I don't own anything from Pirates of the Caribbean, but we can all wish.

One

Only another typical day on Isla Azule, nothing much happened here. The island was off the southwest coast of Hispania, about twelve leagues away. The townspeople were normal and respectable just like any other town in the Caribbean. Sailors came and went, as this island was a popular port for merchant captains to rest and re-supply.

Today the harbor was busier than usual, which proved good for William Turner. Most, though, called him Wills. His father had given him that name since they did share the same name. As if it were yesterday Wills so vividly remembered the first time he met his father. He was only three, but he remembered him so well. He truly remembered the day his father came home. So long ago and he was only nine at the time. Every sailor that came to port knew his father, just not realizing it. Wills had heard the story so many times. His father, Will Turner, was given another chance to live with one man's selfless decision. In turn, he was made captain of the Flying Dutchman. Ten years at sea, one day on land every decade to be with those he loved. His still beating heart, cut from his body and locked away in a chest, the only thing Wills had of his father. The terms were steep and Will did always say that it depended on the one day. For him the curse was worth it for more than one reason. He didn't have to bear this burden alone and he finally got his father. William "Bootstrap Bill" Turner had already been part of the Dutchman's crew, but he stayed with his son even after he was given the chance of freedom. Truly, things for Will weren't that bad.

Wills sighed as his warm brown eyes gazed upon the sunset, longing to look upon the green flash once more. His shoulder length light brown hair blew in the sea breeze. He was an image of his mother more than father, but shared his father's rich brown eyes. The last time he had seen his identical eyes was seven years ago. He was sixteen and had only been with his father for two days in his entire life. Nothing was more important to him than his beloved father, who he planned on joining one day as he lay dying.

Work was completed for today, and was, for once, rather busy. Being the most skilled carpenter that many sailors knew and only trusted, Wills smiled to himself. That was the other quality he shared with his father. Both were skilled craftsmen. He loved his work for two reasons: he was at sea and heard stories of this captain that had saved them from death and helped them find safety.

Walking home, he noticed the amount of marines at the island today. Oddly, there were a great many. Hardly any ever came there and they had no reason to come anyway. He shrugged and continued home. A smile came to him. He also loved where he lived. His home was on the other side of the island where no one lived situated above a cove. Below were white sandy beaches of the softest sand that any one had ever felt and their own bay. Nowhere could be, as his "uncle" always said, much more better.

"Mum, I'm home," Wills called closing the door.

A woman appeared from over the corner and asked, "Well how was your day?"

Wills smiled. "I heard another story about the Flying Dutchman today. This sailor spoke of her captain for an hour to his mates as I repaired the rails." His smile died as loneliness came over him. "I miss him, a lot."

"Me too," agreed Elizabeth Turner softly. "But, he would not want us to wallow in self pity, especially you since you had nothing to do with it."

"I want an adventure like you and father had. To live and have fought in the last battle for piracy would have made a grand adventure," said Wills with a hint of jealousy.

"It was," said Elizabeth. Her eyes misted with tears and face dulled to sadness.

Knowing where her mind dwelled, Wills took her hands tightly into his own. She nodded. Will was still there and his heart still beating strong.

For a reason unknown, Wills woke with a start that night. He lay in bed staring at the ceiling, his eyes growing confused. Orange light glowed. It was not morning. Most curious, he got out of bed to look out the window. A ship was anchored. Men came ashore and marched up the hill. Reaching for his spyglass, he peeked at the men. All were marines armed with rifles. He turned to the ship. A man stood at the helm wearing a blue coat with elegant trimming. His attire was rather lordly. Wills focused on the piece of paper that was being pointed at. The spyglass fell from his hands. Not bothering to slip his boots or tunic on, he ran for his mother's room in nothing but his breeches.

Elizabeth was already dressed in boots, breeches, and a tunic and currently shoving weapons anywhere she could find a place for them. She handed Wills a sword. He nodded.

Pounding on the door took their attention. They separated and hid in different places.

Waiting, Wills hid in a dark corner. Fear came over him. He had never killed a man or fought in a battle. He was taught how to fight as soon as he could walk it seemed. Growing up, each day he and his mother would have mock duels with each other. He realized why she wanted him to know how to fight as the marines quietly searched the house. The opportune moment was all that was needed. With his heart pounding, he sought it. He thrust his blade through a man's body. More came from behind him. From a distance, he heard his mother already engaged in battle as well. He parried, blocked, and killed his way down the stairs to the parlor. Elizabeth had also made her way inside. Both were surrounded with men and loaded rifles.

"We found it."

Wills and Elizabeth both screamed as they bolted to the man holding the Dead Man's Chest. In it was the greatest leverage a man could acquire.

Wills tripped and fell. He rolled on his back. Sudden sharp pain stung in his mind.

Nothing.

Wills snapped his eyes open. A hand was gently caressing his hair. His head was lying in his mother's lap. He looked into his mother's smile of relief. Slowly sitting up, with assistance from his mother, he touched his aching head. On the left side of his forehead he could feel dry blood from a cut above his eye. Glancing around, he found he was in a prison cell with a few very annoying inmates next to them that whistled and called for Elizabeth as though she was a dog.

"What happened? Where are we?" asked Wills.

"In a prison cell at Port Royal, Jamaica. That's all I know," replied Elizabeth.

"Mum, they have father's heart," Wills told her suddenly.

Remembering as well, Elizabeth nodded. She began trembling knowing why anyone would want that chest. Whoever had the heart of the Flying Dutchman had the power to control the seas and, in this instance, Will would have to obey. The question now was who.

Both were finally beginning to dose off into sleep in each other's arms when chains rattled and keys jangled. Looking around, they saw three marines. One held a set of keys that were unlocking the cell while the other two held shackles.

Wills and Elizabeth found themselves shackled and led away. Elizabeth gazed at her former home. Things had changed from when she was a child. Even more Port Royal had become a military base. They were taken into an office. Two men were hunched over a table.

"The prisoners, Lord Beckett."

Elizabeth's heart skipped a few beats as she found it difficult to breathe. It wasn't true. Beckett was killed. She saw it. Wills also turned his head curiously. He knew the tales very well.

The two men turned. One observed them closely as they did to him. This man wore a perfectly trimmed, white wig, dark blue coat with trimming, very elaborate tunic and trousers. Wills looked seeing that he was the man who had been looking at the piece of paper with a drawing of the Dead Man's Chest. The two gazed at each other for a long moment.

"May we talk in peace without hostilities?" the man asked.

Wills looked at his mother unsure. Elizabeth slowly nodded. The shackles were removed from their wrists as three glasses of wine were poured. The man took a drink then sat in a chair behind a table. He motioned to the two chairs in front.

"Are you Cutler Beckett?" wondered Wills.

The man's face grew sour as his lip curled in a rage of jealousy. He looked at Wills. "No. Cutler Beckett was my ever so adored older brother. I was the child that was told to do everything as my worshipped brother was. I'm glad he's dead. Now I must do what my brother did not. I know who you two are Elizabeth and William Turner. For reference, as my name shall be more glorious, I am Harrison Beckett."

"Why have you brought us here?" wondered Elizabeth.

Beckett smiled with the same cruel smile his brother had. "The question, Mrs. Turner, is what reason I have not to. You are king of the Brethren Court. Your son is prince. Your husband masters the seas and commands the most powerful ship on these waters. So again, I ask what reason do I have not to bring you two here?"

"What makes you say this?" asked Elizabeth not admitting to the truth.

"Interrogation and time," replied Beckett with a pleasurable grin.

"It's not worth anything," Wills told him.

"It being what Mr. Turner?" wondered Beckett as he stood. He unlocked a cabinet and brought the Dead Man's Chest forth. "This perhaps?"

Elizabeth sighed. Inside there was a still beating heart. Only part of her was relieved however.

"That's of no use to you," said Wills.

"How so?" asked Beckett, tapping his fingers on the chest. "No, I learned from my brother's mistakes. This chest and heart is all I need. The key to open the chest is with the captain of the Flying Dutchman, who is currently ferrying souls of those who have died at sea. He shall soon have a new duty to accept."

"Using the chest as leverage will not be as effective as it was on Jones. My father could kill you without hesitation and he will," said Wills unafraid, very much like his father.

"Fortunately, I have greater leverage than his beating heart," said Beckett. He gave a nod to one of his men. Immediately, Wills and Elizabeth were once again shackled. Both understood well. Will's heart was not the leverage. They were.

The two of them were led to the docks. Sailors continued to load cargo onto a particular ship. From a distance away, Wills read her name: Crusader. Being a master carpenter, he gazed upon the build. Her framework was tough and sturdy, the sails were thick, good, tough ropes were used, this ship had no normal painting that a Navy ship would have, she was normal wooden color, and probably had never seen a voyage outside Port Royal. Apparently they were a part of the cargo as well. Surprisingly, instead of being thrown in the brig, both were locked inside Beckett's office. Worry rising due to no other exit, they sat close to each other.

"What do you think is going to happen?" wondered Wills.

"I don't know what will happen to us, but I do know that every pirate sailing the sea will soon be hunted down and killed. Beckett is back and this one knows too much. He learned from his brother's experience. He knows what he wants and how to get it. I don't know what's going to happen," said Elizabeth with a trembling voice and hands.

"He won't let anything happen to us," Wills assured, taking her hands in to his own.

"It's not me I worry about. It's your father," said Elizabeth.

"Mum, Grandfather won't let anything happen to him either," Wills told her. He looked gently into her eyes. Elizabeth thought she was looking into her husband's eyes and not her son's. "Don't worry. It will be all right. I promise," Wills added. A smile crept onto Elizabeth's face as she nodded. She touched her son's cheek, feeling better. Wills smiled. "Besides, maybe this will bring another visit from the good captain."

Elizabeth's smile widened. Will. Just maybe.

A flash of green on the horizon. Not many could say that they have seen it. The crew of the Crusader was now among those that could say they have. Beckett gazed upon the Flying Dutchman in admiration. She was a rather beautiful ship with gleaming sides, gold lion head canon ports, white flowing sails, and a legend to look upon. His smile widened. She would soon be in his command if all went according to plan.

Two men suddenly came onto the deck. One bore wavy, dark hair pulled back, vibrant sea blue eyes, and the look of a normal sailor. The other had his dark curly hair pulled back by a sun faded blue bandana. A silver earring in his left ear shone brightly. His rich brown eyes showed nothing but power and determination. His face expresses the same feeling. On his body he wore a white tunic that exposed part of his strong chest, a blue sash wrapped around his waist, dark breeches, black boots, and a dark blue coat that had seen many years. The breeze blew his tunic aside revealing a precise scar and a silver key possessing two prongs on a necklace with shells and beads. The two men were undoubtedly father and son.

Beckett smiled. "Captain Turner I presume?"

"Ah, you've heard of me then?" noted Will with a pleased smile. He looked at the man closer noticing a chilling resemblance to Cutler Beckett. Will turned to look at his father. Bill exchanged looks with him and a few nods. Both saw that look.

"It seems you have not heard of me," said Beckett. "My brother was Cutler Beckett."

Will's eyes glanced all around. A strange sensation came over him, as did a familiar sound. He watched as two marines came forth with the Dead Man's Chest behind Beckett. Bill Turner's eyes widened in horror. Will looked at the chest on deck then at Beckett with no shown change in face or apparent fear, unlike his father who moved closer to his side.

"You seem unmoved," noted Beckett.

"I trust you know all that is associated with what lays inside, including the price that must be paid to whose heart beats inside, "said Will.

"I do very much Captain Turner," agreed Beckett.

Will moved closer as he spoke coldly. "I could kill you now, and I would not hesitate to do so. You can do nothing to me anyway. I have the key and only way to get what you seek. Using the chest to gain what he wanted was your brother's demise. Reconsider your actions."

"No need. I have my leverage, that, in fact, includes two beating hearts," said Beckett. Confusion came upon Will. Two other beating hearts. Beckett smiled as he motioned to one of his marines. The marine disappeared inside. Two people were brought out.

"Father!" Wills cried, so happy to see him again. Elizabeth smiled with such joy she hadn't had in years.

Both began to rush forward, but were immediately pulled back. Loaded pistols were placed against their heads. Will's smile vanished as he looked upon them in fear.

"I suggest you reconsider your actions," said Beckett.

Will turned back to his family. The only feeling he had was fear. The only feeling he felt in seven years and he hated it. Elizabeth looked into his eyes, her own fighting not to show her fear and desperation. Wills, however, appeared as though he would kill them all if he had the chance. Hearing the click of the hammers being pulled back, both suddenly lost all color in their faces and looked at Bill and Will for help.

Will sighed having no choice. "What is it you wish of me?" he asked. "I am at your service."

The pistols were lowered.

"Wise choice," said Beckett as he moved closer. "I wish you to exterminate all living breathing pirates from the sea, every last one. Harrison Beckett shall be remembered as the one who wiped out freedom of pirates to the merchant world, not Cutler Beckett. My fool of a brother shall be no more than a memory. You are helping me to accomplish this. I trust you know what fate awaits you should you try anything rash. To ensure this task is carried out, these two shall remain upon my sight until all pirates, but them, are no more."

"I trust you know what fate awaits you should anything happen to them," said Will coldly.

"Then we have an agreement?" assumed Beckett, holding forth his hand. Will stood for a long while gazing at his hand. Hesitant, he accepted Beckett's hand with his own. They shook. Beckett smiled with pleasure. "Very good. Your first task is to bring down all the pirates of the Caribbean except Jack Sparrow. I wish to have a talk with him. Bring him to me. Report when you are finished. That shouldn't be too long I expect."

Will glared and gritted his teeth as he nodded. He watched as Beckett brought the chest inside his office. Feeling hopeless, he turned to his wife and son wondering how this came about. Both were pulled away and struggled not to be. Wills turned back once to look at his father with a sad, frightened face. Will nodded promisingly that all would be right soon.

Later that night Wills gazed upon the empty horizon. Elizabeth was asleep next to him on a blanket that Wills had wrapped around her. This small storage room was their locked prison now. Beckett had a point when he stated that Will wouldn't know the difference between his own quarters and a storage room. There was no escape. Sleep had not come to him. He couldn't sleep. His mind took him to the first time he had ever met his father. He was only three, but he remembered it perfectly.

Elizabeth laughed as Mr. Gibbs crawled on all fours, neighing like a horse, with a three year old atop his back laughing and giggling.

"Never imagined I'd see Mr. Gibbs doing that. Thought he'd break his back," noted Jack in wonder as he scurried to her.

"He makes a wonderful grandfather, said Elizabeth. Her eyes lowered then turned to the sea. She set her hand across her chest over her heart.

Jack observed this closely. "I imagine it wasn't the sea or me you longed for as you said," he assumed as he bit at his nails.

Elizabeth turned to her son as he was now amused with Mullroy and Murtogg's faces. He laughed and giggled even more. "Look at him Jack. He doesn't even know who his father is. I've sent Will more letters than I can count telling him of our son. He has never replied once. I'm worried. I need to know that Will is all right. It has been four years since I last heard of him…saw him… and was able to love him. My heart is calling. It's been for some time now. I want another day. William needs one day with his father."

"I wish you good fortune on that venture. The sea won't let you, because that's not a part of the duty," said Jack then reminded "one day every…"

"Ten years. I know Jack. I know," Elizabeth slightly angered. Jack put his palms together as he apologetically backed away. Elizabeth sighed. "Couldn't she spare one day? I would even settle for sunrise to sunset. That's less than the normal one day. William needs to see him."

"Don't tell me," Jack told her, casually motioning to the sea. He yelped, "Not good! Hector git away from there. I'm captain. My ship. You're chart man. We agreed on that years ago. Shoo!"

"Mummy, why Jack an' Bar'ossa a'gue?" wondered William as Elizabeth slipped into her nightclothes.

"They just do. I don't know either," admitted Elizabeth.

"Mummy, w'en daddy 'ome 'ome?" wondered William.

"Someday Will. He's a sailor you know. The best," said Elizabeth tucking him into the cot.

"Wot daddy 'ike?" wondered William.

"Wonderful. He's a good man and a very talented sailor. He's gentle and very loving. He'll love you when he can see you,"

"Mummy, daddy wov me?

"Of course."

"Me never seen him. Daddy wov me, why he no 'ome?" asked William with confused eyes.

Elizabeth had no reply to that question. He had a good point, but she knew the answer. She thought a moment while her son patiently waited for his answer.

"Because I've seen him, I told him all about you little whelp. He told said captain to tell you that he loves you and he'll see you as soon as he can," said Jack coming in to check on them.

"Weally?" cried William jumping on the cot now, but still sitting.

"Yep," said Jack with a nod. He turned to Elizabeth. "Sooner than you think luv."

She looked into his scheming eyes as he backed slowly out.

"I wov daddy too," announced William as he curled under his blanket.

The small child woke before sunrise. He yawned and stretched in bed as he rubbed his eyes. Seeing his mother still asleep, he pushed himself up. With a scheming smile he quickly dressed in his tunic, vest, and breeches. He hopped onto deck with one boot on and trying to get the other one on.

"Yer up early Turner," noted Barbossa.

"Uh huh," said William before falling on deck.

"Let me help ye," said Barbossa seeing that the child clearly needed assistance. He flipped William's tunic the correct way and put the correct boot on the correct foot.

William shook his head letting his light brown, wavy hair fling all over his face. He spun around in circles until he fell onto deck laughing. "Jack" the Monkey hopped on Barbossa's shoulder while smiling as though laughing. William spit a piece of hair from his mouth.

"Bar'ossa we play hide seek?" he asked.

"Don't much wish to lad," replied Barbossa.

"Pweez," pleaded William then extended his lower lip and looked at Barbossa with his big, rich brown eyes.

Barbossa sighed. Even he couldn't resist those eyes.

Hiding inside a barrel, William giggled quietly. "Jack" the Monkey sat on his shoulder. Both were looking though a hole in the barrel.

"All right Turner, where are ye?" called Barbossa looking around deck again. He peeked between the stairs below the helm then crawled between a pile of ropes.

"Wot are you doing?" asked Jack very curiously.

"Nothing that ye need to know of," stated Barbossa as he quickly stood and regained his composure.

Jack looked at him oddly and heard giggling close by. He turned then lifted the lid to a barrel.

William waved at him. "Bar'ossa an' me pway 'ide seek," he explained as Jack picked him up out of the barrel.

"Hector, I didn't know you had a heart," said Jack impressed.

"He gave me that look," said Barbossa.

"Not so easy to resist is it?" asked Jack with a pleased smile.

Elizabeth rushed onto deck with an expression of fear. She sighed in relief when she saw William in front of Jack.

"'ello Mummy," greeted William, and rushed forward for his morning kiss and hug.

"Why are you awake so early?" wondered Elizabeth.

William shrugged. "I no tire'. I 'wake now Mummy."

Elizabeth smiled. A sudden glow flashed on her son's face, lighting it green. Her heart skipped a few beats then pounded in her body.

"Sh'p!" cried William pointing to the horizon then ran to the bow for a closer look.

Barely able to breathe, Elizabeth turned. The sun had just risen above the horizon. In front of that was a ship. It was a ship sailing against the wind.

"I said it would be sooner than you thought," said Jack.

With tears in her eyes, Elizabeth threw her arms around his neck, thanking and kissing him again and again. Tears poured down her cheeks.

"Elizabeth," a gentle voice softly said.

Elizabeth whipped around.

From the bow William watched as this man that suddenly came onto deck rushed to his mother and held her tightly. They kissed tenderly for quite a few minutes then gazed into each other's eyes. William jumped as another man suddenly came onto deck.

"Mummy," he called frightened as he ran to his mother.

Elizabeth knelt and took him into her arms. She stood.

William looked at this man that had been holding his mother only moments ago. He wore a faded blue bandana holding back his wild dark curls, a white tunic that exposed part of his chest revealing an unusual key and even more unusual scar. His skin was richly bronze and his body was strong. William's mouth dropped a bit when he looked into the man's eyes. They were exactly like his.

"Will this is your son, William Weatherby James Turner," whispered Elizabeth.

Will's eyes teared.

"Mummy," whispered William.

"This is your daddy William," said Elizabeth moving closer to Will.

William hesitantly touched the man's cheek. "Daddy?"

Will nodded with a soft smile. He found himself holding a three-year-old child. William wrapped his arms around his father. Afraid to hurt his small body, Will gently brought him closer. He shut his eyes. This child, the son he had read about countless times in his wife's letters, was his son. It was his treasure. He would never, never let him go.

"Who him?" asked William.

Will turned. "That is your grandfather," he told him.

Bill smiled at the boy as he gently rubbed his cheek. "Hello."

""ello gwandfava," said William.

Bill burst into a mess of tears.

"He does that a lot," said Will.

"Dat you sh'p?" wondered William pointing to the Flying Dutchman. Will nodded. "We go on sh'p?"

"Yes lets," said Elizabeth.

A plank was set across the two ships connecting them together. The four Turners went aboard. Still in his father's arms, William looked around in wonder with wide eyes.

"Whose is the child?"

"Will's," replied Bill still in a mess of tears.

"Wills," whispered Will thinking. He turned to his boy. "I'm going to call you Wills because you're my son"

"Mummy, me daddy's son. I Wills!" cried William happily. Elizabeth nodded. "Me wov daddy."

"Me wov you too," whispered Will. He kissed his son's forehead then spun him around.

Both of their laughter carried far across the horizon with the sea breeze.

Wills softly smiled with a heavy sigh. That was long ago when he had not a care in the world. Now he was a prisoner to the brother of the enemy of his parents. He needed to sleep and decided to attempt. He let his head fall onto the wall. Water dripped on the floor as a creak echoed in the room. He sat up, his senses tuning. He looked around. No one was there. Another creak caused him to jump, startled. A hand was suddenly clamped across his mouth an arm held him back. Not knowing what would happen next or thinking, he bit the hand.

"Ouch! Is that any way to greet your father?"

Wills whipped around finding his father with a gentle smile on his face. "Daddy, don't do that. I thought you were someone else," he whispered.

"Well it's me son," said Will as he pulled his son into a tight hug. He held him for a long, comforting moment then looked at him realizing his small nine-year-old son had become a strong young man of sixteen that had a nasty bite. "You've grown up so much," he noted.

"I'm not nine anymore. I'm sixteen now. I suppose I've changed a lot in seven years," said Wills.

"I know. It seems like an eternity since we last saw each other," Will said as he rested his palm against his sixteen-year-old son's cheek. He couldn't accept how much his son grew and that he was never there for any of it.

"Will, is that you?"

"It's me Elizabeth. I'm here," said Will.

"Oh Will," whispered Elizabeth as she crawled into his arms. She rested her head against his strong, lifeless chest. Their fingers intertwined. Will set his cheek against her head and his arm around her back.

Wills smiled at the scene. His parents never had time to hold each other or be in each other's arms. It wasn't fair what caused them to never have time together, but they couldn't be together if it wasn't. It was complete irony. They deserved to be together. His father deserved to have his heart beating back inside his own chest again. None of this was right. They were peaceful and content, yet frightened because the moment would end and he would go again. Wills moved closer to his father, needing to be near him again. Will looked at him. Noticing the recently new wound on his son's forehead, he pulled him close as well, with a protective arm around each.

"Are you two all right? Both?" he asked quietly.

"We're fine now," said Wills as he rested his head against his father's shoulder.

Will looked to Elizabeth noticing her wounded forehead as well. "What happened?" he asked, needing to know more.

"Beckett came in the middle of the night. He wanted the chest. Mum and I fought his men until they held us back. One of them had the chest in his hands. I remember wanting to kill him before I was made prisoner," explained Wills. Guilt and pain came over his face along with fear. "I killed someone. I killed him for no reason other than my own. I'm a murderer."

"No, you aren't. You had reason. You had a very good reason to do all possible to keep them from acquiring the chest," said Will, rubbing his son's arm. "How does Beckett know? No one has mentioned anything about the chest. The only ones that know about it are you two and the Pearl. Why would anyone tell? They saw what happened last time."

"He told us interrogation," replied Elizabeth. She looked at Will in the eye. "He's a Beckett. They know how to get what they want."

"I fear this one is much worse," Will told her with worried eyes that were windows of his thoughts imagining the possible possibilities that could be done and several that had already been done.

"Then what do we do?" asked Wills.

"Not we, son, me. I have to do what I've been told. I have no choice. I can't lose the two of you," said Will.

"Then you'll become…tentacally," noted Elizabeth.

Will touched his face pondering that thought. "I don't have the face for tentacles, but I think I could put up with it…maybe," he told them.

"Father you can't do this," Wills said.

"I never said I was going to do this or not. A handshake means nothing," said Will.

"Then you aren't going to do what he wants. You are going to remain ferrying souls?" wondered Elizabeth hopeful.

"I won't tell you what I'm doing. You have nothing to conceal if you don't know. Beckett cannot find any information out of you two then. I'm sorry," said Will with careful consideration.

"Then it is not my burden to bear and yours to bear alone," noted Elizabeth lowering her sad eyes. Memories of his previous personal burdens and mistrust reached her mind once more. She was the one that had led him to that though.

"It is because I care for you and love you that I refuse to tell you, not because I don't trust you. Father is helping me bear this burden. He always has helped me bear my burdens," Will told her then added a gentle kiss.

"Will," whispered Elizabeth, holding his body closer. She trembled slightly. "I'm so afraid."

"Don't be. I promise nothing will happen to you," said Will softly and with deep promise and care. His eyes focused on his quiet, thoughtful son. "Either of you."

"Remember what you lost last time," whispered Elizabeth lightly tracing the scar.

Wills realized why his father had lost his heart. He lost love and feeling protecting where his love and feelings came from.

"There won't be a way to bring you back this time," added Elizabeth.

Will's eyes changed scene. He was here, back only because of a curse a friend bestowed upon him as a gift. Should anything happen, there was no way to get him back. He would forever be lost, away from all those he was brought back to. There was only one possible way that he could be lost. He shook his head of these thoughts.

"Don't worry. Nothing is going to happen. I have it all planned out. I promise," he told them and himself. "I'll keep my eye on you two from time to time. It's going to be all right. Nothing will happen."

"I love you Will," whispered Elizabeth desperately. She kissed him tenderly like no tomorrow.

Will pulled away as he told them, "I have to go now. Father will probably lecture me when I return and I don't want Beckett ever finding out about this." He gave them one last smile before turning. He turned his head with one last thing to say. "Keep a weather eye on the horizon." With no more, he disappeared into the dark night.

Despite what the leverage was and the importance of it, Will did not take on Beckett's agreement likely. He traveled the world warning the souls of pirates that he should be assigning himself to ferry. Most curiously, he worried about Jack Sparrow. The captain of the Black Pearl had always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, usually not by coincidence. Will refused to lose him. He could not lose him.

In World's End, Will sat at the organ, though he did not play. His mind thought deeply as he traced small random patterns on the mahogany wood. His Elizabeth and Wills were captive to a man who he feared was worse than his brother. This Beckett knew all that was needed to know of piracy. His ways, already, were effective. What worried Will most was the thought of Beckett discovering what he had been doing the past few weeks. The next souls he ferried could belong to Elizabeth and Wills because of his loyalty to them. What was he loyal to? A cursed duty bestowed upon him long ago? His treasured family? To piracy? He had no answer.

"Will, are you all right son?" asked Bill Turner gently.

"Am I doing the right choice?" Will asked his father, with eyes that pleaded for an answer.

Pondering this thought, Bill pulled up a chair next to Will, sat backwards in it, and thought hard for a moment. "Will I…er…well…"he began, still thinking.

"You don't think I am do you?" answered Will with a long sigh.

"Son, Will, putting it that way I don't," said Bill. "Too much is a stake. Your heart, Elizabeth, Wills, your very life…it could all be lost. Beckett is no fool. He learned from his brother's mistakes. We've seen this already. You've been in this world for a month nearly. You haven't been looking after them. Beckett, if he hasn't already, will discover what you are doing. Why aren't you at least making it seem as though you are destroying the pirates and not telling them to avoid the Caribbean?"

"Because," began Will. His mouth moved in to several words. Suddenly, he lost a breath as he clutched his chest. His eyes widened in fear as his face became pale.

"Will, what is it?" asked Bill hesitantly taking his son's hand. With one look from his son, he knew. Both sprinted to deck.

"Prepare to change worlds!" ordered Will as he rushed to the helm. By the tone in his voice, the crew immediately abandoned what they had been doing for entertainment to go to their posts. Will spun the wheel, changing worlds. Scanning the horizon he saw no ships. Something was happening. He knew it. Bill nodded once their eyes locked.

Will brought the ship underwater. This was the quickest way to reach Crusader. His mind fled and worried his soul. No one can get to my heart. They are alive. Nothing has happened to them. I promised. They're alive. They're all right. The unsure feeling growing, Will knew he was close.

The Flying Dutchman rose from the water. In front of her was the Crusader and a ship with black sails. Without thinking, Will found himself aboard the Crusader looking into the smiling face of Harrison Beckett. Will glanced around deck. Several crewmembers of the Black Pearl were in chains. One of which was none other than Captain Jack Sparrow. He showed signs of unwillingness to becoming a prisoner from the bleeding scratch on his cheek. Gibbs and Barbossa were the same way.

"I told you to stay away," reminded Will.

"Apparently you have not been acquiring what I asked," noted Beckett motioning to the Pearl. "Tell me Mr. Turner, what have you been doing?"

"What I have been doing is no business such as yours," replied Will.

"He destroyed all pirates of the Caribbean, but the Black Pearl as you requested because of the friendship between her captains," said Bill coming next to his son.

"That's odd because I remember recently coming across other pirates. What do you say to that?" said Beckett.

"My duty to the Dutchman is more important than yours. Your brother's death was caused by the same occurring actions," reminded Will.

"True, but I have ways around that," said Beckett. Without hesitation, he slammed his sword through Will's chest.

Several BlackPearlcrewmembers lost breath, but Bill smiled as Will laughed.

"You cannot kill me by normal methods," said Will as he pulled the sword from his chest.

"That you are correct, but I have the unusual method already," reminded Beckett calmly. The Dead Man's Chest was brought onto deck. Once again, Will was unmoved. He glanced at it then at Beckett. Bill moved close beside his son and the chest.

"Just what do you intend using that for?" wondered Will motioning to the chest.

Beckett held out his hand. "The key if you will," he requested.

"No," Will told him simply.

Struggling was heard as men moved aside. Elizabeth and Wills were brought forward. Relief was on Will's face. They were alive.

"Again I ask, the key," said Beckett with a raised eyebrow.

Again, Will made no notion of handing over the key. Beckett gave a nod. A knife was drawn as Wills was brought forward. The knife was placed across his throat. All three other Turners and Jack tensed. Wills's eyes lit with fear. The blade was deadly with smooth sharpness. He looked at his father with eyes of fright. He shook his head.

"Don't do it," he told his father. Whimpering as the blade was pushed farther against his throat, he moved his head to the side.

"Do not test me Mr. Turner," said Beckett with eagerness in his voice.

Will was torn between the choices. Handing over the key meant forcing himself to become a slave, to not could mean his son's life. He gazed deeply into his son's frightened eyes. Never before had he seen him so afraid. Then again, he had only seen him four other times now. He thought said his name, though, is sounded distant and unimportant. Wills cried out as blood drops dripped down his throat.

Will ripped the key from his neck, breaking the necklace. "Here it is! Take it!" he screamed with such fright.

Pleasured, Beckett took the key. Never before had he seen a key such as this as he felt the weight. He couldn't imagine what such a weight hanging from his throat would feel like. Satisfied, he gave another nod. The knife was lowered from a pale, trembling Wills. Elizabeth held her tears in her eyes. Jack attempted not to show his tension. Will breathed hard, fear still consuming him. He had no memory of a feeling so strong. He watched as Beckett lowered to a knee in front of the chest. He set the key in the lock then slowly turned until the chest opened.

"What are you doing?" asked Bill.

Beckett smiled slyly a he opened the lid. His eyes, only for a moment, gazed in wonder at the contents that lay inside. He reached slowly inside the Dead Man's Chest. As he stood, Will Turner's heart beat steadily in his palm. No words were spoken, not even muttered. They could only gaze at the heart. That's what a heart looked like. Pirates and marines reached slowly to their own chests to clutch their hearts as if fearing that theirs would be lost as well.

Eventually Bill turned away as his eyes were squeezed shut. The thought of removing it hurt his own heart. Once he did open his eyes, he found himself looking upon the scar across Will's chest. Never would he forgive himself. Ever. Will seemed lost in an empty gaze. Movement drew his attention back. Beckett slowly pulled a knife from his coat.

"You have to do it then," Will told him suddenly waking from his mind. "One day on land, ten years at sea. Stabbing my heart means replacing me. You must ferry the souls of the dead or end up like Jones. You will live forever under a curse that is more unforgiving than death. It's not worth it."

"And you wish me not to stab it?" wondered Beckett curiously.

"No man deserves this fate," said Will.

"And you?" asked Beckett.

"In my position it was a gift. A gift for a new life and to continue on in a way," replied Will. "Stab the heart the burden belongs to you."

Lowering his eyes, Beckett thought about these words.

Will turned to Elizabeth. Tears of fright consumed her eyes. She couldn't lose him again. There would be no bringing him back. Movement from his son caused him to glance at him. One marine held his body back. Another had brought the blade back against his throat. His hands were now shackled. Fear compelled him. He waited and tried to struggle away from the hold. He wasn't going to let his father die. They had known each other for such a short amount of time. He loved his father. Their eyes met. Both pleaded for nothing to happen.

"One day on land for every ten years at sea," Beckett said to himself. "Ferrying the souls of the dead, captaining the most powerful ship on the seas, mastering the seas…I never was one for land. So I've been told, souls only need help finding their way to the land of the dead. In all actuality, they can find that way on their own, though it will take longer time. Tentacles wouldn't be so horrible, neither would a claw."

"Please no," whispered Elizabeth, tears dripping from her eyes.

Wills's struggling worsened, only causing himself to cut his throat more.

Bill set a protective arm around Will's shoulder, though it did nothing to help.

Jack, to amazement by everyone else, was horrified. He knew what would happen. It was too much like last time.

"Why would you want this?" wondered Will.

"My brother should have done this. To do what is requested sacrifices must be made. Should my soul be the terms to rid the world of all that causes it to be unpurified, so be it. As I told you, I have learned form by brother's mistakes," said Beckett raising the knife.

Bill shook his head as he wrapped his arms around his son. It took three to pull him from Will and two to hold him back.

Now alone, Will gazed at his heart then Beckett.

"Tell me William Turner, to you fear death?" asked Beckett.

"No," Will told him simply. Nothing could be done now and he knew it. The proof was in his eyes as they filled with tears.

"Ah, I thought not. Your soul will do good lost in the sea of the dead then," said Beckett. He plunged his knife through Will's beating heart.

Will gasped in pain as he clutched his chest. He struggled to breathe. He heard so many screams. His knees gave as he suddenly lost all strength, falling to deck. Someone held him close.

"You're going to be all right. Stay with me Will," whispered Bill clinging to Will's body.

Will's eyes grew heavy. He was hardly breathing anymore. A tear rolled down the side of his face as he shut his eyes. Finding his last bit of strength, he barely opened his eyes and softly whispered, "I'm sorry." His body collapsed against his father.

"No! Come back! Will, please, come back. Don't leave me. Please!" Bill screamed desperately. He cried in Will's hair and rocked from side to side.

Jack turned to Beckett. Will's heart was still in Beckett's palm. It was still. Jack looked at Will, seeing the same calm expression on Will's face as he saw the last time Will faced death, but this time he was in his father's arms.

As it was last time, hushed chanting carried with the sea breeze. Part of the ship. Part of the crew. Part of the ship…

Beckett smiled as he stepped back while unbuttoning his clothes. The crewmembers of the Flying Dutchman surrounded him. One of them held the Dead Man's Chest, open and empty. The marines backed away in fear.

All sought the opportune moment, led by Jack. The pirate rushed to Will's heart, gently held it between his palms, and ran across the plank connecting the two ships already shouting orders. Wills and Elizabeth did just the opposite. They fell onto their knees beside Will. Elizabeth touched his face. For the first time ever, Will was actually cold and showed no life in him. Wills took his father's broken necklace into his hand. He felt hands pulling him to his feet, as did Elizabeth. Barbossa and Gibbs pulled them back.

"Bill, come on!" shouted Gibbs.

Bill Turner snapped out of his mind only long enough to carry his little boy to the Black Pearl.

"Jack, get us out of here!" hollered Barbossa.

The chest was shut. A heart began beating slowly. Once more, Harrison Beckett breathed as his scarred chest rose and fell. His eyes attempted to open to the living world several times.

"Lord Beckett, are you all right?" Roberts asked, Beckett's aide.

Beckett's reply was a nod. He remained on deck allowing his senses to come back. Two helped him sit up. Seeing the chest and hearing the heart beating, with widening eyes, he glanced upon his own chest. On it was a precise mark that Will Turner also bore. The precise mark was made to remove his heart. Feeling nothing inside of him, Beckett clutched his chest. No pulse beat back. His chest was now an empty cavern inside his body. Everything he had heard about the curse was true after all.

"Sir, the prisoners have escaped. Do we follow?" asked Roberts.

"No. We will allow them to contemplate the recent death among them. I will find them soon enough," said Beckett as he took Roberts hand in assistance to stand again. He reviewed the men in front of him. "I expect you are the crew of the Flying Dutchman?" The men nodded dully. Beckett smiled and added, "Who among you is in charge?"

"You are."

"And who are you?" asked Beckett.

"Andrew Davis, second mate and best friend to Will Turner," said the man.

"Not anymore. On deck then," said Beckett. Seeing none moving he told them, "I am your captain now."

"You may be our captain, but a captain is useless without a loyal crew," said Andrew as he gave Beckett a cold glare. Turning, he nodded to his fellow mates. They returned to their ship sorrowful and burning in rage. Andrew turned and added, handing Beckett the chest, "This and the key must be in separate places for proper security. The key remains with you."

"The key shall remain with me as will the chest where I can keep watch on it," Beckett told him.

"As you wish Captain Beckett," said Andrew in a mocking tone.

"They will soon learn to appreciate me," said Beckett. He turned to two marines. "Bring my personals to the Dutchman and make sure the crew doesn't do anything rash. Now, we must discuss our plans."

Captain Beckett brought Roberts to his office to discuss the limitless options.