3 years, 15 weeks, 2 days, 17 hours and 10 minutes later...

Elizabeth Turner was a good mother, that much could be agreed upon by the folk that dwelt on the tiny island she called home. She found a way to allow herself to run and have adventures but also instill in him responsibility and manners far beyond those of children his age. More than a few of the men in town had looked at him when he come with his mother to get supplies and said he he had an 'old soul'. A few of the older folks looked upon him and murmured (low enough for Elizabeth never to hear, thank God!) that the boy had a 'touch of destiny' about him.

If only they knew. And if only they could see the boy and his mother now.

Elizabeth did not say a word as William Turner the Third (Billy to folk close to him) raced along the beach, his pirate hat and wooden sword abandoned as he raced along the surf. There was good reason for that...namely that he was mimicking his mother, who rushed forward, all thoughts of decorum and being a proper lady forgotten as focused in on the rowboat that had finally come to a stop upon the beach.

Mother and son did not notice the great plume of water shoot out from the Caribbean as The Flying Dutchman returned to the land of the dead, its new captain, William Turner the First, doing so as a final goodbye to his son.

They did not notice, for all that mattered to them was the man that was stepping out of the rowboat, who quite comically was touching his chest, startled to feel his heart beat within his chest for the first time in 10 years.

10 years...10 years since he had stepped onto dry land. 10 years since he had not felt the splash of salt water upon his face.

The moment lasted but a second...and then he found himself in the water again, only this time because of the combined weight of his wife and child colliding into him.

It was hard for Will to understand what they were saying, and if pressed he would admit later he did not know what he said either. He had not been shocked to see his son, the boy he had never gotten to meet. The Captain of the Dutchman had ways to keep an eye on those in the world of the living and Will had used them to his full advantage. But seeing and hearing did not replace touching, and it was that sensation that Will reveled in.

Finally, after several minutes of tears and hugs and kisses and general happiness, the Turner family gained control of themselves and realized that 1) they were soaking wet, and 2) they were not alone.

Elizabeth stared at the newcomer, trying to figure him out. He looked nothing like the crew of the Dutchman; there was a peace about him, a calmness that was like a balm upon a burn. A cross hung round his neck and he clutched a Bible tightly in his arms, as if afraid that her and her son's splashing would wet the pages.

Will, realizing how rude he was being, helped his wife and son to their feet and gestured to their guest. "Phillip, this is my wife, Elizabeth, and my son, Billy. Elizabeth, Billy...this is Phillip Swift." He shot them an amused smile. "Another victim of a Jack Sparrow adventure."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at that while Billy visibly grew more excited. His mother had told him tales of Captain Jack Sparrow, and now he was meeting another man that knew of the pirate. And his dad was here...between the two of them they would have even more stories of the famed pirate.

Phillip didn't seem to know what to do, not use to being around women (and the only woman he had known with any true knowledge had been gone for years...and a mermaid). "I am sorry to intrude..."

Will waved him off, his attitude making it clear he and Phillip had spoke of this more than once. "Phillip, please." He turned to Elizabeth. "Phillip was brought to me while I was on the Dutchman...after I healed him he agreed to stay for a few years, to help us with the souls...and to help me."

Elizabeth looked into Will's eyes and read the secret stories that hide behind them. Phillip had been a friend, someone not connected to the Dutchman, someone that could understand what Will was going through and help him through it, to keep his sanity.

Phillip didn't realize it at the time, but in that moment he had gained in Elizabeth a strong ally.

"Phillip, I would be honored if you would join us at our home."

The missionary held up his hands. "I could not intrude..."

Will placed a hand on his shoulder. "I insist...this is your homecoming too."

Relenting, Phillip followed Will and his family up the beach, to the home Elizabeth had kept waiting for her husband for ten years.

Had he turned back, he would have seen a flash of a mermaid's tale dip below the water.

~MC~MC~MC~

Many miles away...the Caribbean

"Please...please no!" The pirate screamed, shielding himself with his hands in a febble attempt to defend himself.

His cries were cut short by a sword being driven through his neck, the only sound coming from him now being a faint gurgle.

His killer did not even bother to watch the body fall. This was but one of many pirates aboard the ship, and not the first to be cut down by his sword. They mattered little to him now. They had moments ago, when the battle was in full swing and he and his crew had slaughtered the slime like the dogs they were.

But now, something had shifted, the winds changing, and the man strode back to his ship, motioning for his crew to finish their busy work.

The captain of The Flying Dutchman was back in the world of the living...and he was vulnerable.

The man grinned, his face aglow in the fires that raced along the deck of the enemy ship. And as The Mirage hauled anchor, one thought entered his mind:

The hunt was on.

~MC~MC~MC~

Let it never be said that I don't bow to peer pressure.