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The Scythe's Song	By : hallowedmaiden Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female > Jack/Elizabeth Views: 2816 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own POTC or the characters and I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 25
- 26
- 27
When talking about the inherent necessity of things, things on Earth, no matter how minute or grandiose, everything has a central importance, much like the command center of a large aircraft, or the core of the Earth, the President of a country, a nation's military...within these systems comes a trickle down to all of the other moving parts...it could be argued that the collection of parts...the gears, are just as crucial, without them the system couldn't function...like a battery trying to power nothing, it becomes useless, a dead weight.
What do these things mean to their surrounding whole? A President, they are seen as the one to turn to, the one is expected to be present at every major event, telecasted to the entire world, or the military, a silent presence that some either decry or support, created to defend the country to threats that its people are not even fully aware of...the core of the Earth, an entity that humanity hasn't even glimpsed yet...central power...take away the names and the language, and it turns out that the central power system turns up in far more places than could be mentioned.
Much like the Sun in space, or Earth to those that have not yet grasped the insignificance of the planet when compared to the expanse of the universe, everything in the world has a hierarchy of parts, a hierarchy that does bleed and overlap itself when examined a little closer.
Centralized in the human chest, protected by the ribcage and responsible for nearly all of the blood flow throughout the body, lies the heart, depicted as a cartoon drawing to most people, some of them even believing that it really looks like that…
...a part of the ignorance of humans, to take everything they see as truth without question…
It beats 100,000 times a day, carrying most of the responsibility of keeping a person alive...like flipping a light switch in a room, if the heart stops beating, its death, as quick as the immediate absence of light...the heart, for all its importance, is incredibly simple, only existing to…
And its presence in nature...almost every creature in the world possesses a heart, from frogs to dolphins, birds...she remembered one time that she had told Jack that the blue whale had the largest heart of any known living creature...his response being "they also have the largest penis, which makes sense, the heart part too, since they are the biggest living creature in the world"...they had been in a museum...the British Museum, if she remembered correctly, walking through their ocean exhibit at the time...he had gotten a couple of strange looks from parents with small children...and her response hadn't been any better…"you're jealous"...combated with "are you suggesting that I'm not adequate"..."No, I'm just stating a plainly obvious fact...you're not a blue whale"..."Obviously. if I were to be a marine creature, I would be-"
She and Jack really could turn anything into a sarcastic argument, sniping at each other back and forth...
…"-if you're going to say a great white shark, I'm going to laugh at you-"
…"-I was going to say a killer whale...I seem all cuddly and cute until I want to kill something…"
…"Great white sharks are cute…"
…"I doubt you would say the same thing when it's tearing your arm off…"
…"And what marine creature would I be?"
…"Oh, that's easy…"
Cue her pointed look and hand on hip.
…"You're a jellyfish."
…"A...jellyfish?"
…"Yeah, you're pretty and elegant from a distance, but as soon as someone pisses you off, you sting the ever-loving fuck out of them…"
…"Ah, I see the connection now. So, we have cute and cuddly, and pretty and elegant, but we turn into killing machines…"
Coincidentally, the jellyfish doesn't possess a heart. But she did.
...And someone else owned it.
Often, she wondered about the early stages of humanity, and how they thought about the insides of their bodies. What did they suppose the strange thumping thing in their chest was? Did they know what it did?
The idea of ignorance of the internal systems within her seemed strange, and she was finding it hard to fathom not knowing what a heartbeat was. Though, she wagered that they had figured out that the lack of a beating heart meant death, never mind whether they knew the reason or context.
That was an interesting relationship...death and the human heart. Next to the brain, it was the most important organ in the body, and it was also responsible for the most fatalities. Heart disease, heart attacks, heart failure...it had quite a bad reputation.
Quite strange, since the other famous relationship it had was with the one thing humans truly had to live for and strive for...love. The heart alone had the power to kill you and give you a reason to live.
How cruel.
Then again, love killed people too. It wasn't innocent in the world. In fact, such a thing had a name...broken heart syndrome. Normally she would be skeptical if she hadn't been quite convinced many times in her life that she was in danger of being claimed by it.
...The heartbeat, a constant reminder of a person's vitality...capable of so many different things…
She swore nostalgia took place within the heart...there was a distinct feeling of swelling in her chest when she looked at pictures of ships...when she stood on a pier overlooking the ocean, her heart throbbed with so many things...longing, remembrance, the smell of the water, the crispness of the air...one time her and Jack had been on a pier in Florida...Naples, if she remembered correctly...looking at the sunset…
"Not quite as pretty as it was from the Pearl," she had said, a wistful heaviness in her voice...Jack, who had been standing at the opposite corner…"It'll do, love," with a head tilt and a soft smile in her direction.
"You know, it's been-" she had paused to do quick math in her head, "163 years since we lost her, and I can still remember every sail, every plank of wood...your bed...she'll always be with us, I think."
She hadn't gotten a response, not that she had expected it, but she had seen an expression come over his face, one of sadness, remembrance of his own…
"It's times like these that I wish I was better with a camera…"
"You're fine with a camera, love, you just hate lugging them around…"
"Maybe one day they will have smaller ones...pocket sized ones…"
"They will have a lot of things one day, and a lot of things will go away…"
She had turned to look at him, seeing him still half-focused on the water…
"Not me, I'll never go away...I'm like your bad penny...I always turn up somewhere eventually."
That had gotten a little smile out of him, but he hadn't said anything about her slip of 'your'.
"You think you're unpleasant and unwanted?"
"...I can be a little snippy sometimes...I tend to distract you…"
"Well, you're not wrong there, darling-"
And just at that moment, a dolphin had breached the water in front of her, sending a spray of water into her face and squeal of shock and delight shooting out of her mouth. Her heart rate had skyrocketed, both from the dolphin and Jack's sudden laughter. There had been a set of stairs down to a section of the pier without the railing.
"Maybe I can get it to surface again…"
"Just hope that you don't get a mermaid instead…"
And she had gotten it to surface again, its smooth form slicing through the water until just its head popped out to regard her with curiosity.
"They're such beautiful creatures," she had said, reaching her hand out to stroke its snout, earning her a delighted bobbing.
"So are you," a warm voice had said in her ear, sending her heart climbing again. "And the dolphin seems to like you, so you can't be all that bad." It had made a little noise at her, and she had sworn it was smiling.
"I wish I had something to feed it…"
"Don't worry, it's not going to starve because you don't carry fish around with you."
Having him that close to her, hovering just a hair's breadth away, with or without the obstacle of clothing, had always sent her heart into a maddening tizzy, stopping for a moment like it itself wasn't prepared for the increase, for the racing, pounding it was about to embark on, then slamming away against her ribcage with nothing in the world available to slow it down, even when he had moved away to continue staring at the ocean, or when he had always sauntered away from her form where he had been leaning against her as she stood at the Pearl's railing...
Of course, if anyone had the idea to question her on her reactions, she would argue that it was just the sudden appearance of the dolphin, certainly not Jack.
The heart was the perpetrator of betrayal for a person, the only perpetrator that they couldn't control, couldn't defend against. Desire, that strange pull in the pit of the stomach at the sight of another person, a teacup warmth starting there and spreading from the look in their eyes, from the sight of their hair, the way their lips fit together, the movements of their hands...desire accelerated the heartbeat, made the pupils dilate, made the pulse quicken...narrowed the senses until the brain's ability to form and push forth speech was compromised...the grip a person has on logic, reason, inhibition...they all fly away like a frightened flock of birds…
That all-encompassing emotion wasn't the only thing the heart could signal...like many other dichotomies involved with it, it could also give away the damning presence of fear, of anxiety...but rather than the heart making desire possess the body...fear possesses the heart as surely as the transformation of a werewolf over a human, making it erratic, uneven, sending chills throughout a person's limbs, skin…
...the fight or flight response...escape or challenge, run or kill...in the life of a pirate the feeling became second nature...fear turns into excitement eventually...the thrill of the battle, that focus, that drive to win, to come out on top, to prove yourself more skilled than the person at the other end of the blade being slashed and stuck at you…
She had come to love that life, always balanced on the edge of danger and freedom, knowing that everything could be snatched away without a single thought of her...yet knowing that she would do everything in her power to prevent that from happening...that she possessed the skill to do so.
One evening in the Cove, a few months after the Pearl had gone down, she had been nearly frothing at the mouth with excitement...finally having something to chase away that haunted look in his eyes...and the haunting in her own heart...at least something more than her body and company…
It hadn't even occurred to her to have a painting made of her and Jack, despite living around portraits her entire life...but when the idea had come to her quite suddenly...she had been walking through the Cove, and could have sworn she smelled fresh paint...the sprint to the local...decorator of sorts, at least the man responsible for all the crooked paintings and hodgepodge of things that littered tables and desks…had been very immediate.
It was quite a sight, she supposed, being nose deep in a crate of God-knows-what only to nearly crick your neck from turning it too quickly at the sound of the door slamming open just to reveal the out of breath and frazzled Pirate King standing there, eyes wild and hair everywhere.
Her hat had come off somewhere between the other end of the Cove and here, but she hadn't been of a mind to turn back the other way to retrieve it. She could just steal Jack's anyway.
Her sudden appearance would have perhaps frightened any other man just a little, but the one in front of her only looked back and forth between her and the street behind her with a barely patient gaze...even though his eyebrow wasn't arched, it might as well be with the way he was…
"Good afternoon, Josiah," she said smoothly as she stepped further into the small dusty shop, "and before I go any further, perhaps you should at least act pleased to see me."
A grunt was all she got before he stood up, the crate forgotten. "Every time you come in here, all I get are demands for things that are more trouble than...well...than what they're worth anyway."
"Aye, but if you wouldn't market yourself as a purveyor of all things normally unattainable and very attractive, I wouldn't need to come to you, and therefore I would have no use for you."
"Last time I acquired something for you, I nearly-"
"-Yes, yes, the snake, you've told me a hundred times. Not that I'm going to apologize for it since it was-"
"-My choice to agree to the gallivanting off, I know."
He stood there in a straight column of indecisiveness, his graying hair mixing with the stubborn brown, still glaring at her, while she glared right back with her arms crossed over her chest, challenged him to even try and throw her out. When his shoulders dropped a fraction, she knew she had him.
"Out of curiosity, why can't you just have your favorite Captain go on these grand quests for you? God knows he would…"
That coaxed a smile out of her. "Jack is far too busy finding his own treasure to indulge in my hair-brained cravings for treasure and knickknacks. And he isn't mine."
"Didn't say he was. Well, what is it that you need this time? An ancient cursed dagger? A scroll of magic? A key to a sunken chest with a thousand gems inside-"
"You are making me out to be a greedy woman, you ridiculous grumpy old man. Maybe try indulging in a little rum like Jack. It might liven you up a little."
"Because livening up is exactly what I need."
"Well, Jack refers to you as the 'town hermit', and hermits hardly ever enjoy their lives…"
"Does he? Should I tell you what I refer to him as?"
Then he suddenly held his hand out in a regretful manner. "No, wait, don't. I don't need him coming down here annoyed with me. Last time he did that-"
"-he broke a few things just to watch you complain. I heard."
"...Are you ever going to tell me what it is that-"
"-I need you to find me a person."
His eyes widened like he had just heard something obscene come out of her mouth.
"Now, Elizabeth, I know I complain, but really...we've graduated to kidnapping now?"
She laughed brightly, smiling at him. "Oh, of course not. You are going to convince them to make something for me."
"Make something for you?" he deadpanned.
"Yes. I was walking," she started to walk around the shop as well as she spoke, "around town, when I swear I smelled fresh paint coming from somewhere...and then it occurred to me that ever since I was elected, there hasn't been a single painting made of me...or Jack, come to think of it. I would like one painted."
"...you want me to locate a painter?"
"Oui, Josiah-"
"Oh, don't try and butter me up by speaking French. But you're lucky, because I already have someone in mind, and what do you know, he's French as well."
"Never too many Frenchman around. Though, Capitaine Chevalle is a big enough character as it is. Is your painter already here?"
"On his way, actually. I called him here to look at something for me. With a little gentle persuasion, I'm sure he would agree to paint you a portrait."
"Good, send him my way when he arrives."
"Yes, your Kingly excellence."
"I bet if you said that to Jack more often, he wouldn't be so hell-bent to irritate the living shit out of you."
"Do you really believe that?"
"Maybe, maybe not, but he does get this little twinkle in his eyes whenever anyone refers to him as a King."
She stepped out of the shop with a near bounce, eager to meet the man that would bring her and her pirate to life with ink and canvas.
Like every freedom given to her, the warmth of rum down her throat, the earthy smell of the Pearl's wood, the lack of corsets, there was only one privilege that she would give up everything to keep...the heart of the man she loved...and she hadn't even known then that she held it within her. The door he had given her into his world had been enough to swear herself, her sword, and her heart to him, and she would have cut down anyone in her path to preserve it.
The entirety of the two days before she met the mysterious artist, every second...every minute, she had even dreamt about the moment that she would reveal the painting to Jack, in the hope of seeing a fraction of life returned to his eyes, a little light put back in those bottomless black windows...because the light of the Cove, the company of all that were there, her duties, none of it had been enough to make up for Jack being too much in the dark to truly share it with her.
Josiah, in all his charismatic persuasiveness, had successfully managed to convince the artist to meet with her.
The challenge had been convincing him to paint.
And keeping it a secret from Jack, whom she had wanted to surprise, which had really been more of a challenge than it had needed to be.
Secrets to Jack were like shiny things to a niffler...he sniffed them out before there was even a secret in the process of being kept. Jack was pre-secret.
Thankfully she was good at keeping them. Most of the time.
Every time she caught Jack moving out of the corner of her eye, she had to turn her head in the opposite direction. The corner of her mouth kept twitching up like it was attached to a puppet string, threatening to break into a full-blown maniacal smile.
She was good at keeping secrets, good at appearing innocent…
...but she had also never prepared a surprise for Jack, and it had her feeling like a hive of bees had invaded her body, buzzing everywhere, making her twitch and tap her foot to the point where even Jack had given her a sidelong glance with a raised eyebrow, then retreated again at her shoulder shrug and valiant attempt to act like nothing was amiss, despite her heart being practically audible.
Now he was sitting at her desk and she was sitting at her chair in the corner pretending to read a book while he was most certainly pretending to act like he wasn't methodically dismantling every second of her behavior for the last six hours.
"...Not to poke my face in, but you've read the same paragraph six times."
Oh, really? She hadn't noticed. She thought the entire book was about how Robinson and his crewmates were afraid of the sea storm.
"And you've pretended to draw on that map eight times."
She might have caught him making one line. Irrelevant.
"Aye, because I've been too distracted by trying to figure out what is going on in that head of yours to actually do anything."
"There's nothing going on in my head."
A heavy sigh, some finger tapping, and then the map was officially and entirely abandoned.
"Darling, you probably have eleven battle plans, the arguments you're going to have and win a week out from now, the ways in which you are going to drive me mad a month out from now, seven new ways to bother the hermit, and a hundred other things going on in there."
"I drive you mad?"
Her quick glance up to his eyes had her catching a glimmer of amusement in them.
"Absolutely almost around the bend because of you."
"...No, I think you've already made the journey several times complete with decimating a few thousand bottles of rum and enough treachery and lawlessness for all the men and women in the Cove."
She had moved onto the next paragraph as she said it, determined to make it through entire page out of spite, and then-"
"I've never done anything treacherous, and the law is of the utmost importance-"
"Oh, if you've never broken the law then I've never been marooned on an island."
"Maybe it was all a dream."
"Rather vivid then, if you ask me...with the burning rum and angry pirate pointing a pistol at me…"
A wild connection to a memory had words bubbling up again, and she rose out the chair to assume a performer's stance, pretending like she was holding a scroll in her hand and deepening her voice to a condescending self-righteous tone.
"Jack Sparrow, be it known that you have been charged, tried, and convicted-"
The sound of his recognition was a tangible thing, like his disbelief and admiration of her humor had coupled with the air...as tangible as the annoyed smirk now adorning his face.
"-For your willful commission of crimes against the crown…said crimes being numerous in quantity and sinister in nature-"
"That's debatable."
She paused, lowering the imaginary scroll for a moment to peer at him. "Which part? Don't tell me that you have suddenly lost the ability to count."
"I have been counting the seconds that it's taking for you tell me this big grand secret...ah, and I meant sinister...never mind it being an overly theatrical word...whether they were sinister or not depends on who you talk to."
"I see," was all she said, raising the scroll again, and making a show of clearing her throat. "The most aggrieves of which to be cited herewith...Piracy-"
"-Obviously-" came the whisper under his breath.
"-Smuggling...impersonating a person of the Spanish Royal Navy-"
"-not entirely sure why the Crown cared-"
Again, she looked up from her scroll. "Probably because they were afraid of you impersonating a member of their Navy."
"And wear that uniform again? I'd rather drown."
"Impersonating a cleric of the Church of England...sailing under false colors...arson-"
"We were just talking about that...what was it again...oh, burning rum...but I can't seem to remember who the perpetrator was…"
"I never said-"
"Oh! Right, that was you."
He only shut up because of her threatening glare, and even then, she could tell that there were a hundred sarcastic things still running around just behind his lips.
"Kidnapping, looting, poaching, pilfering, depravity, degradation, and general lawlessness-"
"I find that last bit to be a little redundant."
Her voice got more dramatic, and he started finger tapping on the desk again.
"And for these crimes, you have been sentenced on this day to be hung by the neck until dead."
"May God have mercy on your soul," he finished for her, rising from the chair and plucking the imaginary scroll from her hands, making his own show of rolling it up and throwing it over her shoulder. "Even if I did break a few laws, apparently a certain Governor's daughter saw fit to save me anyway. What does that say about her?"
That she had never been fit for that life, that she had been far too attracted to the man about to be executed rather than the man who had just told her he loved her...really, what did that say about her?"
His arms slid around her neck and his head bent to press a few soft kisses next to her ear. "I never said I was the beacon of purity, Jack...and maybe it only suggests that a certain pirate was worth saving?"
He didn't say anything, only smiled against her hair...didn't say anything for a few seconds, at least. The presence of him there, the warmth of his body...he could suddenly become permanently mute and just holding him in her arms would still be enough anyway.
"Only a thousand bottles?" he whispered on the edge of another kiss on her hair.
Only a thousand-oh. No, don't smirk at him...could laugh a little, he deserved that for that remark. "Only you would argue in favor of more."
"Mmm, misinformation is rather harmful, don't you think?"
"So is being a drunk pirate."
He pulled back with a wounded look on his face, his bottom lip pushed out comically. "'M not always drunk."
She wanted to argue that, really did want to argue that, but then...he hadn't been drunk when he first made love to her...he didn't drink for the three weeks prior to that…
Another smile curled across his mouth when he spotted her reluctance to fire back. "At least, not when it counts," he added. "Also, might I point out that I'm impressed that you remembered that entire speech. Thought about that day a lot?"
Yes.
"You didn't?"
"I don't like to dwell on times I almost died, as a rule."
Play it off...play it off like a joke…
"I...might've thought about it...I hadn't been present for a hanging before, and-" but then she caught that pointed stare, almost like he was deconstructing her words as they came out of her mouth. Sighing, she fidgeted with her hands, playing with her fingernails.
"I suppose there is no point in keeping it a secret...I used to...well, after you escaped...I dreamt about it...nightmares of Will not getting there in time...watching you drop. I was always forced to stand there and listen to that speech...knowing that there was nothing I could do...no plan I could make…"
And then she stopped, unwilling to continue down that line of thought...even as he stepped closer again and took her hands in his own, threading his fingers through hers...his face was one of confusion, like he couldn't decide how he should respond, the humor bleeding away like it had never been there.
In the end, he settled on a quiet "why".
Because even then she had felt like something was tearing, breaking when she had watched him stand there with the noose around his neck. Even then, she had felt like she was on the wrong side of the situation...like she should be standing there with him rather than watching him.
"Because you didn't deserve it...the injustice of it…"
His eyes were fixed on something behind her, simultaneously focused and empty...focused on what was inside of his head...she could tell when he went far away like that…when he retreated.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable…"
She waited for a minute, then two, knowing he wasn't going to let her in any further at that moment, knowing he was going to turn the situation light again-
"Trifles. Was that the only thing that kept you up at night regarding me?"
Even behind the suggestive sparkle, she could see the lingering confusion, the conflict...but just like that, it was as though they had never trodden down that dark path, gone with the snap of a finger…
"Maybe, maybe not," she responded with a small grin. "Just so you're aware, I know full well that you have been trying to figure out what my secret is this entire time, and I'm still not going to tell you."
"Not even a hint?"
"No, because you take hints and figure out the next calendar year of events, the planetary alignment, the outcome of nine battles, the amount of treasure you are going to acquire, my counter-arguments to all of your arguments, and anything else that any normal person wouldn't know yet."
"Just a little hint," he whined, pressing his thumb and pointer finger together to demonstrate the 'little'.
'Nope, not a chance' had almost climbed out of her mouth equipped with swords and pistols, but then one look at the pleading in his eyes, at the absolute ridiculous expression on his face, and a whooshing "fine" was coming out of her mouth instead, complete with a very dramatic eye roll. "I'm meeting someone."
Apparently, that wasn't the response he had been expecting.
"...Meeting someone?"
"Aye, a Frenchman. He's...making something for me."
Where on earth he found suspicion in that, she couldn't fathom, and she let her distaste come in the form of her arms crossed over her chest. His arms did the same thing. "So, you're telling me that a Frenchman has had you on the brink of mania for the entire night...did he figure out how to make diamonds appear out of thin air?"
Insufferable man.
"Maybe he did. Maybe he can procure maps that lead straight to treasure, maybe he can procure gold from his fingertips, or maybe he's-"
"-I could eavesdrop."
She fixed him with a Pirate King's glare. "If I even get a glimpse of a bead on your head while I'm with him, the only thing you're going to be eavesdropping on is your own funeral."
"Wouldn't that be a neat trick." At first, she thought he was letting the issue drop when he walked back towards her desk, but then he turned very slowly with a very aggravating smirk on his face. "I would certainly hate to ruin my own surprise anyway."
The words "excuse me" only exited out of her mouth out of pure shock, built entirely of breath and a loud gasp.
"Oh, come now, darling, the only reason you would be fighting so hard to keep it a secret is that you are having him make me a gift. You would tell me otherwise. You tell me everything."
She wanted to be mad at him, she really did, but her affection for his intelligence trounced any anger that she may have felt, chasing it away like a lion might chase away a pack of frenzied vultures.
"And you'd best appreciate the privilege of knowing my secrets, Jack Sparrow-"
"-Captain-"
"-and yes, he is making something for you, you damnable man-"
"-that almost sounds like a compliment."
"Because you're so self-absorbed that even insults are compliments to you."
"Well, when whatever insult you throw at me is accompanied by a smile and a kiss, a man can get a certain impression from them."
His statement was proven right when she reached him and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, whispering "pirate" at him, but whether that was an insult or not…it seemed to take on a different meaning every time either one of them said it.
"Don't you forget it, love. Go on, meet your Frenchman then, while I sit here and suffer in my ignorance."
"I'll make it up to you," she said over her shoulder as she opened the door and slipped out.
The private meeting chamber of the King was a small strangely angled room, with the light failing to reach the right side entirely, and only dimly illuminating the rest. She had promptly requested the placement of two lanterns, one on each side, so that she may see the person she was speaking with properly.
Last time she had been in here, it had been to discuss the punishment for Captain Teague with Mistress Ching. The woman had wanted to congratulate her on her course of action regarding the former Code Keeper.
"I applaud your decision regarding the severity of his crimes...and I fully support his immediate removal from the Brethren," she had said, keeping her actual knowledge of his crimes to herself. She apparently knew enough to believe his excommunication to be just and fair, which made her wonder how the woman had come to know about Jack and Teague's...relationship.
In fact, all the occasions that she had used this room, it always involved others stating their opinion on her plans and decisions. Only once did she have someone oppose her, and that argument had made it out of the room and into the Grand Hall, straight into the earshot of Jack, who had stood in the background silently expressing his amusement at her shouting at poor Jocard, with nods of his head in agreement, looks of faux shock when she made a particularly inflammatory statement, and then immediate "I'm staying out of it" gestures when she caught him.
The first and only time since that she had ever seen Jack raise his voice in anger was in the meeting hall, only two days after Will had left. She had been leaning over the table perusing the Code book when the main door had flown open, an irate Teague coming through with an equally irate Jack.
She could pinpoint the exact spot on the floor that they had been standing when they finally stopped, their boots only about two feet apart. All she had been able to gather was that Teague had a problem with her election, and Jack had been defending her.
The last thing he had said to Jack before he had disappeared into the shadows of the rooms beyond the meeting hall was a hissed "not a word to her".
It had taken another week for her to make the connection...the information she wasn't supposed to know...Teague had been a month too late with his warning.
His ignorance of the actual depth of her and Jack's connection was his mistake, and his inability to control the flow of secrets. She had overheard Gibbs talking with Barbossa, of all people...hadn't meant to overhear, really...but she hadn't told anyone, would never dare tell anyone…
And now she was about to meet a man that was going to paint for her a portrait of Jack and herself...it was more than a portrait...it was an immortalization of them in this place, their image as Kings made permanent on canvas, so that even if they gave up this life tomorrow, the two of them would still be staring down on whoever would dare forget that they ruled here, and the eyes that stared back at them would be filled with wonder and fascination.
Had she spread the secret she had accidentally learned...there would be no painting, Jack wouldn't have lifted a finger to defend her, and she might not even be in Shipwreck Cove...whether she meant that as her mind floating in a different world while she still lingered in the physical place, or whether she would slip away in the night to find a different life...that was still unclear.
What was not unclear was the absolute smarminess that she could feel without even entering the room; the air felt slippery, infested with the stench of looming manipulation, not that she was a stranger to that, and it filled her with just a bit of unease. It gave her the distinct impression that painting was not this man's only activity, and not only that, but it was so far down on the totem pole of activities that he engaged in, it was a wonder that he could realistically be called a painter at all.
Trying very hard not to narrow her eyes at the figure sitting in the opposite chair, a feat that was very impressive considering that his eyes were narrowed at her, black slits in a smooth angular face with a straight nose and thin lips...if it wasn't for the fact that he stood immediately to greet her with an outstretched hand, she would have been under the impression that he was trying to deconstruct her.
Perhaps he still was.
"Bonjour, your excellence," he said in a voice that sounded like it might come from a snake's mouth, smiling with a little too much satisfaction when she grasped his hand to shake it, returning a tight "Bonjour" at him.
"Though, calling you 'your Excellence' might be a little...vide et creux...ah, how you say in English...hollow?"
The distinct impression that this was not a very nice man cemented itself just then, but she was equally as intrigued as she was affronted. "The exact translation of that is 'empty and hollow'," and at his arched eyebrow, she had to add a fraction of smugness, "I speak some French."
"Indeed. Then you must understand why I feel that way, what with some of the most famous monarchs in history being Frenchman...Henry the II, King of England, Louis of France-"
"Forgive my interruption, but by my recollection," she swept her arm in an arc across the room, "none of these men are here with us now. They're dead, I'm alive, and by the end of this conversation, I will see to it that you no longer find my title...distasteful."
"J'attends cela avec impatience…"
Looking forward to it, indeed. He searched her face, and she knew he was waiting for her name, just as she knew that this was going to be a hard man to win over.
"Elizabeth Swann."
"Elizabeth, a Queen's name...but I did not miss that you never asked for mine-"
"-At this juncture I don't find your name important."
He leaned back in his chair as though he was pleased with the conversation so far.
"Josiah told me that you would be a femme intelligente," he said, watching her movement as she sat in the chair across from him. "Valentin, au fait. Valentin Gravois, at your service."
A muscle in her jaw twitched from the effort of holding back a sneer at his grand gesture of his own person, the hands that he had used to make it now steepled in front of him on the table. "So, I was told that you need a painting."
"Oui, a portrait," and she said it in such a way to give the man no doubt that she would get it, and that's all he would be providing to her.
"You have been unimpressed with my presentation of myself ever since you stepped into the room, yet you indulge in a portrait of yourself. How very interesting."
"I tend to dislike arrogance, but you misunderstand my motivations. This portrait is not an exercise in narcissism, but a gift to ease a little misery."
"Your misery? Forgive me, but that seems to be even more narcissistic than before...lifting your mood by staring at your own face."
"And forgive me for this, but an hour walk through the streets of Paris will give a person all of the narcissism they can handle."
She enjoyed this, enjoyed chewing on a man until he was left with nothing, but this man was proving to be a delightful challenge.
"An accurate assessment. Have you been?"
"To Paris? No, but I've heard enough stories."
"It's lovely at night. I'm not sure I have encountered anything quite like it in my travels."
"Shipwreck Cove has its own beauty."
It was true, the city held a kind of sentience...almost like all the lanterns strewn everywhere were little golden eyes keeping a watchful presence over the people, a silent guardian. Sometimes she swore the ships spoke to her, creaking and shifting in the wind as though to tell her that they were pleased to see her walking about. And Jack was the only person who knew about the few ghosts she had seen wandering through the hulls and lounging in the few still intact crow's nests.
He was the only person who would probably truly believe her, having had a few experiences himself.
"I've noticed, you seem quite proud. So, tell me, who else is going to be in this portrait?"
Perhaps she should ask him how he knew that, and perhaps she should be even more suspicious of him because he knew…
"I hope it is my overt giving nature and compassionate attitude that gave it away."
"Compassion from a Pirate King? Perhaps a little oxymoronic...indeed, you have little to no interest in yourself as far as this portrait is concerned...so this tells me that the gift is the other half of the painting."
"I'll ask that you keep your assumptions about my nature to yourself since you have only known me for twenty minutes."
He traced his finger around the table, following the veins in the wood. "I did not say that you lack good qualities. You obviously care very much about this other person. You invited a stranger into your city, sat with him alone, despite your suspicion, and you are doing all of this for their sake. Very selfless."
"Pirates, you'll find, are more commonly compassionate than perhaps a nobleman. We've seen life, we've seen death, and we have seen things that can make a man wish for death. But the secret to having the kind of freedom we have? You have a true reason to live. What do noblemen have to live for? A life of rules, of choices made for them by society and those who believe themselves to be more important than them? We make our own choices."
The look on his face was one of surprise, pleasant surprise, as though he had been waiting for her to show a winning hand then entire time. "Remind me to congratulate Josiah on being so thoroughly right, will you?"
She allowed a little smile then, understanding that she had reached a point with him, a point where there was to be no more scraping off each other's surfaces.
"In all of your prying and preening, you have failed to pick up on the fact that there are two Kings here. Then again, you find our titles to be worth less than your precious monarchs anyway."
That intrigued him, made obvious when he leaned forward and braced his left elbow on the table and tapped on his chin with his finger. "Deux? The mystery grows. Peut-être un nom?"
"Being that I like this banter of ours, as it is rare that I get a verbal sparring partner outside the usual, I want you to figure out who he is yourself."
He made a show of looking around the room using only his eyes...like a silent observer in a crowd of a thousand, examining each face for their stories, for what may be behind them...except the crowd was in his mind, she knew, and the faces were everything he was currently using to meet her challenge.
"Défi accepté...in fact, challenges are always welcome. Being a painter, I doubt I could thrive if they weren't. So, you've already given me one clue in 'he'. Might I assume that I have heard of this person before?"
If Jack were here…
"I certainly hope so. He is...how do you say it in French...ah, très célèbre."
"Somehow, I think notorious might have a better application here, being that we are talking about pirates."
When she had read about Jack in the books she had snuck from the library into her room, notorious had been the word thrown around a lot...other words like infamous, knave, traitor against the Crown...there were others, she was sure, but those words had become pale, scattered around the floor like they had been a coating of dust on a painting, and once other words came in to take their place in her mind...though she had always been wary of the originals...the light, the truth on the bare canvas of piracy had shown her only freedom.
"And what word shall we use to describe you? Since we are now talking about a painter, though I am unsure if that's all you are."
He tapped his pointer finger, middle finger, and ring finger in an even sequence against the table, and then reversed. "I take a certain fantaisie to legendary."
"Legendary? Mmm, who's the narcissist now?"
"Ah ha, drôle et intelligent, though something tells me that you don't exactly...present yourself to any men that could enjoy those traits."
No, not any man...just one.
"Romantic ventures are distracting when one has a city to rule."
"But the relationship between a King and...well, King in this case...surely there is something there to explore, especially seeing as how you are both rather proud of him, and you are willing to go to all the trouble to give him a gift this special."
"Proud?"
"This game of yours, this isn't just because you enjoy verbal battles...it's because you believe him worthy of such a game, and you believe him to be worth my trouble of figuring your game out."
"Which you still haven't done. Are you in need of another clue?"
"Impatient, sommes-nous? Well, your Excellence, why don't we use you as evidence...a woman as strong as you wouldn't just choose anyone as their co-ruler...it would need to be someone with similar traits...you don't seem to play well with differences, at least not in those romantic ventures…
"Someone with experience, clearly...a Captain perhaps? And correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the Pirate King chosen from the living Pirate Lords?"
"I was elected when I occupied Sao Feng's previous Lordship."
"I see, very impressive. Now, since you mentioned that you were having this portrait done to ease a little misery...which current Pirate Lord could possibly be experiencing misery at this moment? One that has just lost his precious ship, no doubt, and by my account, La Perle Noire went down just outside of this city, attacked by the Royal Navy."
She didn't say anything, as she could only sit there in mild shock at the man's sudden breadth of knowledge.
"I have one of two guesses. Captain Barbossa...but even after only knowing you for twenty minutes, I would be willing to bet my painting skill on your absolute intolerance for him. He wasn't the rightful Captain of the Pearl anyway. And if it was Barbossa, I'm afraid I would have to decline your portrait petition. No matter how...prospective you might be, no part of him will travel out of my paintbrush."
"That leaves the only other...and leaves me with no wonder as to why it is that he will be by your side in this portrait. Captain Sparrow gives a man a reason to appreciate immortalizing a person on canvas."
Smiling at his obvious appraisal of Jack, she nodded her head in confirmation. "Indeed, he's led quite the life."
"A life that led him to you."
At her quizzical expression, he made a noise and leaned back in his chair again. "Sparrow wouldn't just let anyone be his Queen...King, excuse me, I keep forgetting. Que je suis bête. I daresay he would like to pursue a romantic venture just as much as you do."
"Then I fear you don't know Jack as well as I do."
"Or perhaps you know him better than you want to believe?"
Ignoring that line of questioning, and knowing that he noticed, she realized something.
"You were planning on agreeing to the portrait the entire time, weren't you?"
"Ah, no, not quite. I had already agreed before you had even walked into the room. It's not every day that a man gets to avoid painting white wigs and stuffy costumes."
She laughed at that.
"Jack hates the Navy uniforms as well."
Rising from the chair, she eyed Gravois, searching for any lingering reason to suspect ulterior motives.
"So, going forward, what are the preparations?"
"Well, I will need to get a sketch of your profile, and your face, along with his. Though since this is a surprise, I suspect I will need his in secret. Another challenge, but not a problem, not a problem. Then I will begin painting, and I'll send word when it is finished."
"Je vous remercie," she said, heading towards the door. "I enjoyed speaking with you. Oh, by the way," she paused to turn back to him, "Those famous monarchs of yours...I don't believe there was any romance with their respective spouses...in fact, I believe several Queens have murdered their Kings...or is it the other way around?"
His snake-like smile was all she needed to see herself out of the room, her task accomplished.
What was a painting, really?
A collection of pigments splashed and mixed together to form something the eye can take in, interpret, and add to the swirling vortex of thought ether inside the mind...a series of brush strokes built into something tangible…
In some ways, a painting is the culmination of an artist's labor...a journey that the viewer takes, almost back in time...seeing what the artist did, how each stroke of the brush took the artist's mind on a new path...how they built and formed the final work…
In other ways, the painting stands alone, a still depiction of a slice of time, of space, a small window into an eternal realm where time means nothing, where movement and complication and the trials of life fade away...a painting is a tempting offer to escape into something else, to leave it all behind...a fantasy land where the unknown becomes attractive...
A painting, like other art, has its own agency, where no matter what the author or artist intended, no matter the meaning they laced into the pigments, no matter what they envisioned to swim off of the canvas into the mind space...the painting makes its own meaning, formed further with each set of eyes that enters its world...it is one of the few places where life can truly come alive, a beacon of solidarity between the messiness of life and the nothingness of the after...time frozen in a frame, yet immortal for everyone in the present and future to look upon it.
Why might a person want a painting of themselves, indeed...to pour a version of themselves unbound by trials into a place where they can see themselves anew...to purify their countenance by having a shade of their soul as white as an angel's gown...extracted from the taint of the human experience…
...or perhaps they fear the inevitable consequence of life...like a tree leaves behind seeds, a mother and father leave behind children, a tragedy springs new hope to blossom out...a person can leave behind their legacy in a painting, freeing them from the clutches of death so that they may be eternal to all that come after them...so they are not forgotten.
All those people in his life always forgot about him, forgot that he was a person, thought so little of him that forgetting him was inconsequential...he was the spot in the road that became rougher and rougher because everyone just kept walking on him, kept treating him like he was only a thing to trample on, to destroy...they taught him that the only person that he could rely on was himself, that he was the only person he could rely on…
Happiness was never something he thought he deserved...to him, that had always happened to other people...to better people...it was an emotion that he had doubted...it was a myth, to him...the light in his mind, the joy, and the intelligence...it was turned into something else...something sharper...guarded, behind a million walls that were still building themselves to this day, no matter how fast she tried to break them down…
And she thought that perhaps, with this painting, the poison of his father, of anyone who had looked down on him...it could be washed away, receded...maybe he could look at this painting and see that he had someone by his side, that he deserved someone by his side, someone that believed in him, that had faith in him…
That she wanted to return that light, wanted to show him that he deserved the world and everything with it...he deserved to be immortalized to the world, to have an artist build him and create a version of him that matched what was in his heart, that matched what he was too defeated to see...his beauty, his splendor...that trickster's sly grin, the sparkle in his eyes, the way he always looked like he just knew…
She wanted him to see himself as she saw him, a man that she was in love with, a man that she couldn't imagine being in the world without, for the world would turn dark as though the sun had taken leave of its post…
So, what was a painting?
A painting is a soul, shown as it is meant to be shown, without meddling, without the twist of evil, without the taint of the world.
This painting was a depiction of the only thing that mattered in the world to her...her and Jack, together for as long as the world would allow…
...and if it took taking on the world to go further, that's what she was prepared to do.
Now all she had to do was figure out where he was.
Thankfully she found Gibbs heading down to the docks and caught him just in time.
"Josh, where's-"
Her words diminished on their own at the same time as a grin crossed his mouth, and she knew that it was both her realization that Gibbs already knew what she was going to ask and that ridiculous twinkle in his eyes that had her silent now, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Jack's down at the beach, next to the little lagoon down there."
The poor man was almost left behind without a word from her until she turned around and copied Jack's prayer hands at him, sending a quick "thank you" at him before racing through the sand, excitement suddenly thrumming through her, hearing his returned "welcome", though it was difficult to make out with all his chuckling.
She had never really given Jack a gift before, and she couldn't wait to see him happy.
By the time she reached the lagoon, her lungs felt like they had shrunk two sizes, her feet had sand permanently embedded in them, as in her haste, she had forgotten boots, and her eyes were still watering from the rushing wind that had attacked them.
Jack was sitting just a few feet from the water edge, and…
...he was wearing different clothes.
Any normal person and it would have never given her pause, but Jack rarely changed his outfit.
A pair of crisp jet-black breeches and an equally black shirt adorned him, and that's all he had on, not including the ever-present bandana. She decided she rather liked him in all black. It complimented his hair.
The smell of the sea grew stronger, strong salt and a heavy dampness, a floating mist that tickled her face, making her stop for a moment to linger in the sand, the wind blowing her hair around her face.
"She's even more beautiful at night," she murmured, half to herself and half to Jack, as she gazed across the water, traveling across the moonlit reflections; constellations in the churning waves. He turned to look at her, half of his face illuminated, the other half hidden in shadow, but his eyes, his eyes were still glittering at her...the warmth held in them a substitute for the absent sun.
"...She is," he agreed, turning up the corner of his mouth in a small smile, before turning back again, and she would perhaps suspect, but never really know that he was talking about more than just the sea.
"Beautiful and terrible. Though, I suppose most things that are beautiful are also in some way terrible," and then she was sitting next to him on the sand, their shoulders touching.
"She has the Pearl now...can't be that bad."
Those words washed over her...Jack rarely talked about the Pearl since...only glanced in the direction of the sea occasionally...he always knew where to look no matter where he was...and sometimes she wondered if he always knew where to look for her too…
"How are you?" she asked, keeping her voice quiet, telling him so much more than those three words, telling him that he didn't need to answer, that he could lie to her if he needed to...that she was prepared to listen to anything he had to say...that she was prepared to listen to his silence…
And he did stay quiet for a long time, the wind traveling between them carrying shared silent thoughts to the other, a connection that was so tangible, she could almost reach out and touch the invisible thread.
"I wasn't there," she finally heard him say, but it took a moment for her to understand what he meant. "The Captain...they're supposed to guard the ship...protect it…where was I? Getting drunk and telling stories…"
The deep grit of pent-up frustration was laced into his voice, and it dazzled her, made her eyes sting at the corners with tears, tore at her heart that he could have ever thought that it was his fault, that he even blamed the loss of his ship on himself...a pair of shoulders that already had more weight than they could carry from all corners, all ends of everything...how could he have placed that at the very top without everything coming crashing down…
...how could she have fooled herself into believing that he was climbing, pushing past all of it, that he was healing beyond her worry, beyond her studying his face in moments where he wasn't looking, trying to find anything that...
"No...no, Jack," she was saying as her mind, her body, her entire being rejected the idea as forcefully as she would try and reject death bearing down upon her, "You listen to me," but he turned away, staring down the coastline, the line of his back becoming very still as though he was holding his breath.
"Jack."
No response, nothing as she started to panic, started to feel so fearful that not even the trees or the beautiful ocean, not the texture of the sand beneath her, nothing could reach out and tug the cold dread from her muscles, the feeling of her love falling away from her again, crawling back into that dark place that she had worked so diligently to pull him from.
She would be damned if it took him this time, repeating that in her mind, even saying it out loud under her breath as she climbed into his lap, ignoring his pitiful protests, coming to rest with each leg resting next to his, her hands braced against his chest...but he still wasn't looking at her, his gaze directed south...
"I said," she commanded, pulling his face up with two fingers, feeling the chin braids slide against them, "listen to me," but her voice turned to ash in her throat at the haunted look in his eyes, returning her to that first night, that terrible night, the sight of his wild eyes reflecting her own as she held his trembling body on the beach, whispering "she's gone" even as she herself wanted to dive into the water to push the ship back up with her bare hands…
"Why didn't you tell me?" and he didn't protest when she cupped his face with her hand. "I thought...I thought I was helping, that I was...that you were healing, starting to heal, but," she stopped, the immediate and terrifying thought taking over any other, "...I wasn't good enough."
Squandering her remaining energy away, dwelling on her failure...the only thing that had mattered to her was seeing a smile of his that carried no darkness, a smile that wasn't a mask hiding something that he didn't want to show...but the mask had been there all along, and here she was, feeling each memory of something approaching happiness...since, slipping through her fingers, all of them illusionary ropes that she had counted on to save both of them…
Then, a beacon of light came with his touch, the gentle sliding of his fingers through her hair, the soft caress of his fingers against her cheek, and the way his voice wrapped around the words as he said them, like he was scraping together some kind of imaginary happiness just for her…
"I never want to hear you say that again, Lizzie, not to me."
"But-"
"No. Never. Again. Do you understand me? You...if I didn't have you," he paused to gesture at the ocean, turned to incline his head towards the Cove, placed his hand against his own chest, "None of this would've been enough...I would've wasted away by now, immortality be damned…"
His eyes shut tight for just a second, his head shaking back and forth in rhythm with his breathing. "The Pearl may be gone, but she wasn't the only thing that...that…"
Then both of his hands were holding her face, his eyes holding an intensity that focused every ounce of her attention on what he said next, a kind of vow, something that chased some of the darkness away inside of her as quickly as it had raced in.
"I don't know how to tell people I'm not okay...never...never really had anyone to tell that to, and I did feel spots of light...maybe I just didn't want to believe that I hadn't really gotten better, that it was going to take longer than I was prepared to wait…"
She murmured his name when her head fell forward against his chest, then murmured that she hated the people that had hurt him, whispered that she wished she could wring all of their necks...wrapped her fingers around chunks of his shirt and squeezed…
But what came out next, what floated into the air even as her voice was now scratchy with emotion, was her own vow, one that had been true since the beginning. "I'll wait forever for you to always feel the light, Jack, no matter how long it takes. I want you to look at the ocean again without feeling like something inside of you is missing…"
The sounds of the bugs in the jungle, the soft rush of water against the shore, even the sound of their own breathing...it was all so clear, so crystalline in that moment, on the precipice between falling back into tragedy and pushing forwards again into something that she couldn't quite name yet…
"But it's okay to feel like nothing will get better, it's okay to feel like that...you can't find that light without putting up with not having it. Just please, don't hide it from me."
There was a new look in his eyes then, as though her words had invaded that darkness, turning it just a shade lighter, rather than just covering it up until it fought through its restraints to take hold of him again...the journey so far had not been a failure, just...another step against an almost impossible enemy.
"I don't want you thinking that it's your fault when…" he faltered, looking over her shoulder for a moment. "I used to look at the ocean when I needed something to remind me to keep going...I used to look at the Pearl," and he said the next seven words even more quietly, almost a whisper, as though they transcended everything else that had taken place already since she had found him sitting there, "but now I just look at you…"
His chest expanded under her hands as he took a deep breath. "You're kind of like my lighthouse, really...no matter how rough the storm gets, or how lost I get…" and he stopped again, letting the rest of the words come through a smile that made her heart swell...she very nearly said it, the three words that always seemed to sit just behind her lips, waiting to burst out every time they paraded through her mind, but like every other time, she kept it inside, pushing it back into the part of her mind that held the rest of her fantasies, things that would never come to be, things that were too good to believe.
She could put up with being his lighthouse. It was more than enough until such a time when she could be the home beyond the lighthouse and the sea too.
"I came down here to get you. Your ever-so-mysterious gift is ready."
If she didn't have a firm grip on reality and the concept of time and planetary mechanics, she would have sworn that the sun had already risen and was shining on his face with the way it lit up.
"I was wondering if it was all a grand joke at this point…"
They both rose at the same time, and she gravitated to him, his arms wrapping around her for a moment, telling her that he was feeling better without saying anything. The sudden impulse to kick sand at him shot down her leg, and he gasped in both shock and jubilation, then looked at her like she had committed the greatest sin in the world, his body straight and affronted, all captain...while she acted like she was standing guilty of such a sinful crime...at least until his tongue poked out of his mouth and she broke down into a fit of laughter, getting words through somehow…"blackguard"..."knave"...pointing a finger at him with a "you" and then failing to finish whatever thought that was going to turn into…
"Me what? The most frightfully aggravating man in the world? The bane of your existence?"
She tried again with her finger, poked it into his chest this time, getting as far "you" again, and failing again…" Always summed up with 'pirate', but I fear it's redundant at this point."
Her long golden blonde hair fell into her face as she shook her head in mirth, before she stepped to the side of him, reaching down to close her hand around as much of his larger one as she could, giggling a little at the thought of leading him somewhere...last time she had done that he had taken her virginity…
"Come on Captain Sparrow, your gift awaits you."
And he let himself be led behind her, stealing as many opportunities to sneak kisses onto her neck as possible all the way back up to the Cove.
Eyes of the townsfolk followed them as the two figures wound their way up to the Court chambers, eyes that knew but never told, eyes that reflected on a love that gave warmth to the streets, to other hearts that had ceased to know it, gave a joy to the air that made the wind whistle with song…
...eyes that waited for the crisscrossing threads of fate and destiny, for the masterwork of circumstance and that mystery of time...waited for it to awaken an awareness in the only hearts that didn't recognize that love...perhaps in themselves they saw it, but in the other...time and the Earth and the ocean weren't the only mysteries that fell just short of the human understanding...for now.
After what seemed like ages, ages of Jack practically bouncing on his feet as he followed behind her, a joyous thing for her, ages of smelling the spicy scent of fire smoke, the burning oil in the lanterns, they finally reached the Grand Hall, her anticipation climbing to nearly unbearable levels…
Stepping just inside, she took Jack into the middle of the entrance room and stopped.
"I know this may be difficult for you, but you're going to need to...actually, never mind, I'll cover them for you."
A cross between amusement and suspicion arched his eyebrow as his gaze bounced from the door to her, before they started to sparkle with the purest mischief she had ever seen from him.
Suddenly he was sweeping his body down in a graceful bow, keeping his eyes locked on hers right up until he dipped his head at the end, before straightening back up. "As you wish, your Excellence."
It was her turn to stick her tongue out at him, shaking her head again. She turned and stepped towards the door, feeling the warmth of his body behind her...he was…
...he was humming. Their song...she could make out the exact notes that had the words 'Yo ho a pirate's life for me' playing in her head, the last word even making it out of her mouth on instinct, then she turned again to smile softly at him.
Just as she reached down to wrap her fingers around the door handle, Jack's hand curled around her shoulder. "Wait, love."
Twisting to place herself directly in his arms, she searched his eyes. "Hmm?" and got a very endearing sight of him chewing on his bottom lip.
"It's just that...I've never...been given a gift before...not freely anyway…" the words drifted off, but it was enough to make her stand there in shock, in disbelief that she hadn't...and barely fought down distaste again at everyone who had failed him.
Life shouldn't have kept one of the very base pleasures of from him...a gesture of kindness, the expression of another wanting to make him happy…
A quiet "damn them" slipped out as she reached up to cup his face. "Save the thank you for later, when you can give them to me properly," and then she gave him a soft kiss, before turning them both so that he was in front of her.
"Ok, turn and face the door, and...please be good."
A sound of faux annoyance left his mouth. "When am I ever not good?"
"I believe your profession sometimes hinges on you being not quite good."
Just as he began to imitate her "you're a good man" speech yet again, she reached up to cover his mouth with her right hand, resisting the sensation of his mustache tickling her palm, turning "you're a" into a muffled garble, his shoulders twitching instead with immediate laughter.
Her other hand slid around his side to rest on his heart. "Just because this might be very good doesn't mean the rest of you is good all the time. Chicanerous, villainous, riff-raff, knavish-"
"-Kingly."
"And if you behave, you might even get a crown." His head tilted back at that so that she knew he was smiling.
"I can get a crown anytime I want, darling."
She sighed, raising both hands to cover his eyes. "A crown would look wonderous on your head," she said into his ear, "and I do apologize if I smear your precious kohl."
Reaching around him, she opened the door, and gently pushed him forward, listening to his hair beads and trinkets tinkling together. "Onward, Captain."
And onward he went, into the room, until she stopped him in the middle just in front of the painting…
It took her breath away, again, just like it had stolen her breath the first time she had laid her eyes on it, the perfection, the majesty of it...no painting that she had ever seen rivaled the beauty, the way it seemed to push into her soul, through her eyes, through the breath she inhaled suddenly, such a simple thing, a collection of strokes from a brush onto canvas...yet it held her entire world.
"Don't open your eyes yet," she whispered, drawing her hands away to curl them around his arms instead, steadying herself from the sudden weakness of her body.
No, she wanted to see his face, wanted to see the light bloom in his eyes...kept whispering "keep them closed" as she stepped around him to stand just to the left of the painting, curled her own hands up around each other.
She waited, waited until the quivering inside of her body couldn't be contained any longer...then her feet were carrying her forward again, her hand coming to curl around his.
"Go ahead," she said quietly, squeezing his fingers even as hers were trembling.
When he looked, when that sharp recognition made his eyes wide, when his lips parted...even with her back to the painting, she could trace the path his eyes took, as though he was seeing a new world for the first time, one that she had already visited, knew when his gaze followed the black wood of his Pearl, along the railing, when it stopped and lingered on the rays of the setting sun, then crept up the length of their bodies, standing on deck, faces pointed out towards the horizon with the determination of Pirate Kings, the golden crowns on their head illuminated so that they glittered with the brightest golden shimmer.
"You deserve to be lauded, recognized, honored, you deserve the world...I thought maybe this...having a place where you are still with your Pearl, and she is still with you...we will always take back what is ours no matter who tries to take it away…
"Somehow, we'll always take it back...through thought, through dreams, memories...what matters to us never really leaves us, Jack.
"People will look at this and remember, remember you, remember us, the steps we took here, the things we did, and the Pearl will never die. She's immortal now."
He was whispering her name, his voice lingering in the air, the layers of him bleeding away until just Jack was standing there, and then he was saying nothing, his eyes were searching for her and she met them with a gentle gaze, her finger reaching up to stroke his cheek.
The next thing she knew was the warmth of his chest, the cloth of his black shirt meeting her face when he gathered her to him, wrapping his arms around her in a hug, rocking her body back and forth. "It's beautiful," he said against the top of her head, so quietly that she barely heard him. And she knew it was, with the charcoal of the wood, the soft orange of the sun's light, the life in their eyes, preserved there for eternity...she could even hear the ocean, the song of birds in the sky, the creaking of the ship...all of it, as though it was a symphony that lived within her.
They stood like that, embracing each other, for longer than she cared to keep track of. Time could be at a standstill, it could be accelerating...all she knew was that time was being kind to them, allowing them to have this moment, a moment that set in another thread between them, another silk thread in the web that held them together, happy prisoners to each other, oblivious to the reflection of each other's hearts, mirrors to one another.
Memories behave in strange ways, twisting and turning from day to day, year to year, fading in and out, sometimes disappearing entirely, then returning like they had never vacated the mind in the first place.
But this memory, the gateway to it was always the same, the one detail that had risen above all others, was the sound of Jack's heart when she had laid her head on his chest...it hadn't been a quick beat of happiness, or a frantic reactive beat from the painting...no, it had been calm, steady, almost like it was trying to give her a message, through his body, through the soft fabric of his shirt, onto her cheek, that for all of the work she had done to get him to that point, that for everything he had been through...he had been at peace, as he had held her, staring at her gift.
It had cemented the idea, then more than ever before, that the heart, in the end, rules life. The true motivations in life, the true goals, the real challenges, and victories...they all come to be because of the heart.
A simple thing compared to the brain, but yet it held so much power...a catalyst in the beautiful act of making love, like wind to a fire...the beating of a heart makes that fire within burn so harshly that it took her to another world when Jack held her, when he gave her the kind of pleasure that left her out of her body, out of her mind, perhaps not even human anymore…
And then sometimes he made her heart beat just like it had in the Grand Hall, steady and strong, unbreakable, matching his as she leaned back against his warm chest, solid against her shoulders.
Memories were also particularly temperamental, battling with anxiety, manipulation, the wrong environment, environments that are too right...and occasionally, they just flow as easily as a stream down a mountain...or as easily as they are allowed while being wrapped in Jack's arms, surrounded by steaming hot water, with six candles burning, his steady breathing, and the haze of relaxation that she was sure was intoxicating both into a lull.
She rather liked the idea of comparing the mind to water...free-flowing, as a mind should be, taking the shape of its environment, yet able to destroy that space in a moment's notice… corrode the obstacles in its path…the mind was always moving, even during sleep, times of calm...much like the water in the tub, still and warm at first glance, her mind was still churning inside, still skipping from memory to memory, sailing through time without aim or direction, reminding her of the delights of a museum visit, or making her smell the ocean, feel the sand…
And it was only the presence of the still figure behind her that let her mind go so freely...her ultimate rock, her all-consuming beacon of peace...she fancied that she could be in the middle of a hurricane, clinging to a rock, and she would still be as calm as though she was lounging in a sailboat on a still ocean, if she had Jack with her.
"Love?" she asked, half a question, and half just wanting to get his attention for the sake of it, though playing with his fingers beneath the water was doing that just as well. A vibration against her neck, a soft "hmm" that sent goosebumps across her skin, was her reward.
"Did you ever see Jaws?"
A soft chuckle was next.
"What?"
She was genuinely confused about why he was laughing at her.
"Nothing, darling, it's just that your questions are always either...like a shallow puddle, where I can just play it in for a little bit, or they are as deep as the Marianas Trench, where I need a mini-submarine and several hours to untangle all of the sub-questions within the main question…"
"Well, this one is just a yes or no answer."
"I did see Jaws, saw it more than once, actually."
She'd seen it the day after it had come out...really any movie involving the ocean was an instant ticket for her.
"I remember everyone being terrified of the ocean when it came out...they were all terrified of water in general actually. Some people even refused to step in puddles."
"Can't imagine why. The government was exceptional at warning people about possible dangers. How on earth could the presence of a manhunter suddenly cause chaos? Not that sharks are an actual danger, as long as you're not stupid…"
"And people, well even now, get far too worked up over things without actually looking at the situation…"
His finger was making tiny circles on her stomach now. "What about you? Still think great white sharks are cute? If I remember correctly, the shark in Jaws did, in fact, tear someone's arm off…"
Of course, he remembered the conversation...she hadn't even mentioned it specifically…
"You're thinking of Deep Blue Sea. Genetically modified sharks in that one, made smarter or something...it's hard to keep the shark movies straight these days…and as for your question, yes, I do. Dolphins might be cuter though."
"Mmm. Cute on the surface maybe...but they are kind of assholes. Sharks might be better. Funny, that. Dolphins have the reputation of being the ocean Jesus, and sharks are Satan…"
People feared what they didn't understand. Some things never changed, she had found. Spiders, snakes, sharks, pirates, fire...it didn't matter what the "danger" was...most of the time the reputation was purely built on human ignorance…
She leaned into his body, tilting her head over and up to press a kiss against his jaw. "To me, the fear of pirates and sharks are much the same thing…"
The only response she got to that was a soft kiss on the lips, his hand coming out of the water to press her head against his shoulder, his fingers twirling around her wet hair. Then he whispered something that had a quiet giggle escaping her mouth.
"Jellyfish."
"Killer whale," she shot back.
"And here I thought you were just comparing sharks to pirates…"
"Now I really do have to laugh at you."
And laugh she did.
"At least you make do on your claims," he said with a smile in his voice.
"As do you. This tub is rather lovely. I think we could spend more time in here."
"Mmm," he hummed again, the water churning when his hand breached the surface again, sliding down her chest to close around her breast. "I'm sure we could make it worth its money."
"You actually bought this?" she asked incredulously, half distracted by the continued direction of his fingers.
"I don't steal everything you know."
"Generally, if it costs money you do."
"Well, why waste my talents?" and she was immediately agreeing with him, whatever it was that they had been talking about, when his hand finished its descent south...she tried to blame the dim light, the smell of the candles, the warm water...even tried to blame the onslaught of memories for muddling her brain at that moment, because surely a man couldn't take all the credit…
...except he damn well was, could, did...whichever...always did...always made her heart beat faster, whether they were talking about jellyfish...the ocean...some damn thing that Jack narrowly escaped...he liked to tell those stories, and she always reminded him that the first time he had 'narrowly escaped', she took most of the credit…
"You do have a talent for having talents...very talented…your talents have talents..." and then she briefly wondered how many times she could use the word talent and have it still make sense...the tip of his finger gently sliding across her folds was scrambling her brain, but the contact was gone as quickly as it had come…
"And you like to tease far too much," she added, breathless.
He dipped his head to kiss her shoulder at that, smiling. "Which is the greater sin, teasing or stealing?"
"Depends on the situation."
"I bet I'm so talented that I could do both at the same time. Then we'd really be in a quandary."
Not that she had to remind him, but he had, in fact, already done both of those things at the same time, much to her chagrin. "You're insufferable."
"Maybe, maybe. So, going to tell me what else you have been thinking about whilst using me as a pillow?"
Dolphins, sharks, paintings, beaches, the heart...anything and everything really.
"I have been carefully constructing and organizing strategies to ignore all of the shit we are in so we can stay in this tub forever."
His chest rose against her with the reminder of how much shit they really were in, a sigh tickling her ear. "It does rather feel like we are blockaded inside of a building with a mob on the other side of the door, doesn't it?"
Yes, without food in the fridge, the only weapons being a baseball bat and a spatula, a busted phone...also the mob had rabid dogs, guns, grenades...probably a tank or two...the shower didn't work, the carpet had nails stuck in it, the couch was completely deflated…
...and as her brain tried to make the analogy as unfortunate and fucked as possible, she reminded herself that they could always escape through the basement, possibly, perhaps the phone could be fixed, they could wash in the sink…
They would make it out alive, they always did...and besides, the baseball bat wasn't such a bad weapon...and maybe they could pull a Steve (or Negan, depending on whether her mood was Stranger things or Walking Dead), and take the nails out of the carpet to put them in the baseball bat.
Could probably kill someone with a spatula if you tried hard enough...and for the sake of argument, the spatula in her mind was made out of metal...it was her analogy and she could do what she wanted with it.
"Well, we walked into the snake pit ourselves...we either need to pray that we can survive the venom, or cut all of their heads off before they bite us."
"They might still bite us even if we do cut their heads off."
"Riddle them with bullets then."
"I like the way you think, love."
She liked the way he thought too, as though he had a separate brain inside his normal brain that was set aside to only think about her...like with the dolphin, saying the dolphin must like her…
"Jack, remember that time with the dolphin?"
"When you whined about not having a camera? Sure, I remember."
"I didn't whine, but yes. I was just thinking...perhaps this is heading into more philosophical waters, but have you ever thought about...like, the preservation of things? How humans are so hellbent on capturing moments...through paintings, photographs, videos...and we talk a lot about preserving other things too...saving the planet, protecting our bodies...every cereal under the sun has 'heart healthy' plastered across the box now…"
"I mean, the heart is rather important to preserve...probably wouldn't be sitting in this tub enjoying this nice hot water if we didn't have hearts…interesting contrast, isn't it though? We use an art form, something that is meant to spin our imaginative images into something, to capture reality, to capture something completely outside of the mind...talk about something having two sides of a coin…"
"I think the imagination can be someone's reality...especially when the world they live in is one they no longer want to see…"
Like when something you dearly loved was taken from you, and all you want is to have something that makes you feel like it never left. Jack and his Pearl...her and Jack...
"You mean like when a certain special lady has a very special painting done for you?"
Her mouth dropped open just a little when he said that, because she had been trying to bring it up...and had not expected him to do it first.
"You remember that too."
His arms tightened around her, and his head was suddenly buried in her neck. "I remember. The first gift I had ever gotten. Hard to forget something like that."
"You spent a lot of time staring at that painting."
"I had a lot of reasons to spend time staring at it. My entire world was put in that painting...my ship, you...the sea...us being free, being the rulers of our own reality and imagination...when I couldn't sleep, I always went and sat in front of it, and I always found new things to see...like a particular color in your hair, or a new jewel on the crowns...kind of like you with my hair, it felt like an ongoing discovery."
"You are an ongoing discovery even still, Jack, with more than just your silly hair."
"Think the painting went somewhere after we left for good? I have always wondered where it ended up…"
So had she…
"The irony here being that for having something meant to preserve a moment, we didn't really preserve our time with it...but almost everything can be walked away from eventually, and besides part of the point was to have others remember you too…"
"At this point, there are plenty more reasons for me being a bit unforgettable more so than just a painting."
They sat there in silence for a moment.
"...Think it's in a museum somewhere?" he asked, his voice hopeful. "Hung up with other historic paintings? Maybe we're hanging out next to the Mona Lisa at the Louvre…"
Well, that could be possible...except they had been in the Louvre.
"Jack, we've stood in front of the Mona Lisa-"
"Yeah," and she felt him shift his hands to count on his fingers, "72 years ago. Actually, that same night, Hitler killed himself. Not sure why I remember that correlation. Besides, we only looked at the painting for about a minute and a half...we were kind of breaking in, or did you forget?"
"No, I didn't forget...hard to forget your hair-brained schemes and ideas-"
"-Actually, that one was your idea-"
"-Oh right, of course it was. Just like it was 'my idea' to try and escape the Louvre by taking a route through the sewers…"
"-At least I had an escape plan for us. You wanted to take the roof, which, mind you, would have resulted in certain death."
"The sewers had rats."
"We had guns."
"Yes, well, the little fuckers are hard to aim at."
"And we're not Batman. Us normal plebeians don't do rooftops well...movies lie."
"So do you. And I'm not sure I could take you seriously in a cape."
He made a noise of indignation.
"I would look just fine in a cape."
"And remember whose idea it was to 'politely borrow' that motorboat in whichever southern tropical island we were in at the time…"
"And it would have worked better had you not argued with me for five minutes-"
"-Well, excuse me for wanting us to not turn the river into a tomb. The motorboat was fun though."
"Everything we do is fun, darling."
"Don't suppose you had that thought process when you accepted Suzuki's job?"
Instant regret slammed into her for saying it.
"Can't say that I expected it to turn into such a shit storm…"
"I know...I agreed to it as readily as you did...but hey, it's us against the world again...we've done it before and survived…"
"I know we have, Lizzie...this just feels different somehow...like someone took the rulebook away...like we are trying to navigate an obstacle course blindfolded. I don't like it."
"Something tells me the rest of the world doesn't care about what we like and don't like."
He didn't say anything, just leaned his head against hers…
There was a visual in her mind just then, of the escape room that they did...except in her version, there was no clues, no easy paths, no way out...just her and Jack against the impossible.
Then again, life, death, impracticality, predictability, the world, the people in it...they could all be like the heart, sending out signals, keeping everything turning and spinning...they could be like the brain, so complex and intertwined that it was impossible to find an end or beginning, to find the reasons for the reasons, to understand them, and then…
...sometimes none of those things mattered at all, they were just a set of syllables, an empty charade that she was trying to attach meaning to, when the only important thing was to attach meaning to the moment they were in, to take each step just to take it, just to move forward, even if that step closed a hundred doors on them, opened a hundred more, made a hundred new enemies...sent them to death's door...made them want to step through it…
Anything could happen, and the world didn't give a damn about them...the only thing they could do was react...keep reacting.
"We'll be alright, Jack," she said, echoing one of his earlier sentiments. "We'll be alright."
If only she could convince her mind of that.
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The Scythe's Song