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.

7. VII

"It's about time he left," said Thomas, quite abruptly and overdramatic as Alexander often was.

We looked at him oddly.

Father shook his head at him. "All right, if that is how you feel about me then so be it. William, Thomas, I take my leave," he said as he stood from his chair.

"No, no, no, I didn't—" began Thomas then slumped further into his chair.

"I know, I know," Father told him, sitting down once more and with a smile on his face. "I'm playing along Thomas."

Thomas pointed at him. "Really, you're my favorite uncle. I do like you better than Christian and Gabriel. What I meant was I'm glad you are leaving because I know the story gets better from here on and closer to me being in it."

"I wouldn't exactly say it gets better," I told him.

"Well, it does for me," said Thomas.

"Doesn't for me," admitted Jack with a heavy sigh. "It proves the point I completely lost me head." He looked at his father. "I'm sorry for talking to you like that. I still feel horrible."

Edward smiled and wrapped his arms around Jack. "And each and every time you apologize I forgive you. I understood when Billy there explained it to me."

"I'm still sorry," Jack said again, his voice small.

"And say I still forgive you," Edward told him.

"He's sorry, you forgive him. We understand," said Thomas, haste and annoyance in his voice. "Can you continue?"

"Are you going to interrupt me again?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Thomas shrugged the shrug only a sixteen year old would have. "I dunno."

"I quiet daddy," James said from my lap.

"I know you are," I whispered to my littlest one. I gave him a kiss on the head and pulled him further in my lap.

Watching this, looking between us, Liam crawled into Jack's lap and wrapped Jack's arms around him. Satisfied, he gave a sharp nod of his head as Jack did when I told them about my designated place on deck.

Jack rolled his eyes at Liam and smiled.

Well yes, I wanted both my father and mother in that moment I was sitting on the cot. Jack's past, as you all know, was anything but pleasant. His past was dark and lonely, as I was feeling that particular moment in time. Sleep that night was near impossible to my mind, but I did finally fall asleep. From the feel of my body, sleep felt to have arrived not long before four. And because I sleep arrived late I woke up late, I believe after one that next afternoon to Jack watching me with wonder and a question I find amusing to this day.

-)(-

Waking finally, Will opened his eyes. Gasping in fright, he curled tightly against himself as he scoot back.

Jack's arms were folded on the cot in front of Will's face. His jaw was resting on his arms. "Will, are you alive?"

"Yes," replied Will slowly.

"It's one eighteen in the afternoon Will. I've been awake since eight o'clock," Jack told him, his head still on the bed. "I thought you were dead so I woke Alexander and I think I frightened him because he pushed me aside and ran in here to look at you. He wasn't wearing clothes."

Will rolled the pillow over his face. Although Jack didn't hear the laughing, Will's body trembled.

Believing him to be crying, Jack immediately sat beside Will and rubbed his back. "I didn't mean to make you cry Will."

"I'm not crying, I'm laughing," Will told him from the pillow.

"But it sounded like you were crying," insisted Jack, unnecessarily loudly and in a whining tone. "And now you're wiping your eyes. Will, stop crying!"

Having such an outburst of laughter, Will did sound like he was crying. His laughter was far beyond reconciliation. Although his chest and belly were killing him, he couldn't find the heart or breath to stop laughing into the pillow.

"Alex!" Jack yelled at the top of his lungs.

No amusement on his face, Alexander walked through the door. "You called?"

"Will won't stop crying. He says he's laughing but I think he's crying," whined Jack.

"He's laughing," replied Alexander.

"Are you sure?" wondered Jack.

"Uh huh," said Alexander. He pulled the pillow from Will's head and helped him sit up. "Come on little nephew, breathe."

"You're wearing clothes," Will noted.

Alexander nodded. "He told you about that?" he assumed.

"I didn't know you slept without clothes on," admitted Will.

"It's a habit," replied Alexander with a shrug. "I've become accustomed to not being clothed while in bed."

Will couldn't resist the smirk on his face as he looked at his wonderful uncle. "So are there women in your bed to make you so unclothed?

"Yes and no," said Alexander.

"So, Alex, just how many children do you have?" wondered Will, the tone of his voice clearly indicating he was sarcastic.

"Um, two that I know of," Alexander replied confidently.

Will's head tilted to the side as he looked at him oddly. "I wasn't being serious in that question."

"And I'm telling you I know I have at least two children. I'm telling you I know I have more but neither the child nor mother know that it's mine," said Alexander.

Will wasn't sure how to reply to a comment like that. He turned his head to Jack who was intently looking between them intently.

"Little nephew, I was a bad, bad, bad, bad, bad twenty year old," admitted Alexander. "And I'm not proud of it. I traveled the world for months on end with no reason in mind. During those months for about ten years of my life, seven especially I had my fair share of females in my bed. Some of which were on my travels and others worked the night life you could say. I'm not proud that I paid women just to have them for a night to myself. I'm not proud of all the innocence a young girl had before I met her. I felt unloved and I had to find my love somewhere else. I know no woman I paid loved me. She pretended to love me for one night and I could pretend I loved her. I don't what I did when I was younger. I was so stupid. I am so stupid. Colleen saved my life and here I am roaming the sea for three years doing what I did when I was twenty. And to answer your question Will, I know I have to have at least a dozen more children out there. Imagine, a child who doesn't know his real father is starving on the streets. If only that child knew I was the father." He shook his head and turned away from Will ashamed. "I'm not proud of it at all."

"Question," said Jack, his hand raised in the air. Both looked at him. "What is a child?"

"A child is a person you and a woman create. He or she is just a baby and you raise that baby as your own. You see, Will is Bill's child. Bill raised Will making Will his child," explained Alexander.

"Then I am my father's child?" wondered Jack.

"Aye," replied Will.

"Do I have a child?" asked Jack.

A smile widened across Will's face. His head lowered. "You have a daughter."

"A what?" wondered Jack.

"A daughter," replied Will, looking at him. "She is your child. She's a little girl about two and half years old."

"Oh, what's her name?" wondered Jack.

"Look on you chest," replied Will.

Jack's head bowed low. He pulled his tunic out and peeked at his chest. "I don't see anything."

"The name," added Will.

"Oh," Jack pulled his tunic low exposing the name on his left breast. His forefinger pointed. "This name?"

Behind him, Will heard a broken gasp, but spoke before Jack noticed. "Lily-Rose, that is her name. You never met her but you knew of her. You see, you let her mother, Anamaria, from your ship. You loved Anamaria and your daughter. To save your daughter you had to let her go before she was born."

"Born?" asked Jack.

"Before a human can be a human, she, in your daughter's instance, has to grow for nine months in her mother's belly. That's just how things are. She was still in her mother's belly when you let Anamaria go," said Will.

"Oh," replied Jack. He nodded then quickly began rambling questions. "Where is she? Where is Anamaria? Did I love Anamaria? How old is my daughter? What does she look like? Where are they? Does she know I'm her—"

"I can ask someone to tell them where you are going. About a month after we arrive she should arrive with Lily," said Will, answering all Jack's questions in one simple phrase.

"Perfect," replied Jack, a huge grin widening from ear to ear. His grin dropped from his face and became a confused frown. "Will, why is Alexander looking at me like that?"

Drawing a deep breath, Will turned his head to his uncle. He sadly smiled at him and nodded.

Alexander looked at Will with moist eyes. His eyebrows were high into his creased forehead and his body was close toward himself. When he spoke, he spoke to nothing but the air. "It was a bet. They both wanted to name her Lily. The first one to have a daughter could name her Lily and the second would have to settle for something else. My brother won."

"But Lily is a nice name for a girl to have. For a girl to live out her life," said Will, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You're right. You're absolutely right," said Alexander, rubbing the corner of his right eye and forcing a smile upon his face. "Lily is just a name, not my niece.

Will nodded. "I know, but you have to let go sometime. I let go of her and mum that night when I realized neither of them were coming back."

"What are you two talking about and why does Alex look like he's going to cry?" wondered Jack.

"A long time ago, I had a sister Jack. My sister's name was Lily too. After she was born, my mother died and so did my sister. My mother was Alex's twin sister," replied Will.

"What is a twin?" wondered Jack.

"A twin is the other half to something. My sister and I were born at the same time. I was less than five minutes older than my sister. We were one person in my mother's belly, but somehow, that one became two. And for the past fourteen years, I've only been half here. My other half is dead," Alexander told him.

"But with me you are three quarters here," said Will.

Alexander looked at him with a teary smile. Will was half of his sister and wherever Will stood, half of his sister stood as well. As long as Will was at his side, he would be three quarters of what he once was.

"Did I have a mother?" Jack's voice softly asked.

"When you were seven, she came down with influenza as did you. Jack, you nearly died from it, but your mother did," replied Will.

"You don't have a mother and I don't have a mother. Alex, do you have a mother?" wondered Jack.

"No," replied Alexander quickly, both wanting to speak quickly and end the conversation as quick as possible. "She died when I was twelve."

Jack threw his hands in the air. "Well, who on this ship does have a mother?"

"Jack, a lot of men on these ships are orphans, meaning they have no mother or father. You, Will, and I only have a father," said Alexander.

"Well, do I have a brother or sister?" wondered Jack. Both shook their heads causing Jack to fold his arms across his chest and pout. "I want a brother."

"Me too," admitted Will. "Or a sister. I just want to be a brother."

Looking between them, Alexander smiled. He walked from the room and returned with a pen and paper and pushed the paper in front of Will's face. "Read it."

Will moved his head back to increase the distance from the paper being against his nose to a reading distance. "I, Alexander Seastone, Captain of the Trojan Horse, declare Will Turner and Jack Sparrow brothers." He looked at his uncle. "Alex, you can't do that."

"Yes he can!" cried Jack, jumping from his chair. "If a captain can marry two people why can't he make two people brothers. I mean, after all, marriage does eventually create brothers. It counts because the only thing we are missing is the parents getting married part."

Will smiled for both Jack having a piece of himself back with a few flickers of memory and the wonderful absurdity of it all. He nodded. "All right Jack, but you're old enough to be my uncle so that makes you my older brother."

"Okay little brother," said Jack. He grabbed the pen from Alexander and signed his name. "Here, now you sign."

Will scribbled his name down. "There."

"All, right this declares you two are brothers," said Alexander, rolling the document.

But before he could tuck it away, Jack grabbed it and ran out while saying something about telling the rest of the crew.

"There was a bit of Jack Sparrow in that," noted Will.

"I continue to tell you he is still in there Will. We must find that one thing that causes his memory to click. Lottie was what made your mind come back together as one," said Alexander.

"We don't exactly have Aisling Sparrow here to get Jack's memory back do we?" noted Will.

Alexander shook his head. "I don't think it's his mother that will bring it back. I'm confident it will be something foolishly simple that we will never think of. But because we can never think of it, Jack will and that is why his memory will come back."

"You're so confident Jack will discover his memory?" wondered Will.

"I am," said Alexander with the confidence he bore.

Will nodded. He said nothing, proving his insecurity that Jack would remember anything. He knew Alexander and himself were living proof that amnesia was not permanent, but it was always the thought of his father's memory loss that made him wonder. A palm cupped his shoulder.

"Come on, we need to get you moving around a bit. You'll recover quicker when your body realizes it has need to heal and that need will be attending to some of your normal duties. For now, being on deck and walking are a good beginning," said Alexander.

"Do you think Jack still has my 'warmest, most sunniest spot on deck' out there?" Will asked with a sly grin as he pushed himself onto his feet from the bed.

"No, but we can arrange it for you if you want," said Alexander.

Will chuckled. "I'll be fine. I supposed you don't want me at the helm then?" Alexander simply gave him a look with a raised eyebrow. "Didn't think so."

"And I would write your father today if I was you," said Alexander as the two slowly walked on deck.

Will nodded as he slipped his arms through the blue robe. "I know. I'll write him every week."

"You're lucky to have a father like him," Alexander told him. "He loves you very much."

"I know," Will said with a smile on his face and not knowing the look of pain and hurt on his uncle's face.

They walked on deck to discover the crew was standing in a circle, all with some sort of odd expression on his face. But, as Will approached, he noticed one thing. Hector Barbossa stood a bit outside the circle of men with a happy smile on his face. For once in his life, he looked happy and content and proud. He turned his head and noticed Will and Alexander.

"Brothers are ye?" he asked.

Will smiled and gave a shrug of his shoulders. "It was my uncle's idea."

"He's happy. Jack Sparrow is proud to announce he has a brother and that ye are his brother," noted Barbossa.

"I like the idea too," admitted Will.

"Will!" Jack called, waving his arm in the air.

Will stepped forward and the moment he was close enough, Jack pulled him under his arm and pointed at him with a smile that unmistakably resembled Jack Sparrow, gold toothed and all.

"See, this is my baby brother," Jack announced, holding the paper up further. "And he has promised me that he'll write to someone to tell my girl and daughter where we are heading so they can meet us there."

The joyous amused faces the men had suddenly became wide eyed and mouths agape.

Ragetti pointed at Jack. "Did you say daughter?"

Jack nodded and pulled his tunic to the side revealing the tattoo. "I never knew her because I told her mother off before she was born to keep her safe. Alexander and Will told me that I would meet her one day. And her name is Lily-Rose."

Hearing that name once again, Alexander bowed his head. He felt a palm cup his shoulder and when he turned his head to inquire who it was, his eyes narrowed in a spot of confusion.

Barbossa stood beside him with a sad smile of understanding and a palm on Alexander's shoulder. "I know," was all he said.

"My sister's Lily?" whispered Alexander.

"Nathaniel and Hector did converse once in a while and I always found meself going back to London. I was raised as an English chap like yourself," Barbossa told him.

"When was the last time you were with him?" wondered Alexander.

"Eight or nine years ago," said Barbossa. "And I do know about yer back Alexander Seastone. I know everything ye went through."

Alexander inhaled deeply as his head turned to Barbossa. He walked forward to stand by Will and Jack.

"So who is his girl?" Marty asked.

"Will says her name is Anamaria," Jack told them.

The crew looked at one another with smirks and sly grins.

"I knew you didn't just tell her away to tell her away. I knew you loved Ana. Well, I'll be; it all makes sense now. You told Anamaria off when she told you she was going to have a baby," noted Gibbs.

Jack nodded slowly, forcing a smile on his face. He leaned into Will. "Is that true?"

"Yes Jack, that's true," replied Will quietly.

"Of course I did," Jack announced. He pointed at himself. "I loved someone enough to let her go." A bit more unsure of himself, he looked at Will. "Is that a good thing?"

"Yes, it's a very good thing. I've done it too," said Will.

"Elizabeth?" Jack assumed.

Will nodded with a sigh. "A long time ago, I let her go thinking she loved someone else and I was a fool to let myself believe it."

"Who would Elizabeth love beside you?" wondered Jack.

"It's a long story that I don't want to talk about with you right now," Will told him fiercely.

He didn't mean it, but the glare that formed in his eyes as he looked at Jack caused the pirate to back away from him and take his arm back. Will walked from Jack and was given a path to the belly of the ship by all who saw the glare on his face.

"All right, everyone back to yer duties," called Barbossa, forcing a smile.

Jack stood where he was with tears forming in his eyes. Will never looked at him like that before. What did he do for Will to look at him like that? Did Will hate him now? It had to have happened in the past but the problem was he didn't remember what happened in the past to know what he did to hurt Will.

"It's all right Jack. It was nothing ye did," Barbossa told him.

"But he's never looked at me like that before and it has to be something I did," Jack said softly. He bowed his head low to his chest.

"Come with me lad. There is something I should tell ye," said Barbossa as he placed his arm around Jack's shoulder.

Below deck, Will kicked at everything that came in his path. Who would love Elizabeth beside you indeed. If Jack was the old Jack and with his memory he would have thrown Jack overboard and hoped the Kraken suddenly came back to life to swallow him whole and then he would have killed the beast so Jack would stay in its belly for the rest of his miserable life. Everything was unfair. Jack depended on him for everything. His father was gone and now he would have to wait a month after his father was free to get him back. Elizabeth was still just as alive as she was an hour ago. Jack's daughter was named Lily. His uncle wasn't being honest with him and there was something wrong with him. In three more weeks they would be home and he would have to return to what he ran away from.

"Kicking everything doesn't make it better you know."

"Shut up Alex! Just shut up!" Will screamed.

Alexander stepped forward and grabbed Will's arms to stop him from breaking himself. "Calm down Will. Everything will be all right. I know you're scared. I don't know what Jack said to upset you, but it was in the past and I've learned that if it is in the past it is best just to let the past be."

"A past that you won't tell me about!" cried Will, finally collapsing into his uncle's body.

"There is a way to tell you Will that I don't have to tell you," said Alexander.

"I don't care anymore," Will told him, falling to his knees.

"I think you should read my journals," Alexander told him, slumping to his bottom beside Will. "You need to let Jack's past alone. If you are to survive a day longer it is right time you learned a few things about your family. You should begin with my father's journals. Mine won't cause any sense into you and I have a feeling reading Father's journals will explain everything in my life."

"Why can't you tell me?" asked Will.

"Have you made a promise you yourself?" wondered Alexander. Will nodded. Obviously. "Have you made such a promise to yourself not to mention something that not mentioning may kill you because it is such a promise you promised to keep quiet to only yourself?"

"Aye, and I did understand that," said Will. "That promise would be the reason no one knew my title and name in Port Royal."

"There is a reason I have this secret of mine. Father, Christian, Billy, Gabe, Colleen, David, and Ewan all know of it and I never told them," said Alexander.

"Alex," began Will, curling his legs into his torso and wrapping his arms around them. "I know he abused you. I've known for years. No one told me. I figured it out on myself."

Alexander nodded. He stuttered with his words. "I know. Your father mentioned it to me. You have no idea the extent of what he did however. My brother doesn't know. Only Christian knows what my father has done to me."

"You can show me instead of tell me," suggested Will.

"That is part of my secret," said Alexander.

Will lowered his head with a sigh. "Keeping a burden to myself left Elizabeth and I not talking for nearly a year. I did some mad things to keep myself sane in that time. I spent all my energy on planning how to save my father from the ship and perfecting the ways of piracy. Keeping that burden to myself nearly destroyed me."

"How can keeping my secret destroy me when the secret itself is destroying me," whispered Alexander.

"All right now you are beginning to frighten me," said Will.

"I'm sorry," said Alexander. He wrapped his arm around Will's shoulder. "There is so much you don't know about this family. You have no idea on both sides of your family. You don't know why you are who you are. You are one hundred percent pirate. Both your grandfathers, your father, Gabriel, and I were pirates. Lottie had such an association to them she could have been a pirate if she wanted."

"I know. I figured out a long time ago that pirate was in my blood and I would have to swear with it someday," noted Will, recalling the words Jack Sparrow once spoke to him.

"I'm not referring to Aztec gold either," muttered Alexander.

Will smiled with him. He nodded feeling much better, but still leaned his head onto his uncle's shoulder. "There is a lot about me you don't know either."

"I see it in your eyes little one," agreed Alexander. "You still carry heavy burdens."

"Except these I can't simply talk away," said Will, shutting his eyes and sighing heavily. "I wish I could wish the world back to the way it was."

"Me too Will, me too," nodded Alexander.

The elder of the two leaned his head onto his nephew's head and shut his eyes as well. He wrapped his other arm around Will's body feeling comforted by the warmth and Will wrapped his palms around his uncle's arms.

There was much between the two that had yet to be said to one another. All with good time. There was much time yet. Three weeks was a long time to be together and they would not be separated from each other when they arrived home. Alexander feared they would become closer when he returned home and becoming closer to Will may have been a bad sign since his days were numbered. He felt bringing Will back home was horrible since Will may have to one day sit in Parliament until his Thomas was old enough. Condemning the destinies of two men was a heavy burden, but he may not have had a choice. How was he supposed to tell Will everything? There had to be a more simple way to tell Will. He was dying and he had to tell Will. Could there have been a more heavy burden?

-)(-

"That's so depressing," noted Lily, slumping into her chair.

"My life gets worse from here," I admitted.

"I don't know if I want to hear anymore," said Lily.

"Not to mention I lose my mind," Jack said, stating his input. He raised his forefingers. "I completely lose my mind and losing my mind doesn't describe it."

"No, losing your mind describes it perfectly," I told him.

Edward nodded his head. He brushed the back of his forefingers across Jack's cheek. "Losing your mind describes it Jack. Between the headaches and the memories, you did lose your mind."

"He wasn't the only one who lost his mind," I muttered, my eyes looking directly toward my uncle.

Alexander shrugged a shoulder.

"Will, do you think it is wise you bring up that topic to the ones of young age?" asked Christian. "Really, I don't think they would understand and you them. Children don't shut their mouths. The last thing we need is the world thinking Alex and I are—well, you know."

"Which we aren't," Alexander quickly declared.

"I think it's best," my father answered for me. "If they don't understand then they can come to me and Will, if you explain everything they will understand."

I nodded. That was logical, but I didn't want Felicity and Thomas looking at their father differently. I never looked at Alex the same way. Come to think of it, I haven't looked at Jack the same way again. Jack and I were different; that was curiosity and loneliness and we simply lost our minds. I shook the thoughts from my mind.

"All of you understand that Jack's injured head really, really messed with his mind. He's better now. He's been better, but what happened that day was not good," I warned.

"Will, it wasn't that bad. I just thought I was in the Locker again. It's not as bad as you are frightening the children into believing," Jack said with a laugh in there.

"You didn't have to watch yourself go mad," I told him.

"I hardly remember when I had amnesia," Jack pointed out.

Anyway, I decided to continue with the story. The sea in every main shipping route is unpredictable. However, that day I know was not normal. Unless you are not in the equatorial waters, it is not possible to come across the doldrums. Coming across the doldrums in the northern Atlantic Ocean is definitely not normal. I know Calypso did it and I now know the reason. But, at the time, I didn't know it had meaning on several dimensions. All I knew was that there was no wind, and there hadn't been for three days.

-)(-

Hector Barbossa stood at the helm glaring at the sails. Although they flapped back and forth on occasion, there was no movement toward the ship. He was often told his glares and narrow eyes were quite the frightening sight. And because of the nature of the fright, very persuasive as well. Perhaps, he could persuade the wind into returning or persuade Calypso herself to bring the breeze back.

"You can glare all you want but the sails are not going to move," Alexander's voice noted.

"I can give it my best try Alexander," said Barbossa.

"Trust me, it doesn't work," said Alexander as he stood beside him. "And I don't thing the Doldrums can just appear near the English Channel either."

"One word," began Barbossa.

"Calypso," agreed Alexander with a nod of his head.

He shifted uncomfortably. Painfully, he arched his back and pressed his palms into his spine. The expression of more than just discomfort appeared on his face as his eyes squeezed shut.

"Ye should lie down Alex," Barbossa softly told him.

Alexander waved it off. "My back has been hurting for quite a few days now. There's nothing I can do about it. It hurts every time I walk and sit down or sit up or move, but I'm used to it. I should be used to it by now; it has been eight years since that fall. You know about that right?"

"Are ye planning on telling yer own nephew?" wondered Barbossa.

"I want to. I keep trying, but I can't bring myself to do it. There are plenty of opportunities to tell him, but it doesn't come out of my mouth," Alexander told him.

"Ye may want to before he finds out. He's like his father in that regard. It is best to just tell the lad before the lad finds out and releases a fury hell hath known," Barbossa warned.

Alexander breathed sharply as he hunched forward and pressed his palms into his lower back. His breathing was painful and heavy. When he did open his eyes, there was a shimmer not of sun reflecting from the unusually calm water. No, these were tears of pain.

Glancing from the corner of his eyes, Barbossa observed. He knew what happened eight years ago, but he didn't think it was that bad. The young man was fortunate to be walking. He feared young Alexander Seastone had done something that further wounded himself and his back.

"Alex, ye need to sit down," he finally told him.

"I'm fine," Alexander said with a fake smile as he nodded his head.

Taking yes and only yes for an answer, Barbossa grabbed Alexander's arms and helped him sit on the steps to the helm.

The moment Alexander bent to sit, he breathed through his teeth and choked back the scream in his throat. It was not meant, but his fingernails dug deep into Barbossa's arms.

"Alex, how much is this hurting ye?" Barbossa asked firmly.

"I told you already. It hurts if I move my back," replied Alexander.

"What do ye usually do about it?" wondered Barbossa.

"You don't want to know," said Alexander.

"I may have to lad if ye want to get home," said Barbossa.

"I don't have any on this ship anymore. I think my brother got to it," Alexander. "I had a medicine I made for myself for days like these when I couldn't move well."

Barbossa gave a firm nod of his head. "If ye made it then I have a feeling it was best for yer brother to get rid of it. Perhaps a back massage will do."

"Don't touch my back!" Alexander yelled at him when he moved his arm.

Across the ship, wrapped in a blanket and halfway dozing off in a somewhat warm corner, Will raised his head from the journal. The expression he saw in his uncle's eyes and on his face was more than simple pain and discomfort. The expression on his uncle's face reminded him of all the faces of the men he killed after fatally wounding them. Reading his grandfather's journals at the moment may not have been the best idea since he was getting the idea it was his grandfather who caused him such pain as he had all of Alexander's life.

Sighing, Will had a question for his uncle he needed answered. He knew the question would take time to answer, but he needed it answered. Standing slowly, he tucked the book away between his arms and the blanket he was wrapped in. As he passed Jack, the pirate glanced at him and walked away, avoiding him as he had since the day he was sore at him. Just like he and Elizabeth were, Will was no longer speaking with Jack and just like her, it was Jack who avoided him. He shivered slightly as a cool wind of air came across them. Unlike the rest of the hopeful glances toward the sails, he continued further knowing a small burst of air was not the wind they needed. He pulled the blanket tighter to his body.

Noticing Will was approaching, Barbossa relieved himself from his position beside Alexander and returned to pouring over every piece of nautical information they had on the ship of the northeastern Atlantic Ocean. He did make note that Will was not well looking other than an expression of question on his face. The young man lost most of his body weight and the cool English air was chilling his years of Caribbean body. He wondered if either of the Seastones were to return to the manor.

Will sat beside his uncle on the stairs on the same step in fact. He exchanged a worried glance with his uncle when they realized they were sitting comfortably with room to spare on both sides. They shouldn't have been able to sit on the same step.

After Will turned away, Alexander continued to look at him. His little nephew was shivering and huddled tightly against himself. He reached his arm out to pull Will close to his body, but breathed sharply and stifled a cry of pain in the back of his throat as he leaned out as well.

"It was Grandfather wasn't it?"

"What?" whispered Alexander.

"It was Grandfather who caused you this pain wasn't it?" Will asked, keeping his eyes forward.

"What makes you say that?" asked Alexander, hiding the urgency in his voice.

"Because in his journals you are twenty years old and your sister just had her first child. You two had an argument before this entry, but he's glad it was in the forest far away from me where he could also give you a black eye and no one would know who did it to you," replied Will.

"You're reading them I see," noted Alexander. "And what do you think?"

"Now I understand why you kept it from me and didn't tell me. I don't think I would have believed it were it not in my grandfather's handwriting," said Will. "Has he been doing this to you since you were twelve?"

Alexander subtly nodded. He squeezed his eyes shut and, despite the pain, quickly made for the solitary of the Great Cabin.

"Go after him," Barbossa's voice whispered near Will's ear.

Agreeing, Will stood and followed the path his uncle took, but when he entered he saw a sight that caused all breath to escape him and calling for help impossible.

Alexander was on the ground as if he had collapsed, leaning against a chair. His face was buried in his arms and he was trembling.

"Alex," Will managed to softly call as he knelt beside his uncle.

"To answer your question, it was him and there is so much more about our relationship you don't know," said Alexander.

"Come on, you need to lie down," Will said, wrapping an arm around his uncle's shoulders.

It took time, but Will eventually did get his uncle lying on his stomach on the cot in Jack's cabin.

"What happened to you?" wondered Will.

"You'll read about it soon enough," Alexander told him.

Knowing now was not the time to ask questions that would further increase his uncle's pain, Will rummaged around the chest of items his father brought for him. Included with the chest were letters and notes on specific items. Some of these letters also had instructions. He was searching for something in particular, something he enjoyed playing with as a child. This item was a jar of smooth stones from the size of his adult palm to the width of half his pinky. The stones were from a river in China, washed smooth over thousands of years by the stream. As a child, he believed these stones were a toy, but with the letter from his father, he learned they were used for massaging and relieving tight muscles along with fresh jars of oils.

The stones were placed in a pot of water he was heating with fire. Moisture while heating the stones kept them hotter for longer and kept them smooth.

He brought a jar of lavender oil from the chest and sat beside his uncle.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"I never stopped," replied Alexander.

"I need to get to your back. I need you to take off everything covering your back. Father told me not to ask about the scars or the amount of wrapping. He told me what to do when your back hurt. I didn't understand when I read the letters but now I do," Will told him.

"This is why I couldn't tell you," said Alexander.

"I won't ask," Will promised.

Alexander pushed his palms flat on the cot and received help from Will to sit up. Tears of fright and pain were in his eyes as he looked at Will. "It isn't that I couldn't tell; it is because every person who knows about me looks at me differently and treats me as if I am made of a substance less fragile than porcelain. My back will change how you think of me permanently. You will never look at me the same again."

"I've read the first twenty years of your life Uncle Alex," said Will. "Am I looking at you differently?"

With a single look to Will, Alexander felt his lips widen into a smile. The first twenty years of his life were filled with his drunken father abusing him, lies, running away and finding love with women who were paid to love, jealousy, and more pain than he remembered. Will read all of that, and he was still looking at him like he was a human being who was his uncle not someone who was unfairly abused and fragile.

"No, you aren't," he said.

"Then you can trust me to do this?" asked Will.

"I do," said Alexander. "Don't tell anyone and—"

"Alex," Will said, before letting him go off. "I know. I'll read about it eventually and I've seen what my father's back looks like. You know what my back looks like. I know something happened to you long ago. I'll get there eventually. You have to relax and trust me now."

With a nod, Alexander began to slowly unbutton his tunic. As he did so, Will saw the makings of a deep, violet, the same as the coat, wrap around him in line with under his arms and around his torso. The violet continued under his trousers. Will pulled the two sleeves from his uncle's body.

"You know, that color does look good on you," he noted.

"Will, it's okay to allow yourself to look at me with pity if you want," said Alexander.

"I don't pity you. I can't believe you need all of this," said Will quietly.

The entirety of Alexander's torso was wrapped tightly in a thick, dark violet cloth. Such an amount had to be present since Will couldn't see his uncle breathing. It wasn't just that what caught him by surprise. Scars were on Alexander's arms, gruesome scars. But, as he looked at the cloth, he noticed something he hadn't before. Around his uncle's throat was discoloration, like the color of light bruises fading in and out in a ring.

"He did this to you didn't he?" he found himself asking with anger.

"It may have been him, but I was nearly hanged once," said Alexander.

"With marks like this left, you were hanged," Will told him.

Alexander shook his head. "No, if I was hanged then I would have been dead. But since I was technically hanging by my neck with a rope around my throat for a few moments I was just—well…"

"Roped?" offered Will.

"I guess you could call it that," noted Alexander.

"Do you remember what he did to you?" wondered Will quietly.

"I think if you read my journals it will better answer your questions," Alexander told him.

Will nodded his head, turning away from his uncle's face and untying the knot of the violet cloth's ends. He unwrapped his uncle's left side and Alexander wound the cloth around his right since Will was sitting on his left. They were quiet as the process was done, both with thoughts that wound in and out and around the mind. But, when they were finished with their task, a smile did widen across Will's face.

Despite the pain his uncle was in, Alexander bore a great deal of muscle on his body. His torso was well toned and tight, muscular abs occupied below his chest. Both arms were thick with muscle. Scars on his uncle's chest was also present, including one that was diagonal across his right breast and another scar on his belly took up most of the right side of the skin from above his belly button to his hip bone.

Across the scar however, was tattoo. The tattoo, in fact, worked with the scar. It was of a dragon weaving his way in and out of the scar as if using it for rope. His claws were placed upon the pale scar and great tail wound around it. Wings emerged from both sides of the body giving the creature the appearance of either lifting from the wound or landing upon it. The eyes stared out from the scar, watching closely to all who approached as if protecting its master. Curiously, the eyes cried tears that fell down Alexander's belly Clenched in the mouth was a sword that Will knew very well and in fact attempted to create with his own fires. The sword was a katana, the sword of the samurai. He once met a member of the prestigious culture in the shop and received a katana of his own for trade of a new weapon. Unfortunately, the honorable sword was tucked away in his apartment in Port Royal.

"What has you so intrigued?" wondered Alexander.

"The dragon," replied Will.

"That's and old mark. I had a friend of mine in London do this to me about twelve years ago," explained Alexander. "The scar is about fourteen years old. Your mother gave it to me while we were playing with swords."

Will smiled. "I remember that day. You nearly bled to death and then nearly died from an infection."

"Things were so perfect then. It was just you, me, and Lottie carefree playing. She never meant to get me, but it happened, and I grew fond of the scar actually. It is a reminder of one of the last moments I had with my sister since she was two months with child at the time and it was while I was resting that she realized she was pregnant," said Alexander.

"Why a dragon?" wondered Will.

Alexander simply smiled as he too leaned is head over his body to look upon his ink. "When we were young, your father, Lottie, and I played Knight and Princess. Gabe always loved to watch us play this out and often drew it. She was always the princess trapped in the tower and kept prisoner by a dragon who belonged to a great and powerful sorcerer played by your father, waiting for her true hero to save her. Naturally, we did use the tower as her keep and we did have a rope that I used to climb up to save her. If Father found out that I have scaled the tower, he would kill me. Of course, I was always her knight in shining armor who defeated the dragon, but in our tales I didn't kill the dragon. Your father and I would have battles for her and I would be mortally wounded but not before defeating the sorcerer. As children, the four of us believed that dragons possessed a strange magic. We believed that dragons contained the souls of great warriors of the past who defended others and because they had pure hearts, their tears healed those of the same heart. Always, before I drew my last breath in my princess's arms, the dragon would pour his tears upon my wound. Ironically, I was always wounded on the right of my belly. When I was healing, Lottie and I would often share a smirk because I would now have the scar I should have received when I was a child. If you look, the dragon appears feminine. The healing tears fall upon me, healing my wounds."

"After mum died you wanted a way to keep her with you," said Will.

"That is not how I keep my sister with me little one," Alexander told him, slipping his fingers beneath an object hanging from around his neck. "She was buried with mine, I have hers."

Will immediately recognized the pendants hanging from a silver chain. The pendant was in the shape of a complete compass rose with both cardinal directions and secondary markings. Of course, the cardinal directions were the larger of the two. The pointing directions were inlaid with tiny diamonds and the center of the rose was a cleared circle with only silver. A letter 'C' in a calligraphic manner was inscribed into the silver.

"I miss here," Will softly whispered.

"Father and I kept a few of her possessions for you if you ever returned," said Alexander. "You have her favorite diamond bracelet and an ivory comb," said Alexander.

"But the best around my neck," said Will. He pulled the chain to allow the two rings to come forth. "Mum's engagement ring."

"You should give it to Elizabeth," said Alexander.

"Not until she wakes. I want to do things right. I want to propose properly to her and have a real wedding," Will told him.

"Okay," whispered Alexander. "Now, Will, can you fix up my back?"

Being reminded why he was in there to begin with, Will shut his eyes and shook his head at his foolishness. How simple it was for him to distract himself nowadays. He gingerly got his uncle lying on his stomach and chest again, not daring to take note of his back just yet. As Alexander heaved a sigh that was quite literally the opposite of relief, Will reached for the jar of oil. He unscrewed the top and a scent of lavender immediately filled his mind.

"Lavender," whispered Alexander, calmly and contentedly.

"Alex, just breathe. Don't think about anything else but the scent and breathing. This is going to hurt, but try to think about nothing but the scent and breathing," Will whispered as he rubbed the oil onto his hand.

Heaving his own deep breath, Will allowed himself to turn his attention to his uncle's back. Tears of wonder and worry moistened in his eyes as he bit his lip to keep his deep breaths of shock from coming through. His trembling hands gently rubbed the warm oil across what should have been his uncle's fleshy back. Instead, a thin layer of skin coated the muscle beneath. The thin layer of skin was no skin at all; it was scar tissue. Alexander's back was wholly a scar. From his shoulders to well below his trousers was a massive discolored scar. Lines reminding him of his own five lashes here and there wrapped out of the discoloration.

Rubbing his knuckles and palm into the shoulder blades, Will's eyes began the attempt to count the number of lashes. At twenty six, he turned away using the application of more oil as his reason to avert his eyes.

This wound is old Will. He survived this long. Don't look at him different. He can't possibly be made of porcelain. He survived the men that did this to him. Just keep putting the oil on like your father told you. Get the stones too.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked aloud.

"Uh uh," muttered Alexander from the pillow. "I don't feel anything Will. When I was finally home, Ewan burned my back to shut what wounds he could. Most of the nerves were damaged before then anyway. I barely feel pressure on my bones and that pressure must be immense."

Will nodded. "Okay," he said, as he choked on the word.

Alexander opened his eyes to watch Will reach into the pot with a large wooden spoon. As he suspected, Will was finding this difficult to put himself through. There were questions in his nephew's eyes and answers that didn't want to be found.

"Then I would assume you can't feel what it is to be held?" wondered Will.

"A feeling I no longer remember," replied Alexander. "And neither can your father."

"Don't tell me that," Will told him firmly, looking at him.

With a nod, Alexander once again pressed his cheek into the side of his pillow.

Will bathed the hot stone in his palm filled with oil before placing it along the top of Alexander's spine. His massaging fingers continued down the man's spine until just below halfway when Alexander breathed sharply through his teeth and clenched the pillow. Suddenly frightened and not having expected that, Will pulled his fingers back.

"You need to do something for me Will. The injury I received years ago damaged my spine and pieces like to become slightly dislocated. I need you to push these few pieces back in line with the rest of my spine. The dislocation of the pieces is what causes the pain. Cup your palm over each piece and push forward. You'll know when everything is in line again."

"Alex, what happened?" asked Will.

"I was told, but I don't remember it," said Alexander. "You need to read the journals. There is so much leading to the incident that you need to understand. Now, run your fingers firmly down my spine and push it back in place."

Doing so without thought, Will pressed his forefinger and middle finger into Alexander's spine at his neck. He felt each bump of the cord firmly beneath his fingers. The line was straight until he came to just below halfway. Slightly, a piece of the spinal cord was to the left. It was just enough to break the line. As he was told, he cupped the bone beneath his palm and shut his eyes as he pushed forward. He wasn't sure how exactly he was supposed to know when it was in line, but he swore he felt the bone moving forward with his palm until there was a small crack and a choked back cry. He didn't think it was literally dislocated and he also didn't think he would have to do that half a dozen times before the spine was in a single line once more. Warm stones were placed all the way down his uncle's spine and he covered him with a light blanket.

Through with his task, Will knelt beside the cot. His head was parallel his uncle's although his uncle had his face buried in the pillow. He saw how tightly the blankets and pillow were clenched between the fists and undoubtedly a great amount of the cloth was bitten between his teeth. Knowing the touch of another was comforting, Will slipped the tips of his fingers between the clenched palm and the blanket. Immediately, the fingers loosened only for a moment allowing Will to sacrifice all feeling of his fingers.

He gently pulled his other hand's fingers through the golden curls. Unexpectedly, he heard the words of a song he remembered from his childhood before bedtime.

Are you goin' to Scarborough Fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.

Remember me to one who lives there,

she once was a true love of mine.

Tell her to make me a cambric shirt

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme

Without no seams nor needlework

Then she'll be a true love of mine

Tell her to find me an acre of land

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme

Between salt water and the sea strands

Then she'll be a true love of mine.

Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme

And gather it all in a bunch of heather

Then she'll be a true love of mine.

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.

Remember me to one who lives there,

she once was a true love of mine.

Alexander turned half is face from within the pillow. His red, sore eye gazed at Will wondrously. The few tears that slipped from the brown orbs were not of the pain that his body felt, but were from the song his nephew sang. He sang it like his mother and his voice was just as angelic and pure as hers was.

"Better?" Will whispered.

"I love you," was Alexander's reply.

Will smiled and pressed his forehead against his uncle's. He closed his eyes in relief when he heard his uncle sigh contentedly. "Alex, is it all right if I talk to Jack? There is something I need to ask him."

"I'll be okay," replied Alexander softly.

"I'll be back in a little while. The stones should stay warm for as long as I am away," Will told him.

"Go," whispered Alexander.

Will gave a tight squeeze of his uncle's hand before slipping his fingers from around the flesh and quietly removing himself from his side. Before leaving the room, he pulled the curtains across the little window in the corner to allow only a small speck of light in the room. With one last look at his resting uncle, he left the room with quiet footfalls.

He walked on deck wrapping the blanket around himself again. Unfortunately, above them, they sky was covered in a cloud. It was one single, humongous cloud that was blocking the warmth of the sun. Of course, he didn't see Jack on deck anymore. Whenever he so much as thought about talking to him, Jack seemed to vanish.

"Do you know where Jack ran off to again?" he asked, approaching the usual crowd of men who would know.

"Thought he went up," said Ragetti.

"He hates heights. Remember?" Pintel told him.

"Old Jack liked heights," Ragetti noted.

"Well, this isn't Jack and I need to talk to him," Will said.

"He has a sore for you right now William," said Gibbs, overhearing the conversation and approaching himself. "Why I don't know for the life of me. I last saw Jack heading below to be on his own. He's been an awful lot on his own since you two had your little temper tantrum at each other. Barbossa said something to him and he's been quiet since."

Will's eyes narrowed as he turned on his heels and marched directly for the helm. 'Jack' greeted him with a smile and offered a peanut. "Not right now 'Jack'; I have a bone to pick with your daddy."

"Yes, Mr. Turner?" Barbossa asked with an amused tone in his voice.

"What did you say to Jack after I got sore at him?" wondered Will.

"I simply told him that ye thought Elizabeth loved him more than ye lad. Ye might want to go talk to him. He's been on his own an awful lot since then and I doubt it be just because of something he can't remember in the past," Barbossa hinted with a close eye.

"I don't suppose you know where he is?" assumed Will.

"Consult that compass of his. I know ye have it on yer person William," said Barbossa.

Will sighed as his eyes lowered. "It points to her and he who I can't have yet. Although I can tell you that it will point to my uncle currently."

"How is he?" wondered Barbossa quietly.

"Resting and more comfortable," replied Will. "Hot stones, a warm blanket, one of my lullabies, and his spine realigned."

Cringing a bit, Barbossa cracked his neck and rubbed the spine on his neck. "Ye don't know what happened yet do ye?"

"Don't tempt me to ask you," Will told him, immediately leaving the helm.

He was on a task to find Jack Sparrow and figure out what was wrong with him not figure out what was wrong with his uncle. Jack was more important right now. Jack was the one with more problems that a spine that was damaged.

Knowing Barbossa was right about the compass, Will gently took the compass from his robe pocket as he walked into the darkness of the hold. He was beginning to become possessive over the compass. It was his only constant in life. Everything else he had to use his best judgment. But, with this compass, it pointed to what he wanted most and he didn't know what he consciously wanted. By reading Jack's journals he understood that the compass somehow went into the unconscious of the mind and keyed in on that one thing. Going into the subconscious was why Jack couldn't get it to point to what he wanted a year ago. His mind was telling him what he wanted, but it wasn't the one thing he wanted most.

Thankfully for Will, the compass was pointing in a direction and he prayed that direction was one Jack Sparrow. Elizabeth and his uncle were in the cabins behind him and his father was in a different world so it could only be on Jack Sparrow. As he traveled deeper into the belly of the ship, Will found the direction pointing toward the cabins, which confused him because the compass was pointing the opposite direction before. Although, he vaguely remembered the needle switching directions as he wandered through doors and down stars. The compass was not pointing at Jack per se; it was pointing to the direction to find Jack. Going along with it, he followed anyway but when he came to a wall, he stood dumbfounded.

A wall. It was a solid, wooden wall and yet the needle pointed forward. Will looked at the compass again and shook gently, but when he shook there was no sound of metal clanking together. There was the sound of strings and chords and notes coming together in a soulful, tragic harmony. Will knew enough about music to know that was a guitar. The compass was pointing at a way to find Jack and Jack was behind the wall. Unless—Jack was always a tricky fellow.

The compass nestled in his pocket, Will pushed on the wall in front of him. Gently, like a door, three of the boards pushed forward and light poured out. He quietly entered the room and shut the wall door.

Sitting on a pile of pillows across the small and literal "hole in the wall" was on Jack Sparrow. In his lap, strings down, was a guitar. He was cross legged and looking over papers in front of him, caught up in his readings rather than to notice Will.

Young Turner however, could not help himself but to take in the room. Bailey was no fool when he informed him that Jack was musical. Two sides of the room, opposite the door, were lined with shelves and upon the shelves were old pieces of paper and folios and folders. The side Jack was sitting against and in front of the door across the room, two more guitars were nestled safely in there cases and roped against the wall. A small rug was on the floor and a lantern in all four corners lit the room. What struck Will's curiosity the most was a small rope ladder on the right of Jack against the wall simply hanging there. Apparently, there were two accesses to this little room.

"How did you find me?" Jack's voice asked softly.

"The compass," replied Will.

Jack's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Compasses point north."

"Not this one," said Will, taking the compass from his pocket.

With his hand held out, Jack's eyes seemed to recognize the object. The moment it reached his hand, a small smile spread across his face. He caressed the mahogany sides and relished the fact that it was pointing somewhere not north. It was, in fact, spinning.

Will noticed the spinning of the compass. He read both Jack's and Edward's journals and knew exactly what the needled would be pointing at if he was in the world. When Jack was sitting with his guitars, he delighted in nothing more than wishing he was playing with his father.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked softly.

Jack nodded his head as he set the compass beside him and went back to the papers in front of him.

"Why haven't you been talking to me and avoiding me?" wondered Will.

"Me being in the way ruined your life. Because of me, you lost your Lizzy for a year. I just thought if I stayed out of your way you would be happier," replied Jack.

"Jack," began Will softly. With a sigh, he sat himself beside the pirate. "It wasn't your fault. It was mine. I was too proud and stubborn to ask the truth. I assumed something I let myself believe it because I have a obsession with being right and when I am upset I am one to always wait for the reason for me being upset to confront me first. After she didn't, I told myself she didn't love me because she never asked me what was wrong or spoke to me. I consumed myself with being alone and moping in the dark and planning how I could save my father and how I would kill you when we got you back."

"You wanted to kill me?" Jack softly asked.

"I did," admitted Will, looking at him.

Jack turned away. His forehead wrinkled and eyes lowered, but he nodded. "You're not the only one who has wanted to kill me. Everyone does." He looked around the room. "I think I built this room so I could hide away from the world."

"You did," said Will. "You mentioned somewhere where you could play your music and escape the world and just be human. I imagine this is what you were referring to."

"I can't understand this," Jack said, his focus remaining on the papers. "I've been trying and looking for something that tells me, but I don't remember how to understand this. I can pick up the guitar and I just play, but I can't understand this."

Will pulled one of the pieces of paper closer to him. "This is music Jack. It's like someone telling you to do something. These lines and dots tell you what to play. They direct you to the music. Do you have a pen and paper?"

Jack handed him his requests. "Here."

Will began drawing and explaining. "This is a staff. It is where you put the notes. This is a treble clef. On these lines and in between these spaces are where the notes go, like this right here. Each line and space is a certain note. The spaces have the notes F A C E. That's simple to remember because it spells FACE. And the lines, E G B D F. To remember these notes, simply think of the phrase 'Every Great Big Dragon Flies'. We use these notes with treble clef, which is this. Treble clef is used when the notes are higher and above the middle C. Now, when the notes are lower and below the middle C, we use a bass clef. Here. Because it is a different clef, the notes on the lines and spaces change. The notes in the spaces are now A C E G. 'Alex Calls Everyone Grumpy'. On the lines, the notes read G B D F A. 'Green Bears Dance Far Away'. Now, on the lines and in the spaces are what we call notes. This is a quarter note, a half note, a whole note, an eight note, and a sixteenth note. You play these. In music, there are times when it is appropriate to not play, hence called rests. Just like notes there is a quarter rest, a half rest, a whole rest, an eighth rest, and a sixteenth rest. To play these notes and rests they must be given a beat. We call this a time signature. On top means the note that gets the beat and the bottom tells us how many beats are in a measure. A measure is like a little phrase and is indicated by this, a bar line. It'll be easier to understand when you apply it don't worry. In music, the notes can be taken further. There are things calls slurs, marcatos, staccatos, dots, and accents shown here. Also, a note can be changed by a sharp, flat, and natural indicated by these signs. A ship raised the note by half, a flat lowers it by half, and a natural requests just the note. Bringing it all together the most important piece to music is the dynamic. Music is expressed by notes and beats and rests, but it's brought to life with dynamics. Pianissimo, piano, mezzo-piano, mezzo-forte, forte, and fortissimo. Very soft, soft, moderately soft, moderately loud, loud, and very loud respectively. These are placed throughout music and there is usually a crescendo, meaning get louder, or a decrescendo, meaning get softer. However, we are not through just yet. Music can be brought to life with a ritard, which means slow down, a D.S. al Fine, go back to the sign and play to the end, D.C. al Fine, go back to the beginning and play to the end, a Coda, which is like a second ending, and a repeat.

"And all of this comes together like on this piece of music here. See all the different notes and letters and crescendos? You see, right here at the time signature. There is a four on top and a four on the bottom. The four on top indicates the quarter note is the beat and there are four quarter notes to a measure. Here. The treble clef is used in this piece so the notes belong to the treble not the base. At the very end of the piece, here, is what we call a double bar line. The song and journey is not complete until the performer has come to the double bar line. Understand?"

Jack nodded but there was a question on mind. "I've asked other people and they didn't know anymore than I did. Why do you know all of this?"

"My mother," Will told him. He recalled his boyhood when he sat at the piano beside his mother listening to her instructions and teachings. "She taught me how to play the piano when I was three years old. Everyday for as long as I could remember, I spent at least an hour on the piano. My mother taught me herself. For as long as she was around, I played. Sometimes I wanted to surprise her so I practiced myself, and when she was away, Alex taught me. He knew enough to help me, but not teach me. My grandfather knew how to play and so did my grandmother and they had my mother and uncle taught. After my grandmother died, Alex didn't care so much for music. He wanted to become a sailor and he found no time for music unless I asked him of course or he was listening. My mother took to music more. Music reminded her of her mother and her childhood when all was well. I haven't touched a piano since I was nine. I've forgotten how to play, but I remember everything she taught me. There's a piano, two rooms down from the parlor filled with music. It's a library of music piled everywhere and the piano in the center of the room beside the window. My lessons were always when the sunrays shined in and lit the piano with a golden glow. Mum loved to be in there at that time. Atop the piano there is always a flower; it was always a lily. Lilies were my father's favorite flower. She grew lilies inside in the winter. She had a small room, an indoor garden where she could work in the winter and get away from it all. I don't know why I ran away in the first place. I shouldn't have run away. I should have just stayed home. I miss it so much. I feel like I'm never going to get home."

"Don't cry again," Jack pleaded.

Will smiled at Jack reassuringly, but there was an amount of moisture in his eyes. He shrugged. "I miss my mother and home."

"We are going to your home aren't we?" wondered Jack. Will nodded. "Well then you'll be home soon enough."

"I wish," whispered Will. "But home isn't going to be what I remember it. Home is going to be dark. Dark times have happened there."

"Okay, but how do you apply this to this?" asked Jack pointing to the music on the floor and the guitar in his lap, specifically getting Will's mind to change.

Will shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know the notes on a guitar. Every instrument is different. There is a different method to produce the same note on all instruments. I only know piano."

"Do you know someone who does know?" asked Jack.

"I know two people," Will told him. "I'll write them later."

"Your father?" assumed Jack.

"How did you know?" wondered Will.

"You always write your father," Jack told him obvious.

Will shrugged again.

A sudden sharp breath escaped Jack's lips as he pressed his palm to his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He moaned as he leaned forward and eventually fell into Will's lap and lay there for a moment. His body tightly curled against itself.

Will set a gentle had on Jack's shoulder. "What's wrong with your head?"

"It hurts," Jack told him softly. "I've been taking the medicine Alexander gave me and I've been taking it every time my head hurts but it's not working anymore. I take it every morning and sometimes more."

"Jack that's bad. That's very bad!" Will told him both out of fear and discipline. "You cannot take too much medicine—how long have you been taking this medicine?"

"Since Alexander arrived. If I don't my head hurts too much," said Jack, sitting up again.

"Does your head always hurt?" wondered Will, raising Jack's hair to look at the scar on his forehead.

Jack nodded gently. "The medicine dulls the pain."

"This may hurt, but I think I know what is wrong with your head," Will said.

Reading the journals belonging to the two Teagues gave him more insight than he wanted to know, but some of it was needed. He learned Jack had previously acquired and injury to his head. This injury left a silver coin to replace a piece of Jack's skull. Frighteningly, the coin was placed exactly where the scar on Jack's head ran red.

Will pressed his first two fingers along Jack's forehead and across the scar.

The second his finger touched the beginning of the scar, Jack yelled in pain and pulled away. He pressed his palm against his forehead, hardly aware of the tears streaming from his eyes.

"I think I know what's wrong," Will told him.

"Then fix it," Jack pleaded.

"I can't. I don't know how," said Will.

"Then have Alexander or Hector or Josh fix it," whispered Jack, huddling against his pillows.

"Jack, does it feel like you have a constant headache? Or do you feel like something is always pushing against your head?" wondered Will.

"It never goes away," replied Jack.

"I know what's wrong with you," Will told him, his eyes wide.

"What?" wondered Jack.

"There is pressure on your head and that pressure needs to be released," Will said quickly. It wasn't a complete lie, but he wasn't about to try to explain to Jack how he has a coin in his head. "Do you want to lie down?"

"That would feel good," admitted Jack, slowly standing on his own two feet.

Dizzy, Jack's vision suddenly blurred as he was near losing consciousness. He reached out for help from anything as he felt himself falling and all went dark for a moment. His eyes opened to a vision of shadows and soft light. Something cold was pressed against his forehead. Frightened, he grabbed the object.

"It's all right Jack. It's me. It's Will."

"Will," Jack softly called.

"I'm right here Jack."

Jack heavily blinked his eyes quite a few time before his vision allowed him to see clearly again. He was lying in his hammock, wrapped in a warm blanket. His boots were beside him on the floor. Will was sitting beside him in a chair. A cold rag was across his forehead. The window was covered by thick curtains. Lying on the cot was Alexander who appeared to be sleeping. On his bare back were stones Barbossa was continuing to place on his skin.

"Why am I here when I should be where I was?" Jack asked Will.

"You fainted," Will told him. "You've only been out for a few minutes. I just got you in here."

"Fainted?" Jack asked.

"When someone is in pain and the pain is too much for the mind, you lose consciousness to take away that pain," Will told him.

"Has it happened to you?" Jack asked.

"It did when I was hurt," Will said.

Feeling better about himself, Jack gave a very subtle nod of his head. He touched the rag across his face, but left it there. Will knew more about medicine than he did so he knew it was right to leave what Will had done.

"Hector, is Alexander okay?" he asked.

"His back hurts lad. These here hot stones will help him feel better," replied Barbossa.

"Will they help my head?" Jack wondered.

"No," Will said, removing the rag to soak it in the water again. "Your head is a different injury. My uncle's back hurts because his muscles are sore. Your head hurts because you have a concussion. Cold on head injuries helps."

"Oh," replied Jack. "Do we have any wind yet?"

"Not yet lad," replied Barbossa with a sigh.

"Can I get up?" Jack asked.

"I would prefer you to lay still and rest for a while. I know when my head hurts resting always helps," said Will.

"Okay," whispered Jack. He twiddled his thumbs for a moment then looked up at Will. "Do you think that when we get to London and your home you could teach me to play the piano?"

"I'll teach you as I'm re-teaching myself," Will said with a smile. "I've forgotten how to play piano; however I think I can pick it back up quickly."

"Ye play piano Master Turner," noted Barbossa, quite impressed. "Never pictured ye as the music lover."

"Mum taught me," replied Will. "And I never pictured you as the type of man who enjoys botany. Hector Barbossa and plants. It doesn't exactly work hand in hand."

"I'll have ye know Mr. Turner that it was I who planted most of those plants in yer grandfather's garden and put all of those plant books in that library of his. Aye we are mutinous, traitorous, bilge rat, of scabrous dog pirates, but we all have our sensitive side," said Barbossa.

"I only think I know of one person who qualifies under the title mutinous," Will told him with a raised eyebrow. "And I never imagined you to have the same interest in tea as my grandfather."

"Aye, all three of us have our tea interest. I have me English traditions that I keep to. I wasn't born far from yer grandfather ye know lad. Granted, me parents were servants to the nobles, but I was in the noble house nonetheless. That's how I knew yer grandfather. He and Ed ran to me and I got them on a ship and then we found Edward," said Barbossa.

"I know, I've been reading his journals," Will told him.

"How far have ye gotten lad?" Barbossa asked softly.

"I was just born and he could have his way with Alex in the woods," said Will.

"Oh," replied Barbossa, turning his attention from Will to the stones on Alexander.

"You know about what he does to Alex don't you?" assumed Will.

Barbossa nodded as he looked over Alexander's back. "I know. Edward and I know. We've known for years. It was our fault we got that habit imprinted on him anyways. We introduced him to alcohol—"

"That wasn't it at all," Will told him shaking his head.

He looked at Jack who had his eyes shut and was contently resting his aching head. Alexander appeared to be sleeping, but he did not want to take any chances. This was not an issue to be explaining about to his uncle.

"Come with me," he told him.

"They are asleep Will," said Barbossa.

"I don't need Jack asking questions to the world and I doubt Alexander Seastone is asleep. He's not just Seastone and he learned from my father," Will said as he stood and walked from the room.

There was only one place where no one would be able to interrupt their conversations or have any knowledge that it occurred. It was the one place only a certain few people were allowed to enter and he hadn't been in there for quite a while. When he entered the second cabin and saw Elizabeth laying on the cot his eyes shut and he leaned against the wall beside the doorframe. The image remained in his head as he all he saw was black. He felt the immediate moisture overcoming his eyes.

Nothing had changed. She was as still and lifeless as the day he brought her here. She was as good as dead. It had been over a month since she was last awake and lively. There was no reason to keep her alive anymore. He couldn't bear the thought of her remaining like that forever. It didn't matter what people said. They only told him there was hope for her recovery because he loved her and only one man knew they married.

"Don't worry Will. I'm not going to tell ye that she'll pull back to the living with the rest of us, but I am going to tell ye that she won't give up without a fight and that's what she's been doing lad. She's not dead and so she's still fighting. She married, you Will. That's got to count for something."

"I don't think I have ever heard you call me Will," noted Will, opening his eyes only to look at him.

Barbossa gave a shrug of his shoulders. He sat in the chair beside Elizabeth and gave a pat to the bed. "So what can ye not let anyone else know?"

Discreetly, Will brushed the tears from the bottom of his eyes. He sat himself on the cot beside Elizabeth but did not look at her once. He didn't want to look at her. She wouldn't wake so what matter was there to look at her. He tried once to tell himself that she was merely asleep, but he knew she wasn't just sleeping.

"William, what do ye need to tell me?"

Will slowly turned to Elizabeth's face, pretending he didn't hear Barbossa's comment. His eyes narrowed in a thought of wonder. She wasn't wearing that pink nightgown when he carried her in here. It was a silk, rose pink nightgown. There were no nightgowns like that in Shipwreck Cove. Her hair looked like it had been brushed and he didn't do that. She also looked cleaner that she was last time. Someone had cleaned her and brushed her hair and given her a nightgown. There were no nightgowns on this ship. Wait a moment.

Having an idea who took care of her, Will looked down at the blue robe keeping his body warm. His father went home and brought back the blue robe. The pink nightgown was like one his mother wore. Of course, it had to have been his father who cleaned her up and made her more comfortable. He was sure of it.

Now not able to turn from her, and hardly remembering Barbossa was sitting beside him, he leaned down and pressed his ear against her chest. Hearing and feeling the pulse, he allowed himself to slink beside her and lay on his side. She smelled of flowers. Yep, it was definitely his father who took care of her. Hearing her heart beating and feeling her breath sent warmth through his cold blood.

"We can talk another time."

"Hector wait," he softly called. "I really need to talk to you about something."

Barbossa gave a nod of his head and sat back in his chair. "What is it lad?"

"Grandfather didn't abuse Alex just because Alex was in his way when he drank and it wasn't your fault that he drinks as much as he does," Will began, yet continuing to lay his head on Elizabeth's chest. "Did you know about Henry?"

A heavy sigh and lowering eyes that eventually fell shut gave him his answer.

"When we split, the three of us, it wasn't until after the twins were born. I knew Henry Alexander Edmund Seastone. I knew him that autumn before he died," said Barbossa.

"It was losing Henry and gaining Alex that caused him to drink," explained Will. "He loves my uncle. After Henry died and he had to put up himself as a father, Grandfather wanted to kill the child if it was a son. When Alex was born, he wanted to kill him. And then discovering he had twins, caused him to go mad. He would have had two children and the untimely death of his first child still gave him two children. It took time for Alex to grow on him, but he did and you know he did. According to the journals, Alex took to his father right away and it was because of that love Grandfather learned to love Alex. Since the night they were born he drank at least a glass every night and he had been known to get himself drunk to forget. You know the first time was a mistake. He was afraid. But every other time he hurt Alex, it was for the same reason.

"Henry had blonde hair and brown eyes and so does Alex. The problem is that Alex acts so different from Henry. Henry was a natural leader I read. Even when he was four years old he tried attending Parliament with his father and always telling the officials what had to be done to make the English world better. Henry was meant to be the eldest and serve in Parliament.

"Alexander Seastone is a complete copy of his father in every manner. He isn't a leader. He's meant to help people but not indirectly. You know this. Grandfather gets drunk to make himself forget that he lost the son he should have had and he has to somehow make Alexander Seastone into Henry Seastone. When he's drunk, his mind goes into this odd thought. He thinks that if he kills Alex, Henry will somehow come back from the dead. Because he and Henry were out on that cold day when he knew he should not have had a four year old in that cold, he blames himself for killing him. After he killed Henry, Alex was born and by killing Alex, Henry will come back. Alex isn't the favorite. It's Henry. He will never love Alex the way he loved Henry. He wants to kill Alex and I get the feeling he's come close more times than I've been told."

Barbossa said nothing. He had his face burrowed into the palm of his hands. Either he knew this information or he was shocked to hear it. "Does Richard know what he's doing to Alex drunk or not?"

"Most of the time he does not remember hurting Alex, but the moment he sees Alex bruised and broken he knows it was him. He knows why because he wishes he would just kill Alex already," replied Will.

"What stopped him?" Barbossa asked as he lifted his head from his palms. "Clearly there was something stopping himself from murdering the lad. If he wanted to kill Alexander he would have done so already."

"Every time he sees Alex in pain by his doing, the guilt kills him. He wants Alex dead, but he loves him. He loves his son and he hates seeing him in pain," said Will. "If he isn't off the alcohol when we reach London, then I'm getting him help. I'm coming home and there will be change in London."

"Are you prepared to take over Parliament then?" wondered Barbossa.

"Alex isn't going to die," Will told him.

"Ye know Alex lad; he'll run again," said Barbossa.

"No, he won't run anymore because I'll be there. He won't just leave me to handle Parliament and the world by myself. Alex and I are like he and mum were. I feel I'm becoming Alex's twin. Every time we are together more and more of me feels connected to him. I know I am his half twin, but I don't think we should have this great of a connection. Reading the journals is making me connect more with him," said Will.

"So yer understanding his secrecy then?" assumed Barbossa.

Will nodded his head. "Every man has he secrets with good reason and I have my own that I've told no one." He looked to Elizabeth. "Including her."

"Ye should be warned of secrets Master Turner. Ye of all people know what they can do," said Barbossa.

"I know," agreed Will.

"And I sense there is also something else bothering ye. Something to do with yer uncle I think," noted Barbossa.

Will looked at him with narrow eyes. "How did you know there was something else on my mind?"

"I've been told I have an excellent sense of a man's thoughts. Been like that since I was a mere teen," said Barbossa.

"There is," admitted Will. He opened his mouth to speak and would have if not for Jack walking in.

"Alex wants to get up but I told him no and he said he was the one who knows his body and knows when he should get up and I told him you wouldn't want him to get up and he told me that you don't know anything about medicine and that he was going to get up and then I told him I was going to get you and he said fine go get him and I told him I would and then he said he would be getting up when you got in there and I told him fine but I was still going to get you anyway," Jack told him.

Barbossa chuckled at the mere moment of Captain Jack Sparrow in Jack. He and Will exchanged a glance before walking back into the main cabin where Alexander was still lying on his stomach. "Thought ye were getting up."

"Shut it," said Alexander. He looked at Will. "And you were right. I was awake."

"I told you not to trust a man when his eyes were closed," said Will to Barbossa.

"How is yer back?" asked Barbossa.

"Feels fine to me," said Alexander.

"Then why are you still lying down?" wondered Will.

"I don't want to move. I'm comfortable," admitted Alexander, rubbing his face into the pillow. "I forgot what lying on soft pillows felt like. It's been a while since I could lie in my own cot. I am one to avoid the doldrums so I'm always swinging back and forth."

"Jack, why don't you go on deck and talk with the crew. It's been a while since they've spent time with you. I know Ragetti misses talking to you," said Will.

"But my head hurts," Jack reminded, pointing to his forehead.

"You can sit in the shade of course or sit below deck. It's comfortable down there," Will said.

Jack contemplated if that was what he wanted to do. He spun in a circle as he muttered to himself then turned on his heels and walked out of the room continuing to talk to himself.

"I'll take that as a yes," noted Barbossa.

"Yeah, so will I," agreed Alexander as he pushed himself to a sitting position. He arched his back until there was a firm, loud pop. "Ah, that felt good."

"Do you trust me?" Will asked quickly.

Alexander looked at him with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips. "I've learned to never trust a man who asks that question and yes I know I trusted you before but now I don't."

"What if I said my father would have tried to tell you this but being your older brother you wouldn't take it. He said me being me and your nephew, you would listen to me and hopefully let me do it," said Will.

"I get the feeling I'm not going to like this," noted Alexander. He turned to Barbossa.

"I don't know what the lad is talking about," Barbossa answered before he could ask.

Meanwhile, Will was rummaging around the chest his father brought him a little while ago. He removed all items on the top layer and reached his arm below. Not successful at reaching what he was looking for, he grumbled and pulled everything from the chest, setting it all around him until his head and shoulders were burrowed in the chest.

Barbossa slowly turned his eyes to Alexander who exchanged a glance with him as well. They shrugged and turned to Will when he gave a small cry of success.

"Don't kill the messenger all right? This was not my idea," Will told his uncle with a flat box in his grasp.

He set the box on the cot and pushed it forward to his uncle.

Alexander looked at the box then up at him then back at the box. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like this. Usually his brother was the one to get him to do things, but if even his brother knew he wouldn't be successful, he knew he was not going to like this. With a sigh, he pulled the top of the box from the rectangular object and set it aside. An object that was wrapped with cloth was nestled between the sides of the box.

He looked at Will one more time before pulling the cloth aside. What appeared to be a black tunic was the hidden object.

"Will, it's a tunic. Why would my brother not be able to give this to me and why are you keeping this in such secrecy? Yes, I hate black, but there is no reason to keep this such a secret," Alexander told him.

"It's not a tunic," Will told him softly and his face sorrowful.

Shaking his head subtly, Alexander reached his fingers around the black object. Almost immediately, he noticed the cloth was thick and durable yet soft. He stretched the cloth to discover there was some flexible movement. His fingers soon discovered there were two sides and eyelets close together. Shaking his head more and his eyes widening, he literally ripped the object from the box.

A long black string was attached to one of the eyelets and wrapped neatly around itself. The object was one solid piece of thick black cloth that, when held to his chest, extended to his hip bones.

"If you notice, the whalebone is in the back and extends the entire length. There are three separate bones sewn into it and close together," Will softly said.

"I am not wearing a corset," Alexander told him through his teeth and his lips trembling.

"Father told me to tell you it was a brace," Will said.

"I refuse," Alexander said, throwing the contraption in the box.

"And you think I approve of this?" Will cried. "I have no knowledge of what happened to you and my father shows me this object and tells me only I will be able to give it to you. He said you needed this. It was a matter of life and death and pain and no pain. I don't know what happened. I haven't asked you what happened like you wanted. I've seen your back and I haven't asked. I've felt what your spine feels like and you told me it happens like you are used to it. I had to realign your spine. All I know is that this thing is going to help you for some reason. I don't want to lose you and I feel like I already am losing you."

"That's because you are losing me Will," Alexander said.

"Tell me what happened, please," Will pleaded. "I want to understand what happened. You can't move. Yesterday I learned something about you I never would have imagined. I'm going home Alex. If I'm going home then I think I at least deserve to know the truth."

"Only six people know what happened. Me, Father, Colleen, Ewan, Christian, and Gabriel. It stays that way," said Alexander.

Will turned to Barbossa. "You told me you knew what happened. What happened?"

"I would assume Father told you I fell down the stairs one night," said Alexander.

"Aye, that be it," replied Barbossa.

Alexander nodded as he looked at the black contraption in the box. The knowledge of what once happened filling his mind, his eyes had no time to secure the tears before they fell across his furious, heartbroken face. This was his greatest secret, the burden he had kept from the world. If he told one person, his family would be ruined further and telling one person would lead him to sharing more about himself than he wanted to let onto. Telling Will would change his nephew's life forever. There was something he was hiding from Will and it was for a very good reason.

"I'm dying," he told them softly.

"As are all humans," said Barbossa.

"No," Alexander told them. He lifted his head. "I'm dying. Will, you must understand that if you return home you are going to be the heir to the empire until my eight year old Thomas is ready. Your training will have to begin immediately. You must understand you are returning to the very thing you ran away from."

"Tell me the story," Will told him clearly, scooting closer to him.

"I did fall down the stairs," Alexander said. "I have hardly been home since then. This happened about eight years ago. I do not remember, but I've been told what happened."

"Alex, breathe," Barbossa said softly as he too sat beside Alexander's side seeing the pain on his face.

"I had enough of it. I was done," said Alexander softly. He shut his eyes. "For twenty two years my father was hurting me. I feared living at home. I was living in fear. I was thirty four at the time. Colleen was carrying Thomas inside her. It was autumn, before the celebration. Five years ago that winter, my sister and her child died and you and I ran away. Yes, Will, I tucked you in bed that night and ran. We ran the same night. Ever since then, my father's drunkenness increased and with the approaching winter it continued to worsen. I lived in fear every night of my life and I couldn't do it anymore. I was going to tell father that he needed help.

"As you could imagine, when I went down one night to tell him, he was drinking. I snapped I was told. I lost it. We began arguing. I told him I was leaving him. I was going to take Colleen and Felicity and leave. I would find my own place to live somewhere far away from there and never return. I told him Will was right when he left and never came back. He was right to leave and I couldn't blame him. I told him I intended to find my nephew and take him with me and find Bill and live together. I was leaving London that night. I had enough of his abusive ways and I put up with it for twenty two years too long.

"The argument continued up the marble stairs and the entire house was awake at this time. We were screaming at each other, me in my anger and fear and the sense of enough and father in his drunken state. I wish I could say he was more drunk than he was because he remembers everything. I have no memory. Gabriel told me what happened. He saw it happen. Father and I were at the top of the stairs screaming our lungs out at each other. I've been told we both were in tears and overcome with anger by then. I went too far with my comments. I now know I did.

"Both of you already know what happened to Edmund. He walked into the trap set for his brother and sacrificed himself for my father because he couldn't become Lord Seastone. Edmund and I have the same sense of freedom and heart. According to Gabe, I told my father that Edmund's sacrifice was in vain. He should have lived and let his brother walk into the trap. I told my father that it was his fault Edmund died because it was his idea to run away. I told him that Ed was the smart one and had the courage to sacrifice himself. My father was a coward and I apologized that I am more like Ed than him. I said Mum and Lottie were fortunate to be dead because they didn't have to live with him. I literally broke my father's heart on the top of the stairs. I told him that if he was any kind of decent man, he would kill himself. He told me that since I was like Edmund and wanted to die then I should have my own sacrifice as well.

"He pushed me. I fell backwards on the marble stairs and broke. Over a month later, I woke in my room without the knowledge of what happened. Colleen took Felicity and Dirk and were living in town with Christian. Gabriel and my father were the only two in the house. I woke with Gabe at my bedside. I don't know how to describe the look on his face. It was as though he was told I would never wake and then when I wiggled my toes, I think he became more of Church attending man.

"For a few months, I had a difficult recovery. Several ribs were broken. My arm was broken. If I would have fallen any different, I would have been killed. My back was not broken, but a lot was dislocated and it took months for me to walk again. The moment I was allowed out of bed and on crutches, I left. I did not say goodbye to my father, who only came to see me when he thought it was sleeping. I did not tell Christian I was leaving either. I simply left. I cut my hair and changed my clothes and found passage to Ireland where I went to Teague Castle. I knew something from higher powers was on my side, but when I arrived and it was Edward Teague himself who answered the door, I felt I would be all right.

"I spent the next few months getting on my feet again and Eddy looking after me and I was always welcomed by the Irish pirates. He sent word to Christian where I was and all of them met me up there. Colleen was furious that I had left her without any warning, yet she understood. Thomas was born in Ireland. I wanted to get away from everything and Colleen told me to go. Chris and I went to the Caribbean, Port Royal to be exact and there I found the most wonderful thing. I found my nephew working with swords. He was a beautiful fifteen year old who I didn't want to take home. He said nothing of being a Seastone and I allowed it because of what just happened to me.

"It was also after I left Port Royal that my name being known by Davy Jones was announced. The captain of the Flying Dutchman senses when a person is dying. Both of you know this. It was also then when I discovered my brother was part of the ship and crew. I told him where his son was, but he didn't want me to tell him where his father was. At the time, we thought because he was on the crew there was no going back. Neither of us remembered the curse. Will, when I said I knew Davy Jones better than anyone it is because I do. Every time I was out sailing he showed up. He told me that I would be dead before age forty five. When I asked, all he said was marble stairs.

"I didn't believe him at first, but the more I was out sailing the more I began to realize I was changing. I was losing my energy and my back was hurting more and more. There were days Chris did not leave my side because all I could do was lay on my cot in agony screaming because it hurt. When I returned to London, I did the dumbest thing I could think of. I invented my own pain reliving medicine. The base of this medicine is the Hemlock plant. I use only a miniscule fraction of the poisoned part of the plant. Over the years, I've abused the plant and I've added more and more poison so I will be unconscious for a longer amount of time. The pain kills me. I literally cannot move and I would rather be unconscious than feel it. I use more and more because I'm building immunity to the plant and I need more of it to have the same effect. I am literally poisoning myself. My brother knew. Bill removed all the medicine I had on this ship and I know he removed the bottles on the Horse as well.

"I haven't been home in three years. Since that day I left about seven years ago, I've been home for perhaps two months. My children don't know me. I am a dream to Felicity. She knows I'm her father but I'm never there. If I ever saw Thomas, he would not know who I am. Sometimes Father gives me reasons to sail, but most of the time I leave to get away. I find that if I am not home, my family does not have to listen to the arguing and wait for something to happen to me. I'm forty three years old.

"I am dying. Between the abuse I've been through and the pain and the illnesses and what I've done to myself and poisoning myself, I'm dying. There is the story Will. There is no reversing the poison in my blood. I am going to die soon and when I die you are going to inherit everything until Thomas is ready. If you don't want to stay then you don't have to. After I get you healed up and healthy and take care of Jack's head, if you want to leave I will personally give you all the money and find you a place to live where father cannot get to you. I'm not going to let him ruin your life like he ruined mine. I don't want to see you become Lord Seastone. You are Will Turner, not Lord Seastone. It isn't you. I want you to live and not die. I know what it is to die and I don't want you sharing my pain. You don't have the heart of a lord. I'm not going to make you do it. All right?"

Will sat silently to himself and with his head down. His fingers were tightly in his lap. There was a shimmer across his fingers like water had run down them. He raised his head as he nodded. Moist, red rings surrounded his eyes as he looked at his uncle. He bunched his sleeve in the palm of his hand and wiped his nose and face then ran his fingers across his robe.

"Forget me Alex. I'll deal with my noble life one day at a time. I know the truth now and there is no going back. I will take matters into my own hands when I get there. I'll take care of it," Will told him. He leaned his forehead against his uncle's cheek for a moment then burrowed his face in his uncle's neck and. "All your life you have looked after everyone else around you. You never took care of yourself. You told me you are dying so now you should take care of yourself for once. Live the rest of your life. Don't worry about me. I'm smart. I'll manage and I'll do whatever I want to do."

"Are you going to stay or leave?" asked Alexander.

Will smiled. He raised his head and looked at his uncle. "I'm a Turner. Of course I'll stay. Things might get done around Parliament when they see a Turner is there."

"I think they have every reason to fear you," noted Alexander.

"You have no idea," Will told him.

"But I do," Barbossa said.

They two had forgotten he was still sitting in the room. Well, he was now standing by the window looking out. Will noticed he stood not moving with his arms tightly folded and he could see his lips pursed and eyebrow raised from there. He knew that look; he had seen it many times before and knew that Hector Barbossa was not in a pleasant mood toward another soul and when a person lied to him, there was revenge about to be sought.

"You know, your father didn't have this idea," Alexander said, looking at the black contraption again. "Ewan had the idea. Any surgeon knows to set a broken bone and supply minimal movement for minimal pain. Clearly however, Bill must have gone to Ewan while he was running off on his London travels and he must have measured me while I was asleep."

"It's not a bad idea. It'll help with the pain since you won't be able to bend your spine or strain it," said Will.

"Do you want to wear a corset?" Alexander asked him.

"I have," said Will. Even Barbossa turned his head to look at Will with a look of shock. "Elizabeth and I were going at it one day while planning for the wedding. I told her that she was being a baby because she had to wear a corset to the party that night. She told me I wouldn't last the night if I had to wear a corset. I told her I could. So we had a bet going. If I could go the entire night wearing a corset and still compose myself then she would never complain again and make herself as small as she could for the wedding. If I gave up and changed before the night was out then she would chose how comfortable she wanted to be. No one but the two of us knew about this. Before her maids went to get her ready, she got me ready. 'Ow' is the only word I find suitable. You can feel your ribs crushing your lungs and your organs shifting into every space available and every pull of the strings your lungs get smaller and smaller. She enjoyed pulling on the strings and hearing my try to breathe. She was laughing when she got done. I think she pulled as tight as possible, because I could barely breathe and she did loosen it a bit after ten minutes.

"There is no expression for the agony I was in that night. And, for the record, it was one of her corsets to minimize everything so that's why it fit. With my clothes and my coat, no one even knew I was wearing a corset that night. I guarantee everyone did notice how uncomfortable I was and how often had a ridiculous expression across my face. There was a moment when I felt like I was going to pass out so I rushed out to get fresh, cool Caribbean night air. That's when Elizabeth admitted to me she was impressed. It had been five hours into the party and it was near dinner and there would be another few hours left. She honestly didn't think I would make it that long. Everyone noticed how little I ate a dinner though and how much I drank.

"The celebration continued on and then it was finally over. That moment, when the doors shut and the last guest left, I collapsed in a chair and leaned back like I was going to die. Weatherby thought I was going to die. Oh, my mistake, he knew. I removed every layer of clothing covering my torso right there and demanded Elizabeth remove it. Weatherby made the comment I won and I did win. He helped me breathe again. There is no greater satisfaction than breathing. After that night, she never did complain about corsets again, because she did pull tighter than she normally did to herself. I had bruises on my torso where the damn whalebone broke my ribs. Yes, the damn corset broke one of my ribs and that is why I nearly passed out. Needless to say, she was impressed beyond all reason and vowed I would never tell her to quit complaining or make comment that she was thin enough ever again."

"Your father and Gabriel look good in corsets and ball gowns too," said Alexander.

"Romeo and Juliet," Will said with a huge smile. "I know Gabe looks good in a corset and ball gown. I still cannot believe you kissed him."

"All of ye have issues," noted Barbossa. "And, Alex, we'll only pull as tight as feel necessary to yet remain comfortable."

"It is a good idea," Alexander admitted. "And it is black so no one will notice and when I cover it with my usual piece of violet no one will know the difference. Oh, fine, let's get this over with."

"Master Turner, I'll give ye the honors," said Barbossa. "I'll hold and ye can pull."

Will smiled as Alexander sighed heavily.

While Barbossa held Alexander so he was sitting completely straight and keeping him there, Will pulled the strings through each of the eyelets in the front.

"I'm beginning to understand the tantrums my sister went through while preparing for celebrations," Alexander noted as he watched Will.

"Yes well, I'm not going to pull as hard as I can to make you as thin as I can," said Will. "And I must admit, I don't remember seeing you with muscle."

"Not being home and always on the sea does that to a man. You of all people should know that William. You have also been out and about sailing these past few years," said Alexander.

"Except, in all accordance to my injuries, I look as pathetic as you once did," Will told him.

Alexander looked at him. He did notice Will lost some weight from a month ago. He noticed that before, yet, looking at him now, he did see the clothes Will was wearing were more baggy and the robe was pulled tighter around his waist. The beautiful, healthy, glowing bronze skin he once bore was more pale and lost of the glow. He had to admit his nephew did look weaker and less healthy.

Suddenly taken from his thoughts by pressure on his spine, he gasped.

"Sorry, pulled too tight didn't I?" wondered Will.

"I just wasn't expecting it," said Alexander. "Go on keep pulling."

Will glanced at Barbossa who gave him a nod of his head before pulling. He pulled and after a few tugs and loosening of the strings, tied a small knot at the top. Before his uncle suggested taking a look at himself, he reached for the long violet cloth and began wrapping lightly.

"There, no one will know the difference but us. You should feel a difference though," he said.

"I feel I can slouch over or move very well or feel comfortable," Alexander told him. He swung his legs from the cot and stood. "I definitely cannot move as well as I would like to hope, but the pressure feels good. It isn't horrible pressure. It's a comforting pressure. I do feel the whalebone. There is a piece directly on my spine and one more on either side. Clearly I'm not meant to bend over."

"That's the idea lad. Yer not supposed to bend yer spine," Barbossa told him.

Alexander gave the two of them a sad look. "This is what my life has come to. I have to wear a corset to keep myself from ultimate pain and I have to watch my nephew become who I was born to be."

"It may not be as bad as you think. I've been told I can lead well," Will said.

"I know, but leading and being a lord of England are two different things," said Alexander.

Will threw him a tunic. "Perhaps to you."

"You can try to tell yourself otherwise but the fact remains that you will have no life once you announce yourself as Lord Seastone," said Alexander.

"Who said I am going to use Seastone? I'm not a Seastone. I'm a Turner. It's Lord Turner," Will said.

"You must understand that you are coming back from the dead. Everyone believes you are dead Will," said Alexander.

"People come back Alex. Trust me. I can name three people who came back from the dead," said Will.

"I know Jack and Hector did," said Alexander. "But who is the third?"

"You," replied Will. "You are like the Uncle Alex I remember from my childhood. You weren't like that before when you came back to us."

"Being around those from your past does that William," said Alexander.

Will nodded as he made to walk out the door but ran into Jack instead.

Jack was holding the charts from Sao Feng in his arms and was looking between them and Will confused. He pointed at the charts then at Will. "You know how to read these? Tell me how to read these. I know I've seen it before, but no one knows how to read them and I asked everyone and everyone said you knew how to read them," he said.

"Aye, I can show you," said Will, he took Jack's hand and led him to the helm and spread the charts across the table. "You know these aren't normal charts correct?"

"Uh huh. I know how to read normal charts," Jack told him.

Will spun the circles. "This is how you find where you want in the world. You need to know what the land location looks like or what the land location around the sea looks like. When you do find it, there will be writing somewhere around the circles that will tell you what you are looking for."

"Show me!" Jack cried.

Shrugging, Will looked at him. Nothing came to mind, but one thing and he would soon regret what that one thing was. He spun the circles and lined them up. "There, what does this read?"

"Over the edge. Over again. Sunrise sets. Flash of green," replied Jack. He looked at Will. "Where is that?"

"Davy Jones' Locker. The place where we had to rescue you from," Will said.

"Everyone mentioned something about that. Is it true that I was a prisoner there for a year?" wondered Jack.

Will nodded his head. "You were."

Understanding, Jack nodded. He leaned over the charts and began playing with them.

Seeing him content, Will walked away with a smile on his face. He turned back to look at Jack. Jack looked like the old Jack. In fact, Jack looked exactly like he did when he was in the Locker looking over the charts. Will leaned on the rail and looked into the lifeless sea. There was small current, but not enough to make a difference in movement and, as far as they knew, could have been much farther from England than planned. The warm colors of the setting sun cast golden glows across everything.

"Remind ye of the Locker doesn't it?" Barbossa's voice asked.

"Too much, considering I showed Jack how the charts work and I have them pointed to the direction of the Locker," noted Will.

"I meself have found many hours wasted over that odd contraption. I think I've found every location known and I may be planning a use with it," said Barbossa. Will turned his head and looked at him suspiciously. Barbossa raised his palms and took a step back. "I'm not going back to the Locker or sending anyone there. Don't fret over that young William. No. Ever heard of Ponce de Leon?"

"Juan Ponce de Leon ,1513. Upon his discovery of Florida, it is said he also discovered the Fountain of Youth. Aqua de Vida he called it. Water of Life for us English speaking peoples. It is said the fountain is in the Bermuda Triangle and that is why no one but he has found it. Legend hast it, the heart of the Bermuda Triangle is the Fountain of Youth and all those that pass through the Triangle disappear because they are immortal and no longer need to have a name. Another legend states that zombies and mermaids guard the Fountain and the both are victims of the water of life. The women become immortal mermaids and can gain their freedom if they kill enough men and the men become zombies and also can gain their freedom if one soul can replace theirs," said Will. "What? I grew up with Alexander Seastone. I know every pirate legend out there."

"Ye sure didn't know much about Davy Jones before I met ye," noted Barbossa.

"Yes well, neither did any of us really. I knew the basics of him," said Will. He looked at Barbossa again and spoke softly. "Living forever doesn't sound as good as it should."

"In your opinion Master Turner," replied Barbossa.

"Why do you want to live forever?" wondered Will.

"Have ye ever died?" asked Barbossa, turning to look at him.

"Touché," said Will, looking back out to the sea and the sun that was touching the horizon.

From behind them, there was a cry and then Jack ran to the rail where Will and Barbossa were standing. "What's that?"

"What's what?" wondered Will.

Jack looked out then turned his head to the other side of the rail and ran over there. "It moved. Over here."

Pintel and Ragetti and Gibbs ran to the rail.

"I don't see anything," Gibbs told him.

Jack cried out ridiculously then ran back to the side where Will and Barbossa were. More of the crew followed him as well. And then he ran back. And then back again.

Will grabbed Barbossa's arm as he suddenly off balanced. He and the pirate shared a glance then ran for the helm where the charts were.

There on the charts were the words that read Up is Down. No wind was in the black sails. No current was pushing them along the sea. And on the horizon the sun was setting.

"Oh no," whispered Will as he shut his eyes.

"Wait a minute. This is just like what we did when we was in the Locker," noted Ragetti, suddenly stopping running back and forth.

"But we aren't in the Locker," noted Pintel.

Joshamee Gibbs who had heard their small conversation stopped running. Others who experienced the Locker stopped running as well until only Jack was the one running back and forth.

"Please, we have to rock the ship. Up is down!" Jack cried to them, his arms flailing about as he continued running.

"According to Jack's mind he's back in the Locker," said Gibbs. "No wind and a setting sun."

"Jack!" Will, called pushing forward past the men.

Jack ran to Will and grabbed his arm. "Tell them we have to run. Tell them we'll never get out of here if we don't flip the ship. The sun's almost gone from the horizon."

"We're not in the Locker. Jack, it's okay. You're not in the Locker," Will told him.

"That's exactly what you want me to believe William. You want me to stay in the Locker for kissing her. You want me to stay here," Jack told him, pushing him back and he ran back and forth again.

Everyone watched him. They didn't know what to do. No one had the slightest idea of what to do. They knew they were in no danger and the Locker far behind them. How did one go about telling Jack Sparrow he was not in the Locker anymore when he believed they were? Jack's mind saw he was still in the Locker and there was no changing that. Usually Will was always able to reason with Jack and set his mind straight, but not even Will was successful. The condition, they even had to admit, were correct for the Locker.

Jack leaned over the rail facing the west of a compass. He screamed in agony as the sun disappeared and collapsed on deck, grabbing his arms. He rocked back and forth, quivering. Crying aloud, he was speaking to someone that was not there, but were there in fact. His two companions who were always present in his hallucinations were beside him mocking him for not being strong enough and losing his position as leader of the men. Terrified and angered, he got back to his feet and swatted the air until he lost balance and once again fell to the wooden boards. He saw the pairs of boots that stood motionless.

"Why didn't you run? Now we're trapped here because of you. I'm trapped here, and I'm never going to get out," he told him through his teeth. His eyes turned to Barbossa. "And you, you want me here. You tried to kill me and I guess you won. I hate you. I hate all of you!" Will stepped forward. "I hate you too."

"Jack," Will said softly.

"Get away from me!" Jack screamed as Will reached out to set his hand on his shoulder. He backed against the mast, the very same mast Elizabeth chained him to. "She kissed me to chain me here. She murdered me and we're stuck here because of her. I hope you're happy."

"We are not in the Locker," Will told him.

"Prove it!" Jack screamed.

Will pulled the compass from his robe pocket. "This points to what you want most in this world. If we were in the Locker, it wouldn't point. It would spin uncontrollably."

Jack took the compass from Will's hands and opened. Huge, warm drops fell from his eyes. "It's spinning."

"What!" Will cried, stepping forward.

The needle was indeed uncontrollably spinning in one direction in Jack's quivering palms. Of course that made no sense at first. Jack always knew what he wanted. Will knew that. Then again, perhaps what he wanted most wasn't in this world.

"Jack, what do you want?" he asked.

"I want Athair," Jack told him.

"Who?" wondered Will.

"Athair. Father," replied Jack. "All I want is my father. He's all I ever want. Every day I spend here the more I want him."

"You want your father," noted Will. "Of course it doesn't point," he muttered to himself. "Give me the compass. See Jack. The needle is pointing. If it was in the Locker it wouldn't be pointing."

"It's pointing at me," said Jack. He tapped the needle. Although the needle bobbed it remained fixed on him. "Why is it pointing at me?"

"I don't know," replied Will. "But it's pointing. You're not in the Locker. We got you out long ago."

Jack looked at the faces behind Will who were looking back at him dumbfounded and in disbelief. His eyes passed across each one of their expressions. Suddenly realizing he wasn't in the Locker, he slumped down the mast until he firmly was seated on the wooden boards. He hugged his knees tightly to his chest and buried his face in his knees.

Quickly shutting the compass and ignoring that it was pointing directly at Jack, Will knelt. He set his hands on Jack's shoulders.

Sobbing, Jack threw his arms around Will's back and burrowed his face in Will's neck.

Feeling the sudden moisture and Jack's trembling body, Will pulled him close against him. He rubbed his back.

"Why is this happening? What's wrong with me?"

"You have amnesia Jack. Your mind doesn't know what to think," Will told him.

"Fix it," Jack said. He pushed Will away to pull on a cord around his neck. "You promised me you would fix it."

As Will looked on the necklace with the few glass beads, the piece of eight, the random shell, and the square knot on the side, he did recall that he promised Jack he would get his memory back. That promise was over a month ago and the weeks since then Jack's mind was more and more lost. Will didn't know if he was going to get Jack's head back or not. He thought it would be much easier than what it was. He knew Jack was remembering so there was hope left, but the things that Jack was remembering were the most horrible and tragic.

Never once did Will go back on a promise. He completed every promise he ever made, but this was so very different. He didn't know what to do with Jack. No one did, but he couldn't give up on him. He couldn't leave Jack like this forever.

"I have an idea," Alexander's voice said. He knelt beside Jack. "Do you want to come on my ship? There are no memories of you on my ship and you only know one person. It will be a place where no one will know you and you can make new memories. You will not be reminded of anything. It may clear your head."

"I'll only go if Will does," Jack said.

"Of course I'll go with you," Will told him.

Jack wrapped his arms around Will again. He nodded and swallowed hard. The Black Pearl was too much for him and he knew it. Everywhere he turned someone or something reminded him of something of the past and his head was killing him. The pain and the pain from trying to remember were more than he could handle. He needed a new place where no one would know him. He wanted to start over. He felt starting over would bring his memories back.

"All of ye go now. I'll have yer things brought over tomorrow morning," Barbossa said.

"I agree. The sooner we get you off this ship the better," said Will.

Jack nodded. He stood and wiped his eyes. He took a look around and noticed the crew were minimal and those that were present were attending to normal duties except for a few preparing a boat.

"I'll be right back," Will told Jack. He turned on his heels and quickly followed Barbossa into the Cabin.

"I'm not going to take the ship Will. I'm not mutinying. I did not have one thought in me head to mutiny Jack. Jack is in no condition to be mutinied," said Barbossa. He heavily sighed and turned away from Will to walk to one of the windows.

Will stood alone and watching him. His eyes narrowed in wonder as he observed Barbossa's back trembling and a pair of knuckles press against his forehead. Quite sobs and gasps mixed with the trembling. Will slowly stepped forward.

Barbossa must have noticed he was approaching because he breathed deeply and quickly wipe his face with the back of his hand and then wiped his hand on his coat. He looked at Will then turned away.

"Ye will not be telling anyone about this," he told him in his usual gruff tone.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of. You're human. Even the Devil himself was brought to tears," Will said softly.

"I have a reputation to maintain young Turner," Barbossa said, proudly fixing his coat in the reflection of the window.

"First and foremost you are a human. To be human is to have emotion," said Will.

Barbossa sighed and slumped. He pressed his palms against his forehead then sat himself on the table. "I'm losing me sanity. I cannot do this. I cannot endure the sight of this man who thinks he is Jack Sparrow. That is not Jack. I don't know who that man is."

"That's why Jack is losing it. No one, not even himself knows who that man is and no one is helping him remember," Will said.

"But you," agreed Barbossa. "Alex is right to get Jack of this ship. Jack—"

"I know what's wrong with Jack," Will suddenly said. "There is a coin in Jack's head that is pushing in against his brain and the pressure is killing him. He's acting like this because he is in a constant state of pain. I'm hoping when we get to London and Alex can replace the coin then he can have a chance to remember."

"There be a coin in Jack's head?" Barbossa asked, needing confirmation of that ridiculous comment.

"He cracked his skull a few years back and Edward Teague had no other option but to remove part of his skull and replace it with a coin. When he hit his head, the impact bent the coin. The coin is either bent, or separating from his skull. He told me he has a headache that never goes away even after he has taken medicine Alex told him would take away the pain. I felt his head myself and there is a bend. Jack's losing more than we thought because there is more wrong with him than we thought," Will told him.

Barbossa was staring at him like he was a fool acting like a complete idiot or he had no idea who Will was. "Are ye sure?"

"I've read both Jack's and Edward's journals," Will said with a sigh. "We need to get that coin replaced now."

"Do ye think he can handle another two weeks?" wondered Barbossa.

"If not I know someone who can get us everything we need and Alex can do it at sea," Will said.

"Only if the lad cannot handle it will ye do this at sea," Barbossa said, firmly stating his wishes.

"Alex would agree. I want Jack's head taken care of the day after I get home. I don't care about anything else but Jack right now. The compass did point at Jack. There was no hesitation. All I care about is Jack," said Will.

"The compass points to what ye want most lad, not what ye care about most," said Barbossa with a raised eyebrow.

Will shook his head. He pointed at himself. "I do not want Jack Sparrow. I am not like that. I don't want Jack. Is that what you are suggesting?"

"What are ye suggesting?" asked Barbossa.

"I don't know what are you suggesting?" Will asked again.

"Yer the one who thought of it," said Barbossa.

"I am not like that," Will snapped softly as he walked to him. "I don't want Jack like that."

"Aye, but now that ye have read the journals ye should know what happens to the lad when he is craving love and attention," said Barbossa.

Will shook his head. "I am not—I don't—no!"

"William, I see how you look at Jack. I can see in yer eyes lad. The compass points true. Ye know that," said Barbossa.

"I don't want Jack," Will said, his tone speaking as though he was trying to convince himself.

"Ye want love lad. Ye want to be loved again. Yer closest to Jack more than anyone else. Ye know it to be true," Barbossa told him. "Don't deny it lad. Ye are craving the feeling of love and ye are closest to Jack. She's not in yer life anymore is she?"

"She not," Will admitted, his head lowering. "Just as you cannot watch Jack I cannot sit and wait for her to wake. If she's not woken before London, I don't want her living anymore. I don't want her alive if she isn't alive."

"Ye need to get away from this ship as well lad," noted Barbossa.

"I came to say goodbye to her, but I don't want to see her anymore. I can't," Will said.

Barbossa sighed. He stood and set his palms on Will's shoulders. "Do what yer heart tells you William. I told that to yer father once."

"What did he do?" wondered Will.

"Went back home only to discover the Seastone twins were staying in Scotland," replied Barbossa.

Will smiled and ironically, the eldest of the Seastone twins walked past the door quietly.

"Jack's already in the boat and he told me to tell you to hurry up because he wants to get away from all this," said Alexander.

"I'm coming," said Will.

"And you," began Alexander, stepping forward with a firm finger and narrow eyes. "Don't even think about taking this ship or it will be the Locker for you."

"Not intending to do anything of the sort," Barbossa said.

"You better not," Alexander said.

"He's not," Will told him then quickly left.

"Alex," Barbossa called. "Keep a firm eye on the two of them."

"Agreed," said Alexander.

With the remnants of the sunset and the full moon above, there was plenty of light as they rowed from the Black Pearl. Jack was sitting with his back against the ship and wrapped in a blanket. He kept himself close to his body like a child in fright. His head was down, away from the world. There was evidence of fright in his low eyes and thought as well. He his eyes met with Will who was sitting beside him.

Will raised his head and his eyes met Jack's as well. He turned away immediately and watched Pintel and Ragetti row.

There was an odd silence between the six of them. Alexander was at the bow of the boat. Pintel and Ragetti were rowing quietly and Will and Jack were sitting beside each other at the stern.

Jack slowly scooted closer to Will and the slight movement was felt with a small bob. He curled under Will's arm and Will's arm wrapped around his shoulders unconsciously. His head rested against Will's shoulder.

Instinctively, Will rested his jaw on Jack's head and pulled him closer to his body. He felt Jack's tension erase with his sigh of comfort. "You'll be okay," he whispered.

"I know," replied Jack. "Will, I love you."

Inside, Will's heart stopped beating as did his breathing. There something was flying around in his stomach. This was wrong. This was so very, very wrong. Jack didn't say that out of friendship. Perhaps Jack did say that out of friendship because he was the only one who Jack trusted. They were best friends after all. He didn't love him the way lovers did. He felt completely different for Elizabeth. Sure, he loved Jack but he loved Elizabeth. There was more than one definition of love in the world.

Curious, Will moved slowly to pull the compass from his pocket. The needle immediately flung to Jack Sparrow who was lying against him and under his arm. There was nothing wrong with wanting him. Right?

---

A Note from TurtleHeart: okay, so yes it's been a while since an update, but i had to get myself out of a rut with this story and clearly i did. as a fair warning, the next chapter is going to get a little weird but it will all be explained and is necessary to understand the story and the dark pasts of our three favorite people being Jack, Will, and Alexander.