First off, I feel this chapter should come with a warning to W/E shippers, because there are going to be some things down there which you may not particularly like. But it would also be fair to warn any J/E shippers, if you've gone this far, because there's stuff you may not like as well. I'm just evil, aren't I?


Hopelessly she paces on the beach, stubbornly waiting for him to come, to see his gently smiling face and feel his rough hands caressing her body. Although his arrivals have been even more delayed recently, it's never taken him this long. Where could he be? What other dreams were more important than this?

You should be relieved, the sensible voice in her head said. You aren't even supposed to be here; you made the choice yourself. There is no love you still feel for him.

She knows that; so why should she need him beside her? He'll come anyway, though; he always returns.

And eerie breeze ruffles the plants that he should be trudging through now. No footprints have stirred up the sand of the path, save for her own. Only she had walked in this dream tonight. A cold stone of dread weighs heavily where her heart should be. He is not coming.

No! He must! She flies down the path, kicking up the soft white earth. Brittle emerald leaves brush her cheeks, poking into her tear-pricked eyes. In desperation she calls his name, her cry echoing strangely throughout the grove, which has suddenly grown into a jungle; a great, tangled, endless jungle, both beautiful and terrible at the same time. Once she never would have dared step here- only he could walk through this tree-filled warren- she had only studied it from her safe position on the shore. She just wants to get out. She just wants him.

"Where are you?" she cries. "I can't find you!" The cool wind carries and drowns her voice, all alone in this unknown place of dreams. He still does not appear.

Finally, she stops running, letting tears flow freely, knowing that she is fighting for something that is no more. He is gone; no longer will he hold her, look into her eyes, kiss her… She may have more than she ever wanted back in the waking world, but in truth, she has nothing at all.

Shadows obscure what little sight she has left; a power shoves her into a void where there is no warm sun, no lush palms; only an eternal darkness. She writhes in terror, stuck in a labyrinth between dream and awakening, and as she is consumed, she cries for him once more.

Will!


"My tremendous intuitive sense of the female creature tells me that you are troubled."

Elizabeth was jerked out of her thoughts at the sound of Jack's voice and the weight of his arm slumped across her shoulders as he leaned next to the barrel she was perched on. Grinning, he looked at her expectantly. She pursed her lips; Jack had always been able to read her a bit too well.

"It's just that…" Should she tell him about the dreams? Had she woken him that morning with her thrashing? Perhaps he knew already…

Jack rolled his eyes bemusedly. "I see no fit reason as to why you should be surly when a trip to…" he paused dramatically- "…Tortuga is in the very near future." He took a swig of rum from the bottle in his hand.

Annoyance prickled at Elizabeth; she had never liked that rum-soaked pirate port, with its drunken sailors and brassy wenches… the latter of which was sure to catch Jack's eye. "That's exactly it," she replied, using the present topic as an excuse. "Tortuga. Every time we go there, something… or someone has always distracted you."

Jack backed off a bit as she fixed him with an icy glare; it was going to be one of those days, he could see.

"Well, er, you see love, there is a remarkable amount of beautiful ladies in the world- none of them having anything on yourself, of course- and there's only one Captain Jack Sparrow; I've got to give them an equal share of the profits." He gestured to himself proudly.

Elizabeth, disgusted, jumped up off the barrel and stalked away. True, Captain Jack Sparrow may have been charming and animated, and an extremely good-looking man, one that she couldn't help falling for, but under those qualities, there were definite flaws, flaws that she often tried to overlook; he was selfish, uncouth, and changed interests as easily as a hummingbird in a field of flowers, and the problem was, he didn't seem to be too bothered by it. He was so different from the quieter, determined Will…

Before she could get away, Jack quickly darted in front of her, blocking her path. "But," he continued, "This time, I swear, on pain of death, I shall not so much as glance at another womanly presence other than that of your own, and shall instead devote my attention to the abundance of rum and the essential dealings of serenading you all night long. Savvy?" Still clutching the bottle of rum, he wrapped his arm around her waist, flashing a roguish smirk.

Elizabeth couldn't help it; she smiled back, caressing his shoulders and scratchy dreadlocks. She loved it when Jack talked like that; it made her feel more confident about her decision to stay with him. "We're square."

With that, Jack pressed her closer to him and passionately bestowed a kiss, which Elizabeth gladly received. His encounters were so fiery, so exhilarating, so wrought with lust and desire, unlike the soft, affectionate kisses she and Will shared in the past… and in the dreams. Embracing Jack all the more fervently, she shoved those memories to the back of her mind, ready to be contemplated later. Right now, it was just Jack Sparrow, and the strange wonders of Tortuga ahead.

It wouldn't do good to dwell on what was lost now.


Where is that rum-soaked bastard? Elizabeth angrily tried to blaze a course through the crowded maze of the Tortuga tavern, her gaze combing over the mottled faces of sailors; her Sparrow's kohl-lined eyes and golden smile weren't among them. She had walked into this place side-by-side with him, trying to avert his attention from the low-cut dresses and suggestive glances of the opposite gender. One of them in particular, a pretty blonde wench, had caught his interest a little more than Elizabeth felt comfortable with; the female pirate had been sure to throw the prostitute the most scathing glower she could muster as she led Jack away.

But now Elizabeth couldn't find him anywhere; he wasn't at the bar, bartering over another mug of rum, or seated at one of the weathered tables, exchanging falsehoods with an acquaintance. More importantly, he wasn't with her, as he had promised.

Wait, was that him? … No, it was just someone else with unusually thick hair like his. Perhaps by that table… but she'd already looked there. Unless… a staircase came into view, the staircase which led to the rooms of the inn.

No… he promised

Elizabeth's mind was frantic, but her feet carried her slowly, pushing her past a large bloke who had another man in a headlock; she ignored them both. She wanted to know Jack's whereabouts, but the knowledge that he had betrayed her, yet again, would be too much to bear when it hit her. Taking a breath, she paused on the fifth step, the sallow candles sending flickering figures in a ghostly waltz on the wall. Should she even bother?

She had to know.

Much too soon, the door to their bedroom loomed in front of her. Placing a sea-worn hand on its rough wood, she leaned into its musty stability and listened.

Behind the timber came a girlish giggle and a deep, slurred voice commenting back lewdly… a voice she knew all too well. A voice only supposed to be saying those things to her; he was doing actions only meant to be done with her… She should have been the woman in their room with him, but here she was instead, on the opposite side of an entrance, a bystander to his deception.

The cold effects of treachery trickled down her spine like an icy rain. Her mind was spinning, her vision blurred by oncoming tears and a disbelieving bewilderment. Tearing her ear away from the door, away from the terrible sounds, she pelted down the hallway, the battered planks creaking beneath her feet. Her thoughts could bring up no word other than betrayal, betrayal, betrayal

She kept running even after she was out of the pub, past the inebriated pedestrians mulling around the streets, out of the sight of the teeming harbour. Once on the outskirts of town, in a secluded beach where only an abandoned dock stood forlornly in the water, did she finally stop trying to escape. Utterly beaten in spirit, she sank to the ground by a discarded crate, tears dropping without restraint from her weary eyes.

How foolish she had been to love him. How childish to think that he might have returned that love. Everything was wrong, everything… She was bonded to a man who had never loved her… every word exchanged, every night spent together had been nothing more than a feeble lie, a tale which would be told only when he wanted to hear it. Her soul was no more precious to him than that of the blonde lass he had winked at in the pub. She was nothing, meaningless, a lost governor's daughter with barely a name to add to her credence.

Elizabeth Swann had no truth left to follow; if she couldn't fathom her heart, then she couldn't trust anything.


Now that was hard to write, and I think most of you know what I'm talking about…

Here's thanks to the awesome reviewers:

StephCalvino
Shani8
Smithy
Kchan88
purplediamond7
PirateAngel1286
MTVbabe11
williz
Peace Like a River