as long as we're all fanfic-ing... here's a bit of one i wrote ages ago, right after the movie came out. its totally sappy and very cliche but always fun to write! 🙂
She was barely drifting off when the door banged open; no knock, no surprise. Elizabeth rubbed her eyes and wondered whether she ought to go through the motions of grasping for her robe. But wait, no, this wasn’t Port Royal… it was the greasy inn above the greasy pub in Tortuga, and she had no robe, no nightgown, just those rumpled clothes she had “borrowed” from the too-young cabin boy.
“Good evening, Ms. Swann.” He was smoking, a cigar perhaps? She’d never seen him smoke before, but the smell wasn’t displeasing.
“What do you want Jack? At least give me a minute to make myself decent.” Damn protocol. Why did she always play the proud lady around him? Why couldn’t she just be Elizabeth, the Elizabeth she knew he wanted to see? She reached around for a bit of string and tied her hair back. He wouldn’t win, not yet anyways.
Jack had his back to her, playing along. “Decent yet?” He was mocking her, but she didn’t mind. She was being absurd and she knew it. She stood and smoothed the covers.
“All right, turn.” He did. He glanced her over. She must look a fright, hair pulled back or not. Did the man never sleep? Did the constant rum never get to him? A long night of drinking their troubles away was meant to end in a headache and bed, not a cheery conversation in the too-early morning. “Are you here to sell your freedom for revenge?”
Jack pretended to be shocked, swinging around on the heel of his boot, and Elizabeth couldn’t tell whether he was offended or merely amused. “I resent that implication!” He quipped, “That anyone or anything would hinder my love affair with a free life, or being alive, for that matter.”
“I take that to mean you weren’t serious the time you proposed to me,” she replied with sarcasm.
“You’re too controlling, love. And too good at killing me. I’d never sleep at night.”
Elizabeth bit her lip, trying to ascertain whether she was afraid of him or entranced by him. Neither of them would sleep much, that was certain, but it would have nothing to do with fear or mistrust.
“Well,” she said, tilting her head to the side, “What are we to do then?”
Jack was relishing the conversation. The twinkle in his eye reminded Elizabeth of the moment he had seen his ship on the horizon, the day in Port Royal she and Will had saved his life. She ought to have let him hang. It was becoming too easy, always putting her life on hold for him.
Jack pulled out his signature bottle of rum and took a swig, not offering her any. “Nothing to do, the way I see it, except keep playing these little games. I want you, and you, my precious little Lizzie, blush like a virgin every time I get close.”
“That’s because I am a virgin!” she said, slamming her hand down on the table and seizing the bottle with the other. She enjoyed the sharp sting down her throat, anything for a moment to recover.
“Are you now?” came his voice, softer than she had expected it. She shoved the rum back into his hand.
“Yes. The man I’m with would never compromise my honor.”
“Ah, but he’s not here now,” Jack said with a sly smile. “Is he? No, I’m afraid it’s just you and me, love.”
“You and me… and the good man inside you.”
“You know, Ms. Swann, I changed me mind about something. As I’ve decided it, sometimes when you give enough you can have it all. If there’s what a man can do and what a man can’t do, then it only holds true there’s what a man can have and what a man can’t have. Well, I’ve spent a lot of life ‘can’t having’ things I’ve wanted, and this time around, that’s going to change. Do you understand me?”
No she didn’t, not a word… there was too much she couldn’t have, too much she couldn’t do. But then, he was Jack Sparrow, and he was back from the world’s end, and perhaps everything he said was true after all, for him anyway, for his own version of humanity. She shifted her weight and didn’t look him dead in the eye, because those eyes got her off on Egypt and faraway sunsets and the mud of adventure that she was trying so hard to scrape off her heart. He didn’t need a response. He stepped closer, brashly, pirate-like, uncaring of her discomfort. Her emotions bent wryly— no regard for personal space, this one, and thank God, because connection was what she craved.
it didnt fit- here's the rest:
“I thought we settled this, Jack. On the Pearl, days and days ago. Surely you’ve come to understand where I am.”
He ignored her. He didn’t want to think about that conversation— the first time they were left alone, her tearful pleading, his distance, their final resolve to “guard each other’s backs, like old friends.” Damn that to hell. What else could she ask of him, save asking him to go back to the locker? He saw freedom in her eyes, those eyes that had left a trail of heartache across the Caribbean. He was going to be the end of that trail… he was the pirate lord, he was Captain Jack Sparrow.
“I gave enough, I did. I gave it all, so I’m going to have it all. In my way, on my terms.” And his smile glinted before her, not sardonic but boyish and free, oh heaven, so free it hurt. Nothing to cling to now but her cynicism.
“You’re mad. You can’t have it all, Jack. Sometimes you have to control yourself, give things up… sometimes it isn’t that simple.”
With that he knocked aside the table between them with a crash that left her standing still, ready for a blow. It only came in the form of his scent— distinct, smokey, enticing— and then his arms pulling her almost violently against his chest, daring her to protest as they moved roughly down the curve of her back until their bodies were aligned. She moaned softly, he was hurting her but she didn’t want him to stop… she wanted him so much it hurt.
“Not simple, love? What’s complicated about this? You’ve tempted me and you’ve tortured me and you’ve murdered me, and now I’m going to take what I want from you.” Was this the way he had felt, the instant before she shackled him? No more racing thoughts, no more arguments in her head. All she knew were his hands pressing her against him with the reality of his threat. He meant it.
“You would do that to me?” she struggled to breath, but now his lips roved freely across her neck as he pulled on the string that held her hair, releasing it for his taking. Would he? He pulled back for a moment, his eyes deep with exhilaration.
“I’m a pirate.” The grin was back, but before she could cry out or wriggle free he had swept her down onto the bed, and was that laughter coming from his mouth? “I’m a pirate,” he repeated brutally. “Now close your eyes.”
Why she obeyed him, she wasn’t sure. It was not for Elizabeth Swann to obey anyone, but her eyes closed and she waited, perhaps aware for once that her physical strength could not match his, she could not escape it this time…
And suddenly she felt the softest touch to her lips. Gently, tenderly he released the maniac grip from her wrists and slid up her arms, cupping her face. His muscles eased and his breath let out. Another kiss, not greedy but utterly inviting, a kiss beyond passion. With each kiss she felt the summer day warmth of his smile melt her terror until she rested against him, wrapped up in a world of calm and relief. Pirate or not, this man saved me.
“You taste like adventure, love… have you been at the rum?” came that deep voice, just a hint of laughter to it. He sat up and brushed the hair off her face. He had gotten everything he wanted... She trusted him. He sighed deeply, with contentment.
She was trembling a little, she realized. Just a kiss, and she was shaking. She had steeled herself for the worst, and he had dissolved her with a kiss. He peered down at her, his voice still soft. Why had she never been able to imagine him like this, tender and warm and yielding? He was far more Jack in this moment than he’d ever been before. “You’re shaking, love,” he said.
“Don’t mock me,” she whispered. “I’m just a blushing virgin.”
His coarse fingers traced over her lips. “Sometimes all I want is to protect you, but you keep proving you don’t need it.”
“Oh but I do,” the words tumbled out of her and she leaned her face into his shoulder, drinking in his scent, so comfortable, understanding what it was to trust someone. “Sometimes I do.”
He leaned down until they were nose to nose, until he could feel her eyelashes brushing against his cheek. “You have to tell me when those moments come. Savvy?”
She nodded. She was so tired of arguing and worrying and wondering what the next moment would bring, she could rest in his arms forever.
“Are you going to sleep?” he asked.
“Maybe,” she murmured. “Stay with me. Stay with me and pretend we’re on the Pearl together, and we haven’t stolen anyone’s heart away, and no one’s been hurt by us. Pretend we’re free, really free.”
Jack nodded. Elizabeth was good at pretending. But neither of them was really free… he had died for her once, and he would do it again, he knew. The knowledge no longer irked him. And she? She had thrown in her lot with Turner, had made a promise to him that she wouldn’t easily break. Her devotion to the boy was fierce but unnecessary. They both underestimated each other.
Jack idly traced his fingers along her face, still sunburned from sailing, her lips chapped. Why did everyone always look younger asleep? Her breathing steadied and he gently released his arms, pulling the worn blanket around her. And watching her there, Jack felt tired, more tired than he had felt in ages. He didn’t want to fight her anymore, didn’t want to fight himself. The old adventures seemed empty, hollow, and their call hardly roused his mind. He wanted new adventures, he wanted her. He wanted to know what it would be to let his guard down, as he had tonight, for always. Did she ache for that as well? Ache to finish their kisses? Of course her body responded to his… her mind chased after the freedom he described. But he couldn’t keep himself steady much longer. Some day soon he would break, his control would snap and he would walk the plank and fall right in love.