James Norrington stood at the window of his office, staring out over the harbor. His fingers undid the buttons on his uniform coat before reaching down to take up the glass of whiskey again. Today was never a good day. Most of the year, it was bearable, but when this day hit every year, he saw her suffer. The pain in her eyes betrayed the smile she gave people when she assured them she was ok. She could barely look at her child, Will's child.

Has it really been seven years already since William was hung? The thought came out of nowhere, although it had been in his mind all day, pushed to his subconscious. There was something that still didn't settle right about it with him, and the events that followed. And as if to add to his burden, an attempt had been made on his life.

A month ago, on a night such as the one creeping up on the town now, he'd been on his way home when the carriage had been attacked. He'd been lucky to get away at all, considering his foot slipped and he had fallen down the slope in the midst of the fight, knocked out when his head hit a rock. His driver hadn't been as lucky. James couldn't put a finger on the physical description of the men, his memory of that day altered by the head injury he'd sustained. But one detail had stuck with him. It wasn't a random attack. They had been looking for him.

Setting the glass on the desk, he sat back down in his chair, bringing the candle closer so that he could see the papers he needed to work on. It was always the same, crimes that needed punishments, Navy deployments, announcements from the king. But his mind was not in it at all. Instead, his thoughts drifted in another direction, the story Elizabeth had told him a year later.

Elizabeth pulled another plate out of the soapy water, scrubbing off the leftover food before rinsing it off and placing it on the rack to dry. That being done, she pushed the buckets of water back from the edge of the counter. She'd have Will take them outside and dump them.

Walking along the hallway, she heard a soft sound issuing from Emma's room. She slowed down, sneaking to the doorway and peering in. The sight that greeted her made a smile appear as she leaned against the doorway.

Will sat in the rocking chair, their baby girl lying gently in his arms. His eyes were for her only, watching as she fought against sleep, her eyelids fluttering as she stared back up at him. He rocked slowly, singing an old hymn he remembered from his childhood.

"Guardian angels will protect thee. All through the night…." Emma let out a content sigh, burying herself in the blankets at the crook of his arm. He smiled, then looked up as Elizabeth entered.

"I got her to sleep." He said quietly, as she tiptoed over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking down.

"She's daddy's little girl." Elizabeth responded, then gently took Emma from his arms, carrying her to the cradle to sleep. He stood up, and as she laid the baby to sleep, he wrapped his arms around her waist. Standing up, she twisted so that she faced him, her arms around his neck.

"I love you, Elizabeth Turner."

"And I love you, William Tu…" She never got to finish the sentence as a loud crashing sound came from the kitchen. Emma's eyes fluttered open and a soft whimper came from her lips.

"Stay with her!" Will told her, heading out the door. He rushed to the kitchen, only to find five redcoats with their guns trained on him. "What's the meaning of th…" His arms were wrenched behind his back and manacled. "I demand to know…." He stopped, eyeing Gillette as he stepped from behind the men, coming into the house.

"William Turner, you have been charged with piracy. You'll be taken to…"

"You can't do this! I was granted clemency!"

"Which you paid no regard to!"

"I want to speak with Norrington! Where is he?"

"The Commodore is away at sea, but he will return in the early morning. As his lieutenant, I'm acting in his stead. Now, as I was saying before, you will spend the night in the jail, and your trial will take place in the afternoon." His attention was caught when Elizabeth came marching into the room, Emma wailing in her arms.

"I demand to know what this is!" She shouted, as she surveyed the scene. "Where are you taking my husband?"

"Your husband has been charged with piracy, Mrs. Turner."

"Piracy? Surely you must be joking. Who told you this?"

Gillette shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I must protect the witness." Her mouth hung open in shock as Will was dragged from the house. She still stood there long after, her daughter crying in her arms, and Elizabeth staring at the door.

I must protect the witness. That one phrase stood out in Norrington's mind. Something was very wrong. The day of the hanging, Will's body disappeared before it was ever cut down from the noose, the papers from the trial, the evidence, were all gone. He rubbed his eyes, feeling the start of a headache coming on.

He'd lobbied for the blacksmith, but he'd been overruled. Judge Matheson had told him bluntly that he was too close to the case, being friends with both Will and Elizabeth. Yet they still made him give the order.

He could see that it killed her everyday to think about him. She had willingly remarried him a year later, but she didn't hold the same love for him that she had for Will. Emma was like his own daughter, but the girl bore a very striking resemblance to that of Elizabeth's first husband. He knew that everywhere she turned, she saw him. His shadow would always be over James's head. Always. Which was why he couldn't tell her about his striking suspicions.

Deciding that attempting anymore work was useless, he started to get ready to leave. He reached forward to snuff the candle when it flickered, and went out. A chill wind blew through the room, as if the door to his office was open. Then he realized it was, when the cold metal of a pistol rested at the back of his neck.

"Get up." James lifted his hands carefully, standing up slowly as not to give the intruder any reason to shoot. The voice behind him struck a memory chord, a rough British accent. He couldn't place it though.

"What do you want?" He asked, staring straight ahead. The pistol came away from the back of his neck, but he could still feel it's presence as the intruder moved around him in the dark. A flick of a match, and the candle lit again, bathing the room in a golden glow.

James scrutinized the man standing before him, his face partially hidden by the brim of the tri cornered hat pulled low. He had to be a pirate. Dark pants and boots, a loose white shirt hidden under the over vest, and a long overcoat. Dark hair framed his face, a few dreadlocks here and there, and a slight goatee. The one distinguishing feature was the scar under his neck. Something tingled in the back of James's mind. That scar, it was important somehow, even if he'd never seen it before.

"Been a long time, James." The man spoke, then lifted the brim of his hat slightly, dark eyes boring into James's. He barely had time to react before he was thrown back into the chair, the pistol up under his chin.

"What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost." James was frozen in shock, staring up into the cold eyes of Will Turner.