Disclaimer: I claim no ownership whatsoever of Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters/places contained therein.

A/N: Thank you to JackFan2 and wolfgazer325 for thier input on this chapter and the time they took to look it over.

Chapter 1

Heartless as he was, even he could not deny the honest pleasure of sharing a quiet moment with his ship. He was stretched out on the Dutchman's bowsprit, enjoying the mist of sea spray billowing around him as he half-dozed. Of course he had no need of the respite, but some habits were just too good to give up.

At times like this his thoughts were free to wander, unburdened, and more often than not they graced him with an image of Elizabeth, fierce and perfect as she had been the last time he'd seen her. Her hair whipping untamed in the strong breeze...dark garments clinging to her delicate form...eyes meeting his with such longing as he'd never seen before... He could almost feel the moment, could smell the salty air; felt her touch, light enough, but full of passion...

Will started back into reality, belatedly realizing that he could feel a touch; hands were running playfully through his unbound hair. His first instinct was to start up, to face this intrusion, but there was something about it that stopped him. He settled on opening his eyes and using a hand to shield them from the glaring sun.

"You miss 'ah, don't you? I am sorry your destiny led to dis,"

"But?"

"But Fate is more fickle den I. 'owever," she paused and Will belatedly realized that he was speaking to no human form; the goddess' voice was disembodied, carried over him by the breeze, as was her touch. He supposed that at one point he might have been deeply disturbed by the situation, but thanks to Jack Sparrow he could now take such things in stride.

"'owever you 'ave served me well, William Turner. Dese past two years you 'ave served more faidfully than any oder. I offer you a reward, wit' one condition - do not betray Jack Sparrow."

Will's brow furrowed and his hand drooped a little. He had never intended to have another dealing with that eccentric pirate. Mentally shrugging at the simplicity of the agreement on his part, Will nodded. The breeze suddenly stilled around him, though the ship did not loose momentum. The next spray of a broken wave rained down on Will like shards of broken glass, cutting his exposed torso and carrying the blood with it back into the sea.

"Agreed," the goddess' voice purred as the breeze and mists returned to their normal forms and motions.

Absently, Will rubbed at the various cuts on his chest - they were all superficial, just deep enough to draw a hint of blood. He froze as his fingers traced the line of the scar, the source of his bind to the Dutchman. In hindsight it was not an entirely regrettable situation; after all, he was still alive, still able to protect Elizabeth - albeit from a distance.

A curse suddenly sprang into his mind, one he desired to put on Jack - if not for the pirate's scheming, none of this would have happened...but Will stopped himself short, heeding the goddess' warning. He still didn't know what reward he had been promised, but he dared to hope it involved returning to Elizabeth and so he withheld his fury. He resolved then to never think on Jack Sparrow again.

The ship lurched suddenly, dragging herself around to face a new heading. The wind shifted and filled the Dutchman's sails, aiding her in rushing to claim a new batch of souls. At first Will had needed comforting from the rest of the crew regarding this strange behavior, but he had grown to accept it and now he pushed himself off the bowsprit and made his way to the helm, his mouth set in a grim line.

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Something was wrong. Elizabeth pushed herself off the mattress and cast her gaze around the dark room. Silence. Why was it so quiet? She could hear the frantic pulsing of her heart, could feel it hammering quietly in her mind. But she was accustomed to two pulses... The chest!

Elizabeth flung the sheets aside and leapt from the bed, crossing her small room in a few strides. She didn't need to light a candle to see where she was headed; she had visited the chest's resting place an uncountable number of times before. After all, a piece of Will resided there, always pulsing reassuringly. Sometimes she could almost hear his voice in the sound of his heartbeat.

She fumbled with the key, struggling to unlock the chest. The silence of the room was overwhelmingly deafening. Was he dead? Why could she not hear the heart? Finally the key slid into the lock, she twisted and the lid released with its typical theatric hiss. Elizabeth yanked the chest open and peered inside. Now she wished for a candle, for the interior of the chest was darker even than the room. She plunged her hands into the box and pawed around, ignoring the blood and slime that seeped under her nails.

Nothing.

No, that simply couldn't be right. Nothing? Elizabeth restarted her groping search but once again came up with the same chilling result: Will's heart was gone.

Elizabeth didn't know whether she should cry, scream, or dash out into the night, hire a ship, and flee in search of the Dutchman.

Her dilemma was shoved aside by a quiet knock on the front door. Elizabeth tensed; no sane - or honest - person would be calling at this hour of the night. As quietly as she could, she opened the trunk at the end of her bed and withdrew the sword she had claimed captaincy with at the last meeting of the Court.

The knocking started again.

"Coming," she called, doing her best to sound half-asleep though every muscle in her body was tense. She grasped the doorknob with her left hand, wielding the sword in her right. Exhaling silently, she swung the door open and raised the sword to strike.

Her arm and heart froze as recognition dawned. It couldn't be possible; she had to be dreaming. Will could not be standing before her, inexplicably drenched and gilded by the moonlight. It could not have been Will who moved forward then, took the sword from her unresisting grip, and caught her in a passionate kiss.

"Will," Elizabeth whimpered, clinging to his sodden form. She wanted to say so much more, but she did not trust her voice. The phrase she whispered daily to the sea breeze in hopes it would somehow carry to him pushed its way to the forefront of her mind and between kisses and tears of joy she managed to voice it: "I love you."

"Elizabeth." Her body tingled in response to his voice; for two years she had heard it only in her memories and dreams, but the true sound of it exhilarated her. The husky breathiness of his voice when he spoke her name with only passionate love in his mind was a sound she would treasure always.

A nagging doubt surfaced at the back of her mind and she drew away from him, meeting his smoldering brown gaze guardedly. It had only been two years; the curse dictated that eight more must pass before she would see him again.

A pained expression crossed his features at her withdrawal and he slowly reached for her. She caught his hand and held it in both of hers lightly, meeting his gaze with the firmness of spirit that he had always admired. He clasped her fingers in his hand and raised them so that he could place a gentle kiss on each of her hands.

"Will, are you really here or am I dreaming?"

He paused mid-kiss and looked up at her, his eyes solemn. "The Dutchman no longer has need of a captain."

Elizabeth's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Will released her hands and straightened, all traces of love and joviality wrung from him by some haunting memory. He turned away from her, just enough so she could not meet his gaze directly. "It went down in a storm earlier today."

"What?" Elizabeth asked, amazed. How could an immortal ship, the ferry of souls to the other world, simply capsize in a mere storm? Then a second thought struck her, though it pained her to ask. "Bootstrap?"

Will shook his head slowly, as if burdened by an enormous weight. "I made my decision two years ago, but it was taken from me. Now, by the mercy of the goddess, it has been restored. I don't know why, but Calypso has deemed the Dutchman's service at an end." He reached for her again and this time she did not draw away. He kissed her slowly as if savoring the taste and feel of her. "I'm free."