Chosen Path

As soon as Barbossa left, reality came crashing down upon her. Elizabeth stared at the closed door for a moment before falling against it, sinking to the floor, head in hands. Her body trembled in fear, desire, and sorrow.



She had come so close to breaking her vows tonight. Perhaps she had, perhaps kissing was enough. She had wanted so much more though, wanted to feel alive again. It seemed all too likely that she would be breaking those vows, and soon. It wasn’t over, he had promised her. Hadn’t specified a when, but she suspected it would be the moment her son was unable to interrupt.



She should have feared it, should have hated him for it, or hated herself. But she didn’t. She ached for it, for him. Barbossa! She shook her head. Of all the people she could choose to have, the men she had nearly had, Barbossa was the last one she would have expected to desire, years ago. But desire him she did, with a fierce passion that rivaled any she had ever felt.



It was frightening, wanting him as she did, against all reason, all judgment. Barbossa was cruel and harsh, rough and wild, not at all the sort of man she should be taken with. But he was good to her, and kind, intelligent, and wise. And he knew how to make her feel.



Settling into bed, she tried to think of her husband, tried to recall his eyes, his scent, the feel of his hands on her body. But she could still taste Barbossa’s mouth on hers, his touch still burned on her skin. Will had always been nervous, tentative around her. She had pushed him for more when they were engaged, but he had always held back. Even when they were finally married, he had hesitated, not wanting to hurt her. Every touch, every gesture, he had wanted her permission.



Not so Barbossa. He had waited for her overall consent, true, but once it was more or less given, he hadn’t wasted breath asking after specifics. His hands had been rough on her breasts, his teeth sharp on her neck. He would not be the sort of lover a lady would abide. He would not be tender, she reflected, not gentle.



But Elizabeth was no lady, not anymore. His fingernails had scratched the skin on her back, his teeth had likely left a mark on her neck. Well, she had fingernails and teeth too, if that was how he wanted to play. Elizabeth felt a slow smile spread over her face with the anticipation. Would he make her scream? Perhaps she could make him scream first.



Will had been gentle and tender and loving and kind, and if she took another lover who was the same, it would have been a betrayal. But to take a man so different…it was hardly the same thing at all.



Elizabeth let her hands drift over her body where Barbossa’s had recently wandered. She had focused for so long on what he made her feel, she hadn’t yet given any thought to what she might do for him. He had come to her tonight for a reason; there were any number of willing women in Tortuga he could have sought, but he came to Elizabeth, without even a guarantee of consent. When they returned to the Pearl, she would have him, and it wouldn’t be a betrayal, because he was nothing like Will, and he would make her feel, and she would make him feel, because ten years was too long for anyone to go wanting, and they had that in common, after all.



“Mama?”



Elizabeth cracked an eye to see her son, sitting up beside her.



“Where’s Cappin Babossa?”



“He went to bed, love. So should you.”



“What were you doing with him?”



That, Elizabeth reflected, was an excellent question. As were “what are you thinking?” and “what’s come over you, Elizabeth?” Elizabeth sighed. She couldn’t very well explain it to a two year old, though. “Nothing, darling. Just…playing a game.”



“Can I play?”



“No. Go to sleep.”



“No! Cappinbossa tell me story!”



“William! It’s past your bedtime. I’m not going after Captain Barbossa just so he can tell you a story. Go. To. Sleep.” Elizabeth was struck with the sudden image of Barbossa, curled in bed beside her, weaving tales of heroics and dastardly deeds until William, satisfied, fell asleep. Then he would kiss her softly, and wrap her in his arms until she slept. Elizabeth smiled. It was almost as pleasant a fantasy as her earlier ones.



But William was not so easily deterred, and refused to leave his mother to her dreams. After ten minutes of listening to him whine about a story and playing with Barbossa, Elizabeth rolled over, massaging her temples.



“You want a story?”



William bounced to his knees. “Yes, mama!”



“Fine. Once upon a time there was a little boy who wouldn’t go to sleep. One day, his mother got so tired of him that she sold him to pirates. The end.”



“That’s not a story!”



William started to stand on the bed, and Elizabeth grabbed his arm and tugged him against her. “I’ve had quite enough of this behavior, William! Go to sleep! I mean it.”



William squirmed in her arms, but Elizabeth held tightly, and eventually he stilled. Elizabeth sighed and closed her eyes, but it was a long time before sleep claimed her.



In the morning, Elizabeth gathered her things and her unusually uncooperative son and headed back to the tavern’s main area for breakfast. Her stomach lurched at the sight of Barbossa, settling into a chair at an empty table. She had dreamed of him again, last night, vividly, yet she suddenly found herself second guessing the decision she had made. It was one thing to fantasize about having him, to tell herself it wouldn’t be a betrayal, but seeing him before her made it all very real.



As long as she still loved Will, as long as she would still meet Will…was Barbossa’s logic sound enough to circumvent her bonds? His eyes, roving the tavern, suddenly found hers, and his face brightened slightly. As she wove her way through the crowd, she couldn’t help wondering if he would kiss her.



What was he to her, anyway? They weren’t lovers, not yet anyway. They weren’t sweethearts, and they certainly weren’t engaged. He tended to be more restrained in public, however much he pressed his advantage when they were alone. But she had agreed to be his lover, so perhaps he would claim her publicly. Sliding into a chair beside him, adjusting William on her lap, Elizabeth felt she wouldn’t mind terribly, if he kissed her now.



He disappointed her, but only slightly. Barbossa took her hand and drew it to his lips. “Cariño,” he murmured against her fingers. “How was your evening?”



Elizabeth shivered. She had yet to determine what the Spanish word meant, but it always gave her chills when he called her that. “It was fine.” She let her eyelashes flutter slightly. “Perhaps not as pleasant as it might have been.”



He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and leaned close. “Tonight, Sweet. All the pleasures ye could want.”



Elizabeth started to lean her head against his, but their food arrived, and they both straightened to eat. Nervously, she picked up her fork and set about cutting small pieces for William, who was banging his own fork against the plate. Elizabeth grabbed his hand and glared until he stopped fighting her, then turned back to their food and her thoughts. She bit her lip. There was still time to back out, to change her mind and keep her vows to Will.



Elizabeth let her eyes drift over Barbossa as he ate, slowly, and with a half-smile on his face. Never again would this man take any feeling for granted. And the feelings he promised her for tonight…she did so want to know what he would feel like. She’d certainly thought of him before, imagining, in the safety of her own bunk, what it might be like to be with the great Captain Barbossa. She hadn’t expected to make it a reality. But now it seemed a certainty. Tonight, she thought to herself. It’s really going to happen, isn’t it?



“Aye, it’d better be.”



Elizabeth’s eyes darted up to meet his. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud. “You seem very certain.”



Something dark clouded Barbossa’s eyes, and he took her chin in hand. His voice was low when he spoke, but commanding. “Yer changin’ yer mind again, yeh best tell me now. Yer worth waitin’ for, but I’ve waited long enough. If ye’ll not be havin’ me, I’ll find someone who would, and before we leave tonight. Me needs and wants are gettin’ fierce, and I’ll not be waitin’ for Capetown to see ‘em satisfied.”



Elizabeth kept her gaze steady on his. “If that was meant to be a threat, it missed its mark. You’ve told me you wouldn’t force yourself, and I reserve the right to change my mind.”



“True, I won’t force yeh. But I might throw ye overboard.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened; he’d done so before, but at the time she didn’t have a son and a treasure chest to look after. “Also won’t go anywhere near open sea, so yeh can forget Singapore.”



“Is that to be the price of the journey then?”



Barbossa slammed his fist on the table, and Elizabeth jumped, sending William’s fork flying. “Dammit, Elizabeth, yeh gotta play these games? No price. Just tell me what ye bloody want.” Elizabeth retrieved William’s fork, only to have him throw it across the table again. “Yeh spend six months battin’ yer eyelashes at me, but yeh swear ye don’t want me. Last night ye said yeh did, now yer goin’ back on yer word.” Elizabeth fetched the fork again. When he reached back to throw it again, Barbossa leaned forward and plucked the fork from his grip, taking advantage of his positioning to glare into Elizabeth’s face. “There be plenty of women in Tortuga as would have me. Shall I go find one?”



Elizabeth stared daggers into the blue flames of his eyes. He had a lot of nerve. It wasn’t as though it had been easy for her. He’d certainly done his share of flirting, and he’d been the one to deny trying to seduce her in the beginning. Still, the memory of that serving girl practically in his lap sent a surge of jealous anger through her. She couldn’t bear to let some Tortugan wench claim what should have been hers.



When he started to rise from the table, she grabbed his arm and tugged him back into his seat. “Sit down, you arrogant beast. First of all, you were never particularly clear about your feelings on the matter either, so don’t start in on me about the flirting. You’re as much to blame as I am. Secondly, I never said I changed my mind, just that I reserved the right to do so. And thirdly, what makes you so certain you could find someone so easily?” Elizabeth nodded towards the surrounding tables where most of the Pearl’s crew were accompanied by several very satisfied-looking women. “Seems most of the women around here are already spoken for.”



“Yeh think this be the only tavern in Tortuga? All I need is one woman, Swann. I’m sure I can find one woman in Tortuga who’d want me.”



Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m certain you can find one. In fact, I believe you already have.” Barbossa raised an eyebrow. “I never said I changed my mind. I just meant I was a bit…nervous.”



Barbossa slid his hand over hers, rubbing her palm with his thumb. “What’re ye afraid of? Ye’ve done it before.”



“Ow! William!” Elizabeth rubbed at her leg, where William had suddenly taken to kicking her. She shifted William in her lap so his legs no longer dangled between hers, then turned back to Barbossa. “Does that answer your question?”



Barbossa frowned, and Elizabeth indicated the wriggly bundle in her lap. “I love my son. However…trying…he may be at the moment.” Elizabeth sighed. “I’m not sure I could handle another. Especially alone, and we’re not married.”



Understanding dawned on Barbossa’s face and he sat back in his chair. “Ahh. Ye needn’t worry. Ye’ll not find yerself with me child in yer belly, rest assured of that.”



“How can you be so certain? Just because you never have before doesn’t mean you cannot, it simply means you haven’t. I only had one day with Will, and he left me thus. I’m not sorry, but –”



Barbossa held up a hand to cut her off. “I can’t and I do know it for fact.” Elizabeth frowned as he shifted in his seat, glancing around, then leaning closer. “Yeh spoke of prices.”



“I did.”



“I should be dead, as ye well know. But I be returned to the living, though not by the grace of Calypso’s generosity.”



“I know. You had to release her. I don’t see what that has to do with –”



“Will ye listen?” Elizabeth sighed and adjusted William in her lap again. “Aye, that was part of the price. But there be also children. As I ought not to be here, I can’t be siring any offspring.”



“But you can still…?”



Barbossa’s half-smile told her he grasped her meaning. “I’ll show ye later.”



Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at him, offering a half-smile of her own. “It doesn’t seem like much of a price. You can bed all the women you want without fear of leaving them in a delicate condition.”



Something somber passed briefly through Barbossa’s eyes, but he lifted his cup to his lips. “Aye, ‘twas a small price to pay to be alive. Might’ve wanted a son.” Barbossa’s voice was surprisingly soft, and he muttered some more words into his cup that Elizabeth didn’t quite catch. She thought she heard something about “passing on,” but he wouldn’t meet her eyes and she couldn’t be certain.



“You’d want a son? I’d never have guessed.”



Barbossa shrugged. “It matters not now. Are ye satisfied with me certainty?”



“Yes. Thank you for telling me. It does ease my mind to know.”



“Good.” Barbossa trailed a finger down her back, sending shivers of anticipation throughout her body. “Ease a bit more than yer mind tonight.”



“Tonight.” Elizabeth breathed a soft sigh as he withdrew his hand. “Are we leaving already, then?”



“Aye, weigh anchor two hours before sunset. No time to lose if ye want to make Singapore this year. Comin’ on winter.”



Elizabeth frowned. “It’s January, Captain.”



“Aye. Winter in the southern hemisphere, Swann.”



Oh. She’d forgotten that, how the seasons were backwards south of the equator. “Oh. Good, then.”



And with that, William knocked their breakfast plate to the floor, strewing bits of egg and sausage on both of them, and Barbossa.



“William! What has gotten into you? You don’t do that!” Elizabeth picked up the plate and reached for a napkin, glancing at Barbossa, who was picking crumbs of meat off his coat. “I’m so sorry. He’s always been so good. I don’t know why he’s suddenly behaving this way.”



Barbossa eyed William for a moment. “How old’s he?”



“This many!” William held up two fingers on each hand.



“He’s two.”



Barbossa nodded. “That’s what got into ‘im. Just his age. Have yer hands full for the next year. Keep on him; can’t have ‘im run wild on the ship.”



Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Captain Barbossa, but you’ll forgive me if I don’t entirely believe you’re quite the consummate expert on child-rearing.”



“Six brothers ‘n sisters, Swann. All of ‘em younger.”



“Six!”



“Aye. Told ye there were many mouths to feed.”



“And you helped raise them?”



“No choice but to. When me father passed, someone had to take his place. I left as soon as a ship would take me.”



Elizabeth frowned. “Why would you leave, if you were to take his place?”



“One less mouth. Sent near every penny back to me mum. Don’t know what good it did. She died too, or so I hear.”



Elizabeth reached for his hand, slid her fingers through his. “I’m sure she was grateful. I’m sure it helped. What happened to your siblings?”



Barbossa shifted uneasily. “No idea. Perhaps it’s for the best I ne’er had a son.”



“You weren’t their father. At thirteen, you could hardly be expected to be.” Barbossa didn’t look any happier. Elizabeth squeezed his hand. What a puzzle this man was. He reminded her of a toy her father had once given her. At first, it seemed to be just a doll, but then the top and bottom broke apart to reveal a smaller doll within. Every time you thought you’d reached the last layer, another was revealed.



“You could be a father to William.”



Barbossa’s eyes narrowed. “He’s got a father.”



“Who isn’t here.” Elizabeth adjusted William again, in an attempt to quell his incessant drumming on the tabletop. “Captain Barbossa, I’m not sure I can do this alone.”



Barbossa extricated his hand and pushed himself up from the table. “Work to be done before we leave.” Elizabeth sighed, but nodded in agreement. Barbossa leaned forward and kissed her temple, then whispered gently into her ear. “Yer not alone. Long as I live and breathe, ye’ll ne’er be alone.”



Elizabeth turned sharply. Did he really care that much? She reached for him, the need to press her lips to his suddenly overwhelming, but before she could, before she could search for the truth in his eyes, he turned away, straightening his coat and hat as he stood.



Barbossa left enough coins on the table to pay for both of their meals, and Elizabeth hoisted William into her arms before hurrying after Barbossa to see to the ship’s provisions. He refused to speak further on the issue of her son, so she let the matter drop, and focused on stocking the ship. She helped for a time, but when she was satisfied they had enough food and water (the men could see to the rum supply), she ducked away to attend to a few needs of her own.



William needed new breeches and a shirt, and she hadn’t the time to sew up the clothes herself. She found what he needed and a pair for herself as well, and stuffed them into her satchel. She turned a corner and came upon a fruit vendor. The crew had already stocked oranges, bananas, plums, and limes, but hadn’t yet found Barbossa’s beloved apples. Spying a single, half-full basket of the precious fruit, Elizabeth inquired after the price. It was reasonable enough, and she haggled the vendor a few pennies down. Struck with a sudden desire to make a gift of them, she tucked them away in her sack so she might surprise Barbossa later.



She wandered a bit more, admiring the wares offered by the vendors in Tortuga, but restrained herself from buying more than she needed. Gone were the days when her every desire was fulfilled the moment she expressed it; she would never know now when they would come upon such good fortune again.



She rounded another corner, and nearly ran into a man heading in her direction. She excused herself and moved to step out of his way, but he stepped in the same direction. Elizabeth sighed and stopped, waiting for him to go around her, but he didn’t.



She glanced up at him. He was tall, taller than Barbossa, broad, dark-haired and rough-looking. She had spent the last four years of her life in the company of rough-looking men, but something in his eyes told her this one meant her ill. Elizabeth tugged William closer to her side, and started forward. The stranger turned and fell into step beside her.



“I know you,” he growled roughly in her ear. “You’re Lizzie the pirate wench, what had ev’ry man as sailed the Black Pearl.”



Elizabeth glared. “You don’t know me.” She quickened her step, but the man matched her.



“I’d be a pirate too, an’ take me equal share in the treasure of the Black Pearl.”



The man grabbed her arm and pushed her against the nearest building. “Get your hands off me!” She lost William’s hand as she struggled to fend off the stranger, fumbling for her pistol. “William, no!” She shouted after him, but he disappeared into the crowd.

“Who’s brat is he, anyway? Some say he’s Jack Sparrow’s, some say he’s Barbossa’s. Some even say he done came from Davy Jones, but I say ye don’t even know. Wench like you’s had too many to know, ain’t that so?”



Elizabeth barely registered the words as she fought to free herself, to chase after William. Her hand finally closed around her pistol, and in one swift movement she pressed the muzzle to his neck. “Do you fear death?”



The man’s eyes were hard, and to Elizabeth’s surprise, the cold steel at his neck failed to inspire him to back off. The hand that suddenly clapped his shoulder drew his attention, though.



“Be there a problem, sailor?”



The sight of Barbossa coming to her rescue wasn’t entirely new. But the sight of William on his hip came as both a shock and relief.



“No problem. Just engaging the wench in a bit of friendly conversation.”



Barbossa added his own pistol to Elizabeth’s, then nodded at her to take William back. “Ye’ll let the lady be, an’ show a little respect.” Elizabeth replaced her pistol and moved slowly to Barbossa’s side, gathering William in her arms.



The stranger’s hand twitched towards the sword at his side, and he let his eyes drift leeringly over Elizabeth’s figure. “She as good as they say? Hear she’s passed around the Pearl ev’ry night.” The man turned back to Barbossa. “Thought I’d give ‘er a ride. There’s enough o’ her for two, what say we share ‘er?”



The man barely had time to finish his thought before Barbossa’s fist connected with his jaw. The stranger stumbled to the ground, and Barbossa pulled his sword, holding it against his neck. “Don’t share me treasures.” He kicked dirt into the man’s face, wrapped an arm around Elizabeth’s waist, and dragged her back into the fray of Tortuga’s market.



Elizabeth adjusted her satchel and her son, glancing over her shoulder as Barbossa led her back to the docks. Satisfied that the stranger wasn’t following, she turned back to the man at her side. His treasure? What was happening between them? Perhaps there was something more than lust driving his actions after all. Elizabeth quickly dismissed the troubling thought.



“You didn’t have to do that.”



Barbossa glared. “Ye’d rather take yer chances with ‘im?”



“I can take care of myself.”



Barbossa looked her up and down. “Hard to pass as a lad with a babe on yer hip.”



“Evidently.” Elizabeth sighed, and let William slide from her arms, taking his hand as he trotted alongside them. “Thank you.”



Barbossa simply nodded and led her back to the Pearl. She had to skip every few steps to keep up with his long strides, and William was nearly running, but she had to admit it was safer having him at her side. And she didn’t really mind that his hand lingered at the small of her back. If it meant most of Tortuga now thought she was his…well at least nobody else would start getting ideas.



They reached the Pearl together, and Barbossa ambled on board to take stock of their provisions, while Elizabeth joined the men in helping load their new cargo. She’d expected their spirits to be high with the coming of a new journey on a well-stocked ship, but some of their faces seemed to be hardened into forced neutrality. When they didn’t realize she was looking, some even seemed annoyed.



Elizabeth wondered at that, but when the ship was loaded and she slipped alongside some of the men up the gangplank, she overheard a snatch of conversation that explained their irritation.



“Jus’ cause the Cap’n don’t need to make port to be makin’ port, if yeh take me meaning, don’ mean the rest of us don’t need to.”



Stricken by the comment, Elizabeth paused behind the men.



“Aye, be nice iffin he let enough women on board fer all of us.”



“Or shared. Wouldn’t mind a go with Miss ‘Lizabeth meself.”



Elizabeth tossed her head and swept by the men. “Well, perhaps if you’d asked nicely, you’d have had a chance. But if you were inclined, be certain to ask me and not Barbossa. I’m not his to share.”



Pintel, Ragetti, and Mullroy all turned to face her, chuckling stopped abruptly. They at least had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, poppet, we didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Jus’ that we was hopin’ to get another night on land.”



“Well, I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Captain’s orders, we leave, well, now. I don’t suppose anyone’s forcing you to come, though.”



“Naw, poppet, ‘course we’re comin’. Jus’ the ramblin’s of a daft pirate. Don’t think on it.”



But Elizabeth did think on it, all afternoon. She thought about it during the hour she spent playing with William. Thought about it when she entered Barbossa’s cabin, deposited her son in a chair where he happily played with the spinning toy she had found for him. She kept half an eye on him while she worked out their chart at the table, a corner of her mind devoted to thinking on Barbossa and her own reputation. The stranger’s words echoed in her mind, and now it seemed even her own crew-mates thought they might share her.



After another hour or two, Elizabeth had mapped out much of their course, recorded the ship’s log, and found their heading. William was begging to play with Jack again, so Elizabeth sent him scurrying after the monkey and approached the helm with their heading.



Barbossa wordlessly showed her the compass and she leaned over his arm to take a reading.



"Too far south. We need to keep to a more easterly course to avoid the shallows. Ten degrees should be enough."



Barbossa looked her up and down, then adjusted the helm until the compass matched her heading. “Ye learn quick. Ye’d better be right, though. I be trustin’ ye to get us to open seas.”



Elizabeth smiled. “I know I’m right. I had an excellent tutor.” She was pleased to see Barbossa’s smile grow to match her own. She turned her gaze back to the horizon, enjoying the feel of the wind on her face and the subtle warmth of Barbossa’s body next to her. Still, she couldn’t quell her ever-troubling thoughts.



“Do they really say that about me?”



Barbossa glanced sideways at her, reading her thoughts to ascertain the who and the what in her question. “Yeh care what the scum of Tortuga has to say about ye?”



Elizabeth shrugged. “He said I was a pirate wench. That I’d been with every man on the crew.”



Barbossa rolled his eyes. “Was just trying to unnerve yeh, put ye off yer guard.”



“It worked. He knew my name, Captain.” Elizabeth shuddered. “He said people talk about me. About William, who his father is. They say Davy Jones had me, and Jack, and you…”



“Not so far off the mark then.” Barbossa flashed her a leering grin. Elizabeth didn’t smile, though, and Barbossa heaved a sigh. “What’s it to ye what they say?”



“My honor.”



“Yer a pirate.”



“All the more reason to keep what honor I do have. Whom I’ve taken to bed is no one’s concern but Will’s, and perhaps yours, and even then I’d prefer you heard it from me, and not in some tavern.”



“Yeh think I care who you’ve had? Sparrow? I’d question yer taste, but it seems to have improved recently.”



Elizabeth blinked rapidly. “You think I’ve been with Jack?”



“Ye’d not be so up in arms if there hadn’t been some truth to it. I know ye’ve not had the crew, and no chance ye had Jones, unless they’re thinkin’ o’ his successor. That leaves Jack.”



“That leaves you. I never had Jack.”



The corners of Barbossa’s mouth twitched upward. “Too bad. He might’ve taught ye a thing or two.”



“I have faith in your abilities there, Captain Barbossa. You’ve already proven yourself an excellent tutor.”



Barbossa chuckled softly and slid an arm around her shoulder. She moved close, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder.



“Yeh really want to know?”



“Please.”



“Aye, folks talk about ye. Some of it ain’t flattering, true. I’ve heard yer a pirate wench, heard ye’d have any man for yer lover, so long as he calls himself pirate. Heard ye betrayed yer first lover to his death.” Elizabeth flinched. That hit too close to the mark for her liking.



Barbossa’s hand squeezed her shoulder and he continued. “But some have far kinder things to say. Some say yer Calypso, some say ‘twas ye that freed her. I’ve heard ye single-handedly brought down the East India Trading Company, and set free the oceans. And some say yer a love goddess, offerin’ a man such pleasures as he’s ne’er felt, and ‘tis only the luckiest, most skilled of men ye would deign take for yer lover.”



“And you believed that?”



“Bah. Don’t believe a word.”



“Good. I wish more people didn’t. I wish they didn’t talk at all.”



“Yer a legend, Captain Swann. It happens. Ye should hear the stories they tell about me.”



Elizabeth nodded slowly. She had heard a few stories about Captain Barbossa, called Blackheart, the man so evil even Hell wouldn’t take him. She found it rather difficult to reconcile those stories with the man who now stood at her side. “Sea turtles then.”



Barbossa frowned and Elizabeth laughed lightly, patting his arm. “Never mind.”



She contemplated the stories. She’d had some help with the Trading Company, but it was nice to know she was at least remembered for something she had done. It wasn’t the first time she’d been mistaken for Calypso, but as to the last story… “A love goddess, am I?”



“S’what they say.”



“And you think you might be worthy of my talents?”



Barbossa chuckled. “As I said, ye should hear the stories they tell about me.”



“I think you made that one up.”



“Did I now?”



“Yes.” Elizabeth turned her gaze back to the horizon. “There’s a storm brewing.”



“Aye, that be true.”



Elizabeth contemplated the helm. It was easy enough for Barbossa to steer in calm seas, but a storm tested even the best Captains, and Barbossa wasn’t quite back to full health.



“How is your wound? You seem to be feeling better.”



He nodded once. “Reckon I’ll live. Though if you'd care to examine it, I'd be a willin’ patient.”



Elizabeth tried to hide her smile. “I imagine you can take care of yourself.”



“Aye, been takin’ care of meself for some time. Wouldn't mind a bit of assistance, though.”



Elizabeth’s eyes widened. That was quite the implication. Not long ago, she would have missed his double entendre, but her months in the company of sailors had made her well attuned to such meanings.



Still, she kept her gaze, as his, steady on the horizon. “I might be willing. But not at the moment.” She wrapped her hand around an empty spoke of the wheel. “You've been at the helm too long. I'll take her for a bit.”



To her surprise, he did not argue, but relinquished the wheel, heading towards the steps. She was surprised too that he was leaving her side so quickly, but didn't protest. “Keep an eye on that wind. We’ll avoid the worst of it, if we can.”



Elizabeth tried to hold to their course, but it soon became apparent that she would have to alter it if they were to avoid the looming clouds in the ever-shrinking distance. When the first drops of rain fell, Barbossa sprang into action. She hadn't noticed him on deck, but now he was everywhere, barking orders to tie things down and prepare for the storm.



“William! Where’s my son?”



“He done went belowdecks with the monkey, Miss.” Elizabeth threw a grateful nod at Ragetti. He’d been invaluable helping with William while Elizabeth had Captained, but now that Barbossa was back on his feet, she needed to protect her son in the storm.



But she couldn’t leave the helm unattended. “Barbossa! I need you at the helm!”



Her voice was lost amongst the orders he shouted and the brewing storm. The wind was picking up, and the waves were now great rollicking monsters. Elizabeth struggled to maintain her grip on the helm, fighting to keep their heading.



She found strength she never knew she possessed as she dug her feet into the boards and gripped the wheel while the compass needle trembled as she fought the wind to keep them on course. Rain plastered her hair to her face and she shook it back, opening her mouth to let some of the water fall in, as she had done as a child.



In the months since she had returned to sea, she had yet to weather such a storm, and certainly not from the helm. Her heart pounded in her ears, her muscles strained, and the cold rain pelted her face, but Elizabeth, madly, felt a bubble of happiness brew from within her, exploding into laughter.



She never felt so alive as she did in battle, and this was a battle, though her enemy was neither soldier nor sailor, but nature herself. A battle of wills between her and the sea, and she refused to be defeated.



Suddenly, William re-appeared on deck, chasing the monkey, who carried some trinket in his paws. “William, get back below!” But Elizabeth’s voice was lost in the howling winds, and her son caught his ankle in a coil of rope and fell, sliding precariously close to the rail on the pitching ship. Elizabeth started to run to him, but as soon as she relinquished her grip on the helm, the ship only tilted worse, and William was gripping the side rails.



“Barbossa!” She called to him in desperation, searching for anyone to claim the helm from her, but none were close enough. She was sure Barbossa would never hear her over the wind and his own voice as he stalked across the deck, but he must have, or spotted William on his own, because he all but ran to the boy, grabbed his arm, hauled him to his feet, then lifted him to his side.



“Yer mother tell ye to stay below?” Barbossa bellowed at the child, nearly losing his footing as wave crashed over the deck. William simply shook and cried in response.



“Yeh listen to yer mother! Stay below in a storm!” Barbossa fought his way to the quarterdeck where she struggled to maintain her tenuous grip on the wheel. Was his limp more pronounced from the foul weather, or was it simply that he had William in his arms? Barbossa nearly crashed into her as the ship pitched and they exchanged helm for child.



“Yeh gotta control that kid o’ yers!”



“Then let me off the wheel sooner!”



Barbossa looked like he wanted to say more, but another wave crashed over the side and Elizabeth stumbled, nearly losing her grip on her son. Barbossa’s hand flew to her arm to steady her, without losing his control of the helm. “Use me cabin. Stay inside with the lad.”



Elizabeth stumbled down the stairs to the cabin, gripping William with all her strength. As she reached the cabin door, she stole another glance at Barbossa, bent over the helm, cackling as madly into the storm as she herself had just moments earlier. Elizabeth couldn’t resist the grin that broke over her face. She had always admired him as he battled nature’s fury; she thought perhaps she now understood what he felt.



She reached for the door of his cabin as another wave crashed over the deck, splashing her legs. Calypso. Was the storm the rage of the sea-goddess, furious over Elizabeth’s recent actions? Did she care that much? Did she care at all? Perhaps the storm was just a storm.



Calypso, she willed the sea-goddess to hear her thoughts, my bonds are not yours. I have kept true to my promise to Will. I love him, and I will meet him. I have not betrayed him, nor shall I!



If the goddess heard, though, she showed no sign, and the sea continued to pool at Elizabeth’s feet. Wrenching the door open, Elizabeth fell inside and collapsed into a chair with William. She rocked him and kissed him until he stopped crying.



“Cappinbossa yell at me,” he choked.



“Yes he did, because you didn’t do as you were told. You must stay below deck in a storm, William!”



“But Jack stoled my treasure!”



“You are my treasure, William. Your life is much more important than any silver, do you hear me?”



“Yes, mama.”



Elizabeth hugged him to her breast, running fingers through his wet hair. She wished she could do more to help the crew, hating her feeling of uselessness, but William needed her now, and she couldn’t risk leaving him alone again.



When at last the skies cleared, Elizabeth ventured out on deck, her son asleep in her arms. She stopped before Mullroy, the first crew member she saw. “All souls accounted for?”



“Aye, Miss. We’re out of the worst of it, though the seas will be rough for some time.”



Elizabeth nodded wearily and descended to her makeshift cabin. She stripped William of his wet clothes and wrapped him in a blanket while she fumbled through their trunk for something dry.



He would have to settle for mostly dry. She dressed William and tucked him into bed, adding her own blanket to his. It was early yet, but he hadn’t had his nap today, and was clearly exhausted.



When William’s breathing slowed and sleep took him, she dazedly made her way to the galley, where the men were passing around soggy bread and cheese. They had just brought it on board and Elizabeth, too, had been looking forward to fresh food for one more night.



She curled up in a corner and ate, the crew uncharacteristically quiet.



“’Ow come you ain’t with the Captain, Miss Elizabeth?”



Because if I go anywhere near him now, I’ll kiss him again and won’t be able to stop, and I’m terrified of what that means.



She kept her thoughts to herself, though. “You don’t appreciate my company?”



“No, Miss. Just reckon he’d appreciate it more.”



Elizabeth smiled into her plate. “Has he eaten?”



Mullroy shrugged and handed her a second plate of food.



Elizabeth found Barbossa on deck, charts and sextant spread on the table before him. She approached, and offered him the plate.



“Find your guiding star?”



He lifted his head, looking her up and down. “Aye. Reckon I have.”



She felt her cheeks grow warm and she stood tentatively beside him, examining the charts while he chewed on the bread. “Are we far off course?”



“Bit further south than I’d like,” Elizabeth flashed him a pointed look, “but we’ll be alright. Yeh plot a fine course fer us, Captain Swann.”



Elizabeth took up the sextant and double checked their position. There were few stars tonight, but she found the North Star as it flashed intermittently behind a cloud. After taking a reading, she moved Barbossa’s marker just a hair north of where he had placed it.



“We moved since I placed that.”



Elizabeth couldn’t suppress a smug smile.



“Don’t be gettin’ all up in yer head about it. How’s the lad?”



“A bit worse for wear, but he’ll be fine. He’s sleeping now.”



Barbossa studied the last bite of his cheese. “Shouldn’t’a yelled at ‘im.”



“Yes you should have. You likely saved his life. I’ve told him a thousand times to stay below and he doesn’t listen. He’s lucky he got no worse than an earful.”



“Not my son to discipline.”



“Part of your crew, though. Besides, he needs a father.”



“That ain’t me.”



“No. But you’re the closest he’s got.” Elizabeth eyed Barbossa. He still hadn’t truly answered her earlier question. “He does adore you, you know.”



Barbossa surprised her by smiling. “Rather fond of the tyke meself. Never thought I’d say that about a Turner.”



“I’m a Turner. You seem to like me well enough.”



He shook his head. “Yer a Swann first, though. It suits ye. Elegant, graceful. Better ‘an Turner, common name. Yer no common lass, by any means.”



“I still love Will, you know. That hasn’t changed.”



“What has changed?”



She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t love you.”



“Don’t love ye either.” Elizabeth felt her eyebrows lift. “Surprised?”



“I don’t know. I thought…what do you want of me then, if you don’t love me?”



“Could ask ye the same thing.”



“I asked first.”



Barbossa brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want yer mind, make no mistake.” His eyes drifted downwards. “I want yer body, but ye knew that.” She had known that, but she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed hearing it. “Let Turner keep yer heart. Don’t want it. I’d likely break it anyway.”



Elizabeth’s eyes shot up to meet his. There was that sorrow again, that he tried so hard to keep hidden. “You’re a good man, Captain Barbossa.” He snorted. “You are! I have faith in you. But I’ll not ask for your heart, nor give you mine. I would take…whatever else you might give.”



His face softened then, and he reached for her. “Elizabeth.”



“Captain.” He frowned, shaking his head slightly. “H-hector?” A small smile spread over his face. “Hector.”



She was in his arms before she knew she had moved. It had been so long, she wanted to feel again, and he was so much more than she had ever dreamed he could be. His fingers tangled in her hair, his other hand stroked her back as she reached up, twining her own fingers around a stray lock. She nudged his neck with her nose, and then his cheek pressed against hers, and he pulled her tighter into his embrace.



It was inevitable, now, what would follow. She thought briefly of escape, of flying to her own bunk, far from his arms, but when she moved her feet, they only moved her closer, she couldn’t stop the audible gasp that escaped her mouth when his lips brushed her neck, couldn’t stop her head from turning to meet them.



Kissing him was salvation, homecoming, need and want and trust and passion. It was just lips at first, hot and dry, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more, and he gave it. Tongues and teeth and fingernails against hot skin. He kissed her as Will never had, as she had tried to kiss Jack before…no, she wouldn’t think about that. Couldn’t think about anything but the feel of his lips, his fingers, his body pressed against hers. The delicious little noises coming from his mouth.



When he finally pressed her against his cabin doors, he released her mouth and pressed his forehead to hers. “No turnin’ back now.” She felt her breath catch. He was right; if she entered his cabin, she wouldn’t be able to change her mind. “Can ye break another commandment?”



Elizabeth raised her chin. “I think I live by a different code now.”



Barbossa’s lips curled into a delicious smile and he set about devouring her neck while fumbling with the door to his cabin. “Besides,” she gasped into his ear, “I think they’re really more what you’d call guidelines than actual rules.”



She hadn’t expected it would be that easy to make him scream. He released a seemingly involuntary “arrrgh,” baring his teeth and twisting his face. Once, the gesture had frightened her, but now she laughed, pulling him closer, glad for the reminder that he was, unquestionably, quintessentially, a pirate, the sort she’d once only dreamed of having. She had him now, as much as he had her. Barbossa groaned deeply into her neck and finally tugged the door open, pulling her inside without once breaking contact.



When she finally had her wedding night with Will, he was tender, gentle, whispering soft words of affection as he made love to her. Hector Barbossa was not gentle. He was not quiet.



But Elizabeth didn’t want gentle this night, couldn’t abide quiet. Her body still burned with the raw energy of battling nature’s fury, and she needed passion and fire and he gave her everything. His cries of pleasure stoked her own fire, and she matched them as she never dared before.



There were far too many buttons on his vest, and she couldn’t get her damn boot off, but finally they tumbled onto his bed together, and his skin was hot against her own as he tugged her rain-soaked chemise over her head. She had a sudden attack of nerves as his hand trailed along the waistband of her breeches, but then his mouth was on her neck again, and he didn’t wait for her permission to slip his hand inside, and then she couldn’t remember why she had ever tried to stop him before.



They were both naked before she knew how it had happened, but she was on her back again, and she knew better now. She pushed against him until he pulled back, eyes narrowed dangerously. She smiled mischievously, though, and pushed him onto his back, climbing atop him as he’d shown her just days earlier.



It did work that way.



It worked that way, and it was everything, everything she needed, everything she’d been wanting for nearly six months. Her world was Barbossa – Hector! – and he was everywhere, within her and without, hands on her skin, his own skin smooth and hot beneath her desperately roving fingers. She had never imagined it could be this way, all heat and desire and lust, but it was glorious, exquisite, explosive, and over much too quickly.



They were both sated, though, and she collapsed in his arms, both gasping for breath, bodies slick with sweat.



“I can't believe we just...”



Barbossa slid his hand along her back. “Regrets?”



“No.” He squeezed her tighter.



“Good.”



Elizabeth twisted her fingers in his damp hair. “It didn’t take very long, though, did it?”



“Took six damn months.” Barbossa’s head lifted, his face etched with sudden concern. “Yeh did…?”



Elizabeth smiled. “Oh yes. You didn’t notice the screaming?”



Barbossa’s head fell back against the pillow, his chest heaving with soft laughter. “Just makin’ sure. Wouldn’t have ye go wanting after all this time.”



She pressed her lips to his neck and murmured sleepily into his ear. “As I said, you’re a good man. I’m quite satisfied.”