Waste Not

Deleted Scene, between Ch. 18 and 19

The canons fired, and the Pearl was fired upon in equal measure. At almost any time in the past, the thunder and cacophony of it all would have been thrilling to Barbossa, but not today. Today, the clash of steel and the splintering of wood did not excite, and the pepper of gunfire served only to worry him. He hated the fight they were in; hated everything about it. On the day he needed calm seas more than anything, here he was fighting for everything he had, and he despised the opposing ship for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

All he could think about was Elizabeth. Even before the battle had arisen, she had been frightened and in pain. How terrified must she be now, with the ship getting blown to hell all around her? One misplaced bullet, one stray cannonball, and it was over. Everything worth living for, gone in a blink. He fought harder.

Finally. Finally, the chaos ceased, and for just a moment, Barbossa stood still. He was aware of the smell of smoke and blood. He could vaguely hear the groans of wounded men. But all he could feel was regret for the chaos. And the dread of what it might have cost him.

At last, he turned towards his quarters and strode to the door, not even bothering to give a final order. Anxiously, he went inside. To his relief, Elizabeth was where he had left her, and she was alive, though it was disconcerting to see how torn up the room around her was. He went to her side immediately and sat on the edge of the bed, but he didn't speak at first. She was struggling as her labor became only more and more intense, and she trembled still from the fear of getting blown to smithereens.

There was so little he could do for her.

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped some of the perspiration from her face and then took her hand. "We're safe now. There'll be no more disturbances." Barbossa was ragged and tired, and he felt absolutely sick with worry over her, but he kept his voice gentle and steady. Offering her a calm presence was the least he could do.

"Hector…" Her voice sounded so fearful. It stung his heart. "I can't do this. Not on my own. I can't."

A tear formed in her eye, but he wiped it away before it could fall. "Yeh have no choice, lass. 'Twould be foolishness to give up now."

"Hector, I—"

"Captain!" A loud knock interrupted them.

Barbossa's first urge was to strangle whoever it was, but he kept it contained and brushed a stray hair out of Elizabeth's face, giving her half a smile. He then stood and opened the door, glaring.

Pintel flinched under his harsh gaze. "Beggin' your pardon, Captain. What do ya want we should do with the prisoners?"

Barbossa didn't think on it too long. "Kill 'em."

Pintel nodded. "Aye, Captain." He scurried off to fulfill the order.

Barbossa stepped back to Elizabeth, but she wouldn't let him sit again. "Hector, you need to get out there and take care of things."

"They know what to do already, Elizabeth."

"Hector," she said more firmly, "there are men out there about to die. You have to say something. They should see the man who gave the order, at least. You're the captain."

He sighed. "…I'll indulge yeh this once," he said, reluctantly stepping out.

On deck, everything was a mess, and there were several wounded lying wherever they had dropped. Nine uninjured men were bound and being lined up near the edge of the ship. The captain approached them.

"Apologies, gents," he said, "Shame to be wastin' able bodies and all, but yeh got too ambitious. Thought yeh could take the Pearl. Normally, I'd let a few survivors keep survivin', but…well, yeh caught me in a frightful bad mood." With a jerk of his head, he signaled for the executions to start, and the first man was shoved onto the plank.

The line progressed fairly quickly. The eighth man to walk out, however, turned, head held high, and declared, "I will not jump. I simply refuse. You will have to sh—" He was interrupted by one of Barbossa's bullets embedding in his forehead, and he toppled over. The crew found it very amusing.

The ninth man found in terrifying, and as he was pushed towards the plank, reality seemed to sink in. He struggled. "No, wait. Wait!" he cried, "I'm…I'm a doctor. Wait; I'm a doctor! I'm useful! Please, I'm useful!"

Everyone stopped then and looked to the captain. They all seemed to be thinking the same thing. A doctor would be useful.

Barbossa thought for a moment, then waved the man over and pulled him aside. The young man, fresh-faced, blond, and somewhat shorter than the captain, didn't look a day over twenty-seven.

"Ever been a midwife, boy?"

"H-Have I ever delivered a baby, do you mean? No, sir. Well, never by myself, sir. But I-I have helped. That is, I assisted another doctor once."

"That'll do. Turn him loose," Barbossa ordered.

As soon as the man's hands were free, he grabbed him by the shirt-collar and all but dragged him to the door of his room. Before they entered, however, he spoke a low warning. "If the child dies, I'll kill you. If the woman dies, I'll kill you." He looked hard into the younger man's fearful eyes. "If they both die, I'll make the dyin' so slow, yeh won't even believe in death anymore." The last words were hardly more than a whisper, but they sent a horrifying chill up the doctor's spine. Then suddenly, the doors were opened.

Elizabeth was more than a little surprised by the new presence and shot a quizzical look at Barbossa.

"Seems we caught ourselves a doctor," he explained.

The hours that followed were some of the hardest the captain had ever faced. He had stayed by Elizabeth's side for a long while, but eventually the doctor suggested that he wait outside. Elizabeth seemed to trust the young man at that point, so he obeyed, and deep down he was glad for the fresh air. But the anxiety caught up with him quickly. Elizabeth, his beautiful, fiery, young wife was in danger as far as he was concerned, and he was entirely helpless. The only thing he knew for certain was that sometime tonight, he would either be the happiest man alive or the most sorrowful, and the wait to find out was killing him.

As the evening grew darker, the ship became more and more still. The crew picked up on their captain's unease and remained quiet and distant as he looked out over the dimming water. He stood and he listened to the sea lapping against the hull, trying to focus on the ocean, the sky, the Pearl—the things that had always given him purpose. But then a deep, aching scream would escape the closed doors of his room. He gripped the railing and shut his eyes, his body rigid.

Barbossa hadn't realized until this day just how much he needed Elizabeth. He couldn't picture life without her anymore. Did she know that? Did she know that being a husband to her was the best purpose he'd ever had?

And being a father might be an even greater one, he thought. Will I get the chance?

The other half of eternity finally ticked by. Barbossa stood just outside the bedroom door, listening for an opportune moment to go back in. He believed he found it when he heard a triumphant-sounding cry from the doctor, and he opened the door.

His eyes went to Elizabeth first. She looked exhausted, but not unhealthy, and her eyes spilled over with happy tears as the doctor placed a newly wrapped bundle in her arms.

"Hector…" She reached out to him.

He was with her in two strides. Gently, he eased down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. Now he looked at the baby.

It was brown-headed, and smaller than he'd expected, but perfect. He had never seen anything so perfect.

"It's a boy, Captain," the doctor said with a smile, "You have a son."

Barbossa looked at the man for a moment, but didn't say anything. He was torn between thanking him and telling him to get out. The doctor seemed to get the idea.

"I'll tell the crew the good news, sir, if you'll permit me."

"Fine," Barbossa answered kindly.

"Oh, wait," Elizabeth said, "You must tell us your name, doctor. Please."

"My name is Alonzo Porter, ma'am."

Elizabeth looked vaguely disappointed at that. "Do you have a middle name?"

"Um, yes. Robert."

At that, she smiled.

"That'll be all for now, Dr. Porter," said Barbossa, and at last they were left alone.

Immediately, he pulled her head closer and kissed her temple. He kept their heads pressed together for several moments, not knowing how to say what he was feeling in that moment.

At length, Elizabeth whispered, "We have a son, Hector."

He took a deep breath. "Aye. Well done, lass." He kissed her again. "Well done."

Cautiously, Barbossa ran a couple fingers over the child's head. He was so vulnerable and smooth and new. His father's tough, gnarled hand made for a ridiculous contrast.

"Can we name him Robert?" Elizabeth asked.

Her husband half-chuckled. "I'd have let yeh name him Alonzo if it had pleased you."

"I like Robert much better…Robert Barbossa."

"Robert Barbossa," he echoed quietly, his curiosity entirely focused on the child now.

For a few minutes, they said nothing more as they let it all truly sink in. They joyful quiet was broken finally by Elizabeth.

"I love you, Hector," she said softly.

He took another deep breath, and then whispered his response in her ear. "…I love you, Elizabeth."

Darling readers :)

I'd like to extend my heartfelt thanks to Mrs. Marple Poirot for encouraging me to pick this up again. If it hadn't been for you, Mrs. Poirot, I would have left this sitting for a much longer time. Please, if you have any requests regarding the continuation of these deleted scenes, or any of my stories, do not hesitate to ask. I will try my best for you. For this story especially, let me know what you think. I'm running short on ideas for more scenes.

You, or anyone else who is interested, are more than welcome to PM me.

Again, much appreciation to everyone who is reading my work.

All my love.