Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: School started…my fencing coach is making the team practice right after school! That's a bit harsh, if you ask me. ::sighs:: I feel like advertising so here goes: everybody should read The Wheel of Time series, by Robert Jordan. 'Cause those books rock. By the way, there is going to be a lot of reminiscing in this chapter. The problem is, I haven't watched the movie in a while so I forgot some parts that were said about Bootstrap Bill…so, I'm making it up! Yay!

1

Will sat at the top of the steep stairs that led from the cabins to the top deck, listening to the slap of the ocean against the Pearl's hull as she glided through it; it reminded him of the way he wanted to run his fingers through his fiancé's raven hair, the way he wanted to glide along her skin. It also reminded him that he once thought that way about Elizabeth, and, rather painfully, of how those two were intertwined to find him here on a pirate ship with a fiancé who wanted nothing to do with him.

When Christina kissed him again he thought his heart would explode with joy - it had to mean that she would marry him now, hadn't it? But then she turned around just as abruptly as she kissed and told him in no uncertain words that she couldn't marry him, simply couldn't. Damn you, Turner, how did you make such a mess of things? He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and shifted on the stairs, leaning his elbows on his knees and hanging his head.

He knew he loved Christina, but he hadn't realized it until after saving Elizabeth. He knew he cared for her deeply perhaps when she lay bleeding after fighting the pirates - he had never seen her so beautiful as when she was fighting, which struck him as odd; Elizabeth was always beautiful when she was acting the proper lady, her snarl was not attractive to say the least. He realized that if Christina had died then, it would have been somewhat of the end of a world, if not the world, for him. But it wasn't a conscious thought. When returning to the Dauntless and suggesting that Elizabeth return to her fiancé, he had felt a sadness, and the same longing for Elizabeth Swann that he had felt for eight years. Well, maybe not eight years. He had thought she was pretty when they were twelve, but he hadn't wanted her. That hadn't happened until a year or three later.

But for the three days that Christina lay unconscious, her sister hadn't even entered his mind. He spent every waking moment beside her, the ship's doctor had to force him from her side by nearly throwing him out bodily. Doctor Fisher was no small man, which shoulders nearly half as wide as Will was tall, and Will was not short. It was odd to see such a man as Doctor Fisher caring so tenderly for a patient, and Will, when he was allowed to stay, had watched jealously. He had hovered by the door to the cabins even more jealously when he was not allowed to watch.

Will sighed again and closed his eyes. He remembered the first time he had seen the Swann sisters, waking up on the Dauntless after it had fished him out of the sea. If he had known then how much trouble Elizabeth and Christina were going to cause him, he might have chosen to drown.

1

Elizabeth was always the proper one, her hair done neatly and her hands folded at her waist, her dress always spotless. She would flutter about in the cabins, bringing him water in a dipper, holding a wet rag to his forehead, sitting beside him on the bed to tell him time and time again how she had seen him in the water, unconscious on a piece of driftwood. Telling him how relieved she was to have found him, and how lucky he was to be alive.

A lot of it, young Will Turner did not understand. He had been drifting about for hours after the ship was attacked. Thirsty and hungry, he could barely remember the huge black shadow that had appeared out of the horizon, with the canons at ready. William Turner Sr., otherwise known as Bootstrap Bill, recognized the ship at once, however. He hustled is son onto a lifeboat as the black ship came closer, impossibly fast. Bill was deathly pale, but calm and as expressionless as a stone could be, maybe more so.

"Get back to your mother, Will. Give this to her."

"But mother is -"

He handed his son a gold medallion the size of his palm, before the boy could protest. "You must never let anyone find this, Will. Never," he said tightly, his eyes darting to the approaching black ship and then back to Will. "Take care of your mother. Tell her I will always love her. You're a good lad, Will."

"But, Da, mother is…"

Bill began to lower the lifeboat over the side slowly, but the ship rocked and there was a huge explosion. The lifeboat fell the rest of the way, landing roughly in the water. Will was knocked out of it, choking and scrambling for anything to hold onto; he never got to finish explaining that his mother was dead - and had been, for two months now. He had, of course, told his father that, upon finding him. Bootstrap Bill Turner - a pseudonym young Will wouldn't learn until years later - was never around much; being a merchant trader was a demanding job, but Will and his mother had always been abundantly supported, living nearly as fine as many nobles. She had died, though, the doctors said from a cold left too long untreated; the maids said it was from a broken heart, missing her husband. It had been two years since Bill Turner had visited home. Will would never forgive his father for that, but he found it hard to hold a grudge. Bill Turner was a father like most boys dreamed of having - he was an adventurer, traveling the seas wherever he wished, becoming richer every day. The men of his crew loved him, and so did the women, wherever the Turtledove dropped anchor. But Bootstrap had eyes - and a heart - only for Will's mother. William Turner Sr., was a good man.

Flames licked the air above young Will, and he realized that the ship full of goods his father was commanding was under attack. From the black ship, whose sails had been rotting and full of holes, whose mast was moldy and looked as if it should be falling apart. The only black ship in the Caribbean; the Black Pearl.

Bill had told his son many stories about the Black Pearl. About its heroic Captain, so famous and infamous a pirate that people held in him such revere - or fear - that they dared not speak his name. The Captain of the Pearl was an honorable man, never killing if he could help it, taking only what the crew needed, and maybe a little bit more. He looted towns and villages, but never so that the people were so crippled afterwards that they couldn't survive. There were even rumors that he looted only rich towns, and then gave the booty back to less fortunate places. A Robin Hood of the sea, but always keeping a bit of the profit for himself. Captain Robin Hood, then, of the Black Pearl, hero of the poor folk of the Caribbean.

But from what Will saw now, treading water desperately as his father's ship went up in flames, the Captain of the Pearl was no honorable man. He was cruel, ruthless. Too tired, and frightened - Will was disgusted with himself - to try to climb back up to fight alongside his father, he scrambled clumsily onto a piece of driftwood. There must be a hole in his father's ship, they were sinking.

"DA!" Will shouted. Craning his neck uncomfortably, he was far enough away to see his father dueling with a tall man in a big hat, who had a monkey perched on his shoulder. The man hardly seemed to be making any effort, and Will noticed that his father's white shirt was stained with blood, bright as a banner in the smoky horizon. Bill Turner was a formidable fighter in the best of situations, and he was never a man to surrender. The explosions stopped suddenly, the sea became eerily quiet, Will drifting farther away ever so slowly.

"Barbossa, you bastard! You piece of bilge filth, where is Jack? What have you done to the Captain?" Bill shouted, pulling out a pistol. Barbossa, the man in the big hat, held up a hand lazily as the members of his crew tensed.

"Don't ye worry, Bootstrap, we treated yer Captain well. Gave 'im 'is own lit'l island - but ye won't be so lucky, I'm afraid. Ye can't go insultin' yer new Captain and expect to live to tell about it. Now, where's yer pretty wife?"

"FOR ISABELLE!" Bill shouted; Isabelle Turner was Will's mother. The remnants of the his father's crew, a precious few, echoed the cry and added their own wives', mothers', or even daughters' names. Bill fired his pistol, aimed straight at Barbossa's heart. Will cheered - his father had surely won - but Barbossa barely flinched. Even from this distance, he could see the whites of his father's eyes as they widened.

"Now, Bill, that wasn't very polite of ye. Where's yer wife, and the medallion? If ye don't tell us, we'll find her…and her end might be considerably more painful than yers will be," Barbossa threatened.

"She doesn't have it. I dropped it into the sea. Its at the bottom of the bloody ocean," Will watched as his father leaned on his sword and laughed. "She's dead, Isabelle's dead." Will realized that his father was weeping now. If anything, it only terrified him more. Barbossa looked murderous. "Take this bilge rat to the Pearl, ye dogs! Kill the rest of the crew!"

The explosions had started again but Will could barely hear them. Blackness descended; the world was blessedly cool and silent.

1

Will remembered only pieces of it now, of course, his eyes following the golden-haired girl who bustled about like a busy housewife, the way his mother used to when his father was home. Will tried to sit up quickly, need to tell whoever had saved him that he had to find his mother, had to warn her about the pirates…

"Sit down, little fish," the other girl said, a cool smile on her thin lips. Will had hardly noticed her. She was obviously the blonde girl's sister, but she looked younger. Maybe because her hair - as dark as her sister's was golden - was in complete disarray. It was done in the same style, pulled back, with what once would have been her sister's perfect curls matted around her shoulders, not nearly resembling curls anymore. Her skin was darker than her sister's, as well, and she did not have the perfect scattering of freckles. Instead, she had two birthmarks on her face, looking almost strategically placed on either side of her rather large nose. She wasn't standing demurely with her hands folded at her waist, rather, her arms were crossed over her chest and she was tapping a foot impatiently. She reminded him of his mother, when Isabelle Turner was waiting for his father to get back from having a drink with his mates. Will hoped she wasn't as volatile as his mother could be, when his father came home late.

"What did you call me?" he asked, glaring at her and not sitting back in the small bed. She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Its not every bleeding day some idiot boy decides to take a ride on a piece of driftwood." She was grinning at him now, obviously pleased with herself. Will could feel his face reddening, and watched as her smile grew wider.

"Hush, Christina, the poor boy's still not himself. And you're not supposed to use that word, Father says -"

"Bleeding, bleeding, bleeding," Christina crowed.

"Will, forgive my sister, she's unusually crass today. You really must pardon her, she doesn't know how to act the proper lady." The golden-haired girl was shooting very nasty glared at her sister - Christina, was it? What an odd name, he had never heard it before - who seemed completely unfazed.

"Yes, you really must forgive me, Mr. Turner," Christina said, sweeping a clumsy curtsy. He couldn't decide if she was being sarcastic or not. Her sister seemed to know, however, and glowered once more. She even looked pretty when she wrinkled her nose, Will noticed of the golden-haired girl.

"Pardon me, but who are you?" he asked the older-seeming girl. Her large brown eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry. How silly of me not to introduce myself - but we were ever so worried about you. You haven't been awake for four nights, you see -"

The dark haired girl, Christina, sighed. "Allow me to introduce my younger sister, Elizabeth. She likes to talk, I'm afraid," she said, every bit dripping nobility in her voice. He blinked at her. So she was the older one, was she? She didn't look it. She was even a little bit shorter than her sister.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. "I am Elizabeth Swann - this is my twin, Christina Swann. I'm only the younger by a minute. We're headed to Port Royal, where my father -"

"Our father, Elizabeth, dear."

"Our father, is to be the new governor. He has promised to find you a nice job as the blacksmith's apprentice, if you can't find your mother. He says you look strong enough -" Elizabeth broke off hastily, a becoming blush spreading across her pretty features. Will blinked again. He had never though of girls as pretty before, usually he avoided him like the plague. He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably.

"Of course, we weren't sure how strong you were, as you were unconscious for four nights. You could be as weak as a lamb -" Christina grinned again as Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. Will scowled, but his glare was ruined as he stomach rather loudly. He looked apologetically at Elizabeth, who had a tiny smile on her lips.

Christina rolled her eyes. "Please, Mr. Turner, allow me to wait on you, as my sister would rather make a complete ninny of herself," she said, sweeping yet another clumsy curtsy. Elizabeth looked mildly affronted, another pretty blush heightening her color. "Christina -" she scolded.

"Father said we must take care of the boy, Elizabeth, and for once I am doing what he asked of me," Christina replied, loading a plate full of bits of bread and cheese and salted meats. Elizabeth harrumphed quietly, but aimed another smile at Will. He found himself not knowing who he wanted to study more; Elizabeth, who was certainly pretty enough if indeed she had to grow into all her freckles, or Christina, who seemed rather amusing, like she was more suited to be a boy than a girl, especially with the words she chose to use and her dubious renditions of curtsies. She even walked a bit awkwardly in her heavy skirts, made of dreary green fabric. Elizabeth held herself very poised in her own dark gray skirts with delicate embroidery.

"Here you go, little fish," she said with a smile, sitting on the edge of his bed and laying the plate in his lap. "Eat up." She seemed quite content to sit there, watching him. Will shifted again under her gaze; her eyes were odd, the lightest brown he'd ever seen, and rimmed with a dull green. He shrugged uncomfortably and set about eating the food she had brought him.

They did not leave him to eat in peace, however, or rather, Christina didn't. She seemed quite content to badger him constantly, some of her questions nearly making him choke on whatever he was in the process of swallowing. She didn't seem to notice, kicking the ends of her skirt where her feet dangled above the deck. Elizabeth eyed her sister disapprovingly.

"Where were you floating away from so quickly, little fish? We found you by the wreckage of a merchant vessel, all lost and alone. It's a wonder you weren't burnt to a crisp - awful, what those pirates did…did you meet a pirate, little fish? I would love to meet a pirate." Christina was very fond of talking.

"Stop calling me little fish," Will grunted between bits of pork. Wreckage of a merchant vessel? Will swallowed hard. There was probably no hope that his father could be alive, not if that terrible pirate - that Captain of the Black Pearl - had taken him. After all the stories his father had told him, it seemed they were all wrong. But something was nagging at the back of Will's mind - why would his father know such stories of the Captain of the Pearl, when it was clear the man was the opposite of what people said of him? What would a pirate want with his father? Will knew that merchant vessels were in danger of a pirate raid - but William Turner Sr.'s ship, the Turtledove, was not all that large. And the Captain seemed to know Will's father personally…

"What would you have me call you then, little fish? Mer-child, my little mer-boy?"

"I am not yours," Will snapped, shaking himself. Elizabeth took the opportunity to step in. "Of course you aren't, William. You look awfully pale, are you quite all right?"

"I'm fine. Miss Swann -" he addressed Christina, "I assure you, you would not want to meet a pirate." Elizabeth brightened, after having glared darkly at her sister. "Oh, but we would! It would be so exciting to -"

"You wouldn't! A pirate killed my father, that's how I got here! My father is dead because of a pirate!" Will was sitting up straight and shouting.

Elizabeth became very quiet. "I'm sorry, William - I, I didn't know, I -" she stammered, her cheeks reddening again, and Will suddenly felt ashamed. Christina sighed, taking her sister by the arm. "We should go. Go topside and tell Father that Mr. Turner is awake. I'll clean up his plate and make him ready to meet Father and the Captain," she said quietly, shooting a worried glance at Will. For once, they weren't glaring at each other. Elizabeth nodded and hurried out.

Christina turned to Will, a tentative smile on her face. "I'm sorry we bothered you so much, Mr. Turner," she said, hurrying to take his plate away. She was as dutiful as Elizabeth, it seemed, when she wanted to be. She bustled about in very much the same fashion, helping him sit up and straightening his pillows. "You'll want to lace up your shirt," she said slyly, and he felt his face get hot again. Christina shrugged, absently picking up a comb and fixing his hair. "You're a sight, aren't you, little fish?" she teased, tossing the comb aside after having straightened his unruly dark hair. She came around to sit beside him again, doing an almost perfect impression of Elizabeth by folding her hands sedately in her lap. A worried frown crossed her dark features.

"I have to go to my mother," Will said softly. He remembered the words his father had said. Christina bit her lip.

"Will…the four nights you were asleep…you said things," she told him, struggling for words. "What sort of things?" he asked sharply. She frowned at him. "Your mother is dead, Will. That's what you said…maybe it was a nightmare?" She raised a hand to touch his forehead, but he brushed her hand away impatiently.

"It wasn't."

Christina looked about to cry. "I'm sorry, Will," she said softly, patting him awkwardly on the hand. Thumps came from the stairway, and Christina bolted off the bed like she had been sitting on hot coals. It was only Elizabeth, however. Elizabeth rushed over to take the seat Christina had occupied.

"I asked Father - he said we can go wherever your mother is, to deliver you to her -"

"Elizabeth -" Christina said warningly.

"He said its not out of our way at all, and your mother must be worried to death -"

Christina winced. Will watched as the dark haired girl shifted on her feet, shooting him looks that were apologetic, sympathetic, and pitying. "She's dead," Will said hoarsely, and Christina flinched. Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Oh, no…" she whimpered. Will put his face in his hands wearily, his jaw clenching hard. What would his father say if he cried in front of two girls? But then, his father wept in front of that Captain, over Isabelle. Will was only twelve, and in the course of two months he had been made an orphan.

Without a word, Elizabeth put her arms around him. He couldn't see Christina from where he was. She was crying as well.

1

Will could hear Christina muttering to herself from where he had left her, and he shook himself from his own reverie. If pleading with her was not going to get her to marry him, then he would have to try a different approach. If he couldn't convince her that he felt nothing for Elizabeth, perhaps it was time to try something new.

He had spoken with Jack, Gibbs, and Anamaria a night before last, and the three had given him some interesting advice.

"Yer bein' to soft with 'er," Anamaria said wisely, shooting him a disdainful glare. As if the thought of a man being gentle was disgraceful. Perhaps Anamaria had a strange taste in men, but she was no lily herself. "Ye have to take a cow by the horns, no matter how small and hard to grasp the horns might seem. Only when ye tame the bloody animal can ye go fer the milk," she said. Will could feel his face get hot at the suggestion. Anamaria, of course, saw that, and nearly fell over laughing.

"Yer no innocent, William, and if ye are, I'll eat my boot," she snorted. Gibbs and Jack chuckled to themselves as well. "Aye, Anamaria, maybe ye could teach the lad a few things - I'm sure Miss Christina would thank ye on her wedding night," Gibbs howled. Will glared, "Say it any louder and there never will be a flaming wedding night, you lout!" This only caused Gibbs to laugh harder, and Will's only consolation was that Anamaria was growling and shaking her fist at him as well.

"Ah, no, Will, ye may be the spittin' image of yer da, but ye've none of his luck with women. Isabelle, bless her soul, put up a fight in the beginning, and that's part of the reason yer father loved her - no other woman he'd ever met had tried to resist him, before. Aye, she was his match in many ways, he told me himself…" Jack said, taking a swig of rum and leaning over the railing of the ship. The moon was full and bright, shimmering and reflected in the ocean, the stars twinkling like light seen between the holes of a blanket. Will wished he could have been alone with Christina on a night like this.

"It might not be nice of me to put it this way, lad, but yer just not as much of a rogue as yer father was. Maybe yer boring. Was a time when ol' Bootstrap could get nearly as many women as I did myself. He only looked, though, if that - had a heart only for his sweet Isabelle, if I remember correct."

Will said nothing, only grabbed Jack's rum and emptied it over the side of the Pearl. Jack started to grumble about how Will was lucky his father was who he was, or Will'd be following that rum in a second.

"The thing you have to remember, mate," Gibbs slurred, glaring when Jack took his rum, "Ye have to break a mare before ye can ride 'er."

Will coughed, standing up straight. "Bloody hell! She's a woman, not a horse or a cow!" he shouted, vaguely wondering when Anamaria and Gibbs would have gotten such instruction on a farm.

Still, Will thought, it was about time for a different approach.

1

"What could have possessed me to leave that with him!" I snarled, crushing the parchment in my fist and then regretting it. Smoothing the parchment tenderly, I sighed. The man was frustrating to no end! If I wouldn't marry him, then he wouldn't marry? What sort of bullocks is that?

"William Turner if you are trying to guilt me into marrying you, that is low, even for you!" I shouted, rounding the corner to where he was sitting at the top of the steep staircase leading to the top deck. He was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging in front of him and his head pulled almost level with his shoulders, looking either angry or hurt.

"You are the most fool woman I've ever met!"

Angry, then.

"Excuse me?" I yelled, striding up the steps to stand in front of him and peering down. He was utterly unfazed. Fool man! "I'm the ridiculous one? Am I the one who went chasing after someone who made it blatantly obvious she wanted to get away?!" He raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that you didn't want me to come after you?"

"BLOODY RIGHT I DIDN'T!" I bellowed. I expected him to get offended, at least; hurt, maybe. But between the five seconds in which it took for me to walk up to him, he went from hurt and bitterly determined to downright stubborn and -

"YOU PIG-HEADED IDIOT!" I wasn't aware that I was shrieking. He shrugged and stood up almost languidly, making me lean on the wall to keep from tumbling. How did the man make standing up so…beautiful? It shouldn't be legal! It's probably not! It shouldn't be possible for him to make me think of nothing but kissing him when I wanted to be angry! Angry!

"Call me what you will, Christina." He shrugged, "I love you. And you will marry me."

My jaw dropped and rattled around on the floor. "I will, will I? Well, unless you somehow manage to torture me until I finally beg you to marry me - and you best think long and hard if you want to do that, Turner - I will NOT, William, do you hear me? I will NOT MARRY YOU!"

I heard muffled groans of impatience from outside the door. "Let us out you stupid bunch of useless louts! Let me out! Let me out this instant! Its not funny any more! I am not going to marry him, so you might as well just bloody - give - up!" I screamed, shoving past Will to bang on the door. "BLOODY PIRATES!" I wailed, cut short when Will took my hands gently. My knuckles were red from pounding on the door.

"Don't hurt yourself, Christina." His voice was gentle, not unlike the way Mary braided my hair, after I coerced her into a good mood. I stared up at him with a frown, outraged that this man could tell me - tell me - that I was going to marry him.

"No, I have you for that, don't I?" I said nastily, trying to pull my hands away. No such luck. His own large, calloused hands closed over mine and held tight; he forced me closer in such a way that if I didn't move nearer to him, my hands would most likely my arms would have been pulled out. I scowled up at him, blinking when I realized that he looked just as angry as I felt.

"You can't use that excuse forever, wife."

"I'm not your -"

"I kissed Elizabeth. I did. And maybe, for a moment, I enjoyed it -"

I didn't bother with words. I wrenched one of my hands away and smacked him hard across the face. He turned his head with the blow and closed his eyes, as if expecting more, turning to meet my eyes slowly. Slowly, but not cautiously.

"How dare you say that! How do you flaming dare, Will?" I smacked him again, harder, but even as he was turning his head, he grabbed my wrist and held it over my head. I tugged hard but to no avail, the more I pulled, the more he made me stand up on my toes to keep from being lifted. I may have doubted he could lift me with just one hand, but with the look in his eyes, in a moment I was about to believe he could lift me using only his bloody mind. I wrenched my other hand free and smacked him across the face, the other way.

"Christ, woman -"

Smack.

"Now you're even," I sneered; then gasped as he pinned both of my arms above me in one of his hands. "Let go of me, William, before I murder you," I growled, nearly shrieking with frustration as he started to laugh.

"What are you going to do, love? Breathe at me?" Even as I brought my knee up to encounter the more tender parts of my lover, he anticipated it and skirted to the side. He pushed me till my back was against the wall, pinned with one of his legs between mine so that I could hardly move. I glowered up at him.

"I hate you."

"And I love you. Will you let me finish?"

"This is hardly proper, and I will not be manhandled like this, you lout! You villain! You - you! I am not some whore who can be shoved against a wall! I am the Governor's daughter! I will not have some commoner, some bloody blacksmith, jostle me about so!"

"My patience wears thin, sweet wife, you would do well not to try it so," Will said softly, putting his face very close to mine, the fingers of his free hand gently tipping my head up. I shuddered, hoping he would take if for anger rather than whatever I was feeling at the moment.

"I am not your bloody wife," I snarled, baring my teeth at him. I didn't trust myself to move, I could hardly trust myself to breathe, what, with how my dress was cut. Will seemed to notice that as well, his hand straying to touch my neck. Knowing that he could either strangle me or caress me at his leisure was not doing wonders for my sanity.

"You promised you wouldn't ask," I said hoarsely. He nodded, sadly now it seemed. "I'm not asking." I narrowed my eyes at him. "You wouldn't force me, William. You know I'd never forgive you if you did," I warned. He sighed, leaning forward and burying his face in my shoulder, the way he had when I had spent the night in the blacksmith's shop. I very nearly stopped breathing.

"What are you playing at, William?" I said softly, my hands still pinned uncomfortably above my head, which was probably for the better, seeing as how much I wanted to touch him. Infuriating man! Why couldn't I be angry?!

"I love you," he said again, so softly that the only proof I had of him speaking was how his words stirred the air against my skin. I sighed, freezing as I felt him kiss my shoulder (exposed, because of this BLOODY DRESS!), and then across my collarbone. A light path of kisses up my neck had me shaking, utterly helpless.

"Will, you can't. You mustn't -" I murmured, my hands alternating between clenching into fists and hanging limply in the air. "Let me go," I said helplessly, not knowing whether I was commanding it of him, or telling him that he mustn't let me go.

"I know…I'm sorry," he said, muttering something about how bloody Gibbs and Anamaria were wrong. I blinked, rubbing my wrists awkwardly as he let me go. I stared up at him, confused, my skin still tingling from where his mustache thing had tickled me. I bit my lip, and he looked away hastily. I seized the first emotion that I was willing to give into. Anger.

"What do you think you're doing, William?" I snapped, trying to hitch the neckline of my dress up higher, and stopping immediately when I found I was just drawing more attention to it. We were standing very close to the door, and it swung open before he could answer - and he had better have a very good answer - with Jack's silhouette filling the blindingly bright light.

"We're about to weigh anchor!" Jack announced, just as I tumbled into Will and we both fell unceremoniously down the steep stairs.

1

A/N: Holy crapola, this chapter is long. I'm very proud of it, actually. I love flashbacks.

P.S. For future reference (in response to VagrantCandy, who is a cool reviewer-person) , yes, Bill was present at Jack's mutiny. Then, according to me, he ran away with the medallion. Will found him, and Barbossa was after him. I love it when they don't give enough details in the movies.