Fate Intervenes

The skies overhead trembled with thunder, shedding water droplets through the gale. Water collected in the bone china tea cups with the small crimson roses, spilled into the equally as delicate saucers. It ran along the folds of her gown, drenching the silk and lace, plastering her chocolate curls to her head.

Elizabeth Swann blinked, her cosmetics sliding down her sharp, pale cheekbone like ink. She bit her lip, curling her hands in her lap and twisting the fabric of her dress.

Perfect. It had all gone off so smoothly, of course. Will would never expect, never find the smoking musket in her hand. These fragile hands, easily broken but more apt to break. Hearts, mostly. How many men had she locked gazes with, made weak-kneed and hopeful, only to slice their desperation into tiny, inedible slivers when she turned her back? She had drawn her corsets tighter, applied her rouge more obviously, only to have it amount to what attraction?

That of a pirate.

And a condemned pirate nonetheless; just her luck. Just her style. To have all of the notes on the harpsichord fall into place, and one string warp out of tune.

She missed him now, looking out over the slate and cobalt sea, the mist rising from the churning, white-tipped waves. Rain continued to fall, disrupting the natural order of things, as order was meant to be disrupted. Normalcy was no longer commonplace, it was faulty and deceptive.

She knew this, because she had once loved Will.

The boyish charm, the toned figure, the bright eyes. Yes. The markings of a dutiful husband, caring father, nurturer and provider until death. And then what? A name on his grave and a cold emptiness in her heart…nothing more.

But Jack…She allowed herself a clandestine smile, a smile of crumpled red autumn leaves, struggling to show their beauty, but smothered by snow. He was so vivid, witty, cunning…cutlass-sharp and with a keen eye that saw the sea for what it was: freedom.

Hadn't she always wanted freedom?

With rum on his breath and a smoky scent in his shirtsleeves, mingled with perspiration and sea salt, he had held her close, telling her tales of all the world's riches: the green waxy leaves of Borneo, the forbidden wastelands of Tunisia, the hostile waters beyond Capes she'd never envisioned. All in his head, all in his heart. He had seen them all, or invented each, it didn't matter…he longed for the bonds to be severed with the land, to plunge into the sea and breathe in the brine.

Of course, he would never admit such passion, locking her in a comforting embrace as he swallowed bottle after bottle of hidden alcohol. When she had burned it, the defeat in his eyes was not from the lack of beverage…it was because he had not had the freedom or ability to stop her.

And neither could she stop him. While the pirate crew, crusty and yellow-bellied as they were, muttered "Poppet" to her, she was Will's "bonnie lass", the woman to woo, the woman to hold. She was not a scullery-maid in gauze, she was a woman in silk.

She knew being with Jack wouldn't amount to gold, to thick-weave rugs and expensive wines. No. It would be moldy ships, captain's quarters late at night with faded playing cards and chipped dice, with Cotton and Ragetti.

Was that so bad? Was that a topple from the top, for a society girl? From an ocean to a puddle?

She laughed softly. " Rather, in reverse."

She stood, gathering her skirts. It was folly to muse over the past when it could not be changed. Jack would be set free, she knew it. Their plans would swiftly move into motion, and hopefully the casket would be set adrift any day. She hoped he had found a way to escape unharmed.

--

Standing later in Tia Dalma's moldy hut, listening to the sounds of the heady, warm jungle outside, Elizabeth felt her eyes visibly widen as Barbossa's leather boots tramped down the creaky wooden stairs. The sweat that had stuck beneath her vest and behind her ears turned cold, the sticky sensation evaporating.

Hector Barbossa? Here?

He delivered his quip, taking a ravenous bite out of the absurdly green apple in his hand. He twisted it in his fingers, bejeweled, but clean, thinner almost. He looked more human now, radiant in a healthy way that was not associated with pirates. He smiled at her, his teeth still gray and mismatched, like crooked gravestones.

"Ah, the lass is still with us, I see," he said. " 'Tis a pleasure to be sailin' with you, again, madame."

Will Turner stood, his dark eyes fierce, stirring. Her heart leapt. Don't. " She's not going with you! She's not a filthy pirate, she's a respectable lady."

Barbossa threw back his head and laughed. " Oh, is that what you think, then? Is that why she still tastes the rum on Jack's lips?"

Will turned to her, his eyes narrow. There was pain in those eyes, a deep pain she didn't want to acknowledge. She looked away, her brown locks, sun-bleached and tangled from the salty wind, falling into her face. She wanted them to wipe her face away. Like swabbing a deck, she thought bitterly, but with a hint of hope. Would Barbossa take her with him? She could find Jack, they could run away, they could sail with Castor and Pollux behind them…

Unable to stand the burning in his eyes, she stood, her lips set defiantly. She threw open the crooked door, rattling various beads and skulls. The scent of jasmine and rotting fruit followed her, but she didn't care. She stood outside, her arms crossed. Hot tears threatened in the corners of her eyes.

Soft footsteps bent the floorboards behind her. She turned, wiping her face hastily. Will stood, brass clasps gleaming. He looked like Norrington, all made up with straps and laces.

" I saw you, Elizabeth." His voice was hushed, an agonized whisper. She sniffled, but did not unlock her gaze from his. " I saw you kiss Jack." He swallowed, his Adam's apple protruding from his pale skin. Pale, milky, boyish. Not tanned and rough from days on the sea, evenings on the beach with amber rum. " Tell me you didn't mean it. Tell me it was a…a flight of fancy."

Elizabeth said the words slowly, moving her lips carefully, as if each word scalded them. Her eyes fell to the floorboards, to her feet in boots that weren't hers. " It wasn't." She looked at him, full on now. " I meant it, Will."

Will stammered, " How? How can you love him? He's…he's cunning, he's ruthless…he'd kill me if he had to!"

Elizabeth wanted to flail her hands in the air as she would have even a week ago, to stamp her feet and parade out Tia Dalma's hut. But her choices were limited to facing Barbossa again, or climbing ungracefully down the ladder to the waiting boats in the grimy water. She couldn't explain to Will the myriad emotions flying through her head, white gulls caught on a draft of ocean air, awry.

Will spoke for her. " The…the impulsive, fearless, dashing approach…you love it, do you? You want to end up some pirate's…wench…" She flinched. " On a greasy boat with men who just want you to--"

She wanted to reach out and put a finger over his lips, but she was afraid, suddenly, to touch him. " It's not like that, Will. Not at all. He is--"

" A foul, loathsome pirate! He would leave you on the nearest island, Elizabeth, because of those ridiculous pirate legends! And the second you were gone and out of sight, he'd forget all about you! He is a man without any--"

Elizabeth shouted, her eyes fierce, " He is a man of good conscience and kind spirit!"

Will's lips curled. " I fail to see any such--"

Elizabeth countered, leaning forward," What you fail to see is that he loves me. Jack Sparrow loves me, Will. He cares for my safety, he…he knows how badly I want to be free, to be away from the life I've lived. Port Royal offers me nothing, Will. He offers me everything." She felt emotions rising in her, saw the hurt in his eyes, but didn't suppress them. " And right now, he's who knows where…I can't live with knowing that he's died. Jack Sparrow is a strong man, he will come back. He'll do it for me. And I'm not going to abandon him."

Will said softly, " But you'll abandon me."

A single tear fell from Elizabeth's cheek. " Yes," she whispered hurriedly. She turned away from him, flinging open the door. Barbossa was sitting next to Tia Dalma, poring over a wrinkled map. He looked up as she entered.

" Ye've got a choice, my dear," he said, the familiar lilt of his voice settling into Elizabeth's ears. Even now, in full pirate regalia, black and foreboding and dripping with as much sarcasm as rum, Barbossa was not threatening. The Kraken wasn't even threatening anymore.

What loomed over her was the loss of Jack…trapped somewhere beyond her ability to find him, beneath the waves or in the monster's jaws…or worse. She felt threatened by what she could not control.

Barbossa continued, his eyes like pieces of flint. " Ye can stay with me, aboard whatever ship I manage to procure at the expense of some rather…questionable men on Tortuga, and venture off with my crew to find the missing Jack…Or you can remain here, with this…" His lips curled. " Fine crew."

Will entered, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorjamb sullenly. Tia Dalma's bloodshot eyes watched him, but she remained silent. A knowing smile crept onto her lips.

Elizabeth straightened, tightening her jaw and injecting a ferocity into her eyes. She swept back her hair and said decisively," I wish to search for Jack with you, Captain Barbossa. On the condition that you allow me to participate in all efforts, and do not cast me off simply because I am a woman."

Barbossa grinned, flashing his horrendous teeth. He worked his jaw, as if chewing the possibility of having her. " It would be a pleasure to have you on board, Miss Swann."

He reached out a hand cordially, and she shook it firmly, grasping it and looking into his eyes. As he marked the map before him with a long black quill, muttering and sketching, she watched, her eyes sharp and discerning.

She didn't look at Will once.

--

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