"Keep a weather eye on the horizon."
That was how William Turner, captain of the FlyingDutchman, had parted with his wife on the past two occasions. The words, seemingly light in the face of heavy adversity, always tortured the man in the years that followed. They weighed on his mind, driving him mad as they buried their way further and further into his psyche. After all, they represented the woman he would always love, and how helpless he was.
Will wasn't helpless in the usual sense. No, as the Dutchman's captain, he commanded a legendary ship whose entire domain spanned the seven seas. No one could defy the triple barrel cannons and the sheer ferocity of the crew, and if Will chose not to engage in battle, the ship could simply dive underwater, safe from all attack.
No, Will was a powerful man, in charge of powerful elements, and yet, he was the most helpless man on the planet. Bound to the souls of every person but the ones that mattered most, Will was forced to ferry those who died at sea to the afterlife. Carrying this otherworldly cargo left him but a day, one period of twenty-four hours and nothing more, to be with the one who literally held his heart. It was a bittersweet existence, and yet better than the alternative of death that had awaited him at the hands of the previous Dutchman captain. Will's life had been saved and ended simultaneously that day.
But at that moment, it was mere hours before his precious day ashore, and Will wouldn't have traded it for anything else. It was here at last, the second time Will would set foot on land in twenty years. There was the appointed, sacred meeting place, the rolling hill filled with lush promises and green hope. As theDutchman pulled closer, Will strained his eyes ahead, desperately searching for the two figures that he had dreamt of day and night since he'd parted with them ten years ago. He could've chosen to use a spyglass, but wanted to see his beloveds face-to-face first.
There it was, the flash of viridian that lit the sky and ocean for a heartbeat. Blinking threatened missing the spectacle all together. The more natural sun's rays announced his coming as they lit the sea in front of him, the rusty gold color forming a carpet before the ship. There were so many things that Will missed about this world, and the sun, while high on his list, could not hope to compete with his wife and child.
Nearly twenty years old, his son would be. It was difficult to fathom. Will pictured the smiling, eager young boy with face aglow who had greeted him a decade ago. He was a man now, Will mused. Was there anything more tragic than one's own son being a veritable stranger?
Well, now they would see each other, Turner thought. Though a day couldn't hope to reconcile ten years, it would have to do, and he would treasure being further acquainted with his son.
Little did Will know that he would get to know his son better than he would've imagined.
TheFlyingDutchman pulled as close as it could get without beaching the ship. As his men scrambled to prepare his dingy, Will's heart stuttered for a moment. Were his eyes playing tricks on him, or was there only one figure on the hill? Without the use of a spyglass, Will couldn't be sure, but it caused him to hurry all the same. The crew lowered their captain into the choppy waves, and Will's strong, able body took care of the rest as he threw himself into rowing for the shore.
Each stroke was torture. The small boat didn't seem to be able to move fast enough. Will found his rowing rhythm a shaky staccato that matched his heartbeat as fear trickled into his limbs like the sweat rolling down his brow from the labor. Surely there were two people waiting for him ashore, or if there were not, there was a logical explanation for the other's absence. Surely there was no reason to worry.
Will swallowed.
In a short time, the dingy ran aground, and Will hastily tied it to a nearby log before sprinting up the hill. It was a difficult task to sprint up the steep hill, especially when one did not run often after being on a ship for years, but Will hardly thought twice. He rounded a bend in the hill and abruptly stopped running. Panting hard, all he could do was stop and stare. The other man stared back.
"Father," the younger version of himself finally spat.
"William." Will could barely get the word past his lips. His mind was numb, frozen solid. "Where…where is she?"
"As if you even have the right to know," William Turner the Third hissed. Gone was the happy child, the sweet innocent who had stood in that very spot what seemed like a lifetime ago. Instead, this young man's face seethed. His frame was wiry with tension, with rage, and his fists seemed like they ought to creak, they were clenched so tightly.
"What do you mean?" Will asked, dazed, still unable to function correctly.
"Let me think," the young man said, his brow knit together sardonically. "The man who shows up once every decade, and misses all the hardships and misfortunes that real life incurs, demands his day-long rights to the wife who's struggled and bled and cried all by herself?" He reached and found the solid steel-wrought object behind him and all but threw it at his shell-shocked parent. A faint pulsing sound could be heard in the suddenly-still, heavy air.
"Here. If I hadn't promised Mother on her deathbed, I would have cast it into the sea long ago." William's voice crackled with twenty year's worth of emotion. "Now you're free of us…free of me, at least."
No. Will sank to his knees before the chest. With shaking hands, he dazedly touched the lock, feeling the suddenly-unbearable weight of the key round his chest press against his heart, heavy as the weight of loss that crippled his being. "What…what happened to her?"
"We were attacked, Father. By bloody pirates. She fought them as long as she could, but there was no one in the house. There was likely at least two score of them and one of her, and they overtook her. They…they used her, beat her, and then mortally wounded her. I came home and found her…like that." Sobs threatened William's speech, but it appeared rage was the stronger emotion, and his face blackened even more. "If you had been there, none of this would have happened. I'll never forgive you for these two decades that we spent alone.
"I used to think it was a damn fairy tale, having a father who ferried souls to and fro, one who could come only once a decade. I thought it was magical, fantastical. But I grew up, and I realized what exactly you did to us. You abandoned us." He spit at his father's feet.
"Uncle Jack should've let you die that day. We all would have been better off."
Will was frozen, unable to form a reply. His mind was a faint buzz and nothing more. At last, his dry mouth formed six words. "Did your mother feel that way, as well?"
William's mouth made a crooked smile. "No, of course not. Inconceivably, she never begrudged you. She only spoke the best of you, and always remained completely faithful to you, Father. I will never understand how she could think so highly of someone who left us to rot for decades on end."
Something in Will broke. He surged forward, grabbing his son by the collar. He shook him hard. "Ineverhadachoice!"
William reacted swiftly, swinging with a quick hook that caught Will on the side of the head, sending the captain of the Dutchmansprawling onto the grass. His son stood over him, eyes ablaze.
"You bloody well didn't leave us one, either! You think you deserve any pity, you son of a bitch? You left Mother alone for twodecades! She cried at night, when she thought I was asleep. She worked damn hard to provide for me, to care for me on her own. She deserved a world better than what you left her with! And me! Do you know who I am? The things I've done and seen? Do you know what I've had to do just to stay alive? You know nothing about me! You're not my father, I hope you understand that! You're just the damn fool who made mistakes in life that can never be erased, not from yourself, not from me, and especially not to Mother!"
Will lay unmoving on the hill. He felt as if someone had pulled the stopper on his lifeblood, and it was all draining out of him in a vast flood. He wished death upon himself. He wished for second chances, for a better life for William. He wished for Elizabeth. But wishes would never bring anyone back from the dead.
But perhaps the Dutchman could. He sat up and looked into the cold eyes of William, whose fury seemed abated by being let loose upon Will.
"William, I'm so sorry. I know I can never apologize for anything, son. But I will right this. I swear it."
"Swear all you like," William said calmly. "As I said, I'm free of you now. Goodbye, Father. The next time we meet each other I'm sure it'll be in hell." He turned and walked away.
Will watched the form of his child slowly disappear out of sight, and his heart broke again. "No," he murmured. "It will be sooner than that. I'll make sure of it."
A/N: Hallo! I found this half-finished on my computer, and, though it's definitely not my finest work, decided, what the heck. So here it is.
For those of you wondering what happened to Fine Lines…it's NOT dead. Just taking a long time to come back to me :D I have the whole thing skeletoned out, buuuut I gotta get that flesh on there, ehehe…I'll try to have another chapter up before the end of the year! Thanks for reading and pleeeease review! 3 loves.