Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters blah blah blah you all know the rest.

DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE THIRD FILM AND YOU DON'T WANT TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS!

Two years after the events of At World's End, Elizabeth finds herself bored with her life after all the adventures are over. So when a certain pirate captain comes knocking, she's more than happy to join him in a search for a lost treasure.

The Legend of the Lost Cavern

Chapter One

The Passage Of Time

It had rained during the night. There had been a fierce storm the night before and although the sun was shining and the sky was a beautiful, vivid blue, Port Royal was recovering from the storm. There were piles of leaves torn from the palms, tiles that had been ripped from houses, boats and ships that had been damaged even though they had been safely moored in the habour and plenty of cleaning up to do. A handful of people had been lost in the storm and there were searches for them, dead or alive.

Thomas Rochford walked slowly through the streets, quietly watching the people as they went about the usual business that engaged the town after a tropical storm. He was whistling softly under his breath and he was looking for someone. A few people nodded to him, a few said some words of greeting but he wasn't really interested in any of them.

He had come to the Caribbean from England some six months ago on a cargo ship and had worked as a member of the crew to pay for his passage. His parents had both died and, although they had left him a small inheritance that had left him by no means destitute, he had shut up their house and come to the Caribbean in search of adventure and the experience of life in a country so different to his home. He had heard many tales of sailors and even a few men who claimed to be pirates and had fallen in love with the notion of sailing the high seas. On actually experiecing life sailing on the high seas he was rather disillusioned.

Thomas was a teacher by trade; he had done some work as a private tutor, and had got some work in Port Royal teaching the children of people from England. It was whilst he had been teaching some of these children that he had met the woman he was now looking for.

Elizabeth Turner. He had met her at the house of a friend soon after his arrival. She had been visiting, although he didn't know exactly why. She had spoken briefly to him, had been polite but distant and had left soon after.

Although they had exchanged only a few words since, he had been captivated by the beautiful young woman and he would be lying if he claimed that she had nothing to do with his decision to stay in the Caribbean. She wasn't the only reason, but she was certainly one of them. Thomas had spent a lot of time trying to find out about her and had asked tactful questions of various residents of the town, trying to keep his interest in her as carefully hidden as possible.

'She's the daughter of the old governor of Port Royal,' one person told him. 'Her father died on a trip back to England about two years ago.'

'She was engaged to Will Turner, the blacksmith,' someone else told him. 'They got married, she says.'

'Will Turner was lost at sea,' another local said. 'But she doesn't consider herself a widow, she always says he'll come back some day.'

'But most people think it's wishful thinking,' another person said.

'Poor girl's grieving for her lost love,' one said sadly. 'She won't accept he's gone and won't be coming back. Most who are lost at sea stay lost at sea.'

'They was both to be convicted for helping a pirate escape,' a local gossip said, eyes shining as she recounted the tale. 'See, Miss Elizabeth was kidnapped and young Will, he goes after them and they all comes back with a rogue of a pirate and then they help him escape! Such an adventure!'

'She's a good woman,' another said. 'Take on anyone, will Miss Elizabeth.'

'He were a fine man, that Will Turner,' one woman said, smiling. 'Love of Miss Elizabeth's life, from the day they met, anyone could see that.'

But Thomas was not discouraged. He figured that he was at least as good a man as a common blacksmith and resolved to first befriend, then court, the young widow. He sought her out on innocent pretexts, borrowed and lent books and talked about music and sought advice about dealing with this person or another. They talked; she was polite but never very friendly, and she struck him as being very intelligant and accomplished. He sensed that she was a strong and independent woman; the fact that she had returned to Port Royal after the loss of her father and her husband, living on the generous inheritance she had been left, and spending her days helping the less fortunate in the town. She did charity work and she taught the orphans and poor children to read and write.

If he knew her, and he thought he did, she would be somewhere in the town helping the poor people rebuild their homes and clean up after the fierce storm.

And there she was, down at the harbour. She was playing with several young, thin children, laughing and running with the filthy children, even in her expensive and heavy gown. For a moment he wondered what she was doing.

Then she saw him.

'Hello, Mr Rochford,' she called. She brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and continued, 'Have you come to join us?'

'I came down to see if there was anything I could do, to help after last night,' he said hastily.

'Really?' She was smiling in a way that made him wonder if she knew his feelings for her. 'Would you like to play with us?'

Just with you, he thought of saying. 'Of course,' he said carefully, eyeing the ragged and dirty children.

'No, you wouldn't,' she replied. Ruffling the hair of one of the children, she said, 'I have to go now. Have fun.'

The children complained as she walked way but she waved and they waved back.

'So what really brings you here, Mr Rochford?' she inquired as they walked back along the edge of the harbour.

'I told you,' he replied politely.

'Oh, yes, so you did,' she said, still smiling. There was a group of people sat on the dock repairing fishing nets. They nodded and smiled at her as the two of them walked past.

'People here like you, Mrs Turner,' he said. 'You're very popular.'

'My father was a good governor,' she said. 'And my husband was liked here.'

'Your husband,' he said slowly. 'You don't talk much about him.' There was a question in his voice.

'It's painful,' she said quietly, looking out towards the distant ocean, her expression far-away. 'I miss him.'

'Of course,' he nodded. He didn't ask what he really wanted to ask.

'I must go,' she said thoughtfully. 'Good day, Mr Rochford.'

He sighed heavily, watching her walk away.

Elizabeth walked as quickly as possible without trying to make it look as if she was trying to get away. Mr Thomas Rochford was becoming a thorn in her side. It had been obvious her from the day they had met that he was too interested in her for her liking. He seemed a nice enough man, but he had not yet taken the hint that she was not remotely interested in him. He was nice and safe and a teacher. He was ordinary.

Life had been both easy and difficult for the past two years. It had been easy because she now had a home and an inheritance to live off of, people to help, things to keep her busy and no longer had a price on her head.

And life had been difficult because she couldn't share every day with the man she loved.

She missed Will desperately.

Sometimes she still cried herself to sleep at night because he wasn't there beside her.

It had been two years since he had left, since she had last seen him. She had thrown herself into trying to help people because it filled the hole in her life. She missed the freedom she had enjoyed whilst pirating, missed the freedom of her old if short-lived career as a pirate. It had been difficult to adjust back to a quiet life and in truth she hadn't adjusted well. She longed to return to the sea.

But something had stopped her. Many times she could have sailed away, she had several chances to do so, but always something stopped her. She wasn't sure what it was, but there was something. Something coming. Something she was waiting for. And she would know when it came.

Keep a weather eye on the horizon…