A/N: This takes place after At World's End, so you've been forewarned that this contains spoilers. I LOVED the third movie, more than either of its predecessors. And that's probably because I'm a huge fan of the Will/Elizabeth relationship. That being said, I feel like an absolutely idiot for not staying until the end of the credits last night and completely missing that last scene. In my defense, it was almost midnight by then and I had been fighting sleep off for most of the movie because I was so exhausted. So, this is my idea for a fourth movie, forget that scene at the end. Of course, it'll focus on the two characters I love most, so if you are a Sparrabeth fan, this isn't the fic for you. This one is more of an epilogue, leading up to the plot, so stick with me for now. I know it just seems like a lot of crying, but I can assure you there will be much more than that to this story. Hopefully, I won't disappoint. The title for the story and the title of this post both come from the song Hero by Enrique Iglesias. As always, please review if you are reading this, even if you don't care for it and think it absolutely sucks. It's always good to hear what people think. Thanks.
The first year was the hardest Elizabeth decided as she sat on the all too familiar expanse of beach, mulling over the last ten years of her life. Yes, that was definitely the worst one of all, especially the days that followed the sunset when she watched her husband leave her for what seemed like an eternity at the time. She would lay awake at night and go over all the possible ways she could end this state of depression and misery she had found herself so suddenly in. There was poison, slow and painful, mirroring the way her days felt for those first twelve months. A fall, resulting in a short and shocking death, too quickly to even know what she was doing or change her mind, just like when she had consented to Jack wrapping Will's limp hand around that knife aboard the Dutchman. A rope made of her own clothing and tied to her bed before she wrapped it around her own neck and then leaped as if to land on the floor would do the trick, faster than poison, but slower than a fall, a death that would seem tragic, just like her marriage. Or a knife through her heart, killing herself in the same way her love, Will Turner, had met his demise.
When she had returned to her home, people had been sympathetic towards her, but it wasn't because she had left Will so far behind for such a long time. Her father, the governor, had died and left no successor, with Elizabeth in Singapore at the time to no one's knowledge. A cousin she barely knew had taken over for the time being, but he was feeble-minded and fickle when it came to decision making. Before Elizabeth even knew what was happening, she had been named governess with the help of an advisor, Jonathon Greene.
For reasons unknown to even herself, he was the first person she told about her marriage, minus the ship full of pirates that had witnessed the actual event. Surprisingly, he was supportive of her and helped her make decisions dealing with that. The British weren't going to like it if their governess was married to a pirate, let alone the one who had replaced the Davy Jones. She was Elizabeth Turner only in the privacy of her bedchamber, still a part of the Swann legacy to everyone else she encountered. Jonathon would cover for her so she could still visit with Jack Sparrow and Captain Barbossa, but eventually even those few meetings ceased. It was too difficult to see those two living, breathing men right in front of her and know that her own love was gone. A man all three of them had cherished so dearly. And so, she lived in the confines of her quarters, meeting with people only when she had to, and having only Jonathon Greene as company.
The second year was easier and the third even easier still. Jonathon thought her to look as each day as another day closer to the day she would finally feel Will's lips against her own instead of seeing it as another day she must spend dreadfully alone. Each year became easier for her to get through, although she still kept to herself. And finally, in her thirty-second year, she was finally going to gaze upon Will Turner once again.
She didn't know it was possible to be so nervous until she had woken up a little bit before dawn that morning, finding the sky still pitch black. Instead of wearing her honey blonde hair piled on top of her head and a lavish gown like she wore so many other days, she opted this morning for a light, white dress with thin straps and just a thin layer underneath the sheer cotton and wore her hair down. She had made her way to the same beach she had last seen him ten years ago, she took refuge on the same rock, and she waited until she got her first glimpse of the golden rays that radiated from the east signaling his return to her.
It was then that her nerves got the best of her, her mind filled with questions she would never speak aloud. She played with her hair, pulled her knees up to her chest, and bit her bottom lip ever so slightly in the same manner a small child would. What if the Dutchman put a curse on all who sailed aboard? What if he didn't remember her? What if ten years apart had weakened his love for her? Or what if another woman on the ship had stolen his heart? Obviously, it could only be figuratively, she still held his heart, hiding it away for only her own eyes to see. But still… What if?
When she thought she truly would start to drive herself crazy, she caught the first glimpse of a broad sail, weathered and beaten by many battles at sea. It was then that she noticed the sun, a perfect half circle resting at the horizon, a golden crescent shape that made her heart beat faster and her breathing quicken. She tried not to get her hopes up, thinking that it could be another ship, but it wasn't long before she saw him on deck, she could never miss him. He hadn't changed at all, despite the fact that he was two years her senior, making him 34 now. She wondered if the Dutchman preserved youth, he was dead already, she remembered and immediately felt sick. Did immortality promise eternal youth in the small print? She didn't know.
She had so many questions for him as she stood up from where she had sat for so long, making her way to the shoreline and letting the cool water wash over her bare feet. But as he came her way, his face lighting up as soon as their eyes locked, she couldn't think a single thought. She couldn't say a single word. As he pulled her into his strong, masculine arms, she melted. As he whispered three small words in her ear, "I miss you…", a lump formed in her throat. And instead of responding and telling him that she had missed him as well, instead of asking him her millions of questions, instead of feeling his soft lips once again against her own, she cried. She buried her face into the soft material of his black shirt, and she cried like she had every night for 10 years, 120 months, 520 weeks, 3650 days, 5259488 minutes, 315569260 seconds. She let him hold her and let him try to sooth her. And despite the tears, the sobs, and the bittersweet day that lay ahead of them, she could honestly say she was happy.
"Oh, Will…" her voice broke the silence eventually, dripping with the lamentable feelings she was obviously experiencing. "I, I can't do this again… It's much too long a time to be away from you… And so much has happened…"
Will just gave her a small smile, placing a gentle finger to her lips as his other hand pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear before moving to slowly wipe away the tears that still lingered on her cheeks. His voice was soft, deep, and strong, exactly the way she remembered it. "Let's not worry about that now, Mrs. Turner… It's much too soon to dread an event that won't arrive for another 24 hours… We have to enjoy the time we do have."
Before she could speak again, argue and ask him how she could possibly think of anything else, he had pressed his lips to her own. It started as a soft, sweet, loving kiss that expressed the way he felt about her. His lips fit on hers like a glove, their feeling as familiar as a childhood toy. The kiss escalated as he moved one hand to her waist, tangling the other one in her luscious, long, beautiful hair. She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting him pull her so close that he could feel her heart beating in his chest. But she didn't feel the same feeling, there was no reciprocation. And despite the fact that he was here again, and she was in the middle of the most passionate kiss of her life, she had to choke back a sob.
- - - -
Will Turner stared out of the window of the lavish home his wife now occupied, took in the view that she saw every morning, and then back to her, tangled in the pure white sheets of her bed, and he had to look away just as fast. It was midday by now at least, the sun already waning towards the west, and they both knew exactly what it meant. He would have had to be a fool to miss the dark circles that had rimmed Elizabeth's eyes when she greeted him, and her body had finally given in to that strong exhaustion once they had made love. He had come here to talk to her, she to do the same, but being away from a person for so long only made you want them that much more. With a desire that strong, they were incapable of fighting it off, and he wasn't regretting their decision at all. He didn't resent her for having fallen asleep afterwards. He only wished that a day was longer than a mere 1440 minutes. Because in reality, it was nothing at all.
She moaned softly, this time not in a dreamy subconscious manner, and he turned to watch her eyes flutter open slowly. She smiled softly as their eyes locked, and he responded in the same way before turning to look out the window once again. She slid on his shirt, the only item of his clothing he hadn't put back on, before coming up behind him and wrapping her arms loosely around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder. He spoke in a whisper after a minute, his eyes still glued to the cobblestone streets beneath him. "You're in good hands, here with Jonathon…" She merely nodded, her arms wrapping tighter around his body. They both knew her response, being with Jonathon wasn't the same as being with him, but it wasn't spoken aloud. He hesitated a minute before speaking again, his voice slightly above a whisper, but wavering just slightly. "I've been talking to Jack…. From time to time, he'll have to do business with one of the men on my ship… He's trying to find the Fountain of Youth, and he says that Cascada, the maiden who has been cursed to forever guard the fountain, can restore a person to life…"
He had known that this wasn't going to go over so well, but when her arms fell away from him and he heard the bed creak as her weight landed on the edge, he turned around to find her face serious and her answer a no. She crossed her arms over her chest, and he had to fight not to smile, despite the circumstances. "Don't you think that Jack Sparrow has done enough for us? Don't forget he's the reason we were apart for so long, he really was the rift between us. And then he's the one who did this to you. He got you forever stuck on this damned ship, making us the ones to suffer for his wrongdoings."
Hearing the way she affronted his friend, his rebuttal was just as strong. "You cannot be serious, Elizabeth. Jack saved me, if it hadn't been for him, I really would be gone. He's the reason I can still come here."
"But he was the reason you were killed! He angered Davy Jones and he killed you!" Speaking the words aloud, her anger dissipated as she became the same broken, sobbing young woman she had been earlier.
Will sighed to himself as he sat down next to her, pulling her into his lap and rubbing her back soothingly as her breaths came in short gasps. He whispered softly in her ear in an attempt to calm her down, and once her sobs were quieter, he spoke. "I don't want to fight with you, not now when our time together is so limited. I just… I want you to think about it. It's risky, it might not work, but it's better than nothing. I can't stand to live like this, away from you for so long either, and I'm trying everything in my power to make it better. I want you to consider it as an option, okay?" Her small nod against his chest was all he needed to know.
- - - -
They sat in her bedroom for a long time before he spoke the words neither of them wanted to hear, saying that they needed to return to the beach. It was later than they expected when they returned, his father was already there waiting with the Dutchman. She held herself together as he kissed her one last time and promised to be back again in ten years. She watched until he was just a small speckle of black on the horizon, until he was gone completely, until night enveloped the land and the water, and her rock was half-submerged in the water. It was then that she finally left.
She felt empty when she entered her quiet quarters, Jonathon had already retired for the night, so she was all by herself. She changed out of her dress and into her nightgown, she turned out her lights, she turned down her covers, but she didn't get into the bed. Instead, she took the heavy iron chest and placed it on the floor below the window, letting the soft moonlight illuminate the room. Then, she pressed her ear to the cool, hard metal, listening for the sound of the heart within, the one true piece of her lover that she would never let herself lose. And as she sat there, trying to decide what was right and wrong, trying to decide if it was better to have loved than to never have loved at all, trying to decide if she and Will were meant to be or ill-fated, she let herself cry.