://My Mistress

://by Delta Hallihan (FromtheDark)

://Published July 30, 2003

://Pirates of the Caribbean; post 'Curse of the Black Pearl'

://Summary: After the excursion with Captain Sparrow, Will begins to long for the sea and an offered life of excitement. He feels the need to return to the sea, the pirate's mistress. But Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl are gone, leaving Will to his own inner turmoil. Or are they?

://Warnings: Rated R for language and drinking (Mostly for A/N, since I gotta kick some alter ego ass --;) Ratings may change in future chapters..Indeed.

://Disclaimer: I don't own PotC... Stupid Disney, why can't I be adopted by Disney!? That would rock socks ^^ But I'm stuck on this bloody island with Jessica --; Help me.

://Author's Note:

[A/N] I 'ave no 'pinion. Jus' read. And typos... I don't care anymore.

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~ o O . S t r a w b e r r y . S u n r i s e : P a r t . I I . O o ~

"So... you're here, risking life and limb... as well as reputation, because of some dream you keep having?" Will leaned back, earning a groaning protest from the run-down chair in which he was currently perched. Jack was opposite him, across an alcohol-stained table, in the darkest corner of the pub.

Sparrow raised his mug, taking a healthy swig while regarding his companion from across the rim. Another moment to swallow the velveteen amber, before replying. "Aye, ye could say that," Jack took another moment of study, before leaning close to William. "Now mate, I want your 'onest 'pinion 'ere. What do you think it means?"

"That you've finally lost that tiny shred of sanity you clung to.. If that." Will responsed, if a little sharply. However, Jack smirked as he heard the drunken slur in the boy's tone, hidden beneath annoyance. Turner glanced at his own half empty mug, before tossing it over one shoulder. "Truly is a vile drink. Don't know 'ow ye can stand the shit."

The younger stood, much to Sparrow's amusement, and began to stumble his way towards the pub. If he ever made it through the chaos that was the main floor. Everywhere, wenches and drunkards swayed, collapsing across tables, or drinking partners. From the odd table, a roar errupted as another fell to the intoxicating effects of alcohol, and slumped to the filthy floor.

The air, of course, was foul; reeking of bile, spoiled ale and other substances better left unknown. The humidity was immense, like some sort of all-consuming moster, ready to devour any soul that dared tred into it's stagnant lair.

Through all of this, Will attempted to make his way. But, being William Turner, and heavily inebriated Will Turner at that, he barely made it down the few steps that led to the main level, before falling. Jack sighed, easily standing under the affects of the spirits and swaggering his way to the sluggish boy. "C'mon mate, up off the floor. Don't know where it's been."

With an almost sober movement, the pirate was able to lift the bleary-eyed smith from a sprawled position on the soiled floor, to an almost verticle one. One arm snaked around the lithe form, asserting a firm grip on the other side for support. At the same time, in the same motion, Jack drew Will's own near arm over the pirate's shoulders, forcing the boy to lean against the buccaneer.

It took a considerably lengthy amount of time for the pair to force a path through the drunken maze, both stumbling quite often. Jack kicked the door open, practically lifting the younger through the porthole before shifting out of the way. The door fell shut, with a resounding slam, forcing a wince from both males.

Not a moment later, William lurched forwards, stumbling towards a bush. Sparrow was about to hurry forward, when black gaze saw the boy fall to the ground, yet thought the better when his ears picked up one of the most common sounds associated with drinking; Wreching. The pirate sauntered a couple paces away, turning his back to the pitiful sight.

Bile and acid stung William's esophagus, forcing the smith to gag. Frame racked with the violent convulsions, relentless. Spots appeared before the boy's eyes, visiage turning a deathly pale, tinged green. A groan, before another fit started.

To the poor blacksmith, it felt like forever had passed before he finally stopped gagging. Still, he coughed, but the nausia was gone. Lids closed, from near exustion, as he continued to kneel on all fours, too weak to rise. The taste of bile coated his tongue, esophagus and every inch of his mouth. A swip of the muscle over lips, proved that the greenish black substance stained the lush swells. A groan at the bitter sensation, the foul acid.

"C'mon mate, don't wan'a 'ave the same repu'ation as Gibbs, savvy?" The buccaneer gave a light chuckle at his own little joke, if you could call it that. Though expression fell to something else, when Will failed to rise from his position. With a sigh, the corsair sauntered over, leaned over and wrapped muscled limbs about the younger's waist and chest. With a surprising show of strength, the Black Pearl's captain hauled the lithe form up. Unfortunately for Will, the force was on his still quesy stomach. And, unfortunately for Jack, he had used a little too much strength.

Kohl lined eyes widened in that classic 'crap' expression, as his spine switched to an inward curvature. By momentum alone, Will was lifted off his feet, his own expression of surprise at the rapid movement. One booted foot slid backwards, balancing the swashbuckler and smith at the same moment. Jack didn't notice his situation, too occupied with keeping both bodies balanced and verticle, to take note.

The wide expanse of flat flesh against his chest, the feel of each vertebra through clothing. The sensation of the boy's chest, ribs beneath tanned hands and digits. If the captain had been paying attention, it would have sent a shiver down his own spinal column. As for Will, the only thing he felt was the comforting embrace of darkness, the pleasant sight of unconscious.

It took a moment for Jack to regain his breath, and set Will, once again, on his feet. Reactions a tad slow, but quick enough to catch the collapsing form before the smith fell to the ground in a heap. "Bloody 'ell, mate! Ye didn't drink THAT much," Jack starred at the back of the auburn head, pondering the situation. If he left the smith here, he couldn't tell what condition the boy would be in.. if he survived the night. Port Royal wasn't an unlawful town, but around drunks, murder wasn't the only thing that could happen to a youthful soul.

On the other hand, if the pirate managed to get the boy back to his shop, the worst he'd suffer would be the Rum's sideaffect. A nasty headache, and yet even more vomitting. The only problem with that, would be actually getting the boy to the shop. A dilemna, indeed.

Heaving a sigh, Jack started to stumble backwards, one eye constantly glancing over one shoulder. Though this method was soon given up, when Jack slammed into, and tripped over some shadow-cloaked obstical. With a grunt, the captain staggered to his feet once more, though left Will on the ground. Another sigh, when the pirate stooped to pull the boy, yet again, to a verticle position. "C'mon mate, ye don't weigh that much, I'm sure ye can walk yerself." Though scolding comment lit a figurative lightbulb above Sparrow's head. With another movement, Jack's shoulder was in the boy's stomach.

A bend at the knees, and Jack straightened, amazingly supporting both his own weight, as well as the comatose Turner's. A slight adjustment, and the pirate was able to traverse towards the blacksmith's shop. However, movements were still slow, and now laboured with the extra pounds.

Eventually, he did manage to get to the shop. The only problem was, the fool had locked the door. "You'd think I tell ye enough. Don't do anything stupid, says I. An' what do ye do? Something stupid, that's what!" Jack dropped the boy against the wall, if not gently. A brief search, and the key to the shop was located. It did, however, take considerably longer for the bleary-eyed pirate to focus his eyes, and even longer to get the key in the lock.

Several minutes, and several curses, later, Jack finally kicked the door open. Finding a barrel to hold the door open, the captain then went about dragging the unconscious Will inside the shop. After depositing the boy on his bed, and closing the door, the pirate ambled over to the bed. A moment of dazed thought, before the pirate collapsed beside Will.

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[A/N]

D: Thus concludes Part 2 Oo. It's crappy and short, I know, don't care.

Phoenix: They're drunk!

D: I know!

Rydia: Morrigan help us.

Oscen: -stabs Elizabeth-

D: Haven't you killed her enough?

Oscen: No

D: Mmk. Anyways, as usual, tell me what you think of this chapter. It's not the best thing I've written, but meh!

Phoenix: And those who're interested, Carmesí Cristalino is now running fairly smoothly. The Roleplay board is up, and so is alot of other things that were supposed to be up. Joiny! Or be crispy!

Oscen: But, dear goddess, no more female characters! There's only one guy! It's sad! Very sad! Sad and pathetic! Sa-

Rydia: We get the bloody point!

Phoenix: Aren't you supposed to be in a closet somewhere?

Rydia: -grumble-

Phoenix: -Shoves Rydia into closet- Hmmpht!

D: Well then, I bid ye all ado. Ado!