Author's Note: So short! This is how CotBP should have ended though, and everyone knows it. EVEN YOU, WILLABETH SHIPPERS. EVEN YOU. Not sure how I feel about the ending (of the fic itself)…you'll all have to let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to someone else. Sadly, this includes Jack/Johnny…trust me, if I owned HIM, everyone would know about it!

Far away–
This ship is taking me far away;
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die…
- Muse

Though it was early–the sun would likely not set for another half hour–Elizabeth Swann had excused herself from her father's parlor, citing a headache. She rarely went to bed so early, yet tonight she felt as though her head was truly pounding. So much had happened only a few hours ago. They had helped the infamous pirate Jack Sparrow escape the hangman's noose, though if Commodore James Norrington had not been so generous in his heartbreak, even the clever Jack would have found it difficult to get out of Port Royal safely. And then there was that…James' heartbreak was because of her. He loved her, or thought himself in love with her. She knew that all too well. And for a while she had been willing to live with the idea of marrying him. She could picture herself (not altogether happily) as Lady Norrington. She could picture the handful of children whose destiny it would be to be raised and loved mostly by servants. She could imagine the grand balls and fine dinners she would host. All of that would make James a happy man. And it was so little, really.

So little, except that it was Elizabeth's life. Standing there, watching her dearest friend from childhood doing the right thing, she realized that she could not possibly lead that life. Suddenly in her mind, the children were William Turner's instead of James Norrington's; there were no balls or dinners or teas…and as those images began to fade, Elizabeth could very nearly taste the freedom that they had been taken away from her. She did not want to be Lady Norrington; not now, not ever!

It had been the bravest thing she had ever done to throw her lot in with the man she loved. She went to stand beside Will, holding her head high. The look of despair and betrayal upon James Norrington's face had stung–that she could not deny. She felt bad, knowing that she had used him as a means of rescuing Will at any cost. Yet she could not continue to live that lie; it was unfair to both of them. That simple shift–from the side of wrong to right–had been enough to tip the balance. The muskets and bayonets had been raised. The threat that Will or Jack–or both–would be imprisoned no longer seemed so real.

It was enough. Jack saw his opportunity and he took it. It had been quite miraculous, really. Yet in breaking James' heart, she had, she supposed, saved not one but two men: the Navy had come to Will's rescue in at least some way, and now the distraction proved the catalyst for the final leg of Jack's escape.

Nothing could distract her from the sound of his voice, however, calling her name. This was one of the men she had read about since her childhood: the infamous Jack Sparrow! She had not yet come to terms, even now, with how different he seemed in person than she had expected him to from reading about him. He was not particularly heroic. In fact, she felt he could be somewhat cowardly at times; neither was he as brilliant as she felt that he was described in books and stories. Yet he was so charming that Elizabeth had fought to keep herself from giving in to that charm. Part of her still longed to satisfy her curiosity about piracy–though her opinion was somewhat lessened now that she had been kidnapped by Barbossa and his men. Yet what could she have done, back safely in Port Royal?

Jack's face had been comical in its grief. It had been quite puzzling, really. "It would never have worked between us, darling. I'm sorry."

Those words. Such foolishness! She had wondered if he was truly mad when he'd uttered them, as her expression had no doubt told him. Yet as soon as he was gone–tumbling over the fort wall into the sea–she had felt sorry to see him go. Things had been infinitely more interesting with Jack Sparrow in their lives…with any and all pirates in their lives for that matter. She was not altogether sure what life would now become.

She had tasted freedom. She had tasted adventure. And now, though James Norrington had relinquished his claim to her and allowed Will to go free, Elizabeth was trying desperately to fall asleep so that she did not have to wonder about the future. Her darling William Turner was little more than a blacksmith, whatever romantic thing she'd said today about him being a pirate. He would be a blacksmith forever. They would live here in Port Royal, or in some other little town, she imagined, for the rest of their lives. She would be Mrs. Turner–she would learn to cook–she would raise the children. She would, of course, have a loving and devoted husband to share her days with.

Was that truly enough? Could she possibly be happy as nothing more than someone's wife? She had been someone's daughter up until now, but little more. Miss Swann was only important because she was the child of a Royal Governor. And now…now, what? Mrs. Turner, forever? Nothing more?

Darkness began to descend upon the room. The lamp at Elizabeth's bedside had already been snuffed. She lay there, welcoming sleep without finding it. She did not want to think. She wanted…well, that was the problem. Elizabeth had no idea what it was she really wanted, even now. She was now someone else's fiancée, yet why must she be anyone's? Why must she plan a future for herself one way or another? Why could she not take to the sea herself, become a pirate captain? Oh, there were a million reasons. But she was so very tired of her life limiting her in such ways. It was enough to make her want to scream as she had screamed at Jack that morning on the island where Barbossa had marooned them.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, Elizabeth fell into a fitful sleep.

The surf lapped gently upon the shore. The soothing sound brought a faint smile to Elizabeth's face. The dying rays of the sun sparkled over the open water before her, sinking below the horizon. A breeze, cool and subtly salty, blew against the soft skin of her cheeks. Her eyes closed for a moment–the sea. How she loved it. She had never truly realized before, not until their adventure, how glad she was to live so near the coast. Port Royal may have been a somewhat stuffy place, at least if you were a member of its high society, but it was comforting to know that the sea and some kind of freedom (though freedom she would likely never permanently attain for herself) was so near.

What the Black Pearl really is…is freedom.

Her eyes opened at once as Jack Sparrow's words echoed faintly in her ear. He had been terribly drunk that night, and she had been planning on destroying his precious rum as soon as he lost consciousness…but she could not lie and say that she had not enjoyed herself. Of course, she had been worried that her plan would fail and that Will would die–but spending an evening in the company of such a charming and uninhibited man…that had been truly living.

"Best be getting back," a familiar voice said. The speaker was so close that his breath was warm against her ear. Their proximity raised gooseflesh on her arms.

One confident arm wrapped itself around her slender waist, tightening just slightly–just enough to pull her against his body. It was most unexpected and of course terribly improper, but Elizabeth could not keep from smiling. There was something about this situation that felt almost dangerous, and it was thrilling. The sensation of being so near to whomever was holding her there was somehow very different from that kiss she and Will had shared. Despite being such a shock to her father and to poor James, the kiss had felt tame. It had been a long time coming.

She turned her head to try and see the man's face, but she did not have to at all, as it happened, to know just who he was. It seemed even as she recognized him that she had known his identity all along–but the bejeweled fingers, the dreadlocks…and finally, his face. It had never struck her, Elizabeth thought, how handsome a man Jack Sparrow was until this moment. True, his appearance was a bit eccentric, what with his kohl-lined eyes, the beads in his dark hair and his braided beard. Behind all that, however, there were fine high cheekbones, deep brown eyes and lips that had a tendency to smirk in an infuriating but all-too-tempting fashion. It was not a face that matched Elizabeth's imaginative childhood image of Jack Sparrow…but it was certainly one that she could appreciate now as a grown woman.

"What are you doing here, Jack?" she murmured. Pleased as she was to see him, she was unsure why he was being so very bold with the Governor's daughter, in a port he had just that afternoon managed to escape. She turned back, gazing across the water; the Black Pearl was indeed there on the horizon…

It was dangerous for him to be here. Elizabeth had not realized that she missed his presence in her life already, especially given how annoyed she had been with him in the past. He had only been a part of it for a short while, yet it seemed he had made a profound impact in that time. Nevertheless, Elizabeth would hate to know that she was the reason that he was here, endangering himself and likely endangering his crew as well. And what her father and poor James would think if they discovered good Captain Jack Sparrow with his arm bold as you pleased around her waist–alone, it seemed, with an unmarried nobleman's daughter!

Jack suddenly released her and she was surprised to find that once the heat of his body and gentle pressure of his arm were gone, she missed them. A moment later, he appeared in front of her, shrugging on his coat with his hat in hand. He looked a bit–disheveled…though perhaps that was how he always looked. He was, after all, a pirate.

"You asked for something memorable, darling–don't tell me you're disappointed."

What in the world was he talking about? Elizabeth stared at him as though he had begun speaking a foreign language; he just grinned, looking very much like a mischievous little boy proud of the turmoil he had created. As she tried to find words, tried to find a way to make him explain what exactly she had asked to be "memorable," and what he could have done to disappoint her…and why he was so obviously gloating. Because he had gotten away from the Royal Navy? Because he had the Pearl? Because…

Jack had returned to her side. He extended one arm towards the surf, and Elizabeth noticed the longboat there for the first time.

"After you, Mrs. Sparrow…"

Her eyes flew open. Jack's voice still rang in her ears, and for a moment Elizabeth felt she might wake to find herself on the Black Pearl again instead of in her own bedchamber in Port Royal–but of course, it had simply been a dream. A very real dream. She could feel her heart racing. Mrs. Sparrow…how preposterous! Why would her mind even come up with such a foolish notion? Jack Sparrow would never marry anyone, and even if he did, Elizabeth felt sorry for the woman. He was a scallywag; he drank too much. He probably had dozens of women in Tortuga and God only knew where else waiting to welcome him back into their beds. He thought only of himself. Yet he was terribly charming. Even Will had called him a good man. For all his flaws, he was a good man,was he not? He was not like Barbossa; he did not kill for sport.

Elizabeth was to be married to Will. She would be a proper, respectable woman. She would be a model wife. Will loved her as truly as any woman could ever hoped to be loved…and she loved him.

But Will–Will would never do that. It may have been a mere dream, but Jack's words–you asked for something memorable–rang in her ears. It raised gooseflesh on her arms and left a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. Not dread, not disgust–something else entirely that she could not begin to put a name to. She knew exactly what the dream Jack had been referring to. And it was something her sweet young blacksmith would never dream of; nor James Norrington, for that matter.

No one would ever make love to Elizabeth on a deserted beach.

She would never truly be a part of anyone's crew, nor of that deliciously wicked lifestyle to which she had been exposed for a mercifully but disappointingly period of time.

And despicable as pirates could be, Elizabeth found that she truly longed to be amongst their number. She wanted adventure and excitement and unpredictability in her life. She wanted someone to make love to her in the sand–she wanted it to be a man with all the devilish charm of Jack Sparrow.

Her hand absently reached up to trace over the gold piece that had once hung around her neck. It was that that had gotten them involved in this whole mess in the first place…but it had been her only connection to the romance and danger of life on the high seas. She was disappointed to find that it was no longer there–though she had known it would not be. Will had been angry that she had taken it and rightly so. It was his father's "gift" to him. And still–still, despite his own father being a pirate, despite defending Jack and helping him to escape, Elizabeth knew that Will did not share her longing. He had what he wanted here in Port Royal. He would be all too happy to someday take over Mr. Brown's shop. He would be a good father, an excellent husband. She would have all the support and love she desired. Eventually, her father would be proud of her, knowing she was happy and that Will could not make them wealthy but at least assure that they were comfortable.

And they would never suspect that there was an emptiness in her life that could not be filled–not by her father; not by Will; not by children.

There was, of course, one man who could fill it.

Elizabeth scrambled out of bed. Her heart still pounded so loudly within her breast that she would be surprised if it did not wake the entire household. She reached blindly into the dark until she found her dressing gown, pulling it over her thin nightgown. It was not cold, but she clutched it to her tightly, half-hoping that it would comfort her–keep her safe… Yet the thing she needed to be kept safe from was herself. Her own desires…

She crept out of the bedchamber, trying to go silently down the stairs, clutching the railing as she did so. Her hands and feet both felt unsteady. The moonlight was just enough to light her way. The door to her father's office was open and for one terrible moment, she thought he might be there working on something. She peeked around the door, hardly daring to breathe–what would her excuse be for coming down this late? Luckily, there were no candles or lanterns burning within. Her father was upstairs in his own bed, having untroubled dreams of whatever it was he dreamt of. Her father… Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a step into the office.

It was shadowy, but she found her way to his desk and fumbled for paper–ink–a pen…

With trembling fingers, she began to write.

It was late; the sun had dipped below the horizon, bathing the docks of Tortuga in a warm golden light as he approached them. Jack Sparrow was once again captain of the Black Pearl and he had never been happier. He had a reliable first mate, a loyal crew, and Hector Barbossa was dead. He had escaped execution thanks to old Bootstrap's son and Gibbs had not let him down–the Pearl had been there to rescue him. So far, the Royal Navy had not come after them. The future looked bright. If he regretted anything, it was ending his acquaintance with the lovely Governor Swann's daughter so soon. There was more to Elizabeth than met the eye, and if not for her, he and young Will Turner might both have been executed. Still, he supposed there would be plenty of other women whose acquaintances–and more–he could benefit from in the future.

However fond he had been of Elizabeth Swann, there was no point in dwelling on her. It was not Jack's style.

He approached the gangplank of his ship rather slowly. He had just come back from one of the town's many public houses, his familiar swaggering walk made more prominent by the amount of alcohol he had consumed already that day. This would be their last night in Tortuga, however, and he did not much fancy waking up with a horrible headache in them morning as they disembarked. The crew would be groggy enough without having a foul-tempered captain to boot.

There was a figure standing at the top of the gangplank; the person's back was turned. Jack frowned. He could not make out which of his crewmembers this was, nor could he entirely understand why he was just dawdling there–doing no work, nor out enjoying himself on their last night in port.

When Jack was halfway up the gangplank, the figure turned to face him.

It was a very handsome and skinny young man, though also very young Jack supposed, wearing a large-brimmed hat which shielded part of his face from view. His clothes looked almost too big and he did not wear them very comfortably. Jack was certain that this was not one of his own crewmembers, though he had no qualms with letting another hand aboard as long as they could do an adequate amount of work aboard the Pearl.

"Hello, Captain Sparrow."

That voice seemed familiar. He narrowed his eyes, taking a couple of steps forward to peer more closely at the figure's face.

"I've come to find the man I love."

Now Jack's eyes widened. This was not–it could not be– "Elizabeth?" He stretched out a hand to remove the hat, and sure enough, it was not a handsome boy at all but a young woman standing before him. It was Elizabeth Swann to be exact, looking awkward in her borrowed clothing, but nevertheless beautiful. Her hair was wrapped up tightly. He was too surprised to grin, to say anything, to do anything for that matter. Why was she there? How had she come? And he could not imagine what she was talking about. The man she loved was William Turner.

Elizabeth, however, did not give him the opportunity to refute anything. She closed the distance between them, grabbing a fistful of his coat as she did so, and pressed her lips against his with fierce determination. This was just as shocking as seeing her standing there, but even if Jack's mind was frozen, tying to make heads or tails out of this revelation, his body knew just what to do. He put one arm around her, pulling her closer so that she was pressed up against him. His eyes closed.

Intoxicating as the kiss was, Elizabeth forced herself to put a little space between them, pulling her face away. Her heart was again racing; her blood all but sang in her veins. She had done it–she had come to Tortuga. She had found Jack. She had gone so far as to kiss him and to say she loved him. Now, she was going to be a pirate, if he would have her.

"I've come to find a bit of freedom, Jack," she said softly. "I fully intend to invoke my right of parlay."

Finally, a grin appeared on Jack's handsome face. He doffed his hat to her.

"Welcome aboard the Pearl, darling."

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