And... The final chapter.

In this story, at least. ^.~

Thanks to everyone who's read this far. I hope you enjoyed it. I know I did.

Will smiled, watching the sleeping faces of his god-children in the flickering candle light. He'd never had Jack's flair for story-telling, and even after all these years, he still hadn't gotten much better. He was the only person he knew who could make a battle at sea into a bed-time story.

He eased up out of his chair, careful not to wake them. Joshamee especially was quite a light sleeper, and Martin was rather prone to nightmares. He didn't blame the poor boy. He'd met his name-sake once, and ever since he'd been almost desperate to gain inches.

He glanced into the girl's room next door, trading nods with their mother as she continued on with her own tall tale. Little Maria was already fast asleep, but Anna gave him a sleepy wave.

He found James and Jack in the study, respectively sipping or chugging their various alcoholic beverages in silence. It had been quite awkward for a long, long time, until Elizabeth had made it perfectly clear that either James could at least be civil and stop trying to arrest him every time they got together or find himself another wife, father of her as-of-yet unborn child or not. The two had eventually become quite accepting of one another, if not outright friends. The pardon helped, of course, as did James's rather… Unexpected dismissal from His Majesty's Royal Navy. It turned out the two had more in common than either would have ever admitted.

He took his seat next to his lover, gladly taking the drink Jack had ready for him from the Captain's weathered hands. James politely looked away while he gave the older man his thank-you kiss. Will absently wondered when it would stop bothering him. Probably never, knowing Norrington.

Elizabeth joined them soon after, and Will found himself doing the exact same thing. Maybe it was awkward, no matter what gender you were.

Jack, of course, just laughed at them both.

"You know, I saw Cotton the other day." Elizabeth remarked, taking a sip of her spiced rum with a smile.

"Really, now! And how's the old coot doing, then?" Jack laughed, leaning forward. Will took the opportunity to run his fingers through his long black hair, absently working out the tangles that were already starting to form. He swore, the man had to be deathly allergic to brushes, the way he avoided them.

"Just fine, although they're calling him Bailey these days. You were right, you know. There are a surprising number of people who will pay good coin to watch a parrot talk for a mute in a dress."

"That never was fully explained, was it?" Will swirled the remains of his rum around the bottom of the glass, watching the candle light bounce of the crystal. "Why he was in a dress, I mean."

"Pfft. Just because it wasn't explained to you, doesn't mean it wasn't explained." Jack scoffed, grabbing the bottle from the table and filling both of their glasses. That his was already almost full was totally irrelevant.

"You know what? I don't want to know." Will laughed, sipping the top off his drink before it spilled. "Whatever makes him happy, I suppose."

"To whatever makes Cotton happy!" Jack raised his glass in a toast, looking at the younger man by his side with an all too familiar smirk. "And to what makes us happy, too."

The glasses chimed like bells.

"Of course, there is the matter of what he was doing in Elizabeth's quarters when he should have been up fighting for my life, but that's besides the point, isn't it?"

"JACK!!"

She stood outside the window, looking in at the light and warmth and happiness the little family had managed to create. She had always hoped for exactly this for her precious little one, although she would have liked to have had the grandchildren be hers.

Still, his happiness had been hard bought, and she wouldn't change it for the world.

"Do ye tink dey'll ever figure it out, love?" She shifted her eyes, looking at the man's reflection in the glass. In the glass, he was still a man, still the man she had loved, so long ago.

"Bah. They're jus' mortals." Davy Jones scoffed and shook his head, slowly so as to not tangle his tentacles. "They wouldna know the world o' Gods if it were starin' 'em in the face."

"Hm. Who are ye callin a God, ye great useless lump of calamari? Surely not yerself!" She shot him a stern look over her dark shoulder, pleased to see him shrink back into the night. "Ye were da one who made de mess in da firs' place!"

"How was I supposed ta know he was yer kin!?" He raised his arms before him, more defensive than anything. "There inn't exactly a fam'ly resemblance, ye know!"

"You of all people should have recognized 'im, Davy Jones!" She waved a finger at him, other hand cocked against the swell of her hip. "It be a shameful ting, when a man don't even see 'imself in 'is own child."

The dread captain paused for a long moment, quite a bit more taken back than she thought he had any right to be. It should have been obvious, even to a dolt like him. But then again, he'd always been a little slow. It was what she like about him, she supposed.

"Wait… Ya mean to say that… That insufferable little man… is mah son?"

"Yes! Who's son did you tink 'e was?!"

"I, well, you… Really?"

She sighed and shook her head. One day, they'd have a proper family reunion. One day, she'd actually talk to the man her son had chosen to spend the rest of his long, long life with. One day soon, she promised.

For now, however…

She was going to have a long, long talk with her husband about how babies worked.

Inside the manor house, in the warm light of the fire, Will's fingers found the beads still twisted into his lover's hair and smiled.

The End.