This chapter ans the next ones won't be a day to day report of Will's life, or else I will nerver reach the films...
And truthfully, it's hard to write about a 10 years old; I don't remember how I was at 10!


ShadOish, here is more Will/past self feels!


Chapter 10: A happier youth

Will left the city's port with a thoughtful look on his face.

He wasn't planning to leave yet, of course, still he couldn't help but wonder how exactly he would leave Port Royal, when the time would come. Would he try to get hired on a merchant ship? Would he buy a small boat, maybe even no more than a dinghy? He really didn't need much to be able to sail away. Though, if he wanted to put it in these words, a dinghy would obviously not do, since it didn't have a sail.

The devil is in the detail, as they said.

As for him, he thought it was most likely to be found, at this time of the century, on a ship with black sails and a cursed pirate crew. Or maybe on another ship, that went under water, and terrified the oceans. Now that he thought about it, if Barbossa, in his cursed form, and Jones met and got on each other's nerves, would would win the battle? The Pearl was the quickest, the Dutchman was the strongest; both of their captains were nearly immortal; two cursed crew, who cared not for their lives and freedom...

Ah, obviously, Davy Jones would win. After all, Jones had a kraken. It could come in handy, a kraken. No, really.

And there was also the fact that, with Calypso out of the picture, Jones was usurping her godly domination over the seas and oceans. No, Barbossa wasn't anywhere near Jones' league. Sure, he'd be an annoying undead fly, but he would be more than that: a fly.

And if the fly didn't want to be beaten, Jones would simply send it away to the Locker. There, undead or not, the Black Pearl's crew would be simply and flatly trapped.

Will sighed ruefully. It was such a shame that he couldn't just put the one against the other, and thus be ridden of at least half of his current worries.

Well, things were what they were, and he couldn't do anything against that right now.

The swordsmith walked by the streets of Port Royal for a while, going here and there, remembering this and that, especially events that had yet to happen, and that, maybe, would not happen at all in this timeline.

He walked to the beach, and looked at the water that he had actually walked under, a dinghy above his head, with Jack as an accomplice, to go and steal the Interceptor, all these years back... or forward, depending on the point of view.

This was definitely not going to happen. First of all, he would do all he could to prevent Elizabeth's capture. And, if he failed, he'd find another way. He was certainly not going to let his younger self steal a ship from the Navy. It had been one of his rare offenses that were really offenses, and he was determined to keep it from happening. The less reasons William would give to Beckett to justify his deeds, the better.

It was plain obvious that no matter what he did to change history, Beckett would still come to Port Royal and try to get the Heart. The man had wanted it so badly the first time around, Will didn't think anything less than murder could keep him from acting that way all over again.

Speaking of which, maybe it would be easier to simply go and make the bastard disappear from the surface of the Earth. The underground was definitely a more suitable place for Beckett... Beckett's body... Eitherway.

Will took a deep breath to calm himself, and stared at the sea. He couldn't just go around murdering the people who would possibly hurt his younger self in an already unsure future. It wouldn't be fair, for now they could very well be good people yet. He wasn't going to murder Beckett or anyone else before they did anything worth the punishment...

That didn't mean, of course, that he couldn't murder them once they'd have shown to the world that they hadn't changed in the least.

The former captain of the Dutchman looked up, at the form of the fort, up and afar. He just knew there was no way that William would live a quiet life. It wasn't in his blood.

He'd have to make it so that this life wouldn't be quite as unlucky as the first one. Meaning, doing so that there would be less reasons for his younger self to be blamed for anything, especially by the authorities. Meaning, making sure that less people died this time around. Meaning, not being too obvious in his attempts to better William's life, for he didn't want to draw the supernatural to the child, being himself a supernatural being.

Ah, it was difficut to be sent back to one's own past, to be frank. There were so many variables to take into account, it was making him giddy.

But well, he had decided to improve his younger self's life, and he was going to do it. He could have gone, hidden into a hole, or just lived his life without taking in consideration this boy from his past, who was scared, hungry, and unhappy.

He hadn't.

He had been given a chance to change things for the better, and so he would use it as best as he could.

Finally he went back to the smithy. There, he stopped three meters before the door.

There, just at the door, stood the small figure of a child. A girl. With blond hair. And ornate clothes. And she was peeking inside the shop.

No doubt about it, it was Elizabeth. Even if she wasn't facing him, the opposite, in fact, Will could just tell it was her. Sure, the hints were obvious. Still, even if she hadn't been dressed as a governor's daughter must, he'd have known it was her. This shade of blond was engraved in his mind.

Will smirked, and crept on the girl. His father was surely not aware that she had come downtown to find the sole survivor of the Eleanor's Jewel and play with him. She was definitely not supposed to be here, but she had come anyway.

Then again, Will didn't intend to ask, so, if asked, he could answer that he hadn't known.

"Miss Swann, I'm afraid William is out with the blacksmith on an errand. You should go back home before your father send someone to fetch you."

The girl started, thanked him, and went back home with a small smile on her lips. He hadn't forbidden her to come back another time, no, had he?"

Will entered the forge, thinking back to the last two weeks.

His past self had been very shy with Brown, at first, but the fact that himself he had decided to stay for a month and a half seemed to have consoled the child. Will the younger still kept quiet when the blacksmith didn't address him directly, but he didn't seem to be particularly distressed by that new addition to his daily life.

The child had also started his apprenticeship. For now, of course, he wasn't doing much, but Brown and Will shared the duty of teaching him the basics, or at least the theory, for the things he was yet too young to do.

Will soon noticed that he wasn't feeling as disturbed as before, when dealing with his other self. Sure, it was strange, knowing what errors the boy was likely to make beforehand, because he had done these errors when he had been an apprentice. And yes, it was even more strange, to be with someone whose thoughts he could mostly guess correctly, for he was that very person, and yet wasn't. But it wasn't as odd as it used to be.

And anyway, Will was confident that if his past changed enough thanks to his presence in it, William the younger wouldn't, in the end, be exactly the same person as the one he had been at the same age. Deep down, they would both be William Turner, but on the surface, it would be possible to distinguish them. His younger self, with a bit more love, and a bit less misfortune, for Will was adamant that he'd watch over the boy, would be a happier youth.

At least, he hoped so.

Will figured there was no way he'd keep his other self away from all that had happened to him. Jack Sparrow was one of those "things", and he wouldn't be surprised if, in the end, the pirate just found a way, without even searching for one, into Will the younger's life.

If the young Will and Jack were to meet, his older self was more than convinced that it wouldn't do for it to happen with the same odds as the first time around. First, he had to get Will to be a bit less clueless than he had been. Jack didn't usually have ill intentions... He just lacked the ability to understand that luck wasn't always there to fill the gaping holes in his plans. And in the end, he was still a pirate.

Will sighed, sure that the captain of the Black Pearl would give him more headaches in the future.

Brown had taken his younger self out to deliver a sword. He was alone in the smithy.

William went to his room to take some rest. He had had much to think about since he had been whirled back to his past, and he was more than grateful when he could sleep a bit, even if his body didn't actually need to. He wasn't human anymore, but his mind still was, and so it tired, especially under pressure.

He awoke hours later, when the sound of a door closing reached his brain through the heavy mist of his dreams. He couldn't say he remembered what they had been about, but he was sure it hadn't been so pleasant, all in all. He was sweating, now, and that was usually the sign of a bad dream.

Maybe it had been about Elizabeth, and their children.

It was often about his ancient life.

Will decided that he wouldn't think about it, since he didn't actually remember the dream.

He opened an eye slightly to see the small and dark figure of a boy standing before the ray of light coming from under the door.

There was no other light in the room; the night had come, at last, while he was sleeping. Too many times, on the Dutchman, Will had slept only when he felt like it, regardless of time or hour. Now that he was back amongst the living, his erratic sleeping habit had started to become a problem. Sometimes, he wouldn't sleep for three days, but, of course, without looking tired at all. And as he didn't actually need to sleep, he didn't wake up either once he was rested. He was always rested, in a way. And so, once or twice, he had slept for eighteen, twenty hours straight, much to the shock of both Brown and Norrington.

Will the younger was, well, too busy with other preoccupations, and didn't seem to find it that odd. His older self suspected that the child had not truly registered the fact.

But if the orphan failed to notice many of the oddities about "Wilhem Carter", he certainly never failed to know when the swordsmith was sleeping at normal hours: each and every time, the child would "mistake" his own bed, to the right of the door, with Will's, that was to the left.

Not that Will minded.

They shared the second room above the smithy, the first being Brown's.

The former captain of the Flying Dutchman moved a bit towards the wall, so that his other self could climb next to him.

A small but warm form had thus come to cram under the sheets almost every night since they had taken up residence at the forge. Will could only guess why, but well, he supposed his younger self just felt safe with him. And strangely, he would always wake up with his arms around the small frame of the child. There again, his best guess was that he was feeling protective of this cute, shy and scared version of himself.

So this night too, Will the younger crawled next to his older self.

The child stayed silent for a few minutes, but he really wanted to ask Wilhem. He felt he had to ask. He felt almost certain that the grown-up would not be angry.

But still, he was afraid to ask.

What if Wilhem was in fact angry at him?

The man's nose came into contact with the orphan's head, and for some reason, Will the younger felt reassured. Wilhem was keeping him close to him, even now. It hadn't been just because the boy had been miserable on the Dauntless. The swordsmith really liked him a lot.

After all, he let him sleep in his bed, with him, even if Will still had nightmares. Though, when into Wilhem's embrace, he had many less of these nightmares.

The child took a deep breath and summoned up all his courage, suddenly afraid that, maybe, the swordsmith had already fallen asleep.

Will sensed his younger self tense, and reopened an eye, watching cautiously over the mop of hair that was under his nose.

Eventually, the child spoke. His voice was low, as if unsure that it wanted to be heard, and Will could tell there was a little fear in it.

"Wilhem?"

Will drew back his nose from the orphan's hair.

Maybe his other self took it as a mean to distance himself from him. The child tensed. And so, Will tried to sound as gentle as possible.

"Yes?"

"I... I was playing with Mrs Baker's children this morning, and..."

Will smiled in the dark, happy that his younger self was already out with the other kids. It had taken him at least one more week to leave the forge and meddle with the neighboring children, in his timeline.

It was not only a proof that he could change some things, but also one that he was changing them for the better. He hoped things would stay that way, now, that the tables wouldn't turn afterwards.

Will the younger, oblivious to his older self's worries, and frankly, way too busy with sorting his own feelings after the pirate attack, went on with his story.

"Pete asked who you were, and why you take care of my as if you were my father, when it is clear that you are too young to be him, and... I... I said you were my older brother."

There was a silence after that, the child anxiously waiting for a reaction.

Too stunned with the revelation, Will at first kept quiet, before a soft laugh escaped his throat.

Mortified, thinking that maybe the swordsmith was mocking him for his gullibility, for having dared to present himself as his younger brother, the orphan shrank when he felt fingertips on his hair. Anytime, now, Wilhem's hands would close upon his hair, and the man would thus drag him out of the bed, and...

But Will only carressed the child's head, and his younger self felt a bit less afraid.

A bit.

"I'm honored, William."

The orphan relaxed, and the swordsmith took him in his arms as if to coddle him.

They had taken to call each other by their full first name, because even if it wasn't a problem that they shared a nickname to them, it was to others. Of course, the adult scarcely talked to himself, and so, when he said "Will", he was either presenting himself, or talking about, or to, the child. The same thing could be said about the orphan. But strangely enough, their shared nickname only served to confuse the people with whom they talked. And Will knew it was only the beginning. Once his other self would have gotten past puberty, they'd have exactly the same voice, and let's not talk about the face...

So, when they spoke of one another, it was either "William", or "Wilhem". By now, Will had grown accustomed to his fake-but-not-really new name... Still, even if he had been the one to suggest for them to speak so, it happened that he responded to a question diriged at "William". These times, he would say he had misheard. After all, "William" and "Wilhem" were pretty close...

The child's shining eyes were now directed at his older self's face.

"You don't mind, then?"

Will smiled contritely.

"Not at all. But you shouldn't cry for something like that. Never doubt, William, that I love you like a brother. So, don't cry for such a reason, please, or you'll make me sad too."

The child gasped in horror, and wiped the budding tears away.

"I won't cry anymore! Don't be sad, Wilhem! I don't want you to be sad!"

"No, it's alright to cry, just, not about that, you know. I don't want you to doubt that I care for you."

The orphan nodded.

"Now, it's time to sleep, William, or else you will be tired tomorrow and Mr Brown and I won't be able to teach you anything correctly."

Will the younger nodded again, and pressed his eyelids shut as if the more pression he used, the faster he would fall asleep. Then again, it might be the case, for it was tiring to do so. After a few instants, the child's face relaxed.

He was sleeping.

Will smiled knowingly, and closed his eyes too.

He felt good, now. Safe, and not alone. For a moment, he figured he was the one who needed his other self's confort, and not the other way around.

Maybe both situations were true.