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Laughter

by Kellenanne
February 11, 2004

Will always thought that Elizabeth's laughter was a balm to the soul, a tinkling melody that chased away all that was wrong.

In this case, the laughter was what was wrong.

She stood, hand in front of her mouth, trying her hardest not to let her mirth show. But Elizabeth was a woman whose emotions always had an outlet. She rarely hid how she felt; in fact, was terrible at hiding her truest feelings.

Will loved that about her up until a few minutes ago, when her laughter bubbled up.

He picked himself up off the floor with a gracelessness that was not at all usual for him. He waved smoke away, noting the odd futility of the gesture. There was so much smoke in the workroom that whatever he managed to wave away from his nose and mouth was immediately replaced by even more acrid smoke. He coughed, feeling foolish and childish and altogether unworthy.

Well, at least the fire was out, and that meant he still had a smithy to work in.

"Are you all right?" The question came amidst breathless giggles, which, to Will, somehow lessened the concern that might have prompted the words.

He ran a hand through sweat-soaked, tousled brown hair before stiffly bowing to his lady. Stiff, because it was all he could manage at the moment, what with the
bruising forming because of the bloody mule. A creaking caught his attention. The bloody mule was still plodding in its circle, working the gears. Will leveled a glare at the animal and ultimately decided not to do anything about it. That's what caused this mess in the first place.

He'd come in, saw the mule trotting -- which was eerily reminiscent of earlier days, days when he'd first come to meet a pirate captain without a ship and with a penchant for madness -- tried to stop the bloody thing and ended up nearly setting J. Brown's smithy on fire.

Will turned his gaze on the aformentioned smith, to find Mr. J. Brown still in a drunken stupor. He knew he really shouldn't be surprised that the racket -- tools dropping, swords clanging, a fire and the efforts to put said fire out -- didn't wake the rotund, balding man, but he couldn't help the disbelieving look.

Elizabeth stepped into his line of sight, waving her hand. "Hello? Will? Are you here?"

"Unfortunately, yes," was the sardonic answer. "Are you - "

"I'm fine. I wasn't here for the excitement, apparently."

Will smiled a mirthless smile. "I was asking if you were going to just stand there and laugh."

The back of her hand caught his shoulder as she turned. "What happened?"

"Nothing much."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Nothing much? Well, that certainly explains the smoke and the mess." She paused, watching him stoop to pick up a hammer. "And the limp. Again, I ask..."

"I'm fine, Elizabeth. Really."

She gave him a look that spoke volumes. Will winced, but ultimately decided to ignore it. "I very nearly burned down the smithy," he said, answering the first question. He gestured vaguely. "The bloody creature was being stupid and I tried to stop the fool thing, and ended up trampled, which led to being quite damned dizzy, which is not good in a room full of tools, swords and fire and it just didn't end well, now did it?"

Elizabeth gave him an amused smile before crossing the smithy to calm the animal. "He didn't mean it, dear one," she whispered to it. She stood, one hand caressing the animal's ears, and faced Will.

"Oh, I meant it."

The mule brayed.

"Stupid ass," Will sneered.

Elizabeth couldn't help it; she giggled. As Will snapped his gaze to her, she tried to smother her amusement, which only amused her further. She clapped her hand to her mouth, as if to hold in the mirth. Before long, she was giggling helplessly, leaning on the haunch of the animal with tears streaming down her face. Will merely stared at her, amazed at her capacity to find humor in almost any situation. He was almost afraid to break in with any comment or question, lest it set off another fit of laughter.

Soon, only the sound of ragged breathing and the occasional soft giggle permeated the workroom. Will raised an eyebrow at Elizabeth and turned to check on Brown. The man -- if indeed he warranted the title -- snorted in his sleep, shifting and nearly losing the tenuous grip he had on the dusty liquor bottle. Will shook his head, and turned to start cleaning up.

"Will?" Elizabeth's voice was breathless. She stepped closer to him, heedless of the smoke and soot billowing in the air. "What can I do?"

Will's frustration and disgust welled up and for one awful moment he teetered on the edge of being short with her. He closed his eyes; he was never short with her. Was rarely snappish with anyone, for that matter. Oh, there were times -- Commodore Norrington could certainly attest to that, but this... There were no lives at stake, nothing to be gained or lost, and Will bit back his first response to simply tell her to leave. "It's all right, Elizabeth. I can take care of all this."

Elizabeth stood still for a moment, her bottom lip firmly ensconced between her teeth. "Do you want me to leave?"

Will dropped the hammer in his hand, and swiftly turned to face her. "No," he said quickly.

Too quickly, in Elizabeth's mind. With a small, apologetic smile, she started to slip out the door.

Will's mouthed moved soundlessly before he managed a word. "Wait."

She turned.

He motioned her down into the smithy once again. He tried to speak, she could tell that much, but no sound was forthcoming. Elizabeth offered a small smile. "What, Will?"

Will shrugged, frustration again clamping down any attempt to speak.

"I overstepped my bounds, did I?"

There was silence for a time again, and Elizabeth began to wonder if somewhere between the smoke and the fire, Will had lost all ability to speak. "Not really," he finally said. "It's probably quite funny indeed."

At this Elizabeth frowned. She started to apologize, but Will cut her off.

"Don't." He smiled at her. It was a tired smile, but genuine nonetheless. "There are many reasons I love you; one of them is your amazing ability to find humor almost anywhere."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "So, it's all right I laughed?"

"More than all right."

"And you do not want me to leave."

"Please don't." Will paused. "Though, for reasons of smoke irritation and the smell of soot, I would understand if you wished to leave anyway."

Elizabeth seemed to pause to consider. "What if I just opened the door?"

Will nodded, a smile -- one not tainted by weariness or frustration -- spreading across his features.

"So, again," she said, "I ask, what can I do?"

Will shrugged. "Just stay and talk is all I ask."

Elizabeth ignored the order and bent to pick up a poker. As she straightened, she caught sight of Brown. She cast a calculating gaze upon him, then at the poker, then back onto Brown. "Do you suppose," she asked, "he would wake up if I --"

Will stepped in with a quick no. He took the poker from her grasp. "Voice of experience," he said. "Trust me; he would not wake up."

"Don't tell me you have tried."

Will blinked and merely found a place to hang the poker.

She laughed. "What about one of these marvelous swords?"

"That doesn't work either," was the nonchalant reply.

Elizabeth clapped her hand to her mouth, vainly trying to stifle her giggles. This time, when she laughed, Will laughed with her.

The End

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