Adrift

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Now we get to the heart of it, my devoted readers...a moment I know you've been awaiting! :) Thank you for always reading my story as soon as I get it out there, Scarlett - I really appreciate your reviews, they keep me going. And Conni, your enthusiasm is contagious and I'm flattered that you give me such detailed feedback on my story. I hope both of you enjoy this chapter as well. RF - my little beta night owl! Thanks for making me stop and think when I get caught up in the process of writing.

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If hell really existed, Elizabeth thought fleetingly, surely it could be no worse than what she and her shipmates now faced aboard the Black Pearl.

The sharply stinging rain was almost enough by itself to drive them to their knees, but it was made so much worse by the roar of the maelstrom, the endless flashes of lightning and the crimson splatters of blood...of the mortal men who fought so valiantly, and of the otherworldly creatures under the command of Davy Jones. Despite the gale force winds, a reek hung over the ship that was reminiscent of slaughterhouses and fish markets both, and the odour coating Elizabeth’s nostrils nearly caused her to gag.

Agonized shrieks of pain rose from all around her and there was no way to tell which came from pirates and which came from Beckett’s men. United they were in their suffering, their stinking blood mingling on the boards at her feet before frothy, salty waves washed the evidence of their mortality away. The mutated sailors from the Dutchman bled too, but they mended nearly as fast as they were wounded, and their injuries seemed only to spur on their relentless hatred and fury.

The aching muscles in her arm throbbed terribly and her sword seemed too heavy to lift, even as Elizabeth knew she had to do so or die. Her hard leather armour had saved her time and again from attacks on every side, but she knew her flesh would be covered in bruises wherever the flat of a blade had found its way past her parries. She had no right to complain, though, not when so many had already fallen.

Hector had stayed at the helm as long as he could, but once the incursion began, it was his talent with a sword and not his skill as a sailor that they needed desperately. Elizabeth heard him loudly cursing their attackers as he hacked at straining tentacles, serrated claws and more common man-made weapons, and it was the hoarse timbre of his voice alone that gave her hope. So long as he fought on, she would too, and pray to whatever gods were still listening that somehow they would both survive the day.

Cannons boomed around her and splinters from the hull and gunwale flew past her face as she drove her blade between the ribs of another man. Elizabeth tried not to flinch at the squelching sound her jian made as it sank through skin and muscle, the shocked look freezing on her opponent’s face as his heart ceased to beat and she tore the blade back out to strike out at yet another. There was no room in her soul for compassion – there was only fear and rage, and she had to shield herself with those emotions or be lost to despair.

From time to time, she could hear the rasp of Will’s breath above the clang of steel. They fought back to back, a necessity to prevent an unexpected attack from behind. Whatever she might feel for him – or no longer feel, as was inescapably the case – she owed him a debt of gratitude for the lessons he’d insisted on giving her so many months before they’d embarked on their journey to rescue Jack. Although she grew wearier with every thrust, she was able to react without conscious thought as the enemy advanced. Whether her well-practiced technique would be enough to save any of them against those who couldn’t die was unclear.

Both the Pearl and the Dutchman were caught in the momentum of the massive whirlpool, circling one another around the watery chasm as they shot over the waves at a dizzying speed. Sour bile burned its way up Elizabeth’s throat as they spun ever faster, and it was all she could do to keep from heaving the contents of her stomach onto the slick, bloody deck as they twirled around the threat of eternal oblivion.

“Elizabeth!” cried Will, and she turned to see him fighting to hold some deformed fish-man at bay. In unison, they plunged their swords through the chitin-encrusted torso of the foe, knowing as they did so that at best, all they could expect was to slow the creature down.

She whirled to find her next target, but Will grabbed her firmly by her arm and tugged her back. “Elizabeth,” he gasped, his eyes wide with panic but also with something much softer, “What did you say to Barbossa before the fight?”

There was only a moment for her to register disbelief at his question before they had to stave off another attack. “Why on earth would that possibly matter now?” she snapped, tearing herself away to repel the next sword-wielding assailant while Will did the same.

“I must know...where do your loyalties lie? With the pirates or with me?” he demanded, dodging to avoid being run through by another morphed being from the Dutchman. Elizabeth realized that Will had watched her while she pleaded her case to Hector; what he was asking her now, though, meant that he’d neither heard nor understood the gist of the conversation itself.

With a roar, two of Beckett’s men fell upon them, and Elizabeth struggled to force her attacker back far enough that she could impale him on her long, gore-smeared blade. She put a boot to the man’s chest as she tugged her weapon free again, watching him fall at her feet. “Barbossa believed I had wronged him,” she panted as Will snatched her forearm once more. “I wanted to set it right before it was too late.”

Will stared at her, heedless of the mayhem around them, gauging the truth of what she said. There was no lie to find, though, unless it was a lie by omission. She’d told him all she felt he was entitled to know. As for her loyalties…

“I want to do the same, then,” he blurted, his voice pleading. “I want things to be right between us again. Please…I love you. I know I’ve hurt you and although it might not have seemed like it at times, you have always been first in my heart. Will you marry me?”

What she felt for Will was no longer love, but the memory of what they’d once had with one another meant that his words struck her to the core. It would have been easier to hurt the man if she hated him, but the pain she knew she would cause would rest heavily on her conscience from this moment forward. She pulled away from him again to disembowel another monster, unable to suppress a gasp of disgust as green-tinged intestines oozed from the creature’s belly and squelched across her boots.

When she turned back again, Will awaited her answer, the hopeful expectation on his face making him look like the eager boy who had once won her over. She began to reply but a tangle of men – and what had once been men –spilled between them and they were separated once more, forced to fend off a flurry of flashing sabres as thunder roared around them and brilliant purple-tinged lightning lit the scene. Elizabeth was knocked to the deck and in the midst of the scuffle, a malicious boot to the ribs stole the breath from her. She crawled away as best she could, cringing in agony as she dragged herself out from beneath the brawl. Crouching against the meagre shelter offered by the capstan, she fought to draw in air and tamp down the pain in her side as curtains of rain poured overhead.

“Elizabeth!” hollered Will, slashing at the men around him until he’d literally carved himself a path for himself through the fray. He stumbled over and fell to his knees beside her, cupping her chin so he could see her face. “Have you been hurt? Are you bleeding?”

She shut her eyes and shook her head. “I just…I need a moment. I took a kick, is all.” Even touching her ribs through her armour caused her to wince. In all likelihood, something had been broken, but there was little she could do about it now.

“Put your arm around me. Do it!” Will demanded. When she was slow to comply, he roughly grabbed her by the hand and draped her arm behind his neck, holding her firmly in place as he hoisted her up. She cried out against the sudden sharp pain as Will hauled her past the worst of the fighting and over to the dubious seclusion offered in the shadows beneath the starboard stairwell. As he propped her against the wall, Elizabeth bit back a groan.

“There’s no time for this,” she gasped, shoving Will’s hands away when he attempted to pull her heavy leather garment open in order to examine her injury. “We’re short of men as it is. They can’t afford to do without us. Please, help me tighten my belt to keep my ribs fixed in place – that will have to suffice for now.”

“You’re hurt! If you go out like this, you’ll prove easy prey,” growled Will. He took her by her upper arms and squeezed. “I’m begging you, Elizabeth. Please stay here where you’ll be safe. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you…”

She looked away at his words, unable to meet his eyes, and Will’s voice trailed off. “It’s too late, isn’t it?” he whispered in sudden realization. “You’re gone already.”

Elizabeth nodded reluctantly and met his distressed gaze. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, fighting back tears borne of both regret and physical suffering. “So much has changed. We’re not the same two people we were back in Port Royal. I wish it could have been different.”

Will turned and rubbed his face with his hands. “I saw it happening and didn’t know what I could do to stop it. Christ, I can’t believe this...” His voice broke and he slammed his fist angrily against the wall. “Did you ever really love me?”

“Yes!” she cried, reaching out to touch him and then pulling back her hand as she thought better of it. “Oh, Will…you know I did! If none of this had taken place, we might even have been happy for a time. But when our lives took a turn for the worse, we couldn’t be there for one another in any of the ways that truly count. That isn’t something we can fix, it isn’t anyone’s fault. It just…is.”

He nodded awkwardly but didn’t reply, instead staring out as if oblivious to the deafening riot before them. His muscles in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth and she could see his eyes were rimmed in red as he tried to fight back tears. Elizabeth could think of nothing to say that would soothe his shattered heart and so she remained silent, fumbling with the clasps on her wide black belt and tightening the straps enough that she’d be able to return to battle and carry on. She felt raw inside at having inflicted such misery on someone who had once been so precious to her, but to let him believe they still had a chance would have been crueller by far.

She tentatively took a deep breath, testing the belt’s support. There was a brief, hot flare of pain but it was certainly not enough to keep her from taking her place with her fellow pirates. Daring a last, heart-wrenching glance at Will, she reclaimed her sword from where it had fallen at her feet. “I’m sorry,” she repeated softly and stepped out from beneath the flight of stairs.

Before she could move any further, Will’s hand shot out and snagged her around the wrist in a hard, insistent grip. “You owe me the truth, Elizabeth,” he said coldly, glaring at her. “Is there someone else?”

She paused, wanting to spare Will additional pain, but she knew she couldn’t betray Hector again by denying their bond. “Yes,” she answered flatly, refusing to look away or be ashamed.

“I had it right the first time, didn’t I?” he answered, his lip curling contemptuously as he loosened his hold on her. “Despite every selfish, underhanded, conniving thing he’s ever done, you persist in loving Jack Sparrow.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise and she shook her head. It was far too early to hope that it was love, but all the same…how could Will have possibly missed it? “No, not Jack!” she exclaimed, more emphatically than she intended. “Barbossa!”

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Some subconscious part of Elizabeth registered the look of dumbfounded disbelief that crossed Will’s face, and the fact he’d stumbled off towards the gunwale to swing over to the Dutchman, still speechless from her revelation. Even if she’d wanted to stop him from boarding the ghostly vessel, though, it would have been impossible as she suddenly found her legs strangely immobile.

The instant that Hector’s name had left her lips, a barrier burst within her mind, and her brain was flooded with an overwhelming cascade of visions and emotions. Her sword clattered to the deck and she dropped to her knees, shaking uncontrollably as countless, baffling images flashed before her eyes and a deluge of powerful feelings swept through her, leaving her nearly senseless.

Elizabeth clutched at her temples with both hands, squeezing her eyes closed tightly as she gasped in astonishment at the mental barrage. Her thoughts tumbled faster than she could mark them and she inched back to huddle beneath the stairs, just barely aware enough to understand that she was in danger and vulnerable while trapped in such a fugue.

She’d gone stark raving mad, there was no question…how else could she explain what she was seeing, what she was feeling? There was a sense of being trapped in another person’s dreams…or perhaps nightmares, as some of the images and feelings proved terrifying while others were provocative to say the very least. Moaning, she curled into the darkest corner of the stairwell and tried to ride out what had to be hallucinations.

“’Lizabeth!”

Someone was urgently calling her name but the voice seemed so very far away that she didn’t bother to attempt a response. Even if she answered back, who would be able to hear her above the uproar…and what assistance could they possibly offer? She shook her head, angry tears pouring over her cheeks as she desperately tried to dislodge the perplexing scenes playing themselves out in her mind’s eye...

Elizabeth was aboard a ship, sleek and white...the sails were black, just like those of the Pearl, but new and crisp as they caught the breeze...her heart pounded as she ran for her life, unfamiliar squeals and bleats sounding all around her as gunshots rang out...Hector’s lips skimmed warmly over her neck as she stood before a mirror, wearing the wine-coloured gown he’d given her that first night aboard the Pearl...floating beneath the warm, blue water, she watched a scuttle of crabs like those belonging to Calypso moving in circular pattern on the sea floor...pain wracked her body as she lay in Hector’s arms, watching a single tear track down his blood-spattered cheek...she was falling...falling backwards...too shocked to scream, desperately reaching out to try and stop herself...

The thunder rolled above her...at least, she thought it was thunder at first. “’Lizabeth!” hollered Hector, urgent desperation in his voice. It hadn’t been the squall she’d heard; it had been his boots as he’d stormed down the steps. He was only a few feet away, she realized, seeking her out in the midst of the chaos.

“Hector!” Elizabeth screamed as loudly as she could, pressing her fists into her eyes to try to halt the bewildering delusions. “Oh please...!”

And then he was there, her lover...her champion...kneeling in front of her and gathering her close. “I have ye, lass! I heard yer call! ‘Lizabeth, look at me!” Hector demanded frantically, sweeping her damp hair out of her face.

She did as he asked, but the moment she caught sight of his worried blue-grey eyes, an explosive jolt of recognition surged through her body, causing her to jerk stiffly in Hector’s arms. Her limbs trembled and she sucked in deep, shuddering breaths as she bunched his coat into her hands and clung to him tightly, staring up into his face in wonder. “Hector...my God!” she sobbed. She remembered...

…struggling to breathe, feeling cold…so cold….so tired…

“Save her now,” pleaded Hector. “ Whate’er bond ye want from me...whate’er promise I can render, whate’er service I can give to ye, ‘tis yers fer the askin’. Just...please...”

“If she dies now...dies here...den her soul is caught forevah in dis loop,” warned Calypso. “But if you take her back t’roo da portal, her will have a chance to find her way. To change dat destiny.”

Anguish and fear, the pain in her heart far worse than that caused by the bullet…she couldn’t allow him to make such a sacrifice…“You would lose...your immortality...”

“I’d rather face life and death as an ordinary man than live a thousand lifetimes without ye”…a kiss against her forehead, Hector’s lips burning hot against her cooling skin… “I love you…”

“I will remember…I will…”

Elizabeth remembered everything.

It had worked! The magic of the mirror had worked...Calypso had told the truth! Elizabeth was herself again – two halves of the whole, reunited and returned to the man she loved. Overcome with happiness and relief, her throat tightened painfully and she began to weep.

“Have ye been hurt? I swear I’ll cut to bits the one as harmed ye...” Hector snarled, his teeth bared and his eyes wide.

“No! I mean, yes, but it doesn’t matter!” she cried, the words spilling from her as she yanked on his soaking wet lapels, bringing him closer to that she could rest her forehead against his chest. The pain from her ribs faded as her jubilation grew. “Listen! It’s me! It’s Elizabeth!”

“Aye...” he said, pulling back and squinting at her in confusion, shaking his head as he tried to make sense of her tearful exclamation. “An’ who else would ye be? Ye can’t stay here – come and I’ll get ye to safety. Ye must have taken a knock to the head to be ravin’ so...”

Despite the dire situation in which she knew they were embroiled with Beckett and Jones, Elizabeth laughed through her tears, smiling joyfully even as Hector became more alarmed at her behaviour. “Don’t look at me like that...I’m not crazy! Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“Yer ‘Lizabeth Swann...an’ I be Hector Barbossa,” he crooned with exaggerated patience, hauling her to her feet as he rose. “Not sure that ye noticed, but we find ourselves a little busy at the moment...perhaps we’d be better served havin’ this discussion after the war.”

Elizabeth laughed again – she couldn’t help it. “You don’t understand...” she said, but further words froze in her throat when she looked past Hector’s shoulder and saw a dark shape closing quickly on them, one scaly hand holding a broadsword at the ready. It was another sailor from the Flying Dutchman, an abomination with quivering spikes jutting out all over its body and head.

Reacting instinctively, Elizabeth whipped Hector’s sword from his scabbard and shouldered him aside, ferociously thrusting the sword beneath the creature’s chin and up through its skull before it could swing its weapon. As Jones’ minion fell, she’d yanked the blade free only to shove it with both hands back through its throat, watching pitilessly as it collapsed on the deck and writhed miserably at her feet, its inhuman hands frantically wrenching at the blood-coated cutlass.

Hector stared at her with frank amazement and, if she wanted to flatter herself, with something akin to respect. “Nicely dispatched, missy.”

“I might not always be there when you find yourself in dire need,” Elizabeth said with a triumphant grin, serving his own words of that very morning right back to him. “You must learn to have a care for your own well-being…my Captain.”

It was Hector’s turn to reel in shock. “Yer captain? ’Lizabeth...the mirror? Are ye sayin’...?”

“When Will asked me to marry him, I knew I couldn’t – not after last night,” she answered earnestly, stepping close to lay her hands on his chest. She let her fingers play over the serpent necklace as she looked up into Hector’s face. “He accused me of loving another...and of course he was right. That was when I called out your name, and everything came rushing back at me. Don’t you see? I chose you, Hector, even without knowing our past. That was the key – that was the decision I needed to make to find my way back to you!”

“I didn’t dare hope,” he said hoarsely, cradling her face in his hands and searching her eyes for reassurance about the miracle they’d been granted.

“It’s true,” she replied blissfully, sliding her arms around his neck. “I’m here...”

“And I’ll not have ye leavin’ me again,” he vowed, capturing her in a kiss.

The rain and the spray of the sea made their lips slick, but the droplets of water did nothing to cool the heat of his mouth as it met hers. The kiss was forceful and passionate, totally unrestrained and exactly what Elizabeth wanted from him. He was a pirate, after all – an outlaw and a rogue, and it was only right that he take what he wanted in whatever manner he so chose. She revelled in his strength and gladly gave herself over to his will.

All around them, the battle raged on, but whether through the divine intervention of Calypso or some sorcery of their own making, they remained untouched, lost in the depth of their need and love. The power of the kiss swept through her, so all encompassing that it felt as though Hector was touching her in the most intimate of places. She whimpered helplessly into his mouth and invitingly parted her lips further. With a groan, he submitted to the temptation she offered and his tongue glided softly over hers in a gesture of tenderness that served only to intensify her unbearable longing.

There was no telling how long they might have carried on or how far they might have gone had they not been shaken back to their senses when the masts of the Pearl and the Dutchman violently collided. Elizabeth was jarred out of Hector’s embrace, grabbing his outstretched hand at the last minute to prevent herself from being thrown to the deck. The Black Pearl teetered above the dizzying black abyss, the two ships so close now that she could see Davy Jones and Jack Sparrow up amongst the rigging. Jack dangled dangerously above the whirlpool from the yardarm, with only a tenuous grip upon a small chest – and Jones’s writhing appendage –keeping him from plummeting to a churning, watery grave.

“Captain Barbossa!” shouted Marty from his perch on the bunt of the mast. “The wheel!”

Hector and Elizabeth both looked up at the helm where Flaherty valiantly attempted to keep two of Beckett’s men at bay as Cotton tried to catch hold of wildly spinning ship’s wheel. Unless Hector could hold the rudder steady, they’d likely end up dashed to bits by the force of the rough, circling waters and not see the outcome of the war at all.

“Go!” she yelled, and gave Hector one last quick, desperate kiss before releasing him. He retrieved his cutlass from the twitching body of the spiked monster and took the steps two at a time, slashing his way past whomever and whatever happened tried to stop him.

“Out of me way, ye poxy cur!” he roared as he drew his pistol and shot a slimy, slithering eel-man between the eyes, laughing scornfully as he sent it tumbling over the gunwale and into the ocean. Her heart swelled with pride to as she watched him cut swiftly through the melee. He was truly back in his element and where he belonged again. And at last, she felt as though the same could be said of her.

New shots rang out from the Dutchman’s guns and Hector ordered his men to return fire, making the whole of the Pearl shudder beneath Elizabeth’s feet as the twelve pounders let loose their loads. The crack of breaking beams forewarned of falling lumber, and she darted to the port side of the ship, deftly avoiding the wreckage as it rained down upon the men doing battle. Casting her gaze back up to the Dutchman’s riggings, she managed to pick out Jack, swinging around the main mast on a line with his long coat billowing behind him and his legs kicking frantically.

A hefty length of empty rope thumped heavily against the side of the Pearl and Elizabeth jumped atop the gunwale to grab hold of it. To help Jack and Will defeat Jones and take possession of the heart, she knew she should make her way over to the Flying Dutchman. A glance backwards made it clear that both her own crew from the Empress and the men of the Pearl were gaining the upper hand; perhaps sensing that the real fight was back aboard their own ship, most of Jones’ men had returned as though heeding some silent, indecipherable call. That was where the need was greatest, and yet she still hesitated.

“Go!” Gibbs yelled at her, pulling tight on the line to hold the capstan in place.

Elizabeth bit her lip and stared across the abyss to where the bow of the Dutchman dipped and sent up plumes of grey-white spray. She had gone last time to lend her sword to the cause, but what had really led her to do so was her love for Will Turner. She had thought that her rightful place was at his side, despite the events that had followed…

“Miss Elizabeth!” Gibbs bellowed. “They’ll not give you much time – our men can only hold them back for so long. What in blazes be you waiting for, an engraved invitation?”

In a sudden, heart-stopping moment, the choice was made for her. She heard the scream of the cannonball long before she saw it and threw herself down onto the Pearl’s deck just as it passed overhead. The portside stairs and a good chunk of the banister surrounding the quarterdeck exploded upon impact, and spears of dark wood blew outwards in every direction – including towards the helm. She threw up her arm, shielding her eyes from the deadly splinters hailing down around her.

“Hector!” Elizabeth shrieked, growing frantic when she was unable to see anyone standing on the deck above. Her dive to the boards had reignited the blazing pain in her side, but she forced herself to her feet regardless and staggered over to what was left of the flight of stairs. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she could hardly breathe. This couldn’t be happening…not now! Not after they’d had to endure so much just to be together!

She ran around to the starboard stairs and clambered up as quickly as she could, her fractured rib shooting pain through her torso every time she inhaled. Shards of wood lay everywhere and she stumbled over them, tripping and falling hard on one knee. Hissing between her teeth, she stood again and hobbled over to the helm.

The wheel itself was intact but unattended, spiralling so quickly that the blurred spokes were almost invisible. Men and Jones’ creatures alike were splayed out across the boards, most of them torn and bleeding but alive. Hector had been thrown back against the mizzen with a six-inch long chunk of wood buried in his thigh, in almost the exact same place he’d been shot by Marilyn. Blood trickled down his leg and his teeth were bared in an agonized grimace, but Elizabeth felt weak with relief that he was alive at all and not lethally wounded. As she watched, he attempted to stand on both feet, a deed make doubly difficult given the way the Pearl was listing badly towards the ravenous maw of the maelstrom.

“Stay where you are!” she cried, sliding ever closer as the Pearl continued to tilt. “I’ll take the wheel…”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Hector bellowed at her, his eyes wild and angry as he struggled to find a handhold and regain his feet. The glare he gave her was enough by itself to stop in her tracks. “’T’is spinning far too fast –ye’ll get yer arms torn clean off! Stand back, girl – I won’t tell ye a second time! Yer to obey me orders and well ye know it!”

The ship lurched again, tilting perilously towards the howling vortex. “Cap’n! The Dutchman is takin’ us down!” Flaherty barked, clasping the edge of a fractured beam to pull himself up.

For a moment, Hector stared hard at Flaherty. All at once, Barbossa’s expression lit up as inspiration dawned upon him. “Cotton! Grab the end of that there timber –you, Flaherty, take a share as well! Yer to shove it down beneath the handles and jam the wheel! Do it!” Hector managed to limp over to the jagged remnants of the banister and call down to Ragetti. “Make quick with the chain shot, Master Ragetti, or ‘tis the locker for us all!”

“Aye, sir!” Ragetti replied, scurrying away with Pintel to find the chained cannon balls they’d need to sever the Dutchman’s topmast.

On a count of three, Flaherty and Cotton shoved the beam beneath the wheel, breaking off at least half a dozen of the handles before the wheel caught and held. “Now!” shouted Hector, bracing himself and grabbing a firm hold of the wheel. He nodded to his crewman, signalling them to yank the shredded wood loose so he could steer them clear.

“Do it!” screamed Elizabeth, leaning over what was left of the balustrade to catch Ragetti’s attention. “Fire!”

The powder detonated and the shot arced skyward, the balls swinging end over end until they found their target. With an ear-splitting crack, the uppermost mast of the Dutchman was snapped off and Hector’s expert touch guided the Pearl up and out of the deadly whirlpool. As they sailed towards calmer waters, Elizabeth reluctantly glanced back to watch as the black, watery crater swallowed up what remained of the notorious Flying Dutchman...all but a mottled grey collection of sails and frayed lines that had caught the wind and lifted two passengers from the doomed, spectral vessel into the clearing sky.

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