Disclaimer: I own them in the same world where I own Estel.
AN: This chapter is probably going to be slightly confusing, but don't worry. It's just I have the flu, so I don't know when I'll get the rest of this part done, and it is update time again, so . . .*shrug* . . .If you get too lost just tell me in a review and I'll revise and repost.
To Love and Protect
Part 22
For an instant there was the feeling of being in freefall, though it wasn't so much falling down to something as being forcibly ripped towards something.
Will opened his eyes slowly, staring around in open awe. He supposed he should be frightened, disconcerted at the least, but he wasn't. In fact, what he felt was nearly the opposite.
A grayish mist swirled everywhere he looked, equally dense from the ground, if ground could be deemed the proper way to term what he was standing on, to the sky, if sky could be said to describe a shifting, amorphous gray sheath of mist an indeterminate distance above his head.
Stepping forward didn't change the view or the dimensions of the landscape at all, though the sensation caused by walking was exotic enough to merit a few extra steps. The ground was neither springy nor hard, but a unique, indescribably combination of the two, rather like he supposed walking on mist would feel like.
A flash at the very edge of his vision caused him to turn. It took several moments worth of concentration and observation to determine what it had been. Multicolored sparks traced eccentric lines through the mist, wheeling in circles and spirals before shooting off too fast for his eye to follow.
One of the sparks moved closer, swept forward on a tendril of mist that moved in on an intangible wind. Will reached out with his right hand to grab at the dancing point of light, stopping partway through the motion to stare down at his own hands.
Light danced across his skin, alternating between a pure bright white and a pale red with the steady pulsing of his heart. The light wasn't stagnant, though, but shifted and flowed, cascading across the backs of his hands and onto his palms, throwing the scar on his left hand into sharp relief simply by avoiding it.
"That's interesting." The phrase might have been Jack's, but it definitely seemed to fit the situation perfectly.
"Really? Because I was finding it rather boring, m'self."
"Jack." Will spun around to greet the pirate, standing perhaps three feet behind him, dressed as he had been when they commandeered the Interceptor thirteen years ago, his left hand holding his coat closed as his right plucked at the air, randomly chasing after the various points of light.
"Except for these little buggers. They're int'resting. Harder to catch than fireflies." Jack suddenly stopped mid-motion, staring hard at Will. "You're glowin' like a bloody beacon."
"You're not exactly a shadow yourself." Will smiled as the pirate frowned, staring hard at his right hand, turning it this way and that as though attempting to determine where the light was coming from before sighing and shaking his head.
Will turned his attention back to the surreal landscape, the wandering mists and the dancing lights that granted a haunting beauty to the land. "Is this real?"
Jack tilted his head slightly in consideration before shrugging. "I think that would be determined by what we're defining real as."
"This isn't a place, it can't be. But it isn't a dream, either. Where are we?"
"Somewhere. Definitely not my head. I would come up with a better view than this. Maybe yours."
"I don't think so, Jack. All right, if we can't determine where we are, why are we wherever we are?"
"That would be my fault. Or Ana-Maria's, depending on how you look at it." The pirate turned away, staring off into the mist.
"Jack? What do you mean?"
"What do you make of all this?"
"I don't know. Do you have an idea?"
"Parley. Mental parley. I think the light . . .I think the light is your strength, your energy . . .your life."
Jack turned back around, allowing his left hand to fall to his side and his coat to hang open for the first time. Where the same light that shone from Will's hands also shone from his chest, causing his loose white shirt to glow, threads of darkness were snaking across Jack's, coalescing for a moment before being driven back into individual strands by the pulsing light. Jack grinned slightly.
"Minor problem."
"Not minor, Jack. Not minor." Will's voice fell to a whisper. Just as an absence of fear had seemed right before, the dread that was rising at the sight of those thin lines of darkness snaking across the pirate's chest seemed proper. Will stepped forward instinctively, his hand rising, the pulsing light from his skin shifting faster as the distance between pirate and blacksmith closed.
Jack stepped back before any contact could be made, pulling his jacket closed again with his left hand. "What're you doing, lad?"
"What we're here to do. You called again, didn't you? That's why we're here. You asked for my help. Let me give it."
"You don't even know what you're offering."
"Jack, I won't die, if that's what you're afraid of. Just lend a bit of strength."
The pirate shook his head, circling warily around Will as though they were dueling, though neither carried any weapons. Will fought the urge to simply lunge at the older man, the dread growing and spreading with each passing moment until it approached panic.
"The link'll be back. You'll be able t' see int' my head again. Can you handle that?"
"Yes."
"Really?" Jack stopped his slow circling, moving closer to Will again, staying just outside arm's length. "You were afraid of what you saw before. When I was locked in that flamin' bloody cell, you were afraid of what you saw. When you saw me earlier today, you were afraid of what you saw. I don't exactly savor the prospect of having someone who's afraid of me traipsing through my head."
"I'm not afraid of you. I saw more of the real you than I think any other man, living or dead, has gotten to, and yes, it frightened me. I wasn't afraid of you, though. I trust you, Jack, with my life, my family, my soul. I was worried about what was happening to you, and maybe to myself. Can you honestly say that you've seen nothing in me that doesn't surprise you?"
Jack was still and silent for what seemed an interminable amount of time before he shrugged. "No. There're parts of you that manage to surprise me, Will Turner."
"If I was afraid of you, I would never let you near the children. If I doubted your sincerity, I would never leave you alone with Elizabeth." Both men grinned. "I trust you, Jack. Now trust me. Let me help you." Will stepped forward again, reaching now for Jack's right hand, taking the silence and lack of movement as an acceptance.
He nearly screamed in frustration as the pirate suddenly turned and moved away again, his head cocked to one side.
"Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
Jack motioned for silence, and this time both could hear the faint cries.
"That sounds like a child. That isn't possible, is it? Jack?" Will turned, shocked to find that the pirate captain had paled significantly.
"It shouldn't be possible. Not bloody possible at all. Thomas!" The summons seemed to echo faintly on the mist, bouncing this way and that before fading away to nothingness. The answering cry caught the blacksmith completely by surprise.
"You. He's calling you."
"Who else would he call? I'm the one who owes him." Bitterness filled Jack's voice as he stepped forward again, Will trailing behind.
"Owe him what?" The pirate didn't even acknowledge that Will had spoken.
"Jack . . .Jack, is that you?" The boy simply appeared from the mist. He was a shade younger than Will's own son, soaking wet and shivering. Water dripped from his clothes, from his red-blonde hair, mingling with tears on his face as the lad sniffled and scuffed his feet, stirring the mist even more.
Will hated him on sight.
"Thomas. This isn't right. You can't be here." Jack seemed to be speaking to himself more than to the child or to Will.
"You let me go, Jack. Why'd you let me go? You said we were going to start a new life, a better life. You told San you were goin' t' watch out for us."
"I tried. I held on for as long as I could."
"You said we were going to make it, together, that nothing, nothing could stop Jack Sparrow, but you let me go."
"I had to. If I didn't we were both goin' t' go under. I didn't have a choice."
Will had heard more than enough to convince himself that leaving the child, if that was what it was, would be no crime. "Jack, I think we should—"
"Don't! Jack, don't leave me here alone again! Please! It's cold and dark and frightening and . . .and it keeps trying to find me." The boy launched himself at the pirate captain, grabbing him in a tight hug. Jack hesitated a moment before picking the child up. The boy promptly wrapped his arms around the pirate's neck and nestled against his chest.
Will stepped forward again. Something about what was happening was wrong, very, very wrong. "Jack, I don't like this."
Jack didn't answer, swaying slightly in place, his eyes closed and his hands shaking slightly where they gripped the child.
The boy turned his head around slowly, his eyes only opened to slits and a vindictive smirk marring the innocence of his face. When he spoke, his voice was deeper than could be physically possible, a resonating bass that Will could feel in his gut even though the words were spoken in a lilting whisper. "You shouldn't have come here. It was a mistake to come somewhere where I could take form."
Will didn't wait a moment more before launching himself at the child, or whatever it was, forcibly tearing it from the pirate's wavering grip. Jack stumbled backwards before tripping and falling to the ground where he simply lay, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Will quickly dropped the struggling child, a hiss of pain and surprise escaping as he looked at his hands. They were burning where he had touched the child, a cold burn that matched the swarm of black strands. It took only a moment before the light from his skin caused them to shrivel and die, but it was a moment that he didn't wish to repeat.
"He belongs to me." The same deep bass cut through Will's thoughts and he turned his attention back to the child, only to find himself face-to-face with Marcus, the leader of the Brotherhood. "Do you know your place, Will Turner?" The words were said mockingly.
"It's right here, between you and Jack." The answer was just as honest when facing Death as it had been when facing a Commodore of the Royal Navy.
If Jack would get up off the ground, though, it would be helpful. At least then they could run.
"That places you at risk, you know. What would Elizabeth, sweet Elizabeth, have to say about this?"
Before Will could answer another voice broke the stillness of the mist as a hand reached out from behind the creature, spinning it around. "She won't have to say anything. You've no right to be here, no right to interfere. This was not created for you."
"He belongs to me."
"Not by a long shot. You've no power to frighten or command me, demon. I already passed your gates and won. Now leave my son and my friend in peace."
"Never." Will watched in morbid fascination as Death turned back towards him, flesh rippling and changing until Barbossa stood in Marcus' place. "Jack, Jack, we both know that I'm tellin' the truth, don't we? Ye belong to me. Ye gave yerself freely. Ye carry my mark. Ye ga—" Death stopped talking abruptly as the point of a sword sprouted from his chest. He stood a moment more, staring at the blade in shock, before collapsing slowly forward.
"I told you, demon, you've no right to interfere here. It was not created for you, it does not follow your rules. As for Jack carrying your mark . . ." A sheath of mist obscured Will's view for a moment. When it cleared the body was gone, leaving only their rescuer, if that was truly what he was. "We're working on fixing that."
The man stepped forward, stopping a foot in front of Will and appraising him slowly, giving Will a chance to do the same back. He appeared to be just about Will's age, his features slightly more angular but still disquietingly familiar. There was just enough of a difference to explain why Jack and Barbossa had both been unable to identify Will immediately while still thinking he looked familiar.
It was Jack who broke the silence, slowly moving to a kneeling position and staring dazedly at the other two men. Will noticed with alarm that the black threads that had played across his chest before now skittered throughout the light on his skin, crossing his chest, his arms, his hands, even his neck.
"Bill?"
