Chapter 1

A/N – This is my very first Sparrabeth fic, so don't be too critical of me just yet :P I just had an idea the other day and decided that I would try it out. Rating might possibly go up in later chapters, but I'm not sure yet. Most of this chapter is probably very slow, but the next one will move a lot faster, and will have lots of Jack in it… In any case, if nobody is interested, I'll take it down.

It had been nearly a year since Elizabeth had seen her husband.

The island she had been left on was of moderate size, neither large nor little. It was sparsely inhabited, and after a while of living there Elizabeth had found that she preferred it that way.

There was a small village across the island, just large enough to be able to support a small market and a couple of shops. She traveled there every so often if she needed something badly, and couldn't find or make it herself.

It was a little more than half a day's journey to the village, taking the path through the palm forest that spread across most of the island. She could take the long way, walking along the beach around the entire island, but she had attempted that once and found that it was much too time consuming, not to mention nearly getting heatstroke, being in the sun the entire way.

Her own little home was not far off from the place Will had left her, slightly off the beach, and in the shade of the few palm trees that were in that transition place between the sand and the forest.

She'd assembled a few of the villagers to help her build it, and they'd luckily had it finished before the baby was born. It was quite a big house in all actuality, and its sturdy wooden frame was more than enough to keep her from worrying during those torrential rain showers that happened every so often.

Elizabeth walked along the beach with two baskets on her arm, collecting seashells that she could sell or trade for things at the market. Seashells were practically currency here, she'd soon found out. The villagers used them for everything.

She bent down to pick one up, wondering what Will would be doing at the moment.

The shell was splintered right down the middle, and a sizeable fragment was chipped from its edge. Elizabeth held it up and inspected it in the glow of the sunlight.

Broken. Just like her relationship with Will.

After he had left, she'd cried and pined and worried about him for months on end. During her progressing pregnancy, she'd begun to wonder how she would do it. She had never thought she would end up looking after a child by herself, without Will by her side to help her, and learn with her. What would happen when their son got older, and began asking questions about Will? What could she tell him? Their story was so messy and confusing…

The birth itself had been hard, going through all the agonizing hours of labor. She had been absolutely terrified. But she'd made it through. She was a strong person, and more than capable enough to be able to do things herself, and she took pride in that. She hadn't befriended anyone from the village enough to ask them to be with her then, so she had done it alone. She shuddered to think what would have happened had something gone wrong… But nothing had, and she didn't have to worry about it now.

Elizabeth dropped the shell and continued on her way.

A thought sprang to her mind that she'd been deliberating the other day. It wasn't fair, really, that she could only see Will once every ten years. And only for one day.

What if they wanted to have more children? All of their children would be exactly ten years apart, if they were able to conceive again during Will's next visit. It would be difficult enough to conceive another during the one day that they had, and that was assuming they would be able to find someone to watch their son…

She would only see her husband another six or seven times in her entire lifetime. Perhaps eight, or nine if she was lucky. And she would be aging the entire time, while he would not. What would happen the day he stepped ashore and found that she had passed on? His heart would go on beating ceaselessly on, forever and ever …

The chest that contained Will's heart had been buried safely in the sand near Elizabeth's house. She'd kept it near for the first few months, just for that feeling of security of part of her husband being close by. But after awhile, it had begun to feel a bit bizarre to her, holding the chest near her pregnant belly, and cooing to the child growing inside of her that that's daddy's heartbeat, doesn't it sound wonderful? So she'd buried it, carefully hidden, but still close by should she need to dig it up again, either for reassurance or just for the feeling of being close to her husband.

Of course, she'd buried and unburied the thing quite often for the first while. Every day the mound outside would be new, and of fresh sand. But gradually, after some time, she had dug it up less and less, until finally grass started to grow overtop of it, and it began to look just like any other part of the ground.

Walking along the beach, she wondered if this meant something.

The setting sun spilled over the island in a beautiful golden glow, and made her feel peaceful inside. She closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of its warmth on her face, and the slight wind that breezed over her skin. She opened her eyes and smiled down at the second basket that was hanging off her arm, from which a small, chubby hand had just emerged.

"Well, hello there," she said softly. Lifting the cover slightly, she beamed down at the tiny, round face that smiled happily up at her.

Setting the basket on the ground, she pulled the cover open completely, and was about to lift her son out of his carrying-basket when she heard a strange sound.

Elizabeth looked up, only to realize with a jolt that there was a longboat on the beach, only a few yards in front of her. It hadn't been there a moment ago… It must have washed up there only seconds ago! How had she not noticed it nearing the shore? She supposed that she hadn't been entirely watching her surroundings, but still…

A soft moan came from within the longboat.

Elizabeth frowned and covered her son quickly, clutching the basket to her protectively as she approached the longboat with immense caution. She stepped forward and peered over the side apprehensively.

What she saw there nearly made her heart stop.

"Jack?" she said, her eyes wide.

It was indeed was Jack Sparrow in the longboat. His ragged breathing and groan of pain when she touched him only accentuated Elizabeth's concern ... And the ominous, dark red patch that stained the front of his jacket caused her to think: seeing him again was going to be the very least of her problems to come.