Title: What Jack Wants
Chapter 2 : Noble Pirates
Author: Korax
Email: akukorax@sbcglobal.net
Pairing: Jack/Will, mild Will/Elizabeth
Rating: PG for now
Summary: Jack always gets what he wants. . . well mostly.
Disclaimer: Damn the Mouse, he owns everything, and I own a piece of string and a futon.
Feedback: Yes please!
Notes: Here is the beautiful second chapter that took me over a week because I kept stopping and screaming, "Oh God, I suck!" But here it is in all its glory. The third chapter will have more action, just trying to cover back-story!
It was a good day for tea. The sun was shining high in the sky in the early afternoon, interrupted only by the occasional passing cloud. A soft breeze came in from the ocean, giving the hint of salt and spice. The ocean itself seemed to stretch into the horizon as if it went on forever. It was really a beautiful day, will thought, a perfect day, in fact.
Will Turner, excellent blacksmith and fiancée to Miss Elizabeth Swann, was utterly bored.
He'd been called to the manor earlier that day by a messenger who had told him that "Miss Swann requests your attendance for High Tea this afternoon at one o'clock," then promptly left the Smithy without a second glance. He'd actually been excited by the chance to see Elizabeth, the back orders having kept him extremely busy as of late, but when he arrived wearing his best attire he'd been sorely disappointed by the results.
So there he sat, in between Commodore Norrington and Elizabeth, dutifully sipping his tea and pretending to pay attention to what Governor Swann's guest were talking about. 'At least', he thought, 'Elizabeth is happy.' She had been very pleased when he had arrived; awarding him with a glowing smile, then, as all women of his acquaintance did, brushing him down as if he had just rolled in the dust. He supposed it came with working in a forge all day; he was doomed to be permanently sooty for the rest of his life. But Elizabeth really hadn't minded, she had just smiled again and brought him to the table where the good Commodore had glared daggers at him.
Elizabeth herself was currently involved in a conversation with a wealthy young merchant friend of her father's. Will wasn't quite sure what he thought of this, since the lad, only a few years senior to Will himself, had been desperately trying to impress Elizabeth throughout the whole afternoon. He had claimed, earlier, while Will was examining what he thought was possibly a sandwich with cucumbers in it, to have fought off three armed and dangerous pirates bare handed during his last voyage to Port Royal. Will had choked on the sandwich, and he felt Norrington, who had also been half listening to the conversation Elizabeth had been having, stiffen slightly in his seat. Elizabeth had just smiled indulgently and asked if the newest load of cotton that had just come in was still safe. 'She was amazing in that way, Will thought, able to easily steer a conversation from pirates to merchandise without the other person even realizing the subject had been changed.'
Pirates . . . Good Lord, had it really been two and a half months since that whole adventure? It hardly seemed real anymore, like an intricate and exciting dream that, when you wake, fades into a memory and real life reasserts itself. It all seemed so distant now, like it had never happened.
Except that it had. And it seemed that he was going to spend the rest of his life paying the price of that event.
When everything had finally died down from notorious Captain Jack Sparrow's escape from the gallows (assisted, as it were, by Will), people had started to see Will Turner a little differently than they had before. That is to say, they now finally saw him period, but not in the kind light that Will would have preferred. Before everything with the Black Pearl had happened Will had always been just Mr. Brown's, the Blacksmith's, young apprentice, as he'd been since he first set foot on Port Royal's docks. Governor Swann had been most adamant about getting young Will a home, or at the very least a bed. Mr. Brown hadn't needed much convincing once he'd seen the gold, and Will had stayed at the smithy since.
"Poor boy," he'd over heard an old lady telling her daughter once in the market, "No family ta speak of, no land nor capital, just spends all day working in tha shop, or prancing about waving a sword for hours at a time. 'Tain't right! Honestly, what's that lad up to I thinks to meself. And," she added in a stage whisper, having noticed that Will was paying attention, "people 'round 'ere says he's got his sights set on Miss Elizabeth, the Governor's daughter of all people! Well, if tha's not wishful thinkin', I tell you. He should just find himself a nice girl and settle down!"
It had annoyed him at the time. He'd thought that people should mind their own business about him and leave him to his work. He had desperately wanted to prove his worth to them, to make them all stop seeing him as the little boy that had been dragged from a burning wreckage and see him as. . . as . . . as something else, something strong and powerful. He had known even than that he was more then what they thought, and he had wanted the whole town to see it too. And he'd gotten his wish, in a way. The town now saw him and something very strong. So strong, in fact, that what they saw was a threat more then anything else.
He'd give anything to make the town see him as 'delusional young Will Turner' again, but since his return from Isla de Muerta Port Royal now considered him a wanted criminal, regardless of Commodore Norrington's views on the matter, which also weren't very nice. People on the streets wouldn't meet his eyes any more, nor would they greet him if not absolutely necessary. And even then the greetings were short, cold, and forced. The smithy wasn't being hurt per se, orders were still coming in the same manner as they always had, but there had been some "conversations" and "advice" given to Mr. Brown concerning his choice of apprentice. To the town, he was a pirate, one that wasn't doing anything at the moment, but still a pirate, so he was feared and hated for it.
It was only his great love for Elizabeth that kept him from throwing up his hands and giving up on Port Royal all together, but even so, it was starting become too much for him to take. The only people left who'd talk to him were Mr. Brown, who relied a great deal on Will's work in the smithy even though the town was still blind to it, Elizabeth, and her father.
At least Norrington still met him in the eye, though that was more of a challenge in that respect. Hell, he'd take Barbossa and undead pirates any day to the silence that had met him in the local tavern when he'd stopped by for a meal and a drink last night. Mr. Thatcher had refused to serve him, and though his elderly mother, Widow Thatcher, had pulled him aside and given him a small bottle of gin and a loaf of bread for the trouble her son had caused him, it was only a small condolence that no one had tried to attack him that night. It was times like that he missed Jack.
Jack Sparrow. There was a name that he'd thought of quite often as of late. He'd found himself missing the oddball pirate more and more as time went on, and things got worse. Thinking of his smiles, laugh, the way he swaggered through life with the surety that everything would right it's self eventually, given that the opportune moment presented itself when it was needed.
He'd miss Jack most when his new reality had, again, managed to depress him. He would think of Jack to amuse himself. Jack, in all probability, would find Will's situation laughable at best, and probably tell Will to get a good strong drink to drown his worries in. Jack would probably figure out a way to clear up the whole mess if he wanted too, woo the town to his whims like he did everything else. Will often wished he could see Jack again, if only for a little while. He'd often found himself wishing that he'd jumped after Captain Jack on the ledge that day and escaped this life he now lived.
He'd had two directions in his life to choose from, and he'd chosen Elizabeth. He'd never regret that choice, ever, for Elizabeth was everything he'd ever dreamed for and more. But considering what the town now thought of him, running off to be a pirate was very tempting.
'Jack would probably understand me,' he thought sipping his lukewarm tea. Elizabeth was in a three way conversation with the young merchant and her father, 'Jack would probably even try to make me feel better about the whole situation. Though all things considered, it'd involve some form of rum.' He sighed mentally, 'Who'd have thought that tea with Elizabeth would be so dull, she could at least talk to me.'
Will let his gaze drift out over the balcony where they sat and to the waves down below the cliffs. He'd been watching the waves quite a lot as of late as well, staring for hours, waiting, not really looking, but alert nonetheless. The sea and Jack, thinking of one always lead to the other. Jack was very much like the sea, he'd decided a while ago. Always moving, exotic, tricky, and alluring in strange unfathomable way. Will often wondered if Jack himself had popped out of the sea one day, ship and all, and just started pillaging for the fun of it.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Elizabeth glance at him then follow his gaze to the ocean, with a knowing glimmer in her eye. The first few times he'd done this she'd been upset, annoyed that he was ignoring her. But the third time she had stayed quite, watching the waves with him, a considering look on her face. There was something else in her gaze though; something that Will knew was different from his. There was an understanding there, as well as a longing, and not for the first time Will wondered how their adventure with Captain Jack Sparrow had affected her as well as himself.
Elizabeth turned to him again, standing up. "Will darling, would you care for a walk on the beach? After all, it's a lovely day, wouldn't want to waste it by sitting here all day." She smiled as she said this, her eyes lighting up with happiness, but also something else that he didn't quite recognize. Will was speechless for only a moment, but then smiled back and nodded.
"Yes, I'd like that very much," he said, standing up as well and taking Elizabeth's arm in his. As he turned he failed to notice dark eyes glaring hatred at him as he left with Elizabeth through the balcony doors.
~~~~~
She considered the form of Jack Sparrow as he silently watched his crew celebrate the new booty they had gained off a merchant ship. It had been an easy battle, hardly an effort to take what they had wanted from the vessel, but the crew still looked for anything to celebrate over. It had helped that the Pearl's reputation was still very large around ports these days.
But something wasn't right.
'Something is up with the captain,' Anamaria thought as she looked up at him from the stairway, 'he's not right today. Well, more not right then normal anyway.' She walked up the stairs and stood next to him, a polite distance away (that being just out of arms reach, never be too sure). "Anything wrong, captain?" she said eyeing him as he stared into his compass, shifting it this way and that.
Jack Sparrow looked up at her with an unreadable expression. He blinked once, then shook himself, and seemed to return to reality. "Ready sail and weigh anchor, we're heading back to Port Royal," he commanded and took his place at the helm.
If Anamaria found this strange, she chose to make no comment as she bellowed orders to the crew.
Chapter 2 : Noble Pirates
Author: Korax
Email: akukorax@sbcglobal.net
Pairing: Jack/Will, mild Will/Elizabeth
Rating: PG for now
Summary: Jack always gets what he wants. . . well mostly.
Disclaimer: Damn the Mouse, he owns everything, and I own a piece of string and a futon.
Feedback: Yes please!
Notes: Here is the beautiful second chapter that took me over a week because I kept stopping and screaming, "Oh God, I suck!" But here it is in all its glory. The third chapter will have more action, just trying to cover back-story!
It was a good day for tea. The sun was shining high in the sky in the early afternoon, interrupted only by the occasional passing cloud. A soft breeze came in from the ocean, giving the hint of salt and spice. The ocean itself seemed to stretch into the horizon as if it went on forever. It was really a beautiful day, will thought, a perfect day, in fact.
Will Turner, excellent blacksmith and fiancée to Miss Elizabeth Swann, was utterly bored.
He'd been called to the manor earlier that day by a messenger who had told him that "Miss Swann requests your attendance for High Tea this afternoon at one o'clock," then promptly left the Smithy without a second glance. He'd actually been excited by the chance to see Elizabeth, the back orders having kept him extremely busy as of late, but when he arrived wearing his best attire he'd been sorely disappointed by the results.
So there he sat, in between Commodore Norrington and Elizabeth, dutifully sipping his tea and pretending to pay attention to what Governor Swann's guest were talking about. 'At least', he thought, 'Elizabeth is happy.' She had been very pleased when he had arrived; awarding him with a glowing smile, then, as all women of his acquaintance did, brushing him down as if he had just rolled in the dust. He supposed it came with working in a forge all day; he was doomed to be permanently sooty for the rest of his life. But Elizabeth really hadn't minded, she had just smiled again and brought him to the table where the good Commodore had glared daggers at him.
Elizabeth herself was currently involved in a conversation with a wealthy young merchant friend of her father's. Will wasn't quite sure what he thought of this, since the lad, only a few years senior to Will himself, had been desperately trying to impress Elizabeth throughout the whole afternoon. He had claimed, earlier, while Will was examining what he thought was possibly a sandwich with cucumbers in it, to have fought off three armed and dangerous pirates bare handed during his last voyage to Port Royal. Will had choked on the sandwich, and he felt Norrington, who had also been half listening to the conversation Elizabeth had been having, stiffen slightly in his seat. Elizabeth had just smiled indulgently and asked if the newest load of cotton that had just come in was still safe. 'She was amazing in that way, Will thought, able to easily steer a conversation from pirates to merchandise without the other person even realizing the subject had been changed.'
Pirates . . . Good Lord, had it really been two and a half months since that whole adventure? It hardly seemed real anymore, like an intricate and exciting dream that, when you wake, fades into a memory and real life reasserts itself. It all seemed so distant now, like it had never happened.
Except that it had. And it seemed that he was going to spend the rest of his life paying the price of that event.
When everything had finally died down from notorious Captain Jack Sparrow's escape from the gallows (assisted, as it were, by Will), people had started to see Will Turner a little differently than they had before. That is to say, they now finally saw him period, but not in the kind light that Will would have preferred. Before everything with the Black Pearl had happened Will had always been just Mr. Brown's, the Blacksmith's, young apprentice, as he'd been since he first set foot on Port Royal's docks. Governor Swann had been most adamant about getting young Will a home, or at the very least a bed. Mr. Brown hadn't needed much convincing once he'd seen the gold, and Will had stayed at the smithy since.
"Poor boy," he'd over heard an old lady telling her daughter once in the market, "No family ta speak of, no land nor capital, just spends all day working in tha shop, or prancing about waving a sword for hours at a time. 'Tain't right! Honestly, what's that lad up to I thinks to meself. And," she added in a stage whisper, having noticed that Will was paying attention, "people 'round 'ere says he's got his sights set on Miss Elizabeth, the Governor's daughter of all people! Well, if tha's not wishful thinkin', I tell you. He should just find himself a nice girl and settle down!"
It had annoyed him at the time. He'd thought that people should mind their own business about him and leave him to his work. He had desperately wanted to prove his worth to them, to make them all stop seeing him as the little boy that had been dragged from a burning wreckage and see him as. . . as . . . as something else, something strong and powerful. He had known even than that he was more then what they thought, and he had wanted the whole town to see it too. And he'd gotten his wish, in a way. The town now saw him and something very strong. So strong, in fact, that what they saw was a threat more then anything else.
He'd give anything to make the town see him as 'delusional young Will Turner' again, but since his return from Isla de Muerta Port Royal now considered him a wanted criminal, regardless of Commodore Norrington's views on the matter, which also weren't very nice. People on the streets wouldn't meet his eyes any more, nor would they greet him if not absolutely necessary. And even then the greetings were short, cold, and forced. The smithy wasn't being hurt per se, orders were still coming in the same manner as they always had, but there had been some "conversations" and "advice" given to Mr. Brown concerning his choice of apprentice. To the town, he was a pirate, one that wasn't doing anything at the moment, but still a pirate, so he was feared and hated for it.
It was only his great love for Elizabeth that kept him from throwing up his hands and giving up on Port Royal all together, but even so, it was starting become too much for him to take. The only people left who'd talk to him were Mr. Brown, who relied a great deal on Will's work in the smithy even though the town was still blind to it, Elizabeth, and her father.
At least Norrington still met him in the eye, though that was more of a challenge in that respect. Hell, he'd take Barbossa and undead pirates any day to the silence that had met him in the local tavern when he'd stopped by for a meal and a drink last night. Mr. Thatcher had refused to serve him, and though his elderly mother, Widow Thatcher, had pulled him aside and given him a small bottle of gin and a loaf of bread for the trouble her son had caused him, it was only a small condolence that no one had tried to attack him that night. It was times like that he missed Jack.
Jack Sparrow. There was a name that he'd thought of quite often as of late. He'd found himself missing the oddball pirate more and more as time went on, and things got worse. Thinking of his smiles, laugh, the way he swaggered through life with the surety that everything would right it's self eventually, given that the opportune moment presented itself when it was needed.
He'd miss Jack most when his new reality had, again, managed to depress him. He would think of Jack to amuse himself. Jack, in all probability, would find Will's situation laughable at best, and probably tell Will to get a good strong drink to drown his worries in. Jack would probably figure out a way to clear up the whole mess if he wanted too, woo the town to his whims like he did everything else. Will often wished he could see Jack again, if only for a little while. He'd often found himself wishing that he'd jumped after Captain Jack on the ledge that day and escaped this life he now lived.
He'd had two directions in his life to choose from, and he'd chosen Elizabeth. He'd never regret that choice, ever, for Elizabeth was everything he'd ever dreamed for and more. But considering what the town now thought of him, running off to be a pirate was very tempting.
'Jack would probably understand me,' he thought sipping his lukewarm tea. Elizabeth was in a three way conversation with the young merchant and her father, 'Jack would probably even try to make me feel better about the whole situation. Though all things considered, it'd involve some form of rum.' He sighed mentally, 'Who'd have thought that tea with Elizabeth would be so dull, she could at least talk to me.'
Will let his gaze drift out over the balcony where they sat and to the waves down below the cliffs. He'd been watching the waves quite a lot as of late as well, staring for hours, waiting, not really looking, but alert nonetheless. The sea and Jack, thinking of one always lead to the other. Jack was very much like the sea, he'd decided a while ago. Always moving, exotic, tricky, and alluring in strange unfathomable way. Will often wondered if Jack himself had popped out of the sea one day, ship and all, and just started pillaging for the fun of it.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Elizabeth glance at him then follow his gaze to the ocean, with a knowing glimmer in her eye. The first few times he'd done this she'd been upset, annoyed that he was ignoring her. But the third time she had stayed quite, watching the waves with him, a considering look on her face. There was something else in her gaze though; something that Will knew was different from his. There was an understanding there, as well as a longing, and not for the first time Will wondered how their adventure with Captain Jack Sparrow had affected her as well as himself.
Elizabeth turned to him again, standing up. "Will darling, would you care for a walk on the beach? After all, it's a lovely day, wouldn't want to waste it by sitting here all day." She smiled as she said this, her eyes lighting up with happiness, but also something else that he didn't quite recognize. Will was speechless for only a moment, but then smiled back and nodded.
"Yes, I'd like that very much," he said, standing up as well and taking Elizabeth's arm in his. As he turned he failed to notice dark eyes glaring hatred at him as he left with Elizabeth through the balcony doors.
~~~~~
She considered the form of Jack Sparrow as he silently watched his crew celebrate the new booty they had gained off a merchant ship. It had been an easy battle, hardly an effort to take what they had wanted from the vessel, but the crew still looked for anything to celebrate over. It had helped that the Pearl's reputation was still very large around ports these days.
But something wasn't right.
'Something is up with the captain,' Anamaria thought as she looked up at him from the stairway, 'he's not right today. Well, more not right then normal anyway.' She walked up the stairs and stood next to him, a polite distance away (that being just out of arms reach, never be too sure). "Anything wrong, captain?" she said eyeing him as he stared into his compass, shifting it this way and that.
Jack Sparrow looked up at her with an unreadable expression. He blinked once, then shook himself, and seemed to return to reality. "Ready sail and weigh anchor, we're heading back to Port Royal," he commanded and took his place at the helm.
If Anamaria found this strange, she chose to make no comment as she bellowed orders to the crew.
