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Ship in a Bottle	By : EvilE Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female > Jack/Elizabeth Views: 4205 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 4: Parting the Mists

The sea was somewhat rough, Jack observed, as he emerged from his quarters again after retrieving a needed item. The ship rolled gently at times, severely at other times. The wind seemed to be blowing strong, as well. But he hoped to sail them through the mists, and hopefully, it wasn't storming... where they were going.

Between his hands, he held a bottle. It was crude in design, hand-blown, the glass not quite clear, but his eyes were focused on what was inside. A liquid filled the bottle halfway. A most unusual liquid, that Tia had spent days concocting and chanting over. It was gold, and glimmered and shone in its own right notwithstanding the morning sun. It was thick and viscous and moved slowly when he tilted the bottle to the left or right.

Rather than take his usual place at the helm or on the highest aft deck, he weaved among crewmen and equipment toward the bow. His task required that he be at the front of the vessel. He had ordered the sails be furled and the anchor dropped, so that there would be no movement from the prescribed spot until the time was right.

As he strode by, the crewmen turned to watch, and a number of them appeared from below, even though it was not their watch. Will was among them, and found his way through the growing crowd to Jack.

“So how does this work, exactly?” he said from a few feet behind Jack, who stood as close as possible to the prow.

“Well, what I got from the witch was something like: pour a drop from the magic bottle, behold the mist, sail into the mist, battle evil pirate wench, reclaim the Pearl. How's that sound?” He steadied himself as the Elizabeth rolled again, and then uncorked the bottle without looking at Will.

“It sounds over-simplified,” Will answered dryly.

“We'll find out soon, won't we?”

All eyes were on Jack as he gripped the bottle in his left hand, leaned over the port side of the prow, and gently tilted the bottle, and after a moment, a dollop of the thick golden liquid emerged from the lip of the bottle and fell straight down to the sea.

Everyone shuffled as far as they could toward the port side of the deck, peering down into the water. At first, nothing happened. A few crewmen mumbled about not trusting the witch, and turned back to their posts. A few others disappeared below.

Jack stared at the waves, wide-eyed, willing something to happen. Anything.

Then, as though a submerged whale had emptied its blowhole off the port bow, a great column of water shot upward, and a cloud of mist seemed to be drawn off the surface of the sea. The cloud grew in height and width until it was half the size of the Elizabeth itself, and everyone on deck gaped in wonder.

“That's where we're going, then,” Gibbs observed from below the mainmast.

Suddenly, the Elizabeth pitched on a swell. Jack wouldn't have even wobbled on his feet, except that he was staring agape at the cloud of mist and not concentrating on maintaining his balance. The prow dipped and rose quickly, tipping Jack forward. The bottle slipped from his left hand into the air. Panicked, he grabbed for it with both hands, and managed to catch it in his right - but not before another golden drop flew out into the waves on the other side of the ship.

“Whoops... don't think I was supposed to do that, was I?” Jack said as he regained his balance and turned the bottle back upright.

All eyes now turned to the starboard side of the ship. Another shot of water straight into the air. To Jack's chagrin, a second cloud of mist formed, just as large and mystical as the first.

“Well, that's wonderful,” Will said. “Now how do we know where to go?”

“We don't,” Jack replied dismally, staring at the mist. He thought of Tia's description: Diff'rent worlds, where different t'ings have happened. Some worlds are very, very strange. Some worlds are just like dis one. But different. He couldn't just order them to sail blindly into one of the mists. What if it were not the Pearl world at all, but some other one? He didn't want to endanger everyone; not if it could be helped.

He had a thought. And in another second, he had a plan.

“Ready the longboat!”

“Cap'n?” Gibbs sounded puzzled.

“Ready the longboat. Time for a little reconnaissance.”

“I'm going with you,” Will stated, understanding immediately that Jack meant to scout out one of the mists alone.

“Oh, no you're not,” Jack countered, making his way across the deck. “No one's going anywhere until I know exactly what that mist leads to. And I've got the bottle, and a few other tricks up my sleeve, thank you. All goes well, I'll be back in a jiffy with a tale of what the weather's like over there.”

“Jack, no!” This from Elizabeth, who had made her way to the longboat first. “You don't have any idea what's beyond that. You can't go alone.”

He smiled a small smile at her, and brushed his knuckles under her chin briefly, so quickly no one else would notice. “Can't give me orders, love. But you can help get this down into the water. And fast. Gibbs!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Get men over here to ready this thing!”

Gibbs and the other crewmen obeyed, conversation buzzing as they lowered the boat and Jack tucked the bottle inside a leather pouch hanging across his body. He turned around to climb down the ropes to the boat, and caught sight of Elizabeth, Will and Gibbs all staring at him, looking stricken.

“Cheer up, lads. Have a party while I'm gone, but save some rum for me. Gibbs, you're in charge till I get back.” In response to Will's increasingly troubled expression, he added, “Don't look so vexed, Will. Some time I'll leave you in charge, not to worry.” And he dropped off the side and out of their sight.

Jack rowed the boat swiftly, around the hull of the ship until he was poised beneath the prow, looking at one supernatural cloud of mist on either side of him. Then he reached into the leather pouch and brought out his compass. Before opening it, he held it in his left palm and clapped his right over it, taking a deep breath.

“Listen up, mate. I know we haven't always gotten along, you and I. Sometimes I don't know what I want. Sometimes I want two things that are contradictory. Sometimes I wonder if the witch charmed you just to vex me constantly. But, I need you to come through for me. This time I know what I want most. I want you to simply point the way to the thing I want most. Savvy?”

And when his speech was done, he gently lifted the lid with his right hand, and watched the dial spin. It spun once, and then swung definitely toward the right. If it were a pocketwatch, it would have read about two. No ambiguity whatsoever.

“All right, then,” Jack said, and put the compass back inside the pouch. He rowed into the mist off the starboard bow, without looking back.

Soon he was surrounded by the mist, and it felt cool but it tingled in a strange way. Definitely not an ordinary sea mist. He patted his side to confirm his sword was present, and then continued rowing. All of a sudden, the mist cleared, and he found himself rowing on open ocean. The waves tossed the small craft, and he slid against the side of the boat.

“Well, the weather seems similar, if nothing else.” He looked back over one shoulder to see the mist was gone, and he recalled that Tia said he had to let two drops fall to bring back the way home. Then he looked back over the other shoulder, and his breath caught in his throat.

It was the Pearl. About a half mile to a mile away. And slightly different... he stared. The sails were white, for one thing. He'd have to rectify that. He squinted his eyes to pick out her gun decks, the quarter deck... the cut of her masts and sails. It was the Pearl, he was sure. He began to row toward it, before he remembered the rest of the story... that he couldn't just row up, climb on board and take possession of the ship from the most brutal pirate ever to sail the earth. He stopped rowing, and began to reach for the bottle. He planned to go back and get the others, in his too-slow, too-heavy stolen Navy warship, and come back properly prepared.

Then out of the corner of his eye, something glinted. He suspected what, but he continued to stare at the aft section of the Pearl, trying to pick out human figures. Then he saw the glint again. With a sinking feeling, he fumbled for the bottle.

It was the sun reflecting off a spyglass. He'd been seen.

And they had wasted no time in coming about, either, as he saw the sails fill as beautifully as he remembered. The Pearl carried a lot of canvas, and when she wasn't weighed down with cargo, she was the fastest in the Caribbean, if not the world.

He realized, with an even heavier heart, that he could never outrun the Pearl in a rowboat. And furthermore, if he used the magic liquid to part the mists, and if the Pearl pursued him through the mist, he'd be leading them right to his crew, who were not at their battle stations. The Elizabeth was a sitting duck.

He gritted his teeth, tucked the bottle back in the pouch, and turned the boat about so he could watch the Pearl approach. His hand tightened reflexively on the sword. They were a quarter mile away now, and he could discern a figure on the poop deck holding the spyglass. A three-cornered black hat sat on the figure's head, and a white shirt billowed in the wind.

He would find out soon enough just how evil the other captain of the Pearl could be. Shame his reputation wouldn't aid him in striking some fear into her heart, as Tia had assured him repeatedly that in the world he sought, Captain Jack Sparrow didn't exist and had never existed.

And so he was utterly shocked when the figure approached the rail as the Pearl drew closer, and cupped its hands to yell.

“Jack! Jack! Jaaaaaack!”

He would know that sound anywhere. It was Elizabeth's voice, calling his name. One of his favorite sounds of the recent years of his life, truth be told.

So if this were the infamous Lady E, things were about to get extra-complicated. Because not only was he going to be unadvisedly taken prisoner in less than a minute, he would then be at the mercy of a woman who knew exactly who he was.

Which, in his experience, did not bode well for him, at all.

“Jack!” Elizabeth's shouted voice sounded shrill and worried. He could see her face, now, as she leaned over the side of the deck, and then she disappeared and he assumed she was heading for the side.

He heard orders being shouted as the Pearl drew within one hundred feet of him, and he decided not to delay the inevitable, and began to row toward the ship. “Cast a ladder o'er the side!” he heard someone call. He allowed the boat to drift up next to the hull.

“Jack! Are you all right? Can you climb? We'll help you.”

Jack allowed himself to be comforted by the concern he detected in her voice. He saw the rope ladder they had hung down, and began to raise himself upon it. As he placed hand over hand, he swallowed in an attempt to settle his anxiety. He could be climbing up to his doom, right this moment...

When he reached the top, a crewman reached down to haul him aboard. He stood on his feet and then looked to his right. There she stood. Definitely Elizabeth, although dressed a bit differently than he was used to. She wore a white man's shirt with no tunic, and a simply scarf looped under the collar and tied in front. Her tawny hair was ponytailed in the back, almost hidden under her hat. Her trousers were black and seemed to fit her - a little too well, he observed - and her boots were brown and soft with use.

When he raised his gaze to her face, he saw she had gone entirely white, as though she'd seen a ghost. Her hand seemed to tremble as it lifted to remove her hat from her head, and held it out. A crewman materialized and took it from her, rapidly disappearing again.

“Jack?” Her voice was nearly a whisper. “Is it really you?”

He was mentally debating how to best answer that question, under the circumstances, but he didn't get a chance. Having designated the question rhetorical - he imagined - she then threw herself entirely into his arms, and he was knocked backward by the force of her embrace. All at once he could feel the warmth of her body, the firm hold of her arms around his neck, and... was she kissing him below his ear?

“Careful, love, you're liable to pitch me back into the sea,” he murmured, bewildered, against her hair. He inhaled deeply, and felt a twinge in his innards as the scent rang true. Sweet. Clean. A hint of vanilla. This was his Elizabeth...

She lifted her head away, and smiled, even though he could see tears in her eyes, ready to brim over. “Jack, you can't know how glad I am to see you... we thought you were lost... it's been two days, we've been searching everywhere, and everyone but me had given up hope... and there you were!” She stopped and searched his face with her eyes, brushing his cheek with her fingers. “Look at you, you're filthy. Do you... remember what happened to you?”

He dodged the question by saying, “Am I filthier than usual?”

“I'd say so, but you've been at sea for two days, so I'll forgive you.” She smiled in earnest then, and dropped her hand to her waist, reaching for his hand and wrapping her fingers around it. “Come and tell me everything while I clean you up. Briggs!” Her voice had gone from soft to hard in a moment, and she called an order over her shoulder as she led a confused but growingly optimistic Jack down the companionway toward the stern of the ship. Toward the captain's cabin, in fact. “Some water, to my cabin, and I mean, right this minute!”

To my cabin? Jack wondered to himself. She's got gumption to install herself in my cabin when I've only been missing for two days.

“Aye, and Captain Sparrow?” called the requested crewman.

“Yes?” Jack and the mystery Elizabeth both answered at once.

Their faces swung instantly toward each other, and both of their mouths gaped open. His in shock, hers in mild surprise. She recovered her voice first.

“What are you playing at,” she murmured in a teasing tone, before responding to the crewman, who glanced nervously between the two of them. “Yes, what is it?”

“Doesn't 'e... remember nothin' about what happened?”

“He doesn't seem to,” she told the crewman, a note of warning in her voice.

“Will ye be wantin' some food for 'im? I can see what the cook's got left.”

“That would be lovely, Briggs, thank you.” She turned back to Jack and continued to half-push, half-drag him up the deck stairs to the quarter deck and into the cabin, as Jack's overwhelmed brain spun as helplessly as that wretched compass.

Captain Sparrow, they'd called her. Which meant two things of grave importance.

Number one, she, not he, was captain of the Pearl. Which could not even be called the Black Pearl, because it wasn't black. A trifle, compared with the next bit of information he'd derived from that exchange.

Her last name was Sparrow. Not Swann. Not Norrington. Not Turner. Sparrow.

Which meant the new Elizabeth, who seemed suspiciously, totally like the other one, and who was now hurrying to close the doors to the cabin, leaving them completely alone, was not his mortal enemy after all.

She was his wife.
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Ship in a Bottle