Setting: Pre-COBP. Elizabeth's 13 and Will's 14-ish, because I failed to specify ages.

Author's Note: Reviews are loved!

Of Mutiny And Kisses

"Put it there," Elizabeth ordered, indicating the spot with the tip of her sword. Will held his ground, stationary on the perfect white beach. He scowled and cast the weather-beaten board aside.

"No," he replied firmly. "This is foolishness. Come back before you fall in."

"But that's the idea!" she called in answer, and picked her way carefully further along the outcropping of rocks. She heard Will give a frustrated, groaning sigh.

She knew it was only a matter of minutes until he followed; he always managed to find a fault when it was her turn to plan their pirate games, but he also always did what she wanted in the end. Today they had sailed to a deserted island (the courtyard behind the smithy), fought an opposing band of cutthroat pirates (swung Will's wooden practice swords at imaginary enemies), dug up the treasure (pried open discarded oysters beneath the docks, until they had three gleaming pearls a-piece), and now it was time for the first mate to commit his mutiny. But it seemed Will had grown prematurely tired of the game. He was supposed to be stealing her share of the treasure and forcing her to walk the plank.

She had to wait hardly five minutes before Will came up behind her, dropping the board with a clatter.

"Here's your plank, Captain Swann. Do with it what you will, but I refuse to be your mutineer."

He crossed his arms and gave her a hard stare, but Elizabeth only smirked and drew out her share of the treasure. She brandished her sword in her other hand, and took up a defensive stance.

"I'm not sparring with you," Will told her stubbornly, and lifted his chin in defiance. She made a wild swing in reply, driving Will to sidestep deftly out of her reach.

"Wi-ill," she implored, drawing out his name in a whine, "you promised to play fairly."

"Under the condition that our game wouldn't turn to idiocy," he added. "Which it has. I won't let you stand out over the ocean on that."

He aimed a kick at the thin wooden board lying nearby to illustrate his point.

"I'm not afraid," she shot at him defensively. Will gave a short, barking laugh, and flashed her a knowing grin.

"I never doubted your courage; only your balance."

She scowled and began to drag the board over to the edge of the rocks. It was a short drop to the sea, only eight or ten feet, but the way the waves frothed and crashed against the outcropping of boulders made it seem a dizzying height to Elizabeth. It was too late to take back her plan now, however, and she was honor-bound to go through with it.

The stone was slick beneath her bare feet, and she paused a little away from the edge to wait for Will. He joined her soon after, albeit reluctantly, and she forced her three pearls into his pocket.

"There," she told him smartly. "You've taken my part of the treasure at the point of a sword…." She paused until he drew said weapon and waved it vaguely at her. "At the point of a sword," she continued, "and now make your threats and force me into the unforgiving depths of the storm-tossed sea."

He rolled his eyes a bit at her dramatics, but prodded her shoulder with his faux sword nonetheless. He cleared his throat and put on his pirate voice, a half-octave deeper than usual.

"By your leave, Captain Swann-"

"Do it properly, Will," she interrupted, and situated the board so the thicker half was hanging out over the water.

"I have your ship, your crew, your treasure, and now I'll have your life. This is nothing more than you deserve, Captain. Hell would be entirely too kind a fate; I pray Davy Jones finds you before the devil! Better?" he added in a whisper.

"Quite," she replied in an equally quiet tone, and stepped up onto the plank. "Stand behind me, on this end. You weigh more than I do, and this way it won't overbalance."

She spun around to face him, trying to ignore the water spraying up around them, and the thunderous pounding of the waves that battered the sheer cliff face they were standing atop.

"Elizabeth, I don't think-"

"Will!" she growled, and gave him a hard stare. She raised her sword and took a single, shaky step backward.

"To your death, Captain Swann!" Will cried viciously, and jabbed his sword in her direction. He gave a slight wince as he said it, and closed his eyes for an instant. It was to her advantage, as she didn't want him reading the fear behind her eyes, and she took two more quick, backward steps.

"I'll have my revenge, Turner!" she called back over the noise of the waves, and Will opened his eyes again. She glanced over her shoulder for a moment to gauge how much further out she had to go. If she were walking the plank, she had to do it properly; the rules of their game clearly stated that she had to come within six inches of the end, for it to be considered done. Two more steps, she decided at last, and then she would be a good four feet away from the rocks, and that would be far enough.

"I would be willing to take you as my prisoner," he added, and they both knew he was offering her a way out, because her pride would never allow her to admit this had been a bad idea. She had "walked the plank" before, of course, but then it had been extended from the end of the docks, where the water was calm; the only real danger in that was getting her dress wet if she fell in, or being caught by Lieutenant Norrington. As it was, they were too far from the fort for anyone to notice them, and she was already soaked through from the sea spray.

"Death before service," she replied, much braver than she felt. She made a wide swing with her sword for emphasis; it slipped from her fingers and Will ducked, jostling the board just enough to throw her off balance. She fell to her knees as the sword struck the rock behind Will with a sharp clatter. He reached out for her, hardly daring to move; she returned the gesture, her fingertips just barely brushing his.

"You're safe," he called to her, although she suspected it was more to reassure himself. "I swear it, Elizabeth, I won't let you fall!" He lunged forward at the same moment as she began to slide closer, and this time his sudden movement was the end of it. The board gave way with a sharp crack, and Elizabeth fell with a yelp into the ocean.

Miraculously, she plunged into the water just as the latest wave was receding, and she was spared the experience of being thrown against the rocks. She broke the surface and looked up to Will, only to find him diving in after her. He slipped beneath the water very close by, and came up behind her with his arms firmly encircling her waist.

"Can you swim?" he shouted near her ear, over the noise of the ocean. His warm breath at her neck forced the seriousness of the situation to the back of her mind for a fleeting moment.

"A bit," she returned, unwilling to voice the real extent of her skill, which was limited to dog-paddling and disjointed strokes at best. She couldn't dive as Will did, nor could she manage to time her kicks and stokes to produce the forceful pull he was currently showcasing.

"Hold on tightly, then!" he called back, just as the current caught them. She obediently threw her arms around his neck as he fought for the beach. They made slow, brief progress, until the next wave came in. It quickly became apparent that they were to be forced back against the rocks. He tried valiantly to shield her from the worst of the impact, pulling her close against his chest, but the effort was wasted. The waves dashed them against the rocks so violently that Elizabeth lost her grip on him. Now she knew why Will had been so reluctant to go through with her idea; he foresaw the danger of being in the ocean near the rocks, that they would very likely be killed.

She struggled for a moment to stay above the water; she could have managed it, if not for being completely winded. She attempted to call for Will but couldn't find the breath, and instead allowed the current to pull her under again.

Black spots danced across her vision as a strong arm caught her around the waist. Relief took the place of terror, driving her to distraction, and for a brief instant she stopped fighting against unconsciousness. Then she was vaguely aware of cold air stinging her cheeks, and a frantic muttering in her ear. With great effort, she lifted her head from Will's shoulder.

"Breathe, Elizabeth," he ordered sharply. A new wave was bearing down on them. "Quickly!"

She took a great gulp of air, and hardly had time to realize what Will meant to do before he dunked them both underwater again. He managed to get beneath the next wave, and bring them back to the surface; they were safely away from the rocks.

"Pull for the beach!" he shouted to her, and she became aware of a harsh reality. Will, her Will, wasn't half as invincible as she imagined him; he was incapable of getting them both back to the shallows. "Move, 'Liz!"

It was his rare use of a nickname that spurred her into motion, more than the order itself. He only took the liberty of shortening her name when he wasn't thinking; when they became too caught up in games and laughter, or when he was astoundingly terrified. She assumed it was the latter, and loosed her hold on him and began to swim for herself. He kept one arm firmly around her waist, and soon enough he was pulling her along more than she was helping.

The sounds of the ocean and Will's strained breathing began to blend together; she unwillingly closed her eyes. The next instant his arms were around her, but the sensation faded just as quickly.

"-izabeth…please…."

Will's panicked words were the first sounds she distinguished.

"You're breathing…I know you're breathing, 'Liz…wake up…."

Slowly, she came to realize that they were safely on the beach; the sand was warm beneath her, and the crash of the waves was distant. He began to stroke her hair, still desperately calling out to her. She tried to speak, but only managed a low, exhausted groan; Will's hand tightened around her own, and his labored panting ceased for a moment.

"If you're still playing pirates, God help me I'll…I'll…."

She waited for the threat, anticipating a good bit of amusement from it, because Will never had been particularly adept at making threats. In all honesty she had meant to open her eyes before now, but she still couldn't quite summon the strength for it.

She grew impatient after almost a minute of silence; Will continued to stroke her hair, but she never found out if he had ever intended to say anything more. He was suddenly very close; his lips claimed hers in a somewhat reluctant kiss.

It was her first, but it clearly wasn't Will's. His hand fell to rest at the nape of her neck, almost perfectly. He knew just how to stroke her cheek with his thumb, and precisely how hard to press his lips against hers. She had often wondered if kissing was difficult, but in her now-experienced opinion it wasn't. She had even entertained the idea of this exact moment, if only briefly.

His tongue flicked across her closed lips, and without quite knowing why she opened her mouth a bit; his tongue slipped in. She did her best to imitate his side of the kiss, being fairly uneducated herself; she assumed that she did well, because he held the kiss for another long moment. She opened her eyes once he began to pull away, and when he realized she was awake he quickly sat up.

"Are you well?" he asked anxiously, looking anywhere but at her as his cheeks and ears went bright red with embarrassment.

"Quite well," she assured him, having found her voice at last. She truly didn't understand why he was so disconcerted; she thought the kiss had been rather nice. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

He waved off her apology and helped her to sit up; his arm lingered around her shoulder longer than was necessary, although he still couldn't meet her eyes. At last he took a deep, shuddering breath, as if to steel his nerve.

"F-forgive me, Elizabeth, b-but I couldn't…you weren't…I j-just thought t-that it…it usually works in the…I mean, I never actually…."

He trailed off, looking supremely uncomfortable; Elizabeth couldn't help but to laugh at his insecurity. The mortification written across his face instantly faded to indignation.

"Well?" she prompted, trying and failing to stifle another giggle.

"I just thought," he began defensively, and his voice was strong again, "that a kiss always works in the fairytales. Why couldn't it work for me?"

"You'd have to be my one true love," Elizabeth reminded him with a sly grin; his ears and cheeks began to go red again.

"I never meant to presume that you…or that I…."

"It worked, didn't it?" She was being flip now, without quite knowing why. Dear Lord, was she flirting with him? She gave herself a mental shake and drove the suspicion to the back of her mind.

"It did," he agreed quietly, almost seriously. They fell silent; Will seemed to be lost in thought, and Elizabeth was beginning to wonder what could possibly keep him quiet for so long. She turned her eyes to the ocean and relived the past hour in her mind, to work out how she would put it all down in her diary; the secret diary where she kept an account of her and Will's adventures, not the other diary that her father read to check the progress of her spelling and grammar.

Will suddenly leaned closer to her in the sand, and she fleetingly wondered if they were to kiss again.

"That was your first one," he whispered knowingly, and she suspected that some sort of retribution for his earlier embarrassment was coming. She had laughed at him.

"It wasn't," she replied haughtily, even though she was tempted to admit her inexperience, and ask for another lesson. He smirked.

"It was."

"How could you tell? And it wasn't," she added quickly. Will studied her for a long moment before answering, his smirk growing into a devilish grin.

"You were sloppy."

Fin