Title: What Jack Wants

Chapter: 4: A Pirate?

Author: Korax

blog: http://maboroshi_korax.livejournal.com/

Rating: PG for now, R to NC-17 later

Pairing: Jack/Will, Will/Elizabeth (And lots of it in this part, believe me, you could gag on the het, but hey, it's gotta happen)

Summary: Norrington can't have a moment's peace and everyone just ends up talking for a while. Important things are said.

Disclaimer: Damn the Mouse, he owns everything, and I own a piece of string and a futon.

Archive: Sure, if you want. Just tell me first. Permission given previously still holds, you need not ask if I've already said yes.

AN: I am sooo sorry this took me forever! Sickness and college sucked up most, if not all my time. Special thanks go to superhero_chica and The Mad Fangirl, for support and awesome betaing. More Jack in the next part and finally, the plot kicks up! Believe me, I'll have the fifth part out far sooner then I got the fourth, I promise!

The sun shone brightly at high noon. Waves crashed continuously against the rocks under the battlements. Commodore James Norrington stood looking out over the sea into the far horizon. He'd been there for some time, but it was often his habit to meditate on the balcony overlooking the cliffs. The soldiers mostly left him to it, after all, a happy commanding officer usually meant less people getting yelled at, and thus it was a good thing. The wind rustled the large feather in Norrington's hat and he breathed in the fresh salty air.

It had been a little over two weeks since he'd given up pursuit of the Black Pearl. The Dauntless was by far the stronger of the two ships, but it seemed the Pearl was just too fast for this to mean anything. Every time that Norrington had thought that he'd had Sparrow cornered, a wind would kick up and then suddenly, it seemed, the Pearl was a good two miles off from where it had just been. It was exasperating to say the least.

Norrington heaved a great sigh, mostly of suppressed irritation, and turned to leave, nearly colliding with a very solid body that he was sure hadn't been there a moment ago. Startled, he backed up quickly, apologizing profusely. "I am terribly sorry. I did not see you there. Please excuse me," he said, gaining his composer and taking a quick assessment of the person him front of him, "sir."

"Ah, it is not a problem at all. My fault really, I have a terrible habit of sneaking up on people like that I'm afraid. So sorry to have startled you," the stranger said quickly, smiling shyly.

Norrington stared bemusedly at the stranger. He was a nobleman of high class yet probably not anyone of any considerable power (Governor Swann would have alerted him if anyone of any importance was coming to Port Royal). The man was wearing a burgundy coat and navy blue breeches. His face was quite younger and his dark brown hair was pulled back into the ever-proper low ponytail that Norrington himself had worn in the past. "I beg your pardon Mr. . . ," he left the end hanging as he tried to place the stranger's face. He looked a bit familiar, though no name was presenting itself immediately.

The stranger blinked, frowning a little, then smiled again. "Oh yes. I do apologize. I believe that introductions are in order. I am Walter Jenkins, a guest at Governor Swann's mansion. And I, of course, already know who you are, Commodore Norrington."

"Ah," said Norrington, name and face slamming together in recollection, "you're Governor Swann's merchant friend from London. You were at the high tea a few weeks ago, weren't you?"

"Ah, actually I'm the son. My father, Oscar Jenkins, is a good friend of Governor Swann. My father sent me to the Caribbean to discuss some trade agreements with Port Royal," Jenkins said, beaming. "I'm very glad you remember me from the tea sir. I'm quite honored to be here, as I am new at my father's business. I hope to make him proud, but I must confess I am quite nervous. I'm very thankful for the Governor's hospitality." The young man was very jumpy, thought Norrington. Actually, it seemed that the merchant's son was simply unable to sit still at all, constantly fidgeting and looking about himself, as if he wanted to look at everything around him all at one. Norrington was feeling very old and sluggish just from watching him.

"Well I wish you luck on your venture. I congratulate and hope for your father's further success in his business." Norrington said stepping off the battlements towards the main part of the fort's courtyard.

"I thank you, sir!" Jenkins called trailing after him. Norrington stifled a sigh of annoyance and bit back a very distasteful comment. Truly, he did not want to deal with a companion right now. He /wanted/ to go into his office and have a bit of brandy and perhaps pretend that there were not matters that needed his immediate attention. 'Well, if I'm doomed to have company for the moment, it can't hurt to be polite,' he scolded himself.

"Are you enjoying you stay in Port Royal?" Norrington asked, mentally searching for conversational material. 'Really,' he thought, 'I am wretched at small talk.'

"Oh yes! Governor Swann and his lovely daughter have been most kind. Port Royal should be truly proud to have such a kind and wise man governing it," Jenkins said enthusiastically. Norrington felt his eyebrows crawl into his wig, and he bit the side of his cheek to prevent a smile. Though kind and wise the Governor often was, hearing such a comment come out of this boy was almost comical. There was a pause while Norrington chose to compose himself. "It's hard to imagine that the town was overrun by pirates not too long ago."

Norrington's amusement turned cold in an instant, and he turned away quickly to hide his wince. That attack and the events directly following it were still a very sore spot in his mind. To be made to look the fool by "Captain" Jack Sparrow, not once, but twice, and in front of his men, was something Norrington was never going to forgive.

"Yes, I'm sure it is, though I doubt our people will ever forget." Norrington muttered.

"Miss Swann was kidnapped, I was told. That must have been terrible for her. Thank god she is safe." Jenkins's voice took on a tone of determination. Norrington turned back to him, curious, but Jenkins went on. "You, of course, lead the rescue party that saved her no doubt." His eyes stared unblinkingly at Norrington, and he noticed that the boy had stopped moving and was standing straight, almost rigid, before him.

Norrington chose his words carefully, "Yes. I lead the Dauntless in a search for the Black Pearl and later played a part in and oversaw the capture of its crew."

"I see," Jenkins muttered darkly, a contemplating look crossing his face. He blinked and shook his head, focusing back on Norrington. "Ah, yes. Well done. The pirates are imprisoned in England now, are they not? Awaiting trial."

"Yes. There were quiet a few of them, and several charges on each. We thought it best if we relocated them to England to be tried and sentenced there. Most of our facilities are not finished with repairs." Norrington had quick flash of the pile of paperwork sitting on his desk; repairs for the jails and the gallows and the pressing need to get many new recruits being just a few of the many problems that Sparrow left in his wake. Norrington grit his teeth.

He studied Jenkins again. The boy had gone back to twitching and fidgeting, but his eyes remained on the Commodore. "You seem quite knowledgeable about the event, sir."

Jenkins looked worried. "Ah, yes, well . . . I do try to keep up with the news and history of the places I visit. Especially news concerning pirates in areas my father is interested in. I'm grateful to the Royal Navy for working so hard to keep ships like my father's safe from attacks." He flashed a smile. "Kidnapped by pirates, such a terrible ordeal. Though Miss. Swann seems happy enough." Jenkins looked thoughtful. "A fine lady like her surrounded by scoundrels, it must have been terrible for her. Thank god she was saved," he said, the determined look smoothly shifting back into his expression.

Norrington took a good look at the boy before him. 'A terrible ordeal indeed,' he thought with amusement, 'I sincerely doubt that, terrible and frightening as it was, Miss Swann was all that permanently damaged from her experience aboard the Black Pearl. She's a strong, if rash, young woman. She is not the kind that would tremble in fear, nor faint. It is more likely she would beat a man over the head with a big stick if given the choice and means.' Norrington allowed himself a small smirk. As much as he had accepted her decision to go to Turner, he still felt a strong respect for the woman who was so nearly his wife.

"If I may say so, sir, I believe that you've taken quite a liking to the young Miss Swann," Norrington lightly accused, watching the faint flush cut across the younger man's face.

"She is. . . uh, she is quite a charming girl, yes," he stated slowly, looking anywhere but at the Commodore. "I've heard rumor that you also, at one time, had, um, feelings for Miss Swann. Your sights set on marriage?"

Norrington felt his eye twitch in annoyance. He rarely liked his personal affairs to become public. 'Who is this boy?' He seethed, inwardly, but answered anyway, "That is true. I proposed to her the day the pirates attacked this port." Turning away he strode through the courtyard, past the place where the gallows usually was located -it was under repair and had been moved for the time being. As they neared the actual building of the fort, Jenkins jogged to keep up with his long strides. Norrington idly noticed that he was nearly a head taller then the boy.

"I apologize sir, but I feel that there must be more to this story. If /you/ proposed to her, why is she engaged-," Norrington was surprised, he'd never heard a word uttered with such disdain, and in his line of work he'd heard many a foul word, "to that . . .to," Jenkins stopped as if unsure of the proper word to use.

"To Mr. William Turner? The blacksmith?" Norrington asked, already knowing it to be the answer, but curious nonetheless. He halted a few feet from the main building of the fort, near the carriage exit.

"Yes," Jenkins frowned, "I met him at the tea. Very low class man. Dirty. I cannot understand how an engagement could have come about."

"It was her own choice," Norrington frowned. This conversation was fast approaching territory in which he would rather not dwell.

"Her own . . .? Excuse me Commodore, but are you telling me that she turned down your offer to . . . elope with a /blacksmith/?" The sheer disbelief in his voice proved to Norrington that, though he'd taken a fancy to Miss. Elizabeth, he didn't even have the foggiest idea of whom she really was.

"Yes," Norrington answered stiffly.

"And you just accepted it?"

"Yes, I have no right to do otherwise."

"And her father allows this?"

"Governor Swann as been known to dote on his daughter's whims, and he wouldn't purposely ban her from something he knows makes her happy. So in a word, yes, he allows it."

The atmosphere was enough to sharpen a dagger, if not outright wound.

"He is below her station!" Jenkins was starting to sound desperate.

"Very well spotted," Norrington said sarcastically. He saw that the boy wanted to say something else, "Tell me, Mr. Jenkins, is there a point to this line of questioning?" A surprised look quickly stole over the boy's face.

"Commodore, the man is a pirate!" Jenkins said severely, almost as if he was scolding the Commodore for not seeing it before.

Norrington blinked. "I assure you, Mr. Jenkins," he said evenly, "that Mr. Turner is no more a pirate then I am." He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from adding 'but he is in great danger of becoming one.'

Jenkins look at the Commodore in disbelief. "That's not what the townspeople have told me." He seemed to read Norrington's look of shock. "I told you, when I was invited here to Port Royal I took the liberty of looking into the history of the town. When I discovered that this port was so recently attacked by pirates I become suspicious."

Norrington remain silent, glaring openly. There were a variety of warning signals firing off in his brain, as well as some very colorful language that he would dearly love to introduce to the younger man. He'd been around sailors his whole life, and being an officer did not mean that he could not curse a man so well that even the most experienced whore would blush. "Do you doubt the Navy's ability to keep Port Royal safe, sir?" Norrington said, just managing to stifle the anger in his voice.

Jenkins surveyed him evenly, the turned to take a few paces away. "It is my duty to make sure that my father's ships are safe wherever they go. I always investigate trading ports that may or may not be safe for the ships. I sent a few people here a month ago, to learn all they could about the attack." Jenkins turned to Norrington, who looked thunderous. "They told me some very interesting things Commodore."

"Such as?" Norrington inquired, voice strained and harsh.

"It seems that just after the attack, when Miss Swann was in the hands of the pirates of the, ah, Black Pearl I believe it was, Mr. Turner not only broke a known and convicted pirate, Jack Sparrow," he gave a sly smile and Norrington flinched at the name, "out of your jail, but also stole your fastest ship right out from under your nose." He seems to positively glow with pleasure at Norrington's fast failing rein on his anger. "I see I have hit a rather sore spot I suppose, Commodore, I apologize."

'Apologize indeed.' Norrington thought. "That, sir, is none of your concern." Norrington was far beyond caring about the open distain in his voice. It was bad enough to be out matched by /Captain/ Jack Sparrow, but to be lectured on his ability to protect Port Royal was just too much for him to bear calmly. "For someone who has studied so thoroughly what has happened, you should know that Mr. Turner was granted clemency for his actions due to their intent, rash as they were. Mr. Turner freed Captain Sparrow so that the pirate could lead him in his attempt to rescue Miss Swann."

"Ahh, yes, so it would seem. And you believed him then?" Jenkins said and studied the Commodore intently to see his reaction. Norrington, however, had gotten a good hold on himself, and had re-gathered his composure.

"Of course! His actions during the event proved his intent."

"Really?" Jenkins said with mock surprise. "But is it not true that he did, in fact, assist Jack Sparrow in escaping from you a second time? He would have been breaking the law again, would he not? And now," he narrowed his eyes and stood straighter giving the Commodore a dark look, " Mr. Turner is engaged to a lady of high standing in the town. I hope you understand my confusion as to why this man is still able to walk free."

"Mr. Turner is indeed a very rash man. He acts according to his own personal beliefs, rather than considering either the law or, for that matter, the common good. While I disapprove of his actions, and his sudden promotion to a far higher class then he deserves, I still hold that Mr. Turner is not yet a pirate, nor will he ever be a pirate once he marries Miss Elizabeth Swann." 'Flights of fancy aside, the last place she's going to want to be again is on another pirate ship. Even she knows the difference between romantic, dashing rouges from books, and the real, dirty scoundrels that are truly pirates. She has her dashing hero, and hopefully she'll keep him out of trouble.' Something occurred to Norrington just then, "As I recall Mr. Jenkins, Miss Elizabeth herself also assisted in Captain Sparrow's escape from the gallows." Norrington silently rejoiced at the twitch that developed under the boy's left eye.

"Ah . . . so I had heard," Jenkins stated evenly, if slightly unsurely. "She must have had her reasons no doubt." Norrington made a slight scoffing noise, and it was Jenkins' turn to glare. "I have also heard news that you had been gone a month in pursuit of Jack Sparrow before you received orders to return to Port Royal. It seems the navy here isn't as accomplished as one might wish to believe."

The silence stretched tight between then them. Norrington decided that this boy was someone who merited some attention, who definitely needed to be watched for the remainder of his stay. He was sly, and far too good at finding things out. He had a particular look about him, the look of someone who was confident that they had gained the upper hand in at something. He'd often seen the same look on officers competing for promotion, but more often had he seen it on the faces of wanted men right before they either got away or made some horrible mistake and were dragged screaming to the cells. The last person who had worn such an expression in his presence was Jack Sparrow, on the quarterdeck of his ship as the Pearl made another a fast escape from the Dauntless. He'd been quite far off, but Norrington had known that cocky grin was present on his face. Norrington clenched his teeth at the memory. He and Jenkins stared at each other in an unspoken battle of wits, daring the other to break concentration and prove their weakness.

"Sir!" Both men jumped as Murtogg came jogging up behind them. Jenkins sniffed and turned away.

"I see that you are busy, Commodore. I will take my leave of you. Thank you for your time, sir," Jenkins gave a slight bow and left the courtyard, giving Murtogg a disdainful look. Murtogg, for his part, look bewildered. Norrington watch the boy go until he could no longer be seen from the fort's courtyard. He turned quickly. Barely giving Murtogg a glace strode past him toward the main building with a clipped "I'll be in my office" called over his shoulder.

"But sir!" Murtogg called, and then flinched as the door slammed in his face. He stared at the door and then back in the direction in which the young gentleman had left. Murtogg shrugged and returned to his post.

****

"A pirate?" Elizabeth asked, lifting her finger to her lips in concentration. She was perched in one of the highly fashionable, yet incredibly uncomfortable chairs that decorated the sitting room of Swann Manor. Will stood by the fireplace. His two bags of belongings had been stashed when he had arrived in a coat closet for safe keeping while he spoke with the lady of the house.

"That's what he said. I mean," Will stuttered, looking uncomfortable in the highly furnished room, "I know that people have been talking since everything with . . . with the Black Pearl happened." Elizabeth noted that he seemed a bit reluctant to say the name of the ship that had so changed his life. Well, both their lives, really. She smiled sweetly up at him.

Will had arrived around mid-afternoon, unannounced and in common clothes. Elizabeth hadn't minded really, she was always glad to see him and didn't much care how he dressed, but she had been surprised. Will was known to be rash and, as Jack told her in the first few hours of drunkenness on the island, do stupid things, but he never called on her without an invitation, or without telling her a day prior at the very least.

"So that is that? The forge is sold and Mr. Brown is gone?" she asked imploringly.

Will nodded and turned to stare directly into the fireplace. "Yes."

"He never gave any warning? Did he even hint at what he might-"

"No, he did nothing. He told me for the first time last night, and even then he seemed reluctant to actually do it." He paused and sighed, "I feel so guilty. Drunken old man or not, that smithy was his home, his life. If only I had . . . if I had not gone and . . . if only Ja-" he stopped and look uncomfortable.

Elizabeth stared at him in slight wonder. "Jack Sparrow? If only you had not gotten Captain Jack Sparrow involved?" 'Why will he not say the name?' Will flushed and look away nodding. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"You regret it?" she prompted.

Will hesitated, then finally nodded. Elizabeth was skeptical though. 'He cannot regret the /whole/ thing. Better fine tune the questions.'

"Do you regret doing it, or just the results of the event?" she said intently watching for his reaction.

Will blinked. "I . . ." he paused. "I do not regret saving you or Jack," he said heavily, "but honestly, I wonder if there had been another way to do it. If I hadn't needed to get Jack involved at all. And then I wonder if it would have turned out the same, would I still be here, sitting with you, or would you be elsewhere, or worse. The more I think about it, the more I realize that," he looked to the ground, at his dirty shoes slowly scuffing up the Manor's beautiful carpets, "there was no other way. If I hadn't gotten Jack out of jail, I would not have been able to find you." He turned back to face her, a sad look on his face, "So all I can do is suffer the consequences of my choices, though I do not entirely regret them."

"But you did it so nothing would happen to me Will, that has to count for something with the townspeople."

"It doesn't excuse what I did, Elizabeth," he said calmly, "I broke the law, fair and square. I broke a wanted man out of prison, commandeered a ship from the Royal Navy, and gathered a pirate crew in Tortuga. Then when we got back to port I aided in the escape of the /same/ wanted man right on his execution date. The only thing I haven't done yet is pillage! And on top of it all, I've gotten away with it. To the people of Port Royal I am," he looked confused, as if remembering something someone had once said to him, " . . . a pirate." He finished, and looked down. "Or well on my way to becoming one."

Elizabeth peered up at him. "Father granted you clemency, twice."

"Oh blast the clemency, it's not as if it really means anything to them," he yelled. He gasped and looked away, ashamed of himself. "I . . . apologize. I did not mean what I said."

'Yes, yes you did, but you are ashamed to tell me so.' Elizabeth thought to herself. The silence stretched uncomfortably. Elizabeth studied his profile, she'd become very good at it growing up. She had not been able to speak with or see young Will Turner that often, but when she had, he had always remained silent, never saying a word. She had gotten in the habit of studying his face on these occasions, to see what he might be feeling or thinking about what the "grown-ups" were talking about. It had become more a habit then anything else, useful as it was. He was distracted again, seeming to stare off at some point beyond her. She pushed down her annoyance, as she had been doing for weeks. "Do you think you are a pirate Will Turner?" she asked coolly.

Will looked at her, surprised, "No, of course not!"

"Then why do you worry some much about it? I'm sure that the townspeople will calm down soon. If you don't do anything wrong, they may forget about the whole thing."

Will started to pace, getting to one side of the carpet then turning abruptly and walking back. There was another long silence, something Elizabeth was starting to get exasperated with. Will stopped suddenly and looked at her; Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in silent inquiry.

Will breathed deep. "I wish I could say that what the townspeople think of me did not bother me, but it does. I've never lived up to anyone's expectations, except for Mr. Brown's, and I exceeded those. Truth be told, all he expected me to know how to hit the metal with a hammer and hope for the best. But this pirate thing, it makes daily life . . . difficult." Will came to sit in the chair beside her, "The talk and comments follow me wherever I go, it affects any business I do, it affects where I may eat - walking down the street has become a trial, all the townspeople are the jury, and they would all be glad to see me hang." He looked at her hand a moment before he took it gently, "It's hard Elizabeth, to deal with it all without being able to say anything in my own defense."

Elizabeth could not immediately reply. She gazed down at her hand clasped in his and she, for the first time, felt unsure about her relationship with Will. The pain of that was hard to bear.

"What will you do now? Where will you go?" Elizabeth asked quietly when she could think of nothing else.

Will breathed out a gust that he had apparently been holding. "I shall have to look for another job. I'll take a room at a tavern and find work doing labor somewhere. Help is always needed at the docks, so I'll start there."

Elizabeth saw a brief flash of pain cross Will's serious face. Working at the docks was /not/ something that Will wanted, or should be doing. It was for people who had nowhere else to turn and needed something to let them see their next meal. "Will, you could," she stopped and bit her lip, knowing how Will was likely going to take the next comment, "stay here, at the manor." Will opened his mouth and she continued before he had the chance to protest. "Think about it Will, what tavern would take you in? The town does not trust you, as ridiculous as that is - who would rent to you?"

Will closed his eyes, "I will not live off your charity."

'That hurt.' "It isn't charity Will," she said earnestly, "It will be fine. You can live here with father and myself, and you can get that job if you truly want to." She smiled, "We will be getting married soon, you'll have to start living here sometime, Will."

"Live here?" Will said, finally opening her eyes, a look of shock and bewilderment open in his features.

"Where else did you think we would live, Will? You'll be a nobleman! Perhaps in a few years we might be able to build our own house, but for now we shall live in my father's mansion," she gave a small amused laugh and his continued look of shock, "We couldn't have lived in the blacksmith's shop, Will."

Will looked around, eyes darting around at the fine furniture and expensive ornaments placed all around the room. Many had been taken during the raid, but there were still a good many left in the house. Elizabeth sensed his discomfort.

"I did not say that to be cruel, Will, you know that," she said slowly, squeezing his hand.

"What?" Will looked up from unconsciously trying to brush down his own jerkin, "Wha . . . oh yes. Yes, of course I know Elizabeth. I suppose that it will take some getting used to," Will said hopefully.

She smiled kindly at him and inwardly sighed as Will relaxed without seeming to realize that he had even tensed in the first place. She stood and took a few steps to his chair and leaned down so that they were face to face. "I suppose so. I am positive that we shall make the best we can of this situation."

Will's face flushed slightly as she leaned down and gave him a chaste kiss on him lips. It would have been adorable if it weren't for the look of resigned defeat that still lingered in his eyes.

"I shall see Eliza about preparing a room for you and I shall speak with father tonight. You might what to clean yourself up before then though," she said as she made her way to the sitting room door. "Detestable as they are, those chairs are quite expensive."

Will stood up quickly and looked at the chair, which now had a few smudges of dirt on it. "That might be wise, I seem to be getting dirt all over everything." He made a few more swipes at his Jerkin to no avail; the dirt had almost become a main feature in the clothes. The looked at each other and laughed. "Perhaps some new clothes are also in order," she grinned, immensely glad that the atmosphere had lightened.

"Are they really that bad?" Will asked following her out through the double doors.

"Yes, they are quite terrible. So horrible in fact that I have half a mind to set you on every single piece of furniture I despise in the house."

"The townspeople are mistaken, then. Of the two of us, you are more a pirate then I could ever be!" Will mocked.

Elizabeth pretended to be hurt, "Will, what a thing to say to a lady!"

"Then I shall be careful to never say it to one," he quipped quickly, picking up his pace to avoid Elizabeth's wrath.

She grinned happily and chased him across the parlor, exchanging half-hearted insults, much like they had done in the first few days of living in Port Royal, when Will was all she had ever known. 'Besides,' she thought smugly, 'the point isn't which one of us is more pirate, I'm just better at hiding it!'

Neither heard Mr. Jenkins return from his stroll to the fort and neither even saw him as he sat himself in the sitting room, studying the dirt and scuff marks that Will had left behind, listening to the couple laugh and play like small children. Indeed it wasn't until he had frightened a passing maid into near hysterics with a cough that anyone had known that he was back at all, and had been for some time.