Nothing really important needs saying until I have written more, so this introduction will be as brief as possible. While I understand and appreciate the conclusion At World's End provides, it leaves much to be desired and no room whatsoever to grow. I have a different future in mind for Elizabeth and William. It is hardly an alternate universe, as the reader is meant only to disregard the killjoy final scene after the credits: I prefer to call it simply Different. (Not to imply the story will necessarily begin precisely where the movie left off, which it does not.) I hope someone will have as much fun reading as I have writing.
Additionally, I disclaim rights to these wonderful characters. I take inspiration from whence it is given.
Oh, and if anyone can stand to give it or future parts a good beta read, I would be very grateful.
"Whack-a-Crab," revision 1.
Elizabeth Turner knelt in the shallow saltwater and held her husband tightly. The winter sun was slowly draining from the overcast sky, and the cast of crabs behind her was growing near. Only a few precious steps still separated her from the rock-strewn shore, but when she had finally been able to make out the curves of the white beach sand, William Turner had fallen limply into the arms now tied around him, reduced to jelly by the venomous stings of its fish.
Summoning strength while he still could, he turned to face his wife. I love you. As she showered him with months of missed kisses, he strained to reach her ear and whispered the only thing he had ever truly known with all his being and beyond doubt. Ever always, my Elizabeth, whatever happens, I love you.
Despite great and long efforts to the contrary, nothing had adequately prepared them for the ordeal they were attempting to survive. A near eternity of pleading and planning had given them this one chance to reclaim their life together, to take back what the goddess Calypso had unfeelingly stolen from them.
Elizabeth was not a simple woman and would never abandon the young sea captain floundering beside her, but the clicking and crunching of crustaceans in the rapidly growing swell threatened to overwhelm her dedication with fear. After a kiss to reassure herself as much as him, she brought lean muscle to bear against the unkind force of the receding wave and stood up.
Stay with me, Will. Stay with me and don't you dare stop and think otherwise.
Nothing would stop her, come hell or high water—or both, as it were. Nothing, not ships or waves, not pirates or women, not captains or queens, and certainly not a misanthropic sea nymph with a subpar command of the English language and a penchant for spreading contagious doom.
She could not have wrinkled her brow any more if she had tried.
Through the corner of an eye, she glimpsed something blue and red as it scuttled between her boots. She gave the rocky sand a nervous kick, but her startled reaction only allowed Will to slip from her embrace as they staggered on toward the beach. She moved to give him a quick peck on the cheek, but was stopped in anguish as her beloved cried out and crashed into the sand. Some spiny sea creature had pierced his calf, and his nerves obligingly radiated the pain throughout his body.
But the sand! They had reached land. Too relieved to smile, she crawled another meter up the beach and turned to her side only to find herself devastatingly alone. An uncontainable surge of adrenaline sent her careening back to the water, where a pair of arms extending from the unremitting crab-filled wave had seized Will's ankles and now pulled him back to sea.
In the midst of his delirium, the captain of the Flying Dutchman fought for something to hold, something he could use to anchor himself against the mad power of the ocean. His efforts went unrecompensed, and the crabs had nearly enveloped his body when Elizabeth reached him. For want of something sharp and heavy enough to crush them properly, she resorted to ripping and swatting and smashing the creatures away with her own uncompromising hands. She found his perfect hands and pulled with all the passion she could muster.
Without understanding why, she already knew in heart she would win the tugging war, and her efforts multiplied beyond their limits. Three strides to the sand faded into two strides, faded into the great One. And then nothing could prevent her, not even the dark figure of the demigoddess that had emerged from the surge.
Calypso's screams reached the rocks before her escaped servant and his daring rescuer. Unable to reach beyond the confines of her own watery prison, she angrily acknowledged her insufferable failure. The goddess ascended into the dark clouds, leaving a trail of crisp sea spray in her wake that showered the Turners in an unnatural rain that persisted and burned like unshed tears. I shall return. Her sugary voice echoed their trepidations and intensified the bittersweet rain.
Together at last, Elizabeth pressed herself to Will once again and listened to his beautiful heartbeat.