Title: Love's Fool
Rating: PG
The world spun and dots flicked across his vision. He could distantly hear the others shouting and Barbossa laughing but it all seemed to be distant. Like they weren't standing right beside him.
One too many shocks. For today and his entire life. He could honestly spend the rest of his life happily if no more surprises were thrown his way.
Will heard Tia Dalma order everyone out. She informed them she had a ship for them. All they needed to do personally was load the supplies. Reluctantly, and with a great deal of bickering, the others shuffled out. Barbossa smirked as he did so. Elizabeth reached for him and he turned to follow the others instead.
He didn't want to speak with Elizabeth. Not yet.
"A word William," Ti Dalma intercepted him before he could leave. Will saw Elizabeth frown but he couldn't care. Instead he nodded to Tia Dalma.
"It's fine Elizabeth," he heard himself say emotionlessly. His fiancée (was she even still that?) hesitated but Tia Dalma firmly escorted her out. Relief flooded through him.
He had no desire to deal with Elizabeth. Not yet.
"Come along William," Tia Dalma beckoned, holding out her hand, "someone needs to tend to those injuries of yours."
Will took her hand gratefully. His bruises ached, the slashes from Jack and James's swords (don't think of them don't think of them) stung and his back felt as though it was on fire.
"Thank you," he told her, leaning slightly on her as his strength deserted him. She smiled gently at him and helped him up the stairs. A part of him protested this but the larger, tired part of him told the other part to go to hell. He needed the help and he certainly wasn't asking anyone else.
"Those lashes on your back will scar," she warned.
Will smiled. Of course they would. Because that was the type of luck he was having lately. "I figured."
The stairs were painful and Will felt his fatigue catch up to him. His world blinked in and out and he was just. Tired. He was so tired. Tired of adventures, pirates, curses, treasures, and…love. He was tired of love. All it ever caused him was heartbreak.
When they reached the room at the top of the stairs, Tia Dalma guided him to the bed. He sat on it, resting his legs out in front of him and fumbled taking off his jacket and shirt. His fingers suddenly seemed to grow it size (several of his fingers had dried blood seeping out from under his nails and it sent flames up his arm to use his fingers). Or perhaps he was just too exhausted. Most likely it was the latter.
Tia Dalma, at lest, let him have the tattered remains of his pride and did not offer to help. Instead she busted about, pulling out bandages and various medicines. When she had finished her task, she laid everything next to him and sat down behind him. Her hands were blessedly cool upon his flaming back.
"This will sting a bit," she cautioned.
"Not a problem," he rasped out. Physical pain was the only thing driving at the moment. Because otherwise, without it, he would focus on his other pain. His bigger pain: the shattered remains of his heart.
There was silence between to two as Tia Dalma slowly bandaged his injures. At last she spoke again.
"Why are you going William? Why did you agree?" her voice was gentle, almost like she was afraid of breaking him.
Will wasn't afraid of that. He was already broken. He didn't have to ask what she meant though. The answer just slipped out before he could stop it.
Before he could lie.
"Elizabeth."
Will closed his eyes. The memory of their ruined wedding day rose before him in his mind. He remembered how beautiful she had looked (so lovely and defiant and God how had he deserved even a moment of her life?) and wondered how it all fell apart. It seemed like another life now. Perhaps it was another life. He didn't feel like the William Turner who had almost been married that day anymore.
Tia Dalma hmmed and otherwise remained silent. Again the words tumbled out of him before he could stop them.
"I have to… I have to know." The words burned his throat and tears stung the back of his eyes. Will furiously blinked the tears away. He hadn't cried since he was six. He was certainly not going to start again now. His left hand tightly clenched the bed sheet and his finger nails dug painfully into his skin.
Pain was good. It grounded him. Distracted him.
"You might not like the answers," again her voice was gentle. Only this time it was as though she was trying to spare him the pain.
His breath caught in his throat and Will had to force the next words out.
"Did she ever love me? Or was it all a lie?"
Tia Dalma stopped bandaging him. Her right hand cupped his chin (so cool on his skin it felt so good) and gently turned his head so that they could look one another in the eyes.
Her eyes were sad and full of compassion. What remained of his heart suffered another crack.
"You already know the answer to that question," she said softly.
He thought of James Norrington and Davy Jones and laughed bitterly. All three of them were fools. Look at what they had done in the name of love.
And look what love gave them in return.
Briefly and bitterly he wished Jack the best of luck. Elizabeth would get what she wanted. She always did.'
And it wasn't him. He could see that now. He wasn't her heart's desire.
"I should have known," he whispered in a broken voice, "I should have known."