A/N: First off, let me warn: THIS FF CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS! READERS BEWARE THAT IF YOU ARE WAITING FOR YOUR CHANCE TO SEE POTC 3, COME BACK LATER!
All right, with that out of the way, a quick note on the following: my only thought at the end of POTC 3 was, "Jeesh, the people at Disney can go on with this story forever!" I have to hand it to them though, that the Disney people tied up loose ends at the end of the movie, the supposed "last" of the trilogy, all the while allowing at least one more sequel to come out of it. So, though I know any storyline close to the one that follows is unlikely, I thought I'd get a head start on that sequel. Very short, but more is to come.
Enjoy! And reviews are always welcome, as long as they are helpful.
Disclaimer: Most assuredly not mine. SPOILERS AHEAD!
Pirates of the Caribbean: The Waters of Life
Chapter One: Bound
When the ship exploded from the surface of the turbulent ocean, Elizabeth Turner thought she was going to faint. Standing at the helm, sword in hand, William Turner was alive. A long red scar traveled down his chest, disappearing beneath the open collar of his shirt. Even from the deck of the Black Pearl several yards away, Elizabeth could see Will staring at her. A smile stretched across her face, and Will turned with hardened resolve towards the men standing behind him on the deck of what used to be Davy Jones' ship. No longer barnacle-incrusted, coral-covered monsters of the sea, the crew waited for directions from Will, their new captain.
Elizabeth had been ecstatic to see him. The armada that stretched across the ocean's horizon in front of the two legendary pirate ships was nothing; play things to be swiped away. With The Flying Dutchman on their side, victory was close enough to taste. Captain Barbossa and Captain Jack Sparrow were squabbling behind her, but Elizabeth noticed nothing except Will—her husband.
When the battle was won and the armada turned away, fleeing in the "tradition of pirates," the adrenaline seeped out of Elizabeth's blood and the truth of it all speared her in the chest like a white-hot sword. When Jack had stabbed Davy Jones' throbbing heart with Will's own hand, effectively changing the world as any of them knew it, Elizabeth had forgotten one thing. William Turner was as bound to the sea as Davy Jones had been.
"Every ten years," Will whispered to her down on the beach for the last time he could come ashore before his duties began. His obligation to the dead was looming, but Elizabeth didn't want to let go. As she watched The Flying Dutchman sail away into the sunset, before disappearing in a flash of green light, Elizabeth let the cold, hard facts sink in. Ten years was a long time.
She trudged across the sand to the rocks where a small, dark chest sat; a dull thumping reverberated from inside. What would she be like as the keeper of Will's heart? Bound for eternity by the curse that had saved his life, Will was immortal, but Elizabeth was not. She would still be young and, Calypso willing, healthy the next time she saw him. Her looks may not fade in ten years when Will would march across the beach to the rocks where he swore they would always meet, but what about in twenty years, or thirty, or forty? Would the Ruler of the Ocean Depths still long for the touch of his wife?
Elizabeth climbed up the jagged black rocks and sat beside the chest. She cast a dark look at it. If she wasn't so aware of what was inside, she might hurl the chest from the rocks in a fit. Her heart was full with William Turner, but her mind was still skeptical, frustrated, and sorrowful. She was trapped in a world full of insecurity and longing, always waiting for the tenth year when Will would return.
It was a noble thing that Jack Sparrow did, giving up his immortality to save Elizabeth's husband. Wasn't it?
Elizabeth mulled over this thought, afraid of the answer, when movement on the horizon caught her eye. It the dark silhouette of a ship, and for a delicious moment Elizabeth imagined that it was The Flying Dutchman come back from Davy Jones' Locker for her. But when the ship grew closer, Elizabeth banished the thought. It would be delusional to believe that.
Standing up on the rocks, ignoring the roughness that cut into her bare feet, she squinted at the ship. It was headed straight for the tiny island Elizabeth stood on, and although no colors flew from its mast, she would have known those sails anywhere.