Elizabeth stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom and admired her reflection. Her hair had been perfectly styled by her maid and the elegant gown she was wearing was newly purchased for today's very special occasion. She should have been pleased with her appearance, but instead something was bothering her.

"Elizabeth, dear, are you ready?" Governor Swann called from outside her door. "Our guests are waiting."

"Coming father," she replied, giving herself one last look over. She tried adjusting the leather tri-cornered hat on her head to a more pleasing angle, but it didn't help. The hat felt wrong, even though she'd been assured it was the latest fashion back in England. Elizabeth blinked at the image in the mirror. No…it was more like the hat felt right and the dress felt wrong. But that was silly. She shook off the feeling and headed downstairs.

Elizabeth entered the parlor to find three gentlemen lined up in front of her. These were the suitors that her father had handpicked for her to meet. She glanced down the line. They all looked the same to her: dark hair, dark eyes, and roughly the same height. None of them had any striking features as far as she could discern.

"Ah, Elizabeth," her father greeted her, interrupting her thoughts. "One of these men will hold your fate in his hands. I urge you to choose wisely, my dear. You'll have to live with your decision for the rest of your life."

Elizabeth glanced at them again, but their faces just blurred together in her mind even more. She turned back to her father. "But how will I know who to choose? These men are complete strangers to me."

"Are you certain?" He gestured toward the men and urged, "Look closely."

Elizabeth turned her attention back to the suitors and as she did, the features of the first man came into focus. He had dark brown eyes and his long black hair was neatly secured in a ponytail. He was dressed not unlike someone she would expect to meet working in one of the shops in town. He smiled kindly at her and she felt quite certain that they had met before.

Next to him was a strikingly handsome naval officer, who also had brown eyes. He was a commodore, she concluded from his uniform, and his face wore a stoic, proper expression. Again, she felt the same nagging sense of familiarity.

When her eyes finally settled on the last man, she had to fight the urge to let out a startled gasp. This man did not appear in any way proper, and she wondered why her father would have invited him into their home. The man's hands were filthy, his hair was in knots, and his shirt was open, exposing his bare chest to her view.

The man grinned and Elizabeth felt certain she had been caught admiring his body. She blushed and wanted to look away, but something about his playful gaze struck a chord in her. She stared at him curiously, thinking that she might know him as well, though she couldn't imagine where they would've met.

She turned and questioned her father with a confused look, but he offered no explanation. Instead, he presented her with a long black box. Elizabeth slowly opened the hinged lid and found a silver dagger nestled within the red velvet that lined the box. She picked it up and noticed a menacing skull had been carved into the handle. The knife felt unnaturally heavy in her hand.

"You know what you have to do," her father said.

And suddenly she did.

Elizabeth approached the first man, Will Turner. It was all coming back to her now. This man had been her fiancé. Her grip tightened on the dagger. "You loved who you thought I was, not who I really am," she announced, stabbing him swiftly in the gut. He slumped to the floor immediately.

She wiped the blood from the dagger off onto the hem of her skirt and walked over to the commodore, James Norrington. This man had also been her fiancé. "You only wanted me because I was beautiful, like a trophy to go with your medals," she stated, and dispatched him in the same manner, wiping the blade clean once more.

Finally, she reached the last man. His hair was adorned with many beads and small trinkets, but the top of his head was strangely empty, as though she had expected that he'd be wearing a hat. She stared at him, feeling sure she knew him, but couldn't recall his name. Had she been engaged to this man too?

She raised the dagger and positioned it above his heart, ready to plunge it in at a moments notice. "You…" she started, but was at a loss as to how he had wronged her.

"You don't want to do that, love," the man spoke. His voice reverberated into the very depths of her being.

"No?"

"No. You want to come with me. You want freedom," he said, like it was some kind of wonderful dream.

"Freedom," she repeated, still pointing the dagger at him. It sounded foreign when she said it. The man's breath smelled of rum and she found that oddly endearing. Why couldn't she remember his name?

The man grabbed her wrist and easily lowered the weapon to her side. Something about his imprisoning grip felt familiar. There was a flash and she recalled the salty taste of this man's mouth as he kissed her amidst chaos.

"Jack," she whispered. Was that his name? "Captain Jack Sparrow," she said, louder and more confidently.

And just like that, the spell broke.

Elizabeth looked down to see Will and James dead on the floor. She saw the blood on her dress and immediately dropped the dagger in her hand, horrified by her actions. "Oh god, what did I do?"

"You made your choice, my dear," her father said from behind her.

The room was spinning. She felt dizzy. "My choice?" Nothing made sense anymore.

Jack pulled her toward the door. "C'mon, love, time's a wasting. We have to make it back to the Pearl before she leaves."

"But I just killed—oh god," she looked away and stumbled along as she followed Jack out of the mansion. "How could I have done that? Jack, why did I kill them?" She wanted to sink down to the ground and cry, but he wouldn't let her. He held her up and made her keep walking.

"It was them or us, darling. That's the way the world works," he said resolutely. Shaking, and still in shock, she let him lead her away to meet an uncertain fate.

xxx

The muffled noise of a few rowdy patrons fighting in the tavern below roused Jack from his light sleep. He realized rather quickly, however, that he was in no danger and shut his eyes again, hoping that sleep would overtake him once more. But it was not meant to be. Instead, he laid awake on the lumpy mattress for quite some time, his mind intent on wandering in all the directions he didn't want it to go. He could still feel the dull ache of Elizabeth's loss and the guilt that accompanied it, present in the back of his head. It seemed that sleep hadn't erased any of that like he had hoped. The only thing it had done was rid him of his drunkenness. And that just added to his already less than ideal situation.

Last night they'd taken up shelter in a busy tavern, which unfortunately had only had one room available for them all. Jack vaguely remembered making an arrangement with Gibbs wherein he would get the bed for the first watch and then they'd switch. It was an arrangement Jack hadn't planned on keeping at the time.

As he turned over and faced the chorus of snores coming from the floor below him, one thing became very clear. He wouldn't be getting any more sleep tonight. It would be better to use the time to plan a way off the island, he figured. He reached under his pillow and found his pistol, tucking it into his sash as he climbed out of bed. Crossing the floor to the doorway required stepping over no less than four sleeping crewmembers and Will, the latter being a surprise. Perhaps someone had finally persuaded him to get some sleep. Or maybe he had passed out drunk too.

Jack grabbed his sword on the way out and went downstairs to the tavern. He found Gibbs sitting by the fireplace nursing a rather large tankard. He looked up when Jack approached.

"Something wrong, Cap'n?"

"It's all yours, Mr. Gibbs," Jack said, still groggy from what little sleep he had gotten.

"Sir?" Apparently, Mr. Gibbs hadn't thought Jack would keep his word either.

"The bed," Jack clarified.

"Right, of course. But, uh, I could stay for a bit, if you want," Mr. Gibbs offered, looking concerned.

"No need," Jack replied. The last thing he wanted was the man's pity.

Gibbs hesitated, but finally, and thankfully, rose from his chair. "Then I'll see you in the morning."

Jack walked over and threw a couple of coins on the bar, receiving in return a bottle of questionable rum. It tasted watered down. He'd seen it before, pass the cheap stuff off on the non-locals and the inebriated, and watch the profit pile up. A few days ago, Jack would've complained or cajoled his way into getting a better bottle at a lower price, but tonight he didn't care. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone while he drank the sweetened bilge water in the dimly lit corner of the room.

The main part of the room was crowded with mercenaries, townsfolk, and honest sailors. It was fortunate for Jack and his crew's dire situation that they had come across such a bustling port. They were in need of a ship that could take them to Tia Dalma's, and one of the men in the tavern that evening would unknowingly become the key to their transport out of there.

Jack stared down at the bottle in his hands. Elizabeth had once told him that she thought rum was a vile drink that turned respectable men into complete scoundrels. Perhaps it was true. In his younger days he would've scoffed at the idea of having someone pay his life debt for him. Back then he'd had noble ideals and was certain he knew how the world worked. He was certain men were honorable. It wasn't until he had faced Beckett and knew with a frightening amount of clarity that he was going to die, that his perceptions had changed.

Now, he was willing to do anything to remain in this mortal realm, even if it meant taking actions that were neither noble nor honorable. He lied, he cheated, he killed, all to stay alive, and it had never once bothered him in thirteen years. Why would it? He was a pirate, he didn't care about anything except his own survival.

But then he met her and things changed again. Suddenly, he found that the indifference was not as easy to affect in matters that involved Elizabeth. As evidenced by the way his most recent dishonorable act was eating away at him bit by bit, until all that was left was a man who couldn't even be bothered by the dreadful state of his alcohol. A man that was so devious and despicable that he watched a beautiful, innocent woman go to her death in his place. And for what? So that he could raid, pillage, and plunder like he had before? Somehow, the prospect of it all seemed less enticing now.

Jack choked down the bad rum in large mouthfuls, desperate for even a temporary reprieve from what he was feeling. As he neared the bottom of the bottle, however, he knew he wouldn't find it that night. He knew he wouldn't be able to move on with his life until Elizabeth had been rescued. She had believed in him until the very end, and he wasn't going to let her down. He was going to bring her back.

Determined anew, Jack got up from his lonely table and swaggered through the crowd, keeping a weather eye open for a prospective mark. He soon found one leaning against the bar.

"Hullo there, Tom," the barman greeted him, "I haven't seen you in awhile. How's business these days?"

"Never better," the well-dressed sailor Jack had been watching answered. "I finally bought a new ship to replace the one that had been attacked by those pirates a few years back. This one came with better armaments."

"Oh, is that your new ship I saw anchored out there next to the Osprey?"

"You saw the Mary Grace, did you? Beauty, ain't she? This is her maiden voyage. She's a feisty little thing, just like her namesake but we'll break her in soon enough."

"You making a short run over to Jamaica to try her out?"

"Oh no," Tom answered, "We're off to England in the morning. The lads just finished stocking her, so I thought I'd buy them all a round and we could celebrate before shipping out."

"You want it from the store room?"

"Yeah, yeah, give me the good stuff."

Jack mulled over his newly gathered information as the barman retrieved Tom's order. A new ship that was well stocked, heavily armed, and unguarded. It sounded promising. He'd go look it over and as long as it was something his small crew could handle, he'd wake them and they'd be out of this place long before sunrise.

xxx

Elizabeth opened her eyes and found that all she could see was blackness. She panicked for a moment before realizing that her hat had slipped down over her eyes while she slept. She lifted the brim up and squinted at the bright sunlight that greeted her. She stood, and when her eyes finally adjusted, she assessed her surroundings. She was on an island in the middle of the ocean. It reminded her of the island she had been stranded on with Jack. But this time she knew she wasn't stranded because she could see the Pearl anchored just offshore.

She couldn't remember what she was doing on the island and figured the best course of action would be to head back to the Pearl and find out. She just needed to find the longboat. The only trouble was, it was nowhere in sight.

"Looking for something, love?"

Elizabeth whirled around. "Jack, you startled me. Where's the longboat? How did we get here?"

"You don't remember?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head. "I don't even know why we're here."

"We're on holiday," he replied.

"And the rest of the crew?"

"It wouldn't be much of a holiday with them around, would it?"

"No, I suppose not," she conceded, but was confused nonetheless. It was the strangest sensation. She felt as though the answers were just out of her grasp and the harder she tried to reach them, the further away they got.

Jack interrupted her thoughts by offering her a drink. "Rum?"

"Please." She took the bottle from him and swallowed down a generous amount. Slowly, her worries faded into the background.

She watched Jack dance like a fool, up and down the beach, while he sang at the top of his lungs, "We're devils, we're black sheep, we're really bad eggs! Dance with me, Lizzie!" He hooked her arm as he passed by and swung her around with him.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!" Elizabeth sang along with him.

Jack tripped and brought the two of them crashing down to the sand. Elizabeth landed on her back and laughed like she hadn't in a very long time.

"You like being here, don't you?" Jack asked, rolling over, so that he pinned her to the sand.

"I do," she admitted. "I used to dream of being stranded on an island with you again."

"And here you are," he said.

"Here I am."

Jack leaned down closer to Elizabeth and her heart started beating faster. She was sure he was going to kiss her. As she waited with anticipation, she became aware of a whooshing, crashing wave kind of sound off in the distance. Elizabeth turned her head and saw that the tide was rushing out at an alarming rate. Further and further out it went, increasing the size of the island. Soon, it would reach the Pearl and they'd be stranded for real.

"Look at me, love," Jack said, turning her head back to him.

"But Jack! The tide—the Pearl—"

"Shh, it doesn't matter." Jack finally leaned down and gave her the kiss she had craved, but something wasn't right. His lips were cold and rough, his hands burned her where they made contact, and suddenly she felt dizzy and then everything went black.

xxx

As they sailed further north, Jack decided that he didn't really care for newly built ships. No, he'd much rather his ships be worn in and have character. He sighed. Perhaps he just missed the Pearl. In truth, the Mary Grace wasn't actually a bad ship, it was just that the wood of the rail wasn't very smooth, and it didn't have that familiar mildew smell below deck yet. Most disappointing, was that the fact that it was only about three-quarters as fast as the Pearl. At least they'd had an easy time of procuring it. That was the one thing that had gone right with his plan.

Oh, sure, when they reached Tia Dalma's home in the swamp, she had appeared to be all too willing to join them in their quest to save Elizabeth, but Jack soon found out that her helpfulness came at a price. She knew just the man that could navigate them to the world's end, she told them, and if they wanted to succeed, he'd have to come along. Fine, whatever, Jack had agreed in haste. And that was how he'd wound up with his arch nemesis on board.

Barbossa and his horrible hat-stealing monkey seemed perfectly comfortable at the helm of the Mary Grace, navigating them all toward a place unknown. It was not an ideal situation by any stretch of the imagination, but unfortunately, Jack had no other options.

"I don't like this, Cap'n," Gibbs said, voicing his concern for what must have been the tenth time since leaving the bayou a few hours ago. "I don't think I need to remind you that a couple of our crew members served under Barbossa for quite some time." He nodded in the direction of Pintel and Ragetti, who were now chatting happily with Barbossa.

"Ah, and you're worried that my formerly dead former first mate is planning another mutiny?"

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Well, you can uncross it, mate, at least for the time being. They're after my piece of eight and them receiving it is contingent on the safe retrieval of Elizabeth and the Pearl and our collective return to familiar waters. So, a mutiny would not be in their best interests."

Mr. Gibbs' gaze flicked up to Jack's forehead. "Do they know…?"

Jack shook his head, causing the trinkets in his hair to jingle softly. "They think it's on the Pearl."

"But, Jack, if they're gathering the pieces of eight, they could only want one thing."

"A truly disconcerting notion, I know, but we'll have plenty of time to think of a way to stop them. Apparently there's a long journey ahead of us."

xxx

Elizabeth surveyed the land around her from the crow's nest. Her current location was more desolate than any other place she'd ever been in her life. It reminded her of a painting she'd seen once of the deserts in Egypt. Except there were no pyramids and no palm trees, only the Black Pearl and miles of white sand, stretching out in all directions.

It certainly was very lonely here. Where did everyone go? If she had no crew, how could she have sailed here? And where was the ocean? Elizabeth paused for a moment. Why were those things important again? She shrugged and slid down the rope, landing with a dull thud on the deck. Today, she had a lot of work ahead of her and she wasn't going to let anything or anyone get in the way.

It took her a while, but she finally managed to patch the hole in the main sail. If the tide ever came in, and the wind picked up, she might have half a chance of sailing away. Where was she going again?

"Elizabeth, darling!" Jack shouted as he came up the stairs to join her on deck.

"Oh, it's you," she replied flatly. She had no use for lazy crewmembers today.

"That's it? I don't get a kiss?"

"No. No!" she repeated forcefully. "You stay away. Every time we kiss…"

He tilted his head to the side and looked at her curiously. "What, love?"

"I don't know, but I get the sense that I have to start all over again."

"Poppycock." He slowly walked closer.

"Stay back, or I'll—I'll shoot you!" she threatened.

"You won't," he challenged.

"I will." She tried to feign confidence, but her hand noticeably trembled as she raised the gun. His smug grin mocked her and he closed the distance between them to mere inches. Before Elizabeth knew what was happening, her gun went off with a sudden bang, causing her to take a startled step back.

Jack looked down at the hole in his chest and then back up at Elizabeth. "I liked this coat," he said with a frown, as though it were ruined because someone had spilled tar on it.

Elizabeth stared, horrified, at the dark red blood now seeping through and staining the cloth. "Jack, I didn't mean—" and before she could say another word, he disappeared.

"He wasn't any good anyway," the voice from behind her said. Elizabeth spun around and saw Jack standing there, except he wasn't wearing a coat like he had been when she had shot him. She wondered where he'd come from.

"Oi! I'm plenty good," the first, coat wearing, Jack said, reappearing to her left. "She likes it when I kiss her."

"I do not," Elizabeth argued.

"Do too," the old Jack countered.

"Do not," she protested again.

"Do too," the new Jack added.

"Do not." She shot the new Jack and he disappeared.

"Good job, love. It was getting a little too crowded here for my tastes," the first Jack said. "Now, how about that kiss?"