In the chapel of Neptune, where white morning light streamed down through the circular windows to brighten the cloth of the altar, the Intuit priestess knelt quietly before the polished amethyst orb upon it. The other men and women of spiritual intellect knelt in meditation behind her but she found it difficult to focus upon such as her awareness to the situation on the island prevented her mind from its highest wandering. She was attempting to force all such diversions aside when the biggest one threw wide the doors and swaggered in.

"Oh, Neris!"

The other men and women fell back, startled, but Neris had known that Jack Sparrow was on his way. So it was that she did not budge from her quiet position. The interruption simply put a frown upon her face as her black eyes opened slowly.

"Neris!"

Then it was that she jumped, having not had the foresight to know that the man would be nose to nose with her.

Taking pride in having surprised a woman with such marked sight, Jack grinned. "Lovely morning isn't it? Aye, rather thought so myself. Woke with a silly grin on me face as it were. Quite nice and rather really refreshing! Did you see it yet?"

"I did." Gathering her composure, as well as the skirts of her robe, Neris raised her brows. "It spoke."

"Of what?"

The priestess paid no heed to her many peers as they fell over each other and themselves to follow. Instead, she glanced at the pirate captain as he fell into step beside her. Together they walked in quiet silence through the Intuit settlement, both accepting bright smiles from those they passed. Offering a gentle hand to a small boy who looked up at her with big, brown eyes, she spoke to the man strolling beside her. "Things that you shall need to know."

At such, Jack was jubilant. A wild fire sparked in his eyes as a golden grit lit his face. A cry of triumph escaped him but was cut short by the sharp look from the priestess. The fist he'd pumped in the air he lowered gracefully into a symbolic gesture of sanctimony. Fingertips, however, could not contain their excitement, and so they wiggled against each other even as palms pressed together in prayer.

Knowing full well that Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl was feigning his gracious praise, Neris sighed and ushered him, the boy, and the three high priests, into her dwelling.

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

When Will woke and found himself alone in the bed he knew he'd slept late. It had to be afternoon, he thought, if Elizabeth's side was not warm. Her pillow was cool to the touch and so he yawned and sighed and sat up stretching. The sun that poured in the windows was lovely and he let it warm his face for a moment before he stood. Out on deck he found not his family but Sam Samson. Crouched on a crate and with his huge feet propped on the railing, the big man was gazing out at the tranquil water of the half bay where his fishing line disappeared.

"Thought y'locked yourself in tha' room forever, I did," he said as he heard Will's approach. His green eyes glanced his way and then he smiled a bit, the scar on his face stretching. "See ya made it out in'un piece."

"As much as is possible," Will agreed. For a moment he stood watching the man fish and then his brow furrowed. "The tobacco…"

"Aye?"

"I tried it," he said, thinking about the swirling smoke. He nodded at the big man. "Thank you."

"Welcome to it," said Samson with a nod.

Will fell silent again, his gaze falling upon the spot where he knew he'd sat the night before. His hand went to the pocket where the pipe had been but instead his fingers touched the paper in front of it. Suddenly he remembered what it was he'd been intending to do. "Have you seen Jack?"

"S'there naet two of those running about?"

"Yes," said Will, "but I've a mind to find the pirate."

Samson chuckled. "As I said, lad!" Upon seeing Will's frown, he grinned. "Son's born with th'heart and hands of a pirate. Stole me first fish this morn, he did! Lit'l git! Naet spied Sparrow yet t'day. Think your best bet's askin tha' Witter woman."

At the notion of talking to the woman whose gaze made him shiver, Will winced.

"Aye," said Samson with a grimace, "tha's why it is I'm fishin wi'out him!"

"Would you like some company?"

"Well why naet?" Samson nodded over his shoulder at a stack of empty crates where leaned another fishing pole. "Pull up a seat, laddy."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

"Well," said Jack, rubbing his palms together, "that's all very nice to know. I thank you, Neris, for all that you've shared with meself this day. Seems to me a celebration's in order."

The priests turned eyes that had been previously exchanging wordless conversation upon him. Neris paused in her gathering the leaves and stone orbs she'd lain out upon her stone tablet. "When do you not celebrate, Jack?"

"It's half the fun of being a pirate, love. Planning the parties." With a wink, he rose from his seat and made to leave, Neris on his heels and the priests on hers. "Everyone's invited! The more the merrier, as they say."

"Remember what I said," she cautioned.

With a quick salute and a flash of a grin over his shoulder, Captain Jack Sparrow strode with confidence toward the chapel of Neptune. The Intuit priestess sighed. Even if she hadn't the foresight she did have, she knew well enough the pirate's poise.

"He won't remember," she told the priests, "even if he does."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

On his way toward the Pearl, Jack counted his blessings once again as he quite literally ran into Gibbs and Cotton. With a few quick words he'd sparked their interest and so it was that with arms around both sailors he strolled down the dock toward his ship, smirk on his face. Quietly—Jack and Gibbs discussing many a thing in hushed tones and Cotton's parrot only offering an occasional mutter of a squawk—they boarded, only to find Elizabeth Turner staring at them. Quickly they clammed up.

Jack treated the woman to a warm smile. "Why don't you look a lovely sight, Mrs. Turner!"

Arching a brow, Elizabeth glanced down at her leisure attire—Will's old breeches and a ratty, untucked shirt.

"Ah, Elizabeth." Deciding it best not to give her a chance to question him, Jack wrapped an arm around her and led her into an amicable stroll. At Gibbs and Cotton he nodded and was very glad to see them nod their understanding. "So nice to see you're not in the kitchen this afternoon," he said, squeezing the woman's shoulder, "but I have to wonder. What are you doing on me ship, darling, when you've one of your own to wander?"

"Little Lucy wanted to play with the cats," she said. Her honey-brown gaze sought his. "I did not think you would object, else I would have asked first."

"No," said Jack, "you wouldn't." That she was flustered and searching for some sort of response brought a smile to his face and he couldn't help but chuckle at the flush on her face. For a quick hug of reassurance, he pulled her close. "But that's no matter, Elizabeth. You and yours are always welcome aboard the Pearl." His stomach fluttered and he frowned. "Save for when you've access to the flame of fire, of course."

"Mum! Uncle Jack!"

Both turned just in time to avoid a collision with an inattentive Jack Turner. Though he'd no doubt seen the two in order to call for them, his golden gaze was wide upon the book that lay open in his hands. The pirate and lady exchanged glances and then Jack Sparrow's eyes narrowed upon the bright illustration on the page. With a cry of alarm, he snatched the book, shut it, and tossed it over his shoulder. Sail it did over the railing and when it hit the water there was a mighty splash.

Jack Turner gaped at him, as did Elizabeth.

"Is it that the two of ye want the nightmares?!" He glared, pointing at both of them. "You'll thank me someday."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Alice Witter was thoroughly engaged in the text of the book she held in her hand. Bound in indigo vellum it was, and the cream-colored pages writ upon in a lovely, loopy scrawl. As her grey gaze followed the words across the page her lips curled in a self-satisfied smile.

Placing a hand upon her forehead she lifted the book on high and launched into soliloquy.

"'Can I not sail the seven seas without waking to the sweet sound of sugar that is the vociferous voice of the infamous Ice Queen? Oh, how long the day is without the verbosity of she! Oh, how painful a place without her palaverous prolifics. How can I possibly, perchance plausibly, persevere impoverished of her paltrous pulchritude? Alas it has been decidedly decreed I can not!'"

"Are you busy?"

Startled, she jumped, snapping Jack's journal shut and shoving it behind her back. Relieved she was when she saw that the figure in the open doorway was only Isaac Faust and not the man whose words she'd been delighting in for the many hours he'd been absent. She sighed, laying a hand over her fast-beating heart. "Not anymore."

The lad raised a brow and tossed himself into the chair across from her. He crossed his feet at the ankles and leaned his head back. With a sigh, he closed his blue eyes.

"Are you finally going to tell me, then?"

"Tell you what?"

"What is the matter with you, nip?"

Slowly, Isaac opened his eyes and gazed at her for a matter of moments. Glancing over his shoulder at the door, he leant forward and motioned her over. When she knelt before him, he took her hands in his and fixed her with a stern look. "You can not tell Jack what I am about to tell you." As she opened her mouth to protest, he pressed a finger to her lips. "Promise, or I won't say a word!"

"Fine," she seethed, "I promise."

"I'm returning to Port Royal with the Turners," he said. Seeing her wide eyes, he held up a hand. "Before you even say it, it's nothing to do with Elizabeth!" A flush rose in his cheeks and he ducked his head so as not to look at the woman gazing so suspiciously at him. "I've a position awaiting me in the Commodore's office."

Alice gasped.

He bit his lip, awaiting her judgment.

"You awful boy!" She swatted his hand, eyes narrowing. "How could you keep something like that from me?!"

"Jack," he suggested.

"Oh," she said, shaking her head, "he's going to bloody lose it."

"Which is why you're not going to tell him."

"You're quite right about that!"

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Cook felt he was rather overworked, truth be told. It seemed to him he were always in the kitchen. The few rounds of Palm Tree Limbo had been a breath of fresh air and he had been thankful for them. But now, staring down the list his eager captain had writ, it seemed not nearly enough of a reprieve from duty.

"Squid?" At the mention of the dish, his brows rose, trusty spectacles sliding down. With a sigh, he pushed them up.

"You know, I think Will Turner could fix those for you," Jack mentioned, motioning toward the glasses.

Cook scowled and touched the gold-rim of the glasses that had served him so well. "Squid?"

"Made it before."

That much was true, the man thought as he glanced down at the rest of the list. An old salt from Sardinia had once taught him the art of squid. Turned out if you served the stuff in its own ink it was mighty tasty, and a delicacy at that. Most of the pirates got much a rise out of the dish, which he guessed was why it was Captain Jack Sparrow had writ the suggestion. Of course, the man had no idea how much work went into it.

"Squid squirm. Takes awhile to chop the tentacles."

The captain winced. "Do you think it hurts much?"

"Well Captain." Cook lifted his nose in the air, spectacles sliding back to rest against the ridge of it. "Just imagine it were your tentacles chopped off."

Jack paled considerably. "Forget the squid."

Marty, who'd been sitting on a counter quietly chopping potatoes, watched as the pirate captain made a hasty retreat. As the heavy door that led into the dining area swung back and forth, he snorted up at Cook, slicing into another starchy tuber. "Think he knows what you meant?"

Cook shrugged. With a push of his glasses he set to finding all the ingredients he'd need for the feast. Evening would descend quickly, squid or not.

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

"Don't want to think about that," Jack muttered, throwing open the door to the crew's quarters and waltzing in. Greeting the men milling about with a flick of his hands, he gave a slight bow. "Gentlemen."

"Oi, Cap'n," went the chorus.

"There's to be a feast this eve," he told them, hands folded neatly behind his back as he strolled circles about them. "A party. Celebration, really."

At the sound of a few whoops of joy, Tearlach and the two redheaded Irishmen looked up from their game of cards to gander at their fellow mates. At the Irishmen Tearlach shrugged. They shrugged back in unison and turned attention towards their dizzying captain.

"A celebration?"

Lemmy nodded at Toddul and cocked his head at Captain Jack Sparrow. "What sort o' celebration?"

Studiously ignoring that Shakes visibly shook—moreso than usual—Jack paused to consider them. Picking up his pacing once more, he flexed his fingers resting on the small of his back and withdrew a hand, fluttering it in the air. "Ah, you know… fancy feast. Music accompaniment. Dancing 'round the fire. Nothing out of the ordinary."

This drew all eyes narrow upon him.

"Tink," said Toddul, "Lemmy meant—what is it we're celebrating?"

The lanky man nodded his agreement.

"Oh," said Jack as if he'd not known such, "well I'd like to think of it as a toast to an existentially prosperous excursion. Bon voyage et au revoir. À bientôt, actually."

Tearlach, whom Jack knew knew some French, raised his brows. "Nous plaçons la voile?"

Quite pleased, Jack strolled 'round the man's back and patted his bald head, smiling at the rest of the men all the while. "Oui."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Samson gazed past his feet to his still fishing line. He was alone, Will having long since left to seek his wife and children, and basking in the solemnity of the moment when there came the telltale tap of bootheels up the dock. They tred with an easy, assured grace much as he knew the steps did, and made quickly up the gangway. Glancing over his shoulder at the pirate in time to see the breeze lift and play with dark locks, Samson smiled.

"Why Sam Samson," drawled Jack Sparrow, toeing a crate across the deck and plopping down upon it unceremoniously, "you scoundrel of a Scot! Fishing without me, are you?"

"Shhh," the big man warned, touching a finger to his smirk, "you'll scare th'fishes."

"And you don't?" Jack followed the man's glance toward a tin bucket in which a pile of silver-backed fish overflowed. He shrugged. "Guess not."

Samson grinned.

For a few moments they sat there, both with eyes narrow upon the lax line. But eventually the quiet wore thin Jack Sparrow's patience and so with a great deal of fidgeting—fussing with his headwrap then toeing the tacklebox which almost ended the bucket of fish updumped much to Samson's near dismay—the pirate set to stifle the stifling silence. Patting the bucket as if it were a precious child, he smiled sweetly at the big man and cocked his head.

"Sleep well last night?"

"Like a milk sot babe."

"No strange visitors?"

"If," Samson said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "dreams count."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "They do."

"Aye it is then," said the big man with a wink.

"Is it?" Jack pressed his fingertips together and cracked his knuckles. "Who was it?"

"Who else," Samson crowed, clapping him on the back. "Me wife!"

Jack raised his brows. "Ah."

Samson regarded him, well aware that he wasn't the only one on the Swan who was fishing even if what it was being fished for wasn't one and the same. He smiled a bit, just enough that he knew Jack Sparrow would notice, and sat forward, feet thunking in front of him on the wooden deck of the Turner's ship. "Why d'ya ask, Jacky?"

"Oh," said Sparrow with a big shrug, "no real reason. Just wondered. Was a bit curious. You know, penchant for knowing other people's business, inquiring mind wants to know, just last night finished a game of chess with Bill Turner."

Samson chuckled, the rambling having lost him. He elbowed Jack in the ribs and only chuckled harder when the pirate smiled nervously back. It was at that moment that Sparrow's rambling caught up with him and his brows knit. He listened to the other man tell the tale and sighed when he'd finished. "Oi, Jacky. That's a stinger, I fear," he said, wiping at the corner of his eye. "Sure ya weren't dreamin yourself?"

"Against better judgment, I pinched myself rather hard 'fore I went back to bed," said Jack, wincing at the memory. "Trust me or not mate, me bruised bum tells no tales."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Will Turner wondered briefly why it was that there were more than the usual lookout crew on the Pearl but not for long as his son barreled straight into his legs and bowled him over. Laughing a bit, he ruffled Jack's hair and sat up to find Elizabeth striding toward them. Smiling up at her, he allowed her to help him to his feet and once standing pressed a quick kiss to her smiling lips.

"Does Jack know you're on his ship?"

"Of course, Will."

"And he's alright with it?"

She arched a brow. "If he wasn't, don't you think you'd have heard from him by now?"

Will shrugged, hearing the truth in his wife's words.

"He was here," piped up Jack, batting his way between them to gander up at the both of them. "Said there's a party tonight 'fore he left!"

"Ah," said Will, "so that's where he's been all day. Party planning again." Shaking his head at his family, he noticed the absence of one important part of it and frowned. "Where is Little Lucy?"

"Here here here," cried a voice, emerging from the captain's quarters at a frantic pace. She leapt into his arms and giggled as he swung her around. "Tats are funny, Da!"

Elizabeth smiled at the look of confusion on Will's face. "She insisted early this morning that we come play with Ash and Cinder."

"Mum wasn't happy about it," Jack told him. "Called you a sleepyhead, she did!"

"A…" Will frowned at his son and then his wife. "A what?"

Little Lucy let loose a little laugh. "Sleepyhead!"

Elizabeth flushed guiltily and lifted her chin. "I am not accustomed to waking early. That is your duty." Her eyes smiled at him. "But I let you sleep despite that," she went on, lips curling up, "you sleepyhead, Mr. Turner."

"Well I thank you for your kindness," he said, unable to resist kissing those lips once more, "Mrs. Sleepyhead-Turner."

Young Jack's overtly loud gag broke their embrace and so they looked down to find disgust plain on his face. Excitement quickly replaced it. Golden eyes glowed up at them.

"Last one to the swim hole is a rotten egg!"

"Swim hole?" asked Will.

Indeed, he found after a change of clothes, there was a swim hole. Off to the side of the bay it lay surrounded by a cove of trees. They were perhaps the only ones upon the island that weren't silver palms. Big green leaves flopped atop them, flipping a bit with the breeze surrounding the canopy they made. Knotty and gnarled they looked, like vines overgrown and petrified brown.

One such tree near the water's edge was so big and round that Will wondered briefly if perhaps it had lived longer than any other tree rooted in the earth. A rising row of wooden planks had been fixed to it, a ladder of sorts, and Intuit children were climbing as the Turners neared. Will's gaze followed the procession up the tree and out along the twisted brown branch that reached across the tranquil pool of water where stood an olive-skinned boy. Suddenly the Intuit child gripped onto a thick rope and leapt, Will's eyes growing wide.

He watched the rope that was looped around the branch grow taut with the boy's weight. As it seemed stretched to its limit the plummeting Intuit gave a whoop of joy. In a graceful arc over the water he swung, dropping into the pool with a great golden splash.

"What doesn't this island have?"

Elizabeth sighed, turning doleful eyes toward him. "Tea."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

After a bit of refreshing in the sprinkle room, Jack Sparrow ambled in a thick towel down the hall toward his personal quarters. To his surprise, Isaac Faust was just leaving as he was arriving. Blue eyes sparkling, the lad slapped him on his bruised rear in passing. With a wince, Jack called after him that there was to be a party. Such prompted Alice Witter's sharp tongue, which he fended off with hands and tsks faster than her inquisition. When it was she'd come to the conclusion that he was not going to share any more information than he already had, she sat heavily on the bed, glowering at him as he went about his business.

Not particularly in the mood for a spar, he ignored the hot gaze burning through his back. Humming a familiar tune, he dug through his wardrobe—blessed be that it'd been saved the fiery death previously threatened—for loose breeches and the gauzy white shirt that was a favorite whenever he was taking up residence on L'Ile de la Perle Noire. Upon finding both, he gave a short cry of triumph and tossed them onto the chair behind him. There was, then, only the matter of finding his sandals.

"Where have you been all day?"

"Have you been here all day?" With a dubious glance over his shoulder at her, he went back to his searching. "Really, dove, you should get yourself some sun. Does a body good."

"Yes, of course." Alice rolled her eyes. "That's what you say about everything. 'Get yourself some sun, love, it does a body good'… 'Eat a bit of spinach, darling, does a body good'…" She rolled her eyes. "And what about 'should drink more of that, Alice. Milk does a body good'?"

"What can I say," Jack asked, pulling from a drawer a pair of lace stockings and frowning at them, "I care. Are these yours?" It was when he saw that her grey eyes narrowed quite a great deal that he remembered that indeed they were not and shoved them back where they'd come from. "Nevermind, probably mine."

"Well if they are," she said sweetly, "I should like to see you wear them!"

Jack pretended not to hear her and went about his rooting. Having covered nearly every place the sandals could be, he crawled with a frown toward the bed and was stopped promptly by two dainty feet. Up over pale ankles and lithe stems he raised his gaze to the grey eyes staring down at him.

"To the tar pit they will go."

"But, love, they're such a fine pair of stockings!" Upon seeing her eyes narrow, he smiled sweetly. "And I thought you wanted to see me wear them?"

"Awww, Jack," she purred, reaching down to pat his cheek and pet his embellished mane, "how sweet of you to think of me." Grabbing one lock of beads and yanking, she glared down at him. "When discussing the discarded stockings of one of your strumpets," she hissed through grit teeth.

"Albleedinright," he growled, reaching up to jerk her hand from its painful grip, "they'll bloody burn!"

A look of satisfaction dawned upon the visage of Alice Witter as she gazed down at him. Her eyes narrowed for a second and then widened considerably. Quickly they returned to normalcy, a flicker of a smile on her lips as she toed from under the bed the pair of sandals he'd been searching for. "What you were looking for?"

Irritated, and wondering what it was put the woman in such a fine mood, Jack snatched them and leapt to his feet in what he hoped looked as indignant a move as was possible. Without further conversation, he dressed and set to fussing over himself in the mirror. Picking up the tune he'd stopped humming earlier, he inspected the plaits of his beard and was pleased to note that their recent trim had done his appearance well. Ice Queen had told him time and time again that that particular facet of his grooming regimen most reminded her of a goat, he remembered—as well as the time she'd attempted to persuade him to tie tiny satin bows to the ends—with a glare at her in the reflection of the looking glass, but really he thought they balanced out what he knew was otherwise a charming and altogether dashing look.

Yes, the years had treated Captain Jack Sparrow well, he knew as he studied his reflection. Of course the sun had given him a few more telltale lines than he'd have otherwise, but so had it bestowed a very healthy glow upon his person. It wasn't much to his surprise that his features were finer than his younger years. Indeed, as long ago as it had been, he remembered well that his father had also aged as well. There was the matter of the creases at the corners of his eyes—kohl hidden most of the time—but then who hadn't those in the Caribbean? Years of sailing and laughter had no doubt played their part in that, he knew. Other than that, age hadn't caught up with his appearance it seemed. There were no real wrinkles to worry about, and in his hair only a few grey strands.

Startled, Jack flinched. The headscarf in his hands he dropped, fingers going to the surface of the mirror to flutter worriedly over what it was he'd most certainly not been expecting. "No!" There were, he counted, three grey streaks amidst the glorious dark tresses he'd been ready to braid. "It just can't be!"

Alice Witter chuckled. "Going grey, are you?"

Ordinarily such would have flared the anger in Jack's belly, but really, there were worse things to worry about than the wretched woman's taunting. If worry he must, he would do so over the three grey hairs on his head and the horror of such that had escalated the tempo of the beat of his heart. Angry, he reached for one, fingertips loosing it from the rest.

"Plucking one will only lead to three more," she said, walking up behind him to swat his hand away. "Besides," she added, turning him around and running her fingers through his hair, "they're rather endearing, Captain Jack Sparrow. I should like to see streaks of silver in that dark mane someday."

Jack sighed, falling onto the vanity bench. Feeling the world that had so lifted him up only moments ago come crashing down on his shoulders, they slumped and Jack fell forward into Alice Witter's soft belly. Glad, he was, that she caught him by the arms 'fore he toppled the both of them to the floor—not that it would have mattered, mind, what with the trouble that was the tragic emergence of the three strands of doom.

A bit melodramatic, if you ask me.

Jack frowned against the flesh cradling his head. Alice Witter was clasping his wrists. She he heard consoling him but when Bootstrap's voice cut in he couldn't help but remember the cold grip of death. It was at that moment that Jack Sparrow knew right where those bloody grey hairs had come from and he scowled.

That, he growled in his head, was not very funny, William.

But Jack knew without such being voiced that wherever Bootstrap Bill Turner was, he was puffing the dust right off of his knuckles.

"I'm old," he complained in the woman's belly.

"Well, yes, you are getting there."

Holding up a hand and flicking the finger in the air, he glared at the darkness he knew was she. "Not helping."

"Did you really expect to live forever?"

The question put Jack between a theoretical rock and an equally theoretical hard place. Afterall, there had been those moments when the prospect of the cursed Aztec gold had seemed a profitable one—undead meant unable to die, certainly. He'd not been keen on the 'feel nothing' aspect but tit for tat it'd still not seemed a shabby deal. Then, of course, there was the fount of youth expedition. That one he'd considered for quite some time. After that there'd been several discoveries offering life eternal and each he'd mulled over more than the last as it was the years slipped by. Unfortunately he'd always decided and decreed that Captain Jack Sparrow would never need those magical curses, elixirs, and charms to live on in the face of all that attempted to conquer him.

"I wanted to," he sulked.

"Well Jack, it's my opinion as well I remember hearing it was some other fool's…" Alice Witter paused in her speech, fingers moving quickly through his hair as she braided it for him. "That you are only as old as you feel."

He sighed.

"Being that you plan more parties than even the Earl of Essex," she said, tying off the plait with a strap of leather, "I daresay you must not feel very old."

Jack turned a wry smile up at her. "Suppose you're right."

"Always am."

"Sometimes," he corrected.

"Most."

"Less than half."

Alice smiled. "More."

"Mmm," he murmured, squinting his eyes as if to think on it. "You may be right."

"Like I said," she said with a wink. "Now what sort of party is it? Nothing out of the ordinary, I hope?"

"Oh no," he said, flicking nonchalance with his fingers, "not at all."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

The party, thought Will, was rather extraordinary. His birthday bash had been a jolly good time by all measures, but the bash on the beach was much more favorable, he thought. There was less wine flowing but it did not seem to put a damper on the festivities. No, it seemed the pirates were just as happy roasting fish—Samson's catch, he recognized—over a fire as they were slugging rum from a flask.

Biting off the stick the last of his flaky fillet, Will noted that Cook looked particularly enamored by the big man's bounty. Tossing the kindling into the flames and nodding at the man pushing up his spectacles, he tred quietly past the spot in the sand that would not leave his mind. Such reminded him once more that he and Jack had thus far not had the moment he'd long ago requested.

Across the beach Will saw him, Jack Sparrow, standing with a group of dark children who danced around him as fireflies to a flame. With a smile bright as theirs he turned round to pat one on the head. The little boy's grin gleamed in the firelight. He took the hand of the girl beside him and they jumped. Sand sprayed in the air, and the pirate, laughing, reached down to pick up the smallest child. As Will approached, he heard her giggle as Jack swung her around singing to her the words that the Intuit women sweetly canted nearby. The words were foreign to the ears but sounded lulling and gentle as any tune a mother would hum to her babe.

Laughter drew Will's gaze toward the shore where played in the lapping water his son and three boys. Splashing and cackling they were, and between the four of them they looked more alive than he thought he'd ever felt. Such thoughts brought a smile to his face, and he turned to look at Elizabeth. Though she sat listening to two chattering women she caught his gaze. A small smile lifted her lips. He followed the incline of her head to the three little girls sitting side by side on the sand. Between two girls sat Little Lucy, toes wriggling in the sand. They three held hands and swayed with the Intuit song. It was as if the tune carried on the wind, and suddenly it hummed in Will's ears, reminding him of the pirate he'd been looking for. He turned back to the group of children but it was the priestess in the middle, a young boy in her arms.

Neris.

Will smiled at her, and was relieved to see her warm smile back.

But Jack was gone.

Take with you the flowers of fate.

Will frowned.

But the woman walked away and as the song turned into another, he sought the pirate with his gaze. Amongst the pirates, some around the fire and others upon rocks with the dark men and women, Jack was not. He was not sitting with arms around Alice Witter or Isaac Faust as they kept up chatter upon a craggy black rock. Nor was the pirate with Roth and Anamaria, though Will did not expect such as it seemed the two would not have been the best company what with the way they were locked at the lips. Samson, not far from them and standing with Gibbs, raised his brows at the spectacle much as Will did, and upon seeing him nodded his agreement. His green eyes met Will's and he quirked his head t'ward the water's edge where a lone figure stood gazing out at the horizon.

With a smile of thanks at the big man, Will started across the sand. It was cool under his feet. As he neared the shoreline it grew damp. The water of the recent tide had flowed over it and so it was smooth save for a set of footsteps. Alongside them he walked, until he came to the man who'd walked in them.

"Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, so do our minutes hasten to their end; each changing place with that which goes before, in sequent toil all forwards do contend," Jack said, glancing at him. "Shakespeare." He fell silent, then spoke quietly. "Where the sky meets the sea and the sea meets the sky, there shall I always be but never stay will I."

"Shakespeare?"

Jack lifted a brow. "Turner."

Will nodded.

"Enjoying your…self?" Jack's gaze fell upon the portrait that Will handed to him. With a smile he handed it back. "So I take it this is that moment you've been on me tail about, aye?"

"Good as any," said Will, tucking the thing back in his pocket.

"Mmhm."

"When I'd requested it, I only meant to apologize," said Will, "but now I feel I must do more than that." Glancing at Jack, he saw the profile of a man who was, in that instant, not a pirate. Though his hands were clasped in reticence behind his back, and his wistful gaze upon the sea, the Jack that Will saw was the one he'd once found to be a good man. "I owe you the apology as well as my gratitude for…"

"For," said Jack in a wry tone, "doing what it was should've been done years ago, hmm?"

"I'm not an idiot, Jack." Noting the wince that flashed upon the other man's face, Will softened his sharp tone. "You couldn't step foot in that room any more than I could have. Before."

"Glad the timing was right then."

"I can not tell you how much it means to me."

"Nor I," said Jack; trailing off to take in the flash of green that was the sun's setting. He smiled, but it was with a faraway look in his eyes. "Take it from a seasoned pirate captain, Will. Some treasure is simply too precious to put a price on." His gaze flicked briefly across the sand to where sat Elizabeth before steadying upon Will. "Or pilfer."

The mention of the trouble that had previously pestered them brought the hot flush of shame to his cheeks. Will looked down at the dark, wet sand. He was surprised to feel rough fingertips boost his chin and even more so when it was Jack Sparrow's gaze met his unglazed. The color of the darkest burnt-sugar rum were the man's eyes, and they lit with an amber glow of dark honey, and Will thought briefly how very beautiful those eyes, full of what could only be the dark of understanding and the light of comfort, were. He thought how the kohl around them only deepened their sweet mystery. And he thought, vaguely, that Jack's eyes fired up much as Elizabeth's, except that hers glinted with gold. But most of all he thought that Jack Sparrow, in this truest of form, was kin.

"S'alright, son."

A lump rose in Will's throat and suddenly he found it difficult to breathe for fear of dislodging it. Such could only spring the tears from his eyes and he quite thought such a thing weak. Unfortunately, he noted with an inward, bitter smile, weak he was.

"Oh," Jack sighed, letting go of his chin to grasp his shoulder and squeeze, "don't do that."

Will sniffled.

Jack winced. "Please?"

"I can't help it," Will said, voice cracking.

"Well you have to," said Jack, voice rising frantically, "stop crying, Will, or I'll grow weepy at the eye meself!"

Sniffling, Will tried to hold back the troublesome tears to no avail.

"I mean it!"

"Jack," Will managed to rasp out, "I'm sorry."

"Oh," said Jack in a strangled voice, squeezing his eyes shut, "the kohl! It's going to run!"

"It already is!"

"How much?!"

Recovering a bit, Will reached up to brush away the black that had streaked over a fine cheek from the outer corner of Jack's eye. He found that he had to smile through his tears. "Only a little."

"Oh, good."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

"What do you think they're talking about?"

Alice followed Isaac's gaze and found Jack and Will standing side by side at the water's edge where the sea lapped at their feet. When Jack slung his arm around Will's shoulders, and as the two strolled into the distance, relief washed over her. It was the relief that came from their having the moment that they, and everyone else, so desperately needed.

"Everything," she told the lad, patting his open palm, "that matters."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Beside Jack Sparrow Will walked, the cool water lapping at and washing over his every step. It felt, he thought, so very cleansing that in the tranquil peace of the paradise they wandered he felt pure. Of heart and mind, the purity seemed to make light everything that had darkened him and he wondered briefly if the warmth he felt was his soul set free. Then again, he thought with a glance askance, it was more than likely the man at his side. The thought occurred to him that even if he were not drawn so close against him, Jack Sparrow would still be as comforting for the man exuded, at even his coldest moments, a great warmth.

It was that warmth, as well as a host of other nuances, that had led Will to the soul searching that had inevitably led to the conclusion that the pirate, sneaky scoundrel or not, was a good man. It had also drawn him to Jack in the same way he'd seen the children had been as they'd danced around the man. Like a firefly to a flame, he'd flown to Sparrow. What had surprised him was that the sparrow had flown back time and time again. Now, though, after so many years of it, he thought himself quite ridiculous for having been surprised at all.

"Ah," breathed Jack, "is that a smile I see upon the face of the blubbering blacksmith?"

Will shot him a dark look but could not keep it for long. "It is," he admitted. With conversation came the realization that over his shoulder he could not see the party any longer and so he turned curious eyes upon Jack. "Where are we going?"

"Here."

The flick of the hand on his shoulder he followed and found a great tree much like the one that he'd found an exhilarating addition to the swimming hole visited earlier. When the pirate released him from the embrace, he trailed after him and watched as Jack climbed the makeshift ladder with an easy grace. He'd forgotten how much he held dear that sight and so climbed up after him to the thick branch that extended out over a steep cliff and reached toward the sea. Indeed, as he took Jack's offered hand and sat, he saw below their dangling feet the soft black sand being washed by the sea below.

"This is nice," said Will, meaning it very much. He looked up and saw far off and below the glow of the five fires that surely danced in the breeze as men and women danced around them. In the cove he saw the outline of his ship, graceful as its namesake. Glancing above it, straight ahead, at the two glittering dark peaks of rock rising above golden mist, he smiled. "My mother would have loved it."

"Odd you should say that," said Jack. "So your father thought as well."

Will's brow furrowed.

"Said he felt," Jack said, rolling a wrist outstretched as if to offer the view ahead, "as if she were watching over him here."

Gaze falling upon the two glittering orbs that he'd only just looked at, Will remembered. He remembered the face of the woman he'd lost much too soon, but, more than anything, he remembered the two darkest, loveliest eyes he'd tried so hard to forget. Turning to Jack, he saw eyes so much the same that whatever it was he was about to say stilled on his lips and instead he said the one thing that had been haunting him for too long a time. "Little Lucy."

Jack nodded. "Has your mother's eyes."

"Yes."

"Uh huh," said Jack, glancing below at the surf.

Will followed suit. In the awkward silence that followed, he looked out along the edge of the sea where they'd walked and saw the footprints that were yet to be washed away. "Jack."

"Mmhm?"

"It's necessary to let go of those who've fallen behind, isn't it?"

Jack sighed a sigh so soft that if Will were not directly beside him, he wouldn't have heard it. "I'm afraid so."

"It's as Shakespeare said." When the pirate looked at him curiously, he went on. "The waves. Each has an end and the end is necessary to push forward the next."

"I don't think that was his point, mate."

"But it should have been," Will said, suddenly passionate. "In the sea he saw the reflection of his mortality but there's more to it than that. Each wave is the beginning of a new one. Even the one that foams upon the shore is pulled back to the sea. It is one and it does not truly end, but in order to stay so the ends are necessary."

Jack's frown deepened.

"If the waves did not let go to form the next, the sea would never move forward." Will sighed. "We are all one as much as the sea. If we don't let go of those who have fallen behind, we will cease to advance and hold them to us so that they, too, can not."

"This is the sort of moment," said Jack, "that makes me wonder why it is I ever thought you stupid."

Deciding to be pleased with that, Will flashed a smile at him and looked out at the party still thriving in the distance. Even at such a distance he saw that there was much merriment being had. He also saw Isaac Faust at its center.

"You know," said Jack, seeing the same, "he wants to look up to you but you won't let him."

"Sounds familiar," Will told him, unable to keep the tinge of bitterness from his tongue. "I sympathize with him."

"Don't take that tone with me, lad," said a stern Jack Sparrow. "I've bigger… sandals… than yours."

Will frowned down at their feet. "They're the same size."

"As well were your father's."

"Ah," said Will, understanding dawning on him. His eyes narrowed at Jack. "I thought you said otherwise."

"Well," said Jack, "I could've been wrong."

"So I thought." Will smiled, comfortable in the silence that followed. Quietly he mulled over the trouble that had transpired and he couldn't help but feel a bit foolish for all the doubts he'd had. "Ahku Neko Neko Khar, Jack?"

Brows lifting, Jack inclined his head toward him. "Mmhm?"

"Nonsense. The One Great Great God," Will scoffed. He shook his head, wondering why he'd taken such a story seriously. "Whose knowledge and wisdom is contained in a sword hidden on a lost island shaped like the moon?"

"Ah yes," said Jack, clapping an arm around him, "I almost forgot."

Will chuckled, shaking his head.

"We set sail for Antolune tonight!"

The grin on Jack's face that could only mean trouble quickly rid Will of his own smile.

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Author's Babble: So… you see… I hope. Jack is a pirate afterall.

The name Neris I've formed from the Greek word "nereis"—which means "nymph" or "sea sprite". Not that it's important but I've grown fond of the name overnight and rather like the sound of it! Was nearly going to name the priestess Muirgen as there's an important Irish legend of a maiden by that name who turns into a salmon and it seemed to fit with two points—the Celtic influences of the Norns and also with Neptune, god of the sea, merwoman sort of thing. But… it's Irish Gaelic, not Celtic and I'd rather play upon the olive skin origin of the Intuits.

The whole 'Can I not sail the seven seas…' scrawl flies right over Alice Witter's head because of Jack's acerbic vocabulary. He's basically calling her a loudmouth windbag (vociferous voice, verbosity) whose idle chatter abounds (palaverous prolifics). Then he goes on to ask how he'll ever survive without visage of her lacking beauty (paltrous pulchritude) and says quite emphatically that it's been decided he shall not do without the sight of her. Doubtful it was he who made said decision. I did take some liberty with words in this bit. Some are bent a bit (read, reinvented) but then I don't think doing such is beyond Jack Sparrow!

Squid served in its ink really is considered a delicacy!

Jack says, in French, to the men in the crew's quarters: "…prosperous excursion. Farewell and goodbye. See you later, actually…" Tearlach says "we're setting (literally 'placing' or 'putting') sail?" and Jack replies "Aye." This should be right, but I've a habit of butchering the French language.

Antolune is the name of the lost island. Anto I've taken from "amarantos" of Greek origin. It means "unfading" or "everlasting" and somehow along the line became a word for "an everlasting flower". "Lune" is French. It means "moon".