A/N: Hello! Thanks for clicking on my story. Hope you enjoy it. It was just a little something that popped into my head, and gnawed my brain till I wrote it. You know how it is.

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WITHOUT A HITCH by Arien Star

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Her dress was beautiful; an ivory gown of filigree lace and sleek silky folds, sweeping low across her shoulders and spilling to her feet in clouds of frothy white. Her hair was gathered into an elegant twist, with a few loose curls tickling the nape of her neck. She wore a circlet of delicate white violets, like spring jewels against her porcelain skin.

“I can’t do this,” Elizabeth Swann told her reflection. The gilt-edged mirror seemed to enclose her image in its frame, like a bird in a gilded cage. She felt trapped. Her face was pale and drawn, her jaw trembled slightly. Fear and guilt churned her stomach and her heart struck a frantic rhythm against her chest. Trying to gather her wits, she smoothed the silky fabric of her wedding gown. Her palms left traces of sweat upon the pure white cloth. Oh Will, she thought desperately. What am I going to do? I cannot get married. A single tear spilled from her eye, leaving a polished trail as it slid down her rigid cheekbone.

The weeks leading up to this, the morning of her wedding, had been a cheerful whirl of activity. Dress fittings, invitations, cake baking, decorations... Elizabeth had never felt so happy, caught up in the eager excitement of it all. Then there had been the stolen moments alone with Will, slivers of utter happiness in amongst the hurricane of preparations. She loved him so much, she really did. But now... it was as if she had been sailing down a shimmering river, being tugged onwards by the eager current, admiring the view and feeling the sun on her face- and then suddenly looking up, and seeing that she was teetering on the brink of a roaring waterfall, about to plunge over the edge in a storm of thunderous spume. The moment had crept up on her, and she did not feel ready.

In a flurry, Elizabeth swiped the tears from her eyes, turned away from the mirror and gathered up the trailing hem of her dress. I shall leave, she told herself, heading for the door. I shall tell Will that I can’t marry him, and then leave. She was reaching for the brass doorknob when the door swung open of its own accord. Elizabeth started backwards, and the last person she expected to see swaggered inside.

“Jack Sparrow!” she gasped, her smile dissolving into an expression of opened-mouthed shock. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m assumin’, Miss Swann, that in fact you mean to say; ‘Captain Sparrow! It’s so nice to see you! How wonderful you could come!’” He slumped down into a wicker chair and looked her up and down with narrowed, kohl-framed eyes. “You look like you’re wrapped in a set of curtains,” he announced, grinning.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied icily. “And you, Jack, look like a polished, refined gentleman of noble birth and impeccable manners.” She pointedly eyed his dreadlocks, salt-encrusted clothes and hefty black boots, which were, naturally, propped upon the dainty glass coffee table. “Please go away, Jack. You can wait with the other guests.” She turned back to the mirror, trying to ignore him. It was not an easy task.

“The other guests?” he snorted, deaf to her dismissive tone. “You want me go out there an’ eat scones with the dear Commodore?” He put on a hearty, upper-class accent, addressing an imaginary Norrington. “Ah, Commodore! So lovely to see you! More tea? What was that? You want to arrest me? Of course! Clap me in irons and drag me off to the gallows! Marvellous!”

“I see your point,” Elizabeth replied, grinning despite herself. She settled into a stiff brocade armchair, carefully arranging the folds of her dress so as not to damage the delicate fabric. The laughter quickly faded from her eyes to be replaced by an empty, haunted look. She slumped in her seat, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. “My God, Jack, what am I going to do?” she said with sudden vehemence, raising a hand to her forehead. Jack saw that her fingers shook slightly, like leaves in an autumn breeze. The simple gold engagement ring glinted warmly on her slender finger.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked, with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“I cannot go through with it, Jack,” she replied quietly, tipping her head forward, her hand still shielding her eyes. “I cannot go through with the wedding. I am not ready.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, looking across at Elizabeth. Her shoulders were shaking a little and her breath was ragged with stifled sobs. He hadn’t expected this, not at all. Choose your words carefully, mate, he told himself. A lot depends on ‘em.

“Well,” he began slowly, “the way I see it, is that you love William. S’obvious, just seein’ the way you look at him. And he bloody adores you-“

“But does he?” Elizabeth cut in, her hand dropping to reveal tear-filled eyes. “Does he really love me? Or does he just see me as a challenge, a conquest, a trophy to be won and then left to gather dust?”

“I’ve heard some stupid things in me life,” Jack announced, “but none quite so stupid as that. That must rate number one on the most stupid things list, closely followed by some of the things your William has done. So obviously, you’re a match made in heaven- you can both live your lives in mutual stupidity.”

Elizabeth gave a sniff of weak laughter, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. She already felt better after hearing the words out loud. Her shadowy doubts were out in the open, no longer festering in her heart. “Thankyou, Jack,” she said. “I’m sure there’s a compliment in there somewhere.”

“O’course there is,” he grinned. “I’m a polished, refined gentleman of noble birth and impeccable manners. What else would you expect? Now,” he said, getting to his feet. “The guests are waitin’. Any moment now dear William is goin’ to burst in and shoot me for kidnappin’ you on the mornin’ of your wedding. Besides, I’m in dire need of some rum.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and stood, her eyes sparkling. She felt blithe and light-hearted, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. How could she have ever doubted her love for Will? “Thanks, Jack,” she grinned, surprising him by stepping forward and throwing her arms around him in a spontaneous hug.

“Careful, love,” he said, patting her on the back. “Wouldn’t want to damage those nice curtains of yours.”

She pulled away, shaking her head. “Pirates. No sense of fashion.”

The wedding was the best of the year, as was the unanimous opinion in Port Royal. The weather was wonderful, the groom handsome and the bride exceptionally beautiful. Everyone had a marvellous time, including the mysterious fellow standing at the back wearing a low hood, eyeing the Commodore warily and drinking copious amounts of rum. The ceremony itself was superb; tender and joyful. The whole day was perfect, everyone said. Went off without a hitch.

Or so they thought...

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A/N: Well, there you go. Was it even slightly interesting? Please review! Constructive criticism is welcome. Thanks for reading.