In the Hollow of the Heart

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So sorry for the very long wait, my faithful readers! Time, circumstance and a wee bit of writer's block have all conspired against me these many months. Regardless, here is the latest chapter. Hope you enjoy. Thank you again, RF, for your extremely thorough yet amazingly fast assistance! Your input is priceless. And thank you to Lynne and Conni for their constant encouragement, and to Janet for taking the time to send me a note. Your comments mean the world to me.

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Chapter 6 - Promise Given, Promise Kept

By the time the three of them found their way back up the steep, cobbled street that led to the Cats Castle Rooming House, William was barely able to keep up. Despite the excitement of the night’s events – or more likely, because of it – the wind had finally gone out of the little boy’s sails and he stumbled about like a drunken sailor, so close was he to falling asleep on his feet. When they were still a few blocks away from home, Hector scooped their son up in mid-step and settled the exhausted child into the crook of his arm. With a yawn, William laid his head on Hector’s shoulder and gradually drifted off, lulled by the sure, steady tempo of his father’s gait.

The sight was unexpectedly poignant, and Elizabeth’s throat ached as she fought back tears. Although Hector had taken pains to make the gesture seem casual, she wasn’t fooled…in all the years that he’d been coming to Barbados, it was as close as he’d ever come to embracing William. The fact that William had accepted it so trustingly – so naturally – spoke volumes about the strength of the growing bond between the pair.

She had been wilfully blind. Blind to Hector’s pain, to her son’s needs, to the truth in her own heart. Perhaps her naïveté could have been excused ten years earlier – she knew she’d been a callow girl despite her best attempts to appear bold and worldly before the Brethren. But maintaining the lies as time passed had been a deliberate choice she’d made, knowing full well that she was wrong to do so.

Elizabeth glanced over at Hector again, her heart clenching at the look of quiet pride on his face as he cradled his slumbering child. Perhaps it wasn’t fair that she was being given a second chance; certainly no one deserved it less. But that didn’t mean she was fool enough to let it slip away again. Once they were back home and William put to bed, she would show her man exactly what he meant to her...and in a way that would leave no question as to the depth of her feelings.

Almost as though he could sense her thoughts, Hector looked over and caught her gaze with his. Even in the darkness, she could see the heated promise of passion in his eyes and it brought rushing back another promise he’d made to her, on that single night they’d shared so long ago…

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Elizabeth peered into her stein, the remnants of the thick ale now nothing more than a pale brown sludge at the bottom. She’d imbibed far more than she’d ever dared before, but it still hadn’t been nearly enough to calm her nerves.

All around her, the crews from the various pirate vessels joined in frantic revelry, drinking, singing, and fighting in equal measure. There was something forced about the raucous bellows of laughter that rang through the hall, though...the spectre of imminent death loomed overhead, pointedly ignored but nevertheless making itself felt within the hearts and minds of those gathered. It was almost as though they believed that if they made enough noise and pursued every vice to excess, the cold, impartial finger of doom might settle elsewhere.

It was, of course, pure delusion. Elizabeth grabbed the flagon and slopped yet more ale into her cup. If it was true that Beckett had tracked them to Shipwreck Cove, his forces would by far outnumber the meagre number of pirates standing against him. Who was she, though, to begrudge them a bit of larking about when they were in need of a little cheer? Was her way any better? Sitting alone in the corner, downing pint after pint of wretched brew and longing for a past so distant that it hardly seemed to have happened at all...pathetic, really.

No, these men knew what they were doing. Life had always been an uncertain thing for them; it was their way to snatch what little joy they could when the opportunity presented itself. Given the reception that Beckett would likely give them in the morning, it might very well be their final chance.

She sipped at her drink, licking the yeasty foam from her upper lip as she glanced around the room. The hall in which they’d held the Brethren Court hours earlier was literally packed to the rafters; some of the younger pirates were dangling their legs from seats on the high, dark beams above as they watched the crowd stagger about the tight, humid space. Music from a fiddle and squeezebox could be heard over the din, a simple shanty that grew in volume as it was taken up by enthusiastically off-key, drunken voices. The smell of sweat and rum permeated the thick air, a heavy, masculine scent by now so familiar to her that she wondered if she would miss it when her journey finally came to an end.

Her heart sank at the thought. What awaited her when the fight was done? Perhaps like so many of those who surrounded her, she’d not live to see the blazing glory of another sunset. If Beckett prevailed and she somehow survived the day, she would be a captive, and it would only be a matter of time before she would be forced to take the long, slow climb up the steps to the gallows alongside her comrades where, as Norrington once commented to her so long ago, she could expect a short drop and a sudden stop.

And yet if the pirates somehow defeated Lord Beckett’s fleet, against all odds, she still faced uncertainty. She and Will were outlaws; there was no going back to their lives in Port Royal, no exoneration awaiting them in England. Worse again, the prospect of this bleak future was something she’d quite likely have to face alone. There was no knowing where Will Turner was now, or with whom he conspired, or what his plans were, or if anything of his feelings for her remained. Although his quest to save his father had started as a righteous one, she was no longer confident that it remained so. Life had become very blurred with too many shades of grey and they’d lost one another somewhere in the midst of it.

Intent on numbing herself enough to drive her troubling thoughts into retreat, Elizabeth reached for more ale but frowned as she watched the last dregs dribble into her cup. If she wanted more, she’d have to get it herself, a daunting prospect considering the crush of inebriated humanity between herself and the casks. Perhaps it would more prudent to turn in and attempt to find whatever restless sleep she could.

No one would miss her if she did leave, she knew. Mistress Ching had been decidedly correct when she said that Shipwreck Cove was a well-supplied fortress; every possible need was anticipated and that included female companionship. Whores wove their way through the gathered pirates, anxious to accommodate any hungry-looking man with a few coins in his pocket. With such buxom and willing company readily available, it was little wonder she’d not received more than a passing glance over the course of the entire evening.

Not that she wanted that kind of attention from this rabble. It was better, really, that they saw her as a fellow captain and not as a potential conquest. But she had to admit that it wounded her pride that there was not even one among them who would seek her out for so much as a shared drink and a bit of conversation.

A bark of bitter laughter escaped her lips. Now who was clinging to delusion? Her feelings were bruised because in a room chock-full of men, none had found her appealing enough to even try to approach her. Even Jack Sparrow, vile and dissolute creature that he was, hadn’t so much as looked her way since the Brethren Court dispersed. She wouldn’t have succumbed to his dubious charms, certainly, but a friendly word or two would have been more than welcome. Of course, there was that little matter of her having left him, chained and helpless, at the mercy of the Kraken; she was forced to admit that such a thing might well cure a man of any lingering desires.

She cradled her head in her hands, her elbows resting on the pitted, sticky table. She’d had it right the first time – she was pathetic. Drinking only made her more maudlin and moreover, if she continued, the after-effects would leave her ill-equipped to deal with the battle that awaited them all in the morning. It was time to depart quietly with what little dignity she had left.

The floor seemed to shift slightly as she stood, the liquor having robbed her of more of her senses than she had noticed. Shutting her eyes, Elizabeth took a few deep breaths and found her balance again. Feeling slightly more stable, she set off across the floor, elbowing her way through the writhing mass of bodies towards the door.

The short journey took far longer than it should, and by the time she’d finally forced her way through the last boisterous tangle of men, her arms were sore and her shins battered from being inadvertently jostled and kicked. Her foot had been stepped on hard enough that frustrated tears swam in her eyes and she stank of grog that had been carelessly spilled down the front of her vest. Cursing under her breath and clenching her hands in tight, angry fists, Elizabeth stumbled out the door and onto the deck of the Consolación, the wrecked Spanish galleon that served both as the haven’s hall and court.

The air was lighter and definitely less rank outside, and taking deep breaths, Elizabeth tilted her head back to gaze up through the gaping mouth of the crater and into a small patch of night, black as pitch. As her eyes became accustomed to the lack of light, she could see a handful of stars sparkling faintly above. Such peaceful beauty on the verge of tremendous peril, she thought as she wandered over to the gunwale. If only it could bring some tranquility to her heart, however fleeting.

Hundreds of tiny lanterns glowed dimly from the towering wrecks surrounding them, forming new constellations within the gloomy cavern. Bits of uneven melody that escaped the hall bounced off the walls around her, fading until they were little more than haunting echoes.

The door suddenly bumped open behind her and for a few seconds, the sounds of laughter and music swelled again. She turned to see Captain Barbossa with a plump painted lady hanging on his arm, a bottle of wine in his fist and a wicked grin on his face. Elizabeth tried to shrink back into the shadows without being noticed, but she should have known better than to even try. As Barbossa caught sight of her, his grin widened and he bowed as best he could with the tittering doxy clinging to him.

“A good evenin’ to ye, Cap’n Swann,” he said solemnly, though his smile didn‘t waver for a moment. If he’d been drinking already, she couldn’t tell it from either his voice or his rather regal bearing.

“And to you, Captain Barbossa,” she answered formally, and with just a slight slur from the ale she’d been drinking. “Calling it an evening already?”

“Jus’ movin’ the party elsewhere, luvvie,” crooned the whore before he could answer, smoothing her hand possessively over Barbossa’s forearm. She appraised Elizabeth with a haughty glance. “Don’t usually cotton to women, but ye could join us if ye’ve a care…mind, though, I’ll hafta be chargin’ fer two.”

“Thank you, no,” Elizabeth replied, unable to keep her lip from curling in disgust at the offer. She found herself more than a little disturbed at the way Barbossa‘s eyes glittered upon hearing the suggestion and she gave him a withering look as a reward. “I do believe that you’re more than enough woman for one man to handle.”

“Are you callin’ me 'fat’, then?!” the woman gasped, her crimson lips forming an astonished ‘o’ and her eyes bulging wide. She yanked on Barbossa’s arm and screeched up into his smirking face. “Here, now…ye gonna let that scrawny bit of twat talk to me like that?!”

His smile abruptly faded and his eyes grew cold. “'Tis ye that be out of line now. That there’s a pirate lord, elected King of the Brethren Court this very night. And more of a lady than ye could ever claim to be, at that. Ain’t right fer ye to be disrespectin' her in such a way.”

“What? Did ye not hear what she said 'bout me? Ye said that I was as lovely and lithe a creature as ye’ve ever seen, and here ye are, takin’ her side ag’in me! And to think I gave ye me fairest price on account of yer fine clothes 'n all!”

He pried her hands off of his arm and stepped away from her, his lips set in a grim line. ”Perhaps ye’d best be seekin’ out another as would better enjoy yer company, Marguerite. I find me appetites have waned.”

The spurned whore snorted with affronted pride and planted her fists on her ample hips. “Well, fine! I leave ye to her, then, and to hell with both of ye! Won’t have to go too far to find meself a young 'un with a bit o’ coin as will appreciate me fer all me charms, and ye, sir, can resort to bringin' yerself off!” She whirled around, shoved the tavern door open, and glowered at Barbossa. “Yer no kinda gentleman anyhow!”

Barbossa laughed roughly and waved her off. “Ye’ve a long search ahead of ye if that’s what yer lookin’ fer, harpy! Ain’t gentlemen as avail themselves of such hospitality as ye have to offer!”

With one final huff, Marguerite stomped off to rejoin the festivities, leaving Elizabeth and Barbossa in relative quiet. He walked over and sighed heavily as he leaned on the gunwale beside her.

“I…I thank you for your gallantry, Captain,” she said, humbled and not just a bit surprised that he had defended her honour. “I should have exercised some of the manners with which I was raised and simply kept my opinions to myself. It seems that I have ruined your…plans for the evening. Perhaps there is another…”

He shook his head, smiling ruefully at the ships anchored in the harbor beneath them. “Don’t ye be thinkin’ on it - ain’t no loss. Truth be told, I ain’t e’er been one fer payin’ fer me pleasure. ‘Tis the thrill of the chase, so to speak, as makes it worth the prize. Seduction be wasted when the company comes cheap…me heart weren’t really in it.”

Elizabeth grinned mischievously at him. “I don’t think she was after your heart.”

Barbossa chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling in the faint light as he glanced slyly at her. He clutched the small silk bag that hung at his side and jangled the coins within it. “Greatly interested in the considerable heft of me purse, she was, and very little in me more impressive assets.”

She let out a burst of laughter and instantly felt better. Loneliness had become such a constant companion that she’d forgotten how enjoyable simple conversation could be, even with a man who had entered her life as a much-feared enemy. “Her loss, I’m sure,” she responded with a reassuring pat to his arm.

He arched an eyebrow at her as he noticed the dark stains splashed across the front of her shirt. “Ye might try drinkin’ yer liquor rather than wearin’ it, missy. Tends to have a more upliftin’ effect that way,”

“Trust me, there’s almost as much in me as on me,” Elizabeth confessed sheepishly, dabbing self-consciously at her sodden clothes.

“If yer of a mind to change, I might be able to accommodate ye. As chance would have it, I’ve a stunnin’ gown in me quarters that I’d wager is just about the right size fer ye.”

She smiled, knowing exactly which dress he meant. “You’ve kept it on board the Pearl all this time?”

Barbossa frowned thoughtfully. “T’was there last time I looked. ‘Course, that was before I was dead and the Pearl stolen away. Unless Jack took to wearin’ it hisself while he pranced about in the Locker, it should be where I left it.” He popped the cork from the bottle of wine and took a quick swig. “Not that I’d be puttin’ it past him, mind ye…”

“Well, let’s just hope he didn’t stretch the shoulders out too much,” she quipped, holding her hand out for the wine. He passed it over and eyed her appraisingly as she tilted the bottle back and drank deeply. Elizabeth closed her eyes for a heartbeat, savouring the delicious warmth as it trickled down her throat.

“Tell me, girl,” he asked gently. “What are ye doin’ here?”

Elizabeth shrugged and returned the bottle. “What, out on deck? I’d just had enough of the racket inside, is all.” There was no reason to trot out her anxieties; she feared Barbossa might think her a coward and for some reason, it was important to her that he at least believed her to be brave. She had, after all, openly challenged him before the Brethren…how would it look if she unveiled her doubts before him now?

“Don’t blame ye fer that, but that ain’t what I meant. I’m askin’ why on earth ye’d follow us here to Shipwreck Cove.”

The question puzzled her. “I’d have thought that obvious. This is where we are gathering to fight for our freedom. Where else would I be?”

He took another slug of wine, licking the last drops from his lips as he turned to face her. “Ye had a ship and a crew. Ye could have sailed back to England, made yer case before the King and let him know of Beckett’s crimes…restored yer good name and reputation. Comin’ here, steppin’ into the breach – that there was just foolishness.”

She blinked hard, taken aback. “You of all people know what has been taken from me…and what more we will lose if he’s allowed to go unchallenged! Is it foolish to stand against a tyrant and show the courage of one’s convictions?”

“Is that what yer pretendin’ this be?” he snorted, tossing the empty bottle to the side. “A grand and noble cause? Figured ye had more brains than to try and feed me that kind of nonsense.”

So much for soothing her troubled spirits, she thought as her temper began to simmer. “We all have our own motives for confronting Beckett and the Company, Captain Barbossa. Who are you to say that mine are any less sound than whatever yours might be?”

“There be only one reason why ye rejoined our ranks, why yer so determined to go to war tomorrow.” He glanced knowingly from beneath the shadowy brim of his hat. “Ye might have fooled them other pirate lords, but I know what ‘tis ye seek.”

Elizabeth puffed out her chest indignantly. “I seek justice! Lord Cutler Beckett will die for what he did to my father, for what happened to James….”

“I think ye came back with a thought to dyin’ yerself, Miss Swann. Ye wish to fall in battle.”

She gasped, the breath rushing from her lungs as though she’d been punched in the gut. “Don’t be ludicrous! I came to see Beckett pay for his sins, whatever it takes…”

“Aye, that’s the plan, ain’t it?” Barbossa said with certainty. “Ye’ll take up yer blade and throw yerself into the fray, but ye’ll be chasing death rather than fendin’ it off. Paintin’ yerself the heroine of the tale, the tragic figure who gives her life fer the greater good. Ye figure yer father would be proud of that?”

“Yes, he would!” she nearly shouted. She didn’t want to hear any more. Who was Hector Barbossa, of all people, to pass judgment on her? “He would want me to fight the good fight, regardless of the cost!”

“Yer wrong,” he answered sadly. “He died, as did Norrington, so that ye might survive. Ye spit on their sacrifice when ye throw yer life away so senselessly.”

His reproach wounded her more deeply than she’d have believed possible. Elizabeth turned away, trying to hide the angry tears welling in her eyes. “What in God’s name would you have me do, then? Cower in a corner while everyone around me exacts vengeance on my behalf?”

“Nay. Know ye well enough to understand that ye’d not shirk yer duties, not with yer men takin’ yer lead. But I’d see ye have a care fer yer own life, girl…don’t ye go makin’ the Company’s task any easier. There’s no glory to be had in throwin’ yerself upon the enemy’s sword.”

Elizabeth hung her head, sorrow displacing her anger. “Would it be so bad to die in such a way?” she asked plaintively, her voice trembling. “You don’t understand what it’s been like these past few weeks…”

Barbossa slipped an arm around her shoulders and gathered her tenderly to his side. Although startled at the gesture, she nevertheless found herself disinclined to resist. “Ye feel hollow, sure that ye’ll perish from the emptiness inside,” he murmured, his breath ruffling her hair as he leaned in close. “And ye believe that the only salvation ye’ll ever find lies in the next world…that only death can offer ye peace for yer troubled mind. But take it from one as would know, ‘Lizabeth, and mark me words well – ye should not welcome the end. The world won’t always seem so black as it does this night.”

Elizabeth sagged against his shoulder, her tears flowing as she finally gave release to all the misery she had held back. She buried her face in her hands, mortified that she’d been reduced to weeping like some frightened maiden. That he could see the darkness hidden in her soul so clearly was shocking and comforting at the same time. “Who knows what awaits us in the days ahead?” she cried, ashamed but unable to stop herself. “I know I’m not strong enough to be on my own!”

Pivoting to face her, Barbossa tipped up her chin and gently thumbed away her tears. “Look at all ye have endured on this journey, girl…horrors that would have broken the most stout-hearted of sailors! Ye might feel bruised and set upon, weary of spirit and sick at heart, but I know there be strength in ye yet.”

She shook her head, touched by his words but unconvinced all the same. “How can you know that’s true? I don’t feel like there is enough of me left…everyone who has been taken from me, who has chosen to leave me behind, has taken a piece of me with them.”

“Mourn them as ye will,” he said sagely, affectionately tucking an errant lock of her hair behind her ear, “but fer each bit of yerself gone, a bit of them stayed with ye, too. With every loss and every triumph, yer remade anew. Don’t let yer grief blind ye to all that your life might yet be. Ye musn’t allow Beckett to rob ye of that as well.”

A ragged sigh escaped her lips and she closed her eyes. Feeling utterly drained, she rested her damp cheek against his chest and relished the reassuring warmth of his skin on hers. His strong heartbeat was as soothing as a lullaby and he wrapped her in his arms, stroking her back and calming her as though she was a mere child.

As she stood quietly in Barbossa’s embrace, though, Elizabeth felt anything but childlike. Each tender caress, however comforting he might have meant it to be, gradually brought forth in her a powerful new awareness of her champion. The strength of the arms around her, the softness of his breath tickling her temple, the solid feel of his body pressed to hers…all of it awakened instincts she’d suppressed for what seemed an eternity.

It might have been that the ale had lowered her defenses, or it might have been that his unexpected kindness had touched her in more ways than one, but she well knew it was a man –a fiercely passionate man – who held her so closely. He had wanted her once...perhaps some of those longings still remained. Returning to the Empress by herself to wait out the night, cold and fretting about the battle, held no appeal. One final evening aboard the Pearl, on the other hand...

“Captain,” she whispered, sliding her arms beneath his coat so she could spread her fingers over the small of his back, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Even if Turner don’t ever come to his senses,” he replied, his lilting voice a deep rumble against her cheek, “I promise that ye’ll never face such a fate. There be many a man as would give all he had to….”

“No,” she interrupted, daring to meet his serious gaze. His vow was solemnly uttered, but in giving it he seemed to be offering her far more than what she was really asking. “That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t want to be alone...tonight.”

His eyes widened in disbelief as understanding sank in, but despite the flare of lust she caught on his face, he shook his head and pulled away from her. “Ye shouldn’t be offerin’ yerself to me in such a way,” he said gruffly, stalking away from her. “Ye’d diminish yerself by layin’ with the likes of me, and there’d be no forgiveness fer either of us come mornin’!”

“Neither of us would need seek it,” Elizabeth pledged. “I am only asking for one night...I will place no obligations or expectations on you beyond that.” Regardless of whether he refused her out of some misplaced sense of propriety or because, despite signs to the contrary, he did not want her in the same way she desperately wanted him, she found his rejection nearly impossible to accept.

“I wasn’t attemptin’ to entice ye into me bed,” Barbossa heaved a sigh and sat down heavily on a discarded cask, rubbing at his face with one hand. “As low as I might have fallen over me many years, I ain’t quite so despicable as to take liberties with ye when yer in such a state.”

“It isn’t taking liberties if I long for the same thing.” She stood before him, as raw and vulnerable as she’d ever felt in her life. “Please, Captain...Hector. Do you not seek to keep your demons at bay for a few hours, too? To forget for just a little while how truly horrid mankind can be by losing yourself in another’s most intimate embrace? I would have that...and it is you with whom I want to share it.”

“Ye’d regret it,” he insisted, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. “I’d not want to bear the brunt of yer contempt when mornin’ comes and ye come to understand that the deed can’t be undone.”

Elizabeth’s face went hot with humiliation. “You needn’t beat around the bush to spare my feelings,” she choked angrily, straightening herself and looking at him with what she hoped appeared to be disdain. “If you aren’t interested, just say so! Perhaps I’ll return to the hall and see if there is anyone within who doesn’t find the thought of sharing a night with me to be quite so abhorrent!”

It was an empty threat; she knew there was no one else she could abide having touch her. Although she had no intention of following through on her words, going back inside at least offered a somewhat dignified retreat. With one last glare over her shoulder, she marched towards the door, her cheeks still burning red.

She hadn’t made it two feet before Barbossa grabbed her arm and swung her around. Catching her in his arms, he held her against him so tightly that she almost struggled to breathe. With her hands trapped between their bodies, she was rendered helpless, and all of her writhing and kicking seemed to have no effect on him at all.

Freeing herself suddenly became the last thing on her mind, though, as he crushed his lips to hers and kissed her with a thoroughness that left her trembling with long-denied need. Liquid fire coursed through her veins as his mouth drew greedily on hers, his heat all but consuming her. His tongue slicked over her teeth and she parted her lips with a moan, inviting him further in. He plunged inside, tasting her deeply and she rejoiced, knowing that his desire for her burned every bit as hot as did her own.

He broke off the kiss abruptly. “Is that what ye’d have of me, then?” he demanded, his voice husky and heavy with passion. He seemed angry at his own loss of restraint. “Are ye so woebegone that ye figure ye deserve nothin’ better than to be used so roughly?”

“I would have that and more,” she confessed breathlessly, a shudder of arousal moving through her. She pushed against his chest and he leaned back enough to allow her to free her hands. “Do not shame me by making me beg.”

Lifting her hand, she smoothed his whiskers with the back of her fingers. He closed his eyes as though luxuriating in her touch, the barest of moans escaping his parted lips. He captured her small hand in his and pressed a hungry kiss to her palm before looking back at her. “If ye be at all unsure, ‘Lizabeth, ye must leave me now.”

Elizabeth cradled his head in her hands and stood on tiptoe, brushing her lips lightly over his. “Take me,” she said ardently between delicate kisses. “To your ship…on your bed…with your body.”

“Come,” he said, standing and drawing her towards the ladder leading to the small jetty below. “Fer tonight at least, ye be mine alone.”

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