Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda, yadda. Insert your own disclaimer here.

A/N: Don't hurt me…please. I went to Florida December 17th, and I got back New Year's Eve…I had NO time to whip out another chapter then and there. I really apologize for that, guys…I really do. I had meant to do one right before I left, but of course, chores have to be done and my mom has to make me do them. So no chapter before vacation. But here you go…the next chapter. I hope you won't hurt me.

Dedicated to:

~Lizzi. Happy Yule, hun!

~ Gwyn: what would I do without you, beta?

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Pirates of the Caribbean: The Winds of Change

Life's Liquid

________

"He's going to drink himself to death."

That was all Elizabeth had heard Jack say for an entire week. Otherwise, he had remained silent, speaking to no one. He seemed numbed, disjointed and dazed. His eyes were slightly glazed and held no more mischievous glimmer as they once did. He refused to see Anamaria or Dolan, and had almost gotten away with refusing treatments to his own bleeding wounds before Elizabeth's incessant insistence had gotten the best of him.

But Jack was right, nonetheless. Will was going to drink himself to death. At first, he hadn't showed any signs of breaking; he was respectfully mournful over the commodore, no doubt, but that was to be expected. He spent the night in Elizabeth's arms, holding back the tears of confusion and guilt that he had wanted to shed. Of course, being the determined man he was, he had not cried. He had simply clung to her like a small child, confused and overwhelmed with reality.

Elizabeth had hoped his upsetting mood would lift upon time. Unfortunately, with each passing day, it got worse. He stopped eating and would only consume solid food when she force-fed him. He would babble incessantly about his childhood, relaying seemingly random occurrences from his past that were irrelevant. She would silently listen to him speak about his quest for his father, about how he had wanted a relationship with the man who had created him. The sparkle in his eyes was undeniable when he spoke of William Turner. Yet the sparkle would be replaced by a dullness at the end of his narrative as he simply stated, "But that was then. And this is now."

Her concern had grown even greater when she found him clinging to a bottle of rum as he sat in his quarters one night. Shocked, she had asked him where he got it. He had answered, in slurred words, "Best drink in the whole world. Numbs the pain, it does…numbs all the pain." Of course, she had grabbed the bottle from him before he could protest, marched to the main deck, and flung the despised drink overboard, vowing that she would never let her husband ruin himself by the vile liquid.

But the next day, he found another bottle.

He would never tell her where they were, and when she would ask Jack, he would only shrug and turn away. Deciding that Will needed her compassion and understanding instead of her anger, she had returned to him, telling him how it wasn't his fault, how Norrington's death was inevitable, how it was regrettable and yet unpreventable. It was then she heard her father's voice echo in her head: "The boy's fate is regrettable…" She inwardly cringed, remembering how idiotic that explanation had sounded. And then, her own doubts took her mind, and she had tried to sort them out.

Was it Will's fault?

No, her mind answered stubbornly. It was an accident.

He should have realized what he was doing.

 He was under the spell.

He's stronger than that. Perhaps he was unaware of the devastation his actions would cause.

It's not his fault.

Are you sure?

…no.

Elizabeth wasn't sure of anything anymore. She wasn't sure if Will would stop in his self-destruction. She wasn't sure if she could help him. She wasn't sure if she could cope with seeing him so helpless and weak, the shell of a man who once had the determination and posture of a bull. He was slowly destroying himself…would she be able to help him?

Maybe.

But there was only one man who would be able to fix his guilt. The man who had "abandoned him", the very man Will was terrified of becoming. If Will wouldn't listen to her, he would have to listen to his own father.

But something told her, deep down inside, that getting father and son to help each other was going to be more difficult than she hoped.

~*~

The soft motion of the ship's soft lull softened the sharp pang of desperation in Elizabeth's stomach. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, relaxing her muscles. The wind rustled her loose hair lightly. She could hear the soft lapping of the ocean against the hull of the Black Pearl, once the ship of Barbossa, now their own.

"Nice evening, isn't it?"

Jumping slightly, Elizabeth turned to see Bootstrap Bill Turner smiling tiredly at her. Though his face was considerably tanner with a few more wrinkles, she was astonished at how much Will and his father looked alike. Although she and Bootstrap had not spoken once while tending to the injured, there was a silent understanding between them: take care of the crew first, figure things out later.

Elizabeth tried to return the smile, but she knew it looked more like a grimace than anything else. There just wasn't anything to smile about anymore. "Yes…lovely evening."

Bootstrap nodded, folding his hands behind his back. Elizabeth averted her gaze to lie upon the dark blankness of the ocean that stretched out ahead of her. The awkward silent drifted to her ears, and she spoke. "How are they doing?"

He shrugged. "The best they can be, considering the situations."

"Indeed."

Silence.

"You need to help Will." The words came fast, and she could not stop them.

"I cannot help Will. He has to help himself," came the somewhat cold reply.

Elizabeth turned to the man next to her. "He needs you, now more than ever. You need to help him!"

Bootstrap sighed. "If I've learned one thing, its that you can never stop a man from making mistakes. He has to make them, fix them, and learn from them himself."

"He's not just some man. He's your son."

Elizabeth could tell from the look on Bootstrap's face that she had hit home; perhaps a bit too close to home. His eyes looked slightly overbright, and his face slackened. But only the wind answered Elizabeth's pleas. After long minutes of waiting for an answer, she realized she would not receive one. Feeling hopeless, Elizabeth turned from Bootstrap and headed for her quarters, hot tears flooding her eyes.

~*~

An hour later she stood on the deck once more, flinging over another bottle of half-finished rum into the nighttime waters. Collecting herself and trying to resist the temptation to scream, she smoothed her filthy, wrinkled dress and pushed her hair out of her face. She had been in worse situations than this, but never had she had to deal with her husband's loss of faith. Seeing him turning to the bottle, something that the previous Will Turner would never do, disheartened her so she could barely stand.

But her own determination held strong, and with one more deep breath, she marched back into her cabin she shared with Will. Upon opening the door, a strong smell of alcohol invaded her senses and she felt a wave of nausea come over her. Will was asleep on the bed, breathing heavily. Knowing she was no use to him while he slept, she closed the door again and walked back out to deck, in the fresh air of the Caribbean. Unfortunately, the crisp air could do nothing to quell her nausea, and she found herself hanging over the railing.

"If I had a shilling every time I saw you dangling over that railing while spilling the contents of your stomach, I could retire a happy man."

Good God, Elizabeth inwardly groaned. The one person who has to catch me vomiting…

She weakly looked over and saw Jack lugging a huge bag behind him, dragging it across the wooden deck. Soft clinking of glass was heard as he gave the bag one final heave for it to land at his feet. Slightly surprised to see him out and about, she studied him. His dazed look had disappeared and was replaced by the ostentatious aura of Jack Sparrow once more. He looked back to his normal self, although Elizabeth realized that nothing about the man was normal. She felt relief at his return to "normalcy"…as much as she found herself at odds with the pirate, the absence of his usual attitude had only added to her heavy sadness.

"What is that?" she asked, her eyes shifting towards the bag he carried.

"This?" Jack gestured to the bag and shook his head sadly. "My life's liquid." He reached down, opened the bag, and pulled out a bottle of rum. "This bag could make me happy for at least –" he glanced down at the bulging bag "- a couple of hours."

Elizabeth goggled. "Where did you get those?"

Jack peered at her. "From the cargo hold. The same place dear William has been getting them." He looked placed the bottle of rum gently back into the bag and lifted it slowly, as if the action pained him terribly.

"I'll let you go drink your rum," she said angrily, staring at him, "and you can even join Will if you like…but he may be passed out already," she added, unable to keep the spite out of her voice.

"Think I'm going to drink it, then?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Quite the contrary," he said, almost mockingly. Heaving the bag and giving a grunt with the effort, in one swift motion Jack flung the bag over the railing into the salty waters, the rum bottles lost to the depths of the sea.

Elizabeth was unable to speak for a few moments, watching the bobbing bottles distance themselves from their ship. From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth watched Jack take off his hat in a final salute to his long-time friend, Mr. Rum Bottle. Finishing his silent eulogy after a few moments, he placed his hat back on his head and looked at Elizabeth. "Will is more trouble than he's worth," he said abruptly, "but the whelp saved my life, and I'm not a completely dishonest man, after all," he added as a side note. Looking uncomfortable for a minute as if he were vulnerable, he cleared his throat. Giving one last, sad glance to the rum bottles he sighed. "I'm too nice, as it were."

She could have hugged him, but she knew if she did, her embrace would be quickly followed by vomit. She smiled in appreciation, and she could've sworn she saw only the trace of a smile on his face. But before she could ponder it any further, she gave another great heave over the railing.

"I'll leave you to you and your stomach contents," she heard him announce. He disappeared into his quarters, and upon hearing his door close, Elizabeth felt grateful to be alone again.

However, for the first time in a long time, she felt a glimmer of hope as she clung to the side of the ship, gazing down into the black waters. If Jack could sacrifice his rum for Will's betterment, she could sacrifice much more.  

~*~

Yes, perhaps uneventful, but a necessary filler chapter nonetheless. I know you're probably wondering about how Bill and Anamaria are alive, but you're going to have to wait until the sequel of this story to find that out, I think. Of course, that's prone to change, but as far as I see it now, it will be in the sequel.

Next chapter: Will's POV.

Hope you enjoyed.