Weatherby Swann, formerly governor of Jamaica, watched anxiously as his would be son-in-law approached. He had always had great respect for Will–even when he was still a child. The homeless orphan they had rescued from the wreckage of a pirate attack had worked diligently to carve himself out a place in Port Royal. It had been at Elizabeth's insistence that the boy had been allowed to attend lessons with her. The Governor, her father, had thought the whole idea utterly incomprehensible–not to mention improper, but had relented because of some incomprehensible sense of responsibility for Will. Mostly, however, it had been to appease his much doted upon daughter. Over the past few years, Weatherby had often wondered how their lives would have unfolded differently if he had, just that one time, denied her request.
Will never once took his eyes from Weatherby as he walked the short distance between where Meg waited and where the Swanns stood. There had been a time when he would never have dreamed of being so forward with Elizabeth's father - Will had always taken great care in showing him the respect he deserved – he did, after all, have the final say in whether or not Will and Elizabeth would be allowed to marry. Will's curiosity as to why and how Weatherby was here on this particular day was about to best him. An uneasy feeling crept over him as he struggled to maintain his composure – his face betrayed none of the anxiety he was beginning to feel. He wondered what Weatherby's reaction would be to everything that had transpired since his murder at the orders of Cutler Beckett.
Will had never been openly defiant with his prospective father-in-law - he had no real reason to, but he had learned to stand his ground with him–most especially when Elizabeth was involved. Her father had made it perfectly clear, on more than one occasion, that he never had, and never would, consider Will to be an appropriate match for his only child. A lesser man would never have been able to endure the conditions, restrictions and pressure that had been involved in gaining–and maintaining, the Governor's approval to marry his daughter – to have Elizabeth's father withdraw his blessing would have been disastrous. Will had often wondered what the end result would have been had Elizabeth had not been so single minded about what she wanted. How could they have known that her unwavering devotion would ultimately release him from his current fate?
As was his habit when dealing with personal affairs, Weatherby Swann's emotions were plainly displayed across his features. It was immediately clear to Will that he was deeply disturbed about something, and perhaps a little annoyed too. His expression did nothing to alleviate Will's concerns.
"Governor Swann, Ma'am. Good evening," Will said respectfully, giving the couple a small bow. He then turned to the woman standing next to Weatherby. "Ma'am, I'm afraid I must admit I've forgotten how to properly greet a lady of your station. It is not something I've had much practice with. Please forgive me if I appear unnecessarily rude," he added.
"Mr. Turner, may I present to you, my wife, Elizabeth's mother, Lady –"
"Weatherby!" the woman cut him off mid introduction. "There's surely no need for such formality–most especially now." The rebuke was mild, but she clearly meant what she said. She turned to Will and flashed him a radiant smile, the same smile Elizabeth always had when she saw him, the same one he hoped to see very soon. "You must be Will! I understand you were my daughter's fiancé?"
"Yes," he answered slowly, as he again nodded his head. He noted her curious description of his connection to Elizabeth. Did she not know they were married? Will successfully managed to avoid any hint of his confusion to show on his face.
"I don't think it would hurt if you called me Josephine. I certainly don't see much need for titles here," she proclaimed and yet still offered her right hand for Will to kiss as if this were a formal introduction at a ball.
Will took her hand and kissed the back of it, noticing the perfectly manicured nails. He remembered when Elizabeth's hands had looked like that. The last time he had looked at hers carefully they had been as short, cracked and dirty as his own had been. Somehow he didn't think her parents would exactly approve of where a life with Will had led her. But Elizabeth was a grown woman and had made her choices freely.
"You stabbed the heart," Weatherby interjected accusingly.
Will snapped his head towards Swann, as he slowly released Josephine's hand. Although it was getting harder to do so, he still managed to keep his emotions and reactions in check. How could he realistically expect anyone to understand the inner turmoil that he had experienced and in many cases still was experiencing – the unparalleled joy of marrying Elizabeth followed immediately by the horror of dying; the unfairness of being separated from her and their son for ten years; the regret he suffered when he considered how differently things could have gone if they had just resolved their misunderstanding sooner; not to mention the anxiety and anticipation of being reunited with her and William in just a few short hours. It was almost more than Will himself could process – much less someone who did not, nor would ever, know the entire tale.
"She loved you, and yet you chose to stab the heart instead. You chose immortality and to sail the seas forever–and for what?" The agitation in Weatherby's voice was duplicated on his face.
"For us. So that we could be together." Will drew a deep breath and stared Weatherby directly in the eyes. "I was dying," he said numbly.
Josephine gasped audibly, but said nothing. She glanced from Will to her husband and back again. Will briefly returned her gaze, again struck by how much his wife looked like her mother – most especially in the expression that was now on her face. It was the same one her daughter got when she was piecing together seemingly random fragments of information. He couldn't say why exactly, but Will sensed that he had just inadvertently gained an ally.
"And so you stabbed the heart to avoid the inevitable?" Weatherby was quickly moving beyond agitated to outright angry. "You left my daughter behind knowing that you were neither dead nor alive? She had no one left. Had you just died she might have moved on, or gone back to Norrington, or married someone who could protect her, or anything, but you didn't. You selfishly chose to leave her with wasted hope and no family to speak of," he sputtered.
Will remained calm as he continued staring at his father-in-law, allowing the accusations to bounce off him, and as he did so, it occurred to him that neither Swann knew any of what had happened past the point of Weatherby's murder. It also began to slowly sink in with Will that, for once, he held all the cards as far as Weatherby Swann was concerned. Being his wife now comprised a far larger part of Elizabeth's identity than being the Governor's daughter, but they obviously did not know he and Elizabeth had married - as they had intended, albeit not as they had planned. How much should he tell them? Would there be any point in giving them all the details? Their only concerns were for their daughter's safety and happiness–two things that Will would never, under any circumstances, neglect. And yet Elizabeth's parents—or at least her father—could not, or chose not to, see that.
"Norrington is dead. He died aboard the Dutchman."
"Murdered?"
"Helping Elizabeth escape." Will realized he had not entirely answered the question, but he did not think it in his best interest at the moment to mention his own father's role in the Admiral's demise.
"And where were you? Why weren't you helping her?"
"I didn't know where she was. I was trying to negotiate for our freedom aboard the Endeavor."
"From Beckett? Even you should know he's not to be trusted."
"And Jones, yes." Will chose to ignore the implication that his attempted negotiations had been a tactical error. There was still so much that Weatherby did not, nor would ever, need to know.
"And so you stabbed it to spite Beckett?" The accusatory tone was still there, but the anger seemed to have faded slightly.
"No, not then. It was later, on board the Flying Dutchman, during the battle. The details don't matter now, they can't be changed."
"Battle? You endangered my daughter's life in a battle. What did you expect to gain from that – other than your own death and possibly hers?!"
Josephine again spoke up. "Weatherby," she said, keeping her eyes on Will. "I'm sure there's a good explanation. Our daughter has a good head on her shoulders. You yourself told me how proud of her you were, including her choice in who she wanted to marry. Were not your exact words 'He's a good man—loyal, dedicated, and devoted to our daughter. He stands up for what he knows is right and isn't bound by the conventions of society. He's kind and clever. When he says that he would die for her, I honestly believe he means it literally. I can't imagine any man loving her more.' This is that same man, is it not?" she asked, in a tone that no one would dare question, while gesturing towards Will.
Weatherby broke off the staring match with Will and looked at his wife. His lips were pressed tightly together in disapproval of her outburst. Will was unsure if it was because she had interrupted her husband's tirade, because she had apparently sided with Will in all things concerning Elizabeth, or because she had revealed something that Weatherby had never intended for Will to know.
"Josephine, my love, he has to spend eternity ferrying souls to this place. He can never return to her and yet, I know she would be willing to wait for him forever if she had to. I can't bear the thought of her all alone in the world, with no family to speak of."
"That's not entirely true," Will interrupted. "I'm only obligated to ten years. I can return to her, if she'll still have me." And if I had ever had any doubts that she would be waiting, I wouldn't now. Even her father recognizes that. "Actually, I only have a few hours remaining here. I return to the other side at dawn – sunset for them."
"That would explain the weather," Josephine said as if she had been privy to some private information all along.
"Pardon?" Will and Weatherby said at the same time.
"The weather. It is going to rain. It only does that here when a soul returns to the living. Near drownings only get a small drizzle, but returning after ten years on this side? That is quite the occasion!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight.
"Darling, that makes no sense," said Weatherby, discounting her explanation completely.
Will did not react at all. After everything he had seen in his lifetime, Josephine's tale made as much sense as anything else. And there was the matter of the unusual lack of precipitation here. He belatedly thought of Calypso and her power to control the weather. She was indirectly responsible for his having been put in this predicament. Was it possible that the upcoming storm that Josephine was so sure of was her way of acknowledging he had completed his obligation? She had most certainly conjured up a major storm during the event that led to his being here. He was positive there was no way to ever know for sure so he put the thought out of his mind.
Josephine sighed in annoyance, rolled her eyes and addressed her husband. "Think of it like spring. Everything dies in the winter—and then come back with the rains in the spring. It kind of works like that here. I seem to recall something about green lightning on the other side too."
"The green flash," Will offered, glancing towards her–noting that her hair was actually lighter than Elizabeth's and her eyes had a more golden tone to them.
Weatherby shifted his gaze between them and looked at them both as if they had gone completely around the bend. "And how do you know this?" he inquired disbelievingly.
"That's right! The green flash," she said to Will, her eyes sparkling the same way her daughter's did when she confirmed that she was right about something. And yet all the while ignoring her husband's reaction to what she was saying. She turned back to him. "Weatherby, I was here for quite some time before you arrived. I investigated every way possible to go back," his wife explained what, to her, was perfectly obvious. "Mark my words, come dawn it will begin to rain here," she looked at Will. "I suppose that will let us know you made it," she said happily.
Will smiled at the thought of Elizabeth doing much the same thing her mother had. Had she not spent the last ten years trying to arrange ways for them to be together, even if it was for just a few minutes at a time? He wondered if she realized how much like her mother she was. He would certainly make a point to tell her if she didn't.
"Will?" Josephine asked. "You referred to, 'them.' Who is with Elizabeth?" She sounded both hesitant and hopeful in anticipation of Will's answer.
"Our son," he replied, taking his cue from his mother-in-law. He had quickly assessed that it annoyed her greatly when her husband referred to Elizabeth as "my daughter."
Josephine clapped her hands together with delight. "What's his name? What does he look like? How old is he? Weatherby, do you know what this means? We have a grandson!"
Weatherby dabbed his forehead with his handkerchief. He did not look pleased. "At the cost of your daughter's reputation and standing in society? Associating with known pirates was beastly enough without adding a child born out of wedlock too." The man was so distressed he could not even bring himself to look at Will.
"His name is William. Elizabeth says he looks like me, but I've only seen him a few times – when he was hardly more than an infant. He turned nine this past March – March third to be exact," he said to Josephine with a proud smile before turning to Weatherby. "I gave you my word concerning Elizabeth when I was sixteen and again when you granted us permission to marry—I keep my promises. We did marry, aboard the Black Pearl. It's been ten years ago now," he added softly, staring out at the dark water–happily remembering that moment of unequaled joy while pushing away the memory of what happened to them minutes later. .
"You don't mean to say that, that, that Jack Sparrow performed the ceremony?" Weatherby stammered. He sounded nearly as appalled as he had been at the thought of Elizabeth bearing Will's illegitimate child.
"No, it was Captain Barbossa," Will said as he redirected his attention to his in-laws. He thought better of telling Weatherby that he and Elizabeth had for all intents and purposes performed their own ceremony – Barbossa had merely officiated. Now was not the time to give Elizabeth's father grounds to contest the legality of their union.
"I thought he was dead, killed by Jack Sparrow on Isla de Muerta?"
"Does it matter?" Josephine interjected. She clearly was not quite so regulated by propriety as her husband – yet another similarity she had with her only daughter. "They're just as married as they would have been had the ceremony taken place in a church. They share a child. Starting tomorrow they will also share a life. It's what we wanted for her. It's what she wanted for herself. Perhaps it's not exactly as any of us imagined, but it's still the same thing! Can not you please be happy with that?" she pleaded.
Weatherby looked startled. His demeanor quickly switched to remorseful. He looked at Will and could for once see him for was he once had been and for what he now was. The gangly and undernourished twelve-year-old child they had pulled from the water. The sixteen-year-old boy on the verge of being a man, who had listened passively and wordlessly as it was made perfectly clear to him that he would never be more than a blacksmith and that Elizabeth was destined for better things, therefore it was now exceedingly improper for him to have any further contact with her. The twenty-year-old young man who had been nearly struck speechless by the beautiful woman she was becoming and yet had fearlessly charged in to save her life–repeatedly, with no apparent regard for his own safely. The twenty-one-year-old would-be groom who had done everything asked of him, no matter how trivial, in order for a chance to make a life with the woman he loved above all others. And finally the thirty-two-year old man who now stood before him with his steely gaze and quiet intensity that spoke of his undying devotion to that same woman all these years later.
A very humble and much relieved Weatherby offered his hand to Will. "Please, accept my apologies. I've only ever wanted what was best for her – what would make her the happiest. Isn't that what any parent wants for their child?" Weatherby paused for a moment before continuing. He could not tear himself from Will's gaze with its look of acute determination. "I can see now that she was right about you. She saw what I couldn't or just chose not to. I should never have doubted that she would choose well and choose wisely. Please, forgive me," he said almost shamefully, while all the while having no doubt that Will would forgive him. It was the kind of man he was and always would be.
Will accepted the handshake and nodded in acceptance of the apology, but did not respond. What was there that he could say, really? He wondered if he and Elizabeth should ever have a daughter if he would be this protective of her. Something gave him the feeling that he would. And for that reason, if no other, he could accept Weatherby's treatment of him this evening and when he had been younger. Being a parent now himself obviously put things into a much different perspective.
"How much longer before you have to leave?" Josephine asked gently.
Will broke off his gaze with her husband and looked at her for a moment. He then turned to look behind him, where his own mother waited patiently for him nearer the boat. As he turned the open neck of his billowy white shirt shifted to reveal both the scar over his heart and the black leather cord with its eclectic collection of odds and ends that was ever present around his neck. Upon facing back towards Elizabeth's mother, he noticed her staring in astonishment at his chest. He quickly pulled the edge of his shirt back over the scar. He had had it for so long now that he tended to not remember it was there. Josephine's unabashed stare made him uncomfortable. He worried that she either did not know or had not realized that her son-in-law was, quite literally, heartless.
Will took an involuntary step backwards as Josephine reached towards him. Much to his surprise and relief she acted as if she had not noticed the angry red scar, but instead was focused entirely on his necklace. She too took a step – towards Will. He leaned back from her slightly as she gently and almost reverently plucked at two of the trinkets dangling from the cord. She had not randomly selected her target.
"Did she give you these?" Josephine asked somberly as she contemplated the single ivory pearl and tiny silver horseshoe Will had tied into place on his necklace. Under normal circumstances the pair of talismans were hidden by his shirt. Will had secured them so that they lay close to his heart – or at least close to where his heart should have been.
"Yes, she was wearing them both the day we were to be married, before-"
"Before, it was unexpectedly interrupted," Weatherby interjected. "It's from the necklace I gave you on our wedding day, Josephine – the pearl is that is. I do believe that William here made the horseshoe for her? To sew into the hem of her dress, was it? I believe it was supposed to bring them luck or some such thing."
Will could only surmise that Weatherby had not told his wife much, if anything, of what had happened to interrupt their original wedding. No matter how curious he was, he certainly didn't have the time to stay and find out what her mother knew or believed. He had far more important things to tend to in the next few hours.
"Yes, I made the charm for her. She gave them both to me for luck when I had to come here. I plan on returning them both to her – soon," he smiled as he again thought of how little time there was left to wait before they would be together again.
"Then she must have the set," Josephine declared as she reached up to her ears and removed the pair of pearl earrings she wore.
Will had not noticed that they matched the necklace Elizabeth had, although he had known it had belonged to her mother. Then again, it wasn't the kind of thing he was prone to notice either. He held out his hand to accept the delicate jewels from his mother-in-law.
Josephine folded his fingers over the earrings and patted his hand.
"Elizabeth will know what to do with these when the time comes. If she questions you, tell her to think back on what I told her when she was a little girl."
Will had no idea what she meant by that, but he also knew that questioning her further would have no effect. He looked from Josephine's hand on his up to her face. She had the strangest smile—he could not decide if it was one of happiness or sadness. He put the earrings in his pocket as he glanced over his shoulder to his mother then back to the Swanns. Time was growing short and he was becoming increasingly certain that Josephine's prediction of a storm of magnificent proportions was true –whether or not Calypso was behind it. He needed to go – and soon.
"I must go now," he said, struck by the sadness that washed over him. He had never known this woman and certainly had never seen eye to eye with this man, but he felt the loss at leaving them behind.
Josephine stepped towards him again, stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him on each cheek. "I know I do not need to tell you this, but as a mother I have to say it. Take care of them. Love them and let them love you," she whispered, then stepped back from him.
Weatherby looked at a loss for words. He was again having trouble looking Will in the face. He dabbed his forehead with the crumpled handkerchief again and sighed heavily. "Tell her – tell her she was right. Tell her I'm – we're proud of her."
He then offered Will his hand again. As Will took it, Weatherby grasped it with free hand also and smiled – it was one of the few times Will had ever seen him do that.
"Whatever you do, do not allow her to raise our grandchildren as pirates!"
"I promise or rather, I promise to try and keep that from happening." Will answered with a laugh. "Goodbye," he said as he turned to head back towards Meg, his last farewell to her, and his final voyage as captain of The Flying Dutchman.