A/N: Before we begin, I'd like to draw your attention to a few details: this is a post AWE story, and I don't believe it will go longer than a few chapters, probably ten at the most. (Do not hold me to that, however; we shall see) As you will learn with my stories, it is best not to jump to conclusions; I'm not always a "happy ending" type of person. (consider that a warning) Other than that, I hope you enjoy this as much as I am enjoying writing it. AB

The Cost

"For what we want most, there is a cost that must be paid in the end."

- Tia Dalma, "Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End"

Prologue: The Weathered Eye

She had watched.

The sea grew treacherous in the midst of the night. A cold and unforgiving wind churned the waves violently. The rolling clouds hid the stars from her old and failing eyes. Under the hood of her cloak, her hair -now coarse and gray- curled round her jaw and face, bristling against the breeze. The cloak, though heavy, did nothing to warm the chill that had settled into her veins long ago. She shivered, her lips trembling. Within a moment, she began to cough, and out of habit brought her handkerchief to her mouth. She only needed to glance at it to see the dark spots blotching the white silk. In the darkness, it looked like oil; if there had been light, she knew she would have seen a deep red. The color of dying blood.

She was running out of time. She knew it. She felt it with every pained breath; the final gasp was near, and her body would soon betray her to a bitter end.

She had watched. And she had waited. Just as it seemed the night would never end, the faintest yellow of dawn began to peek above the horizon. It grew steadily, the glowing orb of sunlight freeing itself from watery depths. An instant later, the familiar green flash danced acrossed the sky. As it faded, she could barely make out the shape of an old wooden ship.

Gathering all her strength, she stood on weary legs. No longer a spry, limber woman of twenty, illness and age had stolen her agility, and she walked as a woman with a hunch. With great effort, she made it to the sandy beach, falling into the arms of her beloved husband.

His eyes were filled with two emotions, she noticed; one, of joy. That much was a given, after an absence of ten years. Yet it was not this, but the second, that broke her heart.

Fear. It was evident as he took her in his arms. It reflected within the dark and the deep of his eyes, in the tenderness of his touch, in the worried words that spilled from his lips. She could not respond; she was overcome with the illness again, and coughed violently into the stained handkerchief she'd kept ready in her palm. As he saw the drops of blood that remained on her lips, a tear began to gleam in the corner of his eye. With a sighing breath, he managed to ask, "What of Bill?"

A feeling akin to a knife through the heart shook her to the core upon hearing the name of her dead son. Yes, dead, to the same illness that whispered a similar sentence over her life, night and day. Yet as she gazed upon his unchanged face, she felt his sadness; it was as though she were experiencing Bill's death all over again.

"Gone," was all the answer she could whisper.

The tear that had been waiting against his lashes escaped now. It traveled the length of his tanned face, mingling with the hair of his beard. With a trembling finger, she brushed it a way, forcing a smile as she looked up at him. She felt so much smaller in his arms now, more a child than a wife, and closer in age to a grandmother than her unaging, undying lover.

There was a long, lasting moment of silence, broken only as coughs again racked her body. He found he could not support her as she shook, and lowered her and himself to the sand. As she heaved, he caressed the silver hair that ran the length of her back. Just ten years ago, it had been the color of the sun. Just ten years.

And in just ten years, everything had changed.

She could not stop coughing. Her lips were beginning to turn blue. Soon, she could no longer sit up, and he held her in his lap as her breathing grew steadily labored. Finally, the illness released her for a moment. She could feel the cold of death beginning to cover her, as it had been taunting to do for months now. With teary eyes, she put her hand against her husband's face.

"At least I got to see you one last time," came the quiet whisper.

He covered her hand with his own. In thirty years, her touch was still as gentle as ever.

She smiled a peaceful, gentle smile. "I didn't think we would end up quite like this." He managed to laugh; he knew her attempts to cheer him were well meant. After a moment, she spoke again. "In all my life, I've loved you more than anything."

"I love you, too," he whispered.

The smile grew bigger, then began to fade as the end became apparent for both of them. Her breathing became rapid, and she coughed several times, her eyes clenching shut. With all her strength, she forced them open, looking out over the sea

"Will you watch the sunrises for me?" She asked.

He nodded. "Always."

She breathed softly; he could feel her heartbeat growing faint. The long lashes fluttered closed over eyes that held more beauty than all the treasures in the world. Her lips parted, forming a final, whispered plea.

"Keep a weathered eye on the horizon."