Epilogue

Sometimes, Elizabeth looked down at a particular gouge in the wood of Jack's desk, and remembered a fateful day. She would think back on it when she was charting a course for their intrepid vessel, or when sharing a meal with her pirate captain, or even sometimes when said captain bent her over said desk like a two-bit trollop, and she loved every depraved moment of it, his hands rough on her skin and words of love hissed with sweet desperation in her ear.

She would think back on the first morning she woke in Jack Sparrow's arms in their room at the Painted Mermaid, and the tenderness with which he'd made love to her for the second time ever. She would recall a lazy morning filled with silly grins, soft kisses, and slow hands mapping courses across newly discovered territory, his body and hers conjuring wonders, together. Afterwards they had breakfasted downstairs, and then hit the streets of Nassau to find the aforementioned apothecary, where they obtained a hefty supply of preventative tea. Clearly, they were going to need it.

The pitter patter of little feet would have to wait.

There were too many adventures to be had.

Too many prizes to take, treasures to find, and deaths to be defied.

Hand in hand, Elizabeth and Jack had made their way back to the Pearl, hardly noticing the worried glances of the crew as they climbed aboard, and made haste for Jack's cabin, a sudden and unyielding need come upon them. Tripping through the door, giggling like fools, they were interrupted mid-kiss, Jack's coat shoved half down his shoulders, by the unsettling sight of an upturned great cabin. All Jack's possessions lay scattered on the ground. Books open on their spines. Precious curiosities shattered on the hard oaken deck.

That weathered antique chest lay wide open at Will Turner's feet, the blacksmith turned pirate sitting in Jack's carved wood throne of a chair. He'd clasped a dagger in his right hand, and the Heart of Davy Jones lay bare upon the center of the table like a ghastly cut of meat that convulsed occasionally with life, or something vaguely like it.

"So nice of you to finally return," the blacksmith turned pirate deadpanned, his accusing gaze casting between them. Dark circles under his eyes bespoke that he'd been up awaiting their homecoming all night.

"Will—"

The boy held up a hand, staving off whatever excuses he reckoned Elizabeth would concoct. He would never know she meant to inform him of her choice, firmly, with as little fanfare or flowery embellishment as was possible. They'd taken enough pieces out of each other as it was. It was time to end it once and for all. It would be best for the both of them.

"If there's one thing I've learned in this past year," said Will sadly, "It's that if you want something done right, the only man you can depend on to do it is yourself."

"Son," had said Jack cautiously, holding up his be-ringed hands. "Don't do anything stupid. I really don't think you understand what you're doing here."

"Oh, I understand perfectly well, Jack. I don't trust you, and I don't trust Jones, but I will see my father freed." He'd looked to Elizabeth, all the sorrow in the world in those large brown eyes. "I wish you well, Miss Swann."

She would never forget the sound of that dagger piercing that damned mass of barnacled flesh, the blade plunged so hard that it stuck in the desk.

The boy chose his fate freely, as she chose hers.

Despite the shock of watching the crew of the Dutchman emerging from the sea, claiming Will Turner's body and disappearing into the depths, Elizabeth could not have been happier in the following weeks, then months, then years. She spent her days at Jack Sparrow's side and her nights in his bed. Beckett was gone, and the hunting was good.

Yo ho, a pirate's life was sweet indeed.

However, not for James Norrington. Not long after Elizabeth and Jack finally settled he made the decision to depart at the next port. Elizabeth had bade him a comrade's goodbye at the top of the gangplank, sorry to see him go but understanding all too well. It surely galled the former Commodore to see Jack and Elizabeth snogging at any given moment on deck, and the sounds of passion from the Captain's cabin surely travelled all too well throughout the ship. There was only so much a man could take, and she was in good hands now, respectively.

"Tell him he'd best take care of you, or I will finally have his neck in a noose," had said James with a baleful glance up at the quarterdeck, where Jack watched them like a hawk in the most casual way he could muster, pretending to be inspecting a knot in the railing with intense interest.

Elizabeth had laughed and smiled, pressing James' hand. "I will." James had nodded and turned to go, knowing if he did not do it now he never would, though at the last moment he turned on his heel and grabbed Elizabeth up, stealing a kiss that for a moment may have made her legs weak—luckily it was over before it had barely even begun. The crew burst into laughter as James beat a hasty retreat on long legs down the gangplank. Elizabeth stared after him dumbfounded, fingers upon her swollen lips.

"I knew we'd make a pirate out of you in the end, mate!" Jack barked after the retreating former Commodore, to which James flashed a rather obscene gesture with his raised right hand. Jack pretended to be amused, but later in his cabin he made it all too clear, repeatedly, to whom Elizabeth belonged.

She relished every minute of it, somehow pleased that Jack felt so possessive of her. With Will it had grated, constricted, smothered, but with Jack…it was simply the truth. She belonged to him body and soul. He was her everything, her heart, her home. By the end of the night she made certain he felt sufficiently reassured of all this and more.

Sometimes, when Jack stayed too long on deck, she knew she could find him at the helm of the Pearl, his other love. At times, she fancied she did compete with a ship for his attention, but then…the Pearl wasa very special lady.

"Have you got me that horizon yet?" she would tease, slipping her arms around him from behind, nipping his ear. The dying light of the sunset would glint upon the steely diamonds of her skull-shaped ring, a bauble exchanged with a whispered promise that meant far more to her than words exchanged in a dreary church before a self-proclaimed man of God, and she would kiss him sweetly to make up for her use of teeth.

"Perhaps tomorrow, love," he would say, gold glinting in his smile, his hand covering hers above his heart. He always said that. "'Spose you'll have to stick around one more day."

"Gladly, Captain Sparrow. Gladly."

The End

I know I say this with every chapter, but truly, thank you anyone and everyone for taking this journey with me and leaving a little feedback, it really is the best reward a fic author can hope for! I hope you enjoyed this fic, because I had so much fun writing it!