Disclamer: I would steal them for me own, but for the Mouse and his scurvy crew...
Dedication: I dedicate this one shot to latebloomer04. Thanks for the challenge, mate... hope ye likes it. Pirate Cat
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"It's not that I don't want Jack to stay with us, Bill... it's that we barely have enough food for the three of us while you are home. Jack was a good, sweet boy at one time, but he has become so wild looking and wild acting that I worry how he will influence our son..."
Mary Turner's worried, tired voice was quietly arguing with her husband's puzzled one. "... besides, he would be a distraction... you need to spend your time with Will while you are home, and I know you too well... at the first opportunity, you will go galivanting off with Jack to a pub... " her voice grew even quieter.
"... Mary, I can't just turn him out... he's me best friend, even if I am that much older than he is. I know that he became a man very, very young, but at seventeen, he is still a boy! He is barely taller than you, even now! He is brave lad, but on his own, the skinny little whelp would likely get 'imself killed!" Bootstrap Bill Turner's voice was cajoling, trying to convince his wife to let his young friend stay on for a few days whilst he and Jack were between ships...
Mary fell silent, then said, "... so you can't turn him out. Just like you can't resist taking up pirating with the wild Irish hooligan that he is... take food from your own little boy's mouth because you can't stand up to Jack Sparrow? Please, Bill, it's not that I don't like Jack, but..."
Bill said nothing. Finally, he relented, and sighed, "... I will talk to Jack... " but Mary knew that Bill would do this only grudgingly.
Mary knew that things had changed between her and her husband... if it were not for small Will, Bill would leave with Jack and never come back to her... their love was beginning to grow cold.
And little known to either of them was that the subject of the conversation was standing upon the other side of the door... trying not to let the truth of the conversation that was not meant for his ears break his heart. He would not move his seabag from it's spot next to the small cottage's doorway... and would leave before nightfall, so that he would not stay where he was clearly not wanted...
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Three year old Will Turner peered around the outside corner of the house at the very strange looking young man that was sitting glumly upon the front step of the house that Will shared with his mother, and with his father when he was home... the shy child did not make a sound, as he watched the thin teenager whittle aimlessly on a piece of wood with a small knife... tiny shavings of wood were piling up on the toes of the young man's leather sea boots... sea boots that made their owner's legs look no bigger around than the twigs that he was whittling.
Will studied this young man... he had long, wild black hair, streaked with brown in places where the sun had bleached it out at sea, and said wild black hair was tied back with a long, bright red bandanna... the young man's skin was dark and bronze coloured, his sad eyes were chocolate brown and had long black lashes, almost like those of a girl. The only thing that might set his face apart from being that of a high cheekboned woman was the wispy black mustache and the rather pathetic start of a beard on the young man's chin... he, indeed, had a wild look about him... there were beads dangling over his forehead, and even sprinkled in his hair, here and there. Will had never seen anything like him... he wondered if he was a sailor, or a gypsy... he certainly looked like both!
Will became more brave, and he crept around the corner of the house, and quietly sat down next to the young man, not uttering a sound. The young man had seen him, but had ignored him... rather hoping that the child would go away and leave him alone. Finally realizing that the boy seemed rooted into place, the young man turned his head in a rather loose way and stared back at the little boy, whose large, soft brown eyes could not remove themselves from him.
"'Ello." was the flat greeting, as Will simply stared. Will finally put a few words of his own together, "Wha's you name?" he lisped. The young man sighed, and finally put his small knife away in his vest pocket. "Jack Sparrow. Wot's yours, mate?"
"Will... Will Tuhner..." the little one scooted up next to the stranger, who seemed to smile down at this beautiful child... curly brown hair was blowing in the sea breeze as it wafted along the cobblestone street in front of the small house.
"Ah. That would be Will Turner..." Jack enunciated the name more clearly, "...short for William... good strong name... named for your father, I imagine..."
The child regarded this skinny young man, who rather reminded him of a scarecrow, with his long hair. He finally spoke again, "... will you play wif me? My papa is talking to my mama wight now, an' I have no one to play wif..."
Jack began to chuckle at the child's stilted English... it was much like his own, he thought... Bill's son wanted him to play with him, and Bill's wife wanted him to leave.. funny ol' world, he pondered... Jack smiled at the boy and said, "... I don't know any games, mate... "
"Tell me stowies?"
"Well, I don't know... I..." Jack stammered, as the boy's warm eyes pleaded with him... it was obvious that the child was wanting and needing attention, and perhaps it would stave off the hunger that was gnawing at Jack's aching stomach... he had hoped that Mary would offer him at least some bread before he struck out on his own... just the thought of leaving made his heart take a sickening turn in his chest... he had hoped to have a place to stay, with Bill's family.
He had become very attached to Bootstrap Bill Turner over the years, much to Mary Turner's growing displeasure. The teenager had been on his own for many years, and only had one other friend that he knew that he loved and trusted more...but she was back home in Ireland... Bill was Jack's best friend on the ocean, and they had been through thick and thin, together. Bill had taken Jack in like a brother, and Jack looked up to him like as if they had been blood kin. But since baby Will had been born, Bill had divided his attention, and Jack felt the tiniest pang of jealousy toward the boy... unfounded, he knew, as the wee one was not to blame... Jack knew that the only one that he could blame was himself for ever thinking that the Turners would consider him family.
Jack looked down at the child, who had now laid his small hand on Jack's bony knee. "Well, little whelp, I can tell ye about bein' a sailor, how's that sound?" Will smiled up at him, his eyes glowing.
An hour went on, as the lanky teenager pulled the little one into his lap, and told tales of the sea, his hands waving about, and his husky voice rising and falling like ocean waves, as he sang the only nice songs that he knew to the enthralled child. They got up from the steps and Jack got them each a long stick, and challenged the tiny child to a "swordfight"... they tapped their sticks together, jumping about, giggling and laughing at each other, gently poking each other in the arm or leg, finally determining that they were both ticklish.
The young sailor swept the child from his feet by taking his hands and swinging him around in a circle, as the child crowed with delight, his feet flying in the air. Jack remembered his mother making him feel as if he could fly, calling him the king of the gypsies, and singing in Irish Gaelic, as she swung him around. Will risked becoming sick and Jack finally put him down... the child was dizzy and promptly fell onto his rear in the grass, holding his head in his hands and blinking hard.
They made tiny little boats out of pieces of tree bark, with twigs as masts, and a leaf as a sail... Jack held the child up in his arms so that they could puff out their cheeks, and blow their tiny armada across the surface of the water in the rain barrel, at the rear of the house.
"Look, Will!" Jack's dark eyes grew as round as moons, as a small waterbug skittered across the surface of the water... Will's brown eyes grew huge. Jack growled, "A sea monster! The Kraken! AVAST!"
He poked at it with a slender finger, and the bug disappeared under the water, as Will giggled, "Got him!" Swiveling his curly head around to look at his taller playmate, Will frowned, and asked, "What mean 'avast', Jack?"
"Oi!" the teenager put the child down, and scratched his whiskered chin. "I forget... ye don't know sailor lingo... it means, 'STOP'!" he shouted, as he took up his stick and challenged tiny Will to another duel.
"AVAST!" the boy shouted, as they tested each other's 'swordsmanship' and each other's imaginations... and the sun began to sink in upon the horizen to the west of the docks beyond the cobblestone street...
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It was probably about 2 o'clock in the morning, Jack thought... he had been walking for hours, by now. His shoulders were cramping under the weight of his small sea bag, and his dusty boots were beginning to trudge slower and slower along the dirt road. Looking around, he saw a small barn off to the right of the road, and decided that it might be good to bed down for a few hours...
Pulling his tired body up into the loft, the young man pulled some clean hay up around himself for some warmth, and laid his dark head down upon his bag as a pillow. Laying on his side, he put his hands under his cheek and sadly thought back over the day...
He had played with Will all afternoon, until Mary and Bill came looking for their son... and they were gone from view. Panic stricken, the Turners went up and down the cobblestone street, calling for Will, yelling for Jack, looking up and down, behind the hedges and under porches. It wasn't until Jack came meandering back up from the docks, with Will on his thin shoulders, that the Turners finally breathed a sigh of relief. Jack had taken Will down to the docks only a block away, to point out the ships to the curious, happy boy. The little one had even learned to say words like "galleon", "anchor", "mizzenmast" and "mainsail". Mary was not impressed in the least... in fact, she was furious.
Jack was firmly and loudly admonished in front of the curious neighbors for taking the child without permission, and Bill had to back up his wife in saying that Jack should have asked permission. Jack stood there in silence, as he finally put Will down... Mary pulled the dismayed boy into her protective arms, and went into the house without saying another word...
Bill did not stop the young man as he gathered up his sea bag... his hurt feelings showing in his dark eyes. Bill finally stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder, but only for a moment... he agreed to meet Jack in Dublin, Ireland in a fortnight, and they would sign on to another ship.
"I'm sorry, lad..." he had said, clumsily "... I'm sorry... it's just that I have a family, and..."
"... and I don't have one..." was Jack Sparrow's dull reply. "No worries, Bill... I understand..."
And he swung his sea bag over his shoulder, straightened up, and began to proudly make his way westward... toward the Irish Sea.
As Jack laid in the hayloft in the middle of the night, he bit his lip to remember a small little boy running out of the cottage's doorway, and down the steps, "AVAST!" he cried out. "Stop!"
Three year old Will was running toward his new friend, with a small object in his hand. As Jack had turned around, the child turned his flushed face upward and said, "... dis is for you...'mate'."
In the darkness of the barn, seventeen year old Jack Sparrow curled his hand around a tiny boat made of a piece of bark, with a twig mast and a leaf sail. "... wif any luck, little Will Turner, ye'll never see ol' Jack again... an' you'll forget about me... we'd all be better off..." he whispered... and he buried his face into the crook of his elbow, and tried not to cry...
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