Elizabeth and Jack.
He should have known better.
Elizabeth-his Elizabeth!-and Jack.
He really should have expected this. Elizabeth Swann had always had a fascination with pirates, always a fascination with the mysterious, the wild. He should have realized this would happen eventually. So why did it hurt so much?
Elizabeth glanced at him as she sat in the boat. He looked away. If he looked into her eyes, he may have seen a glimmer of sadness. But not for him. Never for him. For Jack.
He wasn't sure who to be mad at. Elizabeth, for giving him false hopes, or Jack, for stabbing him in the back. He supposed he was mad at both.
But he was mostly mad at himself.
He was a blacksmith, for God's sake! Elizabeth was the pampered daughter of a governor. He had realized, years ago, that he had no chance with her. But he hadn't completely given up hope. And then she-dear, sweet Elizabeth!-had rejected Norrington for him; she had rejected a place as Commodore's wife for William Turner! He had been happy, truly content, for the first time in his life. Elizabeth had been his…
..and suddenly, she wasn't.
He knew he wasn't supposed to see that. But their embrace, their passion, was obvious. He knew Elizabeth didn't want to hurt him. But he also knew she didn't want to be his anymore.
So William Turner would grant that wish.