Chosen Path

Elizabeth watched wide-eyed as the Dutchman rose from the depths. She felt a smile spread across her face as she ran as an invisible force dragged her to the side of the Pearl. She scanned the other ship, and there he was!



“Will!” Oh, Will, her dear sweet Will, here, where she could see him, talk to him. Perhaps even touch him.



“Elizabeth! What are you doing here?” Will jumped to the rail of the Dutchman and loosed a rope from the rigging. She grabbed it when he tossed it to her and sailed over the sea into his waiting arms.



“Will, oh Will! I can’t believe you’re here, it’s been so long! I’ve missed you so much!”



His lips were on hers, and she forgot the Pearl, forgot Barbossa, Jack, Billy, Song, and everything but her husband, her dear William, here with her, kissing her, touching her.



“Elizabeth,” he gasped, “I can’t, that is, you can’t stay here.”



“I know. Just a few minutes?” She tangled her hands in his beautiful hair, wet curls held back with a green scarf.



Will slid his hands across her face. His fingers were rough and weather worn now, not unlike her own. “Would you like to see my cabin?”



A smile broke across her face and she nodded, eagerly following him downstairs to the elaborate cabin he had inherited from Davy Jones. She spotted a keyboard along one wall – no, an entire organ! Memories of childhood afternoons sitting at the fortepiano came flitting back to her. She had never been any good, and was happy when her father agreed to give up the lessons upon their arrival in Port Royal.



“Do you ever play it?”



Will shook his head. “No. It was Jones’s.”



“Show me the rest. Do you have charts? Of where you travel?” It would be most interesting to see charts of the waters he sailed, the space between worlds. Would it be World’s End, or someplace entirely new?



She started towards a writing desk, looking for them, but Will took her hands. “No charts. The Dutchman seems to know where it needs to travel, when we sail underwater. Or I do, instinctively. I can’t really explain it.”



Elizabeth nodded. He led her across the cabin, past the desk, a table and chair, to the bed in the corner. She sat, suddenly apprehensive. She couldn’t explain why; she had spent four years dreaming of the moment she could be back with Will.



He sat beside her, taking his hands in hers. She watched his fingers as they caressed hers, then looked up, catching him doing the same.



“Well, don’t get shy on me now.”



With that, Will leaned forward, guiding her gently to the pillows. He lay beside her and kissed her softly, letting his hand run gently up her arm. She melted against him, slipping her hands beneath his shirt to slide her fingers up his back, rippled with muscles and a scant few scars. He let her pull his shirt away, and she just looked at him for a moment.



Her Will, with his perfect teeth and warm eyes. He was so beautiful, so young. Strong, yet tender. She slipped the key he wore on a chain around his neck over his head, and laid it on the nightstand. It was strange to feel the silent stillness of his chest as she traced the lines across his chest where his heart should be. She pressed kisses along his chest and stomach, then worked her way back up to his neck and mouth.



She let him pull her shirt over her head and run his hands over her skin. “You’re so beautiful, Elizabeth.” Her smiled widened as Will’s worshipful hands continued their winding path along her breasts, stomach, and back. “I love you so much.”



“Oh, Will.” She blinked back tears. Her dear, sweet Will, had only ever loved her. Barbossa could make her feel, physically, but he couldn’t love her as Will did, even if he claimed he did. He’d only ever said it once, and given the circumstances, she wasn’t entirely certain she believed him. And though being with Barbossa was anything but unpleasant, it was so much more when she was with Will. He lacked Barbossa’s experience as a lover, but it didn’t matter because he loved her, and his every touch, every kiss, every thrust into her body, was proof of his love.



When she shuddered against his fingers, whispering his name into his ear as she clung to his neck, Barbossa’s words flashed suddenly through her mind. “Turner never made ye scream?” He hadn’t and didn’t, but with Will, it wasn’t about screaming. She hated to compare her two lovers, especially as she lay nestled in her husband’s arms, but her mind insisted on pointing out the differences.



With Will, it wasn’t about mind games, or control; there was no battle for dominance. It was just give and take. Will was the gentle ebb and flow of a steady tide; Barbossa was stormy seas. Elizabeth reveled in the intensity of a storm, loved the feeling of vitality as she struggled to keep the upper hand, but storms were something to be weathered for a short time, until you could return to calmer seas. In the end, a girl needed a safe port to come home to, and Will was that safe port. She could weather the storm that was Barbossa for a time, but there was no question where she would be, in the end. She belonged with Will, her steadfast husband, ever loyal and true.



She curled up against him, resting her hand on his chest. So still. His skin was pale and cold, and his chest moved silently with his breathing; no heart pounded within him. Elizabeth looked to his face, grinning and wide eyed. “Elizabeth, that was…wow. I didn’t know you…” He suddenly frowned at her. “Where did you learn to do that?”



Elizabeth swallowed her unshed tears and forced a smile. “Oh, Will,” she laughed. “I have a vivid imagination. And the crew talks. I just listen. It’s very instructive.”



“I wonder.” Will’s fingers closed around the necklace she still wore, the black pearl that lie between her breasts. “You learned from Jack, didn’t you?”



“Will!” Elizabeth sat up, snatching her necklace back from him. “Jack had nothing to do with it.”



Will shook his head. “I know you love him, Elizabeth. Don’t lie to me, I know you do. But we’re married now. You can’t be with him, you chose me. You forsook all others when you did.”



Elizabeth shook her head. “I can’t believe you think I’m swiving Jack.”



“Aren’t you?”



“No! I don’t love Jack.”



“Then where did you get that? It’s a black pearl.”



“I know what it is. It’s from Singapore.”



“You’ve been back to Singapore?”



Elizabeth nodded. “We’ve just returned.” She grinned suddenly. “I’ve been round the Horn! It was brilliant, Will, and Barbossa was amazing! You should have been there!”



Will shook his head, voice soft. “I’ve been, Elizabeth. I’m there all the time. More sailors die in Cape Horn than nearly anywhere else in the ocean!” Will sat up, taking her wrist in his hand. “Don’t ever go back there, Elizabeth.”



Elizabeth rubbed her thumb along the black pearl of her necklace, suddenly very aware of her nakedness. She reached for her chemise and pulled it over her head, tucking the offending jewelry beneath the laces. Bending to tug her breeches back on, she turned to her husband. “I’ll have to if we go back to the Pacific. And I should return to the South China Sea before too long.”



Sometime after the baby was born. The baby she wouldn’t tell Will about yet. But now he would believe the child to be his own at least.



Will pulled his own britches back up and took Elizabeth’s arm. “Why would you go back there? It’s over now, Elizabeth; you got your revenge, Beckett’s dead. You don’t need to do this anymore! Go back ashore, stay safe on land, please, for my sake.” Will slid closer, turning Elizabeth to face him. “Please. I need you on land in six years.”



“And I shall be there.” Elizabeth rested her forehead against Will’s. He kissed her slowly, gently. “Oh, Will, I’ve missed you so much.”



“I love you,” he murmured against her lips, “and I wish you could stay here forever. But you can’t come with us.”



“I know. Oh!” She stood up, realizing suddenly what she had neglected. “You have to come back to the Pearl with me! There’s someone you should meet.”



“Elizabeth, I really do have to go.”



“Just for a moment. Please, it’s important.”



“Alright.” Will pulled his shirt back on. “Just for a moment.”



Elizabeth led Will by the hand to the deck of the Dutchman, then together they rode a rope to the ship she had called home for the better part of two years. Even when she held the Empress, the Pearl had still been as much her home as the other ship.



Billy came running across the deck from the stairs to the quarterdeck, and Elizabeth scooped him up into her arms. “Billy! Do you remember the stories we told you about your father?” Billy’s gaze turned instinctively towards the helm where Barbossa surely stood. Elizabeth turned her son’s head towards Will. “Your father, Will Turner?”



Billy frowned, then looked to the man standing beside his mother. Will, for his part, wore a nearly identical expression of confusion. “We have a son?”



“We have a son. Will, meet William Turner the third. William, say hello to your father.”



Suddenly shy, Billy buried his face in Elizabeth’s neck. Will reached out to shake his son’s small hand. “Hi, little fellow. I’m your father. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner…”



“Billy, will you give him a hug?”



Billy shook his head without looking up. Elizabeth sighed. “I’m sorry. He’s a bit shy sometimes.”



“I see that. It’s alright.”



Elizabeth met Will’s eyes sadly, for a moment. She felt Barbossa’s presence at her back without needing to turn. She did, slightly, and he reached for the boy, who allowed himself to be transferred into Barbossa’s waiting arms.



At Will’s frown, she sighed and tried to explain, as much to herself as to her husband. “He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t really understand. He’s only three.”



“It’s alright,” Will repeated. “Barbossa.” He acknowledged the other man with a neutral expression.



“Turner.”



Elizabeth felt the air around her grow thick as she watched the two Captains, her two lovers, size each other up. She wanted to say something to dispel the tension, but couldn’t think of what it should be.



“You’ll take care of my wife?”



Barbossa’s lips twitched. “Aye. Been doin’ so for some time now. Not intending to stop.”



Elizabeth frowned. “I can take care of myself you know.”



Will smiled and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Of course you can.” He turned to Barbossa. “I have to go now…would you give us a moment?”



Barbossa gave a nod, speaking through clenched teeth. “Captain Turner. Mrs. Turner.”



Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him, then followed Will to the rail.



Will pulled her close and spoke in hushed tones. “Elizabeth, be careful with him.”



“Barbossa? Why?”



“Why? He’s a pirate, Elizabeth, and a dangerous man. Not to mention the way he was looking at you…I wouldn’t trust him, Elizabeth.”



“I do trust him, Will. In two years, he has never hurt me. He took me in without question, and Billy too. He has been nothing but kind to us both. He is dangerous. But not to me.”



Will sighed. “Elizabeth, I wish you’d stayed on land. It’s dangerous…if something happens to you...”



“Then I’ll die at sea at least, and we’ll be together. I could die on land just as easily, and then where would we be?”



Will pressed his lips to her forehead. “I cannot see you again. Calypso calls me, even now. Please, wait for me on land. Promise me.”



She could never stay on land, but two years with Barbossa taught her to find loopholes in every bargain. She would wait on land. She needn’t specify how long she’d be on land waiting. “I promise, Will.” She pressed her lips to his. “In six years, I’ll be waiting.”



Will nodded. “I love you.”



She licked her lips, still tasting him on them, as she watched her husband fly over the sea to the duty that would keep him from her side for another six years. When the ship sank below the sea, she watched until she could no longer see. Finally, the waters stilled, the Pearl caught the wind, and the only sign that the Dutchman had been in the vicinity was the dull ache in Elizabeth’s heart. She turned back to her ship and crewmates, and caught Hector watching her. The pang in her stomach was all too familiar. She’d felt it when she’d agreed to marry James, so many years ago. Again, when she’d kissed and killed Jack. It had resurfaced during the beginning of her liaison with Barbossa, but lately had faded into something she rarely, if ever, noticed.



It returned in force now, as she wordlessly collected Billy from Hector’s arms. Guilt, terrible, gut-wrenching, gnawing guilt, as she dodged Hector’s penetrating gaze and turned her attentions to her son. She couldn’t keep her mind still, though, but there was something strange about these feelings.



It wasn’t fair. The things she had done with Will, things she had learned in Barbossa’s bed…she should have learned them with Will, together exploring and experimenting. She should never have gone to Barbossa’s bed to begin with.



But Will wasn’t here, and Hector was, and he was warm and alive and she couldn’t deny that, after too long in a safe harbor, she craved the excitement and raw power of a fierce storm. Hector would never love her as Will did, but he made her scream, made her scream and cry and gasp and claw at his back, begging for more. Will would never touch her like Hector did. That was only right, of course; it was hardly proper for a husband to make his wife scream, even in pleasure. For some reason, this thought only made her tears fall harder.



Her stomach twisted as her thoughts tumbled through her head. She had pledged herself to Will, and it was hardly his fault they couldn’t be together. And yet, it suddenly wasn’t a feeling of having betrayed Will that plagued her. It was that she’d betrayed Hector. Hector, and the child, his child, who stirred in her belly.



She had once hoped that, in six years, when Will returned, he could join them on the Pearl. She couldn’t fathom how it might work, but she couldn’t bear the thought of being without Hector, and she of course, had to stay with her husband.



She had known that Will wasn’t particularly fond of Jack, but she hadn’t expected the animosity between him and Barbossa. They had always seemed to get on well enough, and she would have thought Will would have at least been appreciative that he’d performed their wedding ceremony. But no, there was no love lost between the two men she cared most for in the world. Calypso had been right; she would have to choose.



Billy climbed into bed with minimal argument, much to Elizabeth’s relief. He’d likely as not wake up again, as soon as the inevitable shouting began, but at least he might get a brief respite until Hector left the helm. There was a storm brewing, she could feel it, and she was powerless to stop it.



It was early, but Elizabeth stayed within the cabin. It hadn’t only been Hector who shot her hurt glances. The crew had no right to judge her, but it was clear they had, and not favorably. Of course, they all knew she spent her nights with Hector. And it seemed they thought Hector held her heart, and took it as a personal affront that she would deign to bring her husband aboard the ship her lover Captained.



Of course, Hector didn’t have her heart. He couldn’t; she’d given it to Will so long ago. Elizabeth sank down onto the bed they’d shared for over a year and drew the covers to her face, breathing in the scent of him, of herself, of them. Of everything they’d shared for so long, the nights of pleasure, of tears, of playful kisses, or deep discussion. Hector with his spectacles, reading softly into her ear; beside her, plotting strategies; beneath her, writhing in sweet agony.



She still loved Will, so very much, and being with him was nothing less than bliss. Not like Hector, nothing like Hector, but no one could be. She had grown up with Will, grown up loving Will, and he was her husband, and of course she would choose him in the end. Will, who had shared nothing with her for four years. Will, who didn’t know his own son. Will, who ferried the souls cast into the world of the dead by the likes of Hector...or herself. The bedcovers were growing very wet.



Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut and fell against the pillows. It shouldn’t feel like this to think of Will, to think of leaving Hector to be with him. Because of course she didn’t love Hector the way she loved Will.



But she did love him.



The cabin door burst open, and Elizabeth wiped furiously at her face. It was time to weather another storm.



His footsteps were heavy, his eyes ablaze as he reached her side, snatched her wrist, and dragged her to her feet.



“Out.”



Elizabeth stumbled off the bed. “Hector don’t be like this. We need to talk.”



“No, you need to stay out of me bed when yeh just fucked Turner.”



“He’s my husband! I have every right to be with him.” All she got in response was Hector’s back. “Hector, I had no choice.”



“No choice?” He rounded on her. “Could have waved at him from the deck of the Pearl. Could have shook his hand and walked away. Could have told him the truth!” He turned again, leaning over the table.



“How do you propose I do that? How do I tell my husband that I’ve been unfaithful? How do I tell Will that I may have doomed him for eternity by falling – ”



Hector whirled around, meeting her eyes. She shook her head, swallowing the words she swore she would never speak aloud. He took a step towards her. “Say it.”



She shook her head. “Say it! Dammit, woman, I can’t bear it anymore.”



She shut her eyes, fighting to keep her tears from returning. His fist pounded the table and she jumped, eyes starting open. She took a tentative step towards him, placed a hand on his arm. “How do I tell my husband,” she took Hector’s hand and placed it on her abdomen, “about this?”



Elizabeth took a deep breath. She had considered, now that she’d had another day with Will, simply letting him believe, as she intended the world to believe, that the child was Will’s. Call him Turner and be done with it.



But it wasn’t true, and it wasn’t right. He deserved to know, at least. She would let him decide if he wanted any part of it. She suspected he wouldn’t, and that would probably be better anyway. But she wouldn’t be able to hide her condition much longer. Her belly was already growing ever so slightly round, and Hector could add. He’d know six months wasn’t enough time for the babe to be Will’s.



“It’s why I’ve been sick, why I fainted. I’m about three months along.”



She met his eyes nervously, but his gaze remained blank; he didn’t, or wouldn’t, understand.



“Hector? I’m expecting.” She swallowed. “We’re expecting.”



He turned fully, placing his other hand beside the first on her belly His eyes met hers, then looked down to his hands, then back. “Yer…I – we…baby?”



She nodded slowly. “Your eloquence never ceases to amaze me, Hector.”



“S’not possible.” He snatched his hand away, turned his back on her. “S’not mine. Three months yeh say? Not Jack. Who then, Elizabeth? That MacIntyre fellow yeh seem so fond of?”



She felt her blood boil at his insinuation, but swallowed her anger. He had good reason to react thusly, and she had just been with another man. “I spoke to Calypso.”



“Did yeh, now?”



Elizabeth stepped closer, reaching a tentative hand out to rest lightly against his back. He didn’t lean into her touch, but neither did he seek to avoid it. “I didn’t believe it either, when Song suggested...but Calypso explained. The price, it wasn’t that you couldn’t have children, but that you had to. So you would learn to put someone else above yourself, so she said.”



He was silent for a moment. She slid her hand up his back, rested it on his shoulder. “Hector?”



She felt a shiver run through him. “Yeh sure?”



“Yes.”



“Yeh sure it’s mine?”



“Of course. You’re the only man I’ve been with, before today. I knew about this last night.”



He nodded slowly.



“You’re upset. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” She felt tears prick her eyes, but she had already cried more than enough today. “I won’t ask for anything of you. I’ll call him Turner, no one need know. You won’t need to do anything.”



He whipped around then, catching her hand in his own. “Call my son Turner?”



Her eyes widened. “I have to! Will-”



“Won’t e’er be layin’ a hand on my son!” He backed her slowly across the room. “You were going to take him from me. Give Will a quick shag, let him think the child’s his handiwork? Why even tell me, Elizabeth? I’d ne’er believe it to be mine.”



“I thought you’d a right to know.” She stepped back, studying her boots. “Besides, in six years, my husband will be here, and he’ll stay, ever steadfast and true. Can you say the same?”



She dared a glance at his face, but it was hard and unreadable. “After all I’ve done fer you? For yer William?”



“You’re a pirate! Yes, we’ve been together for a year or two, but we’ve made no promises, no vows. I have nothing to say that you’ll be here for me, for this child, in six years. If I call him Barbossa, then the world knows I was unfaithful, and if you leave, what will I have?”



“Not leavin’.”



“You can’t promise that.”



“I can promise that.”



Elizabeth shook her head. What good was a promise from a pirate?



“Not enough? What more do yeh want? Yeh want me to marry you?”



“What?” She gripped the bedpost, suddenly unsteady. It was a topic that had come up in the past, but he hadn’t ever precisely proposed...was this it? When he limped slowly over to her, eased himself onto one knee, her throat constricted, her heart stopped beating. She tried to tell him not to, but her voice caught in her throat, and she couldn’t move even to shake her head.



His hands splayed over her abdomen, pushing away layers of fabric to slide against her bare skin. “My son.” She managed a nod, and he pressed his lips to her belly, beard tickling her as he kissed her. “My son.” He drew back and took her hands in his.



“Let’s do this right. Elizabeth.” He paused, swallowing, and she knew she should stop him, but she couldn’t. “Let me be a father to me child. Let me love yeh. I’ll make yeh happy, Elizabeth, I swear it.” Tears welled in her eyes, but now she couldn’t say whether they were from joy or sorrow. “Be me wife, Elizabeth. Marry me.”



He looked so desperate, so hopeful. Her tears spilled over and she sank to her knees before him, melting into his arms. He was warm and strong, his heart beating steadily against hers. She twined her arms around his neck and when his hand slid slowly down and up her back, tangling in her hair, she was suddenly and sharply reminded of a safe port and steady seas.



The thought was not nearly as disconcerting as it ought to have been.



She shook against his shoulder as she let herself be consumed by the idea of marrying him. Images of the life they might lead together, as husband and wife, flooded her mind.



Hector, carefully learning to hold the newborn infant, teaching both boys to wield swords and steer ships. Nights spent stargazing, with or without the children, wrapped up in their warmest blankets on the deck of the Pearl. Hector forever by her side, in battles, at the Brethren Court, in her bed. She had been happy, happier than she’d ever been, since joining the Pearl’s crew. He would make her happy because he did make her happy, in so many ways.



Will would come back in six years, but her children deserved a father who would be here now, and he was. She could make him happy, so happy, and it would only take one word. It would be so easy to say yes, to pledge her life to the man who had been so much to her for over a year now. But it would surely doom Will, if she married Hector. If she gave him her heart so freely, what reason would Will have to come back? What would he have to come back to?



“Hector, please, I -”



“Please, Elizabeth. Say yes.”



She shook her head desperately. “I cannot betray Will. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But I can’t marry you.”



“In six years – ”



“No. When Will comes back, he’ll be my husband. I can’t very well have two.”



His hands around her fell to his sides, and he used the bedpost to pull himself to his feet. “So be it. Where would ye go, then, to have the child?”



Elizabeth blinked. “I hadn’t thought about that yet. Tortuga perhaps. Or the Sand Bar tavern, where Billy was born.”



“We’re not far off Tortuga. I’ll drop ye there, with yer share from the hold. Should be enough for ye and the child. Both of ‘em.”



Elizabeth rose slowly. “What do you mean, drop me?”



“Can’t do it no more.” His face was as stony as the statue that had wounded and cursed him. “It’s over.”



Did he mean? She stared at his back, shoulders slumped, one hand on the bedpost, the other on his hip. “Over?” She stepped around him, turning to face him. She tried to take his hand, touch his face, anything, but he pushed her back. “Over? No, it’s not, you can’t. I need you!”



“But yeh want Turner more. Yeh break me heart every day, me girl, and it’s too old to take anymore. Take the boy and go.”



“So that’s it? You’d just push me away, leave me and your child stranded, with nothing and no one?”



“No more than yer husband did, and ye’ve naught but kind words for him.”



“He didn’t know! He had no choice!” She took his arm, desperate. “Calypso said this would make you a better man. What sort of man knowingly leaves his wife and child behind? Your own father did so, did he not? Would you be that man?”



“That man was not my father! He sired me and left. Me father be the man what stayed.”



“Then be a father to your son! Stay, Hector. Please. I can’t do this alone.”

Hector glared at her, snatching her wrist. “Wife and child, you say?” Elizabeth frowned. Had she said that? “Do ye understand what yer askin’ me?”



“I’m asking you not to abandon your son.”



He shook his head. “Yer askin’ me to be yer husband in all but name. Yer askin’ me to spend the next six years as yer loyal and devoted husband, taking care o’ ye and the children, lovin’ yeh, sharing yer bed, givin’ yeh all of meself. And then the minute Turner comes back, ye want me to pretend none of it e’er happened.”



Elizabeth sank onto the bed, shaking her head. “No, it won’t be like that.”



Barbossa leaned over her, pushing her back against the pillows. “Then explain to me how it’s going to be.”



Elizabeth reached for him and pulled him down for a kiss, long and deep. His body pressed against hers, and she could just barely feel his heart pound within his chest. She rubbed her thumbs through his beard, offering a coy smile. “Perhaps I’ll keep you as my lover.”



His lips twitched, but he didn't smile. “What if that’s not enough for me?”



“Pirate!” She swatted his arm. “You should consider yourself lucky you’ve got any such offers from me at all! Most men would kill to have a lover at sea.”



“And who would they be killin’ I wonder?”



Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “I meant rhetorically.”



Barbossa’s eyes narrowed. “Did yeh? Come six years, yer husband be lookin’ mighty vulnerable.”



Elizabeth felt her heart skip a beat. “You wouldn’t dare.”



“Wouldn’t I? Pirate.”



“It would do you no good. Do you honestly think I could love you after you killed my husband?”



“Wish I knew that yeh loved me now.”



“You must know.”



“Ne’er heard it.”



It would be so easy to tell him. She had dreamt of telling him, of curling in his arms and whispering the words over and over into his ear, against his lips, between kisses. Such small words, but with a meaning so large it was overwhelming. “I - ” Her voice caught in her throat and she shook her head, turning from him.



He climbed off her and sat at the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands. She reached for him, tried to wrap her arms around him, but he shrugged her off. “No more, Elizabeth.” He stood and started towards the door, every step taking him further from her reach.



No! No, he couldn’t leave, he mustn’t. She needed him, so desperately. She couldn’t bear the thought of spending the next six years without him, without his smug grins, his good-natured teasing, his passionate kisses. How could she survive without ever again feeling his fingers on her skin, his mouth on hers, his body within her? Would they never again laugh over tea, share a story with Billy, or plot another raid? No, no, she couldn’t let him walk away from her.



She rose to her knees, but she would never reach him; he was already at the door. “Hector!” He didn’t turn. “Hector, please!” She could barely see him through the tears that blurred her vision. He still wouldn’t turn, wouldn’t come back to her. There was only one thing she could possibly say to still his hand. Only one way to keep him now.



Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a deep, shaking breath. “I love you.”



But when she opened her eyes, he was already gone.



And it was over. She had lost him. Her stomach clenched fiercely and she doubled over as deep sobs wracked her chest. Falling against the pillows, she clutched blankets in desperate fists, shaking as she fought to regain control of her body. There was no use to it, and she moaned in excruciating anguish. Her heart had dissolved into a hundred pieces, it would never be whole again. Will was dead, betrayed now, doomed, and Hector was gone, lost to her.



She would have to go, now. He had already thrown her from the bed once, it wouldn’t do to be found in it when he returned. But she couldn’t bear it, not yet.



Suddenly, something warm and fuzzy rubbed against her hand. She opened her eyes. Jack. She sat up and the monkey climbed into her arms and rested his little head on her shoulder. With a shudder, she hugged the small creature close and offered his head a scratch. He smelled like Hector.



“Oh, Jack, what have I done?” Jack chirruped in response. “I’ve done a horrible thing, that’s what. Will is my husband, though, don’t you see? I can’t very well be unfaithful to Hector when I’m already being unfaithful with Hector.” Jack pulled his head away and hissed.



Elizabeth sighed. “No, you’re right, of course. Hector’s been more a husband to me these past two years than Will ever has. And I do love him, I truly do.” She reached for Jack again, and he eyed her suspiciously. “I do! I know I haven’t said enough. Ever, for that matter. I just…I didn’t know, I didn’t realize. I thought he just wanted to keep me in his bed. I didn’t think he would ever actually want to marry me. I didn’t think…Well, I suppose that’s the heart of it, isn’t it? I didn’t think of him at all.”



Jack nestled against her neck, one hand tugging gently on an earring. “Well, at least you’ve forgiven me. Now how will I convince your master to do so?”