Elizabeth took Will's hand and pulled him towards the hold. Jones and Barbossa followed. "He's down here - Will..."

Will clambered down the ladder and blinked until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. At first he was confused - there was nobody here, only the empty ship... Then he saw. A moment went by. "No."

The face in the wall became animated suddenly. "William? Son? Is that you?" Bootstrap made a great effort and pried his head free a little so he could lean forward and get a better look.

"I released him from his vows as I promised," Davy Jones informed them, all smiles. "But for some reason he still doesn't seem to be leaving!"

"Will I'm so sorry." Elizabeth was struggling not to cry. "I tried, I did, but it kept happening. It was already like this when I came aboard and it just gets worse and worse…"

"No." Will stepped forward. "I will free you."

Bootstrap shook his head as far as he was able. "Too late for that, son," he said hoarsely. "The Dutchman is claiming me and there's no escape."

"I'll kill him. I'll kill Jones and-"

"-and then this ship will rot away and me with it. There's no escape, son. This is it. I'm just glad I got to see you while I still remember who you are." He watched Will expectantly and a long moment passed in silence.

It was Barbossa who broke it. "Are ye allowed to ask the captain for death? Or must ye serve the ship until your hundred years have passed?"

Bootstrap's red eyes shot over to him. "Deepest thanks to you, Captain Barbossa. No – we are not allowed to ask for death. I have an eternity left to lie here, paralyzed – exactly as he found me, come to think of it – watching other men's lives and hopes waste away, just as mine did."

Will had no idea what to say. He just stood by helplessly, until long minutes later he felt someone take him by the wrist and guide his hand to his hip. Where he kept his knife.

It took him a moment to understand, but when he did he whirled around immediately. "Barbossa, no."

But the pirate had removed himself from the scene by turning his back, and resolutely ignored all of Will's attempts to get his attention. Will suddenly noticed that Davy Jones and Elizabeth had vanished, too. He was alone.

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Elizabeth had in fact dragged Jones above deck, because it had seemed like he was about to interfere.

"Can you even grasp the horror that Will's father faces?" she demanded once they were out of earshot of the hold.

"The man had a choice, Elizabeth. And so does young William - if he robs me of a part of my ship, you realize he'll have to take its place."

He said it with a glee that made her shudder, but she forced herself to stay bossy. She put her hands on her hips. "Davy Jones, you bragged to me that you never have a shortage of souls to serve here," she argued. "Ever. If that's true, then you don't need Bootstrap or Will. So there's no reason for this. I'm asking you: please let it go. Please."

Jones was watching her thoughtfully. "You seem to have forgotten that this is how I amuse myself. I want to see what your William will do. He brought it on himself – being stupid enough to love."

"To love?" Elizabeth thought fast. "I thought you were interested first and foremost in romantic love – not the love a son bears his father. What if we could come to an arrangement whereby you amuse yourself through Will's romantic interest – me – rather than that poor man below?"

Jones's squiddy mouth made a wet pop. "And how would you propose I do that?"

She tried her best to keep the revulsion off her face, but doubted she was successful. "Well, there's always what I wagered over Deception. I know you were upset you didn't win."

"Upset? I didn't win because you cheated!"

"I did not cheat!"

"You did!" He poked her with his claw hard enough that she lost her balance and had to take a step back. "You lost forty-six rounds out of fifty when we were only playing for markers." Poke. "And then suddenly when it's time to play a real wager," poke, "Then all of a sudden you've learned to read my mind!"

He went for another poke, but Elizabeth intercepted the claw and shoved it aside. "I didn't cheat," she repeated fiercely. "How about this: I'll tell you how I did it, and in return you will renounce your claim on Will for robbing you of part of your ship." It made her sick to speak of a human being that way.

Jones considered. He knew the boy would be more trouble than he was worth aboard the Dutchman, and (having never forgiven him for the theft of the key), wanted very much to make him watch the love of his life be unfaithful. "You'll tell me, and you'll kiss me – in front of dear William – and then I'll count it a fair trade for the boy."

"Deal." If it were not bad luck to speak ill of the dead, Elizabeth would have cursed Bootstrap for putting her in such a position. But she knew it was a good deal – what was a few unpleasant moments when weighed against a man's eternal torment?

"Well, I won't keep you in suspense. It's your, um..." she gestured. "Your beard. It, well, it wiggles more when you're lying, or when you're not sure if I am. When you're confident you've won, the whole thing goes very still, except for those biggest pieces - they sort of curl up and down. Rather like cats' tails. There - I've told you."

"And you're half paid up." He laughed, not pleasantly.

She took a deep breath and tried not to notice his fishy smell.

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Will gathered himself up and looked back to his father. "You can't want me to…"

Bootstrap gave a short huff of laughter. "No, I can't say I ever wanted things to turn out this way," he agreed. "But Will…you did promise to free me…and there's only one way to do that now."

"There must be something else."

"The Dutchman is her own master, son. She can't be bargained with, fooled, or defeated. Jones himself can't say who she takes or when. My time is up. William. Please."

"Don't," Will gasped over an unexpected hitch in his breath. "Don't beg me. Please. You know you don't have to beg me. I will do anything for you."

"Then this is the thing. Will? Are you ready?"

Will slowly drew the knife that his father had given him. "Y- No. I- I can't."

"Yes you can. I have faith in you – you're my son, you can do anything." Bootstrap gave him the best smile he had left and then jerked himself forward with everything he had.

Will leaped forward to catch his father in his arms as most – but not all – of him pulled free from the ship and toppled to the floor. He made horrible cracking sounds as they landed, Will kneeling and Bootstrap in front of him, sprawled backwards into his lap. The dying man tilted his head back with a mechanical creak. "William…"

Dark bluish water was dripping from his mouth. He was coughing weakly and choking on it. Will nodded and put the knife to his father's throat. "I love you. Are you ready?"

Bootstrap spat out another mouthful of water and tried once more. "I'm sorry I wasn't such a father to you-"

"None of that now," Will said firmly, before his voice broke. "You were magnificent and I am...honestly grateful…that I got to know you."

"Thank you, Will." Water was oozing from his nose now, too, and he smiled sadly. "I think…it's time."

"All right. Father...goodbye. I love you." Will shot one arm around his father's chest, holding him close as he slit his throat from ear to ear.

What spewed from Bootstrap's neck was mostly seawater and small fish, but there was also one bright streak of blood. Will touched it and then brought his hand to his lips. "Goodbye," he whispered again, kissing the last little bits of his father's human body.

When the corpse stopped jerking and all the little fish went limp, Will stood up. He noticed that Barbossa was still standing there, facing away, and he touched him on the shoulder. "Let's go. It's done." He didn't even notice that his voice was steady.

The pirate removed his hat and inclined his head towards the dead man. Will found himself thinking that he should resent this show of respect – after all, Barbossa was the one who'd sent his father to the depths in the first place – but he was too drained. "Let's go," he repeated, and led the way upstairs.

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Davy Jones pulled Elizabeth in as soon as he heard feet on the ladder. That way, the boy would see that kissing had been going on while he was downstairs, and hopefully would wonder in misery about whether it had been going on all week. He bent her backwards over his arm like a dancer and covered her mouth with his.

Jones was concentrating so hard on Will's reaction that he didn't get much out of the kiss. But Elizabeth, of course, had it far worse.

It was like trying to eat a raw, live fish that was simultaneously trying to eat her. She was relieved to discover that other than not having proper lips, Jones's oral anatomy was generally normal. Thank God. She thought she might scream if she felt a tentacle poking around in there.

Just when she thought she had a grip on her gag reflex and was going to be all right, though, his beard got a little too close for comfort. Euugh. Slimy auxiliary appendages going down her shirt had not been part of the deal. Elizabeth raised her hand to shoo them away, but other than that, she put up no resistance to the fishman's kiss. She let him tilt her head how he liked, let him decide how deep the kiss would go, and let him continue until he felt he had had enough.

But the moment the kiss was over, Elizabeth's passivity vanished. She stood up straight and seized a handful of the tentacles that served Jones as hair, jerking his head back.

"I hope you enjoyed that," she breathed into his ear, "Because I doubt you'll ever get another. It's the kiss of a woman in love." She released him, wiped her mouth, and spat on the deck by his feet. "Will and I are going to be happy. You are contemptible, and I hope you're as miserable as you make everyone else. Goodbye."

Elizabeth went to her fiancé, gave him a quick hug, then put her arm around him to lead him away.

Jones watched them go, leaning on each other, and felt oddly bereft.

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Barbossa was almost there. He was on the plank, two measly steps away from the Pearl and safety when Jones collected himself enough to demand, "Where do you think you're going?"

Barbossa scowled. Why did Jack Sparrow's tricks only work for Jack Sparrow? "Yes, yes, I know," he snapped, as if he of course had had no intention of sneaking off the Dutchman before Jones remembered he required a hostage. "Be patient for ten more seconds and then you can have me - with the same protective conditions we named for Miss Elizabeth."

Jones snorted. "Have no fear, Barbossa, I have no interest in mistreating you."

But Barbossa ignored him. He caught Will's eye and ordered, "Get below, Turner, you've had enough for today."

Will nodded unsteadily and went off alone. Jack and Elizabeth stuck around to make the final arrangements. "If all goes according to plan we'll meet on the open seas, at the spot Jack and I thought up, with the heart," Barbossa called to them. "And if not?"

"Isla Cruces," Jack suggested, loathe to suggest bringing Davy Jones to an island he actually used himself. "It's as good a place as any. Uniquely appropriate. Very scenic, too…the parts that are left after our last trip, anyway. If we don't show up at the meeting place as planned, have Jones sail that thing to Isla Cruces as fast as it'll go." He paused. "Are you sure..."

They looked at each other uncomfortably, and it took Elizabeth a moment to guess at what they were thinking. Perhaps it was simply this: Jones had no reason whatsoever to keep his hostage alive. Elizabeth had been safe because she was leverage against the others and also because she was pretty, but Barbossa had no such protection.

Barbossa shrugged at last. "I don't see a choice here. Just play it straight, Jack. No mistakes and no tricks, and I think we can count on him to do the same. Straight, Jack."

Jack nodded and waved goodbye.

Barbossa was halfway across the divide before Elizabeth was seized by a sudden terror that she might never see him again. "Captain Barbossa!" She rushed to the foot of the plank as he turned around. But all of a sudden she realized that people were watching her and that she had no idea what she was going to say. Her hair was blowing wildly in the wind, and she reached up to push it off her face, glad for the second to think. "Be careful," she said at last.

Wearing an expression that suggested he was trying not to smile, he came back towards her with a slow, swaggering gait that seemed dangerous with just a narrow board between him and the sea.

His boots clunked solidly on the wood with every step. His shoulders were loose and he rested one hand casually on his sword – a textbook image of a Pirate With Everything Under Control. He came back to the Pearl and stepped down from the plank to stand eye level with Elizabeth. She found herself mysteriously unable to look at him. He leaned very close to her ear as though to tell her a secret, but then didn't say anything and all she heard was a low chuckle.

He went across to the Flying Dutchman without looking back again, still calm. Elizabeth, remembering how secretly afraid she had been a week ago taking that same walk, was comforted and impressed by his attitude.

Jack, on the other hand, knowing him a little better, judged him to be almost terrified enough to wail for his mama, and thought it a shame that a grown male pirate couldn't even be as brave as a girl raised to wear dresses and squeal at the sight of a spider.

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TBC.

Yes I know, I know, the title of the chapter was a little misleading. But Bootstrap Bill has been in various stages of death and decay for the ENTIRE two movies so far and I think it is entirely appropriate that the poor guy finally gets a rest. In this story he will not be coming back except in flashbacks. So while you might see a little more of Bootstrap's name in print, if you were going to sing him a requiem, this would be the opportune moment to do so.