Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
A/N: Hello again. This story is kind of pointless and random, but the idea came to me and I just had to write it down. Not my best work, I will admit; I was suffering another whopping case of writer's block while I wrote it all at once in the middle of the night. My mind has been kind of preoccupied lately with the fact that this little bitch who my mom and my trainer decided (without asking me) to half-lease my horse to is slowly stealing him, an issue that is swiftly driving me back into depression. ::sigh:: Why must life be such a challenge? Anyways, sorry about my complaining, on with the story...
Rain. I can hear it outside as I lay in my bed, holding my sleeping wife in my arms. It hardly ever rains here. I feel her soft breath on my neck, her still body so warm against mine. Tears are fresh on her beautiful face. My wife, my love. My Elizabeth.
She still weeps for Will. The boy she loved more than life itself. On the nights when I come home late from the docks and she is unaware of my presence, I find her sobbing her heart out on the bed we share. I never interrupt her when she is in this state. I wait until she cries herself to sleep, then gather her unmoving body in my arms and hold her, much as I am now, hoping my affections reach her in her slumber.
But no matter how many tears she sheds, no matter how much she begs and wishes and prays, her Will can never come back. He cannot come to ease her pain when she calls his name and pleads with unknown forces to return him to her. It is almost two years now since the accident. Two years since he was taken from her. Young William Turner – her first husband, her first love.
He was killed in a tragic misadventure with his good friend Jack Sparrow, who also lost his life in the battle. Rumor had it the encounter was gruesome and bloody – So much blood! the messenger had moaned crazily while informing me of the event – and that not many had survived.
Needless to say, Elizabeth was devastated by the loss of her husband and dear friend. She did not leave her father's home for weeks; the first time I saw her after she received the news was at a short memorial service held for Mr. Turner. She looked so dead that day. She looked as though she had been physically poisoned by her love's demise and was slowly dying herself. Perhaps she was, and perhaps she still is.
I know she will never love me the way she loved him. She can't, and I understand that. However, I think my love comforts her. I think she can draw strength from the fact that there is still someone who will protect her from her fears and be patient through her tears, who will always love and care for her despite the knowledge that they will never have her whole heart. After everything she has been through – everything she has been strong through – I cannot help but love her.
I do feel a certain amount of guilt for my position in her life. I know I cannot ever fill the void created by Will's absence. She still wears his ring along with mine. It has never been my intention to try and replace her brave young man, and it would break my heart if she ever thought anything like that. All I want is to ease the pain that gnaws so relentlessly at her heart, though I sometimes don't know how.
Someday that pain will become too much for her to bear. She will numb herself to all emotions, and my love will mean nothing to her. Then she can fly away into the arms of her true love and her dearest friend. When she comes to them, they will hold her, and she can sleep peacefully with them for the rest of time.
But now, I cannot help but feel that I am holding her back somehow, shackling her to her grief with heavy chains and trapping her inside her endless sorrow. Now, as I lay listening to the drops of water falling from the sky, I can't help but think that I may have made it rain.
-Finis-