Disclaimer: As always I unfortunately own nothing associated to Disney or Pirates of the Caribbean and the purpose of writing this story is to entertain readers only. No profits!
A/N: Each year, married Angelica organizes a masquerade party in hope Jack will show up.
To all you Jackelica shippers out there. This is for you.
THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY
The one that got away.
Can there be another more wrenching layout of a sentence? Fate meaning for two to end up together but for some reason face sufficiently grave obstacles to not fall victim to destiny's wish. Stubborn minds filled of broken egos that will do literally anything to keep it unharmed. However in between, fighting fate's ways would at points backfire. Like this particular evening.
An annual masquerade celebration, Angelica as hostess. For the amounts of different excuses of parties going on each year, this has got to be her favorite one. Always a deep hope fluttering her heart an extra beat, but typically slamming her down by the end of the small hours into the night upon the realization he never came.
Equal hopeful for yet another year, she stands by a mirror and reflects herself. Secretive matter is of an awful truth that she is married with the intentions of keeping it that way. Disappointingly she fears it never would matter of whom she marries or what happiness a man can offer her - when it would never turn out to be him.
For all she cares, she will nicely welcome all guests that arrive to this fine house. Loyally she will stand by her husband's side for the beginning of this night until her favorite friends will show up. Her vision will travel among all men appearing behind disguises and whenever a feature resembles of him, she will feel a stinging emotion between pure nervousness and excitement. Now this is how all of those previous parties looked like and meanwhile she denyingly wishes for this particular night to magically turn out to be all different, she knows that he never will come. He never does and he never will.
How foolish and stupid of her to once again begin to imagine his presence. That he will enter those grand doors and step inside her home. For all she knows, by leaving her in the way he did, he must feel utterly indifferent about her. She, being nothing but a fun or tragic part of a story in his life. Never in a million years that he puts a second thought to her. No matter how much that name of his still echoes within her. Such a harsh truth but in between, even she must acknowledge the bitter actuality.
This party is grand enough to be heard of all over the Caribbean islands. There are guests arriving from sort of any island there can be, and she has made sure that there is no other way. Every single mouth should at least once mention this celebration and therefore, it cannot have past him unnoticed. He must have heard of it, and he must know it is her that married this influential bankman. He must know how she is the hostess of this celebration and that he will encounter her if he ever would attend this. Nevertheless he never ever appears. So on letting her know how little she really ever meant for him.
Is it not strange how someone can mean so much for one person and so little in the opposite direction? God, she has got to get over him. She is married for God's sake. Yet here she is, hosting another one of these parties in secret, hopeful and wishful thinking that he of all the people in the world, will walk inside her house.
"Lady Angelica!" a woman shouts and knocks off Angelica from her position down in an entrance room.
There are people everywhere, some of which she unconcisouly must have welcomed. With a scanning eye traveling from mask to another mask, she finds it difficult to grasp from where the voice came from. Every single one is disguised, including the very own staff of the house of maids and servants. Literally there is not a single person not hidden behind a mask. Which makes her search for him utterly complicated when she tries to read behind the masks of the arriving guests.
Eventually the woman who shouted for her waves her hand and knocks her path towards Angelica.
"Dear, people are eager to get inside!" she sighs as she manages her way up to Angelica. To a servant nearby Angelica, the woman immediately directs. "Would care for champagne!"
And that is quite how it works out, her friends arriving, loaded with excitement for this night. Frankly, so is Angelica herself. Her delighted husband, filled with contently pride of this event, he manages in between his socializing to dive in to steal a word with her. Compliment her or just kiss the top of her hand. They are truly happy together and to the greater part, Angelica really is too. She has a wonderful life, sort of everything she has ever dreamt of having. This is a life she could only imagine from her tiny shared bedroom at the convent, when she was younger. Although, there is of course that tiny little trigger who teases her about the adventures out there, waiting, lurking. So tempting.
Nonetheless, she lives a thrilling life with regular drama if there ever is needed a bit of action. Not anything like a swordfight or something as dramatic as that, but common gossip going around the neighborhood. For all she cares, this is a perfect sort of life for her at the moment. To settle down and live in the now. Read an interesting book each morning, learn of the news of what happens out there, secretively fishing information about him and quite spend her days meeting her friends, promenading through the local town and wrapping up each day with a peaceful, absolutely divine dinner with her husband. It never would have worked for her years ago, but now it does.
Being this happy with this and yet finding the urge irresistible in prevent of looking for this former lover of hers, makes her quite undeserving of her current husband, does it not? Dear, she has got to stop thinking about him.
With a sigh, she tries to return to the chatty friendly conversation. All ladies sit in this group of couches and a man appears in the doorway. For the briefest moment with the hint of dark eyes, Angelica is again lured back into the imaginations of him.
Is that him? If not, is he here, in this house?
Upon his eyes meeting hers, her heart must skip a beat because her friends start to notice her distraction. Even the nearby servant who keeps serving them, stops tracks by the clear numbness in Angelica.
When all turn to look at his man, his man goes off as he presents himself.
"Lady Angelica," he sweetly greets and by now, Angelica's sigh of disappointment escapes her. It appears rude and she immediately regrets it. By a quirked eyebrow from a friend turning to her, Angelica must sheepishly blush apologetically meanwhile the man continues to explain himself as if he needs to excuse himself. "Forgive me, but I was in search of your husband. Would you possibly know where I can find him?"
Instantly, she responds. "Oh, by the foyer, Mr Petersen."
After his departure, her friends only share a suspicious glance before they return to their previous talk. About lovers, handsome men and whatever scandalous events they cannot share to anyone but to each other. These are words only to remain within this tight group of friends.
It is first after another shared glance that Angelica unwillingly is dragged deeper into this than she ever would have intentions to. It makes her overly uncomfortable and specifically so as her very own staff must be hearing this by the fact the servant is pouring one of her friends another glass of champagne. Utterly inappropriate, yet this particular time she cannot hinder herself.
"Angie, you must have a lover as well," one of them opens and suddenly she is the center of curiosity. Even the servant is about to spill the champagne. Oh, dear. Never good if the staff will spill this to her husband. So on, she tries to brush off this idea as if it is nothing but nonsense. Which it indeed is. She has none. There is not a reason for her to have none. If she cannot have him, then she may as well just have her proper and decent husband. He is very kind and gentle with her, for all she cares.
"Never," Angelica admits.
Whilst she feels pride in saying so, there is also a bit of shame perhaps, seeing all else of her friends are deeply involved in scandalous extramaterial affairs, and Angelica is not. Even if she may have a grander and luscious past than most of them altogether.
"Oh, but please, Angie," another one persuades. "We all are devoted to our husbands, but the tempting eye of a handsome lord, baron or passing merchant cannot go unnoticed. Not even by you, can it?"
To shut down all suspicions, she is firm. "All devotion is for my husband."
Some roll their eyes and another ones are keen on once and for all, crack the nutshells up of Lady Angelica. Having her confess something of her past, which they will manage. It happens just as Angelica thankfully accepts the offer of her favorite beverage handed from her servant and is about to bring it to her lips, which motion will pause upon the statement.
"You claim you've never been in love before your husband?"
Right away she freezes and is taken off guard. Her telling reaction must be revealing enough as all friends immediately throw these hungry questions in her direction. Eyes are popping and someone bursts out, 'Why have you never said anything?'. It is as if they are almost accusing her, of course, in a friendly manner. She must gulp down all beverage in order to save time and think of how to get out of this without letting too much of this slip. She has never spoken about him, never mentioned him and has no intention of doing that by now either.
"Who is he?!" they are all dying to know.
Apologetically Angelica hands her empty glass back to her servant before bracing herself to face the wolves.
"Why don't you just take on a lover? Your husband cannot be that magnificent, can he?"
Another one joins. "Of course not, none of our husbands are."
Cracking this secretive code, one of her friends holds her finger up as if she is lighting up from inside. "Aha!" and all attention is on her. "Our Angie here is not taking on a lover, because she is waiting for him."
"Oh!" they all exclaim in unison and turn to the denying Angelica, who keeps shaking her head.
No, they are not getting anything more of of this. They cannot unfold her like this, as if she is an open book willing to be read for the whole world. Her inner world is simply for her. It is private and not even her very loving friends are ones she wants to have this sort of knowledge of her.
The questions that pour over her are too many for her to even aim to reply to.
"How old were you when you met?"
"How did you meet?"
"Why aren't you together?"
"What is he like?"
First by the remark, "How often do you see each other?" She is unable to hold her tongue back and bitterly answers. Naturally, while drowning another drink she should not really be pouring down her throat.
"He never comes."
And it is here she understands her mistake of acknowledging his existence out loud for a first time. This new information promptly leads them all to draw in their dramatic breaths and stare her out before continuing their hundreds of questions.
By the time Angelica has emptied a glass and gently hands it to her servant, she is ready to face her friends's questions. After rambling all nosy questions, they seem rather calm and also reasonable enough to understand they only ask one question at each time in order to even get one answered.
"Who is he?"
Now being married, this is a box opening that Angelica really would have preferred having remain closed. This is a territory she should not try to explore, a dangerous one. She is married for God's sake. This is wrong, so wrong. She should not be speaking of him like this, not with this voice and that unintentionally aching feeling inside like she urges him still, more than anything she ever has. Like he is the one missing piece in her life that she longs for, no matter how many years have passed.
"My first love," she carefully admits and earns the reaction she has suspected.
All attention is fully on her. She is overly thankful they are all alone, well, except for a staff member as it seems. At least this way her husband nor anybody out there in the other rooms are able to hear her. Not even the possibility of him, if he so happens to be hiding out there among the guests, covered by a mask.
"Naturally he is your first love," a friend points out. "No one ever forgets her first love."
"No," another one agrees. "At least not the first true love."
Perhaps that is true. Angelica has no idea, but annoyingly enough that saying seems to fit perfectly with her. No matter how much she has tried to get over this idiot for years, he keeps burying himself deeper and deeper within her. By now she barely understands how she ever will get him out of there. And that is irritatingly frustrating. She does not want him there. She wants her husband there and only her husband. He is the kind one who wholeheartedly deserves to be there. Not Jack scumbag Sparrow.
Unable to resist asking, a friend shoots her the wrenching and blunt interrogation. "Are you still in love with him?"
Now, she is the one pulling in her breath and hopes for all she has the servant that hears all of this will not spill the truth to her husband. Meanwhile her husband is overly kind to her, his staff is awfully loyal and she fears what would happen to her if this would slip his direction. She would possibly risk being a dead woman, or a divorced woman and lose all this of a life she now has. Again it would be by the cause of Jack and that she refuses to take. Him being able to ruin her life without even having the need to be there. It is enough she cannot get rid of him in her dreams. Or should she call them nightmares? Awfully wonderful nightmares with him deeply kissing her.
To hell with this. She knows exactly what she shall do in order to have her servant keep shut about this anyhow, so what harm would there be spilling her heart out?
"Never stopped loving him, unfortunately."
"Oh, dear!" a friend gasps. "For how long have you loved him?"
Defeated, Angelica sinks into her couch and honestly wishes they would not look at her like this. As if she is the center of attention.
"For too long," she speaks.
"Why didn't it work out?"
Cautiously she opens her mouth, inwardly pondering in how to in best ways explain this. "My wedding," she begins. "Was a grand thing, sí?"
They all agree. "Indeed, very much. Could have heard about all the way to England!"
"Exactly," Angelica points out. "Nobody on this side of the continent, specifically among the Caribbean islands, could have missed this wedding. Everybody had heard of it and I dare to assume he did too."
Suddenly it seems as if they all understand. Disappointed sighs spread among her friends as they too in defeat sink into their couches or armchairs, as if they feel whatever Angelica must have felt.
"You gave him a chance to come and he never showed up," one of them clarifies.
A slow nod is all Angelica gives before she continues. "He had this stupid compass that pointed to whatever he wanted the most, and that could, if he did want me - lead his way straight to me. He would have found me," she speaks now, probably more to convince herself of his indifference to her rather than truly telling this to her friends. "I bet it never pointed to me at all."
Sensing the sad tone in all of this, one of her friends hugs her hand in compassion. They are truly lovely to her, have welcomed her warmly even if they are overly nosy and want to know all the juicy details, always.
Popping this calm and peaceful bubble of compassion and looks of pity, another friends has at last cracked Angelica's facade with her following questions and remarks.
"When was the last time you met him?"
"Many, many years ago."
"Then why don't you just send for him?"
Neglecting this idea, Angelica shakes her head. At last she is thankful to have some dignity.
"The wedding was in all newspapers. He knows where I am, where to find me. Seeing he never comes, I'm certain he never really cared to begin with."
And that is quite the sad probable truth. Meanwhile she has devoted her whole heart to this scumbag, he has most doubtlessly not given her a second thought.
"It sounds awful, Angie," her friend tries to sooth her. "I'm sure you're mistaking."
"Yes," another one agrees. "You are a lovely, magnetic woman anybody would be delighted to have. Not can he think such harsh thoughts of you?"
With a shrug, Angelica also weakly smiles. "Doesn't matter. I haven't seen him for years anyhow."
Suddenly eagerly, one of them can barely hold herself in her couch. "But, Angie! Can't we send for him? Meet him and get all words about you out of him? Find out what he really thinks of you."
For an utterly strange and horrible idea, it somehow also sounds a bit too tempting for Angelica's liking. She does not enjoy at all how hard she finds this to decline. "Not in a million years," and that is a warning.
"Can we get his name?"
"¡Claro que no!" she lets out. "His identity will remain a secret," she will have this no other way.
"Why? Please, we must send for him. Can we send for him? Why don't you send for him? Why is his name a secret?"
With their ongoing questions, one suddenly begins to throw these speculations a bit too close to the truth. To begin with, it is Angelica's mistake to give them too much of what she should have.
"Because he cannot just show up anyhow in his own persona. At least not how this world right now looks like."
And with that she has given away way too much. Because immediately she has the girls after her, right back into the wolves they can be.
"He's an outlaw!" They have understood.
By now, Angelica's eyes widen. How in the world did they get that? Putting two and two together is a hobby of theirs that works too well for what Angelica approves of.
"He is!" They can again read by Angelica's startled reaction. "Dear, in what ways? What has he done?"
Another two go on with their rambling. "How romantic, a fancy lady and a bandit in love? Forbidden love, even? He must come! We must meet this mister."
With all Angelica has, she tries to silence them, kill all excitement to find out about him, when another one manages seeing through Angelica further.
"Oh my God!" she bursts out and now stands to point at Angelica. Almost screaming in excitement as if she has won a chest of gold. "This is why you throw these masquerade parties! To have him being able to show up in secrecy!"
Whilst all women are screaming in excitement they figured her out, Angelica's mouth keep being dropped open as if she cannot comprehend even the slightest how fast they unfolded her.
Damn, this is not at all what she wants. God, this is so far from what she wants them to know about her. This is way too much of her out there. However just as she stands to embarrassingly silence their girly screams, her wrist tangle in her friend's and the motion brings her bracelet to break. It is also in that particular moment that she for the briefest flash of moment sees a figure passing by the door which makes her actions pause.
No, not could it be..? Or could it?
The splattering sound of pearls bouncing on the floor brings Angelica back to her friends that already try to help her collect them.
Distantly though she tries to catch a glimpse towards the doorway. Something twists inside her and she just... feels odd. Would it be her illusions of him still playing her mind? She always believes it is him but equally many times she faces the disappointment of understanding it never is him. This time will not be different, yet she grabs all pearls together in her hand and excuses herself from her girls.
Instead she waves for her servant to join her. She hands him her pearls and nods towards the way leading upstairs while keeping her true attention on her friends that questioningly look at her.
"Would you leave this inside my bedroom, please?" she more demands to her working staff person rather than asks politely. As he leaves, without a word, she takes a deep breath for her friends. She needs a quick excuse as she will try to find out about this person out here. If he is Jack she barely understands if she longs to kill him for not visiting her or if she just wants to throw her arms around him.
Damnit, she should not be this warm towards him. Why does he keep invading her mind like this? He really is ruling her actions. Her trying to deny it is even to use. It is so apparent she would only appear foolish if she so tried denying it.
"I just need to have a word... um... outside..."
One of her friends points to a doorway.
"You need to make that servant keep quiet about this."
"Indeed, Angie. Now, come back here and we can write a particular letter in order to have this love of yours come visiting you."
Gulping, Angelica's eyes again drift to the doorway in where she saw the familiar features.
What if that man already is here? Is this that time when he finally, at last, has come?
Her backing steps and stuttering words are telling enough, but before the women have a chance to leap after her, she has made her way out into the darkness of the private hallways the guests do not really attend. Somewhere there, where she think she saw the man with that familiar features.
Of course her mind again could be playing tricks. But if it is him... Ugh, she hates herself for this awful self control. She should not care this much, but she does. For a moment she tries to talk herself into returning to the party when she stops upon the familiar steps approaching her, around a corner.
Instantly and unwillingly, she feels her heartbeat throb inside her chest. It feels as if she is getting sick at the same time the sensation is filled with a fluttery warmness. Jack, her dear Jack, her goddamned hated idiot she will literally strangle with her own hands. The maniac, the lover, the...
The disappointment of not being him at all.
Of course it is not.
It never is.
The servant has returned from her room upstairs and she understands she will need to have him keep shut about her conversation with her friends. Seeing all of the servants and maids of the house are tremendously loyal to her husband, she needs to do the specific thing she never would do - if she had known by that second afterwards, she would see the shadow of the well familiar features of a person carrying a triangular hat. The features of this man would stand further down the hallway, illuminated in the darkness down the hallway and by then, it would be too late for Angelica. Because with the words;
"I'll need to give my husband a reason to fire you," she has pulled the servant towards her and captured his lips.
It is really her way of making sure that meanwhile he will have a reason to uncover her private conversation with her friends, she can now use him kissing her as a catch. He can never utter a word of this without being able to have him face the gallows himself. Kissing the lady of the house is a serious breaking of rules that he surely cannot afford. Dear, her stupid former lover is making her being such an idiot and has her kissing her very own servant? And he is not even here? Having her needing to literally give herself away like this, in order to not have this information slip to her husband. Because he would try to hunt Jack down if he found out she has had a first love, and she cannot let that happen. That information cannot pass on to her husband.
Never would she share this intimate kiss with her servant if she just a second earlier had seen the features of that triangular hat, stand further down the hallway. For a moment it is as if she is cheating on him. Not her husband, but on Jack. Standing this intensively into the embrace of another man that keeps holding her in this passionate occasion.
Immediately she pulls away from him and hurries towards the manly form down the hallway. The calling slips out of her as he seems to try to escape.
He is rounding a corner and she grabs her heavy gown to make her hurry easier.
"Jack, is that you?" she calls out until she has reached him. "Jack, stop it!"
Aggressively she grabs his wrist and harshly pulls him around to face her. She is panting with her heart beating as if it is up in her throat. A sickening feeling as if she just wants to shake him in frustration, scream into his face and kiss him at the same time. Wonderingly shoot him all the confusion of why he never had visited her before. What had kept him away and if he even has the slightest of decency in visiting her again.
But in the moment this man turns around with this triangular hat, she sees the familiar face of a neighbor she has not even bothered learning the name of.
Mouth open in readiness to spill her whole world out for him, she bites her tongue upon the setback to find out it is not Jack. But her stupid neighbor.
Her neighbor..? How can this be? How could she have mistaken, again, this gravely? Her look that keeps staring into his eyes is almost painful.
In confusion of not understanding a thing, he keeps his hand up in surrender.
"Mrs, with that mask you're wearing, I have no idea of what you're up to or who you are," he explains as if that would be the reason she ran after him.
He could really be saying anything and she would literally not hear a thing still. All she does is feeling the numbness take over and her hold loosens on his wrist. Gently he makes himself free of her hold and says something before he continues to leave down the hallway.
She is such a fool. Jack would never come. He never would. She knows this. Of all things she has knowledge of, she knows more than anything that this man never will show up. He never loved her and never will. Why is she this stupid to host these parties in hope he will come and sweep her off her feet? As if she lives in a fairytale? She does not and she must come to grips with the idea that she has never meant anything to this man.
The awful truth is that she is a fool, acting like a stupid fool. Behaving like a lovesick puppy that tragically cannot let go of her dearest love of which she has been nothing but a rag doll to. How much more will she have to endure before that truthful fact will settle in her? How much more does she have to make a fool out of herself before she will understand he never will come?
Just as she is about to feel the inner emotions take over, she hears her gentle call from her husband.
"Angelica, my dearest?"
His dearest. See, she has a man loving her. Why cannot she just be happy with that? He does not deserve her. She is so bad to do all of these idiotic things in order to capture the attention of a brutal scumbag that does not even care for her. How tragic is she not?
"There you are," he beams and brings a torch near her face before kissing her cheek. Gently he begins to guide her out of there. "I wanted to introduce you to a new friend of mine."
It would be awful to yet again admit that she, for the hundredth time that evening had her hopes up upon those words. A new friend. That meant a new face. Someone that possibly could be Jack, undercover. Also for another time, she quickly learned by the introduction it was not her former pirate lover. Thus, from right then and there - she decided to drop this. Once and for all.
She cannot go on doing this to herself. Quickly she decided that this would be the last year that she would host this annual party. No more masquerade balls. Jack Sparrow would never show up and visit her. She has got to stop making a fool out herself. Moreover, she needs to move on for real and let go of him. No matter how hard that would be. Because indeed that will require much of her. However she has to get over him. It is not healthy to love someone this deeply when she barely exists in his mind. There is a husband who loves her and is ready to give her the world. That is what she needs to stick to. Not Jack.
Frankly, this is probably all inner debate she needs in order to fully feel pleased with the night. And it is probably the first time she has hosted these masquerade parties when she feels this content with the night. There are games, fun plays and dancing, oh - lots of dancing. Laughingly she shares toasts with her husband and in between has loads of fun with her friends. She has such a fun night, her servant needs to keep handing her water by the night. As it seems, all she needed to do, was to get this hell-forsaken bandit out of her mind to feel free. A dazzling feeling to have this fun one night. Everything feels right, at place and once she at the small hours heads upstairs with her husband - she understands she has not felt this happy for a long time.
Letting go of him, even for a few hours was what was required of her. Genuinely, it feels terrific. Sufficiently enough that she is contently beaming when they together take that first step from the stair to land on the second floor.
Everything is perfectly fine, for once, when her husband abruptly stops. A worried expression displays on his face, which for the shortest moment brings her to a worry he has heard of her previous chat with her friends. If that would be the case, she would definitely tell him of the servant's doing and have him more than fired.
But words will not be anything near that, even if that is what Angelica believes is the worst thing that can be said. Deeply in belief that the worst thing her husband can speak of is the events of tonight. Therefore she grows nervous, but not for the right cause. Because she will get knocked by her feet. But not for the cause she firstly believed.
"I forgot something downstairs. Have to exchange to a word with the governor," her husband is reminded. "You see, The Black Pearl was spotted in the harbor tonight."
There is truly nothing else in the world that could knock air out of Angelica, right then and there, as this sentence. A splurge of words she never, ever, believed she would hear in her lifetime.
The Black Pearl in their harbor? No. Somebody must be mistaken. Someone must have mixed it with another ship.
There is not just a chance in the world that it would be the ship. She shakes her head in denial, not believing a word.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive," her husband frowns. "The additional security hired for this occasion spotted it hiding."
Jack is here? No, he cannot, can he?
No..? Can it be true? She knows he got his Black Pearl back. She had heard many rumors of it being back again, sailing. By heart she has known that only Jack would be sailing it. Although this is just too unlikely? Not can he really have come to this island? And if that would be the case, obviously he still never showed up at her home?
This is not what she wants to think, but her heart speaks her way through it.
"You should've told me." Yes, she is accusing her husband. Nonetheless, he sees this as a pure worry from her.
"I never wanted to worry you, my dear. I would never ruin the night for you by telling you pirates have anchored in our bay the specific night which is yours."
Without thinking twice she takes a step to make her way back downstairs. She needs to see it. She needs to run down to the harbor. If this is true, then Jack will be there. She has to meet him, she has to. She needs to, she urges to. Every piece in her longs to meet him. But her fluttery heart is short-lived with her husband's following words.
"Thankfully it left hours ago."
And again, this man manages making her inwardly crumble. It is as if she wants to scream in frustration, groan and press her face into a pillow and hit something. How dare he do this? How dare Jack leave without visiting her? How dare this monster anchor in her harbor, on her day, without showing up? How can he?
For all she has, she prays she is not flushing in redness by the inner boiling. This bandit, this monster - has anchored in her harbor and still not said hello to her? He has not visited her? And here she is, with that wishful thinking he still had at least the slightest enamored piece of heart belonging to her? Of course not! Not Jack Sparrow. The impossible man she never will tame.
Damn, he is making her go mad by insanity. How dare he do this to her? Naturally he has known she would find out about this. There is not a chance in the world she would not find out about him anchoring in her harbor this night. Has he been playing her back? God, why does she even think so? He does not care about her at all, does he? If he did, he would have at least the decency to try to meet her, to see her? Would he not?
Not sensing his wife's waves of heavy emotions, her husband begins to make his way back downstairs.
"I'll be right back, darling!"
Even after seeing his figure disappear downstairs, she must remain frozen for a way too long time with her thoughts. She cannot believe it. The very one and only time, idiot Sparrow shows up, she misses his ship. This cannot be. Fate is harsh. It should not be like this. The damn love of her life has been on her island and she missed it. God, she wants to kick something.
The one that got away.
Without realizing she is touching her wrists, the bare skin brings her attention down to notify the lack of her pearl bracelet. Not adding to any harmonic thoughts, she is reminded of her breaking it and the stupid servant taking it to her bedroom. If that man has dared stealing it she will have him fired whether he spills the information about her and her first love, or not. That bracelet was a gift from Jack on their first sort of anniversary. A piece of jewelry she likes to pretend means nothing to her, but honestly means the world.
Tired from the eventful evening and night of celebrating, she pushes her bedroom door open and walks inside. For a moment she ponders in how she will get over Jack. How this idiot does not deserve being in her heart. That seeing his lack of visiting her as an obvious fact of her not meaning a thing for him, she should just let go already. And she is so sure of herself when she marches towards her nightstand in which belonging box the bracelet shall be. With her inner rage storming, she is so ready to fire off at the servant. He is the only one who has been there and if this bracelet is not in its order, yes, she will have a chance to get her anger out of her.
Harshly she pulls out the box and throws it open. Almost ready to witness its emptiness and complain to her husband of a missing bracelet. That the servant has stolen her bracelet when she asked him to leave it, and that he must be fired right at once.
But that does not happen at all.
The bracelet is there. And now only that.
She is almost shaky when she sees the compass neatly laying beside it. The compass.
If she believed her breath knocked out of her before, it does by now. This cannot just be. No, she refuses to believe it. That cannot be his compass. No way.
She bites her lip as she notices a piece of paper beside it. Some sort of a letter. That is his writing. And it is her name written on it.
Her heart is about to pop out of her chest and she must look over her shoulder in deep hope he is still there.
Of course he is not. But she would probably pay all treasures she has ever owned if that would mean she could have his presence right there, behind her in her room. God, she wants him there.
The Black Pearl left hours ago.
So he was here? He was here all along?
Scared the items may have gone and that she is hallucinating, she forces her gaze back to the box. Yes, the compass is still there. How could she have been this blind? Of course it was him. Of course... how stupid can she be?
She should have known.
He gave her the favorite beverage. The one only he would know was her favorite. And the steps in the hallway. His familiar mouth when she kissed him. Her breath hitches upon the realization.
Feverishly she unfolds the little piece of paper laying beside his compass, to read his note only to again find her heart throb heavier than before.
"Points to north now... but mark my words, love. Always pointed to you anyhow."
A/N: A little one-shot. What did you think of this one? Did you catch that he was the servant right at once or when did you understand that it was him? :-) Hope you liked this piece!