From Pond to Sea - PotC fic - PG
Aug. 14th, 2006 10:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tigriswolfTitle: From Pond to Sea
Fandom: PotC
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Just for fun.
Warnings: none, really. Some time in the future.
Pairings: Will/Lizzie
Rating: PG
Wordcount: triple-drabble
Point of view: third
Will Turner trails his fingers through the pond, the quiet, gentle pond, and misses the roar of the ocean. The wind tickles his face, lightly touches his hair; in the breeze, he thinks he hears her voice.
But it is only a fantasy, he knows. Always only a fantasy.
The sea, the rough, uncaring sea, claimed her. And the sea never returns what it takes.
-
“You are weary,” the Governor says when he returns home. “You need to sleep, Will.”
Will nods and responds, “I know, sir.” He tries on a smile, but it doesn’t fit. “I’ll sleep tomorrow.”
Always tomorrow, he knows, and yet tomorrow never comes.
-
Elizabeth died at twilight. It was fitting and beautiful and so gentle—holding his hand one minute, swearing she’d get better soon, that their child would arrive and everything would be good again, and the next… her eyes lost their light, her brittle smile shattered, and her fingers fell limp across his palm.
She was buried at sea, as she’d requested. He watched, numb to all feeling, as the waves took her.
Freedom, she’d called the sea. Freedom, she told him, like Jack named his Pearl to be.
He cannot stand the sea.
-
He works as a blacksmith, twenty-hour days in the forge. He no longer truly lives, merely survives from one moment to the next.
His happiness, and any thought of it, died with her and their child, claimed by the sea.
-
Will Turner trails his fingers through the gentle water of the pond and misses the scent of a salt air, the sting of wind against his face, and the sound of her voice saying his name.
Almost, he curses Jack Sparrow. Almost. Because without the pirate, Elizabeth would never have been his—and he would never feel such pain.
Fandom: PotC
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Just for fun.
Warnings: none, really. Some time in the future.
Pairings: Will/Lizzie
Rating: PG
Wordcount: triple-drabble
Point of view: third
Will Turner trails his fingers through the pond, the quiet, gentle pond, and misses the roar of the ocean. The wind tickles his face, lightly touches his hair; in the breeze, he thinks he hears her voice.
But it is only a fantasy, he knows. Always only a fantasy.
The sea, the rough, uncaring sea, claimed her. And the sea never returns what it takes.
-
“You are weary,” the Governor says when he returns home. “You need to sleep, Will.”
Will nods and responds, “I know, sir.” He tries on a smile, but it doesn’t fit. “I’ll sleep tomorrow.”
Always tomorrow, he knows, and yet tomorrow never comes.
-
Elizabeth died at twilight. It was fitting and beautiful and so gentle—holding his hand one minute, swearing she’d get better soon, that their child would arrive and everything would be good again, and the next… her eyes lost their light, her brittle smile shattered, and her fingers fell limp across his palm.
She was buried at sea, as she’d requested. He watched, numb to all feeling, as the waves took her.
Freedom, she’d called the sea. Freedom, she told him, like Jack named his Pearl to be.
He cannot stand the sea.
-
He works as a blacksmith, twenty-hour days in the forge. He no longer truly lives, merely survives from one moment to the next.
His happiness, and any thought of it, died with her and their child, claimed by the sea.
-
Will Turner trails his fingers through the gentle water of the pond and misses the scent of a salt air, the sting of wind against his face, and the sound of her voice saying his name.
Almost, he curses Jack Sparrow. Almost. Because without the pirate, Elizabeth would never have been his—and he would never feel such pain.