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Previous Chapter From The Shadows
Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean and all related characters belong to Walt Disney, Gore, Jerry,
Ted and Terry.
Rating: T for now.
Characters: Most of the entire cast
Pairings: Will/Elizabeth
The Chosen
Chapter 3: Fever
-
James had made the decision to continue to wear his powdered wig, even though he was dressed in civilian clothing when he went to the Turners the following late morning. He would remove his wig when he was alone with the couple, and only when he was certain the three of them would have the utmost privacy.
“You are still wearing your wig I see,” Groves had approached the store step a few minutes after James had arrived; a small flower filled vase was in his hands.
“As are you,” James nodded; his eyes were on the curled ends of Groves’s wig before he stared at the blue painted porcelain in his hands. “And you have also brought a gift.” James held up the bottle of expensive Pinot he had bought.
“The wig because this is a fine social function,” Groves held up the vase. The petals of the purple and white flowers seemed to flutter in appreciation. “The gift is because I still do not feel quite welcome here.”
“Mr. Turner may feel that way towards us, but I can assure you El-Mrs. Turner has invited us.” He gently knocked on the door. “It will be an enjoyable occasion. We will discuss music and poetry, enjoy good food,” he inhaled and stared at his leg. “Hopefully my tail will behave itself.”
“As long as you have it tied to your leg,” Groves dropped his voice.
James nodded and turned when he heard the door open.
“I am sorry,” the young woman who answered the door wasn’t Elizabeth. She wasn’t a servant by the way she dressed either. She wore a fine blue dress and wore her dark hair in thick curls. “The salon has been cancelled.”
Cancelled? Something dreadful had happened and James was uninformed. “Forgive us if we are too bold Miss.” He tried to remember her name. He knew she was one of Elizabeth’s friends. Was her first name Alison or Abigail?
“Abigail Peterson,” the young woman answered.
“Miss Peterson,” she was the daughter of one of the lawyers. The one friend of Elizabeth’s who never attended public hangings because the sight made her feel faint. “We are not being too forward if we inquire why the salon has been canceled?”
“Mr. Turner had fallen ill with a fever,” Abigail explained. “He is in bed and Elizabeth refuses to leave his side. Her maid is preparing coals for bed warmers.”
That may explain why Abigail answered the door. “Is there anything we can do?” Groves asked. “We could find a doctor, unless one has been sent for.”
“Thomas Evans has already gone to find the nearest doctor,” a woman with chestnut colored hair appeared by Abigail’s side. She was another young woman James had seen with Elizabeth in the past, but could not quite place a name. “Abigail and I were the first to arrive. We are informing everyone.”
“
We have brought gifts,” Groves held out his vase. “May we leave them here and see if we can find more help.”
“Everyone who had come has gone home to find medicine and remedies their mother’s had used on them.” Abigail stood firm.
“Abigail,” the other woman gave her friend a look before she smiled at the men. “You may come in.” She stepped aside.
“Thank you Miss,” Groves’s forehead furrowed as he tried to remember her name. “Miss Carlisle is it?”
“Yes it is.” She nodded. “Julia Carlisle.”
James set the bottle down and studied the two women. Both were pale and their gowns were expensive. Abigail had small hands and sharp cheekbones. Miss Carlisle had round eyes framed by thick lashes. There was something off about her and when James stepped closer to her he could see one eye was paler shade of brown than the other due to a milky veil covering it and there were small scars near the corners.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized when he knew she was noticing the way he was staring at her. “I know it is rude of me.”
“It was an accident when I was a child,” Julia said softly. “I am blind in my left eye.”
“I am sorry.”
Her back stiffened. “I can still see in my right.”
It was time to change the subject. “Perhaps I should see the lad. I was overcome with a fever while at sea. I may be able to help.”
Both women turned to each other and started to whisper to each other. James could clearly here every little word about how they were debating if James should be able allowed to go upstairs or not.
“James,” Groves grasped his wrist. “You cannot show them now.”
“I am not. I am going to try to use my new abilities.” If he can heal Groves of a bruise then he may be able to cure Will’s fever with a touch.
“You may go upstairs,” Miss Carlisle said, ignoring the disapproving expression Abigail had. “But if Elizabeth does not wish to see you then do not try to press on.”
“Thank you,” James said.
-
James was met with the scent of sweat, burned wood and something not quite identifiable when he entered the Turner’s bedroom.
“James,” Elizabeth stood up from the chair next to the bed. “Thank you for coming.”
“Theodore is also here,” James accepted her embrace. “I am sorry.”
“You do not have to apologize,” Elizabeth smiled at him. Her eyes were bloodshot and were gray and puffy underneath, leading James to wonder if she had gotten much sleep the night before.
“Have you eaten, or have you been sleeping.”
“She has slept for five hours the night before,” their maid explained as she walked around the bed, slipping in hot water bottles. “And I made sure she had eaten.”
Norrington nodded. “Miss Turner should not let her health dwindle.”
“She practically dragged me to the dining hall and the guestroom,” Elizabeth gave her maid a look. “I may not be pleased with her at the time, but once Will has regained his health I will be thankful.”
“When did this occur?”
“I believed it happened after I left the Smithy the night before. I had arrived home when I heard the news about Will. Mr. Brown found him unconscious on the floor, burning hot with fever.”
James blinked. His men had found him in a similar condition. “It does sound like the same fever that had befallen myself.” Was Will Turner also chosen? It might be easier to explain his condition if the youth was also about to experience it.
“What did you do for yourself?” Elizabeth asked.
“What you are doing for him. Make certain he has plenty of rest. Keep the rest of his body warm and his forehead cool and make sure he has something to drink when he wakes up.”
“Admiral?” Turner’s voice croaked out.
“Estrella, bring my husband some water,” Elizabeth commanded.
“Water with the juice from citrus juice mixed in,” James added. “It was given to me.”
“Yes Mrs. Turner.” Estrella hurried herself out of the room.
“Elizabeth,” Turner tried to roll to his side.
“Don’t move,” Elizabeth had placed her hands on his body. “Stay still.”
“I should apologize,” Will whispered. “I have been unfair to the Admiral.”
“You have done me no wrong,” James stared down at the young man. “How do you feel?”
“Probably better than I look.” Will smiled weakly, causing the corners of his dried lips to crack. He was extremely pale. Hair was weighed down from either his sweat or the moisture from the cloth.
“I believe I appeared just as bad,” James tried not to wrinkle his noise. The stench was coming from Will. James would ask Groves if he emitted such an odor before his metamorphosis. There was also something about
Will that made James feel on edge, an energy he wanted to force back.
Will blinked his bloodshot eyes. “There is something different about you.”
“Different?” James raised his eyebrows. Could Will tell he had changed. Has Will’s transformation already started? Could his kind detect their own from humans.
“Too close,” Will tried forces his body deeper into the mattress. “Enemy.”
“James isn’t the enemy,” Elizabeth said.
“I had hope to amend all that is between us,” James reached out to the boy.
Will’s mouth curled up into a furious snarl and he hissed liked a feral cat.
“Will?” Elizabeth tried to push James aside. “What are you doing?”
“It’s the fever,” James grabbed his hand and instantly recoiled when he felt his fingertips on fire.
Will shook from the touch, his whole body convulsed before his returned to a state of unconsciousness.
“What did you do?” Elizabeth demanded.
“I just grabbed his hand,” James voice shook as he stared at his own hands. The fingertips that touched Will had become blistered. “It may have been in his mind.”
“You shouldn’t have touched him,” Elizabeth glared at him as she adjusted the cloth on her husband’s forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he stepped backwards towards the entrance. “It may be best if I should leave now.”
“It would,” her voice was still stern.
James continued to utter apologies until he closed the door behind him and sped down the stairs, nearly colliding with Groves.
“James?” Groves stepped back. “What happened?”
“I may have worsened his condition,” James said. “We may have to leave with out them.” He stared at his hands again. “I’m afraid I may be changing into something evil.”
“Evil?” Groves just stared at him and pointed at his arm where he had his bruise. “I refuse to accept it.”
“I made him go under again,” he could feel his tail trying to flick in discontent. “When I touched him he burned my fingers.”
“You need to see this.” Groves said. “You may think differently after.” He led James to another part of the house and stopped in front of a large painting. “Look.”
The painting was of a young man surrounded by clouds. He was dressed in a ghost white gown, with material wrapping around one shoulder like a toga. His feet were clothed in leather sandals. Long golden hair billowed around his head while a large pair of silvery white-feathered wings kept him aloft.
“Look at his ears,” Groves whispered.
James wasn’t studying the angel’s ears. His focus was on the angel’s tail. It was long and thin and ended in a silvery white tuft, similar to James’s tail. He brought his gaze back to the angel’s face. The figure in the painting had feather lined ears.
“I’m an angel?” James whispered. He couldn’t see if the angel in the painting had fangs or white fingernails, but it had the same tail, ears and even his hair was like James’s. If he had turned into an angel then were where his wings and why did he need to eat and sleep, and more importantly why did his fingers blister from touching Will Turner.
“It is closer to what you are than what we found in the books,” Groves whispered.
James closed his eyes and asked in a louder voice. “Who is the artist?”
“I made this,” Julia Carlisle said from behind, prompting both men to turn around. “I painted this picture.”
“It is a fine painting,” James said.
“Thank you,” Julia smiled. A small blush formed across her cheeks.
“I am sorry gentlemen,” Abigail entered the room. Her hazel eyes narrowed at their presence. “I believe you may have over stayed your welcome.”
“We shall leave at once,” Groves said.
“I am sorry,” James glanced at the painting once more before he made his way across the room. The next morning he would visit The Turners and the young women to apologize even further.
-
Elizabeth slowly chewed on a piece of bread as she watched Will spoon up the last bit of his soup into his mouth. Will slept for a few more hours after the last guest had been informed the salon was canceled and when he awoke he was given the glass of citrus and water to drink.
“May I take this from you, sir?” Estrella asked when Will placed his bowl on his lap. “Unless you are not finished.”
“I am finished with this bowl,” Will said. “But I am still quite famished.”
“I will prepare another bowl for you,” Estrella said. She paused by Elizabeth on the way out and gave her a look. “You are barely eating Mrs. Turner.”
“I am sorry,” Elizabeth brought a spoonful of soup to her mouth.
“I expect to see you still eating when I return.” Estrella left the room.
“She is right,” Will said. He had recovered greatly from his earlier state. His natural color was returning to his face and he was no longer sweating. His eyes were still a bit red rimmed though. “I want you to stay healthy for a while.”
“A while?” Elizabeth wasn’t sure she had heard right.
“A while meaning a long time,” Will said. “I had visitors earlier.”
“Your friends,” she did not want to bring up when James had come for a visit.
“Admiral Norrington had stopped by.”
“Yes he did,” Elizabeth stared into her soup before she swallowed another bite. “He had upset you.”
“I was delirious from the fever,” Will tried to sit up even further. “I had thought he was someone or something else, like a monster or a demon.”
“He shouldn’t have approached you.”
Her husband shrugged. “He was just trying to help. It is in his nature.”
“You are speaking about him in better respect.”
“My fever gave me some time to think, mostly about you and I and our future.”
“You are speaking of children?” Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. She wasn’t certain if she were ready for children quite yet. They had only been married for a month.
“Not children,” Will smirked. Elizabeth cannot remember the last time she had seen her husband smile like that, and for a brief second it frightened her. “Something else.”
-
Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean and all related characters belong to Walt Disney, Gore, Jerry,
Ted and Terry.
Rating: T for now.
Characters: Most of the entire cast
Pairings: Will/Elizabeth
The Chosen
Chapter 3: Fever
-
James had made the decision to continue to wear his powdered wig, even though he was dressed in civilian clothing when he went to the Turners the following late morning. He would remove his wig when he was alone with the couple, and only when he was certain the three of them would have the utmost privacy.
“You are still wearing your wig I see,” Groves had approached the store step a few minutes after James had arrived; a small flower filled vase was in his hands.
“As are you,” James nodded; his eyes were on the curled ends of Groves’s wig before he stared at the blue painted porcelain in his hands. “And you have also brought a gift.” James held up the bottle of expensive Pinot he had bought.
“The wig because this is a fine social function,” Groves held up the vase. The petals of the purple and white flowers seemed to flutter in appreciation. “The gift is because I still do not feel quite welcome here.”
“Mr. Turner may feel that way towards us, but I can assure you El-Mrs. Turner has invited us.” He gently knocked on the door. “It will be an enjoyable occasion. We will discuss music and poetry, enjoy good food,” he inhaled and stared at his leg. “Hopefully my tail will behave itself.”
“As long as you have it tied to your leg,” Groves dropped his voice.
James nodded and turned when he heard the door open.
“I am sorry,” the young woman who answered the door wasn’t Elizabeth. She wasn’t a servant by the way she dressed either. She wore a fine blue dress and wore her dark hair in thick curls. “The salon has been cancelled.”
Cancelled? Something dreadful had happened and James was uninformed. “Forgive us if we are too bold Miss.” He tried to remember her name. He knew she was one of Elizabeth’s friends. Was her first name Alison or Abigail?
“Abigail Peterson,” the young woman answered.
“Miss Peterson,” she was the daughter of one of the lawyers. The one friend of Elizabeth’s who never attended public hangings because the sight made her feel faint. “We are not being too forward if we inquire why the salon has been canceled?”
“Mr. Turner had fallen ill with a fever,” Abigail explained. “He is in bed and Elizabeth refuses to leave his side. Her maid is preparing coals for bed warmers.”
That may explain why Abigail answered the door. “Is there anything we can do?” Groves asked. “We could find a doctor, unless one has been sent for.”
“Thomas Evans has already gone to find the nearest doctor,” a woman with chestnut colored hair appeared by Abigail’s side. She was another young woman James had seen with Elizabeth in the past, but could not quite place a name. “Abigail and I were the first to arrive. We are informing everyone.”
“
We have brought gifts,” Groves held out his vase. “May we leave them here and see if we can find more help.”
“Everyone who had come has gone home to find medicine and remedies their mother’s had used on them.” Abigail stood firm.
“Abigail,” the other woman gave her friend a look before she smiled at the men. “You may come in.” She stepped aside.
“Thank you Miss,” Groves’s forehead furrowed as he tried to remember her name. “Miss Carlisle is it?”
“Yes it is.” She nodded. “Julia Carlisle.”
James set the bottle down and studied the two women. Both were pale and their gowns were expensive. Abigail had small hands and sharp cheekbones. Miss Carlisle had round eyes framed by thick lashes. There was something off about her and when James stepped closer to her he could see one eye was paler shade of brown than the other due to a milky veil covering it and there were small scars near the corners.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized when he knew she was noticing the way he was staring at her. “I know it is rude of me.”
“It was an accident when I was a child,” Julia said softly. “I am blind in my left eye.”
“I am sorry.”
Her back stiffened. “I can still see in my right.”
It was time to change the subject. “Perhaps I should see the lad. I was overcome with a fever while at sea. I may be able to help.”
Both women turned to each other and started to whisper to each other. James could clearly here every little word about how they were debating if James should be able allowed to go upstairs or not.
“James,” Groves grasped his wrist. “You cannot show them now.”
“I am not. I am going to try to use my new abilities.” If he can heal Groves of a bruise then he may be able to cure Will’s fever with a touch.
“You may go upstairs,” Miss Carlisle said, ignoring the disapproving expression Abigail had. “But if Elizabeth does not wish to see you then do not try to press on.”
“Thank you,” James said.
-
James was met with the scent of sweat, burned wood and something not quite identifiable when he entered the Turner’s bedroom.
“James,” Elizabeth stood up from the chair next to the bed. “Thank you for coming.”
“Theodore is also here,” James accepted her embrace. “I am sorry.”
“You do not have to apologize,” Elizabeth smiled at him. Her eyes were bloodshot and were gray and puffy underneath, leading James to wonder if she had gotten much sleep the night before.
“Have you eaten, or have you been sleeping.”
“She has slept for five hours the night before,” their maid explained as she walked around the bed, slipping in hot water bottles. “And I made sure she had eaten.”
Norrington nodded. “Miss Turner should not let her health dwindle.”
“She practically dragged me to the dining hall and the guestroom,” Elizabeth gave her maid a look. “I may not be pleased with her at the time, but once Will has regained his health I will be thankful.”
“When did this occur?”
“I believed it happened after I left the Smithy the night before. I had arrived home when I heard the news about Will. Mr. Brown found him unconscious on the floor, burning hot with fever.”
James blinked. His men had found him in a similar condition. “It does sound like the same fever that had befallen myself.” Was Will Turner also chosen? It might be easier to explain his condition if the youth was also about to experience it.
“What did you do for yourself?” Elizabeth asked.
“What you are doing for him. Make certain he has plenty of rest. Keep the rest of his body warm and his forehead cool and make sure he has something to drink when he wakes up.”
“Admiral?” Turner’s voice croaked out.
“Estrella, bring my husband some water,” Elizabeth commanded.
“Water with the juice from citrus juice mixed in,” James added. “It was given to me.”
“Yes Mrs. Turner.” Estrella hurried herself out of the room.
“Elizabeth,” Turner tried to roll to his side.
“Don’t move,” Elizabeth had placed her hands on his body. “Stay still.”
“I should apologize,” Will whispered. “I have been unfair to the Admiral.”
“You have done me no wrong,” James stared down at the young man. “How do you feel?”
“Probably better than I look.” Will smiled weakly, causing the corners of his dried lips to crack. He was extremely pale. Hair was weighed down from either his sweat or the moisture from the cloth.
“I believe I appeared just as bad,” James tried not to wrinkle his noise. The stench was coming from Will. James would ask Groves if he emitted such an odor before his metamorphosis. There was also something about
Will that made James feel on edge, an energy he wanted to force back.
Will blinked his bloodshot eyes. “There is something different about you.”
“Different?” James raised his eyebrows. Could Will tell he had changed. Has Will’s transformation already started? Could his kind detect their own from humans.
“Too close,” Will tried forces his body deeper into the mattress. “Enemy.”
“James isn’t the enemy,” Elizabeth said.
“I had hope to amend all that is between us,” James reached out to the boy.
Will’s mouth curled up into a furious snarl and he hissed liked a feral cat.
“Will?” Elizabeth tried to push James aside. “What are you doing?”
“It’s the fever,” James grabbed his hand and instantly recoiled when he felt his fingertips on fire.
Will shook from the touch, his whole body convulsed before his returned to a state of unconsciousness.
“What did you do?” Elizabeth demanded.
“I just grabbed his hand,” James voice shook as he stared at his own hands. The fingertips that touched Will had become blistered. “It may have been in his mind.”
“You shouldn’t have touched him,” Elizabeth glared at him as she adjusted the cloth on her husband’s forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he stepped backwards towards the entrance. “It may be best if I should leave now.”
“It would,” her voice was still stern.
James continued to utter apologies until he closed the door behind him and sped down the stairs, nearly colliding with Groves.
“James?” Groves stepped back. “What happened?”
“I may have worsened his condition,” James said. “We may have to leave with out them.” He stared at his hands again. “I’m afraid I may be changing into something evil.”
“Evil?” Groves just stared at him and pointed at his arm where he had his bruise. “I refuse to accept it.”
“I made him go under again,” he could feel his tail trying to flick in discontent. “When I touched him he burned my fingers.”
“You need to see this.” Groves said. “You may think differently after.” He led James to another part of the house and stopped in front of a large painting. “Look.”
The painting was of a young man surrounded by clouds. He was dressed in a ghost white gown, with material wrapping around one shoulder like a toga. His feet were clothed in leather sandals. Long golden hair billowed around his head while a large pair of silvery white-feathered wings kept him aloft.
“Look at his ears,” Groves whispered.
James wasn’t studying the angel’s ears. His focus was on the angel’s tail. It was long and thin and ended in a silvery white tuft, similar to James’s tail. He brought his gaze back to the angel’s face. The figure in the painting had feather lined ears.
“I’m an angel?” James whispered. He couldn’t see if the angel in the painting had fangs or white fingernails, but it had the same tail, ears and even his hair was like James’s. If he had turned into an angel then were where his wings and why did he need to eat and sleep, and more importantly why did his fingers blister from touching Will Turner.
“It is closer to what you are than what we found in the books,” Groves whispered.
James closed his eyes and asked in a louder voice. “Who is the artist?”
“I made this,” Julia Carlisle said from behind, prompting both men to turn around. “I painted this picture.”
“It is a fine painting,” James said.
“Thank you,” Julia smiled. A small blush formed across her cheeks.
“I am sorry gentlemen,” Abigail entered the room. Her hazel eyes narrowed at their presence. “I believe you may have over stayed your welcome.”
“We shall leave at once,” Groves said.
“I am sorry,” James glanced at the painting once more before he made his way across the room. The next morning he would visit The Turners and the young women to apologize even further.
-
Elizabeth slowly chewed on a piece of bread as she watched Will spoon up the last bit of his soup into his mouth. Will slept for a few more hours after the last guest had been informed the salon was canceled and when he awoke he was given the glass of citrus and water to drink.
“May I take this from you, sir?” Estrella asked when Will placed his bowl on his lap. “Unless you are not finished.”
“I am finished with this bowl,” Will said. “But I am still quite famished.”
“I will prepare another bowl for you,” Estrella said. She paused by Elizabeth on the way out and gave her a look. “You are barely eating Mrs. Turner.”
“I am sorry,” Elizabeth brought a spoonful of soup to her mouth.
“I expect to see you still eating when I return.” Estrella left the room.
“She is right,” Will said. He had recovered greatly from his earlier state. His natural color was returning to his face and he was no longer sweating. His eyes were still a bit red rimmed though. “I want you to stay healthy for a while.”
“A while?” Elizabeth wasn’t sure she had heard right.
“A while meaning a long time,” Will said. “I had visitors earlier.”
“Your friends,” she did not want to bring up when James had come for a visit.
“Admiral Norrington had stopped by.”
“Yes he did,” Elizabeth stared into her soup before she swallowed another bite. “He had upset you.”
“I was delirious from the fever,” Will tried to sit up even further. “I had thought he was someone or something else, like a monster or a demon.”
“He shouldn’t have approached you.”
Her husband shrugged. “He was just trying to help. It is in his nature.”
“You are speaking about him in better respect.”
“My fever gave me some time to think, mostly about you and I and our future.”
“You are speaking of children?” Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. She wasn’t certain if she were ready for children quite yet. They had only been married for a month.
“Not children,” Will smirked. Elizabeth cannot remember the last time she had seen her husband smile like that, and for a brief second it frightened her. “Something else.”
-
