And you know me better than I would like, Elizabeth thinks, accepting the bottle without a word. She eyes it uncertainly before giving in and taking a drink.

It's promptly pressed back into Jack's hands.

"Jack-"

Now that she's here, she's not sure how to begin. She gives an uneasy chuckle, almost apologetic for her lack of words, and walks across the deck, fingers trailing over repaired wood and pieces of rope.

Inevitably, she looks to the mast and capstan, and freezes. It's not the memory of Jack's death that steals her breath; rather, it's the memory of her own, when Jack left her to die in her dream.