Disclaimer status: still am not Mrs. Orlando Bloom (sigh) nor do I own any of the characters or the plot or anything.

Elizabeth ran singing drunkenly around the bonfire Jack had set ablaze, her mind muddled by the rum, recalling odd things and speech slurring. Jack's warm arm held her to him, but her thoughts only focused on Will. She enticed a treat so as to get the pirate to take the final swig that would put him in a drunken sleep, then dusted off and slowly began to pile the barrels and bottles of rum near the low palm trees, prepared to light it as soon as dawn surfaced.

Will's eyes enlarged as he heard the pirate crew tell the tale of his father's death, bitterly wondering why every loved one in his life was affected by piracy. He hung his head and thoughts drifted to his love stranded with the crafty rogue on the diminutive island where he was sure they both would perish.

He examined his hands, a habit he found to be growing each day. Hands could do so much damage, but also give so much love. They could take a life or cradle it. They could heal* or they could hurt. He traced over a small scar on his index finger where he had once burned it, then crushed it, then cut it, as it was the finger most used. His thumb had the roughest calluses, and several of his fingers had hangnails from his nervous habit of scratching the skin about his nails.

With a defeated shake of his head, he settled against the wall of his cell, as the floor was wet from a leak. Suddenly inspired, he examined the hinges of the door, but was severely disappointed. The doors were of an older style and had hinges sealed firmly on both ends. Besides, where would he go were he to escape? The ship was already a fair distance from the island, and to hide would only risk discovery. His sleep was tormented with thoughts of Elizabeth slowly starving.

Jack was annoyed with her; she did not doubt that. And not only because of the rum, he could not allow her to attract the Commodore, even if it was for rescue. He was likely—no—certainly to be clapped in irons as soon as he set foot aboard any ship of that—he called him a very nasty word with relish—to take him so easily. Nonetheless, Elizabeth only stoked the raging fire and calmly sat to be rescued. Jack stormed off in a huff, muttering about women and rum. She was not surprised when he came back to her with a frown and word of the Commodore's arrival.

As soon as Elizabeth set foot on the Dauntless, the first person to greet her was her father. He clasped her to him while firmly ordering men to contain Jack. The pirate did not object, but took on the moody look of one who knows they cannot be kept in one place long and are surprised that no one else is aware of it. Commodore Norrington was not one to display any affection publicly, but he gave her a tender smile and took her hand with a kiss. Compared to Will's gentle caressing, any compassion of Norrington's seemed cold.

"Commodore, we must turn back and retrieve Mr. Turner." She interjected solemnly as he ordered the helmsman to set course for Port Royal. At the mention of the boy's name Norrington turned from her, seeing in her eyes that she was as equally smitten with the blacksmith as he was sure he was with her. He continued to show his back, after all, he was a man of war and did not take the pleading of women to heart.

"Commodore please... As a wedding gift." She nearly gasped, hearing herself sink to this level of barter. Slowly though, her resolve hardened. Any sacrifice for Will was worthwhile.

"Elizabeth! Are you saying you are accepting the Commodore's proposal?" Governor Swann asked with half surprise and half glee.

She gathered herself, willing her eyes to stay fixed upon Norrington's. "I am."

Norrington paused, looking down at his new fiancé with firmness. "Very Well."

Jack's eyes lit as he heard 'wedding.' "A wedding! I love weddings! Drinks all around!" He offered a sheepish grin. "I know, slap 'im in irons, right?"

Elizabeth sat once more in a fine cabin, gazing sadly at the clothes her fiancé offered in place of the white undergarments she had been reduced to by Barbossa. She pulled the trousers on, disliking the smothered feeling they gave clinging to her legs. She didn't much like long skirts, but at least they offered a cooling breeze once in a while. The shirt and jacket was moderately comfortable, not nearly as restraining as the layers of undergarments worn in lady's garb. She took a bite from the meal served from the galley, not feeling hunger despite the long hours spent on the island. She was filled with too much emotion to find space for nourishment. Will occupied her mind night and day now, even more now that she had agreed to marry Norrington.

Once again, Will found himself aboard a boat floating along the caverns of the Isle de Murta, noticing with disgust each mark of a pirate draped amongst the passageway. He was vaguely aware of his feet as they left the boat, firm hands pushing him to his fate at the top of the treasure mound, where the square chest lay. He was fully prepared to feel a knife in his throat when, miraculously, Jack appeared before Barbossa in his usual swagger, bearing some sort of 'business' proposal. He heard mention of his being a 'whelp' and, to his anger and later hurt, Elizabeth's engagement to the man who had always thought him of low breeding.

Elizabeth knew that as a daughter she should listen to her father as he tried to comfort her, even amazed that he thought her decision to marry Norrington a mistake if she loved another, but she was occupied with escape. With relish she tied of the rope of sheets she had constructed, throwing it out the window to a waiting boat. She rowed away from the Dauntless to the Pearl, where she hoped to free the crew that would aid her in rescuing her lover.

It was no mean feat to sneak aboard the Pearl and emancipate the ragtag crew from the brig, as Barbossa had left his sly monkey aboard, but soon the crew stood on the deck. "We must honor the code, miss." The first mate countered her pleas to aid her in rescuing Jack and Will. Disgusted, she climbed aboard her dinghy and set off for the cavern, prepared to take matters into her hands alone.

*In an interview for Disney AdventuresÓ Magazine, Orlando Bloom answered that the one power he wished he could have would be the power to heal.