Title: Contradictions 1: Flight
Author: Veronica Rich the First (I've used the name for God knows how many years, so I am likely actually the first G)
Category: "Pirates of the Caribbean" J/W slash. Turn back now if you're squicked!
Rating: PG (Ratings will eventually change by chapter)
Pairing: Jack/Will
Special Thanks: To the Crow and the Spoon for beta-reading and God knows what all else ... ;-)
Disclaimer: If I owned Disney, Donald Duck would get some on a regular basis just so he'd be in a better mood. If I owned Bruckheimer Productions, "Armageddon" would never have been made. But thank heavens they finally did something right and made POTC. (What I do own is an aging Chevy that just got new brakes.) No profit is being earned and no offense is intended to the real people behind this fictional production that inspired my stories. (I can tell reality from fantasy very well, thank you.)
Summary: No slash yet, perhaps not for a while. This is the first in a series of stories collectively called "Contradictions," for reasons you will hopefully see as it wears on. This is an Alternate Universe story, which splits off from the original movie story after Barbossa's defeat. Will gets a change of scenery and Jack gets an equal in more ways than one ...
NOTE: Except for rating changes, this information will not repeat in subsequent chapters, so memorize it REEEEEEEAL good ....
*************
*Eight months and two days since they were last joined in battle …*
Knowing the authorities in these parts were still hot on his trail wasn't enough to keep Captain Jack Sparrow from doing as he damn well pleased. Well … almost what he pleased. It did not please him to meander down side alleys in shadows, skulking like some cur unwelcome for a scrap out in front of the local pub, having to go 'round back for food -- at least his tail was not between his legs. But in this case, his momentary desires were less important than setting things right, than squaring up affairs among himself, the incorruptible Will Turner, and the illustrious Elizabeth Swann.
Ah, desires. Momentary and otherwise, Jack had made a career of indulging his, as well as others' on occasions when it suited him. He couldn't remember the last time he could call himself innocent -- the unbalancing weight of the leather satchel over his right shoulder was enough to remind him, lest he forget. Treasure gained at the expense of some questionable pirates, who'd liberated it, in turn, from less questionable folk of reputation at some point along the way.
Moments later, Jack was approaching what he was certain was the back of Brown's shop. Pressing his ear to the door, he heard nothing and figured it was safe to enter. With a couple of quick jimmies, he was inside, and resettled the iron bar into place with uncustomary attention, running his fingers lightly along what had to be fairly newly-forged metal for the fixture. It was an intimate gesture, one between him and the lad, since what he'd seen last time gave him no reason to suspect the shop's master had gone to the trouble of fixing anything around this place.
With nary a breaking of straw, the pirate made a quick circuit of the shop, pleased to find the proprietor nowhere in sight. That made sense; it took much less energy to simply stay home in bed than to struggle up and down the road to pretend to run a business. He had a new respect for Master Brown, though he couldn't precisely say it wasn't a dubious honor to bestow.
Quietly, Jack slipped a few cubes of sugar from his pocket and approached the donkey, who backed up a bit as his nostrils no doubt took in the unwelcome visitor. This creature, too, immediately earned both a chuckle and respect from Jack, and it was definitely of a higher order than granted to the ass's owner. This wasn't a stupid animal. "Come, now, we're past all 'at," Jack murmured in musical pitch. "Take th' sugar; peace offerin'."
Since the donkey had nowhere to go, it eventually stopped, flicked its ears warily, but conceded to butt its nose against the pirate's palm. A large, velvety-wet tongue looped out and around the sugar, scarfing down the treat in one go, and Jack turned his hand to dry his fingers by petting the creature on the nose. At that, it reared its head back a bit, but didn't try to escape. "Smart thing ye are, bein' wary of a scalawag," Jack softly nodded. "Wouldn' trus' me much, either, were you."
Seeing nothing better to do, Jack slipped the satchel off his arm next to a bare section of wall and slowly lowered himself, back resting against it as he looked around the shop. Still rows of finely crafted swords, daggers, sabers, fences. Pulling one leg into his chest, he leaned back a bit further, resting his forearm on the knee and tilting his head back to look up above. He closed his eyes and pulled his hat down, blocking the sight of a circle of lethal blades that hung suspended above his person.
Author: Veronica Rich the First (I've used the name for God knows how many years, so I am likely actually the first G)
Category: "Pirates of the Caribbean" J/W slash. Turn back now if you're squicked!
Rating: PG (Ratings will eventually change by chapter)
Pairing: Jack/Will
Special Thanks: To the Crow and the Spoon for beta-reading and God knows what all else ... ;-)
Disclaimer: If I owned Disney, Donald Duck would get some on a regular basis just so he'd be in a better mood. If I owned Bruckheimer Productions, "Armageddon" would never have been made. But thank heavens they finally did something right and made POTC. (What I do own is an aging Chevy that just got new brakes.) No profit is being earned and no offense is intended to the real people behind this fictional production that inspired my stories. (I can tell reality from fantasy very well, thank you.)
Summary: No slash yet, perhaps not for a while. This is the first in a series of stories collectively called "Contradictions," for reasons you will hopefully see as it wears on. This is an Alternate Universe story, which splits off from the original movie story after Barbossa's defeat. Will gets a change of scenery and Jack gets an equal in more ways than one ...
NOTE: Except for rating changes, this information will not repeat in subsequent chapters, so memorize it REEEEEEEAL good ....
*************
*Eight months and two days since they were last joined in battle …*
Knowing the authorities in these parts were still hot on his trail wasn't enough to keep Captain Jack Sparrow from doing as he damn well pleased. Well … almost what he pleased. It did not please him to meander down side alleys in shadows, skulking like some cur unwelcome for a scrap out in front of the local pub, having to go 'round back for food -- at least his tail was not between his legs. But in this case, his momentary desires were less important than setting things right, than squaring up affairs among himself, the incorruptible Will Turner, and the illustrious Elizabeth Swann.
Ah, desires. Momentary and otherwise, Jack had made a career of indulging his, as well as others' on occasions when it suited him. He couldn't remember the last time he could call himself innocent -- the unbalancing weight of the leather satchel over his right shoulder was enough to remind him, lest he forget. Treasure gained at the expense of some questionable pirates, who'd liberated it, in turn, from less questionable folk of reputation at some point along the way.
Moments later, Jack was approaching what he was certain was the back of Brown's shop. Pressing his ear to the door, he heard nothing and figured it was safe to enter. With a couple of quick jimmies, he was inside, and resettled the iron bar into place with uncustomary attention, running his fingers lightly along what had to be fairly newly-forged metal for the fixture. It was an intimate gesture, one between him and the lad, since what he'd seen last time gave him no reason to suspect the shop's master had gone to the trouble of fixing anything around this place.
With nary a breaking of straw, the pirate made a quick circuit of the shop, pleased to find the proprietor nowhere in sight. That made sense; it took much less energy to simply stay home in bed than to struggle up and down the road to pretend to run a business. He had a new respect for Master Brown, though he couldn't precisely say it wasn't a dubious honor to bestow.
Quietly, Jack slipped a few cubes of sugar from his pocket and approached the donkey, who backed up a bit as his nostrils no doubt took in the unwelcome visitor. This creature, too, immediately earned both a chuckle and respect from Jack, and it was definitely of a higher order than granted to the ass's owner. This wasn't a stupid animal. "Come, now, we're past all 'at," Jack murmured in musical pitch. "Take th' sugar; peace offerin'."
Since the donkey had nowhere to go, it eventually stopped, flicked its ears warily, but conceded to butt its nose against the pirate's palm. A large, velvety-wet tongue looped out and around the sugar, scarfing down the treat in one go, and Jack turned his hand to dry his fingers by petting the creature on the nose. At that, it reared its head back a bit, but didn't try to escape. "Smart thing ye are, bein' wary of a scalawag," Jack softly nodded. "Wouldn' trus' me much, either, were you."
Seeing nothing better to do, Jack slipped the satchel off his arm next to a bare section of wall and slowly lowered himself, back resting against it as he looked around the shop. Still rows of finely crafted swords, daggers, sabers, fences. Pulling one leg into his chest, he leaned back a bit further, resting his forearm on the knee and tilting his head back to look up above. He closed his eyes and pulled his hat down, blocking the sight of a circle of lethal blades that hung suspended above his person.