Chapter 3
"Hello Elizabeth."
Elizabeth's eyes widened in surprise, and her lips opened in shock. Her eyes darted around, looking for an exit. She saw a door, but he had smartly saw himself in front of it, blocking all exits. Seeing no windows, she decided to try to get at least some information out of him. But he took her by surprise, and spoke again.
"You've been out for a few days. Six to be exact. You've been back here since the Dr. Madison wrapped you up. Seeing as you're awake now, though, we'll have to change your bandages." Seeing the fear in her eyes, he added, "But that can wait a little while."
"Who are you?" Elizabeth was confused, and terrified that he knew her name. She carried nothing that identified her. He either was with the pirates, sent to kill her since Dougal had failed, or he knew her somehow.
He grinned at her question, and his smile reached into his eyes. He relaxed slightly, and leaned forward in his chair, so that his elbows were resting on his knees. Her heart beat faster at the sight of his smile, and she cursed herself. She had not let her feel love for any many beside her father since her childhood love had left without so much as a goodbye. William Turner left her at the age of 18 without telling her where he was going, so she never had a chance to tell him how she felt. Now at the age of 22, the man before her had stirred emotions in her long since dead in mere minutes.
"Don't you recognize me? I mean, I know I've changed. Few new scars, longer hair, tanner, stronger, less clean shaven...well, never mind. You may not. Let me just say this to you, little missy-"
Will never finished his sentence, because before he even finished his clue, she leaped into his arms. "William Tuner!" She hugged him tight against her, her eyes watering. She pulled back to look at him.
"My god is it really you?" She looked him up and down. When he left, declaring he was to be a blacksmith with his friend Jack Sparrow, his parents had disowned him. He had been a scrawny, short haired boy who was always impeccably shaved. He was always as white as the clouds. His parents believed that the whiter your skin to be, the higher class, because only workers needed to be in the sun long enough to gain color from the sun.
The man before her though was taller, with long thick hair that fell to his tanned shoulders. He had become much stronger, and had facial hair that was obviously not as well taken care of. He was in a word, gorgeous.
"Yes it is. You need to sit, you've been hurt. Then you need to drop the sword you are still holding, that I made I might add, and tell me how on earth you ended up at the top of the hill with a knife in your back!" His face and tone had gone from worried and playful to worried and shocked. For the rest of the day, the two old friends caught up.
Finally, late into the evening, Will said it was time to retire. He and Elizabeth changed the bandages, and she curled into the sheets of the bed. Hearing Will start to leave the room, she looked at him, and called out.
"Will, where are you going?"
"Well, I'm going to the bed I've concocted out in the smithy." He looked as if his answer were common sense.
"Stay? Please?" She looked at him with such innocence and helplessness, he couldn't say no. But then again, had he ever been able to?
He walked over and started to lower himself to the floor, when her small voice said one simple phrase that he never dreamed he would ever hear.
"On the bed with me, please?" Her soft pleading left him no choice, so with a look of question, to which she nodded her approval, he climbed in under the sheets that she held up for him. He laid there on his back, with the woman he had loved since they were children facing him on her side.
"Thank you, Will" were her last words before she drifted to sleep.
"You're welcome, my love." He whispered the last part, and settled himself in for a night he was sure would not be filled with sleep.