Summary: A series of different interpretations of the post-AWE universe. First up—Aqua Vitae.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Ah, well. But I probably couldn't have done as good of a job anyway.
Yo ho, yo ho
A pirate's life for me,
We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, we loot,
Drink up, me 'earties,
The second time Will Turner, Captain of the Flying Dutchman, came ashore, he walked up the beach to meet an Elizabeth, King of Pirates, that didn't look a day older than when he had last left her.
"Elizabeth…how?" he asked, boots scuffing to a stop in the sand, his wet hair—he hadn't waited for the dinghy to come ashore—sticking to his forehead, and she smiled. "Aqua Vitae, Will. The Fountain of Youth."
"Jack," she clarified after a moment, when he was still staring. "He stole the map from Barbossa, and set off for it, and we ran into each other in Cuba…and he offered to share the Fountain with me."
"And…you said yes?"
She nodded, and all Will could think of was the look of her. His father had warned him, the night before he came ashore, his face grave and still—"It's been ten years, lad. Your Elizabeth…she's mortal. She'll have aged. Prepare yourself." And he had tried, but…he couldn't. Not when the thing he thought of, every day, was her face as she married him. And now…now he was here, and so was she, still perfect and so heartbreakingly beautiful, and it seemed almost too good to be true.
"Of course I said yes, Will," she murmured, sliding off the rock she had been perched on and walking over to him. "It means…I can always be here for you, Will, waiting for you. Of course I said yes."
"But…your life…"
"Is with you. You're my husband, Will," and now her voice and smile were cracking with unshed tears. "How could I ask you to go on, without the thought of someone here to greet you? You gave up everything for me. You always have. Your work, your reputation…you died, Will, because of something I got you into." She was crying now, but her eyes never left his face. "I want to do this, Will. I want it." Her hand grasped his, tightly, and despite himself he grasped back. "Let me be your hope, Will." She glanced, briefly, at the chest sitting on the rock she had vacated. "Let me be your heart."
And what could he do but say yes?
The third time the Captain of the Flying Dutchman came ashore, the King of Pirates was waiting for him where the waves were lapping the sand, one hand clenched in a tight fist, waiting for his embrace. After they pulled apart, she offered him the closed hand, without a word.
"Elizabeth…"
"Look," she said, voice just barely above a whisper, and he did, gently pulling apart the fingers to reveal two smooth golden rings lying on her palm.
"We are married, after all," she said softly, looking at him for a hint of his thoughts, and for a moment he thought he couldn't breathe, or do anything except say "Thank you," and mean it more fiercely than he had ever meant anything in his very long life.
The girl sat on the rocks, huffing irritably at the hair whipping in her eyes and debating whether to tie it back. It was dark out, the sun just beginning to tip over the horizon, and she was all alone on the rocks. Except—suddenly, she wasn't.
The woman walking past her had the grace and beauty of a movie star, her feet sure and steady on the rocks, her sundress pulled tight to her body. One hand held an old chest tight against her, protecting it—the other was held out just a little for balance, and the girl could see a flash of gold on the finger. The woman moved with purpose, and after she had passed the girl followed her. It was summer, and she had insomnia, and—well, she was interested.
The woman made her way down to a sheltered beach that the girl was willing to bet no one had been on in years, it was that hidden away, that secret—and then the sun rose, and the woman's feet hit the sand of the beach, and there was a man waiting by the water. He was young, dressed in clothes that were almost caricatures of a pirate's outfit, and shockingly handsome, and when he saw the woman walking towards him he looked—like no one else the girl had ever seen. Like the happiest man on earth. Like someone who knew their reason for living, and it was coming towards them.
The girl waited a moment, then walked back the way she had come, moving with far less grace over the rocks. She wasn't going to disturb the couple, certainly. Heck, she didn't think she could if she tried. And she left them there, Captain and Pirate King, locked in each other's embrace and oblivious to the world.
Who knows, the girl thought, past the rocks now, moving back to the hotel where she was staying, back to cell phones and cars and computers and civilization. Maybe life wasn't that bad, after all. Not with two people like that being so happy in it.
"Pardon me, lass," said a rollicking, accented voice from her left, and she turned. The man standing there had long hair with beads in it, and a red bandana, and a loose open shirt, and when he talking his be-ringed hands made whimsical circles in the air. "But have you seen the rum?"
And for all of them, life scraped alongside the edge of being worth living. But they had things to remind them, and the memory of faces, and the knowledge that they would always meet again.
And they continued, and, in their own strange way, they were happy. After all, living forever was easy, especially when they had something to live for. And they were pirates.
We kidnap and gamble and don't give a hoot,
Drink up, me 'earties,
Yo ho!
Please Review! Next up…a Stargate: Atlantis crossover. Where does my mind come UP with these things?