By shared opinion, the bilges at the very bottom of the Flying Dutchman were the very bowels of Hell.

In the old days of the ship, it used to be a storage space where crates, boxes, chests and barrels full of items were carefully stocked to preserve treasures from the New World like spices, wood and tobacco. Before Davy Jones had turned into a monster, his ship was acknowledged to be the fastest merchant vessel of England, crossing the Atlantic back and forth so quickly that nothing – including tempests and pirates – could get in its way. Jones' mastering of the sea brought prosperity and happiness in England and the Caribbean, its holds always clean and full of riches. It was formerly a space synonym of prosperity.

Now, it was dark and reeked of putrefaction, dying sea creatures and fear. When reaching the end of their lives, the seashells covering the ship and its crewmembers got loose and fell in the bottoms of the hull. The floor was covered with thousands of empty shells and decaying small creatures, while seaweed and coral were growing on them. But it wasn't the worst sight of all: the beams and joists weren't made of wood, but of human parts. It was the final resting place for the sailors who had refused to serve Davy Jones and have been tortured afterwards, for "fun", years ago. The Captain didn't like defying people and granted them a quick death – by axe or knife – only when he got bored. But he kept the remains as construction materials and also as warning for his crew of the consequences from disobeying Jones' orders.

Locked up in a cage, shackled in irons, one of the Flying Dutchman's sailors has been cruelly reminded that the Captain's authority was paramount on the ship. But truth to be told, the seaman didn't care about his sentence to be locked up in the brig for an indefinite length of time.

Cages and irons were useless to him, for he was chained with despair.

His name was William Turner Sr., also known as "Bootstrap" Bill Turner.

And he had just witnessed the destruction of the ship carrying his son by Jones' leviathan, the Kraken.

Forty-four good men have lost their lives this day, their ship broken in two and dragged to the depths of the ocean by the tentacle-bearing monster. Among the victims was the only good part of Bill Turner's life, the bearer of his heart, his son.

The former pirate was sitting in a corner of the cage holding him, his head leaning against the rusted bars. His unfocused gaze was indifferent to his nightmarish environment. He could only see a red-hot iron image branded in his mind: the destruction of the Edinburgh Trader, innocent victim of a demon's reprisals against one of his own crewmembers, who had dared to place his love for his child higher than Davy Jones' authority.

William is dead.

Bootstrap Bill curled up into a ball, huddling against the corner of his cell as much as he could.

Will… My Will…

My cherished son is gone.

Tears were running freely on his face, mixing with the barnacles and starfishes that were growing on his cheeks at an alarming rate. But Bootstrap Bill never felt the creatures invading his face. How could he, as he was blinded and deafened by the pain of his broken heart?

A monster obeying a demon has killed his son. His love and hope.

The grieving father searched beneath his ragged shirt and found a lock of long, black hair. It was his child's; Bootstrap Bill had collected it while Will has been sleeping last night aboard the Flying Dutchman, recovering from injuries and mistreatments at the hands of the bo'sun after his capture. Bill had hidden his son for a few hours safe from prying eyes, nursed his wounds and found him a place to rest for awhile. Out of impulse, he had cut a lock of Will's hair to keep it with him at all times, just before setting his son free from the ghost ship and its freakish crew.

The lock of hair wrapped itself around the elder Turner's fingers. Sobbing, Bill kissed it.

Years ago, he had accepted his doomed fate, thinking it was rightful punishment for his piracy, the abandonment of his family and for his inability to stop the mutiny against Captain Jack Sparrow. But he couldn't – and wouldn't – have resigned himself to see his son suffering from his father's actions. Will was innocent and he had a light within him that had helped him to stay honest over the years, instead of answering the sirens' call for easy money like his father did. Will Turner Jr. had an angelic soul and he deserved to live a good life with the woman he loved.

Bootstrap Bill could feel the shards of his broken heart poking against his ribs. His angel was now in Heaven, leaving him in more pain than during the long years he had been tied to a cannon, left on the ocean's floor to be crushed by the weight of the water. Bill knew his serving oath would prevent him to die too soon. And yet, a part of him was tempted to accelerate his curse and to end up like poor Wyvern within days instead of years.

His tears were solidifying into nacre on his face. That phenomenon had happened already once, when Bill Turner had cradled in his arms his sleeping son in Davy Jones' secret and private storage room. Only this time, the nacre wasn't iridescent but lusterless, broken… decaying.

The sorrow wrecking the father's body and soul was unbearable. Jones had him locked up in the brig for "needed time alone with his thoughts" and Bill thought the pain was going to drive him into madness.

If I had the tiniest hope that Will is still alive, I would take it.

One tear escaped from Bill's eyes and landed on the lock of hair he was still keeping tightly in his fist. The doomed ex-pirate watched it, mesmerized by this drop of water, the very last proof of his humanity laid on a memento of his son. Will, his marvelous darling, a heart of gold glowing in a darkened world.

Suddenly, the tear retracted into a shining particle.

Startled, Bootstrap Bill Turner almost dropped Will's hair on the waterlogged floor. For an instant, he thought his mind has been playing tricks on him but the glittering teardrop was still there, nestled between the strands. With trembling fingers, Bill collected it between his index finger and his thumb.

He could hardly believe what he was seeing: the teardrop has turned into a diamond!

The elder Turner could have screamed out loud at the sight of this tiny miracle, and unintentionally warning his gaolers. Only the paralyzing shock prevented him to do so.

He wasn't even aware the newest barnacles he'd acquired were leaving his face at all speed, nor that the starfish covering his right eye was retracting its limbs, improving his eyesight. His heart was thudding furiously and his mouth was wide open, without any sound coming out of it. Bootstrap Bill's blue eyes, glowing phosphorescent again, were fixed on the sparkling gem as if it contained all the secrets of the universe.

A diamond…

A diamond soul…

My William!

Bill Turner busted into tears again, clenching the diamond in his first along with Will's lock of hair. Someone, somewhere, had answered his prayers and gave him a sign his son was still alive, on his way to stab Davy Jones' rotten heart to free him. Will has survived the wreckage caused by the Kraken: he was much stronger than any kind of monsters Jones could sick on him!

And Bill Turner's had recovered his inner strength, a sentiment eroded by years of slavery. It would have been easier for the former pirate to give up; to renounce at any idea of helping Will escape the Flying Dutchman, worn down by his fear of its Captain. But Bootstrap Bill's love for his child has being awakened in a heartbeat at the simple sight of Will's handsome face illuminated by a flash of lightening. It has been as brutal and welcome as a meteor falling from the sky and crashing into an ice-covered land.

Apparently, Davy Jones wasn't aware that cursed souls could love.

A mere oversight, which will cost him dearly!

Bootstrap Bill curled into a ball again, hiding his face in his arms, his first still clutching his treasures. He didn't want his former shipmates to see the shine of hope dancing in his blue eyes.

And a small part of his mind whispering a unique word to his ear: revenge.

THE END!