Author's Note: if you went to the midnight showing, I'm jealous :P Anyway, This is me getting ready for #4 and a whole new cast of characters. So excited! But here's a little goodbye to the old ones first (Also, I'll be editing and adding a little later).

Calypso's Choice

Invisible and without solid form, the sea goddess Calypso raced along the crests of waves, flying ten leagues in as many seconds. She was one with the water, the wind, all the creatures of both, flitting in and amongst them as she pleased. She dove into the bright blue water with a group of porpoises and then rose into the never-ending sky with a flock of gulls. She was the embodiment of the sea, and this was how she was meant to exist.

For long, dreadful years she had been kept captive in a human form, forced away by those who wanted a tame sea. Forced away by pirates. Well, it had been five years since her release, but five years was nothing to a being who was born at the beginning of the world. She raced faster, rage building inside of her. There, off the coast of a vibrant green Caribbean island, was a pirate ship. Two brutes slashed at each other, screaming insults. Finally one sank his dagger into the other's heart, and the man crumpled. Senseless, meaningless! She no longer thought in words but was wholly consumed by wrath. Storm clouds covered the sky as far as the eye could see and lightening blazed. Perched far above in the clouds, Calypso could still sense the fear of the sailors on deck, but she didn't care. They were all savages, degenerates who wanted to bind her, tie her down. She would kill them all.

A green flash appeared on the horizon, and where it had been, there was a ship. Davy Jones, come to take the dead away. Lightening flashed again, for Calypso had no love left for the man who had cut out his own heart rather than give it to her. It had happened exactly like this, too. All those years ago, she had been racing tirelessly through her domain. At the back of her mind there was a happiness in knowing that the day had been marked for her to meet Davy Jones. The ten years had passed and he would be waiting on land for her. But then she felt the tug of the freezing northern currents in her heart and was off again. She let the day slip away as she basked in the power of those unexplored, silent places. And Davy Jones's heart grew black and bitter. She did remember, later, that he had expected her. But in another ten years they would be together and none of it would matter. After all, ten years is nothing to an immortal goddess.

The memories stopped, and with them the world. Raindrops stood between the sea and sky without falling, and waves stood still. She, a goddess, had forgotten something. She had forgotten that five years past, a great battle was waged, Davy Jones was killed, and the one with A Touch of Destiny had taken his place. A goddess never forgot, never made a mistake. Her years living as a human must have broken something in her, ruined her.

Time started up again, but the sky was clear of the storm that had so suddenly started. Will Turner steered his ship toward the place where the dead man had been committed to the sea, ready to guide this newest soul away. The sea was a different place since he had become captain of the Flying Dutchman. No longer did the spirits of men who died at sea wait in darkness and haunt the living. Though perhaps (he couldn't be sure) there were more spirits of the dead than there had been before, for the sea was also more wild and dangerous than it had been in Jones's time.

"Will, we've found him. Time to go," first mate Bootstrap Bill Turner announced. He was leading a young man across the deck, and though the spirit looked solid and alive, he would never walk on Earth again.

"You know where to take us gentlemen!" Will directed. He turned to the spirit. "Welcome aboard. I'm sorry we have met so soon."

Then he turned away. From his first day, he had not quite known how to react to the spirits. He had seen plenty of dead men in his life, but he hadn't ever had to worry about talking to them. Usually he was kind; they were the only new people he would meet in this life. A few of the crew were disapproving though. They told him it was cruel to treat the dead as if they were still living. That was probably just the more hardened members left over from Jones's crew. They were bitter that they had never had the chance these castaways got. Today Will could not face his duty, not the way he usually did. His mind kept flitting from one thought to another, like the gulls that sometimes circled the masts without ever landing. Always he returned to the same thought. Five years to the day. Five years still to go. There was more, an infinite amount of pain behind these thoughts, but it remained wordless. He had a job to do.

"My name's Maurice," the spirit smiled weakly and held out a hand to Bootstrap. He looked down, sensing a sort of stigma. How terrible it was to feel alive, your death existing only in the guarded eyes of those around you.

"So.…Has the captain always been so…"

"No," said Bootstrap. "Maurice, was it? What exactly are you leaving behind?"

Leaving? But how could that be?

"Hattie." He paled, looking more like a ghost. "I needed to go, so I could get the money for her medicine."

Bootstrap smiled a sad, kind smile. "So she'll be with you soon. You won't be alone long."

"No!" Instantly Maurice was savage, though he paused. He wondered if his fists could even touch the vile man.

"I made Philip promise to if I couldn't!"

"Alright, alright, I didn't mean anything by it." Bootstrap was so calm. Maurice couldn't bear it. He felt trapped on this ship. He felt sure his ship was just there, to the right of where they were. And yet he saw nothing. Even if he should jump off, he felt there was nowhere to go.

"What've you to complain of," said the captain suddenly. His back was to Bootstrap and the spirit, but he had been listening to them.

"If she does die, what have you to be unhappy about? You couldn't ask for more."

Maurice's silence was such that it compelled this captain to face him.

"How could I ever profess to love her if I didn't value her life?"

"How could you wish to be apart from her, if you love her?"

Maurice rubbed his forehead. "She won't die. Look, what do you care? And what happens from here…?"

Will searched this stranger's eyes. How many times would he see Elizabeth again? Four? Five? And then it would not matter that he could go ashore every ten years. Was this how he had come to think of her death?

"Captain? What happens from here?"

He shook his head. "Do you see that sunset, Maurice? Soon we will catch the horizon."

Maurice said nothing, but pointed mutely behind Will. Will turned to see Tia Dalma, though it was Tia as she had never been before. Her hair itself seemed to be sea weed, and instead of a ragged dress, she wore a living school of fish that circled tightly around her body. His eyes widened at the sight, but he regained composure and bowed his head in respect.

"Will Turn-ner," said the goddess in a strong accent, "I told you that Destiny awaited you."

Destiny was cruel.

"It doesn't have to wait for me any longer."

"Perhaps. Perhaps it never waited for you at all." Calypso's gaze was steady as she destroyed what remained of Will's world.

"William, do you know my sister Ert takes the dead away erself? No, listen to me. I told her she was a fool. We are goddesses. We are meant to be free. How can she be, when she is forever ferrying your dead away? I have never so constrained myself. I am the sea."

"My lady. Calypso. Have I failed in my duty?"

"Allow me to take him, William," she said, placing a hand on Maurice's shoulder.

"Wait—" Maurice looked around, lost. He did not like William, or Bootstrap, but….

"Is this what happens next?"

Will met his eyes one more time and, without regard for his crew or the goddess, said, "She won't die."

Blue light flared and the spirit and the goddess were gone.

"Hoist the anchor, we're going." But Calypso stood before him again. Saltwater, her essence, flowed from her. Or tears?

It was Will she grasped by the shoulder now. He felt a part of himself die. Closed his eyes. Waited for the rest to follow.

You have to do this one more time, Elizabeth. By this, of course, she meant live through five years without him. As she had for the last four years on this day, she took the chest from its hidden place and listened. Strong and steady, like him. And now…silent. She ran.

She was the first to believe it, because she knew that they were strong, both of them. They would survive anything, and come out of it together. But it took longer for Will to believe. The part of him that had died, the feeling of the sea, was slowly filling up. He knew he was weak, but he could become strong with Elizabeth. How long did they have together? Decades. A lifetime.

Soon others noticed the change in the sea. They could not know that a goddess had sacrificed her freedom, and irresponsibility, for a man. Storms there were aplenty, but it was rarer that you got that feeling that something else was there, churning the waters, filling the lightning with magic. The sea had changed. But those who looked to the sea had not changed. Jack's crew didn't dare to voice their suspicions. They let their captain steer them into increasingly dangerous situations, but none of them found what they were looking for.

Then one day, something did change. Not the sea, something else entirely.

The woman, with the dark hair, the flickering eyes, was waiting on the Pearl. And if any of the crew had feared that adventure might be lost, they would soon be proved wrong. Because there could be no peace where Sparrow and this woman were. A true tempest was brewing and would never die so long as these two walked the same deck.

Author's Note: So, who do you think, Anamaria, or Angelica? I'll never tell ;)