A/N: Thanks so much, dear readers, for sticking with us all the way to chapter 12. I guess this could be considered the end of part 1; in part 2, there's a lot more sparrabethy goodness to come, though Will, Teague and the mysterious Raider will get some screentime as well :)

Chapter 12

'Breathe steady, in and out', Will ordered his heaving chest to follow the rhythm of the waves crashing against the hull of the Captive Swallow. He wrenched his eyes closed, knowing that if he looked up, he would be faced with a monstrous grimace staring down at him with bared teeth, a horrible laugh waiting to be freed at the sight of fear-stricken sailors. He was dripping wet from his venture into the cold waters of the Cape, but the racing shivers running down his spine were the result of several layers of ice that had wrapped around his heart when he'd sensed the presence of the powerful being hovering so close to him he could feel its breath ghosting over his skin. A frosty breeze froze his whole being as the creature's shadow fell upon him, drawing the air from his lungs and erasing his every conscious thought.

'The stories are true,' He panicked as the creaking of the planks and shifting of clothes revealed that the monster was kneeling down beside him.

"William," it said, mimicking a strangely familiar voice. "Are you alright?"

'It's a trick,' Will told himself. 'He's trying to lull you into a false sense of security, and then, he'll strike.'

To a straightforward and courageous man like the Captive Swallow's Captain Turner, deceit as employed by the Raider was not only despicable, it was an abominable weakness; his foe's flaw restored his confidence. Death was an inevitable fate, but he refused to die as a coward, lying on his back with his eyes closed with fear. If nothing else, he owed a breathtaking end to his legacy to pay tribute to his son! He rolled onto his stomach and crouched on his knees, surprised to find that his attacker wasn't instantly upon him. Gaze fixed on the Swallow's deck; his eyes followed the trail of a pearly water droplets travelling down his hair and onto the wet planks as, little by little, he lifted his head prepared to face the devil in all his hellish glory.

At first, he thought it was the fog, or the veil of wet locks dangling in front of his face, but as the scene came into prominence, he realized that the Raider's features were as familiar to him as the warm voice that had spoken to him. A balding forehead hidden beneath an old fashioned, somewhat oversized hat, a pair of kind, compassionate eyes and a warm smile was all the invitation he needed to cast caution to the winds and throw himself into "Bootstrap" Bill Turner's waiting embrace.

"Father," he gasped, laughing from relief and the realization of how easily his ridiculous fears had faded into thin air. Looking over his father's shoulder, he could see his crew resting on their knees, heads bent in preparation to pledge their lives to the Captain of the Flying Dutchman. He freed himself from his father's tight clench and called out to reassure them: "Get up! You have nothing to fear!", and, as an afterthought, added to Bill: "That's right, isn't it?"

"Aye," Bill Turner replied with a smile. "All is well, thanks to you." He threw a sideward glance to Garrison, who continued to bleed, looking at them with the same mixture of surprise and horror as all onboard awaited the awe inspiring Captain of the Dutchman to pronounce his final judgement. "Saved the man, you did."

"I am their Captain," Will spoke simply. "It's my duty."

Bill's face was full of admiration for his son, and when both had gotten to their feet again, he patted his shoulder with unconcealed pride.

"Speaking of duty," Will whispered in a low voice aware that their conversation was closely monitored by the uneasy crew. "Shouldn't you be doing yours? We both know Calypso and her fury …"

"True enough …" Bill smiled. "But it seems Calypso is pleased with your choice. She can be made amiable when her Captain …" He paused and grinned almost shyly. Through the absence of solid light, Will thought he imagined the burning heat of his father's flushing cheeks.

The thought of Calypso and his father added a lightly disturbing cloud to the bright blue sky of reunion, but a furrowed brow was his only commentary on the subject. Bill, ever a man to keep his own council, seemed disinclined to follow the subject any further; Will chose not to press him.

"Besides," Bill finally continued cheerfully, "I am in the thick of duty. How was I to know you would cheat your fate?"

"Was it really that tight?" Will exclaimed, suddenly aware of the peril they had faced. Reviving the minutes spent in the water, he trembled, and Bill gave him a worried glance. "You're dripping wet, son. Better go to your cabin; a blanket and a nice bottle of rum ought to do the trick, eh?"

Will grinned. In the years he'd spent with his father, they'd grown to know and love each other, but it seemed that despite his age and status, Bill couldn't help but see the little boy who needed to be scolded and coddled. It had been unnerving; there were nights in which they'd done nothing but argue. What troubled him most was he found that when he left the Flying Dutchman to its new Captain, he'd missed the bickering. It was almost soothing to find nothing had changed between them, and without putting up further protest, he nodded and turned to his address his crew.

"Back to your positions, men and remember my orders!" Some were reluctant to believe that the presence of the legendary Dutchman wasn't to be seen as an ill omen, but the rough waters and Garrison's gaping wound absorbed their attention, leaving father and son to savour each other's company.

Will threw a blanket around his shoulders and reached for a bottle of rum he'd left on the table the night before. The liquid burned its way down his throat and across his insides, but the initial fire soon faded, leaving him with pleasurable warmth that stole the numbness from his frozen limbs. He gestured to a chair to make his father sit down and he allowed himself to fall into Teague's large, overstuffed chair, unleashing a heartfelt sigh. The day's events had taken an unexpected turn, and it dawned on him that he needed to discover whether it was for better or worse.

"So," he began, stretching his legs and pulling the wet boots from his feet.

"So," Bill replied, still smiling.

"Why are you here?" Will's question sounded harsh and immediately regretted he'd burst out with it so forwardly. He was happy to see his father, but there was something amiss about his visit. He found himself wondering if his father, a man known for his guileless honesty was not playing him false.

"I already told you," Bill answered patiently. "One of your men was on the verge of drowning, and to be quite frank so was the Captive Swallow. Have more care with your ship next time, William."

"And that's all?"

"Perhaps I wished to see my son," he smiled, but when Will cocked his head inquisitively, he sighed in defeat, adding: "To ask him why it is he's back at sea so soon."

Will slumped back in his chair; his father's words ached like a punch to his stomach. Elizabeth had asked him the same question, as had his son; he'd asked himself as well, but he had no answer to provide, apart from his resolute knowledge that what he was doing was right.

"I had to do it," he said plainly. "You've heard about the wretch known as the Ghost Raider. His foolish actions against ships belonging to the trading companies have led to the Royal Navy doubling their presence in these waters. If we don't put a stop to it, Shipwreck City will soon be without supplies. Most haven't been able to do serious pirating for months, but they're a superstitious lot and believe he's a ghost or some kind of monster …"

"And you don't?" Bill lifted his brows, seemingly unconvinced of his son's explanation.

"No! I believe the raider is human!" Will retorted fervently, feeling cornered. "He steals gold – what's a ghost going to do with gold?"

"Well spoken, son," Bill acquiesced; the corners of his mouth were already travelling upward and for a split second, Will expected Jack Sparrow's golden grin rather than his father's friendly mocking smile. In the years they'd spent together on the Dutchman, Will had found it difficult to picture a bond of friendship between Jack Sparrow and Bill Turner, but there were moments, such as this one, when the similarities in character were downright uncanny.

"And still, I cannot shake the feeling that it was a ghost you were expecting when I stepped on your deck."

'Oh yes', Will granted with silent resignation, Bill Turner and Jack Sparrow were both quick-witted, swift to pick apart their opponent's weaknesses, and swifter still to exploit their friends'. He was embarrassed that his obvious fear had gotten the better of him; fortunately his father wouldn't make him suffer for it long.

"Don't blush, it's not befitting of a Captain," he said, reaching across the table to touch his son's arm. "It was an uncomfortable situation and you were exhausted. Besides, the Cape is an eerie place. Haunted even--though it may not be the Raider whose ghostly voices echo through the caves at night." He smiled, but his eyes were cloaked with the veil of memory.

"You know," Will spoke slowly, easing into territory he deemed to be dangerous, "when I was in the water, trying to reach Garrison, I thought I saw a ship. Well, not the whole vessel, just the lights, somewhere beyond the rocks." He was convinced the ship he'd seen was the Flying Dutchman, but if his father was in the mood to spin a yarn, the observation might inspire him to share more of the Cape's secrets.

"Lights, you say …," Bill replied, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "There are the stories; dark tales of ships that split on the rocks when attempting to navigate in the dead of night …Many a brave sailor has lost his life –" He paused and looked down at the table, picking up a pair of chart dividers to turn them between his restless fingers. "Many an innocent sailors have perished needlessly…How many more must suffer to bring the chapter of dark evil to rest..." He continued to study the polished brass, carefully choosing his cryptic words. "What do you know about the Company's trade routes?" he asked, eying Will with a curious expression on his face.

"Trade routes?" Will was puzzled. "What does any of this have to do with trade routes?"

"Think: You've said the Raider is preying upon the Company's ships, clearly there's something on board he might find valuable."

"Gold," Will stated bluntly, unable to glean his father's point. "Or cargo. Something he can sell or put to good use."

"Aye." Putting the chart dividers aside, Bill braced himself on his elbows and leaned over the table, gazing at Will intensely. "Now put your wits to it. To sell or spend his booty, he has to step out of the shadows …"

Meeting his father's even stare, Will brought his fist down on the table, so hard the whole cabin seemed to shake. Damn! He ought to have been smarter than to sail into the Cape blindly. He'd almost lost a member of his crew, and having lived the dangerous waters, they were all fortunate they'd escaped with their lives. The realization nagged heavily on his conscience, and he forced his attention back to what his father's words.

"So you're saying if I knew what his booty is, I might be able to trace his steps," he said with a frown that deepened with every passing second he spent studying the curious expression coating Bill's features. The elder Captain had retreated to the protective shadows of its extensive brim, aware of his son's stare but Will declined to throw in his hand.

"Wait!" he exclaimed, fearing his father might disappear to become part of the sea's eternal legend again. "You know the Raider's identity!" He jumped to his feet, glaring down at Bill with eyes glittering dark like obsidian.

Bill looked up, his face bathed in candlelight; the tiniest trace of regret sprang from his voice while he spoke: "I have told you everything I can." He fell silent, lost in memories so painful he wished he'd buried them along with his heart. "I made a promise," he whispered, unable to look his son in the eye. "And I swore … never to breathe it to another soul."

With a swift, almost catlike movement, Will started pacing the cabin, the sound of his bared feet against the wooden floor the only sound.

"I was once Captain of the Flying Dutchman," he began, his nails digging into the palm of his hand to prevent himself from yelling at his father. "The concerns of the living are of no interest to Calypso; the Raider is nothing but a man –" He stopped next to his father's chair and dropped to his knees, bracing himself on the armrest. "A living man!"

"He is," sighed Bill. "At least if …" He seemed to lose track of thought and turned to Will, resting his hand on his son's. "Calypso has nothing to do with it," he said softly. "My promise was made years ago, and if I broke it, you would never see what lies beneath."

"What!" Will burst out in surprise shaking off his father's hand; Bill rose to his feet, a mysterious smile upon his lips at his son's bewildered expression.

"Take my advice, as it is all I can give…" he said, walking around the chair to move it back to its place. "Study the Company, in lieu of the Cape. The answer, my son, doesn't lie between these rocks…." He gestured to the window where the towering Cape slowly disappeared in the fog still surrounding them as if they had been swallowed by a gigantic beast.

"Start in Tortuga, you'll do well there." Knowing what was going to happen, Will reached out to him, to prevent him from vanishing into the vaporous mist.

"Tortuga?" Will repeated with a baffled voice but the Captain of the Flying Dutchman was gone before he could even touch his sleeve. His voice, however, was still reverberating through the cabin, an otherworldly echo that almost sounded like a curse.

"Tortuga! There are uncharted waters in every man's heart, Will," his father's voice said. "And they're full of shoals and monsters."