Disclaimer: Not mine.
Elizabeth Swan stood by the railing of the great ship. It had been nearly a year since she had been at sea, but her love for the sense of freedom it imposed hadn't faded a bit. Behind them, the foggy image of Port Royal was gradually diminishing, along with everything she had ever known. Up above in the crow's nest, a scruffy looking man stood with a telescope, looking ahead. At the wheel, the form of Captain Jack Sparrow could be seen, one hand upon the mahogany wood, and the other holding a bottle of rum.
The young woman turned away from the entrancing blue of the ocean after a moment, disappearing below deck. A man by the name of William Turner was to be found lying in a rat-gnawed hammock, which had been strung up casually between two rotting support poles. He opened one eye to see who had entered, but upon realizing that he as in Elizabeth's presence, closed it again. She dipped her head slightly and sighed before taking a seat on a nearby rum barrel.
"I'm sorry Will," she said simply, but he made no move to acknowledge her apology. "It's nothing done wrong on your part, only on mine." Still he remained silent, and afraid to say more, Elizabeth stood and made her way to her stateroom.
Quite suddenly, a rough hand covered her mouth and another firmly held her by the shoulder, and she couldn't move.
"Now, now, love," came a familiar voice. "What are ye doing down below on such a fine sailing day?" The hand released her mouth, and she spun around to see Jack Sparrow give her his infamous drunken smile.
"Tell me Captain Sparrow," she began with as straight a face as she could manage. "Are you ever going to take into consideration your personal hygiene? You smell of rum."
The Captain released her shoulder, taking a step backward. He put on an expression of deep thought, and then held up a finger, grinning widely.
"Pirate, love."
Elizabeth shook her head, pushing past him and moving up the steps to the upper deck. Without the troubles of formal women's attire, she was able to do so quickly, shoes clicking loudly on the hard wooden floor of the Balinor. Once on deck, she returned to her post by the rail. She almost considered jumping overboard and swimming back to Port Royal, but her fear of heights prevented her from doing so. Her relationship with Will had been suffering ever since the sinking of the Black Pearl, and she was quite sick of it.
True, she loved Will, but ever since Jack had given her that god-forsaken compass, she had been having second thoughts about marrying him. She had told herself on numerous occasions that these were not just the usual pre-wedding jitters. Something else was at work here, although she still wasn't quite certain what it was. When Jack had been swallowed up by the Kraken, Elizabeth had planned on being able to move on, and had expected her feelings for Will to return--but they did not. The visit with Tia Dalma had been when Will too had realized that he and Elizabeth would never be; that she was in love with not him, but Jack. But because of his intense longing to see her happy, Will had agreed to help bring Jack back to her.
And so they had. Until recently however, Elizabeth had been doing her best to avoid the estranged Captain Sparrow, despite the fact that she was certain she held feelings for him. Perhaps she was in denial. Perhaps that one kiss on the deck of the doomed Black Pearl had only been meant as a goodbye, and nothing more.
She had never doubted anything more in her life.
"My keen intuition on the female species tells me you are troubled," came the Captain's voice from behind her just mere moments later. He took a swig from yet another bottle of rum, and then offered her some.
"Bloody pirates," Elizabeth said as she snatched the bottle from his hand and gulped some down. Jack gave her a toothy grin.
"If you hate us so, why then, may I ask, did you willingly board this vessel?"
"I needed to find—"
"Freedom?" he finished for her, while taking the bottle of rum, which was now nearly empty. What was left of the red colored liquid sloshed angrily in the bottom of its glass prison, as Jack continued to speak. "Why don't you come with me—I got something t' show you."
Curious, Elizabeth followed as the Captain tripped his way towards the stern of the ship. He stepped up to the wheel, motioning for Elizabeth to take it.
The wood was smooth beneath her touch. It's deep mahogany coloring reflected the sunlight, giving it the appearance of being covered in a thick layer of gloss. Gazing out before her, the calm blue waters of the Caribbean were beckoning her forward, unscathed and replete with the glitter-like refractions of the high-risen sun. The comfortably warm air, which blew in from the southwest, smelled of salt and sea. It was bliss.
"Ever felt freedom, love?" he asked.
"I can't be certain of that Captain Sparrow," she answered, turning the wheel slightly. She had almost forgotten he was present beside her.
"This is what freedom feels like. Standing here, you're in control of ever'thing. Y' can go anywhere you please, anytime you want, without a worry. Nothing's between you and your destination, and if something does come about, you can always pick another route."
"What's this? A poet hidden beneath the hardened exterior?" Elizabeth asked with a chuckle. She had thought the Captain many things, but deep had never been among them.
"Actually m'dear, I'm not only a poet, but a lyricist as well," Jack replied. He made a strange face. "But you'll live a longer, happier life by not hearing my songs."
The young woman smiled, her hands still resting on the wheel. It felt as if it had been molded and conformed for her hands in particular; no one else's hands would ever feel so at home so long as they were placed on the wheel of the Balinor. After a few minutes longer of sweet relaxation, Elizabeth reluctantly renounced her own version of freedom. The winds had changed, and Jack appeared worried.
"Storm's to be blowin' in soon," he muttered, more to himself than to Elizabeth, as he took hold of the wheel and steered them in the direction the wind was moving towards. He raised a hand into the wind, and in the distance, albeit faintly, Elizabeth was able to make out the sight of gathering storm clouds. "Get me that there telescope, love." He gestured to his left.
Elizabeth retrieved the telescope, and Jack peered through it. He was not looking in the direction of the storm, however.
"Mr. Gibbs!" the Captain shouted gruffly, snapping the telescope back to its original length. A stocky man appeared before them not moments later.
"Aye, Cap'n?"
"Round up the crew. We may have trouble heading this way."