He was adrift at sea, arm around a barrel for support as the waves tossed him ashore. Bedraggled, he sputtered up saltwater and stumbled, one foot in front of the other, to lay on land and heave safe breaths. The world spun as he observed the fading sunlight, a small fire to his left.

"How did you ever survive this place?" came from his right.

He turned his head to see a younger Elizabeth, her skin still light from her time indoors, her tousled hair just gaining a golden tint from days in the sun. Her broad, curious smile. A spark in her eyes. Ah. A dream he'd often had. A dashed opportunity, if she'd ever given him one. He'd wished he could woo the girl before she fell for another. And though he had confidence in his ability to do so, it was the first time he felt uncertain if he should. For, what could he offer in return sans his body and broken promises? And many a time he had asked himself, why should he care? And after she had shackled him to the mast, he wondered, how could he care? Yet, when she crossed oceans to find him, when she looked at him just this very way as she had so many years before, he marveled, in what world could he not?

His eyes opened once more to find her asleep across his chest as if monitoring his heart. He'd gone and done it now. And no jar of dirt could save him. Selfish, she called him. Aye. He was that. But, what else could one be when they were raised to fend for themselves? When they were raised without mothers, with absentee fathers and a constant hunger in their bellies. He swallowed, recalling the thirst now. How should he have known that he could trust another when he'd been a pirate nearly all his life? Trust. Somehow he should have known. Trust Lizzie to unravel his secrets and make him bare. For she was the only one who truly had in every sense of the word. He knew now. He loved her. And that scared him more than the lines at his throat.

When Jack awoke he heard a clap of thunder. Storms at sea, never a bit of good news. Can't a man die in piece? He sat bolt upright, ready to prepare the crew for the worst when he remembered that he should be preparing for that himself. He ran his hands over his person as if to check for the pains that had abandoned him in his slumber. "Ha-ha!" Jack crowed when he noted a distinct lack of tendrils on his person. "Old Blackbeard must be getting rusty as his sword. Lizzie," he turned to her sleeping form, "wake up, Li-" as he shook her he saw the lines across her chest. The sight caused him to tumble back in horror. "No…" His wide eyes observed. "Can't be…" He took in a breath. "Lizzie," he shook her once more, "Lizzie!" He pulled his hand back from her clammy form. "Think Jack," he breathed, "think! What did he say when he cursed you? There must be a clue…" He wagged his finger. "I'll get you… and anyone you've ever…" His back slammed into the wall though he hadn't realized he'd been walking backwards. He'd cursed her. This was all his doing. This was the power his love had wrought. The first time he loved anyone in his wretched life and he'd doomed her for all eternity. No. He couldn't let that happen. "I do not love you. I do. NOT. Love you. No."

"Jack?" he heard her croak.

"Lizzie," he rushed forward and grabbed her hand. "You were right. I was selfish. Berate me. Shackle me to the mast again, maybe I can sort it all out from-"

"What are you talking…" she coughed, the ink rising on her throat and expectorating in shades of crimson and obsidian. She examined the blood on her hands and looked to him in terror. "What have you done?"

"Lizzie," his brows furrowed, "he said he'd come after anyone I ever loved…" He knelt as he grabbed her hand, "Hate me. Tell me I'm a fool. Send me to Davy Jones' locker. Spit on me. Anything! Anything to make this forsaken feeling stop…"

A tear fell from her eye as she examined him fully. "I can't…"

The rumbling outside grew as waves crashed against the hull and winds blew.

"Captain!" Joshamee burst through the doors.

"Mister Gibbs," he shifted to face him.

"Captain…" Joshamee startled as he examined the healthy man standing before him, "Praise be- I thought he'd come for you…"

"Who?" Jack inclined his head.

Joshamee remained silent.

Jack's voice came more sternly, "Who had, Mister Gibbs?"

The old man swallowed, his eyes drifting from Elizabeth. "Mister Turner."