The sun was low when she met Will on the beach.

He was granted one day, just one, on dry land every ten years. Aboard the Pearl she had received a message, asking her to meet him just before that day's end. He did not specify why or what he expected but in her heart Elizabeth knew. However she showed his note, sent by Cotton's parrot of all things, to James before speaking her thoughts.

He read it through slowly, carefully, and then looked up at her from where he leaned against the railings on the deck of the Pearl. The Dutchman floated just beyond his right shoulder, almost as though Will were watching too, waiting for James' reaction. Which perhaps he was.

"He wishes to say goodbye." James deduced finally.

There was a pause, before he added softly,

"You should go."

Elizabeth kissed him long and hard after that and when she broke away, both to breathe and because the catcalls of the crew were becoming racier and racier, he followed up,

"If I were in Turner's place I pray he would give me the same chance. If he feels half of what I do for you it would be an act of kindness I would not forget."

James rowed her ashore and remained in the boat, a book in hand taken from Jack's cabin, a relic from the time Barbossa had led the Pearl. She had asked him to come, knowing if he had remained aboard the Pearl the self doubt which still haunted him would surface. Elizabeth felt, in her heart of hearts, that with no other man would James doubt her love for him. Not now. But then William Turner was not just some other man.

Yet when she had asked him to accompany her to the meeting point itself he had declined.

"He sacrificed much, for all of us - he deserves to see you, alone, one last time."

If James' grip on her hand was slow to release when she turned to go Elizabeth didn't comment on it. Though his fear was unfounded it was understandable. His trust was something she had to earn, just as he had regained hers after giving the chest to Beckett what seemed a lifetime ago.

Elizabeth found Will some way down the beach, not entirely out of view of James and the boat but far enough so that blurred figures were difficult to distinguish from rocks. He looked up when she approached and smiled, a sad smile which tugged at her heart.

"Elizabeth." he said.

"Will," she returned, stopping with two paces between them.

"You brought Norrington." he observed, nodding his head to the far distance, a smile playing on his face, not cruel but perhaps a little regretful.

She simply returned his smile.

He peered out towards the horizon, where already the sun was dipping low.

"It's almost sunset," he observed, holding out an arm, "Will you walk with me?"

She nodded, taking his arm and feeling a little surprise when he began steering her back towards where James and the boat waited.

"It will be ten years before I set foot ashore again," he said quietly, "And by then you will be long gone - married perhaps, with children. Living the life you choose, whatever that might be."

She listened, not interrupting his thoughts, wanting him to take this final chance to speak anything he wished.

"I would not deprive you of that, Elizabeth." he continued, "So unless fate intervenes I shall not seek you out again."

Her hand tightened involuntarily on his forearm, where it rested, but she held her silence.

"It is for the best, for us both."

They stopped not far from the boat and in it James, staunchly looking down at his book though she was sure he was aware of them. She reminded herself to thank him for that. Beyond the shore Elizabeth saw upon the horizon the Dutchman, waiting for its Captain to return. Will released her arm and bent down, touching a hand to the sand at their feet.

"I used to dream of the sea, of never stepping foot on dry land again," he mused quietly, almost to himself, "Now the choice is taken from me I find I may miss it."

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said, almost as a knee jerk reaction.

He rose, brushing himself free of sand.

"What for?" he reached over and took her hands in his, in the same way he had when she told him, without telling him at all, that she had chosen James over him.

The action made her heart ache but she allowed it. She thought perhaps she might allow him anything, in that moment, with his eyes studying her face as though trying to memorize it - the same way she had when she had left his body upon the Dutchman.

"There is no fault here," he reassured her, "No blame. I'm glad in many ways. In others…perhaps not. Yet I do not regret my fate."

He released her hands then, moving behind her so she had to turn to watch him. He bent down, reaching behind a rock, and removed a chest. It was familiar, painfully familiar, and the steady thump coming from within made her own heart contract in sympathy.

"It was always yours," he said, holding it out to her, "Will you keep it safe for me?"

She looked at the chest for a long time before raising her eyes to his.

"Yes." she said finally, tremulously, "Of course I will."

He sighed what she thought was a breath of relief and placed the chest atop the rock, giving it a final, lingering look before turning back to her. His eyes slid past her shoulder and though the glow on his face, orange and red, told her as much his words confirmed it.

"The sun is almost set. My time runs short."

He reached out again and this time his hand found her face.

"Will you let me kiss you, Elizabeth?" he asked, his voice gentle, low, "One last time?"

She hesitated, thinking of James. Then she remembered his words - that to allow a person a final farewell with the one they loved was the greatest kindness that could be given, and she nodded.

He pressed his lips to hers and she responded gently. There was no passion there, though it was not a kiss of passion. It was a goodbye between two who loved each other with the ferocity of first love, long ago. Though there was still love between them it was different now, different to the creature James stirred in her chest and Will too had once awoken in the early days. This however was a kiss of farewell. A last goodbye.

When he pulled back her cheeks were damp and he ran a thumb over the tears, brushing them away.

"No more tears, not for me." he said firmly.

She could only nod.

"Goodbye, Elizabeth." he said evenly.

"Goodbye, Will." she murmured.

He nodded, searching her face one last time, before moving past her. She turned, watching his back as he walked towards the ocean. However before he stepped in her veered over, walking towards where James sat. For a moment her heart lurched, fearing what would happen, but almost instantly she quieted it. Will would not hurt James and there was no reason for James to hurt Will - not that it would do any good.

She watched as Will unsheathed his sword, offering it to James, who took it, before exchanging a few words. She smiled tightly as James leaned forward and shook Will's hand. Then, finally, Will turned back towards the waiting sea, walking in fully clothed and becoming submerged deeper and deeper until she could see him no longer.

James approached from the beach once Will was gone from sight and she felt him stand beside her. Elizabeth's eyes stayed trained on the horizon, watching the Dutchman become smaller and smaller. Then the sun sank low, out of sight, and in a flash of green light the Dutchman faded, and was gone.

"I kissed him." she said softly.

With the setting of the sun the breeze had become cooler and also stronger, becoming a wind which whipped her hair about her head.

"I know." James answered.

She looked to him, standing looking out just as she had been.

"A final kiss." she added, why she did not know.

He looked down to her, his expression without recrimination or anger.

"It was a comfort to him?"

She glanced back towards the horizon, rapidly darkening now the sun was gone.

"I think so."

"Good," was all that James said.

She remained quiet for a long time and so did he. When he finally moved, taking her hand in his own, she almost jumped at the unexpected contact.

"William Turner and I have much in common," he said evenly, drawing her eyes to him without trying, just by speaking capturing her attention, just by being there, "We have both loved you, both lost you and both of us have faced life without you. Turner I hope," he said wryly, "Will have more success than I did in that arena."

She smiled, though her heart wasn't really in it.

"I never wanted to hurt either of you."

He moved closer, taking her face in his hands.

"The past is done with," he said, "It is forgotten and just as I have forgiven you so have you forgiven me. The future lies ahead."

He turned her gently so that she could see, rounding the corner of the farthest cliff edge in sight, a ship, silhouetted in the growing dimness and yet with sails in unmistakable pitch black.

"In this past year I have realized that the lines between good and evil are often…blurred. Perhaps then it's time we tried to instil some morality into the profession of piracy," James mused.

This time her heart was in her smile, wholly and completely.

"I love you, James Norrington." she declared.

"And I you, your Majesty."

She grinned widely and reached up to kiss him, revelling in the way his lips caressed hers, reminding herself that they had the rest of their lives to live now, to do just this a hundred thousand times, to live whatever lives they chose.

It was when they were about to climb into the boat that she noticed the sword at his side and remembered Will's diversion. She had forgotten, so engrossed had she been in her own feelings and then in James; when he had lifted her guilt a little and given her the hope she knew in her heart she gave him, to ask,

"Why did Will give you his sword?"

James turned and smiling pulled out the blade.

"You don't recognize it?" he asked, "It's the same blade Turner forged for me, all those years ago, when I was made Commodore."

Elizabeth's eyes grew wide as she recognized the handle, the intricacies of the entwining metal. Though it was more battered, the blade scratched from heavy use, it was still in one piece and still apparently strong.

"How?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"Jones," was James' answer, "He took it when I left it aboard the Dutchman, when we escaped, and Captain Turner took possession of it when he took possession of the ship. He said…" James smiled more widely, shaking his head almost disbelievingly, "He said that he was giving it to me because the blade was made by a man who took great care and devotion in his work - and he would expect the man who wielded it to show that same care and devotion to every aspect of his life."

Elizabeth laughed, remembering the words James had spoken, long ago on the parapet in Port Royal, when he had accepted Elizabeth's choosing Will. Now she knew, without doubt, that Will had done the same and given them both his blessing. It was, she thought, the greatest gift he could have given.

James rowed them back to the Pearl and she sat opposite him, looking at the chest, knowing that she would ensure Will would live a long life at sea, helping people, being with his father - the life he had dreamed of, in truth, but never imagined. And next to the chest sat her own future, James, propelling them into the weeks, months and years that lay ahead, filled with possibilities.

"Yo-ho, yo-ho," she murmured, trailing her fingers through the water, a smile on her face.