Unguarded Secrets

It was only a little past noon when Will and his son returned to Port Royal. The entire return trip had been completed in record time, partly due to favorable winds and weather, partly because of the ease with which he and William were able to dock the ship, but mostly because they were both single mindedly determined to return home as quickly as possible. Making a living from the sea in any way shape or form had not played any significant role along the path Will had planned for his life, but as seemed to be the case more often than not, his life had taken an unexpected detour. He had left Port Royal a newly minted journeyman blacksmith and had returned a respected ship's captain and fledgling shipping magnate, even if he had to search his memory to tell anyone how many ships he owned and what they were called. The truth was that Elizabeth was the proverbial woman behind the successful man in this particular venture. That idea might have bothered a less secure man, but to Will it was just part and parcel of Elizabeth's personality and drive to stretch her capabilities.

At the moment, Will's only concern was how quickly he could return to dry land and the woman he literally couldn't live without. There are certain advantages to being the proprietor of your own shipping company, Will thought as Le Cygne glided into the harbor. Because of the number of ships that he and Elizabeth owned, and the frequency of their arrivals and departures, Turner-Castillo Shipping warranted its own section of the docks that filled the shoreline of Port Royal harbor from Fort James to Chocolate Hole. It didn't hurt that Elizabeth's social status, although slightly diminished, but still redoubtable, further influenced the priority awarded the Turner family when it came to prime locations along the wharf.

After the initial shock of discovering exactly how well William could handle a sea going vessel at such a tender age, the return trip allowed Will to do a careful survey of the boy's strengths and weaknesses. Had William been any other man's child, Will's first inclination would have been that the boy would make an excellent sailor one day, perhaps even earning captaincy of his own ship younger than most. William had, on more than one occasion, expressed a desire for exactly that, but Will was not quite so enthusiastic about that idea. It would be impossible to deny that the sea was in William's blood, just as much as it was in his own, but the idea of his eldest, and thus far, only living child could one day leave behind his friends and family for the isolated life of a sailor wasn't exactly appealing. Still, he was exceedingly talented in that area and it did appeal to him—

"Papa, how are we going to get all our gear home without the wagon?" William fretted. "It's too far to carry it and Evan wasn't planning on meeting us here until tomorrow," William pointed out, ever alert to any logistical problems. The ship was now secured in its moorings with the waves gently lapping at its hull, in contrast with the aggressive pummeling they provided at sea. The plank had been laid out, awaiting Le Cygne's crew of two, both anxious to disembark, to be home.

"I was wondering about that," Will admitted, although truthfully the thought hadn't crossed his mind. "I think we may have outsmarted ourselves by coming home early," he added wryly. "Cross your fingers that Mr. Davidson is in."

"You're going to make Mr. Davidson help carry stuff?" William asked incredulously, his eyes wide open, trying to picture the normally sedentary factor doing manual labor, most especially in the sticky heat of a Caribbean summer.

"Somehow, I can't imagine that would be much help to us." Will raised an eyebrow at William and stifled a laugh, picturing an image much like the one his son had. "No, I was thinking of asking him to round up a few of the… less fortunate inhabitants in the general vicinity and have them unload in exchange for the leftover food." Will paused for a moment. "Suitably supervised, of course."

William looked at his father with his arms akimbo and a serious look on his face. "You mean the wastrels laying in a gutter somewhere, sleeping off the effects of too much cheap ale?"

Will blinked rapidly a few times as William's words sunk in. "Wherever did you pick up a phrase like that or do I even need to ask?"

"Mama," William answered brightly. "But I'm not sure what a wastrel is," his forehead wrinkled as he searched his memory for a definition, "and I'm pretty sure they drink too much rum," he added proudly. "I know she's called Uncle Captain Jack one a few times."

Will closed his eyes and shook his head. "Rum, ale— once they hit a certain point it doesn't really matter—but yes, that would be exactly who I was talking about. And as for Jack…I can't say it's not entirely untrue. He has been known to ingest excessive amounts of alcoholic beverages—rum in particular."

"Mama does that too," William said as he looked over the side at the water below. "Not the drink rum part," he quickly clarified. "I mean she hires people to work for her, but she pays them in food. She always tells them it's so they won't spend their hard earned coin on ill advised vices."

"Does she now?" Will, with eyes now open, was becoming increasingly amused by William's tale of Elizabeth's efforts to save the self professed dregs of society from themselves. It sounded so very much like the Elizabeth of old. The one he had know before their time with the pirates.

William descended the gang plank with his father close behind. "I don't think it does much good. Besides, she said that would be your job when you got home."

"Did she now? I'm afraid I might have to have a chat with her about that," Will said with mock seriousness.

"Just please don't tell her about me falling in the water when you talk to her about all those other things."

"You know she'll ask, and I told you I won't—can't keep secrets from your mother," Will reminded the boy.

"But what if she won't let me go places with you anymore?" William asked solemnly, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. Surely his father understood that this was serious business!

"Then I suppose she and I will have to negotiate on that point." Will reached forward, ruffled William's hair and left his hand on top of the boy's head as he followed him down the pier. "There are two of us to look after you now. I have a feeling that means she'll be a bit less strict with you now and leave some of the decisions to me," Will offered.

William reached up and covered his father's hand with his own. "I hope so. She won't let me do anything fun by myself."

Will moved his hands to William's shoulders and stopped him mid-step, but did not turn him around. The fear that William would be able to see the regret on his face was too great of a risk to take. "William, you can't blame your mother for that. Sometimes parents can keep you too close because they're afraid of losing you. I would have done the same had things been reversed." I did do the same, just not with you.

William nodded his head and started walking again. "How are you going to tell her? That I'm old enough to do things on my own, I mean." He asked curiously.

"I have no idea. I'm sure I'll think of something."

"Parley?" William spun around to face his father, a huge grin on his face.

The expression on Will's face mirrored that of his son. "That sounds like an excellent suggestion," he laughed at the idea of negotiating with Elizabeth over how much freedom their son should be allowed. "Parley it shall be. Now let's go home. We need to get cleaned up or your mother may very well not allow us across the threshold. "

______________________________________________________________________________

William ran ahead of his father, pushed open the garden gate and dashed across the yard, making a beeline for the kitchen and whatever it was that Miss Mary was cooking. By the time Will made it that far, William was already perched on a stool next to Miss Mary's worktable, chewing contentedly on a slab of freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven, slathered with butter and dripping with honey.

"Growing boy," Mary Lansford explained, handing an identical chunk of bread to Will. "They're impossible to fill up." She raised one eyebrow and directed her gaze towards Will who was now enjoying his own mid-afternoon snack, although with somewhat more restrained enthusiasm than his son.

Will grinned sheepishly. "He does take after me in many respects, doesn't he?"

Mary raised both eyebrows, feigning shock at Will's confession of the perfectly obvious, then returned to her normal impassive expression. "Have you seen Miss Elizabeth yet?" Mary asked, her voice mostly calm, but with an undercurrent of concern that Will caught immediately.

Will examined Mary's expression then remembered how hard it had always been, and ostensibly still was, to tell what she was thinking just from the look on her face. The key to unraveling Mary's intent was to listen to her voice. "No, we've only just arrived," he replied cautiously. He watched her carefully, trying to discern even the vaguest hint of what prompted the cook's timing with the question, but that proved to be a wasted effort on his part. The only semblance of a clue he had was knowing that she was standing in full view of the side garden and had to know that neither he nor William had been in the house yet. She's worried about Elizabeth, but why?

Mary turned and picked up an unadorned earthenware bowl from the counter behind her. "William, do you think you might be able to find a dog that might like this bowl of meat scraps? I hear tell of one around here. Then again, from the description of its size, it might be a monster." She passed the bowl across the work table to William. "A big. Black. Very. Hairy. Monster at that," she pronounced her words with great care, making herself sound a little frightened as she did.

William finished chewing his last bite of bread. "Brigand's not a monster," William retorted with a snort, accepting the bowl from Miss Mary as he slid off of the stool.

Mary sighed. "If you insist, but I'm still not convinced. Either way, I'm sure he's hungry and would love nothing better than to know his boy is home."

"That sounds like an excellent suggestion," Will agreed, steering William towards the back door of the kitchen. "Why don't you go feed the dog and maybe play with him a bit before you bathe? I want to go talk to your mother—alone."

"You just want to spend some time kissing her without me around," William said in a lilting taunt with a roll of his eyes as he sauntered out the door, bowl of scraps in hand, to look for his dog.

"That too," his father answered, barely controlling his amusement. "Trust me, one day that will all make sense to you." Will turned back to Miss Mary, who stood looking at him with a raised eyebrow and her lips pressed firmly together. She only managed to hold her look of disapproval for a few moments, before she too started to laugh.

"I think you got exactly what you deserved for a son. He's going to keep you on your toes."

"He already does."Will cast one look back at the door that William had recently exited, then turned back to Mary, "It's his mother's influence, I'm sure," he said innocently.

"You just keep telling yourself that," Mary warned knowingly.

"What's wrong with Elizabeth?" Will blurted out, hardly giving William enough time to get out of earshot.

Mary wiped her already clean hands on her apron. It was a habit she'd had for as long as Will could remember knowing her—one that meant she was either not as in control of a situation as she would have liked, or that she was still missing a vital piece of information to fully understand something that truly mattered to her. "I don't think there's anything wrong, per se, but I do know that her visit with Mrs. Brantley was far more traumatic than anyone would have anticipated." Mary watched Will closely, looking for any reaction that might give her some more insight into Elizabeth's reaction to the events of the previous day.

Will tensed at Mary's words. "Traumatic?" he asked, putting in a concerted effort to keep his voice calm. What had Estrella said or done to upset Elizabeth? "What…?"

"Don't fash yourself Will. Miss Elizabeth is mostly just tired, I think." She resumed her place at the work table where she picked up a paring knife and began to swiftly peel parsnips. "And a bit distressed over what happened, but that's understandable." Mary knew that Will was capable of controlling his emotions almost frighteningly well, but she chanced that concern for his wife would cause him to slip. The depth of Elizabeth's despair over Estrella's misfortune was out of character for her normally calm, controlled demeanor. The most logical explanation for that was to assume that Elizabeth had suffered a similar experience. But when? And how? Surely either she or Will would have mentioned it if there had been another child. Unless…

"I can tell by the tone of your voice that whatever has you so concerned is the result of more than just a long day," Will ventured. "She's didn't…she's not ill, is she?" he asked, remembering his mother's words that his wife was going to need his support more than was accustomed in the coming days. She was acting a bit unusual yesterday.

"No," Mary responded a bit too quickly. "She's not ill, not at all." With a shake of her head she began rearranging the bowls and platters on her work table. "Mrs. Brantley had her baby yesterday," she blurted out. "She died," she added softly.

"Estrella?" Will sounded panicked.

"No…no,no," Mary reassured him. "The baby, not Mrs. Brantley. Although there is some concern about her well being also. It was an extremely difficult delivery. Elizabeth stayed with her through all of it and only returned home a few short hours ago. Mercedes just left to go stay with her, Mrs. Brantley, for the rest of the afternoon and tonight."

Will's face went momentarily white beneath his tan, but managed to recover quickly. "I didn't think she was due for several more weeks," Will commented softly while memories of another baby who didn't survive flooded into his mind. Elizabeth was already worried that it could happen to us again. She didn't need such a bold reminder of that possibility.

"She wasn't. The baby came too soon. It—she –didn't have much of a chance."

Will nodded absently, his mind somewhere else entirely. She needed me and I wasn't here.

"Will? I realize this is none of my concern and it isn't my place to ask, but Miss Elizabeth's reaction to all of this—after she came home today—has me concerned," Mary was hesitant to broach the subject, but she was truly concerned. She may have initially taken it upon herself to watch over Elizabeth for Will's sake, but she had grown quite fond of her in the meantime and was therefore worried, and rightfully so.

"In what respect…? You know you can ask me anything," he smiled meekly, fearing what was coming. Please don't push for too many details. "I shared with you where I was for all of those years, what could be more personal than that?" Will looked over Mary's head and out of the window in an attempt to avoid her eyes, but tried to make his voice sound as if this were just any ordinary casual conversation.

Miss Mary sighed heavily, not knowing how to proceed, before deciding there was really no point in not taking a direct approach. "William's not your only child, is he? Elizabeth miscarried or lost a child at birth, didn't she?" Mary barely caught Will's almost imperceptible nod as the color drained from his face.

"His name was Jonathan. He would be five now. I never saw him alive," Will said, hardly above a whisper. Not what you would think of as alive. His eyes shone with sudden unshed tears. Mama, I think I understand now.

Mary approached Will and placed one reassuring hand on his cheek, much the same as his mother had done when he was a young child, and much the same as Mary herself had done when he first came to Port Royal as an orphan. "I thought as much. Living apart, I'm sure the two of you never had the chance to grieve properly. It's not the kind of thing you should go through alone, and sadly I speak with the voice of experience," Mary smiled faintly at him as he lowered his gaze to hers. "Go to her. You are what she needs right now."

Will stared into Mary's eyes for a moment, wondering how it was that she had echoed his mother's words so accurately. He drew in a deep breath and nodded his head before leaving the kitchen and making his way to the main house through the open doors leading to the dining room and across to the landing leading to his and Elizabeth's bedroom. He paused for a long time at the foot of the staircase, staring up at the door just beyond the head of the stairs. He was keenly aware that he needed to go to Elizabeth—he wanted to go to her— but he had erroneously assumed that he would have more time to plan how he would explain to his wife what had happened to him at the salt ponds and to tell her the truth about the fate of their second son. Logically, he knew he should have expected the opportune moment to arise shortly after his return from their outing, but emotionally, he was still gathering his reserves to deal with what surely would be a heart-breaking and agonizing revelation.

He reluctantly ascended the steps, having decided there was no true option other than to face things head on. His mother had been right, as had Miss Mary, he and Elizabeth had never had the chance to grieve for their loss. It was rare for them to even mention Jonathan to each other, much less share their hurt. On some level, Will had always known that they had just been delaying the inevitable. It wasn't as if they could or even wanted to forget William's brother. It was just that neither one of them felt strong enough to deal with that heart ache, their separation having already taxed their emotional reserves.

Will had been long aware that Elizabeth had escalated her efforts to clear their names almost the instant she recovered from the baby's difficult delivery. Had she not been so relentless in her pursuits, they may very well have still been on the run more than a decade after the hunt for them had begun. Her struggle to regain at least part of what she had lost regarding her family name, her heritage and her inheritance along with clearing Will's own name—that she now proudly shared— had paid off…, but at what cost?

With one hand placed flat on the wooden surface of the door, Will gently pressed the handle and silently pushed it open. The room was dark, or at least, as dark as it could be made during the day. Even so, it was still oppressively hot, with not so much as a breeze trickling in from the open windows. Elizabeth was lying on the bed, face buried in a pillow—hi s pillow—with her back to Will. She still wore the same simple skirt and blouse she had been wearing when he had last seen her the day before. Her legs were curled up just enough to expose her bare feet. Even when Will stepped through the door then closed it with a barely audible snick of the handle, Elizabeth did not move. Will could only assume that she was hard, fast asleep, otherwise, he was sure that she would have acknowledged his entrance. He stood there with his back leaning against the door for several long minutes just watching his wife sleep. It was a simple luxury, so often taken for granted, that he had been denied. A part of him pushed to awaken her and tell her of his dream that was not a dream. If there were consequences to be faced, he wanted to confront them as quickly as possible. His mother and now Miss Mary had made it clear that he and Elizabeth needed to reckon with their long ago loss and long delayed grief. Yet there was another part of him that was terrified of how Elizabeth would react. He had, albeit unwittingly, broken a promise they had made to each other –that they would no longer keep secrets from each other.

Will straightened up, quietly removed his shoes and socks, and padded silently across the room to the wardrobe, discarded footwear in hand which he then placed quietly on the floor. He shrugged off the well worn leather coat he was wearing and returned it to its proper place in the heavy mahogany wardrobe that held all his worldly possessions. He started to close the door, then hesitated, and removed the heart shaped shell fragment from his coat pocket before pushing the door the rest of the way closed. He stared wistfully at the lone tangible reminder of his all too brief encounter and farewell with his youngest son.

"I missed you," said a barely audible, sleep and tear abraded voice from across the room.

Will smiled softly and continued to turn the shell over in his hands. "I was only gone for a day," he replied with just a hint of mirth in his voice.

Elizabeth sighed deeply. "That doesn't change anything. I still missed you."

"I missed you too," he confessed, turning his head to see Elizabeth still lying on the bed, but now with one arm outstretched towards him, beckoning him to come to her. Will cautiously approached the bed with the now forgotten shell still in his hand. As he approached, the ravages of Elizabeth's last twenty-four hours became startlingly clear. The dark circles beneath her eyes stood out in sharp contrast to the normal ivory perfection of her face. Will felt a twinge of guilt over the fact that she had needed him and he had not been there. You're going to have to face your own frailties. Meg's words echoed in Will's memory. He took the hand that Elizabeth offered in his own and carelessly dropped the shell onto the night stand.

"Would you stay here with me for a while?" Elizabeth asked, almost timidly.

"I'm afraid that at the moment I don't meet with your exacting standards concerning personal hygiene. William and I just returned a few minutes ago," Will pointed out in an attempt to elicit a smile from his obviously despondent wife.

The smile he earned was very faint and seemingly forced. "I think I can grant you a temporary abeyance," she announced in a rather formal manner.

Will eased himself onto the mattress facing Elizabeth. He rested his head on his left arm and ran the fingers of his right hand down the curve of her jaw from her ear to her chin, and then moved his arm to wrap cautiously around her waist. Elizabeth had yet to open her eyes, but took the opportunity to tuck herself neatly into her husband's embrace. The hand that she had used earlier to summon him to her side now rested flat on Will's chest, directly over his heart. Will had quickly learned that there were normally only two reasons for that particular and increasingly familiar gesture on Elizabeth's part. He immediately recognized this instance for what it was. Whatever was bothering Elizabeth went beyond lack of sleep and heartache for a friend's misfortune. Even the least attentive of husbands should have been able to identify the source of his wife's sorrow under conditions such as this.

"Miss Mary told me about Estrella," Will murmured, struggling to hold his voice steady—not from Estrella's loss, but from the memory of their own— then kissed the top of Elizabeth's head. "The baby was too early, wasn't it?"

Will felt the slight movement of Elizabeth nodding her head against his chest. "She named her Esperanza," Elizabeth shared with him as new tears threatened to fall.

"That's a pretty name." Will began to lightly rub Elizabeth's back in an effort to console her.

"She said it means hope. After all she's been through she's still able to focus on the future."

"I imagine it will be difficult for her losing her husband and her daughter in less than six months time," Will observed.

Elizabeth drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Thomas isn't dead. She left—ran away—from him." Elizabeth pushed away from Will just enough so that she could see his face. "He beat her, he forced himself on her, he killed one of their children, he…he…he," Elizabeth started to stammer as her anger at Thomas Brantley renewed itself. "I don't care what the laws say. Just because they're married doesn't give him the right to abuse her like that. I'll do what I must to help her." Elizabeth's voice grew stronger as her customary sense of righteousness returned with a vengeance.

"I knew something wasn't quite right with her story, but I would never have thought that." Will pressed his lips together in a grimace. "Thomas was a rather memorable character around Port Royal in those days. I can honestly say that I had no use for him whatsoever." Will exhaled sharply. "I think—no, I'm sure—that if he had died at sea that I would have remembered ferrying him. If any man has ever earned his place in hell, Thomas Brantley would be him without a doubt." And I would have happily escorted him there given the chance even without knowing this.

Elizabeth gave Will a feeble smile. "That's because you would never do something like that." She eased her left hand up from his chest to rest lightly on his neck. "And I remember very well what Thomas was like. I suppose I'm appalled, but not shocked?" She added as if looking for reassurance.

Will smiled back. "True, I would never think of doing anything remotely like what you described, but it fits in with Thomas' temperament so I can't say as I'm surprised." Will dipped his head and kissed Elizabeth's forehead. "We'll protect her as best we are able. I think we owe her that much," he added mischievously.

"Do we now?" Elizabeth asked with mock innocence as she tilted her head back to kiss Will's mouth. "Just because she served as a look out." She kissed his chin. "And provided more than one alibi for where we had been." She kissed the hollow of his throat. "You think we owe her for that?"

"I was right!" William blurted out, pushing the door open and entering the room. "You didn't want to talk to Mama, you just wanted to kiss her," he proclaimed, interrupting an affectionate, but not overly amorous display.

Will pulled back from Elizabeth. "I don't recall denying your accusation," he pointed out in his defense, while stifling a laugh. "And just to clarify: she was kissing me."

"Did I miss something?" Elizabeth asked in a confused tone, but with a genuine smile on her face now. She reluctantly pushed herself away from Will and into an upright position, barely in time to catch her son in an embrace as he launched himself onto the bed.

"Mama," William said worriedly. "Are you sick?"

"No," Elizabeth replied, pushing her son's hair out of his face. "I'm just tired. I imagine that you are too, after your adventure."

"No ma'am," he announced confidently. "Well…maybe a little. Did Papa tell you that I fell into the water? But I'm fine. He didn't have to rescue me and nothing bad happened even if it was the ocean. Calypso didn't try to drown me or anything. It still counts if it's in the bay, right? And about the ship we saw? I don't think it was pirates— or at least not any that we know—but it disappeared, and I only asked to come home early because I thought you were sad and not because I was scared. Papa doesn't sing as well as you do. Did you know he talks in his sleep?" William blurted out excitedly, seemingly in one breath.

"Actually, no, I didn't tell her anything yet, but I think you just hit on all of the highlights," Will pointed out. "And since you started, I think I'll just lay back and let you do all the explaining," he added, making a show of plumping up a pillow and getting comfortable.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow curiously and looked from one William Turner to the other. "An explanation would definitely be in order right about now. Why don't we start with falling into the ocean?"

Will could hear the well disguised alarm in Elizabeth's voice, even if William was oblivious to it. He raised himself up on his elbows and gave William a hard look, softened by the hint of amusement in his voice. "He slipped on the end of the gangplank. There wasn't actually much falling into anything involved." He turned his head towards Elizabeth. "You know that you have to wade ashore there. I certainly wasn't about to carry him."

"You carried me," Elizabeth said slyly, offering her husband a look that matched her voice.

"Not the same thing at all," Will countered, noticing the twinkle of devilry in her eyes.

"It wasn't really deep at all," William interjected, trying to come to his father's defense while being blissfully unaware that his parents were shamelessly flirting with each other.

Elizabeth licked her lips, her eyes still locked with Will's. "You obviously survived the ordeal, so I suppose that means no harm done." She turned her face towards William, reluctantly tearing herself away from the somewhat tempting suggestion shining in Will's eyes. "I believe you also mentioned a ship?"

William nodded solemnly. "I'm sure it wasn't pirates," he said with confidence. "Right, Papa?"

Will knew, before Elizabeth fixed him with a steely gaze, what she was planning to ask. Not seeing any point in delaying the inevitable, he offered his own explanation. "I'm almost positive that he's right on that count," he confirmed with a nod towards William. "They came in dark, but no one raised an alarm at the fort. I'm assuming that means they recognized the ship itself. I can't imagine anyone could see her flag." Will shrugged off the incident like it was of little to no significance, knowing that while William might fall for his bluff, Elizabeth would see right through it. Likewise, he knew she could tell that he had no further information other than what he had already offered much less a feasible explanation.

"I see," Elizabeth said curtly, effectively discouraging any additional discussion on that topic or at least any more familial discussion.

Will was sure that he would be pressed to repeat what few scant details he had until Elizabeth was satisfied that she had covered all possible angles. Her natural tendency to evaluate every situation had only been exacerbated by her experiences and responsibilities over the past ten years or more. "Before this tale goes any further might I point out that I am not the one who let it slip that it was your idea to come home a day early," Will announced righteously, staring intensely, but playfully at his son for a several seconds before returning to his earlier prone position. He clasped his hands together and cracked his knuckles, and settled back into his spot on the bed, signaling his refusal to take any blame for William's slip of the tongue or slip from the gangway.

"Papa!" William giggled. "You promised!"

"I promised not to tell your mother unless she asked and then to argue your case if she didn't believe your story," Will teased.

"Well, I happen to know that both of you are mistaken," Elizabeth announced smugly.

"Is that so?" Will queried. "I can hardly wait to hear where we went wrong." He fought to control a laugh. He was sincerely pleased to note that William's arrival had apparently snapped Elizabeth out of her despondency.

"I wished you back early." Elizabeth kept her voice low as if she was revealing a well-kept secret.

William looked at his mother with confusion and disbelief. "Can you do that?"

"Of course!" She replied with all seriousness. "It's a special talent that I've always had. I wanted you to come home today and you did. What other proof do you need?"

"Oh really?" Will couldn't keep from laughing this time. "Have I ever been the victim— excuse me— recipient of this wondrously hidden and previously unknown talent of yours?"

Elizabeth leaned over so that her face was inches from Will's. "I married you just like I had always wanted, now didn't I?"

"So it would seem." Will reached up and put one hand behind Elizabeth's neck, then rose up just enough to lightly kiss her on the mouth.

"Not again," William moaned.

"Get used to it," his father said. "This is how things work around here."

Elizabeth pulled back from Will, eyes narrowed, shaking her head at Will's words. She then redirected her attention to William. "As for the rest of the story, I could have told you that your father can't sing very well, even if someone told you otherwise." Just wait until I see Jack Sparrow again…

"It's not that bad," Will defended himself with mock indignity. "It's more like—"

"Yes, it is and we didn't ask you," Elizabeth interjected, as she cast her husband a flippant look. Turning back to William before Will could offer an appropriate retort, she added, "And I could have told you that he talks in his sleep too. Actually, it's more like mumbling than talking. It took some getting used to—"she shrugged noncommittally.

"I most certainly do not!" Will sat up and glared at his wife and son, but with enough of a smile on his face for them to know that he was not truly angry. "I think I'm being falsely accused."

"How would you know?" Elizabeth asked blithely. "You're asleep when you do it."

"He wasn't mumbling. He was having an entire conversation with someone," William clarified. "Or maybe there were two people. I'm not sure."

Elizabeth felt Will tense beside her. He clearly knew what William was referring to and it was quite obviously not a simple case of Will talking—or mumbling— in his sleep. She noticed out of the corner of her eye, that Will had turned his face away from them, pulled his knees up to his chest, and was now pretending to stare at something across the room. Whatever had happened, he apparently didn't want to discuss it with William. She was sure that he would share with her, but only when he was ready. Will had never been— nor ever would be— the kind of man who could be pushed into doing something when he didn't want to.

"William," Will said quietly, still staring intently at nothing. "I really do need to talk to your mother." He wrapped his arms around his knees and looked at the boy sitting on the far side of the bed. He suddenly wished that he could delay the explanation that he owed Elizabeth and continue the light hearted banter between the three of them, but there was nothing to be gained from waiting and much to lose if he procrastinated.

Elizabeth picked up on the faint tinge of urgency that colored Will's voice. She reached over to William and rested one hand on his cheek. "Your father is right. He and I do need to discuss some things." She leaned forward and made a show out of inhaling deeply in William's general direction. "I think you, sir, need to go have a bath," she ordered, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

William scowled at his mother. "Are you going to make Papa take a bath too? Doesn't he smell bad too?"

Will raised a questioning eyebrow at his son's audacity. "That may well be, but I was granted a stay."

"And I believe I said that was only temporary?" She reminded him without taking her attention away from their son. Elizabeth knew that if she didn't call a halt to the discussion between the two most important men in her life right then and there, that they would continue to tease and pick at each other for an eternity. Besides, she was anxious to learn why Will had been so quick to direct the conversation away from what he might have said in his sleep. "And that still means that you need to go take a bath." She leaned forward and kissed William on the forehead. "Now," she added for emphasis.

"Yes, ma'am," William said as he crawled off the bed and made his way to the door.

Elizabeth followed him with her eyes until he left the room and closed the door securely. She then turned towards Will, who still had his face turned to the wall, leaned down and kissed his shoulder. "Did you have another nightmare?" she asked hardly above a whisper.

"Nothing quite so mundane," Will sighed. "He was telling the truth, even if he doesn't quite know what the truth is."

"Does it have something to do with the ship you saw?"

"No. There isn't anything else I can tell you about that except that it looked familiar even if I didn't recognize it." Will exhaled sharply. "That makes no sense I know, but that's the only way I can explain it."

"If it's something that you don't want to talk about, I do understand," Elizabeth offered, suddenly feeling a need to console Will.

"No. I have to. I need to." He stretched back out on the bed as he had earlier and lay there quietly for a few moments, then rolled to his side so that he was looking at Elizabeth, but could not see her face. "I saw my mother. That's who he heard me talking to— or at least that's one of the people he heard me talking to. She said he wouldn't wake up while she was there. I assumed that meant he couldn't hear her either. I actually don't know if he did hear her or just me. I thought I had dreamed all of it until he asked me this morning who I had been talking to."

"Will, if—" Elizabeth cut off her own sentence knowing that Will would once again tell her that he had to explain the events of the previous evening to her. She slid back down on to the bed and rolled to face Will. No secrets. We promised each other that long ago. I know that's what he would say even if I offer him a respite from sharing just this once.

Will moved his left arm to wrap around Elizabeth's shoulders and pull her closer to him. Elizabeth willingly obliged and nestled herself against his side. "She said you needed me."

"I always need you," Elizabeth said in an attempt to lighten Will's mood. She didn't miss the shadow of a smile that flickered across his face.

"Not…" Will stopped to collect his thoughts. "I don't know how to explain this."

"You don't have to." Again, she knew what his response would be.

"Yes. I do." He raised up just enough to reach the shell he had dropped on the night table. "Elizabeth, I've been keeping a secret from you that I didn't even know I had. I obviously didn't do it on purpose. It just happened, but it kept us from dealing with something we thought to painful to face."

"Will, you're scaring me." Elizabeth's voice trembled as she spoke. What could be more painful that what we've already been through?

"This is for you," he said calmly, turning it in his hand so that the light reflected pink and gold off of its finely polished surface.

"It almost looks like a heart." Elizabeth struggled to understand how a broken albeit beautiful shell fragment could possibly relate to Will's still unknown secret. She reached over and ran her index finger over its smooth interior which gave it the appearance of being made of candle wax. "Is this to replace the one that I had to give back?" she asked in a vain attempt to lighten the situation.

Will exhaled sharply in response to her question. "That one still belongs to you. That will never change." He handed her the shell. "We just keep it in a more appropriate…receptacle now."

Elizabeth noticed the most miniscule suggestion of Will's familiar lopsided grin as she spoke. "Then I thank you very kindly for your gift. It was quite thoughtful of you," she commented with over exaggerated formality.

"It's not from me. It's from your son." Will shifted to also wrap his right arm around his wife .

Elizabeth smiled at some memory that Will could never share. "He's always done that. Brought me little treasures he had found. I regret that most of them have been left behind at some point."

Will released his grasp on Elizabeth's waist, put one finger under Elizabeth's chin and lifted her face to him. "Not William," he said, fighting to control the emotion in his tone. "Our other son."

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. Will heard her sudden intake of breath followed by the strangled sound of a repressed sob. Her lips trembled as the first of the tears she was fighting so valiantly to restrain seeped from beneath her eyelashes. "How?" She asked, her voice strained with long repressed grief. Elizabeth's eyes immediately filled with tears that she was unable to control any longer.

Elizabeth reopened her eyes as Will kissed her tenderly on her forehead. "That's the other person William thought I was talking to. I saw him last night too."

Elizabeth forced a faint smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I can't imagine he's much of a conversationalist. He would only just have turned five." She remembered the types of conversations she and William had when he was that age. Mama, I want to grow a raisin tree. What happens if you run out of hugs? Do butterflies really make butter?

"In some respects he is only five, but in others he's wise beyond his years."

"I still don't understand how that's even possible." Elizabeth's eyes suddenly opened in alarm and unrestrained panic set in. Don't leave me. I need you. "Oh, God, please no," she stammered and began to cry more fervently. We did what was demanded of us. "I can't…I can't lose you again," she choked out. I don't know if I can survive without him.

Will pulled her closer to him and tucked her head beneath his chin. "No, not that. I'm not going anywhere," he said soothingly. "I'm free of any ties I had to the land of the dead, least most of them anyway. My mother said that I can still see those who haven't moved on because I am… I was one of them. I won't ever leave you again. I promise." Will took his hand from her face and rubbed her back to try to calm her already frayed nerves before he continued. "Elizabeth, this is the part that will be difficult for me to explain. About Jonathan that is. It's what I kept from you without meaning to."

Elizabeth nodded as best she could in the confines of Will's embrace. "He was perfect," she hiccupped around her tears.

"Yes, he was," Will agreed. "Do you remember when we saw your father in the locker? Do you remember that he wasn't sure he was dead?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with Jonathan?" Elizabeth's head was beginning to ache from all the stress. I always lose those I care about the most.

"Your father still acted and reacted like a living, breathing person, but he wasn't."

"It would be impossible for me to forget, but I still don't understand what my father's…condition has to do with Jonathan." My father was murdered. Am I to blame for Jonathan's death? Is that how they're related?

"When I took him back to the Dutchman with me, it was as if everything was as it should be. I was terrified at first. I thought I had taken him across by mistake. Eventually, Bootstrap took him from me because I couldn't bring myself to let him go on. That's one of the few times I can remember him being more of a parent than a crew member." Will stopped to reorganize his thoughts. "I'm not sure exactly how it works, but I knew that some souls could choose to wait until someone they loved makes that final journey and they make their final crossing together—through that veil I couldn't see past. I assumed that's what Jonathan had chosen to do—wait for you."

Will paused to gently push Elizabeth just far enough that he could see her face. She had her eyes cemented shut, and her face had lost all of its normal color. He waited a moment to allow her time to question him if she wanted, but she remained perfectly quiet.

"Now that I think back on it, I think I always knew that wasn't possible. How can an infant make a choice like that? But I allowed myself to believe it because it suited my purposes and kept me from thinking about what I had really done," he continued. The longer he spoke, the less difficult it became for him to retell his story.

"Suited your purposes? I don't understand," Elizabeth mumbled almost incoherently.

"I watched him grow up, Elizabeth. I resented that I had missed so much of William's childhood and was only half way through my obligation. My own selfish desires kept him from moving on like he should have. That is how I was still able to see him, talk to him, hug him, everything I couldn't do with William."

Elizabeth opened her eyes and stared into Will's with an uncertain expression on her face. "Is he still waiting? Will you see him again?" she asked hesitantly. I'm not sure if I could bear it.

"No. He's not and I won't until it's my turn. That's why my mother came to me last night; to tell me that I had to let him go, that it was time for me to face what I had allowed to happen and that until I did, neither of us would be able to grow and change like we need to in order to be a family. We have to work together for that to happen and for now it's accepting what happened with Jonathan."

"Your mother must have been a very wise woman," Elizabeth commented gracefully. And I owe her for laying the groundwork for you to become the man that you are.

"When you're ten, maybe as old as twelve, you think your mother knows everything," Will added. She didn't live long enough for me to learn any different.

"And I've taken every advantage of that possible. It won't be long before William thinks he knows everything," Elizabeth sighed sadly. "Besides, you're not ten anymore."

"For which I am grateful," he confessed. "I find that there are far more intriguing things for us to do now than when we were twelve." His eyes and smile suggested what those activities might be. "For all intents and purposes, you and I are starting from the beginning again."

"Except for the fact that we already have an overly inquisitive nine-year old shadowing our every move," Elizabeth pointed out, a sparkle of humor finally reappearing in her voice. "That might possibly add more danger than intrigue."

"There is that," Will laughed.

Elizabeth held up the shell heart and looked at it instead of Will. "Did you let him?"

"Jonathan? Yes, I let him go. It hurt to know he was leaving, but I know that I would have been doing him an injustice by forcing him to stay. And there's nothing keeping me from William now," Will sounded relieved just to say it out loud. "Besides, there's always the possibility of someone else to love and care for."

Elizabeth kept her facial expressions passive, but her heart was leaping with joy at the thought. If only I were sure…"As frightening as last night was with Estrella and with all the painful memories that resurfaced, that's something I still very much want. Elizabeth turned her face back to Will's and brushed her lips against his. "You taste of honey," she commented before partaking of another sample.

"Mmm," Will mumbled incomprehensibly. "I stopped by the kitchen first. It's baking day."

"You may have to do that more often. I rather like the results," Elizabeth said against his lips.

"As you wish," he agreed.

"Will, what was…no, what is he like?" Elizabeth bravely inquired, not entirely sure how she would react to the answer.

Will smiled at the memory of the little boy that only he had known. "He looks much more like you than William does. His hair is curlier than William's, but much lighter, almost blond, but not quite. Maybe a shade darker than yours? He has pale blue eyes and…"

"Those must be a gift from his grandfather Turner," Elizabeth interjected, sounding content to hear of the son she had lost. He looks like I imagined.

"Yes, they're the same as Bootstrap's. He has your smile," Will pointed out. "I think he would have been taller than William, but thin too. William seems…" Will searched for an appropriate adjective. "Sturdier," he offered confidently. "And most importantly, he knows you and he loves you very much." Will suddenly fell silent.

"Is something wrong?" asked Elizabeth, concerned as always for Will just as much as she ever was for William.

"I just realized that by keeping him from moving on, I forced him to know of you, but not actually know you." Will looked puzzled. "I'm not sure if I'm explaining that like I want."

"No, I'm sure that what you did had nothing to do with that. Don't forget that I carried him for nearly nine months. I'm sure he knew me rather well by the end of that." Elizabeth said smugly. As I knew him.

"I never thought of it like that," Will mused.

Elizabeth sighed dramatically. "Men don't think like that. They only supply half of the raw materials and then leave the women to do all the work."

Will rolled his eyes at Elizabeth. "Should we be fortunate enough to have more children, I want to be there for everything."

"I'm sure you may want to rethink that wish later…should the opportunity arise." Elizabeth hoped Will didn't notice her verbal stumble. She wasn't sure herself that she was pregnant so there was no point in disappointing both of them if she was wrong. "It's not a pretty sight." But what I wouldn't give for him to be there to see his child—our child—come into this world.

"Elizabeth, I've had my still beating heart carved out of my chest, by my own father, using a rather dull knife," he deadpanned. "I think I can handle pretty much anything now. "

Elizabeth playfully punched Will's arm, then grew serious. "What if I lose another baby? It happens. Estrella had no warning that something was wrong and look what happened. Maybe I can't have any more after what I went through with Jonathan."

"That was an accident and you know it. It's not like you sailed into a battle almost nine months gone just because you felt like it. It just happened and we're left to pay the price for it," he said bitterly. It was one more hurdle towards our happiness.

Elizabeth knew his anger was not directed at her, but at the agents of the East India Trading Company that had relentlessly pursued her for so long. "Will, in my saner moments, I can think about what happened and know that it was the catalyst I needed to take action to clear our names. I think that up to that point I was still just marking the days until you came back. It took me all of those first five years to regain all of my spirit so to speak. But it doesn't take away from the sadness. Emotions are stronger than reason. We should both know that by now."

"It shouldn't. Take away from the sadness, I mean. In any case, it's all behind us now, we need to let the sorrow stay there, but keep the happy memories—you have to admit that there were some—and move forward."

"There were more than a few moments when I could forget how much longer we would be apart," Elizabeth admitted. "You're right."And I never once regretted my choice.

"As always," Will teased.

"As most of the time," she shot back with a giggle. "Will, don't feel guilty about what you did with Jonathan. It's almost a relief, in a way, for me to know that."

"How so?"

"I had William all to myself. It hurt to think that you would never see his first step, hear his first word, experience the joy that is teething…I know things had to have been a bit…different with how Jonathan grew, but I'm happy to know that you were able to experience at least a little of it. I suppose what I'm saying is that I have a part of William that you will never know and you have a part of Jonathan that I can never know. It's not entirely fair, but it is what it is. Just knowing that he made it possible for you to experience some of what you missed with William makes losing him easier to bear."

"I think I understand what you mean," Will concluded. He reached up to put one hand on the back of Elizabeth's head and pulled her in for a far more serious kiss than any they had shared since he and William had returned home.

"Will," Elizabeth mumbled against his lips. "Your son was right. You need a bath too."

Will broke off the kiss only momentarily to answer. "Does this mean my stay has expired?" He delicately kissed the corners of her mouth.

Elizabeth arched her head back, encouraging Will to pursue his current endeavor other places, but with a caveat. "I know you well, Will Turner. Don't ever forget that. And I know where this could lead—I'm not complaining about that— but not as filthy as you are now. In short, you stink."

Will kissed the sensitive spot just behind Elizabeth's ear eliciting a faint moan from her. "You never complained about that before." He continued to trail kisses down her neck. "I smell like the sea. That's what you used to say."

Elizabeth gathered her wits before things progressed to the point of no return and pushed Will from her. "Yes, but add to that dead fish, sweat, wood smoke and what I'm sure must be pond muck or bilge water or something equally disgusting and it's not a very appealing combination."

Will looked at her quizzically for a moment. "You're right…as always," he laughed as he rolled off the bed.

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him.

Will grinned at her, the tip of his tongue barely visible between his teeth. He put both hands on the mattress, leaned forward and quickly bussed her. "Until later?" He asked.

"Until later," she agreed.