Notes: It's a rare tale, as told by Joshamee Gibbs! Wanted to explore Gibbs a bit, specifically Gibbs and Jack, so's I did. Also, I want to mention, this is slightly AU. In a previous fic I mentioned that Gibbs knew Jack before he was mutineered and in the y ears since. In the movie, though, I noticed that Gibbs says that the time when Jack helmed The Black Pearl, it was before he knew him. So, I'm off on that. But, it's already and established fact in my fic, so... I'm going to stick to that. Sorry if that's disconcerting.

The Former and the Latter

When Joshamee Gibbs met him he'd been young and sprightly, full of energy and optimism. He loved nothing more than the ocean, the feel of alcohol going down his throat, and the elation that follows conning someone. He'd tried to con Gibbs out of gunning him down for stealing a tankard of ale out of the tavern Gibbs frequented, and despite himself Gibbs had allowed him to. There was something in the kid's eyes, despite the fluttering step, despite the glint of his teeth, that told Gibbs that the boy might be a scalawag, might be a pirate, but he was a good kid nonetheless.

He hadn't shot the boy, but he also hadn't let him get away with the tankard of ale. Instead he'd pulled up two stools that were used for milking cows and offered to share a few with the excitable pirate. When the boy had readily agreed, sitting quickly down and holding out a cup for Gibbs to fill he'd thought to himself that the boy was still relatively young to the practice of piracy. He kept a watchful eye on him the whole time, knowing that he was part of the same crew as Hector Barbossa, and knowing that Barbossa was a man that turned even his seasoned stomach.

When William Turner the Senior, then only known to him as Bootstrap Bill, turned up Gibbs relaxed slightly. Bootstrap was not that different from his son, at least on looks. He was thin, and fine featured, and loyalty radiated off him through his eyes. He was tougher though, more seasoned, and much less chivalrous than the son that never knew him. His hair was lighter, more blonde streaked from the sun than his son's would wind up being. His face was more tanned, and had more lines in it. The biggest difference though was how closed in on himself he was, how reticent he was to share his feelings. Senior and Junior were polar opposites in that respect.

He'd berated the boy for trying to steal from Gibbs and smiled down at him affectionately immediately afterwards. He called him Captain, and that's when Gibbs learned the boy's name. Captain Jack Sparrow, this spry young thing sitting before him, was the captain of the Black Pearl. Bootstrap had sat down with them, grabbing Jack's drink from his hands and swallowing the rest of it, reaching past Gibbs to fill it up again.

He'd already heard things of the young Captain sitting before him, and they made him wary. Jack and a fellow pirate friend of his had commandeered the Black Pearl right from under what should have been the very watchful eyes of a notoriously menacing Spaniard crew... but not before plying the crew with too many drinks, and just enough arsenic to make them sick enough to turn their backs on their ship. The problem was that Jack's cohort had been Hector Barbossa, and that meant Barbossa was Jack's first mate as well.

Jack began to talk about their history together, informing Gibbs that William Turner, which is what he'd called him 'out o' respect, 'course,' had been the man to make him the man he was today. 'Took me under 'is wing is what he did,' he'd said with a wry grin up at Bootstrap. 'An look what it got him... me as 'is captain... takin' orders from under me.' It wouldn't come out to Gibbs till much later that Bootstrap was more the captain of that ship than Jack was for the first year or so, seeing as how Jack had run almost all of his plans past him before even Barbossa for approval.

He was a merchant sailor at that time, and when he wasn't onboard some other man's ship he frequented Tortuga. It was there that he saw the crew of the Black Pearl most often, and there that he and Jack and Bootstrap became mates. He'd known Bootstrap for some time, and that was enough of a validation for him to take a liking to Jack. That, and the fact that Jack was so alive, so vibrant, and so practiced at ingratiating himself to those that he thought could service him in the future. Gibbs couldn't service him, but the fact that he and Bootstrap were friends was enough for Jack to try his damndest to get the older man to like him. Little did Jack know Gibbs had liked him from that first night.

There was a period there for two years where he didn't see either Jack or Bootstrap, nor did he see any of the Black Pearl's crew. He began to wonder if something awful hadn't happened to them rounding the end of the second year, and sent silent prayers that they at least went out valiantly. Eventually, though, the crew turned up again, minus it's Captain and it's Captain's mentor, and Gibbs didn't have to ask to know something awful had happened. Something that was, most likely, decidedly not noble.

The next time he saw Jack was another six months later, and he hadn't been even a shadow of the kid he'd grown quite fond of. He looked the same, and he had the same quick grin, but his eyes lacked the openness they'd once had. They'd been haunted, and distrusting, and they flinched even when it was Gibbs alone approaching him. His voice, once so earnest and uplifting, had turned hard and bitter. He nearly spat the story of mutiny at Gibbs, his eyes daring him to laugh, to find some kind of joy in Jack's humiliating ruination.

He'd grown to trust Gibbs again though, after working his nerves to a bloody end. Gibbs had tried to provide shelter to Jack those first few months, but Jack would have none of it. 'Taken care of me'self since I was but a child, Gibbs,' he'd spit at him. 'Take care o' me'self now just fine, thank'ya very much.' Gibbs had found him sleeping in the muck with the pigs behind his room though, and noticed that the blanket and makeshift pillow he'd put out for Jack got used.

Jack finally agreed to stay in Gibbs room for a fee, a few trinkets or doubloons he could scrounge up, and only for a while. He'd gathered his strength together, regaining his nerve, learning to become less jumpy and skittish than he had been when Gibbs had found him again. The first time Jack laughed Gibbs had nearly spit his ale in Jack's face he'd been so surprised. The hardness in his eyes never fully went away, but it softened enough for Gibbs to find with great relief that at least the kid's spirit hadn't been entirely beaten out of him.

He never was sure what it was that was the turning point for Jack Sparrow's rise again, but one day he noticed that the spring was back in the kid's step and the glow, while dulled, was back in his eyes. Jack told him he was going to find himself a ship, and find himself a crew, and he was going to bloody well get his ship back from that blasted Barbossa if it was the last thing he did. 'It'll take a lot of plannin', an' I'll have to wait for the opportune moment, but... mark me words, Gibbs,' he'd said, that glint thankfully winking at Gibbs from the coal depths of his eyes. 'I'll have me ship back.'

He'd come back to Tortuga a broken and failed man five years before, and he was leaving as the man Gibbs had found himself enamored with on the first night he'd met him. He'd thanked Gibbs the best way he could, with trinkets and alcohol, and a wink of those long lashes, and as he'd left he'd called over his shoulder that he'd always see to it that Gibbs never went for want. He'd kept his promise, and over the following five years he'd come back to Tortuga twice a year at the least to give Gibbs half of what he'd had left.

Jack told him finally, after Gibbs had become his first mate once the Pearl was his again, that his turning point had been hearing that Bootstrap was dead. 'I'd found out me only true mate was dead, an' even though I'd always in the back of me mind wondered whether or not he'd stabbed me in the back with the rest o' the lot, I wanted blood, man. I wanted blood on William's behalf, which for some reason was more of a reason than me own behalf,' he'd said in a low growl one late night after Will had fallen asleep. 'Always loved him, despite the fact that I never was sure whether or not he'd betrayed me. Did too much good for me for me to turn my back on 'im. Owed him that much, I thought.'

Watching Jack and Will together reminded him only slightly of the former Turner and Sparrow relationship. While Jack had clearly been smitten with Bootstrap, and Bootstrap had by no doubts had an affinity for Jack, theirs was a relationship of kinship. They'd had a camaraderie, and easiness, that was too steadfast to have been fettered with lover's quarrels and the inherent torment that comes along with great loves.

Will and Jack argued, on deck as well as off, and they certainly had their spats. There were moments when Gibbs was sure that Will Turner was going to stalk off the ship at the next dock and never return, but the kid never did. Jack and Bootstrap had a relationship that was one of the strongest Gibbs had seen, but the one he had with Will made that one look like rubbish.

They had a connection that was too strong to be broken by trivial arguments and lover's quarrels. In Will's eyes Jack had found the peace he'd been missing since he'd been marooned, and while he may not know how to show it properly he did the best he could. What's more, Will understood that... though sometimes it took Gibbs subtle prodding to make him remember.

Will sat down by Gibbs with a big sigh and slapped his cup onto the table, sloshing the dark amber of the ale on the wooden ship's table. "He's infuriating," he said, his voice dark with anger.

Gibbs laughed, putting an arm around Will's shoulders. "What now, Turner?"

Will's eyes were wide and questioning, his mouth quirked in an angry line. "He treats me like a kid!"

Gibbs nodded, sopping up the ale as it threatened to drizzle down onto his trousers from the edge of the table. "You are a kid, aren't ya?"

"I'm not," Will yelled, glaring at the back of Jack's head as he did. "I'm 21 years old, now."

Gibbs stifled his laughter, looking as sympathetically as he could at Will. "He only means it in the best ways, Turner."

"Yeah, well," Will said, probably unaware of how petulant he sounded. "It's maddening."

"What's he done," Gibbs asked, smiling fondly at the younger version of ole Bootstrap.

"Says I'm naïve if I think I can handle this next venture," he spat out at Gibbs, his voice pitched a bit higher in a dubious manner. "Says I have to man the ship this time, that I can't come on land."

Gibbs nodded. "Rightly so," he said, holding up a hand to stop Will's tirade from beginning. "He's been here before, mate... knows what he's getting into. Too much possibility for mistake."

"And what makes you think I'd be the one to make a mistake," Will asked, glowering at him. "I'm the best swordsman on this ship, Gibbs, and you know it."

"Yes," Gibbs said, nodding comfortingly. "But swordsmanship won't get you out of everything."

"Then why are we doing this," Will asked, throwing his hands up helplessly. "If this is so daunting and dangerous, why risk it?"

"Ends worth the means, son," Gibbs said with a shrug. "We've been there, the both of us. We know the islanders. We know the back ways, we know how to get to where we're going, know what twigs to avoid stepping on."

Will sulked in silence for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest in defiance. "Doesn't change the fact that he think of me as a kid. An incompetent, worthless, whelp."

Gibbs couldn't hold back his laugh at that, thumping the kid on the back. "Doubt he said all that, Turner." Will shrugged, looking like he was on the verge of tears. Gibbs felt sympathy sweep through him and threw an arm around Will's shoulders. "He only did it because he don't want nothin' to happen to you, love," he said softly, smiling down at him. "Can't bare to lose you."

Will sighed, turning his gaze once again to Jack's back. "I'm not a kid," he said again, sounding less angered and more defeated.

"An' nobody thinks you are, Turner," Gibbs said, knowing it wouldn't take much more sweet talking to get the kid's spirits back in the right direction. "We all know you're a young man now... but we don't want to see you hurt unnecessarily, none of us. Least of all him."

"I know," Will finally said, smiling slightly at Gibbs. "He just... he has a way of saying things..."

"I know, kid," Gibbs said, laughing and squeezing Will's shoulders before dropping his arm. "Has a way of twisting 'is thoughts around so's they come out sounding offensive when he don't mean for 'em to."

"And I," Will said, his smile turning wry and apologetic, "have a way of taking insult when I should know better."

Gibbs smiled up at Will as he stood and started off towards the cabin's, probably to compose himself further and get ready to apologize to Jack for flying off the handle. Not that Jack needed the apology, but that Will was always willing to apologize when he felt one was owed. At the shadow looming over him on the table, Gibbs turned to see Jack standing behind him looking at him uncertainly. "Sit down, Cap'n," he said with a grin, motioning to the space formerly occupied by Will.

"The whelp's mad at me again," Jack said, his voice sounding just vaguely wary.

"Thinks you think he's an insolent kid, Jack," Gibbs said, looking levelly at him. "An' callin' 'im a whelp ain't gonna 'xactly go towards makin' him think otherwise."

"Didn't call him it to his face," Jack said, a small sly grin forming on his face. "Called 'im it to you."

"Do you really think he's not ready for this mission," Gibbs asked, leaning forward and talking quietly. "Seems ready to me."

Jack shook his head. "No," he said, his voice leaving room for no argument. "Last time I was here I almost got my throat slit by a man dressed all in black," he said. "No room for mistake here, Gibbs... I won't have his throat slit on my watch."

"It's just," Gibbs started, holding up a hand for Jack to let him finish. "Something that I think even Will hasn't thought of, is that... doesn't this make him look weak to the crew? Doesn't this make him look incapable in their eyes?"

Jack's eyes flashed dangerously, his mouth turning down in a frown. "Don't try to sway me, Gibbs," he said, glaring at him. "I don't care if the crew looks down on him, I'll just as soon replace all of 'em than care what they think. I won't have him killed, man. Not on my watch."

Gibbs looked into Jack's eyes and saw a fear there that he hadn't seen in a long time and realized that maybe Jack's love for Will Turner surpassed even what he'd already thought. "Aye," he said with a nod and a smile. "Understood, Cap'n."

Jack smiled, putting an arm around Gibbs. "Thought so, mate," he said, knocking his head against Gibbs' before pulling back. "So'd ya manage to talk some sense into the boy?"

"Think so," Gibbs said with a nod. "Didn't have to, I don't think. He already knew where you were coming from, I just had to remind him."

Jack nodded and stood, running his hands down his clothes, absentmindedly smoothing out the wrinkles that he could. "Good man," he said, nodding sharply at Gibbs and winking at him. "Wouldn't do without you, Gibbs."

With a jaunt in his step Jack turned and headed straight for his cabin, leaving Gibbs to smile after him knowingly.

"Will," Jack called softly as he stepped lightly into his room, peering around the door. "You in 'ere, love?"

Will turned to him, looking up at him from the book in his lap. "Yeah, Jack... reading."

Jack nodded, looking around the room as if he were admiring the décor, despite the fact that he'd been the one to decorate it. "What are you reading?"

Will set the book down on the table by the bed and faced Jack, his mouth set in a straight line. "Come here."

Jack rose an eyebrow at him dubiously, stepping cautiously closer to the bed. "Aye, Will?"

"Over here," Will said, smiling slightly at the look on Jack's face. "Closer." He waited until Jack was within grabbing distance and then threw him onto the bed on his back, covering his body with his and laughing down into Jack's surprised expression. "Thought I was going to berate you again, did you?"

Jack frowned up at him, feeling slightly dizzy. "Thought did cross me mind, yes."

"I'm prepared to let this go," Will said, raising and quirking an eyebrow threateningly at him. "On one condition."

Jack nodded, still looking at him with doubtful eyes. "Aye?"

"Why do you not want me to go," Will asked.

"I don't want you to be harmed," Jack said, cutting off abruptly as Will dug an elbow into his stomach.

"Why, Jack, do you not want me to go?"

"It's dangerous, an' I don't want you to be hurt..."

"Jack... one last chance," Will said, his mouth set in a determined line. "Why don't you want me to go."

Jack looked up at him, reaching a hand out to grab onto a lock of his hair and winding it around his finger, licking his lips. "The answer is simply," he said, smiling slightly. "I love you, Will." Will's grin was maybe the most beautiful thing Jack had ever seen, even compared to a lifetime full of sunsets and rises.

"Thought so," Will said softly before descending on Jack and kissing him.