AN: One shot, end of POTC: COTBP - Will's thoughts on Jack as they're sitting in the brig on the trip back to Port Royal.
...l...
...A Good Judge of Character...
William Turner had always considered himself a good judge of character. Decent, at the very least. But sitting in the brig of a ship that—due to the recent destruction of the recent owner of the title—could now be called the Pride of the Royal Navy, he watched Captain Jack Sparrow sleep in the cell next to him, hat tilted back to cover his face, arms crossed defensively in a gesture oddly vulnerable, he could no longer be sure.
Somewhere along the line he'd come to realize that there was a startling lack of black-white, good-evil in the world, and most of it was filled with grey mist. It had hit about the same time he'd realized he'd begun to respect and—in some odd way—care about the wayward Captain. Definitely not something Norrington would approve.
Jack was irritating and flamboyant and self-centered and always neck-deep or over in some mishap or other and yet somehow could be counted on to get you out of whatever godawful scrape he'd dragged you into and take you on one hell of an adventure at the same time. And he had this odd sort of goodness, a sort of "I'm a big bad pirate but I don't really want to hurt you, and I promise not to be too nasty, just give me my Pearl and the ocean and let me be free!" Will wasn't sure if it made him a good man, but he was damn sure that it made him worth saving. Will had met "honest" men that couldn't hold a candle to Jack.
So when Elizabeth had come down and told him her father was going to see that he was set free at Port Royal, but couldn't do a thing about Jack, Will had looked over at the sleeping pirate. And sighed. And wondered how he'd been drawn into this mess.
Of course, in a twisted way it had been him that had dragged Jack back into the mess, and Will's own father that had helped create it. And he'd be damned if Jack took the fall alone.
William had always considered himself a good judge of character, but lately he'd thrown out the rule book and gone with his gut. And his gut said Jack was a good man. Worth-saving. A friend in the best sense he knew. Maybe his only true friend, in fact. And he smiled, as he sat there, picturing Port Royal. Planning.
Norrington would have his hands full. Because Jack was right, "a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly... stupid." And he couldn't help but grin as he realized there were going to be two incredibly stupid people running around.