Author's Note: This may be a one-shot or it may be longer. It really depends on the kind of feedback I get as well as my inspiration.

Disclaimer: Disney and Jerry Bruckheimer own everything, sadly. I'd love a bit of Johnny for myself, but alas, it's not to be, so don't sue.

Her mind had been made up. The task at hand was not difficult, not in principle. In fact, she would rather enjoy it, Elizabeth thought. As dearly as she loved her fiancé, it was impossible to deny that Jack Sparrow was a terrible temptation. Had he been unaware of this fact, life aboard the Black Pearl might have been more bearable. As it was, Elizabeth had suffered. She had wrestled with her conscience constantly, always trying to remind herself that she was there only to see to it that she and Will escaped the gallows. She had not bargained on being wrapped up in this mess when she had fled Port Royal, the letters of marque bearing Lord Cutler Beckett's signature and seal in hand. She had seen horrifying things during her brief time upon the high seas as a captive of Hector Barbossa aboard this very ship. None of them had prepared her for the terror that was Davy Jones' monster the Kraken.

There was, it seemed, only one way to save them all. Well, to save most of them. Jack must stay behind, yet only a fool would think he would do such a thing willingly. She had learned well from past experience that Jack was one of the most adept and determined men in the world when it came to escaping death. If he could try and wriggle out of this, he would most certainly do so. If he climbed aboard the longboat with them, however, there would be no chance that anyone would survive. The Kraken and its master were not interested in Jack's ship, but rather Jack's person.

If she had had more time, or had been less selfish, Elizabeth may have thought of some other way. As it was, she had only one plan and if it failed… Better not to think of it. She was doing this for all their sakes, all except Jack's. He was doomed no matter what, and surely he knew it. While Elizabeth did not know the full story behind Jones' wrath toward Jack, she assumed that he had only himself to blame for it, as seemed the case with so many things in his life. If only condemning him to death did not make her stomach twist itself into a knot. A world without Jack was not one she necessarily wanted to live in. He had a remarkable ability to get under her skin and to make her forget her obligations to her beloved Will, but she was still fond of him.

Are you the pirate I've read about or not? Ah yes; there was that, too. Jack had been notorious since Elizabeth's girlhood. How often had she imagined sailing in the company of such wicked men as he! It was not at all the same doing so in reality as it was reading and fantasizing about it in books, of course, yet despite her disillusionment, she still found piracy rather appealing. Jack himself had called it freedom, and if there was one thing Elizabeth yearned for, it was that. In that, at least, his words from earlier that very day proved true. They were a bit alike, she and Jack. And aside from childhood nostalgia, aside from a strange but genuine sort of friendship between them, their similarities made it doubly difficult to see him die. Why must it be done – and why could no one else see it? Why could Jack not do the heroic thing and sacrifice himself?

He had saved them once already simply by returning to the Pearl. Seeing him rowing away in the sole surviving boat had infuriated her; she had thought him the worst kind of coward. Yet he had come back, and she could not begin to guess why. It was clear that his ship would not survive this day. Even he admitted it, finally said that the Pearl was only a ship. So why?

There was no time to dwell on the matter, nor even to ask him why. Elizabeth stood on deck, watching as Jack ran his hand over the dark wood of his beloved vessel, thinking it was for the last time. She felt hot tears sting her eyes and blinked them back furiously. This had to be done for the good of the entire crew, what little remained of it, herself included. Jack would not want to see them all die, would he? Besides, did a proper captain not always go down with his ship? She bit down hard on her bottom lip, steeling herself. This was what it meant to be noble and brave; she had to suffer a little more guilt and doubt and in return, she would win them all, save Jack, life.

It was harder still, though, when Jack turned to face her. He cut a sad figure but nevertheless a handsome one; indeed, Elizabeth doubted she had ever wanted him more than she did at that moment, nor had she ever hated herself more for it. She had trouble enough forgiving herself for suspecting that the compass Jack had leant her pointed not to the heart of Davy Jones at all, but to him. She already wondered what was the matter with her, wanting him to kiss her so badly when she had a perfectly good fiancée – though he had not been around at the time – whom she should have been longing to kiss instead. Yet Will, love him though she did, had none of Jack's easy charm. He had just come into manhood, really. He was no longer the awkward young blacksmith's apprentice but a man ready to become husband, father, master craftsman… None of that could give him half the charisma which Jack possessed in such great quantities.

Will was normally quite serious, while this moment was the most somber Elizabeth had ever seen Jack. Will was reserved; Jack was anything but. Will loved her but his love was something pure and sweet, something as innocent as they had been the day he had been pulled aboard their Jamaica-bound ship. Jack did not love her, nor she him, but could she lie to herself and say her skin did not burn when he touched it, that his very eyes could set her heart pounding?

Earlier, before they had gone ashore, she had come so very close to knowing what Jack tasted like, what his lips would feel like against hers. He had been close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. It had been an intoxicating moment, albeit not one she had quite intended to get herself into when he had come to sit beside her, rum predictably in hand. He had been flippant and careless. Her mood had been foul indeed, thinking of Beckett and her ruined wedding. By the time they had begun bantering, she about curiosity and he about them being alike, things had changed. No thoughts of Will had crossed her mind, not even once. All she could think was that this infamous, ridiculously charming, devilishly handsome man was very nearly under her thumb.

She had been disappointed. Jack had not kissed her, though it had been a close call indeed. Was he toying with her, then? Did he really mean not to threaten her virtue? Those questions were as impossible to answer as why he had returned to the Pearl when he might well have made it safely to land. It would be useless to ask him now, given what had to be done. Elizabeth did not have time to waste on more conversation. She had to act before she lost her nerve, and afterwards she could wonder about Jack's motives for the rest of her life without ever receiving answers.

"You came back," she murmured, trying not to cringe at the sound of her own voice. Did he hear the self-loathing, knowing what she was about to do, necessary though it was? "I always knew you were a good man." Not good enough to spare her this task…or was it she who was the evil one for even considering it? No. She had to focus.

She took a step forward; they were close now, almost as close as they had been earlier. Normally, Jack had a response to everything, but he was silent now. Did he suspect anything? If he did, it was too late. In that instant, Elizabeth's lips were on his. This was a kiss a world away from any she had shared with Will; it was different for a million different reasons. It had nothing to do with love and was incredibly self-indulgent. Its intentions were neither of them good, but Elizabeth found herself relishing it. Had Jack kissed her earlier, she would not have regretted it, she thought. A moment of infidelity to Will would have been worth savoring the memory of his mouth hot and hungry against hers without the bitter taint of this one.

Part of her wanted to put her arms around him and hold him, feel him against her, satisfy as much of that curiosity and desire and need as possible before the end. The more logical part of her mind scolded her and hurried her. This was not for her own pleasure, nor Jack's. This was a matter of life and death, and the Kraken could only grow closer by the moment. Now was not the time for girlish fantasies. They moved back together as the kiss became deeper, hungrier, more needful still. Elizabeth clung tightly to the scrap of common sense, the animal instinct to live, that was now less a justification than a faint guideline.

His back hit the capstan. Elizabeth's hand moved as if of its own accord. She could hardly believe what she was doing. She had been an obedient, respectable girl for her entire life. She had been nearly unquestionably good – sacrificing her own happiness to save Will from Barbossa; feigning fainting to help save Jack from the gallows; stepping between Will and James to save both Will and Jack… One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness! Was one deed as evil as this enough to condemn her? She kept her eyes closed as her fingers found the cold metal of the iron cuff, contrasting so starkly with the insistent heat of Jack's lips, soft and giving and sweet on hers. She wanted the kiss to last forever. She wanted to forget about the rest of the crew and the Kraken and especially Will…but she could not do those things. She pulled the cuff forward, opened her eyes as they parted – clink!

It was a horrible sound. She hated it, hate herself, hated Jack for making her do it. Her fingers slid away from the unforgiving metal and across the rough skin of his hand. Why this? And still, despite the guilt she already felt spreading through her body as if it had infected her blood, Elizabeth felt a certain amount of satisfaction. He was ever leading her astray, making her forget her duty to the man she loved. This was the price he must pay.

If she had expected Jack to look upset or betrayed, she was surprised. He actually grinned a little, though there was no gleam of humor in his dark eyes.

"It's after you, not the ship. It's not us." Us. She and Will. Gibbs, Marty, Cotton and the others. Us. It was as much them against Jack as it was them against Davy Jones and the Kraken; that was Jack's doing, his business, his punishment. Not theirs. So why did she feel so traitorous? She was betraying a friend, a man who had saved her life before he had even laid eyes on her.

"This is the only way, don't you see?" she continued in a desperate whisper. He was still far too close… She wanted to get away from him. It was done, now; he knew her for what she was. She knew herself for what she was; she finally saw how far she was willing to go to save her own life, and the lives of those she cared about…even if it meant sacrificing someone she cared about just as much. Did she, really? Did she care about him as much as she did about Mr. Gibbs and the rest…as much as she did about Will? It was that answer Elizabeth feared. She did not want to care a wit about Jack Sparrow, good man or not.

Elizabeth leaned close enough that her lips nearly brushed his once more. She could feel the warmth of his breath and steeled herself against it. Drawing back a little, willing her voice not to tremble, she declared, "I'm not sorry."

Oh, but she was. She was sorry that she could never again know what it was to kiss him and feel the passion which burned within them both. She was sorry she had ever felt such passion for anyone but Will. She was so very sorry that she had to go to such lengths to rid herself of the cause of it…and, of course, to survive at all. Perhaps she was even sorry she had left Port Royal in the first place, though God only knew how long Beckett would have let her rot in prison, or whether Will would ever have come back.

Jack grinned; it tortured her knowing he could somehow be this nonchalant. "Pirate." Did he say it as praise or as an accusation? What was there to accuse her of? He was a pirate as much as any man. Did he respect her, or at least admire her, for what she had worked up the courage to do or did he hate her for it? If there was ever a man who feared death, it was him. Now, he could not hide from it, nor run from it, nor could he even try – thanks to her.

Every moment she stood there, every breath she took, every beat of her heart was wasted time. She tried to will herself to move. Leave; leave now. Jack and the Pearl are doomed, but you and the crew… Her feet would not budge. If she left him here, how could she ever live with the guilt? She would always wonder what she had been walking away from. Was there anything to what she felt for him, anything besides simple lust? Did she want there to be? And what of his compass? Had it truly pointed to the chest, or to Jack? She would always want to know. She would always have this insatiable hunger, the curiosity which was still unsatisfied in spite of her intentions. She had meant to rid herself of whatever desire she felt with that one kiss; it had backfired. She felt more than ever, yet she had just betrayed him.

She turned on heel abruptly, resolutely moving toward the starboard rail where she could climb down into the longboat. She knew the men were waiting – for her and for their captain. Each step felt as though it was driving a knife more deeply into her heart. What was there for her in that little boat? Life, her mind insisted frantically. There is life. And Will –

But the idea of being with Will as happily as one could hope to be under the circumstances – Will, the man she had come to search for, the man she would have gladly married weeks ago – did not quicken her step. She could think only of the man she was leaving in her wake. Jack Sparrow meant nothing to her, or should have meant nothing to her. He should certainly not keep her from fleeing this condemned ship. The Kraken, what she had seen of it so far, was indeed a horror to behold. She was brave, but she was also only human. How could anyone willingly face that beast, even if it meant saving others? That was why she had had to do what she had done to Jack. Yet she could hardly bear it. What she truly wanted, it seemed, was still aboard the Pearl.

As she hovered by the railing, Will called up to her. He looked troubled indeed. "Elizabeth – the Kraken!" He did not mention Jack at all; the rest of the crew, when she peered down at them, certainly looked as though they would rather see Elizabeth left behind than their captain. Perhaps they did not care who was left behind as long as they escaped with their lives. She could not keep them waiting – she must climb down and join them. Or else…

"Go!" She could hardly believe her own ears. The faces gazing up at her looked similarly stunned, Will's most of all. They had every reason to look thus. How could she condemn herself as she had condemned Jack? The logical part of her mind, the same part that had guided her in her decision to betray Jack for all their sakes, was screaming at her, but she did not heed it. She could not bring herself to swing her legs over the side of the ship, to place her foot on the top rung of the ladder, and to join the survivors. She turned her head to see Jack still staring at her, looking both puzzled and horror-struck.

"Elizabeth," Will tried again, pleading now, his tone mirroring Jack's expression.

"You must go – now!" Her voice was shriller than she would have liked. The men exchanged dark looks, but Marty let go of the rope onto which he had been holding. Will looked very much as if he would like to lunge out and drag her down from the deck of the Pearl, had he been able to. She watched him for a long moment before tearing her eyes away. Let him think what he would. Someday, somehow, Will would find a woman more deserving and more loyal to him than she was. She did not feel as sorrowful as she ought to, knowing it was the last time she would see her fiancé. Her mind was filled with a mess of thoughts and emotions and memories. She would die here – she would die with Jack.

Jack. Her feet carried her back to him with surprising ease. As difficult as it had been to pull herself away from his side, it was easy to return there. "Oh Jack," she breathed. "I couldn't…"

He was frowning and she could not tell if it was from dislike or from concern. Why should he care if the woman who had sealed his fate died, too? She wondered vaguely if they would see each other in the Locker; it could be nothing like Heaven, which she had heard stories of in childhood from her nurse and even from her governess and in church as well. Elizabeth did not know if she even believed in a heaven. She had only seriously contemplated death once before, when she had been Barbossa's prisoner. That situation had been far less inescapable than this one, however. Her hands trembled, but she reached out to touch his hand again.

"Elizabeth–"

"Jack," she said, cutting him off, "I'm sorry, I–"

"Lizzie–" He had only called her Lizzie once before; she wished he wouldn't start up now. He looked so…so what?

"They won't open," she moaned desperately. She could not find a way to undo what had been done and release him. The guilt was suddenly too much to bear, as was her overwhelming fear of death. She was not ready to die.

"The lamp," he said simply, looking more calm and less angry than she thought possible.

Elizabeth frowned, distracted by his strange words for a moment. "What?" Lamp…what lamp? She glanced away from him at the wreckage on deck; a bit of it was already aflame. And then her eyes landed on the lamp lying there, miraculously in tact. What did he intend to do with it? When she looked back around at him, however, he simply nodded impatiently.

She picked it up, looking skeptical, but Jack used his unrestrained hand to snatch it from her at once. He proceeded to smash the glass against the wood of the capstan, letting the oil pour out of it and onto his wrist…oh. Elizabeth realized what he was doing. Of course, Jack always had a way out of the stickiest situation…though in this case, the only thing he was getting out of was dying while still chained to a part of his ship. It was enough to bring her to tears, but she somehow resisted them. If she began to cry now, she was afraid she would not be able to stop, and there had never been a greater need for courage.

He grimaced as he tugged his hand free. It was agonizing to watch; she was all but holding her breath. What would he do to her once he was freed…run her through? Shoot her? No, he would probably want her to die as miserable as possible, after what she had done.

"You should be on that boat, love." Jack finally sounded angry. Both of his hands were now free and one rested on the hilt of his sword. Her heart thudded in her breast. Perhaps he would run her through. She probably deserved it. But if he truly intended to kill her in revenge (as she had seen him kill Barbossa), why would he waste his breath berating her for having stayed? There was little reason to feel relieved then he did not draw the blade; she knew the Kraken was only minutes away from devouring them. Still, she would rather die by his side than by his hand.

"I couldn't go," she repeated lamely.

Jack shook his head. He took a step towards her and she stiffened at once, but he only touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. They were damp from the oil he had used to free himself. "You're a fool, love. You said you weren't sorry, and you shouldn't have been."

Did he mean that? She frowned at him. Did he think her weak and womanish since she obviously she felt remorse for what she had done? Why should he care that she was not on the longboat? At least he will have company in the Locker…or maybe he will not. There was no way to know, though they would find out sooner rather than later. The stench of the Kraken was close now. In fact, she could see its massive suction cups and tentacles out of the corner of her eye. Her hand reached blindly for her own sword and she wished it was not trembling. How she longed to be brave in that moment, as she had been in kissing him and manipulating him…or had that itself been cowardice?

"I am sorry, Jack. I –"

But Jack was no longer facing her. Instead, he was gazing across the deck. On the port side of the Pearl, a monstrous form of teeth and slime faced them, a truly terrifying and disgusting sight that made Elizabeth want to swim – had she been able to – all the way to land. To her surprise, Jack seemed unafraid, even as the massive mouth opened and roared, covering them both with a layer of sticky, unidentifiable phlegm. She felt weak-kneed. What was she doing here? She was going to die and it was her own foolish fault.

Her hands still shaking, she wiped the stuff away from her face as best she could. Jack did the same, but he was suddenly distracted by something lying on deck. She realized it was a tricorn, Jack's own at that; she had not seen him wear it since their first meeting, but he shook the phlegm off of it resolutely and placed it on his head. His defiance was truly inspiring. Elizabeth gritted her teeth and drew her sword. She stepped up to Jack's side. He was no coward; he was braver than she could hope to be. They were both doomed now; she might as well go down with him, fighting like he would obviously be doing himself.

For one brief moment, Elizabeth looked away from those horrible, sharp-looking teeth to see his face – for the last time? Even covered in this mess, he was handsome. She had never seen him like this, so very determined…not even when he had killed Barbossa. And in that brief instant, she loved him.

Jack's eyes flickered away from the Kraken, looking at her. He smiled grimly, but looked away almost as quickly so that he was staring down the monster.

"Hello, Beastie," he said. It sounded like a challenge; she was not sure whether to laugh or cry.

The creature's teeth and tentacles were beginning to close around the wood of the Pearl. She could hear it snap. She did not have time to think of anything but rushing after Jack as he moved forward, sword in hand, ready to put up as much of a fight as he could. She could not spare those final thoughts on memories or regrets or fears. Instead, she focused on dying a hero like Jack. He had once said they were "peas in a pod," and though she had dismissed it then, it seemed fitting that now they should die together.

Before darkness engulfed them completely, Elizabeth caught one last, precious glimpse of Jack's defiant grin.

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