Sixteen-year-old Elizabeth Swann stood in the center of her room, listening with a sense of certain dread to the howling of the wind and the sharp crack of thunder that seemed to permeate the manor. There was a terrible storm moving in.
She had been down at the wharf, merrily arguing with Henry Jameson, the forty-something owner of the fresh fruit stand, over the price of mangos (a favorite guilty pleasure) when suddenly a fierce wind nearly tipped the stand over. Elizabeth reeled back in surprise at the sudden movement and went to go help Mr. Jameson pick up the fallen fruit when a strong hand gripped her arm.
Having half a mind to tell whoever it was who was touching her exactly where she wanted him to go (fiery brimstone at the top of her list), her eyes widened when she saw who it was.
"Will!" Her voice didn't sound like her voice at all. His name had been spoken in a rush of surprise and sudden attraction, and she groaned inwardly to think of how foolish she must have sounded to him.
He had to shout to be heard over the screeching wind that had rapidly encompassed the square. "Miss Swann! You cannot be out here! There's a storm coming."
His voice was deeper than she had expected, his voice hoarser as he shouted. Will Turner now stood a good six feet off the ground, looking a little less like a boy, a little more like a man.
Elizabeth could only stand in place, dread coming over her as she thought wildly for something to say, something to do.
Will's harsh tones softened visibly at her distress.
"Miss Swann," he had to lean closer so she could hear him. Very close. Elizabeth breathed in his scent, dually horrified that she was having such promiscuous thoughts and intrigued by the very attractive male who was speaking to her. Speaking to her?
"—have to leave."
Oh drat. He was speaking to her. What had he said? How flighty she must look! Taking a visibly deep breath, one Elizabeth noticed that made Will flush slightly, and squaring her shoulders, Elizabeth faced the situation.
For the first time she looked up, aghast at the greenish tinge in the normally bright cerulean sky. She felt the first pelting sting of rain on her arms and she suddenly took in the gravity of the situation. This was not an ordinary storm. She was suddenly furious with herself at her lack of control and decorum. She was thinking like an errant maid while Will tried to tell her something important.
"Will! I have to get back!"
For a moment, the drawn look on Will's face subsided and he gave her a half smile. "Yes, I have been trying to tell you that for the last five minutes."
That was the Will she remembered, all teasing jokes and gentle sarcasm. She suddenly felt a rush of warmth and familiarity. Though he had gained a good two feet and now had some very distracting muscle, he was still Will Turner—the boy she had beaten at pirates for four years.
Melly, her maid, rushed up to them a moment later, her hair flying around her face in a manner that would have been slightly comical if not for the dire situation.
"Miss Swann! There you are! Come on, we must go!" Melly grabbed Elizabeth's other arm in a manner that was very unMellylike and started half dragging her away.
The rain was starting to come down more heavily now, and Elizabeth started to run along with Melly, dashing back toward the safety of her home. When they had run fifty yards, Elizabeth remembered Will and sharply turned to see if she could see him.
The rain had begun to fall in sheets, obscuring vision for more than ten feet. Elizabeth turned back and kept running along with her maid, her heart pounding.
Will would be okay. He would be fine. Elizabeth kept running, keeping using her rapidly beating heart as a tempo for her steps.
Elizabeth sighed as she stood in her room. She had dried off as best she could, but she couldn't really expect much help. The house was in an uproar, servants moving foodstuffs and blankets to the underground shelter and the rest securely latching windows and locking doors. Her father had come in a few moments earlier, his tense form visibly relaxing when he saw she was safe. He came in and sat next to her on her bed, not commenting on the bustling fervor surrounding them. He didn't really speak much at all, commenting on the state her dress was in and not much else. When he had turned toward her to leave, however, Elizabeth thought she saw the sheen of tears in her father's eyes and that frightened her more than any amount of thunder and lightning could. The storm looked to be a bad one.
Elizabeth tried to sit and write in her diary, but finally gave up, unable to be doing nothing while there was so much going on. She had to find out exactly what was happening. There had been countless numbers of storms throughout the years, but none that had inspired this much havoc.
She knew exactly where to find out what was going on. The servant's quarters.
Quickly stripping off her fine and now thoroughly sodden dress, she instead replaced it was a light under dress. Her father would perhaps suffer an apoplexy if he saw her leaving her room in it, but at least it allowed her the grace of movement.
Sneaking out into the hall, she visibly relaxed when nobody seemed to notice her.
She fled lightly to the servants' hall, stiffening at the sound of the voices coming. The sky had darkened so considerably the staff had lit candles, and in the flickering light she could see the shadows of three servants coming around the corner. Lacking an escape route, she grabbed the first door handle she saw and jumped in, leaving the door open a crack.
She was in a closet, surrounded by fresh laundry. Not exactly a terrible place to recline and wait. She leaned back against the soft material until she heard a snatch of the servant's conversation.
"…terrible storm…"
Elizabeth shot straight up and leaned closer to the crack. Maybe now she could find out what was really going on.
"…the entire…wiped out."
Drat, she had missed the middle of that sentence. It seemed to be important. She listened even more intently, focusing solely on the maid's voice.
"…wharf…Main Street… going to completely collapse."
That was all she needed to hear.
Elizabeth slumped back against the laundry, shock tempering her face. The wharf… Main Street…collapse?
Most of Port Royal was located on Main Street! Dear God, Will was on Main Street! The Smithy was dead center, usually envied for its prime location in the middle of the square, easy access to the wharf and on the coveted Main Street.
Elizabeth stumbled out of the closet and took off running toward her room.
She stopped midway as she passed Melly's room and ducked inside. Elizabeth grabbed a pair of her maid's boots, glad that their feet were the same size. Slipping them on, she took a coat for good measure and then ducked out of the room again.
Brushing her long, honey colored hair in front of her face, she was able to escape notice as she made her way to the back of the house. She was just about to grasp the door handle to the back, when a loud male voice broke her concentration, effectively scaring her out of her wits.
"Where'd you think you're going!" It was the voice of a male servant, and Elizabeth kept her back to him, lowering her voice slightly.
"Jus' got to bring in some things for Miss Swann," she said gruffly, hoping to high Heaven it would work.
The man regarded her for a moment, and she looked at him through lidded eyes and through a veil of hair.
"That miss must be crazier than I though' making you go out in this. Hurry back, lass."
Nodding sharply, Elizabeth grasped the handle and took a deep breath. The rain was pounding down, but what choice did she have? She had to bring Will back safely. He would do the same for her. Of that, she was quite certain.
She threw herself out in the weather and was promptly almost knocked over by the force of the wind. Staggering slightly, she tried to right herself and cried out despite herself. The rain stung terribly as it assaulted her from all sides. Breaking into a still staggering run, she made her way toward town.
The pathway was a thick layer of mud, and Elizabeth had bypassed it, favoring the still tradable grass. She was making progress. Step, step, step, right yourself, keep moving. She fell into a difficult rhythm, her mind solely on making it to Will's.
After what seemed like an eternity and soaked to the bone, she reached the outer end of Main Street.
Almost… there. The thought of the return journey shot a stab of fear through her heart for the first time since she had blindly left the manor. It was much more difficult to walk now, and the streets were completely empty. She had glimpsed one terrifying look at the sea, waves frothing and bubbling furiously as they crashed down again and again. That alone forced her to run again, despite her ragged breathing and her exhaustion.
She was almost there, just ten feet away when she tripped.
Crying out, though the sound was carried away before it reached even her own ears; she landed hard on her ankle. It crunched with a sickening definitiveness, and waves of pain shot through her. She lay there for a few moments, panting with exertion and pain. Sweat dripped from her brow and mingled with the hot rain before the wind stung her face and dried it again and again. She was so close. She needed to get inside.
She tried to stand and screamed in pain as her ankle protested, blackness starting to permeate her vision. She was able to hobble a few feet before nearly collapsing again on her hurt ankle. She managed to right herself and gritted her teeth in excruciating pain. Filled with the single desire to bring herself to Will's door, she threw herself into walking those last, painful steps with a doggedness she had never known before. Everything would be okay if she could just get there.
After what seemed like years, painful, painful years, she reached the door, pounding on it with one fist and leaning on it for support with the other.
A few moments later her pounding grew weaker as the last of her strength left her. As the door finally opened, a very startled Will caught Elizabeth in his arms as her last vestiges of strength fled and she succumbed to darkness.
Elizabeth came to a few minutes later, shivering and freezing. She was alarmed at the screech of the wind and wanted to shout that the house was tilting before she realized she hadn't the strength nor the inclination. She just wanted to go back to that warm cocoon of darkness.
She was about to return to the comforting darkness again when movement caught her eye and she forced her eyes open. She realized she was on a bed, albeit not a very comfortable one, but a bed nonetheless, and Will Turner was pacing nervously next to her, dragging a hand every so often toward his unruly locks.
He noticed the flicker of her eyelids and was at her side in a moment.
"Oh Elizabeth, you're awake." In his complete and utter terror, formality had dropped from Will like it had never been there in the first place.
Elizabeth tried to focus on that warm voice and she found that her vision was clearing slightly and she was warming. Will must have lit a fire. And dried her off. She looked down and saw that her arms and face had been carefully wiped dry, though her soaking dress was firmly in place.
"Elizabeth, what are you doing here? You could have died!" Will's voice was hoarse and strangled, and Elizabeth wondered briefly if maybe he did care about her after all.
"I had to..." Elizabeth tried to form a coherent sentence. "You…" Remembrance suddenly dawned on her.
"Will! We have to return to the manor! Main Street is going to be completely obliterated!" Her thoughts were suddenly completely lucid and crystal clear. A sudden sense of panic set in and she desperately tried to raise herself.
Will saw this and gently laid her back down, even as she struggled against him.
"Elizabeth," he said softly, the flickering light giving his face a golden glow. "You cannot go back out there; you're severely injured and soaked to the bone." He glanced fitfully at her dress. "Speaking of which, you need to get that dress off right away."
As soon as he spoke the words, the color drained completely from his face and was then replaced by a furious, blazing red.
"I didn't mean--! I just… Elizabeth you'll catch your death in that wet dress."
Elizabeth was blushing now too, though inwardly she was giggling slightly at the sudden color change on Will's face. He looked totally stricken.
"All right."
Will paused, his mouth open to protest until he realized she had agreed with him.
"Oh dear Lord…" he said softly, then clamped his mouth shut as he realized he had spoken aloud.
Will turned and rummaged through his clothes, wishing everything he owned wasn't so… dirty. Finally at the bottom he found a long, mostly clean white linen shirt he wore for special occasions. Grabbing that and his smallest pairs of trousers, still nearly two times too big, he held them out to Elizabeth.
It wasn't the best, but it was the only thing he could offer. He started to turn to give her privacy when he heard her cry out slightly as she tried to move to put the pants on.
Oh… her ankle.
"I'm turning back toward you Elizabeth, are you decent?"
Elizabeth merely groaned again in pain and he was at her side in a moment, dropping to his knees.
He had wrapped her ankle the best he could in a long strip from one of his old shirts, but he could tell she desperately needed a doctor.
She was starting to shiver and he realized the immediate need to get her out of her dripping clothes.
"Elizabeth, forgive me."
He could be hung for this offense. He didn't care. He had to get her warm and it had to be done now.
Wrapping one arm under her knees and the other cradling her head, he lifted her enough to pull the dress out from under her. He clumsily unbuttoned a long row, freeing enough to snap the rest and pull the dress off. Will's breath was hitched as he worked, trying to half close his eyes and hating what the proximity was doing to him. Curse his too friendly libido.
She had a white slip on underneath, which he didn't dare touch. Once the dress was off (the coat had taken the full brunt of the rain), he hastily slipped his dry shirt over her head and deftly buttoned the front. Then, taking complete care, he gently raised her ankle, ignoring her groan of protest, and slipped his trousers on her. He was sweating profusely, from her proximity, or the fire, or the fact that he wanted the ground to swallow him whole from embarrassment.
Elizabeth watched him through half lidded eyes as he did this. Perhaps she should feel more embarrassed than she did. After all, she had just been violated in a completely scandalous manner. But Will did it to save her. It had worked, she wasn't shivering anymore. If anything, she was flushed.
When Will finally finished, he dragged his head up and met her gaze with a little shame.
"Elizabeth—can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"
Amazed at this, she shook her head in disbelief.
Oh no, wrong move. At this shake of her head, Will immediately jumped up, and tore across the room, rapidly pacing. One of his hands continued to rake through his hair and the other he had clenched in a fist at his side.
"Miss Swann I--"
"Will--"
"Please know I just--"
"You saved--"
"Wanted to help."
"Me."
They both gasped out the last words, having spoken with such fervor that neither noticed the other was speaking as well.
Elizabeth held out her hand to him and he gave it a long look before turning away, squaring his shoulders as if some great weight had just descended on them.
"William Turner, don't make me stand."
That got his attention. Will turned back around, and walked hesitantly toward her, though he ignored her offered hand.
Groaning in frustration and pain, Elizabeth reached out and grabbed the hand at his side, squeezing it to both reassure him and to help her fight the fresh ache that had just stabbed at her ankle.
"Will, you saved me. I really would have caught my death in that wet dress, please do not be alarmed."
"But Eliza- Miss Swann, my behavior is not worth your words. It was completely the opposite as to how any gentleman would and should behave."
"Look around Will," she gestured to the sheets of water slapping the window. "This isn't exactly a common, normal occurrence. You saved my life, I'm eternally grateful."
They sat for a moment, Elizabeth's grip on Will's hand less vice like and more of a caress. Finally Will spoke again.
"But why are you here Elizabeth?" The question had been nagging at him ever since he opened door and she tumbled into his arms.
At this, Elizabeth ducked her head shyly.
"You were here," she began quietly. "I couldn't let you die here alone. I wanted you to come back with me to the manor, but now I see how foolish I was. I'm incapacitated now. But you, you can still go. Leave me here and go, that way you'll be able to save yourself."
Will stared at her while she spoke the words, not believing his ears.
"You… came here, to be with me?" he said thickly.
She glanced down at their intertwined hands and nodded sheepishly.
"Yes."
Will suddenly stood. He walked over to the window and looked out, his face paling as he viewed the weather. Down the street, the goldsmith's shop had already flooded. Will got up from his perch by the window and grabbed his thick overcoat. In a moment's time he had Elizabeth wrapped securely in it. After dousing the fire, he donned another shirt—he had given Elizabeth his only coat—and lifted her into his arms.
She gave a very unladylike squeal as she suddenly found her face buried in Will's broad chest. He chuckled slightly, a deep rumble that filled her with warmth despite her fear.
"Elizabeth, Main Street is going to collapse and I will not let you go down with it," Will said, a certain set in his jaw. "Forgive me; this might hurt your ankle."
With that, he kicked open the door to the smithy, as both his hands were employed in holding Elizabeth tightly to his chest. The wind tore at him, the rain slicing his exposed face. Will paused for a moment to murmur something comforting to Elizabeth and tilted her face toward his chest, so the rain wouldn't hit her skin. With that done, he took off running.
As he ran, he could barely see five feet in front of him. Rain and fog enveloped the entire town. His heart broke slightly as he left the smithy and the rest of the residents in the surrounding shops. Would they survive? What about the widow Mary Smith and her three daughters? God, if only he could help. He had planned to go out and check on the Smiths, but Elizabeth's untimely arrival stopped that. He now only had one purpose—get Elizabeth to safety. He focused on it like a mantra.
Get Elizabeth home. Get her safe. Get her warm. Get her out of his clothes. Oh dear, he was sure the Governor wasn't going to like that. Get her home.
His strong legs buckled slightly at the fierce wind, but he was able to right himself and then use the wind to his advantage, keeping it at his back. Elizabeth was like a feather in his arms, and he tightened his grip, afraid she would slip away.
Fifteen minutes later, Will was still trudging along the road, his head bowed against the rain and the wind. Lightning crackled nearly constantly and the roar of thunder rivaled the crashes of the frothing ocean. It was absolutely terrifying.
One of Elizabeth's hands was tightly gripping the front of his shirt and her head was firmly buried in his shoulder. As he walked her ankle would jostle and every so often she'd let loose a soft whimper of pain. Each small snuffle was like a swift cut to the heart. She was like this because of him. The thought resounded painfully in his head.
Finally, after what seemed like years since he had kicked open the door to the smithy, the governor's mansion loomed before him. He broke into a jog, whispering comforting and disjointed words to the woman in his arms. He had no idea if she could hear him over the cracking thunder; she had been quiet save for her occasional whimpers, but it comforted him to speak to her.
Will bounded up the stairs, mindful of the precious bundle in his arms and used his shoulder to slam the door in knocking. Nothing. Will shifted Elizabeth in him arms slightly and raised one hand to knock forcefully. But no reply came. His resounding knocks were lost in the sound of thunder. Will looked around desperately. The windows were too high for him to break, especially while carrying Elizabeth. He trudged down the stairs and squinted off into the distance as best as he could. They were far enough inland that they wouldn't have to worry about flooding or the ocean. Will stomped through the thick mud and finally settled himself next to the house. He slowly sat down, covered slightly by the extended awning the roof provided.
Elizabeth was still in his arms and she looked up at him. His great coat was soaked but underneath she was still fairly dry and warm. By wiggling slightly in his arms, Elizabeth managed to get in a fairly comfortable position. The pain in her ankle had subsided to a mere dull throbbing.
"I'm sorry Elizabeth," Will said softly. "They cannot hear the knocking for the thunder. But we'll be safe here."
Elizabeth's hazel eyes regarded him with silent scrutiny. He was pale. Very pale. He was soaked to the bone and there was a long cut and bruise across one cheek where a stray rock had slammed into his face.
When she voiced her concerns, Will waved her off and she sighed. The rain was still pounding steadily, but the sky wasn't such a fearsome black anymore. She closed her eyes, the foreign, but altogether comforting feeling of a man's arms around her helping her drift into a restless sleep.
The next morning, Elizabeth woke to an unfamiliar stiffness in her shoulders. She restlessly rolled them back, fighting the last dregs of sleep. She froze as she felt the hard muscle underneath her. For a moment she blindly wondered why she was wet and what exactly was going on before the events of the night before crashed over her.
The storm!
…Will.
Elizabeth tried to turn around in the grasp that held her, but her ankle prevented much of her intended movement. When she saw Will's face she gasped slightly. He was white as a sheet, and shivering. His eyes were clenched tight and he was restlessly shifting.
The rain had subsided to a soft drizzle. By pushing off Will's chest, Elizabeth could lift herself up. She gently shook his shoulder and he stirred.
"Will?"
Will murmured something intelligible. He smiled slightly and Elizabeth felt a surge of relief. At least his dreams were pleasant. Almost as soon as the thought struck her, as though by divine intervention, he immediately frowned. He visibly stiffened and his brow furrowed.
"Elizabeth…" Will mumbled softly.
"Will, I'm right here," Elizabeth said, shaking his arm.
"Elizabeth!" His voice was strangled, hoarse.
"Will! Wake up!"
Elizabeth shook him violently, alarmed at the sudden heat in body and the flush in his cheeks. His eyes flew open and he shot straight up. Elizabeth squealed and had to grab onto the collar of his shirt to keep from toppling over. Will's eyes were unfocused and glazed. "Elizabeth!"
Not knowing what else to do, Elizabeth yanked his shirt and pulled his face toward hers, forcing him to look her in the eye.
"William Turner wake up."
Slowly, Will's eyes focused. "Elizabeth?" he said again, much softer.
Elizabeth nodded. "I'm here Will, you saved us."
"Where--" Will looked around, still flushed. "You need to get warm." Without another word, Will had picked her up again and unsteadily made his way to the front.
By the time he reached it, he was panting and Elizabeth nearly slipped from his grasp. Elizabeth reached up and stroked the side of his face, his hair tangled and matted with sweat and rain. He was sick. Elizabeth wished he would put her down. He needed to conserve his strength.
Seeing that Will was in no condition to form the coherent thought to knock, (he seemed to focus enough to concern himself about her welfare, but that was it) she banged on the door in a most unladylike fashion. Since the peals of thunder have long subsided, the knock was immediately answered by a disheveled looking servant.
"Oh my!"
Ignoring him, Elizabeth shouted loudly for a doctor. Governor Swann was in the hall in a moment.
"Elizabeth! Oh my! A doctor! Yes! Oh Elizabeth we were all so worried! Your ankle! You are hurt? Where is that bloody doctor! And Mr. Turner! Why are you here?" At the last hurried question, he faced Will squarely.
Will's gaze unfocused slightly and he nearly slipped again before some innate subconscious forced him to tighten his grasp on Elizabeth.
Elizabeth sat helplessly in Will's wavering arms.
"Father! Help me down and get Will to a doctor right away."
The servant, who by this time had regained some of his senses, took Elizabeth from Will's arms.
At the sudden loss of Elizabeth's warm weight, Will turned, stumbling back. His eyes dilated slightly and his face burned. "Elizabeth?" he called out blindly.
Now thoroughly concerned, Governor Swann moved to say something before he was cut off by his daughter.
"Will, you saved us. I'm safe."
Elizabeth's words registered in some dim part of Will Turner's coherent mind and for a second, something almost akin to a smile flashed across his face. His mission completed, Will finally gave into the fever and his exhaustion and slumped to the ground.
Elizabeth hobbled out of bed, her ankle wrapped tightly. She called for Melly and her maid responded hastily.
"Yes, miss?"
"Melly please help me get dressed."
Melly hesitated for a moment but then the steely resolve in her mistress' eye made her reconsider.
"Yes miss."
Dressed, Elizabeth leaned on Melly's shoulder and the two of them made their way painfully to the room where Will Turner was recovering from his fever.
"Beggin' your pardon miss, but this is highly improper," Melly whispered as they cracked open the door and snuck in.
"But it's also quite fun," Elizabeth said, a sharp sparkle in her eye. She allowed Melly to help her hobble to the chair by Will's bed and then dismissed her.
Melly opened her mouth to protest, but shut it when Elizabeth gave her a small smile. She exited the room, but left the door open, unable to disregard all propriety.
Back in the room, Elizabeth leaned over Will's sleeping form and gently touched the bruise on his cheek. He had saved her. She had gone to rescue him and he had ended up saving her life. Funny ole world…
Elizabeth shook her head. Where had that thought come from?
Disregarding it, Elizabeth reflected back on the past couple of days. The doctor had been able to wrap her ankle—only a very bad sprain—and had diagnosed Will with a high fever. The doctor could only prescribe bed rest, and Elizabeth hated the waiting. There had been one dreadful night where his fever had escalated so high that his life had hung in balance for a few terrible hours. Elizabeth hadn't moved from his side, ignoring her father completely at his exclamations of the lack of decorum.
But Will had persevered, though he had cried out in the night. He had called for his mother and for her, a thought that still sent a certain amount of pleasant shivers though her, though at the time she had barely registered it in her terror for him. He had gambled with his life when he braved the storm with no coat or protection. He had used every last bit of his strength to get her comfortable, to keep her warm and to protect her with his last breath. It was a truly mind boggling concept.
But he would be okay. The fever had broken two nights ago and he had woken for a time the previous day. Elizabeth tenderly moved her caressing fingers to his hair, twisting a lock gently between her two fingers. She yawned then, unable to prevent it. It was still early, only six in the morning. Without another thought, she moved herself painfully out of the chair and lay on the bed next to Will.
They still had to face interrogations from her father, though he had mercifully put them off for the time being during Will's uncertain state, and also the damage the storm had caused to Will's shop, but right then, Elizabeth did not care.
She wrapped one of her hands loosely in his and closed her eyes, asleep within moments.
The rest of the world could wait; right now time bowed to the simple blacksmith so securely in love and the wealthy governor's daughter who was just beginning to understand.
Well this was a spur of the moment deal. I got the idea from my post in the "Hide the Rum" forums section for Elizabeth's diary and it just sprang from there. It's a bit of PrePOTC fun, not intended to really coincide with the movie. Or perhaps it does. This was just for fun, no copyright infringement intended… I just was in the mood for some fluff. I'm a Will/Elizabeth shipper at heart and I love to explore the possibilities between the two. Anyway, reviews are greatly appreciated. See ya'll around the Pirates of the Caribbean block!
Laura