The Dragons Gate

Title: A Bit of Something
Characters: Elizabeth
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: All characters and concepts contained herein are property of Disney and associated. No money made, spent, or rolled in naked.
Warning: SPOILERS for AWE

All forms of feedback very much enjoyed.

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She was fully dressed and standing on a spit of rock slowly being swallowed back into the sea when the dinghy rounded the northern side of the island and headed toward her.

She felt a rush of petulant anger at the sight; couldn’t they just let her alone a while longer? She couldn’t go back to it all now, to daily life and its duties and concerns and distractions. Not when the memory of three days past was still fresh on her skin; the sound of his voice still so clear and strong amid her thoughts. Not when she could close her eyes and believe, so very easily, that he would be beside her when she opened them again.

‘And if I spend too much longer courting memory and fantasy,’ she told herself with a wry twist to her lips, ‘I’ll surely go madder than Jack.’

She stayed where she was and watched the dinghy’s steady progress across the rocking waves. It wasn’t long before she recognized her first mate seated at the helm – what his name again? Zhen Jin? Zhang Li? She probably ought to get around to memorizing that. He noticed her regard and returned it with a grin. There was nothing even moderately pleasant about the expression and Elizabeth felt a faint thrill of warning through the sadness that muffled her like a blanket.

When the nose of the boat was a body’s length from her spire, the man barked an order to his oarsman. The younger fellow lifted his oars from the water, allowing the dinghy to bob about unhindered. In the same easy, unconcerned motion, her first mate rose from his seat and aimed a pistol at her.

“I could shoot you here and tell the crew you ended it yourself out of grief,” he said in his accented English, clearly relishing the possibility, “And none would be the wiser.”

The oarsman started to protest and then seemed to think better of it. The other two ignored him.

Elizabeth glanced briefly at the pistol and just as casually dismissed it, meeting the man’s scornful gaze instead. Her arms remained relaxed at her sides, making no motion toward the pistol hidden under her coat. “I am flattered that you would even bother lying.”

He laughed roughly, showing stained teeth. “They like you,” he said. As quickly as it had come, the humor stripped from his face, leaving behind a glittering dark rage. “Why else would they wait three days on the word of an English whore?”

She lifted her chin, gratified at the offended fury that stirred in her chest. It was warm and satisfying and would keep her moving when hope faltered. “Perhaps they have a healthy respect of my astounding leadership abilities,” she said archly.

He snorted, surprise and amusement flickering across his weather lined face. The tip of the pistol wavered slightly, and then steadied as he cocked it with a sharp click. Elizabeth’s heart jumped at the sound, despite herself.

How odd that she could still fear death after all she had seen and been through. ‘Oh, of course you fear it,’ the sensible side of herself spoke up, ‘Who wants to be dead, anyway? Besides, with our luck, we’ll end up in whatever constitutes as heaven – or, be honest now, hell –with no visitors allowed and poor Will gets the pleasure of coming home to our bones every ten years.‘

“Where is the chest?” he asked, night black eyes flicking up and down her frame, as if she might have it hidden in a pocket or behind her legs.

“It will do you no good without the key,” she said, suddenly wishing she’d had the forethought to bury it, instead of leaving it wedged in the shallow cave that had been her shelter for the past few days, “And that key is sailing on the underside of the world.”

“Ch’, you speak as though no one has ever acquired both at the same time,” he said, giving her a smug smile.

Her mouth worked silently in indignation.

“O-ooh,” she said finally, forcing the words past her sheer disbelief and disgust at the very thought, “And see how splendidly that turned out for him!” She held up her arms and spun in an extravagant circle, as though Beckett’s failure lay spread out atop the ocean itself for all to view. “Why, he’s sitting upon his throne now, drinking tea and relishing in all the wealth that his endeavors have brought him!”

She shouted the last few words at the sky, at the memory of a man whose ambitions had so greatly changed her life. Her first mate was seething when she turned back to him; his sun-browned body fairly shaking with the extent of his hatred. No one likes being made fun of, least of all an uptight and tradition-bound pirate.

Yet, despite the fact that he was the armed angry man with very good reason to blow her head off and go take over her ship, Elizabeth felt like she was the one with all of the power. He wouldn’t have come here for the sole purpose of killing her, else she would have been dead already (or at least in the process of fighting her for her life); he was retrieving her at the crew’s beset and enough of them were on her side that he didn’t want to run the risk of denouncing her outright. Yet.

She rather belatedly realized she was grinning wildly and had to repress the urge to swagger as she took two steps along her now sunken perch. He didn’t back down from her approach, but he didn’t shoot her either.

“Come on, then,” she said, hands on her hips, “Surely you would not want to miss the opportunity to serve under Death’s own wife. Think of the notoriety at the very least.”

The pistol wavered again. A moment longer and it dropped, returning to its holster at his belt. “You will bring disgrace and dishonor down upon us,” her first mate said, spitting over the side of the dinghy, “And I will be there when those that have foolishly followed you turn on you to strip the flesh from your bones.”

She chuckled. “Mr. Lin,” she said and congratulated herself when he didn’t correct her, “I would not have it any other way. ”

He curled his lip at her. This one was only as trustworthy as the sword she would have to keep held at his throat. “What are your orders, Captain?” He issued an order of his own to the oarsman before she had a chance to answer. The other man obediently put his oars to the water, crossing the last few feet between them.

That was something else she was going to have learn; Chinese.

Elizabeth looked to the sea, for the first time in days seeing it and not the memory of swiftly vanishing sails. It was only a few hours past dawn, leaving her crew enough time to ready the ship and get them a goodly distance before sunset. But where, exactly, would they go? There was no home for her in Port Royal, no father to welcome her back with confused disapproval and unwavering love, no genteel society to cosset her platitudes and courtesy. For the first time in months, there was no where she needed to be and no reason to go any where. Her home awaited her ten years in the future.

But that was an awful long time to stand on a bit of rock with the ocean soaking your boots.

The wind pulled at her unbound hair, whispers of freedom and adventure. And if both had gained a hollow, empty taste to them since she’d last heard their call, it was no matter. She knew better than most that, at times, something was better than naught at all.

“Tell me, Mr. Lin,” she said, as she turned her gaze from the horizon and bent over to take hold of the dinghy’s edge, “How are the waters about China?”