Disclaimer: They are not mine (belong to the Disney company, I think). I take responsibility for the characters' actions and thoughts in this fic, though.

Warnings: angst

Pairing: Will/Elizabeth

The Rum Is Gone

After the message reaches them Elizabeth starts dreaming about him sometimes. Nothing terrible or bad, really. Just a dark figure in front of her that she knows she should be afraid of but is not. She stands there, feeling the sand beneath her bare feet and the breath of wind on her skin. And then the figure moves closer - so close - to her. She recognizes him finally. But somehow she has known all the time. She sees his eyes. He looks at her and smiles.

"Lizzie," he says, and no-one else calls her that, "Lizzie, why is the rum gone?" And then she always wakes up.

She doesn't gasp or anything, just suddenly - she was dreaming and then she is in her bed next to her sleeping husband. Elizabeth is sure Will never notices anything. She is thankful for it.

This time she can't make herself fall asleep afterwards. It's never easy, but usually she manages. She doesn't even try now. Elizabeth gets up, carefully, so she doesn't wake Will, and creeps out of their bedroom. Once she's closed the door behind her she walks - not creeps, no, she's the mistress of the house, after all, she doesn't creep, but she walks very quietly - into the library and takes out a bottle of rum. The last one left. Probably the last one ever in this house. Will and her - they have no taste for rum.

Still, she opens the bottle now and gulps down a mouthful, not bothering with a glass. The liquor burns in her stomach. Elizabeth remembers the feeling well. The burn of rum, the sand under her, the song of the waves and wind in the palmleaves. The heat of the body next to her...

She swallows another bitter gulp. How can anybody bear to drink this stuff? It makes her eyes water, she wipes them with jerky moves, but she can't win against the rum, can she now?

Elizabeth holds the bottle up and tries to see how much she's drank. The moonlight is too faint to say. She thinks maybe a quarter. She takes another sip.

She's really happy they named their second son Jack. Their first was William, of course, after his father. Elizabeth thinks that if she's ever going to have a daughter she might just name her Anamaria. They'd call her Annie anyway.

Suddenly strong fingers grasp the bottle and it's taken from her. Will stands in front of her looking at the bottle in his hand. Then he plants himself next to Elizabeth, puts one arm around her and rises the bottle to his lips with the other. Elizabeth presses closer to him.

They share the bottle until it's empty and then sit embracing each other tightly till the dawn. Elizabeth's fingers are clamped around the neck of the empty bottle.

The rum is gone.