Will was resting peacefully in bed next to his wife, Elizabeth. Their breathing was silent and their motions were still as they slumbered in the middle of the night. The window was open to let in a gentle summer breeze earlier that evening, but as the night progressed a thunderstorm came rolling into Port Charles.

The thunderclaps were loud, but it did not disturb the married couple while they slept. They were in complete, dreamless relaxation. All they felt was the coolness of the whistling wind that blew past the curtains. Given the usual climate of island life, it was a godsend to feel air this nice.

Suddenly, the sounds of slow, heavy footsteps came from the end of the corridor just outside their bedroom. As they drew nearer, the sound became more and more audible as they impacted the wooden surface. All at once, the footsteps stopped, and an eerie silence filled the cottage as the only noise that could be heard now was the whistling wind coming in from the outside.

The doorknob began to turn slowly. The door to their room started to creak open, casting light from the lamps that lit the hallway. The light shined down upon the sleeping Turners as the door continued to open, and soon it came to a full stop of motion as silence hung in the air once more.

A silhouette came into view on the floor, showing what looked to be an imposing figure wearing a sailor's hat standing in the doorway. The figure walked forward, its heavy footsteps dripping water onto the floor as it drew closer to the sleeping couple. Tentacle-like appendages appeared in the shadow of the head of the figure, swishing around like a monstrous creature that had come alive.

Again.

As the shadow loomed over the Turners, a tremendous thunderclap roared in the night, a quick, bright flash of lightning following soon after. In an instant, Will's eyes snapped open, and he bolted right up and looked towards where the figure was, seeing a massive crab's claw open up its pincers.

Will's eyes opened and he gasped for breath. He was still laying down on top of his pillow. Slowly, he picked up his head and continued to breathe deeply, surveying the room around him in search of an intruder.

But there was none. The door to their room was locked. The only people in the room were himself and his sleeping wife. The only sound he heard were the winds coming in from the outside.

It was just a dream.

Will exhaled slowly through his mouth, calming himself down. It had only been a dream. One far too familiar for his liking.

Will sat himself up, running a hand down his face. There was nothing to be afraid of. He was long gone. He couldn't hurt him or his family any longer.

At this thought, he turned his head and looked down onto Elizabeth, who was still sleeping peacefully with one hand resting on top of her belly. Will sighed in relief, knowing that she was alright. He was thankful for every day he spent with the woman he loved, taking none of it for granted. He had spent more time away from her than he was with her, and he was still determined to make up for his absence after all these years. He had spent the past year alone rebuilding his family, and everyone was happy and contented with their lives. For that, Will was grateful.

Will leaned down and kissed Elizabeth's forehead gently.

"Mmmmm…" she mumbled in her sleep, and Will couldn't help but smile. She was absolutely wonderful in every way. He could not have asked for a better wife for himself or a mother for their children.

Feeling that his throat was dry, Will slowly got up off the bed, careful not to wake Elizabeth. He walked over to his dresser and picked up the pitcher of water resting there. Taking a glass, he filled it with water and began to silently gulp it down, hoping the cool water would help to calm his nerves.

Spending twenty years as captain of the Flying Dutchman put him on edge, to say the least.

Feeling a shiver run down his spine, Will crossed his arms over his chest and turned around, looking over towards the window next to their shared bed. The air from outside had turned cold, and Will decided that they probably had had enough for one night.

Walking over to the window, Will pulled back the curtains so he could shut the window properly. But the moment he did, he paused because he noticed something down by the pier.

There was a light coming from inside the captain's cabin of the Flying Dutchman.

Will's heartrate sped up, seeing the light flicker all the way from the cottage. Someone was on the ship at this very moment.

He thought back to the nightmare he had just woken up from, and he started to panic. At first, he told himself he was being silly, but Will was too old and too wise to chalk things up to coincidence anymore.

Regardless of whether or not his hunch was correct, and he was desperately hoping he was wrong, Will knew that there was someone aboard the ship right now. They could potentially pose a threat to his family, and Will would be damned before he let anything happen to them.

Closing the window, Will looked to his left to see the bedside drawer, and then he stepped over to it and carefully slid it open. He reached in and pulled out a pistol, and checked to make sure he had shot and powder loaded into it already.

Once he had finished and tucked the pistol into his pants, Will noticed Elizabeth shifting in her sleep, and he looked at her solemnly. He hoped this wouldn't be the last time he would see her, but he was going to protect his family no matter what.

Stepping into a pair of boots, Will carefully crept out of his room and walked down the hallway. He checked the rooms of his father and his son to make sure they were still here, and fortunately enough they were sound asleep in their beds. At least now he could rule out the possibility of any of his family being on the Dutchman.

Will made his way downstairs, and opened up the side door of the cottage, stepping onto the grassy plains in the dead of night. The moonlight cast itself brightly over the island, but Will took a lantern with him just in case.

The light was still glowing from inside the cabin.

Will walked down across the grassy fields down over towards the pier, and from there stepped onto the Dutchman's deck. It had been many months since he had set foot on the formerly-cursed vessel, and he was dreading having to return to it.

He faced towards the door that led to the captain's cabin, raising his lantern up while he did so. Slowly, he approached the door, drawing out his pistol and pointing the barrel upward.

Will swallowed, his heart beating faster than it probably ever had before.

Setting the lantern down just outside the door, Will slowly reached with his free hand towards the door's handle. Once he had a grip on it, he pulled back the hammer on his pistol, locking the flint into place.

This is it.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Will thrust the door open and quickly pointed his gun forward.

He was greeted by the sight of the back of the faded leather armchair that sat behind his desk, obscuring any figure from Will's view. The candles on the desk were burning, right next to them resting the heart-shaped locket, meaning that somebody indeed was here. Will kept a firm grip on his weapon, his finger just barely touching the trigger, as he pointed it at the back of the chair, waiting for whatever was sitting in the chair to make itself known.

Suddenly, a voice spoke up, sounding like the person had not spoken for years.

"As I told you once before, Mr. Turner, this is a beautiful sword."

Will froze.

This wasn't Davy Jones.

But that voice.

He knew that voice.

Will's breath shuddered, and he started to pant heavily.

He started to lower his weapon.

No.

This couldn't be true.

He was long dead.

The figure placed his boots down upon the ground, and stood up.

He came around the back of the chair, and Will could now clearly see him.

He was wearing a Royal Navy Admiral's uniform, but it looked disheveled as if from years of rough living. He was not wearing a powdered wig as customary, but was wearing his natural brown hair down to his shoulders. He had a small but unkempt beard upon his face, along with an assortment of grime and filth upon his person. Atop his head he wore his Admiral's hat, though it was clear that, just like the rest of him, it had seen better days.

And in his hands, he was holding the sword that Will had forged for him all those years ago.

"You don't mind if I have this back, do you?" he asked Will.

Will's jaw dropped at the sight of him, along with his pistol.

This had to be another dream. Another nightmare.

But this was real.

"Norrington," Will lets the name escape from his mouth, not believing what he saw before him.

James Norrington gave off a casual smile, and then said, "Nice to see you again too, Mr. Turner."

"You- but-" Will stammered, "I thought you were-"

"I was, actually," Norrington answered him, "Calypso had other ideas, though. There was an open vacancy on the Dutchman, and when I was offered the chance, I thought... why not?"

Norrington took his sword and slid it into his scabbard, and Will still could not believe it.

"But... why?" Will asked him.

"When the Trident was destroyed, it freed you from your duties," Norrington began, "but you and I both know the Dutchman must always have a captain."

Norrington smirked at him, and Will's breath continued to pick up with every moment.

Amidst the raging thunder outside, the both of them could hear the faintest, melancholic music coming from the heart-shaped locket resting on the desk. A tune all too familiar to Will.

Looking back up at Norrington, Will noticed the smile disappear from his face, as the former naval officer uttered two words that would haunt him right down to the bone:

"He's back."

Will's heart skipped a beat, and he blinked.

Surely he was mistaken, right? He hadn't heard him correctly.

But Norrington's face remained straight, and his focus was unshaken.

"No..." Will began, slowly walking backwards away from Norrington towards the interior walls of the captain's cabin, "No... no, no, no, no, no! No!"

"Will..." Norrington began, but Will cut him off almost instantly.

"NO! YOU'RE LYING!" Will shouted with as much ferocity as his panicked lungs would allow him.

"I'm afraid it's true," Norrington told him, but Will was not having any of it.

"I stabbed that bastard's heart!" Will hollered at the dead man, "Jones died by my hand!"

"Yes he did," Norrington replied bluntly, "You stabbed his heart, and his body was consumed by the maelstrom. Jones was dead, but now he is not."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, James!?" Will bellowed, but Norrington raised his hand to silence him.

"If you would calm yourself for a moment, I would be more than happy to explain everything to you," Norrington said, "Now please, have a seat."

Will scoffed, "You're giving me orders on my ship?"

"As I recall, the Dutchman has not been your ship for a year," Norrington began, "In fact, it's been precisely one year to the day since you were no longer bound to her."

Will stopped fuming, making sure to take in every word of what Norrington was saying. He didn't know exactly what was going on, but he was starting to acquire some idea of what was what.

Norrington gestured his hand out towards the chair sitting in front of the desk, and a hesitant Will walked forward and sat himself down. Norrington moved the leather chair behind the desk to where it was facing Will, and he sat himself down upon it.

"Now, where to begin..." Norrington placed his elbows on the table, putting his hands together as he collected his thoughts, "Well, I suppose we should start with the obvious: my death."

Will raised an eyebrow, "What does your death have to do with any of this?"

"A great deal, actually," Norrington explained, an annoyed tone in his voice. If Will didn't know any better, he could've sworn it was like nothing had changed in the last twenty years. He spoke with a cadence that reminded him that this had once been a respected officer of His Majesty's Navy stationed in Port Royal.

"Now, I assume Ms. Swann told you about the circumstances of my death, correct?" Norrington asked.

"Yes," Will replied, still in utter disbelief that he was alive after what Elizabeth had told him, "She told me you helped her to escape from the Dutchman's brig, how you stayed behind and bought time for her and her crew to get away."

"I did, and your father was the one who killed me," Norrington responded rather coolly. In all honesty, Will was expecting more anger to come from Norrington given these circumstances, but strangely enough he remained calm and calculated.

"I'm-" Will began, but this time Norrington interrupted him.

"I understand he wasn't in control of himself then. I harbor no ill will against your father," Norrington explained, "Nevertheless, he stuck a sharp wooden plank right through me, and that was that. I was dead in a matter of moments. But before I died, Jones approached me and offered me a second chance. I refused."

"And yet, here you are," Will noted.

"I'm getting to that part," Norrington added, "Jones must've taken my refusal of his offer rather harshly, and so, because of my insolence, he sent me down to the Locker."

Norrington's breath sound strained as he finished his statement. He took a moment to straighten out his ruined uniform, and Will could see that he seemed rather uncomfortable talking about this.

"Twenty years..." Norrington began, "Twenty years inside that godforsaken place..."

Norrington closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

Opening his eyes, he said, "Though I expect that you know what that feels like as well."

"I do," Will answered, recalling all the years he was cursed to this ship, "But how did you get out? You said Calypso freed you?"

"Well, I don't know about 'freedom,' but I'm sure it's a sight better than that prison Jones kept me in," Norrington began again, "But I digress. One day she appeared to me and asked me if I wanted out, and offered me captaincy of the Dutchman. I figured if my soul was to be damned, it would be better if I could still help people in some way."

"But why did she offer it to you?" Will inquired, "Of all people, she chose you. Why?"

"I don't know," Norrington told him, "Truly, I don't know. I asked her and she would not tell me a thing."

Will thought on this for a moment. Calypso never once made herself known to him in the twenty years he was bound to the Dutchman. Why would she appear to Norrington of all people and make him his replacement?

"But while I don't know why she picked me, I do know why she picked a replacement, and I am fairly certain you can guess why that is," Norrington said.

Will was able to draw a probable guess based on what he'd been told, and then answered, "The Trident of Poseidon."

Norrington smiled, seemingly content that the former captain understood what he was now telling him.

"Exactly one year ago, the Trident was destroyed, and all the power of the sea was released with it," he began, "Part of that included the curses of the sea, and that's how you were set free."

"But if the curse was lifted, how are you captain?" Will asked.

"No, no, you misunderstand. I said it lifted your curse. The mission of the Flying Dutchman remains unchanged," Norrington explained, "Now, that being said, more was done that day than just that. Like me, for example."

"And what of Davy Jones?" Will asked, steering the conversation back to where it originally began, back to the details that most concerned him.

"When he died," Norrington started, "his soul was taken to a special 'pocket' just for him. Neither the Locker nor Fiddler's Green would have him. And now that the Trident is destroyed, Jones, like me, has returned to the land of the living."

"Why is he back?" Will inquired.

"Calypso didn't say, only that he had and what he plans to do," Norrington said, and then looked at Will with a grim expression in his eyes.

"Which is?" Will asked, though he already knew what the answer was.

"He plans to kill you," Norrington responded plainly.

Will ran a hand down his face and held it over his mouth. His mind was in a state somewhere between fear and anger, and he didn't know what he was more of.

Suddenly, Will stood himself up and prepared to walk out the doors. Before he could Norrington practically leapt out of his chair and said, "Mr. Turner, I am afraid you don't understand the full gravity of the situation-"

"No, but I do, Mr. Norrington," Will turned back around to face him, "Jones is out there somewhere, and he means to kill me and my family. I'm not going to let that monster destroy my life more than he already has."

"And what is it that you plan on doing, hmm?" Norrington asked, "If you plan on running, Jones will find you, and this time there is no heart locked inside a chest for you to stab. He's been given special power by the god Triton."

Will paused again and stared at Norrington. This was all starting to get ridiculous now. If he didn't already know the danger that Jones commanded the last time he saw him, he would've laughed.

"You're pulling my leg," Will stated, but Norrington shook his head, "Triton, son of Poseidon?"

"Calypso was being frustratingly vague with me, but one thing she did tell me was that the Trident also released the soul of Triton. I don't know why he was trapped inside the Trident, or what his plans are, but he's made Jones immortal once again," Norrington said.

"Well, that's just perfect," Will placed a hand over his eyes.

"You can't hope to defeat Jones on your own, but maybe you don't have to," Norrington began, "I didn't come here just to warn you, Will."

Sighing, Will asked, "How do you propose to beat Jones, then?"

"There is one way," Norrington began, "but to accomplish it, it requires information provided by two people you know quite well."

"And who would they be?" Will asked.

Norrington remained silent for a moment, and then he said, "Hector Barbossa, and your son, Henry."

A/N: Sorry for the delay, but I'll be writing some more chapters soo enough. I apologize if the writing seems a little confusing because I didn't really have the clearest focus here. Hopefully it's to your liking and not too unbearable. Have a great day and stay classy!

- Spent