"Welcome back, Miss," Captain Barbossa snarled as he grabbed Elizabeth roughly by the arms aboard the Black Pearl. "You took advantage of our hospitality last time. It holds fair now that you return the favor-" He laughed as he shoved her at the men of his crew.

Their callous hands eagerly caught her and she screamed, fighting against their grasp. But there were too many arms, hands and fingers pressing at her skin, clawing at her clothes, pulling at her hair. Elizabeth shrieked for help- someone would come to her aid, wouldn't they? This seemed all too familiar.

Where was William? "Will!"

She shouted for him, looking past a dirty palm touching her face, out past the deck to the empty horizon. Elizabeth began to panic, and it was getting hard to breathe. An arm was tight around her chest, around her arms. Threatening faces obstructed her vision, and menacing touches were all over her. She struggled but could not move or breathe-

"I can't breathe!"

Elizabeth jolted; her eyes flew open, wide and wild. She found herself in the Commodore's bedroom, in the Commodore's bed. It was so hot! A sheen of sweat covered her skin; her night shift and sheets were tangled about her. The windows of the room were closed, blown shut by an erratic breeze in the night, cutting off ventilation.

She pulled in her breath in large gasps. Elizabeth made to move, and felt the pressure over her chest, just as in the dream. She grabbed at the phantom arm to find a corporeal one. The urge to shout filled her throat, but she swallowed it when she discovered that it was James Norrington who had his arm about her. In their sleep, Elizabeth had lain, her back against him, and he held her to him in was had been a tender embrace- It had become suffocating in her nightmare.

The effort to sneak out of her husband's arms was fleeting, for so suddenly upset was she that she roughly threw off his arm and jumped out of bed.

James awoke abruptly. He sat up and looked at his wife, pacing and biting her lip, pulling at her slightly damp hair. She didn't even glance at Norrington when she turned and left the room.

She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, drank it. Inhaling and exhaling deeply and deliberately, she tried to slow her pounding heart and cool herself. It was not long before James appeared in the doorway. He had put on his uniform breeches and shirt, though the cuff links were undone, as well as the buttons at the neck.

"Elizabeth, are you alright?"

"Yes!" she replied too quickly and loudly to ever be convincing.

He approached her. "You look ill." James pushed a strand of hair off her forehead. "You're feverish." James reached to the washbasin and dampened the cloth that was beside it. He made to place it on her cheek, but Elizabeth took it from his hands and rubbed it on her neck.

"Thank you James," she said. He continued to scrutinize her, concerned. "Oh, I'm alright. I just had a bad dream, nothing more."

"What was it about?"

Elizabeth fought to keep the nonchalant expression on her face. "It was about the Black Pearl," she confessed, and a shadow was cast over her features. "A memory. After they had taken the Interceptor down-" the Commodore grimaced at this- "And I had been recaptured." James cast aside his brief irritation and focused on what Elizabeth was recounting.

"Everyone was on deck, my hands were bound. Barbossa threw me over to his crew. They grabbed at me, pulled at my hair, clothes and skin." Elizabeth began to tremble again, the feeling of the instance renewed by her haunted senses. James himself began to quake, though he with anger. Elizabeth continued.

"I was certain I was damned. But Will climbed aboard- he escaped the explosion- and he bartered for my safety. And I was let go on the island with Sparrow. But in the dream Will didn't come, and they wouldn't let go." She rubbed her face in the towel, breathing out for a long moment. "But I woke up then. And the room was so hot, and-" she stopped, not wanting to hurt James's feelings.

"What else?" His eyebrows were furrowed, concern etched on his features.

"Oh, it was silly-" But it didn't feel silly- "It was just your arm had been around me, and I thought I was caught in the dream still."

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," he started.

"No, James," she interrupted, with more force in her voice than necessary. "It's not your fault. It had just been a dream."

"I'm sorry that had ever happened to you," he went on to say.

"It's over now," Elizabeth said, shaking her head, in attempt to rid herself of the recollections. James stepped closer and took the cloth from her hands. Elizabeth yielded this time, and let him wash her face. He rubbed it softly over her forehead, cheeks, eyelids and mouth- a sharp contrast to the handling by the pirates.

"It's over now," Elizabeth repeated in a whisper. Her discomfort was dissolving. She remembered the true events. Will had come to save her… The picture of William Turner standing on the starboard rail, pistol in one hand, clutching the Pearl's rigging with the other, the passion in his heart overruling all other inhibitions. This heroic vision echoed in Elizabeth's mind's eye, even as James held her close for comfort and placed a kiss on her brow.

Patrols to various ports of Jamaica and the surrounding Caribbean were nothing foreign to Commodore James Norrington. When it came for the Dauntless and her crew to be out at sea for several weeks at a time, the men, including the Commodore, looked forward to it. All sailors become restless when having been on land for some time and yearn for the splendor of the open sea.

When the H.M.S. Resolution came to the docks, the Dauntless was prepared to sail, according to patrol rotation. But this time, James Norrington was ambivalent about leaving. Never before had he left someone at home, other than housekeepers. New he had a wife to bid farewell to before the journey.

It was very early morning when James was setting out; the sky was brightening but the sun had not yet risen. His baggage was already aboard in his quarters- he had spent practically the whole of the previous night checking provisions and preparations for the voyage. He returned home to say goodbye.

Elizabeth and James had discussed his leaving beforehand. It was nothing unexpected, but it was unfamiliar. Elizabeth would be left as head of house, accompanied by her lady's maid, the cook and butler. Hardly left alone, her father promised to make visits, and regular tea appointments were made with acquaintances.

James entered the bedroom, as Elizabeth was still sleeping. He bent over her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Elizabeth," he said quietly. He repeated this, rubbing her arm. Her eyelids fluttered open.

"James," she announced, sitting up. "Are you leaving?"

"Yes. We cast off in an hour. You can stay resting, I was just giving you notice."

"Nonsense. Let me see you to the door at least." She smiled through her drowsiness, and James thought she looked charming and was sorry to depart. But duty-bound, his schedule would not alter.

Elizabeth got up and washed her face, then pulled a silken yellow robe about her and put her feet into her slippers. She took James's arm, who was in full uniform.

They walked out to into the hall, down the stairs, to the foyer.

"I wish you a safe journey," Elizabeth said, facing Norrington.

"Thank you." He nodded his head in a formal bow. "I pray these next weeks pass by swiftly, that I may return to you. But I trust you will be just as well in the meantime."

"I'll be well," she confirmed. "I'll keep a good calendar so the days won't crawl by. And you needn't worry about me. I can take care of myself." She smiled, her eyebrows raised a bit.

"That I am fully aware of. But I will think of you regardless."

In the shadow of their open doorway, James looked down at Elizabeth's vibrant brown eyes, those that he would long for. She studied her husband's expression, while her own remained placid.

James's heart pounded loudly in his chest. "May I kiss you goodbye, Elizabeth?" He asked it before he could convince himself not to.

Elizabeth was taken aback by his question, and her chest seemed to tighten. "You may, James," she replied cautiously.

The Commodore raised his hand to the side of her face, cradling her jawbone. He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. She expected it to end there, and was greatly surprised to say the least when the kiss deepened, and he moved his mouth against hers. Elizabeth pulled in a deep breath through her nose after a long moment in which she had forgotten to breathe in the shock. Her sharp inhale alerted James, who then stepped back abruptly. He took a breath himself, trying to regain his composure and shake off the desire that clouded his reason and better judgement.

"Goodbye Elizabeth," he said cordially, nervously.

"Goodbye Commodore Norrington."

He straightened his coat and then kissed Elizabeth's hand tenderly. He turned on his heel and strode down the road to the docks at Fort Charles. "Journey on," Elizabeth called after him.