Chapter Text
High up on the more inland hills of Port Royal, the renovated and refurbished Graham Estate House stood out with white face brick walls that reflected the bright Caribbean sun. The grounds surrounding the house were bright with greenery; trees and grass and colourful gardens of flowers, and cutting through it all was a stone laid walkway leading to stairs ascending to the front door of the large house.
The estate had been in a state of semi-neglect after he former Duke of Lincolnshire, now deceased, had taken ill some seven years ago. But around six years ago, when the former Duke's only son, Will Graham, had returned from being 'lost' at sea and had taken his place as the new Duke of Lincolnshire, he'd gradually begun overseeing the restoration of the house. Not because he cared about the house per se, but rather because he hated everything about it and since he would be forced to live there for the foreseeable future, he wanted to be at least moderately comfortable.
So, even before he'd taken a wife, he'd begun removing the more garish and purely ornamental furniture and had replaced it with less bulky and less outstanding pieces. He'd also had the floors redone with dark wood instead of tile and had the walls repapered to flatter tones and colours that didn't have busy patterns on them. By the time he'd finally married, most of the basic changes had been done and then he left the rest to his wife, Molly, who'd rather effortlessly seemed to know just what he preferred as she set about making the house a 'home'.
She never complained once about the dark base tones of the house and never attempted to change it, even as she wore brightly coloured dresses and kept up with the latest fashions. She also never commented on the fact that Will, a Duke as it were, didn't dress like a nobleman in any way. Firstly, he kept his natural hair, having never even come close to owning a peruke. Additionally, Will had his clothes custom made by less than reputable tailors in the less than well-to-do parts of Port Royal. After all, it's not as if he could go to the popularly frequented tailors of the city and have pants, jackets and long coats with laces and other adornments made in leather and other uncommonly used fabrics. The same applied to his silk, cotton or netted-lace shirts, which he required be made to fit to his form more closely.
It had started quite a scandal, becoming a topic of gossip amongst people that he not only dressed in the unusual way that he did, but also that he kept a close and neat beard and his own natural hair. He'd found it rather amusing actually, how at first the other noble folk looked down their noses at him after his initial return, not just because of his lack of conformity but also because of how tainted the Graham name had become over the years. But not long after he'd returned and made the deal with Frederick to put right his father's many wrongs where the family name was concerned, Will had taken to dealing personally with all the family's business and monetary affairs, and very quickly the Graham name became synonymous with good, reliable and quality business, more so than it had ever been.
While he handled all the business affairs, Will left the handling of social affairs to his mother and Molly, since he had no interest in, and had long since given up, the pretense of being a nobleman with airs and graces. He did plainly good business, dressed as he wanted and did not socialize. But since Molly and his mother were so good at it, he found it worked out rather well. He also found that the wealthier the Graham family became, the less of a social pariah he was known as.
Although, while the men of nobility were forced to respect him for his business savvy, they still held a strong distaste for him, mostly because their wives and daughters tended to stare with ill-disguised interest in him whenever he ventured out into town on horseback in his well fitting clothing of dark colours and unusual materials. He went from being seen as an oddity and freak, to being seen as bold and debonair. On the rare occasion that he and his wife went into town together, Molly would often become flustered with how forwardly other women looked at him. Of course, she never said anything, because she knew it was not her place to be jealous and she knew also that Will had no interest in anyone looking at him in that way.
Just as she knew that Will's interest in her was far from romantic.
They were married however, and so yes, in the almost six years being so, there was sex on occasion, when the conditions tended to be right. There was never anything loving about it though, it was always purely for release. As it were, they led mostly separate lives and slept in separate bedrooms in their home. Will knew Molly would have liked to be more, somewhere along the way the silly girl had fallen for him and in the beginning she had hoped to receive his affections in return as she'd tentatively given hers. But Will was cold on the inside, dead to all where romance and love were concerned. His love had already been given away, his heart eternally held by another.
And so, over the years Molly had become resigned to the fact that they'd married for convenience. They'd married for the sake of a legitimate Graham heir, an heir that they successfully had and was now a young boy just a month past turning five years old. Walter Graham looked like his mother, although on occasion people would say he resembled Will due to his colouring; dark brown hair and pale skin, but that was about all they shared. The boy's hair was straight as a pin, without even a hint of kink or curl, unlike Will's hair, and his eyes were the same bright blue as his mother's, his face the same heart shape as Molly's as well.
He didn't look like Will at all, but when people said so, neither Will nor Molly disagreed.
Will and Molly were known amongst the other nobles as a 'strange' pair. People noticed, in the scarce few times a year that Will was obligated to attend a social venue, that aside from the clinical way in which Will escorted and would later leave the venue with Molly's arm appropriately tucked into his elbow, the couple never danced with one other, never shared casual conversation or secret smiles and just over all lacked intimacy in their interactions, and yet their marriage never faltered or came under strain.
There were no rumors of problems or affairs that were anything more than fleeting whispers, because there were no problems or affairs, so everything said in speculative and nasty jealousy was baseless.
No, the Graham's had a sound marriage, because their marriage was built upon an understanding.
That understanding was about Walter's future.
All of that being said, Will would not deny that he cared about Molly, and while there was no romantic love in him for her, he did actually enjoy her company in the moments, far and few though they were, that they would spend time together inside their home, whether it be over a meal, or during a picnic or playtime outside with Walter in the gardens. Even the sex, while being something they never talked about before during or after it would happen, was not unpleasant. Molly would enjoy it for what it was, and while Will would need to compartmentalize and use his memories and imagination to achieve orgasm, he would still find some satisfaction in it.
It worked for them, and being as it was temporary for him, he was willing to endure.
He told himself that everyday; it's temporary.
It was never meant to be permanent, the day would come when he would leave, when he would return to the sea, when he would return to him...
He was so sure.
And then the day came.
Will was in his favoured drawing room of his 'temporary' home, and he was looking out over the back grounds of the estate, where Molly and Walter's nursemaid sat outside on a picnic blanket while Walter, wearing yellow breeches and a white linen shirt, ran barefoot in the grass, playing with three of their seven dogs; two border collies and a little border terrier. The other four dogs included a mastiff, which was presently lying in the grass beside where Molly was settled on the picnic blanket, and a foxhound and two mixed breed terriers, which were somewhere else on the large estate.
It was a beautiful day outside, all blue cloudless skies, light breezes and a moderate temperature, which was likely only because it was past the high summer months. Will was dressed in his usual dark colours; he wore a black shirt, not loose and long like the standard style, but instead it was custom made so while is was long enough to tuck into his pants, it wasn't overly loose and didn't make him appear bulky. The material was of an expensive sheer sort, with a few ruffles lining the neck collar and shirt front. The sleeves were long and loose, hanging over his silver and gold ring-adorned fingers and his pants were made of smooth material and were well fit, with laces tying the front together. His hair remained the usual mess of unkept dark curls.
He was standing near one of the windows, just at the point where the sunlight almost reached the pointed toes of his black riding boots, but cast its rays on no other part of him. However, the drawing room was still daylit and fairly bright, even despite how much light the dark wood panel walls and floors leeched away. It was quite different than the way his cabin on the Baltic Stag had been, where it had remained quite dark inside even when the sun was at its brightest.
He blinked away the memory as he'd done many a time before, lightly clenching his fingers against the base of the wine glass he held in one hand, while the other was crossed over his chest, his free hand tucked under his bicep against his flank, fingers there tapping restlessly.
Most days Will felt restless.
Ever since his time as a pirate, so free and wild, untethered and liberated, his capacity to endure the boredom and inanity of being a nobleman had faded to near nothing. He'd had to relearn much of the patience it took to be how he had been for the past five years. He would not deny to himself that having a son to raise had brought his focus around much faster and more firmly than he'd been able to muster in that first year of being married to Molly. There'd been a lot of tense silences and household items and furniture pieces damaged or broken during Will's fits of frustration in that first year. To that day Will suspected Molly had been afraid of being domestically abused by him before Walter had come into the picture, because he'd been so angry all the time, even while she was pregnant.
But when Walter had been born; so small, a bundle of soft pink flesh covered in bloody residue, crying his tiny little lungs out, Will had felt something in him settle. For certain reasons, he hadn't expected to feel that way about the child, but in the end he had, he'd discovered something in himself that wanted to care for the helpless creature who knew nothing of the awful world it was born into, something innocent and pure that needed only to be loved and looked after. Much like a dog really.
Will had always loved dogs, but in his previous life as a nobleman his father had said he could not have a dog since they were 'filthy and diseased'. Will had used to be sure he would have many dogs one day, back when he'd still dreamed of having his own house, but then he'd become a pirate and having a dog had been a foregone thought. Something he hadn't even entertained as an idea since being at open sea was no real, safe or good place to keep a pet such as a dog. And while he had never thought he'd be living the life of a nobleman ever again, once he'd found himself slowly settling back into that life, he'd quickly begun collecting dogs.
Molly, despite the fact that Will would not have allowed her any say in the matter of having dogs, was fortunately as fond of dogs as he was, and she embraced the animals being in their home very easily, which had gone a ways to unintentionally endearing herself to Will in the long run.
Molly had mentioned a few times that some of their social peers had commented on them having dogs, and so many at that. Some of them seemed to share the same opinion his ignorant father had had, while others would comment only on the number of dogs they had. And yes, seven was a large number of dogs to have, Will supposed, and maybe there was some overcompensation due to having been denied even a single dog as a child, but he cared not, because there was no one to tell him what he could or could not do or have, and wisely, absolutely no one ever attempted to do so.
Which was for the best, because while his pirate-like tendencies had needed to be greatly curbed, he still had a temper that came with a very short fuse, and Will was never very sure of how he'd react to anyone trying to tell him what to do in his own home.
He sighed quietly to himself as he raised his wine glass to his lips and took a sip, swallowing the bitter, dry liquid as he smiled very slightly against the rim of the glass, enjoying watching as Walter laughed gleefully while the dogs gently toppled him into the grass and smothered him with licks, their tails wagging vigorously as he rolled around and covered his face while giggling.
Will's smile faded though, and he cocked an eyebrow as he once again thought of how he'd been denied the simple joy of having a canine companion as a child. His mother had never even tried to change his father's mind, and Will certainly held some ill feelings toward her because of that.
Blinking away more useless thoughts, he continued to tap his fingers restlessly against his flank, clenching his jaw and quietly dealing with the ever present anger that simmered beneath the surface. He internally managed the anger in the same way he dealt with his longing and yearning for something he wasn't sure he'd ever have again. He managed those feelings everyday, thought about it everyday, and everyday came and went in the same way, with the same motions and routines, for more than five years now, and nothing changed. Nothing. Everyday.
And he had woken that morning assuming that day would be the same. No change.
But then there came a knock on the open half of the double doors to the drawing room, and Will's focus was steered away from his dark, bitter musings. He turned his head enough that he could see the housekeeper standing in the doorway. She was a middle aged, lean woman who was very strict and professional but loyal to the house, and when she said,
"Excuse the interruption, My Lord, Captain Chilton to see you." she sounded stoic and just a bit annoyed, which Will correctly interpreted as being a result of her dislike for Chilton, because usually she was pleasant and neutral. Her dislike had developed over the years of working in the house, because she'd garnered that Will, and by extension Molly, were not fond of Chilton or his unannounced visits; rare though they were.
His own mood immediately dropped at hearing her announcement and he had half a mind to tell her to dismiss Chilton, but the man only tended to come around two or three times a year, usually to discuss how he thought things were progressing for the Graham family name. It pissed Will off though, that despite all he'd done to restore the family name, as Chilton had forced him to do under threat of hanging, the man still chose to be called Captain Chilton instead of Captain Graham.
With a tightly clenched jaw, Will nodded in the direction of the housekeeper in affirmation for her to let Chilton in to see him. She quietly said 'My Lord' and then she walked away from the door to fetch Frederick, and Will turned back to look out the window, watching as Molly helped Walter drink something from a tea cup. He watched his 'family' as they laughed and seemed happy out in the sunshine, watched as the nursemaid sliced up some fresh fruit and Molly removed her white gloves lest they get messed by the fruit pieces.
They were so normal, his wife and son, just as society dictated they should be, yet somehow Molly never seemed ashamed or uncomfortable about how Will was not 'normal'. She didn't seem to mind his unusual way of dressing, never questioned the fact that he didn't require sexual intimacy on a regular basis. She never seemed to have a problem with the fact that he didn't speak to her or the house staff formally, and barely spoke at all to people in general society, or that he never stood on ceremony in general. Perhaps she liked that she didn't need to conform to society's every little whim due to being married to him, because he never expected her to act a certain way, or to be dressed 'properly' from head to toe in noblewoman's clothing while being at home. And perhaps she liked that the house staff were loyal and happy to work for them because Will treated them well and paid them fairly.
But outside of their home, when she needed to, she played the role of a Duchess perfectly, despite having only been a 'Lady' prior to marrying him. She'd fit herself into the title with sweet and humble grace, dignified and lovely at every turn. Chilton had, at the very least, been wise in his choice of Molly as a wife for him.
Will had to wonder though, how Walter would fair as he got older and the simple manners of a growing child would have to fall away for him to begin to play his own role as an Earl, as a young Lord. Would he really want this life? Will never had...but then, Will's circumstances had been different. Even right then, the dynamics of Walter's life were playing out so differently, he noted that as he watched Molly give Walter the time, attention and affection that the boy needed in a way Will's own mother never really had, save for rare and scarce moments.
Will also had to wonder about his own role in Walter's life, because while he was nothing like his father and he never ignored the boy when Walter wanted to spend time with him, Will also wasn't exactly open with feelings and affection for the child. And not because it wasn't 'proper' to be, but because he lacked certain paternal qualities over all, there was simply no natural desire in him to bond with Walter, so he had to make the effort to do so. He felt he managed quite well at least, since Walter was a happy child, he really was.
"Lord Graham." Chilton greeted from behind Will, probably standing in the doorway, and Will gave a half eye-roll that would go unseen before he turned around to face his uncle, his eyes glancing briefly to two of the houseboys as they set down a flat, long rectangular trunk just inside the door.
From the pair of boys he trailed his gaze back to Chilton,
"What do you want, Frederick?" he asked flatly, having no interest in formalities or pleasantries with anyone, least of all Chilton, but his uncle's eyebrows only rose just barely. Will supposed he'd become used to such a curt greeting in the few times he'd visited over the years, since that was usually how Will acknowledged him.
Will and Chilton waited until the houseboys had left the room and then he noticed how Chilton was assessing his clothes. Will's temper flared briefly, which was a common occurrence in Chilton's presence, but he reigned it in as he usually did and turned away to look back out of the window,
"I'm not interested in whatever rubbish high society gossip you've heard about me, or your drawn out opinions on politics and social standings for that matter, so make it quick and get to the point of why you're here." he instructed coldly, a note of warning in his tone.
His blood boiled and Will repressed a snarl when Chilton chuckled,
"Always so prickly."
"I don't care for your presence." Will warned again.
"And yet, with my presence comes the honoring of an agreement." the man responded calmly, voice even and Will found himself frowning, fingers tightening around the small wine glass in his hand, because he and Chilton only had one agreement and if Chilton intended to honor it then that meant-...
"It has been a long five years for you, nephew. I'm sure it felt longer than even just five years, being trapped here on land." Chilton went on when Will didn't say anything or even turn around. And Will just listened in a state of mild disbelief, "And you have done as I asked, you've fulfilled your end of our deal, and commendably so." Chilton's boots scuffed the wood lightly as he walked closer to where Will stood, but not too close because he was wisely wary of invading Will's personal space, "The Graham family name is once again spoken of with respect, and Walter is a wonderful young boy who will grow into a fine young man, of that I have no doubt."
Will found he couldn't speak, because everyday for years he'd thought this time, this day, would never come, but now it was happening and he felt a ball of nervous tension forming in his gut as he listened to his uncle go on,
"So, as our agreement outlined; I must now honor my side of it." he lowered his voice, speaking somewhere behind Will, "The company guard that have kept watch over your comings and goings have been called away and will never return here." Frederick informed and Will wished he could see the front gardens of the estate right then, to see that Chilton's men were in fact no longer standing 'guard' for the Graham family, "There is no longer any threat holding you here in Port Royal, or on land at all. And in that trunk," Will knew he meant the one set down by the doors, "are all of your belongings that were confiscated from you on that fateful evening in Tortuga."
Will's heart rate had increased and he slowly raised his eyes to the window before him, looking out over his estate back gardens, and then higher and higher, over the tree tops and rooftops of other houses, over the few miles of distance, until his gaze was set on the ocean in the distance, and the line of the horizon further still. He felt short of breath.
"You're free, Will." Chilton added quietly, and then his boots sounded again and he was walking away, back towards the doors, but he paused and sincerely added, "I know it won't mean anything to you, but I thank you for what you've done." and then he was walking away again and Will listened as his booted steps became fainter and fainter until he was gone and Will was left standing alone in his drawing room, with all of his attention focused on the sea in the distance and his heart beating fast and sorely in his chest.
He'd wanted this day to come, but deep down he'd believed it never would...
Present day (7 years after the Massacre in Tortuga)
The sun had set in the Caribbean and The Flying Dutchman was left far behind by the time the Baltic ships stopped sailing away from Barbosa and his fleet. Will Turner had spent the long sail away from his ship leaning on the guardrail of the stern castle deck, watching the sun move closer and closer to the horizon as well as watching how the blood red sails of all the Baltic ships slowly began to look a deeper, almost blackish, red colour the darker it became over the ocean.
At the wheel behind him, steering the ship, there was a dark skinned, short woman of slight build. Will had noticed she was blind in one eye, which had a white film over the pupil, but she seemed to be a fully competent navigator. But despite his earlier attempts at striking up conversation with her, even asking questions about navigation, she was stoic and hadn't even spared him a glance. In fact, the entire crew of Dolarhyde's ship seemed content to go about their business and completely ignore him. He supposed it wasn't necessary to talk to him, as this was not a social call. He couldn't understand though, how Dolarhyde knew he was not the Will they were looking for, but still said Hannibal Lecter wanted to see him.
Did Lecter not believe it? Did he want to see it for himself?
It didn't matter in the end, the point of his cooperation in this was to get Lecter to move on from searching for him, and also to get the pirate Captain away from where Jack was. The latter goal had been achieved, since the Baltic pirates had taken him and themselves far away from where Jack was, and soon, he hoped, the former goal would be settled as well.
He waited now, as all the ships seemed to be anchoring down in the open water, for the next point of direction. The navigator had disappeared from her place at the wheel after a while and so he was left standing on the stern castle deck alone.
Almost fifteen minutes passed before another crew member, a man, came up the left side stairs and gestured with his head for Will to follow. Pleased that things were moving along, Will went along with the man quickly and followed him to where Dolarhyde waited at the guardrail on the port side of the main deck, where a rope ladder hung over the edge, and Will glanced over at the dinghy waiting down at the bottom with a single crew member in it.
He met Dolarhyde's fair eyes through the dark and moonlight and he realized how much colder and deader the man's gaze seemed up close, more so than they had in the daylight. Dolarhyde had no expression on his face as he inclined his head to gesture that Will go ahead and climb down to the dinghy. He did so, and as soon as he sat down on a seat, the crew member on board with him, a large man with an equally stoic expression as the navigator, used a paddle to push away from the ship and then he set it down in the center of the small boat, grabbed a hold of the oars in the rowlocks and began rowing.
He rowed impressively and accurately without faltering and soon Will could ascertain which of the other Baltic ships they were rowing toward, and he took in the sight of the long black narrow ship with it's demon-like figurehead, an eyebrow raised with some vague curiosity. Lecter was some kind of demon according to Jack and Barbosa, he had to wonder if the horned figurehead was a representation of that. For all that it was an intimidating thought and would likely be terrifying to see, Will still found it was better - and far less gross- than what Davy Jones had become. If he had the choice of being a black horned demon or a humanoid squid with crabs living on him, he'd certainly take the former.
He amused himself with these thoughts as the crew member rowed the dinghy until it was parallel with the starboard side of the Baltic flagship belonging to Lecter, right beside where there was a rope ladder waiting. He didn't wait to be instructed, instead just standing up and beginning to climb the rope ladder, which was annoying because he didn't have to, seeing as he was able to move through water and ships due to Calypso's curse. But he recalled what Dolarhyde had said about unannounced arrivals on the ship and wanting this to be over as civilly as possible, he went along with the way the Baltic pirates wanted it handled.
At the top, he climbed up and over the guardrail without any help, since none of the crew on the main deck seemed interested in helping him. For the most part they weren't even interested in him aside from sparing him a glance, all except for two women who stood a foot apart and a few feet away, regarding him intensely.
Will slipped off the guardrail onto his feet and he stood up straight as he looked between the two woman. The younger of the two regarded him with amused curiosity, she was slender and wearing a finely embroidered dark shirt with dark loose pants and boots, her long multi-tonal brown hair an open mixture of sea-air twisted curls and braids. The older woman had fair blonde hair that was equally sea-air curled and twisted, atop which she wore a wide-brimmed feather adorned hat. She also wore a white loose shirt that, unlike the first woman, was closed and covered her bosom, clavicle and half of her neck, under a thick dark frock coat, with equally dark trousers and boots. Both women were armed with pistols and swords on their waist belts, but neither seemed concerned that he was armed as well, and no one made any move to take his weapons from him.
"Good evening, ladies." Will greeted evenly, offering them a smile.
The younger women managed a less than friendly smirk and the blonde woman made no attempt at smiling, but it was she who spoke next,
"You're Captain Will, of the Flying Dutchman?" she asked in an even and sedate voice.
Will nodded,
"Captain Will Turner." he clarified, just in case they had somehow missed the fact that he wasn't who they were looking for.
"Hmm." the younger woman hummed and raised an eyebrow as she gave Will a slow once over and then she frowned and looked at the blonde woman,
"He's handsome, but not in the same way. He looks too...soft, don't you find?"
The blonde woman didn't even spare the younger one a glance, instead she blinked patiently, as if she was trying to endure the younger woman's presence, before she spoke again,
"Captain Lecter would like to speak with you, Captain Turner, as I'm sure Francis informed you." she stated and Will could only assumed 'Francis' was Dolarhyde's name, "If you have an interest in keeping your meeting with him congenial, do mind your manners and be courteous." she said flatly.
"If you don't have an interest in keeping things congenial," the younger woman spoke up and Will looked at her, "you'll discover there are ways for even immortal souls to suffer." she smirked sharply.
Will narrowed his eyes at her, absorbing the information that they knew exactly who and what he was, so there was no case of mistaken identity happening here. Lecter likely knew Will was not the right 'Will', so why would he want to speak with him? He would be finding out soon enough though, so he pushed his wonderings aside and leveled the younger woman with a severe regard of his own,
"Believe me, I already know suffering." and that he did, because being cursed hurt in ways that were hard to explain. His insides always felt hollow, crustaceans grew upon and into his skin slowly and sorely and he was always, always cold, whether he was in the sun or at the bottom of the ocean.
Will hadn't felt warmth since the day his heart was cut from his chest.
But no one knew that. Not even Elizabeth.
The blonde woman raised a hand to cut off whatever the younger had been about to say in response, earning her a sneering side-eye from the girl, which she didn't even acknowledge. Instead she gestured for Will to follow her. He did so, walking toward and then past the younger woman, who fixed her bright green eyes on him briefly before she turned and walked away in another direction. He crossed the main deck several steps behind the blonde woman, other crew members glancing at him as he passed. They walked toward the doors of what was obviously the great cabin of the ship; the Captain's cabin.
The blonde stopped at the doors and held her hand up in a gesture for Will to stop and wait, before she knocked twice and then opened the door and went inside the cabin. Will sighed quietly and glanced around, looking up after a moment and seeing two people staring down at him from the stern castle deck; an older man with brown-grey short hair and loose clothes, and a young woman with slanted eyes and a long braid of twisted black hair; neither looked pleased to be seeing him.
He lowered his head and gaze again just as the blonde exited the cabin and she left the door open, gesturing for him to go inside. Will nodded to her and walked forward past her and into the cabin without hesitation, and once he was inside the woman reached in and closed the door behind him. Will glanced at the door fleetingly before he scanned his gaze around the large darkly, but tastefully -unlike Barbosa- decorated cabin space, and quickly his sights settled on the form of a tall, lean man standing with his back to him in front of an unlit fireplace on the other side of the cabin.
And it was definitely the form of a man, not a demon, but Will supposed that didn't really mean anything considering what he'd seen in the years he'd been at sea, but he'd subconsciously been expecting to see something inhuman.
The oil lamps lit the cabin space fairly well and as he took a few steps further into the cabin, he looked over what he could see of Captain Lecter. The man wore dark clothes like all the Baltic pirates Will had so far seen, the tones obviously favoured amongst them. Lecter's shirt was faintly reflective though, a shiny material, with slight dark patterns in black against the dark red colour of it, and his black pants were a more fitted, slimmer style than Will was familiar with. His boots were buckled and laced and appeared to be made of leather as well, and the man's dark and silver highlighted hair fell messily and uneven in length over his ears and down to the back of his neck. And while he wore no hat presently, Will could see a wide brimmed Captain's hat with dark feathers and bone adornments set atop the dining table off to the side of the fire place.
Next to the hat was a half finished glass of a wine and a wine bottle, as well as an open notebook with neat cursive writing filling the pages and an inkwell and pen.
Will had walked several steps closer as he took this all in, but then he stopped at the back of one of the dining table's high-back chairs and decided to break the silence,
"Good evening, Captain Lecter. I was told you wanted a word with me."
The man didn't move, but he did respond,
"Good evening, Captain Turner." his voice was smooth and deep, his foreign accent very noticeable, but his English pronunciation was crisp. More importantly however, the man's greeting was yet another confirmation that there was no mistaken identity. Lecter absolutely knew who he was, or rather, who he wasn't. "I appreciate how agreeable you have been in coming here to see me." Lecter added and Will blinked, raising an eyebrow.
The man had said agreeable, not that Will had agreed, because they both knew that his being there was hardly by happy acquiescence. Will didn't doubt that things would have become hostile quickly had he chosen not to be agreeable. But the blonde woman had said to mind his manners and be courteous, so Lecter was obviously not some common, scummy pirate who wanted to make dirty deals. It was possible he appreciated a more civilized approach to things. And seeing how he held himself and hearing how he talked, Will didn't doubt the man could even pass for nobility if he wore different clothes and combed back his hair. He had a similar air about him, close to that of a noble gentleman but not quite. But then...he was a pirate and Will didn't want to be naïve about anything. And Barbosa and Jack had both said things about him that contradicted the idea that he was civil. Will honestly didn't know what to think.
But it didn't really matter in the end, he was only there for one reason.
"Yes, well, truthfully Captain Lecter, I'd rather be done with whatever this is as soon as possible, as I'm not exactly a man of much free time." he said honestly, but not impolitely.
Lecter shifted then, turning his head just enough that Will could partially make out his side profile,
"Ah, yes, the duty of ferrying the dead." he sounded mildly amused, "Davy Jones rests peacefully after years of suffering, and now you bare his burden." he spoke of Davy Jones almost as if he'd known the man personally. And maybe he had, Will had no idea, "An unfortunate thing. That curse was tailormade for Davy Jones, it was never meant to be passed on to anyone else."
Will frowned, watching as Lecter moved again, this time walking over to where his wine glass was set on the table. He lifted it by the stem, brought it up to sniff the liquid and then he sipped it. The shadows cast by the few lamps continued to make it difficult to see his face properly, but Will tried nevertheless, squinting a bit as he spoke,
"I don't understand, is that why I'm here? You want to talk about Davy Jones' curse?" he really didn't get it, because wasn't Lecter already immortal? Some kind of being similar to Calypso? What interest could he have in Will's curse?
Lecter stood unmoving again, holding the glass near his lips, his facial features cast in shadows,
"It would be more accurate to say I'm interested in knowing how you came to have his curse, Captain Turner."
Still frowning, Will couldn't think of a reason not to answer truthfully,
"There was a battle many years ago. All the pirate fleets against the East India Trading Company. During the battle I was mortally wounded." he paused, remembering how he'd felt when he was dying, cold and in pain, and how after receiving Davy Jones' curse, he'd still felt that way, every day since. But while it hurt, he was still alive, and he'd been able to be with Elizabeth and would be again someday, and he had a son. It was worth it in many ways. He sighed quietly, "A friend saved my life. He used my hand and a dagger to stab Davy Jones' heart so that I would not die, and instead I inherited Davy Jones' immortality," he swallowed softly, "and his curse."
There was a beat of silence, and when Lecter didn't move and said nothing, Will shook his head lightly,
"Do you want Davy Jones' immortality?" he asked, thinking that maybe Lecter wasn't really immortal, maybe Lecter wanted to kill him and take the curse for himself. Will wasn't concerned about that however, since his heart was with-
"There are those who are cursed, Captain Turner." Lecter cut off his train of thought and Will focused on him, raising his guard as Lecter finally turned to face him and began approaching slowly, "And those who do the cursing." his booted footfalls sounded loud on the wood floors and the oil lamps flickered violently as he moved and Will's eyes widened when Lecter finally came to stand close enough that he could clearly see the man's features, "Which of those do you think I am?" he asked ominously, his completely black, shark like eyes locking with Will's own wide hazel, and when he smiled, his teeth looked just a bit too sharp to be human.
Will swallowed again, a little more strained that time, and it was so strange to experience any kind of fear after so many years of not feeling such a thing, but there was something about Lecter that was distinctly unsettling, even to an immortal like Will. But maybe it was because Lecter was definitely one of those who did the cursing, and so that meant that it was possible he could hurt Will...just as that woman in his crew had suggested.
Ways to make even an immortal soul suffer...?
Will forced himself to hold the black gaze of the slightly taller man and frowned in question,
"Then why the interest in how I came to have Davy Jones' curse?"
Lecter stared at him for a moment longer; face unreadable, smile eerie and eyes unblinking, then he spoke,
"You misunderstand the context of my inquiry, Captain Turner. I already know how the curse was passed on to you preternaturally. I am interested in how it occurred technically. Or perhaps, literally is a more fitting word." he finished and Will, still not understanding what the man was talking about, shook his head lightly,
"I don-..."
"Your friend, Captain Turner, the one who stabbed Davy Jones' heart for you." Lecter cut him off, tone flat and cold and Will realized too late what the conversation had come around to, his eyes widening just as Lecter said, "I am interested in Jack Sparrow."
'Dammit.' Will cursed mentally. How hadn't he caught that the relevance of asking about his curse could lead to Jack! Jack was half the reason that war occurred to begin with! Jack was the reason Will was still alive, standing there and talking to Lecter! Will had thought the issue of Jack had been left behind when they'd sailed away from Barbosa, but it had come full circle because if Lecter wanted to know about Jack from him, then it meant Lecter already knew that Jack was responsible for the other Will's disappearance.
"I can smell distress on you quite suddenly, Captain Turner." Lecter stated, his black, black eyes and smile of too sharp teeth appearing far more sinister right then, and then his smile slipped away abruptly and the severe lour that replaced it sent tingles of trepidation down Will's spine, "I take it you know then, why I seek Jack Sparrow." and he sounded decidedly menacing now, too.
Will blinked a few times and swallowed again, mind racing as he tried to think of something to say to deny knowing anything, something that would sound believable. But if the man could smell how he was feeling, like a damned animal, then what could Will say? He'd already given himself away!
"I have no discord with you." Lecter went on, accented voice sounding oddly loud and soft to Will at the same time, "I only ask that you find Jack Sparrow for me using the reach of your curse." he finally made clear what he wanted of Will. And Will's face twitched through different emotions; concern, uncertainty, confusion, all flashing over his features while Lecter never blinked, only tilted his head and watched Will closely as he continued, "You see, Jack Sparrow either hides in lands where I will not venture, or when he is at sea, unless he bleeds," his too-sharp rows of teeth pressed together when he said that word, "I cannot find him." he finished explaining, and while it helped Will to understand, it didn't change the fact that he needed to think of a way to protect Jack.
He owed Jack after all, Jack had saved his life, but also, Jack was actually his friend. Jack was a shit friend, all things considered, but a friend nevertheless. No matter how many times Will had thought Jack would leave him for dead or betray him, somehow the crazy bastard never did, and seemingly never had any real intention to. Their relationship was complicated and fraught with issues, but they were friends and they had saved one another's lives many times; Jack having saved his life more than he'd saved Jack's. He simply could not let Lecter have Jack, because something about the lightless black eyes of the Baltic Fleet Captain told Will that simple death would not be awaiting Jack, not before he faced something far worse.
Will was just thinking of possibly leaving, he could easily do so by just merging with the ship. And it'd take a while due to the distance, but through the water he could get away from there, go back to his ship.
But even as he thought about it, Lecter still hadn't blinked, and Will felt like the man-demon was looking right into his thoughts when he said,
"In all eventuality, finding you is not an impossible task, Captain Turner. Barbosa sped up the process in this instance, but you see, I don't need you to bleed to locate you. It takes a little while longer, but our mutual connection to the seas makes us kin of a sort. You are a part of the sea, just as I am, and with some patience, I would always find you in the currents." he was smiling again, like a clever devil, indirectly telling Will that if he ran, Lecter would find him.
"Of course, if you were to run just now," Will, frozen in their eye contact, didn't notice the man had moved until a hand was on his face, fingers lightly gripping his cheeks as Lecter held him in place, "if you were to make me chase after you, I would be furious. And when I eventually, inevitably, were to get a hold of you, I assure you that what would befall you and your crew would not be pleasant. Because Captain Turner," his fingers dug in sorely now and Will narrowed his eyes even as fear continued to colour his feelings, "you and I are not the same. I am the one who does the cursing, I am the one who controls a power you cannot fathom."
His voice had been low and matter of fact all along, the calmness setting Will's teeth on edge, but with his next words, Lecter's voice became a haunting, gentle lull,
"So, while I can be reasonable, and perhaps for a time even merciful enough to ease your pain..." Lecter trailed off and Will gasped, his eyes fluttering shut when he felt natural warmth rush into his skin and his extremities, the ever present undercurrent of pain receding, bringing him wonderful, euphoric relief from the hollowness and pain of the past many years. Even some of the hard, sharp barnacles fell away from his face and off of his hands and body, a few landing with clicks and clacks on the floor.
Amazed by how much pain he hadn't realized he was in, he absently reached up and grabbed at Lecter's forearm with both hands, the feeling of being alive and well making his head spin and his cheeks warm, his fingertips and toes were even tingling. It was as if Lecter had put his heart back into his chest and it was pumping his blood again, making him feel warm and real.
But then just as quickly as the good feelings had come, they were gone again, along with Lecter's falsely gentle demeanor, the man's fingers now digging painfully into Will's face as severe pain, worse than he'd felt even under his curse, seeped into his body, like many blades sinking slowly into his flesh. He shouted in pain and clutched more desperately at Lecter's forearm now as the pain escalated enough that he felt sick and dizzy, feeling several more sharp stings on his face and body as fresh barnacles broke through his skin at a rapid pace, unlike how they usually slowly formed.
When Lecter spoke again, his voice was low and harsh,
"Alternatively, I can make it so very much worse than anything you could even imagine."
Will's eyes were shut tightly and he shouted out again as more pain lanced through him, making his legs shake and his vision blur. He felt trickles of what was probably blood sliding down the side of his face and under his clothes and he made himself grit out through clenched teeth,
"Please..."
Lecter blinked lizard like at him,
"Please what, Captain Turner?"
Will bit back another shout as he felt another sharp, large barnacle cutting through the skin of his hip,
"Please, I-I can't, I-..." he couldn't think straight, he had never been in so much pain.
Lecter held on a few seconds longer and then the pain started to recede again, back to the usual amount Will lived with normally, before the man-demon removed his hand from holding Will's face. Will gasped again, that time in relief and he was breathing heavily and shaking as he stumbled backward, catching his fall against the nearest piece of furniture and rattling the contents upon it as he unsteadily held himself up.
The residual pain lingered, and the trickles of fresh blood and all the new barnacle growths remained on his skin. Will clenched his teeth and breathed loudly through his nose for a moment, still shaking but trying to regain his composure. That had been utter torture, and it hadn't even lasted a minute! He was genuinely terrified now, Lecter's threats were not idle. But at least he could think straight again.
And he couldn't help wondering if maybe he should just give Jack up to Lecter. It would be wrong, as a friend, but...
"You care about Sparrow." Lecter commented as if he were talking about the weather, "And quite a bit too it seems, certainly enough to make you hesitate to agree to what I've asked, even after I've shown you just a fraction of the suffering I could bestow upon you. Is he really worth what I'll do to you and your crew, Captain Turner." Lecter sounded so calm and apathetic now as Will slowly stood up straight, legs still feeling weak.
He regarded the man-demon warily; Lecter was standing there as if nothing had happened, posture straight and expression unreadable again as he sipped from his wine glass, which he'd been holding all along.
Will hated that Lecter was making sense, because yes, he did care about Jack, but...was he worth it?
"Y-you're going to kill him?" Will asked, even though he knew it wouldn't be that simple.
"Eventually." was Lecter's expected ambiguous answer.
Will frowned as he thought about his conversation with Jack and Barbosa, something occurring to him,
"But, but don't you want to know what happened to your Will?" he asked, still breathing heavily and when Lecter looked at him sharply, black eyed glare cutting, Will rushed to say what he was thinking, "Isn't Jack the one who knows? He was responsible for this somehow, yes? So, isn't he the only one who knows what actually happened, or p-perhaps where your Will is?"
Lecter's demeanor shifted now, and he looked darkly displeased, but also eerily curious as he set the wine glass down on the table and tilted his head just so,
"What do you mean; where he is?" he asked slowly, voice a dangerous low.
Will blinked rapidly, reaching up to wipe away the trickle of blood from the side of his face, and while he was mildly startled to discover it was not actually blood but something similar, like a clear secretion, he ignored it because he had more pressing issues to deal with, like the suddenly far more intense focus of one very pissed off demon pirate captain.
Lecter looked like he was about to take a step forward and Will uselessly held a hand up, the first word coming out of his mouth being,
"Barbosa!" and it made those black shark-like eyes narrow, but Lecter was listening, so Will kept talking, "Barbosa wanted to use me as bait, so you'd come to him. He had a plan for you." Will raised both hands now, "Or rather, not a plan, but a deal he wanted to make." Lecter didn't look impressed with what he was hearing, so Will just rushed to the main point, "He wanted to make a deal that if you'd pay him in amber he'd look for your Will," Lecter's eyes narrowed even further, "which means there's a very, very good chance that your Will is alive. Why else would Barbosa think it would be possible to find him?" he tried to reason, and it made sense, didn't it?
Then again, Barbosa was lousy with deception, his entire plan could have been based on the idea to inevitably rip Lecter off and leave Will and Jack to deal with the fallout. In fact, now that Will thought about it, that sounded exactly like something Barbosa would do.
Lecter seemed to think the same thing,
"Hector Barbosa is as slippery as an eel and he bears the same sly traits as one, too." he said curtly, tone cold and still unimpressed as he added, "The only difference between him and Sparrow is that he has something like a backbone."
Lecter was right, of course, but all was not lost! Because the conversation between himself, Jack and Barbosa was still fresh in Will's mind and a follow up occurred to him quickly,
"Yes, but Jack," he paused, then emphasized, "Jack did not disagree with the premise of Barbosa's idea, and since Jack is the one who knows exactly what happened to your Will, if he didn't disagree with Barbosa then that's because Jack believes, or maybe even knows, that your Will is ali-..." he trailed off because Lecter looked furious, shark-like eyes narrowed to slits, but he was smiling, "...w-what is it?" Will asked with a tremor in his voice.
Lecter hummed, low and dark,
"Jack was on Barbosa's ship." he said, voice sounding disturbingly layered, like it wasn't just one voice anymore. Will shivered at the unsettling sound and panicked at the same time, eyes widening, because he'd just given away Jack's location like a complete idiot! And since Jack only had a dinghy, even if he had managed to get away from Barbosa, he would not have gotten far. Lecter would find him in a heartbeat!
When Lecter turned away from him and began striding to the door, Will, very unwisely, rushed to stop him,
"Wait!" he put himself in Lecter's way, blocking his path as he grabbed Lecter's upper arms with his hands,
"Liste-AaaH!" Will immediately let go of Lecter and stumbled backwards, groaning roughly as the same pain from earlier flared through him, searing and deep.
"Remove yourself from my path before I feel inclined to start ripping limbs from your body." his layered voiced threatened, but then in his single voice he added, "I told you I have no discord with you, Captain Turner, do not make me an enemy over the likes of a bottom-dweller parasite like Jack Sparrow." and his tone was distinctly less hostile, albeit it still harsh and laced with murderous undertones.
Interestingly though, Will found he believed the man when he said those words. Lecter was truly willing to leave him out of this mess, Will could just walk away...
He stepped out of Lecter's way, breath shaking again from the severe dose of pain he'd just been dealt, but even as Lecter continued toward the door he tried again,
"Would you rather see Jack dead, or find your Will alive?" it was a last shot attempt, he had nothing else. He hadn't meant to give up Jack's location, but now this was all he could do to try and stop Lecter from finding and torturing Jack to death.
He hadn't expected Lecter to stop though, but the man did, he stopped a few feet from the door.
Will's eyes widened, Lecter was still willing to listen!
"Jack is the only one who has any real chance of finding him, because Jack knows what happened to him in the first place."
"I know what happened." Lecter stated in that dark matter of fact tone that set Will's teeth on edge, "I've made many Company soldiers squeal like stuck pigs in the last several years on my quest for information of what happened to Will." Lecter added, standing rigidly with his back to Will, and Will frowned, about to ask more about it, but Lecter didn't need prompting. "Sparrow was captured on a Company ship seven years ago. That ship was captained by a man who called himself Frederick Chilton. But Chilton was not his real last name, he was actually of the Graham noble family; he was Frederick Graham. And Sparrow, the cunning, festering, traitorous slime that he is, he knew that, just as he knew that Captain Will of the Baltic Pirates was actually Earl Graham, formerly of nobility, the only son of a Duke. And Sparrow informed Frederick of Will's location in exchange for his own sorry, worthless life."
Will was not shocked to hear that Jack had done that, not at all, that sounded exactly like something Jack would do, and would do again if need be, Will had no doubt. He also wasn't all that shocked to hear that a nobleman had become a pirate, after all, he'd once thought nobility seemed like a great way of life, he'd used to dream of having a nobleman's life as a boy and as a young man. But then he'd become a pirate, and he could honestly say that being a pirate was better than the life nobles appeared to live. Both ways of life had pros and cons, but aside from being cursed, he favoured the pirate life, or maybe he just favoured a life without so many rules. Of course, he'd never been nobility, so he didn't truly know the other side, but Elizabeth had been, and still was. And that thought gave him another idea...
"So, Will, your Will, was captured by a member of his own family?" Will wanted to clarify.
Lecter turned around now, eyes still black and mouth set in a deep scowl,
"Yes." he answered plainly, voice once again sounding layered.
Will shivered again, all the hairs on his body standing on end, but he still pushed forward,
"That must be why Jack didn't dismiss Barbosa's idea, because he probably knows there is a chance your Will is still alive. And isn't," he swallowed nervously, but then pushed forward again, "i-isn't that why you hesitate as well, Captain Lecter, because whether your Will has returned to his former noble life, or if he is locked up for his crimes as a pirate, either way, you do think he could be alive." Lecter wasn't blinking again, "It seems too unlikely that he was just hanged, not by his own family. Not if his family was interested in finding him, not if they went through the trouble to capture instead of kill. I think it's very likely he is still alive." Will took a few steps closer, but still very wary of Lecter, he didn't get too close.
It was more obvious to him now that Lecter loved Will Graham a lot, obvious because the man seemed willing to put off the vengeance he'd been seeking for years just at hearing the possibility that Will Graham was still alive. It made Will actually want to help him, but only if this could be solved in a way that was win-win for everyone.
Lecter continued to stare at him as he went on,
"Captain Lecter, my wife is nobility and she lives in Jamaica. If your Will is in Jamaica, or even if he's in England, she will be able to find out through her own noble contacts." he watched Lecter closely as he talked his plan out, "But I cannot go ashore, not for several years yet, so it'll have to be Jack who goes to see her, because she knows him, and she trusts him," that might have been a bit of a stretch but Lecter wouldn't know that, "and if he goes to her with a message from me, she will help." he confirmed. "My wife will find out if he is alive, and if he is, then she will find out where he is."
Lecter still hadn't blinked and Will's own eyes felt like they burned,
"After we find out where he is, Jack will have to be the one to go to him." Will huffed out a humorless laugh, "And while I know Jack seems terribly unreliable, believe me I do, he's actually a very resourceful and clever bastard. He's absolutely mad, but most of the time he's only playing the fool." Will admitted, and maybe telling Lecter that wasn't working in Jack's over all favour, but the demon captain needed to know that Jack wasn't a total screw up.
Lecter still didn't blink, but he did ask,
"And if Will is not alive?" layered voices, all dark and ominous.
Will felt another shiver move down his spine at the sound of those voices, and as much as it was horrible to do, he had to concede to that point,
"If he's not alive, then fair is fair...you get Jack." he sighed, defeated.
Will just really hoped that he was right about Jack's reason for not dismissing Barbosa's plan as pointless, he hoped he was right and it meant Jack did know that Will Graham was alive, because if Will was wrong, then it would be over for Jack.
Lecter's rigid posture relaxed somewhat and he finally blinked his black eyes,
"And you're certain Sparrow can be trusted to carry this out?"
Will nodded,
"Yes, if there is one thing Jack cares about, as you well know, it is his own survival." he said honestly.
Lecter was quiet again for an eerie, intense moment, the shadows flickering with the oil lamp lights catching the angles of his face and drawing more attention to his already severe countenance. Will tensed when Lecter suddenly started to approach him and he back stepped once, but there was no where really to go, so he stopped and just waited as Lecter got up close and personal. He didn't bother to try and avoid the hand that came up to the back of his head, where Lecter tightly grabbed a handful of his hair and sharply tugged Will's head back, exposing his vulnerable throat and making him grimace.
Lecter was the picture of sinister calm, and up that close the smudges of kohl under his black eyes was more visible and the smell of copper and wine and smoke filled Will's senses as the man-demon breathed into his face. Will kept still as Lecter smiled slowly, his lips inches from Will's as he spoke,
"Very well. I will postpone my hunt for Sparrow for the next three months, that is how much time you have to see your plan through, before I come for him." he said it like a gentle promise, his voice no longer layered but smooth, rich and low again, "And if when I come, you have nothing to show for it. If Will is dead, I will expect Sparrow to be handed to me on a silver platter."
Will tried to nod, but Lecter held fast and yanked tighter on his hair, his lips parting to bare his too sharp teeth as he went on, "But it is you who trusts Sparrow, Captain Turner, not I. And if that cockroach should decide to run to shore and hide where neither you nor I can get him, then you will take his place. And I will make you suffer everyday until someone finds your cursed heart wherever it beats and mercifully stabs it. And thereafter, if I should feel like it," he paused, and then in his layered voices he added, "I shall come and find you in hell."
Will could barely breathe and he was trembling again, staring wide eyed into Lecter lightless black eyes, the close vibrations of Lecter's voices having felt as though they'd passed through Will's chest and stomach. If he'd needed an incentive to hand Jack over to Lecter if things went pear shaped, he had most definitely just been given one.
"Now," Lecter blinked once quickly, "I'll take your word that you will honor our agreement, yes?"
Will nodded immediately.
Lecter released his hair then but he didn't step back, and Will didn't move away either, unsure if it was wise to do so. They were still standing close, their breaths mingling, Lecter's deep and even, Will's shallow and unsteady, when Lecter reached up and brushed the knuckles of one hand over the side of Will's face, from his temple to his jawline, and Will's breath hitched, all tension leaving him as living warmth briefly seeped into his skin again, the pain receding and a few of the new barnacles Lecter had given on his face him falling off in the wake of his touch.
Then the light touch was gone and Lecter stepped back and moved away completely and the coldness and dull ache returned to Will once again, and he couldn't help the pitiful frown that settled on his face, his eyes clenching shut.
"Find Will Graham for me, Captain Turner, and perhaps we shall all have a happy ending." Lecter said, his voice sounding far away, his shape swallowed up in the strangely increased darkness of the cabin, "Leave me now." the man-demon said, and Will didn't hesitate, letting himself merge into the floor of the ship before going down and down, into the ocean.
He needed to hurry, he needed to find Jack before he made it to shore.
Two Years Earlier
Will stood quietly on the beach for the first time in five years.
He wore only a thin black linen shirt and a pair of dark trousers that were rolled up to his knees, his shoes having been kicked off further up on the sand near the road. The night air was warm and sticky on his skin, the sound of the water calming, the scent of the ocean filling his lungs with every slow breath he drew, rustling the dark curls of his hair, catching at the sweat drying on his skin from the brisk walk he'd made down to the beach from two miles inland, where he lived with...his family.
He stared at the surf as it washed up the beach, just about brushing his toes each time. When he'd first arrived there just fifteen minutes earlier it'd been further back from his feet. High tide was coming in and Will was almost anxious about the ocean water touching his skin again.
It'd been so long...so long since...
Five years had passed, five long years, and he'd fulfilled his deal with Frederick. He could finally leave. He didn't even need to be concerned about his 'family'. Molly was great, she would take excellent care of Walter, who would grow into a fine, fair and decent nobleman one day. He'd done everything he was supposed to in order to survive, to live long enough to return to the seas, to return to him.
Will's heart began to race just thinking about him, just thinking about being near him again, about his scent which seemed so faded to Will's senses after so many years. As did his touch and his voice and presence and Will wanted it all back, he wanted the life he'd chosen for himself and the lover he'd chosen, he wanted them back!
He suddenly couldn't wait any longer, so he stepped forward and gasped as the cool ocean water rushed up around his feet and ankles. He walked further in until the water was as high as his calves and wetting the rolled up ends of his trousers and then Will reached into his pocket and withdrew a small dagger, which had been in the trunk of his belongings Chilton had returned to him.
As he raised his free hand, palm open and facing up, he brought the dagger up with his other hand and he smiled to himself, knowing that all it would take was some of his blood in the water, and he would come to take Will home, to take him back to where he belonged. Will was shaking lightly in anticipation as he pressed the blade to his open palm and then he slowly drew the blade down, a fine line of blood appearing in the wake of his flesh splitting open.
He clenched his teeth, hissed softly...it had been a while since he'd felt any pain.
Once he'd cut enough for blood to well up properly, he held his hand out and watched as the blood dripped down towards the edge of his hand, and it felt like the longest few seconds of his-
"Papa!"
Will's eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat and he abruptly closed his hand into a fist before quickly bringing it to his chest, where the material of his shirt soaked up the blood before it could drip...drip down into the water. His insides were shaking with aborted anticipation and adrenalin as Will turned half way and looked back up the beach to where Walter was running down toward him excitedly.
Further up, standing beside a horse in a blue kirtle worn over a white smock, was Molly, and she was smiling fondly as she watched Walter run to him. Will turned properly to face the boy and he discreetly pocketed the knife again as he walked up the beach, out of the water, to meet his son, who raised his arms to be picked up as he came closer.
It was difficult for Will to catch the running excitable five year old, who quite literally leapt into his arms, considering he had to keep one fist closed so the blood didn't drip or end up on Walter's pale yellow doublet, but he managed it and he smiled at his son once he had the boy cradled against his side, supported by one arm. Walter immediately began to speak animatedly,
"Papa, you never go to the beach! Mother and I were surprised, we wanted to come as well!" he wrapped his arms around Will's neck in an excited hug.
Will kept a fake smile plastered on his face as he nodded to Walter while slowly walking all the way back up the beach,
"Yes, well, I'm afraid we cannot stay long." he said in his practiced, happy-father tone.
Walter frowned and pouted,
"Aw, why not?"
Will raised the wounded hand of his free arm and opened his fist to show his son the bleeding cut,
"I cut myself on a sharp piece of a shell, you see." the blood was smeared on his fingernails from when he'd made a fist, and now it was dripping slowly down his wrist and arm, staining his sleeve, but he was far enough up the beach that he wasn't worried if any dripped to the sand.
"Oh no!" Walter made a face of concern, "Does it hurt?" he asked, eyes wide, one hand reaching out as if he might touch the cut, but Will closed his fist again and lowered his hand as he nodded his head,
"Yes, very badly," he lied, "so you must always be careful not to play with anything sharp, alright?" he leaned close enough to bump his forehead to Walter's and the boy nodded vigorously, concern gone, replaced with another smile,
"Yes, papa." he said sincerely.
"Excellent. Now," Will stopped walking where his shoes lay in the sand, just a few meters away from where Molly stood watching with a smile, and he set Walter down, "let's head home so I can clean and wrap this hand, and then we can play a game before your bed time, what do you think?" he asked as he righted his shoes so he could slip his sandy feet into them. Walter was already practically bouncing on the spot in excitement,
"You'll play a game with mother and I?" Walter sounded about as surprised at that, as he had about seeing Will on the beach. Will just huffed out a laugh, which was a bit more genuine than his smile, and he nodded,
"Yes, any game you like."
"Yay! Mother!" Walter ran up the beach to the road where Molly was, yelling about how Will was going to play a game with them.
Will didn't watch them interact though, instead he turned away to look back out at the open dark sea and cloudless night sky, listening to the waves as they broke against the shore, but unable to block out the sounds of his wife and child talking happily about games, tea and biscuits.
Will swallowed thickly and clenched his still bleeding fist tightly, deciding that perhaps that night was not the night for him to reach out, but that he would come again to the beach, on another night when the timing was better.
He would return to the sea.
He would return to Hannibal.
He would return, at some point.