_-=-_

She's not going to be there when I get home. They never are. In every book I've read -- read because She was reading it -- The Hero shows up and whisks the Young Girl away, never to see her family again. The Hero saves her from anything that could cause the smallest amount of woe: an arranged marriage, money problems, unwanted suitors... No, She's not going to be there. No woman alive could resist the charms and temptations of Captain Jack Sparrow.

There are some times I wish I were a drunkard. Then, perhaps, this moment would be comical. I would stumble through my front door, having become heavily inebriated during the drowning of my sorrows, and find an empty house. But I'll be too damned drunk to care.

Unfortunately, I'm very sober at the moment.

The door is pushed open with relative ease, no sound is heard. It feels as an empty house might -- Oh, but it's not an empty house anymore. Now, at least, there's me.

The corridor seems vacant. Not a breath from the kitchen. Well, now that She's left me, I think I shall go and close those abominable drapes in the drawing ---

"Will?"

She's here.

"Will, is that you?"

She comes out of the drawing room, chewing her bottom lip and twisting part of her nightdress between her fingers.

"Oh," I say, "You're -- you're still here,"

She nods, and says very quietly: "Will... we need to have a talk."

"Alright," I say. There's not much else to say in this situation.

There is a very long pause. She's still twisting her nightdress, looking up at me with apologetic eyes. I can't say what I'm feeling. I can't tell her that I'm angry, or hurt, or that I want to die. She's still Elizabeth. I still love Elizabeth. Why do I still love Elizabeth? Yes... Occupy my mind with counting her virtues...

"Er... Jack came to see me."

Goodness. Elizabeth is very good.

"How surprising," This isn't working... Her goodness brings about Sarcasm. Perhaps my thought was Sarcastic to begin with?

"We're... leaving tomorrow night,"

Honest. She's very honest -- she's being honest right now!

"How nice for you." And I don't seem to care.

"I wanted to say I was sorry, Will, before I left..." She bites her lip again, trying very hard to think of anything that might make me feel a bit better. Hopefully she'll come up with something. "I -- I just don't know how to... what I'm supposed to..."

Kind... She is the very essence of kind...

"It's not your fault, Will."

She may be beautiful, she may be born of high social standing, her character may have a few minor defects, but she is still dear Elizabeth. Convinced that she's right, and trying to let people know in the kindest way her temperment allows.

"I know that," I say, still trying to think of her perfections. "If it were my fault, I would be the one apologizing."

_-=-_