Adrift

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Thank you for the reviews and ratings, kind readers. :) Here is another chapter for your (what I hope is) entertainment. As always, please review and/or drop me a note at bonnyblonde@gmail.com and share your thoughts!

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The sun was sinking towards the western horizon but there was no picture-perfect sunset to view; instead, the rays caught each droplet in the mist and wrapped them all in an amber haze that erased all details from the scene. At best, Elizabeth could see little more than shapes. Fortunately the dark silhouette of the Jeep stood out against the pale background of the sand and so despite the lack of visibility, she and the Blackhearts were still able to keep their enemy in place with a series of well-placed shots.

Her clothes chafed against her skin, hardening as the seawater in which she’d rinsed them evaporated and left behind a stiff, salty residue. Her feet were sore from stumbling over rocks and roots, and every now and then she caught of a whiff of the bog on her skin. Hector’s blood had left meandering trails on her hands and when she tightened her grip on the gun enough to pull the trigger, the stain cracked and bits of it fell in flakes to the ground. She was uncomfortable and anxious, wanting nothing more than to finally be done with the ceaseless uncertainty under which she’d been living for weeks.

A bullet hit the ground near her feet and kicked up a shower of sandy soil over her toes, and she ducked behind the cover of the trees before she sent back a quick burst of three shots. Elizabeth sent a silent prayer of thanks to her father for insisting that she take firearms training; although she’d scoffed at the time, he’d known that the child of a public figure couldn’t afford to take safety for granted. If she had been carrying a weapon with her when Jones had first attacked, the events of the last two weeks would likely have turned out very differently.

Hector slid in behind her, near enough that she could feel the heat of his body but not quite so close that he was touching her. Her heart felt heavier for it; she knew he was trying to distance himself, was keeping her at arm’s length so it would be easier for him to walk away from her when the battle was done. Elizabeth didn’t blame him for his reticence but she wasn’t going to let him go without a fight.

“We be at an impasse,” he muttered close to her ear. “Ain’t cover enough fer us to skirt around and get a clear shot, and they’ve naught to use to hide an escape. We can wait ‘em out but once darkness falls, they’ll have a chance to slip into the trees and disappear.”

She shivered at the feel of his warm breath on her skin, and had to fight an urge to turn and capture his lips in a kiss. It would be a mistake to be quite so forward, though, and she knew it would simply drive him further away. More subtlety would be required when she reinitiated a pursuit for his affections. Instead, Elizabeth settled for taking a step back and pressing lightly against him, taking comfort in the feel of his body against hers.

“There is no way of knowing if they’ve got enough ammunition to continue this kind of onslaught,” she answered quietly, closing her eyes for a moment to savour the feel of his chest rising and falling against her back. “Maybe we need to talk them out from behind the Jeep with the promise of leniency.”

“After what they’ve done, ye’d grant them mercy?” he said incredulously.

Another little tremble moved through her with the hot puff of air against her neck and the rumbled vibrato of his words. “I never said anything about mercy, did I? But the threat of a prolonged and agonizing death might be tempered by an offer of one of mere incarceration. We can trick them into coming out and then hold them until they can be taken into custody.”

Even if Jim had sold out, she was sure that the Key West police department would be more than interested in getting their hands on those men responsible for firing shots in a busy harbour the day earlier. With the charge of attempted murder she’d insist on bringing against them, the two villains would not see the light of day for a very long time. There was no doubt in her mind that the cops would take her word for what had transpired, ‘though perhaps with a few choice omissions on her part. There were some advantages to being the daughter of a much-loved, martyred politician.

Hector was quiet for a heartbeat or two. “I can’t let ye do that. To bring in the authorities would mean putting the freedom of me crew at risk. Have ye forgotten what we are? They’d not believe that we weren’t into it up to our elbows. I’d not allow a single one of me men to be taken and in the end, there’d be dead on both sides. Are ye willin’ to risk yer brothers fer the sake of society’s justice?”

Elizabeth turned to face him. His eyes darkened as he looked down at her but he did not back away as she had thought he might. She decided not to push at the first positive sign he'd given her since he’d found her on the beach. “Then what should we do?”

“Ye know the answer as well as I. They’ll not leave the beach alive.”

More blood would be spilled. She looked to her hand again, re-examining the remnants of Jones’ attack on Hector. There would be lives taken; of that she now had no doubt. If that was to be the case, the best she could do would be to ensure that the bodies left lying in the sand numbered only two.

“I understand,” she conceded, a bit heartsick. Perhaps Hector had been right – it had been too long since she’d killed to do it with any ease. “Let’s try to take as few risks as possible, at least. Ask your men to stop shooting long enough that I can call out to Beckett. He seems to be in control of Jones, even if it is an uneasy alliance.”

He nodded his agreement and shouted to the closest of the shooters. “Hold yer fire, Blackhearts, but stay vigilant!” He turned back to her and stared boldly into her eyes as they waited for the fighters to comply. She thought she would see uncertainty in his expression but all she saw was trust. The fact that he would give her that made her wonder if he wasn’t looking for a way back to her as well.

The men took up the call and Elizabeth listened as it was repeated down the line. Gradually the sound of gunfire faded until there were only one or two shots ringing out from the direction of the Jeep. After a few moments even that stopped and the beach was enveloped in silence once again.

Reluctantly she broke her gaze with Hector and turned back towards the beach. “Miss Swann...’Lizabeth,” he said softly, and she looked back over her shoulder at him to see his mouth turned down with worry. “It won’t do to take chances here. Lithe as a cat ye may be, but I’m thinkin’ ye’ve used up all the spare lives ye’ve been granted already.”

“You could be right, my Captain,” she answered quietly. She saw a flare of warmth in his eyes when she used the endearment and something in her chest gave a little squeeze. “I’d best make this one count for something, then.”

Elizabeth stepped towards the tree she’d been using for cover and wrapping her arm around it, she slowly stuck her head out from behind until the shadowy Jeep was in sight. “Beckett!” she cried out, but there was no response. Waiting a few moments, she tried once more. “Beckett, I’ve a proposition for you!”

“I’ve something here for you, whore!” screeched Jones. “Come a bit closer, I’ll deliver it to you myself!” He fired at the trees but the shot was far wide. The haze that surrounded them was playing no favourites; he couldn’t see her any more than she could really see them.

Elizabeth called out again, mockery in her voice. “Do you let your lap dog do your talking for you, Beckett? Are you that much of a coward?”

Jones started to respond but his retort was cut off. “What is it you want, Miss Swann?” Beckett yelled, managing to sound imperious despite the circumstances. “Are you wanting to surrender the portal to us in hopes of saving your life?”

“Do you smell something?” she said loudly. “Maybe with Jones and his unbearable stench right there beside you, your senses have been deadened, but I could almost swear that there is an odour of gasoline in the air. I wonder if a fragment of one of our bullets didn’t knick the gas tank?” She looked back at Hector and gave him a conspiratorial look, and he gave her a brief bow of respect for her strategy.

There was only silence and Elizabeth imagined Beckett frantically sniffing around his side of the vehicle. “You’re bluffing, you bitch!” he hollered, his tone not quite so certain.

“Perhaps you’re right. It’s entirely possible that the tank hasn’t been ruptured. I certainly hope that’s the case; otherwise, when we open fire on you again on the count of three, I’m rather concerned that the fumes will ignite and you’ll be roasted like a Christmas goose! Wouldn’t that be tragic?”

“No, wait...” Beckett said, very much on edge.

“She’s yanking yer chain, you idiot!” Jones bellowed. “There’s no leak. They’ve hit neither you nor me so far, and they’ve certainly not hit the gas tank. They’re just trying to draw you out!”

“One!” she began.

“Stop! Listen, just because they haven’t hit the tank yet doesn’t mean that they won’t!” Beckett argued with Jones. He was starting to lose control, his depth of character clearly showing itself.

“Two!” she continued. Hector tapped her on the shoulder with a cartridge for her gun and she took it, letting her fingers linger over his for just a moment. It was reassuring if nothing else and gave her the strength to see the plot through. She released the spent cartridge and loudly snapped the new one into place, effectively punctuating her threat with a noise that echoed around them.

“What are you offering?” screamed a panicky Beckett.

“You will throw out your weapons and lay prone on the sand, for a start,” Elizabeth ordered. Her stomach roiled. If they complied, it wouldn’t be long before the ordeal had run its course. She didn’t know if she had what it took to see the inevitable scene play itself out but after she demanded that Hector allow her to take part in the showdown, how could she back out now?

“The hell I will!” cried Jones ferociously, and Elizabeth watched as he circled around the front of the Jeep and started stumbling through the dunes towards the tree line. He lifted his gun and began to fire wildly. The Blackhearts that had been standing at the ready dove for cover as she heard rounds thud into tree trunks around her, but rather than returning fire, she simply froze and watched his approach in cold horror. Before she could muster the wherewithal to return a single shot, Hector grabbed her from behind and tucked her down beneath the shelter of his body.

“Cap’n!” called Morris from close by, an urgent question in his voice. Elizabeth covered her head as bits of palm fronds and wood rained down upon her from above, the trees paying the price as Jones pressed forward with his assault.

“Fire!” roared Hector, his voice booming through the copse of trees, and all at once the world dissolved into a deafening apocalypse of gunfire. She screamed – couldn’t help herself – and Hector tightened his hold on her, whispering words she couldn’t begin to discern against her temple.

It must have been sheer momentum that propelled Jones forward; he’d nearly reached the trees when he finally dropped his gun and fell to his knees, his chest blown apart and his heart slowly pumping the last of his life thickly down over his torso. He pitched forward with his face only a foot from where Elizabeth was pinned, and blood splattered from his open mouth over her hands and face. Pale blue eyes rolled in their sockets as he tried to draw breath into lungs that no longer existed and one bony hand clawed for purchase in the dirt. Elizabeth gasped and frantically tried to squirm away as he continued to crawl forward, Hector’s weight preventing her from getting far. A flare of hatred lit Jones’ slackening features as he focused briefly on her face and he bared bloodied teeth at her menacingly. With one last surge of strength, his hand shot towards her and she cried out, trying to fend him off with her fist. All of a sudden, his head exploded and chunks of gore splashed over her, bits of skull and brain matter blowing over her face and into her hair. She was too taken aback to do more than make a stunned, mewling sound.

Hector finally moved off of her enough that she could wriggle away from the gruesome scene, and Elizabeth frantically tried to wipe her face clean with her hands. She barely registered the presence of Pintel standing over Jones’ body with a smoking pistol, or the sight of the Blackhearts silently moving from the trees and towards the Jeep.

She began to tremble, the taste of Jones’ blood on her lips and the stench of seared flesh in her nostrils. When she had seen death before...had killed before...it had been quick and without the same degree of sound. The thrust of a sword was just as deadly and no doubt more painful, but the aftermath was so much neater...so much tidier than what now lay only a few scant feet away from her. Dead was dead, true enough. But she no longer had the nerve to take a life, at least not that way.

“Cap’n Barbossa! Beckett’s gone an’ disappeared!” shouted a man through the mist. The ringing in her ears from the proximity of the last fatal shot made the voice seem as though it was coming from the end of a long tunnel.

“Mister Flaherty – lead a search to find that little roach and bring him back to me. I want to see his yeasty carcass fer myself, stretched out upon the sand while I carve from it a banquet fer the birds!” Strong hands took hold of her by her shoulders and lifted her from where she cowered on the ground. Even Hector’s voice, as close as it was as he held her, seemed strangely distant. “Mister Rackham, ye’ll return with Miss Swann to the Corazón and keep a careful watch to ensure there’ll be no unexpected visitors. ‘Tis me hope that I need not remind ye of the consequences of not fulfilling that duty.”

“Aye, sir,” she heard them say in unison, and Hector gently pushed her forward. The second Rackham laid his hand hesitantly upon her arm, though, she jerked out of his hold and backed off.

“Don’t! Don’t touch me! I won’t be...be...passed off like some kind...kind...of baggage!” Elizabeth stuttered, her teeth chattering as she wrapped her arms around herself. In some remote part of her brain, she was embarrassed to know she was going into shock. It was a humiliating thought but she was helpless to stop the reaction.

“Sir,” said Flaherty, carefully and in low tones. “Might be that the lady would be better served if t’was ye acting the escort. Soon as we find sign of our prey, we’ll get word to ye.”

Hector looked at her appraisingly and she turned away in embarrassment, knowing he must think her no better than the prissy, proper lady she’d been raised to be. No warrior and to be sure, no pirate. “Aye, ye have a point,” he sighed. “Best that I see to her meself. Rackham, ye’ll row us back to the ship. Bring the gig ‘round and let’s get her home.”

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By the time they reached the Corazón Perdido, Elizabeth truly felt like a fool. She’d trotted out so much bravado about taking down Beckett and Jones, yet she’d not contributed in any way to the fight. Unless one could count being constantly bled upon as providing assistance, that was.

As much as her arms had been shaking, she’d insisted upon making her way up the ladder and onto deck under her own power. She’d stumbled on well ahead of Hector and down the stairs to her room, closing the door and locking it behind her so she could be alone with her shame. Dragging herself into the small head, she couldn’t even meet her own eyes in the mirror as she began to tear the rigid, gore-covered clothing from her body.

As she bent to slide her shorts from her legs, a sodden piece of flesh fell from her hair and squelched against the floor at her feet. The tangled strands of grey embedded within the chunk identified it as a remnant of Davy Jones’ head and she recoiled from it instinctively. Her cowardice enraged her and she let go with a frustrated scream, the din bouncing off the walls of the tiny room and causing her already-injured ears to ache deep within her skull.

Elizabeth caught an accidental glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror and glared back at her reflection. Even without her clothes she was speckled with blood, the worst of it on her face and making it look as though she was wearing a macabre mask of some kind. As she stared, tears sprung from her eyes and trailed down through the blood, leaving tracks of pale skin in their wake.

“No!” she screeched at the pathetic image. “I will not cry! I’m not a child and I won’t fall to pieces! I am the Pirate Lord of the South China Sea! I am KING! I will not CRY!”

She grabbed the brass-coloured towel bar beside the sink and yanked on it until it came away from the wall, leaving ragged white holes in the wallboard. Swinging the rod behind her head like a baseball bat, she slammed it forward with all her strength and sank it through the middle of the mirror, sending spikes of glass exploding in a shower around her.

Chips of shiny silver flew by and stung her cheeks, and when she looked down at her feet, the sight of her sorrowful face looked back through a thousand tiny shards. There was no escaping her weakness after all; not facing it would change nothing.

She heard someone trying the door to the cabin and then the door itself burst open, the latch torn from the splintered frame. Before she understood what was happening, Hector had wrested the towel bar from her hands and lifted her bodily from the midst of the destruction she had wrought. The remnants of the mirror crackled beneath his boots as he backed up with her into the bedroom.

“What’s in your head, girl?” he demanded, twirling her around to face him once he put her down.

“I’m useless!” she cried, now unable to staunch the flow of tears. “I wanted to be like I used to be...to prove to you that I could hold my own, to show you that I was worthy of your faith and trust. Of your love. But it was a lie, wasn’t it? You saw it for yourself today. I’m not Elizabeth or Beth. That person in the mirror – I don’t know who she is!”

“Because ye didn’t kill Jones yerself?” Hector said, perplexed. “What does it matter who fired the shot? Ye did yer part, ‘Lizabeth...ye tricked him into comin’ out and let us finish the job.”

“While I cowered beneath you, hiding like a frightened mouse as Jones strafed the lot of us with bullets.” She twisted her head so she didn’t have to see disappointment on his face. “If I’d stood my ground and shot him myself, it would have been done. Beckett would have given up easily and the ordeal would be over. But I didn’t. When the situation called for action, I caved. And now you and the crew are left cleaning up my mess.”

“There ain’t a man among us who be thinkin’ less of ye fer what happened here,” he snarled at her, roughly cupping her chin in his hand and forcing her to look at him again. “Ye did far better than I’d have expected. How many months t’was it before ye were able to hold yer own so long ago? Was it overnight ye learned to fight, to use a sword and trust in yer abilities? Ye’ve shown me yer mettle time and again these past weeks. I be naught but proud of ye; ye must know that.”

“When it counted today...” she said insistently, her voice trailing off as he shook his head.

“Ain’t a flaw to think twice before ye take a life, even from one such as Jones. How long was ye haunted by what ye did to Sparrow, never mind that in so doin’, ye saved a dozen of yer men includin’ young Master Turner?” Hector’s look softened and he spoke more gently. “Saved me, in fact, if ye think on it. I’d not have been brought back if ye hadn’t sent Jack to the locker in the first place.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. “But that just proves the point, doesn’t it? I did what I felt had to be done then, guilty conscience or not. Only I couldn’t bring myself to do it again today.”

“Had there been none among us to do the job, I’ve no doubt ye’d have stepped forth. But make no apologies fer who ye are, tender heart and all. I’d not have ye any diff’rent.”

His last words broke her and she buried her face in her hands, trying to hide the effect of what he’d said. He didn’t despise her, didn’t hate her for what had happened. Until that point, she hadn’t realized how it was the loss of his affections that she feared the most. Her fingers were quickly tinted in pink as her tears cleansed the blood from her face a drop at a time.

Hector wrapped an arm around her trembling shoulders, guiding her out into the corridor and down to his own cabin. He led her into the head and sat her on the toilet seat as he fiddled with the taps in the shower. “Let’s get ye cleaned up, lass. Won’t do to have ye traipsin’ through me ship and leavin’ a trail of filth in yer wake.”

When he’d tested the water and found it ready, he took her hands and brought her to her feet, opening up the clear glass door and helping her step into the stall. Once she was inside, though, an overwhelming fatigue overcame her, and it was easier to slide down and sit on the floor of the shower as the water ran over her tired body.

She heard Hector sigh heavily and looked up to see that he was stripping off his own blood-covered clothes and tossing them into the corner of the small room. He slid his hand beneath her arms and lifted her until she’d found her footing again, turning her so she was facing away from him and into the spray. His warm, bare skin felt wonderful against her back and she took strength from having him so close once again.

Mist wafted around them as the shower heated up and Hector adjusted the faucet so that the water sluiced down over her face, forcing her to close her eyes. With infinite care, he smoothed his fingers over her forehead, cheeks and chin, rubbing away the grime that she’d collected during her time in the bogs and on the beach. The rusty smell of blood and the rotten stench of the swamp filled the little cubicle, and Hector slowly turned her around so that they were again facing one another. He lifted her arms and draped them around his neck. “Hold tight, girl,” he whispered against her cheek. “Don’t let go, ye hear me?”

Not ever, she thought, though she kept the sentiment to herself. Instead she nodded and let her head rest lightly against his chest, consoled that the seemingly endless fount of her tears was concealed by the water. She didn’t know which was worse – her earlier loss of control or the way she’d given herself so easily over to his will, but all that mattered now was that he still cared for her.

The fragrance of shampoo began to overpower the less pleasant odours as he moved his hands through her hair, working the soap through and rinsing away the terrible detritus from her tousled, matted strands. Hector combed his fingers through her locks and rinsed them countless times until he seemed satisfied that nothing disagreeable remained behind. The sensation of his fingers against her scalp made her feel boneless and started her senses humming at the same time.

He took her arms and moved them from around his neck, settling her hands on his chest. Elizabeth lifted her head to she could gaze up at him, seeing droplets of blood that had been cast across his face when Jones fell and she reached up to scrub them away, too. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he reached behind her and he grabbed a bar of soap, rubbing it between his palms until rich foam dripped from his fingers.

Hector slid his hands beneath her jaw and around the column of her neck beneath the necklace she still wore, the slickness of the suds making his touch smooth and sensuous. She closed her eyes as his hands slipped down over her shoulders and gently massaged at the rigid muscles that had gathered in bunches with the tension of the day. He found the tight knots and kneaded them away with his fingers, prompting Elizabeth to moan in pleasure. With the sound, his hands fell away and he stepped back as far as he could within the tiny space. She opened her eyes again, confused by his unexpected withdrawal.

“Didn’t mean to...this wasn’t intended as...” he said hoarsely, suddenly unable to look at her. “Best ye finish the job yerself if yer able; elseways I’ll be tempted to press me advantage. Apologies, but I cannot touch ye in such a way without needin’ more.”

Elizabeth looked down and saw that he was already fully aroused, his cock curving gracefully up between them. “I don’t want your apologies,” she groaned, grabbing his arms and pulling him back towards her until the hot, thick stiffness was pressed against her belly. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, a ragged gasp leaving his lips as she smoothed her hands around his hips and over his ass, squeezing hard to bring him even closer. “I only want you.”

He looked back down at her, but his expression was still guarded even as he began to trace the outline of the snake pendant she wore with his finger tips. “Would that I could believe ye, ‘Lizabeth. But if ye couldn’t give the whole of yerself to me before, what has changed now that ye know me fer who I am?”

“It took almost losing you to make me understand,” she replied, the tears edging back despite her best efforts to seem strong. “You think that I can’t care for you because of what you used to be. What you need to understand is that I don’t think I could have loved you without knowing. You see yourself as having been something terrible, something grotesque. And although I do remember what you were under the curse, that’s not what I remember most.”

“Tell me, then,” he challenged, although his tone seemed unsure.

“I remember the man who stood his ground against the whole of the East India Trading Company. The man who dared to look a goddess in the face without flinching. The man who faced down a maelstrom and laughed out loud at the very notion of mortality. The man...,” she went on, caressing his cheek with the pad of her thumb, “...who entranced me with his passion in front of the Brethren Court. And even the man who, despite the hell in which he was trapped, set out a candlelit feast before a naïve young woman in hopes of impressing her with his charm and eloquence.”

He exhaled sharply and she could have lost herself in the exaltation she saw in his eyes. “Say it, ‘Lizabeth.”

Elizabeth kissed him then, softly and with the full depth of emotion that surged in her heart. “I couldn’t give myself to you until I knew who I was...and who you were. Pirate or biker, Hector, you are mine,” she whispered against his lips. “My Captain. My love.”