'The armada arrives in a fortnight,' Commodore Groves informed. 'One hundred and forty ships, due to make port near Morant Bay and await orders there. In the morning the Dauntless is due to arrive and return Governor Swann to Port Royal.'

'Anything else?'

'No sir.'

Lord Beckett waved his hand, wordlessly dismissing Commodore Groves from the charting room. With a short nod, the commodore turned on the heel of his boot and retired through the French doors. For the first time in months he felt that he had been left alone. Not only by people, but by the taxing duties that he was responsible to attend to daily. For a moment, everything would be calm, so unlike the past week. Davy Jones and his crew, hellbent on obstructing any attempt to gain information on the Brethren Court, were for now, but surely not for long, quelled. The heart of Davy Jones was aboard the Dutchman and the Kraken dead, the latter which Lord Beckett wished he would have demanded sooner. For months he had tip toed around Jones for fear that the sadist man, if one could call him that, would set his beast on Elizabeth as retaliation. And then there was Governor Swann, who would be against his will sent back to the safety of Port Royal and therefore unable to relentlessly question about the fate of his daughter. Lord Beckett gave it a day before chaos broke out once more.

Though he did find being alone rather tedious. Perhaps it was for this that a small part of him willed for chaos to erupt. For when he found himself alone, especially in the few months past, he found himself engaging in the same torture over and over again. It started with the boredom. The boredom led him to drum his fingers on the smooth mahogany desk and then fidget with whatever littered the desk that day. It only took but a few moments and with a tired sigh, he would succumb to the urge that he knew would only sting his cold heart. Ritually, Lord Beckett would reach into one of the many drawers of the mahogany desk and out he would pull Jack's enchanted compass. The needle only ever moved when he did, signaling that Elizabeth was far in the distance. He should have put it away, rather than torture himself so. It was like staring at a clock- the more you stare, the slower time gets. But as usual, he would not put the compass away. Instead he would sit it on the desk and wait for it to move. It wouldn't move, so he would toss it back into the drawer and wish that he had never asked Mercer to retrieve it.

That night would be different.

The enchanted compass sat in the centre of the desk, it's needle still as the dead, but only for a moment. Just as Lord Beckett reached to return it to the drawer it's needle began to spin. His brow pulled together as he watched it spin, so quickly that it was only a blur. There was something unsettling about the sudden change; a chill went down his spine. He took the compass in hand and snapped it shut- he could still hear it spinning inside and so threw it into the open drawer. It didn't stop, but the eerie sound was muffled.

The air was electric, like the moments before a lightening storm. Lord Beckett rubbed his neck in discomfort as his eyes scanned the room which suddenly seemed so sinister. It felt as though he was not so alone as he was moments before; like at any moment, a figure would appear from one of the dark corners. The corner to his left, just behind the desk on the opposite side of the room, the corner where the golden glow of the few candles still lit scarcely reached. It was the darkest part of the room and he could not pry his eyes from it.

'Elizabeth?' he didn't know why the name slipped past his lips, but it brought chills across his skin. For there would be no response from her. Not really her, anyways.

The candle on the desk before him went out, almost as if an ominous reply. Or perhaps it was a distraction, meant to pull his eyes away from the black corner so what lurked there could step into the light. He held his breath as his heart pounded against his chest loudly. It was panic inducing- between his heartbeat and the distressing sound of the compass needle spinning, nothing else in the room could be heard. He felt that if the two were silent he would surely hear movement in the corner. And there was movement in the corner- slowly, the dark mass' edge wavered. Someone, or something, was parting with the shadow that concealed them. It came closer, with one step, when-

A disruption. The French doors flew open, revealing an alarmed Governor Swann. 'Elizabeth?'

Lord Beckett was for once thankful for frantic company bursting in unannounced. The shadow had fled. 'No,' was all he could utter as stood with his hand over his chest.

'I thought. . .' Governor Swann's forehead wrinkled. 'I thought that I heard her scream.'


Elizabeth's hands sunk into the warm wet sand of a beach. Before relief could over take her senses, one violent contraction in her throat sent the contents of her stomach onto the white sand. It was nothing more than sea water and the pungent taste of bile. Another wave came and washed the sick away as she stood. Her whole body trembled as if high on a foreign physic, shaken by the fall that she had anticipated to be her death. As she glanced around the beach, littered with pieces of their doomed ship, she saw the rest of the crew washing ashore just as she had. One by one they gasped for air and gagged on sea water.

'This truly is a godforsaken place,' Mister Gibbs remarked after he caught his breath.

This new place was strange. It was an endless beach. There were no trees, no sounds, just like the strange empty ocean that they had just come from. Only rising and falling dunes of sand. Elizabeth squinted, the sunlight on the white sand made it hard to see. But there was simply nothing to see. 'I don't see Jack,' her voice trembled, not yet recovered from vomiting. 'I don't see anyone.'

A dripping wet Barbossa stood to his feet. 'He's here. Davy Jones never once gave up that what he took.'

'And does it matter?' Will growled with his hand on his heaving chest. 'We're trapped here by your doing, no different than Jack-'

'Witty Jack. . . is closer den you tink,' Tia Dalma's words cut Will's arguments short.

On cue, just as the all knowing woman had said, a strange shape emerged in the distance, over the highest of the sand dunes. It was the mast of a ship with black sails. Elizabeth's brow wrinkled in disbelief at what she was seeing, and she was joined by the others, all staring with various looks of confusion plastered on their features. The Black Pearl was gaining speed, racing up the dune and then diving gracefully, as if weightless, across the beach and towards the ocean. Jack Sparrow stood proudly on it's riggings, only visible for the brief time that the ship was so near. It hit the salty waters with a great splash and continued on.

'Slap me thrice and hand me to my mama,' Mister Gibbs remarked with a smile. 'It's Jack.' With a newfound spring in his step, he hopped onto a crate and waved his arms.

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile and follow suit, but only took a single step before that smile fell. Once more her tormented mind reminded her why it was that they had risked their lives and now stood in Davy Jones' Locker. It reminded her of that grim afternoon when she bound Jack to the fatally wounded Pearl. 'I'm not sorry,' the words haunted her mind for months after the incident before fading into memory, but all at once they had resurfaced. Elizabeth thought now of how quiet Jack was when she had damned him to his watery grave- how he could have simply shouted for the crew to come to his rescue, but had not. Had he faced death to spare her the accusations? Or had he too realized that she was right, and that the kraken would kill him anyways? And what would he remember? She shackling him to the mast no doubt, but would he remember their conversations beyond the grave. Would he know about Cutler? 'No,' Elizabeth thought. 'It was imagined, and therefore his forgiveness was too.' Either way, she felt that Jack would not be quiet now.

With the single step that she had taken, she felt the burning eyes of Will, ever wondering what it was that pulled them apart. Her own eyes went to the sand beneath her boots as she crossed her arms over her chest, drawing into herself.

'Do you think he's leaving us?' Ragetti asked.

Mister Gibbs shook his head enthusiastically. 'Nay, the Pearl can be crewed by six at the very least, but for the journey we face he wouldn't risk it.'

Elizabeth backed into the crowd as she saw one of the four long boats on the Pearls deck lowering into the water. Cold sweat glistened on her worried brow. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists tightly, letting her dirty nails dig into the palms of her hands. To her dismay the minutes felt like seconds, and soon she heard the familiar sound of oars against water. Her teeth bit into her swollen bottom lip hard.

'It's the captain!' Pintel exclaimed.

The crowd of her crew members raced towards the shore, leaving Elizabeth exposed. She came forward with them, staring at the ground, terrified to see Jack and for him to see her.

'A sight for sore eyes!' Mister Gibbs shouted, 'Jack!'

'Mister Gibbs!' came Jack's equally enthused response.

'Aye, cap'n-'

'I thought so,' Jack cut his words short. 'I expect you're able to account for your actions, then.'

'Sir?'

Elizabeth ambled through the crowd and eventually found a fine spot to hide, amongst Sao Feng's men in the back.

'There's been a perpetual and virulent lack of discipline upon my vessel, why?' Jack spat out angerly. 'Why is that, sir?'

'Sir you're. . .' Mister Gibbs lowered his voice. 'You're in Davy Jones' Locker, cap'n.'

'I know that. I know where I am!' Jack loudly announced as the crew gave one another sideways glances. 'And don't think I don't!'

Barbossa stepped forward. 'Jack Sparrow. . .'

'Ah, Hector,' Jack was once more cheery. Elizabeth could hear him coming closer as she stared at the stitching on Tai Huang's tunic, unable to look up. 'It's been too long. Hasn't it?'

'Aye,' Barbossa agreed with a hint of malice in his voice. 'Isla de Muerta, remember? You shot me.'

'No I didn't- Tia Dalma! Out and about, eh?' Jack had moved on, his footsteps coming closer. 'You add an agreeable sense of macabre to any delirium.'

Just two feet away from where she stood, Will spoke. 'He thinks we're a hallucination.'

'William, tell me something. Have you come because you need my help to save a certain distressing damsel- or rather, damsel in distress?' Jack questioned. 'Either one.'
Elizabeth could feel her neck burning as she heard Jack's voice speaking about her, imagining his arms flying about as he spoke.

'No.'

'Well then, you wouldn't be here, would you? So you can't be here,' he concluded. 'Q.E.D., you're not really here.'

With a final breath through her lips, and quashing any desire to vomit again, Elizabeth parted the crowd as she came forward. 'Jack,' she called, hardly able to force her eyes to the man she addressed. But she did, and felt her throat tighten as a result. He hardly looked different to the man who had haunted her in the time after his death, but there was indeed something different. It was in the way his face froze, just for a second, as he laid his eyes his killer. Elizabeth tensed her jaw and forced her watering eyes to hold their gaze on him. 'This is real, we're here.'

Jack seemed at a loss for words. Rage lingered somewhere in his eyes, only noticed by Elizabeth. He took a short breath in, readying to speak. Elizabeth held her breath, readying for all around her to know her deceit. His finger raised, as it did so often when he spoke, but not a word passed his lip which twitched as he thought. Just as she thought he was ready to proclaim her treachery, he turned and careened back towards Mister Gibbs.

'The locker, you say?' he whispered frantically.

Elizabeth feared that it was too late, that perhaps Jack would have realized what had happened in the fullest extent, and that she would be left behind to rot in the locker. She rushed forward and gave her first line of defense, 'We've come to rescue you.'

Jack spun and paced towards her. 'Have you now? That's very kind of you.' his voice dripped with sarcasm. 'But it would seem that as I possess a ship and you don't-' he swept the crowd of those he disliked most with a pointed finger- 'you're the ones in need of rescuing. . . and I'm not sure if I'm in the mood.'

'I see my ship-' Barbossa cut in, gesturing at the Black Pearl- 'right there.'

In a lethargic and unenthused manner, Jack stepped passed Barbossa and put his hand over his brow to block out the sun. A mockery only meant to prod at the old captain. 'Can't spot it. Must be a tiny little thing hiding somewhere behind the Pearl.'

'Jack,' Will snapped as he strode towards Jack. 'Cutler Beckett has the heart of Davy Jones. He controls the Flying Dutchman.'

Elizabeth joined Will in an attempt to seem on their side. 'He's taking over the sea,' the words sounded unconvincing. She squeezed her eyes shut at the failed attempted.

'The song 'as already been sung,' Tia Dalma said more convincingly. 'De Brethren Court is called.'

Jack let out an irritated sigh. 'Leave you people alone for just a minute- look what happens. Everything's gone to pot.'

'Aye,' Mister Gibbs agreed. 'The world needs you back something fierce.'

'And you need a crew.'

Jack turned with his lip held tight. 'Why should I sail with any of you? Four of you have tried to kill me- one of you succeeded.'

The colour drained from Elizabeth's face. All eyes drifted her way, silently questioning her and waiting for a response. Her jaw fell, willing her to make a case for her defense, but words wouldn't form in her mind. It was all she could do not to be sick once more.

'Oh. . .' Jack began, ambling towards her with a smile. 'She's not told you. You'll have loads to talk about while you're here.' With still no change in Elizabeth's demeanor, he came to face Tia Dalma. 'As for you-'

'Now-' Tia Dalma smiled and used her honeyed voice to thwart whatever it might be that Jack might ask. 'Don't tell me you didn' enjoy it at de time.'

'Fair enough,' Jack quickly decided. 'All right, you're in.' He moved down the line. 'Don't need you, you scare me. Gibbs you can come, and Marty.' A sound of disapproval came from his throat when he passed Pintel. 'Cotton- Cottons parrot, I'm a little iffy, but at least I'll have someone to talk to.' Finally he faced Sao Feng's men. 'Who are you?'

'Tai Huang. These are my men.'

'Where do your allegiances lie?'

'With the highest bidder,' Tai put simply.

'I have a ship,' Jack offered.

'That makes you the highest bidder.'

'Good man-' he turned to the crew that he had selected. 'Weigh anchor, all hands. Prepare to make sail.' From his waist he pulled a compass which could point north, but it only spun, unable to detect direction in the world that was not it's own.

'Jack. . .' Barbossa drew menacingly. He ran his fingers on Sao Feng's charts, the sole providers of a way out of the endless sea of dead. 'Which way you goin' Jack?'


It had been a day since the Black Pearl and its crew departed from the desolate beach in Davy Jones' Locker. There had been whispers- speculations of how Elizabeth had killed Jack and why. Whispers and side-eye glances, ever questioning who the person they had sailed with for so long really was. What else could she be hiding? And so Elizabeth had spent the day below deck, unable to cope with the boundless amount of unwanted attention.

'If I hadn't left him, the Kraken would have killed us all!' she wanted to scream this most of all to her scrutinizers. 'Damned to the locker along with Jack, with not a soul in the world with designs on saving us.'

Elizabeth rubbed her temples and shifted positions. The damp stairs that led to the gun deck where she sat did no good for her aching bones. Her mind was clouded with scenarios of what she wanted to say and the responses to it. All that would never happen. She was so deep in thought, that she hadn't realized when someone came near. It was Will, and she only noticed him when he stood an arms length away.

'You left Jack to the Kraken.'

Unable to look at him, Elizabeth let her eyes stare at her own knees as she uncomfortably picked at the hem of her sleeve. 'He's rescued now, it's done with.'
Will turned away, giving her the chance to glance at him without having to look him in the eye. He shook his head in disbelief and Elizabeth felt compelled to defend herself for the first time.

'Will I had no choice,' she began, not knowing where she would go next. Her nerves forced her to stand from the stairs.

'You chose not to tell me.'

'I couldn't,' Elizabeth let a breath out. Was that all she could say to Will? Yes, her reasoning was valid, they would have all died if not for her. . . but what would be her excuse for not mentioning this to the man that was her fiancé? Who thought that at the very moment he still was her fiancé? She couldn't think of a reason why she hadn't, only that she was in love with another and speaking to Will, let alone sharing a dark secret, would have fueled the flame in his heart which was the opposite of what she wanted. 'It wasn't your burden to bare,' was all that she could think to say.

'But I did bare it, didn't I?' Will stepped closer to her, sending her rigid. 'I just didn't know what it was. I thought. . .'

It only took a second for Elizabeth to deduce what it was that Will had bared. 'You thought I loved him. . .' she speculated out loud, only after saying this that the worlds were a mistake. Will thought that she had loved Jack, but now she had corrected his woeful mind. And so he would think their love story resumed. There was only two things left to do; tell Will the truth or flee.

Elizabeth chose the latter, but Will curbed the easy escape and backed her into one of the many support beams. She held her frame tight, angered that he felt he had such a right to touch her, but knowing that she could scarcely argue it without alluding to her marriage to Cutler. Her blazing eyes stared right into his, the animosity careering though her veins suddenly overpowering her fear to look into them.

'If you make these choices alone. . . how can I trust you?'

'You can't,' Elizabeth bit out in a whisper. It hadn't been the confession that he deserved, but she felt it enough that he should understand. He couldn't trust her and she had made him aware of it. Whether he would trust her again or not would be a mistake made on his part alone. With one final glare, she pushed past his arm that blocked her way and stalked up the stairs.

When Elizabeth arose into the fresh air on the decks that she had been so quick to flee, she took a deep breath in. The moment between she and Will had seemed to light a fire under her. She was tired of being the girl who hid away- the girl who she had broken away from so long ago, but seemed to retreat to when all didn't go well. What had happened to the girl who seduced the man who arrested her? The girl who ruthlessly lied and schemed, stole the heart of Davy Jones from the most notorious pirate on the seas? And then killed that pirate for his trespasses against her? She wasn't sure when exactly that girl had taken refuge within her, but she was ready to bring her out once more.

WRITERS NOTE

I couldn't bring myself to kill off Weatherby. I thought about having Jones do it instead of Mercer, but I just couldn't do it. The movies did Weatherby dirty for a one liner to move the plot forward by a hair and I am not having it. Weatherby is going to go live his life out in Port Royal like he deserves.