Alex Smith was setting the table while his older brother Thomas stirred the soup on top of the stove. Their big sister would be home from work anytime soon, and they wanted to have dinner ready for her. She was always so tired, and since she did it for them, they thought it would be nice to help her. Thomas leaned forward, looking at the concoction in the pot, stirring it.

"I think it looks ok." He muttered, looking down upon the murky liquid that was suppoused to look like chicken soup. Alex got underneath his arm, peering in as well.

"It looks kind of gross." Alex said, cocking his head. "Like the wash water after Estrella gets done with the clothes." Thomas gently cuffed Alex in the head.

"I'd like to see you do better." He teased. They both turned as they heard the door open, watching as it slammed into the wall. Estrella came through, dragging a man who looked badly injured. Alex's eyes traveled down, seeing the bright red bloodstain underneath his open coat and vest. Thomas got down off the stool, going to his sister.

"Estrella..." He pointed at the man. "Who is that?" Estrella shook her head, tired from having to lug the man's deadweight to the house. She blew a dark curl out of her face. Luckily, he didn't weigh all that much or she wouldn't have been able to bring him this far.

"Thomas, get me some hot water and rags, a candle and one of the knives. Alex, I need my sewing kit." She told them, dragging the man into the backroom, laying him on a cot. He'd gotten worse between the time she'd found him, and now. Grabbing his arm, she rolled him slightly, trying to tug off his coat. He murmured something, reminding her of a man fallen to fever. Sweat glistened on his face, yet he was cold to the touch, and was barely cognizant of anything around him.

Alex and Thomas came in as soon as she had gotten the coat off, throwing it on the floor. Estrella looked to them. "I'm going to need some help, ok..." She trailed off, seeing the weapons revealed. A brace of pistols, as well as a sword, and she could see just the slightest hint of a dagger sheath beneath him, attached to the back of his belt.

Thomas's eyes grew larger, and he pointed. "'Ella, look!" He said. She turned towards him, frowning. The boy went past her, grabbing the man's limp arm that hung over the side of the cot, holding it up. A gasp escaped her as she stared at the 'P' branded into his skin. She'd brought home a pirate. But even that couldn't change her mind, her good naturdness not allowing her to let him suffer for what he was. She stepped forward, unbuckling his belt and pulling it out from beneath him.

"Thomas, go hide these. Hide them well." She told him, sending him off. Alex stood by the doorway, a mix of fear and curiosity on his face. Estrella motioned to him. "Bring the candle here so that I can see what I'm doing." The little boy nodded, coming closer. The candle lit up the corner, chasing the shadows away, and Estrella had her second shock of the night. In the dark of the night, she hadn't been able to clearly see the facial features of either man, but now that she could, she was shocked. Alex looked over at her.

"What is it?" She shook her head, unable to speak. William Turner was dead. She'd been at the hanging, and had comforted Elizabeth many a lonely night up at the mansion when she was working. But yet, here he lay before her, standing on the brink of death.

"It's nothing, Alex. Hand me that knife." He did as he was told, and she ran it through the flame, to sanitize it. "I want you to close your eyes now, ok?" When he had done so, she placed the tip of the blade on the pirate's stomach, drawing it down just a tiny bit, to better extract the bullet from his side. The smell of burned skin came to her, and she fought not to gag. With two fingers, she dug into the hole. His back arched, mouth opening in a silent cry of pain, and she felt bad, but it was the only way to get the pistol shot out. After a few seconds, she dropped it on the bedside table. "Bring me the kit." She told Thomas, who had returned from hiding the weaponry. He brought if forward tenativly.

"El...Elizabeth..." Estrella looked over at the pirate, and she knew. Somehow Will Turner had escaped fate and returned to Port Royal. She bit her lip, watching him for a moment, before pulling a needle and some coarse thread out of the basket. Threading it, she stood over him for a moment, before slowly sliding it into his skin. He let out another pained grunt, and she winced. He was still concious enough to feel pain, but there was nothing she could do. She finished stitching the wound up, taking a wet washcloth and wiping away the copious amounts of blood on his stomach. No matter what she did, the wound still leaked blood.

"Alex, go get me some bandages." She said, taking the candle from him, looking down over Will. Thomas stood beside her. "Is he going to be ok?" He asked quietly. Estrella shrugged slowly.

"I don't know." Her mind was full of thoughts. Elizabeth was still grieving for Will, and this could help her, but there was still Norrington. And then there was the problem of if she even wanted to tell her. What if the man who woke up was not the same blacksmith she had known?

Alex tapped her leg, holding the bandages up to her. She took them, slowly kneeling again. With the help of her two brothers, she managed to bandage his stomach enough to cover the bloody stitching. Clapping her hands, she turned to her brothers.

"Why don't we go out to the kitchen now?" She said, trying to sound lighthearted. The two boys slowly nodded, and she shooed them out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The streets of Tortuga were crowded and chaotic, as usual, but something seemed...off...about them. Will stood near the entrance to the tavern, hands in the pockets of his coat, waiting. He wasn't sure who for, or for what, but he knew he had to wait. A few minutes later, his patience was rewarded.

"Ye look a little lost, lad." The familiar voice behind him jarred him to his soul, and he whirled around, to come face to face with Jack Sparrow, his eyes twinkling mischeviously.

"Jack...I thought you were....."

"Dead?" The pirate captain motioned for him to start walking. "Aye, I'm still dead." He made a face. "Not a lot of fun, really." Will's face fell.

"This means I'm dead too." He said quietly. He'd failed James, he'd failed
Elizabeth, he'd failed Emma. He swore, feeling the need to hit something.

"Not dead, or atleast, not in the technical sense. I'd say that in the mind aspect, yer pretty much..." He made the motion of slicing a finger across his throat.

"So I've been told..." Will replied, deadpan. "What is this?"

"Yer standin' on the brink of death here, Will. And it all depends on if yer goin' to keep fightin', or if yer goin' to fall." He crossed his arms.

"When did you get so philosophical?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jack smirked. "When this became yer dream, lad." He waved a hand. "None of this is real, except me." He pointed to himself. "Listen to me, it's not yer time yet. Don't give up just because yer discouraged with yer life at the moment. Ye still have a lot to give, and if ye leave the mortal coil this soon...who knows...." He shrugged. Will stared at him.

"Now I know I'm dreaming when Jack's actually trying to be encouraging." He said. Jack rolled his eyes.

"Look, mate, ye still love her, and if ye leave, then she and Emma have no one."

"They have..."

"No, they don't." Will looked shocked, guilt creeping up on him, as well as shock. Emotions that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years surfaced.

"What? Did they...."

"Got him too. Ye have to stop this madness, William. Ye know what's goin' on, and it will just keep happenin'..." Will shut his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yer still a good man. Just think about that." Will shook his head.

"Jack, I'm not..."
When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Pain shot up his side, which felt very tight, and he moved hand down to feel the banages, and the bumpy stitches beneath. Memories of right before he blacked out came back to him. One minute, James had been telling him to get up, and then the next...

He shut his eyes again. "I'm so sorry..." He whispered into the darkness.

"For what?" He started at the voice, not knowing there was another person in the room.

"Hello?" He caught a shadowy figure move out of the seat across the room, and move into the candlelight. "Estrella?"

She looked down at him, her face a mix of emotions, arms crossed. "William." She said simply, staring at him.

"Long time, no see." He tried weakly, trying to sit up. She came over, putting her hands on his shoulders and pushing him backdown.

"Don't move. It'll make the stitches pull." She said, as he laid back down.

"But...but I have to...James...." Estrella looked away.

"He's dead." She said softly, looking back at him. "Like you're suppoused to be."

He looked up at her for a moment, before fixing his gaze on the wall. "I was, but then...it's a long story." He looked back towards her. "I need to talk to Elizabeth. She's in danger."

"I don't think now would be the best time." Estrella told him, standing up. "Mrs. Norrington's broken up with grief, it just being after the commodore's death and all." Will rand a hand over his face.

"How long have I been out?" He muttered.

"Three days. It was touch and go there, for a while. Didn't think you would make it." He shut his eyes, feeling the pain abate as he laid still. His mind was racing. All the pieces to the puzzle where there, but he had to make them fit somehow, and then the answer would be right there for him.

"Why didn't you turn me in?" He asked finally. She looked down at her hands, playing with the hem of her apron.

"Because, sir, you may be a pirate, but you're a good man too. You were always kind to me and my brothers." She smiled. "I wanted to thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~


Elizabeth stared out the window of the sprawling mansion, her eyes fixed on a place far away, anywhere but where she was then. She'd lost Will all those years ago, and now she'd lost James. He'd just been shot down in the middle of the street. Part of her wanted to think he'd gotten what he deserved, for killing her father, but another part of her told her that wasn't so, that he'd been innocent. Her mind kept flashing back to that night, the way she'd found him, the blood, and the pirate who had been there as well. He'd seemed so familiar, despite the face that she hadn't seen his face.

At her feet, Emma scribbled on the paper Elizabeth had given her, quiet. She'd been like that ever since Gillette had come to the mansion to bring them the news. She frowned. There was something off putting about the man, the way he was insisting he stay around, to make sure she was ok. There were guards in her house, and the possibility that someone would target her and Emma next. A stray tear slipped down her face, and she brushed it away. Why was this happening to them? So much death around them. Why? She couldn't find the answers, no matter how hard she looked. They weren't coincidences.

Emma got up, tugging on her arm and laying the picture on the arm of the chair. Elizabeth shifted around, laying the book she had tried to read on the arm of the chair as well, pulling Emma over to her, wrapping her arms around her waist as they both gazed down at the picture. "What did you draw?" She asked sweetly. Emma pointed at the picture, two stick figures drawn on the paper.

"This one is daddy." She said, pointing to the figure that looked like it had a white cloud sitting on his head. She smiled slightly. Emma pointed to the other stick figure, the one that had a little goatee. "And this one is Will." Elizabeth froze.

"What?" Emma turned to face her.

"Will. Daddy brought him to stay in one of the guest rooms upstairs for the night, the night grandpa died." She gazed up at her mother. "He was a pirate, and he looked just like the man in my favorite story." Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand, tears springing to his face.

"He did?" Emma nodded. "He was really nice and told me some funny stories about a pirate named Jack too." Elizabeth could barely keep from breaking down right there and then. What was going on? It couldn't be him. She'd seen him hang. She'd heard them pronounce him dead. It couldn't be...

She looked up as Estrella slipped into the room, looking nervous. She twisted the hem of her apron in her hands, looking down at the floor.

"Mrs...I have to tell you...."

"He's alive, isn't he?" Elizabeth stood up, setting Emma into the chair and walking over to the other woman, leaning in close. "Will is alive, isn't he?" Estrella looked up in shock.

"How did you...." She was interrupted when the door swung open, and Gillette walked in, arms behind his back.

"Ah, Elizabeth. I've been looking for you all over." He smiled. "Dinner has been served downstairs. Emma's has been sent to her room with the nurse." Elizabeth's fist clenched. James had not been dead two days yet, and this man already seemed to be moving in on her.

"I'll be right there." She said curtly. Gillette looked to Estrella.

"Don't you have work to be doing?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. The maid nodded, her cheeks flushing red. As she went to leave, Elizabeth grabbed her hand, squeezing it quickly in signal. Meet me later. Estrella disappeared out the door, as Gillette offered her his arm.

"Shall we?"