Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
Chapter Seven - Surrender
The situation was patently ridiculous, Will concluded, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes. On the other end of the dinghy sat Jack Sparrow, capably rowing them back to the Black Pearl. He did not look at Will. He did not speak to Will. Though their knees were practically touching, they were leagues apart, adrift in a sea of resentment and blame.
It was difficult now to imagine the Jack of the night before, with his tender glances and slurred endearments. This Jack was all business - though still prone, Will noted, to mumbling nonsense under his breath. "Not worth the trouble," he was saying now. "Not this time." Whatever he was referring to, the sentiment was hardly complimentary.
And what of this bloodthirsty Jamaican bent on unmitigated vengeance? Something rang false about that story. The puzzle was missing a piece. This was, after all, Captain Jack Sparrow, he who had taken the curse upon himself, battled the undead and come back to life laughing. Why should he fear one pathetic, grief-stricken but undoubtedly mortal pirate? Between the two of them, they were more than capable of dispatching such a man.
What was Jack afraid of?
Just then the dinghy gave a jolt, interrupting Will's reverie. They had arrived. Jack began to secure the boat, tying the knots with the swift, sure motions he reserved for nautical work. "All right," he called over his shoulder. "Climb aboard; I'll follow. Meet me in the cabin off the main deck." After a pause he added, "I trust you know the way."
As Will entered the cabin, he averted his eyes from the sails still strewn along the floor. Folding his arms again, he faced the door. Momentarily, he heard Jack's boots thump onto the deck. Then he appeared, still wearing that heartbreakingly distant expression. But - what was this? - he was unlacing his boots, tossing them carelessly aside, coming to stand beside Will. "My apologies for any injuries I may have inflicted upon you last night, mate." He glanced down at Will's ankles. "Shouldn't sleep so close to me. Not very safe."
There was a brief silence as this statement sunk in. Then Will nodded. "It is I who should apologize," he said. "I will not be bothering you again." He turned to leave. Jack slammed a hand against the wall, placing himself between Will and the door.
"Oh no, love. Not another bloody tantrum. I won't have it. I'm afraid it will... not... do." He moved closer with each menacing word. Will retreated, but soon found himself backed into a corner. Jack now stood but a few maddening inches away. His eyes glittered in the dim light, set off by the charcoal smudged around their rims.
"Why?" whispered Will. He could feel one humiliating tear forming at the corner of his eye. "Am I not worth the time?"
Jack let out a mirthless laugh, widening his eyes. "No, you have it all wrong, fair, fair William. On the contrary, _I_ am not worth the time... savvy?" He reached up and rested his fingers lightly against the boy's cheek, allowing the tear to trickle down into his palm. "Your father was a fool, Turner. He loved me like a fool, and he died out of loyalty to me. Again, like a fool. And you are a fool for coming here."
Jack's face was so close now that he was speaking more into Will's mouth than his ear. His actions seemed at odds with his bitter words, as if they were directed by a different force, one more powerful than prudence. "I put you in harm's way when I walked into your life, young William Turner. I'll be damned if I let you put the death of another Turner on my conscience."
Taking the final step, Jack pressed himself savagely against Will's body. They stood that way for several seconds, suspended in the moment. Will could feel waves of heat radiating through Jack's thin tunic, and thought he might melt away onto the floor. He couldn't speak. He hardly dared to breathe.
The captain seemed similarly afflicted. Eyelids drooping, breath shallow, he nonetheless managed a furtive grin before pronouncing his next statement. "As you seem determined to remain in harm's way, however, I've no choice but to look after you." A pause. "Which means I'm not letting you out of my sight."
Then prudence gave way, and there were no more words. There was only Jack's tongue, darting out to glide along Will's lower lip. Jack's hands, loosening Will's hair and grabbing great handfuls of the silky locks. Jack's arms, pulling Will roughly downwards until they came to rest on the cabin floor, entangled in the sails once again.
Fleetingly, Will found his voice again. "I would do it, Jack," he sighed. "I would gladly die for you." Slowly and deliberately, he bit down on the lobe of one enticing ear.
From beneath him there was a gasp, followed by a soft chuckle. "I believe you've said that to someone before."
Then the words evaporated again in the heat of their embrace. They spoke no more that day.
Chapter Seven - Surrender
The situation was patently ridiculous, Will concluded, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes. On the other end of the dinghy sat Jack Sparrow, capably rowing them back to the Black Pearl. He did not look at Will. He did not speak to Will. Though their knees were practically touching, they were leagues apart, adrift in a sea of resentment and blame.
It was difficult now to imagine the Jack of the night before, with his tender glances and slurred endearments. This Jack was all business - though still prone, Will noted, to mumbling nonsense under his breath. "Not worth the trouble," he was saying now. "Not this time." Whatever he was referring to, the sentiment was hardly complimentary.
And what of this bloodthirsty Jamaican bent on unmitigated vengeance? Something rang false about that story. The puzzle was missing a piece. This was, after all, Captain Jack Sparrow, he who had taken the curse upon himself, battled the undead and come back to life laughing. Why should he fear one pathetic, grief-stricken but undoubtedly mortal pirate? Between the two of them, they were more than capable of dispatching such a man.
What was Jack afraid of?
Just then the dinghy gave a jolt, interrupting Will's reverie. They had arrived. Jack began to secure the boat, tying the knots with the swift, sure motions he reserved for nautical work. "All right," he called over his shoulder. "Climb aboard; I'll follow. Meet me in the cabin off the main deck." After a pause he added, "I trust you know the way."
As Will entered the cabin, he averted his eyes from the sails still strewn along the floor. Folding his arms again, he faced the door. Momentarily, he heard Jack's boots thump onto the deck. Then he appeared, still wearing that heartbreakingly distant expression. But - what was this? - he was unlacing his boots, tossing them carelessly aside, coming to stand beside Will. "My apologies for any injuries I may have inflicted upon you last night, mate." He glanced down at Will's ankles. "Shouldn't sleep so close to me. Not very safe."
There was a brief silence as this statement sunk in. Then Will nodded. "It is I who should apologize," he said. "I will not be bothering you again." He turned to leave. Jack slammed a hand against the wall, placing himself between Will and the door.
"Oh no, love. Not another bloody tantrum. I won't have it. I'm afraid it will... not... do." He moved closer with each menacing word. Will retreated, but soon found himself backed into a corner. Jack now stood but a few maddening inches away. His eyes glittered in the dim light, set off by the charcoal smudged around their rims.
"Why?" whispered Will. He could feel one humiliating tear forming at the corner of his eye. "Am I not worth the time?"
Jack let out a mirthless laugh, widening his eyes. "No, you have it all wrong, fair, fair William. On the contrary, _I_ am not worth the time... savvy?" He reached up and rested his fingers lightly against the boy's cheek, allowing the tear to trickle down into his palm. "Your father was a fool, Turner. He loved me like a fool, and he died out of loyalty to me. Again, like a fool. And you are a fool for coming here."
Jack's face was so close now that he was speaking more into Will's mouth than his ear. His actions seemed at odds with his bitter words, as if they were directed by a different force, one more powerful than prudence. "I put you in harm's way when I walked into your life, young William Turner. I'll be damned if I let you put the death of another Turner on my conscience."
Taking the final step, Jack pressed himself savagely against Will's body. They stood that way for several seconds, suspended in the moment. Will could feel waves of heat radiating through Jack's thin tunic, and thought he might melt away onto the floor. He couldn't speak. He hardly dared to breathe.
The captain seemed similarly afflicted. Eyelids drooping, breath shallow, he nonetheless managed a furtive grin before pronouncing his next statement. "As you seem determined to remain in harm's way, however, I've no choice but to look after you." A pause. "Which means I'm not letting you out of my sight."
Then prudence gave way, and there were no more words. There was only Jack's tongue, darting out to glide along Will's lower lip. Jack's hands, loosening Will's hair and grabbing great handfuls of the silky locks. Jack's arms, pulling Will roughly downwards until they came to rest on the cabin floor, entangled in the sails once again.
Fleetingly, Will found his voice again. "I would do it, Jack," he sighed. "I would gladly die for you." Slowly and deliberately, he bit down on the lobe of one enticing ear.
From beneath him there was a gasp, followed by a soft chuckle. "I believe you've said that to someone before."
Then the words evaporated again in the heat of their embrace. They spoke no more that day.
