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beansideTitle: The End of My Pirate Days
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters herein are owned by the Walt Disney corporation. I'm merely borrowing them without permission.
Warnings: Mention of character death.
"This world is kinder to the kind that won't look back
They are the chosen few, among us now, unbowed somehow
And one day he turned to me and before I took one breath
I would only see his shadow in what light was left."
Mary Chapin Carpenter, The End of My Pirate Days
The young girl pirouetted before the mirror, admiring the delicate lace that fell in a graceful sweep along the wide skirt of her gown. "It's perfect, Mama," she murmured. Her eyes met her own gaze in the mirror. "Can you believe it? Tomorrow, I'll be Mrs. Elizabeth Norrington!"
Her mother smiled gently, reaching up to stroke dark brown hair, smoothing the unruly curls that were so much like her father's. "You'll be a beautiful bride, Lizzie."
"Elizabeth," the girl corrected absently. "Lizzie sounds like such a baby name. And not at all befitting of a Captain's wife."
"I suppose, once you're married, I can manage that. It's not like they'll be two of us in one house any more," her mother smiled. "You look so beautiful. Your father would be so proud of you."
Elizabeth's eyes met her mother's. "I know. I wish he could have been here."
"He will be, love. He'll be watching." Elizabeth Turner came to her feet slowly, brushing the wrinkles off her dress with a sad smile. Even now, she missed her Will. Especially tonight, with their daughter--the spitting image of her father--to marry in the morn. "Now, get some sleep. You don't want to be tired for your wedding day."
She gently closed the door behind her and strolled down the hallway to her own room. Her hand was on the door knob, but she didn't open it. She knew what she'd find. A big bed, empty. Even with the bed warmer, she'd find cold sheets, no one to curl into to warm her.
And on some nights, like this one, when the breeze blew off the ocean, and the moon rose high into the night, it was just too much to bear.
So instead, she turned, walking down the stairs. She only paused once, on the landing. That was where their painting hung. It was a beautiful piece, commissioned by her father as a wedding present. They were so young in it, still high off their grand adventure, still full of life and mischief.
So long ago.
Her fingers traced the careful brushwork, tracing along the familiar curve of his jaw, touching the impish smile that he never lost--not even at the end. It hadn't been an easy end, but then Will hadn't expected it to be. "People like us, people who have done the things we've done, we don't go down easy," he'd told her once. That was when she'd known that he wasn't going to pull out of it this time.
The physician told her that it was the wasting disease, or consumption, but that wasn't it. She thought that Will had started to die the day she realized that she was pregnant. The day they both realized that their adventures were over. Will wouldn't put a child at risk, wouldn't let it grow up with a father who loved the ocean more than his child.
And so, they'd settled into a quiet, respectable life. Boring, really. And twelve years later, her beautiful husband was dead. They'd buried him at sea, the last time she'd been out on that ocean. And she'd waited, hoping against hope to see the familiar black sails of the Pearl, but there was nothing but the wind, and the water. And so, they'd sent Will to his rest, to lay along side his father at the bottom of the ocean. A few weeks later, she'd gotten a note, writ in a sloppy scrawl. It was from Jack, sending his condolences. Since then, there'd been no word of him.
"Our daughter is beautiful, love. Tomorrow she marries. Norrington's son," she added with a soft laugh. "Imagine that. I miss you." With a sigh, she turned, walking down the rest of the stairs, and out the front door, scooping up a lantern as she went. The servants knew her tendencies too well, it was already lit and waiting for her.
The ocean wasn't far, just a few steps away, really. Will had wanted it that way, wanted to be near his mistress. They'd had a boat, once. A small one, to be sure, just big enough for a crew of two to handle it. And they'd sailed the ocean wide, wherever they wanted to go. Absolute freedom, just like Jack had said.
But then, Lizzie had come, and the time for freedom was over. And she wouldn't have traded it back. Lizzie was a marvel. She was everything her mother hadn't been. Delicate, feminine, dainty. She would make a wonderful officer's wife, and a model upstanding citizen.
Unlike her parents, who'd always been regarded with something between scorn and fear. Everyone still remembered when the pirates had come, when the Turners had sailed among them. It had been a long time after Lizzie was born before they'd cross themselves behind their backs.
And now, the ocean called to her. And she wandered to it's shore, setting herself on one of the cold rocks near the shore, and stared out, letting it's sounds wash over her, slow her mind.
When the crackle of brush came, she didn't hesitate, pulling her pistol and pointing it towards the sound.
"You don't want to be doing that, luv."
Elizabeth squinted into the darkness, seeing only the vague outline of a person. It couldn't be. "Show yourself," she ordered.
She saw the bottle of rum first. Then the familiar shambling walk. And last, the dark eyes, dancing with mirth. "Hello, luv," Jack purred. "Care for a drink with an old friend?"
She eyed the rum bottle with a narrow look. "That is a vile drink," she informed him, lowering her pistol and taking the bottle from him.
He smirked as she took a healthy swallow. "So I've been told."
"Oh, Jack. It's so wonderful to see you!" She took a step forward, pulling him into a tight hug.
"It's good to see you too, darling," he murmured, hands stroking over her back. "I heard tell that Bootstrap's granddaughter was to marry Governor Norrington's boy tomorrow. And since I love a good wedding, I had to stop by for a visit."
"And you will be most welcome," she said, lips curling as she imagined the faces of the congregation. She searched his face, noting the changes time had wrought on him. "You still captain the Black Pearl?"
"Of course, luv. Who else?"
"And what of the crew? Gibbs? Annamaire?"
Jack's eyes lowered. "We lost Gibbs to a skirmish with the Royal Navy three summers after we got the Pearl back. Annamarie captains her own boat these days. Dauntless the second, she named it."
Elizabeth smiled. "You must tell me all about your adventures," she said brightly. "Come up to the house, I'll rouse the servants to cook you something to eat."
"Can't do that, luv. I shouldn't even be here."
"Why are you here, then?"
"To offer you the same thing I did to your husband, back just after your little girl came. Come with me. I could use you in my crew, and there's still oceans to be sailed, and purses to be lightened."
The instinctive denial came to her lips easily. "Jack, I'm an old woman. I passed the end of my pirate days long ago."
"And I'm an old man. But I've still the Pearl, and the wide ocean. And all those horizons to catch. Think of it, luv. We could sail off the end of the world, see the other side of a sunrise."
"You offered that to Will?"
Jack nodded, taking another long swallow of the rum. "He said no. That he wasn't a pirate at heart, not really. Just a man who loved the ocean. But he loved his bride more," he added. "But you, Mrs. Turner, you've a pirate's spirit."
She shook her head, looking back at the house. "Maybe once. Not anymore." She took another swallow of the rum, and plopped back on the rock.
Jack smiled again, that indolent smirk. "I don't think so. If it was gone, you'd be safe in your bed, asleep." He moved behind her, pressing himself against her back. "Do you know what I think? I think that you remember it just fine. I think you come out here, and you listen to the ocean calling, and you remember what it was like--freedom. And then, you go back to your safe house, and you die a little each time you shut the door behind you."
She gaped as he staggered to his feet again. "Just think about it. After tomorrow, your daughter will be married off. She'll leave you and start her own household, and you'll be alone, locked in your big, silent house, remembering what it was like to be free. It doesn't have to be forever, just for a while. You can be back in time to see the grandkiddies. If you want to, there will be a boat at your dock tomorrow night. If not, then it was lovely to see you again." With a smile, he bent, touching her cheek. "To freedom, luv." His lips brushed hers lightly, a teasing kiss that was in no way just friendly.
And then, with a rustle of bushes, he was gone. With a soft, angry noise, Elizabeth turned, hurrying back to the house. Bloody Jack Sparrow. Bloody pirate! How could he talk to her like that? She couldn't just up and go like that. She had responsibilities. She had…..
Elizabeth paused at the picture again, staring into Will's eyes. He hadn't taken Jack's offer for love of her, and their daughter. But their daughter was all grown up now, she reminded herself as she climbed the stairs.
The portrait seemed to mock her now, Will's smile, and the life in his eyes reminding her again of exactly what she'd lost. And her own portrait was worse, the cocky angle of her head, the bright eyes that dared anyone to try to hold her back. "I'm not that girl anymore," she said sadly.
She shook her head and climbed into the cold sheets, burying her face in a pillow that had long since lost Will's scent. And she stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows crawl across the walls, and she felt as though she was dying, too.
Finally, she got up from the bed and pulled out Will's old rucksack, and started packing. Maybe her childhood dreams had died with her husband. But maybe they hadn't. Only one way to find out.
"You're leaving, aren't you? With him. That pirate," Lizzie said flatly from the doorway. "I saw you. Saw him kiss you."
Elizabeth looked up, eyes flashing. "What if I am?"
After a long moment, Lizzie smiled. "Then it best be tomorrow, after I'm properly wed. I'll not have you running off on the eve of my marriage. Whatever would people say?"
"Probably that it's a blessing you're not like your mother. Besides, hang them all," Elizabeth said breezily, smiling.
Lizzie pulled her into a sudden hug. "I haven't seen you smile like that in forever. Be happy, Mama. That's the best wedding present you can give me."
"I'll be back to see you," Elizabeth promised.
Lizzie just smiled her father's smile. "This pirate. Is he a good man?"
Elizabeth nodded. "He is."
"Good. Now, you'd best get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."
"Thank you," her mother whispered. After the door had clicked shut behind her daughter, Elizabeth crossed the room to the long chest on the floor and opened it.
In the lamplight, the brass fittings of Will's sword winked dimly at her. "Time for an adventure, my love. Time to live again."
The End
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters herein are owned by the Walt Disney corporation. I'm merely borrowing them without permission.
Warnings: Mention of character death.
They are the chosen few, among us now, unbowed somehow
And one day he turned to me and before I took one breath
I would only see his shadow in what light was left."
Mary Chapin Carpenter, The End of My Pirate Days
The young girl pirouetted before the mirror, admiring the delicate lace that fell in a graceful sweep along the wide skirt of her gown. "It's perfect, Mama," she murmured. Her eyes met her own gaze in the mirror. "Can you believe it? Tomorrow, I'll be Mrs. Elizabeth Norrington!"
Her mother smiled gently, reaching up to stroke dark brown hair, smoothing the unruly curls that were so much like her father's. "You'll be a beautiful bride, Lizzie."
"Elizabeth," the girl corrected absently. "Lizzie sounds like such a baby name. And not at all befitting of a Captain's wife."
"I suppose, once you're married, I can manage that. It's not like they'll be two of us in one house any more," her mother smiled. "You look so beautiful. Your father would be so proud of you."
Elizabeth's eyes met her mother's. "I know. I wish he could have been here."
"He will be, love. He'll be watching." Elizabeth Turner came to her feet slowly, brushing the wrinkles off her dress with a sad smile. Even now, she missed her Will. Especially tonight, with their daughter--the spitting image of her father--to marry in the morn. "Now, get some sleep. You don't want to be tired for your wedding day."
She gently closed the door behind her and strolled down the hallway to her own room. Her hand was on the door knob, but she didn't open it. She knew what she'd find. A big bed, empty. Even with the bed warmer, she'd find cold sheets, no one to curl into to warm her.
And on some nights, like this one, when the breeze blew off the ocean, and the moon rose high into the night, it was just too much to bear.
So instead, she turned, walking down the stairs. She only paused once, on the landing. That was where their painting hung. It was a beautiful piece, commissioned by her father as a wedding present. They were so young in it, still high off their grand adventure, still full of life and mischief.
So long ago.
Her fingers traced the careful brushwork, tracing along the familiar curve of his jaw, touching the impish smile that he never lost--not even at the end. It hadn't been an easy end, but then Will hadn't expected it to be. "People like us, people who have done the things we've done, we don't go down easy," he'd told her once. That was when she'd known that he wasn't going to pull out of it this time.
The physician told her that it was the wasting disease, or consumption, but that wasn't it. She thought that Will had started to die the day she realized that she was pregnant. The day they both realized that their adventures were over. Will wouldn't put a child at risk, wouldn't let it grow up with a father who loved the ocean more than his child.
And so, they'd settled into a quiet, respectable life. Boring, really. And twelve years later, her beautiful husband was dead. They'd buried him at sea, the last time she'd been out on that ocean. And she'd waited, hoping against hope to see the familiar black sails of the Pearl, but there was nothing but the wind, and the water. And so, they'd sent Will to his rest, to lay along side his father at the bottom of the ocean. A few weeks later, she'd gotten a note, writ in a sloppy scrawl. It was from Jack, sending his condolences. Since then, there'd been no word of him.
"Our daughter is beautiful, love. Tomorrow she marries. Norrington's son," she added with a soft laugh. "Imagine that. I miss you." With a sigh, she turned, walking down the rest of the stairs, and out the front door, scooping up a lantern as she went. The servants knew her tendencies too well, it was already lit and waiting for her.
The ocean wasn't far, just a few steps away, really. Will had wanted it that way, wanted to be near his mistress. They'd had a boat, once. A small one, to be sure, just big enough for a crew of two to handle it. And they'd sailed the ocean wide, wherever they wanted to go. Absolute freedom, just like Jack had said.
But then, Lizzie had come, and the time for freedom was over. And she wouldn't have traded it back. Lizzie was a marvel. She was everything her mother hadn't been. Delicate, feminine, dainty. She would make a wonderful officer's wife, and a model upstanding citizen.
Unlike her parents, who'd always been regarded with something between scorn and fear. Everyone still remembered when the pirates had come, when the Turners had sailed among them. It had been a long time after Lizzie was born before they'd cross themselves behind their backs.
And now, the ocean called to her. And she wandered to it's shore, setting herself on one of the cold rocks near the shore, and stared out, letting it's sounds wash over her, slow her mind.
When the crackle of brush came, she didn't hesitate, pulling her pistol and pointing it towards the sound.
"You don't want to be doing that, luv."
Elizabeth squinted into the darkness, seeing only the vague outline of a person. It couldn't be. "Show yourself," she ordered.
She saw the bottle of rum first. Then the familiar shambling walk. And last, the dark eyes, dancing with mirth. "Hello, luv," Jack purred. "Care for a drink with an old friend?"
She eyed the rum bottle with a narrow look. "That is a vile drink," she informed him, lowering her pistol and taking the bottle from him.
He smirked as she took a healthy swallow. "So I've been told."
"Oh, Jack. It's so wonderful to see you!" She took a step forward, pulling him into a tight hug.
"It's good to see you too, darling," he murmured, hands stroking over her back. "I heard tell that Bootstrap's granddaughter was to marry Governor Norrington's boy tomorrow. And since I love a good wedding, I had to stop by for a visit."
"And you will be most welcome," she said, lips curling as she imagined the faces of the congregation. She searched his face, noting the changes time had wrought on him. "You still captain the Black Pearl?"
"Of course, luv. Who else?"
"And what of the crew? Gibbs? Annamaire?"
Jack's eyes lowered. "We lost Gibbs to a skirmish with the Royal Navy three summers after we got the Pearl back. Annamarie captains her own boat these days. Dauntless the second, she named it."
Elizabeth smiled. "You must tell me all about your adventures," she said brightly. "Come up to the house, I'll rouse the servants to cook you something to eat."
"Can't do that, luv. I shouldn't even be here."
"Why are you here, then?"
"To offer you the same thing I did to your husband, back just after your little girl came. Come with me. I could use you in my crew, and there's still oceans to be sailed, and purses to be lightened."
The instinctive denial came to her lips easily. "Jack, I'm an old woman. I passed the end of my pirate days long ago."
"And I'm an old man. But I've still the Pearl, and the wide ocean. And all those horizons to catch. Think of it, luv. We could sail off the end of the world, see the other side of a sunrise."
"You offered that to Will?"
Jack nodded, taking another long swallow of the rum. "He said no. That he wasn't a pirate at heart, not really. Just a man who loved the ocean. But he loved his bride more," he added. "But you, Mrs. Turner, you've a pirate's spirit."
She shook her head, looking back at the house. "Maybe once. Not anymore." She took another swallow of the rum, and plopped back on the rock.
Jack smiled again, that indolent smirk. "I don't think so. If it was gone, you'd be safe in your bed, asleep." He moved behind her, pressing himself against her back. "Do you know what I think? I think that you remember it just fine. I think you come out here, and you listen to the ocean calling, and you remember what it was like--freedom. And then, you go back to your safe house, and you die a little each time you shut the door behind you."
She gaped as he staggered to his feet again. "Just think about it. After tomorrow, your daughter will be married off. She'll leave you and start her own household, and you'll be alone, locked in your big, silent house, remembering what it was like to be free. It doesn't have to be forever, just for a while. You can be back in time to see the grandkiddies. If you want to, there will be a boat at your dock tomorrow night. If not, then it was lovely to see you again." With a smile, he bent, touching her cheek. "To freedom, luv." His lips brushed hers lightly, a teasing kiss that was in no way just friendly.
And then, with a rustle of bushes, he was gone. With a soft, angry noise, Elizabeth turned, hurrying back to the house. Bloody Jack Sparrow. Bloody pirate! How could he talk to her like that? She couldn't just up and go like that. She had responsibilities. She had…..
Elizabeth paused at the picture again, staring into Will's eyes. He hadn't taken Jack's offer for love of her, and their daughter. But their daughter was all grown up now, she reminded herself as she climbed the stairs.
The portrait seemed to mock her now, Will's smile, and the life in his eyes reminding her again of exactly what she'd lost. And her own portrait was worse, the cocky angle of her head, the bright eyes that dared anyone to try to hold her back. "I'm not that girl anymore," she said sadly.
She shook her head and climbed into the cold sheets, burying her face in a pillow that had long since lost Will's scent. And she stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows crawl across the walls, and she felt as though she was dying, too.
Finally, she got up from the bed and pulled out Will's old rucksack, and started packing. Maybe her childhood dreams had died with her husband. But maybe they hadn't. Only one way to find out.
"You're leaving, aren't you? With him. That pirate," Lizzie said flatly from the doorway. "I saw you. Saw him kiss you."
Elizabeth looked up, eyes flashing. "What if I am?"
After a long moment, Lizzie smiled. "Then it best be tomorrow, after I'm properly wed. I'll not have you running off on the eve of my marriage. Whatever would people say?"
"Probably that it's a blessing you're not like your mother. Besides, hang them all," Elizabeth said breezily, smiling.
Lizzie pulled her into a sudden hug. "I haven't seen you smile like that in forever. Be happy, Mama. That's the best wedding present you can give me."
"I'll be back to see you," Elizabeth promised.
Lizzie just smiled her father's smile. "This pirate. Is he a good man?"
Elizabeth nodded. "He is."
"Good. Now, you'd best get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."
"Thank you," her mother whispered. After the door had clicked shut behind her daughter, Elizabeth crossed the room to the long chest on the floor and opened it.
In the lamplight, the brass fittings of Will's sword winked dimly at her. "Time for an adventure, my love. Time to live again."
The End
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