In the Hollow of the Heart

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A bit of a tease, dear readers, but I hope you'll indulge me as I once again let Hector and Elizabeth hijack my plot. :D Thanks Conni and Lynne for continuing to support my fics with your feedback; what you share is so important to me. And RF...thanks again for both the inspiration in this particular story and with your exemplary beta duties. I know I've told you before, but you really do rock!

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Chapter 7 - Time and Tide


Elizabeth’s hand shook slightly as she extended the key towards the rooming house door, but she couldn’t say if her loss of composure came as a result of the flood of vivid memories, or from the sudden realization that Hector had loved her even then.

Who else had he ever graced with such kindness but her? When had he ever - ever - exercised such restraint when faced with that which he desired? He’d pursued a life of shameless excess, taking whatever he wanted and making no excuses. Yet time and again she had been the exception to his rule, and she had simply accepted it without truly realizing what it must have meant for Captain Hector Barbossa to do so.

The thought should have been humbling, but instead Elizabeth found it intensely arousing. To have Hector harness his very nature for her sake certainly spoke to the intensity of his feelings…what woman would not want to be loved so fiercely? It was the intense passion of every girl’s romantic fantasy.

On her second flustered attempt to get the key into the lock, Hector gently enveloped her hand in his and steadied her trembling fingers so she could finally complete the task. As the heavy door swung open into the darkened interior of the house, she dared a furtive glance up at his face and saw him looking down at her with bemusement.

What she should have done then was begged forgiveness for having taken him for granted, not just that night but every day of every year that he’d journeyed to Barbados to see her. She should have told him that she could think of no better father for her son and no better man with whom to share her life. It would have been only right to finally divulge that it wasn’t by chance that she had chosen his bed in which to lose her innocence…that she had known instinctively that he would treat that most precious of moments with reverence and not casual disregard.

Yes, Elizabeth knew that she should have said that and more, but her all-encompassing need and overwrought emotion made coherent speech impossible. Instead, she rose up on her toes and kissed him passionately, willing him to feel everything she was woefully incapable of saying.

With the deepest of moans he parted his lips, granting her tacit permission to take an even deeper taste. She accepted ardently, cupping his jaw in her hand as she teased his tongue with hers, an intimate duel that left her desperate to sample every rough-hewn inch of his body.

Elizabeth felt his shudder as he reluctantly tore himself from the kiss, shaking his head even as he pulled away. “Ye don’t fight fair,” he complained in a rushed whisper, still breathless from her fervent efforts. “There ain’t a thing I can do with this lout of a boy in me arms, and ye know it.”

She leaned in, his long hair tickling her cheek as she nuzzled his ear. “Perhaps we’d best get our son tucked into his bed so that I may finally take you to mine. Then we shall see what you can do.”

His breath caught in his throat, and he snapped his head around so that he could capture her mouth with his again. Heat rushed through her body with each warm sweep of his tongue, each tender glide of his lips against hers, and she ached to feel his long fingers on her fevered skin.

“Ye’ve kept me waitin’ long enough, ‘Lizabeth,” he warned with a low growl, his free hand sliding down to coarsely caress her buttocks through her breeches. “Grab up a lantern and lead the way...me patience ain’t boundless.”

A helpless whimper of anticipation slipped from her throat as she pulled herself from his embrace and stole ahead of him into the entryway.

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Tendrils of smoke curled from a few of Bridgeport’s chimneys, lazy grey tails that sank from the roofs and coiled around the street lamps below until they appeared to be nothing but floating, ghostly orbs. Elizabeth looked out over the town from the open window of her bedchamber, tugging her hair from its braid and quickly pulling a brush through her tangled tresses as she restlessly waited for Hector to join her.

The thin haze hanging over the housetops brought to mind the first night she had laid eyes on Hector Barbossa. The smoke from the Black Pearl’s guns had hung over the water as the crew rowed her across the harbour to confront their captain, the booming of the cannons echoing through the gloom and the tattered black canvas snapping in the wind.

She smiled to herself as she remembered the arrogance of her youth. Rather than being frightened at the prospect of facing down a notoriously vicious pirate captain, she had been secretly thrilled at the chance to board the legendary vessel and keen to impress the legendary Captain Barbossa with her vast knowledge of his world. It hadn’t taken long for the cursed crew to relieve her of her ridiculous notions…or for her to understand that she was as far out of her depths as she could possibly be.

Neither she nor Hector bore much resemblance to their past selves any more. Dead and gone was the tormented wraith that Barbossa had been under the curse – born again to a mortal life so he could serve the needs of a goddess, Hector was the man she now knew he’d been long before they’d ever crossed paths. As for her…well, the spoiled and naïve girl had disappeared forever when she’d snapped a manacle around Jack Sparrow’s wrist and shackled him to the main mast, leaving him to the Kraken’s wrath. In actuality, it felt less a stain on her soul to her than a revelation of her truer, darker nature, long buried though it had been. Perhaps that was what eventually bound her so closely to Hector…it was that darkness they shared.

The heavy tread on the steps caught her attention and Elizabeth turned expectantly towards her door, her heart sprinting as Hector made his way to her room. Once they’d settled William in his bed and retreated into the hallway, he’d mumbled under his breath about retrieving something from the parlour and had disappeared downstairs. Left at loose ends for a while, she paced the room and tidied as a way of occupying herself before abandoning her pointless efforts. It wasn’t likely that he’d notice the state of the room, but he would be focused on her, she realized, and so in the end she decided she’d be better served doing what she could to make herself halfway presentable.

The squeal of the hinges announced his entrance into the room, and he swung the door closed behind him with a definitive thud. Hector’s face remained hidden in shadow as he paused beyond of the glow of the candles she’d placed around the room, but Elizabeth could feel his eyes rake over her all the same. A shiver moved up her spine and her nipples grew tight within the bodice of the indecently gauzy gown she’d donned.

She stood before him, patiently bearing his silent scrutiny for what seemed an eternity before she took one hesitant step towards him, her hand outstretched to draw him closer.

“No, stay where ye be,” he rumbled, and she stopped in mid-step, her brow knitting in sudden confusion and concern. His unusual behaviour left her feeling self-conscious, and she fiddled nervously with the loose silk ribbons at her breast.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, not sure what to think about his reticence. On the stoop, he’d seemed more than ready and willing, and that made his abrupt withdrawal all the more alarming. “What is it?”

“There be somethin’ I must tell ye.”

“Go ahead, then.” Elizabeth steeled herself, afraid of what she might hear, her mind racing with possibilities. He sounded apprehensive, as though on the verge of a terrible confession. Perhaps he wasn’t so forgiving of her transgressions as she might have thought.

“Did ye ever have cause to look at that chart as we got from Sao Feng, girl? The one as led us to the edge of the world?”

She looked at him quizzically, not understanding what the bamboo drawing had to do with the current situation. That journey now seemed a lifetime ago. “No, not really. I wasn’t doing much navigating on that voyage.”

“When last the crew and I set sail from Barbados,” he said, leaning back against the door, “we made fer a place as was on that there chart. ‘La Florida’, ‘tis called. Mind ye, took us years to find the right bearins’ since that poxy cur Jack Sparrow went and cut out the centre of me map. But find it, we did...and the treasure, to boot.”

Sighing in exasperation, Elizabeth crossed the few feet over to her bed and sat down on its edge. “What is this about? You might have missed it earlier, but I’m not exactly in the mood to hear about chests full of gold and pearls...”

Hector gave a low chuckle. “Nay, weren’t none of that. What we found, ‘tis of far more value.”

She threw up her hands. “Weapons, then? I can’t begin to guess.” What did she care about more pirate swag? For certain, the Pearl’s hold was likely set to bursting with it. Pirates were rather like ravens at times, eager to get their hands on any bit of shine that caught their eyes. How was it that Hector could go from barely controlled carnal need to exuberant story weaving in a matter of moments?

“T’was water.”

“Pardon me?”

He opened his fingers to reveal a tiny blue bottle and tossed it towards her. Catching it, she held it up to the light and saw what appeared to be perhaps half an inch of clear liquid at the bottom. “Why on earth would a few spoonfuls of water…” she began before understanding suddenly dawned. The map he had spoken of only led to places of legend. She gasped and stood, the near-empty bottle clenched tightly in her fist.

“You went looking for Ponce de León’s wellspring! It was the Fountain of Youth that you found, wasn‘t it?” she demanded, angry tears clouding her eyes. “Hector, what have you done?”

He’d gone still, obviously not getting the reaction he’d expected from her. “Ye must understand…” he began, his voice low and level.

“Step into the light,” she demanded tremulously. “Damn you, do it now!”

He took one long stride forwards and her hand flew to her mouth in shock as she tried to contain her astonishment. Hector might have only sipped a little bit of the mystical water, but the effects had been sudden and profound.

His face had once been a testament to the nature of the life he’d led, harshly scarred from battle and deeply etched from the relentless ravages of wind, sea, and sun over the years. Gone now was the mottled ruddiness of his skin, along with the most prominent creases around his eyes and mouth. His features were smoother, the flesh around his cheekbones and jaw firm, and the whites of his eyes clear of the unhealthy yellow tinge that was the result of too little food and too much liquor.

Hector’s hair was thick and wavy, of a much deeper auburn hue now that the silver strands had vanished. Even the whiskers of his moustache and beard seemed thicker, the bronze bristles framing full, sensuous lips. His eyes shone clear in the flickering candlelight, glints of steely blue that were now shadowed by uncharacteristic uncertainty.

He stood straight and tall, his back and shoulders no longer rounded by the weights of age and responsibility. And although he was still clothed, the fit of his shirt and the tightness of his breeches were an obvious indication that more than just his face had been restored to its youthful glory.

He looked twenty years younger, she thought to herself, stricken by the extent of the transformation. Almost two decades washed away in the matter of a few quick swallows. He was now a splendid specimen of manhood, to be sure, and one for whom any woman in her right mind would lust. But while she knew she should be happy for him, should be glad of the fact that he’d been able to steal back some of those hard-lived years, this altered version of him left her feeling strangely bereft.

“Why?” she whispered, shaking her head in stunned disbelief. “Why would you do this?”

“Thought you’d be pleased to see me this way,” Hector growled, his brow furrowed with confusion. He held his arms out at his sides as though he was proudly displaying some new outfit for her approval. “Figured ye’d rejoice in havin’ yerself a man in his prime and not some ragged old sea dog, broken down and pathetic.”

“You did this for me?” Elizabeth cried, sickened by the thought. “Without even asking me if that was what I’d want? I fell in love with you exactly as you were...there was nothing about you that I sought to change!”

“Nothin’ at all? Ye might remember, I weren’t a young man when first ye laid eyes upon me,” he countered, the corners of his mouth turning down in a scowl. “How much time do ye believe I’ve left to me? Lost ten years fer touchin’ cursed gold…watched ten more slip away while I pined after ye like some besotted fool. Ye might still be the picture of youth, ‘Lizabeth, but I see that final horizon approachin’ far too quickly fer me likin’. At last I can call ye me own…can be a father to me son. Succumbed to death once already and I ain’t in a hurry to let it take me again, not now that I can claim all that which makes life worth livin’!”

Hector reached for her with one hand and she trembled, fighting the irrational urge to flee the room and find the man to whom she’d pledged her love not an hour earlier. She understood the reasons behind his decision - really, shouldn’t she consider what he’d done a blessing? But everything about him that was so endearingly familiar had vanished and she didn’t know if she could accept it with as much eagerness and delight as he seemed to expect.

“Please,” he pleaded gently, stopping in his tracks and hesitantly letting his arm drop. “I want naught but to hold ye.”

She nodded tentatively but averted her gaze with unaccustomed shyness, unable to watch as he closed the distance between them. Elizabeth was still shaking slightly as he gathered her into his arms and he sighed sadly as he drew her up against him.

“Shut yer eyes,” he murmured, his words gentle but insistent. Elizabeth complied, finding it easier than seeing him this way, easier than coming face to face with the stranger who now held her so intimately.

For a time, she remained stiff and uneasy in his embrace, reluctant to submit so readily to his show of affection. It felt wrong, as though she was yet again on the verge of betrayal if she allowed herself to succumb. As the minutes ticked by, though, and his chest rose and fell against her own in a steady rhythm, she allowed herself to relax slightly. The scent of his skin was as she remembered it, with the faintest hints of seawater, sweat and the harsh homemade soap he’d used during his bath. The feel of his elegant fingers stroking her long mantle of her hair, the reassuring weight of his hand against bend of her waist, and the soft caress of his breath against her brow…it all brought back the tender way he‘d worshipped her body that long-ago night.

“’Lizabeth,” he whispered hoarsely, the single word a touching entreaty. More than that, though, it was the beloved timbre of his voice that threatened to break her heart entirely.

She tilted her chin up and looked at him, focusing solely on the remarkable depths of his stormy eyes. He remained her Hector, she could see it so clearly now…the man, the rogue, the pirate. Passionate, wild and ravenous - what truly mattered had remained unchanged by the fountain’s sorcery. She needed only look with her heart.

“Kiss me,” she implored as love swelled in her chest, and the breath had barely left her lips when he lowered his mouth to hers, his arms tightening as he gave in to her demand with aching slowness. And yes – oh yes, thank the gods – he tasted just as he should, just as she remembered. The unexpected softness of his lips might have surprised her at first, but such trivial detail was quickly forgotten as he reawakened each and every desperate longing she’d fought to keep at bay over the previous nine years, night after lonely night.

They finally drew apart for need of air, breathing hard as they stared at one another through a lustful haze. “I love you,” Elizabeth whispered, needing him to know it for sure…needing him to hear it said before they went any further. “However you look, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Hector closed his eyes and smiled as though savouring the simple words, his content expression exactly the same as when he savoured the tang of a fine wine or the tart juice of a green apple. But there was an unmistakable glint of mischief in his eye when he glanced down at her again. “And how would ye be knowin’ it don’t matter? Ye can’t be sayin’ that fer certain until ye see fer yerself all the changes that the waters have wrought.”

She laughed and cocked her head at him coquettishly, even as her cheeks began to burn with an irrepressible blush. “I suppose you’re right,” she concurred, catching the ties on his shirt and pulling on them as she tugged him back towards the bed. “Where shall we begin?”

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More to come...