Will stood dumbfounded for a split second, watching her first few steps he quickly tried to process both what Elizabeth had said and what she had meant by it. Before she had begun her sprint back towards their camp, she had managed to back away from him just far enough that the fastest and most efficient way of catching her now would be to move perpendicular to her path. His long legs allowed him to cover the ground between them in just a few short steps. For one brief moment, he considered tackling her, but checked himself when he remembered they were both still wearing their swords – that particular plan would be no good. Instead he leaned forward, reached out his arms, snagged her by the waist and spun her around.

Elizabeth doubled over at the moment of contact and reached one hand out to stop her fall, but she need not have bothered. Will had a firm grip on her. She began to laugh as she straightened up, turned around and threw her arms around his neck.

"You can't get away from me that easily," he too, laughed, pulling her in close. He could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest and wondered if his was doing the same, locked safely in the Chest. He was sure it would be if it was still located in his own chest.

"Who said I was trying to get away?" she replied breathlessly, staring into his eyes. "I was merely trying to get your attention."

"Oh, is that all," he whispered, sliding one hand up her back to her neck and leaning in to kiss her – slowly, softly, but quite passionately.

Elizabeth tightened her hold. She couldn't remember the last time they had been afforded the opportunity to kiss each other like this—without fear of reprimand for inappropriate behavior, someone trying to kill one or both of them, or just a lack of privacy. She had almost, but not quite, forgotten what he tasted like. A low moan escaped her throat as the intensity increased and other long suppressed and otherwise unfamiliar desires began to surface. She slowly began to ease her hands down Will's chest, taking care to not touch the horrifying gash on his chest, on her way towards his waist.

Will pulled back from their kiss, lazily became aware of Elizabeth clumsily fumbling with...what?

"Elizabeth," he groaned. "What are you doing?"

"I want to get rid of this accursed sword." Her words came out haltingly, as if she were out of breath.

Will lean closer to touch his forehead to hers. "Elizabeth," he swallowed hard before continuing. "That belt is not my sword belt."

"Isn't it?" she answered innocently. "How could I have made such a mistake?" She did not, however, make any motion to amend her actions, but instead kissed the tip of her husband's nose.



"Here, allow me," Will said, cautiously guiding her hands to the hilt of the sword she suddenly seemed so interested in. He leaned back suddenly as she unsheathed it with the grace and agility of any battle hardened warrior – she probably wouldn't have misjudged the distance and hurt him, but at this point it was probably in their best interest to err on the side of caution.

Elizabeth stood for a moment, rocking the blade back and forth, watching the moonlight glint off the polished steel. Then she did something Will would never have anticipated – she took one step back and with all the strength she could muster, impaled the blade deep into the sand.

"What was that for?" Will sounded perplexed as he gazed at the sword.

"We don't need them – not tonight. I don't want any reminders of what we've been through. I just want it to be you and me, and…." Her voice trailed off as she offered him a shy smile.

"In that case," he replied, also slipping her blade from its scabbard and planting it in the ground next to his own.

The lovers watched, as the weight of the sword in the loose sand allowed both swords to tilt from their upright positions, leaving the hilts locked together and the blades crossed.

"And now, Mrs. Turner, I think there is someplace we would rather be," Will announced, scooping up his new bride in his arms and preparing to carry her back to their makeshift camp and whatever lay ahead.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and inhaled sharply the moment Will touched her. She kept them tightly closed as he lifted her in his arms and began to carry her to their camp site. She buried her face in the nape of his neck as soon as he picked her up; starting slightly as the acrid tang of spent gunpowder mixed with the coppery scent of blood stung her nostrils. She felt tears prick at her eyes at the realization that the blood was Will's own—whether from the lethal sword wound inflicted by Davy Jones or from horrifying gash on his chest where Bootstrap had removed his heart, she did not know, nor did she want to. All that mattered was that he was here with her now, he was alive, and they were finally, after so many obstacles, husband and wife. There had been a time when she had nearly given up all hope of that ever happening—but it had happened, and before too much longer she would finally know what it meant to give herself to him, completely and without restraint. She nestled in closer and began to cover his neck, chin and cheek with feather light kisses. A small thrill of joy coursed through her body when Will sighed contentedly and angled his head to grant her easier access.

Will gently set Elizabeth on her feet when they reached the glowing embers of the fire. His hands drifted over the curves of his wife's body to encircle her waist. Elizabeth draped her arms around her husband's neck and touched her forehead to his. The young couple remained where they were for several minutes, listening to the sound of each other's restful breathing, soaking up the warmth of each other's bodies, and gathering the courage they would need to go on. Will slanted in to meet his wife's lips in a soft kiss. Elizabeth responded in kind, parting her 

own lips in invitation. What followed was a kiss of such heart-felt passion and heated intensity that it made the one Elizabeth had used to trick Jack seem chaste by comparison.

Will's long, graceful fingers shifted to the lacings at her back which secured the belt, holding the black leather tassets of her armor, around her waist. He struggled in vain to loosen the water soaked cords that had contracted and tightened the protective garment. Elizabeth pressed herself up against him impatiently, expectantly waiting to be relieved of the awkwardly heavy and unwanted accessory. Will groaned in frustration at his inability to release even a single shred of the stubborn binding from its place. Elizabeth giggled nervously, releasing her husband from her embrace and slowly turning around.

"Perhaps you would make more progress if I didn't distract you quite so much?" Her voice had a breathless quality to it that betrayed both the intense desire she felt for her husband and her impatience at his lack of progress in relieving her of her constrictive apparel.

Will's only response was a frustrated groan.

Elizabeth inquisitively eyed the eclectic assortment of items spread out on the sand as Will continued, unsuccessfully, to free her from her excess of clothing.

"Is that…? The sight of one particular object sent a jolt of icy, cold fear through her limbs and momentarily stole her voice.

Will glanced up at to see where she was looking and realized immediately what had caused her alarm, for it had elicited the same reaction from him earlier.

"No," he answered softly. "It's just a plain, ordinary compass. I checked."

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. "I couldn't imagine why he would burden us with his compass, but what motivates his choices never cease to amaze and confound me."

Will kissed the back of her head. "I know where it would point if I held it right now."

"And where would that be?" Elizabeth said enticingly.

"The nearest knife."

Elizabeth turned her head to look at him for a moment. He was completely and totally serious. Her face reflected both concern and worry for his sanity before it began to sink in how a knife might lead to what he wanted most – then she began to laugh. The gleeful sound floated through the night air. "I can assure you I would not be the least distressed if you literally or figuratively severed my ties to this." She gestured to the elaborately embroidered battle dress she still wore, albeit sans footwear.

"As you wish," he said, drawing his knife from his belt.



The jumbled mass of leather had barely touched the ground, before Elizabeth turned and offered both of her wrists to Will, to cut loose the leather lacing on the gauntlets she also wore. Those too were quickly discarded and forgotten. What they had planned for this night was all about trust and love. Neither wanted anything concerning conflict and hate to interfere or to remind them of what they had been through already.

Elizabeth stood before her husband – the golden threads of her exquisitely embellished coat reflecting the light. She bit her lip nervously in a sudden fit of insecurity, for she was at a total loss as to what to do next.

Will smiled faintly back at her, himself not sure of what the next move should be or who should make it. "You have a gift – a wedding gift," he finally remarked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"From?" Elizabeth was clearly confused by this. She hadn't known they were going to marry when they did. How could she possibly have a wedding gift?

Will shook his head, stepping around her to the haphazardly rewrapped bundle he had inspected earlier, and picked it up. "The envelope inside is addressed to you." He held out the package in the palms of his hands, graciously presenting it to her. Elizabeth brushed past him, accepted his offering, and sat by the fire. She rested the package in her lap, looking up at Will and reaching out her hand in invitation for him to sit with her. Will took her hand in his and gallantly kissed the back of it before taking a seat next to her. Elizabeth leaned into him, as he wrapped one strong arm around her shoulders.

She ran her fingers over the slick material before she undid the careless knot Will had used to retie the leather cord holding the package together. The edges of the cloth parted to reveal the elegant ivory envelope addressed to Elizabeth Turner. She traced her fingers over the name much as Will had done earlier.

"That's who I am now, isn't it?" She spoke quietly, almost reverently.

"Only if you want to be."

"It's all I've ever really wanted." She turned her face towards her husband. Her eyes glittered in the moonlight, reflecting her happiness at her revelation.

Will kissed her tenderly before touching his forehead to hers. "Then I am most honored to have you share my name."

"Elizabeth Turner. It does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Elizabeth teased.

"Did you think the same the first time you tried it on for size?" Will's smile shone in his own eyes as he stared into Elizabeth's.



Elizabeth giggled. "Mmm, I think is sounds much better with Mrs. in front of it than it ever did with Miss."

"Agreed." His eyes twinkled mischievously, reflecting the firelight. "It suits you." He planted a kiss on her nose. "Now read your letter. I'm curious who it's from."

"Considering the dearth of people aboard the Pearl who can read or write, I would say our choices are limited," she commented, returning her attention to the letter. She briefly examined the misshapen lump of red sealing wax on the back before she slid her thumb underneath it to free the letter inside. The paper inside matched the envelope – a detail that struck Elizabeth as unusual, to say the least. She couldn't imagine Jack taking the time to write anyone a letter, much less going to the trouble of having a supply of obviously expensive stationary on board. No, any written communication from Jack was far more likely to be written on any random scrap of remotely paper-like material he could locate. On the other hand, she could easily picture Captain Barbossa having the appropriate materials close at hand for official correspondence, but surely he would have imprinted the wax with his seal. It would be so like him to be as formal about such matters, despite his history as a ruthless pirate captain. Elizabeth held the folded sheet of parchment between her and Will, continuing to delay reading the unexpected message. Considering the events of the last few hours, she was far more afraid that it contained information she did not want than she was hopeful that it was something joyful.

Elizabeth laid her head on Will's shoulder as they both leaned back against the rocks. She slowly and cautiously unfolded the letter, quickly scanning it in search of the author. There was no need for her to look for a signature—the ornate penmanship identified him at once—Mr. Gibbs. She took a deep breath and began to read aloud.

24 May, 1763

Dear Miss Elizabeth,

Or perhaps more appropriately, Dear Mrs. Turner? Please forgive the haste with which this is written. As you are certainly aware, our circumstances have been altered drastically in the past few hours, and I am afraid it is now time for us to once again go our separate ways. Although I was remiss in bidding you a proper farewell after the adventures of Isla de Muerta, I was confident that you would eventually be returned to Port Royal and placed in the care of either your loving father, the capable Commodore Norrington, or even young Mr. Turner. It causes me great sorrow and regret to realize that such will not be the case in this instance. It matters not that you are now the Pirate Lord of Singapore, the King of the Brethren Court, a ship's captain in your own right, and a married woman—it distresses me to know that you are to be left behind to make your way on your own on the very day you should have been celebrating your most special occasion.

On the subject of said event, I realize that I am most fortunate in that I was present both the day you met the boy who would become your husband and they day you and he were wed. Captain Barbossa could perhaps claim the same distinction, but I feel I am within my right to discount any declaration he may choose to make as he is the one who left William to the depths. That 

being said, I feel it is not too bold of me to comment on the most unfortunate trial that lies before you and William.

I do not know the conditions by which your father granted permission for you to pursue your feelings for William, nor how it came about that you gained his approval for your marriage, but I would surmise that he only begrudgingly permitted such a thing, in hope that it was nothing more than a childish whim born of extreme circumstance. Nevertheless, I am confident that you will heed my words in the manner in which they are intended, for I feel that your own father would tell you the same.

You have chosen well. It is impossible to imagine that any other man exists that could show the same care and devotion that Turner does for you; and yet, at the same time understand, that you are indeed a most powerful adversary on your own. It is tragic that such a perfectly suited young couple must be punished the way that you two will be, but know that if it were not for your husband's sacrifice, we would all be dead. I realize that is perhaps small consolation as you consider your impending separation, but know that we are, and always will be, eternally grateful.

I do regret that a young lady of your quality was denied the niceties traditionally associated with a proper wedding. Because of this, I hope you will accept this gift as a small consolation for what you deserved. I do not know how this particular garment came to be aboard the Pearl, but I am quite sure its former occupant would also wish you much joy in the future.

Your friend,

Joshamee Gibbs

Elizabeth's normally steady voice began to break as she neared the end of the letter. She hated to admit it, but she would miss the camaraderie she had shared with the former member of the Royal Navy turned pirate. She had nearly forgotten his presence that fateful day, when they had come upon the burning hulk that had been Will's ship, and that Mr. Gibbs had been instrumental in pulling Will from the water. The irony that it was Barbossa whose actions had both brought them together that hot, but dreary summer day, and officiated their wedding was not lost on her.

"Have you ever wondered exactly how it is that there is so much women's clothing aboard the Black Pearl?" Will pondered, watching Elizabeth run her fingertips lightly over the dark fabric.

Elizabeth chuckled softly, withdrawing the garment from its wrapping. "There are some things in this world where it is perhaps better to not think about it too much." Her eyes widened as the dress, such that it was, came free. Who ever had made it certainly had not believed in wasting fabric, as there wasn't much to it. The low cut neckline was of no concern. Did not most of the dresses she had left behind in Port Royal offer a similar presentation of her charms, so to speak? Even the fact that it was sleeveless was not that big of a concern. It was considered quite improper to expose one's elbows, but in Elizabeth's opinion, when one contemplated how hot it 

could be in the Caribbean, wouldn't the absence of sleeves make more sense? Besides, it wasn't as if she had reservations about anyone seeing her arms. No, what had caught her off guard were the numerous thigh-high slits in the skirt that divided it into multiple panels, resulting in a dress that left little to the imagination. Showing her legs made her distinctly uncomfortable, despite having done so during that little episode in Singapore. She might have had a different outlook on the rules of propriety, but she did still have a well developed sense of modesty.

Will, on the other hand, had a quite different opinion on the matter. He felt a flush of heat course through his body at the thought of Elizabeth wearing the dress. The image of himself removing it from her slender body did nothing to help matters.

"Why—" he began, but stopped, his voice failing him momentarily, "Why don't you try it on?"

Elizabeth turned her head towards him and smiled.

"Would you like that?" She angled her head in to lightly kiss his lips.

"Very much so." He tried to kiss her back, but she pulled away.

"Then you'll have to do something for me too." She stole another kiss, but quickly pulled back out of his reach again.

"Anything." He reached up and traced the curve of her cheek with his fingers. "Everything. I'll always promise you that." He raised one eyebrow suggestively, leaning towards her in yet another failed attempt to capture her lips.

"Put the Chest somewhere that I don't have to see it tonight. All I want to see is you." She put so much effort into keeping her voice calm and steady that her request was spoken virtually without emotion.

Will sat up straight. This was not exactly what he had expected to hear. It did, and quite rightly so, have the same fundamental effect on his current state as a good dousing with cold water would have. He had, in his eagerness to enjoy his wife's charms, entirely forgotten about the Chest that now contained his heart. Will it always be this easy to banish it from my thoughts? He looked at Elizabeth and blinked several times, before her request registered. He nodded his head solemnly, regaining his feet and offering a hand to Elizabeth, to help her up.

Elizabeth accepted the proffered hand, while she used her free hand to dust some of the fine white sand from her clothes. Will took advantage of her momentary distraction to pull her in tight. He ducked his head as if to kiss her. Elizabeth responded in kind, but at the last second, just as their lips were about to meet, he pulled away, leaving Elizabeth with nothing but a sigh of frustration. Will laughed lightly, grinning at her wickedly, and stroking her unbound hair.

"Go. I'll be anxiously awaiting your return."