Will Turner's Locker
You've got your father's eyes.
His earliest memory is of those words, of his mother's brimming eyes, the raw ache in her voice. He can't help but think that it both hurts and heals his mother's heart to look at him.
She found room in her heart for him. She had not thought she would, had not thought there was a place in the depths of her chest for anyone but Will. Elizabeth Turner had been fairly certain that her ability to love had sailed away with the Flying Dutchman ten years ago. She had been wrong, she realized in tender moments, when she ruffled young William's hair affectionately in the seabreeze and her son gazed up adoringly with her husband's eyes.
It's always belonged to you.
What does one do with a heart locked up in a chest? Elizabeth had kept it with her in the captain's quarters of her ship for two years after she said goodbye to its rightful owner. The gentle pulse lulled her to sleep at night and calmed any worries she might have about Will's safety. It kept her husband in her thoughts and her weather eye on the horizon, on the day ten years coming.
But during those two years, her anxiety about the backstabbing and selfish nature of pirates did not ease. Will's heart was safest with her, she firmly believed, but it was impossible to captain the ship, and preside over the Brethren Court, for that matter, which had become substantially more active since the whole ordeal, and baby sit the chest at the same time. No matter how much she had come to love pirates, she could not forget how little they could be trusted, even her own crew.
And so, leaving one-year-old William in the care of her first mate, she set sail on her own, so none would know the whereabouts. And that chest found its new home in the former holding of the cursed Aztec gold, where Barbossa had slit her palm and Will, dear Will, had saved her. Even if pirates or treasure seekers were to stumble upon the cove, she dared to believe they would not waste time or space on a rusted old chest they could not even open. As she left, she laid her lips upon the chilled metal, kissed Will's heart, and whispered a somber farewell, feeling somehow that she'd lost Will yet again. She had trouble sleeping for the remaining eight years, having grown accustomed to the constant, gentle drumming of her lover's heartbeat.
She would have felt significantly more uneasy about leaving Will's heart behind had Jack Sparrow not left her his magic compass before he, too, disappeared among the waves, no doubt wandering the sea and causing mayhem. He popped up in unexpected places from time to time, usually with some quick wit and charming smiles, but it was not the same life she had once led. She had lost the two most important men in her life, though she would be hard-pressed to admit it when it came to Jack. In Will, she had found a partner, a love, a passion, a bond that could last ten years, a lifetime if needed, an eternity and onward. In Jack, she had discovered a wildness, a resilience, a freedom that she had never realized she longed for, a kindred spirit that she might have fallen in love with had there been no Will Turner. She could have been Jack Sparrow, for all she knew, had she not grown up a Governor's daughter. She did not feel that her admiration of the savvy pirate was a slight to Will, for she never wavered in where her heart resided and it was in that chest, alongside his own. On certain days, she reflected on Will's connection with Jack, and how it was probably similar to hers, how he had seen something just as she had and it had pulled them both from the lives they had quietly led until that point. In retrospect, she might have never had the courage to admit she loved Will had it not been for Jack. And she might never have been brave enough to defy her father and his thoughts on Will's social status. She did not reflect on this very often, for she had learned that being in debt to Jack Sparrow was comparable to being in debt to the Devil.
Elizabeth stared with startling intensity upon each and every sunset, hoping for that flash of green light, for the spray of ocean water and the rise of the Dutchman, the discovery of some loophole that would bring Will back early. Young William learned the story of his father early on, reciting it proudly to other children he met. His tiny hand found its way into hers each evening, and he became just as enthralled by the sun's dizzying descent into the horizon.
Keep a weather eye on the horizon.
And so she did, part of her attention always, always focused on the faint division between sky and sea, even as part of her decided that that division was her undoing, the reason for the separation between her and Will.
As life neared the ending of the sentence, she retrieved the chest, slept with it in bed next to her, and did not allow it to leave her sight, one handing constantly resting on top of its weary surface. And then one morning, young William at her side, she took out the compass. Briefly, it swung towards the chest, as it always did, rendering it useless for her navigation needs, but then it began to circle around its center rapidly, spinning and spinning as if in confusion. Finally, it slowed, yet still swung back and forth hesitantly like a pendulum, the sun setting ominously in the background, her expression fierce as knives.
"William," she said, unsure of whether to laugh or cry, "it won't be long now."
And she patted the chest exuberantly, causing the pulse to skip a beat, and did a little bit of both, tears mingling with chuckles, as young William let out a loud yell of excitement and fixed his gaze forward.
And yet, somehow, the ensuing hours before Will's arrival tore at heart strings much more viciously than the past ten years had.
This will be a two parter, I think. I mean, I feel as if this piece can stand alone, if a little weakly, but I have more I want to get out.
Thanks for reading, as always, please review if you have anything to say
Linza