Prequel to 'The Moral Advantage'

"You got the Pearl back," was the first thing Teague said to him. Not Damnation, it's good to see you safe, or even just You're home!

Jack scowled. "'Course I got the Pearl back. What did you think?"

"Well last time it took you ten years. Maybe you can be taught."

Bloody Teague. "Where's her nibs?" Jack asked, by way of changing the subject. "Quite thought she would have joined you in welcoming the prodigal son."

"She's gone."

Jack stared, trying to ignore the sensation of his insides freezing. "Gone?"

Teague, looking quizzical, raised his forearms and flapped his hands a bit. "Gone. Flew the coop. Took passage back to England with Chevalle a fortnight back."

"Chevalle? England? They'll string 'er up!"

"Says she'll live quiet, with a cousin of hers, 'til the babe comes, then set up on her own. Life in a cottage." Teague shook his head.

Jack, grasping point B, was rendered speechless for a long moment, but finally managed to ask, "She's...?' finishing the query with a vaguely rounded swipe of his arm.

"With child, aye," Teague confirmed, looking wry. "Seems the one day was all they needed."

"It's Turner's, then."

"Well, it ain't yours!"

Jack set his teeth. Then brushed past and strode up the dock.

"Where're you off to?" his father demanded.

"The Goose, of course. This calls for a drink."

o-o

It called for a great many drinks. As the evening progressed Jack turned it into a game, a sip taken every time she was mentioned within his hearing, and an extra shot every time her Christian name was spoken.

Elizabeth.

Seemed as though she was held in high regard, had made quite a name for herself, and a number of friends, too, even in the short time she'd been in residence at the Cove.

"She were that easy to talk to, y'see." Molly, Jack's old friend, and now the Goose's proprietress, shook her head. "Did ye know her da was a Royal Governor? But she never put on airs, for all you could tell she were a lady born an' bred." Molly raised her mug of grog. "Here's to you, Elizabeth Swann, and to us as miss you."

Jack downed another shot.

Molly eyed him, and shook her head.

Jack scowled. "She's better off."

"In England?" Molly exclaimed. "She'll go mad, like as not. But she was set that it'd be better for her child and who's to argue? You and I know what it's like here, growing up at the Cove."

Jack frowned blearily. "We did all right, you an' I."

"Well, I'd me Mum and Da, and no girl ever had a better. But you and Teague, that were another story, as I recall -- or do I have it wrong?"

Bits of memory assaulted Jack. "No, you don't have it wrong," he muttered.

Molly patted his hand. "And you weren't the only one. It's a hard place to raise a babe, and that's the truth. I don't blame her for going. But Lord, I do miss her."

"Bloody nonsense," Jack said to himself as Molly walked away, and got up and spent the rest of the evening telling stories, laughing, singing, dancing on (and falling off of) a table, and generally immersing himself in proving that Elizabeth Swann, erstwhile King of Pirates, was nothing to him now, a late and unlamented piece of his past.

o-o

He dreamed of her.

It was many hours after he'd been supported up the winding lanes and steps to his old quarters and poured into bed. They'd kindly removed his coat and boots, but left him clothed atop the covers where he'd drifted off with the room spinning slowly around him and a strangely familiar scent in his nostrils.

"Lizzie."

And, as though whispering her name in the blackness had been enough to conjure her up, eventually, in the night's darkest hour, she came to him, young and sweetly supple, yet straight and slim as a blade, challenging him with eyes and lips, giving as good as she got, until that last time...

Once is quite enough.

Is it, Jack? Dream Lizzie asked, the hurt and disappointment in her eyes transmuted not to the rueful acceptance that had been their reality but to her old faith and determination as she laid hands of fire upon him and he was enveloped, consumed, torn asunder by another kiss, a kiss to make one forget the world and all its considerations entirely.

His strangled groan was loud in the silence of dawn, and he woke, gasping, bewildered.

And then angry.

Had he not been to Hell and back for her?

Was he some green lad, unable to control himself at the sight of a pretty face?

Apparently.

o-o

His anger smouldered all morning, exacerbated by the worst hangover he'd had in years, briefly eased at the sight of the Pearl, tied neatly at the dock and being spruced up under the direction of Gibbs, but flaring time and again as he was unable to resist checking his compass over and over, the odd heading it'd sported in recent days clear to him at last.

Bloody Elizabeth Swann. Turner. Whatever.

But in the late afternoon he leaned wearily on the rail and looked out at Shipwreck Cove. The sun's rays were turning the mountain of wrecks to something approaching beauty, but it meant nothing, nothing if she wasn't there as he'd expected. Been led to expect. He hadn't lived at the Cove for years, had visited only a few times after he'd broken with his father and gone off to make his way in the world on his own, but after... everything, something had changed in him.

You love her too, Jack. Take care of her.

Will had known, in that unearthly way that seemed a part of him now.

Will wasn't less than human, but he was certainly something more. Jack supposed being Calypso's Ferryman couldn't help but change a man. Will knew Elizabeth would be there waiting in ten years. Nine and three-quarters. That was a given. But it wasn't a marriage between them, not as Will saw it.

I'll visit, if I can. But things are different here, Jack. Time is different. And there are so many souls that need me.

She needs you, too, mate, Jack had told him.

She needs a life, Jack. I can't give her that. You gave us our time together, our one day, and I know you will again. But for all the days in between, take care of her for me. For her. For yourself!

Doubt if she wants me. Have you considered that?

But Will had laughed. Do you know how jealous I was, after we'd rescued you from hanging and it seemed to me you were the only thing she could talk about? And later, before we reached the Locker... Will's smile had faded. It was terrible. We both had our secrets, but hers would've killed her without the hope that we could rescue you.

The Locker. Jack shuddered a bit, just as he always did when thinking of it.

She bloody owed him. Not for the Locker, or the Kraken, or even that first kiss, treacherous as it was, but for losing faith in him.

Will you never forgive me? she'd demanded at the Council of the Brethren.

His No! had been a lie. But by God he'd never let her forget. And how could he make her not forget when she wasn't by his side? It didn't make sense!

"Gibbs!" he roared, straightening. "Gibbs!"

"Aye, Captain?"

Gibbs came hurrying across the deck, and Jack saw that he was cleaned up and dressed in his best. "Just where d'you think you're going?" Jack demanded.

"Why, the Pearl's neat as a pin from stem to stern, Captain. I was just off to join some of the lads in a celebratory libation, as it were."

"It'll have to wait. There's a couple hours of light left. We'll take on provisions right now and be ready to leave at dawn."

"Leave? But Jack..."

"Dawn. That's an order."

"What's our heading?" There was a note of despair in Gibbs' voice.

Jack took up his compass and flipped it open with smirk that could not be suppressed. "We're going that-a-way."

~.~