Sanctuary. It remained a place of freedom, a safe haven where an individual could be hidden from all the world's scruples and derision. A place where one could be free to bear his or her soul, revealing their utmost desires withough facing the criticism of anyone. It was almost a break from reality or an escape to a sort of utopia, even if the outside façade did assume the form of chaotic normalcy. Sanctuary didn't have to be an actual place that granted relief from the harsh face of everyday life; it could be granted through manifestation in a human being. In Elizabeth Swann's case, her sanctuary took such a form, one that held tight to her waist as he shot the ropes connecting the Hai Peng to the Flying Dutchman. The shock of the cool water embracing her flesh brought her back to reality for a moment, but as she felt James' grip around her tighten, Elizabeth's sense of panic quickly transformed into a strange calmness.

"Elizabeth - hold on!" came James' rough voice, marred by the salt water of the ocean. She didn't respond, yet felt herself cry out as James relinquished his hold on her. In a blind panic, she reached out for him, finding only the dark murkiness of their current prison. She couldn't see, she couldn't breathe. All that she knew was that she felt empty - she had lived for a year without him in her life, and now his absence, even whilst he lingered mere inches away from her, wrought a semblance of despair upon the young woman. Elizabeth's fingers continued to grope around in the darkness for her lost companion, her eyelids fluttering open to catch sight of James holding his hand out to her. He seemed to be drifting away, but a stony look of determination was etched in his features. "Elizabeth!" She felt a hand close around her own, and that was when the darkness took her.