The Wrath of Tláloc

by Jack E

Memory is the only way home. PostCotBP AU.

5. Weaving Through The Past And A Web of Li...

DISCLAIMER: I do not and will never own any of the characters or settings appearing in this chapter. They were conceived by Ted Elliot & Terry Rossio, Jay Wolpert and Stuart Beattie and are owned by Disney Enterprises, Inc. Some of the dialogue can be connected to the first film and, hence, is not mine but was inserted into the story to put connections between my story and the film. Same goes for the Scarlet Pimpernel- no profit nor infringement intended.

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This goes with the overall feeling of the chapter:

'See the moon slink down in the sky, darling.
Let your fantasies fly, darling.
Life is cold and the game is old.

Just see how virtue repays you --
you turn and someone betrays you.
Betray him first and the game's reversed!

For we all are caught in the middle
of one long treacherous riddle.
Can I trust you? Should you trust me too?

We shamble on through this hell,
taking on more secrets to sell,
'til there comes a day when we sell our souls away.

Through the mist your lover is beckoning . . .
comes that moment of reckoning,
faces change, even smiles grow strange.

And we all have so many faces
the real self often erases.
Enticing lies flicker through our eyes!

Feel the terror draw ever nearer
the more you stare in the mirror,
but hold your own, face the wind alone.

Reel on, love! Toughen your scars!
Year by year, we're falling like stars
'til there comes a day when we sell our souls away!

Can I run to you? Are you true to me?
I'll do unto you as you do to me!
And we slowly learn someone has to burn.
Better you than me!

Oh, every Judas once loved a Jesus.
But finally treason will seize us!
And only fools follow golden rules!

We all are caught in the middle
of one long treacherous riddle
of who trusts who . . .
maybe I'll trust you . . .
but can you trust me?
Wait and see!'

"The Riddle" from "The Scarlet Pimpernel"

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Chapter 4
"Weaving Through The Past And A Web of Lies"

The man which he had accidently provoked to the point of lethal rage, clenched Will's frangible throat as he fought furiously an inward battle to defy that which was inevitable. He was suffocating. Without air, he could not breathe and if he could not breathe.…

'Elizabeth.…'

She was being taken away from him. First his mother and father, now Elizabeth. A pain twinged in his heart. Why did everyone he ever love get taken away?

He'd never see her again. Ever. Not in this life. She'd never see him again. Ever. Not in this life.… After years of secretly yearning for what they thought could never be, after secludedly striving for something that propriety and society frowned upon, after physically fighting against odds just to let their hearts be twain, after all … they had made it happen. They had reached their wild and unorthodox desire of being with each other, of having each other, unbounded. And now, on a ship in the middle of the Caribbean sea, this cruel and unthoughtful bastard was taking it away in an infinitely quicker amount of time than they had gained it. Tearing to shreds their work, their dreams, and Will could do absolutely nothing.

Physically, he was incapacitated. He felt hot and a sheen of sweat had built up on his skin, especially his forehead. He could no longer see or hear what was going on around him, nor could he comprehend things. He couldn't quite keep a grip on what entered his mind- he couldn't decipher thoughts. His lungs waxed limp and lame, and his heartbeat was slowing, growing softer and more unsteady. First one beat, then two. 'No.' Three frantic pumps and one feeble one. 'No.' He didn't want to have to say, 'goodbye' but he didn't have much choice. He was dying.…

An abrupt fresh wave of dizziness swirled about his mind as a sudden rushing flow of warmth swamped the nape of his neck, his chin, his cheeks, his temples, his brow, his brain. A throbbing and a ringing pealed in his ears as he also came to recognize a sensation that he felt he had been lacking for years. He was… breathing? 'Yes!' Realization hit him. 'Yes!' The flow of air into his feeble lungs was like the kiss of water healing a dying civilization plagued by famine. Sweet. Wonderful. He was alive! His cognizance was returning in waves and clarity reinstating itself in his vision quickly. Blurs took shape and sharper colors appeared. He could see… clouds?

He blinked perplexedly as many wide-eyed faces appeared, staring down at him. He was on the deck, lying down. 'What's going on?' He sat up slowly, realizing how awful his neck felt. It felt like it had been stretched miles past its limit and his muscles did not agree with the feeling. It was also quite bruised from the squeezing. He rubbed it with his hand numbly, not quite sure what to make of things. Yes, cognizance had managed to return to Will's oxygen-deprived brain, but not in its entirety.

A hand appeared before him, open and outstretched in a welcoming signal to take it. Looking up at its owner for a brief moment and finding it not to be the fiend that had thrown him about so unpretentiously (and, well, ape-like), but another face, he accepted the hand and was helped to his feet.

Will's shaken legs instantly threatened to give way as a result of the adrenaline having gone away. They felt like they were giving him the support of soggy seaweed and he teetered for a moment before regaining his balance and somehow managing to stand without his limbs failing him.

He looked to the man who had helped him to his feet and possibly stopped his undeserved and very undesired pummeling. He managed to twitch a small smile. "Thank you."

His rescuer said nothing, nor did he smile in return. A tall man with scraggly, dirty-blonde hair and a bitterness in his deep brown eyes that made all who saw him shrink, Will began to doubt he was capable of such an action as smiling. His face was old enough to have the wrinkles of his favorite face drawn into his being: a frown not only in his downwardly bent lips, but creased into a sneer upon his brow as well. His eyes did not twinkle. They did not gleam. They actually were quite cold and, for some odd reason, made Will want to shrink away in guilt, even though he had done nothing wrong. He had a black trihat on his head and was- to Will's surprise- dressed in a commander's suit of the British Royal Navy with his arms locked firmly behind his back. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that he looked older, far more malignant and colder, Will would have compared this man to his good friend, the commodore.

Will jumped a bit when he felt someone harshly brushing off his shoulder and he turned his head to see who it was. He cocked an eyebrow. Why was the man who was just thrashing him helping him clean off?

"Stripes," the older man spoke quietly and calmly to Will's … personal butler. His expression was austere but not nearly as icy as the tone of his voice, "take your hands off that boy."

"But-"

"NOW!" Even Will jumped at the sound of his voice. The sudden explosion wasn't something he had expected and made the man seem a hissing hand grenade, preparing to explode at any moment.

The man, whom Will guessed to be the captain or first mate - a figure of authority to say in the least- stepped up to Stripes and looked at him wickedly in the eye (even though he only came up to his pudgy nose).

"Stripes," his voice was soft once again, but its coldness caused said Stripes to flinch upon the vocalization of his name, "What do you think you were doing?"

"Uh-"

"Didn't you realize," he interrupted, speaking quicker and with more authority, "that the boy was under the PROTECTION OF PARLAY?!"

"No, Cap'n, I didn't even think-"

"That's because you don't think at all! You don't attack a person on board the ship period! You swore on the good book that you would follow the code. Do you even know the code?!"

Stripes seemed hesitant to answer. He just stared at the floor.

"Well?!" the captain barked. "Do you know the code?"

Stripes shuffled his feet a bit uncomfortably and nodded timidly. "Aye, I know the code."

"Well then, recite to me article number eight."

Stripes bowed his head again and looked at the floor as he began to mumble, "'None shall strike another on board the ship, but every man's quarrel shall be ended on shore by sword or pistol in this manner.…'" He looked up at some of his mates and frowned before continuing. "'At the word of the command from the quartermaster, each man bein' previously placed back to back, shall turn and fire immediately. If any man do not, the quartermaster shall knock the piece out of his hand. If both miss their aim, they shall take their cutlasses, and he that draweth first blood shall be declared the victor.'"

There was a long silence, in which the only sound heard was the soft flap of the sails and gentle song of the waves licking the ship's hull. The captain simpered coldly and Will almost pitied the man- even if he did deserve a night without supper. "Well, if you know that, then why are you breaking the code?"

Stripes frowned and cast his gaze downward almost timidly. "He… he called me an ape."

"And where in the code does it say that you have an excuse because someone dared to insult you?"

"… Nowhere."

"That's right." The captain placed a firm hand on the man's broad shoulder and brought him down to a lower level, telling Stripes quietly. "Now, listen to me. I want you to go up to Mr. Turner, shake his hand, and tell him how sorry you are."

Stripes scowled at the idea, clearly not in harmony with it. But eventually, he took two long
strides up to Will and, holding out his large hand, grunted softly, "M'sorry 'bout the nose."

Will looked cautiously and openly suspicious at the man's palm. But, glancing over his high shoulder and finding the captain eyeing Stripes carefully, he deemed it safe and took the hand, shaking it firmly.

"Good," the captain soughed. "Now… I want you to take yourself down below decks, and get all the supplies you'll need to refinish this deck."

Stripes looked up at the captain- his face contorted in outrage. "But, Cap'n, I already have done me chores-"

"NOW!!!"

That was all it took. With a visible jump the man nodded timidly and shuffled away to complete his newly assigned task, grumbling indecipherable words to himself as he went and throwing glares at any of members of the crew who dared to look his way. They went silent and still when he looked at them, but as soon as he averted his gaze they would start to snigger behind his back. If "Stripes" had had any form of respect before, he had just lost it.

Will flinched as he thought of such a thing. The man would surely be out to break his neck later on. He seemed the type that would gain vengeance in a violent manner. After all, he had just done so!

The captain turned on heel and looked Will squarely in the eye. "You, boy. Come with me."

Will flinched at the tone in his voice. He didn't have to be well acquainted with this man to know that it meant one thing: he was in trouble. The captain stiffly rounded about and made for his cabin, obviously expecting that Will would follow. Will didn't want to follow. He wasn't in a negotiable mood right now. He was restless at the idea of being away from home- his ability to return there when needed completely cut off from him. But, looking about him, Will felt he hadn't any other choice. After the captain left, who knew what the crew could do- what they would do? And, in truth, regardless of the fact that he sorely wished to slip away back to the comfort of his new home- he had no means to get there and, hence, nowhere to go. He was a captive. Stuck.

He rolled his eyes heavenwards, unable to muffle the soft growl of frustration that rumbled in his throat.

William Turner was not a haughty or prideful man. In truth, he was quite the opposite. Years of begging for food in the slums of London, living in the streets and poverty that surrounded him as a child while, in his latter years, working for food, for life; living in homes that, in comparison to the Governor's mansion, were sticks and dirt; slaving away at a hot furnace folding, grinding, heating, quenching, pounding, pounding, pounding.... All of that and much, much more had humbled any haughtiness he ever held. How could one be arrogantly proud of living in a shack? Of making some of the lowest pay possible in a line of work while sweating and working harder than any other tradesman? Of not even owning his shop nor a decent home? In truth, only the most strange and stubborn people could hold haughtiness for such positions and Will wasn't one of them.

However, every man has his pride- a certain respect for himself that naturally makes him take gladness at his accomplishments and anger, sadness and embarrassment at his deteriorations. Some men have a very large ego, and it makes them seemingly monsters to the people they dub "beneath them" (which is just about everybody, mind you); while some men have almost no ego at all. Their pride in themselves- their self-respect- wavers and wanes as they are lashed by the narcissism that the more arrogant hold in themselves until they have almost no pride, no confidence in themselves whatsoever.

Then there are the normal folk. Often times, they do compare and contrast themselves with others, but the results vary. It's never always that they're better than this person, or they'll never be as good as that person- it alternates. And, if worse off, there isn't a dire need to change it, to become better. They just let it be and oftentimes take pity for those beneath them. No, the pride that these people hold in themselves is a healthy self-confidence and respect. They take pride in little things that they can do, and don't lament the idea that they aren't superior or the best. They are who they are, and they accept it, relish it and make the most of it.

The final category is the one in which our dear Mr. Turner fit into. Not narcissistic but… confident in his self. And the idea of him being the one that was captured, out at sea and unable to escape wasn't something he was proud of.… He had, after all, managed to save Elizabeth from the exact same situation.

A throat was cleared, and Will looked ahead of him into a pair of defiant and angry eyes. "Didn't you hear me, boy? I said, 'Come with me!'" the captain barked and, once again, turned and made for his cabin.

Will frowned, his face slightly flushed, as he began follow after the captain. Now he was embarrassed. He was giving an awful first impression of himself- what must the captain think of him? Will cringed at the thought. In all honesty, he didn't want to go into that disgustingly begrudging detail.

As he approached the cabin with heavy and reluctant footsteps, he pushed his thoughts aside and suddenly became aware of a presence beside him. He looked, and, to his dismay, the person didn't make him feel any better. The governor. Blast it! he had complete forgotten about him! And he had just put up an awful show too.… 'Well… if the governor ever took you for a ruffian before, you just managed to confirm it. Fantastic job with your decorum, William!' Suddenly he felt sick.

Three months after Will saved Jack from the hangman's noose in Port Royal, a whole year ago, the governor had been inclined to treat Will quite coldly. He would do his best to ignore him, and, if he needed to speak, comments towards Will were polite as far as they needed to be but curt. Surely, he was warm and friendly at the time of Jack's escape, but he had come to assume that Elizabeth wasn't at all serious about the boy. In all honesty, he had assumed that the "love" that they claimed to have between was an object of fantasy- something born out of the excitement of their adventure and that would die as the excitement grew dull in their memory. He was, after all, a blacksmith and Elizabeth was bound to come to her senses sometime soon.

As time passed, however, the governor began to realize: the love that had grown between the two of them was nothing so weak nor cheap. They didn't fancy each other, they were in love- deeper and more powerful than was common anymore. Nothing, no one would nor could break it. Sometime after they announced their engagement- some six months after the pirate events- Governor Swann must've realized that fact. For his coldness began to dissipate and warm up. He began to smile towards Will and would say things other than, "Good day, Mr. Turner." "Good afternoon, Mr. Turner." "Good evening, Mr. Turner." "Good bye, Mr. Turner." and "How's business, Mr. Turner?"- actually intending to start a conversation. He once even invited Will to a dinner party and laughed when Will made a humorous remark on the food. Yes, things began to mend nicely. But Will couldn't help but still feel an awkwardness around the governor- even minutely now, after the wedding. The change was so sudden, he couldn't help but wonder if it was an act to please Elizabeth and Governor Swann truly loathed him. A silly idea, really, and Will realized it. But, deep in the depths of his heart it was a quiet fear, tickling the back of his mind with dread whenever the governor was present. For him, it would take a little longer to get used to being accepted.

He groaned mentally. Things were going so smoothly before and he probably threw everything off-balance with his little scuffle. What a display! Now the governor probably thought Will as truly one of two things: a blacksmith or a pirate. Nothing more. It made his stomach feel queasy at the thought, but the more he thought about it, the more true it seemed. He could never fit in with his wife's class and lifestyle. The cleanliness, the jewels and silks and satins, the large estates, the money.… It was too much for him to compete with, let alone fit in with. 'Why would the governor want to have a son-in-law that couldn't even stay out of a childish argument? Why would he want his only daughter's husband to be a blacksmith and a pirate?… He doesn't. He's only supporting me because he cares for Elizabeth too much to break her heart.... Tonight just made matters worse.'

He was pulled out of his reverie by a flash of white lace before his eyes. He blinked and shook his head slightly, focusing on the object that was held out inches from his face: a handkerchief. He followed the arm that held it until he came to face with its owner: the governor.

Governor Swann smiled timidly as he gave the napkin a small shake, gesturing for Will to take it from his outstretched hand. Will was reluctant. The governor let out a soft sigh in response to Will's hesitation. "You're still having quite a loss there," he explained kindly, touching his own nose with his free hand to clarify.

Will raised his eyebrows in surprise. But, as he gently took the napkin and pressed it to his bleeding face, his features softened and his eyes began to sparkle with the gentle mood of gratitude. "Thank you."

"Of course." The governor gave a half-smile and winked, a merry twinkle in his eye as he walked into the captain's cabin.

Will felt a warmth in his soul at the governor's kindness for a fleeting moment before mentally slapping himself on the forehead. He suddenly felt very naïve. He had had absolutely nothing to worried about. Why was he so over dramatic about what Governor Swann would think of him? The governor was a good man. He would know that Will was no less human than an aristocrat and therefore had as much potential as an aristocrat. He wasn't heartless. Will smiled to himself as he made for the captain's cabin and a thought came to him. 'Jack's right. Sometimes you can be incredibly stupid, Will.'

The cabin, in itself wasn't very big at all. In the far back corner there was a neatly made bed big enough for one man. It looked old, but to Will it also looked quite tempting. He wouldn't oppose to a good night's sleep in an actual bed rather than the floor. The back wall was lined with windows, as was custom, but the widows were a bit grimy and what little light there was outside had quite a challenge worming its way into the dark room. The captain, however, didn't have much a problem with this, lighting a lamp and a few candles to conquer the darkness. There was a rickety brown cabinet on the wall opposite of the bed, a bit of papers spilling out over the edge of it's upper most shelf and one cabinet door hanging on one hinge with a shirt sleeve dangling out of said door. There was a small night table beside the bed, holding nothing but a spare candle or two. Nearer the front of the cabin there was a small writing desk that faced the side wall with a chair. Papers scattered its top as well and a few books could be seen stashed in an unorderly fashion on its top.

"Please," the captain said as he shut the door behind him, his voice and face considerably more softhearted than they had been out on deck, "take a seat."

Looking about, Will couldn't help but think, 'Where?' There was one chair and if that did not go to the captain, then Will would give it to the governor. He sighed as he cast is gaze downward… at the wood-paneled floor. 'Better than nothing, I suppose,' he thought wearily. He made to sit down.

"Oh, Mister Turner, I actually think it would be better if you laid yourself on the bed," the captain spoke, catching Will's actions.

Will, the handkerchief still pressed firmly to his leaching nose, furrowed his brow in confusion. Lie on the bed? Why? "I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Well, that nose isn't going to get any better with the bleeding if you don't tip your head back. I would assume that you would most like to do that lying down?" He smirked as Will didn't respond, cloth still pinned to his face. "Or do you prefer tipping your head back for the duration of this negotiation whilst sitting up and receiving a sore neck?"

Will stared blankly at the captain for a moment. This was… unusual. Least ways, it was to him. Why did the captain care in the least whether Will's nose turned blue and fell off? Didn't he just kidnap him and the governor of Port Royal? Something smelt fishy and it wasn't the ocean. He shrugged in response to the captain's apparently sarcastic question. "I suppose I would prefer lying down. But what does it matter to you? Am I not your captive?"

The captain threw his head back and laughed. A hearty, soulful laugh, it was. "Yes, Mr. Turner, I suppose that is true. But I like to treat my captives humanely, if you don't mind. They are, after all, as human as I am, aren't they?" He placed a gentle hand on Will's shoulder and led him to the bed. Will seemed hesitant at first, but then gave in and was soon sitting on the edge of the bed. "Let me see your nose first, Mister Turner."

Will threw the captain a perplexed expression and looked doubtfully at the governor, but he just nodded encouragingly. Had he been a different person or in a different situation, Will would have laughed. He felt like a little boy going to the doctor and Governor Swann was his father, edging him softly not to be afraid and to do as he was told. But he couldn't help it. He sucked up his suspicion and sat on the edge of the bed as he let the captain remove the now very blood-stained cloth and examined his nose.

The captain turned Will's head at this angle and that, prodded gently at the bridge of Will's nose and then chuckled lightly as he gave Will the cloth back to block the fresh wave of blood. "You'll be okay. It's not broken, but you came very close to it. You will get quite a bruise and it may hurt for a while longer, but over all it should heal up fairly quickly."

Will pressed the handkerchief to his nostrils and looked back at the captain, nodding as he spoke. "Thank you, sir."

The captain smiled warmly back. "You can lie down now, William."

Will nodded again and leaned back into his pillow, closing his eyes slightly as the softness of feathers received his tired head with a warm welcome. He sighed, contentedly and the governor watched as he immediately began to doze off- his face beginning to grow less tense and relaxed, his body slackening his muscles.… He opened his eyes and sat bolt upright, looking at the captain with a surprised but inquiring look on his face. "How did you know my name?"

The captain looked at Will stoically for a while, whilst the young blacksmith returned his gaze with a piercingly no-nonsense one, waiting patiently for his answer. Will was the sort of person that, if he didn't have all the answers, he went and got them. It didn't matter to him how much he annoyed the other person or much the person hated him afterwards, he would get his answers- that was what was important to him. And if someone wouldn't give him a logical answer- or any answer, at that- they were labeled in his mind as "suspicious." Will needed to know all the little details of every situation because he was a bright and observant young man. Jack oftentimes called him stupid, but Will was actually very intelligent and quite brilliant when he put his head in the right direction…he was just horribly rash- a fault that he hated but could do nothing about. It was in his nature.

He watched the captain with curiosity as he noticed a flicker of anger flash in the back of his eyes. It was devilish quick, but it was there and, sure enough, Will saw it. However, had he hadn't been so observant, he would've missed it, it was so fast. Yet, there it had come and gone, and Will began to wonder what could cause such a strange reaction from this man? Who was he?

"I knew your father," the man stated simply. Simply he stated it, but to Will the answer was not so simple. He looked up at the captain from his sitting position on the bed, with a surprised look (although, I suppose he shouldn't have been so surprised- he had had the suspicion that his father had something to do with the mess).

The captain remained quite still, looking at Will firmly in the eyes. His lip twitched strangely before he managed to force a smile out. But the effect wasn't comforting, as smiles are intended for. Rather, Will became all the more wary of the man and what he was to say. Something he had said had touched a spot of sensitivity in the captain. He just wondered what.

"You look just like him," the captain explained stiffly after a moment.

Will knew that. Jack had told him. However, he was surprised nonetheless. Surprised that this man had known his father well enough for him to claim that he "looked just like him." Jack had said the same thing, but Jack was a good friend of Will's father. He also was his captain. Will was surprised, and, as always, he hid it- except for in his eyes, where there glanced the emotion just as quickly as the man's anger had flickered in his own eyes.

The captain smirked at Will's reaction. ".… Act like him too."

He turned around and walked towards his desk, continuing to speak casually, "In fact, I can't say I see much of your mother in you.…" He pulled out his chair and sat it nearer to the bed, gesturing for the governor to sit. "If you please, Governor."

The Governor took the seat, looking up at the captain and nodding with a courteous smile on his lips and a cautious and worried look in his eye. "Thank you," he muttered.

The captain moved the candles that sat on his night table to his writing desk. He swiftly removed his hat and navy jacket as well, setting them on top of the desk. He then returned to the bedside and made use of the night table as a stool, perching himself nonchalantly upon it.

The bleeding in Will's nose had stopped and Will carefully pulled the handkerchief away. It was quite red and he frowned, making a mental note to not forget to return it as soon as he had washed it. He returned his gaze to the man on the night table next to him. He was cool and collected now, much like he had been outside when dealing with that Stripes character. His arms were crossed over his chest and his legs were crossed casually at the ankles.

"You are the spitting image of your father," the captain continued, and he spat the last word like he had an awful flavor on his tongue when he spoke it. Will scowled at the tone in his voice. And the captain scowled to, though not at Will. In fact, he seemed to completely forget that Will, or anyone but himself, for that matter, was in the room with him. He stared at the floor, lost in thought but speaking his mind aloud, quite clearly. "Your father.… Yes, he'll be pleased with this, won't he? I wonder what he'll do? Ha! Probably will lock himself in his cabin and hide under the blankets. That bastard was always a bloody coward-"

"What did you say?!" Will demanded rashly. He wasn't loud, and yet his voice was threatening. He hadn't seen his father since he was ten-years-old, but Will was nonetheless angry at the negative light that this man held for him. From what his mother and Jack and Mr. Gibbs had told him, his father was a good man and, after learning about his rebellion towards Barbossa, he had no reason to discredit it. "My father was not a coward!"

The captain jumped a bit and blinked, as if he had forgotten that Will was there. He looked at Will for a moment, surprised that Will had actually heard him and Will began to think that perhaps the man hadn't intended to say those things out loud. But his startled look melted into a sickly smirk as he gave a strangely uncomfortable chuckle. "Like I said, you act just like him too.… Perhaps I shall have a use of you yet."

Will opened his mouth to retaliate, but stopped himself. He was unaware of the meaning that those words held. 'A use of you.…' What was he talking about?

"But," the man suddenly jumped back to the warm and cheery person he had been when they entered the cabin, a promising smile splayed across his face, "enough with all this dwelling in the past- I believe that we need proper introductions!"

"Yes, well," the governor put in, clearing his throat and readjusting his wig (which he happened to realize had gone crooked), "Will and I are well-acquainted with each other, and I assume that you know who the both of us are. But we haven't an idea of who you might be, so I suggest that you introduce yourself so we can begin to set things straight."

For a moment, the captain seemed impatient and put-off by the governor's interruption, but he eventually cleared his throat and smiled quite genuinely at the suggestion. "Yes, I suppose you are correct, Governor Swann.…" He smiled again, more business like, this time. "I am Captain Joseph P. Foulkes."

The governor inclined his head graciously as a response, with a pleasant smile. It was quite odd, really. Will expected the governor to scared out of his skin at the thought of being amongst pirates… but, then again, this "Captain Foulkes" was no Captain Barbossa. He was being quite cordial- regardless of what wrongs Will recently began to feel towards him.

"And this is your ship?" Will implied.

Foulkes looked at Will with a small amount of impatience. "Yes, Mr. Turner this is my ship."

"What's it called?"

"She is called The Predator," the captain responded haughtily, emphasizing his correction to Will's sentence. "An old but fine ship you'll begin to find, and I have no intention of trading her for anything else. She's still in her prime."

Will bit back a scoff. Prime? Had this man seen the Black Pearl of late? If there was any old ship that was in her "prime," that was she. Jack would be outraged if his ship slipped into the condition that this one was in- so rickety and shabby looking. Jack always wanted his ship to look as good as it could run, and if not, better.

"Well, now that that's been settled," the governor sighed, "I suppose we should get down to the more important items of business. Why are we here, Captain?"

Captain Foulkes gave a crooked grin. "Well, Governor, I was just about to get to that."

Will relaxed a bit, leaning his back against the bulkhead. His nose was doing well enough now, and he didn't want to have to go through this whole thing lying down.

"The fact is, Governor, that, regardless of how well-mannered or courteous I am, I remain a pirate. And pirates have certain items of business that they must attend to every now and then. Honestly, I believe that kidnaping is crossing the line, but I really didn't have a choice."

Will held back the urge to question this. He figured it best to listen carefully now and ask questions later. However, he still let his tongue slip. "But that wasn't the governor's question," he uttered softly.

Foulkes turned and shot a soft glare in Will's direction. "I know."

He stood and made his way towards his desk, speaking as he did so. "The truth is…I don't really know why you are here, Governor." He began sifting through the lot of papers on top of his desk.

"That makes no sense to me, whatsoever," the governor responded, timidly.

"I am not in charge of this little…enterprise. This whole voyage was not determined by myself. I receive orders from a higher commander. Our…commodore." He spat this last word much like he did whilst referring to Will's father. He pulled a paper out from the messy mass and held it out for the governor to take, returning to his "seat" on the night table. "You may find this of interest to you."

The governor pulled out a pair of reading spectacles that he had been carrying in his pocket and placed them on his face as he began to read the letter, mouthing the words slightly as he went over them. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he finished the letter. "Hm…" he muttered. "Isn't that odd? He seems unusually ghastly- not something I would expect. And that's a peculiar name: 'Bootstrap?'"

Will shot to his feet. "What?!"

"Oh dear!" Captain Foulkes uttered in a mock-worried tone, pressing a hand to his lips and feigning worry. "I completely forgot that you might be interested in the letter as well, my dear boy."

"Shut up!" Will snapped, causing the governor to jump and throw a surprised look at Will as he pocketed his spectacles. Will held out his right hand towards Foulkes. "Give me the letter!"

The captain lightly took the letter from the Governor's hands and held it out for Will to take. Will reached for it, and Foulkes snapped it away, causing Will to contort his face and ball his fists in fury. "Foulkes!" he boomed.

"'Please?'" Foulkes sing-songed the way a parent did to his two-year-old child.

Will stood there for a second, impatience written clearly upon his handsome face: his brows furrowed, his eyes flashing and his jaw clenched as he raised his chin slightly in defiance. He didn't like the way this man treated him. "Please?" he grumbled.

The Foulkes brought the letter within reaching distance for Will again. Will reached for it and he snapped it away again. A growl rumbled in Will's throat.

"Say it nicely, William," the man caroled.

Will exhaled sharply. With every passing second, he was disliking the man more and more. He took a deep calming, breath, attempting to appease his innards. He held out his right hand to take the paper, "Please," he repeated.

"Try again," the man countered, seeming to enjoy Will's displeasure.

Will closed his eyes. At first this reaction was to hold himself from striking the man in the face in a compulsion of anger, but he began to use it as a tool to tame his temper.

A voice arose somewhere inside his head. A female voice. It was laughing. 'Oh Will, sometimes you get angry at the most nonsensical things! You must learn to keep your temper under control!'

'But I can't,' a voice that sounded like his responded, frustrated with itself. 'It's out of control.'

'But you must. I intend to mother your children, and you will have to have great patience if we are to have little ones running about. They aren't the most non-mischievous, obedient beings, you know. They will get into trouble and they will test your patience to the limit. It's best to get practice now.'

'But Elizabeth-'

'Patience,' the woman cut in, 'is a virtue, Will. And one that I, myself admire in a man.... Impress me.'

Will felt his anger began to ease itself away slowly, until Will felt he had enough composure to ask again to the captain's favor- regardless of how ridiculous he was being.

'Elizabeth.…' He missed. It didn't matter how short of a time he had been away from her, he missed her, and to imagine her voice soothed him. He opened his eyes, his features and voice significantly calmer, softer. He held out his right hand. "Please."

The captain grinned. But his grin wasn't one of disgusting triumph or mischievous pleasure. It was, to a point, slightly kinder. "You may." And he handed the letter over to Will, who snatched it out of the captain's hand none too anxiously.

It read:

'Foulkes

'We make for Port Royale. Dock at the port tomorrow morning and wait
there for the hostages. We leave for Tortuga at midnight- do not get caught or you,
your crew and your bloody ship will face the consequences. You will stay at Tortuga
for two and a half weeks while we attend to special business elsewhere. We will have
spies watching you. After Tortuga be prepared to head for Mexico. Burn this letter.

'Sparrow & Bootstrap.'

Sparrow? Will's eyebrows shot heavenward and looked up at Captain Foulkes with anxious eyes. Bootstrap?! His father?! Impossible! He was dead! He couldn't have been alive. Surely he didn't.… "I don't understand."

Foulkes smirked as he took the paper and put it back. "Of course you don't. I didn't either, at first. Your father was always a good man. Fought for what was right, for his family and never shed blood if there was another way around it," he smiled warmly at this thought as he, once again, sat himself down on the night table and Will sat down on the bed, eager to hear this man's tale. There was a warm sparkle in the man's eye- one of admiration and respect. "He and Captain Jack Sparrow came up with that idea. I always looked up to those two… especially your father. He was a good man.…" He fell silent for a moment, his eyes wandering into the distant land of thoughts and dreams as he began to walk down the alleyway of memories.

Will cocked his head. First is father was a bastard and now he was a good man? Surely, he couldn't be both.

"Your father's still alive, Will."

"What?"

"Yeah. He's alive...."

Will just peered back, stubbornly, at Foulkes. He thought it was a joke. His father couldn't still be alive. He had heard multiple people testify of his death.

Captain Foulkes crossed his arms and ankles again, leaning his back against the wall nonchalantly as he continued. "When I found out that the stories about his death weren't true, and that he was still alive, I was anxious to join the crew he was starting. At first he was the same old Bill Turner, just wiser and older… but, at the same time, diminished. He plundered the same honorable way, leaving English ships and settlements be, and he wielded his sword as if he were still twenty. He told the same types of jokes, sang the same types of songs and even favored the same style of clothing. Yes, it was Bill on the outside…but somewhere inside his smile had changed. I could see it in his eyes. They had lost their distinct sense of humor at life and its ups and downs. I later discovered why: "he looked at Will, quite seriously, "his wife and child were dead."

Will felt a sudden compassion where there was anger, and understanding where there was hurt swept over him. When he was a lad, he assumed that his father hadn't cared about him and that was why he kept "running away." He didn't believe that he was a merchant sailor. Finally, when didn't come back for a long, long time, Will assumed that he had finally ran away for good. But, after Will had turned eleven and his mother gave him a gold medallion for a birthday present, she explained gently that his father hadn't run away and was planning on coming home. But he couldn't- he was dead.

That was what Will had come to believe his whole life. That is, until the episode that took place a year previous to the present. After learning of his father's story, Will had lots of time to puzzle it over whilst working in his smithy. And, one day, he came to a horrible realization: Barbossa couldn't have killed his father, he had been cursed like the rest of the crew. And that meant one of two awful things: he was wandering around, probably having completely forgotten about his son; or Will had killed him when he broke the curse. Will felt awful. The idea that his father never truly loved him returned from his late childhood and he felt hurt and rejected. The idea that he had killed his own father surfaced and that, if he ever planned on seeing Will again, Will had taken that away.… This story that he was hearing was beginning to feel the blanks and patch up old wounds, and made Will all the more eager to hear it continue.

The governor was interested in this tale as well. He had never heard anything of Will's father or the past that he held. He had had no idea that Will's father was a pirate, that he had known Jack Sparrow once upon a time- Will never spoke of it. It was enough for him to silently listen until this tale was told.

"It made sense," Foulkes continued. "They were the apples of his eye, the jewels of his crown. He loved them more than the sea, more than his ships, more than gold or silver, more than anything. And they were gone. So now, he was wandering the ocean, plundering here and there for the sake of old times- just so he had something to keep his mind off of things. Because, you see, he was still cursed. He couldn't die. He had desired to take his own life and join you and Katherine in the heavens when he learned of your deaths, but he couldn't do it." Foulkes smiled fondly and laughed a bit. "That curse, to me, was a blessing at that time. I didn't want to see Bill go. And because he had to live with himself, he had managed to teach his heart to endure the pain until fate decided his time to be sent above.…

"One night, he burst out of his cabin, in ecstatics. The curse had been lifted. He danced and sang and swallowed a whole bottle of wine in one go! He was happier than he had been in a long time. But then one of the crew spoke up saying, 'But Captain, how did the curse get lifted?'" Foulkes shook his head and frowned with pity. "Apparently, he hadn't given a thought to it before, because suddenly he looked thunderstruck. You see, this whole time he had thought you were dead- taken by the sea when your ship was sunk by the Black Pearl. Due to the circumstances, he realized you had been alive all these years- growing up without a father or any parent, for that matter. And now, because the curse was lifted, it became obvious that Barbossa had found you and you had been killed."

The pirate captain sighed and looked up at the ceiling with his eyebrows raised. "He was glummer than ever after that. We stopped plundering the foreign ships that passed us by, and with every port we stopped at another crewman or two would leave, seeking a ship that would bring them more adventure and success. He had lost his taste for the sea. Then, one day whilst in Tortuga, word reached him that Jack Sparrow had gotten the Black Pearl and killed Barbossa. His spirit suddenly returned and he gathered a new crew to set in search of the Black Pearl.

"Well, fate decided to be on our side for a change and, sure as shooting, after a few weeks, we came across a large Spanish Galleon with black sails. Bill thought it would be funny if we gave Jack a scare and surprised them with a fake attack. We waited till night came and, lucky for us, a sheet of fog came to our advantage. He left me in charge of The Predator whilst he set out with half of the crew in the longboats to surprise Jack."

"What happened?" Will asked.

"Apparently, it worked, because a messenger came with a letter that said that, after a wuick chat and vote, I had been named captain of The Predator, he was captain of the Pearl and that Jack had been named 'Commodore Jack Sparrow.'"

Will's eyebrows furrowed. Jack hadn't said anything about that while in Port Royal- he was still touchy about being called Captain.

"At first, it seemed everything was great. But then things began to get… odd. We began to receive instructions that were unlike Sparrow and Turner- each letter held a task that was dirtier and dirtier and each letter had more and more threats, which wasn't how your father or Sparrow used to handle their leadership at all. Perhaps it was power, I'm not exactly sure… but I could tell that something was causing your father and Jack to become more and more corrupt in their ways. They started praying on small British settlements and merchant ships as well as the foreign ones- and leaving no survivors; we weren't allowed to come within 50 feet of the Pearl for some odd reason, or else we'd be sent to Davy Jones' Locker; and other strange things.

"Finally, we got an order to set out for Isla de Muerte. When we got there, we loaded up some gold for stock and some of the men from Jack's crew began to move the chest. I tried to talk to your father, but he was cold towards me- completely ignored me, he did! I gave up on talking to him and went to get a look at some rubies that had caught my eye when I heard a very interesting conversation from some members of the Pearl's crew. I learned some very disturbing news that made me lose all the respect that had remained in me for your father."

Will wrinkled his eyebrows. This was something he wanted to hear.

"Apparently, your father got drunk and began boasting about all the pirate-like deeds he's done his lifetime and one of them wasn't very pretty.… But before I inform you of that, I'm curious. How did your mother die, Will?"

Will was taken aback by the sudden change of subject and even slightly angered. He wanted to know about his father, not have to return to evil thoughts of his mother's death day. But, he didn't want to argue with the man, he just wanted to get things over with, so he answered, cursing the man in his head. "She was raped and murdered… by a pirate."

"Did you actually get to see it happen, Will?"

Will shot a glare at the man, becoming impatient at the digression. "No," he snapped back. He then shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his face contorted in constrained expressions. He didn't like this subject. In fact, he hated it. He talked about it to no one- not even Elizabeth had managed to get a peep out of him on the matter and Will felt like he could trust Elizabeth with absolutely everything… except this. "She…" he struggled with his words and seemed pained to get think on what words to use. He took in a sharp breath. "I… I found her … dead… and lying in her blood." he voice became a hoarse whisper. "She had been stabbed repeatedly in the stomach… her throat was slit…" his voice began to crack and his pained face became wracked with grief, tears beginning to shine in his eyes, "…and her face… was completely mutilated.…"

Governor Swann couldn't believe his ears at the monstrosity Will was telling him of. He, the governor, had never heard of such a horrible thing!

"I was only eleven years old," Will continued. His vision began to blur from the tears that were welling incredibly fast in his eyes and his throat began to hurt from his attempts to be a man and hold in his hurt. He didn't want to weep in front of the governor and captain, he was already ashamed of wetting his pillow at night even though he was, in many respects, a grown man. But his attempts failed him, and a sob escaped his lips, followed quickly by his eye releasing a tear. "I didn't have anywhere to go, she told me my father was dead.… My landlord tried to send me to an orphanage, but I didn't want to go.…" He released a shuddering breath and then, wiping the tears from his eyes began to regain his composure.

"I refused to believe that my father was dead as well, I wanted to believe that he was still alive and would be waiting for me.… Last I'd heard, he was in the Caribbean, on business as a merchant sailor. I set my heart on finding him. I begged for food in the streets and pickpocketed hoping that I could get enough money to buy my way to Port Royal.… One day, I was caught by an officer and he threatened to take me to an orphanage. I panicked and wept and begged him not to do such an awful thing. He asked for a good reason why and I calmed and told him my father was in Port Royal and I wanted to go to him.

"The man, Captain James Norrington," Will gave a small grin at the man's name, "had compassion and, after asking for my name, managed to find a ship that was headed for Port Royal. I was to work passage there as cabin boy. Our ship was attacked by the Pearl and then, when I thought I was going to die, I woke up and found myself under the protection of an angel…" he beamed and let out a small laugh, in contrast to his tormented state that had taken him seconds before. "It turned out it was just a little girl by the name of Elizabeth Swann."

The Governor chuckled.

"From there, the Governor managed to find a blacksmith and his wife that were willing to take me in. And, from there, my whole life folded out to what it is now."

Foulkes gave a small smile. "I'm sorry, Will."

Will frowned again, looking at the ground. "There's no need to be," he returned, softly. "Elizabeth has healed my life. There's no need to be sorry anymore."

The captain let out a sarcastic laugh. "No, Will. There is a need to be. I'm sorry to say that, for your own good, you must learn something you have been blind of your whole life. You have to know what your father was really like…he murdered your mother."

Will did understand at first. But words began to piece themselves together, lethargically in his mind. He blanched, disbelief and absolute shock taking hold of him. His father murdered his mother?! 'No.... It couldn't have been.' He couldn't believe it. He refused to- his father was a good man and he loved his mother. He had heard it plainly from this man's mouth. He flushed and became angry. He set his jaw and closed his eyes, attempting control the anger that began to wash up inside of him. It was nothing more than a horrible lie. A disgusting lie. "That's not funny," he snarled through gritted teeth.

"I know," Foulkes replied calmly. "That's why it's a good thing that I am not lying."

"IT'S NOT TRUE!" Will thundered unlike he had ever done before, rising to his feet with his face red and contorted in fury, in hate. Tears began to return to his flaming eyes, tears from the sheer power of the passion held inside his rage. For him, this wasn't a game. "MY FATHER LOVED MY MOTHER! HE LOVED HER! HE WAS A GOOD MAN! YOU SAID SO YOURSELF!"

What Foulkes did in reaction, didn't please Will. It made him all the more furious. Furious…at his father, for not being there to testify otherwise. Foulkes laughed. He laughed, highly amused at Will's passion, his rage, his… ignorance. "Yes, Will. He was a good man. And I thought the same thing that you just did. But, as the great William Shakespeare once said: 'was' is not 'is.'"

It took Will a few seconds, but his fast-paced breathing began to slow as realization began to sink into him. His features softened before he blanched again, and looked as if he had come to a form of misery and helplessness. "No… he can't- he couldn't… he.…"

"I thought the same thing, Will. So I asked for his confirmation. And you know what he did?"

Will looked up at Captain Foulkes, hopeful in an infantile way.

"He laughed. He laughed and said, 'Yeah, I guess I did, didn't I?' and walked away, as cold as ever.… The Pearl's crew stole the stone chest of the Aztecs and had it placed upon the Pearl. But, as you know, that chest is evil. It granted some strange power the Pearl that rendered its victims helpless. A dark power. And I'm not sure why, but they used it for the last time on Port Royal. They brought the chest along with you two and ordered us to keep it with us at all times. I don't like that chest, so I've put below in a place where I can't see it and now we're headed to Tortuga for reasons I don't know of. I never know the reasons anymore.…

"You see, Will, you're father was a good man… in the beginning,… but he's changed. He and Jack. I know a rotten egg when I smell it and, I'm telling you now, it doesn't take a genius to figure out something really stinks about what those two are scheming. Whatever it is, it ain't good- because those two haven't done a good deed in the past year. Not since they were reunited."

The governor remained silent, puzzling this awful news in his mind, as well. But, for him thoughts were not as grievous as Will's.

Will sniffed a bit, trying to rid his nostrils of the tang of blood that he smelt. He didn't like the smell of blood. It reminded him of odd things. It reminded of him of death- his mother's death. He bit his lip as thoughts of that day began to come tumbling back, but with a new disgustingly perverted twist to it. His father.… 'No!' He shut his eyes and pushed the thoughts aside before clear images could take shape in his head. He wanted to forget.… He wanted it so badly.… 'Please, no more nightmares....'

He sniffed again slightly, and the aroma of blood returned cruelly. His blood. His father's blood…. The blood of pirate… of a murderer.

"Will," Foulkes voice gently pulled him from his gloomy reverie, "I have a favor to ask of you."

Will looked back at the captain glumly. Fine. As long as he didn't have to hear anymore awful news. He would do a little "favor."

Foulkes sighed at Will's glare. "Your father and Jack have been planning to find the city of El Dorado for some time. I think, once in we stop in Tortuga, that is where we will be heading."

Will scoffed. "There's no such thing as-"

"Oh, really?" Foulkes interrupted. "Just like there's no such thing as Heathen-Aztecan-God-Curses that make men look like monsters under the moonlight?"

Will fell silent. That was true. Will didn't believe in magic and all that mumbo jumbo until he had lived it, seeing it with his own eyes. If curses were real, how could he say "yes" or "no" to the existence of El Dorado without seeing it? It had a chance too.

"Cortés did not find El Dorado, but Jack was always one for crazy ideas. He's set his mind on the Golden City. However, if he makes it there, many people will lose their lives and after having both the treasures of Isla de Muerte and El Dorado, Jack Sparrow will become richer than ever. And then there will be no stopping him from doing even more horrible things. Power comes with money, you see. And I don't know what they'll be up to after that- they've simply become too unpredictable. They need to be stopped."

"And just what do I have to do with it?" Will snapped.

"Well, in a separate letter I had orders to kill you and hold the governor prisoner whilst in Tortuga. However, I'm having plans of my own. Like I said, they need to be stopped. I'm not popular nor strong enough to get a mutiny started, so I've gotten a horse of a different color to help me. I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to hide you and make it appear as if I've killed you."

"Get to your point, please!"

Foulkes gave a frustrated sigh and rolled his eyes. "Very well.… I've heard tale that you're quite the swordsman."

Will looked at Foulkes suspiciously. "I suppose so.…"

Captain Foulkes grinned maliciously. "Good. You'll do just fine.…"

"Do just fine for what?"

Foulkes turned back and looked Will in the, a wicked gleam shining in his own. He grinned. "William Turner… I want you to assassinate Jack Sparrow and Bootstrap Bill," he stated it as if it

were a promotion in His Majesty's Service.

The governor gasped, horrified at the grotesque request.

Will's jaw dropped. Assassination? To his father? "What?! Are you mad?!"

"No. You will kill Jack and your father," Foulkes repeated nonchalantly, turning to his writing desk.

Will shook his head. He didn't care what was said about his father and Jack. He didn't care that they were now disgusting, heartless bastards- one was his father and the other one of his only true friends. He wouldn't do it. "No."

"What?" Foulkes hissed, swiftly turning on his heel with his eyes menacing.

Will glared at the captain, unintimidated. He had made his choice. He wouldn't succumb to assassination. "I won't do it. You're a madman.You can't make me. I'm no mercenary!"

Foulkes squared his jaw and looked like he was about to explode in wrath, when his face suddenly softened and then turned maliciously mischievous. He drew his pistol. "Oh, Will…you misunderstand me." He cocked his pistol and aimed it at Will. "It wasn't an option." He then shifted his gun and leveled it at a different target: Governor Swann.

Will blanched and bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes visibly widening in anxiety.

"You will kill your father and Jack…or Commodore Norrington will be receiving a gift, and you know what it will be? The governor's body in a bag and a note stating how he was brutally murdered by Port Royal's favorite young blacksmith.… Oh, dear me! What will Miss Swann think?" He chuckled ominously at Will's outraged expression. He didn't seem in the least ashamed. And Will had thought him to be an honorable man… he was beginning to doubt everything he had just heard was truth.

"Aw, come off it, Will. I know it seems hard now, but once they're dead, you'll see it was for the better. You'll see.…"

Will hadn't much choice. He had to choose: Jack and his father or Governor Swann and Elizabeth. The man was a lunatic!... Will couldn't lose Elizabeth's love…so he made his choice and that became the determining factor. It wasn't something he was proud of, nor willing to do... but perhaps he could pull out of it. Perhaps.... A few minutes later, a very pleased Joseph P. Foulkes was holding his door open so that Will and Governor Swann could be led to the brig for the night.

"So Will… I'm glad we finally see eye-to-eye," Foulkes soughed with a warm smile.

Will looked out the door, where the crew had begun to stare once again, then back at Captain Foulkes. He smirked. "For now," he avowed.

Foulkes grinned wider, a challenge twinkling in his eye. "For now."

---

Jack opened the lid to his chest. The chest that sat at the foot of his bed on the Pearl and was not opened by any, save he. He shoved aside some stacks of old papers, lifted out of it some timeworn books, a model ship, some rolled up parchments, discovered the core to the apple he had eaten two days previously.… He threw this over his shoulder and out the window after shrugging. 'So that's where it went.'

Commodore Norrington waited at the cabin doorway for a bit, but then, after watching the pile of junk that was coming out of the chest grow larger and larger, he became sure that Jack would most likely need assistance in finding whatever it was that he was looking for, and went and knelt beside him.

"What is it you're looking for, exactly, Mr. Sparrow?"

"The Abyss," Jack grunted as he shoved aside a large stack of paper, "is the one ship that is anythin' like the Black Pearl. It looks jus' like the Pearl, in fact."

The commodore watched with curiosity as Jack lifted a minuscule triangular metal chip out of the box. It was black and had gold engravings of leaves surrounding a fancy letter "A". "When the Pearl was built, the Spanish sailors who built it for me liked it so much that they built another ship exactly like it."

Jack got out his compass and simply slid the metal chip onto the tip of his compass (the tip that pointed north or, in his compass' case, to Isla de Muerte) much like slipping a shoe onto a foot. "I was against it, however. The Pearl was suppose ta be special, one of a kin', the cream of the crop. If she had a sister ship, then she wasn' as special in me eyes. So I forbade them ta use the Abyss.

"They didn' listen to me, however. They set sail with the Abyss before I could sail with the Pearl. Got to the Caribbean before I did. Tha's not right. So, I went to…" he looked hesitant for a moment, "someone… and I had 'im make this." He held up his compass and pointed to the chip that was inserted onto his compass' point.

The commodore looked at it, bewildered, for a moment's time. "What is it?"

"Well, you know how my compass is… shall we say, "magic?" I 'ad this here chip made special. There's a small metal chip with an engraving identical to the one on this chip located somewhere on the Abyss. The man I took it to was also the man who enchanted my compass. A voodoo expert, really. When this here chip is on the compass, it points to wherever the Abyss sets sail."

The commodore stared at the compass for a long moment then looked at Jack. "Wherever the Abyss is?"

"Wherever!" Jack assured with a cocky smile, gold and silver teeth agleam.

The commodore stared at him for a moment, a stoic expression on his face. Finally, his eyebrows creased in curiosity. "Tell me something, Sparrow."

"Aye?" Jack asked, as he closed his chest and locked it up.

"Why is it," the commodore asked, slightly frustrated at the feeling he had that he couldn't quite tell whether Jack was paying attention or not, "that you are helping us- besides the fact that Turner is on that ship. You gave us the ship's name and all the information necessary for us to find it and we granted you amnesty for it.… Why aren't you running away?"

Jack paused for a moment. He was very still and seemed to be thinking quite thoroughly- something that Norrington couldn't help but think he didn't do too much. Jack sighed and clicked the lock shut. "You wanna know why? I'll tell ya why."

The commodore looked at Jack curiously as a strange sort of seriousness overcame his normally tipsy attitude.

"I jus' wanted me ship, back," Jack sighed. "Tha' was it. An' yeh know wha'? I got it! S'me ship again. Mine.… But, now I got another problem. 'Bout 6 months or so after I got the Pearl back, I get to Tortuga to see people shrinkin' away from me. An' I hear people whisperin'- sayin' that rumor has it the Pearl, 'as been terrifyin' every kin' of settlements an' ships alon' the Spanish Main more than ever now that Jack Sparrow's cap'n. Well, I fin' tha' hard to believe, 'cause I've been roamin' 'round the Philippines for the pas' couple o' months- completely left the Caribbean to spite you, Commodore."

The commodore rose an eyebrow.

Jack put his hands up into a defensive stance. "'ey, don' give me tha' look- I'm jus' statin' the facts, 'ere!"

The commodore relaxed his unconvinced expression and returned to listening silently. Jack liked the commodore- he didn't interrupt with questions every ten seconds the way Will did.

"Well, I've been doin' a bit of investigatin' to sort things out and I've made an interesting discovery: it ain't the Pearl that the people 'ave been seein', it's the Abyss."

"And what's so odd about that, Sparrow?"

"S'odd 'cause I sunk the Abyss nigh fifteen years ago."

The commodore's eyebrows shot upward. "Excuse me?"

"I sunk 'er. An', wha's more, no one has actually seen this imposter- the one posin' as me, that is- the cap'n always stays on 'is ship. S'almost as if they're intendin' to give me a bad reputation. I don' like it."

"So you're helping us because you want to re-sink the Abyss and fix your shattered reputation?" the commodore questioned, his eyebrow cocked again and a disbelieving tone in his voice.

Jack looked at the commodore. "Yeah," he replied quickly with a tight-lipped grin.

The commodore let out a scoff and got to his feet. "I find that every hard to believe, Sparrow."

"S'not my problem," Jack replied as he stood up as well. "I gave you the truth, now whether you believe it or not is your hands, not mine. Now, you need to go get a change of uniform." He made a pained face and pointed at the commodore's military attire. He then walked to his bed, grabbed a small bundle of folded clothes and shoved it into the commander's hands.

Norrington rolled his eyes heavenward and marched in his sturdy way out of the cabin door. In all honesty, he really didn't believe he had time for this.

"You're welcome!" Jack shouted after him in reply to the thank you he never received.

---

Jack laughed and thumped the commodore on the back heartily. "You look absolutely fantastic, mate! If I wasn't standing outside yer door the whole time, I never woulda guessed 'twas you!"

The commodore rolled his eyes heavenward, groaning, 'Oh, heavens,' inwardly. Why he let people talk him into these things, he did not know, but, at the moment, that did not matter. It was part of the plan. The commodore examined himself in the reflection of water from a nearby puddle. He did, indeed look quite different. No powdered wig, no blue naval uniform, no trihat… just his normal dark brown hair and clothes that regular sailors wore. A loose, light-blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a golden-brown vest, tan breeches, long brown leather boots…quite different from what he was used to.

"Well," Jack stated as he locked his fingers together and, palms facing outward, stretched his arms over his head, "I guess we should get yeh onboard yer new ship, Captain." He slapped him on the back once more before moving off.

The commodore made a face of disgust and followed the pirate, reluctantly, towards the docks. When this was over, he was taking away Jack's clemency. This was ridiculous.

He found Jack, arms crossed in a proud stance, standing on the gangplank of the Interceptor. Only, her name did not read "Interceptor." It read: "Tradesmen's Trove."

Jack removed his hat and bowed elaborately. "Mr. Merchant… your ship awaits you."

Norrington walked up the plank in his habitual military stance and it wasn't hard to take notice of it. In fact, Jack was looking at him with an eyebrow cocked.

"What?" Norrington asked, when he noticed Jack's face.

"You'll want to drop the posture, mate."

"Why?"

"'Cause it gives away your true identity. You're no' Commodore Norrington for the time being, mate. You are now officially Captain James…" he thought for a moment, "Smith," he concluded for a moment.

Now Norrington raised an eyebrow. "Smith?"

"Or Smitty, if you like," Jack offered with a toothy grin and the sway of a finger.

Norrington shook his head. "No. It's too obvious. A different name."

Jack sighed. "Fine.… How 'bout…Green?"

The commodore cocked an eyebrow. "Captain James Green?"

Jack shrugged. "Can you come up with somethin' better, Jimmy?"

The commodore shot an angry look at the pet name Jack had come to calling him, but then began to try and think of a better surrogate surname. Unfortunately, James Norrington wasn't used to having to think up such things, and a name wouldn't come to mind. He sighed and complied. "Alright. But this is only until we reveal ourselves to the enemy. After that, it's back to formal conduct. Am I understood?"

"Aye, Jimmy," Jack grinned. "Unambiguously."

"Good." They turned and began to walk up the gangplank, side by side.

"Whoa," Jack put out his hand and grabbed Norrington by the shoulder. "Stop, stop-stop- stop-stop-stop. Stop." He grabbed Norrington by both shoulders and made him turn and face him.

"What?" Norrington pressed, quite annoyed.

"Look at me: You are way to stiff, mate. You can be stiff, but you're too stiff. Bloody hell, Will wasn' tha' stiff when I was with him an' Will was a stick, mate. Do you wanna pass as a sailor?"

"Yes."

"Then listen to me. Drop the shoulders. If you don' wanna walk like me- and I actually would rather you not, s'my walk and my walk only- then walk the way Will does. Don' try to think about posture, just be a bit more relaxed in the shoulders. Slouch, for once in your life, savvy?"

"Yes!" Norrington insisted, even more perturbed than ever before.

"Great." Jack began to make his way up the gangplank.

Norrington turned and, after taking a deep breath, dropped his shoulders. It felt strange. He couldn't remember the last time he was at ease. He began to walk up the gangplank and with every step it became a little bit more easier, until finally he was able to make it to the top of the plank whilst walking "normally." He was surprised at the top to hear a jovial laugh and some clapping. And it wasn't Jack.

Flushed with embarrassment, he looked to his left to see Elizabeth, standing at the ship's rail, dressed in a simple dress of a creamy color with her hair held back, out of her eyes in a half-ponytail. She was clapping and laughing good-naturedly, and he felt himself go an even deeper shade of red.

"Very good," she laughed, "very good! Not bad for a beginner!"

"Elizabeth, what are you doing here?" Norrington found himself demanding, his face hot and flustered. He was going to kill Jack.

She frowned slightly but then smiled again as if he was being silly, "Well, I'm coming with you, of course! What else?"

The commodore stood and stared at her for a moment as his embarrassment began to become a thing of the past. He shook his head firmly and then he marched up to her, grabbed her firmly by the arm and guided her to the gangplank. "No."

"What?" she asked a bit breathlessly, offended to some extent and trying to pull her arm out of his tight grip.

"No. You are, under no circumstances, coming on this voyage."

"Why not?" she demanded. Now she was angry and Norrington could sense a fight coming on. He steeled himself. Elizabeth wasn't the type of woman that men wanted to get into fights with- especially battles of intellect.

"Elizabeth, you know very well that a voyage such as this is far too dangerous for a woman-"

"And you expect me to sit here, twiddle my thumbs and wring my hands while I just wait to discover what happened to father and husband?!"

"Elizabeth," he sighed and rubbed his temple in frustration. He didn't need this, not now.…

"No, I'll not stand for it!"

"You will," he suddenly became firm. He grabbed her arm firmly and guided her quite harshly and swiftly down the gangplank. "And, if not, you will at least obey my order."

She opened her mouth to speak.

"No!" he barked. He was not going let her endanger herself with brash, impulsive actions as a result of her momentary desperation. "This is the order: that you off my ship. You cannot endanger yourself, Elizabeth."

She opened her mouth to protest again, a look of defiance returning after she had re-gathered her composure. "B-"

" And if you do not listen…" he pressed and then… he suddenly hesitated, as if he had difficulty finding words to put this to or did not want to say what he was about to say at all, "…if you do not listen…I will have to punish you."

She stared at him with her mouth agape, surprised for a moment and even hurt. She didn't say anything, she just looked at him. She swallowed and looked down at the floor, in thought. How could he be so cruel and misunderstanding? Will was her husband and her father was gone as well. She wanted save them, to save Will. He had done it for her.…

The commodore closed his eyes cursed himself for being so harsh. He didn't want to hurt her.… Feelings. Pah! Blasted feelings! They got in the way of everything! Why did they have to be for her? "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I know it's hard and it hurts."

She looked up at him, with an even more pained and angered face than before, if possible.

"But I would hate it if I had to tell your father- …to tell Will that he almost got to see you again… but something happened.… Don't you understand? I'm doing my best to bring you two together again.… You deserve it."

She looked up at him for one last time before a small smile began form on her lips. She began to seem comforted. "Do you really mean that?" she asked, her voice almost as soft as a whisper.

"More than anything."

She smiled a small but warm smile as she thought his reply over. Her visibly searching for how she felt about actually obeying an order she did not approve for once. "Alright," she sighed at last. "Alright, I'll listen this once."

The commodore felt a wave of relief come over him. Never before had he been able to stop her when she was determined to get something and he was relieved that he was able to win this round. He was grateful that he was able to get her to understand. "I swore you I'd find him. I'm not sure if that meant anything to you, but I swear to you again: I'll bring him back.… I promise."

She frowned again at his bold statement, apparently disapproving of something. "You mean you'll try."

He shot her a confused look.

She twitched a quick smile. "James… don't make promises you can't keep."

---

Author's Notes:Whoo! Alright, since you had to wait so long- who wants to kill me?! (Everyone raises their hands.) Whoa.... Good thing you guys aren't really going to go through with it. - (They raise torches and pitchforks.) "!! Uh.... Heh, heh.... Sorry! I had re-write this chapter 3 or 4 times- give me a break!!!

Okay, first I want to clear some things up so I don't get flames that were written in vain.

1) In case you didn't catch it, Jack isn't evil- he's being framed. So don't shoot me for making Jack the "bad guy" 'cause he's not! We all love Jack.

2) I'm not weakening Elizabeth. We all know she's a strong woman, and that'll come through when the time comes.

3)You guys are going to hate me for saying this, but updates are going to come a little slower. That was the last chapter that was pre-written (and it had some gaps, so I had to write things in as well) so it may take a bit longer. I don't like to rush my work because then it ends up as crap, and I don't want to disappoint you guys. So, all I ask for is patience.

Moxie D. Turner- Sorry I had to hurt Will a bit. It's not for the fun of it, though, I promise. It's there to add tension and make some of the characters more unlikeable. You know, what I mean? Glad you like the suspense.

Jennie- Wow! I'm glad I've caught your interest. You were right, you learned a bit more about what you wanted, but you still have been left in the dark about some things.... You'll get the answers as the story rolls along, that's all I can say about that. I didn't really want to torture Will. I didn't cause him pain for the sake of things, I did it for the sake of the story, to give a certain tension between him and stripes that will become key to the story.

It's kind of like how Jack cheated in the film. It made him all the more untrustworthy in Will's eyes and that added to how Will reacted to him throughout the film. If Will trusted Jack, he probably wouldn't have eavesdropped in the Faithful Bride, or knocked Jack out on Isla de Muerte... how would that have affected the flow of the story? Think about it.....

CrAzY Pigwidgeon- Are you French/bilingual? Sorry, I looked at your bio and it was in French, so I couldn't but ask. And, for everyone's sake, I didn't kill Will now. He's got an important part to play- he's Bootstraps son!!!

OpraNoodlemantra- Next chapter is when Jack's plan finally begins to move. Don't worry, Jack's Jack and he's always got a few tricks up his sleeves. (I intend to keep things away from his point of view so you don't get an idea of what he's planning- one of the best things about Jack is his unpredictability.... Least ways, that's what I think.)

williz- Professional writer? Ha! Yeah right! I'll have you know that I'm just 15! (Gasp! Choke! Horror!) And, anyways, there are stories on this site that are way better than mine. (I wonder if it's because the authors are way older? Hm? 15... 23. Yup. I guess that's it.) You know the rose analogy? Well, there's a good description of Will and Elizabeth's relationship in "The Measure of A Man" and guess who says it? Jack! (He's such a cool character in that story.) It also gives us a bit of insight on Norrington's behalf. It's sort of long, but that's why I save you for last. Read this:

The pirate flashed a sly smile. "There are a lot of things about the sweet Miss Swann you don't know about, Commodore," he declared. The smug smile on his face infuriated Norrington, and clenching his hands into fists was all he could do to stop himself from launching at the other. "She's quite the willful thing, really. Terribly stubborn and quite clever for a lass. She'll do whatever it takes to get what she wants, you know. Including promising herself to you." At that, Norrington leveled and icy glare that reduced most men to cowering upon Sparrow. The captain only continued to grin, though the Commodore believed he saw a speck of sympathy flash in those dark eyes. "She didn't do it because she loved you, mate, at least not in the way you wanted. But surely you know that by now."

He did, and part of him still hated it. A part of him yet couldn't reconcile that moment with the image of Elizabeth he adored. She had used him, used his affections, and though he imagined if things had perhaps gone differently she might have wed him, he knew their marriage would never contain the passion or fire he wanted. The Elizabeth he had known was a quiet, demure lady, beautiful and charming. That had not been the truth. There was more to her than simply what he perceived. Jack Sparrow had seen that. Will Turner had, as well. In fact, the boy had always seen it. What had made him so blind?

He had.

He hated that, as well.

"There are plenty other things you don't know about, either, my dear Norrington," Sparrow continued, pulling him from his reverie. "Her eyes light up with fire, you see, when she her heart takes over her thoughts. She drinks with the best of 'em." Norrington seethed, looking down heatedly. "And she loves that boy. And he loves her. It's one of those things, you know? Even a scruffy pirate like me can see that. Something pure, something precious. The sort of thing you protect just so there'll be something good in this dark and dangerous world. And you don't really even question why you do it. You just wake up one day… And you see the empty ocean in front of you. And suddenly that freedom that you worked so hard for… suddenly that don't seem so important no more. The sea is wide and vast and as empty as the world, and you can take it and have it all to yerself, but all the sudden it seems as empty as it looks. And then you realize. What good is a world without end?"

Norrington heard the words, and they hurt. They throbbed viciously. It seemed so terribly true. A world without end. An empty world without end. He didn't want that. But even more burdensome than that was the thought of an empty world with an end, a world where he was trapped on land, trapped watching people change and life race by him without the power to interfere. He thought he understood so much and could control everything around him. But he couldn't. He hadn't understood Elizabeth. He hadn't been able to mold her into the image he'd had of her. In fact, he had hardly tried. He'd let her go.

"Did you love her, Commodore?" Sparrow asked.

He looked to the pirate, affronted by the question. But there was nothing but interest in his dark eyes, and the sight softened his anger. "I did," he finally declared.

Sparrow nodded again and sighed softly. "Yeah, I thought I did, too. For a minute or so, back on that island… I thought to myself, 'hey, this ain't so bad. I could stay on this island with this fiery girl.' But I had to have my ship. And then I wondered what it'd be like, sailing the seas with a woman at my side again. Sharing that world without end with someone. But then I got drunk, and I realized I was a limey fool for wonderin'. Men like us… We don't belong in a place like her heart. We're too dirty. We've been touched by black places and things." Sparrow shook his head slightly. "Besides, the sea's our mistress. We'd have to share whatever love we got left, and most women… they don't take kindly to that sort of thing."

"I simply… wished for more for her," Norrington admitted quietly. "She's a beautiful woman, a specimen of radiance and fine breeding. A year has passed since she chose him, and in that time he has amassed no money, no honor. I… I had thought him worthy and capable, but with each day that passes, I doubt more. Her dignity and reputation is being trampled by his ineptitude. Perhaps he is not to blame, but she deserves more than… than a–"

"Than a blacksmith? Than a commoner? Than the son of a pirate?" Sparrow finished.

Norrington looked to him. He did not speak at first, ashamed somehow of a thought he had long held. "I don't despise Turner, Sparrow. I despise what Elizabeth's love for him has done to her."

"Let me tell you something, Commodore. Her world starts and ends with William Turner. Nothing you can do will change that, savvy? I've seen it in the way she looks at him. I've heard it in his voice. They don't know anythin' beyond each other, and they don't want to. That's admirable, in a way. NaVve in another. But it ain't somethin' we can understand. Men like us need more than that. The sea or ships or commandin' others… You should be thankful, really, that Will stole her heart from your hands. She wouldn'ta made you happy." The Commodore glanced at him hurtfully. Sparrow raised his hands in a mock show of defense. "Truly. She woulda given you her heart and expected you to do the same. But you couldn't do that. You would want more, need more, than simply the comforts of a woman. And you would've resented her for that." The pirate shook his head slightly. "It's a good thing, really. But you just can't put it to rest, can you? And you won't. You've realized you can't have her, but you can't let it go, because you can't accept who she's chosen."

As much as he wished to deny that, he knew Sparrow was right. The man had a level of insight that stunned the Commodore. He had never expected such a keen perspective from the man before him. Jack Sparrow was an enigma to him, now more than he ever had been before. "Men like us…" Norrington repeatedly softly. He narrowed his gaze, settling questioning eyes upon his companion. "You believe we are the same?"

Jack shrugged noncommittally. "Eh. All men are. We all have the same lusts, the same dreams, the same sorts of thoughts runnin' 'bout our heads. I just express mine. The only thing that separates the law-abiding man from the criminal is inhibition. Now a man's cause for not doin' what he wants all the time makes him what he is."

"Rather bleak, Sparrow, to think such a thing," Norrington returned, repulsed by the cynicism.

"There ain't no greater truth," the pirate announced quite matter-of-factly. "Common decency? Bullocks. Innate human compassion? Rubbish. No such thing." Sparrow shook his head, obviously somewhat disillusioned. "We're bloody animals, and just like any other creature, we're not made to hampered by silly things like morality and civility. It's a cruel world out there, Commodore, in case you haven't noticed. If you don't take what you can when you can, you get nothin'. That's the cold truth of it, and anything else we've invented, like compassion and laws and proper society, are just means of runnin' from it." The man's face darkened. "I told young Turner once that the only rules that mattered were what a man can do and what a man can't do. I was wrong. A man can do bloody anything he wants. It's what a man will do and what he won't. Aye," he murmured, "that's all the difference in the world."

The Measure of a Man by M. N. Theis.
Chapter Fifteen: The World Without End.

Laters, guys! Prithee, be patient with me- I'm human and have things going on in my life and I also can't write perfectly in one draft. See ya!