When Elizabeth woke up in the cell, Jack's face was but centimeters from hers and he looked somewhat annoyed in his sleep. She smiled, wondering what he was dreaming about. Slowly sitting up, she saw that the whole room was dark...nighttime, she decided. The looked at his back. The scars were still there and the skin around them was an angry purple. Just looking at them made her cringe. The only source of light-a small candle outside of the cell- flickered. The way the shadows were cast on his handsome face made him look unreal-too beautiful to be.

She went to stroke his cheek, but pulled back. An image of Will flashed in her mind. What was she doing, admiring the pirate who had caused her and Will so much pain and grief? Pain, grief, joy, excitement, adventure...If it weren't for Jack, she and Will would both be dead. No matter what awful things he put them through, he always made it right, whether intentionally or not. He had saved Will's life and she loved him for that. 'There's that word again.' Love. She shrugged it off and smiled. He had the choice to be immortal and sail the seas for eternity or save Will's life and he had chosen to give Will his dream. But why? She had known him to be a mostly selfish man. He was a pirate. But why did he choose to save Will? It wasn't like he and Will were good friends. They were more like acquaintances forced to dwell together by unfortunate circumstances. The only conclusion she could draw was Jack was a good man, and no matter how much he denied it, and that's why he saved him.

For no reason in particular, carefully, she pulled his hat off his head. Placing on her own, she adjusted it into the right position. She leaned over a puddle and looked at her reflection. She smile, she looked good in it. "Nice hat, isn't it?" she heard Jack ask from behind her. She turned, she could feel herself blush and a smile spread from cheek to cheek. He grinned at her, she took the hat off and tossed it back at him. Picking it up, he started chuckling to himself. Then he put it back on and stood up.

Elizabeth stood up with him and stretched. Stretching her arms out farther and farther, she felt her scars burn. She cried out in agony and collapsed. Jack rushed to her side, "You alright, Lizzie?" She didn't reply. The searing pain wouldn't let her. Laying on her stomach, she let the cool air hit her back. Then, she felt Jack's hand touch her skin.

Jack could only grimace at what he saw. The cuts on her back were surrounded by a dark purple, almost black. In the center, they were a blood red and some of her body tissue was visible. He tried to push it back in, but she screamed from the pain. Pulling back quickly, raising his hands, he apologized, "Sorry, love." He shook his head in disbelief. How could this have happened? This was all his fault. He should have left her on her little island. She probably could have defended herself from those pirates anyways.

He took off his shirt and splashed it in a nearby puddle, drenching it with cold water. He spread it out and laid it across her back. She shivered at first, the low temperature covering her, but then let out a long sigh. He cleared his throat, "Uh, love...it seems that your insides want to come outside."
She only groaned.
"I've never been to a doctor in my life...but you have, I assume, being the rich governor's daughter you once were. Do you have any idea what I'm supposed to do?"
"Well, Jack," she turned over and sat up, "I don't know if you're aware that salt water and open wounds don't mix." She reached back and pulled his shirt off, "I know you were trying to be helpful. Thank you." He took it and slid into the sleeves, "I was told sea water is the best medicine."
"You were told wrong." She patted his shoulder and smiled.

She had to ruin the happy moment, "Jack, what about Will's heart?" He grunted and rolled his eyes, "What about it?"
"It's back on the Sea Dog. What if one of the pirates-"
"The only ones who even know about Will's heart being on the Sea Dog are you, Gibbs, and I. You and I are here, so, unfortunately, I cannot have the pleasure of harming it. Gibbs won't do anything because I told him I would bring a black cat aboard if he did."

She giggled. The smile he loved so much came to his face. He couldn't help but return it with his gold-toothed grin. The sound of a creaking door made both of their smiles disappear. They stood up and placed their hands on their hips. The familiar sound of boots walking down the stairs returned. Before they knew it, Collins was in front of them. He reached into his pocket and took out some keys. Unlocking the door, he stepped into the cell and took a hold of Elizabeth's arm. Jack inched forward and stood in a protective stance, "What do you want, Milk Maid?" Collins shrugged his shoulders and nodded towards Elizabeth, "She's not telling me anything. Since she's no use in THAT department, I thought I'd use her in another. She is a pretty girl, after all. And I need some pleasurable company.

Jack started to breathe heavily and his head throbbed. His eyebrows caved in anger. His teeth gritted in rage. He knew what Collins was doing. He was trying to make Jack confess by...Jack's fists clenched at the thought. Elizabeth looked at him with confusion and fear.

He relaxed himself, letting out a sigh. Looking at Elizabeth, he shrugged, "Sorry, love." He looked at Collins, "Alright Collins, bring me a map and I'll tell you everything you need to know." Collins smiled, letting go of her arm. She walked over to Jack, "Don't you dare. You promised." He was hurting inside. She was mad at him and all he was trying to do was protect her. He had to do this. Pointing at himself, he exclaimed, "Pirate." She frowned at him and tried to smack him, he caught her hand before it could hit his face. Elizabeth sighed and looked at him. Disappointment glowed in her eyes, brimmed with tears. She pulled her hand from his grasp and sat down cross-legged, arms folded. Collins let out an evil laugh, "Good man, Sparrow. I knew you'd understand. I'll go get a map." Still laughing he walked out and locked the cell. After they heard the door close, Elizabeth shot up and ran over to the wall of the ship. She had a knife in her hand. She thrust it into the wall and started carving into the ship. Jack smiled at her, she was being sneaky, trying to cut a hole in the ship. He had seen her swiftly grab the knife from Collins' belt as he had been talking. Seeing she was struggling, he reached to take the knife from her. She growled at him and shoved him away. He smirked, "Love-"
"Don't call me love!" She growled at him again. Jack tried not to let it show, but that hurt him. "Love was his bet name for her...along with "Lizzie".

She had been cutting away for about five minutes and only moved the knife about two inches. He could tell she was really having a hard time, she was breathing heavily and sweating. Blood was starting to ooze from the scars on her back, her muscles contracting. Sighing, he grabbed the knife and gently pushed her aside. At first, she looked like she saws going to fight him for it, fury in her eyes. Then she stepped back, crossed her arms, and lowered her eyes. He stabbed the hull and started carving.

After about ten minutes later, there was a large circle in the hull, water was seeping through the edges. Jack stepped back and motioned to it, "Would you like to kick it?" She smiled sarcastically at him and glided forward. Lifting her right leg and kicking her foot in the center of the circle, water exploded into the cell, drenching both of them and knocking them over. When the explosion ended, they stood up and walked towards the giant hole. Jack pointed to it and decided to let her go first, "Miss Swann." She bent down and picked her vest off the floor. Swiftly but whimpering a little, she stood back up. He could tell her scars were hurting. Before she launched herself through the hole, she turned to him and snarled, "Mrs. TURNER."

Jumping into the water, Jack realized that Elizabeth was indeed right. Salt water and open wounds did not mix. He clenched his teeth and swam harder. Elizabeth was heading for an island on the horizon. He caught up to her. She was breathing heavily and groaning. The water was stinging his skin, he couldn't imagine what it felt like for HER. Her scars were more open and deeper. She started slowing down, growing exhausted. He wrapped his arm around her stomach and pulled her along. She did not hesitate or try to free herself. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. He could hear her breathing in his ear. All of his feelings for her nearly overcame him.

When they got to the beach, Elizabeth let go of Jack and laid face down on the warm sand. Jack stood up and took off his jacket, squeezing the water out of it. He took the compass out of his pocket, opened it, and shook it, getting the water out as well. Elizabeth was just lying there, trying to catch her breath. Jack could see the sun rising, leaving and orange glow on her flawless face. A small half-smile escaped from his lips.

She gulped loudly, then pushed herself up with her arms, throwing up. One of her sleeves fell off of her shoulder, almost exposing her chest. As she was coughing, he pulled it up to rest on her shoulder, seeing that her scars were clearly still infected. He turned to her and murmured, "Perhaps you swallowed too much sea water, Elizabeth." As he spoke, he took notice of his surrounding...they were in Port Royal.

Quickly, he lifter her onto him, grabbed his jacket and compass, and ran down the beach, "Time to go." Elizabeth tried to wiggle free, but stopped. He would not let her free herself. "Jack, why must we leave so quickly?" she asked. Still running, he exclaimed between breaths, "We've seemed to have stumbled onto the wrong spit of land." Spotting an old fisherman's shack, he sprinted toward it and headed inside. He set her on a stool and grabbed a bucket. Holding it out, his head turned away, eyes squeezed shut, "Here you go."

Feeling her take it from him, he turned to walk out. He opened the door to exit. Then he cocked his head, took a step back and saw a bottle of rum. Grinning, he grabbed the bottle and fled the scene. He gently shut the door and plopped down, leaning against the shed, pulled the cork off the bottle, and tossed it aside. He held up and bottle and said to it, "Hello, old friend." Tipping his head back, he took a giant swig.

A piece of paper flew through the air and ended up on Jack's leg. He sighed and pulled it off it, looking at the description. He read aloud, "Wanted...William Turner... Elizabeth Swann... Jack Sparrow..." He gargled his saliva and let of the paper, letting the wind carry it away. "Captain...Captain Jack Sparrow." He spit and took a swig of rum.

The door opened and Elizabeth emerged. She bent over and ruffled her hair. Jack's gold teeth glittered in the sunlight. She sat beside him and cleared her throat, "Where are we?" He grunted and looked at her. Their eyes locked for a brief instant, electricity shot through her. She blinked and looked away, he copied her movements. "You, of all people should know, Elizabeth. We're in Port Royal."

She looked around. Indeed, they were in Port Royal. How could she not have seen it? In front of her was a beach she and Will had played on as children. She smiled, memories flooding through her mind. Then frowned and got up. She stood in front of him and kicked sand at him. He waved his arms in surrender, "What in God's name?"
"You were going to tell them where Will's heart is! You broke your promise!"
He scoffed and chugged more rum, "Is that what this is all about?"
"I can't believe you would do that. That's low, even for you."
The playful anger left his face, replaced with hurt, then he sighed, "I wasn't going to tell him where the thump-thump was in the first place. Or where the pirate lords are. Or tell them how to bind Calypso. I was going to send them on a wild goose chase...give them false information. Savvy?" He finished the rum and threw him into the water.

Elizabeth felt terrible. She had tried to smack him, pushed, him, thrown her and Will's marriage in his face, kicked sand at him, and now insulted his character. And he was never going to break his promise to her in the first place. She slumped down onto the sand, mouth open...she couldn't believe she had been so horrible to him for nothing. The cool sea air made the scars on her back tingle. "Oh." was all she could say. "Oh?" he asked as if he was expecting more from her. And she knew he deserved it, "I'm sorry, Jack."

"Miss Swann...Miss Elizabeth...Mrs. Turner...whoever you are at the moment..." he stood up and put on his jacket, "you've known me for some time now, have I ever given you a reason not to trust me? Of the two of us, I am the only one who has not betrayed and murdered a friend. So, I am the only one of us that has proven himself...or herself trustworthy."
"You said you forgave me for killing you!" she exclaimed, standing up.
"But it is not forgotten now, is it?" He raised his eyebrows and started to walk back down the beach, towards the town. She picked up her vest along the way and followed after him. She put it on, the leather on her scars was not a pleasant feeling, but tolerable.

When the got to town, they hid behind trees and rocks. No one noticed them as they ducked, trying not to be seen. As they sneaked through the town, Elizabeth spotted her friends around every corner. Old friend from school, neighbors, people she spoke to in town...they walked around as if nothing had changed. Then, they came to her house. Jack continued to walk, but before he could go further, she grabbed him, holding him back. He rolled his eyes, "What is it, Lizzie?" "This is...was my home." She replied, pointing to it.

Looking closer, she saw that the windows were gone, replaced by wooden slabs. The bushes and trees in the garden were dying. How long had it been? Long enough for this to happen. The gate was open. She let go of Jack's arm and hazily walked towards the house. She could hear Jack following her. The door was unlocked. She turned the know all the way and walked in. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. All of the furniture was covered with white sheets. The chandeliers were cloaked with cobwebs. The air smelled of dust. Her house had been deserted and abandoned. Something inside her began to squeeze her heart.

The sound of Jack's boots on the tile floor interrupted her thoughts, "So this is it?" he exclaimed. "The palace of King Lizzie." She turned to face him, nodding, "It was. Now it is but a memory." She hung her head and wiped a small tear from her eyes. Unexpectedly, she felt his hand on her chin. He lifted her face so she could look at him. Bringing up his other hand, he touched her face, wiping away another stray tear. He rubbed it on his jacket and stroked her hair, "S'alright, Elizabeth." She couldn't believe it. At that moment, she wanted to kiss him. She mentally slapped herself. How could she? She was a married woman now. She could not allow herself such fantasies. Sniffling, she asked, whispering, "Jack, can we get out of here?" He nodded and put her hand in his, pulling her towards the door.

When they finally arrived in the downtown area, it was hard to remain unseen. They found refuge in a familiar blacksmith shop, owned by a Mr. Brown. An old friend of Elizabeth's and Will's former mentor. He welcomed her with open arms, "Dearest Elizabeth." His smile assured her she was safe. She hugged him. He smelled of rum... lots of rum...more so than Jack.
"May we stay here for the night?"
"Sure, sure." he replied. Abruptly, his attention turned to Jack, "I remember you."
Jack pointed to himself, "Me? Probably because last time you had the pleasure if my carbuncle, you smashed a rum bottle on my head."
Mr. Brown grunted and laughed, "Aye, I remember."
Elizabeth looked at Jack. He was eying a bottle or um on a nearby table. She giggled to herself and turned to the blacksmith. He had too cots tucked under his arms, "Will these be alright, Miss Swann?"
She nodded, "Thank you."
"S'no problem." He replied. Then setting them on the floor, his eyes darted to Jack, "Don't touch my rum!"
She looked at Jack. His fingertips were inches away from the bottle's neck. He pulled back with surprising speed and took three steps back. Mr. Brown grabbed the bottle and walked towards the door. As he was about to shut it behind him, he croaked, "Help yourselves to the swords!"