Author's Notes: First and foremost, I must express my deepest appreciation for the reviews I received! I'm terrible at answering them with this site's system, but I didn't want you to think that I take them for granted. The reaction to this was better than I anticipated!
About This Story: This is the second part of this three-part story, and it is this chapter that illustrates William Turner's view of his relationship with Elizabeth. Will was somewhat difficult for me to write, and from the movies I never seemed to get a strong perception of his voice. So this is my attempt, though I admit that for a Jack/Lizzie fan, I enjoyed this far more than I thought. The next and final chapter is in the view of Captain Jack Sparrow, which should be posted tomorrow.
Will Turner
The very first time I saw her, I was a child and so was she, though I had been pulled from the wreckage of the sea; she was the finest thing I thought I had ever seen, dressed in an elegant gown. For the remainder of our time upon the ship, she seated herself beside me, guarding me. Protecting me. I think that, even if her father had not ordered me her charge, it was in her nature then to remain with me. And I think it's still in her nature; there is just enough of her former self still left, and she cannot deny who she is.
Yet sometimes, I do not even know who she is, and neither, I believe, does she. This worries me. I have known her so long, and in so many years, she stayed the same. In a short time, however, she has grown so different from the Elizabeth I once knew. In spite of this, though, I love her more fiercely than I ever have, even if she hasn't always known it.
You may not believe that children can understand the concept of love, further than the affection they feel for their immediate family. Perhaps they cannot. Perhaps you could not. But I firmly believe, at least, in the concept of love at first sight, even if you are nearly blinded by saltwater and exhaustion. Perhaps it was only a mere feeling of the want of friendship at first. Yet it was not long before I discovered that she was the one with whom I wished to spend the rest of my life.
I called her Miss Swann, in spite of the fact that we had been companions in our childhood. For we were children no longer, and I knew my place. I masked my emotions behind her formal name, knowing well the way which my voice changed when I murmured Elizabeth to myself when no one was near. I savored the taste of it upon my tongue, the way it felt when it rolled from my lips. Can you place blame upon me, really, when hers was the kindness and companionship I had known for the past ten years?
The Governor asked Mr. Brown, the blacksmith, if I could become his apprentice; Elizabeth told me this one afternoon when she came to visit me. He had requested it as a personal favor, she said, but I was not to know this, and neither was she. How had she come across such information, then? With an unguarded laugh, I remember, she proudly informed me that she had listened with her ear against the door as her father bargained with the man I would soon work for. Even then, it seems, she had begun to bend the rules.
Later, she would bend the law, along with the rest of us.
At times, I wonder if this is simply in her blood, just as it's in mine. The difference, however, is that her father is a respectable man, and mine is a lying, thieving pirate. Or was, I suppose, for he is now a prisoner for a fault of his own. Jack Sparrow labeled him as a good man, but I don't know what to believe.
Elizabeth has done no wrong, and I have never thought of her as a prisoner. Yet I wonder if I have misjudged her. The life that she seems to want to so desperately escape is the life that I have longed for since my father abandoned me. And until recently, she never realized this. Even later, though, have I.
At first, before I knew the true nature of my father's profession, I thought that I would lose her to Norrington, a man of higher stature who could provide her with what she deserved. Lose her, in spite of the fact that I had never dared to consider her mine to begin with. I remember telling myself that this was what was best for her, yet I still felt such resentment at my rank. I believed that, in spite of the fact that he could make her happy, he did not love her as I so strongly did—and still do.
I allowed myself to underestimate her, as well.
After she was captured, I told Jack Sparrow that I would die for her. I would never lie about such a grave thing as this, and on several occasions since then I have narrowly escaped the fate I pledged I would accept for her sake. Yet I worry at times that no longer does she require someone to save her. Now that she has been saved, she enjoys the freedom that it has given her.
I realize that if it weren't for me, long ago would she have become Norrington's bride. Had she not known me, she couldn't have given Barbossa my surname as her own. Nothing would be as it is now. Perhaps most differently of all, neither she nor I would have met Jack.
I don't think she realizes that I saw her and Jack together, minutes before the Kraken came forth from the depths of the ocean to consume him. Is he a noble man, to have chosen to stay aboard the Black Pearl to allow us a chance to survive? Is he still one whom I may call a friend—more than an acquaintance—when he has kissed the woman who is to become my wife? I don't pretend to understand her actions, and I fear that I can no longer understand her heart. I want to have her, to hold her in my arms until the day I draw my last breath. Yet what does all that matter? What do I matter, in fact, if I cannot make her happy?
I will go to the world's end to bring her happiness. I am no coward—I have learned this long ago, and will fight for the right to what is mine—yet I can only hope that it will suffice to bring her back to me. Thus hope, at the present, is what I must do.
