Dreams and Stars
Night was beautiful on the open water. Each star shone with it's own brilliant light, dancing in and out of clouds, forming patterns and breaking them in time to the shifting winds of Earth. The sea sang it's lullaby, cradling the Dauntless as gently and effortlessly as an experienced mother, though he knew that the gentleness could turn to a killing rage in very little time.
This was what his father had fallen in love with . . .this was what had kept his father at the side of the mad pirate captain despite the birth of his first, and only, son . . .this was the life Will had both despised and longed to try for the last
"Will . . ."
Will started and turned from the open water, his breath catching slightly in his throat as he found himself face-to-face with the living embodiment of the other dream he had harbored for the last eight years . . .another dream that would never be anything more than that.
"Miss Swann. I'm surprised to see you about at this hour. I would have thought your fiancé would want you abed and resting after the horrors you've witnessed."
"Will, stop it. Don't you dare do this to me."
The armor that he had so carefully placed around his heart splintered at the plea, at the barest hint of tears in her voice.
"I agreed to this for you, Will. I had to give you a chance. I'm sorry. If it was my choice . . ." A single drop of moisture trickled it's way down her perfect cheek, gleaming slightly in the intermittent moonlight.
Slowly, ever so gently, the blacksmith reached out and brushed the tear aside, his hand lingering longer than was necessary. What would she think of his rough blacksmith's hand? Not that Norrington's would be all that much smoother. The Commodore had the same set of calluses on his hands that marked Will's, the marked Jack's, that marked any man's hand once he took up a sword with the intention of mastering it.
Elizabeth slowly closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, lifting her right hand to cover his and hold it to her cheek. Her left rose tentatively, gently reaching out and caressing his hair before taking a firm grasp and pulling his head closer, until their foreheads were touching. Her eyes were still closed, her lips slightly parted . . .
Will couldn't seem to breathe, couldn't seem to move at all, so very, very close to the woman he had dreamed about for so very, very long . . .
Did Elizabeth want him to . . .?
Could he . . .?
Should he . . .?
If you're waiting for the opportune moment . . .
The echo of Jack's voice was all the extra urging he needed. Gently, ever so softly, the contact so fleeting he could barely tell it had happened, his lips brushed hers. A slight smile curled Elizabeth's lips as he tried again, deepening the kiss this time, pulling her closer, closer, living a dream, a perfect dream . . .
"No." Will stepped back out of the embrace, breathing heavily, cursing himself internally for what he had done. Elizabeth wasn't his, could never be his. She was the fiancé of a Commodore of the British Navy . . .she was beyond his reach, as surely as if he were dead and she still living.
"Will . . ."
"It wasn't meant to be, Elizabeth. He's a good man. He'll make you happy." The blacksmith tried to smile as he turned away.
"I love you, Will." Her arm on his shoulder was firm, almost desperate, a grasp at the dream that he knew was already dead.
Something seemed to break within his chest as Will gently twisted himself free of her hand and moved away, head hung low.
He would not dishonor any of them by allowing himself to reply to that.
Better to walk away with a broken heart than to see three lives battered beyond repair by the dreams of a pirate's orphaned whelp.
