They reached the sand after what felt like miles of walking. Neither had spoken a word. Will could not believe that it had been less than a day since he had walked down this same path. The day had seemed so full of promise then.
"So tell me, William Turner, what was so important that you had to drag me out here in the middle of the night?" A faint, subconcious smile played in the shadowed corners of her lips; she was not thinking of Will as her eyes spotted the cove. "You never came to see me earlier." She feigned nonchalance to cover her nervousness. Then she paused, leaning into him a bit. "Have you been drinking? You positively reek of liquor."
"But I did, Miss Swann. I came down This. Very. Path," he punctuated each word with an ominous step closer. "You were not alone, so I didn't see fit to interrupt you."
"Oh, bugger...""Stop using that language!" Will howled, backing her towards the rock edge. "You're not a pirate, you're not!"
"Will..." Elizabeth started.
"Will nothing! How could you do this to me, Elizabeth? To us! You swore it meant nothing when you kissed him," his voice dropped to a harsh whisper, as he dropped to his knees, sobbing. "You promised me," he muttered against her bare feet.
"And I was wrong. I wanted it to mean nothing. God help me, Will, I do love you--" Elizabeth was cut off as Will stood abruptly and forced his mouth against hers in a hard, desperate kiss, the kiss of a man drowning. There was no love, no tenderness, only the desperation that comes with knowing this might be the last kiss that ever graced his lips. His hand ran up her side and left behind a trail that burned with guilt and shame. He began to slide it under her shirt.
"Is this how he touches you, Elizabeth? Is this what makes you burn for him, but turn to ice when I am gentle with you?" he whispered. She whimpered under the roughness of his hands, tasting his tears on her lips. The spell came to a sudden, crashing halt when he brushed the tiny patch of differently textured skin on her hip. His hands hesitated, retracing the strange new skin. It was not what he had become familiar with.
"What's this?" he yelled. "What the bloody hell is this?" Rage, a rare countenance to Will's personality, boiled over. He grabbed the waist of her breeches and wrenched them away from her side, revealing the tiny tattoo.
"It's a sparrow," he hissed, incredulous. "You've tattooed a goddamn sparrow on yourself. You've marked yourself as his while you still wore my ring and you never saw fit to tell me! You're nothing but a whore... his whore! You even smell of his demon rhum!" He shoved her, hard, and spat on her. "Goddamn you to hell, Elizabeth Swann!" He raised his hand back, blind with rage, ready to strike, when an iron grip closed around his wrist.