#barbossabeth

I have listened to Seton's book more than I've actually read it and even though it is a bit dated, and the narrator of my audiobook isn't the best, I think I knew from the first scene where they share dialogue that yes, I will ship these two, there is fire and desire there, and there are lots of elements of the forbidden which, guh, give it to me, it's my thing!!

(I have no idea why this book has never been turned into a film or tv series, it's so well known, but seeing how a lot of history is handled in tv and film adaptations , maybe it's for the best? And who the devil would play John?? They'd need a perfect John.)

25. Favourite foe yay ship

This is my territory, literally most of my past ships are "bad guy" led and generally close to crack, really. So bloody unethical. I'll go for Megabyte/Dot from the 1990s CG animated TV show "ReBoot" which I'm revisiting at the moment. They are literally two sides of the same coin: entrepreneurs, businessmen, heads of intelligence networks, organised, quick-witted, well-spoken (particularly him, my God, Tony Jay's voieover is perfect!). They're also each at times de facto "leaders" of Mainframe (or "Megaframe" when it's the egotistical villain in charge, ofc). If their differences weren't so large, they would make an insane partnership. And yet the show even gives you an excuse to 'ship them when Megabyte returns disguised as Dot's true love Bob in what is one of the most controversial and even a bit silly storylines ever in the final series of the show. Poor ol' Dot very nearly marries him under the impression he is someone else. How... problematic. I ofc used to love it. And he is a villain after all.

There's a visual parallel between a scene in the first episode (where he does consequently drop her, which is hilarious) and then a scene in the final season (where there is possibly actual desire there from him? Who knows?). Foreboding indeed:

But anyway, problematic nature of the final season plot aside, I think with some rather intricate and slightly implausible leaps of the imagination, you could get them together. And what a formidable couple they would be.

26. Characters that you like in every dynamic (lovers,friends,enemies)

I will go for Captain Barbossa and Elizabeth Swann from "Pirates of the Caribbean" for this one to look at a different pairing. Them being "enemies" and then "friends" is already canon - you start with them as enemies in the "Curse of the Black Pearl", and its a spicy, fun, combative relationship, and then they build to a wonderfully endearing mentor-apprentice kinda relationship by "At World's End" where she literally absorbs all his guile, his wisdom, his wits, even his very words. It wouldn't take a great leap to envision them as lovers in an alternate reality somewhere; they have a great camaraderie and chemistry. Another formidable team!

“Mate, if you choose to lock your heart away, you’ll lose [Elizabeth] for certain.”--Jack Sparrow to Will Turner, PotC: AWE

Chapter [x]: A Divulgatory Mood

Elizabeth followed Barbossa out of the tavern, glad to be free from the acrid aroma of rum, blood and sweat which hung around like an unmovable miasma within.  The night air in the street was not much better, though; the foul stench of alcohol out here mingled with vomit and raw sewage.  Tortuga was the gutter of civilisation, and yet it had a certain appeal to it.  Besides the fact it was the last free port, it was something of a haven, an escape from the outside world of law and order.  It was little wonder that many pirates in these waters rarely made port anywhere else, and spent the majority of their lives out on the seas.

Barbossa seemed to know Tortuga extremely well – far better than Elizabeth – and she wondered where exactly they were heading as he took her on a winding stroll down multiple, dark back alleys, from which out of the crevices they were monitored by wary gazes and hungry eyes.

“Where are we going?” she asked him at length, striding up to his side and angling her head up toward his.  “I’m beginning to suspect you’re taking me in circles.”

He favoured her with a little smile, his eyes twinkling.  “Ye’re as bright as ever, aren’t ye?”

She stopped in her tracks, feet sliding into a thick pile of mud, and she gaped at him.  “You are taking me in circles?” she asked in horror.

“Well, nawt exactly in circles,” Barbossa replied as he turned casually back to face her, placing one hand on his hip and the other on the butt of his flintlock.  “More like back and forth and side to side. Criss-crossing.”

She blinked, a frown creasing her brow.  “Why?”

He chuckled, giving her a once over with his eyes.  “Perhaps nawt so bright, then,” he murmured.

He watched how her lips tautened and her eyes flared at him, infuriated by the insult, which only caused him to laugh some more.

“My dear Mrs Turner, can ye think o’ no reason I’d take ye on a long and winding stroll?”

Her gaze tightened on his person, thinking on this for a moment.  “So that I might not know the way back?” she queried.

“P’raps,” he said before he gestured for her to come close.  Reluctantly, she did, but did not to let her expression waver.  Her face remained frigid and cold.

Barbossa put an arm round her shoulder, and she baulked, but he held her firm as he then whispered in her ear, “It’s more so we might throw off anyone who be following us.”

Elizabeth relaxed as she realised that he was one step ahead of her.  She still had much to learn, it would seem.  And perhaps, even now, he still aimed to teach her.

He released her with a pat to the shoulder and continued on his way, Elizabeth tailing him like a loyal dog shadowing its master.  There were more turns ahead, then a couple of passes through other unsavoury taverns, where they entered through one door and left by another.  Sinister eyes hawked at them both as they passed through, which left Elizabeth in no doubt that they were not welcome– or at least that she wasn’t.

As they emerged back into the streets, Barbossa made a turn to the left whilst overstepping several chickens that were loose in the alley, and Elizabeth, tired of this aimless trek, opened her mouth to protest.  She was silenced before she even had chance to begin, though, as a couple of extravagantly dressed ladies suddenly emerged from a doorway and closed in on Barbossa like lionesses to a kill.

“You in need of a spot of company tonight, sir?” the first asked, a tall blonde in a lush, red dress.  She slinked up to Barbossa and ran her hands up his chest whilst Elizabeth just stood and gaped.

“I thank ye, no,” Barbossa replied in what Elizabeth felt was far too easy a manner, and she watched the charmer in him flare up as he threw the woman a grin and gently moved her hands aside.  He was a clear old hand at this game.

“I have other business to attend to tonight,” he continued, tapping the lady under the chin before turning to carry on his way.

Elizabeth made a step to follow but stopped again as the second woman, this one a brunette garbed in rich purple, walked around Barbossa and took a hold of him from behind.  “Oh, surely you can fit a little bit extra on the side?” she cajoled, one hand sliding over his shoulder whilst she settled the other on the butt of his flintlock and began to rub it.  “You won’t be disappointed.”

Elizabeth could not help but gawp even more.  She wasn’t sure whether these two women were competing for the Captain, or whether they were asking him to come and ‘play’ with the pair of them; either way, she wasn’t sure what shocked her more – their open advances, or the fact that it was this man they were trying to draw some business from.  Surely there were other more appealing prospects on the streets of Tortuga…?

Barbossa, meanwhile, took hold of the second lady’s hands and removed them from his person, before he brought her round before him in a very gentlemanly manner and then bent to kiss her hand.  “Apologies, m’dears,” he said again, “but I can’t engage yer services tonight.”

And it was then that the two wenches deigned to notice Elizabeth who stood a short distance behind him.  Their eyes took in her breeches and jacket, her messy hair shoved beneath an uneven tricorn, and they sneered in disgust.

“You’re not with that thing are you?” the blonde spat.

Barbossa looked back at Elizabeth, face betraying nothing.  “Aye, but fer business, nawt fer pleasure.”

Elizabeth for some reason felt affronted by his choice of words, so folded her arms and cocked a brow at him.  “Then shall we get on to some business, Captain?” she pressed.

She saw the flicker of Barbossa’s brow telling her to keep quiet, but she was hardly in the mood any more.  Elizabeth Turner did not take to being snubbed lightly.  But her attention was drawn aside from Barbossa as the brunette cackled wildly at her.

“My word, look at her!” jested the whore. “I half thought her a youth!  There’s nothing womanly about her.”

Elizabeth glared at the woman, hand twitching for the pistol in her belt.

Barbossa ambled quickly between them, sliding an arm round the brunette and guiding her off toward the side of the alley.  “Like I said, m’dear, I have business with this young lady.  Nothing more.”

“I hope so,” the brunette scoffed.  “Ye be a Captain, right?  And a Captain deserves pleasuring by a real woman,” She ran a finger up his body, fingered the necklace over his chest, then tickled him lightly under the chin.  “Not a skinny wretch of a girl with not a curve or figure to show for herself.”

“What did you say about me?” Elizabeth yelled, fingers curving round the butt of her pistol.

The brunette flexed her fingers as if readying herself for a good catfight.  “You heard me, cabin boy.”

The blonde rounded behind Elizabeth, the pair closing in on her predators, but Barbossa stepped between them all, took a hold of Elizabeth under an elbow, and then put a hand to the hilt of his cutlass, eyeing the ladies steadily.  “I don’t want any trouble, m’dears,” he said to all three, eyeing them each in turn.

The two wenches glared at Elizabeth once more before turning their eyes upon the Captain.  His fierce eyes told them he was being deadly serious and they knew that, with hand upon his sword, he was not a man to mess with.  They backed down.

“It’s your loss, handsome,” the brunette grumbled, brushing up against him as much as she dared as she slid past him and left.

“We’ll still be here if you change yer mind,” the blonde added.  “When you want to remember what a real woman feels like.”

Barbossa watched them both disappear then rolled his eyes and pushed Elizabeth on ahead.  “On with ye,” he said, marching after her.  “We’re nearly there.”

Elizabeth straightened her clothes out with more ferocity than was necessary and kicked up a pile of mud in anger.  “I could have taken those tarts!” she snarled.

“I’ve no doubt,” Barbossa rallied.  “But it’ll do ye no good to be harming the locals, yer Highness.  This is their territory and ye be signing nuthin’ but your own death warrant if ye touch any o’ them.”

“You heard what they called me!  I don’t have to take that kind of talk from any one!  I’m a pirate lord, I’m –”

“Clam up,” he snapped shortly.  “They make their living off o’ men, and they’ll attack anyone they think might be takin’ some business off their hands.  They’re survivors, just like you and me.”

“Well they needn’t worry about me taking away their ‘business’,” she sighed, her fists clenching and anger fizzling within her like a lit fuse, burning through her veins.  She was suddenly filled with a feeling of restlessness and, for some reason, inadequacy, and it did not sit well with her.

“Just because I choose not to flaunt myself in public…” she mumbled on.

Barbossa rolled his eyes again before he realised they were near their destination and he quickly stepped up to Elizabeth’s side, put and arm round her, and turned her into the next doorway.

“Let it go, Mrs Turner.  They were cheap shots, don't take 'em personally. We have more import'nt business to discuss.”  And with a burst of cheekiness, he added, “Ye be married anyway.”

He didn’t look to see her face.

------------------------

The seeds of uncertainty are sown in the most unlikely of places. Elizabeth was unhinged by how easily the wenches had hit a weak spot in her person, making her suddenly very self-conscious.  But why did it bother her?  She had never cared before that she was not as comely as other women – in fact it had often played to her advantage to be otherwise.  Perhaps what had truly unhinged her was how attractive the wenches had appeared to find Barbossa.  Even if they were simply coating their words in honey to get his business, it cut her deep to feel so suddenly alone – even an older pirate was not short of company, but she… she had no choice but to isolate herself, for she was, as Barbossa had reminded her, a married woman.  The man she loved was out at sea, cursed to serve for an eternity aboard the Flying Dutchman, like Davy Jones before him, and was allowed but one day in a decade to come ashore and see “she who loved him”.

Sometimes love is just not enough.

----------------------------

The ramshackle building into which Barbossa led Elizabeth was leaning over on its rotting timber frames, as if it were as drunk on the foul Tortuga air as the town’s many denizens.  Inside it was a dark and gloomy place, and had it not been for the man in the corner, sat alone with a bottle of rum at one of the many tables (each of which was nothing more than an upturned barrel), Elizabeth would not have thought this to be a public house.

Barbossa strode over the straw-covered floor with the utmost care, as if he were expecting, at any moment, for an ambush might be sprung on him. His eyes searched the dark and empty interior, studying any gaps in the walls and any doors left ajar, his eyes lingering in particular on the lonely stranger on the far side of the room, but he was ultimately satisfied that he and his companion were safe (at least for the time being), and took a seat at a table right in the centre of the room.  He opened his hand to the stool on the opposite side of the table and Elizabeth, giving it a brief derogatory look, then seated herself before him.

A man in a soiled apron materialised all of a sudden from a backroom, and ambled across to the pair.  Elizabeth felt a little uncomfortable toward him; he was middle aged with greying hair, but it was his eyes, a pair of tiny but piecing black orbs, which really unsettled her.  She almost felt that he had the ability to peer straight into one’s soul.

Barbossa nodded his head at the man before asking for a couple of mugs of beer and flicked a few coins his way.

Elizabeth edged backwards as the man’s hand hit the table, gathered up the coins in a slow, slithering movement, before he pocketed the money and disappeared into the back another time.

Barbossa read Elizabeth’s frown before she even realised she had turned to stare after the man, and he said, “Ye’ve no need to fear ol’ Frank.  He’s a trustworthy soul.”

Elizabeth looked unconvinced.  “Just like you?” she retorted, which made the Captain laugh.

There was a snort from the man in the far corner, which made Elizabeth turn to cast a glance at him, but he appeared not to even have moved. Even more confused than ever, she returned her sights to Barbossa, who leant over the table and said, “Right, let us talk Jack Sparrow.”

“Why’s it your business?”

“Because he has something I need.  That’s why.”

Elizabeth smiled, lacing her fingers together and leaning her chin atop of them.  “Ah, so we’re back to bartering information?”

“Bartering?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  “And what might we be bartering.”

There was a slosh of liquid as Frank slammed two pitchers of beer onto the table, then left again into the backroom.  Barbossa waited until he was gone, and looked Elizabeth hard in the face.  “Well?”

Elizabeth picked up the mug and sniffed at the contents, wrinkling her nose at it.  “What’s this? Smells like a latrine.”

“So what if it is?  I bought it fer yer so ye drink it.”

“But it might be poisoned,” she rallied jokingly.

“Oh, there’d be no point in killing ye, Mrs Turner. Nawt yet.”

She threw him a sultry smirk.  They were treading again on old boards and it was, for some reason, comforting.  She took a sip of the beer, found it to taste a lot more pleasant than she had anticipated, and then said, “Rumour has it you plan to find the fabled Aqua de Vida. Is it true?”

Barbossa took a long draft if his drink before he said, “Aye.  And whose loose tongue divulged that to ye?”

“Oh, just someone, somewhere.” Her eyes sparkled at him and Barbossa knew she’d be giving no more than that away.  She had certainly learnt well.

“News travels fast, Captain,” she continued, teasingly, “particularly when Jack Sparrow is at the head of the trail.”

Barbossa sat back and regarded her carefully.  She didn’t look like much, it was true, but the greatest danger always lay with those which were easy to underestimate.  Elizabeth had the advantages of not only appearing quite plain, but also of being a woman in a man’s world, and she used these cards against her foes with great skill and zest. He recalled that his initial relationship with Elizabeth had revolved around the pair of them constantly underestimating one another. After Calypso had brought him back to life he had been faced with the task of working alongside Elizabeth Swann again and it seemed that neither he nor the young woman had wanted to make the same mistakes with each other that they had the first time; and so a form of mutual trust had been formed between them, an unsaid promise that neither of them underestimate the other.  In truth, they were equals, and any conflict between them would quickly degenerate into a vicious circle of trickery and deceit.  At least when they were a team, their resources were pooled and their energies well spent, which in turn produced results.  There was no doubt that, had either one of them not been present at their last battle against the East India Trading Company, the enterprise would not have been a success.  A remarkable thought if ever there was one.

Barbossa smiled fondly at this memory before he said, “What interest is the Fountain of Youth to ye?”

“Does it matter?”

His brow rose.  “I guess nawt.  But ye be a pirate lord and pirate king these days.  Why don’t ye go off with your own men to find the treasure, if that be all that interests ye?”

“Because I don’t know how to get there.”

Barbossa’s eyes lit up.  Then there was still plenty left to barter for.  “I see.  Well, fortunately, I do – or at least I will do whenever we get Jack back.”

“So he has the location?” she inferred.

Barbossa nodded. “Aye.”

She leaned over the table toward him, lowering her voice to a whisper as she said, fixing him with a dark stare, “I do hope this isn’t another island which you can only find if you know where it is?”

Barbossa shook his head and chortled.  “Nay, it’s not.  I’d hold no hope of extracting the information from Jack if it were, either.  If he’s got any sense, he won’t likely trust me with such information again.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth concurred, taking another sip of her beer.  “So Jack has the directions?”

“Aye.”

“On a map…?”

“As is customary.”

“Why does he need the map?  Doesn’t his compass work for this?”

“Oh, aye, I’m sure it works fine if he can set his mind to it.  But if he has the map, then I don’t.  That’s the point.”

Elizabeth laughed – typical men, in constant competition with one another!

“And what makes you think Jack hasn’t gone off to find it on his own?”

“I’m nawt saying he hasn’t, but unless he’s commandeered another ship and got himself another crew, I find it unlikely.  Besides, he loves the Pearl too much.  He’ll want her back sooner or later.”

Elizabeth’s lips slid up into a smug smile.  “Well fortunately for you, he hasn’t got himself a ship or a crew.”

Barbossa laughed, expecting as much.  “Didn’t think so.  So, where be he now?”

“Locked up.”

Barbossa groaned.  “Locked up?  Ye mean we’ve got to spring him from gaol?”

Elizabeth held his eyes.  “It wouldn’t be the first time, now, would it?”

“Not fer some,” he replied.  “And what’s he gone down fer now, might I ask?”

“Oh I don’t know.  You could fill a book with the crimes that man’s committed.  They probably took a pin and stuck it randomly onto a list and charged him for it.”

Barbossa took a couple of swallows of his drink then slammed the pitcher down with a slosh.  “It’s bloody careless of him… especially after everything that’s happened!”

Elizabeth didn’t seem so irritated.  “He’s Jack Sparrow.  You expected anything less?”

Barbossa eyed her sharply.  “I expected never to have ta see his sorry carcass again.  Why is it that I always end up running after him, or him after me?”

Elizabeth made a mocking shrug.  “Maybe it’s destiny, Captain.  Or a curse.”

Barbossa scoffed.  “Don’t dishearten me.”  He then looked over her countenance carefully and said, “So what is it ye be wanting in return fer this generous sharing o’ information?”

Elizabeth sat back, smugness written across her features.  “I want a part of the prize.”

Barbossa blink then choked out a laugh of disbelief.  “Ye want some of the fountain of youth?  You’re still but a girl yeself!”

That didn’t impress her in the slightest. “Am I? Well, this girl might be able to sell her information elsewhere.”  She got to her feet, ready to leave, and was surprised at first when Barbossa didn’t rise to stop her; he wasn’t as easily swayed as the others.

“Ye may walk out that door, missy, but ye ain’t got a clue where ye be going.”

Elizabeth’s expression faded to slight panic.  He was right.  Perhaps this was also why he had chosen to bring her on the most winding, confusing of routes to this secretive little place.  And she knew that more than mere wenches might be waiting in the dark and narrow backstreets of this seedy underworld.  She could handle a sword; she could look after herself; but she was one woman lost in a dark underworld, it perhaps wouldn't be wise to go out there alone.

“You bastard,” she murmured, throwing herself back onto her stool with a definitive thud.

“Takes one ta know one,” he countered before flashing her a toothy grin. “So, let’s be straight with one another.  You get part of the plunder in return for divulging Jack Sparrow’s locale.  Agreed?”

“I want passage aboard your ship, too.”

He looked confused by this request.  “Why, in God’s name?”

“Because I don’t trust you, that’s why.”

There were words as yet unsaid, and as Barbossa lounged back and looked hard into Elizabeth’s suddenly reticent eyes, he thought that he understood what else this might be.

“And ye’re bored, aren’t ye?”

She pulled that face which denied all accusations set against her. “I am not!” she said.

Barbossa’s smile was full of confidence, though, for he knew he was right this time.  “Oh ye are, I can see it.  Not enough going on fer ye back at Shipwreck Island?”

“Enough, thank you.  The East India Trading Company are on to us, you know.  They keep sniffing around like hounds on a scent and –”

“And yer men can go out and deal with them, no problem, right?  Sao Feng left you a good group o’ pirates, did he nawt?”

“Yes but we still have to keep them away from the cove, and  –”

He interrupted again.  “Oh that battle will never end.  It’s always been there – the authorities versus the pirates.  Ye know that ye can fight all ye like, but we’ll never win.  We’ll kill one Cutler Beckett and another one will rise up.  Can’t be helped.  And you know ye can’t waste yer life constantly fighting them, or else ye wouldn’t be here now, would ye?”

Elizabeth scowled at him and folded her arms.  “You’d be the same if you were pirate king.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he rallied, and chuckled into his beer as he watched her puzzled face, trying to comprehend what was going through his mind.

Since she had lost a foothold in this situation, she sought to change the subject.  “So, are you a regular here…?” she asked.

Barbossa was puzzled this time.  “Here? What do ye mean by ‘here’?”

She inclined her head towards the door.  “Tortuga.  The wenches.  You seem an old hand.”

“Ah…” he nodded, comprehension dawning.  “Well, once upon a time, p’rhaps I was more of a ‘regular’, but that all stopped with the cursed gold.  There be no point in paying a woman to pleasure ye if ye can feel none of it.”

Barbossa monitored Elizabeth’s face, wondering if she might blush at such bluntness, but she did not.  That impressed him.  She was more hardened than that whelp she called husband.

“To be frank, Mrs Turner,” he continued light-heartedly, “ye perhaps be more experienced than I in those kind o’ things now.”

She giggled over her beaker at him, which brought a smile to his face. She could be pleasant enough company, if nothing else.

“What makes you say that, Captain?”

He ran a finger round the rim of his mug, looking down into the near empty pitcher before reconnecting his gaze with hers and saying, “I’ve nawt touched a woman since before I was resurrected, therefore I see meself as being a virgin all o’er again.”  He raised his mug in her direction before taking a swig.  “You might have ta teach me a thing or two now.”

Elizabeth seemed sceptical.  “Are you sure? You and Tia Dalma seemed mighty close on occasion.”

“Trifles. One can but have affection fer she who raised one from the dead.  We played around but nuthin’ happened.  It be too dangerous for a man to get entangled in her web.  Not worth sharing a bed with her, I tell ye now.”

Elizabeth laughed another time and shook her head.  “Very well, I shall do my best to believe you.  But I still count myself as rather inexperienced in the matter, so you had better go back to your whores and ask them to remind you how it’s done.”

He finished off his drink, put down the empty mug, and rose to his feet. “Now I can’t be doing that, Mrs Turner.”

She cocked a brow in jest.  “Why ever not?  Isn’t it what you always used to do?”

“It is, but well, but fer one, I’m loathe to part with me money, and two, I think I can do a bit better for meself now.”  He threw her a wink and turned to go.  “Are ye coming or will ye be finding your own way back?”

Elizabeth finished off her beer in one hearty swallow and then got up to follow.  “I’m coming.  I don’t fancy been left lost in the alleyways with all those tarts about.”

Barbossa’s lips parted in another grin.  “Aye. Would be a fine way for Mrs Turner to go, that.  At the hands of Tortuga’s women of negotiable affection.”

They turned as one to go, weaving in between the haphazard array of tables and stools, before suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, the man in the corner shot to his feet and proclaimed at the top of his voice.  “Genesis!  Genesis!  Genesis!”

Elizabeth and Barbossa turned, brows creased as the man continued to repeat the word over and over.  They then watched as Frank the bartender came out of the back room with an oar slung over his shoulder, which he promptly swung into the lunatic’s face.

There was a heavy ‘thunk’ before the man crumpled into a pile over his table, sending his bottle of rum rolling onto the floor.

Frank turned to the departing duo.  “’m sorry, guvnor. He raves, this one.”

Barbossa looked again at Elizabeth then shrugged.  “T’wasn’t raving at us.  T’is no problem.”

They then began to leave, but heard Frank mumble as they went, “Don’t be so sure.”

TBC…