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jedibuttercupT; PotC: AWE, Will-centric. 1400w, for the Obscure Sorrows challenge. Missing scene.
One would hardly think it possible for two people in such close quarters for so many weeks to so completely avoid one another, but somehow Will and Elizabeth had managed it.
Title: At Least Once More, Miss Swann
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Spoilers: Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End (2007)
Notes: For Obscure Sorrows, for the prompt Jouska. Implied mild AU: there were no movies after At World's End in this 'verse. :)
Summary: One would hardly think it possible for two people in such close quarters for so many weeks to so completely avoid one another, but somehow Will and Elizabeth had managed it. 1400 words.
It had been months now, Will thought, staring out over the dark glassy waters sliding quietly beneath the keel of the ship, since the day the Kraken had taken Jack-- and the East India Trading Company had taken the seas. Probably as many as had passed between that particular intervention of fate, and his and Elizabeth's first voyage aboard the Black Pearl. But a starker difference in their relations between those two incidents could hardly be imagined. Finally being able to court her-- to stand beside her, to laugh with her, to share with her his skill as she shared with him her world-- had been all he could have dreamed; those days had been filled from dawn to dusk with joy. But since he'd seen what he'd seen when they were evacuating the Pearl....
Well, one would hardly think it possible for two people in such close quarters for so many weeks to so completely avoid one another, but somehow they'd managed it. He sighed, rubbing a hand over the chilblains on his cheeks, and thought about the instinctive way he and Elizabeth had moved with each other during the fight in Sao Feng's lair. The way she'd looked at him when he'd risen from the water; the way she'd gasped when he'd carried her out of the way of those British bullets. There were so many things he'd been meaning to say to her. Questions he'd wanted to ask. And in those moments, so reminiscent of the early days of their engagement, he'd known himself for a fool not to have said something sooner. But by the time they'd boarded Sao Feng's ship afterward, the words had been locked up behind his teeth again. The same way they had been ever since he'd seen her kissing Jack.
Heavy boots sounded on the deck in the still air, and he broke out of his circling thoughts to meet the knowing eye of Mr. Gibbs. Jack's reliable, garrulous First Mate was always ready with a strong arm, a mug of grog, a bit of helpful lore... and unfortunately for Will's peace of mind, an entirely too perceptive opinion. No doubt they'd provided him with plenty to observe since escaping the Kraken.
"You know, after the tales you've told about how you and your bonny lass ended up a part of all this... I'd have thought you'd have asked one of the Captains for a quick ceremony long since. Perhaps you were holding the last adventure against Cap'n Barbossa, thought I. And you weren't exactly in the best position to ask Sao Feng. But here we are aboard yet another ship, and nary a word you've said to Cap'n Huang. Or to one another, so far as I can see. Somethin' amiss?"
"Nothing you can help with, I'm afraid, Mr. Gibbs," Will replied, with a rueful quirk of his mouth. "It's only, I thought I knew her, and I'm sure she thought she knew me. I'm sure it's only natural that so many... unexpected revelations... have shaken that certainty. We'll come through it soon enough."
Mr. Gibbs looked sympathetic, but also faintly amused. "But could it really have been called certainty, if 'twas so easily shaken?" he asked. "Lad, I used to sail with the Navy; I know it ain't so free and easy on the streets of Port Royal as on the deck of a pirate ship or the streets of Tortuga. Son of a merchant sailor, apprenticed to a blacksmith as you were, how many conversations did you and the governor's daughter ever share before Jack sailed into your lives? And how many unchaperoned, after?"
Will stared at him a moment, taken aback at the challenge, then winced and glanced back out over the water. "Too few, I suppose. Although it always felt like so many more. I was only able to visit whenever the governor had a commission with Mr. Brown and my master was too... busy... to fulfil it in person. But I never forgot the day I was pulled from the water, and she told me she was watching over me. I thought about it, over and over, any time I knew I'd be going up there; I'd rehearse entire conversations in my head. Of course, then I'd arrive, and she'd tell me 'How many times must I ask you to call me Elizabeth?' and I'd only say 'At least once more, Miss Swann,' and walk back to the smithy with my head in the clouds."
"Still holdin' conversations in your head now, I'd wager," Mr. Gibbs said meaningfully, gesturing with his grey-bearded chin toward the dark, reflective sea. Endless sparks of light glinted back from every ripple on the inky water, as though they'd left the ocean's embrace entirely to sail among clouds of stars. "The both of you, instead of with the other party in question."
Will didn't answer; what was there to say to that, after all? He did know what the problem was. He just hadn't been able to bring himself to actually hear her speak the words aloud to him.
"Pirates have a word for that sort of thing, you know," Mr. Gibbs continued, taking on a more lecturing tone. "Jouska."
"Jouska?" Will frowned over at him, interest caught despite himself.
"Mmm. A sort of hypothetical conversation that one compulsively plays out in one's head, which serves as a kind of psychological batting cage where you can connect more deeply with people than in the frustratingly unpredictable and open-ended environs of everyday life."
"I see." Where did Mr. Gibbs pick up all his lore, anyway? Although as usual, he was frustratingly on-point.
"Add a dash of young love, and perhaps it ain't so surprising the pair of you've been looking more into the mirrors of your own fears than at one another of late. But lad-- for all that things may not be quite so rosy as you hoped, I doubt they're quite so bad as you imagine, neither. They never are. And there's enough things to regret in this life without deliberately creatin' more for yourself, particularly when we're about to sail straight to Davy Jones' Locker."
Beyond him, Will saw Elizabeth crossing the deck of the ship, staring out as absently as he had earlier, and had to admit the older man had a point. "Thank you for your advice, Mr. Gibbs," he said, more formally. "Perhaps it will be helpful after all."
"No problem, lad. I just prefer one unpredictable bastard to deal with at a time, is all," Mr. Gibbs said amiably, then turned to wander back toward where Barbossa had planted himself with the map.
Of course. Will chuckled roughly to himself. Maybe Elizabeth wouldn't tell him she wished to retract their engagement. Maybe he'd mistaken what he'd seen. Or maybe he was about to lose her one way or the other. But perhaps it was better to know; to remove that lingering impediment from their concentration when they were heading into a situation that would likely need every bit of all their ingenuity and skill to survive.
She'd been so lovely, that day that should have been their wedding day; but despite all that had happened since, no matter what might follow, she was no less lovely to him now. That was the truth. What use holding onto all the unspoken words they might say, all the possible ways the conversation had the potential to play out, rather than choosing one and actually living it, when one wrong chance and imagination might be all they had left? This was no time to leave things undone.
(Much later, Will would think of that conversation again, and its consequences, standing in the surf with his new wife in his arms and the sun slipping beneath the horizon. He'd murmur in her ear to stand on a dock-- or a deck-- any time she wished and say his name; because while he might not be able to set foot on land for ten years, and Davy Jones apparently hadn't had much of an imagination about utilising loopholes, the negotiation-in-bucket had proved that any moving water was fair game. He'd had enough imagined interactions in his life; despite the complications real life brought, 'jouska' was no substitute for her genuine presence.)
He took a deep breath, then followed Elizabeth toward the prow, determined to break the silence at last.
(x-posted on AO3)
One would hardly think it possible for two people in such close quarters for so many weeks to so completely avoid one another, but somehow Will and Elizabeth had managed it.
Title: At Least Once More, Miss Swann
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Spoilers: Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End (2007)
Notes: For Obscure Sorrows, for the prompt Jouska. Implied mild AU: there were no movies after At World's End in this 'verse. :)
Summary: One would hardly think it possible for two people in such close quarters for so many weeks to so completely avoid one another, but somehow Will and Elizabeth had managed it. 1400 words.
It had been months now, Will thought, staring out over the dark glassy waters sliding quietly beneath the keel of the ship, since the day the Kraken had taken Jack-- and the East India Trading Company had taken the seas. Probably as many as had passed between that particular intervention of fate, and his and Elizabeth's first voyage aboard the Black Pearl. But a starker difference in their relations between those two incidents could hardly be imagined. Finally being able to court her-- to stand beside her, to laugh with her, to share with her his skill as she shared with him her world-- had been all he could have dreamed; those days had been filled from dawn to dusk with joy. But since he'd seen what he'd seen when they were evacuating the Pearl....
Well, one would hardly think it possible for two people in such close quarters for so many weeks to so completely avoid one another, but somehow they'd managed it. He sighed, rubbing a hand over the chilblains on his cheeks, and thought about the instinctive way he and Elizabeth had moved with each other during the fight in Sao Feng's lair. The way she'd looked at him when he'd risen from the water; the way she'd gasped when he'd carried her out of the way of those British bullets. There were so many things he'd been meaning to say to her. Questions he'd wanted to ask. And in those moments, so reminiscent of the early days of their engagement, he'd known himself for a fool not to have said something sooner. But by the time they'd boarded Sao Feng's ship afterward, the words had been locked up behind his teeth again. The same way they had been ever since he'd seen her kissing Jack.
Heavy boots sounded on the deck in the still air, and he broke out of his circling thoughts to meet the knowing eye of Mr. Gibbs. Jack's reliable, garrulous First Mate was always ready with a strong arm, a mug of grog, a bit of helpful lore... and unfortunately for Will's peace of mind, an entirely too perceptive opinion. No doubt they'd provided him with plenty to observe since escaping the Kraken.
"You know, after the tales you've told about how you and your bonny lass ended up a part of all this... I'd have thought you'd have asked one of the Captains for a quick ceremony long since. Perhaps you were holding the last adventure against Cap'n Barbossa, thought I. And you weren't exactly in the best position to ask Sao Feng. But here we are aboard yet another ship, and nary a word you've said to Cap'n Huang. Or to one another, so far as I can see. Somethin' amiss?"
"Nothing you can help with, I'm afraid, Mr. Gibbs," Will replied, with a rueful quirk of his mouth. "It's only, I thought I knew her, and I'm sure she thought she knew me. I'm sure it's only natural that so many... unexpected revelations... have shaken that certainty. We'll come through it soon enough."
Mr. Gibbs looked sympathetic, but also faintly amused. "But could it really have been called certainty, if 'twas so easily shaken?" he asked. "Lad, I used to sail with the Navy; I know it ain't so free and easy on the streets of Port Royal as on the deck of a pirate ship or the streets of Tortuga. Son of a merchant sailor, apprenticed to a blacksmith as you were, how many conversations did you and the governor's daughter ever share before Jack sailed into your lives? And how many unchaperoned, after?"
Will stared at him a moment, taken aback at the challenge, then winced and glanced back out over the water. "Too few, I suppose. Although it always felt like so many more. I was only able to visit whenever the governor had a commission with Mr. Brown and my master was too... busy... to fulfil it in person. But I never forgot the day I was pulled from the water, and she told me she was watching over me. I thought about it, over and over, any time I knew I'd be going up there; I'd rehearse entire conversations in my head. Of course, then I'd arrive, and she'd tell me 'How many times must I ask you to call me Elizabeth?' and I'd only say 'At least once more, Miss Swann,' and walk back to the smithy with my head in the clouds."
"Still holdin' conversations in your head now, I'd wager," Mr. Gibbs said meaningfully, gesturing with his grey-bearded chin toward the dark, reflective sea. Endless sparks of light glinted back from every ripple on the inky water, as though they'd left the ocean's embrace entirely to sail among clouds of stars. "The both of you, instead of with the other party in question."
Will didn't answer; what was there to say to that, after all? He did know what the problem was. He just hadn't been able to bring himself to actually hear her speak the words aloud to him.
"Pirates have a word for that sort of thing, you know," Mr. Gibbs continued, taking on a more lecturing tone. "Jouska."
"Jouska?" Will frowned over at him, interest caught despite himself.
"Mmm. A sort of hypothetical conversation that one compulsively plays out in one's head, which serves as a kind of psychological batting cage where you can connect more deeply with people than in the frustratingly unpredictable and open-ended environs of everyday life."
"I see." Where did Mr. Gibbs pick up all his lore, anyway? Although as usual, he was frustratingly on-point.
"Add a dash of young love, and perhaps it ain't so surprising the pair of you've been looking more into the mirrors of your own fears than at one another of late. But lad-- for all that things may not be quite so rosy as you hoped, I doubt they're quite so bad as you imagine, neither. They never are. And there's enough things to regret in this life without deliberately creatin' more for yourself, particularly when we're about to sail straight to Davy Jones' Locker."
Beyond him, Will saw Elizabeth crossing the deck of the ship, staring out as absently as he had earlier, and had to admit the older man had a point. "Thank you for your advice, Mr. Gibbs," he said, more formally. "Perhaps it will be helpful after all."
"No problem, lad. I just prefer one unpredictable bastard to deal with at a time, is all," Mr. Gibbs said amiably, then turned to wander back toward where Barbossa had planted himself with the map.
Of course. Will chuckled roughly to himself. Maybe Elizabeth wouldn't tell him she wished to retract their engagement. Maybe he'd mistaken what he'd seen. Or maybe he was about to lose her one way or the other. But perhaps it was better to know; to remove that lingering impediment from their concentration when they were heading into a situation that would likely need every bit of all their ingenuity and skill to survive.
She'd been so lovely, that day that should have been their wedding day; but despite all that had happened since, no matter what might follow, she was no less lovely to him now. That was the truth. What use holding onto all the unspoken words they might say, all the possible ways the conversation had the potential to play out, rather than choosing one and actually living it, when one wrong chance and imagination might be all they had left? This was no time to leave things undone.
(Much later, Will would think of that conversation again, and its consequences, standing in the surf with his new wife in his arms and the sun slipping beneath the horizon. He'd murmur in her ear to stand on a dock-- or a deck-- any time she wished and say his name; because while he might not be able to set foot on land for ten years, and Davy Jones apparently hadn't had much of an imagination about utilising loopholes, the negotiation-in-bucket had proved that any moving water was fair game. He'd had enough imagined interactions in his life; despite the complications real life brought, 'jouska' was no substitute for her genuine presence.)
He took a deep breath, then followed Elizabeth toward the prow, determined to break the silence at last.
(x-posted on AO3)
