AN: What if the most important scenes in Pirates...never made it to the screen?
Jack knew his father. His mother raised him by herself. And he has loved Elizabeth from the day they met. 'She had the medallion…she's the right age.' Will is the son of Bootstrap Bill Turner. His only son. But did Bootstrap have a daughter as well? If so, what happened to her? And why was she never found?
A father's love. A family's loss. A young man's guilt and a friend's betrayal. Unexpected forgiveness, an untimely death…
Will and Jack. The greatest love stories are never romance.
Bell tolls. Hour 'til midnight. Sky's dark, 'cept for a waxin' moon. Be another few days 'til she's full again. The watchman walks by again, sendin' a long, flitterin' shadow across me cell.
Chains clink. Whispered voices cry out, bones clank muted agains' the iron. They're whistlin' for that damn dog again. But it won't come. It'll never come. We face the gallows at dawn, thirty-seven o' us. Charged wi' Piracy …an' the like. Many o' these men I know. Served under me more 'an ten years ago when I still had the Pearl.
Mutinied against me. Left me to die. For ten years I've followed 'em, searched for 'em, thirstin' for vengeance until last week I tracked 'em down and killed their leader, me mutinous first mate…
An' in the morn', we all go to the same damn fate as Hector, meself included.
Hector. Goddamn Hector. Sittin' here, countin' hours until I hang, I can't help meself but think back on one of our final conversations…
"I suppose I really should be thankin' you. If you hadn't mutinied and left me to die, I'd have equal share in this curse, same as you."
The apple is firm and ripe in my hand. I crunch into its taut skin, sweet juices running down into me beard. It's been 10 years since the Bastard has tasted nigh anything...an' apples were always his favorite. "Funny ol' world, ain't it?"
Funny?
Perhaps...if fun, like beauty, be in the eye of the beholder, an' not the bloke it's happenin' to.
But I stan' by what I said…if not the spirit I said it in. It's a funny ol' world, an ironic ol' world, a bitter world. Fate…has a strange way of workin'. O' sendin' our past back to haunt us…
Take meself, for instance. This be the second time I've sat behind these bars. The second time the son of me old friend Bill has stood here, promisin' to set me free, his dark eyes all wide an' insistent.
An' even now, jus' like the firs' time, I marvel he looks just like his da'. Shorter, perhaps, but with the same set of face and jaw, same hair, same lean, quiet strength-
The only diff'rence is in the eyes-earthen, wet, an' wide. But for those eyes, he looks just like his da'. His da' what left me to die. Mutinied agains' me. Betrayed me.
I said the only diff'rence? And yet here he stands, sayin' it ain't right t' leave me. He'll find a way t' appeal, t' free me…I thought me old mate Bill Turner was a good man. Good pirate. But the son he hardly knew be ten times the man he e'er was.
I'd say if he were here now, he's be damn proud o' him, but it'd be a lie. If ol' Bill Turner could see his William now, he'd be ashamed.
Not o' the boy. O' himself.
He'd see what he missed, what he lef'. The son he bloody well orphaned, may as well have left t' die. He'd see what man this boy turned out t' be, and he'd shrink away, ashamed.
It's been little more 'an a fortnight since I knew the boy. A scrap, an escape, a rescue and revenge…everything in th' world's happened an' yet nothin's really changed. I'm back in bloody Port Royal, contemplatin' death the next morn, and the lass he loves more 'an life itself's all set an' ready t' marry another man.
The only diff'rence?
Hector Barbossa's dead, and the lass be safe. We did what we set out t' do. An' yet…
After ten years of plottin' me revenge, even the release o' vengeance can't assuage me the loss of me Pearl, me liberty, me life. Yet William stands before me, free an' whole, in a way stricken more so'an me…an' yet somehow it's enough for him t' know the lass is safe. He's either a bloody fool, or a good man. I know now t'was a lie to tell him he was well on his way to turning pirate himself. Sprung a man from jail, sailed outta Tortuga wi' a Buckaneer crew…and completely obsessed wi' treasure…His treasure ain't silver or gold. His treasure's a girl, what he's loved since the moment he met her, o'er eight years ago. He ain't a pirate. A true pirate cou' never jus' let another man walk away with what he wanted most in the world. He's either a fool, a bloody coward….or a damn good man.
Ne'er have met another like ol' Bill Turner's Will. An' even if I weren't dyin' tomorrow, I never will. He's a good man, a damn good man. An' you jus' don't find many o' those no more-
Bell rings. Half 'n hour 'til midnight. Executions begin a' dawn.
"T's late boy. You'd bes' be gettin' home." Ain't never been good a' goodbyes.
He's sittin', kneelin' on the damp an' dirty floor. His eyes be languid, bloodshot. "I won't leave you, Jack."
"Very considerate. And quite decen' o' you. However, as it's me last night, I've decided to spend it sleepin'. So dampen the torches, William, and try t' be quiet on your way out." I cross me legs, pullin' me hat down over me eyes.
"I will set you free." He says.
"t'aint worth it, son." It really ain't. Take that bloody honor an' innocence o' yours, William Turner, an' steer clear o' pirates and pretty, heartless wenches like said governor's daughter what don't an' can't deserve you. You'd be a better man. An' God knows th' world needs more men like you…
"We both committed the same crime. I was acquitted. Yet you are condemned." His hands turn white on the bars. "This isn't justice."
"You left out the part where I'd previously lived a life full o' crime, murder and plundering." I say disconcernedly from me perch on the ground, arms under me head and feet stretched out. "I think tha's the real reason behin' all this, William, t' tell the truth."
Silence.
"An' a certain Governor's daughter, who might possibly have had influence o'er both Governor and Commodore alike, savvy?"
"Jack-"
"Don't you 'Jack' me, boy. Wha's done, 's done."
"You…Regardless of how poorly this may have turned out…even if it had been otherwise…" His voice falters, an' he looks away. "I would still be greatly in your debt."
"You owe me nothin', boy." I say, shaking me head sternly, wrenchin' me hat off an' sittin' up. "I held up me end of our bargain, and deal's a deal. I helped you rescue your bonnie lass-an' she's safe, unless she's already gotten herself in more trouble-wouldn't doubt it-in which case you'll have to either leave it to the bloody Commodore or go this 'ne all by your onsie. And you sprung me. The accord's done. Le' it go."
"I will not stand aside when it is in my power to save someone unjustly accused. Especially-" His voice breaks an' he looks righ' in me eyes. "especially not someone I love. So don't ask me to step aside and do nothing. Don't ask me to watch you hang, Jack." He shakes his head. " I can't."
"Pirate's code!" I snap angrily. "What man falls behin' gets left behin'!" This bloody fool'll only get himself killed. Three weeks ago I was ready to trade his life for me Pearl. No longer. If I have one scrap of decency left, if I've learned one lesson from twelve miserable years of piracy, it's that a good deed is always worth doin'. Settin' those slaves down in Africa took me honor, me life, me career…Savin' Turner's lass-an' Turner himself-has cos' me freedom. Will cos' me life. Just let me die, William Turner, in peace, knowing I've left somethin' behin' worth rememberin'.
He smiles bitterly. "You have to be a pirate for the pirate's code to apply, Jack. And I-"
"I know, boy." I sigh, sittin' up straight and lookin' him square in th'eye. "You ain't no pirate. Or, better yet," I say, lookin' down at me hands."you're a pirate, but what the wors' bloody pirate I ever heard o'. Sprang a man from jail an' brought 'im back, kidnapped a girl for the sake o' safekeepin', wound up in Tortuga an' spent the night alone…an' for god's sakes, boy, you can't even hold down a bottle o' rum."
I look him in his eyes as that half-smile plays again on his face. "Bloody hell, William. An' your Commodore thought I was a terrible pirate."
"I guess he hadn't heard of me." But that smile don' reach his eyes. Thirteen years he's looked for his father, an' in me he's found the closes' thing t' the man himself...Perhaps more. He ain't prepared for me t' leave.
Hell, I ain't prepared for me t' leave. What kin you say t' that?
Silence.
Bell rings again. Midnight.
"Turner!" A sharp voice comes from the stone staircase.
His dark eyes find mine. "Time t' go, lad." I whisper. His hands shrink reluctantly back through the bars as he stands.
"Jack," He finally says, leanin' in closer to the bars.
I ain't never been good a' goodbyes. I turn away. I wan' none o' this. No tears, no drawn out farewells, no promises an' no regrets. Time to say goodbye, William. "Take care, boy."
His eyes dart nervously t' the stairs an' the waitin' watchman."They spotted the Pearl. Not two days from here."
Silence.
"Jack," He whispers urgently, "She's the fastest ship in the Caribbean...she could be here by morning-"
Me pulse quickens an' I shut him up. "I know what you're thinkin' boy, an' it won' work." The moon's bright outside, the free, salty air waftin' in with her light.
"Jack, if I can get you aboard-"
"Turner!" The voice from the staircase comes more insistent. We don' have much more time…
"An' what if I kin get aboard? An' then what? What happens? What happens t' you if your plan works, ey, boy? What happens t' you, William?"
He's quiet for a long, long time.
I laugh bitterly and turn to face him. "You leave me an' the Pearl outta your plans, boy. It'll be the death of you." I warn. "That lass ain't going to leave the Commodore. What wi' a week aboard a pirate ship, no man'll take her now. She's got herself a decen' man and she ain't gonna risk tha'. She barely got you pardoned once. She won' try a secon' time-be too dangerous. You can't bloody well count on her again nor your damn Gov'nor."
"Jack-"
"You do this, boy, an' you've got nowhere t' go but the noose." I return fiercely.
His pale, tired face be inches from mine. "I will not be like my father. I will not abandon you." He finally whispers. "I have to try."
Damn it, boy. I won' see you hang! "You damn fool, there ain't nowhere for you t' go! You do this an' the hangman's jus' as like t' get two pairs of boots instea' o' one. Both o' us dead, understan'? That's all that can come from this!"
"TURNER!" A backwards glance an' he's crossed t' the stairs, still starin' a' me, bitin' his lips…He ain't no coward. He ain't no fool. He's a good, honest man. A damn good man.
"So be it." He turns back t' me at the foot o' the stairs, an' there be pain in his dark eyes. "At least my conscience will be clear."
"You're a fool, boy! A fool what's gonna get himself killed!" " He smiles sadly, an' he's gone. "Boy! Boy!"
"Oi! William!" I shout after him. But it's t' late. He's gone.
Damn fool. Damn fool. Damn fool. I clang me head against the bars, staring out a' the empty staircase. But he's gone. Gone.
It's a funny ol' world, didn't I say? After all the wron' and vengeance and sin I've done, it's no good deed o' mine what goes unpunished. I save a girl from drownin…sent t' the noose. Save same girl from rape an' death…sent t' the noose. Take a boy in, foster 'im, be there for 'im in ways his worthless father should've been, his worthless father what left him as a lad to go off piratin'…learn against me will and better judgment to love the son o' an ol' friend almos' as me own…only t' live t' see the boy be sent t' the noose as well.
For me. Me own bloody fault. . I've jus' looked int' the eyes of a goddamn sacrificial lamb what bleated: Then so be it…at least my conscience will be clear. Innocence…takin' the place o' the guilty.
Piratin', plunderin', philanderin'…vengeance an' murder. I pace me cell, all thoughts o' composure forgott'n. Me sins 'ave never found me out. It's only what things are done in innocence what have marked me an' mine for damnation.
Funny ol' world, ain't it?
I was once Jonathan Edward Teague. Good man. Good sailor. Good captain. Haven't been Jonathan for years. I was worth savin', once upon a time…But no more. I was branded a pirate, an' in rage and bitterness I became one…So damn you, Will Turner, and damn your bleeding conscience what gave me back mine. I'll not 'ave your blood on me hands.
T's best t' let me die, boy. I sit back down, the coldness of the cell brick eating through me back as I stare up at the ceiling, towards what little hope I have o' Heav'n, me death before the waitin' gallows, and the open, free night sky o'er the Sea, over me Pearl…yet mostly I wonder about that damn, foolish boy makin' his way back to the smithy for what may be the las' time. T's best t' let me die...best for both you and me alike. I've learned me lesson. But's far, far too late t' change. Even if you set me free, boy, I'll still an' only be the man I am.
I'll still be Capt'n Jack Sparrow.
I hear a noise, and I start in spite meself. The boy?
I open me eyes, but it's only that damn mangy dog, winkin' at me, standin' tantalizin' and jus' out o' reach. Jack Sparrow, I swear he drawls, drool an' keys hangin' from his open jaws.
"That's Capt'n Jack Sparrow to you, mongrel. Savvy?" I say.
An' what's your tale, Captain? Why should I set you free?
And wi' that, the mongrel lays down, head up, cockin' his ears as if t' listen. His bright eyes shine in the damp 'n dark, keys danglin' from his pantin' mouth, jus' inches outta reach…
It's a long story, mate. I say. But I suppose we've got the time…
Time is, when all's said an' done, all I got left. Gibbs went wi' the Pearl, and the boy is gone. If he's smart, he'll stay away, find himself a good girl an' settle down, maybe make one las' clumsy stand for his damn Elizabeth…an' Bootstrap's worse 'an dead. The only three men in th' world I'd count as friends…gone. Suddenly I laugh. It's a funny ol' world. An ironic ol' world. A bitter world. Even Hector-bloody, constant, ruthless Hector-! is unable t' torment me.
You know you're goddamn, bloody alone on your deathbed when you don't even have enemies t' keep you company.