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Chapter 10

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"It's not having what you want. It's wanting what you've got." ~ Sheryl Crow

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The next morning - afternoon, actually - Will blearily opened his eyes and examined his surroundings. His flat was a mess, to say the least. Clothes had been thrown everywhere, furniture had been knocked over, and the bed sheets had been ripped. But he could not have been happier. Smiling tiredly, the blacksmith turned over to face the pirate lying beside him.

Jack was still asleep, snoring softly. He looked as innocent and vulnerable as he did on the day he was born into this world, yet all the more beautiful for it.

Will reached up to gently stroke the chiseled cheek of his lover with the back of his fingers, relishing the rough sensation of the latter's morning stubble.

'All mine,' he whispered to himself, leaning in to kiss the pirate chastely on the lips.

Jack moaned softly against his lips and his eyes fluttered open.

'Sorry,' Will muttered sheepishly. 'I didn't mean to wake you.'

'I don't mind, love,' Jack replied in a hoarse voice, rubbing his eyes. 'That's my favourite way of waking up.'

The blacksmith chuckled.

'Then I'll be sure to wake you up like that every day,' he said, smoothing a stray dreadlock back from the pirate's face.

Jack took Will's hand in his and kissed the rough palm.

'What say we grab a bite, eh?' he asked. 'I'm absolutely starving.' As if to confirm his statement, his stomach let out a loud growl.

'Need to regain your strength after last night?' Will teased.

'No, need to regain my strength before tonight,' Jack replied with a wink, making Will blush. 'Not to mention that my rum levels are getting dangerously low.'

'Ah, so this is how the notorious Captain Sparrow acts when he's sober!' Will exclaimed with mock surprise.

'Puh-lease, William,' the pirate said seriously. 'I am never sober.'

Will rolled his eyes.

'So what are you craving? Bread? Cheese?'

'What about sausage?' Jack said with a suggestive grin.

##

Elizabeth waited patiently as the town's midwife, Elsa, completed her weekly examination.

'Everything seems to be in order, dearie,' Elsa said in her crisp Irish accent. 'Your child will be a healthy one, no doubt about that!'

'I'm happy to hear it,' Elizabeth replied. 'And thank you again for taking the trouble to come all the way down here.'

Elizabeth was now so far along in her pregnancy that her father had expressly forbidden her to leave the manor. Despite the governor's initial grudging that she had disobeyed his orders to abort the baby, he had soon realized he would have his first grandchild to hold in his arms. His worries for her, which were already somewhat intense since Elizabeth's own mother had died in childbirth, doubled as they became shared worries for the child within.

'Pish posh,' the midwife tutted. 'It was no problem at all - anything for the governor's daughter. Besides,' she added as she packed her supplies in her bag, 'I'm always eager to bring a little one into the world. The father must be very excited as well.'

Elizabeth bit her lip nervously. Elsa had been throwing hints for months now, hoping Elizabeth would confide in her and tell her who the father was, but Elizabeth had always avoided a response. The shame and embarrassment for her - the governor's daughter! - to be pregnant before she married was enough to cause terrible rumors circling the town without having to add the traumatizing rape experience to the story.

No, it was best if the truth was hidden from the townspeople. The only people who knew the truth were herself, Damon (the name still brought bile to her throat), her father, Jack, and Will.

"If Jack ever managed to find him," she thought sadly.

Her only consolation in this horrible mess was that Damon did not seem to have gone around the lower town blabbing his mouth off before he left. If he had, surely she would have seen a sign or heard some whisper by now.

'You'll be due soon,' Elsa reminded Elizabeth, immediately snapping her out of her thoughts, 'so mind you don't do anything to worry your father more than he already is. No disrespect intended, but you could balance books on those stiff shoulders of his!'

Elizabeth laughed softly.

'Oh, definitely,' she agreed distractedly. 'He's always been like that, ever since I can remember.'

Elsa smiled and closed her bag with a snap.

'I'll be off then, unless there's anything else you need of me, miss?'

'No,' Elizabeth shook her head. 'That will be all. Thank you, Elsa.'

The midwife bobbed her head in respect and slipped out of Elizabeth's bedroom.

Not a moment later, Elizabeth heard the expected knock on the door, which was still slightly ajar from Elsa's departure. She rolled her eyes - her father was so predictable. He always came to see her after her visits with the midwife.

'Elizabeth?' her father called softly.

'You may come in, father,' she said, wearily rubbing her eyes.

'It's James, actually.'

She started, surprised he had come to call. He had been away on a sailing voyage for months, looking for Damon. Did this mean her rapist had finally been caught?

'Come in,' she said again.

Norrington entered her bedroom hesitantly as if he was not entirely sure if he should be in there.

'You're looking well, James,' she said.

Indeed he did. The days at sea had tanned his skin to an attractive shade and his body seemed harder and more built than the last time she had seen him, perhaps from combat training or . . . skirmishes with other men (to put it lightly).

'You as well, Elizabeth,' he commended. 'You have an undeniable glow about you.'

She smiled.

'Please take a seat,' Elizabeth said, indicating the chair beside her bed which her father frequented often.

Norrington sat down, but he did not lean back against the plush velvet. Rather, he leaned forwards so that he was closer to Elizabeth.

'I'm happy to see you, no doubt about that,' Elizabeth said, not standing on ceremony. 'However, I am afraid this will have to be a short visit as I'm terribly tired.'

'Of course, I understand,' Norrington said. He looked at her hopeful face, knowing what she wanted him to say, but unable to form the words. 'We . . . did not find Damon,' he finally admitted.

Her expression dropped, but if truth be told, she had not expected Damon to be found by the commodore's men. After all, the world outside of Port Royal was an overwhelming area to search, where Damon would have many hiding placing and allies.

'But I assure you, if he were ever to return to Port Royal, he will be punished for his actions.'

Norrington saw a faint smile on her face; at the same time, however, tears were forming in her eyes.

'He will never return,' Elizabeth said. 'I know that for a fact - not while we are looking for him.'

The commodore pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and held it out to her.

'Thank you,' she said, taking the handkerchief and dabbing the tears from the corners of her eyes. 'I'm sorry - I don't mean to act like this.'

'It's fine, really,' Norrington said gently. 'You've been through a terrible ordeal, but you know what they say . . . "Time heals all wounds",' he added with a smile.

She smiled in return.

'I . . . have to admit,' he said hesitantly, 'bearing this bad news is not the only reason for my visit. I have something I wish to ask you.'

Elizabeth looked at him curiously.

'I do not know how to put this into words exactly, but it has long come to my attention that your child will soon need a father.' He avoided her gaze as if afraid what he might see there. 'As you know, I'm a strong figure in Port Royal and a model citizen, not to mention I have positive relations with your father.' He gently placed his hand on hers. 'Elizabeth,' he said, his gaze meeting hers at last, 'will you do me the honour of being my wife?'

Elizabeth did not know what to say. Her mind was being pulled in a dozen different directions at once.

What if Jack found Will and the blacksmith returned to Port Royal to ask for her forgiveness, only to see that she had already married another man?

What if the townspeople thought that Norrington was the one who impregnated before they were married? The following rumors were sure to tarnish his reputation.

Could she marry Norrington if she did not love him? Moreover, could they be happy together?

If she did not marry Norrington, would she be able to create a life to support both her and her baby? How would her child grow up without a fatherly figure?

'I . . . I'm not sure,' she said slowly.

'Elizabeth,' Norrington said, 'while I was away, I thought about a lot of different scenarios in my mind and I think this is the best course of action - for both of us. I cannot be the man you want me to be-'

"He's talking about Will," she realized.

'-but I care for you deeply and I sincerely believe that we can have a happy life together, albeit perhaps a different happiness from the one you expected.'

'Yes,' she said softly.

'Not only that, I intend to raise the child as my own - to grow up strong and healthy with good morals and a sound understanding of the law.'

'Yes,' she said again, slightly louder this time. 'I will marry you, James.'

##

The minutes turned into hours, the hours turned into days . . . yet it seemed like time had simply flown by when Jack announced that the Black Pearl would be leaving Tortuga.

'We will leave at noon tomorrow,' he told his crew in the tavern one night. 'So tonight, drink to yer hearts' content and have a lovely wench or two to mind yer manners,' he added with a wink. 'We will make preparations in the morning.'

'Aye, Captain,' they replied, some of them slurring slightly even though the night was still young.

'Until then, cheers!' Jack held up a bottle of rum to toast his crew.

And that was the last Will saw of them that night.

'Where are we off to, Jack?' he asked, nursing a glass a whiskey in his hand.

Jack took a deep draught from his bottle before answering.

'Paris,' he said, 'or Rome.'

'That's not like you,' Will said suspiciously. 'You usually try to avoid big cities, don't you?'

'And I usually can't resist staying in Tortuga for weeks at a time,' he added, winking at a bonny lass nearby, 'but I'm looking for someone . . . a man . . . but I've no idea where to start,' he admitted.

'So . . . you're guessing?'

'I'm making an educated guess, dear William,' the pirate replied. 'A skilled deduction based on my past experiences with thieves and scallywags and the likes of which ye've never known.'

'Why?'

Jack sighed and closed his eyes, willing his conscience away.

Days had already passed, but he still had not found the words to tell Will what had happened to Elizabeth. He had been too distracted - too overwhelmed - by his newfound happiness. Will Turner was kind, caring, beautiful . . . and a good man. He was the type of lover Captain Jack Sparrow had never expected himself to be lucky enough to find, let alone keep.

Aye, he loved the boy, there was no doubt about that. Perhaps he had loved him even before they became allies, when they first met in the blacksmith shop.

He remembered that day as clearly as if it was yesterday or as clearly as he would be able to remember it in his usual drunken haze . . .

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He ran away from the commodore's soldiers and snuck into the blacksmith shop with the hopes of freeing himself from his iron manacles.

"No doubt they were even made here," Jack thought, tempted to laugh at the irony.

He tried to use the hammer to break the chains, but it soon became apparent to him that his bonds did not give him enough purchase to do so. Then he noticed the donkey standing innocently in the corner; it was attached to a large, wooden contraption, forming an idea in his mind. Jack heated an iron prod on the dying fire and used it to force the ass to move. As the metal gears shifted, he hastily threw his chains over the gears. With a loud snap, they came off at last.

Not wanting to waste any time, Jack discarded the manacles and began to make his way to the door. He froze in place when he saw that the door was already opening. Fearing it to be soldiers, he ran to the corner to hide behind a stack of crates.

When the stranger entered, he peeked his head out around the edge of the boxes for a look.

'It can't be . . .' he breathed, disbelieving.

The man before him had to be the splitting image of his old friend, Bootstrap Bill. However, he knew for a fact that Bill Turner had gone to meet Davy Jones long ago, murdered by those he once considered friends.

Jack watched as the man hurried over to the donkey and calmed it with a few gentle words. He had a gentle soul, that much was apparent; he appeared to be a kind, yet strong, man.

"And a beautiful one," Jack could not help but notice.

The stranger's muscles looked slim, yet hard, beneath his clothes. His steps were firm and sure, as if he was a practiced swordsman or bowman. And his eyes . . . there was no way in the world Jack would forget eyes like those - so deep and soulful, so like Bill's.

'His son,' Jack suspected. 'This is Bill's son, William Turner.'

He had heard Bill speak about the boy, telling stories about William as a young lad . . . but he was no young lad anymore. William was all grown up now, grown into a fine young man by the looks of it.

The pirate's breath caught in his throat when he saw William pick up the hammer from the anvil - he had forgotten to return it to its place! Then his eyes fell on something even more incriminating . . . his hat. Knowing there was no point in hiding further, not to mention he had no intention of leaving without his notorious hat, he slipped his sword out of its scabbard. With careful steps, he made his way towards the other man. As he drew closer, he could smell William's distinct masculine scent, a mixture of metal, fire, and something that was uniquely him. Jack could feel blood pooling to his loins, but he firmly ignored it, trying to focus on the task at hand.

As William leaned over to pick up his hat, Jack tapped his hand with the flat of his sword, warning the boy away.

'You're the one they're looking for,' the blacksmith said. 'The pirate.'

'You seem somewhat familiar,' Jack said, pretending not to know other man's true identity. 'Have I threatened you before?'

'I make a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates,' William replied with a glare.

Jack stared back into those deep, brown eyes.

There was no doubt about it - this young man would be his undoing.

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