FIC: Long Road Home - 1/1, POTC, PG, Will/Elizabeth
Title: Long Road Home
Author: Jo (jo @ fadedink.com)
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Will Turner/Elizabeth Swann
Rating: PG
Word count: 570
Summary: Elizabeth goes home.
Disclaimer: The characters, sadly, are not mine. Much love to Gore Verbinski for creating them.
Author's Notes: The 'twenty-fifth day of Christmas' for azewewish, because she still understands the love of this pairing. :) Companion to Home.
It has been a long life, and, at times, a hard one.
But it is one that Elizabeth would not trade for all the gold in the world. She stands with William on the beach and clutches a shawl tight around her to ward off the chill. And while there is no chill here, she can feel it in her bones. Death carries its own special inescapable chill.
Her eyes are on the horizon and for just a split second, green bathes her face and she feels twenty once more.
Twenty was a long time ago, and she leans against William as they wait. He takes her weight with no complaints, slipping an arm around her waist to hold her steady. And then there is a speck on the horizon, growing bigger with each passing minute until they can see the majesty that is the Flying Dutchman.
It feels like no time at all before Will is there, at her side, sweeping her into his arms. He looks the same, young and strong and handsome, and Elizabeth is conscious of the gray in her hair, the lines that bracket her eyes and mouth, the age that holds her down and the sickness that drags her under. But Will, bless him, is oblivious to it all.
They walk for a while, talking, arm in arm, and then she pulls away to give him time with William. They are so alike, father and son, that her heart swells as she watches them. And then she walks alone, knowing they are close behind, and that is all she needs.
Will's offer, when it comes, is a shock. Her eyes fly to William and fill with tears when she sees him smile. He tells her to go, tells her that he'll be okay. He tells her that when she returns in ten years, she'll be a grandmother most likely and they'll spend their time catching up and watching a new Turner frolic in the flotsam and jetsam.
She can't go. She can't leave him alone, the only child she ever carried. But she can't stay, either, knowing that a cold grave awaits her before year's end. She can't let Will leave one more time, knowing she'll never see him again.
So she cries and hugs him and covers his face with kisses as she did when he was small and still clutching her skirts. He laughs and cries a little himself, but he's smiling as he lifts a hand in farewell as Will launches the rowboat. He holds a small chest in his other hand, tucked snug against his side, because the Dutchman must have a captain.
Her feet find the deck, body automatically adjusting to the roll and swell of the ocean beneath her even after all this time. She closes her eyes, breathes deep, and opens them to see the crew bowing to her. Welcome to the Dutchman, they tell her, all clearly delighted at her presence.
She feels young again. Feels whole. And when she looks down at her hand, she sees it is unlined, unspotted, and her hands fly to her face.
Bootstrap Bill tells her it's the Dutchman, assures her there's nothing of which to be afraid.
She tells him she's not afraid. And she's not even surprised to find she means it. And why should she be?
After all, it's been a long road, but she's finally home.
Author: Jo (jo @ fadedink.com)
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Will Turner/Elizabeth Swann
Rating: PG
Word count: 570
Summary: Elizabeth goes home.
Disclaimer: The characters, sadly, are not mine. Much love to Gore Verbinski for creating them.
Author's Notes: The 'twenty-fifth day of Christmas' for azewewish, because she still understands the love of this pairing. :) Companion to Home.
It has been a long life, and, at times, a hard one.
But it is one that Elizabeth would not trade for all the gold in the world. She stands with William on the beach and clutches a shawl tight around her to ward off the chill. And while there is no chill here, she can feel it in her bones. Death carries its own special inescapable chill.
Her eyes are on the horizon and for just a split second, green bathes her face and she feels twenty once more.
Twenty was a long time ago, and she leans against William as they wait. He takes her weight with no complaints, slipping an arm around her waist to hold her steady. And then there is a speck on the horizon, growing bigger with each passing minute until they can see the majesty that is the Flying Dutchman.
It feels like no time at all before Will is there, at her side, sweeping her into his arms. He looks the same, young and strong and handsome, and Elizabeth is conscious of the gray in her hair, the lines that bracket her eyes and mouth, the age that holds her down and the sickness that drags her under. But Will, bless him, is oblivious to it all.
They walk for a while, talking, arm in arm, and then she pulls away to give him time with William. They are so alike, father and son, that her heart swells as she watches them. And then she walks alone, knowing they are close behind, and that is all she needs.
Will's offer, when it comes, is a shock. Her eyes fly to William and fill with tears when she sees him smile. He tells her to go, tells her that he'll be okay. He tells her that when she returns in ten years, she'll be a grandmother most likely and they'll spend their time catching up and watching a new Turner frolic in the flotsam and jetsam.
She can't go. She can't leave him alone, the only child she ever carried. But she can't stay, either, knowing that a cold grave awaits her before year's end. She can't let Will leave one more time, knowing she'll never see him again.
So she cries and hugs him and covers his face with kisses as she did when he was small and still clutching her skirts. He laughs and cries a little himself, but he's smiling as he lifts a hand in farewell as Will launches the rowboat. He holds a small chest in his other hand, tucked snug against his side, because the Dutchman must have a captain.
Her feet find the deck, body automatically adjusting to the roll and swell of the ocean beneath her even after all this time. She closes her eyes, breathes deep, and opens them to see the crew bowing to her. Welcome to the Dutchman, they tell her, all clearly delighted at her presence.
She feels young again. Feels whole. And when she looks down at her hand, she sees it is unlined, unspotted, and her hands fly to her face.
Bootstrap Bill tells her it's the Dutchman, assures her there's nothing of which to be afraid.
She tells him she's not afraid. And she's not even surprised to find she means it. And why should she be?
After all, it's been a long road, but she's finally home.