A couple of days previous…
They were doing it again.
Despite her consuming guilt and misery, Elizabeth had left the privacy of her tiny cabin to spare herself from its oven-worthy temperature. Despite her misery, she had climbed the steps to the forecastle deck of their "borrowed" ship, taken a position beside the bowsprit, and tried to imagine where they were going. Despite her misery, she was unable to ignore the howls and chattering of the pair of obnoxious monkeys up in the rigging (no, not –that- monkey—the real monkey was actually kind of cute, despite his sticky fingers). "You look good in them breeches, Poppet!" And then, "Aye, but you'd look better out of 'em!"
She turned her eyes back out over the shining waves, trying to focus on the horizon that they chased. Then a hand fell upon her shoulder, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Sorry, sorry, it's only me,"—Will. She turned to him, her eyes radiating pain. "Elizabeth," he started, carefully, "—WILL YOU BLOODY SHUT UP!" This last, of course, directed at the idiots swinging well out of reach, telling him how he wasn't likely to "get any" tonight. Pintel and Ragetti, well aware of the young man's protective nature, decided it was, indeed, time to get back to checking the sheets.
"I'm very sorry about that," Will turned sheepishly back to Elizabeth, whose eyes were still wide from his surprising volume and…choice of language. Regaining her composure, she quirked her lips a little. "You don't always have to apologize to me, you know. It's all already forgiven."
Will caught her eyes with his. "That's a relief. You already understand, then."
Elizabeth's heart rose fluttering into her throat. This was it, then. This was, for all intent and purpose, Will's goodbye to her. "Understand?" she whispered.
"Yes…if you offer me forgiveness, without my even having to ask…" he squeezed her upper arm with his left hand, and brushed a stray hair behind her ear with his right, "I cannot but offer you the same."
Seeing the disbelief weighting her expression, Will resorted to communicating as clearly as he knew how. He drew closer, and mustered up all the sincerity he, a chronically sincere person, had ever had.
"I love you. Always."
A/N I apologize beforehand...I will not be updating until I get home Monday, but maybe that bit of age will make the cheese...I mean, the story...all the better. Huzzah!