(OT: Sorry if it bothers you that I skipped around and oh, I added a bit with Elizabeth just for kicks. She realizes... Well, you will see. I really wanted the emphasis in the end that her thoughts during the battle also leads to the kiss. She wasn't just slaking her lust... It was a little vengeful as well. Well, probably two more chapters for DMC including the kiss of death (mostly Will since I wrote one entirely about Elizabeth's thoughts a while back-read if you like its called Charming Murderess. Although, I would now add so much more to her thoughts and emotions. Sorry, off track.) Anywho, then I will write one about either the trip up the river or once they arrive at Tia's shack.

If you please, I would really like any um input if I should continue this through AWE, and if I do, whether I should start a new fic just about AWE or just make this one a very long one. Thanks!)

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Elizabeth eyed William's placid expression while stroking his long brown locks, reminding the woman of the day they met. She retracted her stare at Will and surveyed the deck of the Black Pearl. The sailors scurried to and fro, with Jack gripping his "valuable" jar of dirt and directing the vessel. She grimaced at the dazzling-eyed captain, who did not even cast a glance at the woman and her comatose fiancé. Even though Jack thought that he had slyly smacked Mr. Turner, Elizabeth had witnessed the encounter, but the reason remained a mystery to her. At that moment, she had only focused on returning to the ship, but now, all she really desired was to confront Jack Sparrow and spit a speech right into his dazed eyes. Elizabeth knew Jack to be a swindler occasionally, but she did not expect him to cross her. Not her. Not Elizabeth Swann... Or William Turner for that matter. What had they ever done to Jack? And he had fooled and sentenced Will to be tortured by that revolting beast... Davy Jones. Elizabeth then turned back to Will when she heard him shift positions.

Will's eyes fluttered open, confused as to his location and surprised by the lengthy blonde tresses that swayed right above his face. His eyes finally focused, and the man gazed at Elizabeth for only a second before realizing that he was lying on a uncomfortable metal grate, his head throbbed like a sledgehammer had hit him, and Sparrow was the man to blame for all his troubles.

"What happened to the chest?" he asked, hoping that someone in the vicinity was grasping onto the blasted thing and guarding the container with his or her life.

Elizabeth replied in a gentle creaky voice, "Norrington took it to draw them off." She did not expect Will to immediately long to take her into his arms, but she certainly did not expect that inquiry. The chest, she thought, is a step for his father. For his family.

"What about Jack's debt? You heard him. He needs the heart as much as I do."

"I have also seen his consistent yearning," she muttered and then helplessly shrugged. "I don't know, but Jack didn't even protest." Offering her hand, Elizabeth helped William to his feet and then asked, "How is your head?"

"I will survive. I promise." He allowed a swift smile to diffuse across his countenance, relieved to have the woman by his side.

The pair gazed at the captain and his first-mate, who were joyously conversing on their escape. Will and Elizabeth glanced at one another, mutually deciding that any discourse with Jack would be futile at this point, and then both stepped back in horror as the Flying Dutchman surfaced beside them, its massive bow gasping for oxygen and its devilish crew members rattling their chains.

"Will," she whispered, grasping his arm.

"Hey! Fishface! Lose something?" Jack hollered while displaying his jar of dirt giddily.

"What does he have to bargain?" Will murmured to himself, confused by Jack's common flippant expression. That jar of dirt must contain something far more precious than what Tia Dalma described.

"Hey!" Jack called the attention again, but promptly tripped over his own feet and tumbled down the staircase with a loud, "Oup!" on his way down.

"Oh!" Both Elizabeth and Will's faces contorted in somewhat concern.

"Got it!" The captain recovered, leaping to his feet and holding up the container merrily. "Come to negotiate, eh, have you, you slimy git?" he inquired smugly, all the while strutting as if he held the gold medal. "Look what I got," he chanted. "I got a jar of dirt! I got a jar of dirt! And guess what's inside it?"

Elizabeth took a few steps forward, observing Jack as Davy Jones' little eyes squared off. The algae-encrusted vessel abruptly lowered their cannon covers, and Jack muttered a command, which Elizabeth quickly repeated. "Hard to starboard!"

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Miss Swann trotted across the deck and cast her gaze to the captain as he stood at the helm, with his expression... Satisfied? Content? She could not read him as he gripped his precious jar of dirt. As the sails flapped open, Jack's navy-blue jacket wafted open as well, and Elizabeth noted that the letters of marque no longer peeked out of the inner pocket. The woman fingered the compass, and even in these precarious circumstances, Elizabeth could not help but smile. The pieces suddenly merged into the puzzle; she had filched the letters of marque to trade her and Will's freedom. Or at least, that was her original scheme. She tore the accurate contraption from her belt, glanced at her surroundings cautiously, forgetting the distant cannon fire, and peered at the crimson decisive dial. It wavered for only a moment before resting on her fiancé, her beloved... One William Turner. Elizabeth grinned (to the fact that the compass was never pointing Jack), trod up the staircase, called the pirate's name, and tossed him the compass.

"I don't need it anymore." She announced confidently with almost an enchanted air. Jack stared at her inquisitively, clearly confused, before attaching the compass to his own double belt. She suddenly scrambled to the side of the vessel when the cannon fire halted. "She's falling behind!" Elizabeth shouted, flashing a smile at the prospect of escaping the wretched Flying Dutchman.

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"We musta hit a reef!" a sailor bellowed as several members of the crew careened over the railing at the sudden jolt.

William hollered commandingly, "No! It's not a reef. Get away from the rail!" He gripped Elizabeth's hands, yanking her away from the railing and squeezing her slender fingers in anticipation. He would not let his loved one descend into the depths or be lugged into Davy Jones' crew.

"What is it?" The woman asked, gazing into Will's brown eyes that bulged with anxiety of the terror of the deep.

"The Kraken." he hissed and then swiveled around to the crew. "To arms!" He surveyed his surroundings, formulating an uneasy plan. Elizabeth followed his movements, confident that he would develop something brilliant.

Gibbs complacently agreed with the commands and added, "All guns! Defend the masts!"

"It'll attack the starboard side." Will announced. "I've seen it before. Break out the cannons and hold for my signal." As he thundered down the staircase he grasped a sword out of a wooden bucket, breathing steadily even though his heart thudded agitatedly. The man descended below deck, focusing on the frightened crew. "Easy boys!" he shouted, his voice booming throughout the chamber. With a deep rumbling sound, the giant monster's tentacles crawled up the hull, popping as the suction cups inched over the portholes.

"Will?" Elizabeth shuffled backward as she squealed, her hands gripping a long spear and her eyes widening.

"Steady! Steady." His call resonated even in the ears of the sailors who defended the mast.

"Will?" Her voice rose to a shriek as the tentacles scaled above their heads and writhed hither and thither. What in the world was he waiting for?

"Hold," he commanded, "Hold..." He could feel his own breath shorten as the Kraken's arms shrouded the ship and roared beneath the hull.

"I think we've held fire long enough." Pintel partially whined with his scrawny friend nodding in agreement.

"Will?!" Elizabeth gripped the rope and leaned into the ship, glaring at the back of her fiancé and disregarding the fact that she gripped the spear for a reason.

"FIRE!" He instructed, his low voice clutching the pirates by the throat. The cannons were lit, and the tentacles quivered from the blow, several severed and descending into the sea in partial defeat. Will smiled sleightly as he scrambled back on deck and gently grazed Elizabeth's arm. "It'll be back." He remarked solemnly. "We have to get off the ship."

Her eyes swiveled around the man to gaze at the fractured dinghies. "There's no boats." she proclaimed gently. Now what would they do? Swim to shore? Yes, this would surely be the end.

Will turned to glance at the wrecked boats and then directed, "Pull the grates! Get all the gunpowder onto the net in the cargo hold." Grasping a musket, he shoved it into the woman's hand. "Whatever you do," he ordered assertively and hesitantly at the same time, "don't miss."

Gritting her teeth and ignoring the way her unfastened hair swooped around her ears, she replied and nodded, "As soon as you're clear." The pair set off in separate directions, but not before gazing at each other eyes in mutual concern for one another. She trudged across the deck and tossed a vacant sailor's hands a long gun. "Step to," she ordered as she continued walking. The woman suddenly halted and turned to the open sea. There, in the distance, was Jack Sparrow plowing through the mild waters. Not only did he subject Will to trials aboard the Flying Dutchman and deceive her repeatedly, that damn pirate was also deserting them. Deserting his dedicated crew. His acquaintances... friends, whatever the hell you might call them. "Oh!" she cried in disgust, wanting to curse the man. "You coward." Another heavy thud struck the Black Pearl, and she jolted nearly off her feet and then scurried to positioning, forgetting the captain for a moment.