The Page Turner
Author: williz
Summary: This is in answer to Shani's Gabbly challenge, to create a page "turner". Like father, like son.
Disclaimer: I own this plot, but I do not own any of these characters. I own the Winnie the Pooh birthday balloon tied to my bed post. So if Disney tries to take that away from me, I swear, I'll sue!!!!!!
Their swords danced in the lamplight. The vibration of the contact drove through the brave young man's arm. He gritted his teeth as the ugly, snarling face of the pirate came closer.
"Well, if you would just stay for more than a few days every two months, he wouldn't be afraid of you!"
"Watch out!" Came the voice from the corner. He turned his head and saw the beautiful young woman, cowering behind the treasure chest. He brought his sword up, blocking another powerful blow from the terrible murderer.
"I try, Charlotte! But I can't be here all the time! I sail when the ship sails! You know this!"
"Maybe I do, William! But your son doesn't! How do I explain to him that you lied and said you would be here a month? And now you leave tomorrow!"
"I have no choice!"
His boot caught on the broken floorboard of the ship deck and he pitched backward. The snarling face came down at him, the sword following. At the flash of metal, the young woman screamed, afraid for her hero's life.
She turned her head, her eyes shutting at the gut wrenching sound of metal slicing through human flesh and bone. She knew at once that there was no one left to save her. He was dead, her savior had perished at the dastardly hands of the pirate.
"You do have a choice! Stay with us! Stay with your family!"
"I have family on that ship!"
Little Will Turner shut his eyes, ignoring the tears that dripped down his cheeks. Wiping the blurriness from his dark brown eyes, he read more of the words on the page.
And then she heard his voice. When she looked up, she saw that he was alive and smiling at her. He went straight to her and she hurried to his arms. They held each other tightly, the treasure beneath their feet forgotten.
The pirate finally came to an end, paying for the deeds he had committed against the innocent all his life.
"You shall be knighted," the fair maiden proclaimed, her eyes shining brightly.
"I have raised our son alone for eight years! Do you know anything about him? We are your family, William! Your wife and your son! He asks about you every day and what do I tell him? I tell him his father will be home soon!"
"And I always come back!"
"You do…but one day, I fear you won't."
Their voices died down as they calmed. The small boy turned the page of his book and looked at the words again, but found that the tears came so quickly, he had to fight too hard to stem them. Angry with himself for listening to his parents arguing, he shut the book and threw it across the room.
The loud thump of the book hitting the wall of his room reverberated through the small home, matching the loud slam of the front door.
Charlotte hurried to her son's room and threw the door open, looking down to find the book open, face down, the pages crinkled beneath the weight of the spine. "Will…" Her son lay face down on his bed, his body shaking with his tears. "Darling, you didn't hear…" And at once, she knew the question was pointless. Of course he heard. And he knew he would not see his father for another few months.
The dinner table was silent.
The three parties sat, eating their fish and green beans, drinking their water. The young boy looked pleasingly up at his father. "Father, tomorrow I have free time between my arithmetic lesson and my English lesson! Can I come watch you at work?"
With a small smile, Will looked at his son. "Of course, William."
Grinning widely at his mother, the nine year old boy continued eating his food, wondering why his mother and father were so silent.
Since his father came home for the first time in ten years, they were almost always sure to be holding hands during dinner, sitting close to one another in the foyer whilst William read to them, kissing when his father came home from his smith. And for some reason, dinner was tense tonight. They were rigid, especially his mother, and sat far from each other.
"Mama?"
"Yes, darling?"
"May I be excused?"
"What? William, you barely ate any of your fish!" Elizabeth said, her eyes narrowing in concern. He always cleared his plate, leaving not even a crumb of food.
"Oh, I guess I ate too many of the bananas we picked today. I'm fine, really, Mama. I'm reading a good book and I want to read some more." He smiled, allowing his mother to see it, before he pushed his chair out and stood.
He looked at his father, who was shaken from his solidity and smiled reassuringly at his son. "Don't worry, William. I'll save some dessert for you."
The boy smiled with a nod and ran out of the dining room.
Elizabeth turned to regard her husband, her lips pressed into a thin frown. She turned back to her food and slammed her fork against the plate. She shoved the fish into her mouth with jerking movements, purposefully ignoring her husband.
"Elizabeth…"
"Will, let's not talk about this right now."
With a sigh, he went back to his food. After just two mouthfuls more, he set down his silverware. He pushed his chair back and stood, grabbing his plate and going over to take his son's as well. Walking into the kitchen, he set the plates down and turned to find Elizabeth standing in the doorway, her own plate in her hands.
"Appetite gone?" He asked.
"Yes."
"Look, Elizabeth, I don't want you glaring at me like this anymore. Can we please clear this up while William is in his room with his book?" He went up to her and took her plate, setting it on top of the other two. "Please."
"Will, how could you promise to let William come to your work tomorrow when you know full well you'll probably just brush him off again?" She stood, looking defiantly up into his intense gaze.
"I'm not going to brush him off!"
"You stay there all hours of the night now. I find I'll wake up in bed to an empty, cold space beside me!"
"I've had an increase in clientele, Elizabeth! For God's sakes, how is that my fault—"
"It is your fault! Your son waits for you to come home some nights and you never do! And he'll ask for you and I have no idea what to say to him! He's sensitive, Will."
Will ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I know he is, Elizabeth."
"Then why aren't you here anymore?" She demanded, a bit too loudly for Will's liking.
"Elizabeth, I work! The fish we ate for dinner is a product of said work!"
William sat on his bed, the book on his knees, closed. His hands rested on the cover as he looked down at it. A dashing young man stood heroically poised, his foot propped on a treasure chest, one hand on his hip, the other thrusting proudly, gracefully up with a beautiful blade. He was handsome, debonair.
He was Captain Lanyon. He was tall, dark hair, and reminded him so much of his father. His mother read Captain Lanyon to him at night when he couldn't sleep, visions of his absent father surging through his mind.
She would always get that faraway look in her eyes at some parts, especially the part where Captain Lanyon escaped from torture to save the woman he loved. He knew she was thinking of his father.
He ached with a sort of jealousy, a jealousy that his mother knew the man his father was whilst he would not meet him until he was nine. A jealousy that his friend Jack knew his father. Barbossa, Gibbs, everyone knew his father, except for him.
And then he would be hit by sadness. He heard his mother cry sometimes at night, and he knew it was for his father.
His fingers grazed over the strong figure that was so much like Will Turner. He heard their voices waft from the kitchen. They were arguing.
Ignore it, his mind roared. He heard that married people would argue from time to time, but it would never be bad. It was normal.
He wanted his parents' relationship to be normal, in that sense.
Opening to the first page, he set his eyes to the first word and concentrated on it.
"Will, you aren't there for him when he needs you!"
"I try to be!"
The sea churned in a way which proclaimed Mother Nature's fury at the sailors struggling on the deck of the Saint, the fastest ship in the Seven Seas. Her captain stood poised at the helm, letting the rain seep into his clothing and showing no effort at wiping it from his eyes.
His men were thrown about the ship painfully as he watched, his muscles straining against the wheel.
"You don't spend time with him!"
"I do!"
"And you don't spend time with me!"
"Elizabeth, I do spend time with you!"
"You have been home for only three months, Will Turner, and I daresay these passed two weeks I have seen you once, maybe twice, with your son! Even less time you find to be with me!"
"Elizabeth…"
The boy blocked the voices out and flipped to the middle of the novel.
"Where have they taken her?"
"I know naught, Captain. All's I heard was tha' she wos taken by a fella with blonde 'air who looked as mean as 'e wos big! An' Captain, I 'eard he wos mighty big!"
His hands gripped the railing of the Saint tightly. "Jacoby, we must find this man. That woman has my pennant."
"Aye, captain!"
"Elizabeth, I spent ten years away from you and William. You are the two most precious things in the world to me! I have to protect you both! I have to provide food and shelter for you! I want you to live the lives you always wanted, something I couldn't do when I wasn't here!"
"We did fine without you!"
William's head shot up from his novel, his eyes wide and teary. Why would she say that to his father? Of course they lived healthily and were never once lacking in money, but how could she say they were fine without him? Even at his young age, his naivety could not shield him from the hurt he knew his father would feel at this.
The silence was deafening.
Elizabeth stared in dismay and disbelief at her husband. Where in the world did that come from and how on earth did she manage to say it? But—But she didn't finish. Of course, they were fine without him, but in the money sense. They needed him to be there for them. She needed him. His warmth, his passion, his love, his friendship. Her son needed a father. She moved her lips to apologize, but nothing came out.
His eyes dropped to the floor and she saw the strength leave his shoulders.
"Maybe you did," he muttered. He turned and left the kitchen, leaving a shaking Elizabeth Turner in his wake. She went to follow him but heard a loud thump from her son's room.
William!
She met her husband in the hallway as he burst in ahead of her, sprinting to their son's bedroom. He threw the door open and stopped dead, staring straight at the book on the floor.
Its pages were crinkled from where they laid against the wooden floor, spine up, sprawled open. As Will knelt down at the book, he felt pain shoot through his chest, in a place he hadn't felt this sort of beating for ten years of his life.
Elizabeth went straight to her son, sitting down next to where he cried, his face buried in his pillow. "William, darling. Oh, sweetheart, what happened? What's wrong?"
He sat up and buried his face in her blouse, not answering, but continuing to cry. She pulled him away and looked him over, making sure he wasn't hurt. "William, what's wrong, dearest?"
She turned to look at Will and saw him staring at the book on the floor. For a split second, she felt ire rise in her bosom. His son was so obviously stricken by something and here was Will, knelt down in front of a book!
She turned back to the boy and hugged him closer, feeling tears gather in her eyes. She had been afraid Will would be different, changed when he came home. She was afraid of how he would react when he learned of his son. She fretted the nights before Will's return over whether Will and his son would connect. And it was awkward the first day or two, but soon after, they became father and son.
It was slightly wary, still, but the bond was obvious, and it would only get better in time. But Will's actions the past few weeks disconcerted her terribly. Maybe the first three months were just a mirage.
Wiping the beginning of a tear from her eye, she looked at Will one last time and immediately, her heart leapt into her throat.
He held the book in his hands, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed in front of him, looking at the cover of the book, his fingers grazing over the figure carved into the front. His eyes held a haunted, dark look, filled with a sadness Elizabeth had not seen since her last day on the beach with him.
There were no tears, but his eyes were red and his jaw clenched. His eyes flicked up to her once, then to his son. He was shocked into reality again and saw his son in his mother's arms, crying.
Hurrying to his feet, he dropped the book and flew to sit by his family. "William…" He breathed softly. Looking up, he met eyes with his stunned wife momentarily and took his son from her arms. "My boy, look at me."
Teary brown eyes much like his own flashed up to him. The little boy sniffed as his father wiped the tears from his cheeks with his rough fingers. "Please don't be upset. Your mother and I had a small disagreement…that's all."
"Y—You aren't leaving, Papa?"
"No!" He said vehemently, shaking his head. "Never. I'm never leaving you, William. I will always be here. I am sorry if I have disappointed you in the past few days, son, but I had so much work to do. I hope you understand."
"I do," he squeaked, still sniffling and wiping his eyes with his fists. Will reached into his pocket and pulled handkerchief from it. He chuckled as he wiped his sons face. "Here, blow your nose."
Elizabeth sat with her hands on her lap. She no longer looked at her son, but at her husband. She watched him lean forward and kiss William's forehead. He spoke to him with such a soft voice, with a fatherly voice. His touch was soft and calming, and she relished the way her little boy folded himself into his father's arms, as if they had been there the last ten years.
"Will…" she breathed. His dark eyes met hers over his sons head with a gaze that said 'Later' and he pulled his little boy from his arms and looked at him.
"William."
"Yes, Papa?" His son smiled up at him, which caused him to smile back.
"Will you come to my smith tomorrow between your lessons?"
"Yessir! Maybe we can eat lunch together?" As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he regretted them. Of course they wouldn't eat lunch, his father had much work to complete. He wouldn't have time.
"That sounds like a plan," Will chuckled.
Elizabeth smiled at the two loves of her life. "I'll make a nice picnic lunch for you to bring to your father's shop. How is that, William?"
"Yeah!" He exclaimed.
Elizabeth ruffled her sons hair as he came and hugged her tightly.
"Mama…are you and…" He stopped, earning a shared look from his parents.
"What, dear?" Elizabeth whispered, giving him a reassuring nudge on his shoulder.
"Are you going to fight some more? I want Papa to stay." His eyes glossed over with tears again. Elizabeth shot Will a look quickly, then looked back down to her son.
"No, William. I am sorry you heard that. But I promise you, neither of us will be leaving…ever." She kissed his nose and earned a grin.
As the two parents made sure he was tucked into bed, William gave them each a kiss on the cheek. He rolled over as they shut out the light, said their "I love you" and exited his room.
Before Elizabeth could ease the door shut, Will put a hand on it to stop it. "Wait…just a moment." Ignoring her curious look in his direction, he crept into the room again and fumbled on the floor for the book. Once he felt his fingers graze its spine, he grinned and picked it up, hurrying out the door and shutting it securely.
Without even a glance at his wife, he went into the family room and sat at the small table against the wall. He set the book in front of him and opened it to the first page.
The sea churned in a way which proclaimed Mother Nature's fury at the sailors struggling on the deck of the Saint, the fastest ship in the Seven Seas.
"Will…"
He turned, shutting the book. Without saying a word, he looked up at her and nodded. She walked to him and rounded his neck with her willowy arms, allowing him to press his face into her stomach. "Elizabeth, I'm so sorry," he muttered against her blouse. "I was trying so hard to be a good caregiver that I forgot to be a father, a husband."
"Sh, Will Turner, tell me what happened." She stroked his hair back from his face.
"What do you mean?"
"That book…" She knew she needn't say more. His eyes immediately darkened.
"Captain Lanyard was my favorite book as a boy."
"What?"
"Yes, I read it all the time when I lived in England with my mother. I probably read it five times before I was ten. Sometimes…" His throat constricted and he cleared it, nuzzling her stomach again. "Sometimes she read it to me. If I was too tired to do it myself."
Elizabeth smiled softly. Just as I read it to our son.
"This is the book I read to distract me from my mother and father when they argued. This is…" His voice died altogether and he turned his face away. He felt tears gather, tears he hadn't felt even at his own death, tears he hadn't felt since his mother's death when he was twelve.
"William…" his wife breathed, extracting herself from his arms and moving to sit on his lap. As she made herself comfortable, she reached forward and pulled his head against her bosom, feeling the moistness of his tears seep through her light blouse and onto her warm skin.
"I was reading this the night my father left for the last time. He had promised me the night before that he would stay for a month. I made plans, things we could do together. His crew was there for a month, he said." He pulled his face away from her, his eyes dry, the emotion gone from his voice.
Elizabeth said nothing, knowing her words would mean nothing.
"Elizabeth…" She looked at him and nodded, still smoothing his hair back. "I'm sorry. I don't want to be like my father. I don't want to disappoint my son the way my father disappointed me. The second I saw that book on the ground, I knew I had disappointed him." His eyes moved up to hers again. The swirling brown depths of them nearly made her gasp. "The book…it brought everything back. I knew why he was upset because I went through the same thing. And I was so afraid he might never come back, and he didn't…I would never want my son to experience that. To think I might never come back."
"William knows you love him. And he loves you. He loved you before he even met you." She leaned down to press her forehead against his. "You should have heard him, Will, those nights when I couldn't get him to sleep no matter what I tried. He would ask so many questions about you."
Will chuckled. "What would he ask?"
"Oh everything you could think of. He even asked if you had large hands at one point," she laughed. "I doubt I got over that for days afterwards."
"And what was your reply?" He asked, a large grin on his handsome face, his heart soaring at the notion of his wife and son conversing about him.
"I told him your hands were the perfect size," she said, reaching down to interweave her fingers with his.
"I am afraid he must have been let down if your replies to his question paralleled the one I just heard."
"No," she whispered. "For each night I lay down in your absence, I would picture you in my head just exactly the way I described you to our son. That perfect vision of my Will each night was nothing compared to the real you…when you came home." Her bottom lip quivered slightly, so she bit it, giggling softly as she felt tears drip down her cheeks.
"I'll never leave, Elizabeth. I will always be here. William is going to know his father for the rest of his life, and you can be damn sure you'll have your husband."
"No frequent late nights?"
"No," he whispered. "But you have to understand if I have a few here and there."
"Yes, my love. Yes."
"Mama?" The small voice broke into her late night musings.
Elizabeth sat up in bed to see her little William standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She looked beside her and noticed the empty spot. What time was it? "William, love. What's wrong?"
"Where's Papa?"
"He's probably still at the smithy, working on a project." She smiled sleepily at her son, even though she felt annoyed at Will's absence. It was only three days since their disagreement. "Come, do you want to sleep next to me tonight?" She patted the bed beside her.
"No," he whispered. "Thank you…" He shifted between his feet, the sure sign (one of the many Elizabeth memorized about her son in the nine years he lived) of William having something else to say, but being afraid to say it.
"What is it, love?" Elizabeth pulled her sheets aside and slipped her feet into her bedside slippers. She reached over and grabbed her robe from the chair and wrapped it about her slim figure, tying it as she shuffled to his small, unimposing figure and knelt down.
"I was thinking, Mama. Does Papa have to stay in his shop all night all alone?"
Elizabeth tilted her head. "Yes, he's finishing his work. Who else would be there with him?"
"Well, I was thinkin'….us?"
A thousand reasons popped into her head for why they shouldn't go to the smithy this late in the evening. William needed his sleep. Will wouldn't get any work done. He would be mad when they showed up, claiming it was unsafe.
But Elizabeth kissed his forehead and stood. "Get your clothes on, William. We will bring your father a late-night snack."
"Really?"
"Mhm! Now hurry!"
She giggled as he sped away.
Five down, five more to go. Then he could finally be at home. He imagined the scene beautifully, and did so repeatedly whilst he continued his work.
He would come in and shrug his coat off of his aching shoulders, he would enter his son's room, kiss him and make sure he was asleep, then go into his room, where he would change into his sleeping trousers and wash his upper torso, arms, hands, and face. Then he would climb into bed next to his wife. As she felt his weight, she would turn into him and snuggle close, nuzzling her face in his neck. And with a grin, he would fall into a deep, restful sleep.
A sharp pain shot through his arm and he yowled, dropping the hammer and putting his pointer finger in his mouth, wincing at each throbbing ache.
Another smashed finger. Another late night alone in his smithy. God, how he wanted to be home with Elizabeth and William. When were these hinges due? Was it Friday? Or was it the Monday after?
Damn it, I'm going home.
He turned and began to put the forge out, shrugging his shirt back on but not buttoning it.
Suddenly, he heard voices. Raising a suspicious eyebrow, he stopped and listened. He heard them just outside of the door. Why did that sound like Elizabeth?
The door opened and in walked little William, a large grin on his face. "Papa!"
"William! What in God's name!" He wiped his hands and hurried to the door, only to see Elizabeth push her way in, a basket in her hand. "Elizabeth! What are you—" He chuckled, reaching out and pulling his wife close. "God, I'm happy to see you."
His voice echoed his words, as did the shine of his eyes in the reflection of the forge. She giggled and leaned up to kiss him solidly. Will felt her lips against his and felt his son wrap his arms around his waist.
As she pulled away, she looked down to see a large portion of her husband's chest peeking out from between his white tunic. Will leant down and lifted his son into his arms. As the boy hugged him around his neck, he caught Elizabeth winking demurely before handling the basket more comfortably and walking to the table in the corner of his smithy.
With a silly, all-knowing smirk, he followed, his son's hands firmly attached to his shoulders. Will set him down to sit on the table and eyed his wife questioningly. "Darling, what is this basket for?"
She opened it and emptied its contents, one by one, revealing three sliced ham sandwiches with butter, three cups, and a jug of cool ice water. There was a loud rumble between the two males in the party. Both looked at each other, then at Elizabeth.
"Who was that?" Elizabeth asked, giggling. The rumble sounded again and Will clutched his stomach. He smiled sheepishly. "William Jonathan Turner, did you not eat dinner?"
"William, my boy, how would you like to see your father at work? Here, let's—"
"Will Turner."
"Alright, fine. I didn't eat dinner."
"Will! What are you thinking? You sit down right now and eat this sandwich. My God!" She glared sincerely at him. If he continued working late into nights on an empty stomach, he could become ill. "Do I have to pack you your dinners on these late nights? Even though if you just came home, you wouldn't have to worry about it."
"I honestly was just on my way home, though, Darling. Honest."
"Mhm. Eat, love."
He grabbed a sandwich, unwrapped it, then took a large bite out of it. His son watched admiringly, kicking his legs back and forth as Elizabeth handed him his own sandwich. "William, do Mama a favor and sit in the chair, not on the table."
"Yes, ma'am." He jumped off the table and walked around to the chair next to Will's, sitting just like his father, his arms resting on the table, biting into his sandwich with as big a bite as he possibly could.
The sight of her nine-year-old son fighting to keep his arms on the high table to look like his father almost caused Elizabeth to keel over on the spot. She had been terribly wrong those few nights ago. This was no mirage.
They were fully father and son and they obviously loved each other dearly. It was more than she could ever hope for. It was more than she had dreamed of on those lonely nights without her Will by her side, before he came home.
"Liz, Darling. Aren't you going to eat your sandwich?" She smiled lovingly in her husband's direction, feeling her stomach churn in a good way at his usage of her pet name. The last time she had heard him use that was within the throes of passion.
As she met his eyes, she knew that could only mean one thing. The moment they finished here at the smithy, William was off to bed. No arguments, no stories. Off to bed.
"Papa, you didn't come home!" the boy exclaimed, taking another large bite out of his sandwich.
"I'm sorry, son. I had so much work to do."
"I know! And I missed you, and Mama missed you because she wasn't asleep when I looked, and usually when I look and you're there, she's fast asleep. But I thought 'cause I missed you, you missed us too. So I wanted to bring you some company." He smiled at his father, then looked to gauge his mother's smiling expression.
"I did miss you. Both of you." Will's eyes flashed to Elizabeth's with a smirk. "And I am very glad you decided to persuade your mother to come as well. I am sorry I did not come home, my love," he directed towards the mother of his child. "In a few days, I have ten hinges due. And another sword. And an order of twenty-four horseshoes."
"Oh Will, why do you accept three orders?" Elizabeth exclaimed, worried now that she might not see her husband at dinner for the next few days.
"Because I know that no matter what happens with these orders, I will always have my family to come home to. I have a son to read stories to and relay my adventures in the Seven Seas and Land of the Dead. And I have a wife…to…well…" His smirk caused Elizabeth to blush deeply.
"To what?!" William exclaimed, grinning.
"Love," Will said, simply. "I love your mother."
"I know."
Elizabeth sent her husband a warning look, which he heeded immediately, even though he saw the amusement in her stern pout.
The family sat in the small, cramped space, sandwiches in hand, laughter in the air, the flickering light of the fire in the forge sending shadows dancing along the brick walls. Five hinges sat on the towel in the corner, perfectly folded, beautifully crafted, and completely forgotten for the rest of the night.
"So, William, what do you think of Captain Lanyard?" Will Turner asked his son, who chewed the ham and bread eagerly, before swallowing and grinning.
"I love it!"
"I read it too when I was a boy. You know what I liked the most about it?" Will leaned forward to look his son directly in the eyes.
"What?"
Will stole a look at Elizabeth, then peered back to his son.
"It's a real page turner."
(A/N:) I know, I know. What about London Calling??? What about Case of the Diamond Murderer???
I was talking to Shani and the others and she had the idea of a page..."turner" and someone writing a one-shot on the pun.
So I did! I had an idea and I put it down. So sue me!
I hope you all liked it!!! This is for Shani, and it's also for Setarip, who sent me a PM that made me feel important for the first time since I first started London Calling. Thanks, kiddo! You really boosted my self-confidence and got me to writing a bit more. I'll continue my stories even if the interest in my readers dies down, if only for the people like Setarip and others who still appreciate it. Not to mention, my love Halister Balongalong. I love you Hali! And I still ain't bovvered.
Thanks again everyone! Read and review!
-williz