Alright. Since I haven't bloody well finished anything else (i.e. more on my ongoing stories), here's a tidbit I wrote a few days ago and finished up. It's one of my favorite all-time trad songs, one I sing almost every time I have a performance. It's a heartbreaker, to be sure. Sorry, the tune begged for it to be written all angsty-like. Will work more on some of the promised stuff later today...

Title: It Shall Not Be Long, Love
Author: JacksMermaid
Pairings: J/E (duh, it is me after all)
Rated: PG.
Summary: Will and Elizabeth's wedding day has come 'round again. But too many things have gone unsaid and too many secrets kept and too many signs ignored... Ties in slightly to some of my other one-shots such as "Siren".
Warnings: Post-DMC spoilery, WAY angsty on Will's part. What can I say, the song was there and I was on a roll...

It Will Not Be Long, Love

My love said to me, "My mother won't mind,
And my father won't slight you for your lack of kind,"
And she came close beside me, and this she did say:
"It will not be long, love, 'til our wedding day."

Will Turner couldn't help but beam as he moved through the busy street, packages in hand. Yes, things had been difficult, but they were certainly looking up now. Elizabeth and he would finally be married, and then they could get on to this business of finding and saving Bootstrap Bill, as well as that scoundrel Jack. Will frowned slightly as he remembered the kiss that his fiancee had shared with that pirate; he hadn't yet told Elizabeth that he'd seen it. He wondered if she knew, though, since Will had difficulty keeping anything from her. That damned Sparrow. Why had she kissed him? Had it been pity at the loss of the pirate's ship? Gratitude at his return? It had tormented Will for a time, wondering where her heart lay, until after persistent questioning Elizabeth had again agreed to marry him. It had surprised him, her reticence. He knew she felt compelled to help rescue Jack (that is, if Tia Dalma and Barbossa weren't playing some glorious joke on them all), knew that Jack had rescued them both on several occasions and that there really was reason to help him. And there was the matter of Will's own father, Bootstrap, that also needed to be resolved. That had to be the reason for her reluctance, that she didn't feel they had the time to waste on a wedding when lives needed saving. So Will set everything up as quickly as could be, even bargaining for a dress that had been meant for another bride (and that had set him back with the seamstress a fair penny). Nothing was too good for his Elizabeth, though. And soon she truly would be his Elizabeth, Mrs. Elizabeth Turner. He'd dreamt of it for so long, had worried that it might never happen. Now in two days, it would.

Yes, Jack was a good enough sort, Will supposed. Good enough to not abandon to death if there was a chance of saving him. Will could afford to be magnanimous now, what with the wedding on the horizon. Besides, if Jack saw him finally marry Elizabeth, perhaps there'd be no more thoughts of... kissing. No. Two days hence would finally see the marriage of Will Turner to Elizabeth Swann and nothing would prevent it. And then they'd go on this blasted final adventure of theirs, save his father, save Jack Sparrow, send the pirate on his way, and settle down to a normal life together. Cottage. Blacksmithing. Babies. There was a thought to smile about. All normal.

Or at least that's what Will kept telling himself.

She stepped away from me, and she moved through the fair
And fondly I watched her move here and move there
And she made her way homeward with one star awake
As the swans in the evening move over the lake

Elizabeth Swann sat staring out to sea, much as she did on the ruined day of her first-planned wedding. Here I am again, preparing to be married in a day, and no more ready than before. I told Jack I was so ready to be married. I didn't tell him to whom. She looked at the gown that had just been delivered, the creamy satin, the hours of beadwork, the beautiful wedding gown that had been meant for some other girl who would likely have been happy to marry her own young man. And all Elizabeth felt was cold, so cold. She found herself scanning the twilight sky, praying for rain clouds, praying for wind or earthquake or flood or... stop it! Will is a good man, a wonderful man. He loves you dearly and you... used to love him. Or did you? Did you really? Was it anything more than a young girl's fancy for a handsome young man, someone her father wouldn't approve of, someone who wasn't James Norrington? She'd loved the boy Will, loved the mystery of him, loved the way he looked at her adoringly. All so sweet, so flattering, so forbidden. A handsome blacksmith and the Governor's only daughter, the idea of it! But then everything had happened. The pirates had happened. Jack had happened. And there was no going back from any of it.

Yes, Will had been even more appealing when he went on his daring rescue to save her from Barbossa, when he'd fought his way to her, helped her return home. But it was all because of Jack, wasn't it? Jack had helped him sail the ship, Jack had helped him reach Isla de Muerta, Jack had fought by his side... to rescue her. That night on the rum runner's island, she and Jack dancing beneath the stars, it wouldn't leave her thoughts. And now it was blurred by another memory, the memory of Jack's lips beneath her own, a drowning man clinging to her kiss in the midst of wreck and ruin.

The first time she had been preparing to marry Will Turner, she had sat in the rain and wondered where Jack Sparrow was, whether he would come and rescue her from an adventureless life of tending home and hearth and normalcy. Wondered where Jack was and how he was and whether he even thought of her. Just as she was wondering now. But it was far, far worse now. For she had condemned him to die, and he had branded himself on her soul with that one kiss, that one word: "Pirate..." And she sat and shivered in the moonlight at the thought of being hopelessly chained to good Will Turner instead of willingly shackled to bold Jack Sparrow.

People say no two e'er were wed
But one has a sorrow that never was said
And she made her way homewards with her goods and her gear
And that was the last I saw of my dear

Elizabeth had been certainly acting odd today. She'd planned and hoped so much for their first wedding day, had been devastated when it had been ruined. Will remembered how she had sat in the rain and wept before they had both been captured by Beckett. And she had never broken, had never wavered in her strength and bravery, through all that came afterwards. But now she seemed as nervous as a cat. She would not meet his eyes when he told her that tomorrow was the day, she shied from his touch. When he tried to kiss her cheek, she looked up at him with eyes that blazed and shimmered. When he tried to ask what ailed her, she would put a finger to his lips and then kiss him so sweetly, so gently. Passionless. Will tried to ask Tia Dalma, but the witch only shook her head and told him that a woman's secrets were her own to tell. When Will tried to ask Gibbs if it were perhaps normal for a woman to be fearful at her impending marriage, the old sailor would merely roll his eyes and start in on stories about his lost Jenny, some thirty years ago in an English port. And Barbossa watched him under hooded lids, chuckling nastily, as if he knew something Will didn't.

Will dreamt that night about a bird he'd heard tell of, a giant bird that ran as swiftly as a horse. He'd heard that this African bird would stick its head in the sand when danger approached, so that the bird might not see it. And then, of course, the bird would be brought down by the danger it so longed to ignore. What did it mean, this silly bird myth? The dream changed, became that scene on the 'Pearl, Elizabeth kissing Jack with a passion that Will had never seen in her, or felt. He wanted to cry out, to demand to know what they were doing, but in the dream, his lips had been sewn shut like the dolls he'd seen in Tia Dalma's hut. When he tried to close his eyes against the sight of Elizabeth running her hands down Jack's body, his eyes had been sealed open by the fingers of starfish, like the starfish on his doomed father's face. He woke nearly screaming, in a tangle of sweat-soaked blanket. He tried to laugh it off, telling himself it was nerves from the wedding morning, but he found himself leaping to his feet. He rushed to the window, throwing it open to look out at the sea, as if either his father or Jack would suddenly come sailing in. Then, with a chill, he heard the calling of an owl: once, twice, thrice. And he remembered the superstition about the owl's cry meaning impending sorrow, or death...

He shivered so violently that his teeth chattered. Get a hold of yourself, Will! In the morning you'll marry Elizabeth and all will be well. But he had the horrible feeling that something would happen, something would go wrong. It always did, whenever Jack Sparrow was concerned. And Will knew that Jack was on Elizabeth's mind. Constantly. Will slowly turned back to his bed. He wouldn't think any more about this nonsense. Elizabeth loved him, she'd consented to marry him. And in the morning, she would be his forever. With that thought, sleep returned.

I dreamt it last night that my dead love came in
So softly she entered, her feet made no din
And she came close beside me and this she did say,
"It will not be long, love, 'til our wedding day."

She padded into his room, silent as a ghost in her bare feet and boy's clothes. She couldn't truly think about what she was about to do, or she'd never have the courage to do it. I'm sorry, Will. I do love you, and will always care for you... but I love Jack more. I have to find him. I need him, don't you see? She looked down at Will's sleeping form. Still so much of the boy in that handsome face, and yet... there was now the look of a man, a man who had been dealt hard blows and was still learning to shoulder them. His brows knit briefly in his sleep; he was dreaming. He exhaled slightly, almost the protest of a sleepy child, and Elizabeth had to fight the tears that wanted to come. He did not deserve this. But, a voice seemed to whisper, neither do you deserve to be chained to a fate - and a man - you don't love, Lizzie darlin'...

She gently laid the white gown across the foot of Will's bed, the slippers and the ribbons beside it. Creeping silently to his side, she laid down her last parting gift, the one he would see first when he awoke. The one that might shatter him. Then she took the key from the door, stepped outside, closed it and locked him in. She allowed herself a moment to let the tears fall, to regret what she was about to do to this young man she had once loved. Or thought she'd loved. He and her father both would be devastated by what she was about to do. But then a breeze ghosted down the hall, and she thought she smelled both spices and rum in its wake. Jack was calling and she could no longer tarry. She pocketed the key, took up her boots and raced down to the dock, where The Persephone was already waiting along with Tia Dalma, Gibbs and that bastard Barbossa. Tonight, they set sail to find Jack. And Elizabeth would either find him or die trying. Goodbye, Will. You deserve so much better. I pray you find it.

And the night, and the tide, and the taste of rum swept her away.


In the morning, Will Turner woke from dreams of shipwrecks and owls and running over desert sands on two swift legs. Woke to prepare for his wedding and found the plain gold ring lying by his side, tied to a long lock of tawny hair.

And he admitted, then, what the ostrich meant.

And his tears were as bitter as the brine of the deep.

Author's Note: I know. I'm a heartless bitch. Please note that I really do like young Will, and I do NOT think he is quite this naive and stupid (it just works to write him so). I also think he'd still follow her, to hear it from her own lips, him being the stubborn sort. The song was just too perfect not to wrap a story around.

If I keep up with these post-DMC one-shots, they might resolve into a sort of collection...

For those wondering, the song is "She Moved Through The Fair," a traditional Irish song attributed to Padraic Collum and recorded by the likes of Loreena McKennitt, Mary Black (my two fave versions as these were what I heard first), Sinead O'Connor, Máire Brennan, Sarah-bloody-Brightman, The Chieftains, Charlotte Church and many others. It's a very popular song in trad circles, very beautiful, and generally very haunting; I'll be including it on my own album, when I get the bloody thing recorded (I sing mine like Loreena's version).