a/n: Hey, I'm really sorry for another snail-slow update, but RL is giving me a super hard time right now. Updates are probably going to be monthly...Sorry, I know it sucks!

Anyway, thank you for all of the reviews! Please keep them coming, I really, really enjoy them!

Oh, and by the way, gala's up in Chapter 18! I'll try to get that one up soon.

Enjoy!

Romen

Disclaimer: Unfamiliar; mine. Familiar; not mine.

Chapter 17

House and Home

"Very good." Susan clapped Will on the back as all three of them left the storage room. "Just remember; up on beat one, not the upbeat. You'll do fine."

Will managed a small smile. "Thanks," he muttered, watching as she hurried down the stairs. He mopped his brow nervously. He could only hope that she was telling the truth, and not purposefully sabotaging him...

Tom snapped his fingers. "I almost forgot. Are you doing anything this evening?"

Will blinked. "No. Why?"

"We'd like to invite you over for dinner," Tom replied, running one hand through his hair and ruffling it. "If you're able to come, that is."

Will could hardly believe what he was hearing. He nodded quickly. "Yes, thank you. Are- are you sure it's all right?"

Tom laughed, starting down the stairs. "Of course it's all right! My mum's been suggesting it for weeks."

"Your mother?"

"Uh-huh."

Will had to bite down the urge to ask, 'You have a mother!' Of course he had a mother; everyone had a mother. Tom never spoke about his family, and Will had just begun to think that he and his father were the only one's who lived there.

But it wasn't unusual for both parents to live together.

"Where do you live?" Will asked as they exited the servant's quarters, heading out into the humid night.

"Out there." Tom gestured with a nod of his head, out into the distance. "It's a little bit of a walk from here, but nothing too bad, I guess."

Will glanced up at the hazy moon. "So...how long have you lived out here?"

"For a few years; we came out here whenever they started colonizing the island."

"Oh." Will fell silent. He shoved his hands deep down into his pockets. A knot was forming in the pit of his stomach.

A cottage began to loom at them, an orange glow shining out from the small curtained windows. Will could make out the servant's quarters behind them, nothing more than a small pin-prick in the distance. He glanced back at the cottage, chewing on his lip in anticipation. There was a shed not too far from it. Will could hear the sound of voices from the inside. He stood back as Tom walked up to the door and knocked, yelling, "It's me!"

The door scraped open. A short, plump woman with a worn looking apron smiled down at them. "Hello," she said, her cheeks rosy. "You must be Will."

Will nodded, adverting his eyes. "Thank you for having me over," he mumbled, pretending to look interested in his shoes.

She laughed, standing out of the way so that they could pass through. "The pleasure is all mine, dear. You could learn manners from him, Tom."

"Really." Tom grinned and rolled his eyes when she wasn't looking, gesturing for Will to go in first. "I'll have to remember that."

The moment Will stepped over the threshold he felt something heavy collide with his body. Before he knew it he was on the floor, something wet and slimy licking his face.

"Get off of him!" he heard Tom yelling. "Now! Get! Bad dog, bad dog!" He hauled Will to his feet as the large, brown hound retreated, whining softly under his breath. "Sorry about that; he can be a little overzealous at times."

"It's all right," he managed to wheeze in reply. The dog had knocked all of the air out of him.

"You poor thing," Tom's mother crooned, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "Come sit down at the table..."

Will smiled weakly. "I'm fine, ma'am."

"You look exhausted." She herded him over to the corner, where a small, rectangular brown table was situated. "Here, sit down. Dinner will be ready in a moment."

Tom sat down next to him, only to be pulled back up again by his mother. "You need to help me in the kitchen!"

"I'm tired too," Tom protested, holding up his callused hands. "Besides, Alice can help you."

"Nuh-uh," a small voice quipped, and for the first time Will noticed the child sitting across from him. She looked to be no older than five, and had thick, curly dark locks and the same freckles across her nose and cheeks that her brother had. "I'm too little."

"Come on." She dragged him through a door on the right. Will squirmed in his chair, wondering if he should get up and help.

"What's your name?"

Will smiled at Alice, leaning forward. "My name is Will."

"My name's Alice. I'm four." She held up four fingers, smiling proudly. "How old are you?"

"I'm twelve." He opened both of his hands, then closed one of them and held up two fingers.

"You go past two hands!" she exclaimed in amazement. "You're old! Soon I'll fill out a whole hand. Where do you live?"

"I live at the governor's manor."

Her eyes grew wide. "Are you Miss Swann's brother?"

He chuckled. "No, I live in the servant's quarters."

"You're a servant?"

"Well, no..."

"But if you live with the servants, doesn't that make you a servant?" she asked bluntly.

Will's ego was slowly deflating. He was saved from answering by the sound of the door being knocked open roughly. He started, but Alice scrambled to the floor and ran to the entrance. "Papa!" she cried, being scooped up into arms large enough to hold two of her.

The man planted a kiss on her dark head, his tanned, weathered skin crinkling as he smiled. He carried her back over to the table, frowning.

"Who are you?" he asked warily.

Will swallowed nervously. "My name is William Turner. I'm a friend of Tom's. Thank you for having me over to your home, sir," he added as an after-thought.

"The pleasure is mine, William," he replied kindly, bouncing Alice up and down on his knee. "We've heard a lot about you from Tom."

The door to the kitchen opened and Tom's mother stepped through, wiping her hands on her apron. "Dinner is almost ready. Would you mind helping me set the table, Sam?"

The man stood, Alice slipping from his lap. "Sure thing, Martha."

Will pushed back his chair. Martha shook her head at this, smiling gently. "You're our guest; we'll take care of things."

He sat back down, watching as they filed back into the kitchen, laughing and talking. Back home he had always been the one to set the table, especially after his mother had gotten sick. He drummed his fingers on the table, glancing out the window. He could hear the sound of Tom's parents speaking. He wondered what his own father was doing...

Tom suddenly entered the room, balancing a stack of plates. He grinned loftily, setting it down on the table and beginning to pass them around. Alice followed shortly, silverware clutched in her hands. Will offered to pass them around, since she was so young. When Martha saw this, she clucked her tongue with a bemused smile. "You don't have to help, really, dear." She set a dish on the table.

Before long Sam and Martha had brought out dinner. There was stew, sausage, and mashed potatoes. It all smelled and looked delicious. His stomach growled impatiently the entire time they said grace. When they had finished, he piled his plate, listening as they all conversed. It reminded him so much of what his life had been like that it almost hurt.

"So, Will," Sam began, his eyes turning to him, "you work at the governor's house?"

"Yes sir."

"Do you like it there?"

"Yes sir, very much so." He paused. "I am very grateful to have a place to stay."

Martha stood, lifting the dish that contained the stew. "They're obviously not feeding you enough," she remarked, shoveling more onto his plate. "You're just as bad as Tom."

Tom sighed. "Mother-"

"It wouldn't hurt for you to have a little bit more either," she chided gently, sitting back down. "Have as much as you want, Will."

"She says that to everyone," Tom loudly whispered, earning giggles from Alice and a glare from his mother.

Sam eyed his son and grinned. "So, Will, do you know what you're going to do with your future?"

Will chewed for a moment, trying to buy time. He'd never really been asked a question like that before. "Not really," he finally admitted, taking a swig of his water.

"It's important that you start thinking about it. These years are what matter most." He turned his attention to his wife. "I was down at the docks today-"

Will suddenly started choking. He could sense everyone staring at him, but he didn't care. "D-Docks?" he finally managed to stutter.

"Er- Yes. Anyway, that's where I got the potatoes."

Will's mind reeled. "Sir, do you visit the docks often?"

Sam shrugged. "Occasionally. Why?"

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, full of hope. "Most of the ships are merchant vessels, right?"

"Yes."

Will leaned forward excitedly. "Have you ever met or heard of a man named William Turner?"

Sam frowned, his head cocked to the side thoughtfully. "I think..."

'If he has to think about it, he must have!' Will thought to himself, his shoulders twitching. Even if the ship wasn't docked then, if he could only find out the name of the vessel, he might be able to contact his father. Thoughts flew through his head. He would probably have to leave with him, but that didn't matter...He would miss Tom and Elizabeth, of course, but he could always write them...Everything would be all right now that he had his father, he was sure of it. He already knew exactly what he would say when he saw him...

Sam shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I ever have."

Will froze. He slowly slumped in his chair. The empty feeling of being alone began to solidify in his chest. He forced a smile. "Oh. Thank you anyway." He picked at the remnants of his sausage, trying to act like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He could feel his face grow warm with disappointment. He shouldn't have built his hopes up like that...

Tom hastily changed the subject, much to Will's relief. He tried to forget the whole incident, but it kept coming back to him. He had been so close to finding his father, so close. He wished his mother would have told him the name of the ship that he worked on, but she hadn't got a chance. A lump formed in his throat. Maybe when he had signed on to the ship before he had arrived at Port Royal, his father's vessel had been docked right next to his. Perhaps he had heard the name a thousand times before. The chance frustrated him.

The frustration was suddenly replaced by a surge of fatigue. He yawned, his eyelids feeling as heavy as lead. "I should be going..." He pushed his chair back, standing. "Thank you very much for having me over. The food was very good, ma'am."

"You're welcome to say here for the night," Martha offered graciously.

The temptation was great, but Will shook his head. "No, thank you. I have to be up early tomorrow." 'Or everyday.'

"Are you sure?" Sam's brow furrowed. "It's rather late to be walking back by yourself. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, I'll be all right. Thank you for having me over."

"You're welcome here anytime." Martha stood, helping him to the door. "Wait, I want to send some bread with you..."

Will watched as she hurried into the kitchen. Tom began to clear the table, following her. Hesitating, Will turned to Sam.

"Sir? May I ask you a favor?"

"Of course." He waited.

"If you ever go down to the docks again, would you ask anyone if they've heard of a William Turner?"

Sam smiled. "I'll remember it every time I go."

"Thank you. If- If you ever meet him, would you-"

He nodded.

Martha rushed back inside, holding out a bundle. "Here. Come by anytime you like."

"Thank you, ma'am." He held it gently, smiling at them all. "If you don't mind, I should be going..."

"Good-bye, Will." Tom poked his head out of the kitchen, grinning.

Will waved, too tired to do anything else, as he stepped out into the night. If he hadn't been so sleepy, he would have ran all of the way back to the quarters.

He still had a chance of coming across his father yet.

TBC...