Eight

-'Am I a butterfly who dreams it's a man, or a man who dreams he's a butterfly?' -

Elizabeth hummed cheerily under her breath as she walked down the streets of Port Royal with her maid trailing behind her holding a large picnic basket. Many of Port Royal's denizens paused to greet her and she returned their greetings with a smile and a nod.

She was on her way to Will's smithy, looking forward to the afternoon tea they would have together. Despite her father's pleas, Will refused to give up his work and Elizabeth was happy to see her husband's craft and business booming.

Pushing open the sturdy door, Elizabeth peered into the smithy, smiling when she spotted her husband standing at the forge, motionless and probably deep in thought. He hadn't noticed her presence yet.

A playful impulse took over her. "Go," she whispered quietly to her maid. "Have the afternoon off. I want to spend some time alone with my husband."

Her maid tittered softly. "It's not proper, milady!"

"Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. We're married and we're simply obeying God's commandment, that's all. Now shoo."

Still giggling, her maid curtsied and stepped away. "I'll be back at five, milady."

"Yes, yes." Picnic basket in hand, Elizabeth slipped silently into the smithy. She tiptoed up to her still husband, smirking when she realized he had not discovered her presence yet. Putting the picnic basket down, she carefully stretched up and covered his eyes with her hands. "Guess who?"

Will remained still and unresponsive.

Frowning, Elizabeth peeked at her husband's face. "Will?" What she saw made her heart skipped with alarm.

Will stood there – unmoving, unstaring – a hammer in one hand and a half-crafted lump of iron in his other. His face was blank and lax, his eyes…Elizabeth shivered. His open eyes were staring into nothing, the brown orbs blank and lifeless.

She stared at her husband. She got the surreal sensation that Will was not in the smithy with her; that she was looking at a wax mannequin instead. It was as though Will was dead.

That thought made her panic. "Will!" She called his name urgently, shaking him as hard as she could. "Will! Can you hear me? What's wrong with you? Will!"

Frightened, Elizabeth stepped back and resorted to the last measure. She swung her hand back and slapped her husband.

It worked.

Relief flooded her when Will suddenly became reanimated. There was no other word to describe the life flowing back into her husband. He blinked, staring at his wife in confused bewilderment as he rubbed his stinging cheek. "Elizabeth? Wha-? What time is it?"

Elizabeth stared at him, her fear rapidly returning. "Will, it's already mid-afternoon."

"What?" Will looked around, his disoriented gaze resting for a moment on the shadows on the floor of the smithy. He had spent enough time in his workplace to be able to tell the time of the day by the position of the shadows on the floor. And his wife was right – it was already mid-afternoon. "So long…"

Despite her fear, Elizabeth was quick to put two and two together. "Will, this is not the first time it happened, is it?"

Will did not reply. He averted his gaze.

"Tell me!"

He nodded reluctantly.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Just a couple of days, I think."

"A couple of days? And you didn't bother to tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry," Will answered defensively. "I can manage. It hasn't really affected anything."

"Will, this is serious. I found you standing here motionless like a mannequin. If I didn't know better, if I hadn't touched you, I would've thought you were dead!"

Will winced.

Elizabeth took her husband by his hand. "Will, can you remember anything about these missing periods of time?"

Will hesitated and said slowly, "it's the dreams."

"The dreams? But they only happen at night, when you're sleeping!"

"They still do but it's gotten worse." Will sat down on a bench, pulling his wife down to sit next to him. "They're spilling into my waking moments now."

"Are they still dreams of your father?"

Will nodded. "As vivid as those I have at night. I never know when they would come. One minute I could be doing something, the next thing I know, I have lost a big amount of time. And all that I could remember was the dream I had." He looked at his wife. "Was I sleeping when you found me?"

"No. You were standing upright. You looked as though you were in a trance except…"

"Except what?"

"Will, it felt as though I was standing next to your corpse!"

Will blanched and immediately brought his distraught wife into his embrace. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I'm so sorry. I don't know what's going on."

"It's not your fault." She leaned against him for comfort. "We have to find a cure."

"How?" Will shrugged helplessly.

"The dreams could be trying to tell you something," Elizabeth suggested.

Will's brows furrowed as he thought carefully. "If it is, I'm not getting any understanding from it."

"We can't let anyone else know about this. If anyone else were to find out, if my father find out, they will either think you have gone mad or are possessed."

"Either way, I'll end up in the asylum." Will finished her thought, expression growing grim.

"No one will believe you, except for me. And there would be naught I can do to help you. We have to keep this a secret for as long as we can, until we can figure out a way to end it."

"Obviously th' cat was let out of th' bag."

"Yes, about three weeks later. My father threw a dinner party one night and we were obliged to attend. Will fell into a waking dream during the party in front of so many witnesses. We could not hide it anymore. My father demanded to know what was going on and we had no choice but to tell him."

"An' dear Governor Swann d'cided Will was ill an' sent fer th' doctor, who tho' Will had gone mad," Jack finished for her grimly.

Elizabeth nodded unhappily. "Because he's my husband, they did not commit him to the asylum. But they locked Will up in a room at our house, with barred window and a heavy lock on the door. They took away his freedom despite his pleas, chained him down like a dog when he resisted. They…they…"

She started to cry, the stress of constant worrying and build-up frustration over the long hellish weeks finally getting to her. Jack shifted over to her chair and patted her comfortingly on her shoulder.

"I'm at my wit's end, Jack. And so is Will. He doesn't know what is happening to him anymore than I do and it's scaring him just as much. You have to help him, Jack. Please!"

"Aye, lass. Ye got ol' Jack's promise on this. No one locks up me lad an' expects to get a'ay wi' it. Is he still at Port Royal?"

"Yes. He's all alone and at the mercy of the doctor. He couldn't leave with me. He refused to, saying he would be more of a hinder than help. I didn't want to leave him but he pled for me to look for you. 'Get Jack,' he told me. 'He's the only one who can help me now.' I had to beg a favor from James to keep Will safe until my return."

"James?"

"Commodore Norrington. He and Will have managed to learn how to get along." Elizabeth clutched at Jack's hand. "Will you come with me to Port Royal?"

"Ye know I will, lass. Ain't nothin' I won't do fer ye an' Will – well, make tha' nearly nothin'."

"And you believe me right?" she asked frantically. "You believe that Will isn't insane, right?"

"Aye, lass, I do. Will ain't mad, tha much I can tell ye."

"Good! Then you can tell that to the doctor and they can set Will free."

Jack shook his head. "Not so simple, Mrs Turner. One, I'm a pirate an' my word means nuthin' to them landlubbers. Second, we hav' to pr've Will's sanity or no one will e'er believe him sane."

"But how are we going to prove his sanity?" asked Elizabeth vexed. "And why are you so certain he's not insane?"

"B'cus tha' dream ye told me 'bout is true."

"Pardon?"

"It did happ'ned. A long time ago, I snuck into Port Royal wi' Bootstrap Bill at me side, disg'ised as clergymen."

Elizabeth stared at him.

"An' Bill did get shot while escapin'."