Ought To Be Enemies

by Hedge Labyrinth

Authors Note: AWE, alternate universe.

“We ought to be enemies.”

She turned her head and stared at Jack.

“What?” she asked.

“We ought to be enemies,” Jack repeated, glancing up from his maps and books.

“That is why you called me?” she said, crossing her arms. “What silly thing are you thinking?”

“I think, dear Elizabeth, that you've been very quiet these past few days.”

Perhaps she had. She tiptoed around him, kept her mouth shut in his presence, avoided looking at him. It was better that way.

“I? You have been ...”

“Avoiding me,” Jack said, finishing her sentence. “We have both been avoiding each other.”

“Maybe,” she said, tentatively, testing the ground. “But even if that is true, and I haven't said it is, what does that have to do with...”

“Well, if we were enemies we would know what to expect of each other, wouldn't we? You could watch your back for a bullet and I would watch my wrists for shackles. Or maybe you'll try a sword this time?”

“You are ridiculous,” she whispered as she gripped the back of a chair and her voice was sharp as blades in the half-light of the cabin.

“No, I am infinitely practical,” he said and his voice also had an edge, deflecting her words.

“Did you tell Barbossa the same thing once?”

“Enemies come naturally and enemies are made. He's of the natural variety. Anyhow, then, Lizzie: do you want to turn the half-hidden contempt into a full-hearted battle?”

She looked up at him, a frown creasing her brow, and she let go of the chair.

“No,” she muttered.

He smiled, all teeth. Leaning forward he spoke again. A more pleasant tone. The voice she had grown used to, all gold and silk.

“We ought to be friends then.”

“I wouldn't go as far as that,” she said.

This was, after all, still the same disgusting two-faced pirate who had given Will Turner over to Davy Jones, the same man who had used her to find the chest. This was Jack Sparrow.

“Is it my earthly, bodily aroma?” he asked.

She sat down across from him with a sigh.

“Jack, we can never trust you ...”

“You can never trust me?”

“We are never sure ...”

“I said you.”

Elizabeth was quiet. She shrugged, unwilling to articulate a proper answer.

“When have I ever wronged you?”

“You've betrayed Will,” she said at once.

But he raised a hand.

“Oh, yeah, but when have I wronged you? Hmm? I've saved your life one, two, three, four times,” he said and counted four fingers.

“I saved your life once.”

“You killed me first.”

She sat back and not knowing what else to say she grabbed the bottle of rum that sat between them and took a swig. It burned her throat. She did not mind. She slammed the bottle back on to its original position.

“Friends, then, that's what you want?” she muttered.

“Actually, I'd rather we be lovers.”

Elizabeth did not blush. She did not blink, she did not breath. For a full minute she was the very picture of proper composure, hands neatly placed against her lap. Then she leaped up with such violence that her chair crashed against the floor and she leaned against the table, across the table and threw the bottle at him.

Jack dodged the projectile very gracefully and it shattered on the wall behind him.

“Well,” he said, with a muted smile. “It was only a suggestion.”

“Who? What? You think I'm some Tortuga whore?!”

“I offered marriage and you wouldn't take it.”

“You were joking.”

“Was I?”

“Yes, you bloody were!”

“How come you are not Will Turner's lass anymore?”

She swallowed. It was the same question she had refused to ask herself for the past few weeks. Things were very complicated now, she had told herself. When we get back home we shall patch it up, she had convinced herself There have been some misunderstandings, she had assured herself in the dark. Surely it could all go back to normal.

“We had a fight,” she said, lifting her chin.

“About?”

“None of your business.”

He bared his teeth, a derisive hint of gold, and started walking around the table, very casually, with his hands in his pockets.

“You know Lizzie, I've always thought there's something between us.”

“Your gigantic ego and a good imagination,” she shot back.

“No, not that. Well, yes. But something else too. What would you call it?”

“Disgust?”

“Magnetism.”

She chuckled. He was now standing in front of her but she was not afraid to hold her ground. She had sparred with him before and came out the winner.

“You are unbelivable,” she muttered.

“I know.”

“Goodnight Captain Sparrow,” she said turning around, grabbing her hat and heading towards the door of the cabin.

“Since the island.”

“What?” she asked, her head turned a fraction towards him, but only a fraction.

“I liked you since the island. You danced barefoot with me.”

Elizabeth recalled how they had danced together at the edge of water. The waves licked their feet. When they swung each other around and fell down in a fit of giggles they were soaked and had to run back to the bonfire.

She hadn't had much rum that night but she had been mad. She was drunk on freedom and starts and him.

“So?” she asked.

“So?” he repeated, lightly, challenging her.

Elizabeth could never resist a challenge. She turned back and faced him fully. She looked up at him, into his dark eyes full of mischief and laughter.

“I like you sometimes,” she conceded.

“Then, what's the problem?”

“You don't just go around propelled by temporary likings and quick-burning desires,” she replied. “Life is more complicated than that.”

“It depends whose notion of life it is.”

“Well, I certainly think life ought to be more than just rum and lewdness.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Maybe life should be a little house with a little wife cooking meals and a dozen babies and a blacksmith husband bringing home cheese and bacon. Is that it?”

She did not answer him and he scoffed.

“I know what you are going to say Jack. You are going to say I'd be much better off letting you shower pearls upon me and living a careless life as the captain's concubine,” she said.

“Maybe,” he said tersely.

“I am not going to be your lover. I would never be that. It would amount to the same as the little house and the cooking meals and the rest, only I'd get to mend your shirts aboard a boat instead. And where's the fun in that? It's the same part by another name.”

For once during their whole conversation Jack's easy smiled faltered. He glanced away from her at the shadows crouching in the corners of the cabin.

But she smiled, a tiny and secretive grin.

“Jack Sparrow, I think we ought to be partners,” she said very casually.

He turned at once and gave her a bewildered stare. Elizabeth shot back a defiant glance and very carefully took off her vest, then began unbuttoning her shirt.

“I want my own ship. I want my share of all treasure. And I will not have your damn little lies muddling it up. You tell me things as they are, no Sparrow tricks. Savvy?”

“And you will stay away from my rum?”

“Hands off it,” she promised as she tossed the shirt away.

"And no murder and betrayal? No Lizzie tricks this time around?" he said, taking three step towards her and closing the space between them.

"Fair and square."

“Very, very well, love” he muttered.

Jack took her face between his hands and leaned down, his lips almost brushing hers. She pulled away, just an inch.

“Oh, and Jack ...”

“Hmmm?”

“I get to kiss you first.”

She did.

THE END