Conscience is our magnetic compass; reason our chart.
- Joseph Cook
Men go abroad to wonder at the heights of mountains, at the
huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the
vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motions of the stars,
and they pass by themselves without wondering. -
Saint Augustine

Elizabeth fell asleep in spite of the hot, damp swamp air, in
spite of her body’s consciousness of the uneven wooden planking
under the scanty padding of ragged blankets. Since the sinking of
the Pearl, she had worked very hard to keep her mind a quiet thing
that simply reacted, and did not turn toward introspection. She
had worked very hard not to think too much about which direction
the compass had pointed her.
The result of all this hard work was an unutterable weariness that
took her waking mind, dashed it like a barrel against the rocks,
and shattered it into a thousand free-floating pieces.
"I did what I had to do."
There was a lingering moment when she was still aware of noises
from the jungle. Water slopping against the pilings beneath the
shack, strange cries from throats that could have been animal,
insect, the twice-damned monkey, or . . . perhaps other. Some of
Tia Dalma’s people had seemed . . .
Black sleep snuffed the noise like reality was but a flickering
candle.
-------
"Well. Fancy seeing you here. And fully clothed. 's not quite
what I was imagining, love."
Elizabeth's eyes flew open. "Jack?" Her fingers pushed
against damp, slimy rock instead of rough boards. She sat up,
straining to see through thick fog that surrounded her.
"Captain Jack." His face materialized out of the
vaporous whiteness. He squinted down at her. "No. As hard as
I try, you're still fully clothed. I think this must be
hell."
His hand reached down and met hers. Pulling against the faintly
warm, firm grasp, Elizabeth surged to her feet. She staggered, the
wet rock underfoot providing uncertain footing.
"Steady as she goes, Miss Swann."
"It is you." She was close enough to feel his legs match
up against hers. "But you went down . . ."
"With the Pearl." Jack fingered a raw scrape across his
cheek. "Filthy beastie ate me ship. Ate me." He frowned.
"But if I'm in the gullet of the kraken, how is it that you
are here as well? Did you not make good your escape, you and Will,
and what remained of the crew?"
"We did." The words came out with a hard, defensive
emphasis. She cleared her throat. "Yes. We escaped."
"Quick thinking, lass." Jack grinned and winked.
"You've the instincts of a pirate. I can't fault your wit.”
"You're only a dream." Elizabeth backed away.
"Something my mind has conjured up to torment me."
"Mayhap." Jack's head swivelled about. "Pestiferous
fog. Let's see if we can find surer footing."
She still held his hand, Elizabeth realized as Jack turned. She
followed his lead, stumbling over and around boulder-sized rocks.
Visibility did not improve as they walked.
"More and more of the same," Jack muttered. "If
this is your dream, try nudging the landscape a bit. If it were my
dream we'd be in a tavern with plenty of rum near to hand."
Elizabeth refused to look at him directly. The sideways glimpse
she caught of his saucy wink, eyebrows and mustaches wreathed in
white tendrils of fog, made her stomach knot in a queer way.
"It's all the same." She tried to keep panic from
sounding in her voice. "I need to awaken. We need to find
you, save you."
"Really? Blast . . ." Jack slipped and fell. The sound
of his knee striking a rock seemed overly-loud and somehow
ominous. "That hurt. I think there's a bigger, flatter bit
here."
Elizabeth offered her hand. "Where?"
Jack pulled himself back to his feet with her help. "Just
ahead. I can see darker color beneath the fog." His hands
dropped to close gently around her waist, then slid down to rest
on the swell of her hips.
"Captain Sparrow . . ." Elizabeth let her protest die
when she saw Jack's laughing eyes and raised eyebrows. He turned
her slightly and nudged her forward.
"Just pointing you in the correct direction. You go up first.
Wouldn't want to lose you."
She didn't see it at first, but as she moved around Jack the fog
seemed to compact down into a mountain of gray stone. It wasn't a
difficult climb, four, perhaps five outcroppings of rock led
upward like a rough stairway.
"Still dismal, love, although I think the view’s
improved." Jack sat down on the table-top-sized expanse of
flat rock and began to rub his shin. "Have I mentioned that
your legs in those boy's breeches have replaced several of my
favorite fantasies?"
"Does the fantasy end with you going to your death in
shackles?" There was less fog on their new perch. She could
see Jack clearly now. His shirt was more shredded than she
remembered, and in addition to the scrape on his face there were
red welts visible on his arms and chest.
"Ah." Jack's black-rimmed eyes followed her gaze. He
flicked a tatter of linen away from his forearm with a casual flip
of his finger. "Beastie had teeth. Lots o' teeth."
"I'm not sorry." The words sounded hollow even as she
said them. Elizabeth knelt beside him. "I did what I had to
do."
The careless humor leached from his face. Something quiet and dark
filled Jack's eyes and voice as he leaned toward her.
"Perhaps you'd like to do it again?"
Elizabeth grabbed a handful of her shirt and twisted it into a
knot, pushing the fabric hard against her stomach. She felt her
lungs heave as if compensating for extreme exertion. "The . .
. I only did it to distract you."
"Distract." Jack twined a bit of mustache around his
finger. "A brilliantly successful distraction, love. Parts of
me that haven't been distracted for years were utterly
distracted."
"Oh. I. Will . . ." There was no way she could
coherently explain her confusion, Elizabeth decided. It didn't
help that Jack sat there looking at her with a smug, worldly-wise
half smile.
"Will saw you kiss me? Has he said anything?"
"No." Damn the man, Elizabeth thought, then wondered
which man she was damning. "I will tell him what I did before
we leave . . ."
"So you’re coming to find me?" Jack looked around at
the rock and fog. "Bring rum."
"You can't be alive. In spite of what Tia Dalma says. I heard
the Pearl . . . the sound was terrible, Jack. The ship shrieked as
she went under." Elizabeth shuddered and shut her eyes.
"I did that. I killed the Pearl. I killed you."
"Sweet lady. I take responsibility for how things turned out.
I made a deal. I had the black spot. It gives my mind ease to know
you and Will and the others weren't done in by my actions."
His fingers lightly touched her cheek. Elizabeth opened her eyes.
"You say that because this is a dream, and I need you to say
that," she whispered, touching the scrape on his cheek.
"As much as I believe I had to do what I did, the
consequences of my actions are hard to accept."
"Welcome to my world." He covered her fingers with his
own, moving them to his lips. "So you say this is a dream.
And I recall an earlier mention of awakening . . ."
"Oh bugger." Here was the Jack she'd watched swagger
from one misadventure to another. The lewd suggestion in his eyes
and voice should send any proper lady swooning from disgust and
apprehension. Elizabeth distantly admitted to herself that
"proper lady" was a title she had never valued.
"Dare I hope there is anything else you might need from
me?" Jack breathed against her fingers.
She couldn't resist finding out if his mouth tasted the same as
she remembered. Elizabeth leaned into the kiss. Even without the
spice of deception and desperation, the same thrill of sensation
shuddered through her skin and tied a knot of pressure low in her
abdomen as his tongue moved softly against hers. Sea-salty and
sweet. He tasted the same.
Will's kiss set her aflame, as well, Elizabeth reminded herself.
When he touched her it felt familiar, right. She’d half-loved
the boy from the moment they hauled him from the sea. As he grew
to manhood, and she to womanhood, that feeling had deepened in
her. Will's closeness now always excited her with the promise of
future consummation.
But Jack . . . If she stood between the two of them, holding the
compass, in which direction would the needle point?
"Lizzie," Jack whispered against her lips.
"You’ve more than a little bit of the pirate in you
already. What say we complete the process?"
Elizabeth pushed away from him, grimacing. Fog crawled over the
rock about them, rolling in soft billows over their legs and
torsos. It seemed to thicken as she stared into Jack's twinkling
eyes, creating the impression that his face was the only thing in
an otherwise featureless world.
"Is that all you have to offer me, Jack? A little bit . .
.?" she asked tartly.
He laughed, gold teeth glinting, braids and beads bobbing in and
out of the fog. "Many complaints have been registered against
me, love. Complaints concerning my character, my conduct, my
competence in my chosen profession," Jack shrugged. "In
this one area I've had no complaints."
"Perhaps you weren't awake to hear them." Elizabeth bit
her tongue so she would not laugh back at him. The fog had
swallowed the rock completely. The waving gestures that
accompanied Jack’s words made the white stuff roil and twist
around the tatters of his shirt. The motion brought back a vivid
memory of the kraken's tentacles, killing her moment of amusement.
"Jack. I once heard you say -- 'They done what's right by
them.' That's not just a pirate's code. It's largely the way the
world works. But decisions made from self-interest aren't always
in our best interest, are they?"
"Whoa." Jack threw up his hands in mock horror.
"Wouldn't attempt to reason through that without a tankard in
my hand, love. D'ya think we could forego the philosophy and
return to the . . . " his words trailed off suggestively.
"Jack -" Elizabeth held her breath and listened. Had
there been a noise? Something like the incredibly far-off cry of a
bird?
“Did you hear something, love?”
“Our voices, naught else.” Elizabeth let out her breath in a
long sigh, then froze. There it was again. She shut her eyes and
concentrated.
"Don't forget the rum." Jack's voice was oddly distant.
-------
The screech of the twice-damned monkey brought her bolt upright.
Elizabeth wiped sweat from her forehead with hands that seemed
slightly unsteady. Gray light revealed the rude details of the
swamp shack. No fog, no Jack. It had been a dream.
"Elizabeth. Are you awake?" Will stood in the doorway, a
barely visible silhouette. "We'll be leaving soon."
She licked her lips. They tasted of the sea.
"Will. There's something I need to tell you."
~.~
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