Chapter Title: First Things Next

Author: Saran

Disclaimer: Characters portrayed in my fic belong to Disney.

Author's notes: Very different mood from the previous chapters. It will get angst-filled again, so fear not. Just nudging along some semblance of a plot in this chapter. Believe it or not, this story does, in fact, have a plot. And yes, for those of you that asked, this fic will eventually get to NC-17.

Pairing: Jack/Will

Rating: Arrr (I heart pirates)

*Hail-shot: Small shot that scatters like hail when fired from a cannon.

*Yardarm: The main arm across the mast, which holds up the sail.

It had been too long since he had been to Port Royal. Business always picked up whenever Captain Jack Sparrow ventured anywhere near the straight-laced city. You could take everything a man owned, including the hat off his head, and he would still be standing, wide-eyed, and open mouthed when you turned to go. The poor fools are always in such a state of shock when something as scandalous as robbery by, non other than, a pirate affects them in any way. The city constantly gleamed with an assurance of safety, and everything good and proper in the world that most of the men never even bothered to guard their purses.

Some of the fun was lost in that aspect of it, but the game just differed here. Instead of trying to pickpocket a purse, in Port Royal, it became a matter of trying to get the biggest purse.

Jack usually did not have time for such things, anymore, now that he captained his ship, again. Now and again he indulged himself, when he could draw his mind away from the harbor big enough to make any ocean-loving man do a dance that is usually reserved for the drunkest man of the night, in Tortuga. Which, on occasion, had been him dancing.

"Jack.."

"That's Captain Ja-"

"Aye, Captain." Jack would not have been surprised to learn that each and every crew member on the Black Pearl did not know the meaning of the word. Swallowing any annoyance, he turned on one heel, towards the voice, to find a weary looking Gibbs.

Gibbs' brushy eyebrows were drooping, and his face was strained from, what Jack guessed, was a result of little or no sleep.

"What can I do for you, man?" Jack waved his hand in front of both men, as if showing a piece of fine jewelry to a blue blood.

"I'll be straight with you, Jack."

"Cap-"

"The men are getting restless, and antsy. We know that its not in a Captain's duty to give reason for going where he wants, but why are we going to Port Royal?" His first mate paused, and waited for an answer. Jack noticed that his hands started to fidget. It was unlike Gibbs to be nervous. "Don't you think that Norrington will be wanting to get his hands around your neck?"

Jack studied the older man. Wasn't it obvious why he wanted to go to Port Royal? The white washed walls, and sturdy little social system needed a good jostling now and then.

"I didn't mean to pry, Captain," Gibbs bobbed his head, and went back to tending to the sails.

What's got him all up in a fright, then? Sparrow wondered, but before he could dive into the problem further, he remembered that he really should be paying attention to actually getting to the city, instead of just thinking about it. Delving around inside one of this many hidden pockets, good for an innumerable amount of things, he located his compass, and felt a sharp tinge on the back of his neck.

"You just won't let me forget, will you, lad?" Jack mumbled to himself. Jack had given his old compass to the child of his former best friend, Bill Turner. Not for any sentimental reason, of course. The compass had belonged to Bill, and he was just giving it to the rightful owner. Keep telling yourself that, you fool. Thoughts like that last one seemed to creep into the Captain's head more often than he would have liked, and on their own accord, to boot.

With more pressing matters to worry about, like how well his navigating was with this new compass, he pushed all other thoughts into the farthest corner of his mind. How was Jack supposed to find anything with something as illogical as a working compass? He had learned to navigate with his old one, and he just hoped that he hadn't stranded his men in the middle of nowhere.

Jack scanned the water with his telescope for any sign of land. Finding no luck with land, he spotted something else. Two ships. Jack could not keep a grin off of his scruffy face. One was, without a doubt, an escort ship, and the other could be nothing but important. Rich merchants had been known to hire an escort ship for the sake of driving off any sane pirate in the area.

It's a good thing I'm not sane, then, Jack thought, his grin widening into a gold speckled mouthful. He allowed himself the joy of watching the ships draw nearer for a couple of blessed minutes, before flinging his leg in a half circle, spinning his body with him. His arms swinging out into the air. His foot hit the desk at the same time he bellowed: "Men!"

A number of tanned, or otherwise dirty faces, Jack wasn't too sure which option it was for most of his crew, looked towards him, blinking up at the blazing ball in the sky, which was gleaming right behind Jack, making him almost appear to glow.

He lifted his arm, and haphazardly pointed it in the direction of the two ships, which made his numerous bracelets chime, and sing. "Just over yonder there, if you all care to look, you will see the shapes of two ships. Now," his arm shot up into the air, skimming his dreads, one lone finger above all the rest, "prepare yourselves for what we do best. Fight and pillage!" His last words were lost in a mix of cheers and feet pounding on the desk to get the cannons, and boarding equipment. Jack was left to watch his men, and wonder what the next few minutes would bring.

A spark of something he could not quite put his finger on pulsed in the back of his head. If he did not know better, it could have almost been described as impatient, which as not like Jack at all, so he must have be mistaken. Regret? Captain Jack Sparrow does not regret anything. Regret is for people that have something to lose, he thought to himself. Captain Sparrow is the scourge of the Spanish Main, he lives his life fearing nothing! His thoughts picked up ferocity as he went on. Just as suddenly dropping into a tiny voice that blared louder than any other in his head. What about Will? Why are you not going to Port Royal? Go to him. Now.

Jack realized that he was clutching his new compass with such force that it made his hand throb, and with more will power than he cared to admit to, his hand unwrapped itself, dropping the gadget in his pocket.

"Captain, we be nearing the ships. What will you have us do?" The voice of a crewman shook Jack back into his currently situation.

He paused.

"Use a hail-shot* on the Merchant ship. We don't want to have them a league under, and us diving for loot all night, savvy? Just enough to scare the fools." The captain swaggered towards his men, and started to shout any number of orders to them, as they neared the ships.

Scanning the, most likely, heavily armed escort ship, with more accuracy then before, he could now see men running to arm the ship, he spotted something familiar. Someone to be more specific. "Opportune moment..." A surge of excitement bubbled up inside of him. Raising his voice so the rest of the ship could hear him, he yelled "Don't sink the escort. Our lovely companion, Norrington is on it. And wouldn't it just be fun for us to be reunited with the man?"

Laugher rippled through the crowd, and the men hastened their work.

With the ships nearing each other, a calm came over Jack, as it often did when he was about to do what he loved most.

The thing about piracy, and pillaging in general, was not any amount of wealth or glory one could achieve. Any bloke can scrape up a couple doubloons, and make up a story or two about how he got off an island with only the hair off his back, and a couple of sea creatures, but to attempt freedom the way a pirate who truly loves the ocean, more specifically, freedom, is something unto itself. Freedom cannot be bought, and it cannot be traded. Jack had learned that the way every man who strives for freedom had. Once you get to the top, and realize that every thing you own is just one more chain holding you to slavery, you give it all up to obtain that which you simply had in the first place. A will to live, and the freedom to live it.

In a minute or two Jack would be living the freedom he loved. Norrington's ship, along with the merchant ship, which, he realized was probably of terrible importance if the Commodore of Port Royal was accompanying it, were travelling towards his Pearl, and he could see the scuttling men with his naked eye now.

"Captain?" Gibb's voice questioned from the desk below him. Jack turned one eye towards him, and raised one hand limply, as a signal to make ready for fire. The whole world seemed to pause and wait for the oncoming action. The gentle sway of Jack's body even seemed to slow down.

You could be with Will right now. Jack cursed himself for thinking of the boy right now. Every time he had something important to do, the blacksmith always managed to squirm inside his head.

Something whizzed by Jack's ear, with a high humming noise, and snapped his head back into reality. The pirate had no need to glance over his shoulder to see what it had been. The characteristic splash that sounded behind his ship told him enough.

"Now what's that bloody bastard up to?" He surveyed the distance between the ships, and it was not the distance that puzzled Jack. Norrington's cannon fire could have hit the merchant vessel just as easily as the Black Pearl. Another shot fired, which blew a hole in the merchant ship's sail. Jack leaned back, and furrowed his brows, putting both arms up in front of him. A few chuckles from the crew crept out, and one man outright bursting with laugher, made Jack grin roguishly, too. "Not sure who's side the man is on, anymore," he said loudly. Jack's black-rimmed eyes narrowed despite his light-hearted jest. He lowered his voice to almost a whisper "Norrington must really be wanting me head, if he's becoming this rash. You make things too easy, mate," Sparrow's voice raised again, so the crew could hear him, the lone laugher was calming down, "Hold fire!" A couple of mutters made their way through the crowd, as Jack turned the wheel on the Pearl to the right.

The Captain's ship began to move in the same direction as the Commodore's, as they began to circle the merchant ship. He could see plainly the frustration on the ship opposite his. The red coats were all up in a fluster over the terrible pirates that had outsmarted them, in the most devious of ways. Not long now, until they are raging enough to fire as stupidly as before.

Several minutes of the ship's circling each other, like sharks, deemed to be too much for Norrington, as a cannon blast soon erupted from his ship, sending an iron ball screaming towards both ships. It arced over the merchant vessel, and ripped through the gun wall of the Black Pearl. Jack grimaced at the minor damage.

"Fire at will!" Jack bellowed to his men, his eyes fixed on the two ships. Granted, hitting a moving ship is about as easy as juggling two or three women. Jack had learned through experience about that delicate topic. Yes, hitting the ship would be hard, but then again, he is Captain Jack Sparrow, and what can he not do?

A torrent of raining iron flew above him, and curved towards the ships, most of it spattering into the white topped ocean, but some of it contacted the boats, from what he could make out. Splinters of wood, and whatever else flew into the air, and back down onto the desk. Jack smiled broadly.

The sudden offensive on the pirates part enraged the Commodore, from Sparrow could make out with his naked eye. Norrington was becoming frantic, his arms waving in every direction at once. He seemed to be fighting with an officer of lower rank, about something important, but quickly overpowered the man due to rank, and made a throwing motion towards the merchant ship, and the Pearl. Jack assumed the gesture was aimed at him, and became curious as to what the man was up to.

The pirate did not have to wait long. He heard the eruption of cannon fire, but could not see what flew out of the cannon. Jack squinted, trying it figure out what happened. His crew became suddenly silent, sensing something was awry. The only thing moving was the gentle, salty breeze, and the occasional beaded dread jingling merrily in the wind.

Seconds went by, until a creaking on the middle, merchant ship caught Jack's attention. The sails started to move, until the whole Yardarm* moaned, and toppled over, flaking the middle of the, now, damaged ship. The crew on the ship frantically dove into the water, some diving head first, while others seemed to contemplate their actions before jumping into the heavily salted water. Countless heads poked up, and looked around for help, as their ship groaned, and creaked under the weight of the break, and slowly sank, taking whatever treasure it held with it.

Jack was torn between amusement, and annoyance, as he surveyed what happened. He could hear Norrington screaming like a wet cat about what just happened, no doubt blaming it on the poor sap that tried to stop him from firing in the first place.

The Commodore seemed to have forgotten Jack, and his ship for the moment. Seeing no reason to stay, he swung around to address his crew once again. "Well, now. That turned into quite a different thing all together, didn't it, mates?" Some took it as humour, while others nodded gravely in agreement. "Since there is nothing left here worth taking, we will continue on course to Port Royal." Jack thought this a very good idea, but from the looks his crew gave him he thought again. "Not a good idea?"

"If you don't mind me saying so, Jack, don't you be thinking that the whole fleet will be out looking for us, and going to Port Royal will be like the heart of the storm."

Gibbs made a point, Jack grudging thought. The boy will have to wait for another time. Admitting that it himself made his heart sink right out of his body.

"Right man, excellent point. Port Royal has had enough commotion for now." Jack over dramatically swaggered to the wheel of the Black Pearl, pulling his ship away from the wreckage and turned to his men, "We make course for Anton Port." His last words set his crew a flight in a scattering of numerous jobs that needed attending to, leaving Jack to his thoughts.

The wind cradled, and caressed his skin as the shipwrecked scene became steadily smaller behind him.

Why is it every time I think of you I feel like I am going to explode? I will be back soon to see you, mate.