Chosen Path

There was light, but it was a cruel light, blinding and unyielding. A perfectly hideous counterpoint to the chorus of cannons exploding between his eardrums. Neither of which was helped by the relentless hammering of his left knee by some unseen hammer wielder. Blacksmith. Turner. Fuck.



Barbossa did not welcome consciousness, nor the vague memories that came with it. He’d learned long ago that it was not a good idea for him to consume any quantity of rum. Last night…he sifted through the cobwebs of recollection. He hadn’t hurt Elizabeth, had he? Rum, a loaded pistol, his temper…gods, but he’d never forgive himself if he’d hurt her. Or worse…



He breathed deliberately once, twice. Memory came slowly. He’d hurt her all right, but not physically. He’d done more than one stupid thing last night. Fuck all, but he’d all but told Turner that he’d been nailing his wife. Not smart, Barbossa.



The boy, the blacksmith, he was nothing. The Flying Dutchman’s Captain, though, was a different matter altogether. If things went pear shaped at the ten-year mark, there would be hell to pay, and Barbossa likely the one doing the paying. Not smart at all.



With a groan, Barbossa flopped his arm from shielding his eyes back onto the bed, and attempted to push himself into a sitting position. But there was a weight on his thighs that kept him pinned in place. He squinted one eye open. “Eliz -?”



“Barbossa.” The Caribbean lilt was unmistakable, even in its severity.



“Calypso.”



“What did you do?”



“Drank rum.” Barbossa flung his arm back over his eyes. “Can yeh fix my head? You owe me one, after - ”



Calypso snatched his wrist and pinned it to his side, her breath a storm gust on his cheek as she leaned closer. “Do not speak to me of debts, Hector Barbossa. You have failed in de duty I charged you.”



Barbossa was good and awake now. “I fulfilled my duty to ye. I helped yeh find Jack, for all the good that did. T’was I that set you free.”



“But you not have de child! Prices come in threes, Barbossa. Jack. Myself. Your child.”



“Yeh said no children!”



“I said a child!”



“Yeh tricked me, Calypso.” Barbossa struggled again to sit, but Calypso’s weight above him kept him on his back. “Promise me a second chance at livin’, I’d have agreed to just about anything at that moment.”



“Den dat not my fault you don’ like de conditions now. You agreed.”



Barbossa dodged her flashing, accusatory gaze. “Didn’t say I didn’t like it.”



“Den why you abandon dis child?”



Barbossa closed his eyes. “Elizabeth. She asks too much. I can’t be her devoted lover when she can’t give the same to me.”



Calypso slid off of him and curled herself against his side. They had lay like that once, when they were lovers. He wondered idly if she would have him again. What might a goddess be like, free of her human bonds?



“Barbossa.” She twined a long finger in the curls of his beard. “What does him want, hmm?”



Once, her caresses, combined with her nearness, would have set him aflame. His body reacted only vaguely now, and even disregarding the effects of his blasted wound, he realized he simply wasn’t all that interested. Any number of women might have evoked some desirous response from him. There was only one he wanted. “I want her to love me.”



“Does him think she does not?”



“Me, and not Turner. How can I know if she does? She won’t say it, it’s always ‘Turner this,’ ‘Turner that.’ It don’t much matter if she loves me, when she loves him more.” He turned to Calypso, who studied him with guarded eyes. “Can yeh make her love me?”



“No. Only you can do dat.”



Barbossa rolled his eyes. “What good are ye?”



Calypso snatched his face in her hand and turned it toward her own. “I gave you life, Barbossa,” she spat, sitting up. “All I ask in return,” she crawled to the furthest edge of the bed, “is dat you do something worthwhile with it.”



“Well how am I supposed to do that?” Calypso shook her head and glared. Her skin was beginning to take on a watery glow. “How can I stay with a woman who doesn’t want me?” She was fading, melting into the ether, returning to the sea. “Calypso! Dammit!” Barbossa flopped back onto the bed, slamming his fist into the pillow beside him.



The world spun again of its own accord, and Barbossa shut his eyes, trying to concentrate on the stillness of his bed. Unfortunately, his bed was not still, and while he had long since ceased to feel the effects of the sea, he had never ceased feeling the effects of the drink. At least, not when that drink was rum.



He managed to get to his feet, make copious use of a chamber pot, and button his waistcoat when the sound of footsteps echoed through his cabin.



“Good morning, Hector!”



Barbossa massaged his throbbing temple. The last thing he needed right now was an overloud, overly cheery Jack Sparrow.



“Get the hell outta me cabin, Sparrow.”



Sparrow’s chipper greeting belied his grim countenance, though, and there was nary a sway in his step as he crossed the cabin to stand before Barbossa.



“No.” Jack’s finger wavered dangerously close to Barbossa’s chest. “We need to talk.” Barbossa rolled his eyes. Here we go again. “You and your dearly beloved have just cost me a chance at immortality. Again. The Fountain of Youth is the only chance I have left, and frankly, I’m not sure as I’m inclined to let you anywhere near it.”



“Then what do yeh want from me?”



“The Pearl.” Jack inspected his fingernails, glancing over them at Barbossa. “She’s the best ship there is, we both know that. Name me Captain, and maybe I’ll let you in on my venture. If not, I jump ship as soon as we get anywhere near port, take my charts with me.”



Barbossa sank into his chair, Jack quick on his heels. “And what’s to say I can’t follow you? Pearl can outrun any ship you find, Jack.”



“What’s to say I won’t kill you? Done it before, I can do it again. And if you get between me and my last chance to live forever, don’t think I won’t.”



Barbossa rolled his eyes. “You can’t beat me, Jack. Not in a fair fight.”



Jack shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. That really something you’re willing to bet your life on?”



Barbossa had bet his life on being the better swordsman time and again. But Jack remained the only person alive who had come out on the winning side of that wager, and Barbossa suspected that if he did manage to kill Jack first, it wouldn’t win him any favor with Calypso, and he had already incurred the goddess’s ire. It wouldn’t do to anger her further.



And he needed those charts. Without the Agua de Vida, it wouldn’t matter if Jack killed him. It wouldn’t matter if Elizabeth ever came back to him, or took his child away for good and called him Turner and lied to the world about his birth. None of it would matter when the wound’s curse took over and turned his flesh to stone. Would he even live still, trapped in a motionless, lifeless body, doomed to be the unwilling guardian of lost treasure? Barbossa shuddered. He needed the charts. Which meant he needed Jack Sparrow.



“Fine, then.”



“Fine?” Jack hovered beside the table, head tilted sideways. “What’s fine?”



“We all go with you. Me, the crew, anyone who wants to drink. We all go to the Fountain. Do we have an accord, Captain Sparrow?”



Jack plucked an apple from the bowl on the table. “And you’ll relinquish your claim to the Pearl?”



“Aye.” For the time being.



“What about Lizzie?”



“What about her?”



“She coming?”



Barbossa shrugged. Part of him wanted to dump her overboard and be rid of her for good. Part of him wanted to tie her to his bed and never let her leave. “She’s part of the crew. She comes if she wants to.”



Jack flopped into the other chair and slung his booted feet onto the tabletop. “Alright, we have an accord. Now, Hector?”



“Mm?”



“Get the hell out of my cabin.”



* * *





The morning brought light, warmth, and a sense of serenity to Elizabeth. She had spilled every emotion last night until she was empty. There was nothing more to feel.



“Elizabet’ Swann.” Elizabeth cracked an eye open at the familiar lilt.



“Calypso. What do you want?”



“Isn’t dat de question.” Calypso smiled and wafted over to Elizabeth’s side. The goddess seemed to sit upon Elizabeth’s hammock, though there was no sensation of extra weight. “What is it dat you want, Elizabet’?”



Elizabeth wiped sleep from her eyes as she considered the goddess. “Is that an offer? Would you give me what I want, if I asked?”



Calypso laughed softly. “Dat depends on what you want.”



Elizabeth rolled her eyes. That was maddeningly unhelpful. “What if I asked for Will back?”



Calypso shook her head slowly.



“I thought not. It’s just as well; I’m not sure…well, it doesn’t matter, what’s done is done.” Elizabeth closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The salt air was thick; they were in the Caribbean proper now. So much had been done that shouldn’t have been. Will, Hector…if only things could be the way they had been. “Could you make yesterday not have happened?”



Calypso took Elizabeth’s hand. “Not even I can make de world stop turning. Or turn back de sands of time. If it Hector you want, only you can fix dat.”



Elizabeth glanced down at her hand. The touch of a goddess was warm and solid, oddly human, and yet not all at once. “And what about Will? Am I just to leave him to his fate?”



“Is dat not better den a life unloved?”



“Of course I love him!”



“But not enough to wait for him. Not enough to resist de charms of Hector Barbossa, hmm? And he is…quite charming, is he not?”



Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. The last thing she needed to be reminded of was Hector’s exploits with the goddess. “Why do you want Will so badly? Do you love him?”



Calypso smiled. “Will Turner is a good man. Him do his duty well. When you have a man such as him, you not let him go so easily.”



Elizabeth withdrew her hand and folded her arms. “Well, it’s not as if I had a choice. It was that or death, and I’d certainly prefer having to wait ten years over never seeing him again.” Of course, things had become rather complicated. She couldn’t be certain Will would even want to see her anymore. Had he believed her when she said she didn’t love Barbossa? Was it even true?



“Ten years is a very long time. A lot can happen in ten years. A lot has happened.”



“Will Turner will not fail in his duties.”



“I imagine not. I don’t intend to fail him. All I have to do is be there. You weren’t. I will be.”



“And what about Barbossa?”



Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. Why did she have to press so? Didn’t she see Barbossa didn’t matter anymore? He’d betrayed her, would abandon her, with his child in her belly. Staying with Hector was no longer an option. “What concern is he of yours?”



“De child is my concern. If you no love him, if you leave him and take de child, how will he be a better man?”



“Perhaps you should have thought about that before you saddled me with another mouth to feed!” Elizabeth realized she was practically shouting, her voice rising in pitch with her temper, and tried to quell her boiling blood. It wouldn’t do to lose control now, and with a goddess.



But Calypso’s eyes were already flashing. “I did not choose you for dis role, Elizabet’ Swann. De bargain was with Hector. We agreed on ends only; de means were for him to choose. He chose you. Not me.”



“Well, perhaps he chose wrong.” Elizabeth toed the floor, swaying her hammock slightly, and closed her eyes.



“I hope not, Elizabet’.”



Elizabeth cracked an eye again at the woman, but she was already gone. Maddeningly unhelpful. How was she possibly supposed to be true to both Will and Hector? Particularly when it seemed that neither of them wanted her? Elizabeth shivered despite the heat, and rubbed at her eyes. It was morning, or close enough to, and whatever the state of her supposed relationship with Barbossa, she still had duties on the ship, and had no intention of shirking them.



* * *





Elizabeth saw little enough of Hector that day. She supposed he was skulking about his cabin or sleeping it off. She’d never seen him three sheets to the wind before; he must have been feeling it.



When she noticed Jack on deck with her sextant and charts, she frowned, but decided not to press the issue just yet. It was just as well not to see any more of Hector than absolutely necessary, and if Jack wanted to take over her duties for the time being, she was prepared to allow it.



At night, after she tucked Billy in, she suddenly found herself at a loss. For too long, her nights had belonged to Hector. Now she was alone, and while she still had friends among the crew, she wasn’t really in the mood to explain what had transpired between herself and the Captain.



So she found a quiet spot above the figurehead and sat, leaning against the rail, mulling over her thoughts. Her hand drifted over her belly. Another child. It would be good for Billy to have a brother or a sister. She’d always wanted one herself, but fate hadn’t allowed it. But her children would have each other. Even if they would have to wait to have a father.



Surely Will would be a father to both of her children. He would never have to know that the younger wasn’t really his. Ironic, though, that Billy had learned to call Hector “daddy” first, and likely Hector’s own son would call Will “father” before he ever knew of Hector’s existence. It wouldn’t be long before they reached Tortuga, and then in all likelihood, she’d never see Hector Barbossa again.



Never…she was shaking, why was she shaking? Her hand ghosted over her bare collarbone. Her necklace, Hector's necklace, was locked away now, along with every pleasant thing she'd ever felt for the man. She never wanted to see him again. He’d tried to kill Will, he’d pushed too far. She hated him, hated every ruthless, vicious bone in his body. If she never again heard his voice, felt his touch on her skin, never again kissed him, or got lost in the seas of his eyes, it would be not a day too soon. It would be much better to be without him.



Besides, without Hector, she’d have a chance of staying true to Will now.



Heavy footsteps interrupted her thoughts. So he’d finally decided to make an appearance.



“May I join you?”



Join her? He’d bloody well abandoned her! Mutinous, traitorous bastard; how dare he saunter over like everything was fine and ask to join her! As though they were back to the days when she’d first joined his crew, when he’d insisted he wasn’t trying to seduce her, even as he did.



If only they could go back to those days. They couldn’t, not now, but it would hurt nothing to hear him out. Elizabeth bit back words of rage, and managed what she hoped was a casual shrug. “It’s your ship.”



He was silent for a moment, standing near, but not too near her. “There be a reason I don’t drink rum. Does things to me…I’m not meself with rum in me. Now, I’m not sayin’ that’s any kind of excuse. But I offer it as an explanation for me actions. T’was the wrong thing to do. I hope yeh might someday come to forgive me. That’s all I wished to say.”



There was another scrape of boots on wood. Elizabeth rose, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “You tried to kill Will. That’s unforgivable.”



The footsteps ceased. “He had me at swordpoint, as ye’ll no doubt recall, seein’ as yeh then proceeded to make an attempt on his life yerself.”



Elizabeth whirled around. “I didn’t know it was him! And his actions were in retaliation. You went after his heart!”



“T’was Jack as tried to stab the heart. I went after you, not Will.”



Elizabeth folded her arms. “Why?”



“Yeh know why.”



“He’s my husband! You’ve no right - ”



“Yeh care nothing for me? You betrayed me!”



“And I apologized! You can’t just go around killing everyone whose existence inconveniences you!”



“Have you forgotten what I am?”



“Have you?”



He sneered. “A pirate, the worst kind. A killer, a mutineer.”



Elizabeth shook her head. “A good man, or so I thought. A father, a dear friend. A lover.”



“Never been a good man, ‘Lizabeth.”



She folded her arms. “Then perhaps it’s time you tried it.” Elizabeth turned back to the horizon, but he didn’t take his leave. “Why do you hate him so much?”



“Turner? Yeh have to ask? Let me count the ways. He mutinied, betrayed me, and all of us to Sao Feng and Beckett. That little betrayal nearly lost Jack to us, and need I remind you of Feng’s intentions toward yerself?”



“That’s hardly your concern.”



He stomped across the deck, stopping just inches behind her. She could feel the heat of his body, though he didn’t touch her. “You think I didn’t care for you, even then?” Elizabeth felt her eyes widen. He had always looked out for her. Even then. “Allow me to continue. Turner betrayed the location of Shipwreck to the Company. We’ve ne’er been broached before, and he gave our secrets - ”



“That was Jack - ”



“To Beckett, Elizabeth! Cutler Beckett, the man who killed your father.”



Elizabeth glared over her shoulder. “Everything Will did was to free his father. And who was it who landed his father with Jones in the first place?”



“He chose his own fate.”



“I think you might have helped it along just a bit!”



Barbossa snarled and gripped the rail beside her. “He got his revenge. Your husband” he spat the word, “killed me.”



Elizabeth blinked. “No, he didn’t. Jack - ”



“Pulled the trigger, aye. But it was Turner as made the shot count. If he’d but waited, it would’ve been wasted.”



His words came as a blow to the gut. Elizabeth struggled to catch her breath, knuckles white on the rail. She’d never even considered Hector’s perspective regarding his death. She’d always assumed he blamed Jack, but they’d never discussed it, and when she was forced to think back, she had to concede the point.



“Ye’ll be excused from yer navigational duties until we reach the Fountain. Meantime, take yer orders from Sparrow.”



Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at him. “I don’t follow. I thought you were leaving me in Tortuga. And why is Jack giving orders?”



Hector sighed. “He’s Captain, for the time being.”



“Why?”



“He won’t give up the charts. It’s the only way.”



Elizabeth felt her jaw drop. “So lock him in the brig until he does! Tie him up, kill him if you have to!”



Hector’s face broke into a sly grin and he limped to her side. He took her chin in hand and ran his thumb over her cheek. She’d have slapped his hand away if his touch hadn’t sent an irritatingly pleasant shiver down her back. “I’ll leave that to ye. But I need him to read the charts. Go much faster if he does, and time’s a-wasting. But don’t fret, my dear. I’ll take my ship back in good time.”



Elizabeth was suddenly possessed with the urge to melt against him, feel his body against hers as they sought comfort in each other’s arms. His need for the Fountain must truly be great, if he was willing to sacrifice Captaincy, even for a brief time.



When Hector left, Elizabeth sank down into a ball against the rail. He was right, he was always right. Will had betrayed them, betrayed her. But he had paid for his betrayal with his life, paid for it every day he served aboard the Flying Dutchman.



But why was it that she had to pay? What betrayal had she committed to leave her a widow who couldn’t move on with her life? A small voice in her head whispered something about kissing Jack, but she was certain that account had been settled. And if this was her punishment, it was certainly disproportionate to her crime. Jack was alive and well now; she owed the universe nothing for his death.



It simply wasn’t fair. She’d have been happy with Will, had he lived. But had he lived, she’d never have found what she had with Hector. She’d never have chased the Pearl, never have chased treasure from a pilfered map, never have spent so many nights in the Captain’s cabin. And it would have been fine, and she’d have been happy…but part of her couldn’t be sorry for what had transpired.



She was glad to know Hector as she had. The nights she had spent in his arms, whether in passion or tenderness, had been such bliss. The night when he’d whispered that he loved her, told her in words and showed her with his body how much he loved her…she had never felt so loved, so safe, so contented. It had taken all her self-control to keep the words from him, because she had loved him. Perhaps she still did.



If only he hadn’t raised a hand against Will. There was rum involved, and her own betrayal, and Jack –



Jack Sparrow. This was his fault! If he hadn’t shown up, scheming and plotting, she’d never have seen Will, never have hurt Hector, and he’d never have hurt her! And now they were dependent on him, on his charts. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. It simply wasn’t fair.



* * *





Fair or not, on a small ship, there was no way to avoid either Captain. There was little need to converse, other than the necessary communication to keep to their shipboard duties. It amused her vaguely that while Hector did not claim the title of First Mate, he had not taken it from Elizabeth, yet still seemed to believe himself to outrank her. She only rolled her eyes at this, though; there was no sense in trying to pull rank on the Pirate King, but contradicting him would only instigate an argument, and Elizabeth wasn’t in the mood.



Billy posed a bit of a problem. Despite the tension between the adults onboard, Hector appeared to harbor no ill will toward the boy, and continued to maintain the hour or two each day he took to entertain and teach the lad he still called son. Elizabeth wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but her one attempt to keep them apart had been met with animosity from both parties, so she let it be for now.



It would be difficult, when she had to explain to Billy why his father had left them. But it would be alright; she’d lost a parent too soon as well, and survived just fine. And things were, well, not fine precisely, but she managed. Her reduced duties meant more time with Billy, time when she didn’t have to think about Hector.



Except she did. It was impossible not to, when he was everywhere. She felt his eyes on her, sometimes, but whenever she turned to him, his gaze was elsewhere. Still, the prickly feeling at the back of her neck persisted whenever he was near.



Nights were more challenging than days aboard the Pearl. Billy was abed by sunset, and Elizabeth found herself with idle hours to pass until she could sleep herself. Some evenings, she was able to talk with Song or Ragetti, but others, she found herself alone, once again without a partner.



It was inevitable that sooner or later, she would find herself alone with one of the other Captains. It hadn’t been a week since the incident when she stumbled upon Jack seeking, as she was, oblivion in the bottom of a rum bottle.



For a moment, they stared in silence, guardedly meeting each other’s eyes. Finally, Jack offered her a bottle. “Rum? S’why you’re here, innit?”



Elizabeth stepped forward and snatched the bottle from his hand. She took a ferocious swig, free hand straying toward her pistol as she glared at Jack, swaying before her.



“Careful there, Lizzie. Drinkin’ like that’s what got your dear Hector in trouble.”



“Don’t call him that.”



“Why not? S’true, innit?”



“No. I don’t love him.”



“Course you don’t.”



Elizabeth shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over. It’s all of it over.” Jack said nothing, but tilted his own bottle to his mouth. He had quite the nerve, standing there so nonchalantly, drinking his rum as though he had not a care in the world. Meanwhile, her world had fallen apart. Hector barely spoke to her, she’d likely lost Will as well, and she would soon have two children who would grow up fatherless.



And it was all Jack’s fault.



Elizabeth fought to breathe, to keep her voice steady. Her pistol was loaded; she could avenge Will, avenge Hector, right here, right now. And yet, she couldn’t. Not yet, not without knowing. “Why, Jack?”



“Why not Jack, would be the better question. Could’ve waited for me, love. Might’ve worked out, even.”



Elizabeth ignored his line of thinking. “Why did you want Will’s heart? Why do you want the Dutchman?”



Jack stepped deftly around the mess of crates and barrels in the hold. He swayed closer to her, breath wafting unappealingly into her face. “One word, darling. Immortality. I seem to have lost four years of my life, and I’m not sure if that makes me four years older or four years younger than I ought to be.” Jack swigged his rum and settled onto a crate. “S’not good, either way. Four years closer to a timely end, assuming I don’t meet with another untimely one.”



Elizabeth glared. “But you made Will the Dutchman’s Captain in the first place. Why would you take that from me now?”



Jack let the bottle dangle between his knees and stared up at her. “Because it looked like all hope was lost for the good Captain Turner. If his true love isn’t faithful, he’s bound for the same fate as Jones, isn’t he? And since getting cozy with Barbossa doesn’t exactly fall under the broad category of ‘faithful,’ I’m thinking I’m doing Master Turner a good turn by ending it before it gets any worse.”



“My heart is still true to him. I still love Will, no matter what transpires between myself and Hec – Captain Barbossa, which remains, incidentally, none of your business.”



“You made it my business when you started sword fighting with your tongues in front of me.” Elizabeth shot him her haughtiest glare. “Sorry, darling, but it’s true.”



“So the moment you see Will’s heart, you decide to take it? Without a thought for what I would feel?”



“Pirate?”



“Jack.”



“Honestly, darling, I thought you’d be happier in the end. Terrible choice to have to make, innit, between a blacksmith eunuch once-every-ten-years husband or a great and terrible pirate, Lord of Seas and all that?”



“You can’t make my choices for me, Jack. Neither of you can.”



“Why is it that your choices always mean bad things for me?”



Elizabeth sniffed. “You’re coming out of this just fine. We’re going to the Fountain of Youth; that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Immortality?”



“S’not quite how the Fountain works, love. It has a certain rejuvenating effect, but it doesn’t last forever.”



“Then keep going back for more! Once you know where it is, it should be easy to find it again!”



“Oh, I intend to.” Jack swirled the rum in his bottle. “But all the water in the world can't keep me from drowning, savvy?”



A drowned Jack Sparrow was not an entirely unappealing prospect at the moment. Unfortunately, he did have a point. “That’s why you think a curse would be preferable?”



“Not preferable precisely, but more effective. Ends justifying the means and all that.”



“I would disagree.”



“Why does that not surprise me?”



Elizabeth sank onto a crate near him, sipping her rum. She had no intention of getting as rip-roaring drunk as Hector had been, but the drink settled her nerves.



“Why him, Lizzie? Why Hector?”



Elizabeth shrugged. “I was lonely. He was here.”



“Is that all?”



“That’s all it’s ever been.” Keep telling yourself that.



“Wish I’d’a been here.” Elizabeth turned to Jack. “You know you’re getting desperate when Hector starts to look good. I would hope I’d have looked a little better.”



Jack was leaning in closer now, not bothering to hide the way his eyes were fixated on her mouth. “I thought you said once was enough.”



“I thought you were going to be true to dear William.”



Elizabeth folded her arms and turned from him, huffing. “I still plan to meet him. That’s enough.”



“But you’re still lonely. And I’m here now. Whaddya say, Lizzie. Give ol’ Jack a try? Can’t be any worse than what you get from the old lecher there.”



Old lecher? Where had he gotten the impression that her nights with Barbossa had been anything but glorious? “No, Jack.”



“Why not? It’s not about love with him, right? So what difference where you get your pleasure? Or with whom?”



Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around the neck of her rum bottle. “I couldn’t do that with just anyone. Hector…I trust him. He’s become a dear friend, we respect each other, we enjoy each other’s company. He makes me laugh, he makes me feel alive, and safe, and wonderful. I couldn’t be with just anyone, not like I am with him.”



Jack swigged his rum. “So glad you cleared that up, then, darling, because that clearly sounds nothing like love.”



She rolled her eyes, her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Oh, yes, Jack, I’m desperately in love with Hector Barbossa.”



Jack shrugged. “If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck...”



Elizabeth set the rum bottle down and folded her arms. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Even if I did love him, it doesn’t matter, because it’s over now. I have to wait for Will, after all, and he won’t abide that.” Elizabeth swallowed, turning back to Jack. “He proposed, did you know? He asked me to marry him, and I would have. I would marry him, if I could. But I can’t, because I’m already married, only Will’s not here, and he won’t be here, and I’ve been so happy with Hector! It’s not fair! If I let myself love Hector, I doom Will. But if I wait for Will, I have to give up everything! He’s my only family, Jack. He’s everything, and I can’t bear to lose him. But I have to! It just…” Elizabeth hugged her knees. “It isn’t fair.”



Elizabeth glanced sidelong at Jack. Surely he would have some words of wisdom or advice or comfort. Something to make her feel better.



Jack rolled his eyes and tossed back some more rum. “Oh boo hoo.”



“I beg your pardon?”



“You heard me. You want to be true to Will, then act like it. Grow up, and quit whining about having to wait. He could be dead, and I’d be Captain o’ the Dutchman. Gave that up for you, Lizzie, and how do you thank me? You shag the one man to betray me and steal me ship not once, not twice, but three bloody times. So you just do whatever you think you have to do, and don’t come crying to me if you don’t like it. S’your choice.”



“It’s not my choice, not anymore. I married Will, and I’d have been happy, if he were here. But he isn’t here, so I’m forced to live as a widow who cannot even enjoy the option to remarry!”



“And how is that my problem?”



Elizabeth frowned. “It isn’t. But…don’t you care about me? That I’m in a terrible situation?”



“Not especially. You want to martyr yourself for dear William, that’s your decision. No skin off my back. Alternatively, if you’d like to go fuck Hector - ”



“Oh, that’s very charming.”



“ – by all means, go fuck him. But don’t expect me to care, Lizzie. Nobody cares what you do, or don’t do.”



Elizabeth wiped furiously at her eyes, forcing down another mouthful of alcohol. Her voice felt very small. “Hector cares. Or he did.”



“That so.”



“It is. When I first joined the crew, I didn’t think I could feel any pleasure at all. He showed me how to appreciate every sensation.”



“I’m sure he did.”



“Not like that! The feel of the wind in my hair. The taste of an apple. The helm against my palm. And he was so good to me. He opened his home to me, dined with me nightly, or near to it, read with me, taught me everything he could about seamanship and navigation. And then he got hurt…I was so worried for him, Jack. I’m still worried. We shared so many nights, then, just talking or reading, and then the next thing I knew, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. All I wanted was to feel his hand on mine again, hear his voice, curl up in his arms. And then he kissed me, or I kissed him, and I just couldn’t stop. And I never wanted to. It’s been so good, Jack, truly. We sailed the Horn together, went to Singapore, we double teamed more merchants in the Pacific in three months than most pirates attack in a year! It’s the life I always wanted. Always…and now it’s over.” Elizabeth balled her fists. “And it’s all your fault!”



“Excuse me? My fault? I’m not that one what fucked Turner.”



“He’s my husband! I had to! How could I not?”



Jack cocked his head. “When exactly did you two get married? Last I remember, all Turner wanted was to free his father, and he still hadn’t quite gotten over the whole business with me ‘n the beastie.”



Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “We got married during the battle with Beckett. Hector, actually, performed the ceremony.”



Jack nearly choked on his rum. Was he laughing at her? “And you actually think that counts?”



Elizabeth drew back, blinking. “Of course it counts! A marriage can be performed by a Captain on his own ship. The Pearl belongs to Hector, no matter what you might like to argue. It counts.”



Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, stifling another laugh. “That weren’t what I was arguing. Captain or no, Barbossa’s a pirate. You think anyone in the civilized world sees him – or any of us – as anything more than a common thief? ‘Impersonating a cleric of the Church of England.’ Don’t count at all.”



Elizabeth felt her jaw drop. “But…you…You told me you could perform a marriage!”



“Did I? That doesn’t sound like me.”



Elizabeth barely heard him, her mind turning over this new information. Could it possibly be true? “Will and I…we’re not married? Are you certain?”



“Nearly got meself hanged for it. I’m certain.”



Elizabeth leaned forward and contemplated her rum bottle, tilting it back to take a long, slow drink. “Then I really am free. I could marry Hector.”



Jack staggered to his feet. “Go on then. Don’t forget to invite me. I love weddings, remember?”



Elizabeth let her thumb play along the mouth of the bottle. “Maybe. I don’t know. I think…even if we’re not really married, it doesn’t matter, if he has my heart.”



“And Hector has your heart?”



No, she’d been speaking of Will, but when Elizabeth opened her mouth to correct him, her voice caught. Did Will truly have her heart? Had he ever? If she had truly loved him enough, she would never have gone to Barbossa’s bed to begin with.



“Lizzie.” Elizabeth’s head snapped up at Jack’s dark tone. “I don’t care what you do. But if you get between me and the Fountain, I won’t be merciful.”



Elizabeth rose and moved to stand before him. Two could play at that game. “Jack. Please believe me when I tell you this.” Jack raised an eyebrow. “Husband or no, if you ever threaten Will again, I will kill you. Again. And this time I really won’t be sorry.”



Jack stepped over to her, leaned in much too close, and whispered the word, an accusation, a curse, an accolade, a truth. “Pirate.”