Название: Дождь (Rain)
Автор: Alley (то есть я  8-) )
Жанр: Ангст, Ромэнц
Период: 5 лет после ПКМ 3, AU
Пейринги: Уил/Лиз, Джек/Лиз, Уил/OC
Рэйтинг: PG
Саммари: AU. Спустя пять лет после того, как Лиз выбирает Джека и расстается с Уилом, она возвращается в Port Royal и свидетельствует сцену, которая заставляет её задуматься над правильностью своего выбора.
Примечание Автора: Фик был написан до того как вышел ПКМ 3.

Кстати, если кто захочет перевести, я буду только рада. Сама перевести прилично пожалуй не смогу.




Rain

Port Royal was drenched with rain that night, just as it had been five years ago when Elizabeth had seen it last. The rain drops drummed against the roofs of houses, the narrow streets, and the wooden docks. Elizabeth had not wanted to come back here, this place so infested with memories of a past she could never return to, a life she had ruthlessly left behind. She had begged Jack to not make port here but he had insisted that they were in desperate need of provision and supplies. They wouldn't stay for long, re-stock and leave.

Elizabeth watched from deck as the Pearl made her way closer to shore, ignoring the rain that soaked her clothes and made her shiver. There was a heaviness in her chest that she couldn't shake off. The memories were too strong, too vividly imprinted in her mind. She still remember it all: the warmth of the smithy, the smoldering fire, slowly burning itself down to ashes, the contrasting cold and rain outside, the splashing and gurgling of water, the salty smell of the sea, and through it all the look in his eyes. The empty, drained look - he had finally given up.

"I want you to be happy, you know that."

"Maybe I should stay. Oh, Will, I know I should stay, but… Would you hate me if I left?"

He looked at her quietly for a moment, took a step toward her and then flinched away as though being too close to her burned him. He turned away from her, facing the fire. "No."

"Will-"

"Leave."

"What?"

"Please, leave."

"Will, if you'd let me explain…" She trailed off, unsure as to what exactly she was going to say. What could she say? Was there anything to be said at all? "Will?" she probed, her heart beating in her ears, some part of her wishing he would say something, force her to stay. But Will didn't say anything. He gave no sign to having heard her, to even the mere fact of her presence. It was pride that flared up in her at that moment. How dare he ignore her? "Fine! Be this way. I had wanted to part on good terms but you obviously do not seem to be so inclined. I suppose that I made the right choice after all." It was a cheep shot, a flare of mindless indignation. She stalked toward the door.

"Good night, Miss Swann." Will's quite tone was painfully flat.

She let out a frustrated huff and barged out the door into the rain. She ran to the docks. To Jack.

Elizabeth stepped out onto the docks from the longboat, Jack and the several members of the crew they had brought with them following behind. The shadows of the port swallowed her. It was practically deserted at this late hour. It was possibly because of this that she had noticed the lone figure standing not too far away - a young girl with her brown hair, soaked by rain, freed from the usual clips and streaming down her back. Her plain but elegant dress was plastered to her fair skin, the voluminous skirts drooping. She was staring out to sea, deep in though. Elizabeth could tell she was waiting for something or someone.

"Miss Cross!"

Elizabeth jumped at the voice behind her. She turned to see a male figure jogging toward the docks. Elizabeth backed away further into the shadows. The voice was unmistakable. As well as the young man coming their way - the soft cultured tone, the outline of his figure, the bright eyes that were distinguishable even in the dark of night.

Will Turner.

The young girl at the docks turned slowly toward him and beamed with recognition. "Will! I didn't expect to see you here tonight. Not in this dreadful weather."

She's lying, Elizabeth realized, watching how the girl eyed Will with playfully innocent eyes. She knew because she had used this same trick herself once upon a time.

"Dreadful indeed," Will agreed. "Lauren, you really shouldn't be out in the rain. God knows we don't want you ill."

Lauren Cross? Why I know her! Elizabeth thought with dismay. She had been a seamstress apprentice. Her shop was not too far from Will's smithy. As a young girl Elizabeth would often watch Will walking the girl home, tears in her eyes as she wondered if maybe Will fancied Lauren over herself.

"Lizzie, luv, step lively now. We want to be sailing out by daybreak."

Elizabeth didn't need to turn to know Jack was behind her. She shivered involuntarily. "I'm cold, Jack," she whispered.

"Oh…" Elizabeth could hear him fumbling around behind her. "Ah! Here, have some rum, luv." A cold, half empty, bottle of rum was pushed into her hands. "It'll warm ya right up." And then he was gone.

Elizabeth squeezed the cold bottle in her trembling hands, not finding it in herself to drink from it. She watched from the shadows as Will took his coat off and placed it over Lauren's slim frame.

"Come, lets take you somewhere out of the rain," Will was saying softly, offering his arm to the girl.

Lauren clutched Will's coat around her with one hand and linked arms with Will with the other. They started walking away from the docks, toward the smithy. The girl successfully tripped over Will's coat, which was slightly too long for her, or maybe it was her own droopy skirts. Will caught her before she could fall.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes, quite slippery isn't it?" Lauren replied softly, looking up at Will with eyes partially veiled by long dark lashes.

"And so it is," Will agreed, using the excuse to place his arm around the girl's waist in order to "support" her.

Elizabeth watched them disappear into the shadows. She looked down at the bottle of rum in her hands. She lifted it up to her lips and took a long, deep drink. The liquid burned down her throat and she indulged the sensation.

Her hands, shivering and wet, couldn't get a firm grip on the large, smooth bottle and it slipped, crashing to the ground and breaking into hundreds of peaces. The rum mixed with the mud and rainwater, running down the street in dark rivulets that had the disturbing appearance of blood.

Jack wouldn't be happy. He didn't like it when rum was "wasted." Hell, he hated it.

Elizabeth looked up and stared longingly at the corner which hid Lauren and Will from her sight. A strange feeling rose up in her. A feeling that she hadn't had since she was a young girl, watching Will walk Lauren home. A feeling which she never expected to feel again since the night she ran off with Jack.

A cold gust of wind blew through her hair and Elizabeth hugged herself to ward off the cold. What she wouldn't give for a coat around her shoulders and an arm around her waist. She shook her head, as though the motion would take away her feelings and turning away from the docks headed in the general direction that Jack had gone.

There was no room for regrets. After all isn't this what she had wanted, had chosen?

The burning of a pirate's rum over the soft warmth of a gentleman's coat.

Отредактировано Alley (2008-08-05 18:04:47)