try_corsets | (no subject)

Enough is eventually enough.

It wasn't a lie, Elizabeth thinks to herself as she crosses the short stretch of beach, boots sinking into the sand. She ignores the soft hum of conversation on the evening breeze, too intent on her purpose to be annoyed at the way the fine weather drives many patrons outside. Not exactly.

Will had been busy in the forge all day, forcing them to wait until evening for their practice session. Swords had been followed by a tense supper, and when Will offered to read aloud or find some other amusement for them -- anything to get her actively engaged in their time together -- she pled exhaustion and a headache, a move as unlike her as her recent silence. Elizabeth had stayed in her room a total of thirty minutes before sneaking outside, unable to bear inaction another moment.

Eyes trained on the Pearl, Elizabeth considers her options. Uninvited boarding hadn't gone very well last time, so she opts for the more polite route. Mostly.

"Captain Sparrow," she calls out, a curious mixture of request and demand. "Jack, are you there?"

The trick is to get on board before anyone gets close enough to notice.

It was a lie.

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She slides him an impatient, flat look that seems to say, Why do you THINK?

"What purpose would it serve," she snaps without a great deal of heat, "before we are able to bring you back?"

Step by carefully placed step, she moves closer.

"You haven't answered my question," she points out, low and cajoling.

Jack glances pointedly around the deck before looking back at her.

"Doesn't seem as though I've gone anywhere at all, now does it, Lizzie?"

Despite her advancing on him, he's standing very still.

Elizabeth continues forward, refusing to look away now lest her eyes betray deeper emotions.

"Not yet," she manages through clenched teeth. "But we will bring you back to where you belong."

It's a promise and a prayer, wrapped in stubbornness and her firm belief that she and Will can make it happen. She's driven hard by the need to ease her own mind.

When only a small distance remains between them, she stops, dropping her eyes to his left wrist. She swallows and starts to reach out her hand, then quickly draws it back again.

Will tries to turn away from the window. he doesn't need to see this. He doesn't want to see this. But as before, he find himself frozen, staring.

His heart pounds audibly in the quiet of his room.

"Think again, Lizzie." There's real danger in the low, harsh sound of his voice-- and a promise of real violence, as well.

Jack looks down at her (again) from just a little distance away.

"I won't be so easily caught this time, savvy?"

His words hang ominously in the resulting silence. Elizabeth is equally still, her breathing loud in her own ears, and there's real sadness in her eyes when she meets his -- sadness, but also an unmistakable resolve.

"Despite the evidence presented by some, pirate is not synonymous with fool."

Very deliberately, she extends her other hand to the side, toward the rum.

He brings the bottle up between them with a single swift moment, still watching her.

Aside from that, Jack remains almost unnaturally still-- poised, even.

Waiting.

Careful not to brush his fingers, she pulls the bottle from his grasp and indulges in a long drink.

Someone laughs on shore, the sort of cackle that hints at too much alcohol and sets your teeth on edge.

Having made a sort of competition out of it in her own mind, Elizabeth refuses to be the first to look away, even as she struggles with the urge to turn and glare at the person laughing.

She can't remember the last time she laughed like that.

It's the laugh that makes Will wrench himself away from the view, leaning against the wall and staring straight ahead.

Laughter.

His heart is pounding so hard it hurts. Like it might tear out of his chest.

And somehow he can't make himself angry.

As she lifts the bottle, Jack puts all his weight on the line he's holding, using it to pull himself up. One step, a leap and a twist, and then he's standing on the Pearl's railing and leaning back against the lower quarterdeck wall.

Now out of reach, Jack hooks both thumbs into his belt and grins lazily at Elizabeth.

Face impassive, Elizabeth watches and wonders at the way his lazy grin cuts more deeply than his retreat. Long denied and trivialized guilt surfaces, mingling with her desire to move, to act, to solve this infuriating puzzle. He hasn't answered the query she thought so important, but suddenly that doesn't matter anymore. She nods: Have it your way. For now.

Jack has answered more questions than he realizes; or perhaps Elizabeth has simply found her own answers. Answers or not, she briefly contemplates pushing him from the railing to the lake below. That, she thinks, smiling to herself, would wipe the grin from his face.

The bottle of rum is still mostly full and makes a sloshing sound as she leaves it on the quarterdeck stairs. Jack gets another look, neither long nor meaningful, and Elizabeth quietly lowers herself over the railing and down the side of the ship.

She has things to do and a witch to see.