Title- And Another Sip of Grog.
Author- Cynic
Rating-PG
Genre- Angst
Summary- He waited for her to leave. She left. He waited to forget, to go back to his happy existence. He didn't.
Disclaimer- Loved the movie. Really did. But Jack did not spend enough time getting into Will's pants for me. Don't own it. Not making anything from it. Promise.
Archive- Please! Just inform me.
Don't you call us common sailors anymore
Don't you call us
common sailors anymore
Good things to you we bring
Don't you call us common men
We're as good as anybody that's on shore
Another sip of grog. Another. Then another. The world weaves and dips in front of his eyes, like looking out to th
e sea aboard the Pearl. The Pearl. He remembered that ship, hadn't been on it in a while, but he certainly remembered it. How could one forget the greatest ship on the seven seas? How could anyone forget her Captain?
Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow. The fey and otherworldly man who turned out to not be fey at all. Jack Sparrow. More exciting than Will. More interesting than Will. More desirable than Will. He thought she loved him, and maybe she did for a while. But when she called him her pirate, she was lying. Will was never a pirate. Will was a blacksmith, proud of his swords and swordsmanship but no real thirst for blood or for money. He had his treasure, he needed no more. But she did. She always needed more.
She became obsessed. Every day, going to the dock and watching; waiting for something that Will dreaded. For he knew what would happen, and it did. He knew he would have to watch her run away with her Captain and her ship. He knew he would be left waiting in a tavern. He knew, and so he waited. And he watched her go.
He missed her fiercely, but not as a lover would. He missed her because she was his only proof that he existed, his only anchor. Now he was worthless. Just a blacksmith. Not worthy of notice by Governor's daughters, not worthy of notice by chivalrous pirates. He wanted to go out and make them notice. He wanted to make everyone notice. But he knew he could not. He knew he would not. But the longing, same as hers with her ship and her Captain, that longing burned in him. He wanted to be seen, not overlooked. He wanted to be a pirate, but he was not. The blood in his veins was treacherous, giving him enough fire to be unsatisfied with this life but none to change it. He will make his swords, and sell them to those , who will use them. To kill pirates or to be pirates, it did not matter anymore. Elizabeth was what he lived for, what he fought for, but Elizabeth was gone. And Elizabeth was never coming back. Bootstrap would surely weep to see his son now. He was worthless. No pirate, no man. Playing with fire and metal in a little hole in the wall. Fearing the sea and lusting for it. Wanting for something he could never have and almost did not want to have. He took another sip of grog. Then he finished off the bottle. Another one gone. It joined the rest of them. Empty and dead.
