Disclaimer: same as usual. I own nothing

Author's note: so this chapter is where it all goes angsty. It may come off as a bit cheesy or fluffy near the end, but that's how a lot of my stuff ends up. And it tends to work out. So enjoy.

Sunlight streamed through a hole in the wall of Will's quarters directly onto Jack's face, across his eyes.

He looked around, suddenly very awake and annoyed. Ruddy sun, blinding him when he was trying to sleep. Growling and muttering to himself, he pulled the sheets back up and tried to go back to sleep. In Will's bed. Where Will wasn't. "Dammit!" he yelled. He'd slept late and missed the chance to commandeer a long boat and leave. By now the whole bleedin' ship was up and going about their duties. Including their captain. Well, as mad as he was about missing his chance, Jack was content to stay a little while longer. He didn't really want to leave. Not just yet.

Meanwhile, Will was very nearly in a rage. His crew left him alone, even his father. It was clear Will didn't want to talk about whatever was his problem. 'He just was after sex,' he kept thinking over to himself. It was clear. How could he ever have thought…but it was Jack. He would never…. He'd left Jack, drooling with his mouth open, on his bed. For now. He was disgusted with the captain, and himself. He was a fool.

Adding his hat as a final touch, Jack got himself dressed, his effects securely on his person. He had to go out there sometime, it might as well be sooner than later.

"Why'm I so worried anyway? Just the whelp. What's he gonna do? Lock me in the brig again?"

Jack reassured himself. He didn't have to worry about it. His resolve faltered, for pretty much the first time ever, once he opened the door and strode up on deck and found himself face to face with William.

If looks could kill, Jack would have been dead three times over from the glare Will was aiming at him. Will was exhausted from staying up, staring into the gloom of his room, and he was pissed off. He had dark circles under his eyes, and a scowl set on his lips.

"Mornin' whelp," Jack said uneasily, trying to grin. Will didn't respond, just walked away, down deeper into the ship. Jack followed, trying to make conversation. He wasn't sure why, but Will not talking to him bothered him, and he had to try to draw him into talking.

"Are you going to talk to me at all whelp?" he asked finally."Don't call me that!" Will rounded on him. It seemed he would talk now they were in a secluded place. "What d'you mean? I always call you whelp. Term of endearment, remember?" "No Sparrow. I don't want to hear you call me any thing like that again," Will's eyes were blazing and he was pacing in front of Jack.

Jack winced. Will was calling him 'Sparrow'. That wasn't a good sign. His perfectly laid plans had been tossed into the air, and he was actually worried. Will was deadly with a blade. And he had certainly pissed Will off enough apparently to merit meeting the business end of the lad's blade.

"I'm not so common harlot Jack. You shouldn't treat me as such. I thought, after anything, that we were at least equals. You sunk lower than I ever thought even you could," Will snarled. "I didn't mean-" Jack started, but was cut off. "You did Jack. You got me drunk and took advantage. I trusted you. What were you thinking? You'd take me and just leave? Was that the great and clever plan of Captain Jack Sparrow?" "Well originally," Jack mumbled. "But it back fired didn't it? You slept late, and ran into me. And now you're worried I'm going to kill you like I should've the minute you set foot on my ship, aren't you?" Will stopped his pacing and stood directly in front of Jack, who had back up into a barrel. "A bit worried yea. I'm not immortal like you," Jack growled. But his eyes were wide, and he had the look of a frightened animal caught by a predator. He'd never seen Will like this.

"I'm not going to kill you."

"Come again?" "I'm giving you what you want Jack," Will said softly. He turned around, going father back into the ship, leaving a stunned Jack. He came back, a crate in his arms. He shoved it into Jack's arms, and then turned Jack around, shoving him up on deck.

The crew watched, slightly worried, as their captain roughly lowered a long boat into the water.

"Go," Will said in a cold voice, gesturing to the ladder down. "What? Go where?" Jack asked. "Get off my ship. Row anywhere. Your death, some island, Tortuga, I don't care. Just get off my ship!" he pushed Jack toward the ladder, nearly pushing him off the ship. Jack sighed and nodded. Well he was getting what he was fairly certain he wanted.

"Will? Everything alright?" Bootstrap asked gently. "Everything's fine. Jack and I just had a…disagreement. I'm giving him what he wants," Will's voice was tight. His father watched worriedly as his son took the helm. And he noticed how Will's jaw was clenched, and the white-knuckle grip he had on the helm, and the look in his eyes. What had Sparrow done?

Jack himself wasn't certain what he'd done. All he knew was he'd made a mistake. He'd watched the Dutchman sail away, in the opposite direction. It was like the locker out in the middle of the ocean. Time was tricky. It had only been a few hours, and the sun was sinking down toward the horizon. But it felt like days, or weeks, maybe even years to Jack, as he lay in the long boat, drinking the rum. Which he could hardly swallow past the highly annoying lump in his throat.

"Why am I so upset about this anyway?" he asked himself. "I did get what I wanted."

"Did you really Jackie?" a tiny voice squeaked in his ear. He sat up. 'Not this again,' he thought, groaning. A tiny Jack had appeared on his shoulder. "Is this really what you want? Floating in a boat in the middle of the ocean with an ever dwindling supply of rum?" the little Jack asked. "It is what I want. I'm free. I can go anywhere," the real Jack said indignantly. "Oh really?" another Jack appeared on his other shoulder. "I would've thought you'd want to stay on the Dutchman where you had rum, and food, and a warm place to sleep, not out here where you'll drift until you're picked up, or dead. Besides, the whelp was on the Dutchman." "Why would I care about the whelp?" Jack asked warily. "Why wouldn't you," asked the first little Jack. "There was something there. You're just too much of a lump to notice it. And now, you'll never get a chance again. Unless you go after him now." "What?! No! Never!" Jack yelped. "Then why did you make all those plans specifically for Will? Check your compass if you don't believe us Jackie." Both Jacks disappeared.

Jack flopped back against the floor of the long boat. Was that his problem? What he wanted? He flipped open his compass. "Damn."

It was pointed in the direction the Dutchman had left. Those damned little Jacks had messed with his mind.

But they did unfortunately have a point. He felt guilty, something he wasn't used to feeling, about hurting Will. And all his plans did pertain specifically to the lad. It all made sense to him now. The compass flicking to the ocean at random times, the curious feeling when Will had fallen asleep on him, everything. He should go after Will and explain. And, sadly, apologize. If the whelp would listen. He had a stubborn streak to match his own. As darkness gathered, Jack reached down in the longboat, pulling up the oars. "The whelp better be worth it," he muttered, starting to row.

Will hadn't moved from his post at the helm all day. He was hungry, but too angry to take much notice of the gnawing feeling in his belly.

"William. Go to bed. Get some sleep. It's been a rough day for you," Bootstrap said, easing Will away from the helm. "I don't want to," Will protested. "I insist son. No offense, but you look like hell. What happened?" Bootstrap knew his son had been lying about what had taken place between himself and Jack. Will shook his head. He didn't want his father to know. He was ashamed he'd let Jack do that. That he'd thought… well it didn't matter what he thought. Reluctantly he let his father lead him to his room. After seeing that Will was resting on his bed, Bootstrap took over at the helm.

The dark pressed in on Will. Only hours before Jack had been there, warm next to him. He'd never thought Jack could sink so low. He'd admit it, he missed his company. What was done though was done. There was no changing it. He'd go back to being alone. Though this time, without the rum.

There was a voice on the wind, of that Bootstrap was certain. Leaving the wheel in the hands of one of the other crewmembers, a man whose face had once been more hammerhead shark than human, he walked to the back of the ship. Peering into the dark, the lanterns flickering over the water, he searched for whoever was speaking. There was a darker shape riding the waves. As it got closer, the lanterns revealed it to be Sparrow.

And he was signaling that he wanted to come aboard.

PirateTurtle4: Oooh. Cliffie. Will Bootstrap let him on? Stay tuned.