Disclaimer: Nope. I don't own Will Turner. I don't own Elizabeth Swann. I don't even own Jack Sparrow…*sulk*. Great, now you've made me depressed.

A/N: Ok. I have come to the conclusion that even I am extremely confused with all of the plot turns and twists and unanswered questions. So I think that this chapter will answer most of them. I actually sat down with paper and pencil to figure all of this stuff out….and boy, it was exhausting. So, without further ado, here are most of the answers you have been waiting for.

Dedicated to: LizKat36, you know who you are, and you bloody better start your story. Eryn of Lasgalen for teaching me French at one in the morning….you have talent, and I hope you put it to use. To Savvy Jack Sparrow for our countless discussions on "the winds of change", and to all of my reviewers and readers. You guys are great, thank you so much.

Pirates of the Caribbean: The Winds of Change

Of Traitors and Bloodlines

"He's ours, ye scabbers!"

Jeers, laughter, and shouts of relief echoed across the HMS Sea Farer as Captain Barbossa spoke those words. His mismatched crew all wore lopsided grins of anticipation; they would get their lives back at last.

"Young Mr. Turner here seems to be in the dark about our tribulations, laddies," he continued, stepping over Will's limp body towards the wheel. "And I don't think his lass knows anything 'bout them either."

A heavy silence followed these words. It seemed as though the crew did not know whether to snicker slyly or to nod their heads in solemn comprehension. As birds flew overhead, Barbossa turned to look up at them and noticed the winds had ceased. The sun shone down upon them hotly, but none of the crew took notice. They couldn't feel anything, after all.

Barbossa sighed and looked down at Will, still laying unconscious on the deck. He grinned, knowing that the young Turner would be in their total control and would undoubtedly be an asset to their crew.

"As you know," he began again, slicing through the silence like a knife through butter, "now that Mr. Turner here is in our custody, the Aztec gods now control him…and so do we." Mumbles and fragments of sentences rippled across the crew. "This means that he will put up no fight when the time comes to slit his throat over that chest of gold."

Cheers and jeers rose up from the crew as Barbossa smiled to himself. "Alright, ye pirates, back to the ship."

"But what of the girl?" a voice came from the crew. All eyes turned to Barbossa who replied, "Leave her here; she is of no use to us. After all, it was our fine informant who said, 'Women are mighty bad luck to have aboard a ship'. I'm starting to believe him."

Once again laughter could be heard as the crew made way to depart the HMS Sea Farer. One burly pirate shouldered Will and walked across a plank connecting the two ships. Barbossa crossed the plank as well, ordered masts at full height, and retreated to his cabin.

Removing his plumed hat from his head, he crossed the room to sit down in an ornately carved chair. He slouched, narrowing his eyes in concentration. So much had happened in the past two years…so much. Yet none of it had been good.

He had been dead, and he remembered his last thoughts….he was cold. So cold. But he had been almost grateful to the man who killed him…the chill had been the only sensation he had had in ten years.

That man who killed him, he had been informed, was also dead. Barbossa snickered. The infamous Jack Sparrow sunk with his ship. He had bought the idea to fire upon the British Navy…he had believed that they were in hot pursuit of him…my my, Jack Sparrow had turned gullible.

Or maybe he just trusted his crew. It was a member of his crew, after all, that had turned on him to help Barbossa. Then again, why wouldn't he? He was a victim of the curse as well, and wanted to be alive again just as much as anyone else. Whatever the case was, Barbossa was ecstatic at the news that Sparrow had fired upon the British Navy. Everyone was dead.

Everyone including Jack Sparrow.

Of course, his informant couldn't die, being a member of the curse himself. So he feigned his death, sunk to the bottom of the ocean carelessly, and had successfully found Barbossa and his crew to inform him of the victory.

A high-pitched screeching noise erupted from his left. Barbossa turned a lazy eye onto his monkey, jumping up and down angrily inside his cage. "Sorry, Jack," Barbossa commented, really not sorry at all. That bloody monkey had been the source of all of their pain…

When Jack the monkey had taken that coin from the chest, he condemned them all to the curse again. Now the gods were angrier than ever that the gold was gone. They resurrected him and turned his once-alive crew dead again. The gods sent them on a mission of blood thirsty revenge…they instructed him to find every person who spent or used those Aztec trinkets for pleasure, for drink, for wealth. And once they were found, they were to be killed, to be slaughtered mercilessly by Barbossa and his crew.

But before that, they had to get young Turner to undo the curse. But this time, the deal is better, thought Barbossa, still staring at the fretting monkey. This time, the curse will be lifted, but we will still be unable to die. Immortality without suffering, immortality with pleasure. And now that Turner's mind, body, and soul belonged to them and the gods, it would be only a fool's possibility that he could escape his eventual death.

With his death comes our life, Barbossa smiled. And it will only be a matter of time before we live again.

A knock on his door jolted the captain out of his reverie. He turned to face the oak paneled entrance and shouted, "Enter."

A burly man of average height stepped inside. The man took a long swig from a flask at his side, emitting a sound of contentment afterwards. Barbossa grinned and stood up.

"Well, if it isn't our informant."

"Aye, it is," came the answer.

Nodding, Barbossa gestured to a chair adjacent to his own. "Won't you sit down, Mr. Gibbs?"

~*~

Jack's intent gaze made Elizabeth feel completely uncomfortable. But she ignored it and stared at the hot mug in her hand, the putrid taste still lingering in her mouth from her first gulp.

"It's disgusting," she mumbled, still staring down at the steaming drink. "I can't drink all of this."

"Well, to be quite honest, missy, you don't have much of a choice in the matter, do ye?" he concluded, still staring intently at her face. "Drink up."

Shooting Jack a nasty glare she carefully raised the mug to her mouth, pinched her nose shut, and drank a deep gulp. She sputtered, feeling an innate sensation to heave. She broke into a coughing fit, and Jack patted her on the back. "'atta girl."

"Shut up."

"Ahhh, well, at least I know your personality hasn't changed," he countered, standing up and stretching.

"I'm not in the-"

"Shhhh!"

Elizabeth fell silent as she watched Jack approach the door, put his ear to it, and listen carefully.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean-"

"I hear nothing."

"What?" Alarmed Elizabeth put her mug down and started to approach the door, but Jack ran towards her and grabbed her arms. "Finish your drink, and do it fast."

"What?" she asked. Jack let go of her arms, twirled her around to face her mug sitting on the table, and then turned from her, asking, "Have you heard of chugging?"

"I am not going to-"

"They've got Will, lass," he said softly, studying her expression, "so do something about that mug."

They've got Will. They've got Will.

Those words resonated in her head like a shout in a hollow cave. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. She whirled around, grabbed the hot mug, and drank it all in three huge gulps. She wiped her mouth clean with her hand, while at the same time praying that she did not vomit in front of Jack again. She didn't need the humiliation, to be sure.

"Wow. That's some impressive drinking," Jack commented, smiling widely at her.

Ignoring the urge to slap him, she asked quickly, "What about Will? We need to get him back. If they have him captive, he can't escape by himself."

"Not that he'd try," Jack muttered, walking towards the door.

"And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean? Why wouldn't he try to escape?" she countered, following him out on his heels. She looked around the HMS Sea Farer's deck as if expecting Will to jump out and embrace her. To her dismay, it didn't happen. The moonlight shone through the wispy clouds in the dark night sky, and she saw Jack turn to skeleton and back again, each time he stepped directly under it. It was a disconcerting sight, but Elizabeth had more pressing matters to worry about.

"Don't you remember anything of what I told Will when you were eavesdropping in the prison that night?" he asked distractedly, taking out his compass and staring at it. She noticed he stood in the shadow of the main mast, trying not to be within the moon's reach.

"Well, I remember-"

"How about the part where I talked about the ol' pirate philosophy: 'If you can't beat 'em, control 'em.'" Elizabeth's mouth fell open in comprehension, and Jack nodded solemnly. "Now that Will is in Barbossa's hands, his mind belongs to the curse."

Elizabeth didn't know whether to faint, cry, throw up, or do all three. All she knew was that her heart seemed to bleed with these words. Feeling light headed she grabbed for the railing to steady herself. "How do you know all of this?" she breathed, barely aware of the pitch and roll of the ship. She stepped out from beneath the covering directly outside of the captain's quarters and into the moonlight. She put her hands on her hips and waited for a reply.

But Jack didn't offer one. Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask him again, but only found him staring at her, his eyes wide, the ends of his mouth turned upward in some strange smile. "What?" she demanded, regaining some of her strength.

"They can't use Will," Jack mumbled, more to himself than to her.

"Jack Sparrow, what in God's name-"

"They can't use his blood to end the curse."

 The intensity at which Jack was now staring at her made her squirm. Nevertheless, refusing to be intimidated, she said, "Why not? He's the last Turner, and you told me that the last remaining member of that bloodline would be the only one to end it."

"Do you know what you just drank, lass?" Jack asked, a wide smile starting to spread across his face.

"N-no, I don't," she admitted.

"It's one of the Aztecs' own concoctions. Made from the raw eggs of a blue jay, boiled rum, and a shot of pig's blood. Explains the bad taste, mind you."

A wave of nausea smacked Elizabeth like a tidal wave, but Jack continued. "It was the only serum the Aztecs created to counter the curse…or, at least lessen the effects of it. You drink this stuff on a daily basis, lassie, and you will never show the signs of the curse."

"But why would you have me drink it?" Elizabeth asked, her mind spinning with the intake of so much at once.

"The Aztecs aren't people who respect women, missy. The drink was made for a man; it would hide a man's bones if he were captive of the curse, but not a woman's. It has the opposite effect, actually," he added, as if it explained anything.

"And?" she asked impatiently when he paused.

"And with a woman, it would show her as havin' the curse instead of hidin' it for her."

A fractured pause filled the air, and Elizabeth asked, "You made me drink that vile liquid to see if I had the curse, didn't you?"

"Can't get anything by you," Jack mumbled, turning on his heels towards the wheel.

"So do I have it?"

"No. Look at yourself." Elizabeth looked down at her arms and body; they were still fleshy, without a bone in sight. "You wouldn't look like that if you had the curse, lass."

"Did you expect me to?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't I?"

"Between your questions and Will's questions, I'm going to get a permanent headache," Jack complained. But when he noticed the 'do not make me slap you or burn your rum' look on her face, he continued with his explanation. "You should have it. You came in direct contact with the undead, with the curse itself. And, since its hunting us as well, you should be undead too. But you're not," he answered, steering the boat sharply to the left, still glancing at his defective compass.

"You didn't answer my question," she replied stubbornly, approaching him. "Why don't I have it then?"

Jack looked at her, a strange tenderness in his eyes. "The only thing that can counter this curse to the fullest is Turner blood. This is why Will won't ever be undead; he has Turner blood and can't be. The only thing the curse can do to him is to control him."

Elizabeth waited, not sure of what he was saying. Jack looked away from her and focused out on the horizon.

"But I don't have Turner blood. I'm only married to him," she whispered in response, thinking to herself. How could she be protected by a bloodline she didn't share?

"Elizabeth," Jack started, letting go of the wheel to turn to look at her. She saw him study her up and down and then saw him lean toward her, keeping his eyes locked on hers. "You do share a bloodline with Will…"

"How?" she whispered, studying him. She had never seen Jack act like this before.

 "There's only one way you can."

"Which is?"

Jack looked at her, a soft smile spreading to his lips. As she stared into his eyes, she could have sworn she saw a gentle glistening in them. "You carry his child."

~*~

Ok. If you guys are still confused, let me know what you guys are confused about, and I will try to clear it up next chapter.

I hope you enjoyed…a long one, just for you. Thanks, mateys!