Elizabeth's feet touched the ground just as Davy Jones turned, facing her with his blade drawn, tentacles writhing grotesquely.

"Harridan!" he spat, "You'll see no mercy from me!"

"That's why I brought this!" she yelled, unsheathing her sword and starting forward, her blade meeting his with a clang of steel which was audible even above the storm and the battle raging on around them. He was strong but she managed to parry, yet a second blow had her slipping to the ground, turning just in time to raise her blade, holding him off so that she could roll out of the way and back onto her feet.

Yet Davy Jones was a warrior of many lifetimes so when he disarmed her she could only be surprised she had lasted so long. A blow to the head with the part of his arm which she thought was made of driftwood had her slamming back into the stairs leading to the poop deck, her head crashing against the wood behind her. Instantly the world darkened.

She could hear Jones laughing and tried to force herself to get up. However she couldn't, she couldn't, her head swam and her eyes would not open. Darkness was so inviting, rest was so inviting. And yet her promise to James rang in her heard,

I'll find you, when it's done. I'll come and find you.

She had to get up. She couldn't leave him, not now, not now she had finally chosen him after all those years…and then she heard a thrust of metal and Jones' laughter increased in pitch.

"You missed!" he exclaimed gleefully.

Elizabeth forced her eyes open and made herself rise, touching her head gingerly and looking…only to find Jones advancing on Will. Of course, Will was aboard the Dutchman looking for the chest, looking for his father. And now Will had saved her. She took in a breath and looked for her sword, her eyes meeting his as he slammed against the rigging and fell to the ground.

"Ah!" Davy Jones said, catching the look which passed between them, "Love. A most dreadful bond…but one most easily severed."

He advanced on Will and Elizabeth searched desperately for her sword, seeing it nowhere and looking up to find, horrifyingly, Jones' blade was resting on Will's throat.

"Tell me, William Turner…do you fear death?"

"Do you?!"

Elizabeth's head whipped around and there was Jack; holding the heart in his hand with a knife pointed directly at it. Elizabeth smiled in relief, looking to Will and willing him to know it was going to be alright. He smiled in return; his face that of a man recently reprieved from a death sentence - which he was.

"Heady tonic, holding life and death in the palm of one's hand." Jack said, smiling triumphantly.

"You're a cruel man, Jack Sparrow." Jones said, spitting with fury at the realization of the weakened position he was in. Elizabeth's eyes strayed to the Pearl, beyond where Jack stood, and she prayed James and the crew could hold out, just a little longer. Just until Jack stabbed the heart.

"Cruel is a matter of perspective." Jack responded.

"Is it?" Jones asked.

Then he turned, in a motion so fast Elizabeth could hardly believe it was happening, and thrust his blade forward, spearing Will in the chest. Her body went cold with dread as Jones twisted his blade, Will crying out in pain beneath it, and then released it, uncaring, turning back to Jack.

"Will…" she breathed, crawling towards him and taking his hand in one of her own.

The sword was impaled straight through, anchoring him to the Dutchman, and she feared removing it would kill him. Behind she could hear Jones, laughing, and hatred so intense she could taste it flowed through her.

"Will," she tried again, touching her free hand to his face, "Come on, Will, stay with me, please…" she could feel tears brimming and told herself not to be weak. She had to be strong, for Will.

A sudden bellow behind them caused her to turn her head; one of Jones' crew had attacked him, leaping on him from behind. She would put good money on it being Bootstrap Bill - not such a lost cause after all.

"Elizabeth…" Will wheezed.

She turned her attention back to him.

"Eliza…Elizabeth." he said again.

"It's alright Will, you'll be alright, I'm here…" Will's eyes began to close and she released his hand, putting her free one to his face. This couldn't he happening, this couldn't be happening, "Will, stay awake! Look at me!"

Jack raced towards them, crouching at her side.

"Jack!" she exclaimed, hoping he would do something, anything.

He ignored her, placing the heart on the ground and the blade in Will's hand. She knew what he was going to do and while for a moment she considered telling him no another thought occurred, superseding the first. If Will became Captain of the Dutchman he could be with his father, always. He could know the man, as he had always wanted. What life was left to him on land? If he survived (a possibility so mad she could not believe she was considering it) he was still a pirate, hunted. Not that it mattered because he was dying, he was going to die…unless he stabbed the heart. And he did he would be alone, she thought, guilt pooling within her. That, most of all, stayed her hand. Because on the Dutchman he would never be alone and she could not take that away from him, would not take that.

"Help him." she said to Jack, seeing that Will's arm was too weak to raise the blade.

Jack nodded, carefully wrapping Will's hand around the hilt of the dagger.

"Hold onto it tight." she said to him desperately, hoping he could still hear her, "Don't let go!"

Whether he heard her or not she didn't know. But when Jack raised Will's arm and let it fall he held the blade long enough for it to pierce the heart. Elizabeth looked up, in time to see Jones freeze just as he was about to strike down Bootstrap Bill.

Jones turned, his face raised to the sky, before falling backwards over the railing and down, down, down into the Maelstrom which was waiting to devour him.

Elizabeth turned her eyes to Will to see that his own eyes were closed. After a moment she noticed his chest had stopped moving. A hand on his heart revealed the beat had stopped.

Will was gone.

"I'm so sorry." she breathed, leaning her forehead to his for a moment. For what she wasn't sure. For not loving him the way he needed her to in the end, perhaps. For not being the woman he had hoped she was. For loving someone else and choosing them, though that she could not regret, however sorry she was. For all the things unsaid and some of the things spoken too. For letting him die saving her.

"Goodbye, Will."

She looked up to see Jack looking fearfully behind her. Elizabeth turned to see the crew of the Dutchman converging, chanting in their monotone, lifeless voices,

"Part of the crew, part of the ship, part of the crew, part of the ship…"

"We need to get out of here." Jack said.

She nodded, standing and allowing Jack to pull her away, her eyes lingering on Will as long as possible, committing every feature to memory, going over them again and again, one by one. One thing she could promise was that she was never, ever going to forget William Turner.

Jack pulled together a canvas and some rigging and then grabbed his pistol.

"Hold on!" he yelled and she wrapped her arms tightly around him, losing sight of Will as the crew finally surrounded him completely.

Jack fired a shot and suddenly they were flying through the air, the device he had created capturing the wind beneath the canvas, propelling them up and over the Dutchman and far away from Will and the terrors that went on below.

As the Dutchman sunk beneath the waves Elizabeth hid her face against Jack's chest, eyes closed tight.

When they landed it was in the sea, the Pearl coming up on their right. She swam out towards it, looking along deck for the only face she could bear to see in that moment. She prayed in her heart she wouldn't have to lose another man whom she loved, sure she could not bear it if anything had happened to James as well. However it wasn't until she had boarded, climbing up the rope ladder and onto deck, that he appeared before her.

"Elizabeth…"

He murmured her name with reverence, like his own prayer had been answered. She rushed towards him, blind as the tears came, and he embraced her tightly, holding her close.

"Will…" she breathed out, and it was all she needed to say. His hand stroked her hair, gentle and rhythmic,

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding so genuine it made her heart hurt, "I am truly sorry, Elizabeth…"

"…the Armada's still out there," she dimly heard Gibbs pressing, "The Endeavor's coming up hard to starboard…I think it's time we embrace that oldest and noblest of pirate traditions…"

Elizabeth turned her head to look at Jack, waiting for his answer. After everything, after losing Will so cruelly, was he really about to turn tail and let Beckett escape?

"Never actually been one for tradition." Jack answered flatly.

Elizabeth took in a breath, looking up to James whose eyes were firmly on Jack. His brow was furrowed and Elizabeth looked out to where she thought the Dutchman had gone down, where Jack was now intent gazing. What was it Bootstrap had said, just before she and Jack had escaped?

The ship must have a Captain.

Could it mean…?

"What's he doing?" James asked, looking down at her.

She shook her head for a moment, almost unwilling to allow herself to fall into the incredulity of it all.

"I think…" she answered hesitantly, taking his hand in hers and pulling him with her to the port side of the ship, "That he's waiting for reinforcements."

"Close haul her!" Jack announced, cutting off any further chance for questioning, "Luff the sails and lay her in irons."

"Belay that!" called out Barbossa, "Or we'll be sitting ducks!"

"Belay that 'belay that'!" Jack retorted.

"But Cap-" began Gibbs.

"Belay!" Jack exclaimed.

"The Ende-" Gibbs tried again.

"Stow! Shut it!" Jack answered, before striding up onto the poop deck.

"Has he finally gone completely mad?" James asked.

"Not quite," she answered, looking out across the open expanse between them and Beckett's Armada, "Not yet."

The Endeavor came closer with every moment and Elizabeth felt doubt begin to creep in. Was Jack clutching at desperate hopes? Were they both so wishing for ill to be alive, or at least some form of alright, that they were being led to their deaths? She looked up to James, seeing his eyes fixed not on the horizon or the battle about to take place, not the enemy approaching, but on her. His hand reached out and twined a damp lock of her hair around his finger and she opened her mouth to tell him again, reassure him for what might be the final time that she hadn't had another change of heart, that this time she was fixed and would never again…

However suddenly their attention was ripped from one another as the sound of waves breaking and the accompanying cries from the crew of the Pearl rang out. They both turned in unison to see, surfacing from the depths of the ocean…

"The Dutchman?" James asked, puzzled.

"Will." Elizabeth answered, grinning widely.

"Ready on the guns!" came the call from the Dutchman.

"Full canvas!" Jack shouted to the crew of the Pearl in response.

Immediately everyone jumped into action, Barbossa shouting his agreement with a wild, terrifying grin firmly in place.

"Aye! Full canvas!"

Elizabeth went to the far starboard, watching them creep ever closer upon the Endeavor. James positioned himself by the hatch leading to below decks, hanging on the stairs, ready to relay orders. Jack stood at the centre of the head of the lower deck and Barbossa, taking the helm, steered them along side the Endeavor while the Dutchman did the same on her other side.

"Cap'n?" asked Gibbs in the quiet as everyone waited for orders.

Jack turned, a look of feral glee on his face, and said simply,

"Fire."

"FIRE ALL!" Elizabeth shouted, James echoing the sentiment from his position to those waiting to fire. Barbossa bellowed out the same with wild abandon from the helm while still holding them steady and smooth.

The canons fired and she saw the flashes from the Dutchman as it did the same.

Elizabeth watched with grim satisfaction as the Endeavor was ripped apart, the wood splintering and breaking, the cargo burning, the men leaping into the water, abandoning the ship at the first chance they got. She leaned over the rail as they passed it by, watching it burn, watching it sink down into the sea, never to be seen again. Cutler Beckett was gone. Her father's murder was avenged.

"She was a fine ship, once."

She turned to see James standing behind her, looking out to the charred remains of the Endeavor, floating atop the waves.

"Better though she be sunk than be tainted by the man who took her." he added, looking down at Elizabeth and sighing heavily.

She reached up, moving a strand of stray hair from his face. His hand captured her own, holding it gently and pressing a kiss to the backs of her fingers.

"Will you go to him?" he asked, no recrimination or anger in his voice, "To Turner?"

Elizabeth smiled softly, looking over to the Dutchman, seeing the shapes of the men aboard and her eyes finding the one at the helm whom she thought must be Will.

"He has a new destiny now," she answered softly, with a little sadness perhaps for what might have been, but no regret, "As do I."

She looked up at James and saw there finally the peace, the contentedness, she had not realized until that moment had been missing all along from his face. Reaching up on tiptoe she pressed her lips to his, so that when the call announcing that the Armada, rudderless without its leader and flagship, was retreating, the jubilant cries from her army of pirates barely registered.

"We won." James murmured against her lips.

She opened her eyes looking up at him with a smile.

"Yes," she answered, "We did."

A/N: Just a quick note to say thank you for the kind comments I've received from you all. There's one more chapter to wrap things up after this one.