The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the warm, bright Caribbean sun shining down on you, the heated, soft sand surrounding your feet and the soothing sound of the sea. There was a salty breeze in the air that caressed your nose and tasted briny on your lips. Waves were constantly rustling, and your skin felt pleasantly warm and tickled by the sunshine.
In this moment, you almost felt comfortable, you almost felt like waking up in your cosy, comfy, soft bed on a sunny, spring morning in Nassau. A bed which you had missed so terribly, so painfully in the last few weeks.
But you only felt almost comfortable, almost like in Nassau.
Something was different: The rhythmic, steady sound of a beating heart ringing in your ear. The continuous rise and fall of a ribcage moving your cheek. The constant tickle of someone's breath against your skin.
You opened your eyes abruptly.
You were still on the beach of the small island where Barbossa and the hellish crew of the Black Pearl had abandoned you, the endless blue sea in front of you. But your face was not lying on the white sand like the rest of your body, no, when you had opened your eyes, you had directly looked into the sleepy features of no other than Captain Jack Sparrow.
You blushed madly at his sight and hastened to quickly squint your eyes again, overwhelmed by the sudden closeness of your faces. But after a few seconds your curiosity got the better of you and you opened your eyes hesitantly afresh.
Letting your gaze wander alongside his features, you noticed once again that with his eyes closed, he looked much more peaceful, much more tranquil, more like a cuddly boy instead of a sneaky pirate, more like an adorable child than an unpredictable adult: His long, curved eyelashes, of which you were particularly envious, framed his closed eyelids, on his curved lips was neither a brooding nor a grin, and he breathed air rhythmically through his nostrils.
You tried hard to remember how you had ended up sleeping snuggled up against Jack, with your hand and cheek against his chest. But the more you tried to remember, the more your head hurt like a nasty bruise. It was an irritating, painful throbbing in the front of your skull that constantly tapped against your forehead whenever you tried to use your head.
I must have drunk too much alcohol, you thought. You had already witnessed the miserable long-term effect of an over consumption of alcohol once: some mornings in Tortuga's rotten pubs you had served guests who were hanging over the counter, moaning and yelping, complaining about headaches.
And now, you were one of them too, not able to think about what you had done the moment before you had fallen asleep.
And yet you didn't demonize the drinking you had done the previous night. You had never felt so free and relaxed as you did this particular evening, life had never been so colourful and vivid. You had enjoyed yourself a lot. And while it was true that you had let some things slip that should have remained a secret, it hadn't seemed like Jack had formed suspicions about it.
So, apart from the piercing headache, you had no regrets.
Eventually, after some moments of concentrated thinking, you remembered how the previous night had ended: After calling you my love, Jack had drunk his rum in one gulp and had knocked himself out. You then had laid down next to him and probably subconsciously - at least you couldn't remember doing it – had moved closer and closer to him during your sleep until you got to this interesting sleeping constellation.
Ashamed, you looked away. What would your father say about all of this? Or Chris? What would they say about you taking up with a lascivious pirate, surely a heartbreaker and a man whore on top of that?
There was no denying that you liked Jack and that you were attracted to him; drawn like a moth to a flame. So much, your body even subconsciously craved him.
But up until now, Jack had initiated all of your, well, more private moments and personal interactions. It wasn't like you didn't enjoy your time together, actually, you liked to be with him quite a lot, but he had always made the first move. Not you.
Therefore, it was a strange and bizarre feeling to know that this time you had been the one to establish such close physical contact between the two of you.
Tensely, you heaved your torso up and moved a little away from Jack, still sleeping like a log.
The sudden movement caused everything inside your head to spin and for a brief moment the horizon in front of your eyes doubled and tripled before reducing back to one.
After you had regained a clear vision, you tried to concentrate on the world around you. You tried to mentally isolate yourself from Jack's prepossessing aura, his breath, his smell and his body, and adjust your senses to your surroundings: the beautiful, endless horizon, the bright sun, the smell of salt water that was increasingly replaced by the smell of fire, the loud, cracking sound of burning wood that drowned out the sounds of the sea, the-
Wait a minute, you thought. The smell of fire? The sound of burning wood? Were you mistaken?
You paused.
But there it was: the smell and sound of burning wood was in the air. Unmistakably.
The wildest fantasies popped up in your head. What had happened? Were the island's palm trees burning? Had they been ignited by the unbearably warm sun? Or had there been a naval battle nearby using cannonballs that went astray?
Dazed, you turned your head away from the sea and towards the island, afraid what would await you.
But when your eyes faced what laid behind you, no burning trees or destroyed sea fleets awaited you: Instead, with your eyes wide open, you could watch an enthusiastic Elizabeth blowing up a pile of wooden crates and barrels, bottles, and plants.
Like an old staircase, the burning wood groaned and creaked as bright, piercing, red-orange flames engulfed it. The normally bright, green-looking leaves of the nearby palm trees slowly transformed into sad piles of black ash and the fertile days of the surrounding soil were numbered.
And from the looks of it, this wasn't an accident but entirely intentional: Elizabeth didn't seem scared or frightened at all, instead she was actively creating even bigger and brighter flames by adding more flammable materials.
Was this her oh-so-brilliant plan? The brilliant plan you weren't supposed to know anything about?
For a brief moment, anger overcame you and you felt your inner state heating up like the flames that flickered in front of your eyes.
Was the plan to burn the whole island to the ground?
You stumbled to your feet.
Next to you, Jack was slowly waking up and coming to his senses, but you couldn't worry about that anymore since you were already heading towards Elizabeth.
You knew that she was a smart and particularly observative young woman, and because she was so incredibly precious to Will, you felt compelled to trust her. But still, you didn't know what she was trying to accomplish with a colossal fire. Was she using the fire column as a sign for a vessel? But for which kind?
You also knew that Elizabeth had been kidnapped by Barbossa and that this had been enough for at least one man to come looking for her. But since she was friends with Will, a blacksmith, you had figured that she was a commoner herself. Who would possibly go through such hardships just to look for a kidnapped, humble citizen in the vastness of the sea?
Unless there was something you didn't know about her.
"Elizabeth!", you screamed as you came running towards her.
You swayed briefly due to your badly pounding headache, but you didn't stop.
"Elizabeth, what on earth is going on? What are you doing?", you uttered confused.
Despite the crackling of the burning wood, your words were clearly audible. But when you reached her, the slender woman didn't turn around. Instead, she threw another small wooden barrel onto the burning pile of supplies. A short, but surprisingly loud and powerful explosion followed, a flash fire, and you both ducked to avoid possible injury from flying pieces of wood.
Then, Elizabeth finally swung around and faced you with a confident grin on her lips. She opened her mouth to give you a response but before any sound could leave her throat, she was abruptly interrupted.
"No! Not good! Stop! Not good!", a startled Jack shouted.
He came running towards you with his hands raised, waving wildly and a worried expression on his face, looking like a stray dog desperately chasing after his precious bone that had been taken away from him.
His sight and the memories of the previous night caused your cheeks to flush, and you remembered his charming face when he had called you his love. But your anger and confusion about Elizabeth's actions were prevailing enough to quickly push those thoughts aside.
"What are you doing? You've burned all the food, the shade, the rum", Jack asked stunned with his familiar flailing hand gestures, with particular despair about the latter.
"Yes, the rum is gone", Elizabeth answered.
She was now back on the beach, her feet in the soft, white sand, facing the blue horizon. Annoyance was written all over her face and you could see that she was losing her patience.
But so were you. You finally wanted to know what was going on here: You had carried out your part of the plan without any complaints and trusted her. And yet she didn't seem the least bit interested in letting you in on her plan.
There was this feeling that you had about her. A feeling that you couldn't really shake. The feeling that she pretended to be someone she was not.
"Why is the rum gone?", Jack asked in a voice filled with anger and despair.
You rolled your eyes.
Although you had also taken a liking to rum and felt a little disappointed about no longer being able to experience its devilishly beautiful effects, the alcohol wasn't actually your main interest at the moment. You would much rather find out why Elizabeth was about to burn the entire island to the ground.
"More importantly than the rum: Why did you burn down the island?", you asked heatedly.
Elizabeth stormed around and turned to Jack.
"One, because it is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into complete scoundrels", she responded sourly.
Then she faced you with a grim expression on her face.
"Two, that signal is over a thousand feet high. The entire Royal Navy is out looking for me. Do you really think there is even the slightest chance that they won't see it?"
Her face showed off a certain self-confidence and if eyes possessed the ability to sparkle, hers would have been brighter than the sun.
However, from your face all colours had been drained.
"But why is the rum gone?", Jack asked, desperate as ever, while you could only watch Elizabeth with your eyes widened as she sat down on the sand.
"Just wait, you two. You give it one hour, maybe two, keep a weather...", Elizabeth announced self-assured.
But you weren't listening to her anymore, couldn't concentrate on what was happening in front of your eyes. Your mind was empty and yet at the same time thoughts were racing through it, crowding it in a matter of seconds. The Royal Navy.
When you had fled Nassau, had run away from your parents and your fiancé, you had chosen Tortuga as your hiding spot for good reasons. A governor's daughter, a British lady of noble upbringing on an island full of shady characters, drunkards, and pirates? Nobody would have looked for you there or even dared to visit that goddamn spit of land.
And yet, despite your precautions, they would catch you. The Royal Navy would find you and recognize your identity. Before you knew it you would be on your way back to Nassau, your home and marry a man you neither knew nor loved.
All because of her.
What was it that you didn't know about her, about this young, beautiful woman Will adored so much? What was she not telling you? And why on earth was the Royal Navy looking for her?
In a matter of seconds these thoughts came racing through your mind and overwhelmed you with their serious significance. A huge tornado, a storm, lightning and thunder, rain and wind. All at the same time. All on your mind. Fear and frustration. Anger and worries.
There was nothing but chaos in your head.
And then, suddenly your body moved of its own accord: you rushed forward with a firm step and reached for Jack's side. Your throbbing headache was gone and with a deft hand movement, you pulled the pistol that Jack always carried with him out of his waistband and pointed it at the back of Elizabeth's head.
You loaded it with an audible sound.
"I beg pardon for this, but who are you? And why is the Royal Navy looking for you?"