Bedtime Story: Tell Us a Story

by TurtleHeart

A tale Will tells to the family: his destiny never occured, Jack had amnesia, Elizabeth was in a coma, and he returned home to what he ran away from. What he learns about Jack and his own past... Part One completed.

6. VI

From a distance, Will felt his body shaking lightly and someone softly calling his name. It was such a wonderful dream. Why was it being interrupted? He and Elizabeth were in their small inlet that no one but he knew how to find. They didn't have a care in the world.

"Will, I need to tell you something."

Jack! What was Jack doing in his dream. No, no, no! This wasn't right. Jack go away! Why are you here! You always ruin everything! Oh great. Elizabeth was gone and now Jack was chasing after him.

"WILL!"

"What, what! What's wrong Jack?" Will asked as he snapped his eyes open.

Jack was looking down on him with his hand on Will's right shoulder. An expression of confusion was on his face.

"Jack, what is it?" wondered Will as his began supported his upper body by his elbows and began sitting up. He cried aloud in pain.

"Lay down," Jack told him, gently pressing Will back on the cot. "That's what I wanted to tell you. You're belly is red."

"Go get my uncle then," Will said.

Jack nodded. He went to the door and stuck his head out. "Alexander, Will's belly is red!" He nodded and smiled at Will proudly. "There, I told him."

That proud smile wasn't on his face for long as Bill came running past him, pushing him against the doorframe.

Bill gently pulled his little one's tunic away from his belly while making all attempts to ignore the wet blood stain. He gently sat Will up with Alexander's assistance. Holding Will against him, he brushed his fingers through Will's curls.

"I think you are overreacting," Will told him.

"He does that," said Alexander, gently cutting away the bandages.

But Will couldn't deny he enjoyed the overeating state of his father so he looked at his father with a smile. The moment the air went into his belly wound, his eyes lit in pain and he lost a breath as he clutched his father's tunic.

"Lay him down again," said Alexander calmly.

After Will was on his back once again, Alexander knelt beside the wound studying the conditions of it.

"Is it supposed to look like that?" wondered Jack, curiously.

Just as curious, Bill peeked at the wound. The stitches were holding, however, the wound itself was bleeding slightly and pussing a yellow substance. Around the wound was a combination of a dried blood red, yellow crust. He watched as his brother's finger wiped along the side of the wound roughly, collecting the liquid and watched it dry.

"Eh, Alex," he said turning away. "That's disgusting."

Alexander had the substance on his finger as his eyes were closely looking at it. "Bill, does this look yellow to you," he said as he shoved his finger in his brother's face.

Bill looked down and immediately turned away. "Alex, I'm going to be sick. Stop."

"Well?" asked Alexander.

"Alex, I don't know," said Bill. He turned back then squeezed his eyes shut. "Get your finger away from me or I'm going to be sick."

"Alex, let me see. It's my body anyway," said Will. He looked at the coloring on his uncle's finger and nodded. "Yep, it's yellow."

"Good," said Alexander, very pleased. He looked around him for a rag then wiped a finger on his brother's tunic.

Feeling that, Bill whipped around. The expression on his brother's face was one only on Alexander's face when he did something so mischievously that everyone knew he was up to something.

Alexander smiled as he raised his forefinger—his clean forefinger.

Bill looked at Alexander's finger. The color of his face became green as he immediately left the room.

"Alex, that was disgusting," said Will.

"Let the eye see what it wants," said Alexander as he lifted a cloth from his lap where the substance was wiped before he ran his fingers across his brother's tunic.

Will shook his head. "Sibling rivalry."

"What's that?" asked Jack.

"My father and uncle are brothers. Brothers mean the same thing as siblings. Siblings are known to pick at each other and fight. Sibling rivalry is another way of saying it," Will told him.

Jack nodded. "I understand now. Thank you."

"Your welcome," said Will.

Alexander walked backwards as he said, "I'll return in a moment. I need to make you a medication that will keep your belly healthy, clean, and rid of any infection that may possibly return."

Jack watched him leave then turned to Will. "I don't want you to have another infection." His voice was small and childlike.

"I'm not. My Uncle Alex is going to cure that right now."

"I don't trust anyone," said Jack.

"Not even my father or uncle?" wondered Will. Jack shook his head. "Why?"

"Your father suddenly appeared from nowhere and Alexander doesn't like to answer questions," said Jack.

"Jack, I trust them. You never have to worry about my uncle. He's a good man," said Will.

"Are you sure?" wondered Jack.

Will nodded. "Positive."

Alexander returned in the room with a cup in one hand as he was rubbing his cheek with the other.

Bill glared at his little brother then went to Will's side.

"He didn't put anything on your tunic," Will told him. "Being part of the crew can you still be sick?"

Bill's eyes narrowed into a colder glare than the one he shot at Alexander.

"That's why I don't trust him!" cried Jack, pointing at him. "Why do you trust someone who looks at you like that?"

"Because he's my father and he knows I'm trying to irritate him," said Will.

"I wouldn't be doing that my dearest nephew because he's going to return the favor," said Alexander.

"Why?" wondered Will slowly.

"Because he's going to be the one holding you down while I put this on your wound," replied Alexander with his mischievous smile.

Will's eyes turned to his father. "What does he mean by that?"

"This medication your uncle is making—" began Bill then paused to consider his words. He raised a finger. "It stings and burns unbearably and the pain, personally, makes me sick."

"Oh," said Will as he turned away.

"And you trust them?" wondered Jack with a raised eyebrow.

"Shut it," muttered Will.

"Really, it's not that bad Bill. I've improved it since your days of application," said Alexander.

"Jack," said Will, softly laughing to himself at the expression of murder across Jack's face. "I don't think it will hurt as badly as he is making it out to be. Sometimes people do that to make it seem like its worse than it is and when it is done then it's not so bad."

Jack's head tilted to the side awkwardly as his eyes wandered as if for the answer.

"Meaning it's not as bad as it seems," said Bill.

"No, when your father says it burns and stings he truly means burns and stings," said Alexander, pouring a few liquids together. "I hate this medication for that reason. It does hurt like hell."

"Great," said Will, with such enthusiasm it was the exact meaning of sarcastic.

"I suppose I can trust them," said Jack, and then raised his thumb and finger, looking through the small opening. "Just a little bit."

Will nodded. "That was a start."

It wasn't long before Bill was sitting beside Will, keeping a tight grasp on Will's arms below his shoulders and Jack doing the same to Will's legs while Alexander was wiping away the crust around the wound. Alexander was literally scrubbing the skin from on Will's belly.

Will breathed sharply as his hand suddenly clutched the blanket.

"That looked like it hurt," said Alexander.

"Are you done yet?" wondered Will.

"With cleaning it yes," replied Alexander. He reached for a bowl beside him. "This literally burns because it needs to cool within your body and it stings until it cools. Afterward, the wound will feel heavy but it cleans the inside of your body and keeps infection away."

"Wonderful," said Will as he sighed.

Alexander apologetically smiled. He leaned over Will, waving a piece of cork in his fingers. "When I said this hurts, I truly meant this hurts Will."

Slight fear coming to his eyes, Will looked at his uncle. "I'm going to kill you aren't I?"

"I'm sorry," whispered Alexander as he set the cork in Will's mouth. He looked at the other two and nodded.

Will's eyes move to his father.

Bill let go of Will's right arm to take his right hand tightly between his fingers. He watched as Will squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered at once. Hushing him as the father he was, he kept him still and calm.

Hate was in Jack's eyes as he felt his best friend squirming beneath his grasp, yet he knew Alexander was helping him. Alexander did save his life before.

"I know this hurts Will. I know," whispered Bill. Will nodded his quivering head. "The burning will ease in a few minutes. You'll feel better in a few minutes. I promise."

He gently pressed his lips on his little one's forehead. Without moving his belly, he wrapped his arms around Will's chest and pulled him close against his body.

Sighing, Alexander observed their small moment of father and son. He envied and hated Will. The boy could have his father with a single uncomfortable expression on his face. He leaned over Will again and guided a thick, molasses consistency mixture directly onto the wound. Hating doing this to anyone, he tuned Will's pain away from himself.

"Is that all?" wondered Jack, desperation in his voice.

Alexander nodded. "That's all."

Hearing those two words, Bill sighed. He eased the cork strip from the clench of his child's teeth, handing it directly to Alexander who also did not acknowledge the bite marks.

"I hate you," Will whispered, looking at his father, but curling into his arms, allowing the tears to soak his father's tunic.

"I know, I know," said Alexander.

"You didn't do this to me," said Will, shaking his head.

"Shh," Bill hushed as he tucked Will's face into his chest. "Try to sleep Will."

"It hurts too much to sleep," Will told him softly.

"And now I redeem myself," said Alexander.

Still sitting on the corner of the cot, Jack was quiet. He watched this man named William Turner hold his child and comfort him and ruffle his fingers through the dark curls while occasionally pressing his lips on Will's forehead. He watched Will tremble and try to curl his body tighter against himself. He watched Alexander and Bill gently pour a liquid into Will's mouth and Will drink. He watched as Will slowly allowed his eyes to close. He watched a father hold his son close and an uncle gently stitch a wound he would watch until the rest of time. He watched a small, broken family come together.

He, himself, wandered out through the door through the cabin and somehow settle himself next to the wheel, disappearing from the world until a monkey scurried past but seated himself in front of him, looking on curiously. He looked at the monkey who looked back at him with concern on his small round face.

"Jack?"

Both the Sparrow and monkey glanced to the left, and the monkey pointed at the Sparrow making tones that resembled soft cries or whines and possibly both.

Barbossa knelt beside Jack, watching the tears drip slowly down the young man's face. He took the sleeve of his coat and removed the moisture from his face. "Dry these tears lad. There is no need for them."

"I have no family do I?" asked Jack.

"You have your father," said Barbossa.

"Why would I want my father if all my father does is hurt me?" asked Jack. "I wish I had a father like Will. I wish I was Will. Everyone loves him."

"Plenty of people in the world love ye Jack," said Barbossa.

Jack looked at him. "Who?"

"Me for one lad. I know ye and I haven't had the greatest past there could ever be, but I always kept an eye on ye like ye were my own son," said Barbossa.

"I'm so alone," Jack told him, burying his face between his knees.

Hearing soft sobs, Barbossa looked at 'Jack' for advice.

'Jack' scurried away, leaving his master alone.

Sighing heavily, Barbossa set his hand on Jack's back. "Yer not alone Jack. I'm here."

"Will hates me. He won't talk to me anymore. Bill glares at me and ignores me now. Alexander won't let me near Will. No one cares about me," said Jack.

Barbossa lifted Jack's head to, again, wipe the tears away with his sleeve. "If I didn't care about ye then why am I sitting beside ye telling ye yer not that alone. Jack, of everyone on board this ship, yer the last one to be alone."

"I wish my father didn't hate me," said Jack.

"Can I inquire why?" asked Barbossa.

"So I can be held like Will. I don't remember being held a lot. What I can remember, I remember being alone. That's all I've known in my life, being alone," Jack told him.

Sadly, Barbossa knew there was no use to fight that anymore. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Jack's back, pulling him closer. Jack leaning into him caused him to secure both arms tightly around Jack. Many, many things were learned in that moment: Jack craved love, he was absolutely tiny, covered by mere skin mostly, this was terrible for his healing head, and Hector Barbossa himself enjoyed holding Jack close to himself, for he loved Jack Sparrow from the moment he met him.

Feeling moisture against his chest, Barbossa tucked Jack's head beneath his jaw. He hushed the lost Sparrow. Jack brought his hand to Barbossa's chest to wrap an arm around him. Biting his lip, Barbossa made every attempt to hold back the tears formed over many, many years in his life. Knowing he had a hand in Jack's mishaps—realizing—admitting to himself he was the reason Jack became like this, he shook his head and pressed his cheek against Jack's head.

From the helm stairs, Bailey smiled softly. This was good. He wandered slowly down each step where 'Jack' looked at him with concern yet.

"Your father and cousin are just fine 'Jack'," he told the monkey.

'Jack' hopped on his shoulder and sat contently.

The ususals of Jack's crew slowly approached.

Bailey nodded gently with a small smile on his face.

They sighed in relief and continued with their duties of the day.

---

Since the Black Pearl and his son were still asleep as normal humans, Bill silently left his little one's side with a parting of a kiss on the forehead. He quietly crossed the captain's cabin, softly chuckling at Alexander asleep on the chair, feet on the table and head tilted to his shoulder. He knew Alexander was going to regret that when he woke.

Quietly, he walked through the door on the other side of the great cabin and into the second master quarters. He heard about her from everyone and saw her before, but not with a clear mind. His perspective of the world was changed for the better.

Elizabeth lay on the cot with a single blanket to her chest. Steady breathing brought her chest to rise and fall.

Bill sat in the chair beside her. She hardly seemed as though she was in a coma. Rather, she seemed to simply sleep comfortably, however, he knew with the disappearing bruise above her left eye that it was not a simple sleep. Looking after her as his daughter, he gently cupped the back of her head to raise it for allowing water to gently pour into her mouth and trickle down her throat. After, he gently placed her on the cot.

Viewing her closer, he shook his head as he made for the window. Altogether, he disappeared from the ship. Moments later, he returned with a light pink satin nightgown and a cream silk nightgown, a comb, and a soft red robe. He locked the door temporarily to bathe Elizabeth then changed her into the pink nightgown. He then gently pulled the comb through her damp light brown hair. In appearance, she reminded him of Will's mother. Of what he knew of her from his little one and meeting her half minded, she was especially similar to Charlotte.

A gentle smile widened across his face as he gently laid her on the cot. He brushed the hair from her face.

Such a blood curling scream rang across the ocean, startling the near by Black Pearl.

Catching his breath, Bill shut his eyes. There was suddenly no breath inside of him as his mind located the scream: Jack and Will's cabin. He leapt from the cot, fumbled with the lock and swung the door open. In the attempt to rush to his son, he was stopped in the doorway by his own impulse.

Will was sitting against a few pillows. Jack Sparrow was in his arms, clinging to his best friend. His head was buried against Will's left shoulder and arms tightly around his neck. Both fright and sadness were in Will's eyes as he held Jack close.

Quite suddenly, Jack pulled away from Will to vomit in the basin beside Will's bed. Afterward, and breathing again, Jack fell against Will's body, burying his face in Will's shoulder further.

Feeling his best friend softly cry against him, Will wrapped his arms once again around Jack who grabbed his arms. He eventually tucked Jack's head beneath his jaw.

"It was just a nightmare," he whispered. "Everyone has them. I've had nightmares before too Jack. You'll be fine."

Jack's head shook from side to side.

Will's arms held tighter. "The Kraken is dead Jack. You saw it's carcass with your own eyes. All right? You are not going to fall down that tunnel again. Nothing is going to eat you. You'll never be that cold or wet or frightened or lost or alone again. You were just dreaming. It was just a nightmare. Nightmares cannot harm you." He set his palm on the back of Jack's head and rested his cheek on top of Jack's head. "Jack, look at me. Jack."

Slowly, Jack raised his pale, frightened face to look at Will. The horror and fright in Jack's eyes enhanced the hell he went through for that year.

Before he spoke, Will cupped Jacks face between both his palms. "Nothing is going to harm you. I promise."

Jack nodded, but once again buried his head into Will's chest, this time with a force that caused Will to bit his lip as his eyes lit in pain.

Shaking his head, Will looked to the doorway. A small smile widened across his face. "Jack, look at everyone standing right there. They are here because of your nightmare. None of them are going to let anything hurt you." Jack's head did not move from within Will's chest. "Jack, please, look at them. Trust me."

Pulling slowly from the safety of Will's chest, Jack wiped his eyes. He turned his head to peer over his shoulder.

Bill and Alexander stood side by side a mere pace into the room. Barbossa, Gibbs, Pintel, Ragetti, Marty, Cotton, and Bailey stood in the doorway looking at Jack.

They all did see a small comforted smile widen across Jack's face.

"All right, everyone out. Jack's fine. See, Will is here and the other two aren't going anywhere," said Barbossa, beginning to push them all out the door.

Alexander and Bill approached.

"Nightmare?" asked Bill softly. Jack nodded. "I have those too sometimes."

"Will says everyone has them," said Jack.

"Of course," said Bill.

"Where do nightmares come from?" wondered Jack.

"A nightmare is your mind showing you what you fear most," said Alexander.

"Or horrible events that you have once been through in the past," added Bill.

"Which 'in the past' literally translates to in the past," Will further added.

Jack looked between them all. "Then nightmares can't hurt me and they are normal?"

All three nodded.

"Are you hungry Jack?" asked Alexander.

"I'll bring food for the two of you too," said Jack as he began to push Alexander from the room.

Will looked at his father. "Ow."

"Oh, Will," whispered Bill as he helped his son lie on his back again.

"It's only a sore ow," said Will then added, "a sore healing ow."

"Good," said Bill, tucking the blanket around his son's legs and stomach.

Will grabbed his father's right arm suddenly. He pulled the sleeve further onto his arm, exposing the brand of a pirate and a tattoo spelling my little one Will. "When you are falling apart becoming human again, I'm having Uncle Alex remove this from your arm."

Bill tilted his head in doubt as he pointed to the brand. "This one Will."

"Yes, that one," said Will. He wrapped his fingers around his father's tattoo. "I don't want you removing this one."

"Never," said Bill. Feeling the beginning of a long awkward silence, he spoke to avoid it. "I'm just curious. Have you had nightmares about this little adventure of yours?"

"I'm still living the nightmare of this little adventure of mine father," replied Will.

"Right," said Bill.

"What was that question for?" wondered Will curiously.

"I'm just being an overprotective father," replied Bill as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"And this is me being a curious son," began Will, gently pushing himself into a slight sitting upright position. "What do you fear most?"

"Why the want to know?" wondered Bill with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm curious," replied Will.

Understandably, Bill nodded. His eyes searched around the room for a small explanation for his answer. What did he fear most? What indeed. He knew what he feared most. Deep in his heart, it was the only fear that would never cease and no overcoming or avoiding his fear was possible. He turned back to Will, speaking softly.

"The dark."

"The dark?" asked Will slowly. "You are afraid of the dark?"

Bill gave a gentle nod of his head. "Always."

"Never imagined you to fear the dark," said Will as he turned from his father knowing the expression on his face was unbelievable. He thought on that little fear of his father's, suddenly understanding. "All your life all you have known is the dark. I thought you to have been used to the dark, but all you've known is darkness. There has been enough darkness in your life to make you fear it."

"Precisely," whispered Bill. "And every wrongful happening in my pitiful little life occurred in the dark."

"Understandable," said Will.

"And your little fear?" wondered Bill.

"Like your fear, mine grew over time. This past year especially causing it to grow further," said Will. He shrugged his shoulders as best as he could. "I fear being alone."

Bill's eyebrows rose in sadness as his mouth dropped. He sat beside his child and wrapped his arms around him best he could.

Sighing gently, Will shut his eyes and leaned his head against his father's heart, listening to the soft beating.

"You will never be alone Will. I promise," whispered Bill.

Will nodded. "The past year has been so cold and dark and lonely. All I've known since I was nine is the feeling of being alone. When I finally had someone in my life all this happened and I still can't have her. With the crew, I still feel alone. I feel nothing more than loneliness. I wish you didn't have to leave. I wish none of this happened."

The father gently hushed his son as the little one softly cried into his father's chest.

Although his son was crying, Bill Turner smiled. As a father, he was here with his child. For the first time in many, many years, he was there for his son. Feeling the moisture on his skin, he pulled Will further in his arms. Tears of joy came to him. This was his child he was holding. He was a father after all.

"Not good," Jack's voice announced as he wandered into the room again.

"He's all right Jack. He's just in need of his father," said Bill.

Jack nodded. He slowly approached the two of them. "I have warm ham sandwiches for you Will."

"Thank you Jack," said Will as pushed slowly away from his father. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve then gladly took one of the warm sandwiches.

"Are you all right?" wondered Jack.

"I'm fine. I needed to do that," said Will.

"You needed to cry," said Jack, his voice clearly confused.

"From personal experiences in my life I know it is better to release emotion and feeling rather than keep it built inside of me," Will told him.

Jack nodded. He began to nibble on the sandwich himself. "Can you and I do something today?"

"What do you want to do?" asked Will.

"I dunno," replied Jack with a shrug. He glanced around the room then plainly began searching. "Where is your father?"

"Right here," said Will as he turned his head to his right only to discover his father missing. "Well, he was sitting right here."

"I have the feeling he was always like this; one minute there and then he was gone," noted Jack. He mouth scrunched to the right side of his face and he shrugged dramatically. "Oh well. He wouldn't leave you without saying goodbye."

"Do you want to play a game?" asked Will.

"Game?" wondered Jack.

"Do you know what a game is?" wondered Will.

"No," said Jack, ashamed to admit so with the expression on Will's face.

"Find two cups and twelve dice," said Will.

"Um," Jack spoke, seeming to himself as he slumped and gazed around the room.

"Tell Barbossa I'm going to teach you Liar's Dice," said Will.

Jack's face lit as he pointed at Will. "That I can do!" he announced as he left.

Will wrapped a light blanket around his arms and torso. Curious however, he lifted the hem of his tunic to his waist. Expecting it, yet surprised, he found his belly bandaged. Over the white bandaging, was a blue dyed colored sash.

"Father," he whispered to himself.

Hearing the laughter of Jack and his uncle, he raised his head from his wound.

"Will, I'm disappointed in you," said Alexander.

"What did I do?" asked Will, his eyes searching for an answer.

"You didn't invite me to play your little game," replied Alexander. "You can't play Liar's Dice with two people."

Will smiled to himself. "Yes you can. Inquire to my father about my round of Liar's Dice with the Devil."

"You mean to say you and Jones played a round?" wondered Alexander, curious.

"And I won thank you," said Will, proudly. He shrugged his shoulders as his pride vanished. "I won one round at least, which is more than several sailors can say."

"Okay, how do we play?" asked Jack, practically jumping on the cot in front of Will. Enthusiasm and excitement rang in his voice and eyes.

Will looked into Jack's warm, chocolate eyes seeking twinkling stars coming from them. He never saw Jack's eyes twinkle like that. Not even looking at Elizabeth did his eyes twinkle. Honestly, he didn't know Jack's eyes could appear reminiscent of stars.

"You know how to add numbers yes?" wondered Will.

"As Hector told me I'm not horrible at it but I'm not good at it either," said Jack.

"Do you need help with numbers then?" asked Will.

Jack slumped. His head tucked into his body as a sea turtle would do when hiding in the safety of his shell. Below him, in his lap, his thumbs twiddled about. Warm blood rushed to his face in shame.

"Jack, it's fine," said Will, setting his fingertips on Jack's twiddling thumbs. "Not a lot of people are good at numbers. I am so I can teach you. This game is just what you need then."

"Are you good with numbers?" Jack asked Alexander.

Nodding his head with a ridiculous expression of his mind looking back to his schooling days on his face, Alexander nodded. "I am a noble Jack. I am required to know my numbers."

"Alex, help him with his adding and I'll do the teaching," said Will, handing Jack a mug with five dice. "Shake the cup and turn it over like this."

Jack watched Will and did the same. "Is this it?" he asked.

"Look under your cup, but don't let me see it," Will told him.

"Why can't you see it?" wondered Jack.

"It's a game. The objective of the game is to guess how many of a certain number of dice the other person has of all five numbers on the die," explained Will.

Both Jack and Alexander exchanged glances toward each other then looked at Will rather oddly.

"What does he mean?" whispered Jack to Alexander.

"I have no idea," said Alexander.

"Alex, point out what I mean," said Will.

"All right," said Alexander. He took a die from his cup that was unused in this round. "These dots indicate the value on this face. You do know what these numbers are yes?"

"One, two, three, four, five, and six," replied Jack with a nod of his head.

"These six dice here can have any one of those numbers face up," said Alexander. He shook the cup then set the cup down to show Jack what he meant. "How many faces of the dice look the same?"

Jack looked over the six dice and organized them by face value. "There is a six, two fours, one five, and a three."

"Under my cup I have five different faces showing," Will said, continuing the lesson.

"Now, the idea of the game is to guess the total number of similar face numbers between the numbers of other people playing. You Jack, can guess only the face numbers you have in your cup, but not at once," said Alexander. "Do you understand?"

"I think so," replied Jack slowly.

"However, there is a catch," added Will. "You have to guess a higher quantity of dice or higher number on the face of the dice."

"Explain better William," snapped Jack, his eyes widening and head tilting to the side, resembling the Jack Sparrow everyone knew. "Really."

"All right," said Will. "Say I bid two fives. Upon using quantity, you would say three fives. Going from two to three is increasing the quantity of numbers of dice with the same number on their face. Understand quantity?"

"I think," said Jack.

"Okay, Jack, should I say four threes what then must you do?" asked Alexander.

"Then I would say something higher than four," Jack told them slowly.

"And what is higher than four?" asked Alexander.

Jack counted the numbers on his fingers. "One. Two. Three. Four. Oh, five."

"And then Will can say six fours and you seven fours until you run out of dice. You run out of dice when you reach the number of dice you are playing with. You have six dice and Will has six dice. How many dice are there between the two of you?" said Alexander.

"Six," said Jack pointing to himself and then pointed at Will. "Six. Add them?" Both Will and Alexander nodded. "Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten?" He mouth widened a bit as his eyes narrowed. "One one? One two?"

"Eleven and twelve," said Will.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve," said Jack. He nodded then turned to Alexander with a large grin. "Twelve then."

"Yes, there are ten dice total," said Alexander.

"Oh," said Jack then smiled wide. "That's easy. Count up by number until ten, eleven, twelve. Got it."

"But remember, not all the dice will have a four on them," added Will.

"I know," said Jack. "Can we play now?"

"Not quite. I need to teach you about number on the dice," said Will. "Sometimes it's impossible to increase the quantity of dice, so you can increase by the number on the dice. If I bid one two, in this instance you will bid one three. Because you and I are increasing the number of dots on the dice, you don't have to increase the quantity of the dice. If I say two ones then what are you going to bid?"

"Two twos?" asked Jack.

"Yep," said Will.

"Can you increase the number on the dice and the number of dice?" wondered Jack.

"Absolutely," Will told him. "Remember, you must always increase. You can't reduce the quantity of dice or the number on the dice. Which means you can't play going from two fours to one four in terms of quantity. The matter of number on dice it isn't correct to go from five fours to six threes. You certainly cannot go from six twos to five ones."

"And when you think Will isn't telling the truth then you shout liar at him," added Alexander.

"Understand?" asked Will.

"I think I'll understand better when we play," said Jack.

"Then shake the dice in your cup and flip it upside down and let's play," said Will.

Jack nodded and shook his cup, but forgot one thing. As soon as he shook the cup, the dice flew all over the room and the three of them watched it.

Alexander, Will, and Jack looked at each other and shrugged while sharing a laugh between them.

Now with his hand over the mouth of the cup, Jack shook and slammed the cup down.

"Peek under the cup and count the number of similar faces," said Will.

Three fives, one six, one two. Jack nodded. "There's—".

Alexander clamped his palm over Jack's mouth. "Shh. Jack, you're not supposed to tell him. He is also supposed to guess how many there are."

Understanding, Jack nodded. He pulled Alexander's hand from his mouth and sucked in his lips. This was one rule he would never forget again.

"Three fours," said Will.

"But I don't have any fours," said Jack.

"Then you bid another number," said Will.

"Alex, help," said Jack, looking quite distressed indeed.

"Bid on the fives," Alexander whispered in Jack's ear.

"Three fives," announced Jack.

"Four fives," said Will.

"Five fives?" asked Jack, looking at Alexander. Alexander nodded. "Five fives then."

"Five sixes," Will announced.

"Six sixes, I think," said Jack, once again looking at Alexander.

"Call him a liar," Alexander whispered.

"But he's not a liar," Jack told him quietly.

"It's a game Jack. It is perfectly acceptable to call someone a liar in this game," said Alexander.

"Liar," Jack said uncertainly.

"Okay, now, because you challenged me we both must reveal the dice we have under our cups," said Will. He moved his cup from the way of the dice exposing four sixes and a single four. Will piled all five sixes in the center of the cot. "How many sixes are there?"

Jack's finger counted over each one. "Five sixes." He gasped and looked at Will incredibly. "How did you know?"

"I didn't. I was guessing," said Will. "And because I guessed the correct number of dice you didn't win this round."

"Win?" wondered Jack.

"It means you weren't the one to have the correct guess and so you lost to the other person. In this round he played better than you did," said Alexander.

"That's cheating. He's your nephew. You told me to call him a liar on purpose so you could let him win," shouted Jack. "You cheated."

"What's all this ruckus about?" Bill Turner's voice inquired as he entered the room with Barbossa, each one holding the handle of a large chest.

"Alexander cheated and helped Will win," said Jack, pointing at Alexander.

"Jack, did I know what the numbers were on Will's dice if I never saw them?" asked Alexander.

"I didn't, but somehow you did," said Jack.

"How?" wondered Alexander.

"I don't know. You just did," Jack said, insisting that Alexander was indeed a great cheat.

"How?" Alexander asked one more time.

"I don't know," said Jack, unfolding his arms and looking at Alexander with question on his face.

"Ah, Liar's Dice," said Bill. He looked at Barbossa. "A round with my family?"

"Aye, that be something worth betting against," said Barbossa.

"Where were you?" wondered Will.

"I'll show you when we are done playing this round," said Bill.

"What we be playing against?" wondered Barbossa.

"The person who loses attends his duties unclothed from sunup to sundown," said Will.

"No," said Bill immediately. "Some of us are leaving soon, one of us does nothing but lay in bed, another is uncomfortable about his body, and the last one doesn't want to scar the crew's eyes for life."

Jack glanced at their expressions and a part smile widened across his face. Will looked disappointed, Bill looked at his little one shaking his head at his young mind, relief evenly spread across Alexander's face, and Barbossa seemed unpleased at Bill by the glare on his face. "Why don't you just play for money?"

"None of us have money on us right now Jack," said Barbossa.

"You can repay the winner later," said Jack.

"Then some of us don't have entire vaults piled with gold to dispose at our every desire," said Barbossa. "You three Seastones."

"Two of us haven't been home to receive the money," said Bill.

"Actually you do," said Alexander. Will and Bill looked at him. "Father continues to add money to your accounts with the shares you would receive were you home. William, if you were never to return home then your money would now be Will's, as father intended to give it to Will on his twenty first birthday had he been home. Will, if you never came home then the money would go to your father. Should neither of you two return home then your money would be given to your brother Gabriel and yours would go to your cousin Dirk." They looked at him incredulously. "Father and I always believe the two of you would return home one day. And as for our terms, loser has to buy lunch for the other three when we arrive in London at his own time of choosing."

"Agreed," stated the other three.

"Jack, watch and learn," said Will, quite happily taking his cup into hand.

All four shook and slammed the cups down upon the little board in the center of the cot. They watched as Jack went around all four of them to inspect their numbers.

"Am I not supposed to do that?" he asked.

"Don't tell us who has what and it's all right I suppose," said Alexander.

"I won't tell you but I will tell Will," said Jack. "I still say you cheated."

Will shook his head and chuckled. "I bid five twos."

"I'll raise ye to five threes," said Barbossa.

Alexander looked beneath his cup. He looked thoughtful at the crowd around him. "Hm. What to bid, what to bid." He peeked under his cup again. "I reckon we move onto seven fives."

"Eight fives," said Bill confidently.

Will looked at them. He looked under his cup. "Jack what do you think I should do?"

Jack leaned to Will's level to look at the dice. His fingers counted two twos and three sixes. "I, for Will, say eight sixes."

"Very well, eleven sixes," said Alexander with a smile.

"Liar," said Bill casually. "You could never lie Alex. Ever."

"Okay, cups up," announced Jack. "Lets see who wins."

"Jack, you count them all," said Will.

"Right," said Jack.

Bill groaned to himself as he slumped further on the cot.

Alexander looked at him and smiled huge. "Can't lie huh?"

"Okay, there are two twos. Two threes. Four fives. Twelve sixes," said Jack. He looked at Will oddly. "Why are there no fours or ones?"

"That's just the game Jack," replied Will.

"Then who won?" asked Jack curiously.

"Alexander Seastone," announced Alexander proudly. "And my big brother owes us all lunch."

"I'll make a deal with you Alexander Seastone," began Bill. "Instead of buying all of you lunch, what do you say to me cooking all of you dinner?"

"Uh uh," said Alexander. "You're buying it."

Bill raised his shoulders and looked at Alexander. "So, then you don't want to begin with warm rye bread and jam with a delicious potato soup as your little appetizer? And for main course turkey cooked rotisserie style while glazing in my father's cherry honey sauce, red wine picked fresh that day, warm biscuits, good steamed winter vegetables, more potato soup to dip either the turkey or biscuits, and perhaps chicken cooked all day, slowly, in nothing but ale? Turkey and chicken, of course, I'll make into two courses with the chicken last I believe for further enhancing the ale flavoring. Ah, and for dessert I think I'll make my father's rum cake and fresh cream to pour on top. I'll throw in a good dessert wine. After we're done with my meal then how about we sit in the parlor sipping tea to settle our full bellies?" He shrugged. "Never mind, I'll just buy lunch."

"Uh uh," said Alexander immediately. "You're making me dinner."

"I didn't know you could cook," admitted Will.

"William," said Alexander. He pointed at Bill. "Your father made us this meal once."

"Actually, I made it for Charlotte and I," corrected Bill. "You ate the scraps we didn't finish."

"I don't care. The scraps were just as delicious," said Alexander. He leaned back in the chair. "I miss your cooking big brother. We all miss your cooking."

"I didn't know you could cook," Will said to himself.

"Well, Gabriel and I can cook," said Bill. "He makes the sauces and glazes while I cook the food. It's a collaborative effort between us. Gabe combines spices and flavors brilliantly. I've always timing perfect on preparing meats cooked through and not dry. You'll come to see when Gabe and I are in the kitchens the entire staff of the manor patiently awaits the arrival of dinner. I used to cook for your mother all the time."

Will looked at Alexander sadly and disappointed. "You never told me he did that."

"Well, neither did your mother," said Alexander.

"William, I knew yer father could cook," said Barbossa. "He prepare the most delicious meal for himself, Jackie, I, and Edward. I have yet to find someone who cooks better than yer father."

"I really don't know you at all do it?" Will asked his father.

Bill scoot closer to Will. He wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders and pulled him close. "I don't exactly know much about you either little one. I know less of you than you do of me." As Will turned away, he leaned forward to kiss his son's cheek and wrap the other arm around him. "You and I will have plenty of time to talk to each other. When I am recovering as my mortality returns, you and I will waste away the days talking with each other." He kissed Will's cheek again. "I promise."

"Are you one to keep your promises?" wondered Will.

"Usually," said Bill. He brushed his fingers across the chain hanging from Will's neck. "I have something for you little one, something you haven't seen for years and years."

"Really?" Will asked, curious.

Bill Turner nodded. He scoot off of the cot and knelt in front of the chest he and Barbossa set in the corner of the room. Rummaging through, he whistled a tune very familiar to Will. "Ah, here it is."

Will's face became lost of color as his breathing ceased with a gasp. His mouth and eyes widened. Blinking was not necessary. He gazed at the little cloth parrot in his father's grasp. The parrot was set in his lap. Memories of himself being four and five and six flashed through his mind. This parrot was made by his mother after his father carved and painted a scarlet parrot. After his father left, his mother stitched pieces of bright red cloth together, forming a parrot and stuffed him with plenty of sheep wool. Through the love of a child, the parrot became tattered, stained, faded, stitched, and patched.

"Teachy," he whispered, cradling the parrot close to his face. He inhaled deeply. A smile widened across his face. "I remember the day Mum presented me with Teachy. He was perfectly healed as she told me. As a child, I thought she cleaned this parrot and patched him up. Then, one day, I found this parrot back on my bed with a note: Don't let your mother find out you have him. She wants to dispose of him. This is your Teachy, the one she made after the carving your father gave to you. Keep him safe and hidden from her, but continue loving him as I love you. Uncle Alexander the Great. I kept him wrapped in a small blanket on the top left corner of my toy chest with toys buried around him." He cuddled the parrot against his chest, suddenly becoming three years old again. His eyes opened as he turned to his father with confusion. "This was at home."

"I know," replied Bill.

"You went home?" wondered Will, incredulous.

"You can do that?" asked Alexander.

"Our small lake is fed by the stream which is fed by the Thames that flows from the Channel where it eventually spills into the ocean," explained Bill. "If even there is a single droplet of seawater it is enough. I can travel over any water containing sea water. Aye, I can go home."

Alexander sat on the cot beside his brother. Wonder and envy sparkled in his eyes. Chills traveled his bones. Warming his chilling body, he wrapped his hands around his arms. "What is home like?"

"Different than I remember, however that was twenty years ago," said Bill. "Oh, I have something for you little brother. I found this draped across a chair in your room beside your bed. It's more beautiful than any description you have ever given to any of us."

Breathing heavily in the attempt to continue his breath, Alexander's heart thundered in his chest, rushing hot blood through his body. He watched his elder brother reach into the open chest. Breathing became a task hardly simple to continue.

He saw as his brother brought fourth what appeared to be a black colored coat. As the coat was brought closer to him, the color became a rich, deep violet. The buttons lining the coat and cuffs were silver. A star resembling Polaris was etched into each one. The two pockets on the outside of the coat were abnormally larger than that of a normal coat. Inside the coat were two more pockets, an unusual request for a coat, and, quite simply, uncommon. Over his brother's arm, the coat itself showed the quality of being longer than normal as well.

"When I was a child, you described to me a coat you always wanted," began Will, looking at Alexander. He pointed to the coat. "Would this be it?"

Alexander nodded. He slowly stood.

A small smile on his face, Bill held the coat open for his brother to slip his arms through. Once Alexander's arms were through the sleeves, he slipped the coat up and around Alexander, holding his brother from behind as he did so.

"You look good Alex," he whispered.

"Can I have that coat?" Jack quietly asked Will.

Will shook his head, looking at Alexander with admiration.

"There was also a large, black dog sitting in the hall upstairs Alex," said Bill.

"How large?" asked Alexander, slowly and eyes slowly widening.

"I believe the breed is named after new-found-land in the West," said Bill.

Alexander gasped as his eyes widened. He stretched his arms out wide across his chest then a hand, palm down, at his hips. "That big of a dog?" Bill nodded. "Papa got me another Newfoundland! He swore he would never get another one of those. He was apparently too huge for the house and he shed like mad in the summer. All his Persian rugs were covered with black fur that never ended. We often joked that Polaris bred puppies by the amount of fur he shed at once. He saved my life. Papa bought him for me after I woke. I was giving up on life and he always promised me that before I died he would allow me to have one dog. I got my dog. It took me being tortured and being told that I was going to be paralyzed for the rest of my life and me not eating or drinking for him to get me a dog and now purchases a dog—" His eyes went narrow and lip seemed to curl and purse all in one. "He's trying to buy me back." He removed the coat from his back and dropped it in his brother's back. "For you big brother. If you'll excuse me, I'm going on deck for some fresh air before I begin screaming in here with you Will because I know that won't feel very well with your body already hurting."

Will watched him leave and the door slam. He turned to his father. "Do you happen to know what he means when he said tortured and paralyzed and not eating and drinking?"

"Yes," replied Bill slowly.

"And?" wondered Will.

"I should tell you but I'm not sure I want to without him knowing," replied Bill.

"Why?" asked Will. "He hasn't explained anything to me yet and you know something I don't so it would be appreciated if you tell me."

"I'll be back little one," said Bill. He kissed his son's head then walked from the room. "Alex."

Alexander was standing behind the window in the great cabin looking into the empty ocean. He was clutching his arms. From where his brother was standing, it was not difficult at all to see the tears gently rolling from his eyes. Arms wrapping around him from behind startled him from his dark thoughts of the past. He grabbed his brother's arm and leaned his head back into him.

"I don't know what to do with him," he whispered.

"You need to tell him," said Bill.

"How?" asked Alexander. "I cannot tell myself what happened those many years ago."

Bill lowered his head into his brother's head. The soft, short golden curls on his cheek brought a smile on his face. "You don't have to tell him Alex, and I can make your return home simpler on you."

Alexander turned his body to face his brother.

Before allowing him to speak, Bill shook his head with a sad smile. He sat his brother on the table and wiped away the tears. He set his hands on Alexander's shoulders. "For only being thirty one to your forty three I'm still a better big brother than you."

Alexander managed to laugh once as he wiped his eyes further. "How can my return home be simpler and how am I supposed to tell Will about my past?"

"I was home, you know this," began Bill. Alexander nodded his head in understanding. "While I was running across the halls before anyone saw me, I took quite a few things more than I should have. There is another chest on this ship. Said chest contains journals written in the hand of Bill Turner, Gabriel Turner, Christian O'Neal, Alexander Seastone, and Richard Seastone."

Eyes wide with disbelief, Alexander turned to his brother then away. "How did you find them?"

"I have my sources being Jack's wonderful compass that points to what ever it is I want most," replied Bill. "With your permission Alex, I want to give Will the journals."

"I don't have a choice as to whether you give him the journals or not," said Alexander. His head tilted to the side. "My father's journals?"

Bill nodded his head. The only way Will is going to understand is if he reads his grandfather's journals before he reads yours Alex." He leaned closer to his brother. "I think you should read his journals too little brother."

Alexander swallowed hard. "If he knows that I have read his journals I think he will kill me."

"He doesn't have to know," said Bill.

"He'll know," said Alexander. "I know he will."

"What are you so afraid of Alex? What is it you fear he is going to do to you?" wondered Bill.

Only Alex's eyes turned to his brother. His eyebrows high in fear and rich brown eyes beginning to moisten, fear was the only thing on his face. "You know exactly what he will do to me."

"Alex, how long have you been away from home really? I doubt you have only been away for a year," said Bill, an eyebrow raised.

"Three years," replied Alexander softly.

"You've been gone how long?" asked Bill, grabbing Alexander's arms and shoving him against the window.

"Three years," Alexander once again replied.

"I think three years away from your father and family things have changed," said Bill.

Alexander tucked from under his brother's arms as he pulled out of them. "He's trying to win me back. I can't count the number of times he's nearly killed me it has been so much. I'm not going home ever again. I intend to see Will safely back in London and them I'm going to give my crew a choice; either they can come sailing with me forever and allow the wind to take us where it wills or they can return to their families. I'm not going home."

"All right then Alex, you run like you always have. I'll just have to ask Will to tell Ewan to heal me when the time comes although I would prefer it to be you little brother," said Bill.

"I don't know what to do William," admitted Alexander. "There has been too much in my past to easily forgive him as all of you seem to think it is."

"You'll never know unless you try Alex," said Bill. Alexander nodded. "Come, we should go back to Will. You tell him about the journals and give him the option."

Alexander nodded. Once his older brother's arm went around him, he felt more relieved than he was before. It may be more worth returning home and staying home to be with his older brother. Everything was perfect and painless when big brother was there to watch him.

Raising his head, he saw his nephew sitting up talking with Jack. Nodding more firmly and confident than he did before, he knew Will was reason enough to return home.

"Little Will," he found himself saying aloud. "There is a lot I must tell you."

Will nodded. "I know."

"I can't tell you per se, but I can have you read it," added Alexander.

"Enlighten me," said Will.

"Your father returned home and with his return to this ship he brought with him a few personal items of mine and my father's, including our personal journals. I want you to read my father's then mine," Alexander explained.

"After I finish a certain set of journals I am currently reading now," said Will.

"When you want the journals simply tell me and I will certainly give them to you," said Alexander.

Will nodded his head. "Can I get out of bed?"

"How are you feeling right now?" asked Alexander.

"I'm sitting up aren't I? I'm not dying from the pain am I?" Will asked right back at him.

Alexander looked at his older brother. "What do you think?"

"If he has the strength to sit upright then he has the strength to walk on deck where he will sit in the sun with me," said Bill.

"Then getting up it is today little Will," said Alexander. "I'll prepare a few things for you before you go on getting up."

Will looked at his father and Jack, glowing in the eyes. Finally, a sign that he was going to get better. No longer was he forced to stay in bed reading journals, although learning about Jack was something he enjoyed very, very much.

"I'll find the best place for you to sit on deck, the most sunniest of places that is, I think I'll find," announced Jack as he hopped from the cot and rushed out the door.

Will shook his head with a half smile spread far across the left side of his face. The arm that went around his shoulder hinted toward it was time to do this. He nodded and looked at them with a smile.

"Where are my clothes?" he asked simply.

"Hm? Oh," said Alexander.

"I'll get them Alexander," said Bill.

Once again, he returned to the chest at the corner of the room. "Here, these were mine when I was your age. I think I was close to your size."

Beneath the blankets, Will slipped the trousers onto his body. His eyes narrowed in wonder. He looked at his father. "What did you do with these silk trousers?"

Alexander looked at his brother with a raised eyebrow. "William, really."

"What color?" asked Bill.

Will peeked under the blanket. "Chocolate brown."

"Sleep," replied Bill. "For the record Will, keep away from any black, blue, and red silk among my clothes."

"C'mon Billy, tell your little one what you do in those silk trousers," said Alexander while chuckling.

"I think I'd rather not know what you and mum did while wearing silk," said Will, his cheeks flushing bright red as ides flew through his mind.

"Use your imagination," said Bill.

"I'm trying not to," said Will as he pushed the blankets away from his person.

"Well," began Alexander, approaching him. "You were the one who didn't have to watch it, so please, use your imagination."

Will shook his head. "I would rather not do that."

"And since you are getting up today, I thought I could wrap your torso in a thicker cloth."

"I can hardly contain my excitement for less movement," said Will, the nature of his sarcastic tone causing Alexander to roll his eyes.

Bill kept his son's torso upright by keeping his hands beneath his arms and pulling up. He came across the expressions of pain continuously passing across his little one's face.

Will inhaled deeply and sucked in his lips. His eyes slowly shut. Unbeknownst to him, his father and uncle saw his fingers bunch handfuls of blanket into his palm. "Why does this hurt so much?"

"You are sitting up straight therefore everything is stretching," said Alexander. He wound the cloth around Will's belly. Pulling it tighter on the left side caused pressure on the right side, pressure causing Will to bite his lip and shut his eyes. Alexander looked at him then returned to the task at hand. "And pressure on a wound already quite sensitive to everything coming in contact with it does not provide assistance."

"You have no idea how much this hurts do you?" asked Will.

"Actually, William Turner the Second, I think you have no idea what pain I myself have been through," said Alexander. "Your father can testify my defense."

"Before you open your mouth little one, you truly do not have enough years or wisdom to understand your uncle's pain," explained Bill. "I was there for several years worth of it. Should you have the desire to know the pain Alexander has been through, kindly ask him and not me, for I do no wish to put up with his whining about it further."

Alexander sat back, away from Will. "There, now that wasn't so bad was it?"

Without looking down, Will rolled his eyes at them. "Do you have any other color to wrap my torso with? I have a slight hate for the color white."

"Blue, red, green, yellow, pink?" wondered Bill.

Alexander and Will looked at him oddly.

"Pink? Why would he want pink?" inquired Alexander.

"I don't suppose you have any cloth the color of red wine in that chest over there?" asked Will.

Bill raised a finger as he gently removed himself from the cot Will was sitting on. He pressed his lips on Will's forehead before moving a loose curl. "I'll be right back."

The two normal humans' eyes followed his person until he disappeared through the glass window and was no more.

"I wish I could do that. Disappearing from one place and appearing in another part of the marine world would come quite to my use," said Alexander.

"You can do that you know; all one needs to do is acquire death's hand while in front of the captain of the Flying Dutchman. With Edward Teague at her helm I am quite positive that shouldn't be too difficult for you to do," Will told him.

Alexander raised his eyebrows as he shook his head. "No thank you. I've had quite enough adventures with the captain of the Dutchman to last me several lifetimes. I do believe I knew Davy Jones better than your father Will."

"I hardly believe that," replied Will.

"Even hardly there is still belief," said Alexander.

Will looked at him then away. Curiosity was now in his mind. Why did his uncle believe he knew Davy Jones better than his father. He looked at Alexander with a smile on his face. "Uncle Alex, you do want to tell me the answer to my question don't you?"

"Depends on the question," replied Alexander.

"Why do you believe you knew Jones better than my father?"

"That is for me to know and you to never discover the answer," Alexander told him. "Ah, your father is back."

"Is this the color you are referring to little one?" wondered Bill, presenting a bundle of cloth in his hand.

Studying the cloth, Will smiled. The color was a wine glass sitting in the sunlight with rich red wine swirling in the middle. "Aye, that is the color."

Alexander reached for the colored cloth.

Bill, quickly sat beside Will and unfolded the cloth. "I'll do it little brother. I think you have caused Will enough pain for a while."

"That pain saved your 'little one' William. May I remind you of that," said Alexander. "Well, since you two do not need my services any longer, I shall inspect the cleanliness of deck to ensure that nothing on you will get infected."

"Again," added Will with a half smile.

Nodding his head, Alexander walked out the door into the main cabin. He shook his head. Only his brother and his overprotective protectiveness, as once was described about his brother's relationship with Will. What went wrong? To this day, he continued to ask that question. It seemed once his brother never returned his own life became a living hell.

Wrapping his hands around his arms, he walked to the window. Standing there in the sunlight, he made out the image of the Star of Madagascar in the horizon, another reminder he was returning to England. Returning home was yet to be a decided decision. Home was somewhere it shouldn't be. Home was on his ship with the man he thought to be his older brother.

The lonely young man walked across the cabin to lean against the wall separating the room from main deck. Closer than the Star, the Trojan Horse, his very home and ship, sailed close to them. On that ship was the only man that seemed to love him and understand him. He and Christian went though everything together. He knew Christian for as long as he had known Will.

"Will, there is so much you don't know about me," he whispered to himself.

"Such as?" Will's voice asked from behind him.

Alexander turned his head. A grinning smile widened across his face. Dressed in the blue robe and silk trousers, Will stood behind him. The wine cloth that covered the bandages presented a gentle glow toward Will. He stepped forward to gently wrap his fingers around Will's arms. Silently laughing to himself, Alexander wrapped his arms wholly around his nephew's body.

"I feel, four weeks later, that I finally have you," he said.

"I know the feeling," admitted Will. He immediately pulled away. "Four weeks?"

"Near of," added Bill.

Will whipped his body toward his father. "A month after Edward is through ferrying souls then I have you?"

"By all right I should be with Eddy at this very moment," said Bill. His sapphire eyes lowered and turned from them. "I admit have been telling a few tall tales to Edward in the manor of you dying and in such pain that you I cannot leave you."

An eyebrow on Will's forehead raised as his lips pursed. His head tilted to the side. "Dying? Do I look like I am dying? In such pain you cannot leave me? I admit I am in pain, but not enough to keep you from doing what you must."

"William," began Bill, he set his palm on Will's shoulder. "When you are a father, one day, you too will understand these words I speak now."

"If," corrected Will, silently, his eyes locked upon the door leading to his sleeping bride.

"When," said Alexander. "As a physician and surgeon, I say since she has survived this long she will survive until she awakens."

"What is the difference anyhow? I never asked that of you when I was a child?" wondered Will.

Alexander sighed with a roll of his eyes clearly indicating the amount of times he explained. "A surgeon performs the process of mending bones and surgery. The physicians of the world create and distribute medicines as well as grow them. I myself am both."

"How did you manage that?" wondered Will.

"I trained myself in both," said Alexander.

"You taught yourself everything?" asked Will.

"No," began Alexander, the tone in his voice clearly indicating he was thinking of how to explain it.

Bill stepped in, explaining the beginning. "Will, he began when he mended my back."

"I've heard the story from Gabe," said Will. "Perhaps you can tell me the whole story?"

"Another time," Bill told him. Will opened his mouth to protest. "William, another time."

Accepting his father's request, as any son should do, Will nodded. Disappoint lowered his eyes. He looked out the cabin doors at the world on deck.

Forgetting what it was like to be on deck again, his feet, step by step, reintroduced him to the ship. The people he had come to call his friends sat around in the sun enjoying the sea air. A colorful blur whipped past him. Curious, he stood by the helm railing.

Jack Sparrow released his arms, dropping the pillows and blankets on a pile of layered pillows and blankets right against mainmast. He propped the pillows against the mast and laid the blankets over the pillows he had lying on deck. Dramatically, he flopped into the pillows. Apparently not satisfied, he stood and smooshed the pillows down and moved them in the center of the pile. Repeating his dramatic flop into them, he acquired a few odd looks. Seeming satisfied this time, he gave a very sharp nod of approval.

-)(-

Liam's persistent tugging on Jack's arm made me realized he wanted to share something himself. I turned my attention to the little lad. "Liam, would you like to say something?"

Liam nodded his head. He pointed to himself. "I 'moosh piwows ever'night too. 'Moosh like athair."

"I smoosh my piwows at nigh' too," said James.

"Me too," agree Joceline.

"All right, it is established we all 'moosh our pillows at night," said Thomas, rolling his teenage eyes at them. "Can we continue with the story?"

"Pleas!," Felicity cried out of her excitement.

"For being teenagers, you two are intrigued about this aren't you?" I asked.

"Excuse me, we may have lived it but we were too young to understand. I barely understood what was happening," said Felicity.

"And somebody," began Thomas, narrowing his eyes on Alexander. "Won't tell us anything."

Alex raised his palms and turned away. He waves his palms back and forth. "I don't speak of that time in my life. I'm not proud of it nor do I enjoy being reminded of it."

"Then you didn't enjoy us?" Christian's voice asked from behind me.

I turned my head and looked at him and Josephine oddly. "When did you two get in here?"

"Somewhere's around your father threatening to kill my Alex for smacking his hand when he was about to look at your stomach," replied Christian.

"I'm not your Alex anymore," my uncle reminded.

Thomas pointed at his father. "I want to hear more about that. I didn't even know that relationship was possible. I thought it was male to female not male to male." He looked at his father. "So how was it?"

Alexander's eyes narrowed and lips pursed. An eyebrow raised. "Thomas," he said quickly, as he always did when he was advising a matter not to be pressed further.

Nodding his head, Thomas looked away.

I silently laughed to myself. "How about I continue so I can explain that?"

"I like that idea," Jack said. He leaned into his father more, knowing where the tale's direction was heading.

Anyway, Jack yelped and rushed to the place I was standing. He wrapped his arms around me only to drag me onto the nest of pillows established "Will's warm, sunny spot", and was established so with a note nailed to the mast. Unfortunately, I did admit it was quite a pleasant warm sunny spot.

-)(-

Will's moment of peace with his eyes closed in the sun was not to last very long, as Jack wasn't the only soul who was incredulous of seeing him alive, sitting in the sun.

A forefinger tapped his shoulder. "Mm hm?"

"Can I do something?" Ragetti's hesitant voice asked.

"As long as I don't have to move," Will's relaxed voice told him.

"Okay."

With the action Ragetti did to Will, the young man opened his eyes. Ragetti's arms were around him, cradling his back, keeping him close as if he was his own child. He felt a palm on the back of his head, further pressing his head against Ragetti's. A soft smile widened across Will's face as he too wrapped his arms around Ragetti's back. To his astonishment really, Ragetti smelled rather decent, but his body was smaller than he thought.

"I was really worried about you," Ragetti said, breaking the silence between them.

"I noticed," said Will.

"Are you better?" asked Ragetti, letting his arms free from Will, but leaving a hand remain on his shoulder. Concern widened in his eyes as he noticed the covered bandages.

"I've felt better," admitted Will. "Compared to recent events however, I feel wonderful. I think my father and uncle have something to do with that."

"Your father?" wondered Ragetti.

"Yes, his father," Bill's voice said.

With a squeak resembling a child caught in his actions of something mischievous, Ragetti stood and moved away from Will, keeping his hands in the air. "I…um…ah…I…"

A warm smile widened across Bill's face. "I know."

Ragetti's eyes moved every which way. He pointed to the right. "It was his idea to strap the cannon to your bootstraps. He thought it amusing. 'Bootstrap Bill' he said, 'lets tie something beside the rope that gave him the nickname around his bootstraps and see what he does'. It wasn't my idea."

"Don't remind me what he did," said Bill, his eyes narrowing.

"He apologized," reminded Will.

Bill snapped his fingers. His face brightened. Both forefingers were raised as he began to lean away from them.

Will watched his father walk with his hands behind his back to the helm where Barbossa and Bailey stood in conversation. He couldn't decide if watching his father walk in a very what should have been Jack Sparrow like manor was more amusing than the expressions from the crew as all heads turned his direction. The father tapped Barbossa on the shoulder. Will knew what was coming before it did. Barbossa turned his head, and was immediately knocked down by his glorious father's fist.

With a nod and satisfaction, Bill returned to his son's side and sat beside him. He looked at Will. "Apology accepted."

Leaning into his father, Will began laughing hysterically causing Bill to laugh as well.

"Do I inspect his nose?" wondered Alexander to himself. His face twisted to the right in thought. "Nah, should he need me he'll come."

Ragetti gasped aloud as a smile widened across his huge face. "ALEX!"

Alexander turned to Ragetti and pointed at him. "I know you don't I?"

"Yep," said Ragetti, nodding his head ferociously. He pointed to his eye.

"Oh," Alexander noted. "Ragetti. How are you?"

"Pintel, it's Alexander, the one that patched me missing eye socket," called Ragetti, pointing at Alexander with both fingers.

A curious, Pintel approached. He stared at Alexander a tilted head, eyeing him up and down. After a moment, he shook his head. "No, that was Alexander Seastone. This is Andre Rosewood."

Ragetti looked at Alexander again. "No, Andre has long curly hair like Will's and it's down and he has a violet bandana and wears a lot of bright colors and lines his eyes in khol like Jack. Jack once said he got the inspiration to line his eyes from Andre Rosewood. This is Alexander Seastone, his hair is short and he's wearing normal clothes."

"But he looks exactly like Andre," said Pintel.

"But he looks exactly like Alexander," said Ragetti.

The two looked at each other then at Alexander.

Alexander's face was flushed bright red. Evidence of his pounding heart throbbed in his neck. His lower lip was bit between his teeth.

"Captain Barbossa!" called Ragetti.

Alexander's hands suddenly covered his face as his head shook.

Trudging toward them, Barbossa removed the cloth from his face. He wiped his upper lip. Evidence that his nose was through bleeding didn't wipe onto his fingers, although his face was throbbing. He looked at them and nodded. "You called master Ragetti."

Pintel and Ragetti pointed at Alexander.

"You knew Nathaniel Rosewood," began Pintel.

"Is this his son Andre?" wondered Ragetti.

"First of all, how do ye know they be father and son?" wondered Barbossa, attempting not to let his eyes widen as they wanted to.

"All the tales and stories say they are. It's like you said, when stories are set in stone and repeat with no change then it had to come from somewhere," said Ragetti.

Barbossa gave a nod. "Aye, they are father and son."

"Is he Alexander Seastone?" asked Pintel.

Barbossa's mouth opened but no words spoke through. His eyes turned away in thought. Lips moving and mouth opening and closing, he finally gave up and shrugged. "Um," was all that spoke from him.

"He's Alexander Seastone," said Jack.

"Thank you, Jack," said Alexander, with more sarcasm than Will ever achieved.

Jack smiled and gave a nod of his head. "Your welcome."

Pintel pointed at Alexander in disbelief. "You're Alexander Seastone."

"As in Lord Alexander Edmund Francis Seastone?" Marty asked, who was one of the entire crew that came to inspect the situation.

Alexander cringed and shut his face tight. "Don't ever say my name like that again."

"I forgot how horrible that was," admitted Bill.

"Mm hm," admitted Alexander.

"I like your name," said Will.

"I like your name," Alexander told him.

"Me too," said Will. He looked at his father. "You and mum did well choosing my name."

"Mother Mary of God!" cried Gibbs. He pointed at Will then Alex and turned to Barbossa. "Will's uncle."

"Aye," replied Barbossa.

Will moaned as his shut his eyes.

"William Turner," said Gibbs pointing at Bill. "Will Turner." He pointed at Will. "Alexander Seastone." He pointed at Alexander. "Father to son, brother to brother, nephew to uncle?"

"Remember that nine year old who ran away when he was nine?" asked Will. Several beside Gibbs nodded. "That would be me. I changed my name from Will Seastone to Will Turner."

"You're," began Bailey.

"Aye," replied Will slowly. "William Alexander Jonathan Seastone-Turner."

"You forgot Lord," said Alexander.

"Lord William Alexander Jonathan Seastone-Turner," corrected Will sarcastically.

Uncomfortable with the stares of disbelief, Will discretely curled further into his father's arms. He knew when he stepped off the ship in London the entire city's eyes would be upon him. Perhaps he didn't want to return home after all. There was always Scotland. He was there once and it was the rightful home of the Turner clan. Scotland, they could travel there.

"You still haven't answered my question," said Ragetti.

"And that being?" wondered Barbossa.

"Is he Andre Rosewood?" Ragetti asked again.

"He's Alexander Seastone," said Pintel.

"But you said he was Andre Rosewood," reminded Ragetti.

"Hector, may we speak now," said Gibbs hastily as he grabbed Barbossa's arms.

"Just say it," said Alexander, shutting his eyes. "I haven't been the other for years."

"Alex," began Barbossa. "Your father."

"Just say it," Alexander told him.

Barbossa gave a heavy sigh. "Yes, this be Andre Rosewood."

"But he's Alexander Seastone," said Ragetti.

"I knew it," Will's voice announced. "I knew it. I knew it." He looked at his father. "I knew it. You spoke to highly of Andre to me and told me tales I had never heard and, Alex, forgive me for saying this, any fool off the streets knew you were Andre. Andre Rosewood commands the Trojan Horse. Alexander Seastone's ship is Trojan Horse."

"Never thought of that," admitted Pintel.

Several other nodded.

"I know, I was an idiot. I didn't well think it through and my teacher in the pirate ways suddenly disappeared from my life in the middle of my teachings," said Alexander. His eyes flashed to Bill.

Will's eyes turned to his father.

Bill nodded. "I was his teacher," he admitted.

"I was never taught to properly conceal the pirate from the nobleman. I thought if I kept the ships the same the people would become confused. Both Andre and Alexander had a ship by the name Trojan Horse. I would leave London as Alexander and return as Alexander when news of Andre threatened the sea. It was years before anyone had the idea to put two and two together," explained Alexander, frustrated with himself.

"You don't just know Richard Seastone to know him do you?" asked Gibbs, pieces of the puzzle in his mind unraveling.

"No, I don't," said Barbossa.

"Literally father and son?" Will asked slowly.

"What other name would I have used? I was his son in the noble world. Why not be his son in the world of piracy?" Alexander told them.

Bill felt his son's breathing stop and heart quicken. He held onto Will tighter. "William, look at me. Will, look at me son." He set his palm on Will's cheek to turn his face to his. "Your grandfather is who you are thinking. They are literally father and son. Hector Barbossa, Edward Teague, and Nathaniel Rosewood. Today they are known as Barbossa, Teague, and Lord Richard Seastone."

Alexander knelt to Will's level.

Will looked at him with an expression of confusion and betrayal.

"Your mother, grandfather, and I discussed it when you were just a boy. We were going to tell you when you were sixteen. I promise," whispered Alexander.

"I don't know what to say," said Will, his eyes looking at his uncle, yet so far away.

"You don't have to say anything because age sixteen or nearly twenty three the reaction would have been the same," said Alexander.

"He was Nathaniel?" asked Will

"Yes, was," said Alexander, emphasizing the word "was". "After he had no choice but to become Lord Seastone, Nathaniel was never heard from again."

"They're still looking for him. And Andre. What if someone finds out? It's not difficult to piece together!" Will cried, nearly screamed in fright.

"Never," said Alexander, shaking his head.

"The records and evidence," began Will.

"Burned and rewritten by a man of the Navy himself," said Alexander.

Will looked at every face that looked on with wonder. He shrugged. "Who would risk hanging by treason to keep your name—" his sudden cut of words and narrow eyes blankly searched around him until they looked at Alexander.

"A man whose nearly adopted son was the nephew of Andre perhaps," said Alexander. "That was the reason he went accepted the position of tracking and dealing in matter of piracy against the crown. It was duo purpose in the beginning. Oddly, his main reason for choosing was to keep the other two members of the pirate, marine, and nobleman story alive. The second being to keep the little boy he loved most safe. Every piece of evidence brought of myself also being Andre, was rewritten by his own hand in the late hours of the night and real evidence quietly burning in the flame behind him. Will, Cutler Beckett loved you until the day he died. He wouldn't have hanged you and you know it. The only reason he didn't join you in the end was because he was too far gone from what he once was. He knew it was you in Port Royal."

"How?" asked Will quickly. "I think if he knew it was me and he loved me as you say he did he wouldn't have ruined my wedding day."

Alexander looked away with a sly grin across his face. "I may have told him you were there after I discovered you. But I will tell you something, something that proves I am true to what I speak. When I told him you were alive and well, the largest smile I last saw on his face when he was always with you came back across his face. The glow in his eyes, the huge grin said it all. He still loved you."

"I know," Will whispered, speaking mostly to himself. "And you are damn fortunate he was who he was and his relationship to our family."

"Believe me, I know," said Alexander.

"And believe me when I say Will is not dying or in pain that he can't move or on the verge of his last breath or crying and pleading for you to stay. In fact, he appears to be quite alive and content in your arms."

Bill's eyes widened as his breathing stopped. His face paled to a color more pale than white.

The circle of the crew that was around mainmast suddenly flocked to elsewhere as if the devil himself walked from the ocean and set foot upon the ship.

"Hello," said Will.

"Hello Will," said Edward Teague, with a tone of voice that was not welcoming. He stood over Bill and folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow.

Bill shrugged. "He's my son. You did say take as long as you want."

"I know," admitted Edward calmly. He lost all calm and shouted. "When I said that I meant it but I didn't think you would think it to be a bloody month. William, I'm not upset that you spent a month with your son as any good father would want to do, but Jesus, notes every few days and more than once a day the past four days describing to me the pain he's been through and that he's dying." He pulled four notes from his pocket. "These are from yesterday."

"You wrote four notes yesterday?" Will quietly asked.

Bill moistened his lip and nodded.

"Eddy, not now, I can't find it in my heart to leave him. He's in pain, more pain than I ever have been in. Both physical and mental. As I write this now, he's in my arms crying and pleading for the pain to leave. Touching William. I don't know what to do. Eddy, his belly is once again infected. Alex says he may not make it through the night. He's nearly on his last breath. Really, then you may begin to understand my thoughts of why I'm upset with this next note that was sent approximately three hours after the latter note. Just a few days more Eddy, he's sitting up and Alex will have him walking around tomorrow. I just want to see to it that he's walking. Will is about to breathe his last breath then suddenly, three hours later, he's sitting up about to walk. Alex is good I will give him that credit, but he's not that good. And here is the final note you sent to me yesterday. Eddy, Will's clinging to me. The amount of pain he is in, causes him to come in and out of consciousness. William, really?"

"And your nickname is Plato and Socrates?" wondered Will.

"I'm sure they got emotional at times too," said Bill.

"Well since I'm here," said Edward as he knelt. He placed his palm across where he knew Will was injured on his belly. "Good." He turned his attention to Alexander. "No infection and it is healing. If he tears or rips it open, I promise you there will be an infection. His body and spirit is weaker than before. It doesn't require a man of my skill to know this either. You know he's gotten weaker and more vulnerable to disease. He is healthy for what he's been through. As I said, he'll be fine as long as he remains fine."

Bill sighed. "Good." He pulled his son into his chest, cradling his head against his heart.

Contented by the wonderful words, Will and Bill shut their eyes, simply enjoying the thoughts of health and promise of a life.

"William, we need to leave. Your work with your son is through and you have a duty to complete," reminded Edward.

"I'll leave tonight," said Bill.

"Now," Edward snapped.

"Eddy, what's a few more hours," said Bill.

"William," said Edward, grabbing his arm. "Let's go."

"No," said Jack, moving toward them from where he was leaning against the rail. "Let them be together."

"Jack, no," said Edward.

"They need each other," Jack told him. "Will needs his father."

"Will is fine," Edward said. He pointed at Will. "Clearly he's fine Jack."

"He's content with his father. When his father is here, things are all right. I'm not going to let you two take Billy away from Will," said Jack, standing between Bill and Edward.

Will and Bill exchanged glances until Bill stood. "Jack, it's all right. It is right time I leave."

"You don't have to go," Jack said, turning his head to look at him. He pointed at the man he didn't know was his father. "I recognize his face and every time I saw his face he was screaming at his son saying that his son was a failure and deserved to die and would never make him proud and, and that he hated him more than death itself. I'm not going to let this so called father ruin your relationship with Will like he ruined his relationship with his son." He looked at Edward's heartbroken, crushed face. "I know, I wouldn't want you as my father and I'm glad that you can't always be here because you are the one who deserves to die not your son."

"Is that how you feel about me? You don't want me to be with you?" asked Edward, silently, awkwardly silent.

"No, I don't," Jack said strongly.

Edward Teague shut his eyes and nodded. When his eyes opened, tears dripped down his cheeks. He sniffled and gave an attempted smile to Jack. "If my son should need me for any reason or he changes his mind, I would want him to know all he must do is look to sea water and call for his Athair."

"Why would your son want that?" snapped Jack, folding his arms across his chest.

"Okay," said Edward. He nodded his head. "Goodbye Jack."

Jack shrugged. "Goodbye."

Edward Turned away. He looked at Bill as if to say something. Instead, he covered his mouth with his palm and disappeared from the ship.

"Good, that got him to leave," said Jack. He looked at where Bill was standing and opened his mouth to speak to him. "Where did he go?"

"He had to leave Jack," replied Will softly.

"But he shouldn't have left," said Jack. He knelt in front of Will. "You needed your father."

"I'm all right now," said Will. Feeling tears form in his eyes, his quick thinking mind made an excuse for Jack to leave. "Jack, it's about mid-day. Usually, mid-day someone must prepare the food for dinner. You should look at the food and decide what we are going to eat tonight."

"All right," said Jack. He smiled at Will then scurried away.

Once he knew Jack was away from him, Will shut his eyes and allowed the tears to fall. "Amnesia or not I can't believe he said that to him."

"Will," began Alexander then simply sat beside his nephew. "That was Jack Sparrow as we know him. He and Edward always parted like that. What made this time different was Edward's sacrifice and odd emotion since his heart is not bound to him."

Will nodded. "There is much in this world I don't know is there?"

"Much you don't know indeed," agreed Alexander. "Your father left a few things in my possession that will help you understand."

"I need to finish Jack and Edward's journals," said Will.

He removed himself from his designated position on deck to hide away in Jack's main cabin. The parrot, which was halfway under the blanket, suddenly went in his arms. The world around him was beginning to frighten and confuse him. As usual, he felt what had just occurred was to his blame. He didn't restore Jack's memory. Jack was losing more of Jack Sparrow.

Needing answers, he turned to the journals again. After hours of reading, he set the books on the cot and gazed across the twilight horizon. That was Jack Sparrow he saw earlier. It was Jack.

Looking at the book, he wondered if he truly further wanted to read into Jack's life or simply give up and leave Jack's memory to fate and destiny. The question in his head soon became which choice was he more willing to live with? Knowing further into Jack's past? Knowing he could possibly bring Jack's memory back?

Shaking his head of the thoughts again, Will curled his parrot tighter. Either he wanted Jack Sparrow or just Jack.

"What am I doing?" Will asked himself.

He buried his face in his parrot with the feeling of lone and misery, wishing he had his father back, knowing time was going to pass slowly without him.

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