A/N: Ok y'all, New Story! This is a huge departure from the normal stories I write. I don't know why, but I Americanized them a little. Hope you like it.

Jack entered his cottage style home over looking the beach on Hilton Head Island in the middle of the afternoon. He'd been on business in France for two months and was finally taking some much needed time off. He dropped a rather large stack of mail onto the kitchen table and picked out what looked like a small local newspaper.

Ever stuck in the past, he hit play on his answering machine as he headed into the kitchen. It was the usual onslaught of voicemail; several contractors wanting to meet with him about boat designs, sales calls claiming him a winner of a trip for two to the Bahamas, an unwanted call from Angelica wondering if she could meet him when he gets back to which he promptly rolled his eyes, and finally a message from his dad.

Jack was busying about the kitchen, fixing himself a drink and paid little attention to the message, while looking at the most recent York County Coast Star. A headline on the newspaper caught his attention, prompting him to get up and restart the message from his father.

"Jackie, it's your father. I'm sure you're busy galavanting across the globe or something exceedingly extravagant, but something's happened here I thought you should know." There was a long pause. "Will passed away. The service is on Tuesday, if you can make it. You might want to give Elizabeth a call. That's all." He paused again. "Love you, son." He finished somberly.

Jack took down his drink in one gulp. He walked to the door, picked up his suitcase and carried it into his bedroom. Unceremoniously dumping his clothing on the bed, he went to his closet and stuffed several pairs of pants, shirts, a jacket, and shoes into the newly emptied bag. Stopping to grab a few more things in the house, he quickly left.

His friend Hector owned a small 4 seater jet that he chartered around the islands, and graciously agreed to fly Jack to Maine straight away.

He landed late in the evening. Jack had the taxi take him to his father's house.

Seeing his childhood home brought up a lot of emotions he had hoped to leave behind, but he had to come. It was time. So he walked up to the door and put in his key, jiggling it left and right, but the door wouldn't budge. Odd, he thought. He went through the side gate to try the door that led into the garage. Locked as well. The old man changed the locks? Going around to the back of the house, he picked up a small gardening spade from a plant pot and tried to jimmy the back door open.

Suddenly, the porch light flipped on and a gruff voice called from inside. "Put your hands up, step away from the window. Make one wrong move and I'll blow your brains out."

"Woah, Dad. It's me. It's Jack." He said ducking with his hands in the air.

"Jackie?" The voice asked surprised.

"Yeah, put the shotgun down."

Edward Sparrow opened the door, looking equally alarmed and relieved at the sight of his son. "What the devil are you doing back here?" His father asked him.

"My key wasn't working." Jack answered, holding up the key.

"I changed the locks." Ed said emotionless.

"When?"

"Five years ago."

"Alright, go ahead. Let me have it." Jack said sitting on his suitcase.

"Let you have what?"

"You can start guilting me about how I never visit. It's what mom would have done."

"I'd say you have enough of that on your own, you don't need my help. Besides I always knew the minute you got out of here, it'd be impossible getting you to come back. I just wish you'd call once in a while."

"I know. I just get busy." Jack said abashedly.

"Yeah, yeah. Mr. Hot Shot Yacht Designer." Ed said waving his hand at him.

"Dad."

"Nevermind. Come inside." His father led him into the house. "When did you get in?" Edward asked walking to the fridge and pulling out two bottles of beer. He opened both and set one in front of Jack.

"Just now." Jack answered as if it was obvious.

"You came straight here?" Ed looked shocked.

"Where else would I go?" Jack asked confused.

His father gave him a knowing look.

"I'm not ready for that. Besides, it's late." Jack said.

"You missed the service." His father said matter of factly, not wishing to sound like he was scolding his son.

"I was out of the country. I only got your message this morning. I came as soon as I could. How was it?" Jack asked taking a sip from his beer.

"It was nice. She had him cremated. Spread his ashes out over the bay."

"Of course." Jack paused thoughtfully. "How did it happen?"

"He liked to run at night. Guess he'd been doing it forever. Drunk driver hit him, a tourist. Came out of nowhere. He didn't suffer though. EMTs said it was instantaneous." Ed took a sip from his bottle after he finished his clipped explanation.

"How is she?" Jack asked, unsure if he wanted to broach this subject yet.

"If you ask her, she's doing fine. But truthfully, she's having a rough go of it. Having to raise the two kids and run the dive shop all on her own while dealing with the insurance company. Hasn't really had time to grieve."

"She's running the dive shop?" Jack asked astonished. "Why wouldn't she just shut it down for the summer?"

"It's peak diving season. She can't afford to lose out on the money. Not on a teacher's salary."

"Can't somebody else manage it?"

"She's still as stubborn as ever. Don't think we all haven't offered help."

"Sounds like, Liz."

"You know her father died last year?"

"I heard…er…read."

"Still having the damn local paper sent to you? What the hell for?"

"So I can keep in touch without having to go through the trouble of keeping in touch."

"There's something seriously wrong with you, boy." He downed the rest of his beer. "I don't know about you, but I'm feeling like something stronger than this piss water. Want to grab a drink at Josh's?"

"Not tonight. I'd like to keep my being here a secret at least for the rest of the night. However, I did not come here empty handed." He lay down his suitcase and opened it, pulling out a bottle with some ornate designs on it. "I picked it up in Costa Rica a few months back, been meaning to send it to you. It's a 21 year aged rum. Supposed to be the best there is."

"Hmph. The last time you had me try one of your hoity-toity gifts, I nearly lost my lunch." He said, eyeing the glass skeptically.

"Just try it." Jack said pouring each of them a glass.

Edward's eyes narrowed as he picked up the glass and sniffed it's contents. "Smells all right."

"Trust me." Jack picked up his own glass. "To Will." He said sadly, raising his glass in the air.

"To Will" Ed echoed.

—

Jack and his father spent another hour catching up before Jack decided to finally call it a night. He was still jet lagged from his trip and didn't want to sleep the day away. He walked up the all too familiar staircase that led to his room passing by pictures of his parents, grandparents, Jack as a little boy. He got to his room and dropped his things. Everything was just how he left it. His father really was a sentimental sort. A rolling stones poster covered one wall, a tie die tapestry opposite of that where his bed hugged the wall. A large bay window broke up the room, with a bench seat underneath. He strolled through, admiring all the knick knacks adorning his desk and dresser, including the first model ship he ever made. His record collection was amazingly still in tact. He bent down and sifted through a few before picking out a Dylan album and putting it on the turntable. He kept the music low, so he didn't disturb his father, though his hearing was never very good, still. He lay back on his bed, still dressed and stared up at the ceiling. It had been fifteen years since he left Maine. Seven years since he'd last visited…when his mom died. After that, he never wanted to come back again, too many memories, good and bad, too much guilt.

Jack looked to his right. On his night stand, a picture frame was laying face down. He picked it up and sighed. It was a picture of Will, Elizabeth and him standing in front of his boat just before they sailed to Cape Elizabeth for Lizzie's sixteenth birthday. He remembered his mom insisting she come down to the harbor to see them off. Jack's mom had been like a second mother to Elizabeth and made sure all her major milestones had been well documented. He remembered that day so vividly. The way Elizabeth's face lit up when he told her what they were doing. The way her hair whipped wildly in the wind as she stood at the bow. He'd kissed her for the first time that day. Jack sighed and put the frame back on the desk, setting it upright, and let sleep claim him