Title: Not Enough
Disclaimer: Go catch the mouse and ask.
Pairing: Jack/Will
Rating: PG-13
Summary: On some occasions, time does not allow words to be exchanged. Post-AWE. Mild JSxWT
Warnings: Mild slash.
A/N: Just a little drabble that wouldn't leave me alone. As it's 6 in the morning, I felt it needed to get out before it really started to bug me. So, yay, my first PotC fanfic (drabble, really). It's not beta'ed and it's not my usual style of writing. So beware.
[ Not Enough ]
Shore has been in sight for a few minutes now, and you feel anxiety building up. As you clutch the spokes of the wheel, you wonder if there's anyone left to be standing there, waiting for the one day you can join them. A flash of a faceless young woman in green. Her laugh is long forgotten, her face never remaining the same for long, but you still know her name, know she was important to you.
You jump from the railing, water breaking your fall, and you make your way to the beach. You breathe in the smell of trees, and you feel alive. More alive than you have ever felt in the past twenty years.
You feel a foreign wetness on your cheeks as you kneel down in the sand, and you lift a curious gaze up to the sky. No rain, today. Then what?
Your breath hitches as a figure approaches you. In the shadows behind the trees, you notice someone watching, but the thought leaves your mind as you recognize the man. "Jack?" You swallow and the wetness increases. There are flashes in your sight, facts, and you're not sure if it's real or just your mind playing tricks on you. "Jack," you repeat now you're sure it's the right name.
He halts a few feet in front of you, watching the sea with unfocused eyes. He nods and there's a silence neither of you knows how to break.
You've been standing there for quite some time now and you're struck speechless as a gloved hand makes itself known by searchingly tracing your jaw, cupping your cheek. You try to catch his gaze, but it's useless. Suddenly you wonder when his skin started to crack, when the black locks turned to ash.
Time, a voice whispers, then: "I'm sorry."
A gasp and you try to keep your eyes from widening, stop your hand from covering his. For mere moments, an answer refuses to escape your lips, but you force it anyway. "I know," you breathe, closing the distance only slightly.
"I -"
"I know," you repeat, just in case.
Just in case.
A kiss, soft and awkward and hesitating, and you fight not to recoil from the vivid memories that come with it, however innocent they are. Memories you once thought had blended in with the blur that is the past you're not even sure is real. Carefully you step back, watch with clouded eyes as he lets his arm fall to his side. With trembling fingers, you catch his wrist, free his fingers from the white glove.
Time, the voice reminds you as you take a wrinkled hand in yours and bring the knuckles to your lips, brushing calloused skin as you kiss his palm briefly.
"It hurts," he speaks and his voice breaks. "I need – I need time."
You swallow around the lump in your throat, not sure how to reply, not sure if it's even worth one. "I know," you finally settle with, just as brokenly, and briefly you wonder just how many times you will repeat that today.
Probably not enough.