By Rose de Sharon

DISCLAIMER: the recognizable characters belong to Disney.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

- English isn't my native language and I don't have a beta-reader, all mistakes are mine.

- Father/son pure love!

- This story was inspired by Stellan Skarsgård's beautiful blue eyes, which cracked me up at the end of the AWE movie ;-)

FEEDBACK: Flames will be ignored. Drink up, me hearties, yo-ho!

Chapter 1

The long silhouette of "Bootstrap" Bill Turner was walking down the corridors of hisship, clad in his old but mended cloak. Lanterns were casting a yellowish glow inside the hull and, even if the former pirate didn't need it to see where he was going, he was grateful for the light. It was another welcome improvement.

It was dark outside and the crewmembers were asleep in their hammocks, apart from those on night shift. Bootstrap Bill, First Mate of the Flying Dutchman, should be resting on his own couch after a hard day's work but, unknowingly to the other sailors, he didn't sleep in there. Every night he went on a private, lonely vigil.

Since Davy Jones had disappeared into the ocean after his fight with Jack Sparrow, a lot of things have changed abroad the ghost ship. The Flying Dutchman had gained a new Captain… and suddenly, service before its mast got much easier.

Now, the ship didn't look like a distorted sunken wreck. The invading crustaceans, shells and seaweeds had deserted its hull and the masts. The floor wasn't permanently waterlogged anymore; the beams, knuckles and walls were dry, erasing that permanent humidity which used to penetrate every shipmate to their very core. The cloth staples of the ragged sails were also knitting back together slowly, giving the Flying Dutchman a better speed and inclination to the winds. Freed from encrusted marine life, the ship looked now like an ornate Dutch fluyt made of ivory instead of wood, enhancing its ghost-like aspect.

But that wasn't the most spectacular change.

With the new Captain's influence, the sculpted demon faces of the gun ports had disappeared, just like the sailfish skull on the ship's bow and the Grim Reaper figurehead. In fact, all the hideous sculptures adorning the ship had been erased, as if they had never existed. Also was gone the Kraken Hammer, Jones' vast pipe organ playing lugubrious music every evening, the game of Liar's Dice, the ship's ability to submerge, the sound of its cannon fires… and the horrible transformation of the Dutchman's crew into freaks of nature.

Bill Turner sighed, and then stopped to look at one of the hanging lanterns. The side panels had been recently cleaned up and the man could see his reflection in the illuminated glass: a healing face was staring at him. His skin was no longer pale and clammy; in fact it was getting a light tan. He had fading marks beside his right eye from the starfish's tube feet which had stuck there for so long. His cheeks, nose and chin were recovering from the eruption of barnacles and mussels his enslavement to Jones had provoked. Long, graying hair had replaced the seaweed growing on his head, and gone was the coral sprouting from his shoulders and arms.

Even Bill's blue eyes had changed: formerly melancholic and hopeless, they were now shining with love.

Bootstrap Bill wasn't the only sailor aboard who had been granted that healing miracle. Every crewman who had survived the maelstrom battle had returned into their pure human forms when they got their new Captain, looking like men after years of slavery. The Flying Dutchman wasn't Hell's favorite ship any longer because, unlike Davy Jones, the said new Captain wasn't a cruel being who had forfeited his duties in order to terrorize the seas and toil in servitude innocent sailors.

Freed from Jones' tyranny, it was a soul-ferrying vessel once again, led by William Turner, Jr.

It has been a month now that the crewmembers had regained both their bodies and their minds. Some had cried in joy while recovering long-lost memories, others in shame when they remembered their evil deeds committed under Jones' orders; a few of them, like old Wyvern, had asked their new Captain for the release of their souls as they were too weary to carry on. Their wish had been granted immediately. But the remaining sailors had been working very hard to get back to their true selves, like eating normal food instead of live crustaceans or sleeping without the help of rum. Some of them were even trying to sing songs and play card games!

The sailor's footsteps had led him to his destination: the Captain's quarters. He paused, and then knocked softly at the cabin's door.

"Captain? Will? It's me, son."

Silence greeted him but it was expected, since it was late at night. After a short while, Bill's hand gripped the doorknob and turned it slowly. The door opened, turning noiselessly on its recently-oiled hinges.

The Great Cabin was darkened and silent. However, the elder Turner could make out the shape of the furniture quite easily since years of living underwater had sharpened his night vision. He passed through the heavy table covered with navigational charts and instruments, the huge wooden globe, the armchairs, and soon he found Will, asleep on his couch.

Bill approached and looked at his slumbering son. Will was lying on his back, his dark mane of hair freed from the dark blue bandanna he had acquired when becoming Captain. He was fully clothed apart from his boots, as if he had wanted to lie down "just for a minute" and sleep had overtaken him. Moonlight was pouring through the stern's large cabin windows and it was illuminating Will's face, giving him an ethereal appearance.

A beautiful face that matched an angelic soul.

"Will?" whispered Bill Turner.

The only response was a soft, regular breathing : Will was sound asleep, his father was now sure of it. Heavens know, Will deserved all the rest he could get after his courageous, heroic actions to rescue him. It had almost cost him his life.

Bootstrap Bill, worried that Will might be cold, found a blanket rolled up at the foot of the couch and covered his son's body with it. Then he noticed Will's dark shirt was open on the front, revealing the scarred chest. Bill felt his throat tightening in pain and he closed his eyes as a cruel memory came back to his mind…

Will, his beloved son, was dying.

His child was lying on the deck of the Flying Dutchman, Jones' sword driven into his chest. The octopus-faced Captain was laughing maniacally…

Will was dying. Jones was making a mockery of Jack and Elizabeth's sorrow. And Bootstrap Bill had roared his rage to the skies.

How could he have forgotten his own son? His angel, who had promised to free him!

Locked up in the brig, Bootstrap Bill had been loosing his mind, persuaded his son had been killed by the Kraken's attack against the merchant ship. Desperate, unable to handle the pain, he had accepted death and he was becoming an integral part of the ship, just like poor Wyvern did years ago.

When the imprisoned young woman, Elizabeth, had told him Will was alive and very resolute to keep his promise, this good news had come too late. Bill Turner hadn't had enough strength left within him to fight the curse's crushing grip on his mind.

With his last clear thoughts, he had begged Elizabeth to tell Will to forget about him, just before re-entering the brig's walls and allowing more sea creatures to fester on his body. His William had to save his fiancée and not his worthless father.

"Don't let him choose me," the elder Turner had said to Elizabeth. "I wouldn't choose me."

Freeing his son of his oath was the last thing he could do to protect him just before meeting his end. But death didn't come for him. Instead, Bootstrap Bill had fallen into a hebetate state, reciting the Flying Dutchman's rules over and over again like a parrot. He hadn't been aware of him trying to prevent the escape of Elizabeth and her Chinese crewmen from the brig, killing Admiral Norrington in the process; nor had he realized him fighting "enemies" to defend the ghost ship during the maelstrom battle.

The curse had turned him into a mindless zombie, just like the ones of the old Caribbean legends he had been told about, years ago.

Then, he had committed the unimaginable: he had fought his own son!

Turner felt tears gathering in his eyes. He had been unable to resist the curse binding him to the Flying Dutchman and its former evil Captain, what in the world kind of a stupid weakling was he? Bill Turner had surrendered to his despair instead of clinging to the love he felt for his William, and it has erased his memories. It has been his greatest failure as a father… and Will had paid a terrible price for it.

The violent storm was ragging, the pouring rain was nearly suffocating, the swirling waters created by Calypso's fury threatened to submerge the fragile ships dangerously tethering around the whirlpool. Bootstrap was fighting a young man, a member of the Black Pearl's crew who had boarded the Flying Dutchman. The youngster had caught his arm, blocking the rusted sword and he was looking at him with horrified, pleading eyes…

"It's me! Will! I'm your son!"

Bill kneeled by the couch and brushed Will's cheek in a feather-light caress, marveling at the contact of the soft skin beneath his fingertips. He was unconsciously imitating his own gesture when, during the battle, a short-lived spark of reason stopped him from fighting Will and he had briefly tried to touch his child's face. Oh, the hope in Will's eyes… vanishing right after Bootstrap Bill had returned to his zombie-like state of mind!

Will had defeated him easily and he had planted his grandfather's knife in the Dutchman's deck, reminding the cursed pirate of his promise. Astonished by the youngster's refusal to kill him, Bill had remained stunned on the deck, unable to carry on the fight nor to detach his sight from the young man, engaged in a duel with Davy Jones to defend a young woman…

A soft moan snapped the seaman out of his thoughts: Will was becoming agitated in his sleep, tossing and turning on the couch. His forehead was wrinkled; his eyes were turning wildly beneath the closed lids while wordless sounds were coming from his lips. Nightmares were now regularly plaguing Will, that's why Bootstrap Bill had dedicated himself to sit at his son's bedside every night and guard his dreams. Then in the morning, he would leave the Great Cabin silently, like a shadow, getting very little rest for himself but he didn't care about that. Only Will mattered and his father would gladly forfeit sleep for the rest of his life to help him.

"Hush, Hush. Will, my brave Little One, everything's fine. Shh…" whispered Bill as he cradled his son's face between his calloused hands.

After a moment Will quieted down, reassured by his father's voice. His body relaxed against the crumpled white bed sheets with a soft sigh and his features became untroubled, but Bootstrap Bill knew it was only a temporary reprieve.

It was the same thing every night: Will was having bad dreams and Bill was there each and every time to calm him. But the elder Turner wanted to do more to protect his son from nightmares but he didn't have a clue of how to do it.

Has it been a bad dream… or the memory of his father carving out his heart?

Yes, he had done this. Will was dying from the terrible wound inflicted by Davy Jones and even the world's most skilled surgeon couldn't have done anything to help. The only way to save his son was to make him the new Captain of the Flying Dutchman. Jack had opened this opportunity by placing his own broken sword in Will's hand, stabbing Jones' dirty heart; the dreaded Captain had disappeared into Calypso's whirlpool, leaving Jack and Elizabeth barely the time to flee the ship before it became submerged as well, while Bill and the crew were performing the terrible task of…

… Placing the heart of their new Captain in the Dead Man's chest.

William Turner Sr. had used his father's knife to open his son's torso, and then he had collected the beating organ. During the whole operation, Bootstrap's own heart had been mangled into a million of bleeding pieces but this time, he had refused to let despair overwhelm him: not with such a precious life at stake! In his father's hand, Will's heart had shone like pure gold for an instant – interrupting the shipmates' litany chant, "Part of the crew, part of the ship" at this sight – just before Bill placed it in the Dead Man's chest. A deft turn of the key in the elaborate lock and the new Captain's heart was secured.

It had been the only way at hand to save Will. His mind knew it, but his heart was still bleeding since that fateful day. Bootstrap Bill hated himself every time he'd look at the scar on Will's chest since he considered what happened had been his fault: if he had been stronger-willed, the curse wouldn't have erased his memories and he would have recognized Will on the Flying Dutchman during the maelstrom battle.

And then Bill came back to his senses… too late. His son had been stabbed and Jones was triumphant.

Tears escaped from Bill's cerulean eyes to land on the bedding. No, he couldn't – wouldn't – forgive himself. After all, he's the one who had left his family, forfeited his honor by becoming a pirate; he had stolen, fought, pillaged while his wife and his son were waiting in vain for his return. His William had to grow up without him, turning into the finest young man who had ever walked on God's green earth.

And yet, after years of separation, Will hadn't hesitated to love his twice-cursed, barnacle-covered, hellish-looking and pathetic father, not even for an instant! His son had risked everything – his future, his fiancée and his life – to rescue Bootstrap Bill from his doom. All this for a man who had abandoned him, without a word of regret.

"I owe him everything," thought Bill Turner while silently crying at his son's bedside. "He saved my life, my soul, my sanity. He's 'heartless' now and in exile, away from the woman he loves, because of my past actions! I will never be able to repay such an enormous debt."

The elder Turner gently took Will's right hand and kissed it. He would probably never know whatever good he'd done in his life to be protected by an angel. His personal angel, his William, whom he had stupidly left years ago in the vain hopes of a quick-gained fortune… but he was certainly grateful for this blessing.

In spite of his terrible ordeal, Will had remained just and fair towards his new crew. His first action as Captain had been to nominate his father as his First Mate, and Bill knew some of the sailors had feared the Turners would punish them for the mistreatments Will had suffered the first time he had been aboard the Dutchman. But Will had forgiven their past actions, winning the unconditional loyalty and respect of his men. Even the Bo'sun, Jimmy Legs, had thrown his whip to the sea, stating he would never use it under Captain Turner's command.

"Will doesn't need a heart in his chest to love", though Bootstrap Bill while replacing his son's hand on the couch. "He IS Love. That's why he remains compassionate towards me, the crew and the poor people we ferry to the Other Side. Resentment cannot corrupt his soul, and his heart is well-kept by his adoring and faithful wife. He is not Davy Jones and he will NEVER become like him. Will is a pure being, a shining beacon of light and so much stronger than Jones could ever dream to be."

"Will, my Will. Captain of my heart," whispered Bill softly, and his son smiled in his sleep.