Chapter 47:  Heartbeat

 

Elizabeth looked around worriedly.  She was seated on the beach at the water’s edge with Will, who was seated in the water given his inability to set foot on land for many years yet.  Elizabeth kept glancing out to the still ships on the ocean nervously and then to Jack, who was standing about twenty feet away from her with Ragetti, Captain Gillette, and Gentleman Jocard.  Elizabeth then turned to look at the forest.  She knew that they had buried Robin in there, though she and Will had remained with Lord Beckett.  She hated being on the wrong side.  Of course, the lines had been greatly blurred of late.  It was difficult to figure out what sides there even were any more.

“Waiting for something, Elizabeth?” Will asked from where he sat in the shallows.

“Yes,” Elizabeth answered, still gazing at the trees.  “James has not come back yet.”  She looked at Will.  “I’m worried about him,” she said as she got to her feet.  Will stood quickly as well, still standing ankle-deep in the sea.  “I’m going to make sure he’s all right.”

Will made to grab Elizabeth as she stepped away.  “He is on the other side, isn’t he?”

Lord Beckett turned around, an eyebrow arched.  He had apparently been listening in on the conversation.  “Admiral Norrington is not on either side, Mr. Turner.”  Beckett also turned his gaze towards the trees.  “He has been gone a rather long time,” he muttered quietly.

Elizabeth nodded.  “I’ll be right back.”

“You don’t know where he is, Elizabeth,” Will said.

“He can’t be far.”

Elizabeth did not wait for anyone else to say anything before she hurried towards the forest.  But as she entered the shade of the trees, each step grew increasingly hesitant.  The scars that now adorned Jack’s body suddenly came to the forefront of her mine.  Obviously James would never do such a thing to her…but the fact that he had done it to Jack still frightened her.  James had become a man she no longer really knew.

Elizabeth followed what appeared to be some sort of faint path, assuming that she would indeed be led to Robin’s grave.  But what would she find there?  James had been so utterly grief-stricken by Robin’s death, and Elizabeth was not certain of how he would respond, or how she would respond to him when she found him.  How do you comfort a weeping man?

But she did not hear crying.  She did not hear anything except for the sound of the wind in the trees and the waves on the beach.  Perhaps this path did not lead to Robin’s grave.  Elizabeth decided to follow it just a little longer before heading back or trying another direction.

Elizabeth came upon a clearing with a mound of freshly turned earth in the center.  But her eyes quickly focused on the body lying beside the grave.  “James?”  She walked over to him and knelt beside him.  She put a hand on his should and gently shook him.  “James?”  He could not have just fallen asleep…

Terror shot through her as realization struck.

“James!” she cried out, shaking him again.  “No…”  She turned him from where he lay on his side and onto his back.  He was unmoving, his eyes closed and his chest still.  A small amount of blood stained the clothing around his heart.  “Oh, my God,” Elizabeth gasped in horror as she saw the penknife in James’ hand.  “He didn’t—he couldn’t—.”  She began to cry over James’ motionless body.  “No, James…why?”

* * *

The pain had been too much.  It had seared through his chest, his body—he had desired to end it.  But he had had no control over his body as fire flooded his veins.  He could not drive the penknife into his heart, no matter how strongly he desired it.  And now…

“You promised me, James.”

James opened his eyes as he heard the voice…her voice.  He was on a ship.  Fog surrounded him, and he appeared to be alone.

“You promised that we would win, yet you quite nearly handed victory to Calypso.  Or were you taking your life in my name?”

The fog was receding, revealing Jacqueline leaning against the railing of the ship.  “Did you think you would be at peace?  Did you think the world would be better off without you?”

James walked over to her, not daring to blink for fear that the woman he was seeing would vanish.  “Jacqueline…are you…?”

“Dead?  Yes.  I am, in a way.”  James’ brow furrowed.  What did she mean, “in a way”?  Jacqueline turned to him, her brown eyes sweeping over his body.  “And you nearly were.”  She arched an eyebrow.  “Ending your own life?  Isn’t that rather foolish?”

James stood next to Jacqueline, staring out into the fog with her.  “Yes.  But…”

“You really need to learn to handle my death better, James,” she said with a small smile.  “Torture and suicide are not good ways to respond.  To anything, really.”

“Even to the loss of the only one I could trust?  The one I love?” James said, stroking Jacqueline’s cheek.  She was soft and warm, and so real…

“You should really choose your allies more carefully, James,” Jacqueline said, her eyes twinkling.  “You are the only man who ever truly trusted me.”

“Yes, I am quite a fool, aren’t I?” James said, allowing a small smile to tug at the side of his mouth.  Jacqueline laughed, the delight in her voice paining James more than a penknife ever could, for this was but a dream.  He knew he would soon wake up and she would be gone.

“But I’m here now, aren’t I?” Jacqueline said quietly, reading his mind.  “And will I not always be?”  She put a hand on James’ chest.  “In here?  Or would you have me fade into no more than a mere memory?”

James wrapped his hand around hers.  “You’ve always been more.  I love you, Jacqueline,” he said in response, lowering his face to hers and kissing her gently.  It all felt so real—her body close to his was warm, her lips opening to his soft…it felt like so much more than a dream.  If only it was a dream that would never end…

His heart pounded in his ears.  It was so strong, so loud—it was almost as though he had two hearts inside him, beating simultaneously and strongly.  The sound reminded him that he needed to breathe.  James gasped for breath, feeling as though his lungs had long been compressed.  He clenched his hand around something—the handle of the penknife.

He heard someone gasp.  He opened his eyes.

“James!” a voice exclaimed.  “Thank God you’re alive!”

James blinked a few times, trying to focus on the person above him.  He sat up slowly, his head spinning.  “Elizabeth?”  She nodded vigorously before hugging him tightly.  “I thought…oh, my God, James, I thought you had…”

“I tried,” James interrupted, looking at the penknife.  There was a small bit of blood on the tip from where it barely pierced his skin before the sudden severe pain had caused him to lose consciousness.  Tears came to his eyes as he thought about Jacqueline.  He looked at her grave through his tears.  “I promised…”  He tried to hold onto the dream, to the feeling of her hand in his and his mouth on hers.  Why had the dream ended so quickly?

“James?”

James turned back to Elizabeth, who was gazing at him with concern.  “Has the Parlay happened, yet?” he asked, blinking away his tears.

Elizabeth shook her head.  “It should be starting soon.  I came here to find you.  I was worried when everyone else had returned and you hadn’t.”

Smiling grimly as he looked at the penknife, James said, “Apparently you were right to be worried.”  Elizabeth eyed the blade worriedly, as though she feared what he would do with it.

James sighed and looked up at the darkening sky.  “The gods are preparing for war.  They will destroy the Brethren Court, and the Company as well if they choose to oppose them.”  James got to his feet, putting the penknife inside his jacket and continuing to gaze up at the sky.

“How do you know that?” Elizabeth asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?”  James began heading towards the beach.  He heard the faint tolling of a bell on a far away vessel as a light rain began to fall.  He smiled slightly as the as the rain gently caressed his face.  “We are going to win.”