Author's Note: ZOMG! (What does that bloody Z stand for, anyway?!) I haven't updated in so long! Or, at least, it seems that way to me. Please, please forgive me! I hope this one will quench your thirst on account of my extended absence. P This one I wrote before DMC even came out, though it is set in POTC3:AWE. So, obviously, I knew the ending of #2, but I didn't know much about #3.

Warnings: Not much. Spoilers for DMC, and VERY VERY mild, nigh unnoticeable spoilers for AWE. Like I said, this was my own interpretation before I knew anything much about P3.

Pairings: J/E (not heavy stuff)

Disclaimer: Would that I could, I do not own Jack Sparrow, (CAPTAIN, ye daft loon!) who is my reoccurring muse. At the present moment, he has no rum in his bloodstream, therfore making him currently easily irritable, daft (as usual), miffed, obnoxious, short-tempered, and anything but a reliable editor, as well as, in conclusion, incredibly adorable and rather cute. I digress.

Do enjoy!

.A Lady No More.

She didn't even have enough strength left to fool herself, she mused, brokenhearted and weary.

Elizabeth Swann was terrified. But no, she would not show it. Defiantly, she raised her chin as the Chinese pirates sidled closer to her, rotted teeth bared in disgusting leers. She was weaponless; beaten. Various scars and gashes riddled her lovely face from the fight—past battles included. But some scars ran deeper than flesh, she realized, and prepared to accept her fate.

She deserved this, she thought. She would die here, in this abandoned place—forgotten by those she loved and all else. Her thoughts continued to run while she remained stoic and still. In her eyes, she knew this is what she surely deserved. To die like this. Alone.

Sensing her final moments, she closed her eyes. This was the end. She could almost hear Lady Fortune laughing at her—laughing at the little swan who thought she could fly. She truly thought the musical ringing was the gentle mirth of imagined Fates, but her rational mind knew it was not joyful triumph of another, but rather the metallic song of unsheathing weapons.

Jack had been right.

Freedom always came with a price.

Her heart pounded within her chest and she could feel unshed tears stinging at her eyes, hidden beneath their lids. But she stayed true to her word. She would not show them her fear. The governor's daughter was gone. All that remained was Elizabeth.

She heard the whoosh of swords upraised, and felt her body flush rigid in anticipation. She hoped she would not feel pain, but knew that she should. Her breath caught in her throat, and a broken whimper was lost in the fallen silence.

And then, suddenly, she felt another presence in front of her, and chaos ensued.

Dazed at her continuance of life, it took her several moments to regain certain composure and finally open her eyes. What she saw unfolded too quickly for her watery, disorientated sight to deduce. She could, however, make out that many were dying. They would scream, clutch themselves, and fall to the earth. Thereafter, they were still.

She could not dwell on one body for too long, for the next diminutive battle would rip her attention away and another would follow. It finally came to her.

One man; no more. All of the Chinese pirates were falling at one man's hand. Said man was easily recognizable. He fought with such a vengeance and safeguard towards herself that it startled her.

Finally, the last enemy fell, and the executioner went still. Elizabeth's eyes bore into his straight, defiant back, and the painful memories began to assault her mind like a cold flood. This was not their first reunion since they'd found him in that Hell, but it seemed as though she were first laying eyes on him since… her treachery. It was certainly their first time alone since then if one did not count the motionless bodies riddled amongst the earth.

He sheathed the unclean sword at his side, his head bowed slightly as he looked from one fallen man to the other in solemnity. He was so deathly still that she wondered if he was really there. Breathing had become difficult for her, unsteady and shallow as she recalled too clearly how she had manipulated him with a lover's kiss. Through her thoughts, she could see him turning, coming to face her.

She had sacrificed her champion for the lives of others. She screamed internally at her heart that there was no other way it could have been done. Besides, he was alive now and well, and all had been restored as it should be. Hadn't it.

Hadn't it?

His eyes met hers, black and smoldering, like the darkest of seas. In them, masked and hidden pain was evidently written. But beneath that, something more. A somber sort of understanding, and with it, his stare bore into her own, seeming to strip her of her very being.

He had called her a pirate. And he had been right. That was what she had become. But not of the storybook kind, nor of her childhood fairytales. She felt the tears clinging to her lashes, ready to fall. The pain was so great in her heart that she wished he would just send her after those pirates that lay before her.

"Jack," she choked out.

The pirate before her remained quiet, eyes as guarded as ever. They were neither cold nor hard, but the tension between them both was painfully evident. Yes, he had understood and accepted what she had done and had looked to her then with gentle pride. But she would never blame him for holding a grudge.

Why should he not? She had gained his trust, perhaps in an informal and unproclaimed manner, but then her own actions destroyed such a previous bond between them. She so very much wished things could go back to how they had been: jesting and irking each other to the point of utter madness, then laughing it off and repeating the process in due time. She had felt such comfort around him and was able to fully breathe. No other person had made her behave and feel in such a way. Not even William Turner.

She choked back another sob, sniffing away her tears, or attempting to. "You came back for me," she was able to say, though unable to do so without a broken fracture. She had smiled when she'd said it, but found she could not hold it until she was finished.

He, too, attempted a smile, and failed. "A recent habit of mine, it seems." There was a hitch in his own voice. He released his breath and was undecided as far as if he possessed the strength to meet her eyes. His eyebrows were arched upwards, his lips in a pained frown.

True, his persistence and never-ending flirtations succeeded in making her want to pull the hair right from her skull—or his own skull, depending on her mood. But now she wondered if they truly had irked her. She recalled how she had behaved equally in return, surprised at herself for her actions then, but she didn't remember caring then, either. Oh, how she longed for those times now! Their playful banter, the continuing war between them—declared not so long ago onboard the Dauntless.

Such reveries brought about the lump that rose in her throat and the wetness that surrounded her eyes. She felt herself tremble and her knees go weak under his penetrating stare, and she fought to hold his gaze that was now locked on her being. She found she could not.

She held her lower lip tightly between her teeth and felt the warmth of tears as they began their descending journey down her battered cheeks. She released a shaken breath and felt her jaw quaver and her heart clenched as she saw the pain behind his eyes—his unbreakable mask.

She had seen his mask break that fateful day on the Pearl. It had been right before she'd sealed the lock of the chain. He had known, and yet he had completely surrendered himself to her, body and soul. No longer did he flee the new beating of his heart that only occurred in her presence.

She'd spoken of how she had no regrets.

Oh, but she did. She truly, deeply, did.

Unable to remain in control, she broke from his gaze like the shattering of porcelain. The breaking of a fine woman.

She brought up her hands to her face and choked on another sob, sinking to her knees before him. Her shoulders wilted as she cried, eyes tightly shut and trying to will away the visions of the Pearl being devoured by that accursed monster, and he with it.

The pain he must have felt! Of her own betrayal! She was supposed to be his ally, his friend! The only woman to claim to claim his heart. How many times would this man have to suffer the lies of his closest comrades?

She cried harder, her salty tears setting afire the cuts and bruises on her fair skin. She didn't care that she was breaking down right in front of him. In past times, she may have, and maybe she wouldn't have. Times, however, had certainly changed.

Through her tears, she could sense him drawing closer to her broken form, if even perhaps a little uncertain. He was standing directly before her now, and she fought her hardest not to wonder what he may have been thinking.

She was too lost in her own misery to notice him lowering himself to her level, coming to his own knees. He remained silent.

He waited there, patient and studying the girl for some time. His brow was slightly drawn, though he could hardly be described as being at ease.

He knew he had no reason to forgive her. The fact of it was, however, he already had. Albeit unwillingly, he had forgive her before he'd even heard the click of the lock.

Even so, he could never forget. He could never forget his sweet little bonny lass and how she had done what had to be done when no one else had the courage to—not even himself. Even as a pirate, she was righteous in nature. He had needed her then. He'd needed her comfort to accept what he had to do.

Elizabeth's body went rigid with fear as she felt a weight on her shoulder. Her crying had not ceased, but she was terrified at the rough, scarred hand that now rested there. Said hand held more weight that just a matter of simple physics. It held the weight of a burden—the gravity of what she had committed.

Soon, though, it was followed by another. He held her by the shoulders now, and was hesitant at first, but then gradually he began to pull her to himself.

Her heart nearly dropped into her stomach as she felt his strong arms embrace her trembling form.

Oh, God… she thought with overwhelming feeling.

How the tears came now.

His touch was not angered, as she may have feared, but rather gentle and, most of all, forgiving. She began to sob, all the walls having collapsed within her. Her chest heaved with every wracking cry and she was too weak to even hold him back. Only her fingers clung tightly to the fabric of his shirt and coat as she buried her face below the junction of his neck and shoulder. She'd never cried so hard in her life.

"I'm sorry!" she wept against him. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" her words broke off and became incoherent, drowned out by her tears.

His embrace only tightened comfortingly around her. He felt his own eyes stinging as his vision became blurred. He did not doubt a single morsel of her sincerity. His cheek brushed against her hair and he closed his eyes.

"I know, Lizzie," he told her softly.

Another crestfallen sob escaped her lips at the hearing of him calling her by the name. Thereafter, her cries softened slightly, muffled within his familiar garments. "Oh, Jack…" she breathed, feeling the warmth of new tears as they fell. He was too good a man for this. She did not deserve such treatment after all she had done.

She inhaled a quick and shaken breath, sniffling and pressing closer against him in security. He smoothed a hand over her hair and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. For how long they remained like this, he didn't remember. She'd continued to cry, and he'd held her.

He wanted to be in no other place right now. With no other person.

For being his supposed murderer, she was really his escape.

Why not take a gander at that handsome little review button yonder below? You know you want to. Jack would like you to... gives adorable eyes D