Sparrow

Summary: [Will x Elizabeth, Jack x Elizabeth] "…he puts his arms around her and pretends not to notice the subtle scent of run and seawater in her hair."

Disclaimer: I don't own anything good; it's not fair!

A/N: This story is fairly similar to my other ones, but who cares?  I'm the author and I can do that. 

This one's finally good.  I'm so proud.

Present-tense.

Sparrow

            And she leaves every evening now, folding back the blankets and oh-so-carefully turning the doorknob and gliding off into the dark-black night.  She always comes back the earl the next morning, with smudged make-up and mussed hair, and Will's been up all night waiting for her, but he'd never tell her this.  She always pretends not to notice him squinting at her in the early-morning sunlight and gets back into bed beside him, and he puts his arms around her and pretends not to notice the subtle scent of run and seawater in her hair.  They seem to have a mutual understanding that she'll always leave and come back, and he'll never ask and she'll never tell, no matter what.

            She walks out that night, later than usual, and Will can't help noticing how unusually radiant his wife looks. 

            "Jack's a very lucky man," Will thinks acrimoniously to himself, fingering a hair-pin Elizabeth left behind in her hurry to depart.

            "Almost as lucky as you," a voice in Will's head adds, but he closes his eyes and grimaces. 

            "Luckier."

            Elizabeth's back hours and hours later, her dress unbuttoned a bit further than usual and a secretive smile playing on her cherry-red lips.  Will can't remember the last time she's directed a smile like that at him.  Elizabeth seems to sense his uneasiness; she rubs the back of her hand against her lips to remove the minute traces of scarlet lipstick and kisses him.  Will can't seem to get past the fact that her lips have earlier been on those of a pirate.

            Later that morning, Elizabeth refuses to awaken, and Will's sure she's doing this so he'll leave and she will sneak out the window to see Jack.  But Will stays by her side all day, watching her chest rise and fall and tears occasionally seep out of the corners of her eyes.  Will knows that she'd be better off with Jack now, and yet he doesn't care.  He knows that the day will come when she doesn't return, and he figures that he's going to keep her 'til then.

            She leaves again that night, but the next morning, no close-lipped smile and vacant-sad eyes greet Will.  He's alone in bed and all her jewelry's gone; he knows that she isn't coming back.  Will sighs, rolls over, and contemplates turning to rum to ease his pain, but he supposes that would make him too much like Sparrow and instead turns over again and falls back asleep.

            It's three years later and Will can still see the raw despair in Elizabeth's eyes and the pursed-lip smiles that she offered in sacrifice for tearing his life apart.  He's come to the realization that it's better for her now, but it isn't better for him, and that's the problem.  He knows that it's selfish, but she's all he had, and he can't help thinking that he'd rather have her die than be with Sparrow.  Will takes another swig of rum (it was unavoidable, really) and tries to keep the image of his disheveled angel in his mind, but it all eventually blurs and he's passed out again.  When he regains consciousness, Will almost believes that he sees a smudge of Elizabeth's lipstick on the table in front of him, but it's only a trickle of blood from his lip.  Only then goes he realize the sheer hopelessness of the situation, and the fact that, no matter what, he is truly alone.  And, maybe, he always has been.

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