Author's Note: Well, here it is, the last chapter. I still cannot believe this story is over, but I think it is time to move on to other things. I do have another Beckett fic that I am working on and it should be posted on this site in the very near future. I would like to thank everyone who commented on this story and supported it from day one. Thank you all, for the bottom of my heart. Also, thanks goes out to those of you who reviewed the last chapter, ElfLuver13, EvenstarEverlasting, SpacePotato, Axelle d'Agincourt and Tiera-Tarie. I have no beta for this fic, so any grammatical or spelling errors that appear are my fault and my fault alone. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Pirates of the Caribbean.

November 15, 1731

Dearest Diary,

The carriage rolls on, slowly now, as we crawl further along the road to our estate. Cutler is sleeping and his head is pressed to my shoulder. I do not wish to disturb him, but his weight does make it rather difficult to write. Oh well, so much for little annoyances. I shall do the best I can.

We left the ship and the sea behind last week. I am glad for it. Travel along the waves is not at all pleasant and already, I feel as though I have had enough to satisfy my wanderlust for a lifetime. Cutler too, is more sedated, pleased to be back in England after our troubles in the Caribbean.

He says he is disgraced and resigned from the Company when we first arrived in England. But I think, yes, I think he is rather happy to settle into a quiet sort of life now. I certainly am.

Still, he worries what disciplinary action might be taken against him. I say that we ignore such a trouble until it comes to us. For now, let us relish in the simple joy of our homecoming.

Agnes has gone ahead with our son and she has certainly arrived at the house now. Our homecoming was unexpected and we shall have to spend a night or two with friends until all is made ready.

Oh, I am reminded now. I must write to dear Harriet…and mother.

So much distracts me that I have forgotten to conclude my narrative. Perhaps I have time enough now to continue, yes, I think so.

As it was, Captain Sparrow allowed Mr. Norrington to escort me down to the prison where my husband was kept. Elizabeth Swann went with us, but she did not speak. For that I was grateful. It gave me a chance to say goodbye to Mr. Norrington, for I did not se him again after that night.

He held my arm as we walked and I was obliged to lean upon him. My strength had not recovered so much then and shallow breathing kept my pace slow. Mr. Norrington, however, was patient.

When we came to the entrance of the prison, Mr. Norrington turned about to face me and I saw tears coursing down his cheeks.

"Forgive me," he said and wept. I patted his arm.

"Oh, James." It was all I could say. Mr. Norrington nodded and then did something very shocking. He put both his hands on either side of my face, lowered his head and kissed me.

It was not a kiss born of romantic love, but rather a desperate, pained gesture. I believe he wished only to be comforted and feel a mother's touch.

He drew away at once, looking so ashamed that my heart broke.

"Forgive me," he repeated in a dead voice. I shook my head, casting tears from my eyes. With my hands, I pulled his face close to mine.

"James, you must promise me something," I said. He did not speak. "Please, you must promise me that you will live a happy life after this. Whether it is upon the sea or on the land or in some cottage tucked in a green field, you must promise me this. My heart would be forever broken if I knew you suffered. You have become so dear to me, so very dear to me."

And I wrapped my arms about his shoulders and kissed his cheek. "Promise me, James."

"I promise," he said and I knew he meant it. From out of the thick shadows I heard Elizabeth Swann sniff. If she wept I could not tell, but I am certain she did not leave us without an aching heart of her own.

Mr. Norrington and I continued on after that and we did not speak. Down a long, filthy corridor I was led, at the end of which stood Mr. Gibbs and several pirates. A woman also lingered there, with dark skin and wide, bright eyes. I was surprised to learn that she was a pirate as well.

The ruffian guards seemed quite shocked to see Mr. Norrington and I. But Elizabeth Swann was quick to step forward and reassure them.

"Jack's orders," she said and that seemed quite enough for the pirates.

"Is she going in with him?" the dark woman asked. She pointed at me with a long finger.

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, Anamaria. He's going out with her."

This seemed to cause a great deal of concern amongst the pirates. They looked at one another and then at Elizabeth and then at me.

"Are you mad, lass?" Mr. Gibbs asked.

Elizabeth shrugged. "Jack's orders. He's letting them go. Now don't ask me why. I would have killed Beckett on the spot."

I shivered then. Mr. Norrington put his hand on my shoulder.

"Come on, let him out," Elizabeth ordered sourly. There was much grumbling and more than a few curses from the pirates, but soon enough they opened the rusted cell door. My husband stepped out into the corridor.

"Cutler." I said his name very softly, for I feared that any show of wild emotion would only excite the pirates further. Poor Cutler looked quite reduced in appearance. His jacket was off as was his wig and his short brown hair had a decidedly ruffled look about it.

"Anne." Cutler glanced once at the pirates and then at me. "What is this?"

"Come." I dared to step forward and take his arm. "Come, we must leave."

"Leave? Where do we go?"

"Home."

"To our house?"

"No, to England."

He balked and would not move. "To England?" My husband's face paled.

"To England." I nodded.

"But…but how?"

I squeezed his hand tightly. "Captain Sparrow gave us leave. Come now, we must hurry."

"Aye," the female pirate grunted. "We might just change our minds."

My husband clutched my arm and together, we moved down the corridor. Mr. Norrington followed us, as did Elizabeth. When we came to the door, I was informed that James would be detained.

"I am to stay here for a short while," he said with a brave smile, "until you are safely upon your ship."

My heart trembled. "You will not hurt him, will you?" I asked Elizabeth.

She stared at me with bold, angry eyes. "No, we shan't."

"Oh." And once more, I threw my arms about James's neck, ignoring my husband's affronted expression. "Good-bye, James. Good-bye."

Mr. Norrington said nothing. And to this day, I have yet to hear from him again.

Cutler and I slipped out the door. The free, fresh air of the sea enlivened me. I could not help but smile. Cutler, however, seemed nervous.

"Anne, how did you-"

"Why do you linger?" A charmed voice reached my ears. Cutler turned around, his gaze reaching far into the shadows surrounding the prison.

"Who?" he asked, but I already knew. Letting go of his arm, I stepped forward and met Tia Dalma.

"Why do you linger?" she asked me once more.

"We don't," I replied, then glanced at Cutler over my shoulder. "You must go," I said to him, "back to our house. Fetch our son and the few servants that will come with us."

He hesitated for only a moment before slipping away. I turned to face Tia Dalma once more.

"You are a brave woman," she said at length. The moonlight touched her eyes and made them shine.

"I am a dead woman," I said. Tia Dalma frowned.

"Why do you say that now, eh?"

I sighed and pointed to my breast. "The consumption."

She laughed then, loud and shrill. A shiver shot up my spine.

"Oh, child," she said, grasping my hand. "You don't have consumption."

I stared at her, but she only patted my hand. To this day, I dare not explain the incident by any earthly means, but I can say that I have not once coughed.

Have I been cured?

"Go and bury your little babe proper like," Tia Dalma said. "Jack will give you the time, I'll see to it. Go now and don't you ever look back."

I did as she said, finding Cutler at our house in the greatest state of excitement. He wished to know at once just how I had secured his freedom and he swore to high heaven that Sparrow would betray us. I calmed him, as best I could and told him we must bury our dear child and depart. That left him quite sober. Together, we made our way to the small graveyard overlooking the sea and laid little Julia to rest, just as the sun brushed the horizon. And then we did just as Tia Dalma said and I have never once looked back.

The carriage slows now and Cutler stirs awake. I smile and laugh and breathe, all without a trace of pain. Who could ever believe such a miracle? There is some blessing born from pain after all.

I lower the window now and catch a first glimpse of our estate, resplendent in the morning light. The grass is green and quite alive, yes alive.

Lady Anne Beckett

The End