In any port, in any city, there are always places where refugees can find succor, or at least some grog and meat. The Red Snapper was no place any respectable military man would spend his time after hours, down just off the docks as it were, especially since the owner paid heftily each year to keep the fuzz off his back. In return, he could charge anything he wanted -- and did -- for even the simplest of meals.



Jack leaned back across the table from Will, sipping with uncustomary restraint as he watched the younger man fork a few bites from the grouper. He kept his eyes on his fish most of the time, despite the captain's attempts to draw him into conversation. Jack could tell there was something on his heart as well as his mind, and so he pressed the matter quite gently, for him.



Finally, he set down his tankard and leaned on his elbows. "What is it, Will?" he asked, pitching his voice at an acceptably low level given the general raucousness of the bar. "A blind man can see ye're not y'self. Is it 'Lizbeth?"



Will looked up, around for several seconds before finally meeting Jack's eyes. He no longer looked sad, but disgusted. "You could say that," he finally conceded, with a curt nod.



Jack guessed. "You're not together." No response. "Come, did she marry 'im, or not?"



"Elizabeth's in France," Will sighed. "Training as a diplomat for the Crown."



Jack's eyebrows crept into his hat, though he couldn't say he was exactly shocked. Perhaps only at the fact her gender hadn't been an issue -- then again, a governor's daughter is going to receive more consideration than the average serving wench. "Now how'd that happen?" he mused.



"She wanted a vocation, not a husband. Figured she couldn't have both at the same time. When the Governor found out how she felt … well, let's just say he was relieved it wasn't wanting to run off with pirates, at least, and he pulled some strings."



"Did you at least e'er tell 'er how ye felt?"



"I told her, for all the good it did. She still went."



Jack leaned back again, narrowing his black-rimmed eyes at the younger man. Something … rang odd, here. The lad was surely down about something, but not in the way one would expect a rejected lover to act. "You're not upset you didn' get 'er," he ventured, a half-question. "What is it?"



"Well, yes, I'm a bit upset over that," Will threw up his hands. "Who likes to be made a fool of? I tell her, like you told me to, and she turns me down flat."



Jack's lips quirked. "Mate, ye're gonna have t' do better 'n that for an' explanation. Pride's wounded, alright, that I get. But it's naught a broken 'eart, I can tell."



Will scratched at his chin and looked a bit hangdog, as though he'd been caught with his hand somewhere it didn't belong. For some reason, the analogy brought a smirk to Jack's lips and saliva into his mouth. *Just don't be thinking about those hands, you scalawag.* "Well?" he asked, a suspicion formed in his mind as to the real problem.



"She's there. You're out there. I'm … well, stuck here."



"Ahh!" Jack's eyes lighted up, and he grinned manically, snapping a finger and pointing at Will, then crossing his arms over his chest. "Wanderlust. Well, hell, boy, why're ye beatin' roun' th' bush 'bout it? Not 'xactly a capital crime, is it?"



"It's irresponsible and childish, and annoying, is what it is." Will stole a glance around the room, then petulantly returned his attention to Jack. "I'm an adult; I need to work, I can't afford to be having silly notions."



"Nothin' silly 'bout followin' your 'eart, mate."



*Is that so?* For some reason, the voice in his head had taken on Anamaria-like tonal qualities of late. Jack wasn't entirely sure he liked that, though he did enjoy the woman's spicy accent. *Pot, meet kettle.*



"Jus' means ye've the Turner blood, is all," Jack continued, mentally gagging the voice. Wanderlust was not the same at all as lust, and by Jesu, he should be the one to know. "What's so wrong wit' that?"



"I know blacksmithing. What else would I do?"



"Smiths are needed e'erywhere, far as I know, mate. Could travel like that." He watched closely, gauging.



Sure enough, Will shook his head. "Is that what I'll be doin' the rest o' my life then? Sitting in some … shop front, bent over a forge day in and day out?" He sounded bitter.



"Not unless 's what ye want." It was Jack's turn to shake his head, the beads clacking. Why was the lad trying so hard to deny what was inside him? *You are certainly not one to pass judgment on that account, you coward.* Even Anamaria herself was never this shrill.



Will's laugh was sharp, his tone filled with ironic humor. "What, be like you, flitting around from wave to wave?"



For some reason he couldn't explain, Jack was hurt by that, by the accusatory "you" in there. Then he was indignant; nobody criticized his lifestyle. Blood near to boiling, he leaned forward, pointing, ready to argue, when he heard a scattering of people and chairs that drew his attention toward the front door.



Aw, hell. Bloody Norrington.



The man's eyes seemed to zero in on him, his mouth quirking. "Well, well."



Two guards hurried to their table, and Jack stood, pushing the chair back, reaching for his sword. He was thinking of something suitably clever to open with when his view was blocked and another voice spoke instead. "No, Commodore."



Jack drew back in some surprise; he hadn't even seen Will move. Tilting his chin up, he looked over the smith's shoulder, noting the height difference between them with interest. To his credit, the commodore didn't roll his eyes at the younger man's antics. "Step aside, Turner," he calmly intoned, as the guards waited, twitching.



Will's head moved in a curt shake, and Jack spared a few seconds to ponder what a shame it was his hair was tied back instead of loose for that motion. Unobtrusively, the pirate pushed aside his chair and ducked a little more behind Will, glancing around for the back door. They were going to need it in a couple of minutes, or maybe less, if the smith kept up this attitude of stoic defiance; he hadn't learned quite yet how to play with his prey.



"Mr. Turner, this man is a dangerous criminal, who has committed numerous offenses against the Crown and the good people of this-"



"What has he done here?" Will interrupted. "In Port Royal. What has he done here to warrant arrest? He saved Elizabeth's life, more than once. Just because she is no longer here shouldn't negate those actions."



Jack winced a bit at that, feeling a momentary pang of pity for Norrington. Now was not the best time to remind the man the object of his affection had decided to hightail it out of there rather than become Mrs. Commodore. Still, it had style, he had to admit. Maybe Will was learning a little something, after all.



"As I was saying," Norrington continued, his long-suffering tone indicating he was less than happy with being interrupted, "this man has committed offenses against the Crown and her citizens. It is my duty as an officer of the Royal Navy to apprehend any suspect, regardless of the locale of the crime."



"You're not getting him."



Aha, there was a back door! Jack had begun to wonder when he couldn't immediately spot it, but it was cleverly hidden. His mind gauged the distance and shortest dart from here to there, and wondered briefly if Will had ever been here, knew where it was as well. He could make a run for it alone if he had to, but he suspected before it was over, Will would need the escape as well. Besides, he didn't wish to desert the lad if it could be helped.



"You forget your place, sir."



"My place, Commodore, is right here. Between you and Jack."



The pirate's ears perked at that, as did his entire body, actually. *What the hell?*



"He is a pirate-"



"And a good man! He risked much to help me get Elizabeth back, and helped you apprehend the crew of the Black Pearl! Surely that means something."



Unable to say anything directly into his ear without being spotted or heard, Jack settled for speaking into the nape of Will's neck, patting his fingertips lightly on the man's back. "Mate, we gotta go; back door." He allowed himself the brief wash of lust at Will's scent, the brush of bound hair against the bridge of his nose, then snapped out of it. "Immediately."



But Will didn't move, as Norrington went on. "Stand aside, Mr. Turner, or I shall have to take you into custody as well."



Thinking quickly, and before Will could get out more than a token syllable, Jack's hand snaked around Will's midsection to grab the hilt of his sword, and yanked it out. Pulling it up across the lad's neck, he forced Will's chin up as he pressed the flat of the blade to his Adam's apple, his other hand yanking Will's left arm up behind him. "Why, thankee, lad," he muttered sarcastically into Will's ear, loud enough to be heard by the officers but low enough to seem menacing. "Ye played right into it, real well, 'ere."



The two guards made to lunge, but Norrington barked them back. "I don't take kindly to jokes, Mr. Sparrow."



"That's 'Captain,' my good Commodore. You forget your titles as soon as you shed them, eh?" He dragged Will backwards, sure to be extra rough to make his point. "Poor boy's too stupid for 'is own good, 'e is. Don' know when t' leave well enough 'lone, lucky me."



"Jack, what're you-" Will began.



"Shut up, whelp!" Jack ground out the words, nearly spitting, pulling instinctively into Pillaging Pirate Mode. "Unless ye'd like a second smile, 'at is?" Will tensed and Jack could tell he was prepared to dig in his heels. With a swift knee to the back of his thigh, Jack disavowed that notion, and heard a soft oath escape the younger man as he nearly stumbled backwards. He grinned, as much for inspiring such language from such a pretty mouth as from his own thespianship. "Now ye'll be escortin' me to th' back door o' this fine establishment," he growled, "or your friend the Commodore will be back t' wearin' a redcoat -- or least one drenched in red. Savvy?"



Will nodded, still tense, and Jack could feel very real fear and anger behind that. He was basically an honest boy and didn't like to be used, even in a setup; Jack nearly sighed. He was simply going to have to rid the kid of such adherence to the absolute truth. "Good evening, Commodore. Gentlemen," he looked around as he dragged back to the door. Passing a frozen serving wench, he nodded at her as well. "Milady."



With a lunge, Jack threw himself against the back door, pulling the sword down and yanking Will along by the back of his vest. The rotting wood crashed through, and Jack pushed the smith in front of him. "Run, boy!" he hissed. "Get us outta 'ere!"



They'd gotten a couple of blocks when Will ducked into an alleyway, and Jack nearly tripped over his own boots to double back and keep up. Halfway down, they tucked into shadows, hidden by a jutting of one wall over its adjoining wall. "You son of a bitch!" Will hissed, elbowing him. "What the hell-"



"Language!" Jack shushed back. "What would ye mum say?"



"Like you care!" They immediately became quiet, hearing running feet and voices. "I almost had us out of that!" Will continued, sotto voce.



"Lad, ye almost 'ad us both in th' pokey," the pirate retorted forcefully. "No 'fense, but when it comes t' gettin' out o' tight spots in th' future, lemme do th' talkin', right?"



"In the future?"



Jack sighed. "Do ye really think you'll be 'lowed to jus' go back an' work in your shop as usual, havin' been spotted wit' a notorious cad like me?"



"But you 'kidnapped' me."



"An' a convincin' performance it was, aye," Jack replied in a whisper dripping with gravel and sarcasm. "Bein' it was right a'ter ye were 'bout t' give me th' key to th' city, an' all."



"What makes you think I'd want to go anywhere with you?"



Jack shushed him, peeked out, and saw nothing. He gestured with his head toward the other end of the alley questioningly, and Will nodded; they both hurried along, pausing only to let Will in the lead. Once Will determined that nobody was coming, he and Jack ran pell-mell through a few more back alleys until they reached the rear of the smithy, both drenched in sweat and struggling to take breaths. Will turned and reached to lift the latch, but Jack slapped a hand over his, pressing his ear to the door and scrunching his eyebrows to explain his hesitation.



They stood like that for a couple of minutes as Jack heard scraping inside that could be either the donkey or people. He strained for voices, unaware his fingers had curled around Will's hand, holding it in place but gentling their grip. Will, too, frowned and pressed his ear to the door, casting his eyes down to concentrate.



Jack swallowed dryly, noting their faces were only a couple of inches apart. It would be entirely too convenient to bridge the short distance and touch his lips to Will's, find out how they tasted, if they were as soft as his were chapped from the constant sea spray and sun. Instead, he dropped his eyes to the lad's chin and waited for some pronouncement that it was safe to go inside, after all.



"I think it's just Jessy," Will finally spoke quietly, adding, "the donkey." Pulling away from the door, he extracted his hand from Jack's, which the pirate pulled back quickly, as if burned, holding it against his chest, flexing the fingers a bit, waiting for the smith to open the door.



In just a couple of minutes, they were inside; nothing seemed to have been disturbed. "They'll be here," Jack warned, crossing the room and sacking up the gold once again into the satchel. "Get some belongin's and let's get out."



"Again, what makes you think I'd go with you?"



Jack spun on the smith, poking him in the chest with a couple of forefingers. "Do you wan' hang at dawn? Be questioned 'til Doomsday?" He withdrew a bit, showing Will his slyest smile. "Or would ye rather jus' be left 'lone while e'eryone else 'eads out an' lives their lives, mate?" He hated to play on the loneliness he saw in the dark eyes, but knew it was his best weapon. Will's silence answered him. "Now c'mon, hop to, sailor!"



A pause. Then, "I have to take care of Jessy. She'll starve without me."



Jack rolled his eyes. "Norrington's an ass, but he'll see one o' his own kind is taken care of, least." Will's eyes narrowed, and Jack sighed. "Fine. You get your stuff, we'll stop by one place-" He paused to hold up a finger in emphasis, "one place so ye can tell someone t' feed 'er. Accord?"



Will nodded quickly and headed off to one side of the shop. He opened a couple of drawers, pulled out things while Jack waited, senses on alert for approaching footsteps. Glancing about the shop, he set the satchel down briefly to reach for a couple of daggers, which he immediately hid upon his person, and a newer sword, which he tucked into his belt to complement the one in his holster. "Come on, boy!"



Within moments, they were approaching the dock, Will having stopped to make a hasty detour to tack a briefly-scrawled note about Jessy to Mrs. Brown's door, with no explanation as to his own whereabouts. "Where's the Pearl?" Will asked his companion, scanning the harbor.



"Tucked behind th' rocks, right 'ere." Jack pointed off in the distance. "We'll 'ave to row out to 'er."



"Is that wise?"



"Not really, no," Jack admitted. "Which is why we gotta wait 'til nightfall to go. Jus' a couple hours 'way."



"But you made us leave the shop now!"



"I've a hidin' spot, don' ye worry." Jack flashed his most winsome gold grin.



Ten minutes later, the two men were standing below the dock, knee-deep in shady, cold seawater. "Tell me again this was a good thing?" Will gave the pirate his dirtiest look, shifting his own satchel.



"Now see, boy, that's th' kinda attitude that'll get ye t' be a pirate yet."