Work Text:
Vignette One: The Makings of a Possibility
by Cheshire
"Lieutenant?" the boy's words were soft, still with an edge of harshness from his close encounter with death.
I looked up at him, allowing the usually stern lines of my face to soften slightly. He did not deserve to be scolded simply because his ship had been attacked. Although I knew nothing of his life, yet, I was trained for tact from a young age, and able to realize that upsetting the youth would do no good.
"Yes, Mr. Turner?" He fiddled endearingly with the shirt he had been given until his own was dried and mended. The boy was obviously nervous about something. I wondered if that something wasn't me. At least that would prove he had a high amount of respect for authority, something which was severely lacking in many children in the colonies.
He stared at me, soulful brown eyes searching my face as if asking a question. "I misplaced something--a pendant that my father sent to me over a year ago--I was wondering if, by any chance, you had come across such a piece? I never take it off, and it feels so odd to be without it." The words were given quickly, a rush that I could barely understand, especially through his working class accent.
"My apologies, Mr. Turner, but I have not been informed of any unknown jewelry upon the ship. I will ask the crew when I am done in here." I did not smile, although I was tempted to do such.
"Oh," he looked down towards the planks of the floor, then quickly up again. "Oh! I am sorry, I did not realize you were busy." A cursory glance around the cabin must have embarrassed the boy at his inability to notice such thingsâ€"there were papers and maps strewn over the flat surfaces I had available for my work. But I did not blame him, for he had no way of knowing the great plans I had for my tenure in the Caribbean.
"It is quite all right, Mr. Turner. I realize that you care a great deal for this link to your past." I paused, wondering what sort of pendant it would be that a young boy would wear with him at all times. "Would you mind describing it to me? It will make it easier for me to locate."
Will Turner nodded, quickly, relieved that I had not scolded him. "It is large, round, about this size," he held up the fingers of one hand, "and gold. With inscriptions on it, though I am unaware of what any of them say. My father is a merchant here, that is why I was on that boat: I was searching for him."
"And what of your mother?" I internally curse at his wince, although the sudden hurt look on his face was adorable beyond words.
"She is...dead." He glanced at my face, still unable to meet my eyes, but seemed to know what I was thinking regardless. "She wasn't on the ship, she died at home…in England," he clarified.
I nodded, standing from the chair behind my small desk and walking towards him. "Do you wish for me to contact the local merchant ships when we reach port?" I stopped no more than a foot before him.
Turner's eyes grew wide, and he gave me a brilliant grin, which I found myself returning with my own hesitant one. He was such an innocent. He reminded me a great deal of Miss Swann, but thankfully without the morbid fascination with pirates. "Thank you, Lieutenant..." he trailed off, and I realized he had yet to hear my name.
"Norrington, Lt. Norrington," I supplied as I watched him. "Will you be joining us for dinner?"
Those eyes which conspired to steal my attention away from the conversation lowered once more. "I was told to eat with the crew, sir."
"Oh, that will not do. I will expect you in the dining room. There you will be able to tell me more of your father. When we reach land you may wish to accompany me to the various companies." He could be a needed addition to the questioning: a poor lost orphan searching for his last relative.
I hadn't known how happy that in itself would make him. I had to work hard to enforce my emotionless mask as I walked from the cabin, leading him towards the room where the passengers on the ship ate. Knowing I should not become attached to the boy, I tried to distance myself over the next days, but it was so hard to not wish that we couldn't find his father, and that I could possibly gain a companion through the ill luck of an entire ship.
"Lt. Norrington?"
"Yes?"
"If we cannot locate my father," Will paused and stared hard at the door to the dining room, "can I still talk to you?"
I was pleasantly surprised. "Why would you desire to?"
And I was more pleasantly surprised by the return of the bright smile, which I liked to believe was directed solely at myself. "Because you have been very nice to me, and I hope one day I can repay your kindness."
"You should not worry about such things, Mr. Turner. I am simply glad that you remain alive." Was that a blush I saw painting those pale cheeks? I pretended not to notice, so that the boy could retain his dignity.
He opened his mouth to say more, most likely to rebuff my comment, but before he could the doors had opened. Miss Swann looked first at me, whom she was expecting, than down at Turner. She smiled and gave us a curtsy, before turning all of her attention to her age-peer.