Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

Chapter Three - Unsteady

Will strolled through the mayhem of a Tortuga night. He was unperturbed but alert, one hand on his sword hilt, eyes darting to and fro. He wasn't looking for trouble tonight. Correction: he was looking for trouble, but not the kind of trouble that would creep up from behind and cut his throat without so much as a howdy-do. He gathered his cloak closer around his face, shivered, and walked on. "Turner" remained an unpopular name to some on this island.

A few minutes later, Will caught a glimpse of trouble - the right sort - through a tavern window. As he moved closer a familiar voice rose above the din. "I'm telling you, mate, she was wild for me. The lass ran me ragged, savvy? I was halfway grateful to see that booby commodore the next morning - I needed a bloody rest!"

Will paused outside the door, suppressing an involuntary grin. For once, Jack spoke the truth - Elizabeth had run him ragged that night. She had filled him so full of rum he couldn't tell his beard from his breeches, and then burned the rest of the bottles. Jack probably had been grateful indeed to see the commodore's ship, and with it, the hope of rescue from that bewildering woman.

Will shook his head, dispelling the image, and the grin. What if it truly was a wild night with Elizabeth that Jack was wishing for? But no - Elizabeth had already remarked that the captain's overtures rang false to her. In truth, he hadn't tried in earnest to make a single move on her wet, vulnerable person. When he heard this revelation, Will remembered, he had been obliged to mask his sudden burst of hope. Now, it seemed, the time for hiding was over.

It was now or never. Will took a deep breath and walked through the tavern door. As soon as he caught sight of Jack, he had to restrain a gasp of dismay. The captain's left hand was closed, predictably, around the neck of an obscenely large bottle of rum. His right, however, lingered on the neck of a coarse but voluptuous blonde. He was peering into her cleavage as if he'd lost some treasure there, and hoped to recover it soon.Will felt a flush of shame and embarrassment begin to cover his face. I am an ass, he thought. It was becoming something of a mantra, lately.

Will was considering the best way to make an unobtrusive exit when Jack spied him. For the barest instant, his eyes widened with ambiguous emotion - was it joy Will saw in them, or fear? Then he removed his arm from the wench and waved it unsteadily in the air. "Yoy. He... ho..." Jack coughed, swaying in incoherent surprise. "Will Turner, is it? Hanging back in the shadows like a specter? Come 'ere and join us, boy! Sit!" Jack gave the woman beside him an amiable shove. She rose, pouting briefly until Jack tossed her a coin and a wink, then strutted off to seek another mark.

Will looked at the empty section of the bench beside Jack. Before it could disappear, he forced himself to walk forward nonchalantly and claim it. Jack threw a companionable arm over Will's shoulder. "Gentlemen, raise your glasses to Master Will Turner, the finest pirate that never was!"

"Until now," Will muttered, to himself. But there was no time to brood. Before he knew what was happening, Will saw the bottle of rum sailing towards his mouth. He was obliged to tilt his head back and swallow, as Jack poured a great deal of liquor down his throat.

From then on, things became a bit blurry. Rough faces spun before him. Voices rose in laughter and bawdy song, and sometimes it seemed that his own voice was among them. Through it all, he was aware of Jack's arm around his shoulders; Jack's rough fingers digging into his skin; Jack's warm, boozy breath beside his ear. Now and then a hair bead would knock him as Jack tossed his head. Eventually, Will fell silent and surrendered to sensation.

Then the fingers were tugging at the fabric of his shirt. "Time for bed, love," Jack whispered cryptically in his ear. They tugged each other up into some semblance of a standing position. "Well then, me hearties, we must bid you... a fond... adieu. Mr. Turner and I have some, er, catching up to do."

And with that they were off, lurching across the tavern and through the doors. They proceeded across the town, making a concerted effort to remain upright. Jack alternated between mad giggles and hiccups. Will's sword swung forgotten by his side. Before they had gone far, however, Jack dragged Will into an open doorway. Placing both hands on Will's shoulders, he gave him an inscrutable look. I must be terribly drunk, Will mused. This is the first time he's looked sober to me.

Leaning in conspiratorially, Jack spoke. "What did you mean back there," he murmured, "by `until now'?"