By the way, i'm not important enough to own anything from PotC except merchandise.


i've made some minor changes in the story including different names, but all is explained and well.

Bedtime Story


Thinking again, I looked across the London horizon trying to catch a glimpse of that last bit of sunlight then back to stitching Jack's coat. Movement on the bed caused me to look at Jack. Sadly, Jack was still sleeping. It had been days and he was still ill, sickly and weak from a fever nearly costing his life. It left then returned several times while symptoms including severe chills, pain everywhere, and poor Jack vomited anything we gave him. We nearly lost him, but now that was over. Three days he was free from fever and slowly recovering.

"Tell me story Daddy. Please."

I smiled, knowing that voice to be my little James's. "Uncle Jack is sleeping."

"No I'm not," Jack's soft, weak voice said. He looked at me. "You can tell him a story if you want."

"Daddy 'wake!" Liam screamed as he rushed to lie on Jack.

Jack smiled. His eight-year girl, Niamh, jumped on him as well. Decent

Lily, his twelve-year-old daughter, smiled at them.

Edward, Anamaria, and Elizabeth followed the two of them.

Aidan came in the room with Emma.

Apparently, everyone wanted to see Jack today and I've seen the pirate much better than this.

"Daddy was going to tell me story," James told his mother.

Elizabeth looked at him then me. "Which story is that?"

"I didn't know I was telling any stories," I said, completely honest.

With help from his father, Jack sat up against a pillow.

"Tell us a story Uncle Will," said Lily.

"Yes, please Uncle Will," pleaded Niamh.

"Well, don't disappoint them," said Jack.

I looked at him then the children. "All of you should be sleeping. It's past all of your bedtimes."

"Excuse me?" asked Aidan.

"You're nine. That does include you Aidan," I corrected. I looked at Emma. "You're seven. That includes you missy. And you James, my little four year old, that definitely includes you."

"Pwease," pleaded James. "Bedtime story?"

Jack's youngest girl and son were pleading as well, whereas Lily and Anamaria were laughing at them.

"You tew bes' stowies," said Liam.

All the children moved around me, pleading with big eyes and pursing their lower lips. That was pure torture. I barely had the will to resist my James but all of them— that was impossible.

"All right, all right," I said waving my hands about to cause them to move back. "I'll tell you a story."

Every one of them smiled and cried out in joy. I waited for them to settle down as I thought. "What story do you want tonight?"

"Athair!" cried Liam, causing Jack to blush.

"Pirates," added Emma.

"Mummy," said James, curling against Elizabeth.

Glancing around the room, I drew a deep breath. My eyes fell on Jack as Edward sat beside him to place his palm against his forehead and kiss it. Jack leaned against his father until arms went around him to hold him close. I studied Jack for a single moment, recalling something I had never forgotten about him that he did not know sanely. It accepted the children's requests, each one of them, and something Jack and Elizabeth have asked me about on several occasions. I thought now was a good a time as any to tell this story.

"I know that look," my father noted as he closed his book to sit backwards in a chair beside me.

"Wot look?" I asked curiously.

"The look that you know something no one else does," my father replied.

"That's because they were either not awake, on the Dutchman, not born, or lost his mind," I replied.

Jack's eyes moved upward toward a scar on his forehead then looked at me insulted. "I did not lose my mind. I just forgot it and I do remember," he told me, his arms folding.

"No, you lost your mind because you forgot," I said.

The children, other than Aidan and Lily of course, looked at me puzzled.

I took to my stitching again as I began a tale that only I truly remembered.


Standing in front the mirror in Beckett's quarters, I slipped my arms through the coat. I had to admit it was a fine coat despite being provided by the Royal Navy from Beckett himself. Ironic actually. I never did take a side however. Whichever side benefited me I wasn't going to back down on the chance to benefit my own needs.

I was receiving a gift of appreciation from Cutler Beckett personally and respect from the Royal Navy for being thrown off the Pearl by Jack. Jack Sparrow wasn't as bad of a person as I once thought him to be. I did nothing other than hand Beckett the compass. I am glad I at least remembered that I had it. I knew it wasn't wise to upset Beckett and Jones behind my back was assuring to the phrase silent as the grave, the grave being the Caribbean Sea.

The coat was rather nice. As it was from the Royal Navy the material was velvet. The olive color touched by blue was powerful and rather equaled my mind. I personally looked as though I had more power with this coat. I did actually. I was leading Cutler Beckett to Shipwreck Cove where he would begin the battle. I didn't expect him to keep his word. I learned from Jack not to trust anyone and I didn't trust him most of all.

Honesty, which I was lacking these days I'll admit, I didn't trust even Elizabeth. We, as pirates, had our own objectives that we wished to see accomplished. I myself wanted to free my father. With Jack's help if he would keep to his word and release Jones, that would come true and I would be left with Elizabeth.

I took my mind from my thoughts to observe myself in the mirror. The coat was perhaps one of the finest I had ever worn. I did wonder who told Beckett to give it to me. It was also a possibility that he was the one who believed I deserved it for going against piracy to achieve what I wanted and, in doing so, lead him to all that he wished to acquire. Did he know my true intentions? That was the single concern I had. If he knew what Jack and I planned before I ended up here he would kill me now. I think he didn't though. He knew all I wanted was to free Elizabeth and I did acquire the compass for him as he requested over a year ago.

Hearing footsteps, I looked in the mirror. Beckett was gazing quite closely at me.

"What?" I asked, curious to know where his mind dwelled.

"Have you considered the Royal Navy as a career? You would make a fine captain," Beckett said.

I was impressed to see the look of honesty on his face and suggestive tone in his words, though I wasn't going to tell him I would never consider it.

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

"You've turned tides to free your father and save Miss Swann," noted Beckett.

"And what makes you think I'll be loyal to the Royal Navy? I went against piracy to acquire what I wanted and joined your crew to see to it that I get it. I may return to piracy anytime and you won't know," told him.

Beckett smiled. "You won't because you're a good man. If you do, then I'll mark you as I marked Jack."

"Ah, it was you who honored Jack with the brand of a pirate. He deserves it," I said and would always stand by it, not because I disliked him, but because of an event surrounding his mark that I'll tell you about later.

I turned back to the mirror to admire myself. A thought dwelled in my head. Looking at Beckett in the mirror, I had a question for him. "Would Jones allow me to see my father?"

"I wouldn't know that. Why don't you ask him?" replied Beckett.

"He's still here? I would have thought him to leave already," I admitted.

"Tell him it's only fair. You're leading him to Calypso after all," said Beckett.

I smiled. In the mirror, I thought Beckett had placed the smile on my face because it was a smile that reminded me unmistakably of him.

"Jones," I called as I walked on deck.

"Turner," replied a voice from behind me.

I turned. "You will let me see my father."

"What makes you believe I will do that?" asked Jones.

"Without me, you wouldn't know that the Court intends to free Calypso and you must kill her before they release her," I said, taking Beckett's advice.

Jones's eyes were once angry. A shadow of sadness passed across them for a single moment. He looked me in the eye and nodded. "I'll allow you to see what's left of him."

My eyes narrowed in wonder at that comment. I felt I didn't want to know what he meant. What did that mean? That thought occurred in my head as I stepped aboard the ship. The crewmembers, particularly Maccus, glared at me with a fire in their eyes.

Mercer greeted me with a smile. "I must admit I thought of you wrong," he said, holding his hand out.

"My opinion of you hasn't changed," I told him, my hand never leaving my side. He lacked the kind of fair play nature Beckett possessed for even a miniature movement of my hand. My head turned enough to see Jones. "Where is he?"

It wasn't long before I was looking into a cell where a crewmember sat molded into the wall. The door was opened for me. This crewmember didn't so much as move. I shook my head.

"This can't be him," I whispered.

Jones raised an eyebrow. He motioned to the man with his claw.

I stepped inside the cell knowing I would be safe because Beckett was right behind me. He knew there was use for me. Stepping closer I saw what features I could of this man. He was indeed once a man. He was like Wyvern a year ago. I knelt, looking at the human features of the face

It was my father. He became part of the ship quicker than I thought I would. I don't know why, but I couldn't move my hand to his face. The farthest I got it was to his knee. I was afraid. For the first time in my life, I was afraid of my father.

"Father," I softly called. "Father it's me. It's Will. I'm your son." My father's eyes cracked open. He stared at me as though I didn't exist. I nodded, a smile coming to my face. "It's me. It's Will."

"You're not here. I'm dreaming. I always dream of you coming like you promised, but you never do," he said.

"But I am here," told him.

He shook his head, the coral and sea life with it. "No, you're my mind imagining again."

I took his hand between mine. "Would you imagine this? Would you feel this if I wasn't here?"

He stared at me with the same distant, half unconscious look he had been since his eyes opened.

My world seemed to come down. He was gone. I couldn't save him if he didn't recognize me. Well, he did recognize me, but his mind didn't know I was truly here. He was gone and I couldn't do anything. Tia Dalma's words came to my mind. I recalled her telling me that I would have to take what I wanted most in the end. I would have to choose. This was the end. My father was dead. Elizabeth was alive. I had to take her. I knew he would want me to choose her. He did want me to chose her and never come back.

"Why didn't you come back? You promised you would," I heard my father's voice say in a pleading tone.

I nodded. "I know I did. I promise you now that I will free you."

"You always tell me that. You haven't come back. Still," he said, his eyes growing tired.

My hand hesitantly reached to palm his cheek. I shuddered feeling his water logged skin and scales upon his cheek. "Father," I called until he was looking me in the eye. "I told you I would see you free of this prison one day. I tell you now; I will see you free of this prison. I promise." I slid the tips of my fingers across his cheek, not wanting him to do what he did. He shut his eyes and was no more to me. "I promise," I told his limp form.

"Go away Will. You aren't really here. You'll never really be here. Leave me alone," my father's voice pleaded. A moment of silence passed. "You promised me. Why haven't you come back?"

Knowing there was nothing more I could do, I stood and turned. I knew what expression was on my face. It was realization and hopelessness. I nodded.

"There was more of him left that thought," noted Jones.

"You did this to him," I said.

"You did Turner. You died," said Jones.

I turned to my father, knowing I had been dead in his eyes for a year. He sat here willingly for a year because he believed I was dead. He had nothing left in the world now that I was dead to him. He was no more than an ornament to the ship.

"I promise you," I told Jones, looking him in the eye as I faced him. "He will be free and you will be no more."

Jones smirked and chortled as he walked down the hall.

I turned to my father again. There was nothing I could do, but help Jack stab the heart and take Elizabeth. It's the end and I've made my choice. I chose Elizabeth, because I didn't have a choice.

"Do you care to rest?" Beckett asked me.

"Why?" I asked.

"If there is to be battle tomorrow it would be a shame for you to die because of exhaustion," noted Beckett.

"You do realize I will fight for piracy most likely?" I wondered.

Beckett smiled. "Which is why I request that you rest. I want the one who kills you to win fairly."

I wasn't going to deny sleep. After all, I was tired. I hadn't slept for two days. It was probably showing on my face that I needed sleep.

"I suppose I could use a few hours," I told him, hiding that I needed at least a night to rest.

"I thought so," noted Beckett. "Follow."

My feet moved, but my eyes remained on my father. He was helpless and I did nothing. There was something I could have done. I could have chosen him over a year ago, but I didn't. I let this happen to him. I could have saved him. I should have saved him, but I couldn't. Jack was the only one to save my father now and I had to help Jack save him.

Turning from what was left of my father, I followed Beckett onto the Endeavor. It pleased me to know that he granted me permission to use Mercer's cabin to rest as he said he would need rest as well. I wasn't going to deny that I didn't want to sleep here, but I didn't want to sleep here. Mercer slept in that hammock. That was disgusting, so I found every blanket available and pillow and piled them on a sofa chair then used a chest for my feet.

I used the arm of the chair for my head and stretched my feet onto the pillow above the chest. More tired than I thought I was, I fell asleep immediately after the blankets warmed and my mind somehow relaxed. I didn't think I would sleep. My father was dead by my doing, I was betraying Elizabeth and the rest of the pirates I had come to call my friends, and it was the eve before the day I would probably die. Somehow, I slept so well.

That morning, I barely had time to find something to eat. The small armada of pirates appeared on the horizon as the fog lifted. I ate the toast with jam watching them approach, their faint cries of battle becoming nothing.

Knowing Jack, I knew he would propose a parlay. It was Jack Sparrow. I even told Beckett to expect a parlay. I believe he was impressed when we received the word that parlay was requested. One thing was certain; it would be good to see pirates again rather than the proprietary that was aboard this ship. I was never one for proprietary and I should have been. After nine years of my life proper, I swore I would never do that to myself again and I nearly did all because I loved the daughter of a Governor. It was worth every miserable moment of it. Besides, I wouldn't have been standing on an island in the middle of nowhere looking at the devil's servant standing in a bucket of water. That was one thing one doesn't see very often.

While negotiations were discussed, I couldn't help but stare at my Elizabeth more than anything. She was more beautiful than I had ever dreamed. She changed before my eyes from a sheltered child, to this amazingly, strong woman. I changed too I admit, but not as much as her.

It was comforting to also know that Jack was still up to becoming captain. Even more than knowing he was willing, Elizabeth traded me for Jack which meant he was going to be aboard that ship and I wouldn't have to worry much.

As we walked back to the boat Barbossa, Elizabeth, and Jack used to arrive I couldn't help but wonder what she meant by King. Her response told me that Jack did know what he was doing. All we had to do was stay out of the way and watch him complete what he had to. For once, I trusted Jack Sparrow.

Everything would have been fine if Barbossa didn't free Tia Dalma. I knew Jones wouldn't kill her. She was his only source for love and he still loved her. I saw the look on his face when I mentioned her name on the Endeavor. He loved her still; after all she had done to him. He loved her. But, unfortunately, I knew what that felt like. After all Elizabeth did to me, I still loved her more than anything.

She was the right choice for me to choose. I understood that while listening to her speak to us about fighting for our freedom and dying for it as well. I had never been more proud of her in my life. She was breaking free from all bounds binding her to fight for what she knew was right. Our pasts were behind us. We were pirates of the Caribbean, Elizabeth and I. We grew into it together and I would die with her if I had to, but I wasn't going to die without making her my wife.

The more men I killed after we moved into the maelstrom, the more I realized I loved her and if I was to die as Beckett so desired, a mere second of her as my wife would settle my soul. When we did share our first kiss as husband and wife, my world was complete. I chose her and I knew I would never regret a single thing for it.

Everything went wrong when I noticed Jack to need help. I thought why not. Jack was the only source to my father's freedom and he had done enough for me to earn this favor. As I kept the chest from Jones and the rest of the crew, everything would be all right. So, I set my self to the Flying Dutchman and did just that. It was rather ironic that the Dead Man's Chest lay right in front of me with no one near my side as soon as my feet touched her deck.

But, you know this already, you know all that I had done up until this point in my life. Once that chest was in my grasp, everything went wrong. It's confusing what happened and I barely remember it. Jack and Elizabeth don't remember it still. I'll never forget it. It's time I told you what happened all those years ago. You're all old enough now to know. What happened the moment my hands touched the chest sealed my destiny and fate forever and it wasn't as Calypso foresaw inside me the day I set foot in her shack on the Pantano River over a year ago…


Will spotted the chest lying on deck. Knowing Jack would need it at any given time, he rushed forward, took it into his grasp and turned away, barely missing debris. He walked along, dodging all swords until Maccus locked eyes with him.

"Turner," the shark noted.

Fear came to Will's eyes. Think like Jack. He told himself. What would Jack Sparrow do? As Maccus moved forward on him, 'Jack' the Monkey came screeching and clung to Maccus causing them both to fall.

Will looked down at the monkey. "Thank you 'Jack'," he said, not quite having that in mind.

Seeing Jack above him, he moved forward until he was slammed in the head. He fell to deck, the chest falling from his grasp. Arming himself, he took his sword into hand as he stood. He was unable to move for the slightest of seconds as he realized who gave him the blow to the head. His heart broke as his father swung at him. He parried. Not knowing what to say, he continued to fight his father's sword away. Finally grabbing his father's arm, he looked into his eyes.

"It's me. It's Will," he called. Bill's eyes widened as he came back. "It's your son."

Bill's hand reached slowly toward his son's face, appearing that he would palm his son's cheek. The look of hatred and anger flashed in his eyes. Instead of gently touching his son, he pulled at Will's hair then rammed him against the captain's cabin.

Will's eyes widened as he ducked the sword that would have gone through his chest. As he moved, he knocked into someone else. Frightened by it a bit, he turned with his sword raised.

The man blocked his sword. "Where's Jack?"

Will stared at the man, who looked nearly exactly like Jack. "I don't know."

"The chest?"

His eyes gazed across deck.

The man pushed him behind him as he moved forward.

Will slammed against deck again, his head bouncing hard. He lay on deck, his senses blinded by the impact. When his mind cleared, he was gazing upon the chest. He reached for it and grasped it again.

"Bill Turner. William. Bootstrap Bill, come back. This isn't you. Protect your son. William, come back!"

Will turned. The one who looked like Jack was pleading with his father. Somehow, the two knew each other apparently. A sword went through Bill's chest. Will stopped breathing as the chest fell from his hand. He rushed to his father's side, pushing the man aside.

"Father," he whispered, setting his hands on his father's shoulders.

Bill Turner's sword came around across his son's torso.

Will screamed in pain until there was no more breath inside of him. He fell onto his back and lied on his legs. He wasn't able to breathe. His eyes immediately blurred. He touched his chest. Glancing at his hand it was red with blood. Feeling his blood rush from his body, his torso weighed down upon him. The sour taste of blood pooled in his mouth. He coughed and choked.

Jones approached Will. He looked down on him then turned to Bill, who stared down at Will in confusion. Jones laughed aloud. "Am I to understand this was an act of compassion as well?"

Bill's mouth dropped as his sword slipped from his hand. He fell to his knees and brought Will against his chest.

Will breathed sharply, an expression of pain succumbing across his face, but he did not have the strength to cry out.

Shaking his head, Bill screamed in agony. He threw his coat off his body and pressed upon Will's chest with all the strength he had inside him.

Will's eyes opened. He looked at his father. His breaths were weak, struggled gasps. He attempted to reach for his father's face knowing it was his father again. The effort being too great, his hand fell upon deck. Sudden convulsions overcame him, as he was rapidly losing blood.

In the break of fighting, Elizabeth turned her head to fight at her back. Her eyes fell upon her husband. Her shriek echoed in the maelstrom. Petrified and overcome with fear and pain, she was defenseless.

"I can allow you two to join each other," Jones's cold voice came.

Elizabeth looked at him. Furious and believing he was the one who hurt Will, she turned on Jones, pouring all her energy into causing him as much harm as she could.

It was mere moments later when Jones took advantage of her exhaustion. He whipped her around, the force of it causing her to lose balance.

Elizabeth slammed her head into the rail then on the corner of the helm stairs.

Jones moved toward her limp form. He raised the sword over her body.

"I wouldn't do that," Jack Sparrow's voice called.

Jones turned. His eyes widened in confusion and wonder, as Jack was holding his heart in the palm of his hand. "You must choose Jack Sparrow. Who deserves to live more?" He motioned to Elizabeth. "Her, your love?" To Will. "Your friend whose life is near an end?" His eyes narrowed on Jack. "Or your own for immortality?"

Jack's eyes went between Elizabeth and Will, horrified and ruined.

"You won't have to choose Jack."

Jack turned. "No, I want to. Why do you care about me?"

"Why do you think I'm here?"

Jack looked at his father then suddenly realized why he was here. He shook his head as he raised his broken sword over the heart. "I know what I have to do. For the first time in me life I know what I have to do."

"No you don't," Edward told him.

Jack's eyes narrowed into a glare. "Yes I do."

"I won't let you!" Edward shouted as he drove Jack away from Jones.

Jack's hand lost hold of the heart. He was shoved against the mast. Furious, he pushed past his father.

Edward grabbed Jack's arm. He rammed Jack against the rail and held his son there.

The two stared at each other, everything else becoming blind to them.

"I love you Jack," whispered Edward. "Always know that."

Tears formed in Jack's eyes as his mouth opened. He realized it was true.

Edward shut his eyes as he whipped his son around, slamming Jack's head against the mast.

Jack didn't have enough time to cry out. He fell into a limp heap upon deck.

Edward came around again. Unaware of anything else but the beating heart of Davy Jones, he fell to his knees in front of the heart.

Jones moved upon him, suddenly realizing what he meant, but not quick enough.

Edward's knife went through the heart of Davy Jones, stilling it forever.

The captain stood shocked and overwhelmed. Peace and relief filled his eyes as he tumbled from the ship into the center of the maelstrom.

Captain Teague dragged Bill from his son. "Steer us out of this mess. He won't survive underwater."

Bill went to the helm, turned the ship from the swirling waters then rushed back to his son's side. Though he was a member of the crew, he was the only one that did not surround Edward as the ritual was taken place, his heart and duty changed to his son now. Since there was one mass, he glanced around the ship seeing Elizabeth and Jack lying limp. His arms stopped trembling. He whipped his eyes to his son. Will was lying still in his arms, his face deathly pale and breathing hardly noticeable.

"Stay with me son. Will, please," he pleaded, pulling his boy closer to his chest. He pressed Will's ear against his chest. "Stay with this. Listen to this. Don't think about anything other than this. Don't let yours stop beating. Please."

Sudden silence came upon the crew as they backed away.

Edward breathed deeply as he sat up. Supporting himself, he slammed his palms to deck. His stomach churning and chest burning, he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Move toward the Endeavor," he ordered.

Maccus nodded as he went toward the helm.

A few seconds later, Edward took command of the helm.

The Flying Dutchman and Black Pearl came across both broadsides of the Endeavor. The powerful leader of the Royal Navy was taken by flames and slowly sank beneath the waves.

Around calls of victory sang out from every ship, but one.

Edward knelt beside Bill.

Bill looked at Edward, tears pouring across his cheeks. The starfish slid down his face from the tears. His hand was grasping his son's wrist.

Edward saw the look in his eyes. He shook his head and took Will's other wrist in his hand.

"He can't be saved," whispered Bill.

Edward nodded. "Yes he can."

"No he can't," whimpered Bill as he pressed his face into his son's hair. "I killed my son. I murdered my little one."

"And ya shall heal him."

The entire crew backed away from the one now known as Calypso.

She looked down on Will. "My powers have been restored. I bring back Barbossa from da dead before I was free. I can heal him. It be simple now dat I no' trapped in a single form." She knelt. "Move ya coat."

"He'll lose the rest of his blood. He's barely hanging on to the last thread of life!" cried Bill, protectively holding his son.

"Do ya wan' him ta live or no'?" asked Calypso.

Bill moved the coat away.

Calypso pressed her palms across Will's heart and belly.

"Don't worry. We'll take him to Shipwreck Cove. He'll be fine there," said Edward, squeezing Bill's shoulders.

Bill stared at his son's colorless face, gently caressing his forehead and cheek.

Bill Turner's situation hardly changed. He sat beside his son on the bed, which Will rested upon continuing to caress his cheek.

Will was breathing steadily in deep, slow breaths. The white tunic he wore was not buttoned exposing the bandages thickly wound around his torso and left shoulder as well as the blanket only covering to mid thigh. Color was back in his face and warmth in his skin.

Bill watched and waited.

Three soft taps on the door broke his connection. He turned his head to Gibbs.

"How is he?" the old sea dog asked.

"Alright," replied Bill. "What about Elizabeth and Jack? Are they awake?"

Gibbs shook his head. "I'm not quite positive at the moment, but I believe Elizabeth cracked her skull. As for Jack, he bruised his skull terribly. He has a severe concussion. I hope the two of them will make it through the night. I don't know."

"Where's Edward?" asked Bill softly.

"Sitting closer to Jack than you are to Will," replied Gibbs.

Bill turned to his son. "He loves Jack more than anything in the world. Jack never knew. Jack never will know."

"Jack has his father," noted Gibbs.

"Until sunset," replied Bill. "Edward made himself captain of the Flying Dutchman to spare Jack from that fate. He surrendered his soul to save Jack's."

"And you?"

"I don't know."

Will painfully moaned as his palm moved across his chest. His face twisted into such pain that brought tears to roll from the sides of his eyes a mere moment later.

"Breathe little one. I know it hurts but you must breathe," whispered Bill, palming his son's cheek.

Will's eyes opened, immediately seeing his father. He looked at his father seeing him for the first time since he was three. His father was human again, not consumed by sea life and in a change of clothes. His hand upon his chest reached up.

Bill took his son's hand and pressed it against his cheek, sparing Will the effort.

"You're free?" Will asked softly.

Tears came to Bill's eyes as he shook his head. "No," he replied.

Will pulled his hand back as he shut his eyes in pain. It was not pain from his body; it was pain from his heart.

Bill leaned closer to his son. "You freed me from Davy Jones Will. That was the freedom you promised me." He brushed loose curls from his son's face. "Will, the new captain of the Flying Dutchman saved me from Jones."

"Who?" asked Will.

"Captain Teague," replied Bill then added. "Jack's father."

Will's eyes turned away as his mind processed what was just told to him. Jack had a father?

Heavy, slow footsteps approached. "Bill, we have to leave soon."

Bill Turner shut his eyes and nodded as he held his son's hand tighter.

Will looked at the new captain of the Flying Dutchman. He noted the similarity between Jack.

Edward stood beside Will. "Will, I need you to do me a favor and I will do one for you in return." Will gave a faint nod of his head. "Give the chest to him when you feel the time is most opportune. I need you to look after him for me. He's going to be a bit of task to manage, but I think he'll be out of his mind for quite some time because of his head. In return, after the souls Davy Jones neglected are ferried your father is free to be with you. The Sea Goddess has given me permission and will bring your father back to life after helping me. She feels someone will have to help you look after Jack."

"After you're done we can be together?" asked Will.

"Aye, but you need to take care of Jack for me," reminded Edward.

"All right," whispered Will.

"You have a moment to say what you want. We have to leave," Edward told Bill.

Bill Turner nodded. He said nothing. Instead, he pressed his lips onto Will's forehead. After a moment, he smelled his son's soft curls. Faint vanilla and the sea.

"Father," Will's voice softly called out. With a teary smile on his face, Bill looked into Will's eyes. "Don't leave me."

"I have to for us to be together," said Bill.

"I want you here with me. Everything hurts," said Will.

"You'll be fine. Josh will be here to ease the pain. Elizabeth and Jack will come around in a few hours. You need to rest is all," said Bill.

"I want you," whispered Will.

"And you'll have me, but not today," replied Bill. He pulled a silver chain from around his neck, let the chain fall into the palm of Will's hand, and shut his hand. "You and I and your mother will always be together now. I trust you to keep an eye on it for me."

Will nodded.

Bill turned to the window. He slumped. His eyes gazed upon his little one. A smile widened across his face. He caressed Will's forehead and cheek one last time. "You know I love you?"

"I know," whispered Will.

Bill pressed his lips on Will's forehead. "Watch for me." He turned and walked from the room.

Will stared at the doorway. Sharp, burning pain consuming his chest, he cringed. His other cheek fell into the pillow as his eyes opened. He gazed at the last light in the sky. Above the cliffs that surrounded the cove was a light that shined in the small cove as well. The light was green and lasted for a mere moment.

Knowing his father was gone now, he opened his palm. Strung to the silver chain was a ring of woven gold inset with diamonds and sapphires. Beside that was a simple gold ring with a simple diamond. His parents' rings. A smile widened across his face as he clutched the necklace across his chest over his heart joining his family again for the first time since he was three.

A scene came back to Will's eyes. Instead of the darkness that fell with the sunset, it was morning light shinning in the room. There was a warm blanket that covered to his shoulders. His chest burned and throbbed.

"Ow," he moaned aloud.

"Easy Will. Lie still."

Will turned his head. "Josh, my chest burns."

"I know. It's healing. Someone cut your chest and stomach. We barely held onto you," said Gibbs.

"Where's my father?" asked Will.

"He had to leave Will. He and Captain Teague have a duty to complete," said Gibbs.

Feeling the rings in his palm, Will looked at the two rings again. Everything was true. His father was gone from him again.

"Where are Jack and Elizabeth? Father said they would be awake in a few hours. It's been all night," said Will.

Gibbs nodded. "I know, but neither of them have woken yet. You're the only one who didn't receive a concussion. Their heads are bruised and beaten. Your torso is the equivalent to their heads."

"It's cut and burning?" asked Will.

"No. It's bruised and cut," replied Gibbs.

"What about everyone else?" wondered Will.

"They are fine. It was just the three of you that took serious injuries," said Gibbs.

"That's because we were the only three that went aboard the Dutchman to end the battle," said Will.

"The three maddest ones of all is more like it," Gibbs muttered to himself.

Wills squeezed his eyes shut as he set his palm across his chest. "Why does it burn?"

"Perhaps it has something with being alive?" suggested Gibbs.

"What?" asked Will.

"Tia Dalma, Calypso- whatever she prefers now -saved your life Will. You didn't die because of her hand and powers," said Gibbs. "I didn't know your father knew how to stitch wounds as well as he did."

"My father stitched me?" asked Will.

"He wouldn't let anyone else touch you," added Gibbs.

Will smiled softly. He pushed himself up with his elbows then palms. Resting his back against a few pillows on the wall, he exhaled deeply.

"Will, you shouldn't be getting up so soon. You said it yourself your chest burns and hurts," noted Gibbs.

"But I'm fine. I want to see my wife," said Will. Gibbs looked at him awkwardly. "Barbossa married Elizabeth and I. I want to see her."

"You need to rest today," advised Gibbs.

"I slept last night," said Will.

"Your father would want you to lay in bed and rest. He would force you back down and make you lay here," noted Gibbs. "I knew enough about Bill to know that."

"You're not my father are you?" asked Will.

Gibbs said nothing. He shook his head. "No, I'm not your father Will."

"Then let me do what I want," said Will.

"Calypso kept you alive not healed you," said Gibbs. "Don't overdo it."

"Don't worry about me Josh. I can take care of myself," said Will.

"Your father just wanted me to keep an eye on you," added Gibbs.

"Keeping an eye on me does not mean watch my every move," said Will. He motioned to the door. "You can leave now."

Not going to do this with Will at the moment, Gibbs turned to leave from the room.

"Your father cares about you more than anything Will. Don't hurt yourself anymore than you already are," he requested.

"How am I going to do that?" Will asked himself.

He threw the blankets aside, choking back a scream. The pain in his chest multiplied down to his belly and side. Apparently it wasn't just his chest that was cut. His torso burned and throbbed with each beat of his heart. He held his breath for a moment, trying to ease the movement of his chest. The pain caused him to breathe harder after a moment.

"What happened to me?" he asked himself, feeling the bandages.

Will's eyes narrowed in confusion. He brought his hand to his left shoulder where the bandage was wound around it. He felt his chest and belly, feeling the cloth wind around his torso. Curious, yet still pained, he glanced around the room for a mirror and found a small one in the corner.

Walking was more difficult than he imagined. Coming closer to the mirror, he saw that only his right shoulder was free of bandages. On his left shoulder, the bandages consumed the skin, touching his neck. Whoever bandaged him overdid the amount, but wound them around him with such care and skill. Without doubt, he knew it had to be his father. If Bill stitched him then he probably bandaged him as well.

Hiding the amount of white rather than skin, Will buttoned his tunic but the last two. A blue coat was draped across the chair. He took it, slid his arms through the sleeves then walked from the room.

It was an hour before he finally reached the main hall. When he did, his breaths were heavy and pained.

"Mates, one of them is alive!" cried Ragetti.

"Hello Will," greeted Pintel.

Will nodded his greeting as he clutched the doorframe.

Gibbs gave him a look that would have killed him if looks had that talent to kill. Instead, he sat Will in a chair, gave him water, and checked the bandages for blood.

"Can I ask what brought this on?" he asked.

"I don't know where Elizabeth is. I want to see her," said Will.

"You're going back to your room Will. You need to rest more," said Gibbs, taking Will's arm.

Will pulled away. "If you think you know my father as well as you say you do then you know that when he has something on his mind he won't rest until it's accomplished? I want to see Elizabeth and Jack. You can help me or not. I would prefer that you do help though."

"Will you sit at her side and rest?" asked Gibbs. Will nodded. "Fine."

With help from Joshamee Gibbs, Will was brought into his Elizabeth's room. He was sat in a chair beside her side and given a blanket to wrap in.

Will looked at her face. She was so pale and lifeless appearing, yet her breaths were natural and steady. There was something about her that didn't seem right. He brushed a piece of hair from her face then caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

"Something is wrong. I can feel it," he noted.

"Something is very wrong. You are correct saying that Will," said Gibbs.

Will looked at him. "What happened to her?"

"I don't know what happened, but I do know what she received from it," said Gibbs. He drew a deep breath. "Her head took a deep impact into something, most likely a corner from the appearance of the wound, managing to crack her skull."

"You said she bruised it," noted Will.

"I've had time to look over her and Jack. Will, she cracked her skull," said Gibbs.

Glancing at his Elizabeth, he saw the black bruise above her left eye. He rubbed his finger across it, feeling unevenness below the swelling. Still, he didn't see what was horrible about it. He turned back to Gibbs.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

Gibbs slumped his shoulders. He bit his lip as his eyes wandered around the room in thought.

"It's not good isn't it? You can't say it," noted Will.

"William, I was a surgeon during my days in the Royal Navy. I've seen many wounds including cracked skulls. It's a miracle she's still alive," said Gibbs, looking at her impressed.

"What is wrong with Elizabeth?" asked Will, concern and fear coming to his eyes and voice. "Is she going to be all right?"

Gibbs shrugged. "I don't know Will. I can honestly tell you I don't know what's going to happen to her because there is nothing I can do for her."

"Then she's fine?" assumed Will.

"Perhaps," replied Gibbs.

"When do you believe she'll wake?" asked Will.

"I…Will, I…" began Gibbs, his mouth moving into the words, but no clear sounds coming through.

"What?" asked Will, his heart causing his entire body to begin trembling. Gibbs shook his head and shrugged. Will processed that through his mind a moment then turned to Gibbs. "You aren't certain if she's going to wake?"

Gibbs nodded. "Her skull was cracked. Blood, if not, bone entered her brain. I don't know if she'll wake ever again Will."

"But she's breathing normal and has a normal heartbeat," said Will.

"She's alive Will, and she'll remain in this state until she wakes. If she wakes," said Gibbs.

"You meant to tell me that I might never speak with my wife again or look into her eyes?" wondered Will, his voice beginning to choke from the tears.

"I'm sorry Will. I can't do anything. Her fate is in her own hands. No one can do anything for her," whispered Gibbs.

"Someone has to be able to do something. She can't just stay like this forever," said Will.

"Not forever, just until she dies which will be soon I'm sure," noted Gibbs.

"Don't say that!" Will screamed.

"Will, she's slowly dying. Her mind is dead for all we know. No one can explain why this happens. Very few wake from this state. Their minds are dead and unable to send signs to the body to keep fighting. They usually die within a few weeks or months depending on the care given to them. You can't do anything for her Will," said Gibbs.

"I have to!" Will cried. "She's my wife. I'm not going to let her die. She can't die. I just married her. We finally married. We were barely married half an hour before all this happened. Why is this happening? What did she do to deserve this? I should be the one who is suffering as she is."

"Then she would helplessly watch your body rot to death instead," whispered Gibbs.

Will shook his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. Tears fell onto his Elizabeth's face. Beyond the pain that he was already in, he pulled her into his arms against his chest. He shook her lightly then harder.

"Wake up. Elizabeth, please wake. Don't make me do this. Don't make me watch you die like this. Wake up. I love you Elizabeth. I can finally call you my wife. Don't leave me here alone. I need you beside me. I need you Elizabeth. You have to hear me. You have to wake. I can't live without you love. I need you. I can't survive without you. Please, wake up Elizabeth. Please don't leave me like this. Elizabeth, please."

His pleading did nothing beside cause him to lose his voice. Tears rolled gently down his cheeks onto her face.

Elizabeth did not so much as twitch. The only movement was her breath steadily rising and falling her chest in Will's arms.

Will's trembling hand fell from her shoulders. He pulled her face against his chest, before resting his jaw on her head.

"I promise you Elizabeth, I'll take care of you. I'll find a way to make you wake. I won't abandon you like this. You have to believe me. I won't leave you alone. I'll look after you. I'll find a way. I promise. I love you."

His words became tears of sorrow and grief. He buried his face against her hair, letting his tears pour from his eyes. His back trembled and breaths taken in painful gasps. He rocked back and forth praying to every god he knew to make her wake.

This wasn't going to happen to him. He married Elizabeth finally. She wasn't going to die like this. He would make sure of it. He promised her years ago that he would always look after her. It wasn't going to end like this. She would be fine and wake and they would be together.

Elizabeth Turner was going to wake. He swore on her life that he would to do anything to look into her eyes one last time before letting her go.

Joshamee Gibbs felt the need to rub Will's back. He felt terrible for Will having to do this. Though it probably wouldn't have mattered much, he wished Will hadn't married her yet. Will was now attached to Elizabeth in all ways but physically and he would have to suffer her this way for an unknown amount of time.

Stirring, Will opened his eyes. He gently caressed his wife's cheek with the back of her fingers. "It's just a dream," he whispered to himself.

"It isn't a dream Will. All I told you this morning is true. She-" began Gibbs.

"Please, don't tell me again," pleaded Will. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"You're going to live and take care of her," Gibbs told him. "You are the only one she has left."

"So Jack's dead now?" wondered Will.

"Jack's alive. You should go to him Will," said Gibbs.

"Why?" asked Will. "Why should I go to Jack and not stay with my wife?"

"Because Jack has no one but you. Edward wanted you to look after Jack for him until Bill is free," reminded Gibbs.

Will slumped as he exhaled. He turned to Gibbs. Rolling his eyes he walked out of the room.

"First door on your right," added Gibbs.

Will walked past the room with a glare on his face. He swung the door to the first one on his right. Indeed, Jack was lying on the bed calmly breathing. He stood over him.

"Jack looks fine to me," he muttered to himself. He walked around Jack. "Oh, then again, he doesn't look so fine."

Above the corner of Jack's right eye on his forehead, blood stained the bandage.

Will wasn't sure which one looked worse anymore. Elizabeth looked comfortable while Jack's face twisted in pain every few moments. Since Jack was his friend, he removed the old bandage and pulled out the old stitches. He replaced the stitches on Jack's forehead then wrapped another bandage around his head.

"I never thought I would see Jack Sparrow injured," he admitted to himself. "There's a first to everything though."

He tensed as he stretched his torso more than he had since waking. Seeing as he was already at Jack's side, he sat in a chair. It didn't matter to him. Nothing mattered. Elizabeth was never going to wake. Jack probably wasn't going to wake. He thought he might as well stab himself and join his father now rather than wait a few months.

The burning returning to his chest, he pressed his palm against the bandages. One thing he knew completely, his father was a typical-over-protective-worried father when he was bandaged. He couldn't help but to wonder the amount of cloth that was wrapped around his torso as well as the length of thread it required to stitch him.

"My head hurts," Jack softly groaned.

Will smiled. "At least someone is awake," he said as he knelt to Jack's level.

Jack opened his eyes. He looked at Will oddly.

Will returned the favor. "You're looking at me like you've never seen me in your life Jack," he said.

"What's a 'Jack'?" wondered Jack.

"Your name Jack Sparrow. Obviously," said Will.

"Name?" wondered Jack. "What is a name?"

"A name is something you use to call something," said Will slowly, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Oh," said Jack. "What do you call you then? What do you call me? Do you know what I'm called?"

"Jack Sparrow. Your name is Jack Sparrow. Rather, your name is Captain Jack Sparrow," said Will, enunciating his words.

"So," began Jack, looking at Will with thought on his face. "Is everyone called Jack?"

"My name is Will. I'm called Will," said Will.

"Why are you called Will and they call me Jack?" wondered Jack. "I don't understand. Everyone is called something else. That makes no sense."

"No, Jack, you don't make sense. What are you talking about? You know me," Will told him.

"I do?" wondered Jack.

"Aye. You've known me for over two years," said Will

"I have?" wondered Jack. He looked past Will, thought and confusion upon his face. "When did we meet?"

"Josh, get in here!" Will called.

"What is a 'Josh'?" asked Jack.


"Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute!" cried Niamh, shaking her hands about hysterically. "Daddy lost his memory?"

I nodded. "Completely."

"How?" asked Niamh with a squeaky voice.

"That was my doing," said Edward, still ashamed to admit it. I noticed his face went more regretful this time than any other. "I slammed his head against the mast harder than I thought."

"How did that make him lose his memory?" asked Lily.

I shrugged.

"No one can explain why it happens," Alexander said as he walked in with Richard behind. "It just does. Pressure and swelling on the brain is dangerous and possibly fatal. Your father was fortunate he only lost his mind temporary."

"Why didn't you invite us to your story?" asked Richard. "After all I've done for you."

"Grandfather please," I said, not wanting him to place more shame upon me. "You should be happy enough to see me in London again."

"This isn't exactly where I wanted to spend my one day, but Jackie was dying after all and I suppose he needed medical attention," said Edward.

"You're lucky you were in Scotland," said Alexander, looking at Jack. "We would have lost you were you at sea."

Jack slumped, as his face went pale. He looked at me. "This wouldn't have happened if you wanted to take Aqua de Vida with me. I would be immortal."

"I had nothing to do with it Jack. Your amnesia changed your mind about life. I know you want to live life as it should be. Your life was altered enough by it. More to the point, Edward will stab you every time he sees you for taking water. There are alternatives to immortality," I said.

Jack nodded. "I know. It's the dying part of it I'm trying to avoid."

Alexander chucked at that. "You're doing an excellent job of that."

I knew we were all glaring at him.

"Can I continue?" I asked.

"YES!" the children screamed at once.

I drew a deep breath and continued.

Anyway, Jack just asked what a Joshamee Gibbs was. Poor Josh was, well quite honestly, I don't know how to describe the look on his face other than realizing everyone was right about Jack. Jack Sparrow finally did loose his mind after all…


"Jack you've known me since you were a little lad," reminded Josh.

"Oh," said Jack. "You know me too then?"

"Of course," replied Josh. "Why wouldn't I know you?"

"When did we meet again?" wondered Jack.

Gibbs turned to Will and pointed at Jack with a look of horror upon his face.

"Jack, I'm going to talk with Josh by the window. You stay here. I will be right back," said Will.

"A window?" asked Jack. Will pointed to the window. "Oh, all right."

Will went to the window and leaned against the wall, looking out to sea.

"Jack," was Gibbs's only word.

"He woke like this. He doesn't remember who he is," said Will then elaborated. "He didn't remember who I was or you apparently. He doesn't know what a window is either."

They turned to Jack who was looking at his dreadlocks in curiosity. He looked at them and waved.

"I'm still here," he said.

They attempted to smile at him then turned back to each other.

"What do we do?" asked Will.

"I don't know," replied Gibbs. "I've seen sailors like this before."

"And?" wondered Will, leaning closer as if to cause him to elaborate.

"He has amnesia Will, severely," said Gibbs.

"What does that mean?" wondered Will.

"Jack Sparrow has lost his memory and may never remember a single moment of his life again. He may recover his memory or not. I've seen men remember after a few hours, yet there are those who, even after a year journey to return to London still have no memory of anything," said Gibbs.

"He's Jack Sparrow, he'll remember," said Will confidently.

Gibbs turned to Jack who was now rubbing his tattoo on his wrist and apparently becoming frustrated, as it wasn't coming off. "I don't know Will. I honestly tell you I don't know. Jack took an unforgiving blow to the head."

"How?" asked Will.

"He was slammed into the mast taking the impact upon his head mostly," replied Gibbs.

"I know Jack. He'll remember in a few hours. All he needs is to be placed on the right line," said Will as he walked backwards to Jack.

"Hello," said Jack. "So you're Jack or am I?"

"You are Jack. I am Will," said Will. He pointed to himself. "Will." Then to Jack. "Jack. Will. Jack. Will. Jack. Understand?"

Jack pointed to Josh. "Him?"

"Joshamee Gibbs. You may call him Josh or Gibbs," said Will.

"Why?" wondered Jack.

"Because we just do," replied Will. "My whole name is William Turner. Everyone calls me Will."

"Why?" wondered Jack.

"Well, my mother called me Will since I was born and it stuck to me. Will and Gibbs or Josh are what you call nicknames. A nickname is a name people call you. It generally is simpler to call someone by their nickname," said Will.

"My name?" wondered Jack.

"You're just Jack. Sometimes you are called Jack Sparrow. It depends on the person," Will told him.

"Person?" wondered Jack.

"No mind is the same, especially yours," said Will.

"Why?" asked Jack.

"You're unique and no one can ever be like you," replied Will.

"Why?" asked Jack.

"You don't have a plan. You make everything up as you go along. Beckett even admired you for your mind," said Will.

"Beckett?" Jack asked himself as he lowered his eyes.

"Do you remember him?" wondered Will. "Near my height. White, pristine wig. Navy Blue coat. A ship called Endeavor. Letters of Marque. Your compass and-"

"What's a compass?" asked Jack.

Gibbs smacked his hand to his forehead.

Jack looked at him. "Why did you do that? Did it hurt?"

"No, Jack, it doesn't hurt as much as you not remembering anything about yourself or Will," said Gibbs. He looked at Will as he approached. "Let me try."

"You know something about me?" wondered Jack, curious.

Gibbs nodded. He inhaled deeply. "Your name is Jonathan Thomas Teague. Your mother's name was Aisling. Your ship is called Black Pearl after being sunk by Cutler Beckett who also branded you a pirate. Before the Pearl, your ship was called Wicked Wench. It had white sails before black. Davy Jones- tentacle beard -raised your ship for you under the terms you owe him your soul after being captain for thirteen years. Hector Barbossa mutinied, meaning took over your ship, and left you on an island to die two years after you got her back. Because you always introduced yourself as "Captain" Jones didn't let it through. You had to find the key to the Dead Man's Chest through Will's help. In that venture, Will met his father. Oh, and you met Will and Elizabeth in Port Royal, Jamaica. You needed their help to kill Barbossa and took them to Isla del Muerta where Cortez left his eight hundred eighty two pieces of cursed Aztec gold. The gold turned them into skeletons. So, you found the chest and learned it was Jones's heart you needed to escape because Jones through Will's father Bootstrap Bill marked you with the black spot. The Kraken hunted you down, Elizabeth chained you to the mast, and you went down to Davy Jones's Locker where you lost your mind and we rescued you. You returned here to attend the Brethren Court meeting. Along the way we ran into some troubles. You volunteered your heart to the chest as long as Will here helped get Beckett, Jones, and the chest to you. After the meeting, which you named Elizabeth King, you went aboard the ship. There was a battle. Your father was the one who made himself captain after you, Elizabeth, and Will nearly died and you've been here since." Gibbs breathed heavily. He inhaled forgetting something. "Scarlet and Giselle are still slapping you from your little adventure that night. Your father abandoned you several times as a child and all you ever wanted was his love. Bill became your second father. You were a child of illness and fever. Disease was common in your world. You dreamed of sleeping with Elizabeth by the way. You also find that Will feels more like a brother than a companion. Even still today you want your father to be proud of you and will do anything to get it. Currently you are suffering from something called amnesia and you have a broken arm. The first thing you are going to do when you remember from all this- because I'm going to faint- is catch me."

Will set his hand on Gibbs's back, as the old sea dog did fall to the side breathing heavily.

Jack stared off into the distance, thoughtful.

Will and Gibbs exchanged glances as Jack's face suddenly brightened.

"So, so, Jack is just that thing you call people when they don't like their name?" he asked.

Gibbs stood and walked from the room without a word.

Will slumped as he set his head in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair groaning, wondering what he was going to do now.

A loud sound echoed in the room.

Will raised his head to find Jack staring at his stomach in horror. "You're hungry Jack."

"What is that?" asked Jack.

"You need food," replied Will.

Jack looked at him oddly. "Food?"

"I'll show you in a moment. Does your stomach hurt?" said Will.

Jack nodded as he set his palm across his stomach. "I think so."

"You stay here," said Will. "Don't leave the room or get up or leave this place. I will be back momentarily."

"Momentarily?" said Jack, the tone of his voice confused.

"In not a long amount of time," said Will as he stood.

He walked from the room only to find Gibbs standing across the hall staring in the middle of nowhere.

"Jack's lost his memories of everything," said Gibbs.

"For now," Will told him. "I'll help him remember. He needs a head start. Jack Sparrow never has a plan, but I do. If we give him a few ideas to who he is, his brilliant mind will recall everything."

"And if it doesn't?" wondered Gibbs quietly.

Will shook his head. "He will remember. I haven't the slightest concern."

He moved to take a step forward then slammed his palm against the wall beside Gibbs. His breath increased and face twisted into pain.

Gibbs set his hand on Will's shoulder. "Will you shouldn't be out of bed. You don't know what your body looks like. It wasn't just your torso."

"Which is why I'm out of bed. If I did know what this looked like I doubt I would be walking around, but since I don't know what it looks like then I have no reason to not be walking," replied Will. He looked at him. "Where is the kitchen, Jack needs food?"

"Will, please. Rest," said Gibbs, his voice nearly as caring as Bill.

"You're not my father. Stop acting like you are," Will told him before moving from his hand and walking down the hall.

Gibbs watched Will walk. He knew he was more like his father than he thought. "Left Will. Food is left."

Pointing left after moving right, Will headed that direction. He gave Gibbs a smile of thanks.

Jack pulled at his hair in curiosity as Will walked in the room with a two plates balancing on two bowls. Cups balanced on the plates beside the food.

He looked at Will oddly.

Will handed Jack the plate of food. "This is a sandwich. It's made of bread and ham."

Jack touched the bread. "Do you eat this?"

"Aye, Jack, you eat it," replied Will. He took a bite. "Take a bite. It tastes good."

Watching him eat, Jack licked his lips. He looked at the sandwich oddly. Carefully, half expecting it to kill him for an odd reason, he poked his finger at the bread then wrapped his fingers around it wholly. He raised it to his mouth. Testing if it was safe, he touched the bread and ham with the very tip of his tongue.

"What are you doing?" Will asked.

Jack laughed at the puzzled expression on his face. "You look funny."

"Are you afraid to eat a sandwich?" asked Will.

"Maybe," admitted Jack, innocently.