Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah - y'all know it by now: i don't own any of these characters, unless they weren't in POTC1...

Governor Swann was in his study. It was getting late, and Elizabeth still wasn't back. The snow outside was coming down harder than ever; he could hardly see the edge of the adjoining balcony. It had been hours since he had sent for the Commodore. Although, considering the weather conditions, he was not very surprised that James was late.

Suddenly there was a knocking at his study door. "Come in," he called imperiously, turning to see who it was.

The door opened and Commodore James Norrington came in, out of breath and still covered in snow.

"I beg your pardon for my lateness, Governor; I was unavoidably detained. The carriage horses wouldn't go out in conditions like this, so I'm afraid I had to walk."

Governor Swann smiled condescendingly, as if he was addressing a particularly stupid child who would not believe one plus one equals two. "That's perfectly understandable, James," he said pompously. "It is a long way from the fort. Come, sit by the fire and thaw yourself."

Governor Swann indicated a comfy chair by the hearth, and James gratefully sat down. "I apologize for my dampness, Governor, but the weather really is appalling."

Governor Swann snorted. "Nonsense. I don't care how soggy you are James, I just hope your ears are still working after that long cold walk."

"Of course, sir."

"Well then," Governor sat down in the chair opposite the Commodore's. "Listen closely."

Commodore Norrington obligingly leaned in closer, dislodging a clump of snow from his shoulder to go sliding into the fire with a hiss.

"I know you love my daughter, James; don't try to deny it. And I also know that you'd do just about anything to get her back from that lowborn pirate-friendly blacksmith."

"Anything that's on the right side of the law; of course sir."

Governor Swann shook a chiding finger at James. "No, no, James; you see, what you don't seem to realize is that you ARE the law. You're the highest ranking officer in Port Royal. Your word IS the law. You can do anything you want! You love Elizabeth, yes?"

James was taken off guard by the sudden change of subject. "With all my heart, sir. She means the world to me."

"And you'd do anything for her, is that correct?"

James nodded. "Ye-es," he said slowly. The Governor was up to something.

"Then if you are a man, I have a proposition for you."

James's eyes widened at the sheer audacity of Governor Swann's plan. "Sir, that's - "

"Illegal, I know. Probably worthy of the noose. But if it works, we'll never have to worry about William Turner loving my daughter ever again. Or any other woman, if we - you -do this correctly."

"Me, Governor? A man of the law, m - "

"Yes, James. You. I'm too old. You're still strong enough to pull this off."

James was silent. "Are you sure this is the only way?" he queried finally.

Governor Swann nodded. "Of course it is. Have you seen the way they look at each other, the way they...kiss...each other? There's no way we'll separate them otherwise. So, what do you say, James; will you do it?"

James knew he was about to cross the line. But the Governor was right - there was no way he could woo Elizabeth. At least...not when William Turner was still alive.

"Yes, Governor Swann. I'll do it. I'll kill the blacksmith."

"Tonight," added Governor Swann. "You'll do it tonight."

Commodore Norrington rose to his feet and stared blindly out into the raging blizzard. "Yes," he said, his heart and features hardening. "I will kill him tonight."

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Elizabeth woke with a start. Where was she? This was not her bed. This was not her room. Suddenly, she felt the arm around her waist shift, and instantly remembered. She was at the smithy. With Will.

She had stayed talking with him about the strange weather, fully intending to return home when the storm lessened. But unfortunately, the storm hadn't lessened; it had only gotten worse. Will had known it was getting late, and had also noticed her agitation. She did not like to impose, but the blizzard was really too awful to venture out in.

Will had known that Elizabeth would want to return home, but one glance outside told him it would be suicide for her to try. The thought of her losing her way in the snow and freezing to death was terrifying - to lose her to a storm, for her to die alone in the cold...it was too awful for him to comtemplate. So, when she had shrugged on her meager dressing gown, preparing to leave, he had desperately pleaded her not to risk her life just to please her father. He had asked her to stay with him, in relative warmth and safety, until the storm abated. Elizabeth had only looked at him a moment before she tugged off her coat.

"I thought you'd never ask," she said, and plopped herself down by the fire with a smile.

Will had looked stunned for a second before he too cracked a grin. Then he had joined her by the hearth for an evening of talk, warmth, hugs, and kisses.

He'd insisted she take the only bed, that he'd be fine on the floor. But Elizabeth wouldn't stand for it. If he slept on the floor with the draughts and wintry gusts, then she would too. He hadn't wanted her to sleep in discomfort, so he'd reluctantly accepted to share the narrow mattress.

She smiled at the remembrance of his awkwardness. He was uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with a woman to whom he was not married, even though they were more than likely to tie the knot sooner or later. But he had climbed into bed with her, trying his best to keep a decent distance between them. Unfortunately, keeping a "decent distance" on that tiny bed meant he was constantly slipping off the edge of the mattress to hit the floor with a thump.

When he had once again woke her by falling out of bed, Elizabeth silently rolled her eyes in exhasperation. There was such a thing as having an over-developed sense of propriety. So when he'd climbed back into bed, she'd rolled over and had snuggled up to him. He had protested, but she'd held a finger to his lips. "I'm cold, Will. Hold me."

She'd rolled back over and had put her back to his chest. He'd hesitantly put his arms around her. When she didn't protest, but sighed with contentment in place of his feared rejection, he became slightly more confident. "Warmer?" he asked softly, his breath soft on her neck.

"Mmm," she said contentedly, snuggling closer to him, "Much better. Now just don't move all night, and I think I'll be alright."

Will smiled in the smithy's darkness. She'd been planning this all along. "Anything for you, love," he said, and had kissed her neck before laying his head back on the pillow. In a short while, they were both asleep.

Elizabeth smiled, and shifted slightly. The arm around her waist tightened its hold, but only a little. Will mumbled something in his sleep and moved closer to her. Elizabeth closed her eyes. She had never been happier. She was safe, warm, well-fed, and loved by the most amazing man in the whole world. Who could ask for more than that?

She had been on the point of drifting back off to sleep, but then from outside there was an enormous cracking, rending sound, as if the roofs of the whole town were being torn off at once. It grated on her ears and send bone-chilling shivers sliding down her spine. The contentment she had felt only moments ago evaporated to be replaced by cold fear.

Will, at the first rending screech, was wide awake. He felt Elizabeth tense in his arms, and held her closer. What the hell was that? The noise was truely awful; it was making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the sound ended.

"What was that, Will?" asked Elizabeth, her trembling voice sounding dead in the sudden silence.

Will only wished he knew. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so god-damned scared shitless. Something terrible was going to happen - and it involved them both, he could feel it in his bones.

"I don't know, Elizabeth," he replied, his words still hoarse from sleep.

"Something's not right, Will; they're coming for me."

Will became even more deeply concerned than he already was. "What do you mean, Elizabeth? Who's coming for you?" His heart beat faster at the thought of her being taken from him - it had been awful when Barbossa had taken her; he didn't want that to happen again. "Who's coming for you?" he asked even more urgently.

"The ones from the nightmare," she whispered

Will instantly felt a strange sense of relief. "Elizabeth, it's just a dream."

He could feel her shaking her head. "No," she murmured, "I dreamed Barbossa would come - he did. And now - " Her voice caught in her throat. "Please don't let them take me," she whispered, almost begging. "Please."

Will was shocked by this revelation. She had known Barbossa would come? And now she feared whatever was now "coming for her". This was too much to take in all at once. It was only the realization that she was shaking that brought him back to earth.

He held her close, as if to protect her from things that weren't even there yet - if they were even real. "Don't worry," he said, his voice husky, "I'm not even sure if they're coming for you, or if they're even real. But I swear to you, I won't let them take you. Do you hear me?" He took her face in his hands. "I will not let them take you. I will keep you safe."

Elizabeth nodded. Will could feel the dampness on her face. She was crying. "How do you even know that they're real?" he continued, "And if they are, how do you know they'll come tonight?"

Elizabeth was crying so hard she could barely choke the words out. "Because they're already here," she said in a rushed, terrified whisper, hoarse from her tears.

Will opened his mouth to reassure her, but then his blood ran cold. A cruel, evil chuckle echoed behind him, and then the sound of a boot hitting the floor. They were coming.