Adrift

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Thank you to my dedicated readers. Hope you all enjoy!

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The dank smelling mud stuck in clumps to the bottom of Elizabeth’s deck shoes and made her regret not cramming her boots into her backpack when she’d left Wisteria. Of course, she’d not been given notice that she was going to be abducted and as a rule, she didn’t generally ensure she was packed for a cross-country escape. As luck would also have it, she was trapped in the everglades during the rainy season as opposed to the drought, when the mud would have baked dry and her flight from Jones and Beckett made a bit easier. Given the way things had gone for her over the last few days, she would have been a fool to expect anything better.

Climbing up onto the knobby roots of a large cypress, she wrinkled her nose as she eased one of the canvas shoes off and wiped it against the bark of the tree, trying to clean some of the sludge off. Unfortunately, the muck hung on tenaciously and in the end she decided it was simply easier to abandon her sodden footwear entirely. The light shoes hadn’t offered much protection, anyway, whether from the slippery mess upon which she was trying to walk or from the sharp-toothed creatures that slithered beneath her.

Her first inclination after she’d dropped from the ladder at the house onto the mossy ground had been to run back to the shore and hope to catch the attention of either cruising tourists or fishermen. She’d known, though, that it would likely also be the first place that Jim, Beckett and Jones would go looking for her and so she’d reluctantly abandoned that plan. Cutting through the marshland would at least give her a chance to put some miles between them and then she could seek assistance without worrying about being spotted. Even in the everglades there were always people about and one would most certainly have a cell phone she could use to contact someone for help. If she hadn’t lost her own phone sometime during the getaway from the gunmen the evening before, help would already be on the way.

Determined to leave as little of a trail for her pursuers as possible, Elizabeth hid her shoes amongst the tangled cypress roots and then stepped back into the brackish pool, wincing as her toes sunk into the slimy brown mud and the tepid water rose to just below her knees. There would be places where she’d have no choice but to wade in up to her hips, and she could only hope that the snakes and larger reptiles were too busy resting on the banks to swim about and look for prey.

Mosquitoes and deer flies whined around her head, and she tugged off a few branches from a nearby fern to act as a makeshift swatter, keeping them far enough at bay that they’d not be able to suck her entirely dry. The fog that had settled in overnight had never burned off and the intense humidity had her sweating as she moved through the water. Elizabeth used her forearm to wipe away the beads of perspiration that trickled down from her brow and wondered if she’d ever get the stink of the swamp off of her skin. She smiled cynically to herself, thinking that if she wanted to cure Jim Norrington of his infatuation once and for all, having him see her soaked through with slime and smell like rotting vegetation might just to do the trick.

The sun was a diaphanous ball in a hazy grey sky, but it was visible enough that she could use it to navigate through the marsh. It was her intention to make it to the Middle Cape backcountry campsite, what she guessed to be a nice six mile hike along the beach, but one which was likely more than twice that distance and would take a great deal more time when one was stumbling one’s way on foot through the bogs. Her destination didn’t seem very far away on the clean lines of a map but it worried her that the delay caused by the terrain would see her caught inland when dusk came upon the everglades. If everything remained mired in fog, finding her way out using the stars was going to be impossible and she chanced becoming hopelessly lost as night fell. Beckett and Jones posed enough of a threat – she didn’t want to be fighting off alligators, panthers or God forbid, an Eastern Diamondback rattlesnake.

The remnants of adrenaline coursed through her body and caused her heart to flutter in her chest at every little sound, ‘though she was more of a mind to fight as opposed to take flight. Without a weapon of any description, taking a stand against her enemies would be idiotic at best. From what she’d heard, they didn’t actually want her dead; her near-fatal fall from the ladder on the Morgan LeFay had been more a case of Jones letting his anger get the better of him than an intentional attempt to kill her. What they did want from her, though, was the question. And how much pain they’d be willing to cause her to get it, she was afraid to guess.

According to Jack, they were after a portal, whatever that meant…and since they knew it was the Black Pearl that she’d found, then it made sense to assume that what they were after would be found with the wreck. That’s what they were trying to determine, she guessed…the site of the ship. They’d sent Marilyn after the bearings but she’d been unable to figure them out before Hector had discovered her betrayal. Then they’d sent Jack, who hadn’t had time to find out, so far as she knew. And then, Elizabeth thought bitterly, she’d allowed herself to be taken and solved the issue for them altogether.

Not quite, though. If they wanted to know where the Pearl was, they’d have to catch her first. And even then, she’d not reveal the position to them. There were people at the salvage operation – her people – and she sure as hell wasn’t going to put their lives in danger just to save her own.

It wasn’t just her own fate she needed to worry about; if she did make it out of the mess with Jones and Beckett, what was going to happen to Swann Song Oceanic and all of her employees? Now that the reasons behind her interest in all things historic had been revealed, what need was there to continue pursuing nautical antiquities? There was no mystery left to unveil, no story left untold. Elizabeth knew the reality of that world and all that it had entailed, and though part of her missed what she’d been and all she’d known back in the eighteenth century, she didn’t think it would bring her either comfort or closure to continue on that path. Perhaps it was time to think about selling out to Tony and giving up on archaeology altogether. She needed to find another course for her life and ‘though she hadn’t a clue where it might take her, she knew she couldn’t go back again.

It was ironic that in the end, William had been proven right. The years of education, the time spent working with world-class experts, the money invested in launching her company…none of it had been for the greater good or to expand the world’s knowledge of its own history. It had all been for her, to soothe the restlessness she’d felt and to bring her closer to herself. It seemed a small and selfish quest in retrospect, and yet – perhaps her motivations were as pure as anyone else’s, including William’s. Maybe his chosen career was nothing more than an attempt to settle the injustices of his own past life.

The low drone of an engine pulled her from her malaise and she looked to the skies, certain that a small propeller plane was passing overhead. The sound got louder, though, and when no plane appeared, it finally struck her that what she was hearing was an airboat moving swiftly towards where she stood damp and miserable in the water. Running on floats and powered by an airplane motor, airboats were built especially for swampy conditions. It made sense that the United States Marshalls would have one on hand at the safe house; they likely had to patrol the perimeter from time to time to ensure that their security hadn’t been breached.

Elizabeth’s heart jolted as the noise got closer and she slogged as quickly as she could through the murky slough, stumbling once and soaking her blouse through to the skin before she reached a stand of cypress. Saying a short prayer of hope that nothing with fangs resided beneath the huge overhang of roots, she squeezed her way through and slipped back as far as she could into the shadowy little cave. The boat roared into view and then suddenly cut its engine, throwing the surroundings back into silence. Slow waves washed across the channel and through to where Elizabeth was hidden, ensuring once and for all that she was officially drenched in putrid swamp swill. She paid her condition little attention, though, and instead froze as Davy Jones’ dead-looking gaze slid towards the very place where she’d taken refuge.

Her breath seemed very loud within the small space and so she held it, mentally willing Jones to start the boat up once more and keep moving. Despite her efforts to remain perfectly still, she began to tremble, and small shaky ripples moved out from where she stood towards the man searching for her. For a heart-stopping moment, it looked as though he was staring right at her and she waited for him to either raise the alarm or draw a weapon of some kind, but then his head swivelled in another direction entirely. She allowed herself a small gulp of air and tried to stop herself from shivering.

“You might have flown, my pretty swan, but you’ll not get far!” Jones’ voiced boomed suddenly, startling her and sending a small flock of nearby egrets into frightened flight. If he hadn’t been facing away from her, he’d likely have seen the disturbance on the water as her shaking grew worse. “When I catch you, I’ll clip your wings and then we’ll see what kind of song we’ll get out of you!”

Jones laughed crudely and flicked the ignition switch on the airboat, filling the everglades with a pulsating whine and a cloud of greyish smoke. He guided the boat about a dozen metres downstream before spinning it around and slamming the throttle forward to continue on with his search. A burning hatred coloured Elizabeth’s vision as she watched him go, a loathing every bit as strong as the one she’d felt when he’d thrust his sword through Will’s young body so very long ago. She was sick of being afraid; if she was given any opportunity at all, she’d carve his heart out of his chest herself and return him to the same state in which she’d last seen him on board the Flying Dutchman.

Clutching Barbossa’s pendant for a bit of borrowed courage, she slid out from beneath her root-bound refuge and stood still, making sure that the sound of the engine really was fading away before she moved out slowly back to the shallows. Slime coated her shoulders and hair, and tiny biting insects hummed joyously around her head as if delighted to see her return. It would have been entirely impossible to be less comfortable, she thought with disgust, wiping the dripping green gunk off as best she could. Elizabeth almost hoped she wouldn’t encounter anyone on her way to the west beach, for she’d certainly send any sane person screaming with her grungy appearance, to say nothing of her smell.

Elizabeth thought about sitting down and gathering her wits about her before she went on, but there was no time for such an indulgence. Her only advantage came from staying ahead of her pursuers and reaching safety before they could attempt to force what they wanted from her. Taking a deep breath, she tried to ignore her wretched state and plunged ahead through the bog towards the western beach.

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It took two hours before Elizabeth again caught sight of the surf. The gusts off of the ocean moved through the mangroves that squatted in clumps on the shore. Her damp clothes gathered the chill close to her body and caused her teeth the chatter ever so slightly as she crouched in behind the trees, scanning the thin stretch of sand.

The campsite was deserted, likely because the low-lying mist had prevented anyone from venturing out onto the water. She had been so sure that someone would be there that it took her several minutes to come to terms with the fact that she was still very much alone with her peril. All she’d succeeded in doing was truly isolating herself.

Rubbing at her face with her hands, Elizabeth tried to decide how best to proceed while willing herself not to break down with disappointment. Twilight was getting closer and the likelihood of a camper showing up diminished with each hour that passed. At the very least, she had to plan on being stranded until morning, and so had to figure out a way to remain hidden and safe through what promised to be a long, sleepless night.

Once she was out of the swamp, the muck and slime had began to dry on her skin and she scratched off what she could with her fingernails. In a way it had proved a godsend; every inch of her that was coated with crap had been protected from insect bites. That’s what it had come down to…she was so disgusting that even the bugs didn’t want any part of her. The cooler, cleaner ocean water beckoned to her and she hesitantly stepped out of the refuge offered by the thicket, keeping a wary eye on her surroundings as she stripped down to her panties and waded into the Gulf.

Elizabeth sank into the water up to her chin and closed her eyes for a moment, a sigh of satisfaction escaping her lips. It wasn’t as good as standing beneath the driving jets of a shower or submerging herself in scented bliss of a foamy tub, but it was a relief nevertheless. Grabbing fistfuls of sand from beneath her, she scrubbed herself until the mud and algae were gone and her skin turned pink from the abrasion. There wasn’t much she could do about her hair, but she managed to pick out the worst of the sludge and gave it as good as rinse as possible in the salt water. Finally she washed as much of the grime as she could from her shorts and blouse, and laid them out over a boulder on the shore in the hopes that they might dry enough to don again in a few hours’ time.

It didn’t seem too cool if she kept most of her body under the waves and so that’s what she did, letting them lap gently at her neck as she stared south through the impenetrable, swirling mists towards Wisteria. Hector probably didn’t even know what had happened to her...he likely believed that she was safe with Jim and the other marshals, far removed from any danger. Perhaps with her gone, the troubles he and his crew had suffered through would slowly disappear and after time had passed and she’d made no contact, he’d simply believe that she’d moved on.

Maybe instead of contacting him when she did finally get access to a phone, she’d be better off calling the Coast Guard for a rescue. What right did she have to expect his help after she’d hurt him so badly? No right, truth be told...but that didn’t stop her from missing his presence so much that it felt as though a part of her heart had been torn out. Elizabeth wanted him by her side...wanted to feel the touch of his hand, his breath against her neck, his body pressed to hers. The very thought had her running her hands over herself slowly, savouring the feel of her clean skin as Hector might have done. She closed her eyes and a tear slid over her wet cheek to fall amongst the billions of salty drops that already made up the sea.

She understood whatever she had felt for Barbossa hundreds of years ago, it hadn’t been love...but God help her, she loved him now, and with more depth of passion and desire than she’d ever felt for Will Turner. She saw him as both the fierce pirate and the tender lover he was, and she wasn’t going to give him up because of Beckett, Jones or anyone else. Somehow she was going to get herself out of the mess she was in and make her way back to him...if he’d still have her.

She clambered out of the water and back towards the boulder upon which she’d stretched her clothes, feeling newly emboldened and determined. There had to be some place not too far from shore where she could hunker down for the night and it would be best to find it before sunset. Elizabeth squeezed the excess water from her hair and snatched up her wet stuff from the rock. She was shaking her blouse out when she noticed that the sounds of shorebirds had suddenly stopped and the beach was enveloped in an eerie silence.

Instinctively covering her chest with her arms, she looked around frantically and backed up until she was beside the large boulder once more. There was nothing to see but she knew she was no longer alone. There was no way of knowing if she’d already been spotted, and so she sank down onto her haunches and hastily tugged her sopping outfit on again in case she had to dart back into the everglade forest. It had been ridiculously risky to emerge from the trees and she cursed herself for her stupidity. All she’d needed to do was to stay hidden until morning and with the first appearance of a boatload of campers, she’d have been home free.

Something dark and grey seemed to take shape within the fog as Elizabeth watched, getting closer and closer to where she cowered. There was a sense of the familiar, though, in the way it moved and as the unmistakable outline of a man morphed from within the opaque mists, it was all she could do not to burst into sobs. Wordlessly she stood, her heart thundering in her chest. She paused a moment and then ran forward, launching herself into Hector’s arms.

There was so much to say but she didn’t speak, instead clutching at him in desperate disbelief. Elizabeth trembled in his embrace, suddenly weak. He’d come for her...despite what she’d put him through, he had come.

“Yer safe now, ‘Liz...Miss Swann,” he said, and it was then that she noticed how stiffly he held himself, how uneven his voice seemed as he whispered against her temple.

“No,” she answered, her vision blurred by unshed tears as she pulled back to look into his face with a shaky smile. “Don't call me that. It’s Elizabeth...your Elizabeth, Hector.” She kissed him then and hoped that he’d not mind the way she looked and smelled. Despite her impromptu bath, the scent of the swamp still hovered around her.

His lips were unresponsive, though, and she stopped to look up into his eyes, worried by what it was she might see. Pain and a terrible wounded pride darkened his gaze, and her heart broke all over again to see him so utterly despondent. He looked down at her and his eyes dropped, settling on the necklace she’d almost forgotten she was wearing.

“Why?” he asked huskily, slipping his hand beneath the heavy pendant and lifting it from her chest. He looked into her eyes once more, staring at her as though to draw the truth from the depths of her soul. “Tell me why ye be wearin’ this bauble.”

Elizabeth covered his hand with hers and returned his stare, wanting him to see that her answer was an honest one. “Because it’s yours,” she murmured softly, caressing his fingers. “Because I couldn’t bear to be sent away for good and not keep a part of you for myself.”

His expression was hopeful but only for a moment. Then his features grew stony and remote, and he turned away as though unable to stand looking at her any longer. “Ye’ll forgive me if me doubts are not so easily laid to rest,” he said, removing his hand gently. “Fine words, to be sure, but there’s no knowin’ if yer heart be behind them.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock. “But...but it’s the truth! Hector, I’m sorry! I know I hurt you...” Their reunion was certainly not what she’d envisioned. She knew he might be angry, but thought perhaps he’d let go of his rage the midst of their relief at finding one another again. Her heart fell but understanding was crystal clear. His wounds were much deeper than she’d first realized and he had every right to keep her at arm’s length. If she wanted him back, she was going to have to prove to him the strength of her love and the loyalty of her heart.

“Time to be gettin’ ye back aboard the Corazón and somewhere ye can’t be found,” Hector said. “Jack’ll take ye away and stay with ye ‘til such time as I’ve dealt with Norrington.”

“Jack?” she said, stunned. Last time she saw Jack and Hector together, they’d nearly come to blows over the man’s duplicity. Now he was a friend? “But Jack’s been working with them!”

Upon hearing his name, Jack materialized from the mist with a sideways grin on his face. “Hello, Lizzie. You look like something as has been dragged through a swamp.”

Elizabeth shot him a glare that she hoped would shut him up as she chased after Hector, who’d already started down the beach. “Listen to me!” she said in a harsh whisper as she ran to keep up, “we can’t trust him. Let me stay with you – I can help. It’s not just Jim Norrington...it’s Cutler Beckett and Davy Jones. They’re here – I saw them.”

“Aye, so I’ve been told,” Hector growled back over his shoulder at her, keeping up his pace. “All the more reason ye need to be removed. Go with Sparrow and give me no further argument.”

“You’d leave me in his care? He only ever looks out for his own best interests!” she snapped.

“A bit of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?” sneered Jack from right behind her, mimicking the same tone of voice. She jumped in surprise, not expecting that he’d have stayed so close on her tail.

Elizabeth had stopped so suddenly that he ran into her and she turned, shoving against his chest hard enough that he fell ass-first onto the sand. “Piss off, Jack! Everything has gone to shit since you drifted our way, and I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”

Jack got a wounded look on his face and laid a hand over his heart. “You’re a hard woman, Lizzie. Rescued you from the Dutchman, didn’t I, just as she was going down? The way you’re acting, you’d think I’d shackled you to a boat while I let something large and overburdened with tentacles have at you.”

She glowered at him fiercely. “I’d say I’ve done my penance for that sin, Jack. Lost everything on that voyage to get you back, didn’t I? Everything that mattered to me, at least at the time. You never did anything for me that didn’t benefit you personally, so don’t try to go all noble on me now.”

“I say, Jack,” came a smooth voice behind her that sent daggers of ice through her heart, “do you have this effect on everyone? Because I really thought that after all this time, you’d have learned that discretion is the better part of valour. Some days, it simply doesn’t pay to prattle like an idiot.”

Jack scrambled to his feet as Elizabeth turned hesitantly to find herself looking into the smug face of Cutler Beckett. From some distance behind him came Davy Jones, a large and deadly-looking pistol in his hand and pointed at Hector’s head as he walked him back towards the others. The scruffy man smiled leeringly at Elizabeth and shoved Hector forward with his hand, earning a hard look from Barbossa in return.

“I was wondering if you’d ever show up, Beckett,” Jack groused. “And I’ll be thanking you to keep your opinions to yourself. Having to listen to what you think...that was definitely not part of our deal.”

“Well, all the same...I must tell you that getting the lady so worked up was a positively inspired strategy,” complimented Beckett, speaking to Jack but letting his eyes rake over Elizabeth’s wet and essentially see-through blouse. “Mr. Jones and I could have arrived with the sounding of trumpets and no one would have noticed.”

White hot fury filled Hector’s face. “Should’ve known ye’d be a turncoat again, Jack Sparrow! Not a bit of honour in ye, conspirin’ with the enemy and only pretendin’ to lend comfort to yer own kind. I’ve scraped scum from the bottom of me ship as had more principles. ”

Jack widened his eyes and leaned towards Hector. “Aye, you should have known. What, did you really think I’d do a thing to help either you or your homicidal wench? The absolutely best part, though, is that once again, you’ve led us right to what we wanted. Bravo, Barbossa! I make it twice in one day that you’ve turned her over to us – that must be a record of some sort.”

“I’ll be carvin’ ye a brand new mouth when I catch hold of ye,” Hector rumbled with his teeth bared, surging forward until Jones pressed the barrel of the gun beneath his chin and stopped him in his tracks.

Jack pretended to yawn. “I rather doubt you’ll have the opportunity, mate. Once we have what we want, we won’t need either of you anymore, capiche? Of course,” he went on, a glint in his eye, “once we go back and fix up a few things in the past, neither of you will be around to cause trouble in the present anyway, so there’s no point in killing you. Won’t stop us from doing so, of course...but there’s no point. I find it apropos that you and she will die for nothing.”

Elizabeth listened as the exchange went from dangerous to downright bizarre. “Are you hammered on rum? What are you talking about, fixing up things in the past?”

“About that whole ‘us’ thing, Jack” interrupted Beckett, his eyes cold and his voice soft. “I’m afraid there’s been something of a change in plans. As it turns out, with Captain Barbossa and Elizabeth Swann in our custody, you’ve become somewhat superfluous.”

Jack barked a laugh. “Really. And what are you going to do? Maroon me on this godforsaken bit of quagmire?”

Beckett gave him a look that looked almost like pity as he pulled a semi-automatic pistol from within the folds of his jacket. “I wouldn’t think of it. From what I remember of your history, you made it a rather tiresome habit of escaping from wherever it was you were deserted. No, I believe that this time, we need to make sure that there’s no coming back. Not ever.”

Panic squeezed Jack’s features and he began to back away, his hands spread out in front of him, trying to hold off the inevitable. “I thought we had an accord, mate. If you haven’t your word, then can you really call yourself a gentleman? A gentleman wouldn’t stab his partner in the back, not after said partner risked life and limb to bring you exactly what you wanted.”

“Jack...surely you know me better than that. It’s nothing personal, it’s just...” Beckett paused, looking as though he was thinking for a moment. Finally his face cleared as he remembered. “Ah yes...just good business.”

Feeling sick to her stomach at what she knew was about to happen, Elizabeth turned to look at Hector, desperately wanting him to do something dramatic and save Jack despite his deceit. He looked back at her, his face impassive and his eyes narrowed.

“Bye bye, birdie,” cackled Jones, waving exaggeratingly with one hand.

Jack twirled and ran as fast as he could for the trees, almost making it to the first stand of mangroves when a shot rang out. Elizabeth screamed and covered her mouth with her hands as she watched a huge red flower bloom on Jack’s back sheer seconds before he plunged forward onto the sand. There was no twitching, no moans...there was nothing but the silent, spreading scarlet stain beneath him. Beckett turned and smiled at her with delight, as pleased as if he’d made a particularly good shot while out hunting pheasant.

Elizabeth’s legs gave out and she collapsed to her knees, her hands cupped over her mouth to keep back the shrieks she was sure would inevitably erupt. She wasn’t new to killing – had done plenty of it herself in her pirate days – but she’d never seen it done in such cold blood. Not since Jones had used his sword on Will, at least. It hadn’t been a glorious battle, it hadn’t even been a fair fight. It had been murder, plain and simple.

“Very well, then,” said Beckett, tucking his gun back into his jacket. “Onto the business at hand. Miss Swann, if you’d be so kind as to join Captain Barbossa and walk on ahead of us. We’ll be following in the jeep we brought while the two of you return to the house on foot. Our boat is waiting there to take us to the portal, and I really do believe we’ve waited long enough.”

Using all the strength she had left, Elizabeth pulled herself to her feet and started towards where Hector stood, still held at gunpoint by Jones. Just before she passed Beckett, though, she turned to look at him and spat into his face.

“I’m not taking you anywhere,” she hissed. “Go ahead and kill me. You’ll be left empty handed and without a clue as to the location of your precious portal. There’s nothing you can say that will convince me to turn anything over to you, you slimy little cocksucker.”

Beckett grimaced and wiped the saliva from his cheek, looking at her with utter repugnance. “You listen to me, you skinny slut,” he snarled, all pretence of manners and refinement vanishing with his anger. “You will take me to the portal and you will do so immediately. You might not give a care for your own well being, but I promise you that for every minute you delay, I’ll cut a piece of flesh from your precious pirate lover and feed it to the sharks. And you shall watch as he dies for you – as so many other men have done before – only he’ll be screaming in agony and cursing your name as his lifeblood pools at your feet. In the end, you know we shall get what we want anyway. So the choice is yours. I know what Mr. Jones would prefer you decide.”

By way of example, Davy Jones pulled what looked like a filleting knife from a sheath on his belt and flicked his wrist in front of Hector. A wide and horrible looking gash opened up just beneath Barbossa’s eye, and a thin crimson stream ran down through his beard and dripped from his chin.

“No!” she cried out, rushing over to Hector. He didn’t give their assailants the satisfaction of a response, but she was horrified at the sight of the steady stream of blood, and held her hand up against his cheek to try and staunch it.

She turned back to Beckett. “Whatever you want. I’ll do it,” she pleaded. Although both of them were likely destined to die once the portal was handed over, she couldn’t bear to see Hector tortured in front of her. If she could buy some time by pretending that she would give in to their demands, maybe they could find a way to escape. It was a small hope, but the only one she could allow herself. “You must promise me that you’ll not hurt him.”

Beckett smiled victoriously. “Perfect. That’s the spirit of cooperation we were looking for. Captain, Miss Swann...after you. Our chariot awaits.”

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