Thanks to the readers and reviewers – I know that one was a bit short. But the good news is that since I wasn't sleeping last night, the story carries on apace… (and for those who like to see the cast as the author does - William, in my mind, is played by a slightly older Viggo Mortensen).


The only sound was of miniature waves sloshing against the side of the dinghy, bouncing endlessly between it and the Pearl.

Jack's expression froze, only his eyes moving to study the man he once knew so well. His voice purred quietly, never betraying his thoughts. "The governor of Port Royal killed your family? And how is that possible, friend?"

William Turner spat the words out. "I stayed in England long enough to find out what had happened to them." His voice suddenly brimmed with sarcasm. "It seems that the owner of the shop she was working in decided he was bored with city life. He sold off half of his property to buy himself a governorship at Port Royal… and he put my Bea on the street. I got it from one of her mates." The man stared at the side of the ship towering over them, rocking gently on the waves. "The poor woman couldn't stop crying when she told me."

The pirate frowned down at his hands, a thoughtful sadness darkening his eyes even more. "She was a good lass, William."

"She was." The older man turned to look him in the face abruptly. "She deserved better."

Jack said nothing. In a graceful movement he caught the rope dangling down the side of the ship and tied off the dinghy, but hesitated before climbing the ladder. He stood with one arm wrapped into the cords. "But the boy-"

"He ran away. They don't know what happened to him."

For the first time in an hour, gold sparkled through the overcast as Jack began climbing, a smile on his face. "Ah, but I do, mate. I do."

They were onboard in a matter of minutes, and Mr. Gibbs was walking over to report to the Captain when he realized who was with him. Stopping dead in his tracks, Gibbs jaw was hanging. "By the saints. Bootstrap." When he couldn't remember any reason that it was bad luck to let a formerly cursed man on deck, he laughed out loud and shook William's hand. "Welcome back to the living, Bill."

There was a hollow ring in Bootstrap's voice as he answered. "I'm not sure I am back. This curse-"

Jack interrupted them smoothly. "The crew of the Black Pearl has heard enough about curses for the time being, William. Mr. Gibbs, we'll catch a few hours of shuteye, and then we'll be wanting to eat. See that Cotton taps one of my kegs."

"For breakfast, Jack?"

Sparrow narrowed his eyes at his old friend with a slow grin. "You've been away too long, mate. You'll forget how to be a pirate."

They slept until a glass past noon, or at least William did. When he awoke to the strangely familiar rhythm of the Pearl, Jack had already left the cabin to check over his beloved ship. Some ancient part of Bootstrap Bill smiled in spite of himself. The captain never had a second thought about leaving a woman, but this ship… he shook his head and rolled out of the hammock Jack had rigged, finding his sea legs fast enough. Dressing quickly, he made his way up on deck, strolling to the rail and looking out over the sea.

For a moment his expression relaxed, and he was free, he was peaceful. The wind teased his long curls back and touched his face with spray, shining mist in the sun that had eventually broken through the morning's gray. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Behind him he heard the pilot call out a report. A woman.

"On course for Port Royal, Captain."

"Carry on."

"Aye."

Port Royal. Abruptly William's peaceful mood broke, and a darkness returned to his face.

Jack couldn't help but notice it as he moved to stand at the rail, but leaned quietly for a few minutes, listening to the sea and feeling his ship beneath his feet. A frown crossed his brow as he considered, then he turned to William quickly enough that his hair jingled softly. "I was going to surprise you, old friend. But perhaps it's best you know now." The older man turned warily toward his former captain.

"What's that?"

Jack stared into his eyes, broke into a broad smile. "Your whelp. He lives."

For a moment, the pirate watched as hope attempted to blossom in the man's eyes – a kind of stunned disbelief that faded before it had a chance to catch fire in his heart. "What?"

"Young William, your son. He lives."

The light faded farther, replaced by something darker, more malignant. "No."

Jack frowned. "I tell you he does."

"You're wrong."

This time Jack's frown was tinged with anger as much as surprise, but he tried to brush off the feeling. "Why would I lie? Especially about this?"

"You don't understand, Jack. The curse has its own inheritance. I know that now. None of the men who served Barbossa have any survivors."

Jack tossed his hands in the air in exasperation. "That bunch of scalawags? You have no way of knowing that."

"I think I do." William turned out to look at the water again, but his eyes weren't seeing. The captain was about to argue, but paused, watching. An ominous feeling gripped his stomach.

"Do you."

"Yes." William reached into the wrappings of his belt and pulled out a small leather-bound book. "Barbossa didn't know everything about the blood to be paid."

Jack's eyes focused on the book, then back at his old friend's face. One eyebrow lifted as for the first time, he wondered if being cursed for close to a decade could drive a man completely insane. If not eating, not sleeping, not feeling...could make a man to lose the ability to. He watched as William tapped the book against his hand, speaking urgently.

"This is everything I've learned about the curse of the Aztec gold."

"William…"

"It puts the need for revenge in your blood. If there's any that you've not taken revenge on before you die, the curse will return. Blood needs blood."

The pirate stared at the hollow sound, shook his head. "How?"

"You don't die at the end of your days. You just go back…back to the way you were. Forever."

There was a manic light in the older man's eyes that made Jack more than uneasy. "And this is why you have to kill Swann?"

"You know him?" Turner's eyes flared with hate.

Jack answered cautiously. "I've heard of him."

"He'll be dead soon enough."

The statement fell bleakly across the sun-warmed deck, and Jack considered calling for more canvas as the wind freshened, wondering if hurrying back was such a good idea. He stepped closer to his old friend and spoke softly, reasonably. "William. Is it possible you've become a bit… I don't know… obsessed with the idea of the curse?"

"You don't know, boy. You don't know."

Backing off a bit, Sparrow nodded, quiet once more. William Turner had helped him through some growing up when he was little more than a lad himself, but hadn't talked down to him since he became captain of the Pearl. Angry he might have been, frustrated or disagreeable in the heat of a moment, but never insubordinate. He always had too much respect for the traditions of the sea, for the honor of the title captain. That was what made Barbossa's mutiny so impossible for him. Jack Sparrow would have had to do something truly horrible, something dishonorable to the code for William Turner to even consider going against a man he'd sworn loyalty to.

If there was a better indication that something was seriously wrong with his friend, Jack was afraid to see it. Realizing that Anamaria was currently at the wheel some yards astern, and likely hearing everything, he spoke more formally. "Perhaps you'll feel differently when you see your son."

Again, the brief hope flared and died. "My son is dead."

Jack tried a laugh. "Then who is the man I met?"

"He's an impostor. That's all."

"And why –" Jack stopped, shook his head. His eyes were darker than usual as he turned, walked back toward the helm. "I'll take her, Anamaria."

"Aye, Captain. Nor' by nor'east."

"Nor' nor'east. Aye." Jack waited until his keen-eared pilot was farther off. "We'll see, William."

The man turned on him angrily. "Don't change course from Port Royal. That's where I need to go. I don't need any wild goose chase after some lying mirage."

Jack eyed him warily. "Oddly enough, old man, I wasn't changing a thing. Port Royal is where the boy is."

Maybe he can talk some sense into you.