Author's Note: Adieu, adieu, parting is such sweet sorrow! Lol, okay as you may have guessed, I have finally reached the end of my little excursion. Seeing as it was originally meant to only be two or three chapters…*glares at incriminating six remaining chapters*…I think this progressed with a life of its own, very much in thanks to all of those who reviewed. I hope everyone enjoys this last installment of Failing Hope! With nothing else remaining, here is the final chapter!
Failing Hope
Chapter Nine
The crash of the ocean waves against the stone wall sent a salty breeze careening across the surface of the granite ground. Will looked away from the sea, the cry of the gulls echoing in his mind like a faint call to arms. His attention turned back to Elizabeth who stood looking expectantly at him. Her hand moved up and gingerly covered the bleeding gash in his arm. He winced involuntarily but put a forced smile on in order to cover the pain.
Chaos still reigned in regards to Jack's sudden departure and conflict ensued between the ranks of the army. None could decide what course of action should be followed. Norrington strode about, trying to hide the pain that emanated from within because of Elizabeth's rejection. His job as commodore overrode personal pain and problems; right now, that job demanded that he restore order to his men.
Something resonated painfully from inside of Will as the mournful cry of a seagull reached his ears again and he turned his head back toward the ocean's endless expanse of blue. Dark hair clung to the sides of his face and he took a step forward, still staring out at the sea. It sparkled with unsullied brilliance, like a newly carved diamond. It mesmerized him.
"Will?" Elizabeth spoke softly and moved next to the young blacksmith. Her eyes searched his face in concern.
He turned back to her, desperately fighting off the call that the salty breeze sent to him. He would not abandon everything now. There was so much that could simply be waiting here for him. But…there could be so much waiting out there for him too.
A sad smile spread across Elizabeth's face as she looked into his distant eyes. Her hand traveled up, resting on his cheek. Breaking out of his daze, he looked down at Elizabeth, forcing a shaky smile on his face.
Suddenly she threw herself tightly into an embrace with him, holding him tightly for several seconds before falling back slightly. She softly kissed him on the lips, and after a moment of shock, he returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around her slight form. Pulling back, she bit down on her lip, bringing a hand up and wiping lightly at her eyes.
Will looked curiously at her, suddenly realizing that she was fighting away tears. "Elizabeth?" He moved toward her, only to have her step back. "What's wrong?" A sickening feeling twisted within him. The look on Elizabeth's face caused his own expression to melt into one of confusion and apprehension.
"Go." Her voice was hardly a whisper, but he could hear the strength underlying it. "This is your chance. Please go." She quickly looked away as a tear escaped the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek.
The blacksmith's jaw opened and closed a few times before any sound came out. "What? Elizabeth, what are you saying?"
The dark-haired woman looked up again, the sheen of tears reflecting the pale light of the sun. "I know that it calls to you, Will. I cannot ask you to stay for me. Go to the sea, you will have a better life there." The words could have been spoken harshly, but a sense of honestly underlay them.
Will, completely dumbfounded, struggled to grasp her words. "I don't understand. I don't – "
His words were cut off by her fingers lightly touching his lips. "Don't try to understand. Just feel, Will. I can see it in your eyes. Come back again someday." Her sentences were short and she worked to keep her tears under control. Hugging him tightly again, her lips brushed past his ear and she whispered so quietly that Will had to struggle to hear the words. "Find your father."
As quickly as the embrace began, it ended and Elizabeth pushed him gently toward the edge of the battlement, making herself pointedly clear. Will was still stunned by the sudden change of events, and most of all by Elizabeth's last statement, but he walked robotically forward until he reached the edge of the cliff. He reached forward, let his hands rest on the cool gray stones of the short barrier, and turned his gaze outward. Something tucked behind the confines of a distant cliff caught his eye and he focused on it. Its helm was the only thing that showed, but Will realized that he knew what it was. It was the Black Pearl, but this time it was once again Jack's Pearl.
Overwhelmed by the choice placed in front of him, Will turned back to look at Elizabeth again. No longer did she hide her tears, but they cascaded freely down her pale cheeks now. "Please…" She choked out, looking back nervously to where the military was beginning to become organized. "Go now, Will, or it will be too late."
When he hesitated still, she firmed her stance and looked directly at him. "William Turner, I am not asking. I will see you again, but you must leave now."
Nodding, Will numbly climbed to the top of the battlement and looked down at the water below him. It sparkled merrily in the sun's rays, almost asking him to come and join in its bliss. His dark eyes traveled back up to look at Elizabeth. "I love you, Elizabeth. I always will."
She nodded curtly, trying to keep more tears from falling. "And I you, Will Turner." A painful lump in her throat cut off any more words from escaping her. She held both hands to her lips and then extended them out toward Will, who returned the gesture in kind. The winds swirled around him, blowing his hair wildly about.
"Hey! You! Stop him!" A cry from the slowly organizing crowds recognized the fact that Will had been noticed. Will glanced back to Elizabeth wildly, knowing that this was the end. "Not another step!" The voice demanded again, moving closer to where Will balanced precariously on the battlement.
"Go now, Will! Go!" Elizabeth cried out to him, praying that he would go now. If he were caught now, the chance of him being hung was too high of a risk for her to take. She could see the torn look on his face, but he could not think now, he had to act! Just go!
Another strong breeze pressed against the blacksmith's lean frame and he breathed in deeply, letting the ocean's scent fill his lungs. With a final glance toward Elizabeth, Will shoved himself away from the battlement and plummeted freely toward the awaiting waves of the ocean and toward the awaiting sovereignty.
Snapping upright in bed, Will blinked several times, trying to clear his sleep-blurred vision. He breathed deeply a few times, trying to calm his racing heart. A single ray of dusty morning light streamed in through a crack in the window shutter, reminding Will that it was time for him to be up anyway.
He pushed the thin covers away from his legs and swung them to hang over the side of the creaking bed. His elbows leaned on his legs and he allowed his head to fall into his hands. Dark locks of hair tumbled forward, covering his face completely. It had just been a dream. But this was not the first time that the dream had come, and every time he woke up more confused than the last. Its realism grew with each appearance, and it was getting hard for Will to convince himself that it had all been conjured up in his sleep. He could still feel the salty breeze on his face and he could still see the tears gleaming in Elizabeth's eyes.
Lifting his head up, Will leaned down under the bed and retrieved a familiar looking wooden box. He opened it with a creak and simply looked at the cape and hat that still were tucked away within. He had wished so hard that after that day that perhaps things were really going to change. He had actually thought that things might truly work out and he and Elizabeth could make a future for one another.
However, the fates had other plans in mind when Will made the decision to stay in Port Royal. After the emotion of that day faded with the slow setting of the Caribbean sun, so did the amiability that had coexisted within it. The governor, unable to accept that his daughter had chosen a blacksmith's apprentice, had put her in near house arrest. Will, still stuck with the duties of the blacksmith shop, rarely saw her anymore. Once again they were stuck on the polar opposite ends of society with no way to bridge the gap. It was hopeless.
Forcing himself to stand up and get dressed, Will retrieved his grungy work clothes and slipped into them. With blatant disregard, he pulled his hair back in order to avoid setting his head afire while working in the forge. He nearly blanched at the thought of another day stuck in the isolation of the blacksmith shop. It was so tiresome, day after day having no contact with anyone but the swords made by one's own hands. Giving a resigned sigh, Will left his room in the loft and descended down to the actual work area of the blacksmith shop.
As he moved through the open area, he made his way purposefully over to the mule who lay bedded in his small stall. Will leaned on the door and looked at the animal, who stared back at him with a disdainful gaze. "C'mon now, bud, time to get up."
Eyeing the blacksmith for a moment, the animal responded with a negative grunt, clearly communicating that he had no current plans that involved getting up. Will's stare hardened and he stood up a little straighter. "I'm in no mood for your bloody lazy spell. Now up with you." When he received no response from the comfortably situated mule, Will resorted to the only thing he knew that would stimulate the creature. Reaching over, he lifted a large bucket and shook it, making its contents rattle enticingly. "I've got oats."
The mule's ears perked up and it instantly seemed to be thrice times interested in what the human was saying. A suspicious gleam still lingered in the animal's eyes, and he seemed hesitant to believe the dark-haired human in front of him.
Rolling his eyes, Will reached into the bucket and held out a handful of the oats to prove his claim to the animal. "Do you believe me now?" He lowered his arm, waving it back and forth slowly. With a groan, the mule slowly rose, the scent of the oats growing to be too alluring for it to ignore. It took only a few steps for it to reach Will's extended hand and the mule nuzzled his warm nose into the oats, crunching contentedly.
As the last of the oats disappeared, Will moved his hand and softly scratched behind the mule's large ears. "At least it doesn't take much to make one of us happy." The animal grunted in agreement and tossed its head approvingly. The blacksmith patted the animal's neck before turning away to go check the fire in the forge.
As he neared the powerful heat that emitted from the brightly burning fire, Will stopped, his eyes searching the area suspiciously. Everything seemed to be in place, yet somehow he felt as though something were amiss. Moving slowly over to an anvil, the blacksmith let his hand rest upon it. He jerked when his hand crinkled a piece of paper, causing it to rustle noisily.
"What is this?" Will murmured softly, smoothing out the piece of paper with his hands on the smooth surface of the anvil. He pulled the parchment out from beneath the heavy hammer that had held it in place and brought it up closer to his face. The writing was slanted and the penmanship was in kinship with that of a three-year old's writing ability. Only by squinting and turning the paper around a few times was the blacksmith able to begin to make out the scribbled words, some which bled messily down the crumpled paper.
"William Turner," The young man began, speaking in a halted manner as he struggled to make out the words. "Just wanted to let ya know that…" Will paused again, sighing in audible frustration at the cluttered words. "…ye haven't seen the last of me yet. Debts do not go unpaid, and I owe ye."
Blinking to clear his vision, Will felt uneasiness growing in his stomach. Who was sending him this message? Rubbing his eyes, the blacksmith dove back into the message, determined to discover its sender. "Keep yer eyes open. Captain Jack Sparrow."
The fire crackled loudly in the forge and Will looked up, processing the letter in its entirety. A new feeling replaced the twisting dread in his stomach, and he realized with some suspicion that it was a feeling of excitement and eagerness.
With nimble hands, Will carefully folded the message and slid it into his vest pocket, wanting to keep it near, just to make sure that it was real. Maybe things weren't going to be as bleak as he originally thought after all.
"Maybe I have a chance to finally do things right." He whispered, looking toward the high, small windows – his only connection to everything outside. Will moved over to his sword hold and grabbed a semi-finished blade and swung it in several practiced arcs, the long blade loudly slicing through the heavy air. With a sigh, he lowered it, looking at its unfinished blade. A small smile crept onto his face and without another thought, he thrust the metal foil into the licking, hungry flames. It was never too late to do things the right way, in any case.
The End
Author's Note: Ah yes, this is indeed the end. I took the liberty to go a little further than the movie did, and for good reason. (At least *I* think it good reason!) I set it up in the manner that I think the second PotC movie would go, and I've tossed around the idea of creating my own screenplay version of the second movie. I have a few ideas, and I'm still thinking about it, so maybe in the future I'll post something along those lines. In any case, a big thanks to all of those who have read and reviewed this entire time. I've appreciated it so much! In the final words of Jack Sparrow: Drink up me hearties, yo-ho!