A/N: A little something that I started a while and thought I'd lost, so I figured it should be posted before it went and got itself into some other scrape and didn't come back for dinner. I keep finding spaces in the PotC trilogy that make me think "Wouldn't it be cool if they'd put a bit more of a moment between those characters right in there..." This would make each movie about 12 hours long but y'know, I could live with that.

Disclaimer: I have no claim to anything in the Pirates of the Caribbean universe, and simply borrow characters created by greater talent than mine. All is written in fun.

Give Something Back

He suspected that this would be the last time he'd ever experience the sensation of merging with the very timber of a ship; that ability like so many others connected to the Dutchman seemed to be fading like sea foam on the water's surface. He wouldn't miss it; it wasn't as if it came with a host of happy memories. But it did seem fitting that the final journey should be to the decks of the Pearl, so much of the story now coming to an end had sprung from this ship. And her captain. And now, after the two sides of the life he'd lead had finished colliding with one another he'd been granted a second chance with Will beyond any whispers of hope he'd ever had. He clung to that joy despite his grief at the price Will had paid for it. He had an existence that for the first time in so very long felt clean, perhaps salvation (or should that be salvage) had not found him cast forever beyond its reach.

And yet here he was, drawn irresistibly, selfishly to the side of his life that had died (and his hands were not clean on that score) even before his own first attempt at 'death'. Perhaps he'd get it right one day. Then why the hell are you here Bootstrap Bill, trying to drag something up from the depths as if you can have it back? Things are changing and so you're clutching at ghosts of the familiar, are you still not done with tryin' to fool yourself.

What do you, or he, have to say?

He didn't know what he would have said to Jack, but as it turned out Jack was already in conversation; with Elizabeth. Elizabeth was attempting to ignore Jack's expressions of surprise (believed by no-one), and regret that she wouldn't be returning to the position of Pirate Queen, or Lord or Pirate anything for that matter once she left the Pearl. Some of it might even have been genuine hidden amongst the hand motions, "darlin'"s, and overblown charm. Elizabeth's exasperation seemed largely friendly, perhaps for the moments when the colourful if wildly improbable future being painted by Jack managed to lighten the pain that came and went in her eyes despite her efforts to hide it.

Someone else was watching the conversation too, while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the hundred and dozen incidents that were the Black Pearl making ready to sail. The expression on his face when his glance passed over the two figures was one that Bill knew very well. The expression that meant you were thinking "Please Jack, please just once keep this game inside the rules everyone else thinks they're playing by". He'd lost count of the number of times he'd felt it cross his own face.

"She won't stay with him"

Mr. Gibbs didn't recognize the quiet voice issuing from what should have been empty air under the quarterdeck steps he stood on and that as much as anything spun him round in surprise. Part of him wondered, by reflex, where Barbossa was and what the bloody hell he was up to, if he'd brought anyone aboard the Pearl as "crew" that Jack (or himself) didn't know about there'd be-and how had the man gotten there anyhow? He surely hadn't passed Gibbs, the captain's cabin aft was empty and no-one was fool enough to be in there uninvited, so unless he'd come through the deck itself…That thought sent one hand to his knife and a much harder look at the stranger. If he was the younger of the two of them the years hadn't been kind to him, and appearing acts aside he wasn't offering trouble, in fact he looked as uncertain about his being there as the first mate felt. But he straightened up as much as the cramped space would allow to return a neutral look of his own, and there was something familiar about those eyes…

Pieces fell into place in Mr. Gibbs' mind in a way that would have seemed like lunacy if not for the fact that this whole crazy tale had been nothing but things coming to an end and other things coming back from the depths when they had no damned right to (What, and you weren't right glad to have the Cap'n back? Aye, except Jack) his mind hastily amended, (course we was glad o' that). But this…"Bootstrap Bill Turner" he said flatly, well aware that the look on his face was not friendly. Bootstrap blinked in surprise at the recognition, then nodded. "Aye". They stared at one another in silence. Hell's teeth but Gibbs did not want this bit of the past coming back now. Or ever come to that. And wouldn't it just tear it if Barbossa were to show-Ah no, touch wood, don't even think it.

"Course she won't" he said sharply as Bootstrap's glance flicked to the steps across the deck. "'E knows that, any fool can see her heart's with-" suddenly realizing just who that someone was "-your son" he finished. Now that was a damn shame. For all that loyalties on all sides had been shifting like squalls the boy had never given up on his father. "I'm sorry for yer loss" he added gruffly after a moment, meaning it yet all the while thinking that the Dutchman couldn't be leaving a minute too soon.

"Thank you" Bootstrap said quietly "Although she deserves it more than I do" (no argument from Gibbs there) inclining his head towards Elizabeth then flicking back curiously. A pause, "Although I believe Jack won't be coming away completely empty handed".

Gibbs looked across in puzzlement just in time to see something small change hands, Elizabeth handing the item over with a faint air of relief although that may have been at finally finding the means to make Jack give over (it was like dealing with a cat sometimes). And there was a feline tilt to the smile playing on Jack's face. But what-more pieces shifted, pieces of nine in fact- "Oh Gods" Gibbs groaned, fighting an urge to put his head in his hands. She might be a Pirate Lord no longer but the Brethren Court had (eventually, with much shouting) decided that Elizabeth would remain the keeper of one of the new pieces of nine until Sao Feng's successor came to collect it. Singapore would choose Singapore's new Pirate Lord, and that would take time. And violence. Violence which might be arrivin' a mite sooner if or when word got around that a certain Pirate Lord was holding more pieces than he should be.

Oh Jack, what are ye tryin' to get us all into now? He opened his eyes to a look of "better you than me" in Bootstrap's eyes (and oh he'd seen that one a good many times over the years); this time however it seemed to be mixed with if not sympathy at least understanding for Gibb's position. Thinking it over he supposed the man probably did know, probably one of the few who understood about the 'experience' of Jack and Barbossa both on one ship.

Gibbs hoped he'd never see a mutiny on any ship he sailed on; not that there hadn't been some mighty tense 'negotiations' on a few of His Majesty's finest. Twisted everything they did, and trust in this life was such a fragile thing. And Jack, well he'd learnt that lesson harder than most but still there were times when Gibbs wondered if it had stuck like it should. Or maybe it had and Jack chose to ignore it. He figured he knew more than anyone who hadn't been part of those events of the past; he also knew he didn't, and likely never would, know the whole of it if that even existed, uncoloured by anyone.

Mr. Gibbs didn't want to learn what sort of man he'd be on that day, and in exchange for that ignorance he worked damn hard to keep that choice from rearing its ugly head. He felt he owed Jack that much at least for the years they'd known one another; they were friends or as close to as they'd ever be. And right now it seemed that the last thing anyone here needed was the complications that came with unexpected meetings.

Did Jack even realize the true value of what he had there Bill wondered, whenever and however he'd acquired it. He felt as though he was looking at half reflections of his past or perhaps the future had things turned out differently, who knew. The Jack Sparrow phenomenon had caught another hapless soul, bound to take up the challenge of having Jack remain Jack however much at times it might go against everyone's better judgment and sanity. Deep in his heart Bill knew he wouldn't have traded those years for anything. And whatever he'd come here wanting, chance or the Pearl had just seen to it that he'd gotten what he needed. Someone's got your back Jack, and knowing you old friend you'll have the rest covered.

As if reading his thoughts the Pearl rocked gently underfoot as if to nudge everyone back to motion again, and then Jack was calling for a longboat to be readied, and Gibbs was realizing that he hadn't verbally stood over the crew's shoulders for perhaps a whole five minutes. His expression had thawed somewhat although Bill figured he still fell into the 'unwanted complication' category. And he had his own duties to attend now.

"I need to return to the Dutchman" he said out loud, seeing the clear look of relief in the other man's eyes, "to meet Elizabeth. Captain's orders until his situation's…settled" he finished painfully, trying to hide how much it had hurt to see Will wanting and yet afraid to see Elizabeth, losing precious hours from the time they'd have together. The Flying Dutchman wasn't gentle on first meetings.

Wonder of wonders, that problem might vanish on its own before his thinly held politeness did Gibbs thought. Small mercies. Although, he supposed he should be glad to have learned even some of what was lurking in Jack's future schemes, however unwanted the source.

"Mr. Turner" he said, half surprised to hear himself as Bootstrap turned back to face him. After a moment Gibbs held out his hand. "Joshamee Gibbs. Luck to ye both" (Especially you Will lad), he added silently. Bootstrap took the offer with a nod of acknowledgement. "And to you Mr. Gibbs. Take what you can. Give something back".

Gibbs blinked. "Not quite the traditional version" he commented. "True" Bootstrap replied. The ghost of a smile. "But Jack never was much of a one for anyone's traditions. Sometimes it rubs off on those around him".

And wouldn't it have been easier if that had been the end of it, except that the Pearl tossed again almost gleefully (hard to know who was steering who sometimes) and Bill looked up without thinking to find himself staring straight back into Jack's gaze. The moment froze.

Force of will kept Bill from taking the fast exit via the deck. Barely. (I'm sorry Jack; I've no right to be here). He didn't know what would have been worse to see in that look; pain, hatred or simply indifference. He saw agreement, knew however imperfectly matters stood now there would be no more words to ease the last parting of the ways. But the look of pain and balance lost in those eyes that had haunted Bill's thoughts when it had managed to tear its way in over the years, that he'd seen re-opened (hell, he'd held the knife) in the Pearl's hold mere months ago, was easing, healing. There'd be scars but you lived with those. But it seemed that rumours of Captain Jack Sparrow's death had been greatly exaggerated, perhaps there really was some element of cat in the man. Out of all this Jack would chart a new course, find a new balance.

And finally a new image could move into his mind as Bill turned to seek out the Dutchman's decks; the gleam in Jack's eyes just before he'd turned to follow Elizabeth; the one that had said ( We're back from the dead Bill mate, so bloody well get out there and look alive will you?).

Salvage. No, Jack never had been one for traditions.

Give something back.