Will woke early that morning, the water washing over his face, nearly choking him. He had fallen asleep out on the rocks, thinking about Elizabeth. He was drenched from head to toe, it seemed the changing tide had caused him to wake. He found a higher rock and sat on it, unable to go further out to sea, afraid to go back to the house. He turned his head so that the house was visible. It shone in the golden sunrise like a castle made to shelter kings. It looked so calm. It wouldn't be right to wake everyone now, so early in the morning…
Will tried to think of reasons to stay outside with the salty spray. He wanted to go back, apologize to Cassandra, but found himself unable to move. He stared out at the rising sun, at the still water before him. He wondered what had happened to the others—Gibbs, Marty, Cotton, Pintel, Raghetti… Elizabeth. Thinking of the crew was too painful, bringing memories of Jack.
He thought instead of Elizabeth, hoping she would forgive him. He was shamed, and he thought she would never understand. He whispered one word, but it was not the one he thought it would be. He thought of Elizabeth, thought o her smile, her kind understanding and patience. He thought again of the kiss—both the kisses—and was unable to speak that name. Instead, a cry out to all those who have loved, and lost—and loved; a call to the lost souls of the sea, of whom he knew some would have faced this dilemma. He whispered one name, but not that which he intended. "Cassandra."
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"How much is it worth to you?" Cutler Beckett was mocking her, she knew. She had dealt with his type of man before. They were all the same: greedy, arrogant, and smug.
Elizabeth looked him in the eye, hiding her distaste for dealing with him. "Do you know it, or don't you?" She knew this was hardly the thing to say, but she couldn't think of anything else. Her mind was focused on going upriver, finding Will. She had thought over what she would say to him a million times over.
Lord Beckett's smirk faltered, a glance of disappointment across his features. "Regrettably, no. I do not know where to find that witch nowadays. But I know where to find someone who can help." She looked at him, daggers in her eyes, indicating for him to explain. He knew better than to test her patience from her last bit of 'bargaining.' "Some call her the Lady of the Sea. Others call her by name—no, I cannot speak it. It would be ill advised on many counts. We can take you there, but the rest you must do on your own. How much is it worth to you?"
She thought for a moment before responding. "More than anything I could hope to give."
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Will sat out on the rocks for a long time. He sat out even after the sun was high in the sky. He hid behind the rock when he heard Noah calling his name. He sat out until he could no longer bear the hunger, at which point he snuck back into the house to grab something quickly. He managed to get in and out without being seen, and quickly made his way back to the rock. He sat longer, until the blinking stars had punctured the perfect dark of the night sky, and longer still. He sat as the sea stirred up, the waves breaking on the rocks. He was so enveloped with thought he didn't notice white sails on the horizon, and he didn't notice Cassandra walk up to him until she'd placed her hand gently on his back.
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Elizabeth was startled at how quickly the journey seemed to pass. The sun was setting, as she sat alone in her room, hoping that Lord Beckett wouldn't change his mind. By nightfall, she could see an island in the distance. The sky was dark, her room cold. The lights coming from the island seemed to taunt her, intensify her loneliness, her cold. She thought the full moon was a cruel reflection of her predicament: the twisted smile and hollow eyes embodying her desires. As they approached the island she could see how rocky the shore was, see a particularly tall rock, made a chair to a young man. She moved closer to the window. The light glinted off a small medallion around his neck. It seemed vaguely familiar. Will? It can't be…
She reasoned it was a trick of the light, and climbed up to the deck. She made sure she had everything with her. Leaning out over the railing, she continued to watch the young man, watch as a young woman walked up behind him. Watched him turn around. She wondered if this was a cruel joke of her predicament too. She wondered if this was some sort of sign pertaining to her relationship with Will.
She continued to watch the pair. Continued to watch as they spoke. She assumed they were speaking, although she could not see them clearly. They were merely silhouettes in a grander picture, but she couldn't fathom why they would be staring at each other for as long as they did. As they neared the shore, Lord Beckett approached and told her she would need to walk on the rocks from here. It wasn't that much farther, so she moved to the rope ladder without complaint.
Lord Beckett reached for her hip, and pulled the sword off her belt. She began to complain at this point. He stared at her reproachfully. "We agreed on transportation. This—" He held up the sword. Her only connection to Will. "Is my price. Accept it, or we can leave." She stared from him to James tentatively, and then began to climb down.
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"Will…" He heard the soft voice behind him, and turned to face her. He would hide nothing from her. He would show her his shame, his apologetic manor.
He cut her off before she could say anything. "I feel so… stupid right now. I'm so sorry—"
She broke off. There was the faintest gleam of a tear in her eyes, the slightest tremble in her voice when she spoke. "Don't say that. Sorry doesn't fix anything. Nothing can be done about it now. I can't honestly say… that I tried to stop you, can I? We can forget it happened. Just don't forget Elizabeth." Her eyes flickered towards to sea for a moment. She saw the white sails, but said nothing of them. "You still have a need to find her, don't you?" He nodded, unable to make a sound. There was that feeling again.
"Will, if you want to find her, think of the worst possible place she could be." Dead. Or a captive of Beckett. "She's probably around there somewhere." He looked at her, and thought of a different place. If she were anywhere, I wouldn't want her to be here. Will looked at Cassandra again, that feeling stirring within him.
He had moved towards her in the time she'd been speaking. She looked into his eyes and swiftly kissed him before returning to the house. He called after her, although he wasn't sure he heard. "I'm not sorry."
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Elizabeth kept her gaze upon the two people growing closer. She could see them better now. The young man reminded her of Will but he couldn't be. He couldn't be here. She continued to advance on the pair, and when they were a reasonable distance away, she saw them kiss, watched the girl walk away. The man was facing away from her now. And she walked up behind him.
She was about to speak when he called something to the other girl. "I'm not sorry." She knew that voice. She had brought herself here under the impossibility that it could be him, but it was.
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He had meant for Cassandra to hear it, but she didn't. The wrong girl heard it. The one he had thought to be so far away, the one he had wished wouldn't be here, on this shore. He didn't hear her approach him; he didn't know she was there. He turned back towards the sea, a shocked smile playing around his lips.
His smile vanished when he saw her standing there. His shocked expression was nothing compared to hers. She was hurt, more hurt than he'd ever known her to be. She was right. Elizabeth was right where I didn't want her. She tried to say something. Her mouth moved, her lips formed words, but no sound escaped her.
He stood up, and she backed away. His shock evaporated, he was serious now. His glance was once again accusatory. He was the one who had hurt her, and he was suspicious of her. His featured softened as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Elizabeth… I—"
"You what?" She almost screamed back at him. "Don't say you're sorry. I came to find you. I trusted you, I loved you!" She backed away from him, turned and began to run away.
He caught her wrist, pulling her back to him. For once he knew what to say. "I won't say I'm sorry. I'm not sorry."