(OT: Yay! New reviewers. Welcome! And thank you! I figured this might take a while to write, but it came fairly quickly to me early this morning, and I also hope I portray this scene the right way because it is so sensitive andnothing is resolved yet, but you know, there was some sort of step. I think at this point, they regained that entirely silent connection that they had lost, even though I don't really mention it here. Anyway, enjoy! And hopefully another will come soon! Probably... When Sao Feng shows up and takes Elizabeth.)

No, this wasn't happening.

She seemed to be thinking that lately.

He wasn't... He couldn't be... dead. Her father wasn't passing her by in a little longboat, incapable of saving himself or embracing her a final time. Why didn't he grab that damn line? Her feet moved faster than her thoughts, and she thrust forward, leaving the line draped across the edge, and clinging to the netting, her hands slipping through the square-cut holes. "Father!" she screeched at the top of her lungs, thrashing with the quake of her heart. "Please come with us! Please! No... I won't leave you!" She bounced against the ropes, prepared to leap forward... Prepared to do anything to return her father to the living world. He was drifting away, and she heard the crew thundering toward her, their heavy footsteps clunking against the deck.

"I'll give your love to your mother, shall I?" Governor Swann inquired, so unfeeling to his beloved daughter's screams.

Ignoring his question, she wailed, ""Please! I won't let you die!" Her words were interjected as Will tugged her from the rigging, softly murmuring her name and spinning her into his grasp. His hands stroked her back as she buried her face in his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his neck as she sniveled and sobbed. How could he be dead? Who could have done such a thing to her father?

Will shifted Elizabeth as they huddled against one another, hating to see Elizabeth suffer even more. He too mourned the loss of the Governor, realizing that justice was not to be served anytime soon. "Is there a way?" Will asked, his eyes darting to Tia Dalma.

Tia Dalma shook her head solemnly as the rest of the crew, excluding Jack, clattered behind Gibbs and Barbossa. "Him at peace," she murmured, glancing to the eerie sea as Governor Swann glided into the distance, lifeless streaming bodies following shortly thereafter.

---

As the crew returned to the main deck, Will rubbed Elizabeth's back, kissing her head as she swayed. "It will be all right," he whispered, even though he knew any sentiments were in vain at this point. He had never felt her tremble like this. He had never seen Elizabeth weep without correcting herself within a few minutes. Will had seen her fume and watch anxious tears cascade to the ground, but never ones that transferred and shook his own soul.

"No, it's not going to be ok," Elizabeth hissed, speaking in giant gasps between her dribbling tears. "I have hurt everyone... This is my fault. This is all my fault." The woman attempted to wriggle from his grasp, suddenly yearning for the solace of a solitary chamber, but Will would not release her, his arms swathing her with great control.

"I won't let you do this to yourself, Elizabeth," he murmured, pressing himself against her thin figure. "We have all made mistakes, including your father." His words were stone-cold with a few traces of affection, gulping down his own misdeeds. She writhed even harder this time, her hands sliding down from his neck and shoving against his chest. "Elizabeth," he commanded. "I won't let you run. Not anymore."

She resisted only a moment more before realizing that this was what she needed; this was what she wanted. Elizabeth swung her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder once again, and teardrops still trickling upon his vest. She felt him gently step in reverse until finally finding a suitable seat, her eyes still averted from his gaze. If they were lock eyes... She was afraid that the revolver would click again... That conflict would broil and explode over them, and every embrace would be forgotten and forsaken. So Elizabeth enveloped herself in the meager pardoning, lying alongside Will without pondering her guilt, his torture, her torture, or anything that pertained to their relationship over the past events for the first time. The woman abruptly realized how exhausted she was... As her hands traced the wrinkles of his blouse, she curled against him, nuzzling his leather vest.

Even though he did not desire it in any way, Will had expected a longer struggle from his loved one, but she had submitted, and he hoped he realized he would never allow her to run again. He stroked her back gently, tilting his face away from the mourning woman and to the murky waters. Will felt her forestalling any eye contact, and he quickly realized that she wanted one day without afflicting themselves with their burdens. He considered telling her his second reason for going on this voyage, but then he loathed the emotion that swelled in his chest. Will did not trust her. He had stated that, and he had loathed every second of it because the notion was so purely true. She had to have faith in herself before they mended their attachment, no matter how long he must wait. He mind now flipped back to Tia Dalma's disturbing and sinister remark

A touch of destiny...

It was the same thing she had said when they had met those months ago, searching for that weird shaped key. And now, it clicked in tune with Governor Swann's looming words.

Sail the seas for eternity. The Dutchman must always have a captain.

He had heard the second part before when he and his father conversed with Wyvern, except he hadn't known that he must sail the seas for eternity. That meant... Life without his Elizabeth. As he caressed her blonde locks, he could not imagine life without this wonderful woman. Will's head sagged as he imagined his pulsing heart in the engraved chest while watching Elizabeth blissfully ashore without him. Sulking in these thoughts, he gripped Elizabeth tauter, realizing that at one point he would have to make a decision. To save his father... Or salvage his and Elizabeth's relationship.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, but she made no movement and did not lift her head. He tilted forward, and she limply drooped against his muscular arm. Miss Swann had drifted into a slumber, but her hands still clutched onto his dark maroon shirt. He tenderly hoisted her legs onto his lap and then swept her into a grip, gently lifting her from the seat with her head still leaning on his chest. The man descended the nearest hatch and entered the sailors' barracks, a few men already resting. He located the cleanest one and soothingly situated her in the linen hammock, draping a spare blanket over her figure. William knelt beside Elizabeth, staring into her stained cheeks and closed eyes. How he wished that they were in the original Port Royal... So that he would be innocently gazing at her complexion instead of having an underlying feeling of fright if he were caught. Will softly tucked stray tresses behind her ears and stroked her relaxed hand before turning toward the staircase, glancing at the sleeping Miss Swann before trudging up the staircase and returning to his reflections.

Was there really a choice? Davy Jones could not continue his trecherous reign, and his father would soon become part of the ship. He couldn't allow Bootstrap to lose his mind. In a way, he had known he was killing him when he had shed his blood over those Aztec coins, but he did not realize that Bootstrap was facing a fate that was just as bad as everlasting death. It was everlasting life encased in a vessel's algae-encrusted walls for eternity, only partially knowing thathestill breathed and lived the same air as the other sailors. Will returned to his seat near the helm, closing his eyes as he relaxed into his thoughts. But how could he leave Elizabeth? Who did she have to depend on now? He would lose her if he carved his heart out, and she would lose everyone she loved. The impending choice threw their relations into perspective. Their time was limited, and he had to know if she could forgive herself, so that he too could begin to trust her.