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Dedicated to the men that died at Pearl Harbor

I Will Always Remember

It's funny, really, on what a single memory can do to you.

When I was just a lad in England, I remember walking down a street. At the corner was a beggar. Boys bigger than me, around thirteen or fourteen years of age, were throwing rocks at him and taunting him. I was scared because I feared that if I tried to stop them, they would beat me because I was smaller.

I felt sorry for the beggar. I remember staring straight into his eyes, pleading for him to forgive me for not helping him – my mother had always taught me that improving someone else's life would do nothing but improve my own, as well. The beggar gave a slight nod in my direction, barely detectable, and I remember, just as a large rock hit him in the head, that he looked right at the leader of the gang and clearly said, "You may slay pirates, donate money to shelters, save someone's life, and do what you call everyone else a favor by getting rid of someone like me, but in the end, it's not how you live but how you die that counts."

I never forgot that beggar – his words, his understanding, and his bruised and mangled body that I found in a gutter two days later.

That's why I hated pirates. I always thought that they were just like those boys – hurting people who were kinder than they were (well, usually).

I went along like this – until I met Captain Jack Sparrow.

I knew that one day, Jack would probably be caught, and I always thought it would always be a day away. But no, one day, it was really, truly the day that Jack would be caught for good. The worst part? It was in Port Royal. Damn Norrington and his men. Wait, scratch that. If it didn't happen right before my eyes, I don't think I'd've ever believed it. After all, by then I had this childish belief that Jack couldn't die, even if he didn't have a piece of Aztec gold. He just didn't seem the kind of person that died.

I remember the day he was hung very clearly. It had been just after Jack had visited. He had snuck out the back way, as usual. It had only been the fifteen minutes later when Norrington strode up the drive. He didn't know about Jack's little visits, thankfully.

Jack, Michael, Joseph, and Lily, my children (Jack was thirteen, Michael was eleven, Joseph was ten, and Lily was eight) were playing out the story Jack had just finished telling them, when he killed Barbossa and undid the Aztec curse. Jack was, of course, his namesake, Michael was Barbossa, and Joseph and Lily were me and Elizabeth fighting off three other pirates (played by rag dolls; the swords were the wooden woods I made for each of them, the bullets at the end of the toy pistols were corks that were attached with string, and the chest of gold was their toy chest).

I remembered the knock, and the man servant answering the door. I remember James Norrington's face, grave and edgy, looking as if he was about to do something he really didn't want to. He and I had become friends after the adventure – he even helped me build my house once I'd saved up enough money. That was why Michael's middle name was James.

"Will," he had said. "I-I have some serious news for you and Elizabeth and your children."

"What is it?" I asked, curious by what could make James react like that.

"Will, who is it?" asked Elizabeth. She saw James. "Oh, Commodore, it's so good to see you! Please, come in."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Turner," said James. "I mustn't stay. I just thought that I'd drop by to tell you that…" He paused.

"What is it?" I asked once again.

"Jack Sparrow has finally been caught," Norrington said, his face slightly proud.

"What?" said Elizabeth. My breath caught in my throat. "Jack has been – caught?"

"Yes," said Norrington. His face was no longer so proud at seeing Elizabeth's grief stricken face. "He will be hanged tomorrow afternoon."

"But James," said Elizabeth pleadingly. "I mean, Commodore, surely you can do something --"

"No, Mrs. Turner," said Norrington heavily. "I'm bound by the law. I can't do anything for Mr. Sparrow."

"Captain," I automatically said. "Captain Sparrow."

Just then, there was a squeal and then a sob. I turned and saw my eight-year-old Lily crying. Joseph was patting her arm, trying to suppress a sniffle and wiping his eyes. And Jack and Michael were just standing there, their eyes wide and mouths open.

"Thank you," I managed to say. "Thank you a bunch for-for telling us." Norrington nodded. He stayed silent for a moment, then spoke.

"I'm sorry, Will," he said. "I truly am. But Captain Sparrow has been seen on many occasions doing acts of piracy. I wish I could pardon him, but I cannot. There are too many witnesses. Please try to understand." I nodded. I understood. Norrington was a man of his word. If he could've done something, he would've done it. But he wouldn't give up his career just for a pirate, and not just any pirate. Captain Jack Sparrow, the one person who was just as much of a symbol for piracy as the skull and crossbones are.

"Its okay, James," I said. "You have a job, and a career to keep. I understand that." Norrington let a brief smile, bowed slightly to Elizabeth, and said, "Good day." I can still see his retreating back as he left down the drive.

"Can you believe it, Will?" asked Elizabeth, raising her watery eyes to look into my dark ones. "Jack is finally caught."

"Daddy, I don't want Uncle Jack to die!" wailed Lily, running into my arms. "C-can't you do s- something?"

"I'm afraid not, Lily," I said, my heart breaking as I stroked her dark hair, so much like mine. "Uncle Jack might be gone, but he'll always be in your heart."

"Really?" asked Lily, looking into my eyes with her identical ones.

"Really," said Elizabeth, bending down and looking her in the eyes.

"And besides, he'll go to hell. I heard there's a bunch of rum there, so he'll probably be happy," said Jack, trying to make a joke. He cracked a wry grin.

"Shut up, Jack," snarled Michael. "You're not funny." Lily burst into fresh sobs and ran from the room. The other three followed, but before Jack did he turned to me and gave a look that said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of them."

I remember later that night, in my bed with my arm around Elizabeth. I could barely sleep at all, and whenever I did, I had dreams of Jack hanging in the cliffs, lifeless, a noose around his neck, his trademark grin on his face. Then he would raise his head, alive, and would say, "Remember, mate, it's Captain Jack Sparrow."

I suppose that staying up the rest of the night was a good thing. Around three hours after I went to bed, Jack, Michael, Joseph, and Lily came in. They spent the rest of the night in my and Elizabeth's arms, sobbing, crying, sniffling, and (in Jack's case) comforting. He was trying to be the big brother, the strong one. I was so proud of him.

I and Liz did the soothing, but nothing, especially words, could free Jack. After Elizabeth's coaxing, we all went down to Jack's cell early in the morning. The guards were there, and when we asked for some privacy, they took the keys. Some of them didn't trust me, and would've stayed hadn't it been for Elizabeth. They couldn't deny the governor's daughter.

We talked with Jack, who acted as if he was free and in our living room, not in a cold, dark cell about to be killed.

Finally, after an hour, we left. I remember Jack's last words to me: "Take care of Lizzie for me, and Jack and Michael and Joseph and Little Lily as well. They're keepers, that's for sure. I'm proud to say that one of them is named after me. And your father would be proud to say that you're his son. I mean that, William, I really do. But don't ever give them up, it'll be the stupidest thing you've ever done – including when you forgot to specify to Barbossa where to drop Liz off fifteen years ago."

Salty tear drops made my smile watery.

The drums sounded, and I blinked away tears as Elizabeth leaned against me. Most people thought those drums were calming and proper. I thought they sounded like a death march.

While the preacher read off Jack's crimes, I had my arms wrapped around Elizabeth as she sobbed into my shoulder. Michael had his long arms – arms that belonged to me – around Joseph and Lily as they huddled near him, whispering comforting words into their ears. I stared at Jack, like my son. Jack showed no fear. He just grinned, looking around, and seeming to enjoy himself, as if this was more like a party than his hanging. He was brave, braver than I ever was.

And bless my son Jack. He stood straight and tall and proud, just like the tall, dreadlocked man that stood on the platform, the noose dangerously close to his head.

Jack's dark, kind eyes stared all around the crowd, before coming to stop at me and my family. Elizabeth stopped sobbing long enough to look at him in his final moments. And Joseph and Michael and Lily looked up too, tears brimming in their eyes, Michael furiously wiping his away.

I remember Jack's final smile at my whole family. Then I remember the lever being pulled.

It was then, on June 23rd, 1666, Captain Jack Sparrow died smiling at his surrogate family – mine.

It was too much for my Lily. She let out a scream, and starting sobbing into my hip. I knelt down and wrapped an arm around her, and Elizabeth, who knelt down too. Jack, Michael, and Joseph joined in. Our tears mingled with each others as they fell. Everyone at the hanging watches us, all of them with pity. They weren't cheering now. They now knew what Jack meant to us, and I was going to tell them, too.

"Look what you did!" I accused. The crowd flinched. "Look! You've done this! You killed an innocent man! He never killed if he could help it! But you – you take pride in killing men like him, men who are far better than you! May our tears be stains on your conscience forever!"

The crowd quickly left, leaving me and my family to ourselves over the dead body of the greatest man I ever knew.

Liz said I was a wreck for the next few months, and I was. It was probably the saddest period of my life, including the time when my mother died.

That single memory changed me. I stole, I commandeered, I pilfered, I fought with sword and hand, I killed. I lived the years Jack should've lived. Jack, Michael, Joseph, and Lily did. So did Elizabeth. We all did.

And now, twenty years later, on the exact same day that Jack was hung, I hear the sentence. Captain Jack's sentence. Elizabeth and Jack and Michael and Joseph and Lily's sentence as well. A day, I hope, that is a long way from today.

"...William Michael Turner, you are charged for piracy..." And my sentences were read of all the things I had done. I smiled at one. Impersonating a cleric. I had gotten that from Jack. I had lived all of the memories Jack had had, and more.

I think of Elizabeth, who is sailing away. I had helped her and Jack, Michael, Joseph, and Lily escape before they got them, and I had asked, pleaded, begged for her to not try to save me. "I will be hung after saving you," I said. "I promised myself the day I met you I would be dead before harm befell you. I have insured a future for you. That is all I have ever wanted for all of you, and now, knowing that my children and wife will be safe away from this fate that I will face, I will be hung with my conscience clear."

So she had left, with Jack, Michael, Joseph, and Lily. Wait a minute, did those shadows moved? Yes! Elizabeth, and Jack, Michael, Joseph, and Lily, too! They didn't leave me! I see them, in the far corner. I see Jack, so brave, standing tall and proud, with his strong chin and piercing eyes, looking me straight in the eyes like he did to one other man before me. Michael and Joseph, ever the gentlemen (or as gentlemanly as pirates can be) were offering their shoulders to their mother and sister. But Jack held my gaze, just like Jack Sparrow would've done. I smile at him, the golden teeth that I had gotten from years of not taking care of them glinting in the sun. Elizabeth looked up and looked me in the eye, and I saw her mouth form the words "I love you!"

"I love you too," I whispered back. She allowed a watery smile, and Michael, Joseph, and Lily joined their mother and brother, and finally gazed at me, their father.

My sentences are over.

"William Turner," said the soldier. "Do you have anything to recant?" A priest stepped forward. I grinned, and I said what I knew Jack would've said:

"Sorry, mate, but I don't do that sort of thing. Nothing personal, mate, it's just a lil pirate thing. Savvy?"

The latch was pulled. The last thing I saw was my three sons, my one daughter, and my wife. The faces of the people I loved the most. I'm glad I can't see them up close. They're time isn't for a while. I see they're feet run out of the place where I'm hung. Funny enough, it's Port Royal, the very place that my pirate's life started.

The last ounce of life has left me.

'Hold on, Jack. I'll be joining you soon.' I feel cold. I open my eyes, and I see Him.

"Welcome aboard, mate," he says, grinning. I smile. I was back with Jack.

© JeanieBeanie33