Authoress' Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you for the wonderful reviews I received for the last chapter. You all have no idea how nervous I was about posting that bloody thing. I'm so glad it's out of my hair now. XD Anyway, onward with the story! Please remember to review!

The First Morning

My eyes open suddenly to meet the bright morning light. Blinking, I wonder how on earth I could have awoken at such a peaceful hour, and then the reason becomes clear. A weight upon my chest finally makes itself known to me. Contentedly, I lean back into the pillows, watching Elizabeth's head rise and fall as I breathe deeply from the morning air. I place a light kiss on the top of her head, and her eyes flutter open at the touch.

"Good morning, Mrs. Norrington," I whisper, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Elizabeth smiles up at me, as she clutches the bed linens about her. The golden light plays across her bare shoulders, and I suddenly decide that I like the look of her mussed hair and nakedness. She is like Eve in the garden; the way God intended her to be. I watch her intently for a minute, as her face seems to go through a whole array of emotions. For a second her smile is radiant, and then her brows knit themselves together for a moment, only to be smoothed out in sudden blissfulness.

"What are you thinking?" I ask.

Elizabeth props herself up on one elbow, still grasping the covers closely about her in an attempt at modesty. She looks down, opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again.

"I don't really know what I'm thinking, James," she says thoughtfully, "I suppose I was thinking about how wonderful last night was . . . It was everything . . . I had ever hoped it to be."

The words roll off her tongue slowly, and a tinge of pink creeps into her cheeks as she glances up at me. I turn over onto my back, attempting to hide the grin spreading across my face. She frowns, sitting indignantly, perhaps thinking that I am mocking her in some way.

"What is it?" she asks, the bed linens falling unceremoniously about her waist.

"I love you so much, Elizabeth," I say, the grin still plastered to my face. It can stay there for the rest of my life for all I care. "You do know that, don't you?"

Elizabeth's frown instantly turns to laughter as she flops down next to me, her hand reaching through the numerous covers and pillows to entwine with mine.

"Oh God, how couldn't I?"

---

Our long-awaited bliss is utterly short-lived. Not two weeks have passed before I receive a call of duty due to report the following morning. Elizabeth comes to the dock with me as she has on every other embarkation and unabashedly kisses me good-bye in front of my fellow officers. She does not cry this time, and I know it to be a mark of her ever-growing strength.

"I'll miss you," she says so that only I can hear, "I'll wait for you."

I take her hand in mine and kiss it reassuringly, "Don't worry about me. You're in good hands. Thomas will keep a good eye out whilst I'm gone."

"It's not me I'm worried about. You're the one who can't help running out into the heat of battle to play the hero. Haven't I told you more than once that I'm entirely too young to be a widow?"

"I love you," I say tilting her chin upward with my hand. She stares me down with a defiant eye.

"You haven't answered the question."

I sigh exasperatedly, and give my wife a peck on the cheek. "I promise I'll come back in one piece, but that's it. I can't promise I won't play the hero. It's much too fun not to do that, you know."

She rolls her eyes, but still throws her arms around my neck and kisses me again for good luck. My last glimpse of my wife is her small form waving from the docks, and then I am swept out to open ocean where I know I will not be able to communicate with Elizabeth for a long four months.

---

Our last port of call is a small Caribbean island not too many nautical miles away from Port Royal. In fact, I can see a few ships headed in that direction as we stand on the docks taking in the sights of our last shore leave before returning home. My eyes remain locked on a lone fishing boat slipping out across the water and into the mist. Not for the first time I long to be on it and on my way home.

Many of the crew are off to the nearest tavern, and I follow close behind them intending to have a drink or two before boarding the ship once again. Perhaps the alcohol will help the time pass more quickly, or if anything, it will knock me out until tomorrow morning.

The tavern is hot and filled to the brim with people. There is a makeshift stage set up across from the bar where an old man with an organ grinds out an unsavory tune whilst a young woman dressed in a dirty and fraying frock sings in a quavering high-pitched voice. A few men nearest to the stage throw out catcalls every phrase or so whilst guzzling down pints of ale. I head straight to the bar without another thought.

The bartender, a young man with brown hair swept into a low ponytail, turns to me. I stare, eyes wide with shock at the way the tables have been turned after all this time.

"William Turner?"

The young man, with those innocent brown eyes, gulps slightly and nods; setting down the glass he has been polishing. I wave my hand at it.

"I'll take a pint."

He nods, and turns away for a few minutes before setting down a frothing mug in front of me. I take it in two hands and gulp down half before realising that Will is staring at me from across the glass he is still cleaning.

"Cat got your tongue, Mr. Turner?" I ask good-naturedly. All the hatred I felt for this man at one time seems to have dissipated in mere seconds. Just seeing him in this God-forsaken place is enough to melt the worst of feuds to a puddle.

Will shakes his head and sets the glass down. He leans against the edge of the bar, a bemused smile on his lips.

"You know, I never thought I'd see you again, Commodore," he says, "At least, I certainly never thought I'd see you in a place like this." He nods at the group of ragamuffins by the stage who are getting rowdier by the minute.

"You're not the only one," I say, and raise my mug to him. "So, why are you here? I thought you'd gone to find your father."

Will nods, "Aye, I've done that part. You'd never believe where I found him though. That's a story for another day. The point is, I found him, and he's all right. For the past six months I've been following Jack Sparrow around, and I finally decided that I needed a rest. I knew I couldn't go to Port Royal, so I settled here. It's not much, but it will do for now."

He shrugs, and pours himself a mug of ale, though he doesn't drink much from it. I look down at my own mug, and then glance back up at the boy from so long ago, who is no longer a boy anymore. It is evident that he has seen more than I care to hear about.

I clear my throat, "And where is Mr. Sparrow?"

Will shrugs indifferently, "You know Jack. He goes where the wind takes him, and right now that's somewhere near Florida. All he mentioned was something about a fountain and everlasting life. Make of that what you will," Will grins and downs more ale, "I opted out of that trip in an attempt to settle down. Obviously, I haven't been successful."

I don't know what to say. In some way I realise that I have stolen the life that this man could have had. Will cocks his head, watching me, and I dare not look at him directly for fear of giving my guilt away.

"How is Elizabeth?"

The question, innocent enough, seems loud in my ears, louder than the singing and the catcalls combined. I look up at Will then. He is smiling contentedly, his hands clutching his mug close. I straighten up, and splay my hands on the table.

"She's wonderful," I say, looking him straight in the eye, "She is not the wayward girl you left behind all those years ago, nor the lost young woman you met back in Port Royal."

He nods, that bemused expression on his face again. "I figured as much. Somehow I knew she'd fall in love with you, even if she hadn't been inclined to the match before. There's something about you, Commodore, that fits her perfectly."

"Please, call me James," I say. I feel I owe him that much respect for all I have taken from him.

"James . . ." the name is foreign to his tongue, but he smiles as he says it, "Would you do me a favour?"

"Yes, of course," I reply.

"Would you tell her that I still love her? That I still think about her from time to time and that I have no regrets? As long as she is happy, I am happy."

I am not angry at his words, but rather sad again. I hold out my hand, and Will shakes it vigourously. "I will tell her as soon as I am home."

"Thank you, James."

Authoress' Note: LOL. You all thought it was over, right? 'Tis not so, my lovelies! The next chappie will probably be the last, but I couldn't end this thing without seeing Will one more time. I may ship Norribeth more often that Willabeth, but Willabeth is the OTP in canon, so I had to give it a final nod before sinking that ship all that way down.