TITLE: Across the Waves

SUMMARY: One-shot. My take on a relatively recent post-AWE world where Jack and Elizabeth are together on the 'Pearl and the reasons why Liz won't be left in port. Not much more needs to be said.

DISCLAIMER: We know. Disney owns the whole she-bang, I'm just writing these from my own morbidly romantic nature. It's a phase lately.

Warning: It's a bit maudlin (more like some of my earlier stuff)...

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Just before dawn, he came back to the cabin, removing his boots and softly walking to the bed. She was still asleep, her lioness' mane spread out across the pillows, body half-covered by a blanket. What was left uncovered was a glorious tangle of curves and long limbs and skin that was bronzed from days in the sun. He bent down to softly kiss her, his breath stirring the tendrils of hair that lay across her forehead and she sighed and began to uncoil. "Jack," she whispered and he smiled to himself. Sweetest sound he would ever hear. The cabin was infused with that particular soft shade of blue that only pre-dawn could give, a faint glow that came though the glass windows, just bright enough to dissolve the shadows and discern shapes.

"We'll weigh anchor soon, love," he told her, "In another hour or so. Gives me some time to... rest." He grinned down at her and she purred back,

"Rest, is it? Oh, alright, I suppose you should." She made a mock pout, and then smiled to soften it.

She reached out a hand and he climbed into the bed behind her, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling her neck. They lay quietly for awhile, as the blue light began to slowly pale around them and the 'Pearl rocked gently beneath them. She heard something, strained to listen. "What?" he asked her, sleepily.

"Do you hear it...? Singing..." she sat up, the blanket falling from her body, and heard his appreciative hum behind her as he trailed a finger down her spine.

"Someone on one of the other ships," he murmured, reaching for her, "Come back..."

"No, Jack, listen... it's a woman..." Elizabeth felt her throat tighten as she heard the eerie voice singing into the dawn.

He sighed, knowing there was no putting her off from that incessant curiosity of hers. He listened, grunted. "Yeah. Might be from the Esperito; they have a couple ladies they were taking back to port in Caracas or some such."

"Oh, Jack... what is she singing? It's so sad." The tune floated across the water, haunting, mournful.

Jack got up and went to the windows, opening one of the hatches so he could hear more clearly. "Sounds like Spanish... no, Portuguese... which I know a fair bit of, of course."

"Of course," he heard his lady's amused voice.

He listened carefully, "Odd dialect..." He stopped, finding himself caught up in the words that the unknown woman was singing. "Ah." He had the sudden urge to light a candle, to find his lucky charm, to hold Elizabeth to him very tightly, "She's... singing to her love. Her lost love. At sea."

Elizabeth's breath hitched slightly. Yes. Mourning. That's what the woman sounded like. "What is she saying?"

Jack listened. Took a deep breath. "She's talking about watching the waves, waiting for her lover to come back. Only he doesn't seem to be coming." He turned back to the bed when he heard her make a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob. "Lizzie..." He came back to the side of the bed, reaching out for her, but she shook off his hand. He'd never seen her so vulnerable, and it bothered him.

She couldn't help it. The very thought of losing him to the sea, of waiting for him while he never came, shook her to the core. "This is why," she whispered, "this is why I utterly refuse to be left in port somewhere."

"Lizzie, have I ever once asked you..." he began.

"This is why," she insisted, fiercely, "I couldn't bear it, waiting for you to come, wondering if you ever would," She sat up, clutching at his arm.

"You know I would," he told her, smoothing her hair away from her face, "You know that nothing would make me leave you there if I could help it."

"If you could help it... exactly," her breath caught again, and he saw the tears welling up, threatening to fall. He tried to make her laugh, to reassure her and to stop the coldness that was creeping into his chest,

"Lizzie, darlin', I'm Captain Jack Sp..."

"Stop it!" she cried out, "You're not bloody immortal!" She kissed him suddenly, running her hands over his face, his hair, as though she would pour her protection over him. "This is why," she whispered, "Why I will always be here, with you and the 'Pearl. I'd rather be here than anywhere else. I'd rather share your fate, whatever it is, than be wondering what it was. Alone."

Wordlessly, he gathered her up, curling himself around her as he pulled their bodies back down into the blankets. She didn't speak further or cry aloud, but her body shuddered and twisted in on itself. And so he murmured in her ears, wordless sounds of comfort and love as she clutched at him. After a while she was still, and the two of them lay quietly together as the light through the windows turned to rosy gold and the sun broke over the horizon and the woman's mournful song died away.

Jack didn't bother telling Elizabeth that this was why he'd never let her go, either, why he'd never leave her anywhere. He was pretty sure she already knew.

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Author's note: Inspired by a very early morning listen to the song, "Aj ondas" by the 13th century poet Martin Codax. It's a very short cantiga about a woman asking the waves why her love doesn't return. The version by Azam Ali (I have several versions of the song, actually) is very haunting, very beautiful and very very sad.

I imagine that Elizabeth wouldn't want to leave the 'Pearl for several reasons, one being that she obviously loves the sea and sailing, and the other reason being the above story. It had a bit of the feel of an old argument between them (though I really don't think Jack would ever opt to leave her somewhere, even temporarily). Better to share it than not know what happened. I think of that every time I see a coastal house with a widow's walk, thinking of those women who wait in port, hoping their men will come back.