A/N: Hello everyone!! I'm so excited to publish my first piece of fan-fiction here! :) I'm a huge Sparrabeth fan, and while up until now I was only an eager reader of all its fanfics, I feel it's high time I started my own. So, here it is, my version of events after AWE... At least the version I would love to happen, of course ;). I plan it to be a three-shot, but it might also remain unfinished, as well as evolve into something bigger... everything's up to my readers (if i have any, that is :D). So, without further ado, on to the story!

Edited 02-11-10 thanks to my BETA, royalpinkdogs!! Please check out her wonderful Sparrabeth fics, too.

Disclaimer: I do not own PotC.

The Tide of Hope

Chapter I

"Sleep, sweet little William, sleep well… No no no, don't cry, my sweetheart, hush, hush… Mommy's here, alright? Hush baby, no need to cry. Yes, yes… Close your eyes, sleep, dear William. Sleep well, I'm here, I'm by your side. Good boy, now sleep, my dearest."

Elizabeth Turner watched her two-year-old son's breathing even out and his brown eyes flutter shut. She had been trying to lull him into sleep for the past hour or two now, and felt the wave of relief and exhaustion wash over her as he finally did. Young William was becoming more and more wayward and petulant, and Elizabeth wondered what would become of her son when he would start running around, having friends over, throwing parties, sneaking out of the house at nights… She, of course, couldn't be sure that would happen, but Elizabeth had the feeling. Or was it that she wanted her son to be a rabid madcap just like—like whom? Like her, for example. She had always craved for dangers and adventure, so it could be that William would follow in her footsteps. Anyway, the time when William would expose his boisterous nature was still far away. Now he was a cute, though moody little child, still in desperate need of his mother, for her warmth and intense care…

…and he was only two years old, and it was still seven years until he met his father, his namesake, his reason for existence…

Oh God. Hardly a third of that awful, awful and awfully long decade had passed… and those past three years already seemed like a century to her. A century of nothing more but solitude, the hard life of a single mother and the unbearable routine of a maid in an inn. The inn wasn't bad, though. After Elizabeth had abandoned her privileged life as a wealthy governor's daughter and respected lady in Port Royal, fleeing the city with nothing more than her infant son in her arms, she had really feared for the worst. But she had been lucky enough to come across a quiet fishing village, where she had shortly found some humble accommodation and work at one snug inn. Only decent and quite prosperous folks gathered there, so she hadn't encountered any big problems ever since her arrival.

No problems, hence no adventures either… Elizabeth scolded herself often for such thoughts. She was lonely and she had a child to take care of, so the absence of any excitement was only for the better.

Still, the solitude could at least have not been so tedious and monotonous. She was lonely, but was she bound to be miserable as well? Was constantly keeping her desires at bay as inevitable as her husband's curse?

"Yes," the bitter word escaped Elizabeth's lips. "Because it's my curse as well… I made a choice, I made a promise, and I should keep it…"

Should. Since when had will evolved into should? Elizabeth couldn't put her finger on it. Yet, when she thought about it, she had never seemed very enthusiastic… more like obligated. Wouldn't her pledge develop into could, might, might be able and finally… won't?

Deciding not to answer that particular question, she heaved a long sigh and went on to do some dusting and cleaning around the house while sun was still to remain in the dome for an hour or so.

Unfortunately, it was already out of her control. Various thoughts and visions were flooding her mind despite her resolution. Really, what was left of the once tomboyish and lively lass? Where had her lust for danger and adventure gone? Was her zest for life lost forever?

No, no, no. Everything was still there, somewhere deep within her. She just couldn't bring herself to expose all those things and feelings either to herself other people around her. It would have been suffocating, insufferable, impossible to live a whole decade of painful isolation if she still had a bit of healthy enthusiasm. Her exile would have been pointless. "Now," she whispered inwardly, "now I may conceal my feelings, my desires… But seven years will go by and I will meet Will again. We will meet Will again and our family will be complete and happy…" a ghost of a smile appeared on her tired face, but was quickly replaced by a sore sarcastic one as she amended: "…for one day."

Elizabeth was losing hope. Simple as that – losing hope. Not the hope that her husband would return, of course, because he would. But the belief in happiness, in comfort, even in love… all that was fading away, flowing from her in an unstoppable current away and away.... And she wasn't able to flow along with it, to flow where it carried. To flow anywhere, everywhere, to the ends of the world… Because she was stuck in her little house and oppressive routine, and no, she actually could move from her house, flee this place and find another one, or wander all around the Caribbean without a destination. But she was held captive in a prison she couldn't escape and no one could let her out, because there were no locks and no person who had imprisoned her in the first place… She had done it herself, by marrying Will, and her conscience was the sole guard of the prison and it wouldn't let her out…

Realization as to what she had thought struck Elizabeth and she wanted to correct herself: how ridiculous, she had actually said conscience instead of love! She loved Will, didn't she?

She did, she did, she did, for God's sake…

But that love was bad, cursed, predestined to be a burden, because one day just couldn't make up for ten years, regardless how miraculous that day might happen to be. The revelation seemed to be more and more clear each day, and each morning Elizabeth woke up feeling more and more dry and lifeless. It was as if the tide of her hope and happiness continuously ebbed and ebbed, salty waves of joy never reaching her again. And Elizabeth couldn't bear to look at the sea anymore, she couldn't bring herself to smell that intoxicating scent of freedom and carelessness that it brought…

"It's the sea… It's the sea that's a constant reminder of Will, of what I've lost, of what I could've had--"

"Speaking with ourselves, are we?"

Elizabeth dropped the rag she'd been holding and turned around, disturbed. It was Marie, the elderly woman Elizabeth had come to know quite well these past several years. She had the habit of barging in other people's houses without a warning, though.

"Marie, I—I didn't know you were coming tonight."

"Why, my bad, dear. It should've told you today at the inn, but I just thought you wouldn't mind."

Elizabeth frowned inside. No no, of course she wouldn't mind. Her house now just wasn't her private area, was it?

"Sure," she forced a smile. And suddenly she felt tired, so immensely exhausted that she didn't really realize what she was saying until the murmured words escaped her mouth: "Would you look after William for a while, Marie? I really need to get out." And with that, not waiting for the older woman to reply, Elizabeth strode towards the door, clumsily grabbed her cape and left.

Realizing what she had just done, she stumbled a little, but didn't stop walking. Unconsciously choosing the dusty road which led towards the ocean, she paced, enjoying the feeling of mild evening breeze tangling her hair and the sight of slightly reddening sky before her. The seaside was still a good distance off, but Elizabeth could already smell that salty and, strangely, at the same time sweet odour.

God, how she would miss it. How she would miss that distant sound of water washing up on the shore she heard when she opened her window shutters every morning. But there was no helping it; the decision had to be made at once. What was she doing here, anyway? Here, in this nice neat fishing village? Had she really thought it would be easier to spend a decade at such a place? When fleeing Port Royal, Elizabeth hadn't the slightest idea as to where she should move. Her feet and her unconscious had carried her along the shore, though. Somehow, the sea was the only thing in the world that was able to calm Elizabeth, to soothe her sorrow, either because Will was somewhere there, or because of all the adventures Elizabeth had had, all her pirate experiences. All in all, her life and her fate were inextricably linked with open waters. The crystal blue Caribbean sea had been her solace and her source of strength these first days of traveling. In complete contrast, one heavy chest and muffled thumping sound that came together with it had constantly distressed Elizabeth. Had, and still did. But now not only the chest, but also her once comforting mother – sea – was too much for her to bear. And thus, Elizabeth would move away from it, further into the land, because she knew for sure that one day she just wouldn't be able to stop herself and give in the irresistible longing for risks and adventures. She would sail away, find Jack, or find Jack and then sail away—

Wait. Find Jack? Why would she want to find Jack?

"Because he's got the ship, obviously." Elizabeth answered her own question, faintly irritated.

Yes, that was it. She would need Jack Sparrow and his beautifulPearl if she wanted to sail away. It wasn't that poor Elizabeth Turner had her own boat… Or any other acquaintances that did, for that matter.

But there was no need to ponder on the idea, as she just wouldn't find Jack, wouldn't sail anywhere. More than that – she simply couldn't. Couldn't put her little son in any sort of danger, and dangers were as often as blinking while being in the sea… while being with Jack Sparrow.

"Jack… I just wonder… How are you?" Elizabeth whispered inwardly, not being able to stop a torrent of thoughts and visions that flooded her mind. Visions that all contained one particular pirate captain. "How are you, where are you?.. Are you still the same, Jack? Do you still swagger when you walk, do you still chatter in your mock-reasonable manner?" She chuckled lightly, remembering Captain Jack Sparrow's unique antics. "Do you still pout when something doesn't go the way you want it to go? Do you still wiggle your fingers in the air when you're not decided on something, but keep your hands strong and confident on the helm of your lovely Pearl?.."

Elizabeth sighed at the memory of Jack Sparrow – Captain Jack Sparrow, that is – standing high on the quarterdeck, one hand put leisurely yet possessively on the wheel, other on his hip, body posture relaxed; eyes piercing through the horizon, as if seeing all the treasures of the world, even before anyone else knew of their existence…

Then the vision blurred and another one, more flamboyant and more intense entered her mind. Those dark, almost black eyes now bored into Elizabeth's, hundreds of emotions flashing in the abyss of Jack's pupils, yet some of the emotions were stronger, more apparent than others… What were they? Regret or joy? Relief or admiration? Desire or… affection?..

"Keep telling yourself that, darlin'."

"You too, Jack Sparrow. You too keep telling yourself it could have never worked out between us." Elizabeth wanted to spit for some inexplicable reason, but instead she kicked some small stone that was lying peacefully on the road; and immediately regretted her decision as her toes now were stinging with pain – apparently, the stone wasn't as small as she had presumed.

It could have never worked out between us.

"Why? Could it have? Oh, Elizabeth, you're being ridiculously unreasonable," she told herself. "He rejected your kiss, even if it was only meant to be a friendly, a good-bye one… Yet he turned me down. Oh, you bloody unfriendly never-doing-what-I-want kind of a -- pirate!"

Elizabeth was irritated, yet it didn't slip her notice she was also amused. Sneakingly, extremely entertained. Only by thinking about and cursing Jack Sparrow. She allowed a sly smirk to appear on her face at that, and walked the rest of the way quite absent-minded, forgetting even the reason she was going to the shore – to say good-bye to the sea…

When Elizabeth reached the seaside, the sky had already acquired a blazing shade of red as the sun was just settling down on the water. She stood at one dune savouring the beautiful landscape and enjoying the feeling of warm evening sun rays caressing her skin. Beautiful, immersing and murderous was the sea – what a perfectly alluring combination… Maybe that's why it was the one and only love of some men.

The grim mood overwhelming her once again, Elizabeth lowered her gaze from the horizon and eyed her surroundings. It was so peaceful an evening with littoral plants swaying to a silent melody of summer breeze and sea-sand glowing lightly, reflecting the last rays of sun… But suddenly she spotted some disturbance in the perfect scenery. There was a man lying on the wet sand, unmoving; slender waves bathing his legs. Frightened at first that the man might be dead, Elizabeth didn't hesitate a moment later and launched forward. Before long, she reached the intimidating subject. It was a grizzled aged man, short but chunky. His hair was damp, though it obviously tended to tangle. The man also had some odd feature on the face – long and grey side-whiskers, which visibly stuck, despite the fact the man had his face down in the sand. A thought that those whiskers seemed familiar crossed Elizabeth's mind, but she hadn't time to ponder on it as the man suddenly let out a muffled groan.

"My God, he is alive…"

"Aye, I am." He responded to Elizabeth's statement, his voice strangely coherent regardless of the position his face was in. "Now, lass, if ye'd be so kind as to roll ol' Gibbs over…"

Gibbs?? Elizabeth's heart almost jumped out of her chest at the name. This can't be...

"For God's sake, lass!" he bellowed, shaking the woman out of her reverie. Elizabeth bent, her hands trembling, and forced Gibbs' body to roll over. Once on his back, Gibbs heaved a long sigh indicating he had eased a little. His face was tarred and awry with pain, and it didn't take long for Elizabeth to notice the ripped fabric of his shirt and a huge bruise behind it. Probably a rib or two broken… He would be needing a medical treatment, she thought, and returned her gaze to man's face only to find Gibbs' eyes staring at her, wide with astonishment.

"Miss -- Miss Elizabeth..?"

"Mister Gibbs," she acknowledged. A few moments of silence passed before either of them thought what to make of the situation, but then Elizabeth inquired:

"Does it hurt badly?"

Gibbs inhaled and readied himself to speak, but then suddenly something changed in his countenance as he seemed to remember some fact. Mouthing something like "yes", he shortly murmured:

"Jack -- find Jack. He's in need of serious medical attention--"

"What?! Jack's here?" Elizabeth's voice screeched, but drowned in an awful pounding of her heart, a pounding that was so strong it could have torn her body apart… But it was irrelevant, trivial; for Jack was somewhere here. He was here and – wait, did Gibbs say he was in need of medical attention??

"Aye. Somewhere around… Foolish. He will die if no one finds him now--"

"WHAT?" the deranged sound of her own voice frightened Elizabeth, but not nearly as much as the meaning of Gibbs' words did.

"Go find 'im. And a doctor. Quickly."

She didn't need to be told twice. Springing to her feet, the woman turned around and was already to run, when she remembered something.

"But… What about you?"

"I'll be alright. Quite," Gibbs forced a strained smile, and it was all Elizabeth needed to assure herself. Once again turning around, she dashed northward, as in the south was a little harbour and she didn't make out anyone there…

While racing down the shore, hundreds of thoughts whirled in Elizabeth's mind, but there was no time to contemplate any of them. She had to run, she had to find Jack, Jack Sparrow, Jack Sparrow is here, oh God, he's here, he's hurt, but he's here, I will see him again... Not really knowing she was more apprehensive for his well-being or eager to just meet him, Elizabeth ran, as she would run for her life, maybe even faster, because she was running for him, for his life… Until suddenly she saw it.

Familiar swagger.

Familiar ripped clothes.

Familiar washed-out red bandana and a shock of wildly tangled dreadlocks.

Jack Sparrow, no doubt.

Elizabeth just wasn't able to recall how she had actually got to him, a blurred memory of a few trips while dashing not being at all explicit. But when she was just several metres away from the swinging figure, though, and facing his back, the vision became all too vivid as he suddenly stopped swaggering and began turning around. Holding her breath, Elizabeth waited; and the wait seemed interminable, because the process of him turning around was just taking forever. Or was it only her imagination, her anticipation that made it seem so?.. Anyway, as she finally saw Jack, his face, that… face… Handsome as it was, it was now awry with pain and exhaustion, cold sweat running down his forehead, brows, eyelashes, jaws, lips, chin, neck…

"Lizzie, me angel… Knew yer somewhere around."

And with that, he passed out.

A/N: Thank you for reading! If anyone would like me to continue, please review!