It had been raining for three days now. A bolt of lightning lit up the windowpane and made James turn his head slightly to look. Seeing that it was of no consequence to him, he turned to look back at the roaring fire, taking a sip from the glass of brandy in his hand. In his mind, he kept replaying the images of the kiss Elizabeth and he had shared. The look on her face as she turned and ran from him. He had never meant for it to happen and knew that she had never meant for it as well. Michael had informed him the next day that she hadn't come out of her room that day at all but to see James. It had been the one-year anniversary that day and she had wanted to see no one but him.

He took another drink, finishing up the glass and getting to his feet to get himself another one. The book lay forgotten on the arm of the chair. The only sounds were the father clock in the corner of the room and the popping and cracking of the wood in the fireplace as it burned. It was too quiet for him now. Even at the office there was a certain amount of background noise that made him feel calmer.

His hand was on the decanter when there came a knock at the door. He paused a moment, wondering who would be calling at such a late hour. The knocking persisted and he put the glass down, heading over to the door. Upon opening it, he found Elizabeth, soaking wet and standing on the front step of his home. Her hair was matted down around her face, clothes sticking to her body as she wrapped the coat tighter around her. But the rain on her face couldn't hide that she'd been crying. He felt the guilt rise up again, barely managing to get out the proper words to greet her.

"Elizabeth, what are you doing here?"

"May I come in?" The request was soft, almost inaudible. He nodded and quickly stepped aside, letting her come in. She stood in the foyer, turning around to face him. He could see that she needed to ask him a question from the expression on her face, but wondered what it could be. She seemed to be having a hard time saying exactly what she wanted to. Finally she looked down at her hands, opening and closing them to provide distraction.

"Did you mean it?" She whispered. "When you kissed me, did you mean it?" She looked up at him and he was surprised to find that there were no tears on her face. Her gaze rested on his and her chin lifted slightly, waiting for his answer, of which he didn't have just quite yet. Instead he waved a hand towards the sitting room and took her gently by the arm. Elizabeth went with him and sat down in one of the chairs, sitting down and leaning forward, elbows resting on her knees. "Please, James, answer me." She begged him.

"I did mean it." He answered finally, pouring more brandy into the glass and looking at the wall above Elizabeth's head. "But that doesn't make it right." He took a sip and returned back to his seat, setting the glass down on the small stand beside him. The movement knocked the book off the armrest and Elizabeth reached over to pick it up. She closed it, slowly and softly running her hand over the front, her gaze not meeting his.

"So did I." She said as she traced the words imprinted on the front of the book. "I meant it but at the same time, I felt so much guilt for what I was doing. I loved, and still do, Will with all my heart. No one will ever have my heart in the way he did." She set the book on the floor by his chair, missing the look on his face. James loved her, but that day on the cliff after Sparrow had escaped, he had seen that Elizabeth loved Will and there was no coming between that kind of love. Now here she was being brutally honest about it with him, but he sat quietly and listened. "But you're the only man who ever came close." This time her gaze did travel up to meet his. "I meant that kiss."

James stared at her in shock, wondering if he had just heard what he thought he had heard. Did she just admit that there was love in her heart for him? Even if she had, he wasn't quite sure what she was getting at still. He kept his silence, gazing back at her and waiting for her to speak again.

"I will never stop loving Will, James. He'll always have a part of me. But over this past year you've been there for me like no one else and I've seen the truth in how you feel about me." She put a hand on her heart. "Because I feel it to. I'm falling in love with you, James." She told him. Elizabeth got up from the chair, trying vainly to straighten out her wet clothes. The expression on her face suddenly became miserable. "I've said too much. I shouldn't be thinking this."

James got to his feet, gently putting his hands on her arms and pushing her back down in her seat. He got to his knees in front of her. "Elizabeth, tell me what your thoughts are. I will listen." He said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Please, just tell me."

"It's only been a year since he died." She said after some reluctance. "I feel as if I should live without him for the rest of my life. I could live on my own, if I so choose to." She twisted the wet fabric of the skirt in her grasp. "And suddenly my feelings for you have grown and I feel as if I'm betraying him." Her voice shuddered. "I'll never feel the same way about another man that I did him, but I feel a different way about you and it's so strong. I want my daughter to grow up with a father who loves her and that she would love in returned. I've seen how you treat her, James. She loves you." She dropped the fabric in her hand and took one of his hands. "So do I, and I know that you would love me in return even if you never fully held my heart."

He took in what she was saying and put both of his hands around hers. Her hand felt cold from running around in the rain and he rubbed it slowly. "I would." He told her. "The downfall of a romantic." The smile he gave her was slight and sad, and it disappeared quickly.

"I want you to be with me, James, and I want to be with you. Not at this moment, however. Not until I've finished my mourning and found what peace I can." She slowly pulled her hand from his. "But I want to know if you'll have me when I'm ready."

He nodded, unable to find the right words at first. "I will take you, Elizabeth." He said finally. They both got to their feet and Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly.

"Thank you." She whispered to him and then broke from his embrace. With one last look, she found her way to the door and left. James remained standing in the sitting room, staring at the fire crackling in the hearth with a look of deep thought on his face.

Three months later, Commodore James Norrington and Elizabeth Swann were married in a beautiful ceremony overlooking the ocean. She had made the decision to move on.

----------------------

On board the Pearl, there was no such thing as a perfect plan. A perfect plan demanded that everything went as decided and no one was injured or killed or captured in the process. Of course, even outside the Pearl, perfect plans were few and far between.

Will twisted his wrist in the manacle again and tried to tug his hand from it again. The only thing he had achieved so far was rubbing his wrist raw, accompanied by bruising. He cursed under his breath and gave up, shoulders slumping as he lay back against the cold stonewall behind him.

"I told you they're too strong." Marty said, busy idly scratching words into the wall with a sharp piece of bone. During his time on the Pearl, Will had come to realize that many of the men that Jack had kept as his crew were more than what met the eye. Kursar had an amazing singing voice and regaled the crew every night before bed with sea chanteys. Moises had a fondness for carving things out of wood. Marty had surprised him the most. Many of the men who took to piracy were uneducated, but Marty could read and write extremely well. Few had ever gotten to see his works and had claimed they were quite impressive. Will himself had only seen one, a poem called 'Dark Man's Heart', which he had a sneaking suspicion that he was the inspiration for.

Now he seemed to be scratching a story of some sort, maybe leaving something for the next men who were thrown in the cell. A little taste of the history of the men before them.

"It was worth a try." Will said, pulling the cuff up slightly so he could rub his wrist. The skin hadn't broken yet, but there were a few swollen places. "Besides, we're getting out of here one way or the other. I prefer it the way that doesn't involve my head in the noose again." Duncan grunted in agreement and rolled over, trying to sleep.

The plan had been to sneak on board a ship from the East Indies trading company instead of attacking it directly. Most of the men were off in port, drinking away wages and using what little was left to coax a wench into bed. Jack had led the first group of men onto the ship and they had managed to get a full load and headed back again. Will had seen him leaving and led the second group in. They'd left the little boat at the side of the ship and climbed up onto the deck. Everything had been quiet. Not a soul in sight except for the two men on guard.

Everything had been going well until the captain had stumbled back on board with a wench in his arms and had woken up the two sentries. Will, Duncan, and Marty had yet to get back to the boat and after a brief scuffle, were caught and taken into town. Of course, the captain was satisfied with just catching them and had demanded that they be branded as well, on the forehead as was tradition. All three of the pirates had made it as difficult as possible by fighting back, and ended up with their brands in places other than their foreheads. Will's had ended up on his upper wrist, Duncan's was on his rear end, and Marty's was on the side of his neck.

Will scratched idly at the mark as he glanced around the cell, thinking of ways out. Thankfully he had retained most of his blacksmith knowledge instead of forgetting it, as he had wanted to. Unfortunately, his thoughts were cut off as he heard footsteps on the stairs.

Marty glanced up, dropping the bone on the ground in resignation. "Here comes the end." He said, standing up and raising his chin high. For a brief moment, Will wondered how he had ever come to have the life of a pirate. It didn't seem to fit the little man at all. Duncan cursed and got to his feet, gaze fixed on the three soldiers who made their way down the stairs.

Will was the last on his feet, staring icily at the soldiers as they approached. He almost wanted this, knowing that this time things would be done right and he could finally find his peace. He may have refused to be branded, but he wouldn't fight them when they escorted the three pirates out to the gallows.

"Isn't this ironic? Last time it was you helping me out." Will blinked and then squinted at the first soldier, still standing in the shadows.

"Jack?" He asked incredulously as the soldier moved into the moonlight streaming in from one of the windows. There was a flash of gold and silver as the soldier smirked.

"Aye, it's me. I changed the pirates' code." He said, looking around for something to use as leverage.

"They're more like guidelines anyway." Anamaria said helpfully, looking less than thrilled at being dressed up like a British soldier. The third man was Cotton, minus the bird.

"Now, let's see if I remember how to do this." Jack said after he had found the bench. He slid one of the sets of legs beneath the horizontal bar and pushed upwards. The door came off its hinges and tumbled forward, but Ana and Cotton were there to catch it and keep it from clattering nosily on the floor.

Duncan was all too happy to leave and kept thanking Jack over and over again. Marty was a little more subdued, still thanking Jack but not planting multiple kisses on Jack as Duncan had done.

Jack eyed Will, still standing in the cell. "Coming or not?" He asked, crossing his arms. Will glanced up at him, still lost within his thoughts. If he stayed here, he could hang and his life would finally be over. No more suffering, no more hurting inside every time he thought of Elizabeth and Emma, no more living a life he never wanted. But for each of those thoughts, a small voice within him told him to have hope, that someday he would be able to see them again. And for being such a small voice, it won out easily over the others.

"I'm coming." He said, stepping out of the cell and allowing Jack to grab the manacles that bound his wrists like he was being escorted to the gallows. Instead the three captured pirates were led back to the ship, where Moises took to ridding them of the manacles.

The anchor was raised and the sails were unveiled. The crew scurried around the deck like ants as the Black Pearl glided silently out of the bay, blending in with the night. The caper had been more successful than a failure. They'd gotten away with enough of the cargo to have a good night in Tortuga and the crew had come back more or less intact.

For most of them, it was a good day.

For Will, it was a lost chance.