A/N: Rewrite of the original Sorry Now, which can be found on my profile. I decided I didn't like how it turned out, so I'm (obviously) rewriting it. One shot.
It was the only thing Elizabeth Swann ever felt besides grief and confusion anymore. She'd killed a man. Not just any man, but Jack. The Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow. The man she'd begun to trust; and the one she'd begun to love.
But Jack hadn't been any man, he was one of the nine Pirate Lords. He was the lord of the Caribbean, which explained why he loved the area so much. And technically, she hadn't killed him, she'd only condemned him to death- by chaining him to the mast of his own ship, the Black Pearl.
And besides, he wasn't dead anymore. He was very much alive, on board the ship with her and the others. But it still wasn't the same. He was clearly angry with her.
"Four of ye have tried to kill me in the past." He glared directly at her. "And one of ye succeeded."
Will, shocked and confused, looked back at her and then back to the man accusing her. She tried to form words, tried to come up with something to reason with, but she couldn't. Guilt had taken over her again and she looked at the stony-sand ground.
"Oh." She could hear the smirk in his voice. That unhappy smirk, like the one she'd last seen on his face before she'd left him for dead. "She's not told ye. Ye'll have loads to talk about while ye're 'ere."
She remembered it like it'd just happened moments ago. And the way he'd said it, it'd been a lot worse than him flat out admitting his anger. It was clear that he was very enraged, just trying to control himself before it ended with him doing something he'd regret; like killing her. He wouldn't do that, would he? Just the thought filled her with a momentary fear. But she knew that if he wanted to kill her, he probably would have already. He didn't want to kill her.
Jack had changed since they'd last seen him. He was quieter and less social when he was anywhere besides his cabin, which wasn't often. He usually holed up in there, either ignoring knocks or ordering the person outside to go away. But when he was out, he was just as ignorant and always fingering the hilt of his sword. That forced all of it onto Gibbs, who was constantly stressed. Barbossa was less than helpful, usually threatening the men when the questioned him.
And what of Will? He'd been ignoring her or glaring at her whenever she came across him. She knew by his behavior that she'd seen her kiss Jack. But had he seen why? Had he seen her chain the man to the mast and leave him? Had he seen through the lie of him "electing to stay behind"? Possibly, but it wasn't certain. She already knew that it'd never be the same between them again, especially since she'd almost succumbed to Jack in her passion before she left him.
The day crew had gone to bed long ago, leaving the night men out with Gibbs. The man got hardly any sleep. Will took over for him when he did sleep though.
Elizabeth lay in the bed of her personal cabin, the one Jack had lended her when she'd first joined the crew is search of Will. She couldn't sleep. Once again, like most times now, guilt tore at her heart. She couldn't get past it, couldn't shove it down and forget. It was always boiling inside of her, like boiling water. However, it didn't evaporate, it grew and spread through her like a virus did.
She sighed deeply, sitting up. She climbed out of the bed, grabbed her weapons, and pulled on her boots. She wandered over the door of the cabin and left, not bothering to make sure the door was closed all the way as she'd slammed it. She made her way over to Jack's cabin- the captain's cabin- knocking on the wooden door sharply.
"Buzz off!" He demanded, his voice hoarse.
"Jack, it's me!" She knocked even harder.
"You." There was malice in his voice. "Go sleep or somethin'!"
"Jack!" She knocked so hard that her hand ached.
"Run along!" He snapped. "Don't think I'm not angry with ye!"
Looking at the deck, Elizabeth sighed. She couldn't blame him for calling her off. She'd killed him, after all. If she had been in her place, she probably would have done the same.
Without knocking, she called through the door one last time. Her voice was small and showed her guilt. "Jack, please."
"No." He didn't yell this time, but his voice wasn't soft either. "Leave me alone. I've had 'nough of ye lately."
Elizabeth tried the door handle in attempt to go in, but it didn't budge. Locked. Of course Jack had locked it. She looked at the deck, lost in her guilt once again as she walked away with heavy steps. She froze as she heard what sounded like creaking hinges behind her. Light flooded the deck and she didn't move, watching the shadow of the figure in the doorway. It didn't move, just stayed still and watched her.
"Think the door wasn't locked, did ye now?" A husky voice came, followed by a bemused snort.
"I just thought that maybe it wouldn't be." She replied, her voice small and quiet.
"Really?" Jack asked, and she imagined him rolling his eyes. "I actually trusted ye, y'know. B'fore ye tricked me and got me killed. Ye were one of the ones I trusted most. Now that ye've betrayed me, I can't trust anyone to come in 'ere and not try to kill me."
That made her feel worse. Before either of the could say anything else, she raced down the stairs, towards the dark bottom of the ship. The storage room. She needed to be alone.
Jack sighed heavily, closing the door to his cabin once she'd disappeared from sight. He locked it again, walking over to his desk and sitting down in the chair. He rested his elbows on the wooden desktop and put his face in his hands, closing his eyes.
Elizabeth had hurt him, how could he trust her? He couldn't. He didn't even know if he could trust Gibbs, which said a lot. The First Mate had been an old friend over so many years. If he was struggling to trust him, how could he trust anyone?
He knew that he himself was a complicated man. Only one person confused him more than he did to himself. Elizabeth. That murderess. He once thought that he knew everything about her, but now he knew so much less than he'd thought he had. Was there something messed up in his head? It was something he often wondered when he thought of her. It certainly didn't help with his sanity. Sanity. What sanity did he even have anyway? Fantastic question, Jackie. Ye're not sane, that's the thing.
He sighed again, clenching his jaw so tightly that it shook his whole head. That bloody woman… A knock on his door made him jump. He looked towards it, hands dropping from his temples to the desk. Better not be her again…
"Who's there?" He called, keeping his voice sharp purposely.
"Cap'n?" Gibbs' tired voice came.
Jack sighed a third time. He knew that Gibbs had been overworking because of his absence. He might as well answer him and see what he needed. Besides, it'd give himself a break from his own mental distress.
He got to his feet and swaggered over to the door, unlocking it with a click and opening it. "What is it, Mr. Gibbs?"
The older man was completely exhausted. His eyes were drained of their usual optimism, his clothes and hair disheveled. "Ye can't hide in 'ere forever, Jack. The crew isn't copin' well with Barbossa in charge."
"He's doin' a fine job, let him keep at it." He responded, not really caring. He moved inside and waved him in, closing the door behind him.
"What makes ye say that?" The First Mate asked, curious and confused. "'S not what the real Jack would say."
"The real Jack is back in the Locker, where he was sentenced to." The captain snapped at him. "And in answer to your first question, he's not sank us yet and that's all that bloody matters."
"So she really killed ye?" Gibbs asked, perking up ever so slightly.
"Aye." Jack answered, casting him a glare. "How do ye think I ended up in the Locker?"
"Oh...right." The man nodded, toning down at the glare. "How'd she do it?"
"Doesn't matter." He scowled in return. "All that matters is that she did it. Savvy?"
The older man nodded again. "Aye, sir."
"Now if ye'd be so kind as to leave me to me misery an' go get some rest yourself." He made his way back to the door and opened it, holding it for the other man. "Ye look bloody awful, mate."
"So does yourself, Cap'n." Gibbs pointed out as he left and the door shut before he could utter another word.
"The real Jack is back in the Locker, where he was sentenced to."
Jack's hands balled into fists and a low, deep growl sound sounded from his throat. He needed to give the woman who'd sent him there some sort of punishment, one way or another. Something told him that she'd been punished enough knowing that she'd killed him and bearing the guilty burden alone. But he pushed it aside, that wasn't enough to forgive her. She'd killed him. To have her only punishment be guilt would be nothing compared to his own suffering.
The only time he'd wanted revenge this badly was when Barbossa first stole the Pearl.
But he didn't know if he actually hated her. Sometimes he almost admired her for knowing that the Kraken was after him and now the rest of them; for doing the right thing and leaving the man it wanted behind. It hadn't been a selfish move at all, he understood completely why she'd done it. She wanted to save them all, but she knew that she'd have to sacrifice him. So she did it. But still, she killed him. That's why he couldn't get past the strong, raging anger. Besides, he'd only had him to talk to for several months and he'd nearly gone mad because of it. Now with everyone aboard the ship asking him questions and whatnot, he felt overwhelmed. Sometimes even one person was much.
A guttural, bloodcurdling cry of pure frustration ripped through his throat and filled the ship. He heard a few shouts as sleepened sailors awoke in fear and noises from up on deck stopping.
Jack hit his head against the door in his seething anger and tramped back over to his desk, sitting down so roughly that the old wooden legs of the chair snapped. He found himself sitting on the remains of it, sore.
"Christ…" He cursed, groaning as he pulled himself off of the broken chair- which he didn't doubt made a loud noise as it'd given out- and rolled over onto his stomach. He pushed off the wooden floor, getting to his feet. "Can't even sit without problems!"
Two of the few people he disliked most in this world were on his ship. A mutineer captaining it and another brooding in her guilt of having killed him. He didn't like it. He should've left the both of them in the Locker- they'd made him suffer, so why shouldn't they?
The door swung open as he was halfway through getting up. Gibbs looked worried and Barbossa stared at him like he was crazy. No one else was at the door, thankfully.
"Cap'n?" The First Mate addressed him.
"What are ye doin' in 'ere?" Jack snapped at them just as he straightened up.
"Why'd ye yell?" Barbossa answered in the form of a question.
"Why does it matter?" He fingered his pistol.
"That be because the whole crew's awake now." The man answered.
He drew the flintlock and aimed it at him. "They can go back to sleep- nothin's keepin' 'em up, mate. Now get out o' me cabin."
"I think not." Barbossa disagreed, drawing his own pistol.
Slightly worried, Gibbs drew his sword, aiming it at the mutineer beside him. "We don't wanna fight now, do we?"
"Hector." Jack warned, his voice cold. "Don't do this, mate. Get out."
With a sigh, the man lowered his weapon and spun around, noisily exiting the cabin as told. The two men stared after him. The captain sighed quietly in relief, putting his pistol back from where he'd grabbed it. The First Mate sheathed his sword, turning back to face him.
"Ye alright, Cap'n?" Gibbs finally asked.
"Fine as I will be after bein' killed." He responded, grumbling. Then he spoke up, gesturing at the remains of his chair. "Have this cleared out by the time I get back."
"Aye, sir." The older man nodded quickly, leaving to get a few men to do it.
Jack sighed, leaving his cabin. He found himself heading down the stairwell to the bottom of the ship- the storage room- in search of rum to take back to his cabin. He entered, nearly falling off a broken step. He frowned as he looked down at it. He heard a clatter and his head snapped around. He narrowed his eyes. He listened again for another moment and was almost positive that he could make out panicked breathing somewhere. He gripped the hilt of his sword so tightly that his knuckles went white.
He walked over to one of the rum bottle holders and took three bottles from it, holding one in his hand and the other two against his body.
"Hello." A voice came.
He jumped, nearly dropping everything. "Don't do that." He growled after he recovered from the scare. He looked around. "Who's there anyway?"
Elizabeth took a few steps out of the shadows. "Me." She sounded upset.
"Oh, you. What are ye doing down 'ere?" Jack questioned. "Is there not a place on the whole bloody ship where no one is?"
"I've been wanting to talk to you." Her voice was still quiet.
He looked away. "I bet ye have. Why would ye be knockin' on me door if ye didn't?"
He thought for a moment. Maybe three bottles was one too many. He moved to put one back, but when he'd turned around to face the stairs with his two remaining bottles, she stood there. He brushed past her, but he felt a hand grab his arm. He instinctively tore away, remembering the last time the two of them came in physical contact. He whirled around to face her, his jaw tight.
Elizabeth saw the flash of fear behind his eyes when she grabbed him and as he broke free. Now all she could see was anger in his cold, dark eyes. She could tell that he was still getting over her betrayal. She saw his breathing calming from faster beating. Had she made him panic? Was he really that scared of her? Or was he just uncertain, still trying to figure out what to think of his killer?
Jack's anger flared for a few moments, but he forced it down. Irritated, he asked,"What do ye want?"
"I wanted to say sorry." She murmured.
"Sorry?" He snorted. "Really? That's not what I heard when ye lured me into your trap and fed me to the Kraken!" He snapped, calming down. "Ye're not sorry, Elizabeth."
"It was a lie!" She admitted, tearfully.
He tried to climb up the stairs again, feeling a hand grab him and pull him back. He broke free from her grasp once again. "Stop it!"
She took a step towards him and he moved back uneasily. "Don't go."
"Why wouldn't I leave the murderess that killed me? Ye think I want to be lured into another trap an' go through it again?" He pointed out angrily.
"Jack, please." Elizabeth pleaded. "I was sorry, I am sorry. I should've never done that do you- I thought I was doing the right thing! I regret it and regret it every day, every second. I never meant to hurt you." Tears leaked from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. "I never meant to kill you. I'm so, so sorry, Jack."
She stood there in from of him, sobbing, as he thought to himself. A huge part of him wanted to comfort her. He hated seeing her like this. The other part of him wanted to just walk up the stairs, nothing was stopping him from doing it. But he couldn't, he felt so bad for the woman who'd killed him.
"Lizzie, out 'ere ye need to make sure ye really want to do somethin' b'fore ye do it. 'Cause once ye do, there's no goin' back." Jack told her, quietly. "It's not the same as how your life as the Governor's daughter would've been if ye chose that path an' stuck to it. Ye understand that?"
She nodded, choking on tears and unable to speak.
Jack sighed, gesturing with his arms. "C'mere."
She walked up to him like a child to a parent, sobbing uncontrollably. He pulled her into a tight hug and she hugged him just as tightly, sobbing into his chest. He pulled her hair back away from her face. His right hand gently rubbed her back as he tried to comfort her- he didn't know exactly how, having never done anything akin to this; he'd never been in this kind of situation in his life.
Gradually, she began to grow quieter in his embrace. He didn't want to admit it, but he felt just as she did. His own eyes were slightly moist, but he didn't allow himself to cry as she did. After a little while longer, she had finally quieted and now all they could hear was the water swaying outside and the crew members shouting to each other as they worked. She shifted in his grasp, getting his attention. He looked down at her.
"I'm so sorry, Jack." She murmured, her voice small and hoarse.
"Shh. It's done an' over with. There's nothin' ye can do to un-do it." He responded, hushing her for a few moments.
"Jack?" Elizabeth spoke up after a few quiet minutes of listening to the environment.
"Mhm?" Jack raised a curious eyebrow.
She spoke slowly, hesitantly, though she sounded so sure of what she said. "I don't love Will."
"Ye seemed like ye couldn't be separated from him a few months ago." He pointed out gently. "What happened now?"
"He did? How much did he see?"
"Just the kiss. He thought I loved you." She told him.
"And you do…" He realized.
"Yes." She admitted it without remorse, clinging to him tighter. "Do you forgive me?"
He sighed deeply, thinking for a couple of moments before he finally answered. "Aye, I do. Ye came back for me instead o' leavin' me to suffer longer."
"Then you won't mind if I…?" The woman looked at his lips.
He knew what she wanted and gave a small chuckle. "O' course not."
Elizabeth's lips reached up and met his, catching him in a passionate kiss. He felt her hand in his dreadlocks and the other squeezing his hand. He squeezed back, holding her lower back with his other hand. His tongue forced through her lips and danced with hers, in a battle to get into one another's mouth. Her's won, efficiently pushing his aside and beginning to explore every corner and cranny of his mouth. He let her until the need for air became too important to deny.
They pulled apart, gasping and inhaling deeply. Jack pressed his forehead against hers, listening to the both of them breathing.
"I love you, Jack."
"As do I. Always have, always will."
"What about Will?" She murmured. "He'll find out."
"Don't worry about the bloody eunuch, I can take care o' him." He promised.
"Promise you won't leave me? That you won't die on me again?"
"Never. I'm all yours, love. I'll always be by your side as long as ye're by mine."