Adrift

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Thank you to every wonderful one of you for the continuing comments and of course, for your dedicated readership! I hope you all enjoy this installment.

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He’d been an idiot to allow her to see the depth of his love, Hector decided morosely as he watched Elizabeth pick her way through the treasure trove in search of more familiar objects. She carefully kept her distance, casting surreptitious glances as if worried what he might do if she turned her back for even a moment. Every mistrustful look cut him to the quick and made him lament ever letting her close enough to his heart to wound him so.

Better it would have been if from the beginning, he’d simply seduced her and slaked his baser urges. He’d grown greedy, though, consumed by a desire for more than just her body. Arrogant he’d been to pretend that he’d meant anything to Elizabeth Swann. He’d been right to question her from the moment of that very first kiss...she felt beholden to him because he was her protector at a time when she had no other. Had it been Jack Sparrow who’d pulled her from the storm-tossed waters, it would have been that oily rat warming her sheets instead. Hector had been convenient and little more.

No matter, he thought as his jaw tightened. He was committed to see his duties through to the end, as promised to the goddess. When Elizabeth was well and truly safe, he’d gather up his men and set a course for new waters, far enough away that he’d not have to worry over catching sight of her either through accident or design. He had forever to tend to his hurts and the scars he’d carry forward would prove a strident reminder of the folly of heeding the call of one’s heart.

Until such time as that came to pass, though, he had no choice but to remain vigilant on her behalf. And trapped he was with her in the cavern, with no other option until such time as he could contact the crew and arrange for a proper security detail. No doubt that Elizabeth would rail against the increased watch and limited freedom, but the events of the day were proof positive of their vulnerability. And even if she didn’t love him, he was not so small a man that he would put her at risk simply out of spite.

He gazed upon the girl as she knelt before the chest in which he’d stored his ancient apparel from his days aboard the Pearl. Ratty and torn though his clothing had been when at last he’d set it aside, he’d not wanted to part with it. It was stupid sentimentality unbecoming a pirate, but each piece had its place in his own history and so he’d kept the ensemble as a sort of journal. A French nobleman’s hat, a British governor’s long waistcoat, the frock coat of a wealthy Belgian merchant, the fine mustard-coloured baldric that was a favour from a Spanish bishop’s sister...each with its own story, from the battleground to the bed chamber.

The serpent necklace Elizabeth had taken into her hands was one he’d taken from the hold of a Persian vessel following a hard-fought victory off the Pirate Coast. Whenever he’d worn the pendant thereafter, it had brought him luck during a fight and so it had become a habit to keep it around his neck at all times. The blood red stone at its centre caught the light from the torches and seemed to glow as Elizabeth traced the dull, metallic curves of the snake with her finger.

“You could start your own museum with what you have hidden away here,” she said quietly. The shape of the room carried her voice, though, and he had no trouble hearing what she’d said. “Or you could sell it to private collectors and never have to worry about money again.”

“I’ve no interest in showin’ it off,” he grunted, “and as fer sellin’ it...well, ‘tis not so easy a thing to do nowadays. Attracts all kind of scrutiny, and of an official sort at that. A few items at a time and in different locations – ‘tis the best way to dispose of such swag as we possess. Wouldn’t want to catch the attention of the authorities and be accused of stealin’ it.”

Elizabeth dared a direct look at him and smiled wryly. “But you did steal it, didn’t you?”

“Nay, took it fair and square. Call it a toll fer passage, if’n ye like, one that could be paid up front or exacted in a manner as we saw fit. Besides,” he went on, taking a few steps towards her, “the original owners ain’t exactly in a position to lodge a complaint now, are they?”

She flinched as he approached and his temper flared despite all attempts to keep a firm hold on his anger. “Weren’t an hour ago ye were holdin’ onto me and cryin’ about not wantin’ to lose me, Miss Swann,” he growled between clenched teeth, his fingers curling up into frustrated fists at his side. “Best remember, ‘tis ye as has changed and not I. I’ll not have ye cowerin’ before me when I’ve done naught to earn it. Stuck with me ye be fer now and I’ll be thankin’ ye to put a stop to such childish antics.”

The high colour on her cheeks signalled her embarrassment, and she stammered for a response. “You’re right, Captain...Hector. I’m sorry. But I’ve got all these memories rushing in on me and a hundred conflicting feelings, and I just don’t know what to do with it all.” She looked at him with genuine despair on her face. “I’m trying very hard to reconcile who you are now with the man you used to be...”

“Or what I used to be?” he snarled, turning from her. “Is that what yer leavin’ unsaid?” He looked down at his fingers, flexing them and trying to reassure himself again that what she’d seen in the moonlight had been an illusion brought forth by memory and nothing more.

Hector heard her drop the jewellery back into the chest and move close behind him. For a moment he dared to hope that she’d touch him...that he’d feel the familiar and welcome caress of her fingers upon his shoulder, but it didn’t come. His heart fell into new depths of misery at the loss.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked, her voice husky with emotion. “Do you think this isn’t killing me, knowing that I’m hurting you and not being able to help it? Would it be better if I lied to you and let you believe that the past...our past...didn’t matter at all?”

“What’s another lie when ye’ve already fed me so many?” Hector said, turning to glare chillingly down at her. He took some small satisfaction in the wounded shock Elizabeth wore upon hearing his words.

“What are you talking about?” she stammered. “When have I ever lied to you?”

He stepped up as close as he could without actually touching her and watched as she fought the urge to back away, her chin stiffening stubbornly. “How often did ye speak of yer affection fer me? How many times did ye tell me that there was nothin’ as could change the truth that ye held in yer heart? Ye said what ye had to, didn’t ye, to keep me close and defendin’ ye against yer attackers? Fool I was to believe that the high an’ mighty ‘Lizabeth Swann could harbour feelins’ fer one such as me.”

Her breathing had turned shallow and a tear ran unchecked over her cheek. “You’re only saying that to be cruel. You don’t believe it for a second. I never held back the truth from you...and that’s a lot more than you can say.”

“Oh aye, and how do ye suppose that conversation would have begun? ‘By the way, ‘Lizabeth, I was an undead pirate lord ‘round about three hundred years ago, hope that don’t deter ye from wantin’ to fuck me.’ Yer right – that would have made everythin’ just fine!”

Elizabeth let go a strangled sob as she struggled for words. Her sorrow was lost on the hard, cold edge of his anger, though. She was right...he was being deliberately cruel. He wanted her to feel the same raw grief that was tearing out the very heart of him.

“What are you trying to do? Prove that you’re just as much of a heartless bastard now as you were when you were under the curse?” she rasped, her own fist balled up in fury and pain. “Well, congratulations! Mission accomplished, Captain Barbossa!”

She whirled away from him but Hector grabbed her by her wrist and jerked her back. “Ye’ll not turn yer back on me, missy!”

With a cry of anger and her eyes wide, Elizabeth turned and swung towards him, her hand curled into a claw and intent on scratching his eyes from his face. He caught her by the forearm before she ever found her target and held her tight. She tugged hard for a time, trying to free herself from his powerful grasp but he refused to relent and tightened his fingers until she whimpered in pain. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, determined as he was not to let her go lest she slip from his control once and for all. How much better it would be to hate her now...to not give a care about what became of her, whether she lived or died.

“Please....” she begged in a hoarse whisper, her arms trembling as she gave up the fight. She looked up at him with soft and pleading eyes. “Hector, please...why are we doing this?”

In that instant, she was his Elizabeth again and he released his hold on her, stepping back as the horror of his actions squeezed his chest hard. She was right to see him as she did– he was a monster, just as much as he had been when the Aztec gold had robbed him of all humanity...of all decency. How close had he come to wounding her, to letting his rage get the better of him despite his vow to keep her safe?

Hector stalked away, overcome with a need to strike out at something. Spotting the trunk packed with his effects, he roared and kicked it savagely, sending it tumbling down over the ancient cache of gold and silver. As the clothes and jewellery spilled from within, he was filled with new hatred for each item...each thing that had reminded her of what he was and so made him contemptible in her eyes.

A tear of his own slid unwelcomed down his weathered face and he sat down heavily, his elbows resting on his knees and his arms dangling between his legs. It wouldn’t work – she couldn’t remain nearby and have him still discharge his duties effectively. There had to be a way to keep her out of harm’s way without having to endure her presence.

“At first light, I want ye to contact either Turner or Norrington,” he rumbled, turning his head so she’d not see his weakness and in so doing find further fault in his character. “Both be in a better position to keep ye hidden and safe than I. Find the enemy I will, but I can’t bear to keep ye close by any longer. Can’t allow...this...to divert me from what must be done.”

“I know it's hard,” she said, her words thick with sadness. “Things are so mixed up right now...maybe we should just take some time to figure it out...”

His insides twisted painfully. “Ain’t nothin’ to figure. Ye love me or ye don’t – ‘tis a simple thing to know one’s own heart. And if e’er ye did – if that feelin’ had been there before I revealed yer past to ye – ye’d have said the words already and so I might have held onto some small hope. But there be a reason ye kept it back and I can’t go on waitin’ fer that which ain’t meant to be. If ye care fer me at all, ye’ll go and without a fuss as will only make it worse fer both of us.”

A few heartbeats of tortuous silence followed before she spoke. “If you truly want me to go, then I will. “ She took a hesitant step towards him, coins scattering under her feet as she approached. “Hector, I never meant to cause you such pain. I wish I could give you what you need from me.”

He glanced back at her to see she was reaching tentatively towards him, and he quickly moved out of her reach. Completely undone he’d be if she touched him now…where only moments before he’d wanted it more than just about anything, he could no longer abide the thought at all. “Wishin’ won’t make it so, Miss Swann” he said flatly, straightening his shoulders and reclaiming his pride insofar as he could. “And ‘tis best for all involved if yer somewhere they can’t get to ye. Rest now, as best ye can…mornin’ approaches quickly. I’ll keep watch from the tunnel and leave ye to yerself.”

Hector could feel her eyes on his back as he made his way out of the cavern and back to the passageway but resisted the impulse to take one last look at the only woman to whom he’d ever really given himself over. Best for everyone for her to be far from the fight, he told himself again, and he could almost make himself believe it to be so.

+++

The grey, murky morning had been more suited to the mood of the day than if the sun had been beaming down upon them. Better it had been, too, to cover Elizabeth’s exodus from the Keys and back to mainland Florida with Deputy Norrington as a more-than-eager escort. The smug look stuck upon the marshal’s face as he led her towards the police boat had galled Hector to no end, but he didn’t give the man the satisfaction of anything other than a blank look in return.

Twice before the boat had departed, Elizabeth had tried to talk to him but he successfully avoided any meaningful conversation and in the end, she’d simply given up. Hector had silently handed her the kit bag she’d brought along as her boy Jim waited patiently by, and she stared at Hector long and hard as though waiting for something more. He had nothing more to give her, though, and he’d not had the will to pretend at niceties before she turned and let Norrington guide her down the dock.

He’d stood with his arms tightly locked together and watched them as they disappeared into the fog. The girl didn’t turn back to catch a last glimpse and that suited him just fine. Last thing he’d needed was the weight of remorse…hers or his...to distract him from what he had to do upon returning to Wisteria. He felt sure that the hollow feeling that had settled in his chest would fade once he applied himself to his duties and banished all thoughts of the night before from his mind.

Briefly had he contemplated having one of his men come and pick him up from the Fort as well, but in the end he’d decided to take the pathetic excuse for a bike that he’d borrowed and return to the Garrison Bight Marina to retrieve the Spectre. The boat’s engine had been damaged, no doubt about it, but with enough persuasion and not just a few choice curses, it had reluctantly turned over and he’d taken the long, slow sojourn back to his island. His crew would make repairs upon the vessel at their leisure.

The island was quiet when he docked, the usual sounds of birds and waves stifled by the thick, swirling mist. He wasn’t surprised that activity was at a minimum; he had, after all, granted shore leave to all but a few of his men, and most were likely still recovering from a spectacular overindulgence in wine and spirits. For a moment, Hector envied his men the sweet oblivion that drink had provided them and decided that perhaps he’d pursue a bit of the same relief once his task was completed. It wasn’t something he normally did, drinking to excess, but it might just provide a welcome respite as the evening came and thoughts about Elizabeth were sure to arrive unbidden.

The dampness of the dock muffled his footsteps as he made for Marilyn’s trawler; he’d told his men to leave Jack there. After suggesting that finding Sparrow aboard the Corazón Perdido again would result in a keel hauling for those derelict in their duties, Hector didn’t doubt that Jack would be in residence, if not passed out upon the very floor where Marilyn had died and Hector nearly so.

What he certainly didn’t expect when he stepped into the cabin was to see Jack rifling through the contents of Marilyn’s fridge in the galley and looking none the worse for wear as he hummed under his breath, “And really bad eggs...drink up me hearties, yo ho!”.

For a moment Hector was simply too stunned to say anything and stood in the doorway, sputtering incredulously. “What in blazes do ye think yer doin?”

Jack stood up straight, flashing a wicked grin as he balanced an impossible armload of jars, containers, meat and cheese. He gave the refrigerator door a bump with his hip and wandered over to the table, dropping items along the way. “Morning, Hector. What say you to a bit of breakfast?”

Hector narrowed his eyes at the younger man. Damned if he wasn’t wearing some kind of paisley robe from Marilyn’s closet that gaped open to reveal far more of Sparrow than he’d ever wanted to see. “I’ve not much of an appetite anymore, thanks to ye.” He grimaced before averting his eyes with a grunt of disgust.

Jack smiled in understanding and tugged the robe closed, cinching up the belt to cover himself. “Sorry ‘bout that, mate. Didn’t mean to make you feel so inadequate and so early in the day, too.”

“Thought you’d be a bit later in wakin’,” Hector replied, acknowledging Jack’s taunt with nothing more than a withering look. He went back and closed the door at the bottom of the stairs, throwing the bolt and securing the latch with more force than was strictly necessary. The anger over the past evening’s events roiled beneath the surface of calm he presented, ‘though it took all the restraint he could muster not to strangle Jack where he stood for his betrayal.

If Jack was alarmed at being locked in, he didn’t show it. “It would seem that I’ve lost some of my taste for rum. Likely have your bonnie lass to thank for that...seeing her brought back all sorts of bad memories. Don’t get yourself trapped on an island alone with her, is my best advice. Oh, wait...guess I have you to thank for that, too.” Jack slumped down upon the bench and helped himself to a hunk of cheese.

“Could have done far worse to ye,” Hector said peevishly, crossing his arms over his chest and coming closer so he could loom over Jack. “Could have sent ye to the crushing depths along with ol’ Bootstrap. Ye would have been fine company fer one another, awaiting Jones’ special brand of mercy. I don’t doubt he’d have reached ye before ye had the chance to drown – ye always were one of his particular favourites.”

The glint in Jack’s eye was no longer of mirth, but of malice. “Perhaps instead of treading on such dangerous ground, Barbossa, you should be back aboard your ship and slipping Miss Swann a bit of the morning wood. A very little bit, granted...”

With a howl of pain-filled rage, Hector grabbed Jack by the slippery collar of the robe and bunched it into his hands, tightening it around Jack’s neck and lifting him choking from his place at the table. “I be done playing games with ye, ye scabrous mutt! Tried to have us killed last night when we left Wisteria, didn’t ye, and just from plain ol’ luck were we able to make our escape without injury! Ye’ll tell me now who yer workin’ fer or I’ll reach down yer throat and rip yer balls out from the inside!”

Jack’s eyes showed white in his head and he sucked in breath through his clenched teeth as he struggled in Hector’s grasp. When he tried to choke out a few words, Hector twisted the fabric in his hand again until Jack’s face started to turn purple and his body started to slump. As Hector gradually loosened his hold – regretfully acknowledging to himself that few dead men were capable of confession – Jack’s knee came up and smashed into his injured thigh with enough force that blinding agony drove Hector to the floor.

He tried to hold on through the pain, but he’d lost his focus enough that Jack was able to wrench himself free and stagger across the cabin. Hector righted himself by using the table, and glared across the room where Jack wheezed and tried to pull in enough breath to speak.

“Leave...it...to you,” Jack gasped out, his voice barely a croak, “...to do...something as incredibly...stupid...as leave...the...island…without anyone…to back you…up.”

“Ye knew we were goin’,” hissed Hector, dropping down onto the bench involuntarily vacated by Jack, wincing at the renewed throbbing in his thigh. “Ye set us up. Heard ye on the phone with ‘em, we did, so there be no use in denyin’ it.”

“I am denying it,” Jack retorted roughly, rolling his eyes and massaging his bruised throat. “Had no idea at all you’d planned to leave. Thought you resolved that business with Lizzie when you stuck your tongue down her throat and tried to lick her gullet.” He clenched his stomach and looked sickened at the thought.

“Yer workin’ with ‘em! No way they’d know where to find us without ye!”

“Pretending!” Jack said, his eyes flaring wide and his hands extended out in front of him, trying to reassure Hector. “Pretending to work with them! They’re after something far more valuable than mere treasure and in order to get to it before they do, I needed to feign cooperation, savvy? Besides, it doesn’t’ take a genius to find out where the Blackhearts make berth. Hate to break it to you, but your lot ain’t exactly subtle. Once the villains figured that you’d extended your protection to Miss Swann, it was only a matter of time before they made their move. Trust you to present them with the perfect opportunity. Have I mentioned yet how incredibly stupid it was to sail off without preparations against possible attack?”

“And what be yer part in their grand plans, Sparrow? What profit is there in it fer ye to act on their behalf, even if yer only goin’ through the motions? And who the deuce be ‘they’?” Hector stood, testing the strength in his leg. A bit of an ache remained, but with the marks he left upon Jack’s neck, he supposed it made the two of them even.

“Not sure as I’ll be sharing that with you yet, Hector. Last time I gave too freely of my secrets, I ended up all alone on a little spit of land, watching you sail off into the distance with my ship. I will tell you this, though…” Jack turned to stare coldly at him, all humour fading away. “We do NOT want them to get their hands on it. Could well be the end for both of us if they do.”

Hector huffed, reluctantly and somewhat wistfully foregoing his plans to beat Jack senseless. “And the object they seek…they’re believin’ Elizabeth holds the key to its location?”

“It’s where it’s been since a certain someone sank the Black Pearl…beneath the wreckage and awaiting discovery. What they don’t know is where the Pearl is, and that’s the reason they need Lizzie.”

Hector gaped at Jack in shock. “Yer not speakin’ of the mirror, are ye?” As soon as he said it, he inwardly cursed himself for that same stupidity of which Jack had accused him.

Jack’s dark eyes narrowed in consideration. “Ah. You’ve already found it, then. Not that you have any idea what you’re dealing with, but one can only hope you had the presence of mind to hide it well.”

“Ne’er was such a thing aboard the Pearl,” Hector said suspiciously, purposely not answering Jack’s veiled query about the present location of the mirror. The scurvy swine wasn’t the only one smart enough to keep things to himself. “I knew me ship, inside an’ out. Must have been put there after she went down.”

Sighing heavily, Jack found a seat once again and started picking at the food he’d raided from the cold box. “It had been there on my ship for some time, but only those as knew about it could see it. Bewitched against prying eyes and all that, at least until she who cast the spell chose to lift it. Why do you think Beckett was so anxious to keep the Pearl for himself? Honestly, man – have you not been paying any attention at all?”

Hector stared at him, trying to piece together the meandering logic that Jack had laid out. “She, ye say? Calypso has her hand in this?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You can’t tell me you’re surprised.”

Shaking his head, Hector took the seat opposite Jack. He rubbed at his chin as he thought it out. “Ain’t anythin’ surprises me about her…just can’t leave well enough alone, can she?”

Twisting open a jar of olives, Jack speared one with a fork and popped it into his mouth. “And a good thing for you and me, so it is. Elseways we’d have been dinner for the bottom feeders a couple of centuries back instead of living the high life now. And just think,” he went on, a crafty grin playing at the corner of his mouth, “if not for the sea goddess granting you life eternal, you’d not have had a chance to find and thereafter sample the wares of your long-lost pirate bride. That has to count for something, hey?” He happily helped himself to more of the small Mediterranean morsels.

Hector’s mouth tightened and he glared daggers across the heap of food that separated them. “Ye’d be wise to keep such comments to yerself.”

Jack paused in mid-chew. “Trouble in paradise, mate?” he said around a mouth full of olives. He coughed briefly as bits slipped down his throat and Hector almost wished he’d choke to death and put an end to the conversation in the most final of ways. As his bad luck would have it, Jack was able to wash away the offending victual with a swig of milk straight from the carton.

Pressure began to build behind Hector’s eyes as his anger surged back stronger than before. “Can’t see as that be any of yer business,” he growled, pushing himself away from the table. He’d had enough of Sparrow for the time being and wanted nothing more than to retreat to the privacy of his ship to ponder what he’d learned. If he wanted the truth, it might be best to go right to the source, and quit the dancing around he was doing with Jack and his wretched secrecy.

Pushing the olive jar aside, Jack moved onto the pickled eggs. “What’s wrong? She remember you for the disreputable scoundrel you were?”

A sharp look from Hector almost caused him to start choking on his food again. “No!” Jack exclaimed, not even attempting to conceal the spiteful glee he felt. “She didn’t! Really? Christ, that can’t be good. I swear – it wasn’t me as told her!”

Hector turned his back on Jack, not wanting his long-standing rival to see his composure slipping. He tightened his fists until he could feel his nails cutting crescent-shaped wedges into his palms. “Nay, t’was me as did it and I’ll not warn ye again to spare me yer opinion. Me reasons be me own and I’ll not be explainin’ meself to the likes of ye.”

“If you like,” Jack chuckled, “I could stop over by her stateroom and provide her some further insights. Oh…not sure that will help, though.”

“Fortunately, she’ll be spared havin’ to put up with yer rantin’,” sneered Hector, reconsidering his decision not to pummel the ignorant whelp into the floorboards. “She ain’t here on Wisteria any longer, and I’ll not be sharin’ her new location with ye any time soon.”

Jack’s fork clattered to the table and the sound was enough to prompt Hector to turn. The dead serious look on Jack’s face alarmed him in a way he was loathe to admit. “Barbossa…you allowed her to leave knowing that she was in mortal danger? Did you not understand that the only safe place she has is here with us?”

“What do ye mean by, ‘us’? Ye’re here only so long as I can stand to have ye about. And I’ll have ye know that she be ev’ry bit as safe as she was here, if not more so!” barked Hector.

Jack stood, holding his hands out as if to quell the storm of emotions threatening to erupt between them yet again. “Just tell me,” he said quietly, trying to keep a steady voice ‘though he was clearly anything but calm, “that she’s not in the hands of the one calling himself Jim Norrington and I’ll not ask another question.”

“Why do ye say that?” whispered Hector, already knowing the answer from the despondency he felt growing in his chest.

Jack’s mouth was set grimly. “Because he is part of the ‘they’ we talked about earlier, isn’t he? And now you’ve succeeded in giving them the only thing they needed to find their portal. If all is not already lost, it soon will be.”

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Sorry, Norrington fangirls (if any of you are in fact reading this!). He was just too good to pass up for a bad guy. Poor Hector and Beth, will the angst never end??? Mwahahahahaha!