Sword Edge
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the movie soundtrack
Thanks to:
Lilith11: What? I really don't understand that review!! (Thanks anyway!!)
The Bonnie Pirate Lass: Spooky indeed!! I endeavour to keep everyone in character. Let me know when you post your fic!
Lord Elrond of Hogwarts: I couldn't have Will and Elizabeth call their son anything else, now, could I?!
Koretta: 'Captain Heartmender Sparrow' first struck when he managed to bring Will and Elizabeth together in the movie!! Please enlighten me on the salt-in-cookie-dough thing – I'm intrigued!!
The devil 666: I'm keeping writing! Here's the next instalment!
Lucidity: You'll find out where little Jack is; all in good time!
Diedbysuicide: It's all written; it's just the posting that has to be done!
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Chapter 3
Will, stalling, drank some of his ale and then stared into said drink. "I wish I'd known him. My mother rarely spoke of him. Everyone else I knew back in England knew their fathers. I felt as though something was missing, some part of me. I was jealous of the others because they all had something that I should have had as well, but didn't." He shrugged. "That's about it."
"Did it hurt in yer heart at all?"
Will, unthinking, nodded. "All the time."
"That's how your Jack will feel if you carry on like this," Jack informed him knowledgeably.
"How would you of all people know that?" Will challenged.
"I rather doubt you know my life 'istory," Jack pointed out slightly sharply. He sighed and took a swig of his rum. "I ain't no expert on fam'ly matters, but I do know what I'm talkin' about, mate. You know what it's like to not know your father; do you really want your Jack to go through the same thing? 'Specially with his mother dead an' all."
"But I can't –"
"Ain't no such word as 'can't', William."
"That's easy for you to say."
Jack raised his hands and shook his head. "Yeh're wrong there, mate. Very wrong indeed. But that is not the point. The point is, that boy of yours lost 'is mother. He needs you more than ever. Which is not going to 'appen if you either end your life – which would be rash and stupid, as well as a terrible tragedy and a waste of life – or continue to live in this current state of complete and utter misery. Neither of which are particularly healthy." The pirate shrugged, almost embarrassed. "Besides, I care about yeh too much to let yer grief get the better of you. I cared about Elizabeth for you, and I care about that boy of yours, purely because he's your son. I don't normally let my good self care too much about people – they're always gettin' themselves captured and so on – but I cared about your father, and there's somethin' about you that makes me care about you as well."
Will narrowed his eyes. "Did Norrington put you up to this?"
"Commodore Norrington wants those swords he ordered, and other people want things as well. If you don't start gettin' yer onesies sorted, you'll lose business. People are not goin' to use a poor-quality, unreliable blacksmith. Then how do you plan to support Jack, eh? The Commodore is worried about you, William, even if he ain't too good at showin' it."
"If you care so much about me, how come I haven't heard from you for four years?" demanded the blacksmith.
Jack sighed. "It's difficult, William. I tried; I really did. The thing is, I'm a wanted man here in Port Royal, and I don't exactly blend in with the locals, now, do I?"
"True," conceded Will wryly.
"It would be dangerous for me to pass on a message by word of mouth, and those inevitably get changed – Chinese whispers, if you will. As for writin' – I'm not the world's most literate man, and if letters fall into the wrong 'ands…I really don't think I need to inform you of the consequences of that. Savvy?"
Reluctantly, Will nodded. Jack was right; it was difficult for him to get messages through. A small part at the back of his mind still niggled, though. He didn't try hard enough; if he'd really wanted to contact you, he'd have managed – he is Captain Jack Sparrow, after all.
"I missed you two, mind. A lot. And I am glad to be seein' yeh, William. Pity about the circumstances." He took another swig of rum. "Elizabeth was a lovely girl – 'part from when she burned the rum, of course. Never could understand why anyone would want to waste such large amounts of a beautiful drink.
"You've got plenty of good memories in that 'ead of yours, William, I'm sure. Cherish those. Honour her life like that. Livin' the way you're doin' right now – it ain't the way to do it. And I doubt she'd want you doin' it, either. She was too full of life to dwell on the past."
"Easy for you to say," muttered Will.
"No, mate, it ain't. But I know what I'm talkin' about. And I know you better than yeh think I do."
The landlord, noticing the empty drinks, approached the two. "Can I get you some more to drink, gentlemen?"
Jack shook his head. "Happy as I would be to spend the rest of my day here in this quality establishment – and I assure you, it is quality – unfortunately we have other things that need to be done." He placed his hat on his head with his usual flourish as he stood, motioning to a confused-looking Will. "Come, young William. Landlord, I bid you a good day. Many thanks for your fine rum. I shall remember this tavern." He bowed in his usual, overexaggerated manner and ambled out of The Green Dragon. Once outside, the amble became a fast walk. Will had to jog to keep up with the pirate. "Where are we going, Jack?"
"Smithy."
"But we left that to go to the Dragon. Why are we going back there?"
"I want to see how yer footwork is."
"What?!"
"You are not deaf, William. You 'eard me." Jack was not about to reveal his plan to Bootstrap Bill's son; were he to do so, it was virtually a foregone conclusion that Will would refuse. So he continued on his fast-paced journey, Will close behind but never quite managing to catch up. Arriving at the smithy, he sashayed in and plucked a nearby sword from the rack of completed weapons. Then he turned to Will. "Come on. Sword out."
Will blinked, then slowly, lethargically, drew his sword and readied himself.
Jack struck first. Will brought his sword up to block it, but did so only just in time. Jack wrenched his sword free and attacked. Again, Will only just blocked the stroke. Jack glared at him. "Are you not goin' to do anythin', William?" he demanded. "If I really were hell-bent on attackin' you, I'd've 'ad you dead by now!" Things were not going to plan; Will was supposed to fight back!
Will shrugged disinterestedly and let his arm drop, sword clattering to the floor.
"Damnit, William Turner!" Jack yelled furiously, flinging the sword in his hand to one side. Will flinched. "You ain't doin' yourself any favours by givin' up on life like this! Where's yer fight? Where's yer spirit?" Raising his voice, "Where's the William Turner that Elizabeth Swann fell in love with? Eh? Where is he? Where is he?"
"Don't, Jack," pleaded Will, dark eyes filling with tears as he backed away.
"Why in blazes not? Look at you, William! You're a wreck! A pathetic, useless wreck! What good are yeh to anyone like this? Answer me!"
Will, still backing away, tripped and fell backwards. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he curled up tightly, face buried in his knees as he fought back the tears of pain, grief and despair that were welling up.
Jack was beside him in an instant, kneeling beside him, hat on the floor and one rough, dirty hand on Will's shoulder. "Let yehself cry, lad," he said gently. "Let yehself grieve without anyone askin' any questions or starin'."
Will shook his head determinedly. He refused to give in to what he viewed as weakness.
Jack sighed wearily and placed his arms around Will, drawing him into a comforting embrace. It wasn't the first time he'd comforted anyone, and most likely wouldn't be the last, either. "Come on, lad. Let it all out. You'll feel better for it. Trust me." Still Will did not do so. Jack held him more tightly. "She was a great lass, William. It's a tragedy she's gone, I won't deny that. But she won't ever come back."
Will let out a half-strangled sob and gulped hard in a desperate effort to rid himself of the tears.
"Tell me about her. Tell me about your life together."
"It – it hurts, Jack," whispered Will.
"I know it does, lad, but talkin' about it will ease the pain in the long run. What's yer favourite memory of her?"
Will sniffled, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as possible, but it was too late – the tears had already begun to leak out of the corners of his eyes and dampen his dark eyelashes. "I – I don't know. There – there are so many…" His voice caught in his throat and his breath did likewise. "God, Jack, I miss her so much. I can't believe that – that she's…" He shook his head and then the tears came, welling up and spilling over, cascading down his cheeks in torrents, his breath coming in gasps.
Jack held him tightly, gently rocking him to comfort him. Similar in age to Will's father, though a few years younger, Jack finally identified what it was that he felt towards the boy – fatherly affection and love.
That realisation almost caused him to laugh out loud. Him, Jack Sparrow – Captain Jack Sparrow, that is – a father figure? The notion was ridiculously funny.
But true nonetheless, he thought to himself. Ever since he'd first met the boy, he'd felt an overwhelming desire to protect him, to look after him.
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TBC