Disclaimer: I don't own POTC; all belongs to Elliott, Rossio...
Warning: slash, angst/depression, character death
Summary: "Will you wait for me forever?"
A/N: I was listening to the song "Forever" by Stratovarius last night and this one hit me all of a sudden. AU, and I had the idea that if one drinks from the Fountain, then one becomes like an elf; you can't die unless someone kills you or you kill yourself. Tragic, I know.
"Will you wait for me forever?"
At the time it had been such a simple question, such a rewarding request. Jack did not hesitate whatsoever to answer with a "yes." After all, he had wanted to pursue the Fountain of Youth in order to be able to sail the seas for eternity anyway. It could not possibly feel like ten years before he could reunite with Will for one day.
They never looked any different within the time that had passed. It was like they were each suspended in a single moment till the end of the world; never moving forward, never moving back.
A location was agreed upon for their one-day rendezvous. It was a small island several miles from the coast of Jamaica. There was merely a handful of inhabitants, leaving them to be assured tranquility and no disruptions as they confined themselves to the cozy, tiny house Jack now called their home; at least for twenty-four hours.
He was going on the fifth decade of their affair and he had never been so alone. The Golden Age of Piracy had closed its book with nothing more to be written. He attempted to persevere, but retiring finally won out. The waters he had cherished for his entire life were just another sign of what he could not attain. They kept his last love far from his reach.
Will did not understand, nor noticed the slow deterioration encasing Jack's being. Every time they met nowadays, Will was the same, however Jack had aged; not in looks, but from the weight of burden. His reason for living had become nothing more than awaiting Will's return – the green flash of light on the horizon; instead of experiencing sheer delight, he felt empty. A void had formed that not even Will could mend.
He would always wear a smile, though he may not be wearing anything else, and would provide Will with pleasurable release inside him for however many times the Dutchman's captain wanted.
Will never knew of the instances in which Jack wept miserably beside him while he slept.
This was not the way Jack wished things to be.
"Lord, I've missed you, Jack," Will always greeted affectionately before kissing the former commander of the Black Pearl tenderly.
"You have no idea," Jack responded with a forced, cheerful tone that Will never heard.
He willingly allowed his lover to sweep him up into strong arms and carry him to their rickety bed. It was simply a procedure that Jack had learned well: slip off Will's shirt then trousers and let his own clothing be ripped off in turn. He lay under Will no longer as an equal, but a body without emotion or a face only to be used; or so he felt.
They took short periods to rest before Will penetrated him again. Jack did not feel like counting the many times Will claimed him that particular day.
As the evening faded into night, Will lay down beside Jack and cradled the man in his arms, occasionally kissing his head gently.
"I love you, Jack."
"I love you too, darlin'."
Once Will had fallen asleep, Jack turned to rest on his side with his back facing the other male. He shattered into tears.
Ten years progressed leisurely, finding Will making his way along the path to the small house. When he entered, no one was there. Frantically, he called out Jack's name, searched the surrounding area, yet there was no trace of him anywhere.
"Are you looking for ta man with beaded hair, red bandana?"
Will whipped around to discover a short, old woman behind him.
"Yes, I am. Do you have an idea of where he is?"
"You don't know?"
"Come with me. I show you."
Trepidation filled each one of his footsteps as he lingered after her. She led him to a peaceful grove encompassed by blossoming trees. It would have been beautiful in his eyes if it had not been for the wooden crosses adorning the lush, green ground.
"Oh god, no," he whispered as a knot formed in his throat.
She went to the grave farthest left from where they had entered and pointed. "Him here."
Will fell to his knees and gazed at the carved gravestone.
"We hear gunshot," the lady said plainly. "We found him lying in blood. Shot himself in ta head."
He could not withhold his grieving anymore. He began to cry unbearably and placed his hand atop the mounded dirt.
"Damn you, Jack! I'm sorry. Please, I…..I'm sorry."
As another decade swept by, Will refused to go ashore with his crew. He had no other purpose to serve other than his duty to Calypso. He could no longer be Jack's lover, nor could he be his friend. There was nothing for him. His reason for being now existed solely on those who died at sea.
The aching abyss Jack had known in the last years of his life became hauntingly present within Will. Forever.