"Yo-ho, strike together, hoist the colours high…"

Elizabeth smiled as she put her arm around her son's shoulders. William Weatherby John Turner, known to all and sundry as Liam, the pride of her heart and the only thing that had kept her going for the last ten years. Certainly it hadn't been what remained of her friends in Port Royal; now that she was no longer the governor's daughter, they whispered about her behind their hands, and when she first started showing the gentle swell that indicated she was with child, the whispers became open and outright. Matters had been complicated by her inability to explain that, despite returning without her husband, she did not consider herself to be a widow. And, of course, no one believed that Elizabeth Swann would have run off and married the blacksmith's apprentice, whom everybody knew had been in league with pirates.

Keep a weather eye on the horizon, he had said. The last words they had spoken before he was gone from her. Once it became clear that Port Royal was no longer a harbour for her, Elizabeth had convinced a crew of pirates to return her to the island where she had last seen him. Not that it had taken much convincing—despite the fact that she refused to captain again, she was still the Pirate King. She had set up a home there and given birth to her son, and from there on out she had prospered. It helped, of course, that ten percent of all plunder the pirates earned had to be paid her in tribute; it enabled her to go to the town on the nearest island and get the things she and Liam needed.

Suddenly she felt her son's shoulders stiffen. Looking out at the horizon again, sailing out of the sunrise, was a black-painted ship, her colours waving in the wind, and a lone figure on the railing, holding to the riggings and leaning out.

A smile crossed her face. He was back.

The ship dropped anchor out in the bay, and a small boat was lowered over the side. Elizabeth was unable to contain her excitement and found herself running in a manner most unbecoming to a woman of nearly thirty years of age, Liam doing his best to follow her, but even he couldn't keep up with her that day as she ran down to the shore, just as the rowboat pulled up and a handsome man with long black hair and kind dark eyes and a scar on his chest leaped out and ran towards her, and for the first time in ten long years she was in his arms.

"Will," she whispered.

"Elizabeth," he whispered back. "I've come back."

"I've been waiting."

Will cupped her chin in his hand, tilted her head back, and kissed her, the warmth of their past rushing back to meet them, and Elizabeth kissed him back. Finally, they drew apart, and Will ran a finger along her cheek. "Oh, Elizabeth…there were days I feared I'd never see you again."

Elizabeth smiled, tears of happiness beginning to form in her eyes. "I never doubted for a minute that you'd come back."

"Of course I did," Will said, also smiling through his tears. "You still have my heart."

A rock slipped loose on the slope behind Elizabeth, and a small yelp alerted her to her son, who had slipped and slid down the hill. Liam stood, brushed himself off, and started to come forward, then halted shyly.

Will let go of Elizabeth and took a step backwards, surprised and wary. Elizabeth smiled at him, then smiled at Liam. "It's all right, darling. Come on."

Liam took one hesitant step, then another, until he was at his mother's side, then pressed against her, looking nervously up at Will, who looked from the boy to his mother and back.

"Will," Elizabeth said quietly, "this is Liam. Liam…" She put her hands on the boy's shoulders. "This is your father."

Will squatted down on Liam's level and looked into the boy's eyes, then slowly smiled. "Hello, Liam. I'm very glad to meet you."

Liam smiled bashfully. "I'm glad to meet you too. Mother and Uncle Jack have told me how wonderful you are."

Will raised an eyebrow, grinning, at Elizabeth. "Uncle Jack?"

Elizabeth smiled as her husband stood. "He stops by every few months. They all do."

"Why is that?"

"King, remember?"

"Oh, right." Will smiled down at Liam. "And how do you like your Uncle Jack?"

Liam shrugged. "He's all right. He tells me stories sometimes."

"Stories? Like what?"

"Like about you," Liam answered, looking up at Will with trusting eyes. "He said you saved his life twice—once by saving him from hanging, once by rescuing him from Davy Jones' Locker."

Will smiled and answered, but he looked at Elizabeth when he spoke. "He saved my life, too. We're more than square."

Liam looked at Elizabeth. "He never told me that."

"He wouldn't." Elizabeth ruffled her son's hair. "Liam, darling, why don't you run back to the house and get out your surprise? Your father and I will be along shortly."

Liam grinned and dashed off. Will shook his head. "Liam?"

"It's short for William," Elizabeth answered, smiling up at her husband, so thankful to have him back with her. "He has rather a long name, actually. I named him for his father and yours, for my father, and…"

"For Jack?" Will guessed.

Elizabeth bit her lip and nodded. "He…he was there the day Liam was born."

"Was he," Will said, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

"Yes. I…I was having trouble. I couldn't go for the midwife, and there wasn't anyone else by then. Jack heard me screaming and came bursting in…I asked him to run for the midwife and he said there wasn't time. I know men don't often stay in the birthing room, but…Will, I was just glad that someone was there."

"I wish I could have been there," Will said, taking Elizabeth into his arms again. "I…I never dreamed…"

"I know," Elizabeth said softly. "But, Will, Liam's all that's kept me going these last ten years…Liam, and the memory of our one day. And the hope for this one." She buried her face in his shoulder. "Oh, Will, we're going to miss you when you leave."

"I'm not leaving, Elizabeth," Will answered.

Elizabeth looked up at him. "What do you mean? Don't you have to?"

Will shook his head. "No longer. Ten years was my charge—ten years of ferrying souls. If two conditions were filled in those ten years, I would be free."

"What conditions?"

"First: I had to ferry the souls, exactly as promised." Will smiled, touching Elizabeth under her chin. "And second: You had to remain faithful to me, all these years. That's why I was so worried when I saw the boy, but I trust you, Elizabeth."

"He's yours. I've never known another man." Elizabeth looked wonderingly up at her husband. "You…you're really free?"

"I really am. The first mate took over the Flying Dutchman, and all men who were bound to serve until I left are free as well." Will's smile broadened. "He'll probably step ashore for a moment, just to bid us farewell before he's on his way."

Elizabeth threw her arms around Will's neck, unable to stop herself from sobbing with happiness. Will hugged her back, tighter than he ever had before. "I never dreamed…how did you find out?"

"The first mate told me." Will took Elizabeth's hand and laid it over the scar that showed where he had been stabbed, and his heart, in the end, had been cut out. Her eyes widened as she felt the steady beat beneath her palm. "I wager that Liam will tell you the chest is gone when we get back to your home."

"Our home," Elizabeth corrected him. "And why would it be gone?"

Will grinned at her correction. "Because it belongs to the Dutchman, Lizzie my girl, and the mate has to put his heart in it to become captain."

"When did you start calling me Lizzie?"

"I didn't. Just thought I'd see if you liked it."

"Well, I don't." Elizabeth smiled. "I like Elizabeth. Just Elizabeth."

"You'll never be just Elizabeth," Will whispered. "Not to me."

Elizabeth's face was starting to hurt from smiling so much. Will leaned forward and kissed her. They held each other tightly, the kiss deepening with every second, as though they never wanted to let each other go, as though if they came up from the kiss they would lose each other. Finally, almost reluctantly, they pulled apart, but Will continued to rest his forehead against hers.

"These ten years were easier than the last ten years," Elizabeth said softly.

"How so?"

"Because this time I knew you loved me, and I knew you were mine. The first ten years I knew you, I thought you had no interest in me other than as someone who lived at the governor's mansion. Liam was my proof that you loved me."

"Of course I did. I've always loved you."

"But I didn't know that then. And you didn't know I loved you."

"I should have. It was always there. I was just a bit…obtuse."

"Scared."

Will stared. "What?"

"You were scared," Elizabeth repeated. "I was the governor's daughter, and you were the blacksmith's apprentice, not to mention the orphaned son of a man who had something to do with pirates. In some places, it would have meant your death to entertain those thoughts. That's why I was scared too…because I was afraid I would lose you."

A voice suddenly called out from the ocean. "Ahoy, permission to put ashore?"

Will turned and smiled. "You're the captain," he called back.

The man who jumped ashore couldn't be anyone but Will's father, but not as Elizabeth had last seen him. Gone were the barnacles, the starfish, the look of death, the bits attaching him to the ship. Part of the crew, part of the ship. Those words had haunted her dreams for a long time. She suppressed the urge to shudder as Bootstrap Bill Turner came to join his son and daughter-in-law, smiling.

"My dear, you look even more lovely than you did ten years ago," he said, bowing over her hand.

Elizabeth smiled. "Well, I was a prisoner at the time you saw me last."

"You also weren't married to my son at the time."

"Blame Cutler Beckett for that."

Will smiled at his father. "Do you have plans for your one day on land, Captain Turner?"

Bootstrap gave him a lopsided grin. "I'll not interfere with the two of you, if that's what you're asking."

Will and Elizabeth exchanged glances. Finally, Elizabeth answered, "We have our whole lifetimes ahead of us. You're more than welcome to join us, and Liam will want to meet his grandfather."

A broad grin crossed Bootstrap's face. "Grandfather?"

"Yes," Elizabeth answered. "He's nine years old and he is definitely your grandson. All he's talked about since he was five years old is going to sea. I told him he at least had to wait until Will came back."

Will rolled his eyes. "Why couldn't he want to do something safe, like smithing?"

Elizabeth smiled. "It's in his blood, I suppose."