The Darkest Hour
Author - Unplugged32
Rating - PG-13
Classification - Post PotC fic - Will/Elizabeth romance, angst, adventure, oh and Jack of course;)
Summary - Will's past threatens his future. Can Jack stop what fate has set in motion?
Email - unplugged3232@yahoo.com
Disclaimer - Obviously, the characters portrayed aren't mine. No money being made, no harm intended.
Author's note: Huge thanks to the lovely Holls and the wonderful Mel for betaing yet another story despite their hectic schedules;)
Chapter 1
Will Turner hurried over the well worn cobblestones that lined the streets of Port Royal, his hands dug deep into the pockets of his coat, his head ducked slightly against the harsh wind that whipped against his face, blowing his unbound chestnut locks into his eyes, impeding his vision and slowing his progress. It was the kind of night that Port royal rarely experienced in mid-November, the temperature easily the lowest Will could remember in the 9 years he'd resided on the island. The foul wind and blackened skies were so unusual that if he'd been the superstitious type, as many residents of the port town were, he might have taken the weather as an omen, a forewarning that some misfortune may soon be upon them. That thought, however, never crossed the young man's mind. The only thing that concerned Will at that moment was purchasing a hot meal at the tavern before their kitchen closed and then taking it back to his tiny quarters at the blacksmith's shop, where he could eat it in peace.
By nature, Will was the sociable sort that usually didn't mind taking his supper in the company of the patrons of the White Horse tavern. But tonight he was tired to the bone, his arms and hands aching from the hours of restoration work he'd done over at the widow Graeme's house just outside of town. It was still difficult for Will to refer to the house as his own, even though it had belonged to him for over two months now. He'd never in his life had a home of his own, not back in England and certainly not here in Port Royal, and at times, he could hardly believe that Margaret Graeme had sold him the lovely cottage for nothing more than the down payment and a contract that stated that he would deposit an agreed sum in her bank account each month until the debt was paid. Mrs. Graeme had been widowed for years and longed to return to England to be near her children. Yet ill health and her strong ties to the island had made her decision a difficult one. When she'd heard that Will had been discreetly inquiring about purchasing a house, she's asked her solicitor send for him. It was no secret that the young Mister Turner had hopes of making Governor Swann's only daughter his bride. The idea that Will and the lovely Elizabeth would start their lives together in her home was just the right amount of incentive the sentimental old woman needed to make her decision.
Will had been stunned when Mrs. Graeme explained all of this to him. He knew she was a woman who had no financial worries but still, her offer of the house with such generous conditions was almost too incredible believe. After a lifetime of hardship it was difficult for Will to accept that something so wonderful was about to happen for him. His own home, to be paid for of course with his hard work, but with terms that suited his financial situation almost perfectly. It seemed too good to be true. But when the contracts were signed and the deed rested in his strong, callused hand, Will began to think that maybe his luck had finally turned. That someone up there had decided it was high time that Will Turner had a chance at happiness.
With the deed to the house folded carefully in the pocket of his finest coat, Will had formally requested the hand of Miss Elizabeth Swann from her father just two days after the papers had been signed. It was a meeting the Governor had been expecting since Elizabeth's safe return to Port Royal 6 months earlier, but in all honesty he hadn't thought Will would be in a position to come to see him for at least another year. Even with the blacksmith's shop now solely his after Mr. Brown's death in a drunken brawl, the Governor had thought it would take Will some time to gather the funds needed to start his life with Elizabeth.
For his part, Will knew that Elizabeth's father hadn't accepted his proposal wholeheartedly, but the fact remained that he had accepted it and with the engagement ball that followed just two weeks later, he let the rest of Port Royal know that his daughter had his blessing. Will Turner was certainly somewhat of a rebel, and of course, the son of a notorious pirate, but he had risked his life and his freedom to save Elizabeth and Weatherby Swann knew in his heart that if it ever came to it, the boy would do it all again. After everything that had happened to them, the only thing that mattered anymore to Swann was the safety and the happiness of his only child.
When he finally reached the tavern, Will pushed open the scarred, wooden door with a grateful sigh. The common room was full, the air overly warm from the crush of bodies and the fire that burned hotly in the blackened stone hearth, but Will was glad for a respite from the howling wind that caused the shutters of the aging tavern to bang loudly against the weatherworn stone walls.
"Those latches need to be repaired, or you'll need new shutters before the winter's out." Will told the proprietor, Reg Blackwall. "I'll come by tomorrow and take measurements."
Reg sighed as he carefully packed Will's dinner into a basket. "I won't be able to pay you 'till the end of the month though, lad. That's when all these blighters usually come to make good on their tabs."
"That's alright, Reg. I'm glad to do it. I'd hate to see those shutters broken up because of a few shillings. You've always been a good friend to me." Will told the older man fondly as he paid for his food and reached for the basket.
"Will, lad.wait. I almost forgot. Mary said someone'd come in earlier, a stranger, askin' bout you. Wanted to know where you was since the shop was closed."
Will turned back to Reg, his expression puzzled. "A stranger? Did he say what he wanted?"
Reg frowned slightly. "It weren't 'bout business, that I know, 'cause Mary asked him. Didn't want you to lose an order or anything. That girl's sweet on you, ye know."
Will hadn't known actually. Embarrassed, he quickly turned the conversation back to the stranger. "So what did he want then, this stranger?"
Reg shook his head. "Didn't say, just asked some questions, like where you lived and if she knew where you were, when you were coming back. That sort of thing. She didn't like the look of 'im though. Said he was dressed really nicely, like a fancy shopkeeper or a banker maybe, but he had a rough feel about him, like them clothes weren't what he wore usually."
Confused, Will just nodded. It seemed odd that a stranger would come looking for him for anything else aside from a commission. Still, it didn't concern him overly much. He just wanted to get back to the shop where he was looking forward to a bath and a well-deserved rest.
"Tell Mary I appreciate her letting me know. If he comes back though Reg, see if you can get his name please."
"Will do, lad. I don't like the sound of strangers sniffin' around. Not after all that 'orrid pirate business last year. Folks are still trying to rebuild their lives. It would be the end of this town for sure if it were to 'appen again."
Nodding solemnly in agreement, Will buttoned his coat up to the top. With the basket clutched tightly in one hand he pushed the heavy oak door open with the other. Outside, the wind still whipped about fiercely, and Will moved quickly along the darkened street towards his shop. It seemed as if the weather was only getting worse, the heavy, gray clouds completely shrouding the stars that had shined so brightly above Port Royal just the previous evening. Odd, Will mused to himself that the usual balmy weather had given way so suddenly to such a foul tempest. It was just the sort of night though that Elizabeth loved, Will thought, his lips turning up into a half smile. Once, many years ago, when they were both still children, Elizabeth had told him the only thing she truly missed about England was the changing of the seasons. On the island, one warm season simply bled into the next, the change so subtle one hardly noticed the difference. In the fall though, the rains would come, and when they did Elizabeth loved to stand outside in the gardens of her father's palatial home where she would revel in the feel of the warm droplets running over her face, breathing in deeply the scent of the wet earth, her mind traveling fondly back in time to her childhood in the English countryside. More than once over the past two months Will had come upon her like this, his heart near bursting with love as he'd watch her frolic like a child in the puddles that lined the path from the gate to the Governor's mansion. Elizabeth might have been born with the proverbial silver spoon into a world of luxury and privilege yet she possessed the soul and the spirit of a woman who saw life as a grand adventure, to be lived as she felt fit and not as society would dictate.
A few scant hours had passed since Will had last seen his betrothed but he still felt that aching emptiness that seemed to assault him more and more these days when they were apart. Maybe it was because he'd never really known before what it was to love, and to be loved, so fiercely. Or maybe it was simply his insecurities and his fear that everything was coming together too perfectly to actually be real. He knew that these feelings greatly disturbed Elizabeth and Will took great pains to keep his misgivings to himself. She was his life, his reason to exist and making her happy had become his sole purpose. He was determined to ensure that nothing would dampen her spirits as she made her plans for the day that would bond them together for the duration of theirs lives. A formality really, for as far as Will was concerned, his heart had been bound to hers from the moment that they'd met. And he knew, at long last, that the feeling was mutual.
A few feet from the entrance to the blacksmith's shop that now had Will's name embossed proudly above the door, he stopped, his free hand searching his pockets for the ring of keys he needed to unlock the sturdy gate that he'd recently fitted to the entryway. Sadly, Port Royal was no longer the same safe town it once had been. Despite the earnest efforts of the magistrate and Commodore Norrington's troops, the streets had become increasingly dangerous as the years passed. Will had thought it prudent to safeguard his shop as best as he could. After all, he entire future depended upon the goods he produced. He'd come too far and worked too hard to leave his livelihood unprotected and at the mercy of thieves and pirates.
The first droplets of rain splashed against his face just as Will dug the keys from the inner pocket of his coat. The well oiled gate swung open easily, and Will slipped under the protection of the covered entranceway, relieved to finally be home. He put the basket carefully on the ground in front of the sturdy oak door and turned to lock the gate behind him when a strong, eerily familiar voice called to him from the darkened street. It seemed as if a lifetime had passed since the last time he'd heard that voice call his name, but there was no mistaking that deep, distinctive baritone. Will felt something akin to a vise wrap itself around his heart and his jaw clenched, his body rigid with a mixture of disbelief and anger. The rain had started to fall in earnest now and the cloaked figure moved closer, slipping through the open gate, letting the hood of his finely-cut cape fall back to reveal his face. This must be Mary's stranger, Will thought at once, realizing with irony that this man, despite his connection to Will, truly was a stranger to him.
"Will." The man stated simply, staring at him intently, his eyes devouring the boy as if seeing him for the first time. He stretched one trembling hand towards Will, as if to touch him, but Will flinched visibly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he took two steps back to avoid the contact. For most of his life he'd dreamed of this moment, fantasized about it, but never would he have imagined that he'd feel like this. Hurt. Angry. Betrayed. Disappointed. Disillusioned. He felt a bitter sense of satisfaction as he saw the flash of pain in the other man's eyes and on his weather-beaten face at Will's less than warm reception. The man's shoulder's sagged heavily and suddenly, he looked older, weaker, more fragile than his years, but Will didn't care. He crossed his arms casually across his chest and leaned back against the still-locked door of his shop, his face set in a hard mask before he finally broke the silence.
"Hello father."
Author - Unplugged32
Rating - PG-13
Classification - Post PotC fic - Will/Elizabeth romance, angst, adventure, oh and Jack of course;)
Summary - Will's past threatens his future. Can Jack stop what fate has set in motion?
Email - unplugged3232@yahoo.com
Disclaimer - Obviously, the characters portrayed aren't mine. No money being made, no harm intended.
Author's note: Huge thanks to the lovely Holls and the wonderful Mel for betaing yet another story despite their hectic schedules;)
Chapter 1
Will Turner hurried over the well worn cobblestones that lined the streets of Port Royal, his hands dug deep into the pockets of his coat, his head ducked slightly against the harsh wind that whipped against his face, blowing his unbound chestnut locks into his eyes, impeding his vision and slowing his progress. It was the kind of night that Port royal rarely experienced in mid-November, the temperature easily the lowest Will could remember in the 9 years he'd resided on the island. The foul wind and blackened skies were so unusual that if he'd been the superstitious type, as many residents of the port town were, he might have taken the weather as an omen, a forewarning that some misfortune may soon be upon them. That thought, however, never crossed the young man's mind. The only thing that concerned Will at that moment was purchasing a hot meal at the tavern before their kitchen closed and then taking it back to his tiny quarters at the blacksmith's shop, where he could eat it in peace.
By nature, Will was the sociable sort that usually didn't mind taking his supper in the company of the patrons of the White Horse tavern. But tonight he was tired to the bone, his arms and hands aching from the hours of restoration work he'd done over at the widow Graeme's house just outside of town. It was still difficult for Will to refer to the house as his own, even though it had belonged to him for over two months now. He'd never in his life had a home of his own, not back in England and certainly not here in Port Royal, and at times, he could hardly believe that Margaret Graeme had sold him the lovely cottage for nothing more than the down payment and a contract that stated that he would deposit an agreed sum in her bank account each month until the debt was paid. Mrs. Graeme had been widowed for years and longed to return to England to be near her children. Yet ill health and her strong ties to the island had made her decision a difficult one. When she'd heard that Will had been discreetly inquiring about purchasing a house, she's asked her solicitor send for him. It was no secret that the young Mister Turner had hopes of making Governor Swann's only daughter his bride. The idea that Will and the lovely Elizabeth would start their lives together in her home was just the right amount of incentive the sentimental old woman needed to make her decision.
Will had been stunned when Mrs. Graeme explained all of this to him. He knew she was a woman who had no financial worries but still, her offer of the house with such generous conditions was almost too incredible believe. After a lifetime of hardship it was difficult for Will to accept that something so wonderful was about to happen for him. His own home, to be paid for of course with his hard work, but with terms that suited his financial situation almost perfectly. It seemed too good to be true. But when the contracts were signed and the deed rested in his strong, callused hand, Will began to think that maybe his luck had finally turned. That someone up there had decided it was high time that Will Turner had a chance at happiness.
With the deed to the house folded carefully in the pocket of his finest coat, Will had formally requested the hand of Miss Elizabeth Swann from her father just two days after the papers had been signed. It was a meeting the Governor had been expecting since Elizabeth's safe return to Port Royal 6 months earlier, but in all honesty he hadn't thought Will would be in a position to come to see him for at least another year. Even with the blacksmith's shop now solely his after Mr. Brown's death in a drunken brawl, the Governor had thought it would take Will some time to gather the funds needed to start his life with Elizabeth.
For his part, Will knew that Elizabeth's father hadn't accepted his proposal wholeheartedly, but the fact remained that he had accepted it and with the engagement ball that followed just two weeks later, he let the rest of Port Royal know that his daughter had his blessing. Will Turner was certainly somewhat of a rebel, and of course, the son of a notorious pirate, but he had risked his life and his freedom to save Elizabeth and Weatherby Swann knew in his heart that if it ever came to it, the boy would do it all again. After everything that had happened to them, the only thing that mattered anymore to Swann was the safety and the happiness of his only child.
When he finally reached the tavern, Will pushed open the scarred, wooden door with a grateful sigh. The common room was full, the air overly warm from the crush of bodies and the fire that burned hotly in the blackened stone hearth, but Will was glad for a respite from the howling wind that caused the shutters of the aging tavern to bang loudly against the weatherworn stone walls.
"Those latches need to be repaired, or you'll need new shutters before the winter's out." Will told the proprietor, Reg Blackwall. "I'll come by tomorrow and take measurements."
Reg sighed as he carefully packed Will's dinner into a basket. "I won't be able to pay you 'till the end of the month though, lad. That's when all these blighters usually come to make good on their tabs."
"That's alright, Reg. I'm glad to do it. I'd hate to see those shutters broken up because of a few shillings. You've always been a good friend to me." Will told the older man fondly as he paid for his food and reached for the basket.
"Will, lad.wait. I almost forgot. Mary said someone'd come in earlier, a stranger, askin' bout you. Wanted to know where you was since the shop was closed."
Will turned back to Reg, his expression puzzled. "A stranger? Did he say what he wanted?"
Reg frowned slightly. "It weren't 'bout business, that I know, 'cause Mary asked him. Didn't want you to lose an order or anything. That girl's sweet on you, ye know."
Will hadn't known actually. Embarrassed, he quickly turned the conversation back to the stranger. "So what did he want then, this stranger?"
Reg shook his head. "Didn't say, just asked some questions, like where you lived and if she knew where you were, when you were coming back. That sort of thing. She didn't like the look of 'im though. Said he was dressed really nicely, like a fancy shopkeeper or a banker maybe, but he had a rough feel about him, like them clothes weren't what he wore usually."
Confused, Will just nodded. It seemed odd that a stranger would come looking for him for anything else aside from a commission. Still, it didn't concern him overly much. He just wanted to get back to the shop where he was looking forward to a bath and a well-deserved rest.
"Tell Mary I appreciate her letting me know. If he comes back though Reg, see if you can get his name please."
"Will do, lad. I don't like the sound of strangers sniffin' around. Not after all that 'orrid pirate business last year. Folks are still trying to rebuild their lives. It would be the end of this town for sure if it were to 'appen again."
Nodding solemnly in agreement, Will buttoned his coat up to the top. With the basket clutched tightly in one hand he pushed the heavy oak door open with the other. Outside, the wind still whipped about fiercely, and Will moved quickly along the darkened street towards his shop. It seemed as if the weather was only getting worse, the heavy, gray clouds completely shrouding the stars that had shined so brightly above Port Royal just the previous evening. Odd, Will mused to himself that the usual balmy weather had given way so suddenly to such a foul tempest. It was just the sort of night though that Elizabeth loved, Will thought, his lips turning up into a half smile. Once, many years ago, when they were both still children, Elizabeth had told him the only thing she truly missed about England was the changing of the seasons. On the island, one warm season simply bled into the next, the change so subtle one hardly noticed the difference. In the fall though, the rains would come, and when they did Elizabeth loved to stand outside in the gardens of her father's palatial home where she would revel in the feel of the warm droplets running over her face, breathing in deeply the scent of the wet earth, her mind traveling fondly back in time to her childhood in the English countryside. More than once over the past two months Will had come upon her like this, his heart near bursting with love as he'd watch her frolic like a child in the puddles that lined the path from the gate to the Governor's mansion. Elizabeth might have been born with the proverbial silver spoon into a world of luxury and privilege yet she possessed the soul and the spirit of a woman who saw life as a grand adventure, to be lived as she felt fit and not as society would dictate.
A few scant hours had passed since Will had last seen his betrothed but he still felt that aching emptiness that seemed to assault him more and more these days when they were apart. Maybe it was because he'd never really known before what it was to love, and to be loved, so fiercely. Or maybe it was simply his insecurities and his fear that everything was coming together too perfectly to actually be real. He knew that these feelings greatly disturbed Elizabeth and Will took great pains to keep his misgivings to himself. She was his life, his reason to exist and making her happy had become his sole purpose. He was determined to ensure that nothing would dampen her spirits as she made her plans for the day that would bond them together for the duration of theirs lives. A formality really, for as far as Will was concerned, his heart had been bound to hers from the moment that they'd met. And he knew, at long last, that the feeling was mutual.
A few feet from the entrance to the blacksmith's shop that now had Will's name embossed proudly above the door, he stopped, his free hand searching his pockets for the ring of keys he needed to unlock the sturdy gate that he'd recently fitted to the entryway. Sadly, Port Royal was no longer the same safe town it once had been. Despite the earnest efforts of the magistrate and Commodore Norrington's troops, the streets had become increasingly dangerous as the years passed. Will had thought it prudent to safeguard his shop as best as he could. After all, he entire future depended upon the goods he produced. He'd come too far and worked too hard to leave his livelihood unprotected and at the mercy of thieves and pirates.
The first droplets of rain splashed against his face just as Will dug the keys from the inner pocket of his coat. The well oiled gate swung open easily, and Will slipped under the protection of the covered entranceway, relieved to finally be home. He put the basket carefully on the ground in front of the sturdy oak door and turned to lock the gate behind him when a strong, eerily familiar voice called to him from the darkened street. It seemed as if a lifetime had passed since the last time he'd heard that voice call his name, but there was no mistaking that deep, distinctive baritone. Will felt something akin to a vise wrap itself around his heart and his jaw clenched, his body rigid with a mixture of disbelief and anger. The rain had started to fall in earnest now and the cloaked figure moved closer, slipping through the open gate, letting the hood of his finely-cut cape fall back to reveal his face. This must be Mary's stranger, Will thought at once, realizing with irony that this man, despite his connection to Will, truly was a stranger to him.
"Will." The man stated simply, staring at him intently, his eyes devouring the boy as if seeing him for the first time. He stretched one trembling hand towards Will, as if to touch him, but Will flinched visibly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he took two steps back to avoid the contact. For most of his life he'd dreamed of this moment, fantasized about it, but never would he have imagined that he'd feel like this. Hurt. Angry. Betrayed. Disappointed. Disillusioned. He felt a bitter sense of satisfaction as he saw the flash of pain in the other man's eyes and on his weather-beaten face at Will's less than warm reception. The man's shoulder's sagged heavily and suddenly, he looked older, weaker, more fragile than his years, but Will didn't care. He crossed his arms casually across his chest and leaned back against the still-locked door of his shop, his face set in a hard mask before he finally broke the silence.
"Hello father."
