Title: The Tortuga Chronicles

Characters: Will/Elizabeth, Jack, Anamaria

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Gore Verbinski, Ted Elliot, and Terry Rossio, various studios including but not limited to First Mate Productions Inc., Jerry Bruckheimer Films, and Walt Disney Pictures. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN: Written for Dala. You wanted Elizabeth/Will sword fighting and there is some, but it grew past that and into a sixteen-page mini-epic (for me). There cannot be enough love given to my darling betas. Ociwen and Watersword, I love you both dearly.

The Tortuga Chronicles

Overture

"I'm going to Tortuga."

Will squeezed his eyes shut, hard, until white spots dizzied him. And then he opened them. Elizabeth was still there: a vision in cream and silk, hat ribbons framing her delicate chin, embroidered travelling case resting at her feet. It wasn't a complete shock, not really, but it still felt like a punch to the gut.

Since the wedding, Elizabeth had been growing restless. The Governor would chuckle nervously and liken her to a butterfly, but Will was reminded more of the lions in the travelling circuses that used to visit London, prowling and snarling and snapping at anyone who got close.

Now, though, Elizabeth appeared quite calm, pale and beautiful in the dusty light. She looked vaguely thoughtful, but her chin was raised slightly, a defiant tilt reminiscent of their childhood.

"I've told my father that I'm visiting Aunt Alice in Kingston and I've booked passage on a merchant ship. It'll sail in thirty minutes. Will…"

"I can't go with you." His voice sounded flat, unconvincing. He winced and gestured at the swords lining the walls around them. "I've got too much work to do."

Elizabeth sucked in a violent breath through her teeth. "That's an awful excuse and you know it. You've been working constantly for the last nine months. No one would think twice about you coming away with me to visit relatives. In fact, my father encourages it!"

"The commodore--"

"Had a new sword for his ceremony. He hardly needs another so soon."

Will felt a hot stab of anger. "You have no idea what it's like on that island!"

"Then show me!" Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. Then, stepping forward, she reached a hand up to his face, fingertips grazing his jawline. "Show me," she insisted. "You've holed yourself up in here for months, returning when you think I'm asleep and rising with the sun. I never see you anymore!"

It hurt, to see Elizabeth blinking back tears. She spoke the truth; Will had lost himself in swordsmithing after the wedding in the hope that he could smother the constant aching in his chest. He needed, quite desperately, but what exactly he needed he wasn't sure. It was something like the ache he felt for Elizabeth, and that had frightened him at first. It made his eyes burn and his head buzz and it hadn't receded at all over the past weeks.

Did he need an adventure? The feel of salt-spray on skin, perhaps, or a rolling deck under his feet; the snap of sails and rum-laced promises. That was what had kept his father away from home: the siren-call of the sea and the life of a pirate. He had left his wife and son behind for that, and now Elizabeth was leaving, too, and he couldn't.

"It's so difficult…" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, tumbling over themselves like flotsam. He pressed his hand over Elizabeth's. "I don't know anymore. I thought I did, but now…"

"Then think on it," hissed Elizabeth, eyes darting over Will's face. "You must. I'll wait for you, but only for a fortnight. Will? You must come within a fortnight, do you hear me?" Her voice was low and fierce, eyes glaring, lashes glittering. "You have to come for me, Will."

Will couldn't speak, he didn't have the words, so he leant over and kissed her. It was messy and painful and Will could taste blood bittering the back of his tongue, his or hers or maybe both, but he didn't care, not now, not--

Elizabeth jerked back. Her hat had fluttered noiselessly to the floor and her lips were shadowed, bruised. "I have to go. The ship…"

"Five minutes," Will murmured. "Five minutes more." She turned away. "I'll tell you more about Tortuga. Elizabeth!"

But she was gone.