***************A/N****************

Okay, it's been a really long time. And I posted a Chapter 2 in the past, but it was really short and rather boring so I took it down and never got around to putting it back up again. Thank you to everyone who wrote a review of this story in the past, I really appreciate it and hope newcomers as well as anyone who read this in the past will enjoy.

I won't waste anymore time babbling on pointlessly.

*Disclaimer: All characters currently in the story are not my property. This is purely fan work and I do not make any profits off this story. I do not own any part of the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise (no matter how much I would like to).

Elizabeth screams as she falls, clutching onto the thick rope that ties her to the ship that she owns. Looking upwards as she drifts to the open sea, she can see Admiral Norrington standing on the deck of the Dutchman, turning away from her already. Before she even understands that he has just cut off his only means of escape, the wooden spar is rammed through his torso with maddening strength.

And all she can see is the way that his body jerks, stiffening for a moment from the sudden intrusion and convulsing once before falling slack with the pain undoubtedly coursing through his veins. His name tears unbidden from her lips, a name she has not properly used for much too long. She can hear herself screaming, begging for this to be a lie, begging for him to be with her instead of on that damned ship where his life fades with each passing moment.

Now, he's falling, a final defiance in the face of Davy Jones, a demand for the dignity of dying where he has chosen. In that defiance, however, Elizabeth sees her chance, and she reaches out with arms made strong by the coarseness of pirate life, carving brave strokes through the water to where he had fallen. Plunging into the salty depths, she forces her eyes open to find his limp body sinking ever deeper into the cold embrace of the sea. Struggling now, as she grasps his hand and tries to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders without moving the thick wood embedded in his abdomen.

His body is heavy in her arms, too heavy. Dead weight, she thinks, before shaking her head and blowing out a bubble of air in frustration. James is unconscious, no help to her as she struggles to kick them both upwards towards the light.

With a gasp, Elizabeth breaks into the welcoming emptiness of breathable air with James in tow, his damned hat and wig having been lost to the clutches of the sea. Gladly, she beams up at the crew members of Sao Feng's ship as they approach her in the rowboat, before offering them James' unresponsive body. After sharing hesitant glances, they carefully heave him onto the boat before turning and pulling Elizabeth on board too.

As the crew members row back to the Empress, Elizabeth sits with James' head on her lap, silently panicking as he coughs blood onto her already-ruined dress. His breaths come with difficulty, rasping out from between his lips as his chest heaves from the effort. Never has she seen him looking so weak, so vulnerable, as he lies crumpled against her, the once-familiar warmth of his large body dissipating in the salty sea air.

Before she knows what she is doing, Elizabeth has pulled him closer, desperately trying to hold in the seeping blood that carries with it the life of a man she has just come to know exists behind the mask. She cannot help the tears that threaten to ooze out of her eyes as she watches James struggle, knowing that he has done this, dare she say it, to protect her. Protect her when she had rejected him so many times, cut into the heart that she hadn't known could break, perhaps did not care could break.

She is dragged from her reverie when he coughs again, grunting with pain, and turns his head slightly so that he is facing her, his face inches from her stomach. She can see the sadness, the despair, etched into his features now that he no longer has the consciousness to hide himself from her. Elizabeth cannot fight against the tears any longer, and they flow down her cheeks, singing on their way until they drip onto his chest. James groans slightly, shifting weakly against her lap as he tries to get into a more comfortable position. His eyelids flutter open, but they are unfocused, glazed with the burning that consumes his weakening body. Elizabeth moves him gently, apologizing as she does so, until he is propped up, leaning back against the bare skin of her arms. Blood trickles from the corner of his lips, and she reaches to wipe it off, her fingers tan against his bloodless face, lingering indiscernibly against his lips as she feels for his fading breath.

"Elizabeth…." She startles upon hearing his voice, low but weak, forcing her name through numb lips, "Elizabeth, wh-wh…"

James shudders deeply, and she wraps her arms tighter around him. He shifts slightly, his face taut with pain as the wooden spar shifts sickeningly in his body. The strangled gasp that tears through his lips causes Elizabeth to tighten her grip on his arm in an attempt to offer comfort.

"Elizabeth…how…h-you… How'm I…you-" James struggles to force the words past his lips, before finally releasing them all in a hurried jumble, "Are you alright?"

The question is so foolish she would laugh if the situation weren't so dire. The silly man is concerned with her well-being, even as he's bleeding out in her arms. A mirthless smile stretches across her lips when he frowns at her slightly and repeats his question in a halting voice.

"You idiot… I'm fine. Don't worry about me. How could you be so stupid? You're such a fool, you goddamn idiot. Why the hell didn't you come with me when I asked you to?" Wincing, she realizes that the last thing he needed right now was her yelling at him and insulting him. He looks so defeated, so exhausted in her grasp, and she opens her mouth to apologize when the shout of a crewmember interrupts her. They've reached the Empress and her men are lowering a rope ladder down to them. One of the crew on the small rowboat gestures towards James, pantomiming throwing him over his shoulder and Elizabeth realizes with a sinking feeling in her gut that the only way to get James up into the ship is for one of her crew to carry him up. With the injury, however, it was going to be a torturous trip for James.

"James… James, I'm so sorry. But you're going to have to let them carry you up. It's going to hurt…James?"

Elizabeth shook his limp form, relief warring with concern in her mind when he does not stir at all. Relief, for he will not be conscious for the arduous journey up the rope ladder, and concern, for she knows that his loss of consciousness cannot bode well for his condition.

She lets two crewmen take his from her, wincing as she watches one hoist James over his shoulder with a grunt of exertion. Her gaze follows them all the way up the ladder, before they vanish over the edge of the ship and she resigns herself to the tedious clamber up.

Sorry, I know that ending was a little lackluster. I should have another chapter up within the month. Hopefully. Fingers crossed. If you (yes, that means you) could please leave a review, so I can gauge the interest in this story, that would be AMAZING. Thanks for reading!