the Dalaverse

Short, short future ficlet - nearly fifty years in the future, in fact. Will/Elizabeth, and James. Spoilers for AWE; one of many ways to interpret the canon, but one of the first that occured to me when I walked out of the theater.



One Last Shot


Eight years after Will returned to Elizabeth for the fourth time, she came to him for the first.

Her eyesight was not so good as it had once been, so she didn't see the Dutchman in the low gloom. Leaning against the rail, Will closed his eyes against the sight of her small boat bobbing closer.

"You knew this day would come." The voice at his side was quiet, warm, familiar.

Will swallowed against a dry throat. "I did," he said thickly, forcing himself to watch her approach. "But it feels so soon."

James laid a hand on his elbow. "It will not feel that way to her." Will nodded, grateful for the comfort as he had been grateful of the man's company on his crew over nearly fifty years. The time had left no mark on either of them, though Will had had to hide his shock the last time he'd seen his wife. She saw it anyway, and her brown eyes had flooded until Will took her hand and kissed the soft, papery skin of her cheek.

Now he put his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Ahoy, Mistress Turner!"

Elizabeth looked up at him, and raised her arm in greeting. She climbed aboard with care, Will hanging over the side to help her up. She was light as a bird, more fragile than she'd been eight years ago, but he folded her in his arms without a moment's pause.

"Oh, Elizabeth, I'm sorry..."

She pulled back, smiling up at him with every bit of her old charm and cheek. "I'm not. Here I am on the Dutchman at last! Though I was sorry to say goodbye to the children. They are both well, by the way, and our grandchildren too. I gave them your love before I left." She said it with no more weight than if she'd gone out for tea. Will supposed having a husband employed as the Charon of the open seas made one somewhat blasé about facing death.

"It's a good thing you put to sea, or else this would have been much more difficult to manage," James put in. He had been standing off to one side, but now he stepped forward to embrace her.

"James Norrington," Elizabeth whispered, holding his face in her hands. She was smiling, though her eyes were shining with tears. "I thanked you once, nearly twenty years ago, but I would thank you again."

James bent his head in graceful acknowledgement and quirked an eyebrow at Will. "Ready?"

"I am." Will slipped his arm around Elizabeth's waist. "Are you?"

Glancing up at the luffing sails overhead, James shook his head, more in bemusement than in refusal. "I suppose so. It seems strange that Jack Sparrow isn't here to gloat over the moment."

"Perhaps he'll find a way to join us one day," said Elizabeth lightly. "When he gets tired of skipping about these earthly seas."

Will turned to her, biting his lip. He didn't want to make her self-conscious of the effects of age, but - "Darling, you did remember the chest?"

"Here, sir," huffed the man who had gone down to the boat to fetch it up. The original chest was once again nested in another, which was full of memories. Will knelt down to open it, thumbing through the letters they had been unable to send, to and from each other and their family. He touched a new lock of dark, baby-fine hair.

"Oh, I'd forgotten," said Elizabeth, her hand on his shoulder. "Anna's child was born in October. They named him William, though they left off 'The Fifth' at my request."

He touched the lock to his lips before releasing it and working the smaller chest free. His own heart felt too heavy in his hands; he wondered that Elizabeth had borne the burden for so long.

James had already drawn the dagger, though he looked at the heart with some apprehension when Will handed it off to him. "This seems somewhat barbaric."

"It doesn't hurt," Will offered.

"You were as good as dead at the time, my love," Elizabeth reminded him.

"As am I," said James wryly, adjusting his grip on the dagger handle. "All right, into the boat with you both, I can handle it from here."

Will caught his eye. There was no need to voice his gratitude, though James accepted the unspoken words with a smile and shooed them off the ship.

After Elizabeth was handed down to him, Will was struck by sudden panic. "Wait," he said urgently, gripping her skirt. "What if it doesn't work? What if we're separated?" After all these years, if something were to go wrong -

"Will Turner," said Elizabeth, lacing her fingers through his, "you aren't going anywhere without me. Not this time."