Will was completely and totally exhausted. No matter how hard he tried, he could not remember the last time he had managed to snatch more than a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep. He could allow himself to drift off to sleep now with little fear of being rudely awakened to fight for his own survival, but instead he was desperately trying to remain awake. His eyelids felt so heavy that he could barely hold them open, and his eyes felt like they were full of sand. Of course, it was entirely possible that they were full of sand. He smiled weakly at the memory of how such a thing could have happened and shifted just enough to allow himself to bury his face in his wife's hair.
Elizabeth, his wife of a few short hours, was sound asleep, nestled safely in his arms. The memory of what it felt like to love her, to have her sleep by his side, and to feel the joy and pride in knowing that she had chosen him above all others might very well have to last him, quite literally, an eternity. Will was well aware that this night could quite easily be the only one they would ever have together, and he wanted to remember every last detail. For that reason alone, he continued to fight the temptation to simply close his eyes and allow slumber to overtake him.
Elizabeth stirred slightly, mumbling incoherently, when Will shifted the arm he had wrapped tightly around her waist to pull her in closer to him. As always, he was struck by how fragile her slight frame appeared to be. Unlike before, he felt an almost overwhelming need to protect her although he was well aware that if there ever was a woman who believed that she did not need the protection of a father or a husband, Elizabeth was it. She was better versed in military strategy, weaponry, negotiations and outright deception than many men. No, she didn't need Will's protection, but she allowed it of her own choice. In an odd sort of way it was her gift to him, and while he would soon have to leave her to her own devices, he would always know that he was the one man allowed inside her emotional defenses.
That same emotional intimacy between them was also the source of the lingering guilt Will felt over ever having doubted that she loved him and him alone. It was virtually inconceivable, even to him who had witnessed first-hand, the extent of the concessions Elizabeth had made in order to forge a relationship with him. Had not she been willing to give up not only her position in society, along with a multitude of other comforts and conveniences, just to be his wife? Will, on the other hand, had given up nothing, and gained nearly everything.
For the first time in his life he never had to worry where his next meal was coming from or even if there would be a next meal. He no longer had to make the same barely serviceable, threadbare clothing suffice for both work and those occasions when he was expected to make himself presentable. And while both he and Elizabeth were the topic of much gossip because of it, he had moved significantly up the social ladder because of her. Business at the smithy had certainly improved, if for no other reason than to satisfy the undisguised curiosity of Port Royal's social elite about the man who had stolen the Commodore's fiancée. That curiosity, albeit in a slightly different context, applied to the working class citizens as well. The general consensus among the people that had always considered themselves to be Will's equal now viewed him as something of a champion for their cause, regardless of what said cause may be. No matter how much he tried to downplay his change of fortune, the belief held that if Will could improve his lot in life, then they could too. Will had loathed the attention, but had tolerated it all the same.
It was getting more difficult by the second to stay awake. He sadly recalled the image he and Elizabeth had conjured of their wedding night. By rights, he would most likely have long since drifted off to sleep in her arms, both of them gloriously happy, dreaming of the rest of their lives together, where they would go, what they would do and starting a family of their own.
That stray thought of a family began his worrying anew, but this time along a different track. He had been so caught up in his desire to make love to his wife that he had neglected to consider the possibility that he might, no matter how unlikely, gotten her with child. Had their lives taken the direction they had intended that possibility would have made them both almost deliriously happy, but as circumstances now stood, it had the potential to be utterly devastating for them both. The thought that he would be left to wonder for an entire decade if he had left behind not only his wife, but also their child, was torturous. He pushed the thought away, gently kissed Elizabeth's tangled hair, and finally succumbed to the sleep he so desperately needed.
Elizabeth slowly drifted awake. She had no idea what time it was, but it was still quite dark; the full moon was still shining down on her and Will. There was a cool, salty breeze blowing in off the ocean, and while it was quite warm now, she had gotten chilled earlier in the evening. As a result, she was now wearing Will's shirt – not that it offered much in the way of warmth—but at least it had sleeves, unlike her own dress. As for the rest—the hem was hiked halfway up her thigh – most likely Will's doing, and the deep "v" of the neckline did nothing as far as modesty was concerned. Not that she minded, because for once they were alone – lying out in the open on an apparently deserted beach—but most assuredly alone. A bemused smirk formed on her face as she thought of all the prim, proper, but nosy socialites back in Port Royal and how horrified they would be to know she had spent her wedding night in such a fashion. They had been aghast at the notion that she intended to marry a man so far beneath her station. What would they think now, if they knew the where and how of it?
She was lying on her left side, her back pressed against Will, her head settled on his arm using it like a pillow. Her arm was stretched out with her hand resting in his, their fingers intertwined, their scarred palms mirroring each other – scars that had resulted from the actions of Captain Barbossa—scars that had been the first visible thing that bound them to each other. Will had his face nestled in her hair as he had so many times before. She could feel his warm breath on her scalp and neck, and took comfort in it. The even rhythm of his breathing told her he was quite fast asleep. His right arm was draped carelessly across her midsection, in a manner somewhere between protective and possessive, both qualities that pleased her at the moment despite the fact that it prevented her from moving. One long, muscular leg was tangled up with her own.
Had she been able to do so without disturbing him, she would have turned over just to watch him slumber. She had on occasion managed to catch him napping, and while she enjoyed watching him sleep, he had sometimes drifted off when she least wanted him to. After the incident at Isla de Muerta, he had spent such long hours at the forge, often working late into the night just so he could slip away and spend a few short hours with her during the day. She now realized how selfish she had been to expect that of him. Had she been paying attention, she would have realized he was working himself to complete exhaustion just to make her happy. It couldn't have been easy for him to put so much effort into proving himself worthy of her hand in marriage by showing her father that he could provide for her and all the while cater to her every whim. How many times had they managed a few stolen moments alone only to have Will fall asleep holding her in his arms? If she had it to do over, she most certainly would not complain.
It was easy to picture him looking the way he always did when she had been so fortunate as to spend uninterrupted time with him – and only now that he was about to be taken away from her, did she understand how fortunate she had truly been. She remembered how he always looked so peaceful when he slept, with his dark curls unbound and hanging loosely about his broad shoulders, his long, thick eyelashes resting on and nearly blending into to his tanned skin, his face completely relaxed; for once free of all the inner turmoil that was such an intricate part of his personality. She sadly remembered the rare occasions when they had managed to find both the time and means to spend some time alone. Was it even possible to count the many times she had lain with her head on his chest listening to the strong steady sound of his heart beating in his chest, dreaming of a time when she could and would do the same every day? Had she but only known what had been in store for them she wouldn't have taken that luxury quite so for granted. Please God, let there be a way that we can be together again.
Elizabeth sighed, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks as she relived how she and Will had spent the earlier part of the evening. She was sure her face was quite red by now, but she didn't care. They were married, and it was truly no one's business or right to impose rules on what they did as husband and wife. They had spent several hours acquainting themselves with the intricacies of each other's bodies, gradually besting the tender, but awkward clumsiness of inexperienced lovers. She didn't think it possible that there was anything left that had not been kissed, caressed, touched, teased or tasted. They had learned each other's preferences as quickly as they had learned their own. Perhaps it had been best that neither of them had had any preconceived notions as to what to expect from one another, but had instead been allowed to make their own discoveries.
While she had not been surprised to find her new husband to be both a gentle and passionate lover, she had been struck by how different her experience had been from what her former governess had advised her to expect. All her talk of pain, humiliation, embarrassment, being forced to submit to his desires, being taken, had made her wonder what all the fuss was about and scared her more than a little. If having intimate relations with a man, even one you were married to, was really that horrible and humiliating then why would any woman allow it? What would be the point, really?
At the time, she had wondered what the woman would have said had she known how often she had freely offered herself to her fiancé. Would she even have believed that he had been the one who insisted they wait? God forbid she had known that Elizabeth hadn't even waited until they were even officially engaged before she began her siege on Will's self control. There was an unspoken understanding, from that very first kiss between her and Will that they would marry eventually with or without permission from her father. So what difference would it really have made? Not that it mattered now, but she was thankful that Will had rebuffed her advances, forcing her to wait until they were married.
Besides, it wasn't as if the woman to woman talks she had been forced to listen to before her impending nuptials had been all that informative. Elizabeth, befitting her personality, had been full of detailed questions. However, her governess proved reticent in her answers and hadn't provided her with any information that she hadn't already gleaned from Estrella, and served no other purpose than to further pique her curiosity. The only thing she was confident in was her own personal knowledge of how her body reacted when Will touched her. It never failed that her heart would beat a little faster, her breathing would become shallow, and the unmistakable flutter of butterflies in her stomach would make her almost giddy. Those symptoms were far more in line with Estrella's description of how things worked and so Elizabeth had clung to that knowledge anytime doubt or tales of almost unbearable pain and degradation threatened her resolve.
No matter how eager she had been, there was still that underlying dread of the unknown as was to be expected. What if her governess had been right and Estrella was the one who had been mistaken? Looking back, the whole experience had been distinctly uncomfortable at first, but any discomfort was overshadowed by her desire and need for her husband. And truthfully, there had been some pain. Not much. It had passed quickly. Will had been acutely aware of her discomfiture, and had taken things ever so slowly. When he had reached that final barrier between maiden and married he had kissed her gently, capturing her startled cry. He had continued the kiss as he waited for her to regain her composure before beginning to move again. There had been no humiliation, no time for embarrassment, and certainly no regrets. Any submission involved had been both mutual, and entirely by choice.
As far as taking went, that particular concept still gave her some trouble. Will had not taken anything. She had freely given herself to him. No, they had freely given themselves to each other. There was something sacred in the knowledge that they had saved a special gift for each other that could never be shared with anyone else. She made a mental note to herself to make sure she was the one who explained these sorts of things to her own daughters—not some dried up, bitter unwed governess—and to be far less – vague. A painful knot twisted her stomach as she remembered that her chances of having any daughters – any children at all – were now seriously in question. She felt herself involuntarily tense up as tears of loss pricked at her eyes. That she and Will would have children together had been a foregone conclusion—even if he had claimed he couldn't imagine her as anyone's mother, she had known he was simply teasing. Until this very moment she hadn't realized that even that part of their plans had been called into question.
The change in Will's steady breathing told her that he, too, was starting to wake up. Had she done something to disturb his sleep? Or were they really that attuned to one another that he sensed that she was awake? Will nuzzled her neck as he traced lazy circles on her stomach though the thin fabric of his shirt. Elizabeth placed her hand over his and caressed it with her thumb, much like she had done when she first outwardly acknowledged to herself—and him—the depth of her feelings and realized that he too felt the same. He slowly traced a line of kisses down her neck and shoulder as Elizabeth tried to twist towards him. That particular intimacy had always been her undoing. She smiled at the memory of Will's long ago discovery of that fact and the number of times he had used it to his advantage.
She felt more than heard him swallow hard, and immediately recognized the action for what it meant. He was about to say something that was either emotionally painful to him or just wasn't comfortable talking about. It was one of his numerous subtle expressions and outright quirks she had learned to read, many of them in just the last day. With this particular one she knew to not interrupt, and let him have his say. Nevertheless, she was worried. There were so many things she still wanted to tell him, and had always believed they would have a lifetime together to do so, but now their time together was rapidly growing towards a close and there was no time to wait. Is he thinking the same thing?
Will released his hold on her and rolled over on his back with a heavy sigh. "It was the day I met Bootstrap on board the Dutchman. I didn't recognize him. I hadn't seen him since I was very young. I'm not even sure he recognized me at first."
Elizabeth closed her eyes, instinctively knowing that he was about to explain how he had gotten the scars on his back, and that the picture he was about to paint for her was not going to be a pretty one. She was beginning to feel that she might possibly regret having asked for an explanation, but it was too late to change her mind now. Once Will made up his mind about something, it was practically impossible to sway his decision. Elizabeth asked herself why had she asked and why had he chosen now to tell her. Has he been thinking about it all this time? She rolled up on her right side so that she could watch his face as he spoke.
"I remember Davy Jones shouting orders for Mr. Turner, or at least I think it was Jones, I could be wrong about that. I assumed he meant me. Why wouldn't I? But I really don't know now if he did or not," Will paused for a moment and drew a steadying breath. "Bootstrap and I both jumped to do as he commanded, but it somehow went wrong. I honestly don't remember how or even what. It all happened so fast. I think that perhaps Bootstrap recognized me then, but it doesn't matter now. Either way, Jones blamed me for the mistake, and ordered me flogged." Will's voice was cold and emotionless, something Elizabeth was completely unaccustomed to.
"Will, you don't have to tell me this if you don't want to. I understand." Her voice was full of gentle consolation and compassion. She wasn't sure if she was giving him permission to stop or asking him to for her own sake.
"Yes, I do. I need to." He reached his right arm across his body and stroked her arm before grasping her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers. "We promised to not have any secrets between us and I want you to know everything." He paused for a few moments as if trying to gather strength from her and to decide how to proceed with his tale. "Bootstrap tried to take the blame and the punishment. He told Jones who I was. That's how I learned who he was. It never occurred to me that he could part of the Dutchman's crew."
"But he still didn't order Bootstrap to be punished too?" Elizabeth asked incredulously. "I find it hard to imagine Jones passing up a chance to inflict pain on someone." Her hatred for the former captain of the Dutchman was clearly reflected in her tone.
Will hesitated again, turning his face away from her. The story was obviously getting progressively harder for him to tell. He swallowed hard and blurted it out. "His punishment was to administer the lashings."
"WHAT?" Elizabeth cried out, reaching her left hand over to his cheek and gently turning his grief stricken face back towards her. Any pity she had managed to scrounge up for her father-in-law and what he had suffered at the hands of Davy Jones vanished in that instant. Likewise for any gratitude she felt for what he had done for Will at the end. Resentment was quickly filling the void. Elizabeth was nothing if not protective of her husband. She was also quick to react emotionally, rather than logically.
"Elizabeth." Will said softly as his eyes briefly focused on a spot beyond her then returned to her face. "I didn't understand it at the time, but please, trust me, it was better that way. I don't think I would have survived had the bo'sun done it."
Elizabeth didn't know what to say. What could she say? This was Will's father they were talking about. The man Will had searched for nearly his entire life. The man who ensured that Will would have another chance at life—one with her. Likewise, he was also the man who had abandoned his wife and young son to go pirating, and the man who had nearly come between her and Will. It didn't help that the man in question was guilty of at least one more grievous sin that Will did not yet know of.
Elizabeth's current emotional state couldn't allow her to accept that Bootstrap's other crime hadn't been something he could be held responsible for – before this moment even she hadn't blamed him for what he had done. But now? She knew she was reacting with her heart and not her head, but she couldn't help it. It was what it was. She closed her eyes as she moved to lay her head on Will's chest – again noticing the eerie silence from within him.
Will noticed the look of distress, horror and apprehension flash across Elizabeth's face as she shifted her position. He didn't blame her for her reaction, but there was something else to it. Something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. He was at a total loss as to what else might be bothering her and he was not enjoying the sensation. "Elizabeth?" He asked quietly. "What is it? What's wrong?" His concern was evident in his voice. "There's something else, isn't there? Something else about my father."
"He killed James." Her words sounded oddly emotionless.
"Norrington?" Will sounded bewildered. "I didn't realize he was dead. Honestly, I hadn't given him much thought at all. After everything that happened, I can't say I'm all surprised" He paused for a moment at the realization at how cold his words might have sounded to Elizabeth. "I mean I'm not surprised he died, not that my father killed him," he said consolingly, in a weak attempt to cover for his potential blunder. He absently reached up to stroke Elizabeth's hair. One more thing I'm going to miss.
While Will and James Norrington had never quite seen eye to eye on most situations—mostly those concerning Elizabeth—Will couldn't help but feel some sorrow at his loss. No matter what he had done since he left Isla Cruces, he had been a good man, even if he had been single minded to a fault in his beliefs. Most of all he would always be the one who was ultimately responsible for Will and Elizabeth being together. Bootstrap had known and understood that. How or why would he have taken part in his murder?
"Yes," she hesitated then drew a deep breath. "When he helped us—the crew of the Empress—to escape from the Dutchman. Bootstrap was the one who sounded the alarm." Elizabeth paused before continuing. "Bootstrap is the one who killed him. He died making sure I got away safely – to come back to you." She lifted her head to look Will in the face. Her expression was full of sadness, but nothing like the inconsolable grief she had experienced when Will had been run through.
"I'm sorry," he said softly and truly meant it. "I didn't know. I just assumed…" his voice trailed off as he involuntarily shuddered. "I didn't realize he had been aboard the Dutchman. I should have though. Jones had the sword—James' sword. The one I made for his promotion to Commodore." He ran one hand up Elizabeth's arm.
Elizabeth could not speak. The memory of the last time she had seen that sword was still too close and too painful. The flood of tears she had been fighting since that moment threatened to burst forth. She remembered that the sword Will carried ashore was neither his own sword nor the one that had belonged to James. She had an ill-defined memory of Will's cutlass being damaged beyond repair when he was trying to save her from Davy Jones and she dared not ask what had become of the other one—afterwards. She did not want to know. One day, perhaps, but for now it was too close, too painful, and too horrifying to imagine.
Will could see the tears glistening in her eyes, threatening to break free and reached up to touch her face. Elizabeth laid her head back on his chest and allowed him to console her. She wondered what she would do after tonight. Either her father or Will had always been there for her when she overwhelmed by emotion, but soon she would have no one but herself. I have to be strong for him now and for Father too.
"I can't ask you to forgive him. It's not my place," Will whispered, stroking her hair yet again.
"There's nothing really to forgive now. I'm sure it pained him to whip you. Besides, you didn't see what he was like aboard the Dutchman. He wasn't himself. I know that." She sought out his free hand and grasped it tightly. And as for James is concerned…he could have escaped with me and the rest of my crew, but he chose not to. I can't rightfully burden your father with all of the blame." She sighed resignedly. "Truthfully, I shouldn't hold him responsible for any of it." She paused for a second to regroup. "I was thinking with my heart and not my head. I have to learn that I can't do that now."
"Elizabeth, it doesn't matter what the circumstances were. James was your friend. Under different circumstances he could have, no, I think would have eventually been mine too. For you to watch him die had to be difficult. Doubly so that it was at the hands of my father" Will paused for a moment, still continuing to stroke her hair and her back. "It doesn't matter that things were strained between James and me, it still aggrieves me to know what happened to him and how. I honestly believe he always had your best interest at heart."
"It was nowhere near as painful as watching you slip away from me," she said in a choked voice.
"But I'm still here…for now at least." Will's voice trailed off as he realized what he had said. "It doesn't matter the circumstances, Bootstrap is responsible for his own actions."
"You didn't see what he was like, Will. It was horrifying. He wasn't completely… human anymore."
Will's hand closed reflexively over her arm. "But I did see him. After he…" Will's voice was so low that even wrapped up in his arms, Elizabeth could barely hear him, but his meaning was not lost on her.
"No," Elizabeth strangled out. "He couldn't have. You're his son. Please tell me he wasn't the one who did this." She released his hand and flattened her palm over the jagged, inflamed scar on Will's chest. The tears she had been holding back started to trickle down her burning cheeks.
"Yes. He had to. There was no other way. If he hadn't, then I wouldn't be here with you now. Surely you must have realized. You have to understand that," he pleaded.
"Jack kept me from seeing what happened. He explained to me later, but he left that part out."
"That sounds like something he would do." He sounded somewhere between amused at Jack's odd quirk of leaving out information he deemed awkward and annoyed that he had apparently glossed over something so important. "I just can't decide if it was to avoid any unpleasantness on his part witnessing your reaction or if he just hoped you would never learn the details." Will exhaled sharply. "Or maybe he knew what he was doing and thought it better that I tell you. Who knows?" Will rolled his eyes and smiled weakly.
Elizabeth lifted her head and looked at Will. He raised his hand to her face and delicately wiped away her tears with his thumb. "In my head I know and I understand why your father did what he did – he had to. But in my heart it still hurts, and it will for a long time to come. I have to make my peace with it, but I can't just yet."
"There's no hurry. You have all the time in the world for that." He gently ran his fingers over the line of her jaw.
Elizabeth gazed at Will for a long moment, trying to frame her next question. "Will?" She asked gently. "What became of him? I mean, after…you know."
"He's no longer bound to the ship. He can either stay aboard or move on. You'll most likely never see him again."
"Which did he choose?"
Will smiled faintly as he stared into his wife's eyes. "To stay with me. He feels he is still in my debt."
"I suppose that in a way, I am in his debt." Elizabeth looked away as is she was trying to understand her own statement. She hadn't intended to say anything remotely like that, but it had just slipped from her mouth unbidden.
"How so? I'm afraid I don't understand." Will studied her face searching for a clue to the meaning of her peculiar confession. He could tell by the expression on her own face that she was vexed by her own statement.
Elizabeth returned her attention to Will. She stared at him sadly for a moment, and then lightly kissed the scar on his chest. She inhaled deeply to gather her strength before she tried to explain her statement to Will and to herself. "Because if he hadn't done this," she once more traced the scar with her forefinger, "then I wouldn't have you at all." She moved her hand up to caress his cheek. "But he did, and because of that I still get to have you even if it is just for one day every ten years." She smiled sadly, then bent down to softly kiss his mouth. "It helps to know he'll be there to watch over you when I can't."
"But it's not forever. I'll come back to you. I promise." He pulled her face back to him and kissed her again, a bit more passionately than before.
"I would rather only have four or five days with you in my lifetime, than to have to live without you forever," she said softly, trying desperately to not let Will hear how painful it was for her to acknowledge out loud what was in store for them. The silent tears started to flow yet again, but not all of them tears of sadness.
Will grinned up at his tearful wife—she quite obviously had not caught on to what he was telling her--and then rolled her over on her back. Elizabeth looked up at him in total confusion. This was most certainly not the kind of reaction she had expected. It was, at best—odd. Her surprise at his peculiar behavior shocked her tears into submission. She narrowed her eyes at him, unsure if she should be angry, frightened or what? She could feel herself starting to shiver, even though she wasn't cold.
"That's not how it works," he said happily, kissing her forehead.
"What do you mean?" She sounded more frightened than angry, but more curious than anything.
Will settled in over her, holding her close to him in his arms and kissed her tearstained cheeks. "That's not how it works. That's where they were wrong."
"I still don't understand." She pulled her fists up to rest on Will's chest and settled into a more comfortable position. "Who are they and what were they wrong about?"
"Everyone was," he answered "Or at least everyone had some part of it wrong," he added quickly, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's not one day every ten years. It's one day then ten years," he explained.
"Isn't that the same thing?" She sounded skeptical, but hopeful.
"No, it isn't forever or at least it doesn't have to be..."
"I'm afraid I still don't quite follow." She unclenched her fists and slid one up to rest on his neck. Will's enthusiasm for what he was trying to tell her was becoming contagious and Elizabeth was not so immune as she liked to believe.
"Calypso charged Davy Jones with the duty of ferrying souls for ten years at a stretch after which time he could return to land to be with the one he loved forever."
"And that would be who exactly?" There were too many thoughts running around Elizabeth's brain for her to process everything.
"Calypso—Tia Dalma," he replied, filling in the gaps in her knowledge of the curse or curses as the case may be.
Elizabeth looked horrified. "I'm finding that difficult to imagine. Although I won't argue that they certainly deserve each other." Her newfound hope was beginning to fade. Surely Will realized how unlikely such a pairing sounded.
"She's a goddess, Elizabeth, don't you understand? She can take on whatever form she chooses. She and Jones fell in love, who knows what form she took, but he was still mortal then."
"Then why didn't she just make him immortal? It would have been so much simpler that way, not to mention the lack of cruelty it involved." Elizabeth's voice showed just a hint of sarcasm.
"She did make him immortal, but he still had to prove himself worthy of being with her. It was intended as a gift to him—the immortality, I mean. The ten years ferrying souls was how he had to prove himself."
"Just so he could spend one day with her every ten years for eternity? That hardly seems fair. Why not just live out his normal life with her like normal people do?" She was beginning to wonder exactly where Will was going with this tale.
"You still don't understand do you?" Will rolled himself back onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze still focused on Elizabeth's face.
"No." Elizabeth was beginning to get frustrated with her inability to unravel what Will was telling her.
Will used his free hand to brush back Elizabeth's hair where the breeze had blown it into her face. "Calypso granted Jones immortality, but he had to do something…I don't know…noble, perhaps? To prove he was worthy of her gift. That's where the ten years ferrying souls became part of all of it. Once his time was up, he was to come back to her and they would be able to be together forever because they were both immortal."
Elizabeth shook her head. "But that's obviously not what happened, is it?
"No, it isn't. But he did his part. She's the one who wasn't waiting. He won his immortality, but without the rest of his prize."
"She wasn't waiting?" Elizabeth was still quite confused. "Why wouldn't he just move on?"
"He still loved her. It's not something you can just decide to stop," he said teasingly, continuing to play with her hair. "He went back to the land of the dead for another ten years in hopes that she would be waiting for him the next time."
"She still wasn't there, was she?" Elizabeth thought she was beginning to piece things together and wondered how Will had ever figured it all out.
Will shook his head slowly. "No, she never was."
"How long did he keep coming back to find her?" The sadness in her voice startled her. It was true that their story was a sad one, but she hadn't expected to ever feel anything remotely like sympathy for them." She rolled partway up on her side to face Will.
"I don't know. It could have been hundreds of years for all I know." He grasped one of Elizabeth's hands in his own and brought it to his lips.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed gently. "Why did he stop waiting?" She couldn't imagine herself ever giving up on Will no matter how long she had to wait.
"I'm not sure that he ever did," Will said thoughtfully. "It was when the pain of loss grew to be too much for him that he decided to cut out his heart and put it in the chest." He released her hand which she moved to rest on his neck. "Didn't Tia Dalma tell you that part of the story?"
Elizabeth tried to remember what all she had been told by the woman she had never once suspected was a goddess in disguise. "Yes, she did," Elizabeth answered with a nod of her head, "but she left out the part that she was the reason behind it all."
"She did tend to leave out the parts that made her look cruel," Will agreed.
Elizabeth reopened her eyes, shining with the spark of comprehension, to look at her husband's bemused expression. "If immortality was to be Calypso's gift to Davy Jones, then what about…the other?" She flattened one palm over his scar.
Will had halfway hoped she wouldn't ask about that, but now that she had there was no avoiding the subject. "That was a curse of his own making. He thought…" Will hesitated. "He thought that by removing his heart and locking it away, he would no longer feel the pain of her betrayal, or even the love that he still had for her." Will watched Elizabeth's face in order to gauge her reaction and decide how much more to tell her.
"After that is when he betrayed her to the Brethren Court and decided to remain on this side, isn't it?" She moved her hand back up to his neck tried to pull him towards her.
Will nodded, reaching out to caress her hip while resisting her pull. "And that's when he got all tentacly," he said with a grimace. "But he never quit looking for her. No matter what he said, he was still very much in love with her."
"And what would have happened if she had come back to him?"
"Had he not hidden his heart away, he would have been released from his duty, and they would be together now. Or at least that's how I think it works. He might have had to do yet another ten years to make up for his extended leave, as it were."
"And then who would have been the captain? Doesn't the Dutchman always have to have a captain?"
"I don't know, just someone else, I suppose. Someone who had passed on and didn't mind the responsibility? It never happened, so I can only guess at that." Will was beginning to worry that Elizabeth was getting dangerously close to the one thing he had no explanation or even theory for.
"That couldn't work. Doesn't the ship have to have a living heart?"
"Had Jones gotten what he wanted, there would be no need for that anymore. He created that requirement and he could get rid of it if he wanted."
"But he didn't," Elizabeth said dejectedly.
"But that doesn't mean I can't come back to you."
"But you don't have…" her voice trailed off forlornly as she one more time eased her hand from where it rested on his neck across his chest to where his heart should have been:
Will once again rolled so that Elizabeth was pinned beneath him in the sand. "It's not hidden away from the world. I know exactly where it is," he clarified almost in a whisper. And it's never completely belonged to me anyway.
"So what you're saying is that all I have to do is wait for you?" The words came out of her mouth faster than her brain could process what Will was implying.
"It's ten years," he said quietly.
Elizabeth grinned up at him. She put one hand on either side of his face and pulled him down for a kiss – a long, slow kiss full of hope and promise. "It doesn't matter how long it is as long as I have you back – to stay."
Will was breathing hard by the time she let him go. "I suppose that means yes?" He was grinning ear to ear.
"I love you, Will. If I have to wait for ten years to have you back, then so be it. Besides, haven't I already waited ten years to get this far? I'm certainly not going to give up now." She slid both of her hands down his back, the grin on her face matching his.
"You have a point there, don't you?" He laughed, then drew a deep breath. "I'm just not positive. It wasn't like I could ask either of them if it would work. We just have to have faith and believe it will."
"I've always had faith in you. Nothing is going to change that now. Don't ever insult me by suggesting otherwise. You're the only man I've ever loved and wanted and you always will be."
"That only thing – that's one of the other requirements."
"That goes for you too," she teased as she wrapped her fingers in his hair.
"Are you insulting me now?" He lowered his face closer to hers.
"No," she murmured as she lifted her face to his for yet another kiss. "And what of the other curse? How do we break that one?" She sounded confident that Will would immediately know the answer.
"I don't know how to reverse it or even if it can be," he added quietly, deciding to admit to her that he wasn't sure about everything after remembering what could happen when they kept secrets from each other.
"Oh." Elizabeth sounded disappointed, as well she should have. "But I get to have you back either way, right?" Although she was sure that she already knew the answer, she needed reassurance.
"Of course." He kissed the tip of her nose. "There are still some details to work out –like wh…" His words were unceremoniously cut off by Elizabeth's finger placed across his lips.
"Do we have to work out the details right this minute?" She asked in a sultry voice, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer to her.
"No, I suppose not. Do you have something else in mind?" He inquired with mock innocence. The hand that had been on her hip moved to ease the hem of his shirt higher than it already was.
Elizabeth smiled up at him and nodded her head as she traced the length of one muscular leg with her foot. "I'm sure you can think of something."
