I've been meaning to write a modern POTC story for ages now… and I looked at my messy room and thought of a really good opening for a story, I don't know, a book or whatever. And then I decided that this could be the beginning of my long hoped for (by myself, anyway) modern fic about Will and Elizabeth. So… here I go!
I own nothing. 'Cept for plot. Which someone else probably thought of before me. But I am not plagiarizing! NOT, I TELL YOU!!
Questions Without Answers
Elizabeth looked around the room, slowly taking in everything about it. Everything was exactly as she had left it. It felt strange to see the books stacked and the papers disturbed as though she had just left the room two minutes before, because time had passed, bringing inevitable change along with it. The sight of this room made her want to go back to the way it had been, and stop there to think.
The shadow of why she had left was there: the clothes strewn about, drawers open, necessities gone- all evidence of hasty packing and goodbye forever. The things normal people couldn't see, he would have been able to sense anyway: loud, messy tears, pounding on pillows- things that weren't visible to the untrained eye. But he knew her well enough. And she had completely misjudged him and ruined his- and her- life in a single moment of rash action.
The reason she had left was lying on the untidy dresser. She picked it up. Blotches had smeared the face of the girl, just as time had, but his face was crystal clear in her eyes and memory. An old childhood friend kissing him on the cheek in a more-than-friendly way. But he didn't see the way her lips were touching his face… until later. Once she was gone. No note. No message. Just the picture, lying there, next to her ring. She was gone. And now, he was gone, without a trace, and she didn't know if she'd ever see him again.
A message on her cell phone had told her that she had things in the old apartment- and she had to come and pick it up or it would be thrown away. It had not been left by Will, or else she would have come here faster, in hopes of meeting him and trying to make things right.
A single tear rolled off her cheek and hit the floor, which was free of dust- which told her that he came in here often, before he left. A layer of dust on everything else told him he had neither touched nor disturbed anything. Except the picture. The picture was clean, too.
She looked up at the ceiling, willing herself not to cry, and at the same time, hoping he'd come. But why would he come? She'd messed up stuff enough. He wouldn't want to see her again. He wouldn't want to have old, painful memories renewed. And neither did she. So why did she feel the need to make it right? Wasn't it easier like this? Why couldn't she just get over it and get on with her life?
She couldn't answer a single one. All she could do was do what she had come to do- gather her things or get rid of them. In a fierce determination to be strong, she picked it all up and one by one, threw it into the trash, which she'd take downstairs. With each thing she lifted, another memory came over her. Will was implanted in everything she had owned. When she came to the picture, she ripped it in half and put the side with Will smiling up at her into her pocket, while ruthlessly throwing away the other piece.
The only other thing she took was a bright orange skirt that had been her favorite before she left. She hadn't taken it when she did leave because it had too many memories. He had asked her out for the first time in that skirt… he had kissed her for the first time in that skirt… she had worn it on all of their anniversaries… he had asked her to marry him in that skirt. Telling herself that she just wanted it because she thought it was pretty, she kept it, and, picking up the bulging trash bag, she left.
At the door, she lingered for a while. This was the last thing that she and Will had in common, the one thing that still held them together. By leaving the place, she would never see him again. Then, she pulled herself together. She stood taller. She took one step away. Finding it surprisingly easy, she took another. And another. She looked back at the retreating door, and thought, I'd be waiting around forever. She dumped the trash down the chute, and, gripping the skirt tightly in one hand, pressed the button for the elevator with the other.
Okay. There you have it. Hopefully nobody hated it. There wasn't really any plot, I just wanted to set the stage for you guys. So… review!