Disclaimer: still the same as before.
Author's notes:
- I solemnly swear there are no cliffhangers in this chapter! :oD
- To Ana: Chapter 28 had to have less action… to explain this chapter better, LOL!
- This chapter contains references to one of my stories, "Sealed with a kiss".
- In Latin, "Flagrante delicto" means "Being caught on the act".
- Ultra-smarmy! Read at your own risks! ;-)
Chapter 29: Hello, sunshine
Inside the Great Cabin…
The secret! Calypso was talking about the secret!
Bootstrap Bill Turner called himself the all-time champion of idiots. Even though Calypso had disappeared only a moment ago, he should have found out earlier what the heathen deity had meant in her cryptic answer! Maybe Jack was right, maybe he should sign up for lessons of intelligence from a master; as crazy-looking as he was, Jack had brains inside his skull and Heavens know his abilities to use them, especially in times of great perils. He would have found the solution in a snap! William would be saved already!
But it wasn't the time for Bill to linger in the fields of his usual self-deprecation. After his son would awaken, he'd ask forgiveness for not having the idea to heal Will sooner; right now, he had more urgent tasks to accomplish, and woe to anyone who would try to disturb him. The Flying Dutchman could sink on the spot, vanquished by Red Hand Pete's cannonballs and his crewmembers' inertia and Bill wouldn't have given a damn about it!
The elder Turner slipped his left arm under Will's neck, slowly lifting the cherished head. In this half-seated position, the young man was cradled in his father's embrace and his right ear was pressed against Bootstrap's wine-colored shirt… next to his heart.
"Listen to our secret, my love," said Bill with a hoarse voice, stroking the wounded face with a feather-like touch. "Listen to our secret and know you are safe."
"The secret"… It was something shared by the Turners since Will became the commander of the ghost ship. The young man had nearly died from a sword wound inflicted by Davy Jones, and his father, incapacitated at the time, hadn't been able to prevent it. Only Jack had the presence of mind to place his broken sword into Will's hand and guide it to Jones' corrupted heart, killing the monster and saving the younger Turner's life… at the costs of having his own heart locked in the Dead Man's Chest.
William had become a walking miracle: he was able to live without a physical heart and his love hadn't been corrupted by bitterness or resentment, since both of them were fiercely protected by his adoring Elizabeth. But at times, he missed not having a pulse, especially in the quietness of the nights where his "heartless" state would perturb his dreams. It had been where his father had stepped up, offering Will to listen to his own heart whenever he needed to do so: it would console the young man and reinforce the beautiful relationship he had developed with Bootstrap Bill, making up for the older man's absence.
These "heart-listening" sessions, always done during hugs, had truly helped Will through his ten-year-long duty. Each time, Will thanked his father for his affection and his thoughtfulness but Bill would always reply that the organ thumping inside his body truly belonged to his William, that it had been placed in the elder Turner's chest by an aberration of Mother Nature – and the youngster would laugh, telling Bill he was the best father of the world and that his heart was big enough for two men.
Bill's rhythm of life had greatly helped Will, soothing his sorrow of being separated from Elizabeth and aiding him to accept his decade-long supernatural duty. This "heart-listening" had become the secret of the Turners, father and son, and for the past five years Will had remained a beautiful human being, full of compassion, love and altruism – and the Flying Dutchman's aspect would reflect the youngster's shining soul. Bootstrap had often overheard the Dutchman's shipmates wondering why the young Turner hadn't turned into a venomous creature like Davy Jones, and some of them had even suggested that Will had a "second heart" hidden in his chest. This hypothesis wasn't far from the truth, though – simply, the sailors were mistaken about its location: it was beating inside Bill's torso.
Calypso had said the answer to Will's healing was in his father's heart; its thumping already allowed the young man to endure his decade-long duty aboard the Flying Dutchman… so maybe it could help Will to awake from his coma, and give him back his powers now that he was freed from the soil and saved from Red Hand Pete's clutches?
"Oh, God, please let it be so," whispered Bill. "Please, let the sounds of my worn-out heart be the key to his recovery!"
The elder Turner hugged Will, keeping the young man's head close to his chest in the hopes to increase his child's chances to hear his heartbeat.
Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump…
Will's consciousness had drowned into the depths of a lightless ocean.
He wasn't afraid, in fact the dark was peaceful; there were no harsh lights, loud sounds, terrible smells and, above everything else, no excruciating pains. Will's mind had plunged into an abyss and here, nobody could find him. No one could reach him as long as he stayed hidden in the sweet blackness. He had to remain here because some people wanted to hurt him. Will couldn't remember who they were, or what had been their motivations; he only had a vague recollection of distorted images, like the face of a man with bloodshot aquamarine eyes, flashes of steel, a crate, explosions… it didn't make any sense and Will renounced to sort out these memories. It could only bring him pain and in the soft, enveloping dark waters, he was safe.
Will was falling into an endless chasm, leading to the center of the Earth where he would be lost forever. He sank deeper into the sea's entrails, unable to move, to think, to struggle. His very few memories were being erased, replaced by a total blank. All his emotions, his fears, his energy had disappeared after he had entered the darkness. No lights, no movements, no life ever perturbed it and the emptiness was hypnotizing.
The abyss called to him: Come… I will protect you… Be mine…
Will followed the beaconing; he had to protect himself, even if he couldn't remember why. In the void, he'd be sheltered from harm and danger and from the half-faded images which flashed before his eyes at times. He didn't want those memories; he didn't want anything. He liked being here. He longed for safety and he was going to get it in the bewitching void, which was promising him eternal peace.
Come to me… I'll take care of you…
The calming gloom called to him with gentle words, and he couldn't ignore them. He needed protection and only the darkness could provide him with it. He couldn't remember the reasons why he needed sheltering, but it was unimportant. Will drifted down like an empty shell tossed into the sea. The abyss was telling him to go lower, even lower and he surrendered to the captivating obscurity of the bottomless pit…
… But…
… Something broke the silence…
… A murmur…
A faint murmur!
William Turner Jr. barely moved. That was impossible; sounds couldn't exist inside the protecting cocoon of the waters. The ocean was a world of silence filled with mute creatures, living their lives with a ghost-like stealth. He must have mistaken. The abyss called him again and it seemed annoyed by the interruption; Will didn't want to make it wait.
Th-thump…
But the murmur stopped Will from sinking deeper into the void. It was a soft, regular sound and the young man couldn't help but feel intrigued by it. How could it happen here, in the gloom where nothing could exist? And yet, something or someone had succeeded in breaching into the eternal quietness…
Th-thump…
The noise became more discernable, and Will's confusion increased: it sounded like he had heard it before. But from where? Was the answer locked in one of his memories? But he didn't want to remember. It hurt to think, and it could bring the hostile creatures back. Will just wanted oblivion and he could get it so easily… all he had to do was to sink inside the chasm until he'd reach the perpetual obscurity, where he'd never be able to climb his way out of it.
Th-thump… Th-thump…
That sound again… it was familiar. And it was powerful enough to break the silence of the impenetrable darkness.
Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump…
Will understood this sound was important to him. It was perturbing the abyss' fascination on his mind, but it was also awakening some memories and this time, it wasn't painful.
Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump…
Images of the clear waters of the ocean… The sun high in the blue sky… Fluffy clouds looking like giant balls of cotton… The silvery glow of the full moon…
Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump…
A ship dancing on the waves… White sails filled with winds… A hull jumping up and down… the lulling sensation of a moving floor beneath his feet…
Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump… Th-thump…
Will sighed and he moved his head almost imperceptibly. Strangely, the sound accelerated its rhythm!
Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump!
What could it mean? Was the sound sensible to his movements? Was he linked to it?
Inside the Great Cabin…
Bill Turner felt his heart beating quicker against his ribs. Will had moved!
Cradled in his father's embrace, the young man had let out a soft sigh just before slightly shifting his head pressed against Bill's chest. The ex-pirate had almost forgotten to breathe after feeling that tiny spark of life! Did it mean that for once, Bill Turner had been right? Had he truly found the answer to Calypso's enigma? She said the cure to Will's wounds was in his heart, but would it be enough to heal the terrible injuries his Little One had sustained at the hands of Shiao Long?
Bill didn't dare to utter a word, scared that any noise could prevent Will to listen to his heartbeat. He swallowed with difficulty and he tightened his hold on his son, his lips moving in a silent prayer. Inside his torso, an organ was pumping blood inside his veins at a furious pace.
No, no! Come back! Only I can protect you!
The blackness was calling him again, but this time Will didn't pay any attention to its calls. In fact, he could feel a force pulling him out of the abyss, slowly but steadily. The young man sighed again: this ascending motion didn't hurt him so he could trust it. In fact, the more he moved upwards, the better he could hear The Sound.
Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump!
Oh, how marvelous! Will had no idea where it came from, but it was filling his being with warmth, something the abyss had never provided him with. In fact, the idea of sinking in a dark pit seemed less and less appalling to the youngster. He wanted safety for sure, but he was becoming doubtful about the void's promises of protection from harm. The Sound was rapidly guiding him to clearer waters and, far away, William could hear the faint cries of the chasm, roaring in rage for being deprived of its prey.
Come back! Come back here! At once!
But its protests got muffled by The Sound, which was getting louder every time he listened to it. At the same time, Will found out he could breathe more easily, as if a crushing grip on his body had finally being lifted. Images flashed before his eyes like inside a kaleidoscope, entangled in each other and moving in every direction.
Seas the color of turquoises… sandy-white beaches… a seagull crying in the sky… the faint taste of salt on his lips… a town nearby the ocean… Port Royal?
Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump! Th-thump!
A beautiful young woman with blonde hair and hazel eyes… He couldn't have her… but he was married to her… Married?
Th-thumpTh-thumpTh-thumpTh-thumpTh-thump!
The Sound was reaching the point to become deafening, and for an instant Will was tempted to sink inside the abyss again. But he couldn't, because he was heading back to life, to love and the darkness was nothing but a grim, cold place where he would remain alone in an infinite tomb. He didn't want to die, he wanted to see the young woman again and the heartbeat was his guideline to the light…
Heartbeat?
Th-thumpTh-thumpTh-thumpTh-thumpTh-thumpTh-thumpTh-thumpTh-thump!
Inside the Great Cabin…
Bootstrap Bill knew he was near an anxiety attack, but he couldn't possibly care less. Will had moved again! The young man's bandaged hands had rustled on the blankets, disturbing some of Calypso's pearls and coral beads scattered on the wool; his head had pressed itself more closely against Bill's shirt… and each time, the elder Turner had thought his heart would burst out from his chest. It was working! Will had a chance to regain consciousness!
Riiip.
Bill frowned at the noise: what on Earth was that? It sounded like tearing, but that was an absurd idea. There wasn't anybody inside the Great Cabin apart from him and Will, and why would one of the Flying Dutchman's shipmates would tear apart some cloth? One rapid glance around confirmed to the First Mate that, indeed, the Turners were alone. Bill shook his head, thinking he had just imagined hearing things and put it on the account of his tiredness.
Riiip.
Bootstrap's blue eyes widened in shock: this time, he had definitively heard it! But where could it come from? The sheets on the bed were new, as well as the blankets and the linen maintaining the dressings on Will's hands, arms and upper body so…
The bandages! One of the bandages tied to his son's right wrist had torn open!
For a moment, Bill thought he had lost his mind for sure. How in the world could a bandage be ripped like this? He had secured it to Will's wrist to make sure the dressings applied against the deep lacerations would hold. Maybe the linen he had used was of poor quality?
Bill took his son's right hand in his own to examine the ruined bandage, worried about compromised chances of recovery but then, much to his astonishment, he could see that the dressing underneath had also opened to reveal… perfect skin!
That was impossible! The wrist's flesh and tendons had been cut by the tight chains Red Hand Pete had used to shackle the young Captain. Bill Turner had seen the damages while he was tending to his William: the wound was deep enough to show the bones! He had known it would prevent his son from using his hands for weeks. But the wrist was now intact, looking as if it had never been chained. It was prodigious!
Riiip.
Bootstrap jumped at the sound, and he frantically looked to determine which bandage had torn open like out of its own accord. This time, it was the one covering Will's right arm! With a trembling hand, Bill brushed away fragments of linen and dressings and he nearly busted out crying when he saw the arm faintly glowing beneath, completely healed of the wounds that had been inflicted by the Chinese torturer. There wasn't even a scar!
Will was slowly regaining the powers he had been bestowed with after he had become the new and real Master of the Seas. Bill remembered how Jones could recover from injuries within minutes, every time crushing his crew's silent hopes that their gaoler would finally meet his end. During the maelstrom battle, Jack had cut off some of the tentacles composing Jones' beard and the severed "limbs" had crawled on the deck, very determined to get fixed back on the hideous face.
William had inherited of this ability to heal with his supernatural captaincy, even if the Flying Dutchman was a peaceful soul-carrier again. But aboard a ship, accidents could happen anytime and the well-being of the ship depended on its Captain's. Two years ago, Will had accidentally cut his hand and the whole crew had yelled in horror at the very idea of their young leader being hurt, thus compromising the safety of the Dutchman – but a minute later, the wound had disappeared, as if it had never existed!
And the healing gift was back, fueled by Bill's heartbeat and Will's fight to regain consciousness. This incredible talent, a part of the Master of the Seas' powers, was making the bandages and dressings pointless and it explained why they were magically eliminated.
Riiip.
Another bandage had torn open, right under Bootstrap's incredulous eyes; this time, it had been the one covering the young Turner's right hand. The broken fingers, which had been bending at unnatural angles, straightened back to their normal shapes. The nails that had been pulled out – one of Long's worst tortures – were replaced by new ones, growing at an incredible speed!
"Oh, Little One, you're healing! You're healing," said Bill Turner, softly kissing the dark mane of hair resting in the crook of his arm.
Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump!
Will was swimming in clear waters now, the dark abyss completely forgotten. He was heading for the surface, his ears filled by The Sound, the heartbeat that was getting so loud, oh so loud! But it was wonderful and he couldn't help but following it. The images were getting more and more numerous, but Will knew they were his memories and he welcomed them, either good or bad.
Flash.
A humble home in England… His beautiful and wise mother… Letters from his father…
Flash.
His Mama dying suddenly… Working as a cabin boy in a ship departing for the Caribbean…
Flash.
An attack by a black ship… Loosing consciousness… A girl taking care of him… Elizabeth!
Flash.
I am Captain Jack Sparrow! You've heard about me, haven't you, whelp?
Flash.
Isla de Muerta… The Chest of Cortez… The Aztecan gold curse… Barbossa!
Flash.
A ruined wedding… Becket, snickering behind his desk… Retrieve Sparrow's compass…
Flash.
The Flying Dutchman… Davy Jones… Bootstrap Bill, his father!
Flash.
Tia Dalma… Singapore… Drowning in a bath… Sao Feng, the ends of the world…
Flash.
Jack and the Black Pearl… An armada at their heels… A trap for Becket…
Flash.
The maelstrom battle… Will you marry me? An explosion of pain inside his chest… Dying…
Flash.
A sandy beach… Love… It has always belonged to you… A promise…
Will Turner wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. It was his life he was seeing; his mind was finally getting freed from the grips of unconsciousness. The heartbeat he was listening to acted like a lighthouse illuminating the sea in the darkest night, chasing away fears and ghosts to guide the lost young man to awareness.
Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump!
Inside the Great Cabin…
Bootstrap Bill Turner was softly weeping while holding his William's head against his heart; all the bandages he had carefully wrapped his son with had been torn open, but he had never been happier to have worked for nothing! He had tossed on the floor all the shredded scraps of linen and, to his greatest joy, the cruelties inflicted by Red Hand Pete and his Chinese minion had entirely disappeared!
His throat tightened by emotion, Bill had partially removed the sheets and blankets for a minute to check on his son, and then he had silently thanked the Heavens: Will's body was fully restored. His tall, muscled frame was glowing against the whiteness of the bed sheets, revealing perfect limbs and flawless skin. The cuts, whiplashes, bruises and puncture wounds were all gone – apart from the red scar on his chest, the mark of the sacrifice he had made to save his old man.
Bootstrap covered his son with the bedding again and he combed the dark locks of hair with his fingers: they felt silk-like, as if they had been freshly washed. As for his face, Will was handsomer than ever: the bruises that had marked the high cheekbones were gone, the broken nose was straightened, the split lips had somehow knitted back together and the cuts on the eyebrows' arch had vanished without a trace. He was breathing more quickly now, and Bill knew it was the tell-tale sign of somebody who would wake up soon.
Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump-Th-thump!
Will was just beneath the surface now, swimming in sparkling waters where rays of sunshine were dancing between the waves. He was so close to the location of the heartbeat! He had to find it; he knew it was precious to him! It was the sound of the life of… of…
His father?
Will Turner suddenly gasped: it couldn't be his father! Bill was dead! Someone had told him his father was dead… Someone with blue-green eyes…
The young man moaned feebly as images flashed again inside his mind, and this time they were terrible!
Flash.
A soul's cry… A brig… Falling into a crate full of soil!
Flash.
Suffocation… Sailors with hyena-like faces… His clothes torn off his body…
Flash.
Red Hand Pete… The Dutchman has sunk… The Dead Man's Chest and the key, Turner, where are they?
Flash.
Pain… Unbearable pain! An eternity of torture… The knives, the whip, the pliers, the needles, the red-hot poker…
Flash.
Explosions… Kid brother of mine… Gunpowder… Sword-fighting…
Those images had been awful, but the heartbeat had helped the young Turner to endure them. This sound, filled with love, had calmed him; otherwise, he would have sunk back into the abyss' depths, too frightened by the recollection of his tormentors. Red Hand Pete had kidnapped him to steal the Dead Man's Chest, and he had ordered Long to torture him until he'd talk. Had he surrendered to pain? Had he confessed the location of the coffer?
Will drew breath again, and this time he opened his chocolate-colored eyes. He had to know where he was, if his enemies were still around, getting ready to hurt him again. Bright light hit his retinas and he blinked with shock, but it had been enough to chase away the last remnants of unconsciousness.
When he opened his eyelids again, his vision was distorted and he had to wait for a few minutes until it cleared. But his other senses provided him with reassurances: he was lying on a soft surface; clean sheets and blankets were covering his naked body; the smell of gunpowder was gone; his head was held against a warm wall and The Sound was hammering violently beneath it…
TH-THUMP! TH-THUMP! Th-THUMP!
Will looked up, startled by such a loud beating: his eyes cleared and he saw the beloved face of Bootstrap Bill Turner, smiling at him.
"Hello, sunshine of my life. Welcome back," said the older man.
On the Flying Dutchman's main deck…
"Who do I have to kill to get a drink in here?" grumbled Captain Jack Sparrow for the thousandth time between his gold-and-silver dentition.
Still no news from ol' Bootstrap, not much improvement on the deck, some of the Dutchman's shipmates were still acting like loafers and still not a drop of rum ahead. All this was turning into a insult to Captain Sparrow's authority! Jack had wanted the ghost ship to be back to its normal state as a "Get-well-soon" present for Will, but it seemed to him his plans would be thwarted once again. And on top of everything else, his mastermind had run out of ideas to make another plan. Blame it on the rum withdrawal he had been forced to for three days straight! This had been the longest period of time Jack had lived through without his favorite beverage; even in jail, he had always found a bribable warden who would accept to smuggle a flagon between the bars of his cell in exchange of a few coins.
But here on the Dutchman, there wasn't any rum aboard and Jack was feeling desperate. The water given to him by McCarthy had drenched his thirst for sure, but he longed for something stronger that would allow him to celebrate his stupendous victory over Red Hand Pete and his bunch of dead or cursed cowards. Such an accomplishment should be glorified by a firework of lightened rum bottles, to the least!
Sighing like a lost soul – which was appropriate aboard the Flying Dutchman -, Jack got on his feet to lean on the ship's rail. Looking down, he could see his future crew sailing aimlessly in the Sparrow Hawk and Ammand's longboat. Murtogg and Mullroy were staring at the immense ocean, their eyes as blank as their faces. Pintel and Ragetti had improved a card game, using one of the longboat's benches as a playing table. Aboard the Sparrow Hawk, Wang Tao was meditating, seated cross-legged in the lotus position with his eyes closed. Cotton was giving some biscuit crumbs to his winged pet and Marty waved at Jack, who saluted in return.
Then, something caught the attention of the bird-named pirate, and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets: Ragetti was looking intensively at his cards as if he hoped to find the secret way to the Fountain of Youth in the badly-drawn figures, but Pintel had taken advantage of his acolyte's distraction to draw a leather flask from his belt and he was swinging it to his lips!
"HOLD IT!" roared Jack, pointing his pistol at the pot-bellied pirate.
Pintel froze, the flask just inches from his mouth. Ragetti looked up at his partner-in-crime with his usual expression of stupidity on his face. Wang Tao's eyes snapped open; Marty and Cotton had turned about to see what the commotion was about; only Murtogg and Mullroy hadn't noticed anything, mesmerized by a seagull which was diving repetitively into the ocean's waters.
"A-A-Aye, Cap'tain?" asked Pintel, staring nervously at the pistol aimed right at him.
"Flagrante delicto! You are caught crimson-handed trying to drink from a portable recipient some beverage of alcoholic sort, without thinking to offer some to your rightful and highly-educated commander. This is a blatant act of mutiny! An open treason! A mockery of my authority! I should make you walk the plank right away for this unpardonable crime!"
The men looked at each other, trying to understand what Jack had wanted to say – except Wang Tao, who had a slight smile at the corners of his mouth. A dinghy and a longboat were way too low on the water to make anyone walk the plank, including the short-legged Marty!
"Beggin' yur pardon, Cap'tain, but whaddya mean?" asked Pintel.
"I mean, your eighteen-carat ignorant, that you were committing the act of drinking rum without sharing with your fellow comrades and, even worse, with the officer to whom you have agreed to obey his intelligent orders. Therefore, I am seriously considering perforating your anatomy with the help of a powder-powered weapon I happen to hold in my hand. I was complaining recently about not having the occasion to use this silver-decorated flintlock pistol and how rust was developing inside its barrel. So you're bringing me the occasion to compensate for the time it hadn't been fired, by immediately expediting you ad patres for the ignominy you have deliberately perpetrated."
Pintel, Ragetti and the others' puzzlement seemed to increase every minute. Only Wang Tao had understood Jack's words, so he bowed in front of the balding scoundrel and said with a sarcastic tone:
"Please salute your ancestors from me, Mister Pintel!"
Cotton's parrot added its usual squawking comment: "God speed!"
The ex-member of Barbossa's crew was sweating abundantly; even if Jack's vocabulary was too complex for his tastes, he still had enough brains to understand he was in trouble, especially with a gun aimed at his face! With a groan and a grunt, he threw his flask in the direction of Captain Sparrow, who caught it deftly with his left hand. Jack smiled after his supplier, and then he uncorked the flask and poured its contents right into his mouth.
RUM! Oh, goody! And not the wrongly-distilled kind, either!
The alcohol vanished promptly inside the throat of the ex-Captain of the Black Pearl, who eructed noisily before grinning down to Pintel.
"Well, well, well! I am inclined to suspend my judgment upon your head, my reluctant purveyor. Be thankful you have accurately-working taste buds, thus preventing you from buying cheap alcohol; otherwise, the consequences of your vile actions would have been quite severe. Just remember for the next few years that rum is drawn to the direction of Captain Jack Sparrow like iron filings to a magnet, savvy?"
And with those departing words, Jack turned around to supervise the work of the Dutchman's shipmates. After he had disappeared from sight, Ragetti asked to his partner:
"What did Jack say? Are we leavin' now?"'
Inside the Great Cabin…
Will could hardly believe what he was seeing: his father was here!
"Papa…"
"Little One, my Little One!" said Bill, his face awash with tears and his sapphire eyes sparkling in joy: his son was looking at him! Will was saved! The ex-doomed sailor made a silent vow to thank Calypso for her help, by slipping a message into a bottle and tossing the lot to the sea.
"Papa?" whispered the younger Turner while raising a shaky hand to brush a tear-streaked cheek. He felt warm skin beneath his fingertips, the need for a shave and a regular breathing. "You're… a-alive?"
"Oh yes I am, my love! And so are you. You're alive, you're saved; we're aboard the Flying Dutchman. The monsters are dead, sent back to Hell where they came from and you have nothing to fear any more. You're safe, my wonderful darling, and all your enemies are gone."
Will blinked away tears, which ran down his temples: "You… You're alive! Oh, God! I thought… t-thought…"
"Will? What is upsetting you?" asked the elder Turner, brushing away a lock of hair from his son's face.
"Red 'and P-Pete… said the D-Dutchman had… had sunk," said Will with difficulty, his throat hurting from thirst and screams. "Said the m-men… were d-dead…"
Bill's eyes turned as cold as ice: Red Hand Pete, you everlastingly damned bastard!
"He was wrong, my love. The Conqueror fired at us right after you've been kidnapped and it did cripple the Dutchman, but then Red Hand Pete didn't bother to finish us off. The arrogant whoreson thought one hail of his cannonballs would be enough to send us to the depths, but he forgot one thing: this ship has seen worse damages during Jones' tyranny!"
"T-Thought you h-had d-d-died…" whispered Will. "L-Lost… hope…"
"Oh, my darling, it would take more than a few cannonballs to make me go down to the Locker! I'm an old fish, too tough to be cooked, and even the sharks would break their teeth on my carcass."
Bill very gently embraced his son against his broad, solid chest; Will melted in his arms, aware of the force, the love radiating from the older man like warmth and light created by a roaring fire. After days of painful torments in a dark and damp place, his father hugging him felt like a rebirth to Will. More tears escaped from his brown eyes but he couldn't stop them: the trauma of his capture, the torture sessions, the confusion of the boarding and the shock of Bootstrap Bill being alive, all this had made Will reach his breaking point and he sobbed silently, crying in relief for being saved from the Conqueror and its evil commander.
His father cupped the back of his head with his hand and he tightened his hold, once again letting the young man listen to his heart. The elder Turner remained silent the whole time; as grown-up as he was, Will needed a good cry and no one but his father could provide him with the affection needed to rein in his emotions. After a few minutes, Will felt the flow of his tears drying and he raised his head to look at the elder Turner again. Bill smiled at him, and then he made Will lie down on the bed again. The young man was saved, but he was still very weak from his horrible experience – and there was also the fact that he hadn't had anything to eat and almost nothing to drink for about six days.
On an impulse, Bill kissed his son's forehead and then he turned about to fetch the young man some water. Will followed with his eyes the tall silhouette of the ex-pirate, as if he was afraid his father would vanish into thin air like a mirage. He raised his hand to ask Bill to come back, and then he suddenly gasped: his hand… was intact!
The younger Turner thought he was dreaming again: his fingers, broken one by one, had gained all their flexibility. The fingernails torn away by Shiao Long's pliers had been replaced by exact copies. The grime, blood and sweat had been washed away. The deep lacerations around his wrist, where the chain had dung in like a starving animal, were gone! Astonished, Will touched his face with trembling fingers but he couldn't feel any wounds or painful areas. His neck didn't hurt either – apart from his parched throat –, as if it had never been stabbed repetitively by long needles. Will looked down at his torso: all marks of injuries caused by the torture devices had disappeared!
Vertigo seized the young man and his head fell back on the pillow. His whole body was healed, as if he had never been captured and tortured. But how could it be? Will had certainly not dreamed the abominable hours he had spent in the Conqueror's orlop deck, buried to the waist in a crate and his arms chained upwards, at the mercy of his enemies. He would never forget Long's satisfied smile every time the young man had screamed in agony, or Red Hand Pete's foaming mouth while whipping him with the cat-o'-nine-tails. "Talk, damn you, talk!" had yelled the Conqueror's Captain, and Will only had unconsciousness to help him escape from the mad-driving pain. He remembered the hungry eyes of the rats gathered around him, and him crying in despair…
"Will? What is it, son?" asked Bill, a cup filled with water in his hand.
"The w-wounds… g-gone!" answered the young Turner feebly, feeling like he'd faint again.
Bootstrap rushed to his son's side and presented the cup to his lips: Will drank gratefully, the fresh liquid soothing his aching throat and filling his empty stomach. The cup was removed from his mouth and he mourned the loss.
"M-More? Please?"
"You'll have another cup in a little while, my love. Drinking too much and too quickly in your weakened state could make you sick."
William would have appreciated some more water, but still he sensed the truth in his father's words. He sighed, and then he looked at Bill with his intense brown gaze.
"Papa… the wounds… they are a-all gone… How is it p-possible? D-did you heal them?"
"You did, thanks to that incredible love of yours, the same one that gives you the courage to endure your captaincy. The Master of the Seas can recover from any kind of injuries as long as he remains on the ocean or aboard the Flying Dutchman. But Davy Jones was only a scrap of seaweed compared to you, the hero who had been gifted with the same powers but who illuminates them with his love for his wife, his son and his sometime-stupid old man. After defeating Red Hand Pete, I.. er... I somehow got the idea to make you listen to "the secret", in the hopes you'd realize you were safe, back aboard the Dutchman and it would awaken your ability to heal."
Will grabbed his father's hand, his eyes full of pure gratitude.
"Your h-heartbeat… I h-heard it… Pulled m-me out of the… the darkness," said the young Captain of the Flying Dutchman, feeling a warmth growing inside his torso at the place where his physical heart used to be.
"You've lost consciousness during the rescue, my William. Red Hand Pete had charged his Chinese executioner to make you confess the location of the Dead Man's Chest. But you haven't talked, Will!" added Bootstrap in a hurry after seeing a look of alarm on his son's face. "I swear it on your mother's grave: you haven't talked, in spite of the tortures those bastards had done to you. Elizabeth and Little William are safe."
"I-I lost h-hope, Papa… am s-s-sorry… should h-h-have known you'd c-come for me… How can I ever t-thank you?"
"You owe me nothing and you don't have to be sorry, Little One. Red Hand Pete was a madman and he wanted you to loose hope, so you'd give him the Dead Man's Chest in exchange of a quick death. But I've sworn to protect you and no one, not even the ghost of Davy Jones, can prevent me from doing so. Your bravery humbles me, and my only regret is I haven't been able to find you earlier. I got injured in the attack – not grievously, I can assure you – and when I came to, the Conqueror was gone. We had no idea of its heading; that's why I asked Jack for his help, because I wouldn't have found you on my own."
"J-Jack?"
"Aye. He recruited Ammand the Corsair, his galley and his crew, along with a few other men we picked up on the way, and then he imagined an incredible plan to fool Red Hand Pete and rescue you from the Conqueror. And it worked, too! He's upstairs on the main deck, probably driving everyone crazy with his babbling about his incredible exploits while grumbling at the same time because there isn't any rum aboard the Flying Dutchman."
Will had a small laugh at his father's words, and then his hand felt something rolling on the blankets covering him. He looked down and saw some scattered pearls on the wool, amongst with coral beads.
"Papa? W-What are these?"
"The pearls and coral? Oh, that's a gift from a mysterious but nice lady. I'll tell you later about it. In fact, I'll tell the whole story of your rescue but right now, you need to get better. Let me give you some more water, and then you'll get some rest. Your wounds are healed, but you still have to recover. The crew will understand you need a few hours of sleep; you have endured an ordeal that would have killed a dozen men, and yet you have survived it with your love intact – and that's not an easy feat. Many men would have become angry and bitter if they had suffered only a quarter of the tortures you have endured. But not you, my marvelous darling, and thus you have vanquished Red Hand Pete once and for all. That miserable slug won't win from his watery grave because you, cherished child of mine, are what he couldn't even hope to be."
"Love you…"
"Love you too, my son. Now, I'd like you to drink some water and go to sleep. Can you do this for your old Papa?"
"Oh yes," whispered Will, his chocolate-colored eyes locked in the sky-blue gaze of his father, his guardian angel.
TBC…
