Unbreakable

Author: SouthamptonRose

Summary: Young Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann become best friends after she rescued him from the ocean. But after arriving in Port Royal, they are seperated for their differences. Will becomes the apprentice of the local blacksmith while Elizabeth is lectured about status and propriety. Their friendship is unbreakable though, but they have a hard time making others believe it. Pure random adorable W/E goodness!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, or any other characters mentioned in this story. They all belong to Jerry Bruckheimer and Disney. I can dream though. ;)

Elizabeth pushed one of her dark chocolate ringlets behind her ear. It had fallen loose from the large silk bow holding her hair together, and kept getting in her face. It instantly fell back though, shielding part of her vision. She sighed and coiled it around her finger as she sat perched on one of the many barrels strewn below decks. The feel of her hair was smooth and bouncy, but only because her handmaiden had spent a good three hours curling it to its full extent. She groaned, thinking back to those torturous hours of sitting nailed to a chair, unable to move without the risk of a slap to the wrist. She automatically rubbed her left wrist with her thumb, feeling the sensitive lines where she had in fact been slapped numerous times. It of course wasn't an act her father approved of, but he had been forced by the rules of discipline and propriety to allow this punishment on his daughter.

She continued to rub her wrist protectively. It wasn't that she was a terrible child; she just had a bit too much spirit in the eyes of what was proper. Perhaps her manners could be improved a bit, and she could try to listen to what instructions were given to her, for her head was constantly in the clouds. But she was a rather decent girl besides that. She did have a bit of a rebellious streak though, and found it most invigorating to ignore the rules set down upon her by her free will, but knew only too well what awaited her once she was stopped. Elizabeth tightened her grip on her wrist. A sharp slap and extra lessons. Neither of which was most fun. But even these acts were not enough to fully restrain her. She had too much unused energy, and simply no way to release it that wasn't unheard of in society's eyes.

Elizabeth noticed she was slumping forward as her thoughts trailed off and quickly pushed her shoulders back. She didn't believe in the rules of propriety or any of that utter nonsense, but one thing that she did pride herself in was her composure. She tried so desperately hard to have perfectly polished composure. And that she did. Her posture was amazing, and she knew exactly how to hold her head and tilt her chin. Sometimes guests at parties in London would comment her on it, making her beam. She was almost mocking them though, what with her prim manners and airy presence. She always had the hardest time keeping from bursting out in a mad rage of laughter. To her, noble life was all a big game. She was just putting on a show to strangers so as not to disappoint her father, but inside she honestly couldn't care less.

A sudden noise made her jump. She quickly glanced over to the far corner of the room, which she strongly suspected was the cargo hold, considering all the barrels and boxes piled throughout the large space. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and fixed on the shape of a boy lying down atop a mound of blankets. He hadn't moved in the past hour, but was now beginning to stir. He groaned and turned about restlessly on the blankets, muttering something inaudible. Elizabeth rose from the barrel she'd been sitting on and took a hesitant step towards him. Her father had instructed her to watch over him, but she was a little scared. He was some stranger that had, by chance, been rescued by her ship from the sea. He didn't look much older than herself, and he had seemed quite afraid when she had first spoken to him. But he had been in shock, and now that she was alone with him down below the decks where all the action was happening, it terrified her. It was awful quiet; she couldn't hear a thing besides her own deep breathing and the rustle of his blankets. Deciding to follow orders for once, she bit her lower lip and approached him slowly.

"Master Turner?" she asked uncertainly. "Master Turner, are you awake?" She crouched down beside him and waited. His eyes were closed, and she couldn't tell if he was asleep or not. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was drawn in an unpleasant frown. She wondered what he was dreaming about, assuming he was asleep. He suddenly thrashed around a bit, causing her to gasp with alarm and jump back. She watched with wide eyes for a minute, her chest rising and falling at a remarkable speed. He groaned and said something that she couldn't understand, then turned onto his side so that his back was facing her.

She whimpered silently and rose to her feet on shaky legs. She desperately wanted to run away and disappear to the decks above, but knew she would be sent down again. She was a distraction to the crew and only got in their way. But she was feeling awful lonely down here, and it was dark. She didn't like the dark. Outside it wasn't exactly bright and sunny, but it was still light.

She was about to walk to the stairs leading above decks when she heard the boy again. Only this time, he seemed to be awake. He addressed her and then paused, waiting for a response. When she didn't answer, he tried again. "Miss?"

Elizabeth turned around to look at him. He was sitting up now, and his eyes were fastened on her. They were large and wide. He looked afraid.

Silently, she walked over to him. Stopping near his side, she crouched down again, balancing on her haunches. Seeing that he looked so terrified made her feel better. She released the deep breath she'd been holding and replied, "Yes?"

He looked up into her face and bit his lower lip. "Are you an angel?"

She smiled, trying to hold in her laughter for his sake. "No, I do not believe so." She paused. "If I am, it is truly a wonder how I earned my halo."

His face relaxed a bit and he smiled. "Then why were you glowing earlier?"

"Glowing?" She paused. "You mean when we first met? Above decks?"

"Above decks?" He looked confused.

"Yes," she said, nodding.

His face tensed again as he looked around the room wildly. "Where am I?" he almost yelled. "What happened?" He bit his lip again and looked at her anxiously.

"Shh…calm down," she whispered. She reached forward and gently laid her hand on his. "You are on the Dauntless, a ship of the Royal Navy. We're headed to Port Royal, Jamaica, and as we were passing by we came across your shipwreck."

"Shipwreck?" His eyes widened.

"Yes, you may not remember, but your ship was destroyed. We – I mean I, discovered you floating on a piece of debris. We think you were the only survivor." Her voice lowered considerably at the last sentence. "I'm so sorry."

He turned his head and stared at the wall straight ahead. "Only survivor?"

"Yes, but I can't be sure," she said quickly. "I was sent down here to watch you. I don't have any further information. My father might though."

"You're father?" he asked distractedly.

"Mmm hmmm," she said, nodding.

He continued staring at the wall, avoiding her gaze. "I was looking for my father when our ship was attacked." He paused. "Yes, now I remember. We were attacked, but I don't know by what or who. I just remember thinking that I had to find my father."

"Oh," she said softly, lowering her gaze to her hand, which was still laid atop his. "I'm so sorry. I can go ask if there's any news of him."

"No," he said quickly, before she could move. He finally turned and looked at her, although she was now avoiding his gaze. "My father wasn't on that ship."

She raised her head and looked into his eyes. "Pardon?"

He shook his head. "I have not seen my father in near ten years. He just disappeared one day, and my mother didn't know why, or at least she didn't tell me." He looked away again. "She died a few weeks ago, and she was the only family I had." He stopped and swallowed hard, and Elizabeth knew how hard it must be for him to speak of his loss. She knew exactly how it felt.

"You don't have to tell me this," she started, but was abruptly cut off.

"No, I need to tell someone," he said firmly. He looked into her eyes pleadingly. "Will you please be that someone; at least for now?"

She nodded. "Yes, of course." He smiled slightly and she returned it. "Continue when you're ready."

"I'm ready."

She nodded, waiting.

He took a deep breath. "After she died, I knew I had to do something. I knew I couldn't stay in England. I decided I wanted to try to find my father. It was a rather rash and foolish idea, for I had no idea where he was, or even if he was still alive. But I had to try." He stopped again, but only briefly. "The landlord that owned our house was kind enough to help me sell some of my mother's things. Once I had enough money, I bought a ticket on the first ship out of England I could find." He paused, then surprisingly laughed a bit. "I didn't even know where we were headed; all I knew was that it was a new place that I could search." He stopped once more, and looked away. "But we never made it. I was down in the lofts when I heard cannon shots. I ran up to the deck and remember seeing the mast collapse. I heard another cannon, and that was it." He looked back at her. "When I opened my eyes, I saw you. The light from the hazy sky was making you glow, and I was so afraid you were an angel and I had died."

She smiled. "Yes, well I can assure you that you are certainly not dead, Master Turner, for I know I am not."

He smiled. "Forgive me, I have such terrible remembrance, but what is your name again?"

"Swann. Elizabeth Swann."

"Swann." He paused and nodded. "What a beautiful name."

She blushed slightly and looked down. "Yours is quite dashing as well, Master Turner." She paused. "I should think it to be a very strong name."

"Yes, well it is not a name I pride myself in," he said a little sharply. "My father left us. Just left us without warning or reason. It killed my mother. I used to hear her cry for hours late into the night." He sighed. "I would much rather have her name as my own."

"What was hers?"

"Larken," he said with admiration. "Anne Larken."

She nodded, allowing the name to flood her mind. "It's very pretty."

He smiled. "Yes, I think so too." He paused, and if she had been watching him she could tell he was quite hesitant in saying something. After a few minutes, he finally asked, "What was your mother's name?"

Her head shot up and her eyes widened. "What?"

He looked suddenly flustered, knowing that perhaps what he had asked wasn't proper. He had presumed, though it appeared from her face that he had been right. But now he felt quite awkward and suddenly the room seemed too small. "Um….well…I didn't mean….I mean I didn't know…."

"Stop," she said, putting her hand over his mouth. "It's alright. I'm sorry if I scared you…I was just a little surprised." She removed her hand and he sighed in relief. She smiled slightly. "How did you know my mother was dead?"

"I didn't," he said quickly, feeling rather foolish. "I just presumed it because you only spoke of your father. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have."

She shook her head. "It's fine." She looked away. "It was a long time ago. I barely remember her." She sighed. "I was six. My father sat me down on his bed on night and told me Mum wasn't coming home. I didn't quite understand, I thought he meant that she had just gone away. But then he told me that she'd been killed on her way home from my aunt's house." She looked back at him. "I saw him cry for the first time that night. He's never been the same since." She paused. "I think part of the reason he took the position of governor of Port Royal so quickly was to get away. I just don't think he can stand living in England anymore, in the house that she grew up in. It's a miracle he's lasted these six years."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry." He felt her squeeze his hand slightly. He opened his eyes again and looked into her face. She was smiling, but it was a sad smile.

"It's alright," she said softly. "It seems we both have gone through the same thing. But I feel you carry a much heavier burden. You have to find you father, whereas mine is only a few feet above us. I'm the one that should be sorry."

He shook his head and looked down. "No, you shouldn't." He sighed. "I don't know if I actually do want to find him. I don't know if I can face him." He paused. "I'd probably do something terribly foolish. I am known for not being the brightest when anger or despair clouds my common thinking." He looked up at her again. "Perhaps I should just leave it alone and move on. As I said, it was rather rash and foolish thinking to leave England." He smirked. "Just look what became of that." He shook his head. "The ship is gone, along with the crew. And I'm a hundred miles from the only place I know."

Elizabeth frowned. "I know you told me not to be, but I am still sorry."

He smirked. "I bet you're starting to wish you had left me in the ocean." He laughed. "I honestly couldn't blame you if you had."

She gasped. "No, I would most certainly never have left you, and I don't regret rescuing you at all! How could you say such a thing?"

He shrugged. Then he looked at her closely, making her blush slightly. "Are you sure you're not an angel. You certainly have the personality for it."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think so?" When he nodded, she laughed. "Well Master Turner, thank you very much, but you've not known me for an hour. I would wait a little longer before I made assumptions."

"I'm positive nothing you can say or do can or will change my mind," he said, his earlier shyness beginning to melt away.

"I would not count on it," she said with a grin. "On the contrary, I'm quite the opposite. I'm a troublesome little devil to be sure, or at least that's what my father thinks." She laughed. "All he wanted was a proper little lady, and he got stuck with me instead. I pity him greatly."

"Well I think you quite proper," he said in a tone that she couldn't decide was serious or mocking.

"Do you now?" she asked.

He nodded. "Indeed. Your manners are nearly perfect, and you're composure is utterly graceful. How do you manage such posture?"

She smiled, knowing now that he was quite serious. It seemed his moods could be easily changed. "I've been practicing. For over ten years," she replied proudly. "I pride myself with the best carriage known to England." She paused. "Or at least the parts of England that I know." When he laughed, she straightened her back even further. "No, it's true. I've received many a compliment on it in the past." She pirouetted quickly and curtsied for him.

He clapped. "Well Miss Swann, then I shall wish to add my compliments you collection. You certainly do have wonderful carriage."

She smiled. "Thank you. I would tell you the same, but I have yet to see you on your feet."

"That can easily be changed." Taking her hint, he used his hands to push himself up. He was a little unsteady and swayed about a bit, but still managed to hold a moderately decent composure. Nowhere near hers, but still acceptable.

She opened her mouth to say something, but quickly closed it as he became more and more unsteady. Her eyes widened a bit, and she moved to help him, but not quite fast enough. He collapsed to the ground, every bit as unconscious as when she had first laid eyes on him. Her mouth dropped open, and she let out a shrill scream. Instantly, loud footsteps were heard from above, moving quickly as they hurried to see what had happened to the governor's daughter, and her mysterious new friend.

(A/N:) Yay! I finally managed to post something on my account. Lol. For the longest time I was having some random problem with my laptop where it wouldn't let me post anything!!! I've actually had this story forever, but couldn't get it up. I'll post the next chapter in a few days or something...maybe tomorrow if I feel like it. ;) Hope you like it. Please review!