A/N: Apologies for how long this took, this chapter was a beast to write.

Bootstrap Bill was confused. That was the way of things as of late - so much so that he was actually aware of it more often than not. Time had a way of growing foggy when it stopped being such a defining factor in a day. But he remembered her. The redhead. The one that didn't belong here. He couldn't recall her name, maybe the lordling had said it, he hadn't been listening to the man until he approached him. Until he alluded to William. After that, he very much had been listening.

His crewmates were always in a foul mood after Beckett's posturing, and Jones' mood was fouler still. He'd absconded to his quarters, and the wail of his pipe organs had shaken the ship ever since. The soldiers stationed aboard looked confused and discomfited by that in equal measures, shifting unsteadily and glancing about for a trace of a reaction that might suggest such behaviour wasn't normal on the captain's part. Bootstrap ignored it all, resuming the work he'd been assigned, cutting through old rigging to be replaced. The knife was new - plucked from a sailor who chose death rather than servitude - and not so good as the one he'd given William. But he'd happily tolerate the difference for the knowledge that his son had the other.

He will survive. He'll keep his word.

That's what the lass had told him. And he'd believed her - had no reason not to beyond blind scepticism. Yes, that was usually his norm, but he'd wanted to believe her. And now, here she stood, in the service of Beckett, married to one of his senior officers. Will was alive, he knew that, they'd discussed him and Beckett wasn't the kind to waste time discussing dead men. No, he discussed men who might be of use, and if he believed William might be useful, then William was alive. But…Beckett did think him useful. And the girl was advising him.

Caught up in his thoughts, he wasn't looking at the rigging as the serrated edge of the knife sawed through it, and snapped through the last strands of the rope, flying up and catching him across the cheek. He grunted, staggering back a little and ignoring the rasping, grating laughs of the men who'd noticed it nearby. Only the barest trickle of blood came out - as half-hearted as the rest of him. It would've been pissing blood were he a normal man. Not bothering to wipe his face, he blinked down at the rigging that remained and returned to his work.

The girl was a traitor. That had to be the way, didn't it? She'd gone from being in Jack's employ to Beckett's. Maybe she'd betray him next, but people with good intentions didn't flit from side to side that way. And now those intentions were turning on William. Now she was turning Beckett's eyes to William.

She'd used her knowledge to secure position and wealth for herself and her husband, and damned the rest of them. He never should've helped her escape the brig.

When Will was marched off of the Black Pearl and into Beckett's office aboard the Endeavour soon after returning from the locker, he had no idea what to think. Beckett wished to speak to him, yes, any old simpleton could discern that. But why? Why him? Why not Barbossa? No, that wouldn't make sense. Barbossa was slippery, but he resented the likes of Beckett too much to work with him. Or perhaps Elizabeth - yes, he could use her father to try and strong-arm her into whatever it was he wished. Not that Will wished to see such a thing unfold - in fact, he was relieved that it had not, but it would have been the clever thing to do. Beckett was the type who thrived on always doing the clever thing.

Perhaps it was Sao Feng. It was feasible - that in Sao Feng's betrayal of them all, Beckett had learned through him that Will had a willingness to make certain deals. There was always a possibility that he simply wished to posture and threaten, but there had to be more at play.

The men deposited him into the office with a firm shove and then took their leave immediately after. Beckett stood at the window, looking out at the Pearl and the Empress. Rather than be taken in by whatever display of casual aloofness the man was trying to put on, Will turned his attention to the room. Was there any chance he would have the heart here? Pausing, he listened, but there was no tell-tale thump. No, all there was was gaudy portrait of Beckett propped up in the corner. The painting was bigger than the man himself.

"Curious. You all appear to be quite desperate. Is it that you no longer believe that a gathering of squabbling pirates can defeat the Flying Dutchman? And so despair leads to betrayal. Or loyalty, perhaps. If the crux of the matter is that your loyalty lies elsewhere, Mr Turner."

Will squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes at Beckett when he finally turned to face him.

"What do you know of my loyalty?"

Beckett gave a smirk that made his face infinitely more tempting to strike "Quite a bit, thanks to a mutual friend of ours."

That was no mystery. Where Norrington went, Theodora would go, and they all know where the former-slash-once-again Commodore had gone.

"Theodora Byrne," he sneered.

"Theodora Norrington now, actually," Beckett corrected, and Will's lip curled.

A streak of petty jealousy and resentment flitted through him at the fact that they'd betrayed them all and then managed to marry before he and Elizabeth, if he'd ever even get a chance to call Elizabeth his wife at all.

Beckett continued "Her loyalties are rather more obvious, you see - right there, in her name for the world to see. But yours? I'd have never guessed at them, had she not been so obliging in sharing them."

"Is she here?"

Beckett stepped away from the window entirely now, moving to the bar cart and fiddling with some fine crystal decanters as he answered.

"No, no, she's aboard the Flying Dutchman with her husband. As is the heart, so I'm afraid you'll have to put off stabbing it for a while longer. That was your plan, was it not? Stabbing the heart, thus saving your father. The one who finds himself shackled to the Dutchman in servitude. Noble, some would say."

Will didn't react. He took great pains to prevent himself from reacting, too. That was what Beckett sought here - a reaction. A great, uncontrolled display of emotion that would reward him with information he did not previously have. Or at least an indication that he was strolling down the correct path. Will was not dense enough, nor unrestrained enough, to reward him with any such thing.

"And what would you say?" he asked instead.

Beckett glanced towards him, his eyebrows raising as he was apparently somewhat bemused by the question. He answered after a moment of exaggerated consideration.

"I would say…it would be prudent to consider an alternative arrangement." he said, pouring them each a measure of brandy "One requiring absolutely nothing from you but information."

"The Brethren Court," Will said knowingly "And in return you'll, what, give me the heart?"

Scepticism riddled his voice, and he knew he was right to be distrustful, as if there'd ever been any doubt on that count, when Beckett breathed a wry laugh.

"Of course not. The Dutchman is the power in these waters. Even were he in his prime, your father would hardly be worth sacrificing that," Will resisted the urge to bristle at that, settling for a roll of his eyes instead "That would be bad business indeed. And he's not in his prime, I do so hate to point out to you. No, he seemed rather in poor condition when I saw him last. The longer he is kept waiting, the more I fear terribly that will be the case."

As he so empathetically broke this news to him, Beckett approached and handed him his glass.

"What would you give me, then?" Will eyed him stonily, setting down his glass untouched atop the war table that took up most of the space in the room.

"Do you really imagine the heart is the only route to that which you wish for?" Beckett all but scoffed "If I can order Jones to kill his pet squid, I can certainly order him to negate any contract standing between himself and William Sr."

Will's surprise showed on his face before he could stop it - brown eyes widening as he realised the sheer extent of the possibilities that this one discussion held. He'd expected posturing, thinly veiled threats, and a manipulation or two. And while he'd gotten all three, he'd gotten something unexpected too. An offer that actually interested him. Tempted him, even. When Beckett's lips pressed into a smug smile, he knew he'd shown too much on his face and forced the frown back onto his brow. It didn't faze the man, who downed his glass with a self-satisfied smirk and then a little twitch of a shrug that seemed to say the choice was Will's.

"And what would I have to tell you, for such an order to be made?" he asked.

"Everything. Where are they meeting? Who are the pirate lords? What is the purpose of the nine pieces of eight?"

He stepped closer as he asked the questions, practically whispering them by the end, as if proximity and an air of secrecy alone could pry such answers from him. Now, though, Will's frown was not affected. He knew where they would convene - Shipwreck Cove - but he knew not as to its specific coordinates. If that was the information he sought, he had to ask one of the pirate lords. Wasn't that obvious? Perhaps he couldn't drag Barbossa in here, perhaps he already saw that such an overture would provide nothing save a dead end, or perhaps he did not know that Barbossa was indeed a pirate lord.

None of that should have mattered, though, for he had Jack. If the rumours claiming so were true, and they must have been for they were the only other word on his potential whereabouts. Either he was with Beckett, or he was in the locker - and they had already ascertained that he was not in the locker. Beckett had to know that Jack was a pirate lord, and there would be no keeping Jack's mouth shut if he thought that information he had might better his standing. If he could use it in some way or another. If he had Jack, he-

Oh. This time he really didn't allow his reaction to his newest realisation to show in his face. It was important that Beckett did not know he knew. That Beckett thought he still had this victory to lord over them for the time being, so he did not rush to secure another. A real one.

Instead, Will grimaced and bowed his head, making a show of weighing up whether he should say what he already planned on voicing next. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wondered when exactly it was that he became this person. The one that had coded conversations with slimy bastards to achieve his ends. He didn't regret it, and he knew it was necessitated by his purpose, but he couldn't for the life of him pinpoint exactly when this had become who he was.

He shoved it down, knowing it was of no use to him, and then regarded Beckett with pursed lips.

"I don't know where Shipwreck Cove is," he admitted as though the fact pained him.

Beckett matched his grimace then, taking up the glass Will had abandoned and sipping at it himself.

Pushing down any temptation to ask 'why not coax the information from Jack?' just to really cement his inkling, Will instead followed after Beckett when he stepped away, making to return to the window.

"I'm certain I can lead you there, though," he said "Release me to the Pearl and I'll see to it not only that we lead you straight there, but that the pirates don't make use of it as the fortress that it is."

"And they'd suspect nothing, would they? Should you just swan out of here back to the Pearl unscathed?"

"They know nothing of my father," it likely wasn't wise to hand Beckett such information, but it was necessary "As far as they're concerned, there's no matter that might make us come to an accord. No reason why I might listen to anything you have to say."

"Well," Beckett mused "We must be pleased that their assumption is false."

Will didn't know if pleased was the word.

"See to it that my father is freed, and I'll ensure that it doesn't come to a siege. On the condition that we're granted clemency," he said "For whatever acts of piracy may have been engaged in throughout these proceedings. For myself, my father, and of course Elizabeth."

"Hm. Yes. And what does become of Miss Swann?"

"Elizabeth is not part of any bargain," Will said, his voice filled with steel before he reiterated his terms "She is to remain unharmed - given clemency, for any acts of piracy she may or may not have engaged in. As is my father."

It was the closest he'd come yet to his temper shining through in his voice, resisting the urge to grind the words out through gritted teeth. Beckett reacted to the semi-outburst as though he'd just been told it may rain later, tilting his head and musing over it before shrugging.

"Although…" he said, producing a very familiar compass from his pocket "I do have this incredibly useful compass. I believe you may recognise it, taken from a…somewhat less useful guest of mine."

The move gave Will pause, and for a moment he doubted his earlier assumption that Jack was no longer in the custody of the East India Trading Company. But only for a moment. Because if Beckett had Jack, he'd be producing him now. Not the compass. But Will played along, frowning suspiciously at the man. That, at least, took little acting.

"You have Jack? The rumours were true, then?"

"Mm."

"How?"

"The Norringtons really are useful people to have onside. As I was saying, I could always use that to lead me there and kill you now, ridding myself of one more threat towards the heart."

"I may not know the precise location of where they convene, but I know it to be a fortress - impossible to breach. They could hole up in there for years, and you'd have no way of getting to them. Not without me. I know that with as much certainty as I know I'll soon be able to lead you there."

Will paused a moment, and then continued "And if your end of the bargain is as little trouble as you say it is, holding it up will rid you of a threat towards the heart far more easily, will it not?"

Beckett smirked "I believe you seriously underestimate how easy it would be for me to kill you here and now."

"And I believe you seriously underestimate how a siege would unfold, should you be forced into one. What would those back in London make of that when they hear it? When you have to leave to resupply long before the pirates even have to consider moving? What then, Lord Beckett?"

It warmed him to see that he wasn't the only one fighting to keep some manner of emotion from his features. Admittedly, Beckett's big display amounted to an easily missed twitch of his brow, but it was still there. Any satisfaction Will may have felt vanished when the smirk returned.

"We shall never have to know, Mr Turner, seeing as we have an agreement. Don't we?"

His question was punctuated by his offering his hand to shake. The moment Will took it, cannon fire rocked the ship, sending the whole room tilting. He did his best not to take that as an ill omen.

If the cannon fire was not an ill omen, Will's grand return to the Black Pearl was. It involved a rope, a risky swing, and a harsh bash to his left shoulder when it went awry and he impacted the side of the ship rather than landing on the deck. The triumphant return ended with his skidding down the side of the ship into the water, trying and failing to grab for purchase at the side of the ship, and eventually climbing his way up the rigging on the side of the ship. He'd scarcely had a chance to drip saltwater down onto the deck before he was being hauled up by two of his crewmates. Or perhaps they were now former crewmates.

"Where is Elizabeth?" he breathed.

He'd expected her to be on him as soon as he returned, demanding explanations that she - in fairness - was rightly owed.

"Yer bonny lass is off with Sao Feng on the Empress, as per her agreement to usher along an accord."

"Her agreement? What agreement?"

Struggling fruitlessly in the grip of the men holding him still, he wasn't even sure what his aim would be were he to break free successfully? To brawl with Barbossa right here on the deck? To go swimming after the Empress? All he knew was that he had to do something. But that something was not succeeding, the men gripping him tightly enough to bruise, while Barbossa glared down at him, the yellowed whites of his eyes blazingly prominent in his fury.

"Oh, so you're not a fan of deals made in secret, then, Mr Turner?" Barbossa countered, unbothered by his anger "I should put you in the brig, boy."

Will collected himself in record time, born of necessity.

"If you do…" he breathed raggedly, forcing himself to stop fighting so that the men might loosen their holds "...you'll be ignorant as to what I discovered in my enlightening conversation with Beckett."

Barbossa glared in response to that, lip curling as he made a noise that could only be described as a growl.

"Captain's quarters. Now."

The godforsaken monkey was waiting in the quarters for his master, leaping up onto his shoulder and then glaring at Will from its perch like it knew exactly what he'd done.

"What are these fascinating morsels of information you believe yourself to have discovered, then?" Barbossa challenged, lowering himself to lounge in the chair behind the desk.

Will remained standing before it.

"He doesn't have Jack. Perhaps he did once, but no longer."

Barbossa didn't see fit to voice his request for elaboration, instead watching him expectantly, scratching his pet monkey on the head with one long fingernail while they discussed his namesake.

"He'd know a lot more about our circumstances if he had Jack. He wouldn't have asked me half the questions he did, for he'd already have the answers. When have you ever known Jack to stay silent when he has information that he might leverage? Furthermore, Beckett had the perfect opportunity to parade him out in front of us all - to stamp out morale as he wishes to do - and he did not, which can only mean that he cannot. There'd be no reason for him not to, were he able."

"Did he make mention of Jack?"

"Only to say that he is a guest of the East India Trading Company."

"A lie."

It was apparent to him then that Barbossa believed him. He wasn't surprised, he knew his logic to be sound, but he also didn't have the energy for a battle over the matter.

"Precisely."

"We'll have to refrain from clutching our pearls over the fact that Lord Beckett may see fit to be economical with the truth as far as we're concerned," Barbossa said "Is that the great revelation you wished to bestow upon us? That Jack escaped? He's known to do that, you know, my history with him speaks for itself on that accord."

"Not the only thing," Will rolled his eyes "I don't suppose you remember Theodora Byrne?"

"An Irishwoman isn't a creature easily forgotten. Jack's witch, was she not?"

"Something like that," he grimaced "She's Norrington now - married to the one who stole the heart from us. Helped him in doing so, too, most likely."

He had neither the reason, the energy, the time, nor even simply the will to delve into a conversation regarding Theodora's erstwhile origins. There was no need for it, anyway.

"What of her?"

"She's working with Beckett now."

"Seems a trifle fanciful for him. What is it he has her doing - putting spells on the wind so it blows in his favour?"

"There's nothing fanciful about her knowledge, Barbossa. This spells trouble."

"If I'll pardon the pun?"

Ugh. It was easy to see how Barbossa and Jack had once gotten along well on the same crew.

"Now is not the time for jokes. This is serious."

"Don't be forgetting, Master Turner, we've a witch of our own. One more powerful than Beckett's, I'd stake the Pearl on that. I'm not worried."

"You should be."

"If it is a worry, it's one for a later date. No, what grieves me now is why Beckett would expect answers from you to begin with. What leverage has he over you to expect such compliance? Or was it just the history of treachery you're establishing here that motivated him?"

"Rich, coming from you and your history on this very ship," Will ground out.

"Aye, but I know what I am and so does everybody else. You? I'm not sure the same can be said in your case."

"Beckett has Elizabeth's father. No doubt he wished to press on my desire to shield her from whatever it is he might do to the governor."

"Ah, but then he'd bring Elizabeth in for that discussion, would he not? If he wanted to press anybody into action with the Governor, t'would be her. He's met Elizabeth, has he not? He'd know that. It's what I would do."

"I would sooner he had, for then she wouldn't be in the hands of Sao Feng, traded off like livestock."

"Miss Swann agreed to the negotiations just as much as myself - and that's thrice now you've avoided giving me an honest answer, boy, so be it the brig you're truly after, then?"

A silence that felt longer than it truly must have been settled over them then, Will glaring stonily at Barbossa throughout the most of it, but just as the Captain straightened up and opened his mouth to call in the men, Will cursed and all but shoved himself into the chair opposite the desk.

"Jones has my father. No doubt you remember him. And Beckett has Jones. I went into the meeting thinking I might ascertain whether the heart was aboard the Endeavour. Theodora Norrington must have told him of the connection, for he tried to levy it against me in talks. My knowledge for my father's freedom."

"And did ye take him up on that deal?" Barbossa narrowed his eyes on him.

"Given that I did not have the information he sought, I could not."

"And Beckett? He just stepped back and allowed you to leave?"

"Happily, you chose that moment to fire on his ship, and I used the commotion to escape. It matters not, Beckett's offer means nothing to me, my plan remains unchanged," Will said - and it was a lie.

For Beckett's offer meant not stabbing the heart, and not stabbing the heart meant not having to choose between his father's freedom and being with Elizabeth. Such an eventuality was not one he'd ever allowed himself to consider, as it was not one he ever dared believe might come to fruition - and so thinking on it would be fruitless and grief-riddled all in one. Beckett, the bastard, had struck down on the one thing that might actually tempt him. Damn him. And damn Theodora all the more for leading him there. To think he'd once considered her a friend. A strange friend, but a friend all the same.

"Take it from one who once laboured under the curse of immortality, boy. It's not something ye're after."

"Yours was different. Yours truly was a curse. Nothing prevents Jones from eating, drinking, living. Yours was a life without a life. This is not. So long as I do the duty."

And duty had never scared Will. Not enough to keep him from carrying it out, at least. It was duty which had him facing this in the first place. Barbossa considered his words, and then - surprisingly - nodded in concession to his point. No doubt he'd have never sought an end to his own curse to bear had it allowed him to eat, drink, and whore himself into oblivion throughout the entirety of his immortality.

There wasn't much time to relish that they'd found a vague point of agreement, though, for Barbossa moved on from the matter swiftly and continued to eye him with open suspicion.

"I still don't trust you, Mr Turner."

"Look around, Barbossa. None of us here trust each other. We've just no other choice," he said the words more bitterly than he'd like, but it was the truth "What's done is done, and you're no worse off for it. The Pearl isn't mine, is it?"

Another nod of begrudging agreement - accompanied by a sneer this time.

"And none of this matters," Will continued "If Jack doesn't turn up soon. We need him when the brethren hold court. I'm of two minds as to whether he will turn up or not. It would be rather like him to bury his head in the sand and leave us to face this ourselves."

"Aye, so it would. Were it not for one thing," Barbossa said, and at Will's questioning look he gestured about the two of them "Jack's never been one to resign himself to this being my ship. So long as it's the case, and so long as there's breath in his lungs, he'll come for the Pearl. Don't start missing him too much, Master Turner, for when he surfaces we'll all soon be wishing he hadn't."

Yet another thing they could very much agree on.

A/N: Let's talk about the senior of the William Turners! The POTC wikia, when I last had a gander sometime during the second arc, basically treats Bill's state of mind as some form of dementia fuelled by hopelessness and the conditions on the ship. Maybe I'm dumb, but that never clicked for me and I always took it as the power of the Dutchman combined with his unwillingness to be there. If you don't give into it, you succumb to it (sort of like Hill House, I suppose). I'm not sure what route exactly I'm taking here with that, other than "a bit of both"? Plus, that theory lends itself to his being fine once Jones is no longer Captain, and the contrary is too sad to contemplate.

I do think hopelessness fuels his dire mental state, we see that in the third movie when Elizabeth mentions Will and he brightens up considerably before dimming again when he loses hope, but I do think a lot of it is to do with the ship and the conditions he's stuck in rather than solely being some underlying mental ailment. Being stuck on the Dutchman under Jones would do weird things to anybody. That being said, Bootstrap is one who is surprisingly difficult to write. I went into this dreading Jack, Jones, Barbossa, Tia Dalma, and definitely Beckett, but ol' Bill is the one who's really tripping me up. I hope I'm doing him justice, though! We love a Skarsgard in this house.

This chapter also made me realise that, unless I'm mistaken, we don't actually get any interaction between Bill and Barbossa in the third movie. I get why not, but man it would've been interesting given their history.

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