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A Pirate's Life and Death part 8 by Ecri
Will could barely move. Any time he did, he would feel a strange lightheadedness often followed by a fierce wave of nausea. His only consolation was that Elizabeth was here, safe, aboard the Pearl. It had been his only thought for so long–to save Elizabeth no matter where she had been taken.
When Killian had told him that Elizabeth would likely be sold in the Orient, it had been all he could do to hold on to hope. His determination to save her had only increased as he'd contemplated what trials awaited her there.
He recalled Killian's eyes, hard and cold, as the pirate had told him that. He recalled the man's enjoyment of the idea that Will would trade his life for her and how much laughter it had caused the man. At the time, Will didn't understand what the Commodore had found amusing about his suggestion, but now, Will knew. It had been amusing because Killian had already decided that Will would be the one to sacrifice his own life that the Commodore might live. Will's offer of his life in trade for Elizabeth's was meaningless since his life was no longer his own.
Another wave of nausea washed over the young blacksmith, but he fought it down. That was when the pain in his head doubled. He let out a low moan, keeping it as small as possible, knowing Elizabeth or possibly Jack might come to his side if they heard. He could not bear the thought of being a burden.
His head continued to pound, increasing in intensity, and he moaned again. He couldn't help it, though he would never have done it had he any control at all over himself. Control was something he had lost that day in Port Royal when Killian and his piratical fleet had attacked. He had been stripped of his sweet Elizabeth, his home, his life, his dignity.
He had tried–oh, how he had tried!–to hold onto some measure of authority over his and Elizabeth's fate, but Killian had taken that charade from him as well.
He knew he looked horrendous. He saw it in Elizabeth's face whenever she looked into his eyes. He could tell he'd lost weight for he could easily count his own ribs. He'd heard Elizabeth and Jack murmuring something about his being pale and having dark circles under his eyes.
Then there was his strength–or rather, lack of it. He could barely raise his arm to take a cup of water when it was offered, and, when he could, his body betrayed him and he was wracked with tremors.
His frustration grew, but he lacked the strength to be properly angry. He couldn't hurl anything away from him in anger. He lacked even enough strength to let his anger show in his voice. Even in his mind, instead of the hot, burning fire of an all-consuming rage, he felt only a strange numbness, a separation, as though he was removed from all he should feel and all that went on around him.
He had wept bitterly when the pain had first hit him, crying out in anguish, unable to articulate what he felt in anything other than a primal scream the very utterance of which was more expressive than he could imagine.
When Will could feel anything at all, it was humiliation that Elizabeth saw him like this: weak, helpless, dependent on those around him. He was fed and bathed in his bed, and his eyes burned with shame so that he had taken to pretending to be asleep whenever he knew she would be in with the rag and bucket to cleanse the drug-induced sweat and vomit from his body.
Will shivered and trembled with cold and fatigue. He knew his fever was high, and he'd only moments before felt as though he was on fire.
"Jack?" He called to his friend weakly, not remembering from time to time if Jack had allowed Elizabeth into the room that morning or not. He sometimes forbade her entry until she herself got some rest, but Jack would be there. Jack was always there.
Sure enough, in moments, Jack was at his side, clasping his hand. "Here I am, Will. It's all right."
"It hurts Jack!"
"I know it does, mate. I'm sorry."
In his mind, Jack cursed Killian to whatever hell men like him found themselves. He recalled Bootstrap going through these same withdrawal symptoms when he'd been taken by Killian. It was some sort of drug to make his victims easier to manage. Jack had never pinpointed what it was exactly, but he knew it was potent.
Playing nursemaid to the Blacksmith, Elizabeth and Jack were the only ones who saw him, and once or twice, Jack took advantage of his rights as captain and tossed Elizabeth out. He'd been through this with Bill and he knew what to expect, and he wasn't entirely certain that Will wasn't trying to appear in better control of himself with her around. Will Turner was a stubborn man, and Jack didn't want him adding stress to his recovery simply because he wanted to save his girlfriend some worry.
"Jack?"
"Yes, Will?"
"I need to know more about my father."
Jack sighed. "I'll tell you all I know, but only because I think you need something to occupy your mind." Jack launched into story after story about Will's father, telling tales of when they'd met, when they'd gotten drunk together and the way Bootstrap talked lovingly of the son he'd left behind in England. As he spoke, his hands traced seemingly random arcs in the air, and once or twice he swayed, his body moving in a circle or semi-circle at some invisible cue.
"Aye," Jack nodded, a gleam in his eyes. "And that's how I came to realize he'd been drunk the entire time!" He smiled at the recollection, his gold teeth shining in the light from lanterns and candles. He sobered then, all swaying and gesticulation disappearing as his voice became noticeably steadier and more serious.
"Your father was a good man, Will. I hope you have accepted that." Jack spoke earnestly. His eyes, clear and full of intelligence and sanity–for the moment at least–never strayed from his charge. "It's the truth. He was a good man and a good friend."
Will nodded. He had grown to accept that idea. At least he was more open to it than he had been when he had first met Captain Jack Sparrow. "I have, Jack, or at least I'm trying." He wanted to say more, but his stomach clenched suddenly and fire seemed to shoot through his veins. The young blacksmith clenched his eyes shut and clawed blindly for the captain's hand.
With his free hand, Jack reached for a cloth that still sat in a pail of water and bathed Will's feverish brow. He wished it could be cool water, but the Caribbean didn't allow it. As he worked, he spoke soothingly to his friend.
"Shh. It's all right, mate. You'll be well. And you and your bonnie lass will be able to return"
Will stopped shuddering enough to laugh bitterly. "Return to what? Port Royal is no more."
Jack sighed. He'd had a similar conversation with Elizabeth who had wept at the thought of her father's demise.
"We've no way of knowing what's 'appened. There must be survivors. If not, you can sail back to England"
Will spurned that suggestion vehemently. "I could not!"
Jack stopped wiping Will's brow in consternation. "And why is that?"
"It is bad enough that I am a blacksmith seeking the hand in marriage of the Governor's daughter in a small colony. Things that might be marginally acceptable here would be impossible there! If I took Elizabeth to England, we could never be together!" Desperation clouded Will's eyes and his thoughts. He could not give up on her.
Jack nodded. He didn't know what to say to the lad, so he was quiet. Another pain wracked the boy's body and Jack held him as Will clung to the captain. It had been many years since Jack had performed this same function for Bootstrap Bill, and he couldn't be sure, but he thought Will's reaction to the drugs Killian had given him was somewhat worse than his father's had been.
He couldn't be sure, of course. It could be his imagination.
Just then, Will shuddered violently, his eyes open but glazed. Jack knew the lad didn't see him leaning over his trembling form, and he reached out a hand to restrain the younger man.
The shuddering increased just as Will put his hands to his stomach as if to ease some pain before he rolled slightly to the side and regurgitated. Retching melted into dry heaves that were, in a way, worse since tortured stomach muscles contracted repeatedly to expel contents that were not there.
Jack clung to the boy, whispering comforting words when he could think of them. When the episode finally subsided, Will was paler and covered in sweat. His face was red with the efforts his body had forced upon him and his mouth tasted of vomit.
"Jack" his voice was weak with the monumental effort of speaking his friend's name.
"I'm here, lad." Jack was wiping Will's face with a damp rag, careful not to step into the puddle on the floor by the bed. He'd have to get that mopped.
Will seemed to relax slightly at the reassurance before he lost consciousness.
Jack watched him for a short time to be sure he was breathing properly, then he left the room to fetch a mop and bucket. He could have ordered a crewman to clean up the mess, but he had vowed that only he and Elizabeth would step foot inside the room until Will recovered.
**
Elizabeth saw Jack leave Will's sickroom and was instantly at his side moving with quick strides to keep pace with the Captain. "Jack, I refuse to allow you to keep me from his side any longer! I will care for him!"
Jack drew to a halt so suddenly that Elizabeth's hurried steps carried her several feet from him before she realized it and turned around. "Listen, Lizzie, my dear, I have no problem with you taking care of him, but as Captain of this ship, I say when and for how long. Savvy?"
"I am not a member of your crew! You cannot order me about! I am"
"quickly getting on my nerves, and if I didn't think your presence could be of help to the lad, I'd 'ave you locked below decks until we reach the next supply stop!" He let his anger drain away, but not his determination. "You can see him once you've had few hours kip, my love." He leered at her then, more from a habitual association of that particular facial expression with the words "my love" than from any personal desires he had. She was cute, he'd admit that, but she was Will's and he wouldn't have tried a thing with her even if it had occurred to him.
Retrieving a bucket and a mop, Jack returned to the cabin to clean up the latest mess. As he went, he called out to Gibbs who had the wheel. "Keep 'er steady, Mr. Gibbs, and let me know when we reach port!"
"Aye, Cap'n!" Gibbs steered merrily sure that all was right with the world now that they were headed away from Scratch. He was certain they had no more worries as the Pearl sliced easily through the clear blue water.
**
Elizabeth scowled at the retreating back of Captain Jack Sparrow. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she turned away and stormed across the deck towards the bow of the ship. Fuming, she tried to get control of her anger.
Jack had no right to keep her from Will's side, and she had half a mind to stalk into the cabin with a sword drawn and demand that Sparrow leave Will to her care.
The only thing stopping her was the knowledge that Jack knew much more about this than she did. He'd already successfully treated Will's father from the same addiction. He knew what was going to happen and how best to deal with it. Plus, she had seen Will, in the rare moments when he was aware and cognizant, trying to shield her from the severity of his pains and troubles. She knew he placed to much pressure on himself to appear healthier than he was, happier than he could yet be, whenever she was there.
"Men!" They could be so stupid at times! How could Will not know how she needed to help him? Surely he would offer the same if their positions were reversed. She certainly wouldn't put up a façade of strength that belied the strain on her face. No, she would take the comfort offered.
She would have to make both men see that she could not be shut out!
**
Will Turner saw his father's limp form lying under the crushing weight of the
cannon. He felt the water, cold at these depths, swirling around them both
as he tried to find some way to free Bootstrap Bill, but even as he reached for
his father, he saw the shackles around his own wrists. Looking behind him, he
was shocked beyond measure to see the ocean had gone. In its place stood a
stone altar. Bootstrap Bill was strapped to it as Commodore Killian spoke strange
words in some strange language that seemed to feed the odd glowing box that lay
near Bootstrap's head as wood fed a fire.
Will opened his mouth to cry out to his father, to plead with the Commodore to
release him at once, but his voice was not his own.
As he watched in horror, Killian, a maniacal gleam in his eyes, raised a knife high
over his own head and brought it down to plunge deep into the chest of the man
on the altarwho had somehow become Captain Jack Sparrow.
Sparrow's eyes widened in surprise. "How interesting" he muttered even as his
blood oozed from the wound and the life oozed from his eyes.
Will's eyes opened and his body tried to sit up, but the cursed lack of strength only raised him partially from his bed. Gasping for air and for words, all he managed was a wordless scream. Strong arms caught him and eased him down even as he heard soft words of comfort.
Will blinked rapidly trying to restore his sense of reality. "Jack"
"Shhh! It's all right. Just a dream."
"Jack, I need to knowwhat was Killian doing?"
Jack hesitated, but only for a moment. "You're bright enough, me lad. Surely you've guessed by now."
"He thought my life might extend his own. I don't see how." Will gasped for breath after the words tumbled from his mouth.
"Supernatural mumbo jumbo, curses, stone altars, sacrifices, little wooden boxes that devour the lives they touchI've no idea." Jack smiled slightly. He was secretly more pleased than he could say that he'd managed to save Will from that maniacas he had his father.
Will nodded, still not understanding. One thing he did understand. "You saved Elizabeth."
"Yes."
"Thank you."
"Well, I couldn't leave her there like that, could I. I may be a pirate, but I have my standards."
Will smiled at that. "Jack"
"What?"
"I heard some of what you and Killian were saying in thein that room."
Jack had a feeling he knew where this was going. "Did you?" He did his best to look as though that wasn't of the slightest bit of concern to him.
"He said he should have killed you when you were a boy."
"Did he?" Jack moved back and swayed a bit in his seat as he considered. "Figure of speech?" He looked at Will, but Will was just staring at him.
Jack sighed. "You're just like Bootstrap. Fine, I'll tell you. I was cabin boy on the Maruader from the time I was ten. By the time I was twenty-five, Killian had made me one of the crew. When I was twenty-five, Killian intended to take Bootstraps life like he was intending to take yours. I've no idea why it wasn't me."
Jack fell silent thinking about it all.
"Jack"
"Sorry, rightwell, here's how it went" Jack carefully told the story he'd kept to himself since it had happened. He glossed over a few of the details, but in general, Will now knew everything.
"Where did you go?" Will asked, intrigued by the story.
"Bill and I rowed back to the fourth ship in Killian's little fleet. The crew of it was easily bought with promises of riches." Jack's tone hadn't changed, and Will was sure he was remembering more.
"Fourth ship?"
Jack smiled, his gold teeth catching the light of the candles. "The Black Pearl."
"But"
"That's all I'm giving you, Will."
Will nodded as another wave of pain hit him. Soon all thought of Jack's secrets left him as he struggled to control himself when another wave of pain hit him.
Through it all, Captain Jack Sparrow comforted, consoled, and held onto the hurting boy whom he considered almost a son or a brother of his own.
To Be Continued
Responses to Reviews
Jackfan2: Your reviews really make me want to keep going with this. This chapter should answer some, though not all, of your questions. I do have some specific ideas about how things are going to turn out, but I won't divulge them here. Sorry, but you'll have to wait for the next chapter!
EnglishMystic: I'm overjoyed! Especially good you say? I'm blushing! I hope this one works for you, too!
Alexa: Yes, I get into trouble when I forget that I'm writing for myself. Whenever I write to please what I think are other people's expectations my story suffers. I have a slogan I wrote for myself to keep me on the right track. "Write with finesse, but don't write to impress." Not perfect, but it serves as a good reminder. More heart to heart talks, withdrawals, swashbuckling, and general butt kicking coming soon to a fanfic page near you!
LordLanceahlot: Thanks! That's my goal.
Emiri-chan: thanks for all your reviews on the various chapters. I hope this all works for you
Rachel the Insane Unicorn: Thanks for that! I'm always flattered and overjoyed to see that I'm on someone's Favorites List. I spent a lot of months here on no one's favorites list! Are the characters suffering to your satisfaction? If not, stay tuned. More suffering and angst to come!
Amanda: A fan! I have a fan! An impressed fan, no less! I am thrilled beyond words that you like what I've done. You are right. Jack is hard to write, and I worry about losing him, but I have some ideas for the next chapter that seem veryJacklike.
Kels: I hadn't thought of a series! That's a good idea. My muse and I better sit down and work this out!
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Trinity Day: Yes, there will be a few more. I'm not exactly sure how many. I guess it depends on how things develop. I do have definite plans, though.
Carrie5: The plot is captivating? My characters have such depth? **Ecri does happy dance.** Thanks! Wow! I would never get tired of hearing things like that! Keep reading! More to come!