DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING THAT THE MOUSE OWNS; BECAUSE I AM NOT THE MOUSE.

So many times he had pondered what she would smell like, how her skin would feel, how her lips would taste. But ponder was all he could do. He could feel nothing. Not the feel of the knife in his chest when she stabbed him, not the feel of her flesh as he cut her, not the warmth of the dress he forced her to give back. He pretended to feel it, but he didn't. He longed to feel it, but he couldn't.

He heard her shriek of surprise when Jack pulled the trigger. The bullet plunged into the very heart which so longed for her.

He remembered the strange blackness. Strange dreams, dreams of her, dreams of water in his boots, dreams of Jack the monkey screeching, dreams of Hell. Or was he really in Hell? First he saw Singapore. Then he was in a ship, on a very puzzling journey. First there was a frozen sea, then a waterfall, then an endless stretch of sand and a blank white sky. Then there was a harsh female voice calling to him. The strange voice pulled him back up the waterfall, back through the water, back through the blackness. He opened his eyes and stared at the unfamiliar woman leaning over him. She was infinitely strange, intriguing, but not beautiful like her. "Hector Barbossa, I have need of you."

It was strange how, in death, he had been given a revelation of how to get to Davy Jones Locker. He had seen Singapore, which gave him the idea that perhaps that nasty old pirate Sao Feng had some way of getting to the locker. Tia Dalma was a puzzlement. She claimed that Jack Sparrow was about to die, and would need rescuing. Barbossa tried to refuse the task, but she glared at him, and to his horror, his hand began to rot. So he accepted that in return for his life, complete with feeling, he would help Jack Sparrow. If indeed he needed help.

Tia Dalma told him he had only been dead hours before she brought him back. So he wondered around aimlessly for nearly a year, restless and unhappy. Whenever he went too far from Tia's hut, he began seeing his true form, dead and skeletal. Then one day, Jack Sparrow and Will Turner came to the hut. Jack said something about saving a female, and Barbossa immediately felt fear. She was in danger. Elizabeth. He didn't even know her last name, since for so long he had thought it to be Turner. He listened to the conversation. Jack was cursed with the black spot. So it was true that he would die and need saving. Barbossa could only hope he would somehow see Elizabeth again.

He did see her again, crying quietly the night Jack Sparrow died. He saw the shock in her eyes when he came down the stairs. She did not look frightened of him, or angry to see him, just shocked that he was alive. Maybe he had a chance of becoming her friend, despite all he had done to her. Maybe…

They had become comrades in arms, battle buddies. He was sadly aware however, that she considered him something of an uncle, or some such nonsense. Didn't she see the looks he gave her? Didn't she see his obvious admiration of her; her body, her mind, and her spirit? He knew she would reject his feelings if he made her aware of them, so he kept them locked away, knowing that, in a young woman's eyes, he could in no way contend with Will Turner, or even Jack Sparrow. Why should she even spare him a glance? He should be content with her friendliness toward him.

He was by nature a taker. He didn't wait for the things he wanted; he just took them. The Black Pearl, the Aztec gold; everything he wanted was his, usually with a steep price. He knew that he could have Elizabeth's body, for he was much stronger than her, he knew he was capable of forcing her physically, but found he did not want to. Of course, he wanted her body, but he wanted it only with her love. He found that he had a mysterious desire to keep her honor intact.

When they got to Singapore, he got to see firsthand the product of his extensive training. Elizabeth had more weapons on her than three fighting men put together, and they were all very well hidden. He couldn't say he didn't enjoy watching most of her clothes being removed, but as he watched weapon after weapon appear, he was very glad he had not tried to force her, as he probably would have ended up dead or castrated.

When they got to Jack, they discovered that she had killed him. He felt strangely proud of her. To kill Jack Sparrow was a feat unimaginable. He had tried several times, and was always unsuccessful.

It was that night, on the Black Pearl, that it happened. He found her crying quietly in a corner of the deck. He didn't say a word, just pulled her into his arms. He was not a characteristically tender person, but he cared for her, horrible truth though it was. He did not want to care, he just did. Turner was angry at her for being such a pirate and for keeping secrets, Jack was angry at her for killing him, and Barbossa was infinitely proud of her. She had gone from being a clever but frightened girl on a cursed ship to being a pirate, but a good one, someone who did not enjoy killing or hurting others, but knew when it was necessary. He held her as she cried.

After some time, she raised her tearstained face to his, and without thinking, he kissed her. He expected to be pushed back and slapped, or stabbed, or shot, but instead, she kissed him back, hard. She slid her hands up over his shoulders, pressing him against the mast. Suddenly she shuddered and pulled back, sobbing again. "That's…that's what…I…I did…to him. I kissed him, pushed him back…chained him, and left him to the worst death I can think of." She collapsed, sobbing, to the deck, the guilt of a murderess pushing her down. He grasped her hands, gently pulling her to her feet and capturing her mouth with his again. "Turner and Sparrow may pretend to care as long as you do what they like, but I know everything horrid and unladylike you've done, and I care anyway. You're a pirate, we all know that, but for some reason they don't let you act like one. Pirates betray each other, that's the way it goes. I care for you, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't betray you if I needed to. Sparrow's your friend, but you betrayed him to save lives. Sometimes one must be sacrificed for many."

In the dim light of the world of the dead, Elizabeth Swan lifted her face once again the that of the one man who really understood her, and though later days would separate them, for that one moment, they loved each other.