Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, I just borrow them for fun sometimes

A/N: We're in the home stretch, right along with Will and Elizabeth! I promise, I'm working really hard on the last couple of chapters, because we all know that the reunion is the whole point of the story! Thanks for all the reviews, they really do make my day! 

Elizabeth Turner & William Turner III

The Empress

Eight years have come and gone. I am in a surprisingly good mood today because I realize that we only have to wait two more years. While two years is hardly a short amount of time, it is much closer than when I began this countdown.

William is seven now, and he has shown me that not only does he look like his father; he acts just like him as well. He has inherited our stubborn streak and my knack for finding mischief, but he has his father's overwhelming sense of duty, loyalty, and compassion. He will grow up to be a fine man, and I know that Will is going to be proud of him just like I am.

We are aboard the Empress and we have set sail to head home for Tortuga. It has been another fine year on the sea, and William has become more of a member of the crew than ever before. He was so excited when I let him stand at the helm for a few moments. I saw the glimmer of adventure shining in his eyes, and I knew at that moment that he is going to be a man of the sea as soon as he is old enough.

I am looking out to the horizon as the sun rises. It was my turn to stay at the helm for the night, and I am exhausted. My first mate comes to relieve me of my duties, nodding that I can take time and rest if I need it. I smile and thank him before I head down to my cabin. I look over at my son, who is sleeping soundly in his bed. He is on his back, with one arm draped over his eyes, his mouth open and snoring loudly. I shake my head and laugh softly as I climb into bed. Judging by the sunrise, I have about an hour's worth of rest before he wakes.

I am suddenly plagued with so many thoughts that it is impossible to sleep. I know that if I have made it thus far, I can make it the next two years. Though I remember every moment with Will leading up to that fateful day, there is one memory that I usually cannot bear to let cross my mind for some reason. My exhaustion takes hold of me, and I cannot sustain my mental barriers any longer. My mind begins to drift back to that last journey—the journey to the small beach where I would be forced to say goodbye.

I remember being determined to ignore the cries of my aching body and the need for sleep after such a horrible ordeal. It had been the longest day of my life to that point, but I had one more duty to fulfill. As I looked across the sea to the Flying Dutchman, I saw my husband looking back at me.

I realized at that moment that life is intolerably cruel sometimes, but that we were also granted a second chance that must not be taken for granted. As I turned from Will, Gibbs informed me that the dingy was ready and that the oars were inside. I noticed that the crew had formed a line to the small boat, and as I walked past them in turn, they all said their farewells. I could hardly hide my smile when Barbossa called me Mrs. Turner. I remembered so long before when I had given Barbossa that name aboard that very ship, both for my safety and because I wanted to know what it sounded like. Now, it was finally my name. When I reached Jack, I knew that I must say something to him. He had done so much for Will and I over the past two years, I knew that I needed to thank him.

I could not resist recalling the words he said to me long ago; that it would never work out between us—and, given the circumstances of our last farewell, the statement was even more ironic. Even so, I know that Jack Sparrow is a man that I trust with my life and that will never change. He may be a drunken fool the majority of the time, but he is a good man with an even better heart.

I thanked him, knowing that words would never be enough. He had given up his dream of immortality for Will. For me. For us. While I knew the curse would be hard to endure, it was nothing compared to what would have become of us otherwise. Jack had proven to me that day that he had the ability to put others before himself, and I would be indebted to him for the rest of my life. I made a move to hug him, but he had to have the last word and made as if I had been trying to kiss him, telling me that once was quite enough. I smiled and then climbed aboard the dingy.

The journey to the beach where I was to meet Will was not a long one, but it was long enough. I tried to wrap my head around the hour's events so that I would not have to waste any time once I was with Will. I knew that we would only have twenty-four hours together and I did not want to waste a moment.

As I rowed myself towards the beach, I thought about our childhood. I remembered the day that we found him floating on a piece of debris. Calypso spared him that day—after all, he was touched by destiny. If only destiny had not chosen such a cruel fate for him. I thought about growing up with him in Port Royal, sneaking down to the swimming hole while my father was on business—he would never have approved of us spending so much time together, as it was hardly proper. I thought about the day I came out as a member of society, how I was so overwhelmed by the whole notion that I ran out on my own ball, only to find Will had been peering through the window. He comforted me that night, and it was then that I knew I could not love another.

I thought about meeting Jack and Barbossa and the events that brought Will and I together. I tried to contemplate how that adventure led me to this very moment. Learning of Davy Jones' curse, attempting to outrun his vicious beast, and going to the very end of the world to bring Jack back—so much had happened in such a short amount of time, it was no wonder I could barely control my emotions.

Then I took a moment to realize that I was finally married. It was certainly not reminiscent of the wedding we planned in Port Royal less than a year before. I smiled to myself as I remembered poor Will being caught up in the propriety of a public courtship, the choosing of the flowers and china, and the disastrous fitting for his wedding garments. He was so nervous that he would mess up and my father would rescind his blessing, that he graciously accepted my father's offer to wear the garments he wore at his wedding to my mother—though the garments were obviously too big. I was thankful that our wedding was different, and I would not have had it any other way.

I took a deep breath, remembering how happy it made me when Will told me that he had made his choice and that he wanted to marry me immediately. Once we sealed our vows, I felt invincible. It did not matter who I came across, I was in love and nothing would change that. My feeling of invincibility was quickly cut short when I crossed swords with Davy Jones himself. He quickly bested me and I vaguely recall being knocked out on the steps of the Dutchman. When I came to, I saw Will on the deck as well, Davy Jones' sword pointing down at him. We looked at each other, and the looks on our faces were not lost on the evil captain.

When Jack held up the heart of Davy Jones, I thought that everything was going to be all right. I shared a smile with Will, and we waited anxiously for Jack to stab the heart and finally end the battle aboard the Dutchman. Suddenly, Davy Jones plunged his sword into Will—right into his heart.

I could do nothing but gasp. I could not speak, I could not breathe; I could not hear anything but a horrible rushing in my ears. In my shock, I glanced at Jack, who looked just as shaken. As Davy Jones became distracted, I quickly crawled over to Will, whose eyes were beginning to glaze over. I barely managed to speak his name, and as he turned his head in my direction, I had to keep myself from breaking down completely.

I could see nothing but his face; I could hear nothing but his labored breathing. I gently touched his face, trying to get his eyes to focus on me. I begged him to look at me, to stay with me, but as he writhed in pain, I knew that it was all to no avail. I could feel him slipping away from me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I vaguely recall seeing Bootstrap Bill jumping on Davy Jones' back out of the corner of my eye, but I did not care. In that moment, there was only my husband. I remember that thought crossing my mind, breaking my heart in two. He had been my husband for less than an hour, and now he was dying. It was so cruel and unfair I could not begin to understand it.

Suddenly, Jack was crouching next to us. He looked at Will and then looked into my eyes. I knew what he was about to do, but in my hysteria I did not realize the sacrifice he was about to make for us. Jack gently picked up Will's hand and wrapped it around the hilt of his blade. He held the heart steady on the deck and helped Will plunge the blade into it. It was over. Davy Jones fell over the side of the Dutchman, lost forever to his own locker.

I did not know what would happen next. I somehow realized that Will should now be immortal, so he could not die. I expected him to heal instantly, but he continued to fade from me. His eyes looked into mine but did not focus. He took one last ragged breath, closed his eyes, and I felt his body relax beneath me.

That was not supposed to happen. He had stabbed the heart, he had won—he was not supposed to die. I screamed in protest, unwilling to accept defeat. I could not hold back my sobs as I frantically continued to hold his face, willing him to wake up. I did not care how long it took, I was not going to leave him there and let him die.

I felt Jack pulling me away from Will, and I screamed out that I would not leave him. Jack was much stronger than I was, and he told me to hold on as he shot some ropes loose and we pulled away from the Dutchman. I heard the crew chanting that Will was now part of the crew and part of the ship, but I knew it did not matter. I had seen him slip away, and I knew that there was no hope. As we boarded the Pearl, however, Jack's demeanor let everyone know that he had a plan. I numbly walked to the ship's railing, knowing that I had lost everything in one day.

Before I could fall into despair, however, I saw the Flying Dutchman emerge from the sea once more. Could it be possible? I saw the sea life fall off the ship, leaving it as it was in its most glorious days. It had to have a captain; was it possible that Will had survived?

Then I heard his voice order his crew to be ready on the guns. He had made it. He was alive. I could not hold back my smile and I felt my heart rise as I quickly took my post aboard the Pearl. We worked together with the Dutchman to overtake the Endeavour, and that had led me to the dingy I was floating in at that moment.

I knew that the hardest part was yet to come; that I was going to have to say goodbye to Will for ten long years. As I rowed to him, all I could think about was that we had been given a second chance at a life together. We would be able to endure ten years apart—as long as he was alive, I could fully live as well. We had been given the gift of one more day. One day to begin our lives together as husband and wife, one day to prove our love to each other, and one day to bask in the hope of sharing a life together. One day.

Captain Will Turner

The Flying Dutchman

The next two years cannot pass by fast enough for me. I am hopeful that Elizabeth is just as anxious as I am. Elizabeth…and William.

I do not think I will ever be able to grasp that concept. I am a father. It makes my head spin every time I repeat it to myself, as if I am trying to make it seem more real. I have read and reread the letter he sent countless times. The parchment is worn thin and the creases are permanently set because I have folded it so many times. The letter brings warmth to my heart and I swell with pride every time I read it.

The day that I received my son's letter was one of the best days of my life. After I read it for myself several times, I had to sit down for over an hour to try to wrap my head around what I had just learned. My father came over, seeing how pale I was, and inquired about my heath. I was unable to speak, so I just handed him the letter. He reacted much like I did as he paced around the deck. He froze mid-step and looked at me, eyes-wide. Once he was able to understand the situation, he yanked me from my spot on the deck and wrapped me in a strong embrace. He proceeded to call all hands to the deck and announced to the crew that the captain was a father, and that he, Bootstrap Bill, was a grandfather. The crew congratulated me, and I finally found my voice again.

It has taken me a long time to come to grips with my status as a parent, but now I find myself daydreaming about teaching him all about the sea and telling him the stories of my adventures from my point of view, just as he requested. I have always dreamed about being a father, and now that it is real I can hardly wait to get home—I did not think it was possible to miss home any more than I did previously, but I have since been proven wrong.

I unconsciously bring my hand to the necklace that I have been wearing for nearly a year—a necklace that my son asked me to keep safe for him. I keep it on me at all times, and in times of great stress or despair, I hold onto the small piece of eight as if to remind myself what is waiting for me at the end of this long trial. I now have a family to go home to, and that helps me get through even the toughest of days.

I also have fallen more in love with Elizabeth, if it is at all possible. She is so strong, and I can tell by William's letter that she has done a wonderful job raising our son on her own. While I regret that I cannot be there, I am so thankful that she is such a great mother, which does not come as a surprise to me. I cannot wait to return to her so that I can sweep her up into my arms and tell her how proud I am of her. She is more amazing than I can ever express, and I am so lucky to be her husband.

I cannot wait to be a true husband to her. I want to spend the rest of our lives telling her how much I love her and helping her in any way that I can. I would do anything for her, and she deserves the world. I never stop thinking about her, and today is no exception—especially as it marks only two years before we can finally reunite.

I make my way down to my cabin and pull out one of the many things I have been working on since I received William's letter last year. Any free moment I get, I begin to write out my stories in journal form in a large, worn leather book I found amongst Davy Jones' possessions when his cabin became my own. William told me that he wanted to hear all of my "adventures," and I do not wish to disappoint him—so I have decided to ensure that he receives a detailed account, one that I can read aloud to him or that he can read for himself whenever he wishes. It hardly makes up for missing the first nine years of his life, but I am hoping that he will like it.

Up to this point, I have written down several stories about my life in England as a boy, as well as my first encounter with pirates on the passage to Port Royal. The story of how I met Elizabeth is included, along with our adventures aboard the Pearl. I have taken great care to write out each story as specifically as possible, without leaving anything out. As I sit down to write more, I realize that I have reached a particularly difficult experience, but one that needs to be included.

I have to explain to my son how hard it is to say goodbye to the person you love most in the world. I know he will not understand it the first time he reads it, but it is a harsh lesson that must be learned at some point. I lean far back in my chair and stretch my arms out, ready to write. I take a deep breath and begin to contemplate the memory of that day, the day that I was cursed. The day that I realized I would have to say goodbye to Elizabeth.

I remember the fresh scar on my chest stinging painfully throughout the final stand against Beckett, but I had to push it from my mind. There were more important things to take care of. Once the Endeavour sank below the ocean's surface, I placed a hand to my chest and, for the first time, became aware of my heart's absence. I leaned over the railing of my new ship, fully realizing how lucky I was to be alive and simultaneously dreading the moment I knew would come soon.

My father offered to stay aboard the Dutchman with me, and I could not hide my smile at his request to pay his debt to me. He wanted to be the father he did not have the opportunity to be during my childhood. He then spoke of the heavy price of my curse, telling me that one day ashore for ten years at sea was hardly a just balance. I told him the only thing that came to my mind—the biggest lesson that I had learned over those past few years. I said that it depended on the one day.

One day can change everything. By God, I knew that much. One day, I was pining over the governor's daughter, knowing that she was completely out of my league. The next afternoon, I was on the Interceptor with one of the world's most notorious pirates on my way to rescue her. One day I was preparing to marry the love of my life and the next day, I was off on a mission to get her out of prison. One day I thought that I would never have to question Elizabeth's love for me, and the next afternoon I saw her kissing Jack Sparrow before leaving him to the Kraken.

One day can make all the difference. However, when it came to saying goodbye to Elizabeth Swann….Elizabeth Turner, I knew that one day would never be enough. On my way to the beach that day, I tried to think of everything I had not said to her yet. I wanted to make sure she knew that I would come back to her the very day that my ten-year duty was fulfilled. I wanted her to know just how much I loved her and how much I always would.

As I made my way onto the beach, I also became aware of how nervous I was. I knew that we were only given twenty four hours before I had to be back on the Flying Dutchman. We had been married that afternoon and we had only one day to make our marriage real. I had been dreaming of this for as long as I could remember, and it killed me that it was not going to be how I imagined it at all. I wanted Elizabeth to feel comfortable; I wanted us to be in a large and luxurious suite with candles. However, our wedding could hardly be considered conventional, so I assumed that our honeymoon should not be anything more than that. It was only fitting that two pirates who were married aboard the Black Pearl should share their wedding night on a secluded beach.

The saddest difference between my fantasy and our reality was that in my fantasy, our wedding night was only the beginning. It was to be the first night of the rest of our lives. In the harsh light of day, I knew that our honeymoon, this one night we had to share, was going to be a goodbye instead. A long goodbye and then a decade of separation. My father was right, it was truly a steep price to pay.

As I reached the shore of the beach, I saw Elizabeth pulling her small dingy up on the sand. She and I walked slowly to each other, and the moment was too emotional for us to bear. When we reached each other, I could do nothing more than pull her to me in a long, comforting embrace. I do not know how long we held each other, but we both knew that we had to make the most of our one day.

One day ashore, and ten years at sea. That one day was my wedding day, the day I was killed, and the day I was given a second chance at life. It was also the one day that I had been given to prove my love to my wife before I had to leave her. I was determined in that moment to give her everything we had both been waiting for since we had finally come together. I had one day with Elizabeth, and I did not waste a moment of it.