Ten
Jack Sparrow continued to sit at Wills's side watching him to make sure that he wasn't getting worse.
Wills's condition went from bad to worse to better in such a short amount of time. The teenager's condition was stable now. He burned with a light fever that Jack hoped wasn't from infection. His face was ashen. It was difficult for him to breathe and was taken in broken gasps at different rates each time. Below his lids, his eyes moved wildly. Quite often he tensed as his face twisted into pain. Now and then he would mumble clear enough for Jack to make out words. The teenager's wounds were tended to. The gash on his chest was stitched tightly and bandaged. Bandages covered his entire chest and were wrapped around his left shoulder to secure the wound. Not at all good, Wills damaged his left forearm, once again hurting the healing bone. Fortunately, the bone was still one, just bruised. That also required bandaging. His belly required bandages as well. A blanket covered him to his waist. At all times, Jack kept a cool, damp rag across his forehead.
Jack tensed in fright as his coat was draped around his shoulders. He glanced beside him to discover Teague had done it and was giving Jack an apologetic look. He also noticed the plate of food that was set near him.
"I'm not hungry," he told him.
"You haven't eaten in days," said Teague.
"Neither has Wills," said Jack. "I'm immortal. Remember? I can't die."
"Even immortal pirate captains need to eat something," added Teague, with gentleness in his voice.
Jack looked at him hopelessly.
Teague sat beside him. Hesitantly, he set his palm on Jack's shoulder for a moment, but to Jack that was an eternity. "He's a Turner. He has his father's strength. Even hurt he's still fighting."
"You and I both know he's trapped between worlds, heading more towards World's End," said Jack.
Knowing this was true, Teague lowered his eyes. He watched as Jack dabbed Wills's forehead as the teenager tensed again.
Four light taps echoed gently in the room.
"Good, I want Josh to take a peek at him," said Jack, gently pushing on the rag across Wills's forehead.
"Come in Josh," called Teague.
The doors opened slightly. Bill, with a bit of unsureity, slowly entered. He looked at the two of them. They glared with looks that could kill.
Jack was first to turn away.
Teague still glared. It was just as bad as it was to Elizabeth.
"Compared to her looks, that one cannot kill," noted Bill. He sat at Wills's side, looking him over.
"Daddy…no…" Wills moaned weakly. He whimpered a moment then quieted.
Bill gently brushed the back of his fingers across Wills's cheek, not shocked to discover the light fever.
"Well, we know someone cares about him now," said Teague sarcastically.
"Actually, Elizabeth requested that I find him to inquire about his condition. Apparently she doesn't know how to tell Will that his son is dead. Now that I have found Wills she wishes me to tell her that he is all right. She wishes to know for Will's sake," clarified Bill.
"Do you think she cares?" wondered Teague curiously.
"Probably not," replied Jack.
Bill turned to his grandson. "What happened to him? How bad is it?" he asked.
"It's time we placed clean bandages on him anyway. I fear this fever is from infection," said Teague.
"Shouldn't Josh be here?" wondered Jack.
Teague shook his head as he began to gently cut the bandages from Wills's belly. "Josh already knows," he said.
Understanding, Jack nodded. This was the best way to tell Bill about his grandson.
Once the slightly bloody bandages were away from Wills's flesh, Bill went to the right side of the cot. Not knowing how deep it truly was, he exceedingly lightly ran his middle finger across the stitched wound that still slightly bled. The skin around it was ashen with red lines spidering from the wound and very warm.
"Infection," he whispered.
"Beg pardon?" wondered Teague.
"The fever is from infection. It's from this," replied Bill.
Sighing deeply, Teague began pulling the thread from the wound. As soon as the thread was pulled the wound immediately began to bleed. It was covered with a boiling hot, wet rag. Wills tensed a moment. His head rolled to the other side as he moaned and mumbled words that were not understood. He left the bedside to mix several contents of different jars together.
Bill replaced the bloody rag with a new, clean one. He helped Teague pour a thick, liquid into the wound, realizing just how deep the flesh was penetrated. He was dead silent and watched Teague stitch the wound together. After, he gazed across his grandson's body seeing the various cuts.
"Why do I think Beckett did this to him?" he asked himself.
"Because he looks like Will," replied Teague.
"I know Beckett didn't though. He doesn't know where this cove is," said Bill. He gently caressed Wills's burning cheek. "Who did this to you?"
"He did it to himself."
Bill looked at Jack. "What? Why?"
"That's not all he did mate," added Jack. He gently cut the bandages from Wills's chest. Slowly and carefully, he peeled them from Wills.
Choking on his breath and his heart unable to beat, Bill gazed at the stitched gash surrounding the left side of Wills's heart. The wound was done with more precision than he did to Will. However, it was done in small cuts, as if to cry out in pain before continuing. The last mark went below his heart, as the last one made before going unconscious most likely. Bill didn't notice the tears absolutely streaming from his eyes. His mind took him back to many years ago when his hand did this to his own son. Afraid more than he had been when he found his son after a week with Beckett, he hesitantly lowered his trembling palm next to the severe cut. Feeling a weak pulse, his knees gave as his entire body sighed.
"It's still in him. He didn't have the strength to cut through his ribs, but he did go deep enough to scratch a few of them," said Teague.
"How?" was all Bill could say. "I cannot believe Wills did this to himself. He couldn't have."
"When I found him in the crow's nest I found these with him," said Jack. He laid out a mirror and a black knife, both with blood.
Bill quickly removed his hand from Wills's chest to cover his mouth. He shut his eyes and could only cry. After a moment, he looked at Jack. "Why?"
"He didn't want it anymore. The pain from everything had finally gotten to him. Take a peek at all he's been through ever since he was taken. Between everything that happened to his father and all the feelings he's felt in between, it was too much. He thought no one loved him. His father was still dying. No one looked hard enough for him. She found him and killed him with her words. He must have come here, took a mirror and went to work trying to cut his pain from him," explained Jack. "When I did find him, he was…just lying there. I thought he was dead. He asked me to finish the job for him. He was too weak to cut more. He said he didn't want it. I was told to put it in a chest and give the chest to Will because he would want it…Bill, mate, Wills was this close to dying…He's still here."
"He shouldn't be. If he had the mind to cut to the bone and continue several times…the loss of blood…the pain…" noted Bill.
"Mate, he had this in his hand," added Jack, dangling a necklace from his finger. "He only calls for his father. I think, somehow, the two of them have met between worlds. Will is the only one keeping Wills on his last thread of life."
Bill turned to Wills. He traced his finger alongside the scar. "What has happened to you? What is your father going to do when he sees this? How can anyone explain what you've done to yourself?"
"When that time comes, we'll think of something. Now, we must bring him back, considering his father has more life than him," said Teague.
"Could you imagine what he was thinking while doing this?" wondered Bill.
"No one cared and this was the only thing he could do to get rid of it," answered Jack.
Bill let his grandson lean against him as the bandages were replaced around the teenager's body.
"Eddy, he needs to be somewhere warmer and safer than on this ship. If something happens to him he'll be easier to treat in the city. Josh can keep an eye on him. I can keep an eye on him and Will much easier. No one would think to look in a ship that is designated yours," said Bill.
Teague nodded approving that idea.
"Who's Eddy?" asked Jack, collecting Wills's possessions.
Bill looked at him oddly as he wrapped a blanket around Wills before lifting him in his arms.
"Jack, that's your father's name. Edward Teague."
Jack nodded. "I never knew," he told him.
Wills was laid in a bed and wrapped in a blanket. The fever broke not long ago. He was already beginning to lose his warmth.
Bill placed the necklace around the teenager's neck before tucking the blankets around his fragile body. He pulled a chair next to him and sat. Just to make sure that he would be all right now, he wanted to stay there for a little while longer. Thoughts consumed him. Wills had done an action that everyone feared most. He tried killing himself. Often, Bill remembered Will telling him that he felt his heart being cut and the feeling of his body being broken into. The pain was indescribable, especially when Jones stabbed him. He tried to imagine what Wills was going through.
Not wanting to, yet unable to prevent it, he saw Wills in the rain, holding a mirror in one hand and the knife in another. With each flash of lightening, he cut more with unthinkable precision, even blinded by tears no doubt. The screams and shrieks of pain echoed in his mind. He realized he couldn't hear them because of the storm and the rain pelting against the window. Having lost the amount of blood he did and the indescribable pain that he continued to inflict upon himself, Wills continued with determination that he would cut it out. Eventually he just fell unconscious from everything.
Opening his eyes, Bill didn't want to see it anymore. He blinked as he looked at Wills's sunlit face. He suddenly realized it was morning.
"Good morning," said Teague, who was working on a few things in the corner.
Fearing for his son, Bill ran as fast as his feet could take him to Will's room. He bounded through the doors and rushed to his son's side. Will was just as he had been. The blankets hadn't even been moved. Listening to his son breathe gently, Bill sighed.
"He didn't wake last night either," a quiet voice sadly told him.
Elizabeth sat in the window seat, looking at him.
"Wills is safe. He…ah…he'll be fine. He just needs to rest," said Bill.
Elizabeth nodded. "Is that where you were?" she asked quietly.
"Aye," replied Bill.
"Good," Elizabeth whispered, once again barely loud enough for him to hear.
Bill sat close to Will. He brushed the curls from his face. Not trying to, his hand was caught in the blanket, which caused it to fall. Before he pulled it up, he noticed Will's wrist. A blue cloth hid the brand, not a white bandage. Covering Will's body again he smiled then kissed his forehead.
"Keep holding onto him. He needs you Will," he whispered in his son's ear.
"I wish he would wake up again. I miss him. I want to tell him that I love him," said Elizabeth.
"You need to say that to Wills before you can to Will. You're son needs to hear that more. Will knows you love him," added Bill quietly.
"How?" wondered Elizabeth.
Bill looked at her. "From past experience, you need to forget everything and just tell him," he told her with a voice that was confident and experienced.
"It's not that simple," said Elizabeth ashamed.
"From what Will has told me, personal burdens that you bear alone, have regretting consequences," reminded Bill. "Such as the last war. This one is far too reminiscent of the last. Now that Will is free, and Calypso has a new Turner…"
"Please don't venture there. That thought has come across my mind more than once each day where there is nothing but the silence to listen to," whispered Elizabeth. She turned back to Will as she stood to sit at his side. "He doesn't look like he's dying anymore. There is color in his face that is his own. He can breathe normal again."
"I don't know if you know this, Will is going to be twenty-three in a few weeks. He'll finally reach the age he never thought he would," noted Bill, needing to change the topic for his own sake, as thoughts of what next looped in his mind.
"It's Josh. I have hot soup for the two of you, and I would like to look over Will's condition."
Already smelling the soup, Bill smiled as he went to the door. Immediately, he took his bowl, then sat back down and ate.
"It's pasta and chicken," added Gibbs, handing Elizabeth her bowl of soup.
"Is he all right?" asked Bill calmly. The tone in his voice gave the answer as to who he meant, and it wasn't Will.
"Much better," said Gibbs. "I would expect him to wake tonight or tomorrow morning."
Bill nodded. "Good. I need to have a talk with him."
Gibbs made a quick look at Will's vitals and a few troublesome wounds. Impressed he nodded as he sat up again. "He's doing very well. If I didn't know better, I would say that he has more life in him tha…never mind. When was the last time he woke?"
"A few days ago," replied Elizabeth. "Why?"
"Just wondering. He should be waking quite soon. I say he'll wake within the hour," said Gibbs. "Keep an eye on him. He may be improving, but you never know with Calypso."
In the silence, they ate their soup. The only sound was that of blowing a small amount to cool before eating, or soft slurping. Both had their eyes on Will, just waiting for him to wake again. Though, they knew once he woke, he would be placed back in his sleep for another day or two. It was difficult to wait for Will to wake just to make him sleep again. Rather, everything was difficult at the moment as it had been for months.
"Wills…"
"Will," Bill cried softly. He dropped the bowl on the table then knelt to his son's level.
Will's eyes were open all the way, but looked tired and weak. He slowly glanced around the room and at the two faces looking at him. Slight confusion was on his face. "Wills…is he…"
"He's all right. He's resting right now," said Bill.
"No…hurt…" groaned Will, as he shut his eyes. "Wills…"
"But, Will, it's us. It's your father and wife. We're here," said Elizabeth, her palm gently on his cheek.
"Need…Wills," Will told them in a pleading, desperate tone. Tears began glistening in his weak and slowly dying eyes.
"Will, what is it? What's wrong?" asked Bill placing his hand on Will's face. With the other, he swept the curls from his boy's forehead.
Will just looked at him with fright and pain. "Tell Wills…I…I lo…love him," he told him with half the strength he had.
"Okay. I will. I promise," said Bill nodding.
Not finished, Will breathed in heavy gasps. He tried saying what he wanted for several minutes, but his no sounds came from his mouth other than whimpering. Determined, with a mind that was beginning to come back, he opened his eyes halfway to his father. "Te…tell him…hold…on…stay…stay here…all right…soon…" Losing all of his strength, he collapsed against his pillows, breathing in pained, heavy gasps.
"Elizabeth, make it. I need to ask him one more thing," said Bill. He gently shook his son's shoulder then took his face between his palms. "Will, come back. Open your eyes son. I need to ask you something. Come back just for a moment. Please."
Bill watched as his son looked at him in more pain than he had ever seen. He swore Will had the same expression on his face now as the one he had the last moments of his life eighteen years ago.
"Will, do you know what happened to your son? Do you know what he nearly succeeded doing?" he asked.
Will shut his eyes and gathered the strength beginning to come back. "Cut…heart from…self... Wills…tell him…love…"
"I know Will, I know. Drink this. It'll be all right when you wake up again," said Bill, taking the cup and lifting Will's head.
"Wills...need son…" groaned Will, before his whimpering became soft, weak cries of pain. The liquid that was poured gently into his mouth passed down his throat. He was so thirsty. It tasted like nothing he had before. It was cold and pure.
"When you wake again, I promise you, Wills is going to be beside you. He'll be here," said Bill as he tucked the blankets around his boy. He rubbed his son's cheek with the back of his fingers for the moments that Will's mind lingered with them. "I promise."
Trembling, Elizabeth breathed heavily. Not once did Will mention her name. Wills. All he wanted was him. Why him? Did he not know it was Wills that caused him to be in this situation? None of this was fair or logical. Why Wills? Why not her? She was his love. She was what caused him to have another chance at life. Why Wills? Of all people, why him? He only noticed that Wills wasn't here. He didn't even notice me! He's completely lost his mind! He wants the one person that deserves to die!
Bill smacked her across the face.
Elizabeth looked at him shocked, not understanding. "Did I say that out loud?" she asked.
"If I were you I would have more attention to what comes from my mouth!" hollered Bill. "I don't know how Will knows what happened to his son. It is a sad thought. He does know and you don't. Rather, it is not at all sad. You nearly got what you wanted. Wills nearly died. Will has more life in him than your son. Wills did something to himself that you wouldn't dream of."
"What did he do?" asked Elizabeth.
"If you really want to know, then you need to find him and ask him yourself. If you were listening to what Will was saying, you would know what Wills did as we speak," shouted Bill.
"Then whatever he did is not of my concern," said Elizabeth, continuing to eat the soup that was much more tolerable.
Bill's fists clenched in anger. He resisted all urge to beat sense into her. She was more mindless and selfish than he thought. He did wonder what she would do if he told her what her son did, but it would be even more painful for her to find out on her own. He knew that if this was going to resolve in any possible way, she would have to learn and take each step herself. Wills and Will were to do nothing.
Needing to do something to relive his rage, other than beating sense into her, Bill stood. He took his bowl of soup as he went to the door.
"Where are you going?" wondered Elizabeth.
"Why do you care?" snapped Bill.
"Curious," replied Elizabeth with a shrug.
"Why are you not curious about why your son just suddenly disappeared?" asked Bill.
"I am. I want to know what he did, but I am not going to waste my time looking for him. That could take hours or days," said Elizabeth.
"And sitting in here is more important than looking for your dying son?" wondered Bill.
Elizabeth snapped her head to him. Fear sparkled in her eyes. "Dying?"
"If he would have done it, there would have been no chest to lock his heart away or a curse to keep life in him," said Bill as he began to walk out the door.
Quicker than she had in a long time, she sprinted to his side. She looked at him with fear and the thought circling in her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"You should know Elizabeth. It is not that difficult," said Bill.
Elizabeth stood there with one thought in her mind. Wills wouldn't. He was stronger than that.
Drumming his fingers on his lap, Jack glanced at the Code again. He was bored, but not bored enough to go anywhere Elizabeth. Will would understand if he wasn't by him for a bit. Besides, he was fulfilling their promise to each other. He was so bored though. Wills was fine. He rolled on his side not long ago and wrapped the blanket around himself tighter.
"You're not that bored mate. Just ignore it. You can read it in your head," Jack told himself on the debate he had been having for a few hours now.
In the corner of the room, Louie sneezed. He quietly growled as Hector jumped into Jack's lap.
Jack stroked his cat's back and played with his tail. Not even this was amusing anymore. He once again reviewed the city for anything to do. He had already taken a nap, ate, played with Louie, watched over Wills, given him few drops of the chicken broth and water, balanced an empty bottle on his head while walking around the room, he had a nice three hour conversation with himself though, and he discovered that his compass once again did not work.
Losing his mind from boredom, Jack sighed heavily, not believing that he was going to go this far. He whistled for Louie to come over. As the shaggy dog trotted over, Jack held out his hand palm up. The ring of keys that Louie kept in his mouth dropped into his hand. With disgust, Jack glanced at the Code. There was no more amusement to be had. Looking around him, to see no one would ever know how low he was stooping, he slowly scurried to the table where the Code rested. Not believing that he was doing this, he unlocked it then just stood there. Hesitantly, he poked the cover. He didn't want anything to happen that would reveal that he was about to open it. Nothing happened.
"I must be losing me mind," he noted to himself, taking the law book back to his chair and opening it to page one.
After a bit, he found that this wasn't that bad again. It had been years. In fact the last time he had even read a word in this was at the last court meeting. It was rather interesting, even after having to read it every time he was unable to escape his father's fury.
"Bloody hell. Jack Sparrow, reading the Pirate's Code of Honor," said Barbossa impressed.
Startled more than he had been in a very long time, Jack yelped. The Code was slightly thrown from his hands and slammed on the wood floor. He clutched his pounding heart.
"Did you just throw that?" asked Teague with a raised eyebrow and a stern voice.
"I was reading it before," said Jack, attempting to save himself from his father's fury.
Teague nodded. "I know. I saw you before Barbossa did."
"What are you doing here?" asked Jack for curiosity.
"Ye aren't the only one whose been keeping an eye on the little whelp," said Barbossa as he stood over Wills. He rolled the teenager on his back and uncurled his body from the blankets. With gentleness that hardly any knew existed inside him, he pulled the tunic that Wills was wearing, and replaced it with a clean, cotton tunic of wine color. He also changed Wills into long, soft black trousers. After, he set the teenager back in bed, and covered him with a light blanket. This time Wills's arms were above the blanket, the left at his side and the right across his stomach. His pillows were fluffed and shifted around. Before standing straight up again, he pushed back Wills's hair from covering his face. Seeing the teenager's face, he smiled softly.
"Never seen that before," admitted Jack.
"I told ye, not even I can resist his eyes," said Barbossa.
"But you didn't see his eyes," noted Jack.
"That's not the point Sparrow," said Barbossa. "The little whelp has managed to change us all."
Light thumps scurried across the floor. 'Jack' the Monkey climbed onto Barbossa's shoulder and smiled in his face.
Barbossa cried out in joy. He gave his long lost companion a hug. "Oh, daddy was so worried about ye. Whose daddy's good boy? Yes ye are. Daddy's good Jackie."
Teague and Jack exchanged an odd look with each other. They had seen it all from Barbossa today.
"What are you doing here?" wondered Teague. "You can leave his side for a bit."
"And do what?" asked Jack. "The only other place where I would go the devil occupies at this minute."
"She's not that bad. She's going through a lot," said Teague.
"Have you gone near her then?" asked Jack, wanting to prove his point.
Teague lowered his eyes then went into another room that looked like parlor. "All right. You won this debate," he admitted from the other room.
"Is my guitar in there?" asked Jack.
"Which one?" wondered Teague.
"Ah…the black one," replied Jack with a tone of curiosity.
"Come get it," Teague said after a moment.
As he walked, Jack stretched. He stumbled in the other room. Teague sat at the table, picking at the apple he brought in. He motioned to the right. Jack's face lit as he raised a finger. He scurried to the chair in the corner where a beautiful black painted guitar rested on the chair. White Celtic patterns were painted on the black. Jack brought it back with him to the window seat in the room where Wills rested.
While wiping his hand on a towel, Teague opened another book. He barely read a paragraph before his mind was no longer able to read. A beautiful melody carried from the other room through. The book slipped from his hand. His feet carried him to the doorway as memories filled his mind. He leaned against the wood, watching Jack play while looking at the blue sky. A soft smile widened across his face. He saw his wife singing to a six year old Jack lying bed nearly asleep. How? How could Jack remember his childhood lullaby between everything that happened to him? He was just a child. Teague's smile faded. He hardly saw Jack after his childhood. He saw his boy as a child then maybe once in a few years. Each time, Jack became more and more lost. There were things in the world he would do over again if given a chance. Jack was one of them.
"I didn't know you remembered that," he noted once the melody stopped. He didn't even look at Jack.
"It's probably the only thing I remember from me child years," said Jack. "It's how I taught meself to play."
"I didn't know that, but there is a lot I don't know about you," said Teague with shame.
"Well, Bill didn't know much about his son until they found themselves together by chance," noted Jack.
"Will didn't know his father existed until you brought them together and it was by chance," said Teague.
"That soon became a mistake that I will never forgive meself for," whispered Jack.
Before Teague could say anything, Jack once again began playing. This time, Jack had to think about what he was doing. He played wrong notes and chords, forcing himself to redo them to find the one that was right. Other times, rhythms didn't fit. The beginning was well done, but it always fell apart.
"Don't remember the rest?" asked Teague.
Jack shook his head. "I don't know how I want the rest to go. I've been writing a song for a few years. I can never seem to finish it, but now I find I can add more."
"Do you need any help with it?" wondered Teague.
"I'm fine," said Jack, playing around a bit more. He played a chord and let it ring as he looked at Wills who was sickly looking back at him. He glanced down to play another chord. Before his fingers touched the strings, he looked back up to see if what he saw was true.
"Is my father okay?" asked Wills quietly.
"He's fine," said Jack as he set the guitar down on the chair he was just sitting in. He sat beside Wills. "How are you?"
Wills moved his palm across his heart. "My chest hurts."
Jack rolled his eyes. He slapped Wills across the face with a loud smack. "What were you thinking William? Bloody hell mate. What is happening to your mind? What would your father do if you did finish that? What do you think he will do? How foolish are you? You've lost your mind more than I have and I thought I was pretty bad. I thought you look like your mother and everything else is from your father. I was wrong. Will would never think to do something like cutting heart out, though for a while he was, but that was from family issues, and you are having family issues though, and…oh never mind. You know you almost died from what you did. Does dying not mean anything to you? You made me worry more than I even knew how. I hope you're happy now Wills," he shouted with anger, yet love and care. He took Wills's face between his palms. He could only ask one more thing. "Wills, why?"
Wills looked into his eyes. Jack's eyes were misted with tears of fear and care. He looked worried, afraid, and did only want to know why. His touch was warm and gentle. He cared. Jack Sparrow cared. Wills lowered his eyes.
"Well said Jack," noted Teague. "Now let him be."
"Did I try to cut out my heart?" asked Wills unsure, but able to feel the heavy bandaging across his chest.
Teague nodded calmly. "Yes you did. You also cut yourself up a bit."
"A bit?" wondered Jack sarcastically. "Why?"
"You won't understand," said Wills as he looked away from their angered, curious eyes. No one will understand, except one and even he will wonder why. His eyes met a pair of sea blue eyes that looked at him relieved and happy.
Bill slowly, step by step, approached Wills. He sat in the chair Jack offered him. The two looked at each other for a long while.
"How is he?" asked Wills, wanting to know from someone who had just come from there.
"He woke a few hours ago. He was asking for you. I don't know how he does, but he knows what you did. He wanted me to tell you that he loves you, he wants you to hold on and stay here, and that everything will be all right soon. Your father just wants his little boy back again."
"Does mum?" asked Wills with pleading eyes.
Bill lowered his eyes. He bit his lip, unsure what he should say. The truth was not needed yet. He looked at Jack and Teague for help. They shrugged.
"I didn't think so," noted Wills. He was quiet for a moment before looking at his grandfather. "Why are you here?"
"A lot has happened between when you last saw me," said Bill. "Before anymore questions are asked, I have one for you. Why?"
"I don't know why," replied Wills. "I thought maybe if I was hurt too, you and mum would worry about me. I thought I deserved to have my heart cut out because of what I did to my father. Mum was right about everything. It was my fault. I do deserve to die. No one cared about me. No one came to find me, so my life was meaningless. I don't know what happened."
"You don't remember or you don't want to remember?" wondered Bill, sitting on the bed beside Wills.
The teenager's lip trembled as he turned away. His moist eyes gazed into the distance. What he wanted to say was already in his eyes. He turned to no other than his grandfather, gazing into his eyes as his own spilled tears. "I hated my life. After mum shouted at me when I came back, I wanted to die. So, I went back to the Pearl and didn't think. I still don't know what I was doing. All I know is that I was screaming and I think I was crying. I wanted to die because my life was meaningless and unwanted. Because I hated myself, I think I just started cutting myself. It didn't matter. Next thing I knew, I was looking at myself in a mirror. I wasn't wearing my tunic. My face and arms and belly were bleeding. Inside I was dying. I wanted no more feelings. They were tearing me apart. If I couldn't be with my father, then my life meant nothing. I really don't remember much now. I just remember it was bloody and the images I saw every time lightening flashed. Then everything got dark and Jack came."
"How could you do that to yourself?" wondered Teague.
Wills shrugged. "I don't remember any pain. I only remember feeling cold and tired…What is my father going to say?"
"Nothing," announced Jack. "We won't tell him."
"I think he already knows," whispered Wills with curiosity towards his mind.
Bill sat closer. He pushed the loose hairs from Wills's face. "What are you talking about?"
"I had a dream about him," replied Wills. He distantly thought. "It seemed so real. I was sitting on the beach looking at the sun setting. He came beside me. I could feel him holding me. We talked about things for hours. He was telling me what he remembers from his week with Beckett. I remember what he told me, but I do remember him telling me he was all right. You were looking after him. He asked me what I was doing there. I told him what happened. He didn't believe me, so I showed him the mark I made. I think he was crying. He said it was his fault because he shouldn't have bothered Beckett. He told me that I was farther gone than he was. He's healing and it's only taking a while. When he is given his medicines, they cause him to be in this world. Most of the time, he told me that he sat on the beach just waiting to go back. Other times he was with someone name Claude, whoever that is, and they spoke about things. Well, he said I had to go back soon. He promised me that it would be all right soon and I had to hold on. Once he woke again and had more life than death inside him, he promised it would be all right. He told me that no matter what anyone said about whose fault it was or what happened, he loves me. He wanted me to heal and get better so we can be together when all of this was over. I wanted him to hold me and he did. He held me for hours it seemed. He said he needed to really hold me again. It wasn't good enough being in another world. It wasn't our world. I think I fell asleep in his arms, or maybe he had to go. It seemed too real to be a dream. Then again, right now, everything seems like a dream. I don't know what reality is and what isn't anymore."
Bill thought. All Will wanted was to tell his son that he loved him and to hold on. Wills and Will were in a world between worlds. They had to have been. Wills's dream and what Will said were too similar to be a dream. Not only that, but he and Will had met Claude before, more than once. Claude resided in the Bermuda Triangle with Calypso. There was always something about him that seemed familiar.
"I'm so hungry."
"I should hope so. You haven't eaten anything in a week little whelp," said Jack over exaggerating his tone.
Wills halfway smiled at his uncle Jack.
"Wills do you still trust me?" wondered Bill softly.
Without hesitation, Wills nodded confidently. "I do," he told him.
"All right then," Bill said to himself. With the blanket still wrapped around Wills, he took him into his arms. He turned his head to Jack and Teague. "Bring his possessions to the room next to Will."
Wills looked at his grandfather with fright. His body began shaking. "Put me down. I'm not going back. I'm not going near her."
"She won't even know that you are there. We never use that room. She sleeps in a chair next to your father or at the window seat, and I sleep on the couch. I tend to think she has forgotten about that room," said Bill.
"I trust you," repeated Wills.
"And bring him food," added Bill.
"As much as we have in the city," agreed Jack.