• 1-Chapter One
• 2-Chapter Two
• 3-Chapter Three
• 4-Chapter Four
• 5-Chapter Five
• 6-Chapter Six
• 7-Chapter Seven
• 8-Chapter Eight
• 9-Chapter Nine
• 10-Chapter Ten

A/N: This is not completely proof-read, but I figured you'd want the final chapter as soon as it was done. I will go back and edit any errors I find later, but in the meantime, enjoy! Just a reminder, I'm flying to New York tomorrow, and I will start the sequel during the flight. I hope to be able to post while I'm on vacation, and if I can I should have the first chapter of the sequel up no LATER than Monday, but perhaps on Sunday, depending on the timing. Worst case scenario, I can't post, and I'll then post two or three chapters at once when I get home on Thursday. This means a few days of waiting after the tragedy *sob* but that's the way it goes.

I really quickly want to thank each and every person who read, rated and/or reviewed this story. I've had so much fun talking with a couple of you, and your words of encouragement and your excitement has meant more to me than I can ever say. I won't mention anyone by name because I don't want to leave anyone out, and every single comment made a huge difference in my writing. One person posted on every chapter on two different sites, and her enthusiasm made me want to write faster, especially for her. Another poster (or two) engaged me in lengthy discussions about the psychology of the characters, which made me dance with nerd-like glee (this resembles the Snoopy dance, in case you were wondering). Other's made comments that were so spot on exactly what I was intending to portray, that I laughed and cried and danced and sent many silent blessings their way - I hope they reach you!

Finally, I want to tell anyone who is interested that at the very end of this fic, I will post another author's note giving a brief summary of the real story of the Flying Dutchman. It's the version I know, and of course there are several variations, but if you want to know where PotC got their inspiration from, I'll give a quick retelling. Again, thanks for all your support. I can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter. It's the longest of them all and I'm particularly proud of it. Please feel free to send my your anger, sorrow, love, pleasure... anything you feel like sharing. See you at the sequel! Love - Kimberlee

Jack was drunk. Very drunk. Jack was usually drunk most of the time, but he could only remember ever being this drunk once or twice before, and neither experience was worth the time he’d taken trying to recall them in the first place. And if being very drunk wasn’t bad enough, Jack has also recently come to the realization that his crew was doing everything possible to avoid him, which meant that he was also in a very bad mood. Not even Gibbs had dared to ask him for anything more than their heading, and whatever Jack had grumbled in reply seemed to have been more than enough.

So Captain Jack Sparrow stood on the deck of the Black Pearl, scowling at a flock of birds that soared alongside the ship as if mocking him by announcing their lingering proximity to land – a suspicion made worse by the fact that they were laughing, “ha-haha-ha-haah.” It was only an hour since dawn – one hour since he’d rousted the entire crew from their hammocks to prepare to sail away from Port Royal – but Jack still felt that they should be at least beyond the reach of those damnable disease-ridden fowl.

“Mr. Gibbs!” Jack bellowed. Then louder, “Mr. Gibbs!”

Gibbs appeared at his side in record time, huffing slightly. “Yes, Captain?”

Jacked wheeled on him. “Explain to me why those pestilent feathered beasts are still marking our broadside?”

Gibbs glanced at the gulls. “We’re making fair time, Captain,” he reported. “They just matching us, ‘tis all.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, Mr. Gibbs,” he asked slowly. “What ship am I on?”

Gibbs stared at Jack in astonishment. “Why, the Black Pearl, of course.”

Jack took a step closer. “And isn’t said ship supposed to be the fastest in the Caribbean, nay, the world? Nigh uncatchable?”

Finally, he saw where this was going. “Aye, Captain,” Gibbs said carefully.

There was a brief moment of silence. “They why, Mr. Gibbs, is there a bloody flock of Larus atricilla, keeping pace with my ship?” His voice had started dangerously low, but by the end of the question, Jack was screaming. Pulling one pistol from its place at his waist, Jack lifted the gun into the air and fired towards the birds without once looking. Within seconds, one of the birds landed on the deck, dead.

The entire crew had fallen silent at the sound of Jack’s rage, and for a minute everyone simply stared at the fallen gull.

“Full canvas!” Gibbs shouted finally, and the call was echoed up and down the decks as pirates scrambled up into the rigging to lower the rest of the ships large black sails. Slowly their speed increased, and Jack remained on deck, watching his stalkers until the surviving birds fell well enough behind.

Grunting at a terrified crewman that he’d be in his cabin, not caring if the man understood, Jack stumbled into the dark room, slamming the door behind him. He was, without a doubt, the most pathetic creature alive, and for the moment he didn’t care. Falling onto his bunk, Jack would have prayed for sleep if he believed his pleas would be answered. Instead, he groaned for a while, resting the smooth, cool surface of the rum bottle against his forehead.

Trying not to think about Elizabeth, Jack tried instead to think about what he would do now that they were back at sea where he belonged. The crew had been inactive for too long. If Jack were to keep favor within the democracy that was a pirate ship, he would have to prove his worth as Captain by providing his men with something of a shiny nature soon. He was not for lack of options; treasure abounded within his domain of the Caribbean. Even a bit of the pillage and plunder would do to satisfy their black hearts, but Jack couldn’t seem to make up his mind.

He didn’t bother looking at his compass. By now Jack knew exactly which direction it would point and no good could come of that. Upending the bottle of rum into his mouth, Jack couldn’t stop Elizabeth’s image from coming into his head; her, sitting in that chair at his desk defending his father’s affections.

He was a fool, and this time he knew it; and it was no act.

Tossing the emptied bottle to the other side of his cabin to lie with its brothers, Jack crawled out of bed. He was out of rum again. He squinted against the wall of bright sunlight that accosted him at the door and lurched awkwardly across the deck and down into the hold. Below the room where the night crew now slept in their hammocks, Jack found to his delight, a freshly restocked supply of rum. His boys had not been idle while in Port Royal.

Pulling three bottles from their slots at random, Jack was about to clumsily reach for another when he heard something shuffle along the floor further back in the room. Jack froze, remembering another time he’d come here for rum, only to find a barnacle-encrusted envoy from Davy Jones’ crew come to collect on a debt Jack owed. Even the fact that it had been Bootstrap Bill bearing the bad news, Jack was instantly spooked by the memory.

Shifting his bottles delicately in his arms, Jack slunk around the shelves of booze, slowly making his way towards the corner where his old friend had appeared to him before. It was dark, and Jack swore quietly under his breath, realizing that he’d left the lantern sitting on a barrel on the other side of the room. Holding all three bottles of rum by their necks in one hand, Jack went back for it, holding it high before him like a shield.

He saw nothing lurking among the barrels and shadows, and he sincerely hoped it was only a rat. Slowing reaching out, Jack began to move the nearest barrel to see into the corner.

A golden blond head sat huddled against the wall, not looking up from an incredibly cramped position. Jack stopped, staring down at the boy. “William?” he breathed in alarm. Two brown eyes finally met his, and Jack closed his eyes in relief and a little embarrassment.

“Hi,” William answered uncertainly.

Jack handed him two bottles of rum. “Hold these,” he said. Turning around, Jack suddenly stopped, and turned back, eyeing the boy warily. “What has your mother told you about rum?” he asked.

William looked confused. He shrugged, “nothing.”

“No mention of its incendiary properties?”

“Huh?”

“Good!”

At ease, Jack returned to the shelves and pulled three more bottles out of their places, and telling William to follow him, he led the way back upstairs and across the deck to his cabin.

Jack seemed oblivious to the stares of his crew as he and William appeared from below, but William noticed their whispers, and tried not to meet their eyes in shame. He didn’t know if they’d be so glad to see him, now that he was a stowaway on their ship. He’d heard that pirates were touchy about those kind of things.

Following Jack into the semi-darkness of his cabin, William waited as the pirate carefully lined up the bottles of rum along the desk, adding William’s two to the collection last. Looking around, the boy noticed the small pile of empty bottles collecting in the corner, and he wondered if Jack’s subdued reaction to his appearance wasn’t just a calm before the storm.

“Now then.” Finished with his arrangements, Jack sat down behind his desk and gestured for William to take the chair opposite him. William waited nervously as Jack fixed him with an unwavering stare. After a minute, Jack asked, “have you eaten?”

William blushed, and nodded guiltily. “I stole an apple from one of the barrels below,” he admitted.

Jack nodded. “One of the red ones?” he asked.

“Green,” William said.

“Good,” Jack replied. “Those aren’t mine.”

William frowned at Jack. This was not quite how he’d expected this meeting to go. He had imagined that Jack would be angry, furious that he’d run away and then William would have had to do something amazing to prove to the Captain that he would be a useful addition to the crew, just to prevent Jack from taking him straight back home. Besides that first moment when he’d discovered William behind the barrels, Jack didn’t even seem surprised to see him there.

Jack leaned back in his chair and began cleaning his fingernails with the blade of his knife. “Suppose you tell me what you’re doing on my ship,” he said, as though it were a suggestion.

Still confused, but at last on more predictable ground, William told Jack everything that had happened since the man had walked out of their house the previous afternoon. He talked about his father’s return and strange behavior towards his son. He talked about his fears that his father didn’t love him, and that now that the older man was back, his worry that his mother wouldn’t need him anymore either. Finally, William told Jack about the fight he’d had with his father, and finished up with his decision to set out on his own now that the man was back.

“I want to be a pirate… like you,” William said. “I’ll do anything you want. I’ll work hard – I’ll even scrub the decks day and night to prove to you I’m tough enough to join your crew. Please, Uncle Jack,” he begged. “Please don’t take me back there!”

Jack said nothing at all throughout William’s story, only nodding occasionally to show that he understood. A strange burning sensation had begun flooding his soul, and yet he remained strangely calm on the outside.

He looked at the child in front of him, asking for something from Jack that was far bigger than just a job. What William wanted was a place to belong. It made Jack sad to see his own childhood fears reflected in the boy before him, and yet, it touched him too, that of all the people in the world, William had come running to him. It made Jack feel fiercely protective.

“It’s not easy work, being a pirate,” Jack said. “There’s hard work to be done, and at all hours of the day and night. You’ll have lots to learn, and mistakes can cost the entire crew. You’ll never be sure when you’ll be getting paid next, and our food never seems to remain good long enough for our needs.” He stared at William intently. “And if you do this, your Mum will be sorely heartbroken. Are you sure this is what you want to do, Mate?”

William did not look as certain as he had felt a moment ago, and Jack suspected it was due mostly to the mention of Elizabeth. Still, he answered slowly, “I can do it. You’ll see – I’ll make you proud.”

Jack tried not to wince at those heartbreaking words. “Well then,” he said, “first we’ll need to give you a name. Just plain ‘William’ won’t do for a pirate… any suggestions?” he asked.

William thought. “Well, I once thought of calling myself Red-handed Jack,” he admitted with a grin.

Jack grinned in return. “Jack’s taken, mate,” he said. “What about… Bloody William Cutlass, since you’re a right daft hand with a sword,” he suggested.

William repeated the name to himself, rolling it across his tongue. He smiled. “I like it.”

“Good!” Jack said. He reached over and picked up a bottle of rum. Pulling the stopper out with his teeth, Jack set the drink in front of the boy. Picking up a second bottle and uncorking it too, he held it up in salute. “A toast, to Bloody William Cutlass… drink up, mate.”

Jack took a deep swig of his drink and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. William hadn’t moved. He sat still staring at the pirate. “What’s wrong, Cutlass?” Jack asked.

William stared at the bottle. “Mother wouldn’t like it if I drank that, would she?” he asked.

Jack chuckled. “We’re pirates,” he said. “What our mother’s don’t know won’t hurt us.” He lifted his bottle again. “You do want to be a pirate, right, Mate?”

A sad look crossed William’s face at the mention of his mother, but he set his jaw determinedly when Jack challenged him. Picking up the bottle with both hands, William met the other man’s eyes and took his first sip.

Jack just grinned.

There were few things in Jack Sparrow’s life that he could say that he had done ‘right’. He was not a bloodthirsty man by nature, and it was such qualities as this that had at one time cost him the Pearl to a mutinous crew. Sacking Port Nassau without firing a single shot had been a stroke of pure circumstance, and getting rescued by rum runners after three days stranded on an island was just another example of the utter dumb luck that had followed Jack and caused his star to rise in prominence among his pirate brethren.

It had not taken much alcohol to send William into a deep, dreamless sleep, and although Jack knew it wasn’t the most brilliant plan in the world to get a nine year-old drunk on his finest rum, he had no doubt about what he should do next. Scooping up the boy in his arms and depositing him on his bunk, Jack stumbled from the room as quietly as he could, making his way over to the water barrel kept on deck.

Luckily the water had been refreshed during their time in port, so there was only the faintest hint of mildew as he dunked his head inside. Shaking himself like a dog, Jack ignored the protests of those men caught in the spray and went in search of Gibbs.

The older pirate was sleeping in his hammock below deck, holding tightly to his burlap teddy bear. Jack stared for a moment before upending him onto the floor. Gibbs snarled in outrage before recognizing his attacker. “Something I can do for you, Captain?” he asked with a restrained growl.

“Yes,” Jack said as he headed back towards the stairs. “You can turn this ship around, tout de suite; we’re going back to Port Royal.”

“Back?” Gibbs sputtered as he struggled up from the floor. “You want to go back? What in the name of the Holy Father and Mother, do you want to do that for?”

Jack didn’t answer, but led Gibbs back to his cabin, the First mate calling after him the entire way. When he reached his private quarters, Jack looked his friend in the eyes and opened the door for the other man to look inside.

Gibbs stopped his questions. “Gut me for a preacher,” he swore quietly.

Pulling the door shut again, Jack took a few steps away toward the nearest railing and leaned against it. Gibbs took up a position at his side. “What are you planning, Jack?” he asked.

Jack was thoughtful. “Take him home to his mum,” he said absently.

Gibbs waited. “And Elizabeth?” he prompted.

A pause. “She won’t be happy with the whelp,” Jack told Gibbs. “He’ll keep her tied down. She needs her freedom.”

“And you think you’re the man to give her that?”

Jack shook his head. “There’s only two things I could ever offer Elizabeth,” he said. “One of them is the freedom to be whomever she wants, and to live however she sees fit,” he answered morosely. “Freedom is the only cross one should ever willing burden another person with.”

As Jack walked away, he heard Gibbs call after him, “what’s the second thing?”

Jack pretended not to hear. It was a question he wouldn’t answer.

“Oh God… oh God,” Elizabeth sobbed. She was kneeling on the floor in the middle of her son’s room, clutching his cold pillow to her chest. William was gone. “What kind of a mother am I?”

Will stood beside her, helpless and awkwardly silent. He tried to place a hand on her shoulder, but Elizabeth jerked away from his touch, burying her face into the pillow. “Elizabeth,” he said quietly, “we’ll find him… but you have to get up.”

She shook her head. “He was so upset last night… I should have stayed with him….”

Will sighed. “That was my fault,” he admitted.

“Yes,” Elizabeth sniffled horribly. “It was.”

Stung, Will walked away to stare out the window over the fields. “We don’t know when he left, but he can’t have gone far,” he said at last. “Does he have any friends he’d go to, or….” he trailed off lamely. Not for the first time, Will was faced with just how much he’d lost during the past ten years. As pained as he was by Elizabeth’s words, she was right. He had been the one to upset William and drive him from their home, and now he didn’t even know where to begin looking for him. He didn’t know who his son’s friends were, or even if he had any. There was so much he didn’t know about his family, and every minute he felt more and more out of place, even with Elizabeth.

Time is an enemy to everyone, but even during his ten years of servitude, Will had never resented it more than he did now. While the last decade had felt agonizingly slow in its passing, it was only now that he could truly see the damage it had inflicted on them. He had tried to force new people into an old mold and like ill-fitting clothes, the only choices now were to either mend, or discard.

Calming slightly, Elizabeth said, “there are a few children in town, but I’m sure their mother’s would have let me know if - ”

“We’ll go see for ourselves,” he said. “Maybe he snuck in while they were sleeping and they don’t know he’s there. We’ll talk to the children, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll talk to the other neighbors. We’ll search the entire town if we have to.”

Elizabeth stood and reluctantly placed the pillow back on William’s bed, smoothing the wrinkles with a trembling hand. Folding her arms across her stomach, she turned to Will, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. As soon as their eyes met, Elizabeth’s tears began to fall again. “Oh, Will,” she said. “What’s happened?”

Will knew she wasn’t just talking about William. She was talking about them. He held her tightly, kissing the top of her head. “We’ll find him,” he promised her.

William was not at the home of Tom Dobbins, nor those of Johnny Langley, Harry Bristol, or Molly Lovell. None of the neighbors had seen the boy either, but most of them joined Elizabeth and her husband in searching the nearby barns, wells, or any other place they imagined a small child might get to.

For hours, William’s name echoed through the streets, and though none could remember seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary the previous night, all of the shopkeepers promised to ask every customer for news of the boy, or of any strangers who might have taken him.

For Elizabeth, their search had taken on an aspect of shame. Her failure to care for her son could not help but be displayed for everyone in the community to see, but although she was aware of the whispered questions and pitying looks, she found she couldn’t seem to care. She wore no cloak, and she turned aside each offer to make her more comfortable. Her tears had long since dried, but until William was found safe, Elizabeth would not spare a moment’s thought for her self.

Something was broken inside of her, and she felt it like a fractured rib, poking sharply underneath her skin. Her body was all harsh edges, and as she looked around for Will, who was quietly thanking the butcher for promising to keep an eye out, Elizabeth felt a burble of hysterical laughter threatening to explode from her.

Just yesterday, everything had been wonderful. She and William had been happy, and until Jack left them forever, Elizabeth had felt more peaceful than she had in years. Now Will was home, and everything was supposed to have gotten even easier. They had fought – literally, fought – for the right to love each other and be together. Well, they were together now, only it was turning out not to be as simple a thing as it had once seemed.

She felt guilty for blaming Will, but in her heartache she hadn’t let go of her anger yet. He was trying, she could see it in the harsh angles of his face, but it was one of the eternal flaws of mankind that they will forever misunderstand one another and hurt the ones they love in their ignorance. Elizabeth felt pain in her heart for him too, and when he came back outside the butcher’s store, shaking his head sorrowfully as he reached her side, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his chest.

Will stiffened in surprise a moment before returning the embrace, whispering meaninglessly in her ear. He lifted Elizabeth’s chin, and noted that her cheeks were still dry, and kissed her softly. Her hands tightened in the fabric of his short coat, and he pulled her closer.

A murmur of voices began to rise all around them, and someone called out, “well, there he is!”

Elizabeth pulled away from Will, searching desperately to see if they could possibly mean William. Sarah Jenson ran to her and said, “Elizabeth! He’s found! He’s all right! He’s with Mr. Jackson!”

Will looked around in confusion and his eyes fell on a man whom he’d never seen before, carrying William in his arms. The boy had obviously only just woken up, and was looking around in shock at the army of people cheering his safe return. He clutched tightly at the neck of his gentleman carrier, and Will was about to ask Elizabeth who he was when she suddenly flew from his side, screaming a familiar name.

“Jack!” Elizabeth nearly collided with him so frantic was she to get to her son. Jack handed William over and she held him tight.

“I believe this belongs to you,” Jack said in a calm voice.

Will stared in shock and horror as he suddenly realized that the man whom he still hardly recognized was Jack Sparrow.

Elizabeth sank to her knees, still holding her son. “He was with you the whole time?” she asked relieved.

Jack nodded, keeping his face blank. “William stowed away on my ship. I only found him this morning, or I would have brought him home sooner. We were already a few leagues away by the time we had opportunity to come about.

Will couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the stranger, for although it was Jack, this was a Jack he had never seen before. Not only were his clothes clean, and surprisingly similar to Will’s own garments, he was also well groomed, with no make-up, beads, or other trinkets to speak of. Even his hair had been tamed into a ponytail beneath a dark knit cap.

But it wasn’t just his appearance that changed Jack completely from the wobbly-legged pirate whom Will had come to know; it was his manner as well. His speech, his walk, even the way he carried himself was utterly foreign. If he hadn’t known any better, Will would have sworn this was not Jack at all, but someone else entirely.

And then again…

“Is that rum I smell?”

For the first time, William looked up at him. In his eyes were a mixture of emotions; fear, sorrow, anger, guilt, and yes, even love. Will felt a wave of relief.

“Jack tricked me,” William accused with both betrayal and admiration in his voice. “He gave me rum so I’d pass out and wouldn’t know he was bringing me home.”

Will was furious, but he could see the challenge in his son’s eyes. “Well,” he said, masking his anger, “I’m sure your Uncle did what he thought was best.”

William was silent, weighing his father’s answer. Then he threw himself into his father’s arms, hugging him tightly, but briefly before returning to his mother’s arms.

Will’s eyes met Jack’s, and he knew the pirate wasn’t fooled by his civility.

“Hello, brother,” Jack said with just the barest hint of amusement.

Will nodded, and held out his hand to shake Jack’s. He was grateful to him for bringing William home, but there was just too much residual animosity built up between them for anything more than an act.

Their neighbors were all worked up with excitement. Not only was Captain Turner home, but the missing boy had been recovered safe and sound, and when someone suggested celebrating neither Elizabeth nor Will had the courage to refuse the kind people who had worked so hard to help them all morning.

In a matter of minutes, the local inn was alive with people, chatting merrily and eating and drinking as though it were a holiday. Elizabeth sat in the center of it all, holding William in her lap as though she would never let him go again. She still felt a strange anxiety that if she did let him go, she would never see him again. Will sat at the table next to her, chatting with several of the men about Port Royal. She heard him ask after old Mr. Brown, and mention his thoughts on returning to work as a blacksmith.

Even with her family close to her, whole once more, Elizabeth was distracted. Her eyes darted around the room, and those who came to talk with her soon gave up when she couldn’t manage to stay with the conversation.

She was searching for Jack. She knew that he hadn’t left yet; she had seen Mrs. Ralston talking animatedly just a few minutes ago, before he’d managed to disappear again. Elizabeth was afraid he’d sneak out before she got the opportunity to thank him for what he’d done, and she needed badly to do so.

Smoothing her son’s hair, she smiled when he looked up at her.

“He’s over there,” William said, pointing towards a dark corner. Peering intently, she could just make out Jack’s face in the darkness over a mug of what was probably rum.

Elizabeth looked at her son. “How did you know who I was looking for?” she asked.

William shrugged, and played with a loose strand of her hair. “Did he treat you well?” she asked curiously.

He frowned slightly. “I suppose,” he said at last. “I wanted to stay, but he did what would make you happy.”

Elizabeth laughed at the idea. “Why would you think that?”

“Because he always does.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt her face warm a little. Hiding her blush in her own mug, Elizabeth looked up to see Jack winding his way through the room. Towards the door.

William noticed too. “Uncle Jack always does what makes himself happy, doesn’t he, Mother?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth answered, trying to keep track of Jack in the crowd. He’d been stopped by Mrs. Jenson.

“I bet that’s because he never had anyone to do it for him,” William commented.

Elizabeth nodded. “I think you’re probably right.” She stood up, setting William on his feet. “I’ll be right back,” she told him.

William tugged at her dress. “Mother? Uncle Jack did the right thing this time, didn’t he?”

He asked it so thoughtfully, as though he already knew the answer. Elizabeth looked at him. “Yes, darling. For once, Jack did the right thing.” William grinned.

Elizabeth headed towards the door, following Jack’s path. She had lost sight of him again and she sped up, needing to catch him before he disappeared forever. She chased him through a sea of people, brushing aside the hands that reached out to her with mumbled apologies they likely couldn’t hear.

She was outside, and her eyes darted up and down the streets. There, rounding the corner of the inn, Jack disappeared once more from view. “Jack!” she called, running to catch him.

Elizabeth rounded the corner of the building, and nearly collided with him. He had stopped at the sound of her voice. “Jack,” she breathed again. “I need to thank you for taking care of William.”

Jack smiled weakly. “No need, Love. Can’t have the boy running off to do something completely stupid, can we? Be too much like the whelp for my taste, and I like the kid too much to allow that.”

Elizabeth laughed softly, and continued to look into his eyes. They were so deep, and there was such sorrow in them. Had she been the cause of that? “Jack, I…”

“Shhh…” he shook his head. “Don’t worry, Love. There’s no need.”

“But there is,” she disagreed. Elizabeth searched for the words. “I was so cruel to you… it was unfair.” She felt the tears building in her again, and she let them fall, unashamed. “When you went away… I missed you,” she admitted. “Even when Will came home, things were so different with him, but with you – it was like you’d never gone at all.”

A tiny spark of hope ignited in Jack’s dead heart, and he stepped closer to her. “Elizabeth,” he said in a breath.

She stopped him, crying softly all the while. “I love him,” Elizabeth said. “Will… I won’t give up on him just because things are tough. But I want you to know that if things were different…” she looked down at her hands. “You’re a good man, Jack,” she said once again. “Even I didn’t know how true that was till now.”

Elizabeth sighed in exasperation at her inability to say what she needed to say, and a shrill laugh burst from her, pulling at her chest. She saw Jack frown at the sound of it. She continued before he could speak. “I think you’ll probably panic to hear me say this… God knows it’s not something any reasonable woman would admit to a pirate; but I think it’s important that you know it.”

She took a deep breath. “It’s a horrible thing to be alone,” she said slowly, meeting his eyes. “To think that no one truly loves you for who you are. I want you to know that… I do.”

Jack puzzled over her words for a moment. Did she mean what he thought she meant? “Elizabeth,” he began, but she silenced him by closing the distance between them, and taking his hand in hers.

“It can’t change anything,” she said quietly. “I made a promise I cannot break, and I love Will too much to hurt him. Thank you for coming back,” she added. “For being a good father to my son.”

A strange glistening rose in Jack’s eyes, and he closed them to hide the evidence of his emotion. Before she could talk herself out of it, Elizabeth leaned in, and kissed him.

It was a sweet, lovely kiss, just as she had intended; something for him to remember her by instead of the last one she’d given him. But just as she was about to pull away, Jack pulled her closer and took over.

His kiss was full of need and longing, and a despair he’d kept hidden since childhood. Jack’s fingers burrowed into her hair, cupping her face in his large, rough hands. He had found a place to belong, and though he could not keep it, he would not let it go just yet.

Elizabeth could not think, and at that moment, Will did not exist, and never had. The heat in Jack’s kissed burned away the past and the future, until there was only this moment. A tiny voice of logic cried out somewhere deep inside that she should step back, run away, but then she tasted the rum on his lips, and the faint scent of roses from his recent bath teased at her nose. She even tasted things that couldn’t exist within the wet fury of his mouth - the salt air, and the vengeful waves. She tasted the hot Caribbean sun, and the bright blue sky above the islands. She tasted pineapples and mangoes, and the pointed fingers of palm trees, and the clear, brilliant blue depths of the sea. Above all, she tasted burnt sails, lovingly tended decks and joyously waving rigging. She tasted the Pearl. She tasted home. She tasted freedom.

With a gasp, she pulled back and stared into Jack’s heavy eyes. She knew it pained him, for the expression on his face told her that he had felt exactly what she had in their kiss. There was something in each of them that had always called to the other, and in this one moment of honest connection, they had found what it was, and they knew they couldn’t have it.

Agonizingly, Elizabeth stepped away and turned… to meet the eyes of her husband standing five feet away, staring at them in horror.

“Will,” she whispered, and behind her she heard Jack swear under his breath. Will backed away from her slowly, shaking his head, and in a panic she followed. “Will!” she said again, more intently. But it was too late. In a flash he had turned and was running away, back towards the docks.

Towards the Dutchman. Elizabeth felt the hysteria she’d been struggling to suppress all day suddenly rise to strangle her. She screamed, and the sound drew a crowd from the Inn that began to grow once word spread that something was going on outside.

Ignoring Jack’s cry of her name, Elizabeth sprinted after her husband, but her hesitation had cost her. He was already out of her sight, and tears were blurring her eyes again. She darted down alley’s that would lead her to the beaches more quickly, all the while shouting her husband’s name in tortured breaths.

Elizabeth stopped suddenly, confused. The tiny street she was on did not look familiar, and a desperate cry rose in her throat as she frantically looked around, trying to decide which way she should go.

A low, familiar laugh came from out of the shadows, and when Elizabeth turned to locate the source of it, a woman stepped out of the shadows. “You will not catch him, Miss Swann,” Calypso said, grinning. “He is too fast.”

Misery clouded her voice. “Why?” Elizabeth begged for an answer.”

Calypso’s smile widened. “It was him what took my Jones. It should have been me what brought about dat devil’s final punishment, but honest Will stabbed him heart before I could swallow him whole.”

“He had no choice!” Elizabeth screamed. “He would have died!”

Calypso’s grin faded. “Instead of death, he chose to take what was not his to take – an offer of salvation that were meant for Davy Jones alone. It is Will Turner’s destiny to be Jones’ successor as Captain of my ship… but not only for ten years. He is mine, forever.”

“No!” Elizabeth threw herself at the goddess. “I will not let you have him!”

A sudden gust of wind rose up, and the skies began to darken. The power of the burgeoning storm collided with Elizabeth hard, knocking her to the ground. Calypso stood over Elizabeth, grinning toothily again.

“Poor Captain Swann,” Calypso said. “Can never have what she want. “Not Jack Sparrow, not the life of a pirate, and not her husband.” She chuckled, and as Elizabeth watched, the sea goddess began to fade into the storm. “You see, child, you only had to remain faithful to him unto death… and Will was the only person who could decide if you had failed. It was in him power to stay with you all along.”

And then she was gone. Fighting against the howling of the wind, Elizabeth jumped up and began running back the way she had come. In minutes, she knew where she was, and it was exactly the direction she wanted to be going.

She hadn’t been back to the fort since returning to Port Royal, and it appeared to be completely empty. Litter raced across the stones, and Elizabeth was glad the weather had swept indoors anyone who would have attempted to stop her.

Breathlessly, she reached her destination – the place where Commodore James Norrington had once asked her to be his wife; the place where she and Will had first kissed, where Jack had leapt from the wall to escape the gallows and where Elizabeth had plunged into the sea in a deadly tight corset.

Looking out over the water, she saw the Flying Dutchman raising the last of its anchors and unfurling its canvas sails. Rain began to pelt her, biting into her skin with the pinch of ice, but she ignored it and clambered up onto the wall.

“Elizabeth!” a voice called, and turning, she saw Jack running towards her. He stopped ten feet away, as if afraid to come nearer. “Don’t do this, Love.”

Elizabeth sobbed. “You don’t understand,” she told him. “It was Calypso… Will will be hers for eternity if I don’t.” She tried to smile, but she was shaking too hard. “I killed you once… I nearly died to bring you back. I can’t leave Will to this fate, not if I can stop it.”

Without waiting for a reply, Elizabeth turned to the sea and stretched out her arms. “Calypso!” She screamed into the wind. Lighting flashed and thunder roared to life around her. “Here I stand, faithful unto death!”

Jack shouted, “No!” and started towards her again.

Elizabeth looked back one last time and said, “Tell William that I love him,” and then she was gone.

The wind screamed in fury, and Jack bent as far over the wall as he dared. Both he and Elizabeth had survived a fall from this place before, but even as he searched the angry waves below, he knew that in this storm, luck was not on her side. She did not rise from the blackness of the sea.

The earth shook, and Jack realized the buildings were moving as well, trembling under the power of a quake. As he looked up, he saw, in the distance, the Flying Dutchman catch a stray beam of light from the sun, and it was completely illuminated for a moment before it sank finally, peacefully, beneath the waves. Elizabeth had saved them all.

“Uncle Jack!”

Returning his attention to his own surroundings, Jack saw the walls of the fort begin to fall, and amidst the chaos, a small, lost looking boy was running towards him. Brushing aside his emotions, Jack grabbed William up into his arms and ran as fast as he could, through a city now on fire and tumbling to the ground. People all around them screamed and died, and it was all Jack could to do get down the beaches, where hundreds of pirates were panicking as they attempted to sail away from burning city above them.

Jack did not stop running until he landed on the desolate beach near the cavern that hid the Black Pearl once more. Rocks were falling from the cliffs, and before his eyes, Jack watched the cavern collapse. He fell to his knees and crawled away from William, staring blindly into the distance. For a moment he was deathly silent, but in a great rush, all of Jack’s fury and sorrow burst from him like a flood, and his anguished screams drown out the sounds of destruction that were all around them.

William was sobbing too, and as he pushed his way into Jack’s arms, the man realized that the boy must have seen his mother fall to the sharp rocks below the fort; he knew she was gone. They were all they had left.

Jack found himself squeezing the boy, clinging to him like a shipwrecked man surrounded by the flotsam of a ruined hope. William clung back just as tightly, and for long minutes, the two of them let their sorrow blind them to the end of the world.

He did not heed the passage of time, but slowly Jack realized that his own ship, the Black Pearl, was not where he had left her, but floating in the distance before the horizon. The smaller longboat braved the hungry waves trying to reach the beach, and Jack took a shuddering breath as he realized that not all was lost after all. If the Pearl still lived, then there was still hope, slim though it may be.

William was asleep, exhausted by grief and Jack tried not to disturb him as he picked the boy up and carried him towards the water where Gibbs was nearing the shore. In his arms, the child stirred, and for a moment, heavy brown eyes met his; eyes that looked exactly like another’s.

“What are we going to do, Uncle Jack?” William mumbled softly, before drowning in sleep once more.

Despite William’s unconsciousness, Jack answered. “We’re going to do what your mother would do, Mate. We’re going to rescue her.”

A/N: Okay... take a breather and dry those tears. I promised the real story of the Flying Dutchman, and here it is, as brief as I can make it.

There was this Dutch sailor who was trying to round the Cape Horn in the midst of a storm. He kept getting pushed back and finally, in his anger, he promised his soul to the devil that he would round the Cape forever if he could only get round it safely this once. The devil took him up on it, and the captain made it round. But when he got there, he remember his promise, and he was upset. An angel pitied him, and gave him the stipulation that he could go ashore once every ten (yes, TEN) years, and if he met a woman on shore who would love him unto death, then he would be freed from his curse.

So time passed, and decades came and went, and stories of the deathly ship whose crew could not die began to spread across the world. On night, another sailor pulled into a port. He would be sailing to his home the following day, but his crew needed rest for the night. Alongside him in the dark, another ship had appeared so quietly that the sailor hadn't even noticed. There was not activity on board, and the sailor (who was the captain but for confusion's sake, I'll call him sailor) hailed the other ship. There was no response, but when he tried to approach the ship, a man appeared. It was the Dutch captain, and the sailor thought he looked so desolate, lonely and tired, that he offered the man the hospitality of his own home. They agreed to go there that very night, but first the captain asked if the sailor had a daughter. When the sailor said yes, the captain asked for her hand in marriage. The sailor was surprised, but the captain blew a whistle, and some men appeared with a chest full of treasure. The captain said that all of it and more would be the sailor's, if he could marry the man's daughter, and the sailor agreed.

Now, the daughter of the sailor was a dreamer, who would sit with her friends at their spinning wheels and think about the romantic story of the poor Dutchman. She felt that she'd know him in an instant if she saw him, and she longed for nothing more than to be the one to set him free. But, that was just a story, and she was being courted by another boy who she knew intended to ask for her hand upon her father's return. But when her father brought the stranger home, she felt that she knew who he was, and she consented to marry him the moment she was told of the arrangement.

The captain felt that at last, he might be freed from his curse, but all at once, the girl's other fiancee found her, and though she tried to explain and calm him down, he swore that she had promised herself to him! Well, she hadn't, but the captain overheard, and he despaired that all was lost. Ignoring her pleas and protestations, he ran for his ship, and quicker than humanly possible, they made ready to set sail again, for another ten years. The girl broke away from her family and friends, running to the cliffs where she could see the ship fleeing, and hear the mournful crew singing sadly. She flung her arms wide, and shouted "praise be to the angels! Here I stand, faithful unto death!" and flung herself into the water. The Dutchman sank beneath the waves, her crew finally at rest.

There it is, in short. One astute reader commented on the fact that a woman's faithfulness is the key to the man's salvation, and I agree whole-heartedly with her sentiments on that. However, there is a romantic quality to the story that can't be denied, despite the misogyny, and doesn't really translate when the took the ship and her story to the movies. Feel free to comment, question, or rant in good or bad ways! Always - Kimberlee.