Scars

by TurtleHeart

Severly injured from his fall, rebellious, teenage Will learns a thing or two about himself, his father, and the past by hearing the stories behind his father's many scars in order to give himself a future. Chapter Five added.

3. More Than You Know

Will lie on his back in bed as he had for two days now. Bored was such a fine word to describe him. No one but Aidan of course came to give him company. Whenever anyone entered the room, it was usually to give him food or collect the dishes from his meals. Aidan sat with him as much as he was allowed, which was all the time considering it was summer and nothing was happening in London but a few parties here and there.

He tapped his fingers on his blanket and watched himself wiggle his toes. Only to himself did he admit that his body hurt and was terribly sore, but he was more bored than sore and wanted to get himself out of his bed and at least sit in a chair by the window or something.

Curious to know just what exactly he could move, his eyes glanced around the empty room to make absolute sure no one was in there to yell at him for doing something stupid. No one there of course since Aidan was in the middle of a midmorning nap.

Lying flat on his bed, he attempted to move his leg. Nothing. Looking at his arm he only saw his fingers move. Sighing in disgust, he pressed his left arm into his bed and pushed on his arm while pushing his left leg into the blankets. With small scoots, he managed to prop himself a pillow distance into a sitting position.

"I can to move," he told himself proudly. "And now what am I going to do beside stare into nothing?"

As if the heavens were blessing him with entertainment, he heard his sitting room door creak open. That was most likely Aidan returning from his naptime.

Once the figure stood in the doorway, Will slumped into his pillow and turned his head away. That was definitely not his baby brother. No, that was his father looking at him with a raised eyebrow and disappointment on his face.

"Why are you sitting up? I thought we told you no sitting up for a few more days," said Bill.

"I was just wondering how much I could move," replied Will honestly.

"And how much does it hurt?" wondered Bill.

"I'm just sore," Will told him. "Honestly. It doesn't hurt that much anymore."

"Uh huh. I see it in your eyes," said Bill.

"I'm just sore," Will told him again.

"Well, anyway William, I brought you some food," said Bill as he stepped forward.

"I've already been given my ration of breakfast," said Will.

"I know, but this your lunch and dinner and an afternoon snack as well," added Bill.

"Oh, I see," Will said as he turned his head to his father. "So now to lessen the amount of time you need to be with me my meals are now being given to me at once?"

"No, I just want to know if we can talk," Bill told him.

"Whatever," Will shrugged, turning his head away from his father and enjoying the view outside his window.

Expecting more than just that, Bill raised an eyebrow. He placed the food on the bedside table. Humming to himself, he deliberately took his sweet time pouring two glasses of juice and pulling the armchair beside Will's bed. What should have taken a moment or two was over five minutes of dillydallying.

"You know," he began, reaching forward to tuck a loose curl behind Will's ear. "You and I are more alike than you know."

"I doubt that," Will told him, irritated as he moved his head away from his father's hand.

"You once asked me about the scar above my left eye," Bill continued.

"What about it?" wondered Will.

"You weren't the only one who fell when you were eight, nor were you the only one who knows what it is like to have amnesia," said Bill. He leaned his head more in front of Will and soon became aware Will's eyes were at the far left side of his eye sockets to avoid turning his head. "There is one difference: you remember your life before you were eight and I don't."

"Okay," said Will turning his head to look at his father. "If you are just going to sit in here and lecture me about right from wrong and that the past influences our future just get out. I'm not in the mood for a lecture."

"I'm simply answering a question you once had for me, but," said Bill, slowly standing from his chair. "I can see you aren't in the mood to listen to the answers to a few of your questions."

Will gave a nod of his head as he turned away. He wasn't in the mood for another lecture. No, not him. Whenever his father wanted to talk to him it always became a lecture of some sort—but then they always talked afterward. He did want to talk to his father and if his father was going to do all the talking then perhaps he would get an apology from his father in there somewhere.

"Wait," he called, yet not turning his head.

"Yes, Will?"

Will turned to the doorway where his father stood. "When you say the phrase 'as long as I can remember', do you mean when you were eight or literally as long as you can remember?"

"What if I told you as long as I can remember means when I was eight?" asked Bill.

"I'm listening," Will said.

A grin widened on Bill's face and he fought not to allow the satisfaction show. He returned to Will's side and pointed above his left eye. Above the brow and in the center of his forehead was a little red line that extended from his hairline to the center of his forehead.

"Gabe and I were below deck hiding among the cargo. Apparently, according to a very reliable source being my brother, I told him I couldn't just sit there and wait for them to kill us. For the record, we were being attacked and we were in the Caribbean. I told him I wasn't going to wait down there for the enemy to kill us. Trying to be the hero, I rushed on deck. No one can be quite sure because no one knows surely, but we can assume someone brought me down or something. Whatever it was, I was knocked on the head. I woke on my father's Caribbean island without a single idea who I was or who my brother and father were. Everything I knew from before that day including my mother's face and voice and grandparents and memories and teachings was all gone. I had to relearn how to read and write and take care of myself."

"You aren't just saying this are you?" Will asked, skeptical.

"I wish I was," admitted Bill softly.

"So you really did lose your memory when you were eight?" Will asked one more time. Bill nodded. "Is that why you suddenly became very overprotective of me after I fell out of the tree house and lost my memory?"

"That would be why. And when you woke and didn't know who you were, I considered killing myself and ending it before I had to relive it."

Will lowered his head and fiddled with the blanket. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Nah, don't worry about it. It's in the past and you remember," said Bill.

"Not the days before then," reminded Will. "But it is better than eight years of my life I suppose. How old were you when your mother died?"

"I was five. Gabe barely remembers her, but he remembers her and that's all that matters to me is that he remembers her," said Bill.

"Are you jealous?" wondered Will.

Bill simply gave him a look with a raised eyebrow. Yep, that meant he was jealous yet. Choosing not to respond to that, he rolled the right sleeve of his robe to his elbow and presented Will with a scar on his entire forearm.

"Your grandfather gave me that," he told him.

"As in my grandfather Richard Seastone?" wondered Will.

"Mm hm," nodded Bill.

Gentle fingertips traced the pinkish tan mark on his father's bronze skin. Will looked at his father with eyes begging for an explanation.

"It was after Gabe and I were rescued but before we were adopted. I believe it was the summer after. Alex and Lottie were thirteen as well as Gabriel and I was fifteen. We were a perfect example of siblings. Your uncles had taken to spending time with each other as I had taken to spending time with your mother. Nothing happened between us yet Will; we spent that spring and summer bringing her garden to life and enjoying the natural company. Well, Richard was beginning to take quite a liking to me and spending quite a lot of time with me. Alexander, of course, did not approve of this. He was incredible jealous that I was taking time away from her and his father. Because your mother spent most of her time with me, she too was spending more time with her father. Things were pretty bad that summer. Alex wouldn't talk to Lottie or I, and he tried getting his father's attention. Well, he got his father's attention all right, but he wasn't looking to get attention.

"You know your grandfather was a heavy drinker in your childhood. I know you know. Thirteen year old Alexander Seastone also knew that and he also knew that his father drank alcohol when he was upset. It just so happens and it isn't shocking to hear that thirteen year old Alexander knew where his father kept the key to the alcohol cabinet and I'm not going to tell you because—"

"It's above the cabinet, far right corner in the little nook. It's small and silver with a little clover on the edge," replied Will with a sly smile.

Bill stared at him dumbfounded. Being a father, he should have looked upon Will with anger, but being his father he looked on Will with wonder. He opened his mouth with a smack of his lips. "How the hell did you know that?"

"I waited downstairs for a few nights to discover where he kept it and I can tell you what I do and do not like out of that cabinet and I can tell you I've snuck a glass or two in the middle of the night this past year," Will told him casually.

"I should scream at you right now," began Bill calmly. "But I'm going to tell you what I have to tell you and then I'm going to let you explain to me this past year."

"Fair enough," agreed Will as he pounded the pillow behind him to center the feathers.

The father fluffed his son's pillow before continuing. "Anyway, Alexander was upset. He didn't know any better because it was all he saw his father do that past year in his life. He thought it was proper to drink when one was upset so he got the key down and pulled out all the bottles. Mind you, this was in the middle of the night and he was not alone. My brother, yes my sweet, innocent baby brother who was barely thirteen years old at the time was his accomplice. Let's just say the two drank all night.

"In the morning I found them unconscious with glasses and bottles all around the room not to mention both of them were collapsed in the own pools of vomit. Naturally, I panicked because I knew what my brothers had done. When Richard came rushing into the room, he didn't know what to do at first. He was purely afraid to see his own son like that and feared he would lose Alex. The two thirteen year olds had a rough next few days sobering and healing up. Richard didn't do anything but sit quietly beside his son and comfort him. Even though he was furious at his son for doing that, he didn't know who gave him the key or what possessed him to drink. Your grandfather has always been a man who most of the time gets the story before blowing up. I say most of the time because there was a time when he didn't, but I'll get there. He was just scared to death he would lose Alex.

"After a few days, I got it out of them. I knew what Richard did to Alex when he was drunk and upset at him. I knew he beat Alex and I knew, the moment Alex and Gabe explained to him what they had done, Richard would get himself unintentionally drunk and go after Alex and possibly Gabriel. I wasn't going to let that happen. I took it for them. What happened was something I never expected. I told Richard I brought them in there in the middle of that night and gave them a drink because they had asked me what was in there. I told him I gave them a glass of alcohol each and when they were finished to clean the glasses and set the key back up. It was to be our little secret. I told him that I was too tired to babysit them and that I trusted them. Richard looked at me. I thought I was safe because he was drinking tea that night and because I came out and told him. He set his tea down and told me to come over. When I came over to him, he grabbed my arm with both fists and he twisted. After a moment, there was a snap."

"He broke your arm?" Will asked.

Bill nodded. "Yes."

"Does anyone know about this? Did you tell anyone? Papa, there could be something seriously wrong with your arm? He shouldn't have adopted you. Does mum know?" Will cried with every question in one breath.

Hushing him, Bill set his palms on his son's shoulders. Most of him was glad Will was reacting this way. There was love between he and his son and possibility he could bring back his Will. "Everyone knows Little One. Nothing is wrong with my arm. It was corrected years and years ago. The correction is the reason there is the scar."

"But Papa, he broke your arm," Will softly told him, his forehead creased and eyebrows high. There was even a bit of glistening to his brown orbs.

"I know," Bill told him. "Believe me I know. I don't know what kept me from screaming when I heard that snap. Hearing my arm break was worse than feeling it. Nothing hurt worse than what he said after. He told me that if I ever did this to his Alexander again much more than my arm would break and he told me if told anyone who broke my arm, he would give my brother enough alcohol to kill him. He would give Gabriel alcohol poisoning. My arm didn't hurt badly that night when I went to sleep, but when I woke the first thing I did was nearly vomit. The pain was incredible. I told the other three that I had too many books in my arms in the library and I miss stepped going down the stairs and my arm slammed into the rail. I told them it was nothing to worry about. They bought it for a few days. Gabe bumped my arm with the same pressure if I was to set my finger on your hand. He barely touched my arm and I screamed. My arm was swollen and black and blue and red and I knew it may have been infected; it was in two pieces after all. Putting it simply, the next time I woke, my arm was properly bandaged and splinted and resting on a pillow. Gabriel had gotten young Ewan to patch up my arm. When I think of my arm, I always thank Gabe for being the perfect little worrier of a baby brother. Had he not gotten Ewan the moment he knew something was much more wrong with my arm I wouldn't have an arm."

Huge, concerned eyes belonging to a teenager, whose breathing altogether ended, looked at his arm. "So, if Uncle Gabriel would have touched your arm the following day you wouldn't have a right arm?"

"I'd be missing my arm from below the elbow," corrected Bill.

Will swallowed and Bill noticed his son looking over his own bandaged arm.

Bill reached out and grabbed his son's right hand. "You were fine. Okay? I've learned a thing or two medically since my arm was broken. I had your arm and leg back in one piece in a day. There was no risk of losing them."

"All right," said Will, not convinced.

Abruptly, Bill began chuckling. He kept it as quietly to himself as he could until it broke free from his lips. Soon, he sat on the bed holding his sides laughing hysterically in front of his son.

Will looked on with confusion and thought. Was it something he did that brought such joy to his father? It couldn't have been. He was simply sitting there with worry on his face.

"I'll never forget that time," Bill said to himself. He wiped is sapphires with his tunic sleeve then pulled the left side of his tunic toward his chest until the left half of his belly was exposed and revealed a light pink scar extending from his belly button to above his hip bone. "Your mother."

"What about mum?" asked Will.

"Your mother did this to me," said Bill.

"I told you she's deadly when she's upset. No one believes me," Will said.

"No, no, no. This happened when she and I were fooling around after we were married," Bill told him. "Your mother and I fooling around can be taken in one of two ways. The first way two newlyweds fool around is in bed. The second way two newlyweds fool around is with swords in her father's great yard. Yes Will, your mother can handle a weapon. We were bored and it was a fall day so naturally I grabbed my sword and she hers. It is always expected to keep up with swordplay to be prepared for any occasion of the sort. Your mother needed to keep up should she have to defend herself and I had to keep up to keep my behind alive while I was sailing the sea for months on end you mother said. Anyway, I was mocking her about being a girl with a sword and we were fooling around as I said. Fooling around soon became swordplaying and swordplaying soon became a competition. You know your mother loves a good competition as do I and you know we both hate to lose. Unfortunately, I lost and I only lost because I felt the edge of a sword blade slice my belly. You can't imagine how loud your mother can shriek when she's afraid. Damn near half the house came rushing to my aide. It wasn't even that deep of a cut. I say cut because that's what it was. I was bleeding yes, but only bad enough that I had to keep my hand over the wound to stop the blood flow. Despite that I could walk, your mother nearly sat on me to keep me down.

"And because my brother was my brother and everyone was frightened because of your mother, Gabriel carried me back to my room, Richard sent for Ewan, Alex tended to me, and Charlotte was nervous wreck in the parlor. Two dozen stitches and a light layer of bandages later, I was perfectly fine. No one would let me out of bed for three days and I wasn't allowed to sit up either. Your mother was so deathly terrified to hurt me again, it was a week before she and I were sleeping in the same bed and she had a fear of pointy objects for a while. Will, your mother used a spoon where knives and forks were needed. She tried cutting her meat with a spoon."

Picturing that thought in his mind, Will laughed a moment. His bright eyes squeezed shut and suddenly filled with a few tears that he was unable to remove before they slipped from his eyes. Nearly half his ribs were broken and he couldn't inhale breath too deeply without his chest sending agonizing, sharp pains through him. Laughing and he felt as though he was being stabbed with the bones.

"Ow," he whimpered softly.

Sighing, Bill leaned down and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. "You don't know the meaning of 'ow' Little One. Broken ribs is one thing, but try your hand at a bullet breaking these ribs and having that piece of metal removed from your body while you're still awake."

"Father, are all of these little stories you are telling me true or are you trying to make me feel bad for you?" asked Will.

Bill pulled the robe aside and untied the lacing in the front of his tunic. He specifically pointed at a scar on his left breast. The scar was half the size of the one on his belly, but unlike the scar on his belly, this one was jagged and the center was much wider than the outsides.

"So all of these stories happened then?" assumed Will.

"Why do you think I'm showing you the scars?" Bill asked.

"What happened?" wondered Will.

"Remember when you were ten years old and I caught you playing with my pistol after I told you not to?" asked Bill.

"How could I forget," said Will. "My butt was red for two days and I couldn't sit for a week. I never stopped crying because you yelled at me. Everyone else yelled at me too, but it hurt the worst when you did."

"I was eleven when I found my father's pistol on deck. He was a man who did not usually leave loaded weapons lying around with an eleven and nine year old near him at all times. Unfortunately, that was the only time he did leave his loaded pistol around. Apparently, he was having trouble getting the shot out of it so he was playing around attempting to get it working again. Rough waters caused him to leave his place on deck to go to the wheel. I was curious of course. Why did my father always tell Gabe and I to stay away from them? I wanted to know. Since he wasn't watching, I decided I could pick it up and play around with it."

"Father, I don't mean to interrupt but, you're not telling the truth," said Will. "If you shot yourself in the chest with the pistol in your own hands then you would have killed yourself."

Bill raised a finger. "I know and I didn't shoot myself. Gabriel did."

"Huhwha? Uncle Gabriel shot you?" cried Will.

"Just listen to the story," Bill told him. "Anyway, I was playing with it and it wasn't working of course. There was a jam so I banged it against a few hard things, which probably loosened it. Because I was playing with my father's pistol, nine year old Gabriel decided it was all right for him to play with a pistol too. He stole a pistol from someone else on deck and I was the idiot who showed him how to load a pistol. Don't look at me like that, you weren't exactly the smartest thing when you were eleven years old."

"Considering I skipped the entire first year of schooling," muttered Will.

"I heard that," stated Bill with a smile. "And you were book smart, not logic smart."

"I was too logic smart," snapped Will.

Bill sat beside Will simply to clamp his palm against Will's mouth. "If you bite me I'll give you a reason to cry out in pain. So, Gabriel and I both had loaded pistols in our hands. We were playing pirate like we always did and this time there was more of an excuse to play pirate because we had pistols. For the record, we were at the very bow of the ship and the high seas were living up to their high name that day. Gabriel liked to be the hero of the story and I always preferred to be the wicked bad guy because the bad guys always got the best clothes and weapons because they stole them. Anyway, that day we happened to be playing Blackbeard and Maynard. Gabe was Lieutenant Maynard and I, of course, was Blackbeard. We were playing out the final battle between the two—"

Will pulled his father's palm from his mouth. "Let me get this straight. Your father had a loaded pistol. You showed Gabriel how to load a pistol. You liked to be the bad guy. Gabe liked to be the hero. Gabe played Maynard and you played Blackbeard. In the final confrontation, Maynard shot Blackbeard so Gabriel pretended to shoot you and did in fact shoot you because they pistols were loaded."

"Pretty much," said Bill.

"Ow," muttered Will.

"It hurt. I'm not denying that. You'll find that the most painful moments of your life are moments you'll not easily forget. As you could probably suppose, I was laying on deck screaming and crying and bleeding and Gabriel was doing everything but bleeding. I was also choking up blood. Obviously, my father rushed down to us and when he saw me it was one of those ask later moments. Father kept me as calm as possible while medical supplies were fetched. I was awake as my father pulled the bullet from between my ribs. Since I was young and Gabe was over half a ship away from me, the bullet was lodged between these two ribs. While in the process of removal, one of my ribs had to be raised and the bullet removed at the same time. Father did the removing and two of his friends did the holding me down and holding the rib. I think I blacked out while he was pulling the bullet from me because I the next thing I remembered I was resting on a cot and father sitting beside me. Father often admitted to me that was the second most frightening time in his life. I was a hurting little boy for about a week. Gabe and I still find it shocking that Father never scolded us once. On the matter, he simply told us that was the reason we were to leave his pistols alone. Father knew it was his fault for leaving it on deck while well aware the two us were playing. For the record, I couldn't do much for a while because of the injury and both of those ribs were broken to remove the bullet from my body.

"Secondly, please don't tell Dirk about this. I never told your mother Gabriel shot me when I was eleven. He hates being reminded that he nearly killed me. Had my father not known quite a bit about medicine, I would have died before he could get me to a surgeon. Gabe has nightmares on occasion. Every time he sees the scar, he turns away and usually leaves to be on his own where he can silently cry. He hates it. He'll never forgive himself. I continue to tell him that it was me who showed him how to load a pistol and me who gave him reason to find one, but he simply won't take it. You know your uncle."

"He holds grudges against himself and he's sensitive," agreed Will.

"Gabriel does have a few war wounds from me however. Most of them are little scars from scratches from our wrestling matches. I never harmed Gabe like he accidentally did to me," said Bill.

"Can you pour me a glass of water?" requested Will.

"I must admit I am quite parched too," said Bill.

While pouring two glasses of water, a golden, red head poked in the doorway followed by trotting paws and a wagging tail. Orion jumped on the bed beside Will and began licking his face and neck while his tail flipped back and forth.

Will pet his pooch.

"You know I don't like it when you allow him on the bed," noted Bill.

"You should have told me that when he was a puppy because he's got the habit that he's welcomed on my bed anytime," said Will. He defended his dog when Bill's eyes narrowed into a small glare. "He knows the foot of the bed belongs to him. I trained him to sleep there. Besides, Alex doesn't care."

"Alex would let his miniature black bear sleep on his bed if Colleen wouldn't have kicked the habit when Polaris was just a puppy," said Bill.

"George sleeps on Dirk's bed," said Will.

"Is Dirk my son? No. If Gabriel allows Dirk to let his dog stay on the bed then that is between those two. I for one do not like Orion sleeping on your bed," said Bill.

"I don't see why not. My bed is huge. I can lie across the width of it and still not have my head or feet hanging off the end," said Will.

Giving up arguing this pointless matter because Orion did settle himself at the foot of his son's bed, Bill sighed and shook his head. He wasn't going to argue with his son about something he agreed on. He didn't like Orion on the bed, but he didn't mind it.

"You know, Gabe and I had dogs when we were younger," he began.

"I know," replied Will. "Gabriel had a Great Dane and you had that huge Irish dog."

"I can't be too hard on you since I too let my dog sleep on my bed and he was bigger than Polaris and Hercules," said Bill.

"What happened to your dogs anyway? I knew you two had dogs, but what came of them?" wondered Will.

"They died of old age nearly a month apart. Gabe's moved on then mine did. Thankfully, we were in Scotland at the time. Gabriel and I buried our dogs and gave them a proper marker," Bill told him.

Will nodded and looked at the surface of his glass of water. Nothing appeared to float on top or swirl when he moved the water around. Just to be safe, he sipped a few drops and tasted the contents. Nope, it was normal, cool, tasteless water.

"I'm not your uncle," muttered Bill.

"You are more than you think," Will told him. He was quiet for a moment then slowly spoke. "If you don't mind my asking since you are explaining a few of your precious scars to me, where did you get the scar on your neck?"

"Rope," replied Bill.

"How did you get rope around your neck?" wondered Will.

"I was fifteen," said Bill.

"Did they do it?" Will asked softly.

Bill gave a subtle nod. "Mm hm."

Will nodded and lowered his head. That was a topic taboo to ask. His mother told him never to ask about the time he was fifteen years old. He asked once and the cold, frightened look that passed into his father's eyes explained enough to him. If his father wanted to talk about it then he would talk about it. Fifteen was strictly a listen don't ask policy.

"You ever hear how I got the name Bootstrap Bill?" Bill abruptly asked, breaking the silence and changing the mood.

Will smiled, his perfect white teeth gleaming and eyes sparkling. "Of course. Everyone knows that story."

"From my point of view?" asked Bill.

"I don't remember your point of view," Will said, slyly.

"Well, I was thirteen years old and very stupid," began Bill, nodding his head. "I knew not to step in between coils of rope, but I did anyway. A sailor cannot do something more stupid than step between coiled ropes. Rope burns hurt worse than normal burns William. Make no mistake about that and please don't step between coils of rope, barefoot, wearing breeches. A great amount of sea wind suddenly picked up and the next thing I knew I was swinging by my right ankle. The rope didn't get caught in my boostraps because I didn't have any boots on but that's beside the point. While everyone thought it was so amusing that I was swinging from side to side with my tunic over my head and me flailing about yelling for someone to get down—picture that if you will son." He watched the smile on Will's face grow and his knuckles turn white from grasping the blankets in order not to laugh. "I was up there with a severe rope burn and a broken ankle. Father and Gabriel thought it was all amusing. Gabe collapsed on deck and nearly died because he was laughing and Father was leaning over the helm of the ship trying to hide his laughter. After I finally was cut down, that's when Father's amusement vanished. My ankle was swollen and black and blue and the rope was indented into my skin. They had to peel the rope from between the layers of skin."

He pulled his trouser cuff to his knee and removed the slipper. Sure enough, there was a light tan circle around his right ankle and the line extended, winding around his calf about halfway to his knee.

"Imagine someone peeling the rope from your skin and then having to pick pieces of the twine from you with a tweezers. My leg was kept up for a week and cool rags wrapped around it. Not so amusing when it is happening to you is it?"

"I wouldn't know. I've never set my foot between coiled rope," said Will with a smile.

"Smart ass," muttered Bill as he raised the cup to his face.

"Your son you mean," corrected Will.

Bill rolled his eyes and nodded. He covered his leg again and leaned back into the wall.

Simply having the impulse because it was an opportune moment, Will sighed coincidentally the same time with his father. Forgetting how painful that was, he instinctively clutched his father's hand and squeezed.

A smile creeped onto Bill's face as he felt his hand squish together between his son's fingers. Finally, the thick ice between them was broken. He was getting through to Will after all and he did notice his son was becoming more of the Will he knew long ago. The few scars that were hardly of relevance had their stories told, but now he had to explain the scars that would either bring Will back to who he was or simply leave him unchanged. He hadn't spoken of the time he was fifteen to anyone. There was no real need to explain it since everyone was there to see it. He didn't want his son to look at him different. Gabriel never looked at him the same once it all happened. Gabe always looked on him with concern and a watchful eye. He didn't need his own son having to feel as though he had to watch him because of an incident when he was around his son's age.

And he didn't exactly have to tell his son about the scars yet. Some scars the eye couldn't see, but they were there. Testing the waters, he decided to tell his son about a few near life taking experiences before explaining the experience that nearly took his life.

"You know about that time I was sent to India right?"

"Don't remind me. Grandfather reminds me every time I do something wrong," said Will.

"Do you know I nearly never came back?"

"What scar are you going to show me now?" wondered Will.

"These scars the eye cannot see, but only my body can feel," Bill began. "When we were in India wandering at our own free will, I was bit by something. I have a mark from the bite, I don't exactly call it a scar since that is not what it looks like."

"A scar, a mark, there is no real difference," said Will.

With a nod of truth, Bill rolled his left sleeve to his shoulder. Above his elbow on his arm was something that appeared to be a rash. The overall size of it was less than that of a piece of eight, but the faded red dots looked as though they were peeled open and the center of the wound was the exact opposite. Scar tissue and skin was slightly elevated above the rest of his arm. It felt hard to the touch.

"There are bite marks," noted Will, eyeing out two miniscule red dots on the scar.

Bill nodded. "That's how I know I was bitten. I wasn't the smartest I'll admit that. I was wandering the jungle with half my tunic shoved into the band of my trousers exposing my torso to the muck and bugs. We were wandering the jungle as I told you, with a few friends of mine. I felt it when I was bitten. The feeling was similar to that of a wasp." He paused to note Will rubbing his forearm where he was bitten by that wasp years ago. "Anyway, I thought nothing of it since the little bugger had gone already. It wasn't until that night when I began feeling off. I had no appetite and I was so very thirsty. I couldn't satisfy my thirst. Later in the night, I began hallucinating and burning with a fever. I don't remember much, but it was a few days and a few Indian physicians before I came around. My arm was without feeling for a while and I was still very thirsty. Nothing was clear. It was a few more days after, I woke that I had the mind to be myself again. My arm was heavy for days after I was up again. They think it was a snake or a spider by the tooth marks. I never care to know because I am never going back to India."

"I was bitten by that black spider," reminded Will.

"I know, don't remind," said Bill quickly, rubbing his arm. "Well another time I got pneumonia."

"So did Dirk and I and don't go telling me that it was worse than Dirk's. Okay? My cousin almost died from it," said Will.

"My father nearly poisoned me to end my pain and it was similar to Dirk's case of pneumonia Little One," said Bill. Will's chocolate orbs turned to him curiously. "I was in the Caribbean, Hot Cocoa to be exact. There was a storm brewing in, and I had a little passion for watching storms brew, which I don't know and I'll tell you why later. There is nothing more beautiful and frightening than watching huge black clouds with lightning and thunder rumbling in them. On the ocean, storms are incredible. All you can see is the sky and sea and you have to experience what a storm is like coming in. It feels as though you are Zeus himself commanding the storm. Oh, yes right—it began raining and it was a cold rain."

"A cold rain for the Caribbean," noted Will.

"Will, it was like the rain here," Bill told him. "It was very cold for the Caribbean. I was an idiot and sat through much of the storm watching it lightening into the sea and pour on my face. Father finally noticed me out there about an hour after the rain started. I was twelve I think. He got me back inside and warmed up, but it was already too late. I had a fever. By the morning, I was beginning to cough. Father knew what it was exactly. He sat by me for three weeks praying every night that I would wake to see the morning. Like Dirk, I lost nearly all my weight horribly quickly. I couldn't breathe, it hurt to breath, my body temperature was never content, I couldn't talk, I barely ate because it hurt to swallow, and I just wanted to sleep. Most of all, I didn't want to die, but I wanted all the pain to go away. It came to the point that my breathing was coughing and I was beginning to cough blood because my throat was dry. I know Dirk got there to. Dirk and I had our pneumonia to the exact cough; that's how baby brother knew what to do.

"When I began coughing the blood, father knew I wasn't going to last much longer. After I finally fell asleep, he went to the town side of the island and prayed. For an hour, all he did was pray. There was never a moment when he didn't speak to the Lord. He told me that if I wasn't turning for the light by morning, there would be poison slipped down my throat. He had the poison in his hands as he prayed. A little speck hemlock he had and he would have given to me. By morning, I wasn't improved and I wasn't awake yet, but I was choking. He brought me into his arms and put the bottle against my lips. My baby brother of only ten years was watching all of this. Father told him it was medicine that would make me feel better, but it wouldn't make him feel better. He got the glass bottle to my lips. Well, he wanted a miracle from the Lord and he got it. I woke with the bottle against my lips. He told me he saw life in my eyes again and they were brighter. Seeing my eyes looking back at him, he realized he couldn't do it. He couldn't kill his own son.

"Let us just say I began improving later that night. It was still weeks before you could say I was ripe off the old tree, but I was alive. When you and Dirk had pneumonia and we thought you two were going to die, we considered the speck of hemlock. Gabe couldn't do it. Father didn't have the strength to do it and he never understood why until that point. Pneumonia is an interesting disease, one moment you'll think your greatest treasure is going to die and in an hour, everything will turn for the better. We didn't know if you two would have gotten better if we'd've poisoned you. In my heart, I still had hope that you would turn around and you did. Gabe was close to doing it, but Dirk was fighting and he knew how hard he was fighting. He told me if Dirk gave up then he would too, but Dirk never gave up and neither did you."

Will softly smiled, but his eyes were low in thought. "I don't want to die," he whispered so quietly only consonants were heard.

Once having felt the same, Bill nodded his head and took a daring move by pressing his lips against Will's cheek. He felt Will lean his head into the gesture of love and kept his lips there for longer than he intended. Kissing his Little One's cheek was once a nightly chore. He never grew tired of having his father give him a kiss good night. While he was away at school, he lacked his father's wishes of good dreams so when he was home he embraced it more and more. Dirk once laughed at him because he was demanding a kiss goodnight when he was fifteen years old.

The waters had been tested and a daring move was pulled and Will did not pull away. There was hope that Will was now Will and Will would explain all that happened to him.

"Hold me," Will whispered softly, like a sole prayer spoken in the chapel. He turned his head to his father's wondrous face. "It's been so long since anyone has held me. I know mum and Lily held me and Aidan slept in my arms, but it's not the same. They held me because they were frightened. On the ship when you wrapped your arms around me that was simply to try to get through to me—"

"You aren't the only one who messed up Will," Bill said abruptly in the middle of his son's thoughts. "If I could rewrite my past I would. I would change how I was when I was fourteen. My father, the last year with my father, he spent nearly the entire year scolding me and yelling at me. You did not simply attract this sudden rebellious spirit in you. I had it when I was fourteen."

Will shook his head. "I don't think you messed up more than me," he softly and guiltily admitted.

"I did Little One. I messed up more than you," said Bill. "My rebelling against everything nearly cost me more than it was worth. My father was a man who did not agree with the Navy on some things, but other things he agreed with. I was nearly thrown in the Academy."

"I don't mean to keep interrupting but you chose to go into the Navy. If the Navy was a punishment that made you stop your rebellious streak then why did you willingly sign yourself to it?" wondered Will.

"Because I wanted to make my father proud," replied Bill.

"But your father was dead by then. You can't make the dead proud because the dead are not alive," noted Will.

"William, that's beside the point!" Bill cried exasperated. He sighed heavily. "I just lost my father after a year of, and I cannot believe I am telling this to you, gambling with my life and money, drinking as much alcohol as I could in town, pirating and stealing more than I should have, and sleeping around."

"You were fourteen?" asked Will.

Bill shrugged and smiled innocently. "Sounds a might bit familiar doesn't it Will?"

Will shook his head. He raised his forefinger. "One. I have one girl and I haven't in a very long time. I never pirate or—did you really do all of this?"

"Yeah," replied Bill with a firm nod of his head. "Alece Rosa. I'm sure you've heard of her. It all began with her. She was my first girlfriend. We had known each other since birth. She was eight days younger than me. Her family was a friend of ours. You see, her oldest brother sailed and worked with my father. Naturally, we were acquainted with the Rosa family whenever our travels led us to Spain. They lived on the southern coast. Because Alece and I had known each other forever, there wasn't anything that we did that was uncomfortable. We kissed for the first time when we were thirteen. Okay, Will our entire relationship, meaning significant other, lasted about two weeks. We were in Spain because it was her birthday and we were near there anyway. We were talking one night and she kissed me. I kissed her back. The next day was her birthday and she was fourteen and I was fourteen. Nothing happened that night because there was a celebration.

"Things were, let me just say, opportune to sneak around with each other. Her family and my father enjoyed going out at night. I was the oldest and left in charge of the children and they went to sleep between eight and nine at night. The adults returned after midnight. That left us at least three hours to fool around. We thought we knew what love was because we missed each other when I was away. She didn't feel the same about other boys and I didn't have the same thoughts about girl's either. She was the only girl I thought I loved. So naïve I was then.

"Over the next week, we did everything it took you and Elizabeth sixteen years to do. I mean everything when I say it too. We did everything but get into bed and we liked the rest of it. And yes, we kept the doors open so we could hear the children when they woke for water or from a bad dream or when the adults arrived home. No one knew what we were doing and we didn't know what we were doing either. We weren't ready. We were curious and bored with everything else. We didn't understand because neither of us spoke of this topic to our parents or father if you are me. They never really saw reason to explain it to us. We were barely fourteen, but we knew what happened at night. She lived at home and I lived at sea. It was not difficult to figure out.

"So, on about the seventh night, we got into bed and yeah. I had no idea what I was doing and she had no idea what she was doing. All we knew is that it hurt, but we thought that was normal because it's something you don't do every day. It wasn't just in bed either. We bored and curious like I told you before so we took it all over the room."

Turning bright cherry red, Bill pressed his palms against his face and rubbed up and down.

"I cannot believe I am telling you this considering I was barely fourteen and I pressed it so hard on you that if you did this before you were ready or sixteen I would kill you. There I was, barely fourteen and having done everything a male and female can do at night in a week.

"Needless to say they found out. It wasn't very difficult to find out. We were both walking awkward and we had that look on our faces. The adults spoke in private and agreed that punishments would be dealt with on the parent's account, but we would be separated. Fortunate for me, her older brother had earned enough money to purchase a house for his own family and saved enough to get by for quite a while until he found a job in town. I knew they found out because the next day at one o'clock in the afternoon, I was sailing away. Father didn't say a word to me that day. No one spoke to me. Just like me Will, when I don't say anything and I have that emotionless expression on my face, you know I know something."

"Mm hm, I know the look," muttered Will.

"You should, I've had it on my face every week for the past year," said Bill. "Anyway, Father woke me at sunrise the next morning. He said he had something to discuss with me. I knew I was in trouble then. He took me on deck where it was just the two of us and a chair sitting in the center. He told me to remove my clothes. When I asked why, he said he wanted to see the damage she had done to me. And because it was just the two of us, I decided it was best to just do it. So there I was, standing butt naked on deck during a sunrise. He made note of the marks she had done to me then sat me in the wooden chair where he had a little talk with me. During this little talk, the men began waking and coming on deck to enjoy the day and there I was, butt naked in a chair with my father scolding me.

"When he was through with his little lecture he stood up and, naturally, I did as well. Nope, he pushed me back in the chair and told me I was going to stay there until the sun was gone from the horizon. We were sailing due West as fast as the ship sailed, so the day was longer than it should have been. He told me that everyone got the chance to see the marks she put on me and to see how well I was developing if you know what I mean. I sat facing the helm and my father. Every man made some remark whenever he passed and Gabriel got a little talk as well. Needless to say, Father got him paranoid about women. That was why he was sixteen. It took all of us including Richard to tell him that it was all right to be with a girl.

"Throughout the day I was fed and I had to attend to my usual chores. I had to get my own food and put the dishes away. I had to do my usual chores of washing the dishes because it was my turn and I got the honor to swab the deck. When I was not attending chores or dining, I was sitting in the chair. Keep in mind I had no clothes on my body and I was completely exposed to the Spanish sun. A certain area that was not exposed to the sun ever, was sunburned. It was sunburned red. Both sides were."

"Ouch. Ow. Ow. Ow," muttered Will, squeezing his eyes shut. If he could have curled tighter against himself protecting his midsection from the sun he would have, but his face twisted into discomfort.

Bill nodded. "When I was allowed to get out of the sun, Father said I had learned my lesson and he hoped I would never disappoint him again. He told me he was ashamed to call me is son. That hurt a lot. It hurt more than my sunburn. Gabriel being my baby brother and still eleven years old, wanted an explanation to why I did it and provided me with coconut oil Father told him not to give me. My reply to him was that I felt like it. After that day, my relationship with my father went down. I didn't understand. He never talked to me about girls and here he was punishing me for something I did not know. I thought it wasn't fair and he had a cold shoulder for me. He kept his distance and our conversations became single words. I didn't care anymore and I went rebellious because I wanted him to notice me." He paused to look meaningfully at his son.

"I've always been your favorite. Why would I turn into a rebel to get your attention and favor?" asked Will.

"Just wondering," replied Bill.

Will looked at the sandwiches sitting on the table. He knew his father was hinting toward that he wanted to know what flipped the switch in his mind. No, no, no. He was not going to tell his father that. Why did his father deserve to know? He became a rebel for a reason and if he told them the reason then they would hold it against him forever and everything would suddenly go back to normal. Nothing was going to go back to normal after he told them. Honestly, he didn't mind being known as a rebel. No one at school messed with him and those certain few delighted inviting him to midnight parties by the rock. London also didn't know him as the "adorable, such a kind, handsome, young Lord." Nope. They avoided his name altogether and when he was spoke it was from being caught in the act again. He liked who he was. No one gave him responsibilities and he was the same for the only two people that mattered in his life: Aidan and Elizabeth. Sure, he wanted his father, but he messed up their relation long ago. There was no getting it back.

Right?

"Are you hungry?"

"Hm?" wondered Will blinking his eyes and focusing on his father.

"Are you hungry? You're looking at the food," noted Bill.

"It has been a while since I've eaten," admitted Will, realizing he was a bit hungry.

As the food was being cut, Orion suddenly woke from his nap and perked his head up. His nose rapidly sniffed before he got on all fours to scoot closer, situating himself between Will and Bill who was now standing on the floor.

"Do you want ham or turkey?" asked Bill. When he turned his head, he gasped aloud in fright and back away. "Since when does my son have a huge black nose, golden muzzle, big brown eyes, floppy ears, and sit on all four legs. Not to mention, I don't think my son pants."

"I think he'll take either one father," noted Will.

Bill pushed the dog aside. "I'll feed you later Mr. Paws. Ham or turkey?"

"Ham and turkey," replied Will.

Not surprisingly, Bill handed Will a sandwich on rye bread with a sly smile on his face. "I also have light mustard, cheddar and mozzarella cheese, and a single leaf of lettuce."

"You still know me," said Will with a smile on his face as he steadied the plate in his lap.

"You're my son. Rebel or not, your taste of food will not change," said Bill.

"Did you drink whenever you were in port or are you just saying that?" Will asked. "Because you really don't drink much."

"There is a reason for that Little One," said Bill, pushing Orion toward the foot of the bed and resuming his place beside his son. "I did drink every time we were in town. I knew my father didn't like it when I had a glass of wine without his permission. He watered everything else down still. One third water, two third alcohol. Gabe was the opposite if not three quarter water one quarter alcohol. If my father caught me drinking straight rum I knew he would kill me, but he didn't have to. The first time I drank alcohol I was carried back to the ship, passed out. Of course, when we were in town we got free roam as long as the two of us stayed together. Naturally, I always strayed away from Gabriel into the nearest tavern. Like you, I passed for older than fourteen years old. I appeared a late sixteen early seventeen so when my age was asked I told them seventeen or nearly seventeen. Most of the time it passed. I was a paying customer and most patrons don't care to bother about age as long as he has the money to pay. There was the occasional elder gentleman who saw past the lies, but they never made a big fuss of it.

"Three glasses later I was completely drunk. Yes, Will, three glasses of rum gets me drunk to the point of nearly passing out. I cannot hold my liquor. I think I got kicked out of the tavern because I was acting obnoxious and drunk. I cannot be sure of this, but I think I collapsed in the middle of the street. Mind you, I brought my bottle of rum with me from the tavern. Someone found me and brought me back to my father. I'm horrible at rebelling because half the time, my rebelling led to me near death. Low and behold, I gave myself alcohol poisoning. Like you, I was given medicine so I could have my head in a bucket for over a day."

"You know about that?" Will asked, his face narrowing and shying away.

"Yes, Will. Your school does inform me what you have done. I have quite the little drawer of letters," said Bill.

"Anyway, so what happened after that?" Will said quickly, making his best effort to change the subject.

With a shake of his head toward his son's not so tricky method, Bill enjoyed half his sandwich while keeping an eye on Will, who was looking away. He swallowed and continued. "After a few days I woke and Father and Gabriel held me for hours. Father wasn't quite sure what happened, nor did he understand why I did it. Because I couldn't understand either quite simply because I couldn't remember, he let the subject matter go. Why press an issue that the victim doesn't remember?"

"Would that explain why you don't drink?" asked Will.

"Reasons because it takes three glasses of rum for me to give myself alcohol poisoning and it's embarrassing since I'm the only one in this family who can't hold his liquor? Aye, that be it," replied Bill.

"It might be worse being able to drink more than the rest of your friends," noted Will.

"How so?" Bill asked casually, trying not to give the intention of getting into his son's head.

"I'm not falling for that," Will told him, looking at him. "I agreed you to explain your story then I might tell you. I haven't decided yet."

"Fair enough," agreed Bill.

They sat, quietly eating their sandwiches and drinking fresh juice. A father and son moment suddenly arose when mustard dripped from Will's sandwich and he quickly raised his head so it wouldn't fall across his chest. Bill laughed for several moments as he wiped the mustard from his son's face because of the spilled mustard and the expression across Will's face as he tried not to laugh, not to mention Orion suddenly coming to service and licking half the mustard from Will's face.

Bill watched as his Little One gave Orion a sandwich. He was so very close to cracking his son's thick head. They had been in the same room for quite some time now and neither broke into a fight. He made note that Will was showing particular interest in the stories he was sharing. Those that father and son shared he saw Will slightly smile or look away, because it happened in two generations. When he made the comment all he wanted to do was make his own father proud, he saw Will shut his eyes and lower them in thought. He knew Will didn't know an eighth of how alike they were and it was because he was so much like Will that he was going to get through to him. He knew after he showed his son his back and told him about that day in prison Will would break. He knew what Will feared the most. His Little One feared losing him. Ever since that day when he was three and a week without his father and the thought that he could have been nonexistent in his life, Will feared losing him. The only problem was that Will already lost part of him and it was nothing his son could have done.

As Orion licked his face after being fed a sandwich, Will smiled. His dog was the greatest gift his father gave him. Orion wasn't given to him for Christmas or his birthday. Nope. One day his father came home holding a golden retriever with unusually red fur and plopped him in his lap. A change of pressure on the left side of the bed took his attention to that side. He watched his father collect the plates onto the little tray.

"Do you want anything else?" Bill asked.

Nodding, Will pointed to the left side of his bandaged forehead. "Pull the stitches out?"

"Itching?" assumed Bill.

"It's been all day," said Will.

"Okay," said Bill softly. He brushed the back of his fingers across Will's cheek. "I'll be right back."

"I'm not going anywhere," said Will.

"Don't try it!" Bill told him firmly and with quite an amount of concern in his voice.

"I know if I break something the whole limb will come off and I don't think Uncle Alex can live with himself after doing that," noted Will.

Bill grabbed his son's hand into a firm grip. "Don't."

"I'm not," said Will.

"Okay," replied Bill.

Unexpectedly, Will felt his father's warm lips on his cheek again. It was so very unexpected to him, but by the manner it was done, it was an act of everydayness from his father. He watched his father leave the room with one last glance at Will before disappearing beyond the door. Had things really changed between the two of them? Everything his father did was natural and common. Maybe he was the only one who thought things were different. When he was behaving and not rebelling, his father wasn't different. But, when he was rebelling, he was scolded and punished like any father would do to his son.

Maybe, things just changed in Will's mind. Everyone was the same as they were a year ago. It must have been just in his mind that everyone changed and there was no going back. Children had a sixth sense around danger and avoided everything that had the unfamiliar danger aura around it. Little Aidan kept coming back to him. If he was really this dangerous rebel then Aidan wouldn't want to be around him. In fact, since his rebellious streak, Aidan wanted to get closer and closer to him.

Another thought passed through Will's head as he gave attention to his dog. Was Aidan learning from him? Did Aidan look up to him as his teacher and try to do everything that he did? He knew Aidan loved him more than the world and favored him out of the entire family, including his parents. While he was away at school, there were nights Aidan had to sleep in his bed because he wasn't there to read him a story or tuck him in. Aidan wanted him to get him in bed more than his mother or father. If Aidan was looking up to him and learning from him then he was teaching Aidan horrible things. He didn't want Aidan doing what he did. There was no good in rebelling. It did change people.

It wasn't just he who thought everyone changed. Everyone did change. His cousin Dirk hardly spent time with him at school. The only times they were together were when they were in their suite studying and even then they were in their separate rooms. Dirk used to ask him for help on his work all the time, but the past year he went to his other friends. When he was in public in the eyes of the rest of the school, he noticed Dirk tended to keep quiet. There were those times that what he did spread around school and Dirk hid from the world. And those days that Dirk didn't attend class. Was that because he was afraid someone would mention what he had done? Dirk had gotten quieter in the past year. It couldn't have been his fault could it?

Lily and Andrew. They hardly spent time with him. His three younger siblings used to love being together all the time. They did everything and he taught them so much. There were days that Lily and Andrew and Aidan couldn't get enough of him. Their favorite and his favorite was lying out under the stars in the yard. He would lay a huge blanket for them and they would all lie on their backs. Aidan was always on his right, Lily on his left, and Andrew across from him. They formed four points of the compass rose when sprawled out. He would point out every constellation to them and tell the story of how they came to be. More than not, they would make up their own stories. Their light would be a jar of fireflies caught before the star gazing and released after lessons were over.

Ever since he began getting caught and rebelling, he saw less and less of them. He had to admit to himself he told them off half, well most of the time and he was never nice about it. He usually told them to get off his back and stop nagging at him. The last time little Andy spoke to him he screamed at him. All Andy wanted to do was read Captain's Johnson's A General History of the Pyrates with him. It was Andrew's favorite game. He would read a chapter about a certain pirate and show his little brother everything by means of maps and charts and the globe in the office. He would show Andrew the ships and differences between them and the weapons they used. He screamed at him to stop being so annoying and that he shouldn't exist in the world. He told Andrew he hated him. That was the last time Andrew talked to him. Christmas break. Over half a year, he hadn't heard Andrew's voice and Andrew was rarely alone in the same room as him.

Lily. She was anything but a girl and they connected well, but not as well as his brothers did. He was her everything. Anytime she needed help with something not related to being a female, he was her first pick. He didn't do anything specific to cause her to stray away from him per se. They simply fell apart over time. He used to protect her like mad. Any boy who looked at her wrong and he would see to it that there was a warning issued. She knew that he protected her from anything. The two of them had a joke. She once made note that "my boyfriends won't have to pass Daddy's inspection and get his approval. They will have to go through you before they can get to Daddy." She was right about that. He still cared for her, but she really didn't come to him after a while. Unlike Andrew, she knew that it was best to stay away from him because he was never in the mood.

Felicity was only four and Thomas was just a year old so they didn't understand much about him. She never really was around him anyway, but he was like a second father to her. If Alexander was busy, she usually went toddling over to him for fatherly advice.

Alexander and Colleen changed since he went rebellious. They used to enjoy his company especially his Uncle Alex. Alexander loved doing things with him. Whenever there was something he needed to do in town, he would throw his coat at him and tell him to come along. If he was sailing up or down the Thames to fetch something, he was always dragged with. He didn't learn sailing from his father. No, his uncle taught him everything he needed to know about sailing. They did everything together. Whenever Alexander was having a bad day, he would always go to him because he could always cheer up his uncle. They day he told his uncle that he was accepted into the medical course at school may have been one of the greatest days of his uncle's life. He made his uncle so proud that it brought him to tears. Hardly anyone was accepted into that course, but he studied so hard and everyone said he cheated since he was Alexander Seastone's nephew. The days Alexander went up to Eton to teach a week or two about medicine, he was always his test subject. To have an extra two weeks together and during school made him so happy.

Now, his uncle was disappointed and lonely. Sure, he had Christian sailing up and down the Thames with him, but his town visits were alone. They hadn't done hardly anything together in quite some time and it was his fault. The last time they really spoke him and his uncle got into the worst argument ever. It was a simple question if he wanted to go up the Thames. It became a screaming match that ended when Alexander slammed the door with enough force that broke one of the porcelain pots across the foyer. He was later told by Christian that half the time he was in tears. At the time, that didn't matter to him, but now that he thought about it, he never realized how much he was loved by his uncle. But they really fell apart when he dropped the medical course at school. The day Alexander received the letter that he dropped there was constant glare and look of disappoint on his face. They hardly spoke.

Richard aged. His grandfather aged so horribly. He was an old man. He was sixty years old after all, but his appearance did not look his age until recently. Before, there was more blonde hair than white and enough to be pulled back in a ponytail behind his head. Now, his hair was a sliver and rapidly decreasing in thickness. They ponytail was slim, very slim indeed. There were deep wrinkles on his face and he was constantly tired. He was drinking more than anyone would like to admit. His grandfather was the reason he wasn't expelled from school yet. Headmaster and his grandfather were old, childhood friends. Undoubtedly, there were many more letters sent to his grandfather than there were to his father and those letters were probably notifications that he was going to be expelled. Only his grandfather would use his swift use of words to keep him in school. It was probably his grandfather who got him out of the Tower of London much sooner than he should have.

Will slumped lower against his pillows. He wondered how many times his grandfather defended his name and the Seastone name in Parliament. It wasn't just teenagers that he messed with. His rebelling was a giving his family name a horrible reputation and several Lords were given hell because of him. If anyone knew exactly everything he did, it was probably his grandfather. There were days his grandfather would come home from Parliament and not say anything to anyone. He would sit down with his cup of tea after skipping dinner. He wouldn't drink it. It would just sit beside him. His head would be in his palm and his eyes low with disappointment and such sadness. Whenever he would walk in the room, even if it was for a moment, he would get a head shake from his grandfather and the older man would leave the room altogether.

His parents really hadn't changed really. He knew his father was his father and well, was his father. His father was a father to him and did what was necessary to punish him. His mother however, avoided him altogether. She too would sometimes sneak in his room while he was on break from school and sit with him, probably because he was no different asleep. He was just her son. On the other hand, he knew it was hurting his parents getting all these letters from school saying what he had done and knowing that he snuck away at night and that he didn't care. They gave up on telling him what to do long ago.

He and his Uncle Gabriel were never exactly close, but they hardly saw each other nowadays. He knew Gabriel told Dirk to stay away from him and learn from his mistakes. It was something Gabriel would do to keep his only son safe from the world. There was disappointment in his Uncle Gabe's eyes. He knew that.

But, the change that hurt the most wasn't anyone in his family. He didn't hurt his family as much as he did three brothers. They hardly saw him anymore. One of them was a half hour walk away, and he never came over. Every week one of the brothers would bring his wife and family, but he hardly saw him. When he was a child before attending school, his weeks consisted of spending a few days down at Navy Headquarters with eldest of these brothers. Will realized that he learned from him more than he did anyone else.

Everyone changed and Cutler, Harrison, and Theodore Beckett changed the most. He had known Cutler since birth and the three brothers were so very close to the family, considering the relationship his father had with Cutler even after he was branded a pirate with Jack Sparrow. Being branded pirates and still having the courage to speak caused the friendship the three of them had to be unbreakable. It was after his father showed Cutler the burn to hide a burn that the former dedicated marine decided he wasn't on the right side. He branded his best friends pirates for doing what was right because he had to. He was a marine and it was either the hanging or branding. In reality, Cutler should have given the order to hang his father and Jack, but he didn't. He couldn't and branding the two of them was bad enough and when they returned to the Navy Headquarters with request for another mission—it was a thing unheard of since everyone there knew what they did.

Because they had the courage to do what was right rather than smart, Cutler finally got the courage to stand up to his father and, although his relationship with his father wasn't exactly close, they were still all right with each other. Nowadays, their father and son relationship was much better. Rebecca and the children caused him and his father to bond.

Growing up, Will was taught the book work of sailing by Cutler. He was taught numbers and plotting courses and map reading in his office when he was supposed to be attending paperwork. His father was there on business so he always went with because he wanted to spend time with Beck, as Cutler was more known to the Seastones. He learned numbers by calculating the gains and losses from each week. There were days he and Cutler would sit on the floor with the paperwork laid out in front of them and he did the calculating. Other days, he was quizzed on the countries and oceans of the world and trade routes by the huge map in his office. He knew every person in the Royal Navy from mere Midshipmen to Lord Admirals and they knew him. He wasn't even in the Royal Navy and he could simply walk through the doors, past the desk, and into any office he pleased. Normally, appointments had to be made for persons not in the Navy, and certainly no one could just walk in. If he was in town and he happened to pass by, he would bring Beck and Harry lunch.

There were times when he was invited to come to a meeting between Captains and Admirals to check the mathematics of the costs for an endeavor of some sort. Everyone knew he was brilliant when it came to numbers and because he knew his numbers, he was often also asked to plot a course and predict the time it may take. One year ago, he was sitting in listening to meetings no non marine should have. Half his summer was spent with the two eldest Beckett brothers at Navy Headquarters and the other half was spent being a fifteen year old. It was odd because everyone at school knew he was unofficially working for the Royal Navy at age fifteen without having gone through the Academy.

All that changed however, just like the rest of his life. It had been nearly a year since he was with the man who was like his second father. The day Cutler and Harrison caught him and the rest of his rebellious band of friends wreaking havoc on the ship was the day he lost something with them. One wouldn't have thought it so horrible, but that fact of the matter was that these ships were guarded behind a gate that only commanders had. Because he knew everyone, it was no difficult task walking into an office, taking a key and unlocking the gates at night. There was always something wrong about what he did to those ships. It was only a few nails and untying knots in the lines, but it never felt right. He only did it because the rest of the rebels he knew wanted to do it too and he enjoyed the adrenaline that rushed through him as he snuck around and the idea that they could be caught at anytime.

When they were caught, the expressions on the brothers' faces nearly killed him. They were shocked and disappointed and saddened and hurt. They knew he was the one who got the key. Not once did they look at him as they took the boys to the Tower of London. Rather, Harrison was the one who took them to the Tower. Cutler shook his head at him and walked away. That was the last time he saw him. His trust and the relationship he had with everyone in the Royal Navy disappeared with a snap. He was now just like every other person on the street. If he wanted to speak with someone, he had to make an appointment. Many school friends were lost as well.

That day in the Tower for questioning was the most frightening and guilty and life changing day of his life. He sat there with Stephen and Terry on his right, Jonathan and Baldwin on his left. David was overseeing it and he was a very close friend of the family's as well. Harrison and few others of the Admirals were the one's doing the questioning. Halfway through, George walked in and the look of shock that passed across his face when he saw him was horrible. The King of England himself couldn't believe that William Turner, his best friend did this. That was a relationship lost. The last time King George invited him to the palace to simply spend time together was a year ago. And yes, there was time he was also able to walk into Buckingham Palace without an invitation. He and the King of England were best friends and he ruined that too.

The incident with the ships should have caused so much more punishment than a day in the Tower for questioning. The fact of the matter was that no one knew what to do with him. Even the King of England said the boys could go free without punishment by him even though they did trespass and vandalize his ships. Will knew there wasn't much for them to do because he was the one who got the key and if he wasn't allowed to simply walk in anymore that problem would be solved. That was the day he knew there was no going back from his rebellious streak and all he could do was continue to live up to his name.

"Alex said it was all right to pull out the stitches."

"Ahh!" Will cried and gasped all at once, startled adrenaline shooting through him. "OW!"

"You jumped quite a distance I agree," noted Bill.

"Ow, ow, ow," whispered Will as he held his breath to avoid breathing.

His sobs of utter pain escaped through his teeth as the tears did was could be described as fell from his eyes and avoided his face all together.

Two warm palms on his face wiped away the tears and comforted the pain. "It's okay. It's all right Little One. You'll be fine."

"I just wish it would stop hurting. I wish all the pain would go away," Will whispered so softly it was difficult for one to hear.

"It will," Bill told him softly. "All pain leaves us eventually. Both mental and physical. Believe me, I know. What were you thinking about?"

Will shrugged a shoulder as he wiped his eyes and nose. "I was just thinking," he lied.

"All right," said Bill, not pressing the matter further, but knowing thought that deep revolved around something specific.

Orion softly whined and whimpered as he set his hand in Will's lap. All dogs had the sixth sense and knew something was wrong with their human master and that golden retriever was no exception.

"I'll be okay Orion," Will told him, rubbing his dog's nose then moving to his golden red head.

Bill set the few medical supplies-bowl of warm water, tweezers, small scissors, rag, and some sort of ointment-on the bed and sat in front of his son. He unwound the heavy bandaging and chuckled when he showed Will the ball.

"That's Uncle Alex for you," Will smiled.

"Oh, yes, these need to come out," noted Bill.

The closed wound above his son's right eye was red and raw as was the skin around it. The black stitches were beginning to pull and tug more than needed not to mention seal within the healing skin.

"You know, you have I have something in common. We both have scars above our right eye and on our right arms and left side of our chests and on our right legs," noted Bill.

"Coincidence only," said Will, allowing his father's gentle hand to tilt his head to the lower left.

"Perhaps," questioned Bill.

"What do you mean?" wondered Will.

"You weren't the only one who gambled quite a lot William. I practically invented the tricks of Liar's Dice. I taught sailors to play the game and took all their money. Father hated gambling. He said it was a sin and a waste of time. It was a game of luck and fortune and useless, which I find amusing because piracy is a game of luck and fortune as well. Luck and fortune are what leads men to the treasure trove and is what led him to that cargo of cocoa beans."

"I still find that amusing," said Will with a smile. "Instead of gold and silver, your father happened upon a ship full barrels of cocoa beans and cocoa beans are worth more than gold and silver."

"Hot cocoa and cold cocoa," noted Bill.

"It's incredible that he had all that money to buy a ship and build a home in Scotland and take ownership of his own island and build a home there," said Will.

"Well, you know he didn't exactly have to buy the island Will. He stumbled upon it like the rest of the less than fifty people who live there. And I can see your reasoning since permission must be granted for persons other than us to live there," said Bill. "Anyway, I never traded cocoa beans though. I used real money and half the time I cheated. There were only three sides to the dice I had under my cup so I knew when to call a bet. No one ever caught me but my father and he simply told me it was not right."

"I taught the game to a few people at school. I never cheated but I always won. Of course, gambling isn't allowed, but that's why we did it at night," said Will.

"As for the women I was telling you about and me sleeping around, that's not a lie either," said Bill and before Will could say anything he explained. "I know, I know, I was fourteen years old and had no idea what I was doing. I didn't realize what I was doing when the women asked for money. I gave them the money and did it. Just don't, tell your mother about that. I've told know one that I paid them. Knowing what I was doing or not knowing what I was doing it was still very, very wrong and I don't want anyone to know. Father didn't even know that one. I never told him, nor did I ever want to. It wasn't until after I met your mother for the first time that I understood what I had done."

"I cannot believe you," said Will. "Here I am thinking my father did nothing wrong in his life and he is this great gift from above and you tell me that you drank and gambled and paid women—"

"And I was known to myself to occasionally have more than one woman in bed with me," added Bill.

Will immediately pushed his father's hand away from his forehead, grabbed the tweezers that held a piece of thread from his father just to turn his head to look at his father with an expression of incredulous and confusion. "You paid women, two at once to get in bed with you?"

"Actually it was their bed and yes I did," said Bill.

"I don't know you," Will told him, turning away but he turned back to his father. "You yell at me for doing normal acts of rebellion when you were the one at age fourteen paying two women at once to get in their bed. There is something so very wrong with that."

"I know," said Bill, turning bright red again. He grabbed the tweezers from Will and slightly tugged until Will leaned his head toward them in the attempt to relieve the tugging of his skin. "And none of that leaves this room. Okay? If I find you have told someone about that, there Will be Hell to pay and I say Will as in your name Will because Will be Hell because you will be in Hell after I get through with you."

"Understood," Will told his father immediately.

Within a few quick, quiet moments, Bill had the stitches pulled from his son's forehead and a dab of the cool plant oil to soothe the wound.

"What changed?" Will asked softly. "You had this rebellious streak and it had to have been more than your father's threat that changed you."

Bill drew a deep breath and shut his eyes, as his back was turned to his son since he was setting everything on the table. Fifteen. He was just fifteen when all of this happened. If anyone deserved to know this, it was Will. Richard and Charlotte and Alexander saw it. Gabriel was there. Will needed to know if he was going to be out sailing in the world like he always talked about.

"I broke," he replied softly and slowly pulling his robe from his person then finally pulling the tunic over his head. "Literally."

Had it been any other moment, the deep gasp and sudden movement of his ribs would have caused Will more pain. This time was different. He felt no pain. He did not feel himself breath or hear it. He did not feel his racing pulse. He felt nothing, heard nothing, tasted nothing, smelled nothing. The only sense in him was sight.

There his father's back was exposed to him, something no one saw and for good reason. It had to be them. They had to have done it to him. Only someone like them could have done that to his father. He knew they hurt his father, but he didn't think hurt meant torture. He reached his fingers out, but pulled back and face remained agape as he observed with awe.

One would have thought that after twenty three years the scars wouldn't appear as gruesome as they did. His father's back was a discolored, scarred, ugly mess. Some scars were pink others were red. Areas of his skin were thinner and others were thicker. The center of his back had the appearance of some artwork a child would have done with reds and creams and tans and all at once. There were literal crevasses in his father's back where the lash cleaved his flesh from his bone and the process was repeated dozens of times. The whole backside of his father's torso from his shoulders down to his hipline was like this. Yes there was enough skin on his right shoulder to sustain the mark of the Pirate, the Marine, and the Nobleman he, Jack, and Cutler shared, but the black was not a consistent color. The lash marks when around his sides and shoulders. He didn't mean to but he reached out and pressed his palm in the very center of his father's back. The skin was frail and when he pulled the first layer followed.

"Papa," he called softly.

Bill turned around and when he saw the tear lines on his son's face, he sat on the bed beside Will and pulled him in his arms.

Will noted a few lashes across his father's chest and belly as well.

"Forty nine total over the course of a month," replied Bill. "And I can't feel most of my back. The damage done was more great than you would imagine. Every time it was beginning to heal, it was ripped open again and the final healing measure was heat. I lost most of the feeling in my back. So the last time I was truly held by anyone, it was by my father twenty three years ago and I hardly remember it."

"Why?" wondered Will softly. "Why did they do this to you?"

"It was the Navy Will. You know I was a pirate before I came here. The huntings of the Golden Age pirates were not over yet. Father was one of those who were wanted more alive than dead. He had information. Even before you were born, the Royal Navy had speculation that there was a court of pirates, not to mention they knew the Golden Trio was alive. Father wasn't one of them, but he knew everyone of them. They were hunting down a man named Edward Teague because he was the leader of the pirate court and the Trio and they knew Turner could lead them to him."

"As in Jack's father?" asked Will.

"Aye," replied Bill. "Don't go telling Jack this either. He'll never forgive himself. Eddy knows. Believe me, Eddy knows. He promised me he would never forgive himself. You know—"

"The Trio! The Golden Trio!" Will cried with his voice cracking.

"I know," Bill said calmly, hoping to soothe his son's anguish. "Do not tell your grandfather I'm here partly on his account as well. If he ever found out that my father, Aidan Turner, was killed because he was a wanted—I cannot imagine what he would do. Hector Barbossa, Edward Teague, and Nathaniel Rosewood were the trio, but Aidan Turner was an unofficial member. He was not listed as the trio because, but Richard always said he was as part of it as the rest of them. Well, the Navy found us. We were coming home for winter. I was a month fifteen years old. They took father and Gabe and I. They killed everyone else. In the beginning, they were nice about things because of us. You know the Navy does not go to extremes unless it is needed, and unfortunately, it was needed. The Trio was one step behind Blackbeard in terms of wanted dead if not more. When they realized talk was not effective, they started on the youngest.

"Gabe wasn't hurt too badly. Just a few light lashes and twisted limbs. He was twelve and just a child. They even knew it was wrong to torture a twelve year old who was too scared to say anything. Besides, they knew Father would not share this information with a twelve year old.

"Then they moved onto my father thinking he would break or one of us would tell them something. Father was lashed and beaten quite a bit. He said nothing."

Bill shut his eyes. "Will this may take some time for me to explain, but I'm telling you this because you and I are more alike than you will ever know and I don't want you finding yourself in this same situation." He drew a deep breath and continued. "Father knew what their intentions were before they did it. While Gabe was asleep one night, he pulled me in his arms and told no matter what they did to me, not to say anything. I knew everything. I knew all the Lords by name and who the Trio was and the location to Shipwreck Cove. He told me the three of us were never going to see home again. I asked him why we couldn't tell them, thinking they would let us go. He told me we were pirates and after they got the information, they would hang us and kill the rest of them. All of us. Including little twelve year old Gabriel. He told me to be strong because they were going to try to break me and therefore break him and Gabriel. No matter how much it hurt or how much I wanted to say something, he told me not to.

"I knew what he meant. I knew exactly what he meant. I told him I was sorry for rebelling and not listening to him. All I wanted to do was make him proud and get his attention. After a while of my rebelling, I knew it was too late to turn back so I continued with my reputation. He told me none of that mattered anymore and that he should have tried harder to get it out of me. And he held me that night, and that was the last time I remember being held.

"The next day, just like we thought, they worked on me. It began with lashing. Ten hard lashes were the beginning of a living hell. He held Gabe and watched them do this to me knowing there was nothing he could do. Over the course of about a month, I was lashed forty nine times. I had needles shoved into my fingernails and left there overnight. I was shackled to the cell across from my father and brother. He could see me but he could never reach me. I was strangled by rope, nearly hanged. I was nearly drowned by my head being forced into a bucket of water. They beat me. They left me chained to the mast for days allowing nature to run its course upon me. I was hardly given food and water. By the time we reached England, I was bone thin. They did all that to me more than once. Because none of us said anything, they were frustrated so their anger was relieved on me.

"After a while, my mind tuned out the pain. I went into this odd sense. I knew exactly what was happening to me, but my mind never let me realize it. Part of the reason I did not allow myself to realize it was because I was already dying. I remember having odd dreams and seeing things. I really only remember images and some feelings.

"There was a time that Gabriel got the courage to try to save my life. We were in the Thames and they were lashing me some more. Gabe, who was never restrained because he clung to my father, found sudden courage, grabbed a knife from the table, and stabbed the one who was lashing me. He killed him. Well, after that, he was literally thrown down a flight of stairs in the belly of the ship. The initial impact was his left knee, which is why his knee is the way it is and a head injury left him in a coma. By this point in time, I was ready to die. I wanted to die.

"We were taken to the Execution Docks, like all pirates were and, given that it was only Tuesday, had a few days to wait until the customary Friday Noon hanging. Gabe and I were thrown in one cell and Father in the one beside us. I remember lying on the ground with my brother in my lap and my hand in my father's because his arm was through the bars. He never let me go. I was broken and a bloody mess by then. Breathing hurt. He knew if I didn't get help soon I would be dead before they could hang my neck.

"The next day passed and Gabriel slipped deeper. He was hardly breathing and I had developed a fever. The day after, a familiar face of my father's passed by. Miracles do exist in the oddest of forms. Richard Seastone, who was called upon by means of information about his missing wife, passed by. He said he saw us first and stopped to look at us because he couldn't believe what we looked like. He told me that when Father told him to save us, he sounded as though he was saying a prayer. After a bit of negotiating, Gabriel was taken right away. He was twelve years old and such a child. Despite that he was a pirate, there was time to change his ways of piracy. Me, however, I was fifteen and quite grown in their eyes. They wouldn't have it. I was too old to change. My ways had apparently been set.

"Richard spent the next day in Parliament fighting for my life. More than one person agreed that a fifteen year old mind was quite capable of changing and there were certain formalities he agreed to. Thursday night, he came for me. He told me that he had never seen the amount of joy and happiness those words brought to a man. He has not seen that expression since. The guard on watch that week who oversaw all of this, gave my father a blessing and prayer. He said that it was rightful he say goodbye to me. I swear I remember my father's goodbye. I can never remember it when I'm awake, but that place between awake and asleep I swear I see his face and hear his voice. I can't tell you what he said to me, but between consciousness it's right there.

"Friday, at ten thirty in the morning, Richard came back. He was given the last half hour to speak with my father in private. He told him that Gabe was all right and still alive and I had made the night, but there was much work to be done. Hearing the words that his two sons, the greatest treasures in his life were alive and in the care of someone he trusted, gave him joy in his final hours. Richard told him that if we made it, he would see to it that we would be taken care of personally. He said it was a hard goodbye to both a friend and the father to two amazing children. It Father having to lose us so unfairly, but we were alive.

"An hour and a half later, the noon bell rang announcing the hanging of the known pirate Aidan Turner. Richard was there. He felt he had to be there at the end because this man was someone very dear and close to him. It gives me comfort knowing the hangman did his job well. Father didn't feel anything. There was no pain. He had suffered much the past month that to have his life end painlessly comforts me. Richard had made arrangements for the body and several of the guards helped him. He wanted a place where the two of us could say our goodbyes and have our father when we needed him. As you know, he is resting beneath the safety of the willow tree in the woods by the stream.

"A month after that day, I finally woke up beside my baby brother and you know the rest."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Will whispered into his father's chest.

"And Gabe doesn't know about this even because Father doesn't want him to know," Bill said with deep breaths through his trembling lips. He produced an old, faded piece of paper from his pocket and nudged Will on the shoulder.

Will looked up at his father then down at the paper. He saw the name Little One written on the front. Little One. Why does his father have to call him Little One too?

"I don't think I should. It's the last thing you have of your father. You should keep it between you two," he told him.

"But to keep my father's legacy alive I have to," said Bill.

With a nod, Will took the paper in hand. He curled tighter into his father's body. First of all, he noticed that it was written in Gaelic, which made his heart break more. Out of all his siblings he was called Little One and he was the only one who fluently knew Gaelic.

Little One,

Today is Friday, December 11. As I write this, eleven bells echo in the distance. My soul has a mere hour to remain in my body. You and your brother are safe and in the hands of a Lord of England and my best friend. I trust him with my life since that is all I have to give. Right now, I've been told little Gabe is recovering in a soft bed and you are undergoing surgery to help your wounds heal, but I know you are alive. One day, when your son is recovering, you will know what I mean. You always talked of having a family and all you ever wanted was a little boy. It's quite amusing. Fifteen year olds usually do not speak of having a family, but you are different. You've always been different. You have a love for books, like your mother.

I haven't told you everything about her. I haven't told Gabriel either. She didn't just die Little One. She was taken from us. You were five and Gabriel was three. I was away in Glasgow on business when news reached us that our town was invaded by Englishmen. By the time I got there, so many lives were already lost. I found you protecting your baby brother and your mother hovering over you two. I was able to get us all out, but not for as long as I would have hoped.

You see, the men were killed, the women would be used for amusement, and the children sold into slavery. As we were leaving to cross the river, we were spotted. You two were already safely on the ferry. I told your mother to go. She shook her head. A son's life without his father was not possible. Your mother has the most hearted, loving soul I have ever known. What she did followed in my footsteps as I took each step with you two. She pushed me onto the ferry and shoved off herself. By the time I had gotten to my feet, she was already walking towards them and we were in the middle of the river. Your mother gave her life for you two.

I could never bring myself to tell you until now and I'm sorry to say that it has to be done an hour before my death.

Having you two in my life was the greatest gift of all. I loved you two the moment you arrived in my world, but my world shattered when you were eight years old. Every day and even know as these tears fall onto these words, I have not forgiven myself and I have no intention of seeking forgiveness from you. How can I? It was by my carelessness that you were up there. Before that moment, you had such a wild and free spirit. It reminded me of your mother. You never questioned anything. You just went out there and did it. I often thought you were the like the wind. The wind goes wherever it wants when it wants. You were just like that. After that day, you became quiet and careful. You grew into a love for books and a thirst for knowledge, but there was good reason for that. I still miss my little Blackbird. Yes, that was what I called you. You were free like a bird and you dreamed about meeting Blackbeard.

The past year was my fault. I wasn't as good of a father as I had hoped to be. I should have told you about women, but I was afraid you would ask about your mother. You were fourteen and I knew you were not ready for the truth. I still don't think you are, but I have no choice. I should have sat you down and asked you why you were behaving like this. You are not a rebel, not even before eight were you a rebel. You have a kind, fiercely loving soul. I can only imagine your son will have the same soul as well.

I wish I could be there on your wedding day. The woman you marry will be strong. She'll have to be from the horrors you've faced. She'll be beautiful and every man will envy you for being married to her. But, please, please, please, I beg you Little One, do not once on your wedding day look toward the sky and silently wish that I was there. I don't want you to know that you wish I was there because you will have a regret and I raised you to live with no regrets. But I fear as well, that you will not wish me to be there, because I fear you will have forgotten me.

Oh, William, how I dreamed of watching you have a family of your own. I dream of it now. I always imagined a little boy who looks just like you and behaves in the same manner you would have before your were eight. I hope and pray that you have a son who has a wild, carefree spirit, who does not look before leaping, and whom you can call Blackbird because he too resembles the breeze.

I'm so proud of you. You did what I told you to do. You were strong when I wasn't. You held on through all that pain and suffering. Even when I prayed for death to come upon you in my arms, you held on tightly. I'm so very proud of you Little One. I know you will make it because you have a strong soul. You have your mother's soul. You will live to grow old, much older than I, and you will die surrounded by your children and grandchildren and an old, happy man who knows his time has come. I long for that day, yet I hope it is not soon.

I wish I could have had more time with you, but my time was cut short. Clearly, you are meant to carry on without me in the world. We all have our destinies and mine has been fulfilled. You will live on through me. I know this will be very difficult for you. Losing your father is. You must be strong and hold onto your brother. You and your brother are half of me and together you are whole of me. I'll never be far from you. When you feel as though someone is watching, yet no one is there that will be me. That place between awake and asleep is where our precious memories are held.

There have been a few items that have been saved from the men that took them. You have my black knife. The knife has been in our family for generations and is given to the first born son to carve a new era of Turners. In times of darkness, the knife has never failed me and it will never fail for you. It is said that the blood of every Turner who wielded it remains on the blade and my blood has been there and so will yours. Happen chance causes the blood to imprint upon it. Somehow, your beautiful compass is now in the right hands. It has but one heading, toward Polaris. When you lose your way in the world, it will point toward that constant and help you find that new path.

I ask one more favor of you, do not tell Gabriel about this letter. I don't want him knowing that I said my goodbyes to you and not him. It will break his heart, but he and I already said goodbye. We were able to settle everything while I held him all those long nights.

I have to leave you now. My shackles await. I pray that my death will end swiftly, but I do not pray to the Lord. I pray to you so that you know my life ended quickly. If I must suffer, then it is only what I deserve for what I have done to you. I ask no forgiveness for the blame you hold for me. As long as your heart beats then mine does as well, as do all our name.

Goodbye Little One and thank you for the joy you have brought me,

Father

Will folded the paper with his one hand and returned the item into his father's hand. He curled tighter in his father's body, wishing he was not injured so he could curl into a little ball. The pain that should have come with his soft sobbing was not present. He was gasping and choking on his tears which should have caused hurt to his broken ribs. There was no physical pain.

A familiar, warm hand gently wiped away the tears from his eyes down to his jaw. He looked at his father and noticed his father was completely clothed again, but he made careful note that there were no tears in his father's eyes. There was just a bit of sadness and a smile of comfort. That was just like his father though. He wouldn't show any feeling in front of him.

"I want you to have this," Bill said quietly. In the palm of his fist was the blade to a knife and the hilt was black. "My sailing days are over. I'm needed more here. You have more use for this than I do."

"I don't want it," Will told him, shaking his head and burrowing it in his father's chest.

"It belongs to you Will. Belonging to me, it just sits in my sea chest waiting to be used. The knife belongs to the next generation now," said Bill.

"Are you dying?" Will asked.

"No," replied Bill softly. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I behave how you should. You call me Little One. I'm the only one who knows Gaelic. I'm your favorite child. We have scars that are exactly alike. If my eyes were blue, I would look exactly like you. You had a rebellious streak and I'm going through mine now. Your rebellion ended right before your father died," Will told him. "You were right: I am like you more than I know, but I don't want to be anymore like you because if I was like you anymore you would be dying. I'm hurt because of my rebelling and you lost your father when you were hurt and in your rebellion. And the last thing your father gave to you was that black knife and the compass. And you're trying to give the knife to me. I don't want it."

"Will, you know I'm not dying. I'm fine. Sure I've lost a bit of weight and my perfect health in the past year, but I'm nowhere close to dying," said Bill.

"I don't want to lose you," Will told him.

"You're not going to Little One," Bill whispered.

"There is no going back is there?" Will questioned softly.

Understanding what he was saying and meant, but wanting to see it on his son's face, Bill gently raised his son's until their eyes were looking into each other's. He shook his head. "It will take time to lose the reputation you have acquired and even more time to rebuild the trust you lost especially us."

"Then it is too late," Will told himself.

"I shouldn't be telling you this but I'm going to because I feel you deserve to know," said Bill. "We weren't just going sailing to go sailing. We were going to spend the summer in Hot Cocoa since you and Dirk had never been there, and it was going to be the last time you were with us for a while. You had one last summer with us. After we came back home, we intended on giving you two options. You would have the choice between attending the Naval Academy and becoming a Marine or finishing your schooling in Scotland and I know you know what school I am referring to. Your grandfather fought the entire year to keep you in Eton. When you walked out with me was the last time you will walk out. Richard managed to keep you in for the rest of that year, but he was told that you would not be coming back. After we got that notice, we agreed there were only two options. I managed to convince them to let you choose. You know that if you chose the Navy, two brothers will have no say in what happens to you and you know what that school is like."

"What is my say in this? I get to choose if I want the belt or lash. Is that my say in this matter?" assumed Will.

"You made your choice when you decided to behave like this Will. We did nothing. We at least made the attempt to try to get in your head. The more we sought you help you the more you tore away from us. We don't—I don't know what to do with you anymore. I though telling you how alike we are may give me what I am looking for," said Bill.

"And what is that? Are you going to choose where you send me? Are you just going to get rid of me?" Will asked.

"I want a simple answer. You changed the day after your sixteenth birthday. I want to know why, because I want to fix it. I don't want to send you into the Navy or to a different school. They think that if you are broken you will come back. I know that if you're broken anymore because of our account, you'll never come back. You will never by my Will again. I don't want to lose you because you think there is no going back. People do change for the better Will. You see it every day."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Will said softly.

"We're more alike than you know," reminded Bill.

Will looked up at his father. "What if I told you the reason is because you and I are so alike? What if I told you Blackbird was the reason?"

Bill brushed a loose curl from his son's face and wiped away a slowly falling tear. He had the feeling he already knew the reason. Blackbird was his father's nickname for his wild spirit. He and Will were once wild and carefree. Will did have his free soul. Sixteen. Will changed when he was sixteen years old. For a noble, sixteen years old was the end of his childhood and beginning of his days as an adult.

As he looked down at Will, he suddenly knew what happened and his fault was to blame more than the rest of them, but there was too much that he didn't know about Will.

"I'm listening Little One," he whispered.

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A Note From TurtleHeart: i apologize for taking such a long time to update. i currently have four stories i'm juggling online and i know i should finish a story then move on to another one. trust me i know that, but i have what you call a combination of writer's block and story boredom quite often. well, i have no idea when i will update but it won't be too long i hope cuz i 'm sure you all want to know what changed Will.

until then happy readings!