A/N: This fic is AU; Lord Beckett never died, Elizabeth secretly betrayed all the pirates, though no one knows that it was she who had done it, and Beckett consequently got his own empire. This is a few months after it all went down; however, Elizabeth still married Will, she still has his heart, and she still left Jack, but in this case, they agreed to meet one last time. I know it's rather strange, but I needed a reason to use this song – it's gorgeous and I just really wanted to.

Remember: The lyrics are in italics, and they are used as the skeletal outline for the story.

Dedication: This is for you, Ice; you know you're too amazing for me to turn down a request for a Sparrabeth fan fiction. :P

Half a week before the winter
The chill bites before it comes
And I'm a child of the pleasure
That he brings before he runs

Elizabeth Turner sat on the cold, wet ground in the middle of nowhere and waited.

Just waited.

She knew exactly what she was waiting for; of course she did. The weight of the guilt welling up inside her was nearly too much to bear, but she knew that once he was there, he would make everything feel all right for those few short hours. They had agreed to meet there one last time before he ran away again, and she herself went into hiding – a slice of their old life before they started over had sounded like a good idea at the time, and even now, it seemed to be the last thing she clung to.

Though it was pathetic, Elizabeth knew that she only lived for that short time of bliss Captain Jack Sparrow gave her.

When she remembered what they had done together before all of this mess – those warm, occasionally violent nights – and shivers went down her arms, feeling like chills biting just before winter began. Those were nothing but memories by this point, but that didn't mean they didn't replay over and over, sickeningly vivid, in her secretly twisted mind.

At long last, a familiar sound came to her ears – Jack's clumsy footsteps crunching on the ground, making their way to her. His familiar, murky brown eyes met hers, and she knew he was able to read her very soul that way. Like an alcoholic lunges for a glass of wine, Elizabeth ran into his welcoming arms. It was only when she was with him that she ever felt like a normal person, rather than a despicable traitor. Granted, it was only because he didn't know what she had done, but it was all right – at least he was there.

They didn't speak; there wasn't anything they wanted to say. Knowing that this was probably the last time she would ever be able to steal her pleasures, she kissed him harder than she ever thought she was capable of doing. Her arms were wrapped around him, and his around her; it was the only position she liked to be in these days. They kissed for many long, sweet minutes before Jack literally had to push her away from him.

"Next time," he whispered in her ear.

She looked at him with wide, sad eyes, realizing the irony of the situation – this had been the way it had happened when Will left her – but he didn't take it back. He simply returned her gaze, something going on in his own eyes that she couldn't read, and he left her. Just like that.

With a sigh, Elizabeth tried to regain her ability to breathe and left the lonely area; it was time to get back to Port Royal.

Lord Beckett would be waiting.

"Mrs. Turner; come in."

His frosty voice called Elizabeth into his office; it always frightened her, somehow, even though she knew exactly what she was in for. There was just something about Beckett, she decided.

Cautiously, she stepped in, keeping her pace quick but careful. No one ever went into Beckett's office, so it was a miracle in itself that she was there. It was a beautifully crafted place – filled with different colored wood and intricate designs – and in the back-center of the room was a large, handsome desk of deep mahogany. Behind it sat Lord Beckett himself; he was wearing a cruelly interested look, and his eyes could have been carved out of grey-blue stone.

"Hello Mrs. Turner," he said amiably, despite his evident frostiness. "How are you? Would you like a drink?"

Elizabeth was confused; was he always this hospitable before he did something she knew she wouldn't like? "All right then," she agreed. Some wine would probably help numb that fresh pang of remorse that hit her chest again.

Beckett poured two glasses of wine and handed her one. She took a sip and looked expectantly at Beckett; he wasn't drinking his glass – he was simply fingering the lip of the goblet, dawdling, she was sure, just to torture her.

"How is Mr. Turner doing?" he asked eventually.

"I haven't spoken to him," Elizabeth said. "He's still on the Dutchman." She took more wine; she always hated having to answer questions about Will for many reasons, some obvious and some not as much.

"Very well." Beckett finally took a tiny sip of his drink. "How is Mr. Sparrow? I'm sure you've spoken to him."

In truth, she had not spoken to him – she had kissed him, not spoken to him – but she knew what Beckett was after, and it made her stomach tighten uncomfortably. "Jack is doing all right. I saw him a few minutes back, actually. He had to leave."

"Did he specify where he was going?"

"No," Elizabeth answered. "He didn't." If he had, she knew that she would have followed, which only worsened the condition of her internal organs.

"I thought not," he said carelessly, taking another sip. "Let's be frank, shall we?"

"Fine," she said, though she didn't know what being frank specifically required.

"I do remember saying that if you betrayed your filthy little friends, I would spare your life," Beckett said, his tone somehow serene as Elizabeth's heart began to pound harder than usual. "I still stand by that – without you, I wouldn't have any of this. But I don't want any more pirates in this world of mine; pirates are such crude, unnecessary creatures, are they not?"

She was obviously supposed to agree; even though she didn't, she nodded to humor him. "Yes."

A sneer of a smile began to play at the corners of Beckett's mouth. "I thought you might see it my way. Now…we have one more pirate that I kept alive for you, but I'm afraid I need him dead."

Her rapidly-beating heart stopped pumping right then and there for a moment as a block of lead fell into her stomach. "What do you mean?" she asked a little too quickly.

Beckett's smile widened, the cruelty in them defined horribly. "I mean that I'm going to have to kill Jack Sparrow."

"No," Elizabeth said at once. "You aren't going to kill Jack. You can't."

"Why can't I?" He spoke like a calm, overly-wise teacher trying to test a particularly naïve student on an answer only he knew.

"You don't know where he is," Elizabeth said, looking desperately for any way to contradict Beckett. "You can't find him – he'll be fine." Even though that was what she said, she couldn't help but fear him anyway – could he really get to Jack?

The answer to that had to be a yes; his sneer had turned knowing…too knowing. "Maybe I don't know where Sparrow is," Beckett said, delicately emphasizing the 'I' in his statement. "But I know someone who can. I know a captain who has Sparrow's exact locations, and this captain will do whatever I tell him to because his dearly beloved didn't take good enough care of the only thing I could use against him." With a flourish, Beckett revealed the chest with William Turner's heart in it.

Elizabeth's eyes were huge and round as she realized the truth – Beckett was just fooling with her. Though she had, as he had pointed out, given him his entire empire, he still gave her the news she would fear the most. It wasn't right; it wasn't, by any means, fair. She threw her half-drunk glass of wine to the ground, letting it shatter, spilling blood-red liquid across the perfect wood floors. Beckett watched it seep through the cracks, and then looked up at Elizabeth.

"My, my, such a temper, Mrs. Turner," he says, cordial as ever. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to ask you to leave my office if you're to make a mess."

"I have nothing more to say to you," Elizabeth announced, rage evident in every word she spoke. "I am leaving on my own accord."

Beckett said nothing; his sneer was still in place as he took another sip of his wine and watched her sweep out of the room.

This was going to be too easy.

Elizabeth knew that she had made terrible mistakes, and Will would probably never forgive her for what she'd done, but she knew that she had to be there for the fight. She had to make sure she knew what really happened – she had to see both Jack and Will one more time before one of them died. She wasn't sure who she wanted dead though; both of them were precious to her, and she would never be able to pick one over the other. She had different feelings for both of them – that was most of the reason why.

After a tedious process of asking around where the Flying Dutchman had last been spotted, Elizabeth managed to put two and two together and realized that the island Will had unknowingly and probably unwittingly chosen was the Rum Runner's Island – the island she had once shared with Jack when the two had been marooned together. How had Will inexplicably selected the spot so sentimental to her? If he was trying to destroy her and punish her for what she'd done to him, well, he was doing a very good job.

She hitched a ride on a random ship and jumped out when they passed the island; she swam to the land itself, enjoying the cool, refreshing feel of the sea on her guilt-ridden body. Once she got there though, a vicious sword-fight was already underway, with the clash of metal on metal constantly ringing in the air. The weather was cool and overcast – the clouds were sullen and resolutely gray, looking as though they were about to let rain fall, and the sky was an angry sort of gray-blue that reminded Elizabeth of Beckett's eyes.

She had been far too late; Jack Sparrow and Will Turner, the two loves of her life, were already having any go at the other that they could have. Will – sweet, innocent Will, who was generally so pure of heart – had his teeth gritted in frustration, and Jack – deceptive, occasionally evil Jack who was generally drunk – was just as frustrated. Each already had a few nasty cuts and bruises, which Elizabeth was not pleased to note. Watching the two of them try to kill each other was odd – like watching a unicorn and a vampire, really. Will would be the pure, but beautiful unicorn, and Jack would be the not-so-pure, but still beautiful vampire, she decided. Neither of them had noticed her there, but she was all right with that – what would they have done if they had known she was there?

The longer she watched, the more her eyes seemed to burn; it wasn't right that two creatures, magnificent in their own rights, would have to fight that way. It wasn't right, as she had known before. At that point, the unicorn looked as though he was winning, yet the vampire looked as though he wasn't even trying. It was definitely an odd scene, and she couldn't watch. The sky was already pitch dark – storms came and went eerily quickly in the Caribbean – and little light could be seen. Elizabeth watched the fight continue, her heart sinking. Beckett had promised her, when he had been arranging her betrayal, that he would spare Jack's life. It had been an empty promise – Jack was probably going to die here, and he had been planning it that way the entire time.

She wasn't going to let Beckett get away with this; she decided it right then and there. Beckett wouldn't win; she would kill him herself, and she would take his empire from him to rule it herself, even.

Elizabeth smiled to herself in the darkness despite the scene going on in front of her; if she had been back in Beckett's office at that very moment, the streets of all that he had worked to keep would have been hers instead.

As the fight progressed and consequently began to digress into mere scuffles, Elizabeth could see that her vampire was getting tired. No, not physically, but mentally – he saw no use for continuing when he knew he was going to win. Over the storm – which was complete with thunder, plenty of lightning, high tide, and rain – she could see it in Jack's eyes that he was going to make sure victory was his. Will was just no match; though skilled, he wasn't skilled enough. It was time to finish; she could tell in the way Jack held his sword out – lovingly, as though savoring the moment before he went in for the kill.

And he did – just as remorselessly as he had left Elizabeth herself, Jack plunged the sword into Will's tender skin; his unicorn coat of white became instantly red, and she could hear his moans even over the ruckus of nature. Her heart burned again, but this time it was not of shame – it was of desire. Double desire. She longed for Jack, who she obviously loved, but at the same time, she couldn't let Will go that way. She still loved him too, no matter what he thought of her; it did hurt quite a lot to know that she would never find out what he truly thought now though. What a situation she had gotten herself into. However, despite her broken emotions, Jack strode over to Elizabeth, soaked and heartrendingly beautiful, and whisked her away to the Dutchman. She knew the rules – the one that killed the captain would have to take his place. Jack had always fantasized that he could be immortal; he had what he wanted. And she had what she wanted – Jack himself.

Without a word, the two of them went to the ship together, trying hard to brave the bitterly cold winds attempting to push them back, carrying on with whatever they had left of themselves – both emotionally and physically.

The unicorns are riding high
Powerful in coats of white
We turn to look and burn our eyes
I carry on, I carry
The vampires are growing tired
The coats of white all turn to red
My heart burns with desire
I carry on, I carry on
I carry on
I carry on
We carry on

It had been an entire year since Will Turner had died in that storm to the sword of Jack Sparrow. Elizabeth Turner, who had refused to marry again despite several proposals, had lived with Jack on the Dutchman ever since that night. Captain Sparrow had carved out his own heart and hid it in a spot which Elizabeth did not even know (he had rightfully pointed out what had happened when Will had trusted Elizabeth with his heart), promising that the day she died would be the day he stabbed his own heart and joined her wherever she went. Elizabeth had liked the sound of that; it had been their agreement, and though Jack normally didn't like carrying out his agreements, she knew instinctively that he might actually do that one.

They had talked once about the night Jack had murdered Will. Elizabeth had admitted her hand in betraying the pirates, but Jack hadn't cared. He told her that he probably would have done the same thing, and she believed him – he was just that type of a person. Lord Beckett had died a few weeks after his failed attempt at killing Jack, thanks to a few rowdy villagers, and whoever was still alive after his twisted reign was able to live the way they wanted – just like before the whole unpleasantness had begun. Life for the simpletons of Port Royal resumed; it should have been the perfect happy ending.

Despite all that though, both Jack and Elizabeth could remember (though neither confessed to it) the sight of Will, who could have been the unicorn with a reddened coat, dead because that angered vampire had grown tired of fighting. His and her eyes always got that familiar sensation of burning, just like on the night itself; it wasn't an incident easily forgotten. Elizabeth's heart still burned with those double desires that contradicted each other, but she still carried on with everything somehow.

Yes, she did carry on.

They both did.

The song is really, really awesome, despite the use I put it to, by the way.

Oh, and I'm sorry I couldn't write you a saner fic, Ice. Do you forgive me? Please say you do. :3