Lord Knows I Can't Change
Chapter Eleven
"Every night he would look up and whisper goodnight to you, knowing that even though he wasn't with you, you would still hear it 'cause you felt the same breezes as him, and they would carry his words to you. He did that every night, Will, every night."
Night. He hated night. Yet he loved night.
Yet he despised night.
Night was the only time that he got to be with his father, whether it was through pain masked as persuasive dreams, or through the whispered words that the breezes carried in. Sometimes it was both, sometimes it was just one, and sometimes it was neither of the two. He had never felt as alone as he did with the latter. It was a jarringly cold feeling, the tedious distant throb that reminded him day and night, night and day, that his father was a man that he had never met. His father was nothing more than a letter there and a message here, a gift at this point and a trinket at this time. A man, as Will had later been told, whose life was the sea, whose true love was the ocean, whose lust was freedom.
A man who could not swallow his pride, toss aside his self-importance long enough to visit his son, to meet his bloody child!
Not once.
The cry of a child went unheard every night. Tears that shed the blood of a broken heart and screamed the why that he could not understand were soundless.
"He often thought about you, wondered what you were doing, how you were doing…"
Eighteen years of Will's life had been nothing but a lie. Had it not been for Jack showing up when he had two years ago, he would still be living that lie. His father was not a merchant sailor, his father was a Pirate. His father had chosen the sea and piracy over land and parenthood. A ship had been chosen over a son, a life thrown away for another. Will had no man to call father other than a man that refused to call him son.
At night he would dream the painfully masked slaps from the uncouth mistress reality. In them he had Bootstrap, he had his father. His father hugged him and held him, told him that he loved him, and Will would smile, Will would hug him back…-
And Will would wake up to shadows on the walls. Alone.
Will glanced at Bootstrap, who had fallen asleep at some point during the night. He always woke up when he made contact with him. He would not this time. He would not wake up again!
He would rather not be able to make contact with his father than not have his father at all.
Vision growing blurred, Will gently removed Elizabeth's head from his shoulder and leaned her down against Jack's pillow; smiling at the serene look that covered her face. He quietly rose to his feet and, stealing a quick glance at Jack to make sure that he had not awoken the Captain, he crept to the door and pulled it open; jogging up the stairs and onto the Pearl's deck.
Barbossa was no where in sight. Will was alone.
He leaned against the railing of the Pearl and set his tears free.
* * *
"Will?" The eight-year-old turned away from the bug that he was examining. His eyes rested on the brown envelope that his mother was holding for a short second before they traveled upwards to meet hers.
"Yes, mother?"
"A package arrived for you today," she rose her hand and held the envelope out towards Will. "It's from your father." Will immediately lost interest. All he ever got were trinkets and letters from his father, never anything more, never anything less. Wren, his mother, had explained that his father was a busy man, and Will had nodded with understanding. It wasn't that he didn't recognize that as a merchant sailor, Bootstrap had to be away from home a lot, it was the fact that the man never came home that Will could not understand. He had never even met him and he was hoping that he would today, because today was his birthday.
All he gotten was another letter and, most likely, another trinket.
His eyes fell back down. "Oh," he answered simply, trying to cover up the disappointment that was lacing his tone. Wren sighed and kneeled down beside her son and ran a hand through his hair; laughing softly when the child grumbled and shooed her hand away. She brought her hand back and positioned herself so that she was sitting crossed legged and gently pulled the little boy onto her lap.
"That's an interesting looking bug, isn't it, Will?" Wren asked as she wrapped her arms around the little boy's waist. Will nodded his head and leaned back against her, eyes never leaving the little insect that continued to crawl around the dirt patch that was in front of them. "He looks lonely." She said a few seconds later, watching as the insect seemed to stop and hopelessly look around, as if looking for its companion.
"Maybe his daddy is a merchant sailor, too," Will answered, "and he misses him." Wren frowned.
"Do you miss your daddy, Will?"
"I don't know, mommy. Can you miss something that you never even had?" Generally Wren would have been proud at the wisdom that his words held, but at that exacting moment in time, she wasn't. He was wise beyond his young years, too much so for his own good.
"You have him, Will."
Will shook his head. "I just have letters, mommy. And gadgets." Will watched as the insect crawled overtop a rock and scurried off into the grass. "Just like the bug only has dirt and rocks."
"Dirt and rocks are better than nothing, honey," she said quietly, "as are letters and gadgets. Those are your special way of having your daddy with you, because he writes those letters from his heart, Will, hoping that the words will embrace you, since he can't." Will said nothing and Wren sighed again, rocking gently from side to side, knowing that the soothing motion always made Will feel content. It was times like these that she hated her husband.
Truly and honestly hated him with every being of her existence.
"Do you want to open daddy's letter, Will? It might make you feel better." Wren whispered the encouraging words and Will just sighed. He didn't quite understand how more words and more devices would replace his father, but he trusted his mother, loved his mother, didn't want to hurt or disappoint his mother, and so he nodded. She smiled and kissed the top of her son's head before turning her eyes away and picking up the worn brown envelope that she had set on the ground.
"Can you read it?"
Wren nodded. "Alright, honey." Will watched her carefully open the envelope. She slipped one hand in and pulled out the letter, which was written on worn paper with smudged words, obviously wet from the sea. Placing the letter in her left hand, same hand as the one holding the envelope, she once again reached in with her right and pulled out a circular golden coin with a skull on the front. Will's eyes widened in curiosity and he eagerly took the coin as soon as his mother offered it to him. He held it with both hands and inspected both the back and front carefully, a small smile tugging at his lips as he moved the coin around with his finger tips.
Wren silently thanked God that Will did not know that it was a Pirate medallion.
His mother opened the folded paper and cleared her throat. "Ready?" She watched him nod and moved her eyes from him to the medallion. Sighing, they traveled up to the letter. "My dearest son," she began, looking briefly at Will, who was still exploring every crevice of the gold coin. "Hopefully this will arrive in time for your birthday, and if it doesn't, I apologize. Along with this letter, I enclosed a small birthday gift. It is not much, but I thought that you would enjoy it more than I would. I traded supplies with an older man and he gave me this, saying that it is very, very special. Take good care of it, William, keep it hidden in a secret spot, a secure spot so only you know where it lies. I have to cut this short as we are going to head back onto the ship. Take care of yourself, son, and take care of your mother as well. Love you both, William Turner." Wren started to fold the letter back up, trying to swallow the lump of guilt in her throat.
Lies, they were telling their son bloody lies!
"Where should I keep it, mommy?" Will asked suddenly, and Wren shook her head, smiling at her son's excitement; something that he was never granted when a letter from his father arrived. Will turned away from her and turned the coin around with his fingers. "He said a hidden, secure spot." He looked back at his mother. "What does 'secure' mean?"
"Safe, protected," she answered. "In a safe spot." Will lowered his eyes briefly back to the coin before looking back at his mother.
"Do you still have that gold chain, mommy?" He watched her nod. "May I please have it? I'll attach the coin to it and wear it around my neck where it will be close to my heart, which is the safest spot that I have." Wren smiled and nodded, tears threatening to creep into her eyes.
"Of course you can! What do you say we go do that now?" Will smiled and nodded his head; bolting up from his mother's lap and running excitably inside of the house, the gold coin clutched tightly against his small palm. Wren sighed and stood to her feet, looking momentarily up at the sky before following her son inside and shutting the door.
* * *
Two years later, shortly after Will's tenth birthday, Wren was stabbed to death in the living room of her own home.
The letter he had received from his father on his eighth birthday was the last one that his father ever sent him.
Two days after his mother's death, he stole away on a ship headed for the Caribbean. The last letter that he had gotten from his father was sent from a port called Tortuga, and he planned to go there in search of the man who, for ten years, had been a man with no face that he called father. After being found by the man who captained the ship that he had stolen away on, he was allowed to stay aboard if he would pull his weight in various daily chores. Of course, Will had agreed.
Two months later, the ship was attacked and burnt by Pirates.
He was the only survivor.
Elizabeth Swann had spotted him in the water.
Once they reached Port Royale, Will was handed over to the man who ran the Armory Shop, Mr. Brown, to aid him with his work.
His ambition to find his father, and the hope that he was still alive, had gone up in flames with the ship that had taken him away from England.
The Black Pearl was the same ship that had invaded his home two months and three days ago. It was the same ship that carried the man who had stabbed his mother to death after she refused to give him her son and the gold coin. It was the same ship that carried the same man that had killed his father.
The ship had found him two months later and Will had barely escaped.
The ship and the man found him eight years later and again, Will had barely escaped.
The ship and the man found him two years later and this time, Will saw no chance of escaping.
The man who had killed his mother held his father captive; the man who had sent him the cursed golden coin on his eighth birthday.
The awakening sun poked its head lazily over the horizon. Reds, oranges and yellows soon stretched across the sea for as far as the eye could witness. Will turned away from the reflecting, blinding water and sat down, leaning his head against the railing of the Pearl. He shut his eyes and silently begged the memories and the yesterdays to go away. They didn't listen and Will sighed.
* * *
"Ye better be nice to me, William Turner."
"Give me one good reason..."
"I can give ye three. Wouldn't want nothin' bad happenin' to them now would ye?"
"You already hurt one."
"Aye, one, there be two more. Plus I could always just hurt Jack more. So, ye better be nice to me, 'cause how you act towards me is how I act towards them."
Bootstrap mutely cursed at the discussion that he had had the pleasure of having with Barbossa earlier that morning.
"… -should take turns with the coin." Bootstrap shook his head in an attempt to rid his mind of the words. He looked over at Elizabeth, who was looking back and forth between him and Jack, and smiled apologetically.
"My apologies, Elizabeth, what did you say?" She sighed and Bootstrap didn't know if it was with relief or irritation.
"We should take turns with the coin… -You know, trade it with each other so that Barbossa won't know who has it." He nodded his head in agreement with the young lass' idea. Jack, though, said nothing, and Bootstrap dimly wondered why.
He briefly glanced over at him before answering, "Good idea." Jack stood with the door opened ajar and was peering out of it, his expression serious. His eyes, though, held sorrow, looked the way they had while he was being marooned all those years ago. Bootstrap frowned.
Elizabeth pushed herself up from Jack's bed and reached into her pocket, fishing around for the gold coin that she had stuck in there the day before. "Good, then. I'll give it to Will, who'll give it to Jack, who'll eventually give it back to me and so on." He didn't remove his eyes from Jack's solemn form.
"What about me?"
"Barbossa would automatically suspect you, so it's better not to include you."
Bootstrap pulled his eyes away from Jack's motionless body and looked at Elizabeth. "Will has found himself a bright young woman." He smiled, and Elizabeth blushed. Her finger tips brushed against the coin and she pulled it out and looked briefly at it before raising her eyes once more and searching the small room for Will. Panic gripped her body when she discovered her fiancé to be no where in sight.
"Where's Wi-"
"On deck." Elizabeth looked at Jack. Jack didn't turn away from whatever it was that he was staring at to return her gaze. "Will is on deck." He repeated, and this time Bootstrap looked at him as well. Elizabeth thrust the coin back into her pocket and practically ran to the door.
"What? Why?" She asked as she pulled the door open a bit more, peering out at her fiancé. "Is he alright?" She looked at Jack with eyes full of worry. Jack said nothing. "Jack?" She questioned, her tone softer this time as she returned her gaze to the man on the Pearl's deck. He was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms resting on top of them. His face was buried against his arms and it didn't take a genius to realize that the young man was crying, or at least sobbing, by the way that his back shook every couple seconds. Elizabeth frowned. Something was wrong, dreadfully wrong.
"William." Elizabeth's head snapped back to Jack when she heard the older man's voice. "You can't put it off any longer… -You have for twenty years." Elizabeth shifted her eyes from Jack to Bootstrap, who was standing with his back to Jack and Elizabeth, peering out of the window.
"I can't talk to him, Jack… What if I hurt him?"
"You're already hurting him by ignoring him." Jack's voice was sharp as ice and as lethal as poison. Elizabeth found herself wincing at the uncharacteristic tone. Bootstrap sighed. He hated it when the Pirate Captain became persistent.
He hated it when the Pirate Captain was right.
"Two years ago I asked Will if I had ever given him reason not to trust me, and I hadn't." Jack shut his eyes. He opened them seconds later and turned around. Bootstrap could feel Jack's eyes boring into the flesh on his back and screaming at his soul. "Its two years later, and I still haven't… I told him you were a good man, William, with a good heart… Don't make me have given Will reason to no longer trust me." Elizabeth's eyes roamed back and forth between the two men. They stopped when she saw Bootstrap turn around. The older man walked to the door and, mindful of Elizabeth and Jack, pulled it open enough to get out and then walked up onto the deck of the Pearl.
Jack gently pulled Elizabeth away from the door after reassuring her that Will would be alright and shut it; giving Will and his father at least some means of privacy.
* * *
Bootstrap narrowed his eyes when he saw Barbossa standing in front of the Pearl's wheel. Jack was resting comfortably atop his shoulder, turning around in various directions every couple of seconds. He screeched when he saw Bootstrap and the man jumped. Barbossa, though, did nothing; merely quieted Jack down with a pat to the head and went back to steering the ship.
Bootstrap rolled his eyes.
He returned his gaze to his motionless son and slowly started to walk towards him, vaguely wondering if Barbossa even knew that Will was there, being that the lad was as silent as the night sky. Bootstrap stood beside him and stole one last glance at Barbossa and Jack before resting his eyes on his son, whose face was still buried in his arms. He frowned and physically winced at the sting of guilt that struck his heart.
"Will?" He called softly. When the lad didn't answer, didn't acknowledge his presence, Bootstrap kneeled down in front of him. "Will?" He called again, even softer this time, his tone barely above that of a whisper. Will rose his head and stared at his father with pained eyes and a resentful expression. Dry tears and dry pain covered his cheeks and more were filling his eyes, threatening to spill over. His look was broken, his eyes were scarred, his soul was wounded.
Bootstrap's eyes roamed over his and the man wordlessly prayed that his soul was not beyond help.
"What do you want?" Bootstrap frowned at Will's tone and said nothing. He just looked at him, at his eyes, at those tears that the younger man was trying so hard to hold back; trying so hard to appear okay, to appear unscathed. Both Bootstrap and Will knew that he was anything but.
"Will…" Bootstrap trailed off and sighed in aggravation. He ran a hand through his hair and shut his eyes. "Will," he started once more as he opened his eyes. He stared at his sons. "I just… I want to…" He sighed again. "Don't push me away, Will."
"You pushed me away," Will retorted, "so why shouldn't I?"
"Because your mother raised you better than that… -You're a better man than me, Will, and you're far too kind to do that sort of thing, even to a bastard like me." Will said nothing. "I know that I have hurt you and I want to make up for it… I don't want you to feel pain anymore." Will shook his head.
"Pain doesn't hurt when it's all you've ever felt."
"Pain and hurt coincide, Will. Don't you dare sit there and tell me that you are numb to them, because you aren't. To feel them is a part of life, Will, it means that you are alive… If you don't feel them, then you are dead… And you don't appear dead to me."
"Appearances can be deceiving." He narrowed his eyes at his father. "You of all people should know this."
"So you're dead?"
"You killed me."
Bootstrap swallowed hard, not wanting to show that the words had hurt. Badly. "And you don't feel pain?"
"You have numbed me."
"So why are you crying then?" Will just looked at him, the expression in his eyes one that Bootstrap was not familiar with. They were indistinct. Will stood to his feet and pushed past his father, turning and walking in the direction of Jack's cabin.
He mutely cursed when Bootstrap grabbed his wrist and halted his attempts to run.
Furiously he spun around, trying to pull his wrist free from his father's stronger, larger hand. "Let me go!" Bootstrap said nothing as he grabbed Will's left wrist as well. Will growled angrily and pulled back from the older man; gasping unconsciously when he forcefully pulled him back towards him. The fingers around his wrists tightened even more. "You bastard!" He jumped backwards as a second attempt to catch his father off guard. It didn't work and Will snarled. "You never cared about me, dad, you only did yourself!" Another futile effort and Will's anger only escalated. "I don't even know why I came out here looking for you; it's obvious that you don't give a damn about me! You have Jack," he jumped back again, "the bloody ocean," giving up on the jumping, he started to beat on his dad's left wrist with his right hand, "and your fucking freedom, why the blazes would you want your son?!" He beat harder. "You've proven to me that you don't want me! You chose piracy over your child!" Bootstrap wasn't flinching and this only infuriated the blacksmith more. He wanted to cause his father pain; pain that his father had been causing him for all of his life. He started to hammer his fist onto his dad's wrist. "Over your life and your wife; you threw everything away for the sea!" Will lunged forward suddenly, trying to knock his dad off guard that way. It proved just as abortive as lunging backwards had. Will furiously started to pound his fists into his dad's chest. "You killed mother! You didn't care, you didn't…" Will trailed off and shook his head heatedly; the pounding quickening in speed and his tone deepening with hate. "You never cared!" The pounding gradually diminished, along with Will's livid shouts. The blacksmith stopped and looked at his fists before raising his eyes and looking his father in the eye. Will's eyes were full of uncertainty and his brow was scrunched up in pain. Guilt was washing over him like water would a boat in a dreadful storm and he could do nothing but stare at his father.
"I cared, Will," Bootstrap whispered a few seconds later. He didn't let go of his sons' wrists. "And I still do." Will dropped his eyes.
"I didn't want trinkets and letters, I didn't want a merchant sailor, I didn't want a pirate… -I didn't want a good man, a bad man…I just wanted you," his eyes met with his fathers once again, only this time, they were overflowing with the pain that had been embedded on his forehead. The pain fell from his eyes in small streams and ran down his cheeks. "I wanted a father, and you were never there, dad… -You were never ever there."
"I'll be there now if you will let me. You're my son, Will, and I love you." Will shut his eyes tightly and frantically shook his head. He opened them once more and started to try to break his wrists free from his father once more.
This time, though, his shouts were laced with terror, not with hatred.
"No!" He yelled. "I don't want to wake up; don't make me wake up!"
"Will-"
The blacksmith cut him off. "I always wake up… I don't want to again… -I can't again, don't make me! Don't make me!" Bootstrap let go of his sons' wrists and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Will returned the gesture and Bootstrap gently lowered them down to the deck of the Pearl. "I can't wake up again, dad… -I can't…"
"You won't."
"I always do! In the dreams… -Every time I touch you!"
"You're touching me now, Will." Bootstrap said softly and Will opened his eyes, warily looking around, readying himself for the slap that he knew he would feel within a matter of seconds. He felt nothing, No painful sting, no cackling yesterdays…-The only thing that he felt was his father's arms around him. The only thing that he heard was his father's words in his mind.
"I'll be there now if you will let me. You're my son, Will, and I love you."
Will tightened his hold around his father as his heart cried out twenty years worth of pain onto his shoulder.
Bootstrap held his son tightly, feeling his own eyes tearing up as well.
They had finally met.
To Be Continued…
AN: Finally! This chapter is finished! Took three days to write and I edited and rewrote several parts several times. I tried my best at this chapter, and I hope that it doesn't suck. I apologize for it being so long!! By doing some basic math (that I needed to do for this chapter) I discovered that Jack was 32 in the first movie, and Will and Elizabeth were 18. Just thought I'd let ya'll know!
I want to thank everyone who reviewed chapter ten. They were so kind that I found myself smiling like a moron every time I read one. I honestly have never received such kind reviews and it made me feel like I'm doing something right for once. So thanks, guys; it really does mean a lot. :)
We've missed 7 days 'cause of Isabel, that's why I've been able to update I think, two or three times.
I'll have chapter twelve up ASAP!
Please review on your way out! :)