Disclaimer: I do not own the movies or the characters that you recognize. I am making no money off of this story.

Author's Note: Just wanted to warn you that the next few chapters are going to be pretty long. Well, I think they are. Enjoy!

Chapter Thirteen:

The Search

The rough waters of the open ocean violently tossed The Flying Dutchman to and fro, threatening to capsize the vessel. Nearly all of the men had been ordered to go below deck to seek shelter from the massive storm of hurricane proportions. Will had ordered the youngest members of the crew to be tied to a wall of the ship so they wouldn't be injured or tossed about.

Captain Turner, Gibbs, and a few of the Dutchman's strongest and bravest sailors where above deck, trying to keep the ship afloat. They had already lowered the sails and dropped anchor in an effort to stabilize the ship. Their efforts did little to help and they were quickly losing hope.

"I don't get it," Gibbs yelled over the roar of the storm to Will. "This gale seems ta have come out o' no where. She completely blindsided us. And she don't show signs of stoppin' any time soon."

Will was fighting with the wheel. "This storm isn't an unhappy coincidence. It's Calypso's doing," he said, his voice straining with the effort to keep the wheel from spinning out of control. His arms shook with effort.

"Why would she do that?" Gibbs asked. "She gave ya permission ta go ashore and help yer family."

"But she never said she would make it easy. She's trying to stop me, to test how hard I'm willing to try to save them."

A bolt of lighting struck the main mast, as if to agree with his statement. The top of the mast splintered and fell to the deck in many pieces; some of the bigger chunks were on fire. Gibbs and two other men raced to put out the blazes before the whole ship was engulfed.

Will was starting to get frustrated and angry. But instead of being mad at the troublesome goddess for creating the storm, he found that he was upset with himself. He knew that he should be able to steer through the storm and get to his destination. He was an experienced seaman and had sailed through many storms in his journeys. There was no reason he shouldn't be able to conquer this storm as well.

If this had been any other day, Will would have been patient and ridden out the storm. He would have been content to just sit and wait for the winds to die down and the rain to lessen. It was better than risking the lives of his crew.

But today was different.

Darkness had descended around them, signifying the end of his second day on his mission to save Elizabeth and Thomas; he only had one remaining. The storm was delaying him even further. For every gust of wind that pushed the boat back, he lost precious moments to search for his family. He felt powerless, something he had rarely felt in his life, and the feeling was unwelcome.

"The port's getting' farther away," Gibbs yelled as he stumbled up the stairs. Will stood silent, already knowing this information.

The waves continued to push the Dutchman in the opposite direction of their destination. Will could see that even the few experienced and strong members of the crew were beginning to tire. He could see in their faces that they wanted to give up, but they were too loyal to voice their complaints and concerns. Will felt horribly selfish for ordering that they fight through the storm. This was a personal battle that he never should have involved them in.

"What's the order captain?" his first mate, his father, asked, all eyes turning to him with hopeful stares.

Water swamped the deck, forcing the sailors to cling to the rigging of the ship to avoid being pulled overboard. Will had hoped that the storm would have run its course by now, but it was still going strong and showed no signs of stopping. He knew that his crew couldn't hold out much longer, and he wasn't going to ask them to continue to fight a losing battle.

"Everyone is to go below deck. We'll have to wait it out," he conceded.

"But Will," Gibbs began as the rest of the crew headed to the ship's hold. "Ye've only got one more day…"

Will wasn't listening. He knew what was at stake; how much he would lose if he failed. He wasn't going to give up, but he wasn't going to sacrifice the lives and respect of his crew either.

"Calypso!" he shouted in frustration as he fought with the wheel to maintain control.

Another wave crashed over the side of the ship, flooding the deck. As the water receded, the goddess was revealed, standing in the middle of the deck, her hands on her hips and her nose in the air. Will wasn't sure if she was angry that he had summoned her or if there was another reason for her ire.

Gibbs took the wheel from Will's hands, staring in disbelief at the goddess. Will managed to reach the deck without falling on his face—which was quite an accomplishment given that the boat was swaying so violently that crates and spare rigging were sliding from one side of the ship to the other with every wave. Calypso was standing in front of him as if the sea was calm and the sky was sunny. In fact, the rain didn't even seem to land on her.

Calypso opened her mouth to speak, but Will didn't give her the opportunity. "Why did you send a storm? I thought you agreed to help me! Do your promises mean nothing to you?"

"I sent the storm because you did not comply with my rule," she stated coldly.

"What rule?" he questioned incredulously.

"This was a journey only you were supposed to make. Only you are allowed to go ashore to find Elizabeth and Thomas. No one else."

"You never told me this rule," he countered. "I wouldn't have disobeyed your command and jeopardized my mission. I wouldn't incur your wrath when I need your cooperation. Please, let me continue with my journey. Alone." He emphasized the last word.

She considered him for a moment, and then nodded. "I don't know why I am being so generous to you, William Turner. I do not know if you deserve such treatment. After all, you are a man, and I despise men. But…on the other hand, you are different from other men."

"How so?" he inquired.

"For one, you have not betrayed me, or your wife, and I respect that. You have served me well for seven years…unlike others. And for another, you have an air of greatness about you. You are destined to do great things. I can see this."

There was a long silence after her last comment. Will was waiting for her to leave and call off the storm that was still shaking the ship, but the goddess just stood there, staring off into the distance like she was in deep thought.

"Well," she said finally. "I suppose I don't need to stay here. Don't forget that I will come to collect you at sunset, victorious or not. Good luck."

"What about the storm?" he asked before she could leave.

"It will blow over by dawn. You can sail at first light."

"But I thought you were going to end it!"

"I can't just make a huge storm like this disappear. Do you know how much hatred and anger I put into this storm? I am only a lesser goddess of the sea. I cannot halt a storm like this at will. You will have to wait it out. But I promise, before the sun rises you will reach land."

She was gone before he could tell her that he didn't have time to wait out the storm. Elizabeth and his son needed him now. He was worried sick about them.

Although all he wanted to do was jump in one of the lifeboats and row to shore at that moment, he stopped himself—knowing that it was better to wait a few hours and reach shore alive than try and be a hero and end up dying because of a rash decision.

Will prepared his lifeboat with the few supplies he needed and then stood at the helm of the ship, watching the horizon for the first sign of daylight and praying that the storm would end soon.

"Wake up Jack," Elizabeth said, shaking her friend by the shoulder. He grumbled in response and tried to push her hand away. She continued to shake him until he opened his eyes.

"Erm…" he whined, "Why ye shinin' that light in me eyes?"

"That would be the sun, Jack," she told him flatly.

"Oh," he replied, blinking at the brightness. He stood up slowly and dusted himself off, adjusting the hat on his head until it was tilted in precisely the right way. Elizabeth watched his progress out of the corner of her eye while she strapped on her boots and weapons. Her hands screamed at being used and Elizabeth winced in reaction. Jack was standing stably now, peering at her through sober eyes.

"What happened to yer hands?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," she replied in place of an answer. Her tone suggested that he not pursue the matter. All she wanted to do was start looking for Thomas. "We need to leave now."

"Why?"

"I'll explain as we walk. Now come on."

"What about Tom?" he asked, following her down the gangplank. "Shouldn't we fetch him before we leave?"

"Don't you remember anything from last night?" she questioned, incredulous.

He gave her a sheepish grin. "Not really."

"Eric took him last night and locked me in his cell. I tried to get out but couldn't. You finally showed up and let me out, then proceeded to throw up over the side of ship before passing out. It's already midday and the more time we waste the less likely it is that we will ever find my son. Maybe if you hadn't been so intoxicated last night, you would remember!" she shouted for emphasis.

He was quiet for a few minutes, letting her anger subside. "I see…" he stated finally as they walked into town. "So where should we start looking?"

She sighed in contemplation. "I don't know. Where would you hide if you were a vampire?"

He thought about it for a moment as they continued through town. The main square was bustling with all types of people and vendors, forcing them to push their way through. "Well, if I was a creature that thrived on darkness and disguise…I'd be some place where the sun don't shine and there aren't many people about. Ye know, so I wouldn't be bothered."

"But if you wanted to blend in, wouldn't you want to be where there are a lot of people?" she asked after he had finished.

"It's possible. I'm not exactly an expert here," Jack reminded her.

The sun was being blocked by large grey rain clouds and in the distance they could here the rumbling of thunder. The rainy season was definitely upon them.

"We don't have time to sit here and think this through. We have to find Thomas now." She was beginning to panic. The town was relatively small, but spread out over miles and miles of farmland and forests, except for the square in the center of the village. It could take them days to search everywhere and by then it may be too late.

"Maybe we should split up," Jack suggested as raindrops began to dot the path in front of them and the crowds in the square stepped into the closest building to avoid the coming storm; it seemed as if it were going to be a bad one.

Elizabeth didn't know what to say about Jack's suggestion. It wasn't her ideal plan, but then their situation was hardly ideal. To make matters worse, the storm was already picking up, which would make it more difficult to search along the outskirts of the forests. Jack's suggestion was starting to become more appealing. If they split up, they could cover more ground faster and possibly find Thomas before Eric did anything to him.

On the other hand, she was still worried about being caught unaware by their enemy, or being powerless to stop him if and when they did find him.

Then again, she reasoned, we're pretty powerless to stop him anyway since he can't be killed.

And she certainly didn't want Jack to end up in Eric's clutches. She wasn't about to lose another friend to the evil creature. Still, splitting up would give them more opportunities to find Thomas.

"Alright," she said reluctantly, "We'll split up."

The rain was unrelenting and continuously pelted Elizabeth's body with cold water. Because she was located so close to the equator the temperature had dropped dramatically when the sun had gone down approximately six hours ago. Now, in the early hours of the morning, when the sun had not yet begun its ascent, she was beginning to wish she had worn more layers. Her teeth were chattering and goose bumps had erupted all over her body. Her clothes were soaked through and she was chilled to the bone. In fact, she was shaking from the cold to the point that it took twice the effort to continue walking forward.

Anyone who had a home to go to was probably asleep in their warm, dry beds. But Elizabeth was outside in the wretched storm, frantically searching for her son. She was well outside of the city limits now, and the farther she went the fewer cottages and houses she saw. In the blackness that surrounded her, the trees took on a life of their own. Their branches moved like arms and their leaves seemed to be reaching out for her.

She knew that being alone in the dark with Eric on the loose was hardly a good idea. The small lantern that she had with her did little to help her see what was hiding in the darkness. Her paranoia of being caught off-guard by her enemy grew with every step she took away from civilization and she jumped at every rustling in the woods around her.

Abruptly the tree line ended and she was left in the middle of a clearing with what appeared to be unused farmland all around her. The ground hadn't been tilled for many years and weeds and other wildflowers covered the ground. The grass was slick from the rain, and muddy puddles dotted the plain.

With each footfall Elizabeth's hope of finding her son alive and well evaporated. She knew Eric could be anywhere by now, although she had a hunch that he would stay close, if only to torture her. It felt as if she was tracking a ghost.

A sudden, earth-shattering wail broke through the eerie silence of the largely uninhabited area. It startled Elizabeth so much that she lost her footing on the slippery grass and fell to the ground, landing in a large mud puddle. Her heart was hammering in her ears and she could feel the blast of adrenaline coursing through her body, putting all of her senses on high alert.

As the first wail died away, another scream followed. But the second scream was not coming from the same source. Its pitch was higher and shrill. Most terrifying of all was that the horrified cry was getting louder and louder; it was headed straight for her.

Elizabeth rose to her knees, prepared for any situation. She had just adopted this stance when a little girl about the same age as Thomas came barreling down the grassy slope. The child was still screaming, her arms held out in front of her as if by doing so she would put more distance between her and the thing that was frightening her. Nothing followed her down the path, and the only screaming was her own. Her head was turned so that she could see if there was something following her.

As a result, she ran directly into Elizabeth. The collision sent them toppling in opposite directions, but Elizabeth steadied herself and immediately went to pick up the fallen child. All of the air had been knocked out of the girl when she had bumped into Elizabeth, yet when the tall, drenched woman tried to pick her up, she found enough air to shout again.

"Hush," Elizabeth said, promptly covering the girl's mouth. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The child's frightened eyes dimmed a little and her struggles ceased. Elizabeth removed her hand and set the child on her feet. "Are you okay? What was chasing you?" she asked.

The little girl was silent for a moment. "No one's chasin' me ma'am."

"Then why are you so afraid?"

"The ghostie got someone again. Didn't you hear the screaming?"

Elizabeth's mind immediately jumped on the possibility that the 'ghostie' could be Eric and that her son was the one screaming. "What did the ghost look like? Did you see who he caught?" she asked.

The little girl shook her head, tears coming to her eyes again. "I was going to town and when I walked past the empty house I heard screamin'. They say that house is haunted. As soon as the screamin' started, something hit the back of my head. I took off runnin', I was so scared."

Her motherly side wanted to ask what in the world she was doing walking all the way to the town square in the early hours of the morning alone, but she bit her tongue. She didn't need to know. Thomas might be nearby, and if it had been him screaming, he was obviously in immediate danger.

"Where is this house?" Elizabeth asked.

"Over the top of that hill. It's big and scary. You can't miss it…" The child's eyes turned fearful, "You're not thinking of going there, are you ma'am?"

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," she assured the little girl.

"But the ghostie will get you!"

"Not if I get him first," she said to herself with a small smile. When the child appeared confused Elizabeth quickly changed the topic. "May I ask you to do a favor for me? I need help and you may be my only hope now. Will you do something for me?"

The girl bobbed her head in agreement.

"Good." Elizabeth removed her locket from around her neck and placed it in the girl's hand. "Now, mind you, this is very important. I need you to take this and a message to a friend of mind. Do you think you can do that?"

Another head bob.

"Take this to a man named Jack Sparrow. Tell him Elizabeth Turner sent you and give him the locket as proof. Then tell him I urgently need his help and tell him where the ghostie's house is."

"What does this Jack Sparrow look like, ma'am?"

"He looks like a pirate," she began.

The girl gasped. "But pirates are dangerous! They only come here to kill and pillage."

"Mr. Sparrow is different. He won't hurt you. I promise," Elizabeth replied, trying to reassure her. There was hesitance in the child's eyes, but she didn't go back on her offer to help. "Pirates don't come around here often, do they?"

The girl shook her head.

"Then you should have no trouble finding Jack Sparrow. If anyone looks like a pirate, it's him."

After the girl had repeated her mission a few times to make sure she had it right, Elizabeth relit the lantern and turned the girl loose. She watched the light from the lantern sway back and forth in the night, her last hope for help soon getting dimmer and dimmer.

Just as the light blinked out altogether, another wail sounded from behind her. There was no doubt in her mind that it was Thomas. Turning around, she sprinted up the slippery hill. The house the child described stood at the bottom of a valley, its appearance dark and brooding.

It was unlike any of the houses in the village, which were mostly modest, four room, homes that were relatively small. This structure stood two stories high and was easily double the size of the homes in town.

The glass windows of the second story seemed to be glaring at her, and Elizabeth couldn't help looking up at them as she approached the house. When she was less than one hundred yards away from the front door, her foot came into contact with something on the ground.

Looking down she saw a shoe, most likely the same shoe that had hit the little girl and sent her running. Gently, Elizabeth picked it up, turning it over in her hands and squinting to try and identify the shoe in the darkness. After a moment, she recognized it as Thomas' shoe.

Her heart plummeted into her stomach and the world began to spin around her. Another hysterical scream reached her ears. The sound tortured her soul; the last time she could remember feeling this way was the day Will had been taken from her. She would not allow her son to be taken from her too.

She lost her grip on the shoe, which fell to the ground unceremoniously. Elizabeth's body could hardly keep up with the jumbled commands her mind was sending. Her feet stumbled and slipped as she took off toward the front door. The sword she was trying to draw from its sheath slipped in her wet hands, nearly falling to the ground, but she managed to hold on. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might explode and the adrenaline pumping through her veins made her feel as if she were walking on air. She couldn't feel anything; not the sopping ground beneath her feet, nor the rain falling on her skin, nor the weight of the sword in her hand.

The only thing she could feel was the erratic beat of her heart mixed with a numb anguish that engulfed her body. Every step she took was purely automated. At this point she couldn't even think.

When she reached the door a few seconds later, something stopped her from just kicking the door down like she wanted to. She paused with her hand on the door handle, took a deep breath and then turned the knob as silently as she could.

Inside, the house was deathly quiet. The scream had been silenced, and the lack of noise put her mind and body on edge. She felt like a compressed spring, ready to jump at the first creak in the floorboards. The house was pitch black, but her eyes were so used to the darkness that she found she could see at least a few feet in front of her. Still objects seemed to jump out at her from all angles.

Trying to regulate her breathing, Elizabeth crept toward the stairs in front of her. She had an instinctive feeling that if her son was here, he was going to be on the upper floor.

When her foot pressed on the first step, a loud squeak echoed off the walls. She had to force herself not to flinch and move, possibly creating more noise. Quickly she weighed her options. One, she could sprint up the stairs, or two, she could pray that the other steps weren't as squeaky and she could progress slowly.

Whimpering coming from the floor above her helped her make her decision. With her sword held in front of her, she took the rest of the stairs two at a time. When she made it to the second floor landing, she turned left and walked down a hallway, following the whimpering. Except for the door at the end of the hallway, all of the doors were closed. She knew that she had to proceed with caution. She could feel the trap waiting for her.

She reached the door, but did not enter the room. Thomas could be heard, softly crying and mumbling in the room. It took all of her self-control to keep herself from running to her son's side. With her back against the doorway and her head titled to look in the room, she scanned the area for possible threats. From what she could see, no entity besides her son was in the room.

Thomas was being held captive in a metal cage—much like an animal would be stored. He didn't seem to be injured, but he was obviously scared. His clothes were dry and she could make out trays of uneaten food around the outside of his cage, indicating that he had been here for some time, probably since the day he had been taken. At least Eric had been giving him food, but Thomas apparently hadn't eaten a bite of it. If he thought anything like his mother, he would have assumed that it was poisoned. Elizabeth let herself smile over his intelligence.

After one last glance around the room, Elizabeth entered and immediately went to Thomas' cage. A large padlock was keeping the prison shut. Elizabeth laid down her sword and started to work on the lock, using a small paring knife that she kept in her boot.

"Mum!" Thomas exclaimed as he looked up into her face. His eyes had lost their normal luster, and it seemed as if he had been crying for some time.

Elizabeth paused in her rescue efforts for a moment to reach through the bars and caress her son's face. "It's okay honey. I'm going to get you out of here right now. Are you hurt?"

"No. Mum, you have to get out of here! Eric is…"

"Behind you," came a malicious voice full of triumphant laughter.

She didn't even have enough time to gasp before she was hit over the back of the head with a blunt object and the world went dark around her.