Elizabeth plucked uncomfortably at her still damp dress as she shifted to a more comfortable position. It wasn't that where she was, sitting between Will's outstretched legs, leaning back against his bare chest, was uncomfortable, but she was mindful of the fact that Will was perhaps not resting in the most comfortable of positions. He hadn't actually complained— he never did—and in all honesty, she thought he might be asleep, or at very least dozing, with his back pressed firmly against the trunk of a towering coconut palm. He had his arms wrapped securely around her waist, with his hands resting lightly on her abdomen. Elizabeth turned her head to the side as she returned her hands to lie atop Will's. Off to the side, in the dappled shade created by the palm fronds stirring restlessly in the breeze, was a neat pile of peels, pits and seeds from a variety of tropical fruits. Will's knife stood embedded in the ground next to the remains of early mangos and late custard apples. Elizabeth sighed, pushing away the memory of her squeamishness at the thought of Will having used the same blade that had been used to carve out his heart to cut the fruit.
"Is something wrong?" Will asked, sleepily.
"I didn't mean to wake you." Elizabeth rolled her head to face forward again and gently caressed the back of his hands with her fingers.
"I wasn't asleep."
"Yes, you were," she teased. She could feel Will shift just enough to allow him to kiss the top of her head.
"Guilty as charged, but you didn't answer my question." He continued to nuzzle her hair.
"There are lots of things wrong." She tilted her head to one side, in hopes of enticing her husband to continue his current activity.
"That's still not quite what I asked," he pointed out, his voice slightly muffled by the abundance of blonde hair he had burrowed his face into.
"I know. I was just thinking, really." Elizabeth felt Will's teeth lightly nip at her earlobe.
"About what?" Will pulled his head back from Elizabeth, abruptly both curious and slightly fearful about her answer.
"Have you ever thought about where we would be if…" Elizabeth sighed heavily, "if Beckett hadn't come to Port Royal?"
"Not here, I'm sure." Will waited for what he was sure would be Elizabeth's clever response, but she didn't say anything. "No, I haven't been able to allow myself to. Everything has been so…uncertain."
"I have," she offered.
"And where would we be instead?" Will's voice betrayed his interest in how Elizabeth thought their lives would have played out, had circumstances or fatenot intervened. He was silently relieved that her thoughts hadn't led her elsewhere, to conditions and restrictions he would rather not think about.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and began her tale. "We have our own house. It's not very big, but it's enough."
"So we're not living with your father anymore? I must be doing quite well at the smithy."
"You are. But you make nothing but exquisitely beautiful, perfectly balanced swords – no more locks or nails or horseshoes and the like."
"And what else?" Will asked bemusedly, although truthfully, he did find the idea of being strictly a sword smith rather appealing. It was too bad that the idea was nothing more than a figment of Elizabeth's imagination.
"We have a baby. A boy."
Will thought he could detect a hint of longing in Elizabeth's voice, but decided to not comment on it. "We do? That was rather quick wasn't it?" He ignored his own twinge of regret that what Elizabeth was telling him was no more than just a story for their amusement.
"We've been married almost a whole year," Elizabeth stated, sounding slightly annoyed that Will hadn't grasped what should have been perfectly obvious. "Maybe he hasn't been born yet, but he will be soon."
"I see."
"His name is William. He looks like you."
"Even though he's just an infant? Somehow that doesn't sound very complimentary to my countenance."
"Of course he looks like you, or at least he will when he's older—a mother can tell these things."
"I'll have to take your word on that. But what if I want a little girl with blond hair and brown eyes, like her mother?" He again nestled his face in Elizabeth's hair.
"Then you'll have to wait because I want to give you a son first." From the sound of her voice, there was no denying how adamant she was in that particular desire.
"So we'll have more than one child? I'm having trouble imagining you with one baby much less an entire brood."
"We've talked about this before. And exactly why can't you imagine me with a baby?" Elizabeth asked, sounding more than a bit irritated "I thought we had decided together that we wanted a large family."
"We did. I've just never been quite able to picture the reality of it. I spent too much time worrying that things wouldn't work out, that I wouldn't be able to marry you. I couldn't let myself dream of how our life would be together."
"That's almost all I ever thought about—what life would bring us. I never once stopped dreaming about it, not even after we were arrested. All I wanted then or even now was to be your wife…and a mother," she added quietly.
Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the sense of loss and shame that was beginning to well up inside her. How could she not have remembered that the reality of Will's life had always been such that believing in hopes and dreams had been mostly a wasted effort on his part? It was yet another of their differences. She had always gotten what she wanted, until now. Even Will had fallen into the category of "what she wanted." How many times had she gone on and on about their future, and how happy and perfect things would be, while Will faced up to the very real possibility that her father, at any moment, could have withdrawn his permission for Will to court her—much less marry her—and there would have been nothing he could have done about it.
"You would have been a very good mother. I would have been proud to raise children with you." Will paused for a moment then solemnly continued. "But that was before…All of that will have to wait."
"But what if we don't have to wait? What if…?" Elizabeth awaited Will's response. She could feel his fingers tense up against her stomach as he realized the point she was trying to make.
His answer was both cold and abrupt. "No."
"No? What do you mean 'No'? It's possible," she said pleadingly, more than a little taken aback at his reaction.
"I know it's possible. Don't you think I considered that? I just don't want that – not for you, not for me, and certainly not for our child. Perhaps it would have been wiser if I…we…I don't know."
"Don't say that. What's done is done, and we can't change it now." Elizabeth was fully aware that there was nothing either of them could do to control the situation at this point – she had either conceived, or she hadn't, simple as that. "I just don't understand why you would deny me that one thing if you could," Elizabeth pouted, momentarily slipping back into her former self.
"Just because Beckett is gone doesn't mean you're safe from the Company yet. You're still in danger. And do I need to remind you that you're going to have to start your life over without me? It's not going to be easy. Do you want to subject a child to that?" Will snapped.
"I realize that, but…" Regaining her composure, she kept her tone even and calm. Will may have given her a curt answer, but she knew he wasn't angry with her—just angry that none of the plans they had made together were going to come to fruition.
"But what? I don't want to leave you, but I have no other choice… or at least, no other choice I'm willing to consider. It hurts to think about how much I'm going to miss you over the next decade. I can't imagine what it would be like to return to a son or daughter that I don't even know. I would be a stranger to them. I don't think I could bear that." He made no effort to hide the pain in his voice as he spoke.
"I'm sorry, Will. It was just wishful thinking on my part," Elizabeth stammered, now staring straight ahead into the tree line, trying to keep herself from trembling with sorrow. "I didn't mean to cause you any more pain. I love you too much for that."
"No, I'm sorry." He gently kissed the side of her head as he hugged her more tightly than before. "I shouldn't have reacted so strongly. It's just…it's just that I know what it was like to have an absentee father – even if he did choose that path on his own." Will drew several slow breaths to try and calm himself down. "I don't want that for our children. I want to be there to raise them with you." His voice had changed to take on a more soothing, consolatory tone.
Elizabeth pushed herself away from Will and stood up with her back to him. Will quickly followed suit. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. She tried to keep her face hidden to mask her unshed tears, but he could see the sadness in her eyes.
"Elizabeth, sweetheart, I didn't mean to upset you," he said softly as he wrapped his arms around her.
Elizabeth leaned into him and buried her face in chest. "It's not that. I don't want you to go, and yet I know leaving won't be any easier for you," she mumbled. "I don't want to cry. I want to be happy – happy to still have you even if it's just for one day, happy to know you'll come back to me, happy to finally have married you. I feel so selfish and ashamed."
"Of what? You have every right to be sad, to be angry or anything else you want to feel. We both do. If I knew of any way to make what we face any easier, I would." Will gently rubbed her back as he continued to hold and comfort her. He lifted his head to the sky to check the sun's position and to gauge how much time they had left together. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach as he realized it was already late afternoon – he probably, at most, had little more than three hours left before he had to take over his duties. "I think we should head back to camp now," he said sadly. He could feel his wife's silky tresses tickle his skin as she nodded before straightening back up.
Will kept one arm locked around Elizabeth's waist as he placed one open palm against her cheek and lifted her face to his. He bent his head to look deep into her downcast eyes and gave her a tiny smile before leaning in to sweetly kiss her forehead. "I love you," he whispered, "don't ever forget that."
Elizabeth kept her eyes averted, but nodded slightly. "And I love you," she murmured, her voice raspy from fighting back tears. "And don't you ever forget that."
"Shall we?" Will asked, stepping back from Elizabeth, and offering her his arm. After a brief detour to reclaim his shirt, the pair began their solemn walk back to camp and the painful, but inevitable goodbye that was rapidly approaching.
Elizabeth stood in front of the neatly folded pile of clothes perched on the rock with her hands on her hips, quite lost in thought. She exhaled sharply as she stepped back and turned her head to watch Will. She could see him crouched before the banked embers of the fire, carefully arranging the ragtag assortment of dry wood they had remaining, in order to ensure the fire burned as long as possible. Just like always, he puts what he should do ahead of what he wants to do. The thought had no sooner entered her mind than it occurred to her that on this one occasion, what he should do and what he wanted to do were one and the same thing – taking care of her. That realization was quite humbling and touching all at the same time. It didn't seem to matter to him that shortly he would be leaving her for what seemed like forever. As her husband, he was now responsible for her well being and while he could still fulfill that responsibility, he would. While Will had never knowingly shirked any of his obligations, this particular one was far more significant to him than any other. Elizabeth was certain of that. Just knowing that she would always be his first priority was a comfort, albeit a small one.
Before turning back to her task, she noticed Will pull something from a pocket. She immediately recognized it as the ever present leather cord he normally wore with its assortment of odds and ends he had collected over the course of their wanderings. But he wasn't wearing it today. Where has it been? She blushed at the memory of where and when she had seen it last. She had been the one who had removed it the night before and unceremoniously tossed it aside; complaining as she did, that it, quite irritatingly, kept hitting her in the face. Apparently, he had only recently retrieved it from its temporary exile in the sand.
Elizabeth watched him sort through the bric-a-brac that ornamented the cord, looking for something specific, or at least, that's how it seemed. He obviously found the particular piece he wanted, for he carefully, almost lovingly, traced its shape with his fingers before slipping the cord around his neck. She shrugged her shoulders and returned her attention to the rock that had so fascinated her just moments before. She stepped up to the discarded garments and studiously searched for the tiny pouch she had hidden among them the night before. She quickly located her prize and tucked it neatly into the palm of her hand before returning to the campsite and her much beloved husband.
Will looked up and wiped one soot smeared hand across his brow as he heard Elizabeth's approach. A smile that matched hers quickly spread across his face. He had no idea what she had been doing – only that she had wandered off by herself while he had taken it upon himself to set everything in order. And while it wasn't like her to do something of the sort, he was sure she had a reason.
"You're filthy," Elizabeth mock scolded. "What am I going to do with you?"
Will just smiled back at her, the mischievous twinkle in his eye answering her question without words. She blushed furiously at the unspoken implication. He examined the palms of his hands and then the backs and shrugged before he placed them on his knees and pushed himself to a standing position.
"You should be used to this by now," he said holding up both hands for her to inspect.
"You would expect so, wouldn't you?" She offered him her hand. "Come with me, I have something I want to show you."
"Do you now?" Will twined his fingers among hers and followed her back to the blanket where they had spent the night. He obediently complied with her unspoken request to sit down beside her.
Elizabeth opened the well worn bag she had carried for so long, and emptied the contents into her open palm. Will immediately recognized both the single pearl drop pendant she had been wearing on their wedding day and the delicate silver horseshoe he had made for her more than a year earlier for the same occasion.
"I didn't know you had those still," Will's forehead creased in thought as he contemplated what Elizabeth intended to do with them now. He flinched as she ran the fingers of her free hand under the leather cord he wore around his neck. However, he sat perfectly still as Elizabeth allowed the back of her hand to glide smoothly over his skin as she followed the necklace around to the back of his neck and pulled it over his head.
"What are you doing?" Will was no closer to divining her purpose than he had been, but her actions had given him some ideas.
"I want you to have these," she said quietly, but forcefully, as she picked at the water tightened knot in the leather. "I want you to keep them with you always, so you'll think of me and remember to come back." She remained focused on her task and did not look at Will.
"I don't need those to remind me to do that." Will reached over and removed the necklace from her hands, then took his knife and cut through the leather.
"But I need you to have them," she whispered, turning her head to look at him. "Please?"
Will smiled softly and took the pair of talismans from her hand. He threaded the horseshoe on the cord and allowed to fall into the jumble of other odds and ends he had collected. He then tied a knot in the cord four or five inches above the rest of the charms before adding the pearl to the cord. As he sat there with the charms spread out in his hand, he looked at the one he had most recently added – the one he had returned to its place just before he left the Dutchman. He turned away from Elizabeth as he removed it from the cord. He kept it hidden in his hand while he retied the two loose ends and returned the necklace to its proper place.
Elizabeth had noticed the shy smile that appeared on Will's face just before he had turned away from her and wondered what had caused it.
"Give me your hand," he asked softly, turning back to her.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, promptly sticking out her right hand, palm up, in front of him.
"I mean the other one…and close your eyes." He stared directly into her eyes as he spoke, making it nearly impossible for her not to comply with his request.
Elizabeth tilted her head to one side as she pondered what he was up to, but did as he asked. She slowly closed her eyes and offered him her left hand, again with her palm facing up. She inhaled sharply and trembled as he lightly traced over her scar with his forefinger before gently turning her hand over. She felt her heart begin to race as she felt the cool circlet of metal slide over her ring finger.
Will leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You can open your eyes now," he whispered.
Tears welled in Elizabeth's eyes as she gazed at the plain gold band—her wedding ring—on her finger. "I…I thought," she managed to choke out, "I thought…"
"You thought I no longer had it." He almost sounded guilty at having allowed her to believe that.
Elizabeth nodded silently, continuing to stare at the ring. By itself, it was nothing more than an unremarkable, almost insignificant piece of metal, but combined with the promises made in her quest for the right to wear it, it became her most prized possession.
"It would be a lie to tell you that I didn't consider tossing it into the depths when—"
"No," she interjected. "We promised not to speak of that."
"You're right. But just know that I couldn't do it. Even if…you…." Will swallowed hard. "I needed it— as a tangible reminder of how much I had always loved you, how much I still loved you then, and how much I would always love you." He reached up to caress her cheek.
Elizabeth lifted her face to his. "I should have known you still had it, but I was afraid to ask …"
"Don't ever be afraid to ask me something. I couldn't bear that." He took her left hand in his and looked at the ring with a curious expression on his face. "It's too big, isn't it?"
Elizabeth nodded her head and began to giggle.
"That won't do, you'll lose it;" The distress in his voice was clear.
"I think I can fix that." Will raised an eyebrow as Elizabeth retrieved the leather cord that had been wrapped around the neck of her bag. She made a neat loop with the leather and secured the ring to it, then tied the ends together and slipped it around her neck. "Will that do for now?"
Will slipped his fingers under the cording and let them run down its length to where the thin gold band now rested between Elizabeth's breasts. He heard her sharp intake of breath as his fingers glided over her skin. "Yes," he said, meeting her eyes, "I think that will suffice."
Elizabeth smiled happily as she moved in to kiss him – slowly at first, but with a heated intensity that left no room for doubt as to how she felt about her husband. Will put one hand on the back of her neck and wrapped the arm around her shoulders as he gently laid her back on the blanket – never once breaking contact with her parted lips. Elizabeth shifted to a more comfortable position as she once again felt the heat of desire flow through her limbs. She moaned softly and pulled Will closer to her. It was impossible to tell if she wanted him more than he wanted her, but what should have been the perfect lover's tryst was marred by the fear that this would be the last time they would have any contact with each other – physical or otherwise—for ten years.
Will and Elizabeth were lay facing each other, so close that they were practically breathing the same air, staring longingly into each other's eyes. They gently touched each other's faces with their fingertips, as if each were trying to imprint the other's image permanently into their brains. Although neither of them had mentioned it, they both knew that their time together was rapidly nearing an end.
"Why do you love me?" Elizabeth asked hardly above a whisper.
Will raised one eyebrow curiously. "That's an odd question."
"I know. But why?"
"I don't know. I can hardly remember not loving you. It just is. It's part of who I am."
Elizabeth smiled almost shyly, but quite pleased with his response. "When did you first realize it?" She pulled off the cord holding her ring and looked at it in the light.
"I've told you that," Will chided jokingly. "It was from the first moment I saw you. Why are you asking this now?" He stroked her cheek, trailing his fingers down her slender neck.
Elizabeth averted her eyes from Will's face as she allowed the leather cord to slip through her fingers onto the blanket. "I don't know. I can't remember when it happened for me or when I realized it, and I want to remember all of it, every single moment we've spent together."
"I don't think it's possible for me to have enough memories of you. I don't want to think about what it's going to be like not having you by my side, knowing where you are, knowing if you're safe."
Elizabeth met his eyes once again, marveling at all she could see there, and wondering if anyone but her could see it too. She finally understood what people meant when they would say that the eyes were the window to the soul. She could see Will's soul in his eyes, and could count the innumerable times it had been wounded and then healed – by her. Please God, take care of him. Let this be the last of our trials.
Will noticed that Elizabeth was lost in thought and remained silent. He tilted his head up just enough to allow him to kiss her forehead.
"Sometimes I think I don't deserve you," Elizabeth blurted out unexpectedly.
"I asked you before to never say that again. You know it's not true."
Elizabeth closed her eyes and nodded, but did not speak.
"If there is any possible way for us to see each other or communicate in any way, I will find it. I promise that I won't give up until I do."
"Or until you come home."
"Or until I come home," Will echoed. "…Home." He spoke as if the word were unfamiliar to him. "I like the sound of that. Just exactly where shall that be?"
Elizabeth opened her eyes. Her forehead creased and her eyebrows knit in confusion. Her face relaxed for a moment, considering their options, then tensed back up as she realized that neither of them had a place to call home anymore. "I don't know," she admitted cheerlessly.
Will smiled sadly at his wife. "The beach. The one where we used to go for walks when we wanted some time alone. Meet me there."
"But what if…"
"Shhh," Will cut her off. "We'll worry about everything else if the time comes."
"When, not if," Elizabeth corrected as she wrapped her fingers around his and moved them away from her face.
Will's smile grew. "I stand corrected. When, not if." As he spoke, he raised himself up on one elbow, placed on hand on Elizabeth's waist and gently pushed her over onto her back while meeting her lips with his own. Elizabeth buried both hands in the mass of dark brown curls surrounding his face and allowed herself to melt into the kiss. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she gasped for breath when Will pulled away from her.
"I…" He averted his gaze from her. "I need to get ready soon – now." He made no effort to hide the pain in his voice. With that, he sat up and began to gather his scattered clothing.
Elizabeth also sat up, squeezed her eyes shut and hugged herself for a moment before she too began to dress. She stood, ran her fingers through her hair, rebelted her dress for the first time since the night before, and smoothed out the fabric, trying her best to ignore the fact that her husband was preparing to leave her.
Elizabeth's heart screamed that this couldn't be happening, but her head reminded her that it had to be so. What had been done to them, for them, had to come at a great price, and now it was time to settle their debt.
"Would you bring me my boots?" Will asked without looking back at Elizabeth. He sat on a low boulder with his back to Elizabeth, unable to look at her at the moment, for fear he would not be able to make himself leave her.
Elizabeth looked around and spied the tall, black boots, still resting in the same place they had since Will had put them there the night before. She was quite familiar with those particular boots, for they had been her gift to Will in celebration of both their engagement and his twenty-first birthday. She walked over to them, leaned over to pick them up, and stopped. With an unexpected, but welcome thought of levity, she changed her mind and stepped into them. She giggled like the hardly more than a young girl she truly was, as her tiny feet slipped around inside the well-worn boots.
Will turned his head at the now too rare sound of Elizabeth's laughter, He shook his head and also laughed at the sight of Elizabeth waddling, more than walking towards where he sat. He rolled his eyes at her antics as she slipped her foot out of the left boot and handed it to him. He quickly pulled it on over his sock then glanced back at her and said, with a smile on his face, still quite obviously amused, "I'm going to need the other one."
He had wanted to steal one last look at Elizabeth before he left, but as soon as his boots touched the water he was gone from the beach and on to the deck of the Dutchman. He had spun around to face the island as quickly as he could in hopes of catching one last glimpse of her. He had, but the blinding green flash cast over the horizon as the ship crossed to the place between worlds, prevented him from seeing much more than a brief image of her standing at the water's edge looking out to sea. Will couldn't imagine ever becoming accustomed to the sensation of teleporting from one location to another—it was disconcerting under the best of circumstances. It didn't matter if you were ready for it or not; one second you were here and then the next second you were there. Now he simply stood there—on deck, staring off into nothingness, facing the unimaginable horror of knowing that he would not see her again for ten long years.
He was unwelcomingly struck by the irony of knowing exactly how a broken heart felt, even though his was, literally, quite far away, in another world entirely. He briefly wondered how long it had taken Davy Jones to realize that removing his physical heart did nothing to alleviate the pain from his emotional heart. At least Will knew that his was in Elizabeth's safekeeping. He hadn't thought twice about leaving the chest in her care – nor would he ever. As he had said, his heart had always belonged to her. Who better to guard it?
Dawn was just breaking in the land of the dead. It was as if the lights had gone out on one part of his life at precisely the same moment they shone on another part. Shouldn't it be the other way around? He had left behind the one thing – the one person—he had ever wanted, all to break a curse that was not of his making. Logic and reason told him that the duty he would perform for the next ten years was both noble and good, but emotion reminded him what it had cost. Will remained standing at the stern of the ship, staring out at where he had last seen Elizabeth and replayed his last day among the living – his only day with his wife— in his head.
Elizabeth had watched countless sunsets in her life, but none with the anguish that this one held. It occurred to her that she had never really paid much attention to exactly how long it stayed light outside after the sun had set. Somehow it didn't seem very fair at the moment. If her world had suddenly gone dark, shouldn't the rest of it follow suit? She stood unmoving at the water's edge, the waves lapping at her ankles, each incoming rush of water covering her bare feet with another layer of the fine, white grains, while each successive retreat of those same waves washed them from beneath her, sinking her further into the sand, essentially fixing her to the island. Had it not been for that literal attachment to land, she could easily imagine herself giving in to that last second tug of the water and following the waves as they washed out. It was as if even the sea itself couldn't decide if it wanted her to stay and fight for her own survival or to taunt her with the idea of following Will.
She subconsciously reached for the necklace holding her wedding band only to find it missing. She was not as alarmed as she could have been, for she had far more important things on her mind at the moment. She continued staring into the distant horizon where the Flying Dutchman, along with her husband, father-in-law, and the rest of its crew had only minutes before vanished in a startling green flash. Also vanished were most of the hopes and dreams she had compiled over a large portion of her life. It hadn't been but a precious few moments since Will had left her to begin his obligation to the ship and its newly restored purpose, but it already felt like an eternity. How was she going to survive without him? Her head reminded her that she was a strong, capable, young woman who could tackle any challenge, that the dreams she and Will shared would endure their separation, but her heart wasn't so easily convinced.
Right now, the emotional pain of their parting was almost more than she could bear. It had been a struggle, but she had managed, just barely, to not let Will see her cry at the last. She knew it would have made an already untenable situation to him virtually unbearable, but now he was gone, and her silent tears threatened to flow freely as she replayed the events of the past twenty-four hours in her head.
Elizabeth forced herself to turn from the sea as the light began to fade. Her eyes strayed to the chest resting precariously on its rocky pedestal. The remaining few rays of sunlight made the delicate tracery of the chest's carved designs glow, as if it were somehow alive. She supposed that, in a way, it was. Its contents most assuredly were. She could hear the steady, strong beat of Will's heart emanating from the chest as she slowly approached it. It struck her odd that something as gruesome as the thought of a living, disembodied heart, locked in a wooden chest could, in all actuality, alleviate her fears and keep her dreams alive. Elizabeth reached out to trace the outline of the heart shaped lock and wondered what had happened to the key. Does Will have it? Was it lost during the transition? She had no reason, nor desire, to open the chest, but she also wanted to ensure that no one else opened it either. She knew what would happen to Will if someone, anyone, anything damaged his heart. Elizabeth banished that thought from her mind as she ever so carefully picked up the chest and made her way back to the relative security of the stone circle that served as her temporary home.
She was now at a loss as to what to do with herself. With nothing else coming to mind, she set the chest down near the fire, sat down next to it, leaned against one of the rocks and tried not tothink. Her efforts proved fruitless. After several more failed attempts to clear her mind, she looked down at the chest sitting next to her. "So, Will, what do we do now?" She jumped slightly at the sound of her own voice. It hadn't been her intention to speak out loud, but she knew she couldn't sit there in silence forever. She had to make a plan. She had to keep reminding herself that someone from Shipwreck was scheduled to come for her—but what if they forgot? And even if they did come, she certainly didn't want to live there for the next ten years. She'd had more than her fill of a pirate's life even if she was their King. Where was she going to go next? Where could she go?
She had no idea what the conditions were like back in Port Royal, nor did she know the status of her arrest warrant. Beckett was dead, and while he had gotten what he wanted in the bargain, he was no longer around to complete his half of it. What had become of the Letters of Marque? Had she and Will been granted pardons as promised? Norrington had obviously been both pardoned and promoted, so where did that leave her?
To make matters worse, she still wasn't exactly sure where she was, either. Will had told her they were near Shipwreck Island, but that was small consolation at the moment. There were certainly no ships of the Royal Navy out searching for her this time— not that it would be to her advantage if they were—thus a signal fire would do her no good. Besides, she couldn't have started a very big one with just the lone bottle of rum she had been given. Somehow it just wasn't right that the first time she had ever been solely responsible for herself, her only viable course of action was to, in essence, sit and wait to be rescued. She smirked at the irony of it all.
Looking around, she noticed the scattered contents of the two bundles. Having nothing else to do at the moment, she busied herself sorting through them, deciding what to keep and what to leave behind. The food, save for the apples, would be left behind. The bag of coins and the knife she would secure to her person, but most certainly not in what she was wearing at the moment. The compass, the tinder box, the goblets, her letters, her dress, and the piece of oilcloth would all be bound up in one of the sacks to take with her. If her would-be rescuers wanted the bottle of rum, they were more than welcome to it. If she never saw a rum bottle again, it would be too soon – although admittedly it did have some unique uses…
She stood up and walked away from the security of the fire to retrieve her other clothes. Her sense of modesty came rushing back with a vengeance as she began to pull the dress over her head. "Elizabeth Turner," she said aloud to herself, "you've spent almost the entire day lying naked on a beach. There is no one around to see you so just get on with it." Her own words of encouragement provided little help as she self consciously changed back into the oppressively heavy outfit she had worn during the battle.
Upon finishing that task, she quickly walked back to the fire and dropped, exhausted, into a sitting position. Elizabeth heaved a heavy sigh as she closed her eyes and forced her mind to travel back to happier times, when she and Will were children, playing together on the beach. Everything had seemed so right with the world then. She smiled at the thought of how the boy who had been her best, and only, friend, still fulfilled that role—although now he had added the title of both lover and husband to his credentials.
Much to her dismay, a resounding crack from the fire shocked Elizabeth back to the here and now. Her memories were a far happier place than the one she was in. It was hard to imagine that she and Will had been married little more than one day. They had known each other for nearly half their lives. They should have been together, making plans for the rest of their lives as one, enjoying the giddy excitement of being newlyweds. Instead, she was sitting on a deserted beach, alone, in the dark, with nowhere to go, no one to care for her, nor anyone to even wonder where she was, or at least no one other than her now-absent husband.
Will knew where she was, but was unable to reach her even if he needed to. He had told her that Jack would make arrangements for someone to come to take her to Shipwreck, but how long she stayed there and where she went after that was her own choice. She had to keep reminding herself that she would be left to her own devices – something she had only truly done once in her life, and even then it was for the sole purpose of being reunited with Will. In a way, what she was about to face wasn't all that different – it would just last for much longer than her sojourn aboard the Edinburgh Trader.
Somehow that prospect didn't frighten her as much as it could have. Elizabeth closed her eyes again and took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm her frayed nerves. There was nothing she could do right now, so what was the use in worrying herself about it?
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"This is not what I would have chosen for you."
Will started at the sound of his father's voice, but continued to stare out at the water. "And what would you have chosen?" Will sounded bitter, and rightly so, but it was not directed towards Bootstrap. He belatedly hoped that his father knew that.
"I would have had you leave me to my fate. You should be with her," Bootstrap nodded his head in the general direction that the island, and the land of the living, had been, "not condemned to a lifetime of solitude and servitude."
"But I'm not condemned to that. It's just a temporary interruption to our lives." The anger was beginning to fade from his voice.
"Ten years is a long time to ask her to wait and then only to be together for a day." Bootstrap stepped up to the railing, and looked out over the dark water –so still that it could easily have been made of glass.
"Did you ask my mother to wait for you?" Will noticed Bootstrap wince at the mention of his own wife, Will's mother.
"She was free to make her own choices," Bootstrap answered almost defensively.
"As is Elizabeth now," he replied. His own confidence in her choice unwavering in his voice.
"And did she make her choice?"
Will turned to look at his father. "Yes," he answered without hesitation. "We made our choice together, as it should be."
Bootstrap nodded in response. "Then I suppose we should find something to keep you occupied in the meantime."
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Elizabeth had no idea how long she had been sitting next to the fire. She had managed to lull herself into some sort of trance-like state and shut out her pain and her fears. All she was aware of now, was that it was quite dark and she was sleepy. Stifling a yawn, she stood up, picked up the chest and returned to the clearing where she and Will had spent the night before. Once there, she dropped to her knees, carefully set the chest to one side and began to straighten out the rough blanket covering the sand. She smiled weakly as she noticed her nearly forgotten wedding band glinting in the moonlight. She picked it up and placed it back on her finger. Will was right; it was far too big for her to wear. She sadly slid it off her finger and draped it and its cord around her neck.
She lay down, pulled the chest as close to her as possible, then folded her arms beneath her head. She immediately noticed that Will's familiar scent still lingered on both the blanket where he had lain next to her, and on her own skin. The combination of sweat, smoke, salt air, coal fires and heated steel were uniquely his. Gone was the distinct acrid tang of gunpowder and blood that had clung to him after the battle. The memories it evoked made her long for Will all the more, and yet were a comfort at the same time. How many things will do that to me before this is over?
She lay alone in the dark, pining for Will, a cool breeze from the sea trickling over her skin. She could still feel the touch of his work roughened hands—a blacksmith's hands, as he had once reminded her—on her bare skin, hear his breathing, taste the salt on his skin, and see the look of complete contentment and adoration for her in his eyes. She had to hold on to those memories. They were now all she had of Will and they would have to last her. Unplanned but unavoidable tears again welled in her eyes, as Elizabeth Turner cried herself to sleep for the first of many nights to come.
