Disclaimer: Jerry Bruckheimer, you lucky person you. No, I don't own anything…or anyone for that matter. Not that I wouldn't mind though…

A/N: Thank you so much to all of my reviewers! I really appreciate them. I just got back from seeing PotC for the second time and I think that I am ready and in the mood to write the next chapter. So here I go! Enjoy!

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Pirates of the Caribbean: The Winds of Change

Your Heart Belongs to the Sea

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He hadn't been sleeping well…at all. Night after night he would finally give up after hours upon hours of restless flirtation with sleep. He would somewhat unceremoniously walk over to the window, push open the shutters and inhale the fresh and enticing scent of the brackish air that surrounded him. The ocean's clear and calming aroma sent a soothing sentiment over him, a pleasantness he had never encountered before. It seemed to clear his mind and miraculously send all of his worries into nonexistence. Finally, after many evenings of pondering the origins of the comfort it provided him, he finally realized why he appreciated it so much: it made him feel at home.

And now Will Turner stood looking out that very same window he had those previous nights before. He let the soft wind rustle his hair, spraying his face with the crisp essence of the sea. The sound of gentle breeze playing upon the waves blended in with Elizabeth's slow and rhythmic breathing behind him. He envied her ability to sleep so soundly, worriless and content. He hadn't been able to for days…

…he kept having dreams. Terrifyingly real nightmares that had come to him every night this week, lingering on his mind like as an unwelcome guest. They would haunt him, causing him alarming restlessness and bestowing upon him unfamiliar anxiety. He had never had nightmares of this magnitude…and the thought that they could be real was driving Will into despair.

… Jack, tied up and bound at the feet, sitting in a brig. Bloodied, bruised, beaten, exhausted. The well-known smirk Jack often wore was gone, the familiar glimmer in his eye absent…

Will would try to help him, calling to him at the top of his lungs, but Jack did not hear him. Frustration made him want to scream out even louder...he would desperately struggled against unreal chains that bound him, trying unsuccessfully to reach the pirate. But the more he struggled, the more he knew his goal was to be futile…

Without warning a dark figure would emerge from the shadows…slowly and deliberately the figure's footsteps would echo against the molding walls of the brig until it stopped dead in front of Jack, standing with its head held high in a triumphant display of its power and control.

The figure would take out his newly-polished and ornate sword, point it unwaveringly at Jack's throat, and utter in an eerily familiar raspy voice: "Where is he?" But prideful and loyal, Jack would not answer, apparently too weak to do so. He offered the figure only an expression of pure revulsion and hatred. This would cause the man to laugh, a laugh that terrified Will, a laugh that contained years of revengeful lust, undeniable abhorrence, complete evil…

Luckily, that was where his nightmare usually stopped, sparing him from experiencing the cold, rock-hard feeling in his stomach known as dread.. However, tonight the dream disregarded Will's reluctance for it to continue. For the first time he had seen the threatening figure's face and had cried out in horror and surprise as he had turned, slowly, enabling Will to lay his eyes on the man whom he once thought of (with undeniable relief) as dead and gone.

Barbossa.

And then, without warning, Barbossa would turn around and mutter to Jack in a rather pleased voice, "Thought you could kill me, eh? Oh, matey, the Curse has a mind of 'er own." And Will was left to thrash helplessly against the invisible ropes that restrained him as he watched Barbossa slowly raise his sword, ascending it towards the heavenly masts of the ship until it came down with a sickening sound.

The sound, Will realized as he fought down the nausea to heave, was the sound of flesh being cut…the sound of Jack's throat being sliced open.

Even thinking about it as he was now riddled Will's heart with fear. He shoved the unnerving thoughts aside…he had been troubled by them in his sleep and had no desire to be haunted by them as he stood awake. Jack was like a brother to him, the only family he had ever had aside from his mother. He was the closest link to his father, the one remnant of Bill's life that Will could cling to. The fact that Jack could be dead, or a prisoner at the hands of Barbossa, made Will's stomach churn.

But Barbossa is dead, he thought, narrowing his eyes towards the playfully winking stars. I saw him die. He was shot through the heart…he can't be alive. They're nothing but childish dreams, but nonetheless so real…

As he stared out into the bay watching the moored ships sluggishly bob up and down with the waves, he felt a warm and soothing hand on his shoulder. Turning, he looked into the delicate face of his wife. Sleep still occupied her eyes, but they also held a certain look of honest concern that made his heart fill with tenderness.

"What's wrong?" she asked groggily as she searched his face for an unforeseen answer. But he just shook his head and whispered, "Nothing, love. I just can't sleep."

"Don't lie to me, Will. You've been up this whole week staring out of that window."

Unaware that Elizabeth knew of his insomnia, Will was shocked (if not what somewhat impressed) by her perception. But he quickly moved to cover his surprise as all good pirates can by simply replying, "I just haven't been tired, love."

An air of disbelief threatened Elizabeth's delicate face as she softly shook her head. "I don't believe you, Will Turner."

"Why not?"

"Why should I?"

"I'm your husband," Will uttered, a lopsided smile appearing on his handsome face; it felt immensely good to say that. But the happiness he displayed was soon relinquished when Elizabeth replied, "You're also a pirate."

For some unknown reason, guilt filled the gut of his stomach. As he looked deeply into her almond eyes, the culpability traveled from his gut to his veins, circulating throughout his body. He loved her…he always had. He tenderly wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her closer to him and whispered, "I'm your husband first."

A relieved expression traveled silently across her face, but the shadow of an unsettling look still lingered. "I know. It's just…"

"Just what?"

"Don't leave me like your father left your mother."

Will let go of her and stepped back. His breath caught in his lungs and stayed there while his brain absorbed what she had just said. His eyes searched her face for some logic behind her words but he could find none. "Why would I ever do that?" he uttered barely above a whisper, sounding angrier than he had intended. Growing up without a father had hurt him tremendously. He remembered the nights he would be awakened by his mother's sobs, the times he would see a father taking his son to fish…he could still hear other kids teasing him incessantly about not having a father and he remembered walking home, feeling both disgusted and deserted. He had grown to accept the absence of Bill, but somehow acceptance was the last thing he had ever wanted. He wanted a father…he had needed a father. Perhaps that was why he had always hated pirates; he always assumed that his father would rather be with them than his own son…

"Will," she replied, reaching out towards him. She must have realized how much she hurt him, for she now wore a look of regret. When he recoiled, she continued desperately, trying to ease the pain she had caused the man she loved. "I see you stare out of that window at night. I see you eyeing those ships, looking longingly at the ocean. I am not blind nor am I simple. You long to be sailing with Jack and his crew, aboard the Black Pearl. It's natural, Will!" she proclaimed when he gave her a look of uncertainty. "Your father was a pirate and whether you like to admit it or not, your heart belongs to the sea."

He felt his mind spinning as it heard the words that he had never wanted to hear….simply because he knew they were true. He knew his heart lay with the ocean; he had felt it call to him. It was true that he felt claustrophobic living in a house in Port Royal. The crisp wind stroking across his face, climbing the rigging, adjusting the masts, the soft tossing of the deck beneath him; he had noticed the absence of them all and had missed them all.

But never in his life had he ever considered leaving Elizabeth. No matter how loudly the sea cried out to him, no matter how much his soul desired to be among the waves, no matter how much his body ached with longing, he would never leave her. This, perhaps, was the only certainty in his life.

"I will never do what my father did. I love you more than anything. More than being a pirate, more than sailing, more than the sea. You're the only thing that matters, Elizabeth. You're my life." He kissed her tenderly on the forehead, smelling the soft floral scent of her hair. She embraced him, and he reacted, squeezing her to him. "I love you, Elizabeth."

"I love you, too."

He turned his head to rest against hers, his face now turned towards the window. He looked out into the port and saw a small black speck moving slowly towards the docks upon the calm ocean. He squinted, raising his head just a little which enabled him to clearly see the British flag waving high upon the main mast…undoubtedly a ship belonging to the Royal Navy. But what was it doing docking this late at night in Port Royal?

"Will, what...?"

"Shhh." He put a finger to her lips as he strained his ears. He could detect no sounds out of the ordinary, but a familiar spine-tingling sensation ascended his back, traipsing up towards his neck. There was something…wrong. He couldn't pinpoint its oddity but he could not deny the hunch that there was a reason for his interest in this ship…an awareness that tugged at his mind and could not be ignored.

He slowly let go of Elizabeth and walked towards the door, grabbing his cloak and throwing it hastily over his shoulders. "I'm going to the docks."

"What? Why? What's wrong?" she responded, more curious than alarmed.

He just shook his head and reached for the doorknob, resting his hand upon the cool metal. "I don't know, but there's something wrong…I can feel it."

Knowing there was nothing she could do to dissuade him, she grabbed for her cloak which was lying on an ornately carved chair, flung there without care. "I'm going too."

"No, Elizabeth. There's no need-"

"Have you forgotten who I am?" she asked, and Will knew it was the start of a one-way conversation during which it was best to keep his mouth shut. "I sailed the ocean blue with a bunch of half-dead hell-bound pirates who wanted you dead. Not only did I stay with you, I convinced Commodore to look for you after Barbossa took you captive. I saved your life, Will Turner, and I'm not about to let you leave me here at home like some useless house-wife who has nothing better to do than knit and cook while you go gallivanting about the docks at some ungodly hour at night looking for adventure!"

Perhaps it was her persistence, or perhaps it was the completely outraged look on her face. It could have been her flushed cheeks or her eyes, once so compassionate and loving that now were narrowed and apparently insulted. Whatever it was, it suddenly made him smile. "That's the woman I married, isn't it?"

"And don't forget it, lest I need remind you again."

Smiling, he nodded. "Come on, then." He strode over to her, picked up her cloak (which was discarded violently onto the floor in her unladylike fit of annoyance), gently fastened it about her neck, and grabbed her hand, leading her out into the sleeping streets of Port Royal.

The night air was crisp and immediately as he stepped out of the warmed house the tingling sensation made its presence known once more. Squinting, he could make out the ship he had seen before. It was now stationed at the nearest dock, patiently waiting as its passengers filed on to the dock. He sped up his deliberate pace, still not knowing why he was there or of what the significance of the ship was. All he knew was that something in his mind was telling him there was more to this ship than met the eye.

And as they approached the Intrepid he knew why.

"Jack!"

Jack Sparrow, tied at the hands with rope, stood next to a fat general known as Ovington. A youthful happiness clutched at Will's heart; it had been too long since he had seen his old friend…two years, to be exact. He had missed him greatly and the sight of him made him feel carefree once more. Yet something in Jack's face alarmed him…it was a familiar look. As Jack and Will's eyes met, he realized as he studied Jack's somber, dull eyes, that they donned the same look he had seen in them in his recurring nightmares. Trying to ignore this obvious fact and address the task at hand, the childish grin faded from his face. He was about to speak when Jack took the liberties himself.

"My fair greetings, Mr. and Mrs. Will Turner. So sorry you had to catch me like this…I rather prefer iron hand cuffs to rope. They're so much more fashionable these days, or so I hear tell."

Even though he spoke with the same sardonic and blithe tone, Will detected that it was somewhat forced. But he had known Jack long enough to suspect intentions of avoiding the suspicions of the British general, so he played along.

"So it is the infamous Jack Sparrow…oh, pardon me…Captain Jack Sparrow, isn't it?" he returned, bowing slightly, a grin of mockery apparent on his handsome features.

"Ahh, you see, general? Mr. Turner seems to think I warrant a…how did you put it? An honorary title?" A familiar half-drunken smirk spread across his face as he winked at the officer. "So if you would so kindly refer to me as Cap-"

"Mr. Turner, Mrs. Turner," the general said loudly, interrupting Jack as he approached the couple. "How can I be of service?"

Will cleared his throat, realizing he was not sure of what to say. He shot a sideways glance at Elizabeth who stood, smiling extravagantly, at Jack; no matter how much she might have detested him, Will knew she missed him too. Looking once more at the general he spoke. "I…saw your ship pull into dock, General Ovington. It is a fairly unusual occurrence at this time of night, especially since Port Royal is not…graced by the presence of many ships of the British Royal Navy. I was inquiring if everything was of the ordinary," he finished properly, all the while eyeing Jack for a signal as to what he was doing in handcuffs in the possession of a fat general standing in Port Royal, the last place a man like Jack Sparrow would ever want to end up, considering his previous experiences in the port city.

"I thank you for your concern, Mr. Turner," bowed the general stiffly while eyeing Will cautiously, "but everything is quite under control, thank you."

He nodded, unsure of how to waste more time. He studied Jack who mouthed behind the general's back, "Prison".

Nodding in murky comprehension, Will smiled at the general. "Thank you, general, for your time. But may I inquire what Jack-I mean, Captain Sparrow's crime is?" Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw Jack smile as he turned toward the general smiling, apparently intent on rubbing his "title" in the fat face of Ovington, who huffed haughtily and replied quickly (as to avoid another interruption by the pirate), "He is charged with attacking the British Royal Navy and destroying one of her vessels."

He heard Elizabeth gasp beside him as he too reeled from the news. Attack the British Royal Navy? That's suicide! Jack knows that, he thought. He turned to Jack and saw a look of complete resignation in his body. He slouched, ever so slightly, so that no one but a fellow pirate would notice. But Will had never seen him look so helpless.

"When is his trial?" Elizabeth breathed, gaining composure before her husband.

"It shall be the day after next. I'm afraid the outlook for Mr. Sparrow does not look keen," replied General Ovington, reaching his hand out to Will who took it hesitantly and shook it limply. "Good day, Mr. Turner. Mrs. Turner," he bowed. He moved off and shouted behind him, "Take that disgusting villainous rascal from my sight."

Will moved docilely to intercept the guards who took a hold Jack's arms, but saw him shake his head vehemently. Perplexed, he shot him a questioning glance. As the guards ushered him off to the Port Royal reformatory, he heard Jack mumble to him, "Tomorrow night. Make sure the moon's out."

Completely confused, Will stared after his friend who was now swaying and singing in an entirely drunken fashion, knocking clumsily against the restraining soldiers, causing them to sway with him ironically. Will nearly smiled as he noticed that Jack was singing, his somewhat incomprehensible words echoing throughout the port.

"We're rascals, scoundrels, villains, and knaves…drink up, me hearties, Yo Ho!

~*~

Yeah, ok, so I lied. I don't think this cleared up much more for you all…I'm sorry. But I want to keep it like the movie…a glimpse here, a clue here, and then BAM you understand. Is it working? Constructive criticism is welcomed, of course!

Oh, P.S. In the end, Jack is singing A Pirates Life for Me. I hope you enjoyed.

Drink up, me hearties, Yo Ho!