The crews had returned to their ships, readying for the morning, but tradition dictated that the Pirate Lords and their King spent the evening before war within Shipwreck Cove. All the Lords had kept a man to hand; for protection was the unspoken reason as although all were united all were also pirates and from that there was no escape.

Elizabeth had sent Tai Hung back with the crew, telling him come the morning she would sail upon the Black Pearl and he would assume command of the Empress. He had bowed low and with a feral grin retreated to his ship to begin preparations. At her side though remained James, quiet and blending into the shadows as much as possible as per her own wishes as well as his need to live out the day. What the reaction would be if the other Lords discovered a former Admiral of Cutler Beckett's forces was aboard she could not tell - but she knew it would not be good.

Jack had cornered her not long after the Court had drawn to a close.

"See you've found yourself an Officer, Lizzie." he said, grinning as he spoke.

"Be careful, Jack," she warned, James looming at her shoulder silently, "You made me King, remember?"

He grinned even wider at that and responded gleefully,

"That I did, your majesty. That I did."

When he sauntered away she kept an eye on him for a long time, watching him weave between people, dropping a word here, a word there. However no one pounced upon James so she had to accept that, for whatever reason, Jack had refrained from revealing his identity.

Therefore she sat, looking out a window in one of the highest rooms within Shipwreck Cove, staring at the fleet - her fleet for all intents and purposes. The sill was hard beneath her but she did not move to sit on the bed (a large, musty looking thing with four posts and blankets the colour of blood) or take one of the rickety looking velvet lined chairs scattered throughout the quarters; no doubt all looted from some ship or other over the years.

"War is the right choice." she said finally.

James had taken one of the chairs and had been sitting, respecting her silence, until that moment. However with her words he answered,

"It is the choice I would make, were I in your position."

She nodded, resting her chin on her knees. She had removed her ridiculous hat but still wore the garb of the Chinese pirates. The brocade was rough against the skin of her face as she ground her chin into it.

"Beckett's fleet is large?"

James paused before answering,

"I have never seen one of its like."

She let out a breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

"A good leader," James continued, "Requires not experience nor technical expertise. There is no lesson to be learned to become a leader of men."

Elizabeth let out a huff of jaded laughter.

"What then?" she asked.

"Conviction." he replied.

She looked up taking him in; his wig long gone and brown hair escaping the tie at the back of his head to hang in strands around his face. His skin was smeared with dirt and grime, far more tan than it had been back in Port Royal, his white shirt filthy and trousers worn. The jacket he wore was one from the Empress, heavy with brocade like her own garb but not as ostentatious. He looked tired, she thought, and wondered briefly whether she did too.

"You know war is the right option, the only one."

She nodded.

"Then all you must do to convince the men is show them you are sure. Do not falter, do not question. You must know. That in turn will give them the strength to know the same truth."

She turned away, looking back to the fleet. She imagined all the hundreds of men, running around on deck, preparing for the next day, perhaps some grasping at a few moment's sleep, others eating what could be their last meal.

"Turner will be alright."

She turned sharply at that, looking at him with surprise. He seemed to register that and looked down at his own lap, suddenly seemingly unable to meet her gaze.

"You were not thinking of him?"

Elizabeth hesitated, wondering whether she should answer.

"Not in that moment," was her final response, "But I do think of him, often."

James said nothing to that, merely kept his eyes down. However she could see his fists were clenched tightly, the knuckles white.

"Will has…he has a burden to bear."

James said nothing but this, in a way, only spurred Elizabeth on.

"His father was taken by Davy Jones, became part of his crew…Will met him when he was captured and from then on there has been this…this fire in him. He must save his father, at all costs, but I fear…" she stopped, pressing a hand to her forehead, trying to quell the ache which had been there, growing, since the Brethren Court, "I fear it's too late."

She heard movement but did not look up as James moved closer, coming to sit in what little space she did not take up in the window.

"His quest to save his father is at odds with the one you have to claim vengeance for the death of your own."

She let out a long, slow breath and removed her hand, looking up. There was understanding there and Elizabeth couldn't help but marvel at the fact that after everything James could still show compassion, even in this.

"If he were forced to choose…I don't know what he'd do." she admitted.

James merely nodded, saying nothing, and she was grateful for that. He could have so easily pushed at the thought at the corner of her own mind; if he wouldn't chose you then does he truly love you?

"Perhaps…" he said, his low voice gentle, "The best course would be to think of these things once the battle is done. Once Turner has succeeded or failed in helping his father."

Elizabeth wrung her hands and smiled tightly.

"You're right," she responded, "Of course…tomorrow we go to war and here I am talking of romance like a dizzy child."

James smiled. She returned it tilting her head and saying quietly,

"I'm glad you're here."

If his expression tensed at that it was only for a moment for almost instantly he was wearing the bland expression of the Commodore again. He had always been so good at hiding his emotions, apart from when ridiculously drunk in Tortuga, it almost pained her to know he still had reason to do so - because of her.

"Tai Hung has the Empress now and tomorrow I'll be aboard the Pearl," she said, watching him carefully as she spoke, "I'm down a first mate and I'll need you close. Will you do it?"

His jaw clenched, a tick visible, before he asked,

"Is that an order?"

She drew in a deep breath through her nose.

"Don't." she warned.

"Don't what?" he asked, purposely, infuriatingly, obtuse.

"Don't make this difficult. I'm King of Pirates and tomorrow I take them all to war, I have no idea where Will is, Jack is scheming, Cutler Beckett and Davy Jones are two steps away from killing us all…don't take away the only sure thing I have."

She kept hold of his gaze, not backing down, and saw the fight of emotions playing beneath the attempt at inscrutability. She knew him too well, after all the years between them, to not see it.

"Do you think, despite everything," he said, his voice close to shaking with suppressed emotion, "That I would abandon you? You know I couldn't, no matter how much I may wish it."

"Why?" she asked, even though a part of her told her this was too far, that she was pushing too far.

"You know why." he replied, steel-like, "I won't say it. Not when the sentiment is not wished for."

There was nothing to say to that so silence fell between them. Her eyes once again drifted to the fleet beyond the window and once again the weight of responsibility fell heavy upon her.

She felt him touch her hand and started, looking down to see their hands just barely touching.

"It will be alright, Elizabeth," he reassured, the anger of moments before seemingly faded to nothing, "We may be pirates but we're on the side of right."

She nodded slightly, willing the truth in his words to comfort her. However above all what she heard was we. Not you, not I - we. He truly was going to stand by her, for better or worse. Slowly Elizabeth turned her hand and threaded her fingers through his. She didn't look up, didn't mark his expression, merely squeezed tightly.

"Thank you." she said, meaning it most sincerely.

Rising from her seat she moved away, releasing his hand slowly, before removing her shoes and climbing fully dressed under the musty covers of the bed. It was comfortable and she was grateful for that if nothing else. Turning she saw James was sitting where she'd left him, watching her with eyes which were shadowed in the dim candlelight of the room.

"Goodnight James." she murmured.

There was a pause before he answered softly,

"Goodnight Elizabeth."

She closed her eyes.