Author's Note : This is my second story to be published to , and my first in this fandom. I love reviews, so you can be harsh, be flattering, or be whatever you want to be but please, please be CONSTRUCTIVE. Flames get you nothing but a longer wait for the next chapter. This will eventually be Jack/Will slash, so if that's not your thing, turn back now. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer : own nothing but my own imagination. and a half-empty bottle of Pepsi.
Many thanks to all my reviewers so far, who've been positive and supportive for me and made me actually want to get these thoughts out of my head and post them up here for you. Who knew?
For Will, the next couple of days were spent tactfully pleading with Governor Swann to allow him to leave the estate for a while, so he could seek out the Black Pearl and its crew on his own. He didn't immediately tell the Governor that he wanted to become a pirate, but instead said he had some personal matters to discuss with Jack Sparrow, some issues to resolve that were best done face-to-face. When asked how long he planned to stay in that wretched pirate haven, he really didn't have an answer. He would stay for as long as it took to find Jack, and that was that.
Finally, after the third day, the Governor reluctantly consented. Will suspected Elizabeth had had something to do with that, but didn't mention it to her. He was thankful she was being supportive of him, in understanding his desire to try his hand at a seaman's life, but he was still hurt by her inability to promise her loyalty, as he'd been so willing to do.
It was early in the morning when he packed up the few things in the room that truly belonged to him, such as some spare clothes, a good knife, and one of his finer swords. He also had a fair bit of gold to travel with, so that he could barter passage to and rent lodgings in whatever place he chose. Not enough to support him for a long time, but then, he didn't plan on staying in any town for a long time. He still hoped that the Commodore's reports were true, and the Black Pearl would make berth in Tortuga in a little over a week. He could hardly wait to set out, as it was.
Will's goodbyes to the servants and to Elizabeth and her father were emotional and sincere. A significant glance from the Governor told him that the older man would expect a much better explanation of his activities when he returned. Will didn't have the heart to tell him that it was more like 'if' ... if he returned. It was his last wish to hurt Elizabeth, but he wasn't sure he could go back to that life, with the prospect of Jack so close in the future. Will wasn't sure when he'd started placing so much importance on Jack himself, instead of the simple notion of living and learning on a ship, but with these thoughts came confusing feelings he was sure were better off still buried.
When the last farewell was uttered, and the last handshakes and hugs administered, he turned his back on the small gathering and set out from the house. He was surprised to remember later that he'd never looked back at them once.
The ship that had agreed to carry him was a small merchant vessel by the name of the 'HMS Saviour'. It was in a hurry to return to England, which suited Will fine, because it meant he'd be in Tortuga even sooner. He decided though, that his time onboard the ship would'nt be wasted, and spent the 6 days and nights of travel learning the parts of a ship, as well as basic duties most crew members had, and some more useful tidbits, like the warning signs of an oncoming storm, and how to navigate using star- maps. Will was eager to learn anything and everything he could because he figured it would help put in him a better light when he made his case to Jack. If the captain really did think they were even, then Will couldn't rely on any sort of favouritism to get him onboard. He'd have to prove that, their prior history notwithstanding, he would be a valuable asset to the ship and could hold his own against Jack's already established crewmen.
When the merchant ship finally reached Tortuga, Will was rowed out to shore with his sack, bid farewell, and then left on his own to find his way in the lawless city. He was a little stunned by the suddeness of it all - he'd dreamt night after night of coming here, and now that he was here, he had no idea what to do.
He looked up at the sky. Dusk was just settling around the inlet, and the constellations were beginning to shine. He picked up his bag from the rocky beach beside him, and headed toward what looked to be the main part of town. He remembered the tavern they'd stayed at on his first trip through here, and hoped to find it again and rent a room. He'd also have to look for something to keep him occupied during his wait ... a job, maybe? He knew he didn't need the money, but maybe he could pester some of the fishermen into letting him tag along from time to time. All the better to get his sea legs before Jack arrived.
The thought that he was finally going to do what he'd dreamt of so often brought a smile to his face, and he almost didn't notice the group of men huddled in the road until he'd almost run into them. They had a woman with them, a whore, by the looks of her, and she didn't seem to be too thrilled with their company. Will was wary of starting a fight with men as burly - and as drunk - as these, but he couldn't in good conscience let them hurt her if he could stop them.
"Leave her alone." He said, putting on his best game-face. He hoped he could just bluff them out, but when their leader turned to look at him, he wondered if he hadn't made a big mistake.
The man took a threatening step towards Will, trying to focus on him with bleary red eyes. He was obviously completely drunk, but even so, he still had about 100 pounds on Will, and could easily beat him even in this state.
After a couple of seconds, the man seemed to reach an enlightened conclusion. He smiled, showing rotting teeth, in a way that indicated nothing was funny at all. "'Ere, you're Jack Sparra's little friend, aren't you? I remember you ... from the last time he was here. Ain't I right, boys?" He waved his hand vaguely at the group of men behind him, who turned their attention from the whore just long enough for her to run off. There were vague mutters and nods of agreement, and realizing their first prey had escaped, they all slowly turned to face Will.
"You're a pretty young thing, aren' you? What say we take you out for a ... night on the town, as it were? Don' worry - we won' bite ..." This last statement was followed by snickers from the rest of the group, and they advanced slowly towards Will. In preparation for his defence, he put one hand down on the hilt of his sword. He didn't think he could really save himself from a half-dozen drunken and surly men, but he might be able to hurt one or two of them enough to make the others think twice.
As a large hand reached towards Will's collar, a voice rang out from a nearby doorstep.
"Hey! Don't make me shoot you sorry blighters. Move on. Get away, I said! Leave 'im alone."
A figure stood in the doorway of a nearby tavern, deftly holding a pistol in each hand. The group surrounding Will paused for a moment. Then their leader growled something under his breath and shoved Will to the ground. The men laughed, then followed their leader down the darkened street to some unknown location, undoubtedly to harass the next unlucky soul who crossed their path.
A bit dazed, Will sat up. He wasn't hurt, but for the first time since he'd made his decision to come here, he began to wonder if it was the right thing to do after all.
"Get up, lad. They won't bother you again tonight."
Will rose to his feet and picked up his belongings, which had tumbled to the ground beside him. The man carrying the pistols moved into the lamplight where Will could see him more clearly. He obviously wasn't old, but he wasn't nearly as young as Will himself. A jagged scar decorated his right cheek, and he held himself as though he wasn't afraid of a thing. Will didn't doubt this.
The man motioned Will into the tavern, which was lowly lit, and surprisingly empty. He replaced the pistols under the bar, and walked back to Will to shake his hand.
"My name's O'Connor. But most folks round 'ere call me Sean. You're welcome t'do the same.
"Will Turner ... ehm ... thank you, for ... back there."
Sean smiled and shook his head. "Any friend o' Jack's is a friend o' mine. You'd do well to watch out, though, laddie. Jack Sparrow in't too popular wit' some of the pirates in this town. 'E has a bad habit o' stealin' all the loot - and the glory - and leavin' these guys wit' nothin' but scraps to fight over." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Least he recognizes 'em for the dogs they are, though. Learned 'is lesson all too well the last time."
Will assumed he was referring to the mutinous ex-crew of the Black Pearl. It amazed him that Jack could trust anyone, after having his own first mate turn on him like that. No wonder he hadn't expected Will to follow him. Maybe he didn't trust the boy not to run back to the 'right' side when the going got tough.
Will flushed when he realized Sean was regarding him intently. "What is it you'd be wantin' in a town like Tortuga, then? You look far too well- dressed to be a pirate ..."
"Oh - I'm looking for Captain Sparrow actually. Would you know when the Black Pearl plans to return here?"
Sean thought hard for a moment and shook his head again. "I've 'eard no such thing, lad. The Black Pearl hasn't been 'ere since ... well, since nigh 2 months ago. I don' expect to see her here for a while, at least."
Will was dumbfounded. Hadn't the Commodore said ... ? Damn it then, it looked like he'd made the trip for nothing. Well, not entirely. Maybe Sean was wrong. Maybe he just hadn't heard the news yet. It didn't mean it wasn't true. And if Jack was coming, being in Tortuga could better establish him in the eyes of the pirate as a worthy crewman. He could continue practising his swordsmanship; maybe take up a job in the smithy here in town. Assuming there was one, of course. At the very least he could find a place to stay and simply read about pirates until Jack got there.
The prospects of his future in Tortuga suddenly made Will tired, and he closed his eyes for a moment.
"Lad. Hey, lad! Are you alright? D'you need to sit, or somethin'? 'Ere, how's about I get you your own room upstairs. Sound good?"
Will opened his eyes again, and blinked before focusing on the man in front of him. He smiled at Sean and thanked him for the offer. Staying here was as good as - if not better than - staying anywhere else in town. When Jack arrived, he'd be more likely to go where he knew he was welcome, and if Sean were indeed his friend, he may see Jack before too long. With renewed hope, he walked up the stairs to his own small room above the stairs. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Three weeks later, Will hadn't heard a thing about the Black Pearl. No one knew when it might return, and if they did, they certainly weren't telling him. He was frustrated, but there wasn't much he could do about it except keep an ear to the ground and listen to whatever gossip he could. The downside to this was that he now knew more about the nightly escapades in the brothel than he thought entirely healthy.
He'd made an arrangement with the local sword-smith, whereby he'd sell his skills for a good portion of the commissions brought in by passing pirates and merchants. It was basically agreeable to all involved, and at least it kept him busy during the long days.
To occupy his nights, he became a regular in the tavern under his rented room. He was on good terms with Sean O'Connor, who owned the whole establishment. Will was really starting to acquire a taste for rum by now, and in his presently inebriated state he chuckled when he wondered if that didn't make him more of a pirate than anything else could. The rum also served to let him forget his worry and his doubts, even if it was only for a little while.
After more than a few drinks, he felt pleasantly loose, and decided to explore a bit more of the town. He planned to visit a few more pubs, and check out the sorts of rum they sold. He liked rum. It was all in the name of scientific investigation, of course. He was just looking to get the best drink for his dollar. A noble endeavour if he'd ever heard one.
Satisfied with this explanation, he made his way from the familiar lodgings and wandered into the street. He warily avoided the eye of prostitutes, even those who offered to pay him for their services. He knew they could probably help relieve some of his tension, but he couldn't help feeling a moral duty to his fiancée. Besides, the prospect of any sort of intimacy with those women was unappealing at best. He was beginning to wonder if it was because they were whores, or because they were simply women. But of course, that would mean he wasn't attracted to women. And that couldn't be true. Just look at ... at ... Elizabeth. Right. Her name was Elizabeth. The problem was, whenever he thought about sex at all in his drunken state, the clearest picture his mind could come up with was that of Jack, shirt unbuttoned, lounging on the deck of the Interceptor.
Part of him was shocked by the wrongness of that image. But it was a small part. The rest was much more interested in fingers splayed against bronzed skin and smeared kohl liner. He was dangerously close to believing he'd never see Jack again, and that he ought to just run back to Elizabeth and marry her and have children and die a fat, happy man. Except, he realized, he wouldn't be very happy at all.
A rough hand on his shoulder shook him abruptly from his thoughts. The hand was gripping, hard, and pulling him back towards a darker alcove in the street. He tried to squirm free, but he was too drunk to manage anything other than tripping over his own feet. He was shoved forwards against the rough brick wall, the side of his face pressed against the building. He couldn't see much in that position, but he could hear plenty. There were footsteps all around, on either side, and behind him. He was still being held in place, and managed to get his throat to work long enough to ask what was going on.
"Come now, darlin', you can't have forgotten us that quick ... we weren't done with you th' other night. Now's your chance to make amends, like. Else we may have to play a little rough. Who knows, maybe you like it rough!"
There was a chorus of laughter, and Will felt bile rise in his throat. He knew who the men were, and his mounting panic allowed one clear, sober thought to float above the fog in his mind. If he made one wrong move, these men would kill him. And he would never get his chance to see Jack or the Black Pearl again.
He shut his eyes tightly and tried to control his breathing. He shuddered when he felt a calloused hand caress his cheek in an obscene parody of intimacy. He was sure he would faint, when suddenly the hand was snatched away. Though he couldn't see anything, he could hear the men around him start to murmur among themselves, and he realized that he was no longer the focus of attention.
A calm voice spoke in the darkness.
"Well, what 'ave we 'ere? Did you get rebuffed too many times by those whores for your liking, Johnson, that you 'ave to go around attacking young whelps, now? Shameful, really. Someone ought to put you out 'o your misery ..."
Will heard a rustle, then a crunch, and finally a thud, as if something heavy had just hit the ground. His hands and shoulders were released, and he sank slowly to the street, still feeling too sick to watch what was going on. Another group of men had appeared, and they were fighting the ones who'd grabbed Will. Will liked to believe that they were there to defend him, but in truth he was too dizzy to focus on anything besides his own nausea.
When he looked around again, there seemed to be a good deal more bodies on the ground, and some people were once again advancing towards him. This was too much for his already taxed mind, and he slowly sank further down until he was lying on the street.
He thought he caught a glimpse of red bandana and a soft, gold-toothed grin before he shut his eyes.
"Jack?" he asked, to no one in particular.
It was his last thought before he passed out.