Chosen Path

Elizabeth huddled, trembling, in the corner of the cabin. As a girl, she had dreamed of being kidnapped by pirates, but the reality was far less romantic and exciting than she had imagined.



Not only were these pirates not dashing and roguish, but they weren’t even entirely alive! Ghosts, the walking dead. Even Captain Barbossa, who had been almost kind, could bleed but could not die. The warmth of a woman’s flesh, he had said. Elizabeth shivered. Her hands were cold.



The door opened and clicked shut again, and Elizabeth tried to disappear into the corner, but to no avail. The Captain found her easily, and towered over her.



“The hour grows late. Ye should sleep.”



“I’m fine.”



“Ye’ll not be sleeping in the corner. Get up.”



Elizabeth curled further into herself. Captain Barbossa rolled his eyes and reached for her arm. “Up!” He pulled her to her feet and led her to a cordoned off area of the cabin. He pushed aside the curtain and shoved her ahead of him. Elizabeth stumbled, landing on the bed hidden within his most private quarters.



“Not exactly the governor’s mansion, but it should be adequate. Fer a maid.”



Elizabeth righted herself and perched at the edge of the bed, arms folded. The turned-down sheets were threadbare and the blankets tattered, but they would surely be more comfortable than the floor she had barely dozed on last night.



Barbossa closed the curtains behind them. “Try layin’ down. An’ take off that dress. Can’t sleep in that.”



Elizabeth’s eyes widened. So that was it then. Closing the curtains, asking her to undress...it could only mean one thing. Her fingers shook as she worked open the fastenings of her dress. She couldn’t stop the small sigh of pleasure from escaping her lips as the last fastening came undone and the dress opened. Though it was not nearly so constricting as the corset her father had provided, it had been a bit snug, and breathing came much easier now.



Even that small admission of pleasure seemed to affect the Captain, and Elizabeth regretted her temporary loss of control. She turned so she wouldn’t have to face him, but she still felt his eyes roving her body. She let the dress slide from her shoulders and heard his breath hitch. Well. He wasn’t so undead, then, if he still had to breathe.



She stepped out of her shoes and turned, slowly, to face him. He seemed to be a man accustomed to hiding his emotions, but the unbridled lust that shone in his eyes made her stomach clench. This turn of events was hardly unexpected; it had, in fact, been an integral part of her youthful fantasies of being kidnapped by pirates. Of course, the pirate captain in her imagination was generally younger and handsomer (and bearing a remarkable resemblance to Will Turner) than this Barbossa. He did have a way with words, though, and the commanding presence she had always dreamed of. Perhaps she could close her eyes and pretend he was Will Turner.



Captain Barbossa tugged the sheets back. “Lie down.” His commanding voice left no room to disobey. It was no good. He was nothing like Will.



Elizabeth slid between the sheets and pulled the blankets to her chin. He might tear them away, but she wouldn’t have him thinking she was encouraging him. She couldn’t allow him to know she had ever fancied such a thing. Because she certainly didn’t. Not now, and certainly not with him.



Captain Barbossa did not make any move towards her, though, and simply stood over her, watching her settle against the pillows.



“Everything to yer liking?”



She suspected the bedding might have been fine, once, but now had fallen to ruin, much like the rest of the ship and its crew. It was not precisely to her liking, but a maid wouldn’t know such luxury even as this, so she did not protest. “It’ll do.”



She closed her eyes and steeled herself for the inevitable. He would be climbing into bed beside her, any moment now, and touching her where no man ever had before. She shivered with anticipation and dread. It would hurt, she’d heard it would hurt, and she didn’t think he would be gentle.



But there was no creak of boots moving on wood, no rustle of sheets or hands near hers. Elizabeth cracked an eye open. Barbossa continued to stand over her, watching, waiting, but not moving. What was he waiting for then? Not that she was eager, but if he was going to do it, she’d rather he just got it over with.



“Well?”



“Well what?”



“Aren’t you going to,” she searched for the best way to put it, “have your way with me?”



The Captain grunted. “There be no point, no purpose to it.”



Elizabeth frowned. This wasn’t turning out as she had expected at all. “Oh.”



Suddenly he lurched forward, half-lying beside her. His hand cupped her chin, then a finger slid down her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drew in a shaking breath. It felt surprisingly…not terrible…to have this strange pirate touching her thus. His thumb rubbed against her chin and caressed her lower lip. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt…



Then, just as suddenly as he had come to her side, he was gone. Elizabeth’s eyes flew open and she remembered how to breathe.



She blinked at the Captain’s retreating back. “You’re going to leave me alone then?”



“Don’t sound so disappointed.”



She adjusted the blankets with a huff. Disappointed! “Don’t flatter yourself.”



Barbossa’s laugh was low and menacing, and Elizabeth shivered beneath the blankets. She tossed and turned for a time, anticipating his return, but he never attempted to claim her. Had she sounded disappointed that he wouldn’t? Surely she wasn’t. She had wondered what it might be like, but it was far better to keep her honor, to wait until she was properly married. This Captain Barbossa had no right to her maidenhead.



Still, it might have been...exciting, to be taken by a pirate. She sat up on her elbows and studied the cabin, but there was no sign of the Captain. Settling back against the pillows, she let sleep claim her, and dreamt of the fierce, yet benevolent, pirate Captain Will Turner.



Elizabeth awoke as something shifted beneath her. She shielded her eyes against the low light of the cabin as Barbossa attempted to extricate himself from her arms. “Where are you going?”



Barbossa caressed her cheek with his thumb, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead. “Candles be still burning. Be along in a minute.”



Elizabeth sat up, pulling the sheet up over her breasts. She wasn’t accustomed to being naked in front of others, but Barbossa didn’t seem bothered by it, moving about his cabin dousing candles and attending to his bedtime routine clad only in the pendant he wore around his neck. She tried to avert her eyes, to offer him some privacy, but if he’d wanted privacy, he could have easily slid his breeches back on. He hadn’t, so she concluded she was perfectly justified in looking.



She couldn’t help but admire him. He was in remarkably fine form, for a man of his years (how old was he, anyway?), with muscles that rippled beneath tanned skin. No, he was not as handsome as Will, but he wore his scars with pride, and there was something magical about the way the skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. She would never love this man, but she could perhaps be glad of his company.



“I had a dream, just now.”



Barbossa glanced back at her. “Anything good?”



“You. The day we met. Do you remember?”



“Aye, could ne’er forget. Not so disappointed anymore, are ye?”



Elizabeth rolled her eyes and smiled. “Don’t flatter yourself.”



Barbossa chuckled. “‘Tis not flattery when it be true.”



“You’re incorrigible.”



“And yer in me bed. Of yer own volition.”



Elizabeth laughed softly. “I can’t argue that.” She settled back against the pillows as the room grew darker, awaiting his return. It was warmer with him beside her.



Something small and furry landed on her head, and Elizabeth couldn’t stop the small scream from escaping her lips.



She jerked up, flailing. “You vile creature, get off me!” The monkey hissed and scurried to the foot of the bed. Elizabeth glared. “Barbossa, your pet,” she spat the word, “attacked me!”



Barbossa placed his basin of soapy water beside the bed and gathered the creature into his arms. “Now, Jack, be nice to our Elizabeth.” The monkey chattered and climbed onto Barbossa’s shoulder, wrapping its arms around his neck. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought the monkey was glaring at her.



Barbossa actually nuzzled the creature’s head. “Jack. There’s no need for that. Yer still Daddy’s favorite, yes you are.” The monkey jumped from Barbossa’s shoulder and curled up against the pillow next to Elizabeth. She drew back, disgusted.



“Please tell me you don’t sleep with the monkey.” Barbossa didn’t answer and avoided meeting her eyes. “Oh, you do, don’t you?” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose as the monkey pulled up a corner of the sheet to Barbossa’s apparent amusement. She swung her legs off the bed, searching the floor for her clothes. “Well, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of the happy couple. I’ll just leave you two alone, shall I?”



Barbossa sighed. “Come on, Jack. Ye’ll sleep in yer own bed tonight.” He had a bed? The monkey had his own bed? Arms folded, Elizabeth watched as Barbossa gently carried the creature to a corner of the cabin where it disappeared into the darkness. When Barbossa returned, he came behind her and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her back down to the mattress. “Happy now?”



Elizabeth wriggled beneath him, slipping her arms around his neck as she kissed him. “Yes. Thank you.”



Barbossa laid her down against the pillows, and rolled over. Sitting up, he began to unwind the bandages still wrapped around his waist.



“Would you like help?”



Barbossa raised an eyebrow. “If ye’d like.”



“Come here then.” Barbossa settled back into bed and Elizabeth gently removed the last bandage from his wound. He hissed as the fabric pulled away from his skin and Elizabeth winced. The cut was oozing slightly, a bit more open than she would have liked to see. “You’re overexerting yourself.” Elizabeth bathed the wound, revealing the tender flesh beneath the pus and crusted salt water. “You need to give yourself time to heal.”



“Needed to take the helm in the storm.” Barbossa flinched slightly when she applied the alcohol. “I’ll be fine.”



“Just be careful. That was no natural thing that attacked you.” Barbossa’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing. “And let me help you.” Elizabeth applied a fresh bandage and rewrapped the rags that held it in place. This time when she wrapped her arms around him, he took advantage of their position not just to leer, but to kiss her deeply.



Pulling the sheets up over them both, Barbossa slid an arm around her shoulders. “Ye’ll stay tonight?”



Elizabeth nestled against him. “Yes.”



A slow smile spread over his face, and she traced the lines that formed around his eyes as he kissed her again. “Why didn’t you have me then?”



Barbossa frowned. “When?”



“The first night. All those years ago.”



Barbossa sniffed. “No pleasure in it fer me. Ye’d not have enjoyed, and I’d get no release. Besides, I don’t like to force, ye know that.”



“And if my blood had worked?”



Elizabeth felt his body stiffen next to hers. “I’ll not be having this conversation.”



“Why not? I think I’ve a right to know.”



“Rather not think on it. I’d like to think I’d have let the matter be. But I be glad I wasn’t tested. After ten years of wantin’ can’t say I’m sure I’d have had any restraint left.”



“No, I have faith in you. You’re a good man, Hector Barbossa.”



Barbossa snorted. “Yeh can keep sayin’ that all ye like, won’t make it true.”



“But you are! Why don’t you believe me?”



“Elizabeth, I be a murderer. A thief, a mutineer. I’ve ne’er pretended to be other than what I am, and I’ll not hear it from ye. Ye take me as I am, or leave me be, but don’t be making me something I’m not. I’ll not change for ye, I’m too old and too stubborn, so ye best be abandoning this line of thinking.”



Elizabeth sighed into his neck. “If you’re not a good man, then I’m not either.”



“Ye be no man, and I be in a position to know it.”



“Very funny. You know what I mean.”



He linked his fingers with hers. “Y’are what ye are. And ye can either live with it, or ye can chart a new course. Nobody made ye come back to sea.”



“That’s true. I’m much happier here than I ever was on land.” Barbossa lifted her hand to his mouth, caressing her fingers with his lips. “Am I so terrible a person?”



“Depends on who ye ask. I like ye just fine.”



“Well, that’s something at least.”



“Are ye satisfied now? It’s been a long day, and I be quite done in.”



Elizabeth yawned and curled against him. “As do I. As am I, I mean. Goodnight, Captain Barbossa.”



“Sleep well, cariño.”



Elizabeth had never shared a bed with any man before, and this one was clearly going to take some getting used to. Quiet was never a word she associated with Barbossa, and even in sleep he was not still. He tossed and turned at times, and at others he snored.



She nudged his arm when he woke her, but he continued snoring. Elizabeth sighed and turned away from him, but it was no good. “Captain?” He didn’t react to her whisper. “Captain Barbossa?” Nothing. Elizabeth sighed. “Hector, wake up.” She shook him to no avail, and finally covered his mouth with her own. He reacted instinctively to the kiss, but only barely woke. As she drew away, he rolled onto his side and pulled her close. His snores quieted and, holding her, he stilled. She slept then, to the low hum of his breathing and steady pressure of his arm around her waist.



The sun began to peek through the windows, and Elizabeth rolled over, shielding her eyes. She was suddenly cognizant of the man at her side, and the fact that they were both quite naked. She watched him for a moment, as he slept. He looked peaceful, for once, his face serene.



Hector Barbossa. She wondered if she should call him Hector now. She never had before, but he had asked her to, and she was sure she recalled gasping the name at some point last night. She chewed her lip at the memory.



Something gnawed at the pit of her stomach. Last night had been...incredible...but he wasn’t Will. He would never be Will, and however much she tried to convince herself of his supposed virtues, he was still Barbossa, and she would not call him Hector. He wasn’t her husband and she would never love him.



He stirred, and rubbed sleep from his eyes. A slow smile spread over his face as his eyes settled on her figure beside him. He mumbled something and pulled her down for a languid kiss. Panic seized her as he slid his hand along her naked body, drawing her against him. This couldn’t happen again! It should never have happened in the first place, and oh Will, what had she done?



“Captain...” She twisted out of his grip. “I have to go.”



“Bit late for that. Bell’s not sounded yet, there be time enough to enjoy each other’s company a bit longer.”



“I…I need to look in on William.” She slithered away from him, and he reached for her again, but then the bell did sound, and he dropped his arms.



Elizabeth offered a shrug that she hoped looked apologetic. “Eight bells.”



“Aye. Step to, Captain Swann.”



Elizabeth offered him a mock salute. “Aye, aye, Captain Barbossa.”



Elizabeth slid out of the safe cocoon of the blankets and set about getting dressed. It was more challenging than she’d have expected. Her clothes were strewn haphazardly about the cabin, mingled with his. She slipped her shirt on and couldn’t help laughing when the sleeves hung to somewhere around her knees.



“I think this one’s yours, Captain.”



Barbossa had found his breeches and one boot. He looked her up and down, then held a hand out to her. “Then I’ll be havin’ it back.”



Her smile faded and she tossed the shirt back to him, ignoring his eyes that roved her naked body. She discovered to her displeasure that her breeches were still damp in patches, and that her shirt had suffered a tear in Barbossa’s haste to divest her of it. She would have to mend that later.



With her vest and effects in place though, the rip didn’t show, and she supposed she looked presentable enough, though her matted hair might give her away. She combed her fingers through it, but there wasn’t much to be done until she could get to the brush she kept in her trunk.



Satisfied, Elizabeth went to the table to check the charts and ship’s log. Perhaps it would appear that she had merely entered his cabin in the early morning to work out where the storm had carried them. The log was there, as expected, but the charts were not.



She looked to Barbossa in panic, and as their eyes met, memory struck her. Barbossa had brought the charts on deck last night, and they had never thought to bring them back in. They moved as one to the cabin door, hoping desperately that the sextant and compass had been sufficient paperweights.



They hadn’t been. The tools were there on deck, but the charts were missing. “No! No, no no!” Elizabeth scrambled, searching. They were hung without them, possibly literally, if they stumbled into the wrong port.



“What are yeh thinkin’, Swann, leavin’ the charts on deck all night?”



“Me?” She whirled to face the Captain. “You’re the one that brought them out in the first place!”



“Yer responsibility to keep ‘em safe. Call yerself Navigator?”



“How dare you put this on me! You’re as much to blame as I am, if not more!”



“Looking for these?”



The both turned as one to see Pintel with the charts rolled up in his hands. “You done left them out, an’ I was going to return them, but you sounded a bit busy in there, and I didn’t think you’d take kindly to my interruptin’.”



Barbossa snatched the charts from his hands and Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow hot. Barbossa headed for his cabin and Elizabeth stormed off towards the stairs leading below. “Where d’you think yer goin?”



Elizabeth let her anger lace her words as she called over her shoulder. “To check on my son!”



William roused slowly, clearly still exhausted from the previous day. “Come on William, let’s get breakfast.”



When they joined the crew in the galley, Elizabeth determinedly ignored the arm-nudging and knowing glances the crew offered her. She’d not intended to publicize the change in her relationship with the Captain, especially when she couldn’t quite make sense of it in her own head, but evidently word had already spread.



William ate less than usual, but Elizabeth didn’t worry too much on it. He broke free of her hand on deck, running to greet Pintel and Ragetti. He managed to catch his foot in a coil of rope, entwining his entire leg before Ragetti extricated him from the mess.



Pintel paused in his work to grin at the sight. “Well, now, Poppet, but who does that remind you of?”



Elizabeth frowned, but Ragetti just laughed. “Reckon that’s Bootstrap all over again, he is! Always catching his bootstraps in something. C’mon Bootstrap Billy, we’ve a deck to swab.”



“His name is William.”



“Think Billy sounds a bit more piratey, eh?”



“Not especially, no.” The men simply laughed at her protests and stuck a mop in Billy’s – William’s hands. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and set about her own duties. The storm had blown them off course, but their current heading compensated well enough, so she avoided Barbossa at the helm and took William off his caretakers’ hands.



William seemed unusually lethargic, though, and wouldn’t run from her when she tried to chase him around the deck. She even offered to find Jack for him to play with, but he just shrugged. He agreed to a story, but when Elizabeth drew him into her arms, she felt his hot forehead and knew something was wrong.



“Mister Murtogg?” Elizabeth called the former Navy man down from the rigging. “I may be in need of your services again.”



Together they took William back to his bunk. Murtogg gave her alcohol in which to bathe the child, cooling his body, and they both stood over him as he slept fitfully.



“He’s got a bit of a fever, but there’s nothin’ to be done for it but to wait. Keep ‘im warm, feed ‘im broth. He’ll heal up ‘imself, in time.”



Elizabeth stroked her son’s hair. “If we make port, we can find a doctor, a real one. Not that I don’t appreciate what you’ve done.”



“Won’t help none, though. Doctor can’t do nothin’ I’ve not already done.”



“Are you sure of that?”



“Positive. I’m not good with stitches, but fevers I know.”



Elizabeth nodded, and softly kissed her son’s head. “Then please ensure we have plenty of broth for him.”



She watched over her son for most of the day. He mostly slept, or cried, and struggled to get out of bed. He pushed food away, even the mild broth Murtogg brought them. At suppertime, the smell of something stronger than broth wafted in ahead of Murtogg. Elizabeth turned eagerly, her stomach suddenly reminding her how hungry she was.



When the curtain was pushed aside, though, it was not Murtogg who stood before her, but Barbossa.



“You eat yet today?”



Elizabeth shook her head as he handed her a plate. She gratefully devoured its contents, watching as Barbossa leaned over William, smoothing his hair off his forehead. “How’s the boy?”



“He’s not well. Captain, I’m scared for him.”



“He’ll be alright. We’ll make port in Barbados, if need be. But I don’t think we will. He’s a child, they get sick.” He leaned towards Elizabeth, rubbing his thumb along her cheek. “He’ll be alright.”



Elizabeth lowered her eyes. “I hope you’re right. He’s all I’ve got, Captain.”



Barbossa looked at her steadily for a moment. “Not so, Elizabeth.” Their eyes locked for a moment, and she wondered if perhaps there had been something more to their coupling than a desperate need for release. Before she could think too long on it, he turned away, and eased himself onto her bunk.



“Six brothers and sisters. None of ‘em died on my watch. I’ll do what I can to keep yer lad well.” Barbossa watched as she ate and William slept fitfully.



“Thank you.” She tried to avoid his gaze. “I’m sorry about the charts. You were right, I should have thought of them.”



“Bah.” Barbossa waved her apology away. “My fault. Suppose I can’t blame yeh for being distracted.”



“That wouldn’t be a very good excuse if we’d run aground.”



“True. But I’ve a spare set of charts in me cabin. We’d have been fine.”



Elizabeth shot him a glare. After all that fuss, he’d had a spare set all the time? “You’re impossible, do you know that?”



Barbossa chuckled. “Aye.” He patted the space on the bed beside him. “C’mere.”



Elizabeth bit her lip and shook her head. What had she been thinking, taking to his bed? True, it had been pleasant enough, but now she’d given him the idea that it might happen again. And she should never have left her son alone on a cold, wet night. If she’d stayed with him, he wouldn’t be sick now.



Barbossa folded his arms. “Why’re ye avoiding me? Do we really need to talk about it?”



“About what?”



Barbossa rolled his eyes. “Last night. Yeh seem to have a different take on matters today than ye did yesterday. Do ye want to discuss it?”



Elizabeth shrugged. “I was lonely, I needed it. You were there. That’s all it was. I didn’t think it bore further discussion.”



Barbossa sighed. “Did ye think it might bear repeating?”



Elizabeth studied her fingernails. “I don’t know.”



“Thought ye said ye weren’t regrettin’ it.”



“I’m not. I don’t. I just...things look a little different now, is all.”



“Ye’ve still got seven years to wait. Don’t expect me to wait around another six months for ye.”



Elizabeth turned to look at him as he lounged on her bunk. So that was it then? He wasn’t going to try to pursue her; he’d just seek his pleasure elsewhere?



“I don’t think that would be setting a very good example.” At his frown, she continued. “For William. He looks up to you, Captain, whether you admit it or not.”



“Yer in no position to tell me how to live my life. Ye want me to be a father to the boy, I’ll do me best. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to change who I am or what I do when we make port.”



“Actually, it does mean that. It has to. Being a mother…means every decision I make, I ask myself if it’s what’s best for William. He’s my very first priority in everything I do. If you’d be a father to him, I’d ask that you do the same. If you can’t, I would understand.”



Barbossa sighed and moved closer to her, reaching across to take her hand in his. She pulled away, but he held fast. “Yeh gotta complicate things? Nothing’s changed between us, Elizabeth.”



“Everything’s changed! We crossed a line last night, Captain. It’s not that I didn’t want to, precisely. It’s just…Will…I don’t want to betray him.”



Barbossa tugged on her hand. Hesitantly, Elizabeth lowered herself onto the bed beside him. His arm came around her shoulders, and she sat stiffly against him. “I’ll get ye to Turner when the time comes.”



Her head snapped up. “You will?”



“Yeh think I want him going the way of Jones? Especially if I be the cause? I’d see that curse broken as much as ye.”



Elizabeth nodded, her mind considerably more at ease then it had been most of the day. As long as she wasn't betraying Will... “Then perhaps we can reach an accord of sorts.”



“Name yer terms.”



“No terms. I’m in no position to make promises, and I don’t love you. But we could perhaps attend to certain needs to our mutual satisfaction.”



Barbossa pulled her closer. This time she didn’t protest. “Agreed.”



His kiss was hot and insistent. She returned it for a moment, but when his hand slipped beneath her chemise, she pushed him away. “Well, not now! I’ve a sick child to look after.”



Barbossa nodded. “If ye need a break, my cabin’s always open to ye. We’ve still got Quixote to finish.”



Elizabeth smiled. She’d forgotten about the book. “It may be some time before I can leave him. But thank you.” Elizabeth suddenly remembered the apples she’d acquired in Tortuga. She wondered how they’d survived the journey. “I bought something in Tortuga that you might be interested in.”



She slipped from his arms as he leaned forward to watch her rummage through her sack. “Tea?”



She glanced back at him, suddenly regretful. “No, actually. I forgot tea.”



He smiled. “I didn’t. Shall we have tea tomorrow?”



Her hand closed over one of the apples. It didn’t feel bruised. “That would be lovely. Close your eyes.”



He obeyed, and she drew her knife to cut into the fruit, removing a small slice. She slid back onto her bunk beside him and lifted her hand to his mouth. He sniffed the air and smiled, parting his lips to allow her to slip the fruit inside. She traced his lips with her fingers as he chewed, and he kissed every finger before reaching for the apple and knife.



He sliced a second piece and held it before her mouth. She took it between her teeth, remembering to savor it as he had taught her. He leaned in, capturing the other half of the slice between his own lips, and then they were kissing, sharing the fruit all the while.



They finished the apple that way, feeding each other between kisses, and when it was gone, he pulled her down beside him on the bunk, kissing her softly. “Thank ye, cariño.”



“What does that mean, cariño?”



Barbossa simply pulled her closer and kissed her again, tenderly, his hand slipping around the back of her neck.



“Captain Barbossa? Do you…that is, when you kiss me like that, I can’t help but wonder…”



“Don’t flatter yerself.”



Elizabeth blinked.



“Don’t love yeh. A need to be satisfied, t’was what ye said. And I find the need has returned. Can I entice ye to satisfy it again tonight?”



“No. I’m staying with William until he gets well.”



“Kid better hurry up about it.”



“I sincerely hope he does.”



“He’ll be fine.” Barbossa stroked her hair as she curled against him.



“I hope you’re right.” She regretfully climbed over him out of her bunk. He left her with a lingering kiss, a few not entirely appropriate gropes, and a slow twist of his hips against hers that sent desire coursing through her body, even as she worried over William’s health. She held her son close all night, but couldn’t stop the dreams of Barbossa that had become all too familiar of late.



It was remarkable how much she missed his presence after just one day. It didn’t help matters that William awoke in a foul mood, making extensive use of his new favorite word, “no.” He didn’t want to stay in bed, wouldn’t allow her to change his clothes, and refused to sit still to be bathed. He pushed food away, and cried when she tried to tell him a story. She was nearly at her wits end when Barbossa arrived for his promised afternoon tea.



She had completely forgotten about it, until he materialized at her bunk with a steaming teapot, a pocket full of biscuits, and a monkey on his shoulder carrying three cups. The sight of Barbossa carrying a teapot, wrapped sloppily in his sash, would have been sent her into a fit of laughter if she hadn’t already been near tears, fighting with William.



“Find a table, would ye, this thing’s bloody hot!”



Elizabeth pulled out her clothing trunk, the only thing with a flat surface she had in her makeshift cabin. Barbossa all but dropped the teapot, retrieved the cups from the monkey, who was rewarded with a biscuit, and set out napkins and spoons he procured from his coat pockets. Elizabeth could only gape as she watched him set a perfect table while she held back a suddenly not-screaming William.



“Jack!” It was the first smile she’d seen on her son all day. The monkey climbed into bed next to William, and started imitating him and making faces that actually set her son laughing. She didn’t quite understand the game, but monkey and child seemed to and for the time being, that was enough.



“How do you take yer tea, Captain Swann?”



Elizabeth turned back to the trunk. “Well, considering we have neither lemon nor sugar, I suppose I take it plain.”



Barbossa fumbled in another coat pocket with one hand while indicating the third teacup with the other. She leaned forward to see the lumps of sugar he had brought just as he produced the lemon he had hidden away.



“Captain Barbossa, you are too much. Where did you learn to set a table for tea?”



“We all have our secrets, don’t we?”



Elizabeth spooned two lumps of sugar into the cup Barbossa had poured for her. “You especially.”



“Useful thing to know. Can I ask ye to wear a dress again?”



“You can ask, but I won’t acquiesce this time. I happen to have no dress in my cabin.”



“I wouldn’t object to ye wearin’ no dress.”



Elizabeth rolled her eyes and accepted the lemon slice he offered. “Just when I think I’m about to have a proper tea, you have to say something lewd.”



“Bah. You wouldn’t have it any other way and yeh know it.”



Elizabeth sighed. “True enough. If I’d really wanted proper tea, I’d have married James Norrington when I had the chance.” She took an experimental sip. Yet again, Barbossa impressed her. The tea was quite good. “I suppose I prefer scandalous tea to proper tea now.”



“Aye, we will be quite the scandal when word gets out.”



“Word’s not getting out.”



“The crew knows.”



If a secret shared by two people ceased to be a secret, then one shared by an entire gossiping crew was as good as common knowledge. “Bugger.”



“Which be precisely why I’m going to ask ye to wear a dress in Cape Town. Bad enough half of Tortuga thinks I’m bedding a cabin boy, can’t have half the world think it.”



“I told you I don’t have a dress.”



“If I get you a dress, will ye wear it?”



Elizabeth dipped a biscuit in her tea and tasted it. The tea did little to improve the taste, but at least it was softer. “Perhaps. But no corsets. I find I’ve grown accustomed to breathing.”



“Agreed.” Barbossa smiled over his tea. “How’s Billy? He looks better.”



“Not you too. His name is William.” Barbossa shrugged and she turned to watch her son wrestling with the monkey. “This is the best he’s looked all day. He fights me at every turn, won’t eat or even drink.”



“He needs to drink.”



“Do you think I don’t know that? I’ve done everything short of forcing it down his throat to get him to take something, but he won’t!”



Barbossa finished his tea and picked up the bottle of fresh water and cup Elizabeth had left beside the bed. “May I?”



“Good luck.”



Barbossa sat on the bed and poured a bit of water into the cup. William eyed him suspiciously, but Barbossa ignored the child and instead turned his attentions to the monkey. Jack climbed happily into his lap and drank the offered water.



William crawled tentatively closer and watched as Barbossa showered his pet with affection. William held his hand out as Barbossa refilled the cup. “Some?”



Elizabeth felt her jaw drop, but Barbossa continued to ignore her son in favor of Jack. William crawled closer, grabbing Barbossa’s arm insistently. “Some! Cappinbossa, some!”



Barbossa finally turned to William then, pulling him onto his knee and offering him the cup. William gulped greedily and held the cup out to Barbossa for more. The Captain obliged until William had his fill.



“What do you say to the Captain, William?” Elizabeth prompted her son, but he directed his temper at his mother and threw the empty cup at her.



“William!”



Barbossa snatched his arm. “Yeh don’t throw things at yer mother! Tie yeh to the mast and forty lashes for that kind of insubordination, boy!”



William scrambled off Barbossa’s lap, sobbing, and ran to Elizabeth. “Oh, don’t look at me for sympathy.” Elizabeth hauled him back into bed. “You want to throw things at people, you suffer the consequences. No more playing with Jack.”



William howled, but Elizabeth kept him in bed while Barbossa packed up the tea. “So much for a peaceful afternoon.”



“Get used to it.”



Elizabeth sighed. “Thank you for your help.”



“A kiss for me trouble?”



“Oh you’ll get more than a kiss when the time is right.” But the time was not right, so Elizabeth rose to meet his parted lips and melted into him for a moment, kissing him with the promise of things to come.



It was three long and harrowing days before William’s fever finally broke, and even when it did, it was another week before he was back on his feet. They forwent the stop in Barbados with William’s improvement, though he still needed extra care. Barbossa’s clockwork-regular visits, sharing tea and apples, became the highlight of her days.



As they headed into open sea, Elizabeth had to trust Barbossa’s skill to ensure their course was true. It wasn’t that she doubted him, precisely; he had, after all, taught her everything he knew on the subject, and had been a perfectly successful captain for many years before they ever met. But he had told her that she had a natural aptitude for the task, and would soon rival Jack in her abilities, and besides that, she took a certain comfort in the certainty of knowing they were on course because she had seen to it herself that they were.



She simply couldn’t stop herself from taking up the charts as soon as William was well enough to be on deck for a few hours, and double checking their position, reviewing the ship’s log.



“Back to work, are ye?”



“This much, at least. I can’t spend time at the helm though. William’s not quite out of the woods yet.”



Barbossa nodded. “Think I can’t run a ship without yeh? Take care of the boy.”



“Thank you.” His fingers slipped beneath her braid to caress her neck. She glanced around at the crew milling around the deck. “Discretion, Captain.”



Barbossa ignored her comment and continued his gentle massaging of her neck. “Join me tonight?”



“I can’t yet.”



“Then don’t stay the night. He’ll survive a few hours without ye. Thought we might read.”



“Read? I can do that alone in my own bed.”



“Aye, but yeh like it so much better when I do it with ye.”



“I do like it better when you do it with me.” Elizabeth rose from her seat and turned to face him. “Very well, if that’s what you want.” She fluttered her eyelashes just enough to evoke a smile and leaned closer. “I was hoping for a good fuck myself, but if you prefer to read…” She gave a small shrug of her shoulders and started away from him.



Barbossa grabbed her arm and pulled her body against his. “Get over here, me girl. Now where’d you learn to talk like that?”



She walked her fingers up his chest and let her mouth hover just inches from his. “We all have our secrets, Captain.”



“Touché.” Barbossa laughed softly. “Ye’ve learned to say it, but ye don’t really know what it means yet.”



“That’s ridiculous, of course I do. What do you call the other night?”



“Practice.” Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Barbossa placed a finger on her lips. “Ye’ve not had a good fuck. Don’t even try to tell me about Turner; I guarantee he didn’t fuck you like I will.”



“And how would that be?”



“Could tell ye. More fun to show ye.”



“Tonight then?”



“Aye.”



It took three more nights of “practice” before he declared she was schooled enough to use the term. She couldn’t say what the difference was, exactly, but it seemed to get easier with each night they spent together. The last night had been the first night she hadn’t once thought of Will while they were together.



She did think of Will when she was alone, though, and loved him no less for what she had found with Barbossa. She still made a point to hold the Dead Man’s Chest in her arms at least once daily, to listen for her husband’s beating heart. But she found herself accepting Barbossa’s place in her life, as her Captain, her friend, and her lover. The more she let him in, the more the initial guilt she’d felt over their relationship began to slip away.



It took two months to reach Cape Town, and though Billy - William - did heal, the cold weather forced Elizabeth to sleep with her son in her arms. She still passed most evenings with Barbossa, spending nearly as much time actually reading as euphemistically “reading.” During their days, he helped her navigate the unfamiliar waters, teaching her about the “roaring forties” and the Clipper route. She took the helm when she could, and before long, it felt as natural as though she’d been doing it her entire life.



When they docked, Barbossa affixed himself to her side. By the time they found a room at an inn, he had managed to procure a dress for her. She couldn’t say how he’d done it, when he’d not left her sight for more than a few minutes, but before they could even go down to dinner, he was lacing her into midnight blue silk.



She couldn’t complain; the dress was the finest she’d worn since her youth in Port Royal, but her breathing was not constricted in the least. Fighting would be challenging, but walking on Barbossa’s arm meant that any threats were immediately dispelled with a glare and a graze of his hand on the hilt of his sword.



People recognized them, even here. She caught a few snatches of conversation in which she heard her own name mentioned, or Barbossa’s, or Jack’s, or Beckett’s. She found it much easier to ignore now, though, as she focused on William, Barbossa, and any crew member who threw them a wink and a smile before disappearing into the throng.



Their room in Cape Town was larger and nicer than the one in Tortuga. The pallet next to the fireplace for William (and evidently, Jack the monkey, much to William’s delight and Elizabeth’s irritation) meant that she could finally spend another night in Barbossa’s arms. They’d finished Cervantes, and she hadn’t thought to bring another book to read, and the room was a bit too crowded to “read,” but she curled up beside him and shared kisses and quiet conversation until her eyelids fell closed.



“How long until Singapore?” Elizabeth couldn’t resist one more sleepy question.



“Month and a half, maybe two. Why d’ye ask?”



Elizabeth nuzzled closer. The longer it took to reach Singapore, the longer she could forestall the decision as to whether she would leave the Pearl. She wasn’t quite prepared to contemplate what that decision meant, or why the thought of leaving the ship left her insides squirming, so she simply responded, “curiosity.”



She felt Barbossa’s lips move against her hair. “Sleep, cariño.”



She had yet to decipher the word, but had gathered at least that it was a term of endearment. Since she had yet to come up with such for him, she settled on his own name. “Goodnight, Hector.”