Disclaimer: See others.

*Correction to Chapter 22*: Since ff.net will NOT let me re-upload Chapter 22 in the proper format, I'll correct it here. Thank you to my reviewers who realized that it should have been Anamaria, not Elizabeth, who gestured to William Turner at her side. Thanks guys for being so observant!!

A/N: So I warrant that a great deal of ye are confused. That's a good thing. I'm sadistic in the fashion that I like to seriously confuse my readers. So if you're confused, I'm doing my job.

Sorry once again for the 42098432098432098 weeks you had to wait for me to update. Applying to colleges still sucks. Trust me.

Here you go, ladies and lads…chapter 23.

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Pirates of the Caribbean: The Winds of Change Crewman, Father, and Long-Lost Friend

________

It was admittedly one of the few times in his fairly experienced life that Norrington was completely confused.

He stood frowning, the crew of the 'Victoria Anne' standing behind him, all apparently as shell-shocked as he was. Well, perhaps shell-shocked was not the word – utterly dumbfounded was much more appropriate.

William Turner? But William Turner was…there. Norrington shifted his gaze to look at the young Turner, his eyes slightly narrowing. The boy stood transfixed, an unsure and slightly befuddled expression over his handsome features. Well, now there were two options: one, that there just happened to be another William Turner, as neither name were exhaustingly unique. But the possibility that most stuck in his mind was option number two: this woman had consumed way too much rum.

His logical mind easily accepting that answer, he straightened his back and put on a triumphant yet slightly inquisitive face. He looked from the man they called Barbossa to Jack, then to Elizabeth. But as soon as his gaze rested upon her his eyes shot quickly back to Jack's face. By the look of it, Norrington's logic had, for once, completely failed him.

Jack stood with his mouth slightly agape, eyes wide and piercing. Norrington noticed his right leg twitched somewhat nervously as he stood limply, as if in a trance, bothered by nothing but the man who was William Turner. His arms hung at his sides and he leaned slightly forward, as if trying to get a better glimpse at the man. Norrington turned toward Elizabeth, who looked as though she had just experienced something slightly short of a deistic revelation. Gibbs looked as if he had swallowed sour milk and had simultaneously been hit very hard in the face with a very heavy object.

But it wasn't until his eyes reached Barbossa that he knew something was amiss. The pirate looked as if he had just seen a ghost; a very gory ghost, as his face had apparently been drained of all of the 'blood' left in it. His mouth was hanging lower than Jack's was, and Norrington was almost concerned that his jaw would unhinge itself if it dropped any lower. He still held on to Elizabeth, but his hand clutching the knife now rested considerably lower and much further away from her neck. The commodore concluded, by these reactions, that this man was much more than some common outlaw with a fairly common name.

"Bootstrap…?"

It was Gibbs who had spoken. William Turner nodded as his grin grew wider. He brushed back his light brown hair winked once.

That was all it took.

Norrington knew it now.

William Turner was Will Turner's father.

How could he have missed it? They looked exactly alike, almost to the point of being unnerving. Same color hair, same color eyes, same smile, same boyish face, same stance…

"…you're dead." Norrington turned to look at Jack who had spoken, whose face was now a completely blank slate. It was as if all emotion had been drained from it.

'Bootstrap' looked at Jack inquisitively. "I always thought you were smarter than that," he commented. Norrington wasn't sure if the man was joking or not.

The woman pirate cleared her throat, still holding out the coin in the palm of her hand, a twinkle of victory in her eyes. "I hear tell you were looking for this, Barbossa," she announced grandly.

Barbossa said nothing. Instead, he clutched Elizabeth closer and seemed to regain his composure. He put the knife to her slightly bleeding throat and sneered. "What if I am?"

"Then I suggest you find a way to get it. Because without 'er," she held up the coin even higher, "you ain't comin' back to life, ye good for nothin' prat."

Barbossa let out a muffled cry of rage as he stared viciously at the woman. For a few moments, it was completely silent. Then: "GET THEM!"

In the chaos that ensued shortly after his words, Norrington felt himself being knocked to the ground by a very burly pirate. He contacted the ground hard but immediately shoved himself back on to his feet. His hands tied in front of him, the commodore had an advantage. His balance was still superb and he nimbly bypassed the whirl of yelling, shoving, and hastily moving pirates to the corner of the cave.

I need something sharp, he thought to himself. As if the spirits had answered his calls, a dagger that flew by crept within an inch of his face and contacted the stone at his feet with a loud metallic clang. Norrington knelt down by the blade, picked it up, turned it towards himself, and began to slowly saw himself free of the restraining ropes. This will take a decade, he thought glumly as he sawed frantically, looking around. He was well-hidden behind several large boulders, but he could see the chaos that was taking place from hole in between two of them. He heard outraged cries, swords being drawn, pistols being shot. But the bastards can't die, he thought, rolling his eyes. How I got myself mixed up with pirates in the first place…

Finally, he was down to the last two restraining ropes. His wrists were now raw and bleeding, his fingers becoming numb with the monotonous motion of the sawing. He panted slightly and sawed even more enthusiastically, annoyed and agitated with the time-consuming task. It was only after a loud gunshot was shot and triumphant cheers were sounded that Norrington hastily looked up. At the sight, he nearly groaned.

The pirates had restrained all of them once more. Each was being held by a pirate on the upper arms, and Norrington noticed Bootstrap was being gagged by a piece of cloth. He edged closer to the peephole until his left eye was resting upon the stone itself. His breath sounded heavy and loud to his ears, but he was able to make out the voices of the other party.

"…wonder how ye are alive," Barbossa asked rather inquisitively, his hands folded on his chest. He was addressing Bootstrap who sporadically struggled against the gag and the restraining hands that held to him.

"He ain't gonna be able to answer ye, Barbossa, with a piece of rag stuck in his mouth," shot the woman pirate. She spat at his shoes. "I woulda thought you ain't that idiotic."

Barbossa sneered and inched closer to the female pirate. He suddenly reached down her shirt, and Norrington saw Bootstrap and Jack struggle and give cries of outrage; strangely, the woman didn't move. Barbossa removed his hand from her shirt to reveal a shining, gold coin. Norrington was nauseated at the pleased and triumphant smile creeping its way across the pirate's face. "Ahhh…the touch of a woman. Always yields such priceless jewels," he commented as his crew snickered and gestured obscenely. He turned from the woman to Bootstrap, and held up the coin a few inches from his face. "You aren't dead…but ye will be soon enough," he commented so softly that Norrington could only hear him due to the cavernous echoing of his voice. "Well lads," he said in a much louder voice, "looks like we'll be killin' two men this here day." Racous cheers followed his words, but the voice of Bootstrap carried over it as he shouted, "TWO?"

Barbossa eyed Bootstrap for a few moments and responded, "Aye, two. You and that little boy of yourn."

The transformation in Bootstrap's face was amazing; it was even apparent to Norrington who was approximately one hundred feet away from the group. The older man's face slackened as his eyes traveled towards his son. They rested upon him a few moments, and in that short amount of time, the commodore could almost feel Bootstrap's feelings of regret and sadness permeate his lungs. The older man cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from his child. "Leave him out of this," he said raspily, inclining his head slightly.

Barbossa laughed. "Sorry, mate, I'd rather end your bloodline here. But I'll kill the boy first, just to make what's left of you suffer as much as I can before I end that pointless life of yourn." He walked over to the chest and opened it to reveal a shining pile of golden coins. He turned back and motioned for Bootstrap and Will to be brought forward. He removed a dagger with a golden blade and considerably jagged edges.

"Don't ye have to use me blood?" the female pirate yelled, restrained by two burly men. Barbossa shook his head. "Different rules for different times, lass. The gods want Turner blood for keepin' the first missin' coin away for so long. And I intend on a-usin' both of them, just for assured safety," he added, smirking.

Damn it all, he thought angrily, racking his memory for any plan he could think of. NOW what? He looked around frantically, but a slight movement caught his eye. The once-stagnant form of Dolan was now stirring slightly. A small token-pouch had opened slightly at Dolan's hip as his stirred, spraying small gold coins across some of the floor. The commodore noticed his chest was slightly rising, one of his hands moving from side to side upon the ground. Dolan was alive.

Which is reassuring, to be sure, he thought. But how does that help our pretty situation? Norrington studied Dolan for a few more moments before his heart lept to his throat.

He had an idea.

~*~

There is something fundamentally wrong with what I am doing.

A strange sensation overcame Will and he leaned over the chest full of gold. He narrowed his eyes and thought, What the hell am I doing?

Barbossa's going to slit yer throat, mate, and all will be well, came a raspy response.

Pardon me, but there is nothing "well" about ANYONE slitting my throat, he argued back. But at the same moment the other voice was so much stronger, so much more trust worthy, so calm and encouraging…

Just stay still for a few more seconds, Will, and all will be well…

But this is uncomfortable, he thought thickly.

Just a few more seconds…

The glare of the gold in the chest was enticing, if not somewhat amusing to look at. Since he was bent over the gold, he studied the hundreds of coins before him. He memorized their markings, the insignias, the skull and crossbones…

Skull and crossbones…

Pirate…

Jack Sparrow…

Elizabeth…

Gold…

"NO!" he screamed.

In a torrent of memory, it all came rushing back to him. Barbossa, Elizabet, The Black Pearl, Jack, Gibbs…all of it erupted like an active volcano in his mind, spilling fruitful memories across his brain again. He remembered everything.

Will abruptly stood up and whirled around. His hands were not tied, nor was he being restrained by anyone. In actuality, the small posse looked thoroughly surprised at his outburst, and all stood back from him. He took this moment to bound away from the chest towards Elizabeth.

"SEIZE HIM!"

Countless hands were upon him before he could reach his wife. He let out a disgruntled cry and struggled to the best of his ability. But the many strong hands of the crew outweighed his strength as they shoved him forward once more towards the chest of gold. Barbossa approached him, fury etched in every wrinkle of his old face. "Come here, Turner," he spat, shoving him towards the tokens. In an act of spontaneity, Will whirled around and punched Barbossa squarely in the jaw. The pirate staggered but regained himself, and before Will had a chance to duck, the pirate struck back.

Warm blood rushed through his mouth and he spit out two back teeth, a roaring sound engulfing his ears. He staggered and fell to the ground, disoriented and in extreme pain. After rolling around useless for a few moments, he was able to haul himself up on to all fours, coughing feebly and spitting blood upon the sandy earth. He felt Barbossa kick him in the stomach and he rolled over onto his back, gasping for breath, grimacing in agony, the loud roaring sound blocking out all other noises. Will closed his eyes against the bright stars forming before his eyes as he lay there, useless, sputtering and wincing in pain.

"You're missing one, did you know?"

An oddly familiar voice filled Will's ears, and the loud roar faded. Curiosity overrode his pain as he opened his left eye and glanced to his right. He saw Norrington, his arms free, holding up one of the gold tokens, smiling gallantly. "You'll be needing this, won't you?"

"Give it here, lad," Barbossa said calmly, as if he were trying to soothe a rabid dog. "I ain't going to hurt no one if ye just give it here."

Will, who suddenly felt a wave of nausea spill over him, closed his left eye and took a deep breath, keeping himself steady, wondering if Norrington had gone mad as well. He heard the commodore laugh. "Brilliant try, master pirate, but I'm afraid it just doesn't do."

Will forced both of his eyes open this time and strained to see past the bright splotches of light obscuring his vision. He saw Norrington retrieve a pistol from his belt and hold it up. The momentary silence that followed this action was interrupted by Barbossa's husky laughter. "We can't die, commodore," chuckled the pirate conceitedly. "That pistol is useless, mate."

"I'm afraid it isn't…mate," he added sharply. Will saw him raise the pistol directly in the air, and fire it up into the ceiling of the cave.

He's daft, Will thought angrily. Norrington was practically their only way out of this mess…

Norrington fired again. And again. And again. All up at the ceiling. He didn't take aim once. He just stared at them intently, as if waiting for a sudden, catastrophic event…

Bloody hell…

Realization struck Will like a sledgehammer and he struggled to sit up, but his head pounded and his jaw ached so painfully that he wasn't oriented enough to bring himself to a complete stand. Nausea swept over him again as he knelt, his face in his hands, trying desperately to recover himself in time to warn the others what Norrington was planning.

A sudden, ominous rumbling made Will's stomach turn over. It grew steadily louder, and Will, ignoring the innate urge to heave and collapse, pushed himself to his feet and ran towards Elizabeth. He noticed her surprised look as he grabbed her hand and ran like hell, the hardest and fastest he had ever run in his life. His legs burned, his jaw throbbed, and his head turned with dizziness, but Will focused entirely upon the exit of the cavern. He felt Elizabeth stumble and fall, but he heaved her up quickly, nearly dragging her. There was no time to spare.

After what seemed like eternity, they reached the exit of the cavernous room in the cave. He threw Elizabeth out in front of him, yelled a groggy, "DON'T MOVE!" and turned around to head back into the cave to retrieve Jack and the rest of his companions. He sprinted in, squinting against the small bits of rock that were starting to descend upon them.

"She's going to cave in!" came a desperate cry to his left. Will couldn't help but roll his eyes in exasperation…the lad was a bit slow to just jump to that conclusion.

He stopped and frantically searched the area for Jack. He found him sprinting towards the exit, carrying Anamaria in his arms. Will noticed a rather large bump forming over her right eye. How did Anamaria get here? She's dead! he thought. Shaking that from his mind and turning his attention to more important matters, he refocused his gaze upon Jack. "JACK!" he yelled, running after him and momentarily collapsing as a wave of pain engulfed his jaw again. He shook his head as he knelt upon the ground and suddenly felt himself being pulled up by a man he did not know. The man shouted, "RUN, DAMN IT, RUN!" Will felt the man forcing him forward, practically being pushed across the cavern by the stranger. He turned around and saw the entire crew of the 'Victoria Anne' running behind him, Jack carrying Anamaria, Gibbs running next to Norrington, who carried a man over his shoulder. Will tripped again and cried out in pain as his jaw contacted the hard earth. But, once again, he was pulled up by the stranger and dragged forward by the scruff of his neck. The pain in his face was so intense that Will felt as though he were going to vomit or faint…or both. But the man kept dragging him by his collar until they were out of the cavern.

"Will!" He felt Elizabeth cradle him in her arms, but he did not respond for fear of vomiting. He struggled to sit up, however, to see if the others had successfully followed. The 'Victoria Anne' crew was all there, and Jack soon appeared, and he carefully placed Anamaria's unconscious form upon the ground. Gibbs heaved himself through and fell to the ground, panting. Norrington was approaching, carrying the man. The commodore stretched out his hands and shoved the unconscious man into Jack's arms, screaming, "TAKE HIM!"

At that moment, all went black as rocks fell.

Elizabeth screamed and Will flung himself over her, covering her body and his head with his hands and arms. He winced as several fairly large rocks hit him on his back and legs, but prayed silently that nothing bigger would make contact with him or his wife. He could hear muffled shouts of dismay and pain, but soon the scraping and falling of the rocks grew so loud Will was sure he would go deaf. Minute after minute passed, and Will expected a sudden blow, an exceedingly heavy rock to fall upon him…but such never happened. Slowly but surely the rocks stopped falling until all that was left was the soft trickling of small pebbles.

Will opened his mouth and coughed, tasting the thick, grimy sand that now permeated the air. It was so thick that he could barely make out silhouettes of his companions surrounding him. He coughed and gagged until the air cleared and he could breathe. "Elizabeth…are you ok?"

"F-fine," she responded. Will rolled off of her and looked at her. She had small cuts and bruises over her forearms and cheeks, and she was completely covered in dust, but other than that, to his relief, she looked fine. Will smiled and hauled himself to his feet, using Elizabeth and the surrounding rock walls as support. He studied his surroundings and saw the crew of the 'Victoria Anne' was fine, if not a little beaten up. Gibbs' shirt and pants were torn, but he had sustained no injuries. Anamaria lay groaning quietly as Jack knelt over her. She looked quite normal, aside from the huge bump that had formed on her head, but Jack had huge gashes and bruises all over his body; his shirt was soaked in blood on the right arm, and his pants were torn at the knee, where another gash had formed. Dolan lay next to the crouching form of Jack, being tended to by the stranger Will had never seen before. But Norrington…

"Where's Norrington?" he asked, his words slurred and his voice raspy. He cleared his throat and repeated himself. "Where's Norrington?"

A few people looked to him, others whispered to each other. Will looked around the cavern in a slight panic, but he could find the commodore nowhere.

"Where is he? Where's the commodore?" he asked, nearly yelling. His eyes swept his companions again for the sign of the regal soldier, but once again, his search yielded nothing. He began to physically search, pushing over rocks and shoving aside mounds of pebbles in search of him. His mind reeled and his heart pounded…where was he?

"Stop, lad…STOP." A hand grasped his shoulder and he turned around to face Gibbs. "Norrington's dead."

The statement simply did not register with Will. "But where is he? I saw him! He must be here somewhere…" Will protested as he turned around to search some more. But Gibbs' grasp had grown tighter.

"He's not here, Will. He was buried by the rocks as soon as he shoved Dolan to Jack…I saw it, mate," he said quietly.

He's dead…and it's my fault.

I let the curse take control of me.  

I was the one who led everyone here.

He was the one who saved our lives.

And he's the one that's dead.

All because of me.

Will let out a gasp-filled cry of someone who had learned too much too fast. He reached for the nearest cave wall to steady himself, and he felt himself slide down it until he sat with his legs flung out in front of him, his back resting against the jagged edge of the wall. For a few moments, he simply shook his head, only vaguely aware of Elizabeth comforting him, kissing him gently on the face and squeezing tightly onto his hand. But then the heavy realization sat in, feeling as though someone had stabbed him through the chest with a sharp dagger: Norrington was dead.

And it was his entire fault. 

~*~

Special thanks to Eryn of Lasgalen for her exceedingly funny and entertaining review. Love ya, mellonin.