I'm Sorry.
Jack creaked his eyes open, and shut them again as the sunlight stung straight into his head. His limbs felt heavy. He sat up groggily. Memories flashed across his hung-over mind and he smiled to himself.
Ah, the rum. That explains why his head was all fuzzy and he couldn't remember all that had happened the previous night. He had somehow managed to make his way back to the Pearl and collapse in an undignified heap in his quarters. He didn't trust any man alive nowadays. Not with his Pearl at least. Except William. And Bootstrap, if he wasn't dead.
He had tried to give it up. The rum, that is. His little William wasn't too fond of it. He had been doing quite well, had dropped down to a bottle a day instead of the usual seven. Obviously he had had a little too much the night afore and had gotten overly drunk, judging from the headache that was booming through his head.
Shaking his head, to rid himself of the echoing bells, the pirate attempted to scramble out of the bed. Fighting with the blanket, he managed to tangle himself up and end up on a heap in the middle of the floor, causing a loud 'thump'. Cursing vehemently, he sat up, and realised that he was alone. Half glad that he was by himself (and that no-one had seen him descend gracefully out of bed) the other half was wondering where the whelp was, whilst another half was getting rather hungry.
Deciding that he had best tackle his impending hunger before starting his search for Will, he donned his usual pirate gear, grabbed a half empty bottle of rum off the side table, and made his grand entrance outside.
His crew were all loyal to him. They could be easily replaced with others if they weren't, and he made sure they knew it. They were privileged to stay on his ship. On his Pearl, his first love. They loved the life they had here. On the open sea, with him as their captain and the Pearl as their ship, they had nothing to fear. No-one with any sense dared approach them, unless it be some band of amateur pirates who wanted to make a reputation of themselves by taking on the 'Famous Captain Jack Sparrow and the Crew of the Black Pearl.' It usually ended in disaster. For the others of course, since the Pearl was uncatchable and unbeatable.
Which is why Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't quite expecting the slap that found itself across his face. He wasn't sure if he deserved it either.
Opening his eyes and gingerly touching his cheek, he stared down at his lovely first mate, Anamaria.
"Whassat for?" he demanded grumpily. His stomach was starting to hurt now, what with the lack of food in it and all.
The woman turned on her heel and strode off, in those boots that were too big for her.
Shrugging his shoulders, the captain made his way down to the galley, descending down the steps, swaying slightly. Emerging a short while later, awake and fed, and with arms full of rum bottles. the captain discovered Gibbs chewing tobacco near the side of the ship, looking over the port of Tortuga with a rueful expression on his face.
"Allo Gibbs. Seen William anywheres?" Jack asked jovially. His long time friend turned around and leant up against the wooden side of the Pearl. A smile greeted him, and a nod upwards.
"Last I seen young Will, he were up in the nest. The lad didn' seem to happy wi' himself neither. Prob'ly had a rough night." The older pirate mused, chuckling knowledgably. Jack nodded and laughed. It was just like Will, to close himself in a small space when he was upset or annoyed.
And if he had had a bad night (or might have been good- depended on the viewpoint, Jack thought) then the lad would almost definitely be hidden away, probably embarrassed that he had made a fool of himself. The lad still had a long way to go before he could call himself a true pirate. Even if the blood was in his veins (and here Jack tipped his hat to old Bootstrap) and he was capable of getting through fights in one piece, the whelp still had that annoying sense of honesty attached to him. And no pirate was truly honest. Except maybe Bootstrap.
Jack swirled the last of his rum around the bottle and cradled it thoughtfully. Maybe honesty ran in the Turner family. And the ability to do stupid things at the inopportune moments.
Looking up, the captain realised that Gibbs had gone. As had the stash of rum he had brought up with him.
"Bloody pirates." He laughed, throwing his head back. Leaning his elbows on the side of the ship, he peered up at the nest above him. If Gibbs was right, then Will was up there, but if he were wrong, then he'd have made a complete fool out of himself attempting to climb up there in the first place. Jack Sparrow wasn't known for his rigging climbing skills.
"An it's a good job an' all." He exclaimed to himself. After a few more moments, however he realised that he was Captain Jack Sparrow. And no-one would dare laugh at him. With that thought in his mind, he began to ascend to the top of the rope ladder.
Casting a glance around to make sure there was nobody else around wouldn't hurt either.
After much panting and climbing and realising-he-wasn't-as-young-as-he-used-to-be, Jack finally perched on top of the nest.
Quite pleased with himself, he prepared to have a toast to celebrate his newfound talent. Then he realised that he had left his last bottle of rum at the bottom. Cursing, and not wanting to return back down the torturous rope slide, the pirate decided to make do with what he had.
Hoping with all his weasly black heart that Will was indeed up there, and he was not wasting his time, Jack turned around and manoeuvred his way onto the wood. Ah, there was his little William. Curled up, facing away from him. From the fact that he hadn't turned around at the sound of Jack approaching, he was presumably asleep.
Jack crept up behind him and knelt down gently.
"Go away Jack." The youth whispered. He sounded tired, and there was a strange lisp in his voice. Concerned for his young lover, he pulled Will towards him, rolling him onto his back. What met his eyes astounded him.
Will's face was horribly bruised and battered. And from the way Will whimpered against his hands, Jack was willing to bet that his wounds extended to the rest of his body. The pirate's eyes narrowed as he took in a gash that stretched from Will's temple to his cheek. It looked quite deep and would need cleaning before it healed over. The lad's eyes were full of a strange emotion that Jack could barely recall. He let out a strangled yelp before squirming out of Jack's arms onto the other side of the small space.
"I swear Will…" Jack whispered, his voice that full of shock that he couldn't speak. Will backed away from him as far as he could. Jack frowned. The whelp must be delusional, he concluded. He clambered over to him and as he reached him, the lad shuddered and fell into a dead faint.
Will had been terrified and beaten, and Jack was going to make the person responsible pay for it.
Or his name wasn't Captain Jack Sparrow.