Sword Edge
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the movie soundtrack
A/N: There's a very small reference to Lord of the Rings here – but if you haven't read the book, you're unlikely to spot it!!! cackles evilly
A/N 2: I'm not happy with ; I can't have my stars and squiggles!!!!!!!!!!!!
A/N 3: updates will be every Saturday. I wish they could be more frequent, but I'm on placement during the week with no Internet access, so I'll be posting on Saturdays. There are 5 chapters in total.
Thanks to:
Lilith11: I do my best to keep everyone in character; thanks!
Lucidity: I couldn't resist the urge to have Norrington having to go to Jack for help!!
The Bonnie Pirate Lass: Wow! That was a great review! Have some chocolate!!
MagickalStar135: Glad to know I've got someone else into PotC fics!!
Raphe1: Norrington's coldness is just a front; he just doesn't want to show that he cares about Will (and he does, honest!) And Jack would get arrested if he simply strolled into Port Royal one morning without warning. He'd turn up anyway, but if he gets Norrington to agree to his being there, he'll be more use than if he's in prison awaiting his hanging.
Prettybadwriter: 'do not lose these' – I'm a tad confused as to what you mean by this! I'll take it as a compliment in the meantime, though!
Koretta: How can anyone pass up the opportunity to have Norrington sucking up to Jack?! There's lots of "emotional material" to come yet.
Diedbysuicide, Lord Elrond of Hogwarts, becca – thankyou as well!!! Please continue to read and review!
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Chapter 2
The sword sat in the fire, but Will Turner couldn't bring himself to work on it. He knew he should; there was that important order for Norrington, as well as several others. It was just too much effort for him, though. What was the point? What was the point of anything any more? He'd only had three years with Elizabeth, and only two of those had included their marriage. Why did she have to die? What had he done in life to deserve this? He had barely known his father (and Jack had never been very forthcoming with information) and his mother had died when he had been a child.
And now Elizabeth had been taken from him. Will could barely look at his son; he was a painful reminder of what Will had lost. He knew he shouldn't be like this, but he couldn't help it.
His gaze came to rest on one of his swords. It wasn't the first time he'd considered ending his pain once and for all. Why not? It would mean that he would get to see Elizabeth again. Almost as if in a dream, he reached out for a sword, hand resting on the cold handle before he pulled it out from the rack.
"I do hope you're not plannin' on usin' that on an old friend," someone commented from behind him.
Will jumped and spun round, the sword clattering from his hand. "No," he replied dully. "Not on old friends – nor on pirates."
The newcomer blinked confusedly. "You've certainly changed your tune, young William. Wasn't so long ago I recall havin' the blade of one of your fine weapons under my chin and hearin' you inform my good self that you practised three hours a day with your aforementioned fine weapons so that – and I quote – 'when I meet a pirate, I can kill it'." The three-cornered hat was removed and placed on a nearby hook. "I am sorry to 'ear that. I was anticipatin' a good duel with your good self again. For old times' sake. Savvy?" He approached the blacksmith.
"Things change," replied Will shortly. "Now, if you don't mind, I was busy."
"Busy doin' what? Thinkin' of how to end your life? Plannin' on runnin' yourself through with one of your fine weapons?" He bent down and picked up the sword Will had dropped, examining it closely. "I'm no blacksmith, but these are truly fine weapons." He placed it almost reverently back in the rack. "They deserve far better than to be used to end their creator's life, wouldn't you agree?"
Will shrugged wearily. "I don't know what you're doing here in Port Royal, Jack, but if Commodore Norrington gets wind of your presence –"
"'Tis Commodore Norrington that found me in Tortuga exactly one week ago," Jack informed him. "Came specially, he did. Just to find my good self."
"Why would he go looking for you?"
"That is between meself and the Commodore. All you need to know is that I am not a wanted man in this lovely town at the moment. I am here with the good Commodore's permission."
Will considered enquiring further, but couldn't be bothered; this was Jack, after all.
Jack nodded in the direction of where the old blacksmith, Mr. Brown, had been slumped the last time he had been here. "Where's your boss?"
"Died two years ago." Will glanced pointedly at the bottle of rum in the pirate's hand. "Too much drink."
Jack, being Jack, chose to ignore this. "Not the only one to 'ave passed recently, or so I'm reliably informed."
Will stiffened and his brown eyes darkened. "Perhaps."
"Oooh. Touched a nerve, have I?" He looked directly at Will.
Will stared stonily back. "Why are you here, Jack?"
"Because," replied the pirate, "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."
"That isn't an answer. Tell me why you're really here, and why on God's Earth you have Norrington's permission to be here."
Jack tilted his head to one side and regarded the blacksmith carefully, taking in his dull, shadowed eyes, black smudges under them that were clear indicators of a lack of sleep, his pale, drawn face and his thin frame. Bootstrap Bill's son had been merely slim when Jack had first encountered him in this very place four years ago, but now he was actually thin. Jack was a pirate, not a doctor, but even he knew when a person was blatantly too thin. "You and I, mate, are findin' ourselves a nice respectable tavern, enjoyin' a drink – or five – and catchin' up on things. Long time no see, as they say." He picked up his hat and placed it on his head with a flourish. "Come on."
"But the smithy –"
"Can wait a bit. You don't exactly seem to be doin' much work – or at least, you weren't when I walked in. You could've been stabbed in the back by someone less scrupulous than meself and I doubt you'd've noticed."
"Then they'd have done me a favour," muttered Will, not intending Jack to overhear. Jack, however, did, and he frowned in concern and worry. Contrary to popular opinion (or unpopular, depending on whose opinion it was), Jack did care about people, and Bootstrap Bill's boy was one he cared about deeply. Deciding against saying anything on this matter, as he clearly wasn't meant to have heard those words, Jack slung his arm around Will's shoulders and gently coaxed him along. "The tavern, William."
"Jack, don't. Please." Will pulled free and strapped a sword to his side. Jack's definition of 'respectable' differed rather significantly from Will's.
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They found themselves in The Green Dragon, not far from the smithy. Will relaxed; the Dragon fitted his definition of 'respectable' rather than Jack's, and he was rather glad of it. They sat down in a darkish corner after obtaining some rum for Jack and an ale for Will. Jack set his hat on the table. "Well, we have arrived," he proclaimed.
"What's been happening with the Pearl?" asked Will, more from politeness than any interest in life.
"Things are good. Very good indeed."
Will waited, but it was clear that Jack was leaving it at that. "Glad to hear it. I think," he added, muttering the last part under his breath.
"I have been informed," said Jack softly, "of the passin' of Elizabeth."
Will flinched and drew back into his seat, head bowed, eyes squeezed shut to keep back the rising tears. He did not want to cry. Not in public, and certainly not in front of Jack.
"I was also informed," continued the pirate, "that you have a son." His usual flamboyant, swaying, seemingly drunk manner had been dropped and only the remnants of it were noticeable now.
Will clenched his fists. "And do you know how Elizabeth…?"
Jack nodded calmly. "Aye. I do. Now you listen to me, William Turner, and you listen good. You'll get nothin' but trouble if you blame that poor mite for Elizabeth's death."
Will flinched again. "Shut up, Jack," he whispered.
Jack shook his head firmly, beads clinking together. "I'm not goin' to do that, William. Your bonny lass is dead. Gone. Won't come back. Ever."
"Stop it!" hissed Will furiously.
"You need to accept that she's dead." Jack paused, thinking. "Go on. Say it."
"Say what?"
"Say, 'Elizabeth is dead'."
Will shook his head firmly. "No."
"The pain is not going to stop if you don't accept that Elizabeth is dead." The words seemed alien on Jack's tongue, but he pressed ahead. If he couldn't force himself to say them, however hard it might be, he'd never be able to convince Will to do so.
"At least if I have the pain I can't forget her."
Comprehension dawned on Jack, and he nodded slowly. "I can see where you're comin' from, William, but there are other ways to remember her without sufferin' like you're doin' at the moment."
Silence from Will.
"What did I just tell you? You can't blame your son for this. Yes, it's sad, yes, it's a tragedy, but that child needs 'is father." Jack paused, one ringed finger placed contemplatively on his chin as he frowned. "Nobody's been courteous enough to inform me of your boy's name. I find that highly insultin' – provided he has a name, of course."
Will sighed heavily. "He's called Jack. Jack William Turner. The Commodore is his godfather."
Jack blinked, arching one dark eyebrow. "Nice name. Named for anyone you know, perchance?"
He got no response, so he downed the rest of his rum. "How often do you see 'im?"
Will shrugged.
Jack decided – after ordering more rum – that a different angle was required. "Tell me how you felt not knowing your father, old Bootstrap."
Will blinked confusedly. "Why?"
"Because I said so."
"Only if you'll tell me about him."
"We have an accord."
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TBC