I watched him sail off the other day, his ship firmly beneath his feet and his crew reassuringly at his side. I'm very happy for him, I suppose. He got what he wanted after ten years. He took the chance of losing everything, and yet gained everything.
I tried to gain everything and ended up losing it, instead.
He's probably very happy now; raiding, looting, pilfering... Shooting people. Aquatic warfare. And here I am: Young, married... miserable. My days spent with my forehead resting against the window, my eyes fixed on the harbor. He might tie up one day, you know. He'll tie up, swagger onto the dock, and shoot everyone in this whole place but me.
I'll stay alive. I'll get to join him aboard The Black Pearl, and we'll be free together.
Will thought I was dilusional, for thinking that Jack would even consider returning to Port Royal. That's why I stopped talking to him about it. He didn't want to hear about the possibilities of another adventue with Captain Jack Sparrow. He didn't want to hear about Tortuga, or Barbossa, or any of the other things, people, and places we met whilst at sea. He's a very nice boy, my husband, but... he's rather dull. He wants us to be the perfect family. He wants to open his own smithy, he wants me to have children, and he wants us to smile and go to garden parties... The perfectly lovely Turners.
That's what my father wants of me, as well.
I don't want that. I really, honestly don't want that -- to sit in the drawing room doing needlepoint as William III helps his father at the smithy and little Catherine plays dolls. I've tasted immunity from everyday life now. There's no way I'm going to stay imprisoned in this Home.
I need adventure. It's an addiction. But more than adventure, I need the man who can give me one.
I decided to turn this into a fic made up of different J/E drabbles, so there will be a few more. I'm not sure how many, but more than one. Review, if you please.
