DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie franchise or any of the characters or dialogue associated with the film. They are the property of the Walt Disney Corporation.

AN: I wrote this because Allie requested it. Real life does not play out like a movie and there would be a degree of awkwardness between father and son after a ten year absence. I hope I can convey it. For the record, I am not happy with this. If you can see any stylistic flaws in this piece, I would appreciate it if you pointed it out.

The sun streamed in through the window and danced like magic through his mother's hair making it seem like spun gold. She hummed along to a song he knew all too well. When she turned, smiling warmly as she had throughout his entire lifetime, she placed a bowl of steaming porridge in front of him. She sat, then, across from him smiling into her own porridge with a detached, almost dreamlike expression. Will felt distinctly happy at once, to be there with his mother, bathed in the warming sunlight; that is until he heard the heavy footfall of his father coming down the hallway behind him. Will's smile died at once and he swallowed the searing porridge too quickly, burning his throat. He daren't turn around for although his father had been living with them for a month now, young Will was, though he was loathed to admit it even to himself, terrified of him. There was something daunting in his silence and in the way his eyes seemed to drink in every detail with unspoken scrutiny. Will was expecting him to find some sort of fatal flaw in the way his mother and he had lived during his absence.

His mother's smile widened as she lifted her eyes to his father, who stood surreptitiously behind Will, and he couldn't help but feel jealous and resentful towards him. For nearly ten years, there had been only Will and his mother – no one else. Now, this man, his father, who was brave and strong and everything Will was not, had taken her from him in an instant. Will was torn, truly. At first he had been overjoyed with the presence of his father, but quickly he came to realize that the sadness his mother had tried to hide from him throughout his entire life was suddenly gone with one fleeting smile from his father. One smile and her heart was whole. In his whole lifetime, he had been unable to make his mother truly happy. He should have been glad, but a strange boiling anger consumed him instead. For as much as he wanted to love his father, and he knew he should, he despised him as well. The reasons weren't clear for this, but mainly he felt as though his father had encroached upon what was his. And, yet, he made his mother happy and how could he deny her the happiness that he had known that she was missing?

Besides this unspeakable, inexplicable resentment, there was also a deep fear. His father was a pirate. He had stabbed the heart of Davy Jones and taken his place to ferry souls to the dead. Will should be proud to have such a devoted and brave man for a father. Will should be eager to learn all he can from him. And, yet, he found himself swallowing his blistering porridge down as quickly as possible to leave the room. So quickly, in fact, that he hadn't even noticed his father's eyes upon him.

"You should slow down, Will," his father's deep voice filtered through his ears and startled him. He looked up in wide-eyed fear.

"Yes, sir," he managed to whisper. His father's eyes faltered for a moment, some emotion creeping in unexpectedly, slyly. Sadness? Pirates don't tolerate sadness. Will took slow careful bites of his porridge.

His mother was silent, as she always was, as though she was physically unable to voice what she was thinking. In all Will's life, he had never known his mother to be unable to voice anything. She drove a hard bargain at the market with her fabrics, and she was relentless in general conversation. There was nothing that this woman could not have if she really had it in her mind to get it and Will admired that about his mother. Yet, in front of this man, this relative stranger to Will, she was struck with a stony silence. She opened her mouth to say something, but his father held up his hand to once again silence her. Was this how he expected them to be? Forever silent? Forever subservient to his hand motions and sad eyes? Anger boiled inside of Will, but fear kept it in check.

Will watched his father's back as he prepared his own porridge in the unending silence that took residence in their home. His father turned suddenly, deftly and paused for a moment, noticing Will's eyes upon him. When his father smiled slightly, Will looked away. He heard, rather than saw his father sit down beside him. His eyes turned in her general direction he caught sight of his mother's small smile.

"I have to go to the docks today," she said, her soft voice finally breaking the crisp silence. His father nodded slightly and took a spoonful of porridge. "Jack is bringing me a shipment of silk."

"Jack?" his father asked coolly. His spoon was poised midair, his expression dangerous.

"Yes, he had an exchange with the Empress," she continued, seemingly ignorant of his father's expression. As she continued, Will watched his father as he slid the spoon in his mouth in dreadful, lethal silence.

"They still recognize you as captain then?"

His mother laughed lightly. "No. No I gave that up a long time ago," she whispered, reaching a hand out to stroke Will's head and smiling softly.

"Oh," his father said, smiling lightly and looking a little lost. Will felt justified suddenly, as though he had won a small victory.

"But Jack brings me fabrics from all over the world," she continued. "He should be in port today."

"Shall I go with you?" he asked. His mother smiled in this secretly delighted way. Will knew that she wanted nothing more than for his father to go with her, knew that it would bring a little hop to her step and brightness to her eyes. However, her smile faltered and faded as though she had suddenly remembered something.

"But, the forge…"

There was something going on here that Will couldn't understand. Why didn't his mother just say that she wanted him to go with her? Why couldn't his father just tell her that he would? Why were they dancing around each other madly?

His father nodded mutely. "Of course."

Again, that confining silence filled the room. Will looked from his mother to his father, unable to discern what was happening. His mother's face crumpled nearly imperceptibly and again that implacable anger welled up inside him.

"I'll go with you," he blurted sharply. He stared at his father's startled face, daring him to be angry. Instead, his father's face broke into a wide smile.

He leaned in towards Will, "Then I've nothing to fear, have I?"

Will was so startled by the unexpected praise that he could say nothing. He could simply stare at his father with his mouth agape. He felt his mother's hand in his hair and turned slowly. She was also smiling.

"Well, wash up and we'll be off."

Will did as he was bid, leaving his mother and father at the table. The silence behind him was deafening and he wondered how they could bear it. He turned, ready to scream at them both only to find their hands entwined, their eyes locked, the pair of them lost to the world. Without a word, Will headed out the cabin's door and slammed it hard behind him, the half-rotted wood creaking and knocking as it bounced off the door frame with the sheer force of his fury. He was halfway down the hill, kicking the high grass lividly, tearing it from the ground with cruel satisfaction, when he heard his mother calling his name, but he didn't stop until he heard his father's voice. He paused and turned around very slowly, just as they caught up with him.

"What?" he spat insolently, glaring openly at his father. Again, any hint of anger was gone from his father's face and he was lost in that vacant emotion so much like sadness. All Will wanted was for his father to say something, anything. He wanted to fight him, verbally, physically, any way he could.

"Will," his mother began, reaching for him. He turned to her then, wrenching his arm violently out of her reach.

"What?" he shouted. "Maybe I should go myself! Leave you two to whatever it is you're doing!"

Hot tears threatened at the corners of his eyes, burning and unforgiving, and he fought them fiercely.

"Will!" his father exclaimed. The tone and volume of his voice frightened Will and drained the anger from him. He looked at his father expecting harsh words and a strict punishment. "Apologize to your mother."

Will just stood there in the silence that his father loved so much, knowing that he was being insolent, knowing that he deserved the inevitable boxing of his ears, knowing that his mother deserved an apology. "No."

His mother remained fearfully silent and he daren't look at her on the chance that she was crying. He knew that she did. For a long time, she cried while his father was away. Night after night she cried. She thought that he was ignorant of her pain, of the pain he had caused her, but he'd always known. His father simply stared at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously, contemplative with what action to which he should proceed. At length, when Will was feeling the last of his steely resolve melt away, his father spoke.

"Apologize to your mother." Each word was a crisp, hard command and Will raised his chin in defiance.

"I'm not yours to command!" he shouted. His father's expression surprisingly did not change. Will's heart was pounding. He had just openly defied the man he feared and hated and worshipped and adored.

"I am your father." Again, each word was crisp and pitiless. Here was the pirate captain ordering his crew. Did he view them as his crew? Did he love them at all? Will knew the tears were falling now, but he didn't care. He had nothing to say in defense, or rather, he had nothing to say that was worth the risk. Swallowing his pride and a choking sob, he turned to his mother, eyes on the trampled, green ground before her feet.

"I'm sorry, mother," he muttered with a shaking breath. Then he turned and ran down the hill, far away from his ever silent parents. His mother would find him by the docks, sobbing beneath them, pitiful in the wet sand; she always did.

Will didn't look back. He didn't see his father's face crumple, or the worried glance shared between husband and wife. All he knew at that moment was that he hated his father. Hated him for taking his mother. Hated him for his commands. Hated his silence. Hated his sad eyes. Hated his quiet anger. Hated him. But he hated him most because he didn't hate him. He hated him most because he couldn't help but love him.