Renascence 1/1
Title: Renascence
Author: firesignwriter
Disclaimer: Disney's. Not for profit. Don't sue.
Category/Warnings: Gen (with background Will/Elizabeth). Spoilers for AWE.
Summary: A man learns his son.
"I remember you, Father."
Will is spending much of his day ashore learning the nature of his son. Thus far he's found William James Turner to be an odd lad, rather serious, but with a glint of glee ever-present in his expressive eyes. The boy shows no trace of fear or shyness in the presence of a man upon whom new myths have already been laid.
Odd, yes. But to be other than odd would be quite peculiar, Will supposes, for the offspring of an immortal and a pirate king.
"You remember me?" They walk the beach together, Will's strides slowed and shortened, his son's stretched to humorously awkward lengths. But it wouldn't do to laugh at so solemn a boy. "I don't understand."
Wind rolls the waves at them and tosses William James's dark hair across his face. He brushes it back absently and smiles with just as little thought, as though the air bore him a message just now -- one he quite enjoyed hearing. "It was a long time ago, I think. I can't imagine when. I've just always known you." He looks up, and his earnestness is so plain it must be overwhelming to such a youngling. "Mum knows. I described your face. She said I was right, and now I see I am." A sudden smile, different from before, heartbreakingly sweet. "I worried that she only humored me."
Will gestures towards a lopsided boulder a short ways up the shore. His son runs ahead, but stops often enough for mysteries in the sand that they arrive at the same time. William James clambers to the highest point; Will settles for a lower, broader slope.
"You talk like I remember, too," the boy says, his voice distracted, his hands full of a stunning conch he pulled from a hollow on the way here.
"How is that?"
"Clear. I hear all your words. And they're..." His pixie face tightens, twists as he searches, then smoothes into another smile of satisfaction as he finds. "They're round."
He puts the conch to his ear and listens, abruptly faraway.
Will watches in fascination. Nothing this child does, he realizes, will ever seem less than extraordinary. His face is Elizabeth's and Will's. In him they'll never be separated; not for ten years or a heartbeat.
"What did I say, that you remember my voice?"
"I don't remember it all. I was swimming, I think, and you pulled me from the water. And you looked up at me and said--"
"'Up'?"
Another face-twist of deep thought. William James props the conch on one hand and sets his chin atop it, staring over the sea. "That's strange, isn't it? But I distinctly remember, you looked up."
Will leans against the rock, closer to the boy. "Go on."
"You said, 'Thank you.'"
"Do you know what for?"
A headshake. "No, but then you said I could rest now, and that you'd see me safely home."
"Then what happened?"
He shrugs and lifts the conch once more, this time peering into the spiral of its dark interior, poking a finger along the edge. "It's not a proper memory. It doesn't fit anywhere."
Will sits quietly for a bit, watching his son.
"Oh!" William James says suddenly, dropping the conch to the sand as a mystery solved. "I forgot to tell you! I met Jack Sparrow!"
"In this memory?"
"Just last month. He gave me chocolate for my birthday."
"Your birthday was longer ago than that."
A sage nod. "Aye, he's off in the head. I worried it was because of immortality, but Mum says he's always been that way."
This time Will smiles, infusing it with as much reassuring sanity as he can convey. "If Jack was ever 'on' in the head, likely it was before he took to calling himself Jack." That mop of hair calls to him; he can't resist reaching out to ruffle it, feel the tangled silk dance under his calloused fingers. "What did you think of him?"
"He's a bit foolish."
Will laughs.
"And irresponsible. I wouldn't trust him."
"You're a wise man already."
"He said that too." William James turns more towards him, arms looping 'round knees. "Eyes don't change color, do they? Once they're set?"
"Never in my experience that I can recall. Why?"
"Jack said they do."
"Oh really?"
"Aye. He said he liked mine better green."
Will stares at him a while. Imagines that same look, but from green eyes. "Did you ask your mother about that?"
"Oh yes, I tell her most things."
"What did she say?"
His brow lines in perplexity that clearly annoys him. "That she's glad I joined her. Which had nothing at all to do with what I asked."
Will laughs, then leaps from the boulder and snatches his son, lifting him into the air, whirling them both in wild circles until the lines are gone from the boy's forehead and delighted shouts have erased all those heavy thoughts for at least the time being.
The day is proceeding, and still there's Elizabeth. He sets the boy down and crouches before him, low enough that he has to look up some, smiling his pride and more. "You know what, William James?"
Small hands on his shoulders. Stronger than they appear. "What?"
"I believe I remember you too."
~finis~
Author: firesignwriter
Disclaimer: Disney's. Not for profit. Don't sue.
Category/Warnings: Gen (with background Will/Elizabeth). Spoilers for AWE.
Summary: A man learns his son.
"I remember you, Father."
Will is spending much of his day ashore learning the nature of his son. Thus far he's found William James Turner to be an odd lad, rather serious, but with a glint of glee ever-present in his expressive eyes. The boy shows no trace of fear or shyness in the presence of a man upon whom new myths have already been laid.
Odd, yes. But to be other than odd would be quite peculiar, Will supposes, for the offspring of an immortal and a pirate king.
"You remember me?" They walk the beach together, Will's strides slowed and shortened, his son's stretched to humorously awkward lengths. But it wouldn't do to laugh at so solemn a boy. "I don't understand."
Wind rolls the waves at them and tosses William James's dark hair across his face. He brushes it back absently and smiles with just as little thought, as though the air bore him a message just now -- one he quite enjoyed hearing. "It was a long time ago, I think. I can't imagine when. I've just always known you." He looks up, and his earnestness is so plain it must be overwhelming to such a youngling. "Mum knows. I described your face. She said I was right, and now I see I am." A sudden smile, different from before, heartbreakingly sweet. "I worried that she only humored me."
Will gestures towards a lopsided boulder a short ways up the shore. His son runs ahead, but stops often enough for mysteries in the sand that they arrive at the same time. William James clambers to the highest point; Will settles for a lower, broader slope.
"You talk like I remember, too," the boy says, his voice distracted, his hands full of a stunning conch he pulled from a hollow on the way here.
"How is that?"
"Clear. I hear all your words. And they're..." His pixie face tightens, twists as he searches, then smoothes into another smile of satisfaction as he finds. "They're round."
He puts the conch to his ear and listens, abruptly faraway.
Will watches in fascination. Nothing this child does, he realizes, will ever seem less than extraordinary. His face is Elizabeth's and Will's. In him they'll never be separated; not for ten years or a heartbeat.
"What did I say, that you remember my voice?"
"I don't remember it all. I was swimming, I think, and you pulled me from the water. And you looked up at me and said--"
"'Up'?"
Another face-twist of deep thought. William James props the conch on one hand and sets his chin atop it, staring over the sea. "That's strange, isn't it? But I distinctly remember, you looked up."
Will leans against the rock, closer to the boy. "Go on."
"You said, 'Thank you.'"
"Do you know what for?"
A headshake. "No, but then you said I could rest now, and that you'd see me safely home."
"Then what happened?"
He shrugs and lifts the conch once more, this time peering into the spiral of its dark interior, poking a finger along the edge. "It's not a proper memory. It doesn't fit anywhere."
Will sits quietly for a bit, watching his son.
"Oh!" William James says suddenly, dropping the conch to the sand as a mystery solved. "I forgot to tell you! I met Jack Sparrow!"
"In this memory?"
"Just last month. He gave me chocolate for my birthday."
"Your birthday was longer ago than that."
A sage nod. "Aye, he's off in the head. I worried it was because of immortality, but Mum says he's always been that way."
This time Will smiles, infusing it with as much reassuring sanity as he can convey. "If Jack was ever 'on' in the head, likely it was before he took to calling himself Jack." That mop of hair calls to him; he can't resist reaching out to ruffle it, feel the tangled silk dance under his calloused fingers. "What did you think of him?"
"He's a bit foolish."
Will laughs.
"And irresponsible. I wouldn't trust him."
"You're a wise man already."
"He said that too." William James turns more towards him, arms looping 'round knees. "Eyes don't change color, do they? Once they're set?"
"Never in my experience that I can recall. Why?"
"Jack said they do."
"Oh really?"
"Aye. He said he liked mine better green."
Will stares at him a while. Imagines that same look, but from green eyes. "Did you ask your mother about that?"
"Oh yes, I tell her most things."
"What did she say?"
His brow lines in perplexity that clearly annoys him. "That she's glad I joined her. Which had nothing at all to do with what I asked."
Will laughs, then leaps from the boulder and snatches his son, lifting him into the air, whirling them both in wild circles until the lines are gone from the boy's forehead and delighted shouts have erased all those heavy thoughts for at least the time being.
The day is proceeding, and still there's Elizabeth. He sets the boy down and crouches before him, low enough that he has to look up some, smiling his pride and more. "You know what, William James?"
Small hands on his shoulders. Stronger than they appear. "What?"
"I believe I remember you too."
~finis~