A/N: Hey guys! In my little world, Will's curse was never broken. This takes place in the 1770's. Will's been the Dutchman captain for 50 years. There's both WE and JE in here, but no JE till next chapter. This story's been completely written already, so there's only going to be two chapters. This is more of an introduction. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: My name does not start with a D or end in a Y. Therefore, ownage is not mine.

Warnings: Language, violence, and angst. Not necessarily in that order. :D

Surreal. Yes, that's the word. Surreal.

William hadn't seen land in nearly ten years; there was glimpse of it now and then, but never a clear view. He squinted at the land mass as though the gazing at it would bring it closer. It was finally time.

He'd only ever done this twice before, with an older and older Elizabeth greeting him. She'd be around fifty, now. The thought thoroughly shook him to the core-he wouldn't have much time with her. Only another two or three days with her left, and she'd be gone. And his son…

His son. He'd never properly known his son. Last time he'd seen him, the lad was almost twenty. Now he'd be thirty. Older then Will was when…

No, he thought, No more of this. It's all done. Focus on the present.

He isn't used to this. Land. It seems to move against him, and he stumbles a bit. Sea legs, he thinks with a grimace. Where is she?

He quite literally staggers into the town, practically knocking several people over and nearly uprooting one man from his sitting position against the wall of a bar. The old man isn't insulted or alarmed, however. He chuckles with a sort of authority, a sort of knowingness that catches Will's attention. Will backtracks.

"Excuse me," Will says, deciding it best to be polite-great swordsman that he is, risking a fight wouldn't be the smartest thing to do. The old, rickety man looks up, grinning toothlessly. Will pauses for a moment, unsure how to begin.

"I'm looking for someone. A woman."

The old man gives a loud, shouting bark of laughter, shaking his head and causing a few people to stare.

"Well, ain't we all, boy, ain't we all?"

He quiets after a few seconds, looking up at Will with humour still present in his eye. Will decides to continue.

"Her name's Elizabeth. She lives here, I believe. In her fifties." It pains him slightly to say that.

Quite suddenly and alarmingly, all laughter vanishes from the man's face. His brow crinkles.

"You ain't lookin' for Lizzie Turner, now are ye?" Will is silent, but nods slightly, worry in his eyes. The man shakes his head, standing slowly.

"Now what you be wantin' wit that wench?"

Will is puzzled and startled to hear his wife being called a wench, but he goes with it all the same. The man goes into the bar, beckoning Will with him.

"Call me Jim," he says hoarsely. Will follows him to an abandoned table. Jim lets out a long breath, ordering drinks. There's a pause. Jim speaks.

"You don't be wantin' to see Lizzie Turner. Ye can't see Lizzie Turner. Not now…"

"Why? What's happened to her?"

Jim looks him straight in the eye.

"You ain't from 'round here, I can tell. You be wantin' to here the fate of Lizzie Turner?"

Will nods, his forehead now permanently furrowed. The old man sighs.

"Where 't begin, lad, where 't begin…"