1A/N: This is my first PotC fic, so please be sure to drop me a line and let me know what you think!

"A Dream"

Elizabeth stood on the beach, her boots sinking into the white sand. It was a gorgeous day; the skies had turned from a murky gray to brilliant azure and the winds had calmed down, leaving only a small and practically useless breeze. She scanned the horizon, but only saw a placid sea stretching as far as her eyes could see.

"Staring at it isn't going to make the winds pick up any faster, love."

Elizabeth whipped around, startled. Jack had swaggered up behind her, fully intent on catching her unawares. He'd taken to doing that at some point; she didn't know why.

"What makes you think that is what I was doing?"

"What makes you think I can't read you like a book?"

Elizabeth refused to meet his gaze; she looked back at the water, saying briskly, "the tide's coming in."

"I know you; you know me," he walked around her, blocking her view. "We know each other. Some would say that this would be advantageous in striking up some sort of conversation of sorts."

"Wonder what would make them think that," she replied curtly, starting off down the shore.

"Or we could not talk," he went on, catching up to her. "Not talking has ways of being interesting; in fact, I'm of the opinion that there isn't a form of communication more interesting than the nonverbal variety."

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and felt his hands on her shoulders; she shivered under his touch.

"I'm often wont to partake in nonverbal communication with you," he whispered in her ear, but straightened up and said briskly, "but there will be none of that."

"What? Why?" she asked, turning around.

"You know why."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, love, I believe you do."

"I can assure you, sir, I don't."

Before she could say anything more, Elizabeth felt something rip her by the back of the coat. She felt herself flying away from the scene, from everything and the next thing she knew, she was sitting up, panting. She'd been asleep. It was all a dream; Jack was still dead.

She laid back down, but her eyes remained wide open. Feelings of sorrow, longing, and annoyance mingled together in a cocktail of emotion. She could no longer cry that night; she'd finished crying for the day. She could only think of what she'd done.