after.midnight // v.naked
Title: When All Is Said and Done
Author: Tamara
Email: tamara@bitchenvy.com
Series: Sharing Will Turner
Rating: PG-13 -strictly for the angst.
Summary: Looking back, Will remembers how life used to be, and tries to forget how badly he wants it back.
Disclaimer: The characters you recognize belong to Disney. Isabelle and Johnathan belong to me.
Distribution: If you have the rest of the series, go right ahead. If you want it, let me know. Otherwise you can find it at my place.
A/N: This is the last part of this series. I'm posting it now because it just hit me and I wanted to get it out. This series started off really happy go lucky, but it ends on a sad note. Nothing I can do about it, I just write what the muse inspires. I plan on finishing up the parts I haven't finished yet, and I think there are four (that pesky part 2 being one of them) left. Although, I might do a piece from older Isabelle's POV about the sea and her father. Anyway, read and enjoy.

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He tries not to think about how different things are now, how much life has changed. Instead, he wakes up every morning and gets out of the bed, the floor solid and still beneath his feet. He washes up, dresses quickly, hurries out the door, comes back a moment later to kiss his wife, still sleeping and as beautiful as ever, goodbye. He remembers a time when they began each morning making love, their bodies moving together in time to the waves of the sea. He remembers a time when he woke up to two pairs of hands roaming the hard planes of his body, one soft and delicate despite their time at sea, the others rough and coarse, but no less wonderful.

He spends the first precious hours of his morning listening to the rhythm of hammer on steel, the crackle of the fire, the hiss of hot metal hitting cold water, and trying not to think about how the love he held for his wife faded into something less fiery, less passionate, less alive. Because there was a time when her touch made his blood hot with the need to touch her in return, to make her eyes darken with passion and listen to the sighs and moans she made as he pleasured her. Now all her touch does is make him miss what used to be.

When his work is done for the day, he closes the shop, the one thing he insisted on keeping, despite his new place in society. If he could not have what he wanted, sailing the days away on the Black Pearl, living the life his father had lived before him, a life he'd grown to love, then he would at least hold on to what he needed, the part of himself that he felt as strongly as the pirate that ran in his blood. Bound by land and by sea, it was impossible to satisfy his need for both. For giving into one meant abandoning the other.

The evening goes much the way it usually does, dinner with some of the citizens of the town, some of whom still cast him wary glances. Like him, they do not forget what he used to be, the life he led before becoming respectable. He takes part in conversation with an ease that still amazes him, smiles and laughs and pretends to be as happy as people think he should be. Blacksmith turned pirate, married the Governor's daughter, lives in a beautiful home, two lovely children, he should be grateful for all he has.

When the guests leave, he and Elizabeth retire upstairs. In their bedroom, he takes her in his arms, presses his lips to hers, and tells her he loves her. He helps her out of her dress, caresses the pale skin of her back, remembers when it was as golden as the setting sun. When she turns to him, asks him if something is wrong, he shakes his head, reassures her that he is fine. He has her and the children, a thriving business, a wonderful home. How can he not be happy? If she suspects he's lying, she doesn't say, but he notices the happiness in her eyes dims a bit, replaced by a sadness he recognizes from those early days. When he would look at the other little children of the town, with their loving mothers and doting fathers, and wonder what he had done to have his own taken away.

Later, when night falls and the household, almost always active as maids cleaned the rooms used during the day and the cooks made preparations for the next, settles down, they kiss Isabelle goodnight, smile tenderly when they look in on Johnathan and find him already sleeping atop the covers. They are the only things he doesn't regret, being there as they grew into playful, inquisitive, and intelligent children with an unquenchable thirst for adventure. And when he finds Isabelle staring out the window of her bedroom to the moonlit sea, he promises her that one day they will leave Port Royal behind and sail off on their own grand adventure.

"Like the one you had before you married Mama?" she asks, excitement in her tone, longing in her dark brown eyes. "Just you and me, out on the ocean, battling sea monsters and pirates so evil no one else would dare look them in the eye?"

He smiles and pulls her close, runs a hand down her hair, black as midnight with curls Elizabeth can never seem to tame. "Just like that one," he replies, hoping against hope that that day will come soon. "Just you and me."

Ten years ago he left behind the life he wanted, followed Elizabeth back to Port Royal, and settled down to be the husband her father had always wanted for her, the father he was to become. In Port Royal there is no deck beneath his feet, no salty sea air on his face, no sound of canvas flapping in the breeze. But worst of all, in Port Royal there is no Jack Sparrow, and, of all the things he misses from those days, that is perhaps the one thing he longs for the most.