Title: Now What?
Words: 605
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Will Turner, mentions of Will/Elizabeth.
A/N: Takes place shortly before Dead Man's Chest begins; spoilers up to Dead Man's Chest.
Will should have been happy. After all, he got what he wanted.
Not so very long ago, his days were consumed with smithing and swordsmanship, hewing something beautiful from the mass of crude steel and learning, bit by bit, how to make it sing. And he had been happy with it, for the most part. It was what he loved doing. It was what passed the time between orders and what made the solitary evenings pleasant. There had only been one thing missing from his life, and her name was Elizabeth Swann.
Elizabeth. Fascinating, unfathomable, beautiful Elizabeth. Unattainable Elizabeth – but he'd known that. It was only because of their chance meeting all those years ago that he was even able to keep company with her as often as he did, and the casual acquaintance that brings was starting to lose its meaning. Their lives intersected for minutes at a time, if that; in between those minutes, he had watched her on the other side of a chasm he could not cross for fear of losing what generosity Port Royal had granted him.
And then she'd been captured and taken out to sea, and none of that had mattered.
There are no rules here except this: what a man can do and what a man can't do.
He barely heard the words at the time; he'd been too preoccupied with Elizabeth to notice them (or, specifically, with clinging to the yardarm for his life). But ever since he'd returned to his old life, he'd thought about them more that he would have liked to.
In a few short hours he would marry the love of his life, the woman he'd do anything for.
Then what?
Well, then, he assumed, they'd build a life together. Buy land. Have a family. Everything you were supposed to do.
Maybe he'd continue smithing – but no, there was always that disdain in the governor's voice when he said "blacksmith". Even if he owned his own shop, it wouldn't be enough, and why should Elizabeth be punished for choosing him when she could have had all the luxury the world had to offer?
He could join the Royal Navy. After all, he wasn't a bad sailor, not anymore. And he could take to the seas without fear of capture or punishment.
Of course, that also meant unquestioning obedience to crown, country, and whatever higher-up happened to be standing over him at the moment. And it meant leaving Elizabeth again.
He had seen Elizabeth gazing out her windows lately, staring out at the sea. Did she miss it at all, he wondered. And did he really want to put the both of them right back where they were – him spending more time with his hammer and steel than with another human being, her sitting in some other house in some other ridiculous dress?
But maybe he was wrong. Maybe all that time she'd just wanted to go home. Maybe she liked the damn dress, as confounding as it was. Maybe he was only making excuses for himself, assuming he knew what she wanted so he could justify his own longing for salt air and a clear horizon and answering to no one.
The future he'd fought for was stretching out in front of him now, long and unbroken. And even with the comfort that love and familiarity provided it still never stopped and never changed.
The trouble with having everything you've ever hoped for is that there's not much to hope for after that.
When the soldiers arrived at his door to arrest him he was shocked, and confused, and angry. And curious.