The Estuary

Stuck Between

           The waters of the estuary swirled with a mix of ocean and river. He stood up to his calves in it, looking down into the pool. Which path to follow, he didn't know. The ocean called to him, rolling waves promising release. Peace. Yet the water in the river was pure and fresh, and he wasn't ready to let go of the memories dancing on its surface. 
           Death hadn't taken him quickly. She let him suffer where he lie, gaping wound torturing him with every shallow breath. When she finally came to him, he wasn't sure if he'd ever been more thankful. Just as painful as the wound was the knowledge. The knowledge that he was dying alone, without anyone to comfort or care for him. 
           He'd woken in this place, stuck between his past life and what awaited him next. He'd dipped his toes in the sea, and he'd walked along the banks of the river, watching his life play out before him. 
           Often, he sat on the banks of the estuary, wondering which path to take. At least the river was familiar ground. If he waded into the ocean, he couldn't predict what might happen. Would he remember any of it in his next life? Probably not. 
           He was afraid of forgetting. 
           He had two options. He could try again, enter the river at any point, and try to live a more satisfying life. He had a chance to change everything. Or, he could swim out to the ocean and forget it all. He could take a new life, as a new person, and leave everything behind. 
           He was stuck. He was tired, so tired, and the sea promised an easier path. Quick and painless. He would have to work for nothing. He wouldn't be plagued by worries. He could be free. 
           A little voice at the back of his mind whispered to him. When was anything worthwhile easy? When was anything easy worthwhile? He wanted to know what might have happened. No- he needed to know. 
           He stepped out of the water, walking along the bank. Moss and mud squelched underfoot. The surface of the river was painted with memories; he could watch his life play out before him. He came to the section of river where he'd let Elizabeth go. Where he'd seen her last. 
           Without hesitation, he took the plunge. 

~~~~~

           The deck was slick with seawater and grime that obviously hadn’t been cleaned off the wooden planks in years. James supposed that was to be expected of a crew of dead men. Likely, they didn’t see the point of cleaning their ship when they too were covered in slime. 
           He’d noticed it last time, too. The first time. There he was, back aboard the Dutchman, reliving past treachery. Could he be blamed? 
           It felt odd, being back there, knowing what was to come. His hands shook, keys rattling softly. Perhaps this was the wrong choice. It was possible he’d die again, and he’d have to take a new life. Or, he’d survive, only to watch Elizabeth and Will together. The thought wasn’t appealing. 
           He flexed his fingers. There was no time to dwell on it; any minute, the guard would change. Then, he could slip into the brig. He hated to see so many pirates go free, but at the end of the day, it was better than letting Beckett win. 
           If he survived, what would he live to see? Images flashed through his mind that he didn’t like at all, while others he did. The thought of seeing Beckett dead was a good one. The thought of seeing Elizabeth dead was not. A wave of nausea overtook him. He was nervous, more so than he’d been the first time. 
           He slipped down to the cells, quiet as he could. Each movement was a memory; everything was the same. It was so fresh in his mind, so recent. To think it had happened mere hours past felt wrong. In the estuary, time didn’t seem to exist. If it had, he supposed he hadn’t spent long there before choosing his path. There, however, every minute was an eternity. 
           Gently pushing open the door, James stepped into the brig. A foul scent accosted his senses. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Cells were never clean, not even in the navy. 
           Wary eyes watched James’ every move. Elizabeth rested with her back against a beam, eyes closed. They opened at the sound of the key sliding into the lock. The door swung open. Among all the faces, James paid attention to only one. 
           “Come with me.” He could hear the desperation in his own voice. Nobody moved, gazing at him with distrustful expressions. “Quickly,” he added.
           With a nod from Elizabeth, people began moving. They filed out of the cell, hungry for freedom. 
           Elizabeth sauntered up to the door, her gaze dark. “What are you doing?” She asked. 
           James remembered how he’d felt the first time around. There was no relief in her voice, no friendliness. Only acidity. James felt cold fingers clawing at his chest. He’d known then, and he knew now, too, why he’d chosen to stay behind. Briefly, he wondered if he was making a mistake. Perhaps death hadn’t been so bad after all. 
           “Choosing a side,” he replied. The words tasted so familiar on his tongue, which was heavy like lead. 
           The side of the ship was still terrifying to walk across. He didn’t think about losing his balance; his worries lied on the other side. Pirates shimmied about, trying not to fall into the black waters below. James vaguely wondered how many of them knew how to swim. 
           Once at the back of the ship, he ushered people up into the lines holding the Dutchman and the Empress together. They wormed their way across, hand over hand and leg over leg. James wondered how he would do, getting across. 
           Elizabeth joined him on deck. She was stunning; James wanted- more than anything- to know how her life continued. Where she ended up. Seeing her as a captain was something beautiful and something dangerously powerful all at once. He wouldn’t trade it for the world. 
           “Do not go to Shipwreck Cove,” he found himself warning her. As if he wouldn’t follow. “Beckett knows of the meeting of the Brethren. I fear there may be a traitor among you.”
           “It’s too late to earn my forgiveness.”
           James felt like he was being punched in an old wound. In a way, he was. “I had nothing to do with your father’s death.” He didn’t have the time to be repeating his old words. An internal clock was ticking, and it was getting close to a mark James didn’t want to face. “That doesn’t absolve me of my other sins.”
           There was a strange look to Elizabeth as she bit her lip. A look of contemplation that James had paid so much attention to the first time around. He knew what she was about to say. “Come with us.”
            It tugged at his heart the same way. 
           “James, come with me.” 
           It was the way she said his name, or the slightly pleading lilt to her voice. It drove him mad. He wanted to say something, anything, but was interrupted by a voice from above. 
    “Who goes there?” 
           The stranger’s voice sent chills down James’ spine. The voice that would kill him. Not this time, he reminded himself. Not today. He spun, pinning Elizabeth behind him to protect her. 
           Go, he thought. I will follow. He didn’t dare say it. It scared him to think that he might die in the same way again. Instead, he simply said, “Go.” 
           She caught his hand. “Will you follow me?”
           It was different, now. She was reaching out to him. “Of course,” he said, voice thick. God, I’d follow you  anywhere. You but have only to ask. Quickly and lightly, he placed a kiss to her forehead. With a hand on her arm, he urged her away. 
           Once she was on the lines, James produced his pistol. Steps sounded on the stairs, reminding him that he had little time. He turned his back on the ship, shooting the lines to ensure the Empress was free. 
           He remembered it so vividly, he thought it was happening again. He knew that as soon as he turned, death awaited him. 
           Turn he did not. If the sailor had anything to say, James didn’t hear it. The only sound left for him was the splashing of the waves as he slid over the railing and into the sea.