Word Count: 1389
Timeline: Post AWE.
Pairing: Will/Elizabeth
Summary: Will is given what he desires. So is Elizabeth.
Warnings: angst
Notes: One-shot. Concrit welcome.

Seventeen years. Eight months. Four days.

And what does he have to show for it? A memory carved into the recesses of his mind, fighting off the curling vines of desperation that threaten to choke the image into a dream too soon forgotten. How long can he hold onto the faces of his wife and son, when every lucid white countenance he takes aboard his ship forces themselves into his mind against his will?

"So soon he loses him heart."

"I hadn't noticed." Will says curtly, absently brushing a hand across his chest.

"Do not test your wits on me, William Turner."

"Why are you here. Calypso?" He faced the Goddess. "Or would you rather me refer to you as Tia?" He bows his head despite himself.

"Him gratitude has run its course," a breathy laughed escapes her blackened lips. "Still a woman I am. A fair one at 'dat."

"Fair? You've taken my heart from me, but not the pain it brings. What chance of life do I have left?"

"'De boy remains in you, William. Seventeen years be not time enough." she turns up her nose indignantly and spins away, preparing to disappear from the immortal's view--

"Wait!" he grasps her dark wrist. "I am still grateful that I have been given the chance to live this half-life, and I shall be forever more."

"'De voice of 'de soul speaks different, does it not?" Calypso draws her fingers across Will's cheek, they skate over his cool flesh and he shudders.

"Take it away."

"A gift like 'dis cannot be destroyed."

"I am sure there is another who deserves if not desires this immortality more than I."

"Aye. What be you willing to sacrifice, hmm?"

Will's brow furrows. "What do I have left to offer?"

Calypso's lips quirk into a small smile. "Do not trouble 'de heart, boy. You have served 'dis ship's purpose well. And now, I 'tank you."

.-.

Seventeen years. Eight months. Four days.

And what does she have to show for it? A hole in her heart, despite her ownership of two, where it should be filled, fighting off the twisting vines of doubt that threaten to suffocate her will. How long can she hold onto the face of her husband, when every thought of love is challenged equally by despair?

"So late she 'tinks of 'de consequences."

Elizabeth jumps with a start, clutching at her chest where her heart thunders. "It is what must be done."

"Fickle woman, she who accepts and 'den doubts."

Elizabeth composes herself and speaks with respect now, "I doubt nothing. I am faithful, as is he."

"So stubborn. I can offer 'de soul some consolation..." Tia shakes her head slightly and her beads clink together.

"What sort could you possibly offer?"

"She be right. A Goddess cannot change what she done, hmm?"

Elizabeth chooses not to answer, instead presses her lips together and waits.

"I can fix 'de sorrow you feel." Tia closes her hands around the other woman's and does not indicate that she feels the tremor running through Elizabeth.

"What can you do?" her voice is small, but glints with hope.

"I can return him who loves you from 'de sea-"

"And allow him to watch me whither away?"

"Foolish girl, she be," her slender hands betray the amount of strength they have as they squeeze, "I can keep you in 'dis moment. Never more be 'de mortal 'dat is vulnerable and weak. 'Ave your fair face remain."

"Why would you do this for me?"

Tia continues as though she does not hear Elizabeth's question."'Dere be a cost you must pay. To tell anotha' soul will be impossible. She will choke on 'de words an' any medium will be destroyed before 'de gift be revealed."

"Is that all, then?" she asks. There is hesitation in her voice, but acceptance nonetheless.

Black lips split into a dark toothed grin. "All 'dat applies to you. What does she say, hmm? Make up for 'de lost years, aye?"

"Return the man I love."

"And so I shall."

.-.

Seventeen years. Eight months. Five days.

And what does this day have to show for it? Will washes ashore, shivering and shuddering from the cold, yet ecstatic about every tremble, for he can once again feel the cold and even revels in the way it creeps into his bones. Elizabeth finds him staggering in the surf and vaults forward, wholly unable to contain her passion. They embrace, and for one untouchable moment, all is right in their world.

Their son has grown, moved on in the world, inherited the wanderlust that has plagued the Turner's for two generations since. Will laments this trait, wishing he had taken more after Elizabeth. He misses his son, despite their numbered meetings. And yet he cannot be blamed.

Every morning since, Elizabeth wakes from her sleep to find her husband beside her, gazing at her with freshened eyes. She comes to love the morning light that floods through her bedroom window- their bedroom window- and drops golden shafts of light on her husband's ageless face.

This morning though, two years after that glorious day Will washed ashore, she notices something that makes her eternally beating heart clench. On the face she had vowed to memorize, fine worry lines marred the otherwise smooth surface of his forehead. Which she finds unnerving and ironical... What could Will have left to worry about?

Elizabeth, however lost in her own state of distress, excuses herself politely and forces herself to stroll leisurely down to the beach. Here she situates herself before the surf, folding her long legs beneath her.

"Calypso..." she cannot find it in herself to ask of the Goddess' ways. Why must he age when she herself was an... "immortal," Elizabeth jabs a finger into the heavy, wet sand and writes the word in flowing cursive letters. The word remains imprinted on the sand and she stares.

Minutes later, she hears the crunch of sand under bare feet and watches tearfully as the word is swept away in a single foaming tide.

"Elizabeth, are you well?"

She sucks in a lungful of sea air and composes herself. She stands, brushing off the grains of stand that stick to her. "I am," and she smiles.

.-.

Twenty-two years. Zero months. Thirteen days.

And why should this day have any significance? It is today that William rubs the sleep from his eyes, waking at the crack of dawn as he has done since the day he arrived home again. It is today that when he kisses his wife gently on her cheek, he notices something that makes his valued heart sink.

While his own face has begun to show his age, Elizabeth's remains just as fair. She has raised a child on her own and seen more horrors than any woman or man should ever have to endure. And yet her skin remains sun-kissed and smooth save for well earned scars and the glow of a mother, her hair still soft and golden... Isn't it only natural for a mortal to age?

He leaves the warmth of his bed, the warmth of the body beside him and crosses the room to stare outside of the window. The sun is rising over the distant mountains now and the light is gathering on the dark, glittering sea.

The morning comes. The waves crash. Realization dawns. Elizabeth's eyes flutter open.

They search the room briefly until they land on Will who is standing deathly still.

"Will, what's wrong?" she sits up and swings her legs over the side of her bed.

"You're as beautiful as the day I met you. As radiant as ten years ago. And look at me," he runs his hands down the sides of his face. "as a mortal again, my age shows." His words are pointed, sharper than the blade that tore his chest open twenty-two years ago.

Her eyes widen in horror. "Will!-" No other words can come past her lips, for she chokes and struggles to breathe.

"Elizabeth," he rushes to her side and takes her youthful face in his hands. She ceases her attempts to talk and settles for sobbing unabashedly. "Elizabeth," he repeats. "What have you done?"

Her lips form a name. A blessing. A curse. "Calypso."

And their world dissolves.