Beginnings

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"He'll be in your charge. Take care of him."

Her father's words had impressed Elizabeth Swann greatly. Every ten year old girl has something of the maternal in her, and the sight of poor, half-drowned little William Turner had awakened it in her to the point where she was quite determined that none but she herself would be permitted to see to his care. So when William was whisked away belowdecks, Elizabeth pushed past the bos'un who held him that she might direct him into her own cabin.

The bos'un paled with appropriate horror at her disregard for propriety, no matter how small she may have been, but Elizabeth was not going to be budged on this point.

"I am to care for him," she said stubbornly, tiny fists resting on her hips with all the determination of a woman twice her size and years, "and I cannot care for him if he is decks below me, so you will put him here, do you understand?"

He understood her tones more than anything else, and figured that if her father was going to kick up a fuss about the boy of questionable origins residing in his daughter's cabin, he could be the one to take it up with Miss Swann. The boy was wet and heavy, not at all pleasant to hold, and the bos'un had work to do. So Will was borne into Elizabeth's cabin, laid on her own bed, and the bos'un lingered only long enough to elicit a vow from Elizabeth that she would not take it upon herself to change Will's clothing before he returned to the upper deck.

This left Elizabeth to dart into her father's stateroom, where she procured a richly embroidered nightshirt before returning to tap Will affectionately on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry to wake you," she whispered, once his eyes had fluttered open, "but I can't do this myself." She held the garment out to him, and his cheeks flushed pink when he saw what it was.

"Oh, no, of course not . . ." he mumbled, and, pleased she had gotten her point across so effectively, Elizabeth left him and the nightshirt to their own devices while she went rushing down to the galley in search of something to serve her guest.

The ship's cook was an especially talented one, since Governor Swann had a taste for fine foods, so it was no trouble at all for him to procure the generous portion of stew Elizabeth demanded, as well as some bread and butter as well.

"That'll be doing him to get on with," the cook predicted, "but seeing as he's a young boy, I could be wrong . . . if he complains much more of hunger, though, he's in fine shape to be walking down here and fetching his own meals, Miss Swann, rather than having a young lady such as yourself do his running for him."

Elizabeth, however, would not hear of her patient being required to do anything so taxing as walk, and made it quite clear that she would be doing all of his meal-bearing for him before she took her leave of the cook, the tray bearing the broth and bread balanced carefully in her hands. When she returned to her cabin, it was to find William Turner in her father's nightshirt, perched uncertainly on the edge of a bunk whose linens were far finer than any he had seen at close hand for quite some time.

"You have to lie down!" she declared, horrified at seeing him upright. "Get under the covers at once or you shall catch cold!"

And, seeing she fully intended to put him there herself if he did not comply, William Turner obeyed.

"But Miss," he protested weakly, even as she supervised his arrival under the covers, "it's not my bed, I'm sure. It's a beautiful bed. Is it yours? I don't want to take your bed from you."

"You aren't," Elizabeth said, quite practically. "I am giving it to you, William Turner. Now do you want this?"

She extended the tray, and was rewarded at seeing the boy's face light up at the sight of hot food. She pulled up a small sewing chair and sat to watch him unashamedly as he wolfed back the meal she had brought.

"Would you like more?" she queried when he was through, but William, appearing almost embarrassed to have to wipe his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt in her presence, shook his head politely.

"No, thank you, that was very fine, Miss."

"Elizabeth," she prompted. "Elizabeth Swann." He either misunderstood her, however, or pretended to as he nodded.

"Miss Swann, then. I very much appreciated it. I appreciate all of this. But please . . ." he tried not to appear too frightened as he questioned, "what of my ship?"

She looked very solemn.

"I am afraid it is gone."

He paled.

"G-gone?"

She nodded.

"Yes. I am sorry. It blew up and is now a lot of sticks in the sea. But don't worry, please, Will," she added, frantic that he would not be upset, as his face gave every indication that he was preparing to become. "You are quite welcome here. My father is the Governor, and he can find a place for you to stay. I wish," she added wistfully, "that you might live with us. For I have nobody to play with, and I think," her eyes danced with a merriment he found enchanting, "I should like to play with you. But even if you can't, I hope we can still be friends."

And, so saying, she shyly extended her hand to him, and he looked at it as if it were the most costly object anybody had ever offered him- and possibly, from his point of view, it was. He looked almost afraid to take it until she began to look a little bewildered- as if she might be hurt if he didn't accept. And suddenly, Will wanted nothing more fiercely in the world than he wanted to not see Elizabeth Swann hurt. So he grabbed her hand, shook it rather clumsily as a man would another man's hand, and then let it drop. Elizabeth, too wise to giggle at him, nodded primly, as if he had done her a great honor, and then stepped forward to take the remains of his meal from him as if she were accustomed to waiting on people every night of her life.

"Now," she told him gently, "you have to sleep, William."

And such were her tones that he found they compelled him to settle back against the richness of the bed and its many pillows, her soft little voice swirling around him as she repeated, with gentle insistence,

"Sleep."

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This is just a little something I thought up when I realised that they did not intend to show us anything more of the interaction between young Elizabeth and Will. I felt cheated. I did something about it. Of course the characters are not mine – Disney's done something good for the first time in years – but the dialogue and such are, so I'm feeling a little protective, and would childishly like you to ask my permission before you use it – or any of my words – elsewhere. Thank you, and please, let me know what you think of it! Also, if you see something you think could be improved upon, I would also welcome your input.