(This fic is set a day or two after the second movie ended, when the crew is staying with Tia Dalma in her shack. Of course, I have imagined that there are more chambers than there are in the movie, and it provides a sense of Elizabeth and Will's angsty distance before AWE. I want you to prepare yourself ;D . This will not end with a happily ever after because I am only carrying this through (probably) three chapters... In other words my end note will be when the Elizabeth, Will, Barbossa, and the others are departing for Singapore. No copyright infringement intended, just my take on part of the gap between the second and third movies. Oh and please, don't bash me or Will for the "gaze" that Elizabeth notices near the end of this chapter. Will is very upset, but not a weanie, all right? I don't want it to come off like that. Thanks very much. ENJOY and REVIEW! )

Sitting, Regretting, Wanting

Elizabeth approached the dark woman cautiously, stepping away from the men's conversation about their impending journey. "Tia Dalma," she whispered, "is there a place where I may wash?" She immediately felt silly and selfish for thinking of her appearance, but she could not bear to listen to Will and Barbossa's chatter concerning the locker, and she felt swathed in remorseful grime.

Gazing into her tear-streaked countenance, Tia Dalma nodded slightly, outstretched her right hand, and grazed Elizabeth's cheek with her black fingernails. "Mmm... You wish to cleanse de grave filth from your frame?"

Elizabeth pulled back, stuck with fright that the mysterious woman knew her devious secret. "Yes, I suppose I would."

After handing Elizabeth a vanilla candle and retrieving a lantern for herself, she commanded, "Come, dis way." The woman waved and turned, sauntering toward a passageway while clutching the corner of her patched brown gown. After passing through vine-like streamers that dangled from an entryway, Elizabeth and Tia Dalma entered a small room that included a small collection of wine, a side table, and back door in the far left corner. "Dere are clothes in de chest." she said lightly, pointing to a large container that spanned across one wall. As she handed the sullied woman the lantern she added, "If you wish to, I would recommend bading in de morning." Without another word, the lady swiveled around and took her leave.

Elizabeth strolled over to a make-shift vanity that sat next to the chest, and seated herself at the stool, sighing as she gazed into the cracked looking-glass. She dipped a spare rag into the wash bucket and then swabbed the material across her smudged face and down her ashy neck. She set the cloth down and stared into the glass that had a zigzagged split down the middle. Her heart thudded as memories of Jack shone before her. The word "Pirate" seemed to spell itself out in the water droplets on the table, and she shook her head to try to forget. His last word had singed her so much because it possessed the truth. "But," she promised herself, "I cannot get caught up in this world anymore." She could not repress the tears that stung like bees, and they trickled on her tattered sleeves. How could she betray two men at once? And why hadn't she talked to Will? She no longer felt the fervid desire to touch Jack. All she wanted was peace among them, but clearly, by Will's expression as she had descended into the longboat, that was impossible. Wiping her face once more with the rag, she decided that it was useless. Her hair was mussed and greased from the wreckage, and she could swear the aroma of rum still clung to her brown vest. Until she bathed properly, removing the grime would be impossible.

"Elizabeth."

She shot up out of her seat, sending the stool clattering to the ground, and spun around to face Will Turner. Her countenance was not in greeting or confusion. He stepped forward, his black boots clinking against the hardwood floors.

"Am I interrupting?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No," she thought, "you are merely halting my self-centered thoughts."

"Tia Dalma said she kept the beverages in this room." He walked toward the opposite side of the chamber where indigo blue wine bottles rested.

Her lips curled and twitched. "There are clothes in the chest." It was an insignificant comment.

"Oh, yes, I suppose I do need a change of wardrobe."

The awkward tension stretched between them.

"I didn't mean... What you're wearing is fine. I just thought-" There was no use. She stopped talking and sat back down, observing Will's actions as he grasped a bottle of alcohol, popped the cork, and poured the remaining liquid into a fresh black mug. "You have drank a lot since we arrived."

He shrugged. "It hasn't been that much. I don't solve my problems with rum like Jack."

His comment brought back recollections of the captain chugging alcohol on the island, and Elizabeth felt the sour tone even more. "No," she thought, "how could she think that? Will is too logical for rum." She clasped her hands together as she replied, "I know you don't. I just noticed the difference."

Will strolled toward her and held out the mug before he swigged the substance. "Would you like a drink?"

Elizabeth nodded, stood up, and clasped the handle, overlapping his hand and feeling a tingling spark between them. "Thank you." the woman said as she sipped upon the fluid, savoring the wine for only a moment. She returned the cup, and the pair locked eyes. "Will, I..." she trailed off. His features were waiting, wishing, and wanting. "I'm sorry we couldn't save your father from Davy Jones."

Will's head sagged. It was not the sentiment he yearned to hear. "There is still time." He lifted his eyes again.

The weight of the word 'time' crushed them both. Elizabeth realized this simple remark applied to their relationship, but she didn't acknowledge it. "Once we rescue Jack and the Black Pearl, everything will work out."

"Do you believe that?" His eyes squinted, and she thought his eyes glazed over abruptly, as if tears threatened him.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

He brushed his hand against her broken nails, but did not grasp her hand. Her posture straightened as if she were prepared to take him in her arms, maybe take his lips. Instead, Will rebuked any hint of affection and turned, his eyes red with misery.

"Why..." she hissed to herself. "Why was it so hard?" Elizabeth collapsed into the stool, looking after Will's departing figure in a dazed state. She crossed her arms, frustrated that she brought this upon herself, for she was the betrayer and she was maintaining their detachment.