Chapter 1: True Loss
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The night, William Turner reflected, was incredibly bright and clear. The full moon reflected on the ocean, creating a silver trail out of Port Royal and into the endless horizon. Several ships could be seen on the horizon itself; Navy vessels, merchant ships, possibly a pirate ship or two. Maybe even the Black Pearl.
His thoughts turned to its enigmatic captain, Jack Sparrow. He had not been seen in Port Royal since his last encounter with the gallows over two years ago. But he had been there; always in the dead of night, and always bearing gifts and fineries that were most likely obtained by less than lawful means; he usually also required Will's services several times – in the form of crafted swords and repaired cannons.
A sharp moan of pain reached Will's ears from inside the Governor's house, drawing Will's attention back to the present. Inside the spectacular mansion, Elizabeth was giving birth to their first child, after two years of marriage. Governor Swann still disapproved of Will and resented Elizabeth's decision to marry beneath her status, but he was never a man to deny his daughter anything. He had hired the best medical service to be had in the Caribbean for his beloved daughter, despite his less than friendly feelings towards her husband.
Will had protested that he wanted to stay with his wife, but resistance was futile. The midwife had bodily thrown him from the room and shut the door behind him rather forcefully. Instead of staying inside the hall with the impatient and pacing Governor, Will took to the gardens and the sheer cliffs that dropped to the swirling sea below. He listened to the sounds from the house and tried to piece together what was happening inside. He knew little of childbirth, but he could tell that it was incredibly painful for Elizabeth; it tore at his heart that he couldn't be there with her.
He had been outside for hours when the noise finally stopped. He made his way back into the house, where he found the grim face of the midwife carrying a small bundle wrapped in white linen.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Turner," she said softly, without meeting his eye. The evasiveness of the look told him everything that he needed to know. He turned and fled up the stairs to Elizabeth's room, ignoring his father-in-law, who was still pacing the small in the small hallway outside. He guessed that Elizabeth would have wanted to see him first.
Halting in front of the door, Will pushed it open, and the sight that met his eye made his heart clench. In the center of the large bed lay Elizabeth, sheets drawn up to her chest. Her wavy brown hair was pooled about her shoulders in a damp and tangled mass, and her hands were draped limply across her stomach. When she saw Will, a single tear dripped from the corner of her eye, drifted without purpose across her cheekbone and found solace in the tangled mass of her hair.
Will walked over to her side and took her hand, using his other to smooth away the tear track.
"We had a son, Will," she said softly to the sheets pooled under her hands. It seemed to Will that she was unable to meet his eyes.
"I know, Elizabeth," he responded, caressing her forehead again, calling her eyes to his. "It breaks my heart, but at least I still have you. I love you."
"I love you, my pirate." She said breathed, closing her eyes. Will leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. He pulled a chair over next to the bed, and sat down, taking her hand once again in his. He sat awake for several hours, watching the ships still visible out at sea. Gradually, he drifted to sleep as the moon sank below the horizon, erasing its previously glorious trail.
Several hours later, he woke suddenly. Sunlight was streaming through the window, and it seemed as though it would be a beautiful day. As thought returned to his mind, he remembered what happened the night before, and the apparently good weather and warm sun was lost on Will. Stretching his cramped neck, he reached out to smooth down Elizabeth's hair. Halfway through the gesture, he stopped, and sank to his knees beside the bed. Her forehead was icy cold. Taking her other hand, he found the same thing. Placing his free hand over her mouth and nose, he felt no breathing.
Too wracked with grief to do anything, he simply sat there, cupping her one cold hand in his two warm ones as if to transfer his warmth and life to her. The tears refused to come, and it was more painful than if they had been flowing freely.
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Later that morning morning, the sun continued its journey and begat the foretold beautiful day. But the first strong rays to invade the governor's mansion fell on someone unappreciative of their beauty and warmth. Grieving over the death of his wife and newborn son, William turner had not stirred position since he had woken during the dawn. When Estella entered to wake her mistress, she found him there, still clutching Elizabeth's cold hand. She quietly left the room and ran to find the Governor.
As soon as he entered, Will rose and left without a second glance. He started towards the smithy, but stopped halfway there. It seemed so futile to go back to work so soon after loosing his wife. Nevertheless, he continued his journey. There were several orders to be completed, and the rhythmic pounding of the hammers and the heat of the forge would warm him; make him forget.
Several hours later, he realized that it was a lost cause. He felt no heat from the forge, even though he had never had it burning so bright. The sun fell behind the buildings of the narrow street and what little warmth was given by the rays was lost. He put down the hammer and abandoned the forge.
He started towards the cliffs that fell away to the sea, but stopped. The sea could offer no solace to him. It had brought them together in the first place, on that fateful day, ten years ago now when they had pulled him from the water. The sea had given them the courage to speak without restraint in the aftermath of the curse and Jack's rescue from the gallows. The sea had always been their friend, yet he could not turn to it for comfort now. Not without Elizabeth.
Despite his reluctance to find comfort in the sea itself, he thought that he might find comfort in a friend as again, he thought of Jack. But there was no way to find the pirate without commandeering a boat and sailing to Tortuga. But he had rudimentary knowledge of sailing, and no compass to speak of; he would be lost at sea and die very soon. Though, he reflected, he would soon be re-united with his beloved Elizabeth. The idea had an appeal, and he turned his path towards the harbor. His determination faltered when an arm reached out of a dark alleyway and pulled him into an equally dark pub.
"And why would you be wandering by yourself in this ne'er do well part of town, while a beautiful woman waits for you in a mansion, mate?"
"Jack! What on earth are you doing here in broad daylight?"
Seeing his friend surprised Will, who had only been toying with the idea of finding the elusive man. Jack never came to port, especially in Port Royal with Commodore Norrington still in command, unless he needed something. Last time he brought a white pearl necklace with a black pearl and diamond pendant for Elizabeth, and six cannons to be repaired for Will. That had been eight months ago.
"Where's your bonny lass? I've some trinkets for her. They match that necklace I brought last time."
"I'm sure they would be appreciated," Will ground out, struggling to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
The unnatural edge to Will's voice caused Jack to stop his normal swagger and stand still, a serious look on his face that Will had only seen there once before – the same time Jack finally used his single shot.
"You seem to be a bit distracted." He said without any preamble or further comment.
"Elizabeth delivered our son last night." Will started at the emptiness of his own voice.
"You should be celebrating, lad! I've some rum—"
"He's dead," Will interrupted; the bitterness and grief that he had been fighting against were creeping back into his voice.
"Then you should be with Elizabeth," Jack said, the uncharacteristic soberness taking control of his voice for a second time.
"She died in the night."
Jack said nothing, showing wisdom that was normally thrown away in exchange for rum.
Will remained silent. Instead of speaking he just stood there. He could feel the heat radiating from Jack and the freezing chill that had penetrated his bones at the loss of his family started to lift, though the daylight had vanished long ago.
They took a table, and sat for several hours, not speaking. Will remained wrapped in the grief that would not loosen its hold. He still could not cry for his wife.
At long last, they parted. Will went back to the smithy and spent the night in his master's abandoned rooms in the back. There was a straw mat in one corner, but no blankets, and no other furniture. It had all been sold to pay Mr. Brown's considerable drinking debts. Will didn't really care. The slight chill in the air and the hardness of the ground did not penetrate his shell of pain and numbness.
For several days, he continued to work without thinking or feeling. He had been learning and practicing his trade for ten years, so the chores of making horse shoes and door handles required little thought and large muscles. Jack did not return, and Will missed having someone around who would talk to him. No customers came in, as they were not expecting any finished orders, and for some inexplicable reason, no new orders came. A week later, he had a pile of finished pieces sitting around the shop, and nothing left to occupy his time.
He took a rod of iron out of the fire and taking careful note of the color and weight of it, he selected a hammer and started pounding it flat. He did not know what he was making, but he knew that it would eventually shape itself to his desire.
He poured out his grief into the unfeeling metal and kept beating it long after the iron was too flat to make anything useful, and the metal had cooled itself far enough to loose the customary red glow. Will did not notice. The ringing of his hammer matching his heart beat for beat.
When the door opened, Will took no notice. When a suspicious character entered, he still didn't notice. He did not stop pounding the helpless bit of metal until someone grabbed his wrist from behind and snatched the hammer out of his hand.
Grabbing the useless rod in front of him, Will turned and found himself face to face with Jack. The pirate plucked the rod out of Will's astonished hand and threw the two potential weapons behind him.
"I'm in need of a capable blacksmith, Mr. Turner. You wouldn't happen to know where I can find one?" Jack gave a small lopsided smirk as he spoke. His requests for service were always the same.
"I do believe I know one. What will you be needing?" Will replied without thought. He knew that he'd help Jack with anything the captain required. He always did.
"I've a few cannons that were damaged on the high seas. A pirate attack. I need them repaired before I can set sail again. Unpredictable, pirates are."
Will remained silent, stopping their usual conversation. After a few moments he replied. "Where's your ship? I'll get to it right away. I've no other business waiting."
"This is a long job, mate. We're not going to be able to bring the guns up to the forge. We'll need you to come with us to another forge. I'll not stay in this place under the Commodore's nose any longer. I came the closest I've ever been to being hanged under his command."
Will opened his mouth to make a comment, but stopped halfway through, unsure as to what he could say.
Jack continued talking. "This will sound a bit crude, but since you've no attachments to Port Royal, I've a second proposition for you."
Will continued to stand in silence.
"I need your skills as a blacksmith at the moment, but I'm also a hand short on the Pearl. After you finish the job, you'll be a member of equal standing in the crew. I'm inclined to give you some space in my quarters instead of with the crew, because I know what Elizabeth meant to you. Everyone splits the plunder, and we all work hard, savvy?"
Jack's voice from two years ago echoed in his head. The pirate's in your blood boy, so you'll have to square with that someday. His first experience with pirates had shaped his opinion of them. As a child, they had left him for dead in the middle of the ocean. He had told Jack that he practiced swordplay to be able to kill pirates during his first encounter with him. Sailing with Jack and his crew had taught him that a person could be a pirate and be a good man at the same time, but his reluctance to join any crew was a residual of Barbossa's knife being held at his throat to pay the heathen gods for the gold they stole.
As they stood there, the unmistakable sound of marching grew louder as it came up the street. He gathered that someone had seen either Jack or the Pearl, and guessed his whereabouts. It was no secret that Will Turner had a soft spot for Jack after their adventure. All the times Jack was suspected to be in Port Royal, the first person that Norrington approached was always Will. He didn't dare interrogate Elizabeth.
Grabbing a sword from a nearby rack, he looked at Jack and nodded. Jack grabbed a second weapon, and they ran for the back door of the smithy. It opened into one of the shabbiest alleys in the city, known only to the prostitutes who inhabited the place on a regular basis, and their clients. The two crept up the dark, twisted passage and made their way slowly down to the small sandy beach hidden about a mile away from the harbor.
Glancing around as they left for any stray navy personnel or a vengeful commodore, they scrambled into the dingy that Jack had left on the beach and rowed around the point to meet the Pearl.
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Author's Note:
It has been pointed out to me that Will would be a rather reluctant pirate. He did it to save Elizabeth the first time, but would he actually do it again? This story is going to explore the darker side of Will's personality and desires; a side we don't really see in the movie, but is probably lurking in the background. He will have to square with the pirate in his blood someday. That day is today, as I've written it.
This is the first PotC I've attempted (though I've been writing and reading HP for several years), and I've only recently gotten into the fandom. As a college student who has limited spare time, my updates won't be daily, though I'm going to try for weekly. Please be lenient if the chapter isn't up quickly. My heart belongs to fanfiction, but my soul has been forcibly sold to OChem. If there's lots of ochem and lab work, the time for fanfic writing is severely limited.