"…that does not absolve me of my other sins."

She looked out to her crew, shimmying along the rope that led to their ship, her ship, and felt something within her…catch.

James Norrington had betrayed her. He had betrayed everything she stood for, everything he himself stood for, when he plotted and schemed and gave the heart of Davy Jones to Cutler Beckett. Even now, perhaps especially now, that betrayal struck deep.

And yet.

Had she not betrayed him? Accepting his proposals of marriage, leading him on, giving him hope when all along her all consuming love for Will had made sure that there was never a hope for the Commodore? Elizabeth had grown up quickly in the past years, quicker perhaps than she should, and the childishness which had pervaded her when she was first taken captive by Barbossa and played with men's hearts so easily was fading fast.

It was time to stop the circle of lies and betrayal. It was time it ended.

"Come with us."

She turned, meeting James' eyes, suddenly turned from sad and resigned to shocked…hopeful. Even after all the time which had passed, all the wrongs between them, he still looked at her like she was worth it all. She could still inspire hope in him. The catch in her chest tightened at that look - it was as though they were back in Port Royal, back to being the 'sensible match' of the town, back to his blind adoration of her. Yet somehow it was also vastly, painfully different because they both knew better than that now.

"Come withme."

At the clarification his eyes widened further and she saw him take in a breath that was sharp, disbelieving. However almost as soon as the words were from her mouth a voice called out in the darkness,

"Who goes there?"

He grabbed her, pulled her behind him by the belt around her waist, shielding her with his body. His sword was already drawn and though her eyes skirted the upper deck, looking for the one who'd spotted them, her eyes drifted down almost as quickly as they'd been raised, tracing the line of his jaw, the collar of his coat, small things which she had once been very familiar with in the long hours of polite company and conversation.

"Go. I will follow."

She stopped, eyes narrowing. He didn't look at her as he spoke. She had heard James give orders, deal in pleasantries, speak vile things in the heat of drunkenness, dole out platitudes and heard the voice he seemed to have reserved only for her. Yet this was spoken with none of those in mind. No, the tone in his voice was one she had only recently, painfully, become familiar with.

"You're lying."

He turned, his expression panicked, and she knew instantly she was right. After a moment, his eyes capturing hers and holding her gaze as surely as anything ever had, he seemed to still, to quiet…to become resigned.

"Our destinies have been entwined, Elizabeth…"

He paused and she felt, was terribly, horrifically sure, that this was akin to goodbye.

"…but never joined."

Then he leaned forward, hesitating for only a brief, precious moment, before kissing her. She couldn't say it was a revelation as had been her first kiss with Will on the parapets of Port Royal, nor could she say it tasted of the bitterness her kiss with Jack had held. It was so…James. Sweet and brief and reticent in release.

She opened her eyes the moment his lips lifted and found his face still close, eyes on her as though trying to memorize the details, the intensity of his expression scaring her a little because she had been right; this was goodbye, his goodbye to her.

"Go…now."

It was his voice that made her hesitate, his voice which sounded so much like it wanted to issue an order and yet shook with emotion - because of her. Because he was leaving her as surely as she was him. Elizabeth looked over his shoulder and saw a shadow appearing; they were coming, the crew were coming and they were going to kill James for his betrayal. Kill him because of her. Her jaw stiffened and she reached forward, grasping his upper arm.

"Not without you."

The hesitation on her part was enough. It was enough for the shadow to appear in full, silhouetted form. Her expression must have warned him for James turned, shielding her again with his body as though she were still the young girl with the too tight corset and not a Pirate Lord and Captain.

"Back to your station, sailor."

His voice was stern and yet she, she who had known him for so long, could detect the fear at its base. The fact that she knew in her heart the fear was not for his life but for her own struck hard. Her eyes swerved, trying to find a weapon, anything to defend herself with. There was nothing on deck, nothing not old and worn and covered in seaweed and barnacles. Elizabeth came to settle her eyes back on James' back and an idea emerged. Gently she reached round, hand snaking into the inside of his jacket. She felt him start slightly but he didn't react overtly - for that she was grateful.

James Norrington had been a Commodore, and now an Admiral. Before that a Lieutenant, a Captain and as a child he had been under the tutelage of his father - also an Admiral. James had grown up among sailors, had grown up knowing pirates could attack at any moment - and in part that had fostered his hatred against them. So it was all but a given that he would have more than just his sword to hand, in case of trouble.

"Stand down. That's an order."

James was trying to reason with the crew member but Elizabeth already knew from experience that there was no reasoning with members of Davy Jones' crew. They were mad, all of them mad. Her fumbling continued with renewed purpose and sure enough her hand caught at his waist upon something that was large and metal. Pulling it out slowly she found in her grasp a pistol.

"An order…part of the crew, part of the ship…"

Her mind whirled. One shot, she had a weapon which could be effective but once. Her eyes flicked back to the members of her own crew still climbing across the rope. If she and James were killed her crew would be caught, the rope would be climbed across, her tethered ship once again boarded, the men in her care dead. If she shot the pirate before them attention would be garnered from the rest of the crew and she and James would be dead anyway. There was no way they were getting up on that rope now - that method of escape was gone.

"Steady man!" James shouted, drawing his sword.

Elizabeth looked up from the pistol and saw the pirate advancing, his barnacled, grey face shrouded by shadow and the limp, salt water soaked strands of his long hair. She could not see his face but the hunched shoulders and voice had a note of familiarity…could it be Will's Father? The train of thought was abruptly cut off as the dead man's wild ramblings increased in volume and desperation. A decision had to be made. A decision by her; not just as Elizabeth Swann but as Captain of the Empress, as Pirate Lord of the South China Sea and keeper of her men. The crewman's voice was rising yet further in tempo and volume now, madness evident,

"…part of the crew, part of the ship, part of the crew…"

She pressed close to James, pushing the pistol in his free hand and pressing her mouth to his ear to say clearly, without the possibility of being denied, one clear order from seaman to seaman, from friend to friend.

"Shoot the rope, and jump."

She turned and scrambled up onto the edge of the wooden railing surrounding the deck as a painfully loud, painfully close shot rang out. Her remaining crew screamed as the rope holding them dropped, sending them plummeting into the unforgiving arms of the sea. Amid the cacophony a yell from the pirate cornering them,

"All hands! Prisoner escape!"

Elizabeth looked down and her stomach clenched as she saw James had turned his back to her, was instead trying to hold off the crewman, his blade rising as the other's fell and the voices of other lost souls who made up Jones' crew rose as they sought the source of the commotion…

"James!" she yelled leaning forward and grabbing him, pulling him back towards her with all her strength and only momentum to help her, as the blade of the pirate drove towards his exposed chest.

The scramble however caused her to lose her already precarious footing and gravity did the rest - after a moment's frightened, pointless fight she found herself falling, dragging a terrifyingly limp and heavy James back with her, over the edge of the Dutchman and down, down, down into the black embrace of the sea.

Falling into the ocean was like hitting a brick wall - the impact, painfully tearing her breath from her chest, was terrible and it took several moments of thrashing before she surfaced. The first gasp of air burned her lungs, her eyes stung from the salt water, her entire body felt dull like lead. Yet Elizabeth forced herself to keep afloat.

It was then that she realized that James was not with her.

Panic set in, sharp and intense, as her eyes scanned the area around her. She couldn't see him. He had definitely fallen with her, a glance to the Dutchman showed a small crowd gathering from the point they had leaped but all of them were shadows of the deformed creatures which made up Jones' crew, none of them were James - she would know him. He had been in her grasp as she fell but now was not so the only other option was…

Elizabeth submerged herself, forcing her eyes open against all instinct and searching for a figure in the dark depths. She saw nothing, nothing but shadow broken briefly and barely from lights above. Desperately writhing to and fro in her search her heart sunk lower and lower as the realization came…James was gone. Her lungs felt as though they were about to burst, the Dutchman would be in pursuit, her crew though now loyal had their limits - they would not wait while their Captain searched the sea bed for the man who had been part of their imprisonment and had claimed allegiance to their enemy.

Resigned and with a heavy heart Elizabeth struck for the surface.

Her head broke through to the sound of her own name being shouted. The bellow was desperate but she knew it wasn't the voice of one of her crew calling out. It was that of someone far more familiar.

Spinning messily in the water she came to see James, not feet from her, turning just as wildly as she, shouting out her name.

"James!"

Elizabeth propelled herself towards him even as he lurched towards her. Once within reach she found herself grasped tightly, pulled close to him.

"Dear God I thought you dead!" he said, his voice filled with such relief as was mirrored within her. Though she and James had not been close in years to have known he was alive in the world was a comfort - and to know that still be true, to have him still there, familiar and close and not dead through saving her, was a comfort and, yes, a relief.

"The Empress." she blurted out, looking up fearfully to the Dutchman which was now alive with activity aboard its decks. It would have no commander now…did that mean Jones would take over and reclaim his heart?

"Come on."

He sounded desperate and she had to work herself from his vice like grip so that she could swim towards her ship. To her surprise it was she who reached it first, outpacing him in the water and grabbing hold of the rope ladder which had been let down by her crew. Not so quick to betray her after all they all stood, crowded round the top of the ladder as she climbed. Every so often she glanced back down and if it appeared that James was struggling she put it down to the weight of his wet clothes; heavy with brocade and made from material which weighed when soaked through as they were.

Her crew helped her over the edge and suddenly she was stood on her deck, on her ship…and she was safe. Or as safe as the English, female Captain of a Chinese ship filled with hard, seasoned pirates could possibly be.

"To your stations!" she called out, barely giving herself time to breathe free air as she cast a glance back at the Dutchman, still frighteningly close but strangely not making any moves to retake them, "We head for Shipwreck Cove."

A flurry of activity followed her words and for a moment Elizabeth allowed herself the luxury of watching her men do as she had ordered. After years spent answering to the whims of others having the power to make decisions, to make things happen, was intoxicating.

"So you truly are their Captain."

James' voice drew her to turn. He was stood, a hand against the railing at the edge of the deck, almost supporting himself upright. There was a wry smile on his face but beneath it his skin was ashen, body tense with…something. Then her eyes found his other hand, pressed against his stomach, and the blossoming red against the white of his shirt answered all.

"DOCTOR!" she roared, not turning to the crew, not taking her eyes off James as she surged forward, one hand supporting him at his shoulder while the other pressed over his own, over his wound.

He looked at her then, just like he had so recently before he kissed her on the Dutchman, and she was suddenly afraid. Because the last time he had looked at her like that he was saying goodbye.

If you can't wait to read on the completed story can be found here: .com (/) post (/) 41006435953 (/) masterpost