I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.

Ten Years

Ten years. That's how long I've waited. Every day seemed like an eternity, as if the sun refused to set and the stars refused to shine. Ten years of claiming to be a widow, of listening to the rumors and the gossip. It felt like each new whisper was worse than the previous one.

No matter. I gave birth to my son on a cold winter's night. Holding him in my arms for the first time, I could see traces of his father. And he grew more and more like him each day.

I made a living working for as an assistant baker. His family was the only ones that were kind. Their eldest took my son under his wing, teaching him everything his father is unable to teach him. His wife taught me how to bake, and one day she even said my pastries surpassed hers in taste. I am grateful to them. Many a night was spent with them comforting me in my small bedroom, as I cried tears of regret. They thought my sobs were due to the vicious rumors those idle housewives spread about me. How little they understood.

Living in the apartment above the bakery, I substituted my silks for cotton, my hats and jewels for aprons and flour. I learned how to live off a set income, with no extravagant purchases. I thought it would be difficult at first, but to be honest, it wasn't. I had unknowingly come to terms with the end of that particular chapter in my life.

The loss of my father was extremely difficult, however. They say grief eases with time, and it's true, to a point. I had lost the only parent I had known. Jack tried to comfort me. He may be a pirate, but he's a good man. His solution however, did not appeal to me. Rum is one of the worst drinks ever. Don't try it.

Throughout the years he would come and go. Sometimes he'd stay for a while, the longest being two weeks. Other times he'd just drop by for a quick hello and one of my pastries.

And then there was Barbossa. He never made an appearance, but sometimes when I was out in the market, I could feel his eyes on me. I felt safer then. I knew despite his hard exterior and our troubled past that he was a good man also. He just refused to show it.

And now, my son and I are on the beach, watching the sun and waiting for that flash of green light. I told him everything of course. He loves to hear my stories of high adventure on the seas and how I fought the undead like a man. What's more he never tired of hearing of his father.

There it is! My son runs towards the water, shading his eyes as he watches the ship draw closer.

Ten years I've waited for Will to come back to me. The agony of waiting can't compare to the elation I feel as our meeting draws closer. And despite everything life has put me through; I believe it was all worth it just to behold his face again. One day on land, ten years at sea: such a steep price to pay for immortality.

So, I was working on this last summer, when the idea came to me while I was working. So, since I was working until 11PM most nights, I would typically write if it got slow, and then email it to my personal email as the work progressed. Well, I was laid off from that job, because they didn't need the summer help anymore, and I lost a lot of my notes for many of the stories I had been working on.

Except this one.

I was looking through my email, and I found this in my Drafts folder. I had completely forgotten about it! Until, literally, tonight. It was mostly finished, I just spell checked and elaborated on a couple things. And here is the finished piece!

I hope you enjoyed it, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts!