failing to sever completely the strange tie between them, the riptide-pull that had somehow drawn them back together without consent, that he had finally put a name to with someone else's words.
She needed to tell him the truth- finally, in full.
"I was going to get engaged again." He frowned, but she went on. "In England. I met a man. I wanted to marry him- I thought I wanted to marry him." She took a step towards him now, even as he stood frozen to the spot. "But every time I was with him, when we danced, when he kissed me-" something flared in Jack's eyes at that and a tingle ran across her skin "- I could only... I only thought of- of you, Jack. I dreamed about you. Even before we... before Will... after we found you, I was so afraid because it made no sense for me to... to want you. I still want you. I still-"
In an instant he had closed the gap between them to lay a finger against her lips. The sorrow was gone from his eyes, the anger was gone, and now there was only a reverence, a wonder, as if he had found in her face some great treasure he had long thought claimed by the sea.
"I was afraid too," he mumbled, unable to look away from her eyes. "You scared me. What I might do to you scared me. What you might do to me..." Jack's hand slipped down to cup her face, feeling more desperate now. "I can still hurt you. I will hurt you; it's how I am. And you can still hurt me."
She leaned her cheek into his palm.
"And when I do," she whispered, "I'll fix it again. I'll kill you- and I'll bring you back." Her voice was so soft he could almost disbelieve the first. "And you'll do the same." Her eyes closed for a moment, then flicked open, brighter. "I don't understand this, Jack. I don't know why this happened to me, or to you. But I just can't keep running away when I know you'll pull me back in."
He drew a long breath, as if trying to pull her words in with it.
"The compass pointed to you," he said suddenly, barely thinking the words before they were out of his mouth. "Always- since Isla Cruces. I started- I was coming to find you, but there was a storm, and we had to go back to Tortuga for repairs, and then you just appeared…” He was stroking his thumb across her cheek, almost unconsciously. ”Lizzie… I've been a complete ass."
She smiled.
"Welcome to the club."
Slowly, gently, Elizabeth slid her arms around his waist and he pulled her to him, burying his face in silky hair and breathing in the scent of her as she ran her hands up and down his spine, as if she was assuring herself that he was real. The strange tightness in his chest seemed to sing now, with a fierce, bright note, like a songbird at the rising of the sun. She pulled back slightly to look up into his face again and he couldn't resist any longer.
He pressed his lips to hers... and it was warmth and sweetness and fire and Elizabeth, finally his Lizzie, and maybe he murmured that into her mouth because he thought he heard, felt, a whispered 'my Jack' in reply, but it didn't matter, it didn't matter which of them was pushing or pulling the other towards the mussed blankets of the bed, or that he wasn't sure he was going to be able to stop kissing her for something as trivial as breathing, not now as her hands fought his coat away from his shoulders and the buttons of her westkit yielded under his fingers...
It was some time later that she lay curled against him, drowsy head on his shoulder and one arm thrown possessively across his stomach. The weather seemed to have cleared now, the light more vivid even as it took on the tints of the evening. A sunbeam chanced to fall over them, delicately playing across soft skin and the curve of her cheek. He shifted slightly, eyelids slipping contentedly as the light refracted Gloriana-red through a stray lock of Elizabeth's hair, warm against his skin… like a tiny, flickering flame of hope.
A/N: A little end-of-fic challenge for any that fancy it- for the first person who can tell me the name and author of the poem that Jack quotes in this chapter, I will write a short oneshot on the prompt of their choice. Using Google is sort of cheating, but I'm hardly going to know if you do!
He slammed a hand against it.
"Let me out!" The only reply was a muffled laugh. "I'll have the lot of you keelhauled and strung up for the gulls! Bloody well let me out!" Hearing nothing more, he turned around, slumping against the door with a sigh. Elizabeth had that panicked expression on her face again, like a trapped animal. She was still clutching a fistful of papers in one hand, and he noticed she had a bottle of rum in the other. "Well at least we won't die of thirst."
She frowned slightly, then glanced down as if suddenly remembering the bottle, and gave a weak laugh. Her eyes followed him as he returned to his chair. There was a long moment of silence.
"So what ought we to do?"
He looked at her levelly. Damn it, she was too lovely; not just a pretty girl, a tomboy in sailor's clothes anymore, despite that gamine form- she was a woman now. A bloody dangerous woman, one that he couldn’t have, damn it, but lovely all the same.
"Doubt it really matters for whatever trick they're playing. Best to just sit it out." He gestured towards a chair on the other side of the table. He didn't trust himself if she sat any nearer to him, not after coming so close down in the hold, so bloody close...
Gingerly, she sat down, and took a long swig of the rum. There was silence again, and she looked studiously at the floor
Then, as if suddenly emboldened by something there amongst the boards of the deck, she turned back to look at him.
"I'm sure this must be terrible for you."
Jack blinked.
"What on earth do you mean by that?"
"Being stuck in here with me when you want me off the ship."
He drew breath. She thought he didn't want her on board? He tried to keep his tone smooth.
"And why would you think I want you off my ship?"
Elizabeth threw up her hands.
"Perhaps because you've barely said two words to me since I got kidnapped by your insane first mate? Because if you actually gave two figs you might have tried to talk to me?"
"What do you bloody think I'm doing now?" He reached over the table and snatched the bottle from where she'd left it, swallowing a mouthful. "And you've just been so communicative yourself recently, of course."
She bristled visibly.
"Why exactly should the onus be on me? I don't have anything to apologise for- or had it entirely slipped your mind that you abandoned me in England three years ago with hardly a shilling to my name?"
That hurt. It felt carved into his heart, the day he'd left her; the way her voice had caught when she realised what he intended had left a deeper scar than most blades he'd run afoul of. Of course she’d also left more intentional marks.
He leaned forward, menacingly.
"I don't know if it's entirely slipped your mind, but I happen to recall that once upon a time you chained me to this ship and left me to die."
"And I brought you back." Her voice had quietened, at that, the darkest thing that lay between them, but remained defiant.
"Oh yes, terribly noble of you I'm sure, bringing back the pirate captain so your fiancé could try to steal my bloody ship!" He slammed the rum bottle down on the table, but she didn't flinch.
"I didn't know he was going to do that!"
Jack laughed bitterly.
"No, you didn't know very much about dear William at all did you?" Her eyes widened as he leaned forward again. "Didn't know enough to see what was coming."
She sounded hurt.
"How could anyone have?"
He continued regardless
"Didn't know enough to let him go."
Elizabeth stood up sharply at that, eyes blazing.
"We were engaged," she growled.
He smirked up at her.
"Oh, and that was clearly at the forefront of your mind when you kissed me on the deck." She glared at him, opened her mouth, then snapped it shut and sat back down, determinedly looking away from him. She was quite possibly even more lovely when she was this angry- as long as she didn't get angry enough to pull her sword out again.
Obviously having thought of a suitably biting response, she turned back to him.
“It was at the forefront of my mind,” she spat. "I did what I had to do. Nothing more than that."
She was lying. Suddenly he could see it, see the falsehood clear in her eyes and his stomach turned over.
"Ah, so it was all to save your dearly betrothed? Somehow," he said, leaning back with a satisfied smile, "I don't entirely believe you."
"Of course it was! I was going to marry him!" She was on her feet again now, and with a surge of anger he leapt to his own, staring fiercely into her eyes across the table.
"But you didn't bloody love him."
I didn’t, her mind echoed, an old realisation that, but it had a fiercer edge now, in this place. With him.
From the growing triumphant smile on Jack's face Elizabeth realised that the thought must have been showing somehow on her face, and her pride surged.
"I had to try. I did what was right by him- what was proper." She ignored his slight scoff at the last word. "I had thought that we were meant-" her voice cracked slightly, but she couldn't stop "- that how we'd found each other, it was destiny."
She had expected more sarcasm in response to that, but Jack suddenly looked terribly sad.
"Destiny," he murmured, taking up the bottle and walking towards the stern windows where grey cloud-filtered light trickled into the cabin like rainwater. "Live a little longer, Elizabeth, and you'll know exactly what she is; a trickster, a liar..." His voice trailed off and he tipped up the bottle to drink, before gazing wistfully out over the ocean. " A great conspirator." Slowly, he turned back to look at her, the coldness of the light glinting off the grief in his eyes. "'Which, since I loved in jest before, decreed, that I should suffer when I loved indeed'."
She exhaled very, very slowly. He still had that gaze fixed on her, smirking, sarcastic eyes now looking so old, as if weighted down with sorrows too great even for his years. And those words... she half remembered them from a poem she had read once, as a girl, barely comprehending the pain of the verses with her still unshattered heart. I should suffer when I loved indeed.
The box had been opened. Once. Elizabeth found she could not pinpoint when exactly; whether it had been her own Pandora curiosity or his that had lifted the lid, or whether they had conspired unknowingly in the long dance around one another since he had dragged her sopping wet onto the Port Royal docks and incalculably changed both their lives. But somewhere all their misfortunes had been released; the furies had offered no truce in their onslaught. And in fear they both had slammed it shut again.
It had been fear that had driven her out of Jack's bed, away from him; had he simply reciprocated in pushing her even further? In trying, failing to sever completely the strange tie between them, the riptide-pull that had somehow drawn them back together without consent, that he had finally put a name to with someone else's words.
She needed to tell him the truth- finally, in full.
"I was going to get engaged again." He frowned, but she went on. "In England. I met a man. I wanted to marry him- I thought I wanted to marry him." She took a step towards him now, even as he stood frozen to the spot. "But every time I was with him, when we danced, when he kissed me-" something flared in Jack's eyes at that and a tingle ran across her skin "- I could only... I only thought of- of you, Jack. I dreamed about you. Even before we... before Will... after we found you, I was so afraid because it made no sense for me to... to want you. I still want you. I still-"
In an instant he had closed the gap between them to lay a finger against her lips. The sorrow was gone from his eyes, the anger was gone, and now there was only a reverence, a wonder, as if he had found in her face some great treasure he had long thought claimed by the sea.
"I was afraid too," he mumbled, unable to look away from her eyes. "You scared me. What I might do to you scared me. What you might do to me..." Jack's hand slipped down to cup her face, feeling more desperate now. "I can still hurt you. I will hurt you; it's how I am. And you can still hurt me."
She leaned her cheek into his palm.
"And when I do," she whispered, "I'll fix it again. I'll kill you- and I'll bring you back." Her voice was so soft he could almost disbelieve the first. "And you'll do the same." Her eyes closed for a moment, then flicked open, brighter. "I don't understand this, Jack. I don't know why this happened to me, or to you. But I just can't keep running away when I know you'll pull me back in."
He drew a long breath, as if trying to pull her words in with it.
"The compass pointed to you," he said suddenly, barely thinking the words before they were out of his mouth. "Always- since Isla Cruces. I started- I was coming to find you, but there was a storm, and we had to go back to Tortuga for repairs, and then you just appeared…” He was stroking his thumb across her cheek, almost unconsciously. ”Lizzie… I've been a complete ass."
She smiled.
"Welcome to the club."
Slowly, gently, Elizabeth slid her arms around his waist and he pulled her to him, burying his face in silky hair and breathing in the scent of her as she ran her hands up and down his spine, as if she was assuring herself that he was real. The strange tightness in his chest seemed to sing now, with a fierce, bright note, like a songbird at the rising of the sun. She pulled back slightly to look up into his face again and he couldn't resist any longer.
He pressed his lips to hers... and it was warmth and sweetness and fire and Elizabeth, finally his Lizzie, and maybe he murmured that into her mouth because he thought he heard, felt, a whispered 'my Jack' in reply, but it didn't matter, it didn't matter which of them was pushing or pulling the other towards the mussed blankets of the bed, or that he wasn't sure he was going to be able to stop kissing her for something as trivial as breathing, not now as her hands fought his coat away from his shoulders and the buttons of her westkit yielded under his fingers...
It was some time later that she lay curled against him, drowsy head on his shoulder and one arm thrown possessively across his stomach. The weather seemed to have cleared now, the light more vivid even as it took on the tints of the evening. A sunbeam chanced to fall over them, delicately playing across soft skin and the curve of her cheek. He shifted slightly, eyelids slipping contentedly as the light refracted Gloriana-red through a stray lock of Elizabeth's hair, warm against his skin… like a tiny, flickering flame of hope.
A/N: A little end-of-fic challenge for any that fancy it- for the first person who can tell me the name and author of the poem that Jack quotes in this chapter, I will write a short oneshot on the prompt of their choice. Using Google is sort of cheating, but I'm hardly going to know if you do!