Healing Wounds

Of Lashes and Gashes Challenge

By

williz

Disclaimer: William Turner and Elizabeth Swann do not belong to williz. They, sadly, never will. But you still must ask permission from me to use them in idiotic stories. Just kidding. Hehe...hehe...or am I?

The sounds outside of the small, dilapidated hut sent quivers down her back as she sat in the corner of the miniscule room. Her hands shook as she stared at the wooden planks beneath her booted feet. Another tear leaked from her hazel eyes and dripped down her face, disappearing as it sunk into the fabric at her knee when it fell from her chin.

Elizabeth sighed as she looked up on the other side of the room she shared with William Turner. He sat in a rickety chair with his head in his hands as he hunched forward. He didn't move at all, and she scarcely believed he was breathing, except for the loud sigh she heard him expel.

The young woman opened her mouth to say his name, but it died a moment later. She knew this terrible ordeal was trying on everyone's nerves. She figured it was especially so for Will because Jack had been such a good friend to him before, almost like a father, dare she say.

But her conscience was telling her there was something else that troubled her love. She didn't know what, nor could she try to figure it out, for his eyes held a solemnity that not even she dared confront.

Elizabeth stood and walked to the small cot, flopping down on the wild animal skin that covered the hay bed and rubbing her eyes tiredly. She didn't see as a pair of dark eyes looked up at her with pain, sorrow, and yearning.

Will wanted to take the young woman in his arms. He had missed her so much on those hard-working days and nights he spent on the Flying Dutchman with his father and Davy Jones.

But he knew now that he would never experience the feeling of Elizabeth Swann in his arms the way he used to. He would never feel her lips upon his or feel the touch of her cool, soft hands against his cheek.

For he had lost her love. And of that he was certain.

Elizabeth heard the creaking of the old chair as Will stood from it. She heard him groan softly, knowing how sore he must have been from the entire adventure. She wondered if he slept as much as she had while they were apart, which was practically no sleep at all. She wondered whether or not he pained as much as she did, not feeling their embrace all of that time. He seemed incredibly distant.

She suddenly saw the image of her kiss with Captain Jack Sparrow flash across her mind and she felt nauseas. His lips were chapped, his teeth unclean, and his breath was worse than a dead dog's, but she had kissed the pirate. And it made her stomach churn. It was so unlike Will's soft, caressing kisses, his lips warm and loving. She felt only lust in the lips of the captain, but now that she knew he was dead because of her actions, she felt empty. She felt dirty and diseased. She wanted death.

She turned over in the bed to look at Will who had walked to the wall and absent-mindedly stripped his shoulders of the leather, gray waistcoat. As it left his body and he hung it on the wall, Elizabeth fought the urge to cry out.

William Turner's back was thrashed, bleeding strips of cloth clinging to the dried blood his jacket covered, his shirt barely staying on his body. She whimpered softly against the hand she held to her mouth, tears beginning to stray down her cheeks.

"Will…" she breathed.

Will heard her and realized what he had done. She most likely had full vision of what had become of him on the Dutchman. He spun quickly and looked at the ground, crossing his arms in shame. "What?"

"Y—Your back, Will. What happened?"

He immediately grabbed the leather waistcoat and pulled it back on, trying to hide the wince as the immense pain from his infected sores overcame his senses. He didn't even realize he was reeling until he felt two strong, but thin arms around his frame.

"Oh Will!" Elizabeth had caught him and lowered him to the ground. "God, why didn't you tell anyone?" She breathed. He ignored her, his vision clearing again. He sat up and grunted.

"Will, what's the matter? Speak to me! I need to treat those."

He pulled away from her and tried to stand again, but keeled over to land on his knees. Will heard the woman he loved clamor towards him again and wrap her fingers around his shoulders. "I don't need your help," he grinded out, standing up and walking to the other side of the room.

He realized he could have left the room, but he felt something keeping him there. He needed her soft, warm presence. He had missed it so, and now, even though he had lost her in spirit, he had her in flesh and bone, and for now, that was good enough for him. He needed her near him.

Even though confusion sunk into her heart, she followed him and peeled the jacket from his shoulders, feeling the tensing in his body as her fingers grazed the bare skin through his torn shirt. "Will, tell me how this happened," she commanded softly.

"You needn't bother with me, Elizabeth." He paused. "I'm just a blacksmith. I'm not a nobleman…and I'm not a pirate. Just a blacksmith." His jaw clenched as he fought the pain down his throat and back into his heart, for this was obviously where it belonged, and had belonged since he was born.

And that was where it would stay. Obviously.

His words stabbed Elizabeth's heart like no other words could. "That's all I want."

He turned to look at her. "What?" He asked softly, confusion written in the features she loved so much.

"I said that's all I want. The blacksmith. I'll take what I can get as long as it's you." She walked to him with a small smile and prepared to wrap her arms around him for a kiss, but he pulled away and looked at her incredulously.

"Don't do this."

"W—What?" Her eyes held pain, making Will want to pull her in his arms and kiss her, tell her everything would be alright, take her pain away.

"Don't kiss me and hold me as if you didn't do the same to someone else on the Black Pearl before he sent himself to Davy Jones' locker." His eyes revealed the immense pain and anger in them as he looked up at her with a gaze that burned a hole in her heart.

Elizabeth nearly lost the feeling in her entire body as the realization hit her like a runaway carriage. He had seen her kiss Jack Sparrow. He had seen the way she pushed herself against him, wrapped her hand around his neck. And now she had an urge to vomit.

"Will, no. I…"

"Please, I don't want to hear it. I beg of you not to tell me anything."

The hurt, the anguish, and the betrayal in his tone forced Elizabeth to bring a hand to her heart as tears leaked from her eyelids again. "God, Will. Please, just listen…"

"No, you needn't explain…Please don't. I don't want to hear. I just want to be left alone." He turned and was pleading with her. He felt a strong throbbing in his heart, his steely countenance melting as he resorted to begging. If his heart was to be broken, he preferred it to be later. He couldn't bear it at the moment. Not with her staring at him so.

Elizabeth Swann was positively broken as she looked into his eyes. "Will, please…" she begged. "Please don't base everything off of what you saw…there was more…"

"I'm begging you. If you want me to beg, I will. Just leave me alone. I'm going out…" He was interrupted as the loud, tortured and crisp voice of Elizabeth's broke into his hurried speech.

"I may have kissed Jack Sparrow, but it is William Turner that I love! It is William Turner that holds my heart in a way no other man possibly could! It is William Turner that can break my heart and make it whole at the same time with only one look!" She crumbled then, collapsing to her knees as she held her hands to her face and cried.

All Will could do was watch as he swallowed, the throbbing increasing in his chest. He walked to her and knelt beside her, immense pain shooting through his entire body. "Elizabeth…"

"No! Go outside if you need to…I'll leave you alone if you ask it…" she said to him through her hands.

"I don't want you to. I want you to tell me you truly do love me. I want something that contradicts what I saw on the deck of that ship." He lifted her face with his finger. "Tell me you love me. Sincerely love me."

She sniffed and looked straight in his eyes. "I love you. I always will love you."

Will saw deep sincerity in her eyes and all of the walls collapsed around his feet. He slumped forward against her, letting his exhaustion, both physically and emotionally, claim him. The moment Elizabeth felt him against her body, she threw herself at him, kissing him madly. She held his face to hers for what seemed like hours, not breathing once, but enjoying the feeling of those lips against hers again.

She nearly disintegrated.

Will pulled away with a pained grunt, the sores on his back stinging again. He had hidden it for a long time now, for weeks. Not one person knew they were there besides him and he had wanted it to stay that way until he reached a safe haven. He realized they weren't as terrible as they looked…and felt.

Elizabeth gasped and held his face with her hands. "I need to take care of those," she breathed, taking his hand and pulling him up with her to walk to the bed. She gently lay him down on his stomach as she tore the rest of his shirt from his back, the bloodied material falling to the floor haphazardly. Tears dripped down her smooth, but dirtied cheeks, leaving lines on tanned, smudged skin.

His back was ravaged, the sores red and festering, while dried blood clung all over it. "God, Will…how could you let this go on for so long?" She asked him.

"It didn't hurt after awhile. I forgot they were there," he said, turning his head so that he could look at her. She immediately saw shame in his eyes.

"What happened? Was it Davy Jones who did it?" She asked softly, taking the cloth and bowl of fresh water that was there. It was as if Tia Dalma knew the events that would transpire in the small, private room.

With a soft, secret smile that only another woman would know, Elizabeth dabbed the cloth in the water and began cleaning the wounds. She noticed as she wiped the blood that the lash marks had scabbed over and were in the midst of healing.

Will was silent.

"What happened?" She repeated, stopping her ministrations as Will turned his head away from her to avoid the strong gaze.

"My father," he answered.

"Your father? But he is…"

"Dead? No. He was on Davy Jones' crew. He gave me the lashings when the Bo'Sun would have done it."

"B—But why?" This was all very hard for her to take in.

"He said the Bo'Sun prided himself on taking the flesh off bone with each stroke." Elizabeth winced as she suddenly realized everything her lover had gone through. She set everything down and knelt on the floor beside the bed, turning his face over with her hand to look at him as she saw the tears in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I know this was all for me. And I never wished it upon you."

"It is my fault," he replied. "I should not have trusted Jack so fully, obviously." The young man suddenly was silent as he mulled over the thoughts in his head. Why had Elizabeth kissed the pirate if it wasn't because she loved him? And if Jack was so dishonorable, why had he offered to stay behind to save them?

He barely heard Elizabeth as she lifted the bowl into her hands and proceeded to cleanse his wounds. "I'm so sorry."

After another few long minutes, Will spoke again.

"Why did you kiss him?"

"What?"

"Why did you kiss Jack?"

Elizabeth stopped and thought, setting the cloth to his inflamed skin again. "I…well he…it wanted him. The Kraken wanted Jack, Will. So I—I gave him to it."

Will sat up and looked at her with a mix of confusion and alarm. "What do you mean?" His voice was suddenly strong again.

"Will, I kissed him to chain him to the mast. He didn't volunteer to stay behind for us. I volunteered him to stay…I used the only leverage I thought I had to—to chain him there so that we could escape. I knew the Kraken wanted him. And I wanted…" She stopped, crying. "The Kraken wanted Jack…and I wanted you."

Will's eyes widened in shock. She had killed him. Elizabeth Swann had killed Captain Jack Sparrow. As much as he knew what she did was wrong, he could help but feel relief shake him to his core. It certainly was love she acted out of, but he had misread it completely. For Elizabeth didn't love Jack Sparrow; she loved William Turner.

Without another word, he leant forward and kissed her with all of the passion in him.

Elizabeth didn't feel anything but the lips of the man she loved more than anything pressed against her own lips. She didn't feel the bloodied cloth slip from her fingers and didn't hear the soft thud as it hit the wood.

Neither heard the clatter of the stone bowl hit the floor and roll a bit, before stopping.

And neither felt anything other than each other that night, for they shared a passion like no other, knowing that anything that lay ahead from then on wouldn't be as bad as it could have been had they not found this night.

And for no other reason…but those whip marks on the back of William Turner.

They would face the rest of their days together, through thick and thin. And neither would ever belong to another.

(A/N:) Hello! This is an answer to a challenge I recieved on a WONDERFUL site for all Will/Elizabeth shipping fans. If any of you are interested, go to All Will/Elizabeth shippers welcome!

Be good, kids!

-williz