4a/n: This story is dedicated to my lovely Megans who are freaking awesome and are my best friends in the whole entire world. And it's also dedicated to my friend and loverWill Lambrook, whowaskilled tragically onFebruary 3, 2006.
disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't ownWill, Elizabeth, Norry, or Jack. But. I do own Megan (Mwahahaha. I OWN you.) and I own my brilliant imagination for thinking this all up.
-: Chapter One: Chocolate Covered Strawberries :-
The clouds swirled in the heavens, swelling and darkening in preparation for their upcoming show. Trying to make themselves formidable as possible, their dark pretense warning civilians to take shelter. A deep rumbling laugh was emitted from the heavens as the clouds saw how effectively they emptied the muddy streets of London. Everyone was expecting the first blizzard of the wonder. But underneath the dark façade lay still the harmless clouds of summer. They laughed again, and prepared only to give a light rain.
Oh, but what was this? A man who seemed undaunted by the possibility of being caught up in a blizzard, walking the streets as if he owned them. Foolish man, to underestimate the quick-tempered weather of London. The clouds grumbled with displeasure at not frightening him, and sent down a warning: a single snowflake, wafting down so innocently, which landed on the man's nose.
Apparently the man was in no time for games, and he didn't break he steady stride to contemplate the power of the clouds, like they wished him to. He simply brushed off the icy wetness, glaring up at the sky and muttering something about the gloominess and cold and how it gave him a cough. Yes, he was in a bad mood, and rather nervous on top of that. He had gotten into a rather heated argument with one of the bankers earlier, as it seemed someone had forged some investment papers, losing him 1000 pounds. After storming out of the Bank, he had run right into a small scruffy-looking boy of about twelve years, who had clasped in his pale fist a pice of newspaper. "I'm sorry sir," the boy had mumbled, walking away, then turned, his eyes bright. "Wait, be you know a Mister Turner? M' mum sent me looking fo' him… she saw him here yesterday." A bit suspiciously, Will affirmed he was whom the boy was looking for. The boy's eyes had widened, and he bowed slightly, saying, "M' mum is wantin' to see ye, saying ye both used ter be friends. I be needin' to head ta work, but this be our address if ye can make it. She said she be needin' ye somethin' dire." Shrugging, the boy placed the piece of newspaper in Will's hand, and then he ran off, nearly stumbling on the last marbled stair leading to the grand Bank of London.
Will replayed the scene in his head, glancing down at the scrap of newspaper in his hand with the address of 110 S. Ashberry scrawled on with charcoal. Something about that boy had seemed vaguely familiar, and still a bit disconcerted about that chance meeting, Will continued on his way to the house. Something was pulling him there it seemed, drawing him towards the house – perhaps it was just sheer curiosity.
Completely ignoring the now rapidly falling snowflakes, he arrived at the address, noting the disrepair of the neighborhood. A shiver ran down Will's spine, not from the cold, but from the familiarity of it all. Every moment he stood in front of the house, he kept thinking he'd been there before. Although the snow hindered his view of the complete house, he could see the door plainly…
"Give me back my shawl! Mum made that for me, and she'll be real up in a tiz' iffen I don't come back with it!" Tears began to form in Megan's large brown eyes, and she trembled slightly, though her eyes flashed with defiance. "Give it back!" She pleaded with the rough gang of boys who taunted her, holding her shawl just out of reach.
The boys snorted, laughing amongst themselves. "Pull her braids," the oldest boy demanded, sneering at the surrounded girl. "What a measly attempt… I bet you don't even want it. We're just gonna burn it." One of the older boys yanked her dark brown braids, pulling the ribbons off the ends. "Hey, arent' ya going to fight back? Standin' there like a sissy." At that moment, all the boys closed in on her, poking her, and laughing when she started to scream.
"Leave her alone!" A slight boy appeared at her front gate, giving the boys the meanest glare he could muster. How dare they do this to her? On her front step, too? He hoped that her mother would come out and teach those boys their place… the Crimson Gang would definitely kill him if he stuck up for their bait.
The leader chuckled, "Oh and jus' wha' are ye goin' do about it?" He walked closer to his opponent, seemingly amused and spat at his feet. "Ye be the skinny one that lives down the land who got no pap… Will's the name, aint it?"
"I do too have a father!" He shouted angrily at the leader, who walked back to the little girl and took her braids, yanking them as hard as he could, laughing to see her "savior's" expression of horror. At that, Will took his father's dagger from his boot and pointed it at the leader of the gang. Then, narrowing his eyes with anger, and without thinking really, he threw the dagger with all his might towards the leader, just as his father had taught him.
All the boys' eyes widened, looking at the quivering dagger in the wooden door. "Um… let's go… who, who cares about that stupid shawl?" The leader laughed nervously, eyeing the dagger that was inches from his head, and he threw the shawl back to the girl, motioning the others to follow him.
"And next time it's gonna be in your brain, ye filthy bastard!" Will yelled after them, basking in triumph. He had managed to drfeat the Crimson gang – for the moment. It was a wonderful feeling.
"William! You could've KILT me!" And with that, Megan entered her house, slamming the door angrily, the dagger falling from the door.
Girls…
Will traced the break in the wood where he had thrown that dagger so many years ago. Decades of winters had warped the door, making the break larger. He smiled slightly at the memory, remembering how surprised he was when Megan had stormed off, not appreciative in the least of his rescue attempt. Women were so hard to understand…
Hesitating slightly, his breath caught up in his through in anticipation, Will knocked up on the door. What would he do? What would he say? What would she look like? Was this even the right thing to do? For goodness sakes, he hadn't seen her since he'd left to find his father almost twenty years ago…
All his thoughts disappeared as the door opened. The soft candlelight spilled onto the snow-covered step, and as Will was looking at the round, the first thing he saw was a shadow of a woman. Taking in a sharp breath, he jerked his head out to look at her… the same brown eyes, the air of innocence that followed her… "Megan, it's me…" he paused, staring at her, how beautiful she had grown. He continued, "I… uh, believe it was your son who informed he that you wanted me to call." His tone totally betrayed what he was thinking… he sounded so business-like, as if seeing her was a chore. Mentally, he berated himself.
She looked at him strangely for a moment, a bit surprised to see such a well-dressed man on her doorstep on a snowy night. Then her face exploded into a huge smile, and she almost threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck. "I thought you'd never come," she whispered in her ear. "I thought you died… that's what they told us here after the report came that pirates had attacked your ship… then I overheard your name at the Truitt mansion where I work a few months ago. And I thought I saw you at the Bank yesterday, but I thought it was just my imagination playing tricks on me… but part of me knew it was that same William Turner who left me all those years ago."
He was genuinely surprised at Megan's response, but it was a pleasant surprise. He returned the hug, and stroked her dark hair gently. "And I thought you forgot all about me." In reality, he knew that it was he who had forgotten. Forgotten where he had come from, forgotten the kindness of Megan and her mother in one of the hardest times in his life: when his mother was dying. Guilt flooded his mind. "I'm sorry for not coming sooner…" he started, but railed off. If it hadn't been for that boy, would he have ever come?
She pulled away from his embrace, flinching slightly when his hand lingered on her shoulder. "You couldn't find one moment to at least write to us?" A deep sadness passed across her pale features, but she quickly wiped it away, replacing it with a smile. "Well, come in." She pulled him into her humble abode, shut the oaken door and took his snow-covered cloak. "You've gone a long way from livin' in the slums of London." Megan nodded towards his expensive clothes, "We've got a lot to catch up on."
"It's been a long time since I've been in a home." Will said softly, walking across the room to the kitchen table.
Megan's eyes widened, and she ran in front of him, placing her hand on the table, blushing slightly. She tossed her head, feigning nonchalance. "A home? This is barely a home. Kitchen, fireplace, bedroom. Three rooms, leaky roof, peeling pant, and sewer water seeping into our small yard where I try desperately to grow some food." She laughed lightly at this, as if it was common. "If this is a home, where do you live, a box?"
"There's love here, the smell of fresh bread, it's somewhere you can leave for a while and com back too knowing exactly what it is going to look like. You don't have to rely on anyone else." He gazed into her eyes, sighing. "Being rich isn't what I expected it to be like. Now I know why Elizabeth so desperately wanted to escape from this life." His gaze fell towards her hand, and he gently tried to move it, to see what she was trying to hide.
"Elizabeth Norrington? It was her good friend Yvonne who mentioned you… she had thought Elizabeth'd run off with you again, but it turns out she had run off with some scoundrel… a pirate, I believe, and…"
"WHAT?" Will shouted, interrupting her. He'd never heard of this… yes, he knew that Elizabeth had married Commodore and moved back to England… but running off with other men? "Elizabeth would never…" he trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief. "What was the pirate's name?" He asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowed.
"Welll.. I never would have imagined you'd get so hung about it. Apparently she was tired of being a ridiculous ornament and wanted a life of reedom. Yvonne mentioned something that you two used to be lovers and she thought she'd run off with you… but she was sighted with some pirate during a battle with the HMS Melody. He's quite famous, but the name slipped my mind… Sparrow, maybe?"
"Jack Sparrow?" Will repeated incredulously. This was unbelievable. Elizabeth running off with JACK? The thought was too much for him to handle at the moent, so he turned his attention to what Megan was so desperately hiding on the table earlier. Her hand was not only loosely covering it, so he easily pushed it away.
Megan squealed and yelped slightly as she tried to recover the spot on the wooden table. But of course, Will wouldn't let her, and she blushed at the amused look on his face. "Will I wrote that a long time ago… on the day we heard you died. I really didn't know what I was doing…" she tried.
"Oh… alright then," Will looked up at her, feigning hurt. However, a smirk desperately played at his lips, trying to imagine Megan as a teary-eyed ten-year-old etching into the table the now barely readable "Megan Turner" and underneath it "You will always live in my heart, Will. I love you." He raised an eyebrow, "Last time I remember, your name was Megan Kesington." Although there was a playful smirk on his face, he wondered why there were deep gouges through the letters…
Megan almost melted at the pitiful look on Will's face, and made herself look away, blushing. However, when she turned back to face him, her embarrassment was replaced with that same deep sorrow. "I…I wish it was, but… but…" she trailed off, tears coming into her brown eyes, making them shimmer in the candlelight. Desperation was clearly written on her face, as if she was being held back from saying something she needed to let out. After a long pause, she finally broke down, sobbing agains this exquisitely tailored coat and ruffled white shirt. "Erik… I had to marry him when my mother and father died from dysentery… I didn't love him at first, but he was so kind to me… I learned to. But he always got so angry at little things… and now sometimes he's gone for days and it kills me… he won't let me leave the house after dark and I don't understand why. He's hiding something from me… Will, you don't' understand… I can't live like this anymore… that's why I wanted you to come… on some fool's hope that you still might love me."
Will just stood there dumbly for a few seconds, blinking at Megan, trying to comprehend what she just said. "W-what?" He finally stuttered, although knowing full well what she had just said. It was just having a hard time registering. Megan had just said she loved him. That's impossible. She barely even knew him… they hadn't seen each other in twenty years. She had seriously remembered him as the kind little boy that had always stuck up for her and played with her along the river, and lived on that hope that he would come and rescue her again?
Megan refused to look away again, her brown eyes blazing, "I said I love you Will." And to prove it, she planted a fierce kiss on his slightly parted lips.
Woo. Cliffhanger. I promise this will all make sense in due time... all in due time, deary. -cackle-
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