Pairing/Characters: implied Jack/Elizabeth, a smattering of Tia Dalma, and a splash of Will
Word Count: 1367
Summary: She can hear him in the silence, she can see him in her dreams, she tries to refuse him, but he appears anyway. No one ever could control Jack Sparrow
Disclaimer: They all belong to Disney.
Spoilers: Pretty major spoilers for DMC
Special Thanks: none
She doesn’t speak as they pull away from the Black Pearl. She says nothing as they watch the ship crack and sink under the Kraken’s grip. She had not realized how deep her affection ran until she saw that sight, the worn wood and famous black sails ground to dust by the beast’s tentacles. She says nothing as they row, half heartedly, to shore. Will’s gently asked questions elicited no response, and when they discuss where to go, she offers no suggestions. The crew looks at her, by times sympathetic, and by times decidedly less so.
She says nothing aloud, but inside she is screaming. She is screaming at Davy Jones, for taking him and his beloved ship to the depths. She is screaming at Will, for ever introducing her to him. She screams at him, for ever making such a deal, for ever making her care. More then anyone she screams at herself, horrified at what seemed a necessary action, haunted by the scene. It replays over in her mind in an unending cycle. She can still feel the pressure of that kiss on her lips, still hear the simultaneous clang of the shackles.
That night, as they rest in the bayou, she is not thinking of the sudden reappearance of Barbossa. The crew sleeps soundly around her. Even Will has managed to become caught in the half waking, half sleeping dreamlessness of a cat nap. But not she. Now she fears sleep, fears that uncertain, dark world that she may enter in her dreams. Despite her best efforts, she can think only of Jack. She is haunted by any moment she ever spent with him: the moment he used her as a shield on the dock in Port Royal, the shock of his appearance on the sinking Interceptor, the light of the fire catching his grin on the island, his shot that killed Barbossa. She remembers his surprise at seeing her in Tortuga, his willingness to take her onboard. She remembers the way he acted around her, and that blasted compass.
She sits up, determined for the moment. She eases herself quietly out of the shack, picking her way along the murky shoreline toward Tia Dalma’s hut. The priestess is sitting at her table, as though waiting. She looks up at Elizabeth, a smile forming on her face.
Elizabeth starts, forgetting her purpose. “I…I…” she can only stammer.
Tia Dalma stands gracefully, walking around the table to the girl. “You are troubled.”
“Yes. Haunted.” Elizabeth says, shakily.
“You will be.” Tia says, matter of factly. “It can only be remedied at the World’s End. You must face him.”
“Jack? I… I can’t… I… I did this to him.”
“Perhaps.” Tia shrugged. “But you must listen to him.”
“How am I to listen to him at the moment? He’s dead.” Elizabeth said tersely, shaking with anger and exasperation. “He’s dead because I chained him to a mast and let him die, just so that I could leave.” She sat heavily on a nearby stool. Tia motioned for her to continue, sitting easily in her chair. “I always told him he was a good man, that he would have the chance to do the right thing. I expected him to come back for me- for the crew, I mean. And I did this. He’s a better person then I am, odd though it is.” Elizabeth ran her hands through her hair, sighing.
“That is why you must listen to him.”
“He’s gone!” Elizabeth screamed. “He’s gone.”
“There are ways.” Tia said, a faint glimmer in her eye and a small smile on her lips. Elizabeth looked up, frightened. “Go to sleep. He will be there.” Elizabeth remains quiet, looking down at her hands and playing with the folds of her shirt. “Ah. This is what you fear.” Tia nodded. She got up, returning a moment later with a mug. “Drink this.”
“Will it make me sleep?”
“A dreamless sleep.” Tia said as she handed her the mug. Elizabeth grasped it with both hands, taking a deep breath. She took a small sip, prepared to wince at the taste. To her surprise, it tasted very much like tea. She took a larger sip, draining the mug quickly. She looked over the Tia, only to discover that she had left. She stood, to go to her hut, discovering that she was so weary that she would fall. Sinking back down, she curled up into the chair and slipped into sleep.
Darkness. Deep, utter, penetrating darkness. It pressed down on her. Up, down, sideways. Direction had no meaning. Wind. She felt wind, whipping past her cheeks, through her hair. A deck. She was on a deck, the breeze blowing her hair wildly. Slowly, the darkness lifted. The sun flamed into life on the horizon. She was standing on a deck, in a harbor. Just as suddenly, she was on a white strip of sand. Blindingly bright sand. It was the island, the one with the chest. She was alone. In the distance she heard music, a lone violins carried over the breeze. She turned and turned, expecting to see someone. No one. There was no one. She was alone, deeply, utterly, mind numbingly alone. She suddenly felt it in her heart’s core. It was a cold fear, this loneliness. This was not sitting in a room, reading a book by one’s self loneliness. Her soul felt alone. She screamed, screamed into the wind. Yet the music was still there, despite her cry. She listened carefully, recognizing it. Then she heard a small voice, a light, childish voice.
Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me.
The child’s voice vanished, the song taken up by a lower, male voice.
We’re devils and black sheep, we’re really bad eggs, drink up me hearties, yo ho.
She turned, and there he was. He wore no hat, had no boots. He wore a simple white shirt and worn, blue trousers. His face… gone was the kohl that had rimmed his eyes for as long as she had known him. Gone were the trinkets that once littered his hair, gone the faint chiming they made. Gone were the beads in his beard, the bandana that had wrapped his head. He seemed new to her eyes, younger.
S’me, love. His voice was softer then she remembered. He walked toward her. She sighed in relief, recognizing his own unique gait. He stood in front of her, taking one of her hands gently.
Is this world’s end? She wondered to herself.
No. he said. She started. I can hear your thoughts, Lizzie. Not that I couldn’t most of the time anyway. He smiled, roguishly. She managed only a faint grin.
Where are we?
World’s end is something you cannot now yet.
Why are you here?
To tell you to come for me.
I was already going to, though I do not trust Barbossa.
Ah, but he’s been here, love. And so he must return.
Jack… She stammered, chocking on her words. He nodded softly, smiling at her.
I know. Pirate, remember?
Jack, I- He shook his head, and suddenly, she was back in the bayou, on Tia Dalma’s floor. She opened her eyes, looking around at the men who stood above her. For a moment, she saw him, just as he was in her dream. “Jack!” she whispered. She saw him shake his head.
At World’s End
“Elizabeth?” Will’s voice broke through Jack’s, his face coming in to her field of vision. She turned slowly to look and him, then looked back. Jack was gone. “Elizabeth, are you alright? You are white as a sheet. You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” He took one of her hands in his own, rubbing it softly. He stopped suddenly, looking down in surprise at her hand. She followed his gaze. There, on her left ring finger, was a ring. Jack’s ring. She looked up, confused, then turned to Tia. The priestess stood, a smile on her face as she saw the ring. Nodding approvingly, she sat at her table.
“Now.” she started. “Now you can go. He knows you are coming.”