She'd sunk all of her guilt, all of her lust into one kiss in the hopes that she'd rid herself of both. Instead, the soft tension of his lips seemed to multiply it. As she pulled away she nearly went in for another kiss, drawn like the tide to the moon. His eyes smoldered upon her. Somehow she found the strength to stop herself midway. "I'm not sorry," she breathed against his lips. He smiled, a knowing smile. She should have known that the statement would not rid her of regret either.


That awful dream again. Elizabeth Swann, nay, Turner tossed in her blankets in the quiet humidity of the summer evening. She had sailed around the world to assuage her guilt, saved said guilt's very life, and all at the sacrifice of her husband's mortal soul.

Silly her.

In dealing with pirates she should have known that everything came at a price. Her price appeared to be a decade- several decades if she was lucky- of solitude. Every ten years she would be rewarded with William's handsome face on the horizon. Ten years was an awfully long time. Was she the wife of a naval man? No. She could never have pictured it. If she had, she would have dashed her dreams for the commodore. Would Will really expect her to stay at home and wait? After she had sailed to the world's end for Jack, how could she not do the same for the man she claimed to love? How could a woman accustomed to sneaking out of her own father's house bear to be held captive in her own?

"That's it!" Elizabeth exclaimed, kicking off the strangling bedlinens. "I'm going to get my husband back." In a blind need to move, she scurried around her room packing what was necessary. Her pearl necklace and several jewels she stashed into a satchel which she tied to her undergarments. Her womanly nightgown she had switched for some of Will's clothing. She eyed his tricorne hat warily, ignoring the sensation of déjà vu she felt as she placed it upon her tied up hair. Almost as an afterthought, she grabbed Will's carefully crafted sword off the wall and plunged it into the scabbard at her belt.

"Maybe his presence will finally rid me of these nightmares…" She did not know at the moment whether she meant her husband or a certain Captain Sparrow.

But, first, she had to find said pirate.

"He could be anywhere. Absolutely anywhere on the vast open sea," she sighed to herself as she traveled the road that overlooked the horizon where she could see her William once upon a decade. Its beauty was lost on her for that reason. She could never bring herself to look. Her steadfast gaze carried her forward, flickering lights of the town glowing brightly in the evening hours. A good wife would be home right now tucking in her children, perhaps pleasing her husband after a meal well cooked. But Elizabeth had none of that to return to. Could she be considered a good wife? Could she even be considered a wife without a husband? "Enough with this train of thought," she scoffed as she approached town. "You're in need of a boat: Focus, Elizabeth!" She looked up from under her brim at the spirited town. Ladies of the evening trolled the streets as men grew rowdy and raucous in bars. "The drunker the better," she assured herself, ignoring the thrill that shot to her toes as she approached the door at the inn. It was time for another adventure.


As she opened the heavy wooden door, she had to duck as a bottle struck the wall nearby. She eyed the amber ale as it made its frothy way down the wall. She turned back to examine the trajectory and was met with satisfactory results. There, she spied Pintel and Ragetti arguing with locals over money won from a drinking game. Luckily, the men they slurred their words at were none the wiser of them being pirates. Although, with the way that things were going it wouldn't take long. Think Elizabeth, think! Who are they working for now? First they served Barbossa, then Jack, then Barbossa once more. Did that mean they were still his crewmen?

She shivered at the memory of the first "Poppet" Pintel had uttered to her from betwixt the crack of a door. Could she trust these men? No, of course not. Pirates, she heard the echo of Jack's pleasant tongue. And yet, they had thrown her a sword at Sao Feng's bathhouse to allow her to defend herself against the East India Trading Company. Her recollection of the moment caused something to stir within her. I did make a pretty good pirate didn't I? …However was it that I wound up alone in a cabin on a hill? She stuffed the sourness down in her throat. It would all make sense when Will came home. Wouldn't it? She just had to bring him home. With that to serve as her ambition, she tipped her hat forward and did her best strong-walk towards the table.

"All right men, all right!" she bellowed in her best male voice as she grabbed the two pirates under the arms of their ragged coats. "Time to get back to the boat. Captain says we need to shove off." She began to drag them at that.

"What the bloody hell are you on about, you," Pintel growled as Elizabeth peeked up from under her hat. "Pop-?" His eyes grew wide with recognition.

"That's enough out of you! Why, the Captain's been on me all day, he has…" Elizabeth continued to chastise until the men were out of the inn and approaching the docks.

As their boots began to creak on the planks of the marina she gave a sigh of exhaustion. She had made it this far, at least.

"Poppet!" Pintel removed his arm, "Just what do you think yer doin'?"

"Saving the beer," she gave a smirk.

Ragetti gave a laugh and looked at Pintel behind his hand, "He's talkin' like Jack." He thumbed at the figure.

"Ragetti, you idiot," Pintel knocked his mate. "Look with your good eye, can't you see who it is?"

He gave a drunken squint. "M-miss Swann!" The boney man straightened up and tried to look proper.

"Hello Ragetti," she tipped her hat.

"Naw," Pintel began to walk around her in appraisal, "it's Missus Turner now, ain't it?"

She didn't know why she felt indignant at the moment, as if the moniker had expected something of her. "So?" She crossed her arms.

"So," Pintel continued, "why would the missus be approaching two pirates in the middle of the night at port? And dressed as a lad, no less?" He narrowed his eyes with a leer, "Perhaps yer first love be the sea?"

"Perhaps it is," Elizabeth commented offhandedly, to the surprise of both men. She looked at the confusion on their faces. "It's got my husband!" she threw her hands up in exasperation. "He's essentially one with the sea now, isn't he?"

The pirates exchanged a glance. "I guess you could say that," Ragetti nodded with a shrug, "yeah."

"Well, now that we understand each other, I'll be boarding your ship." Elizabeth began her walk to the row boat.

"Woah, woah, woah, Poppet," Pintel put out a rough hand. "Do you know which ship we be servin' under?"

"Captain Barbossa's ship?" she took an educated guess.

The two males shared a slow laugh which grew near maniacal until they started slapping each other on the back.

"What?" Elizabeth looked between the two, miffed at the unspoken secret, "What is it?"

"More of a 'who,' Missus Turner," Ragetti chortled as he swallowed his laughter. He leaned in close until she could smell the rum on his breath, "Blackbeard." He whispered.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Her eyes narrowed.

Ragetti shrunk, "Well, he is one of the roughest we've served under."

"And he has a preference for pretty little things," Pintel stroked his chin with a smirk.

"If so," Elizabeth grabbed Pinteli's lapel, "he's going to learn that big things come from small packages." She let him go roughly as she stepped into the row boat. "Well?" She looked at the dazed men. "I haven't got all night."

"...Pity she's married," Ragetti leaned towards his mate.

"Aye," Pintel flashed a smile, "to the sea."