Disclaimer: I don't own it. Disney does. No disrespect is intended. I am making no money from this and write it only for my own amusementand, I hope, for the amusement of whoever reads it!
Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing!
This chapter was a long time in coming, in part because my must refused to go from point a to point b. Knowing where point d through z are gave me a lot to work with, and more than a little impatience with both my muse and with point b!
I do sincerely apologize for the long delay, and promise, now that I am on track, not to let it go so long again.
So with no further adieux, and in celebration of Johnny Depp's nomination for an Academy Award even if he didn't win, here's an extra long chapter. (It's more than double the length of most of my previous chapters. Consider it a thank you for your patience!)
A Pirate's Life and Death part 14 by Ecri
As the sun released the sky to the stewardship of moon and stars, Captain Jack Sparrow inhaled gratefully of the salt sea air. Wind and sea had been cooperative through the long day, and, with full sails, and swift currents, the Black Pearl had made better time than any aboard would have guessed. Sparrow expected to make port sometime near sunset the next day and be able to start the search for Bootstrap Bill in earnest.
He was as anxious as Will Turner–if not more so–truth be told. Will searched for an ideal, a man he had heard tell of, first from his mother, then, built up in his own idealistic imagination, and finally from Jack himself and Barbossa's crew.
Jack searched for a friend, perhaps the truest friend he'd had in all his life until the Junior Turner had come along.
Jack's eyes gazed upwards at the full sails of his beloved ship, and allowed the peaceful freedom of such a moment to ease whatever worries he held hidden in his heart. He was not a man who ran from trouble. Generally, he embraced it, rushing headlong through it if he believed that was the shortest route to something he desired. He wasn't a fearful man, either. He'd faced the hangman's noose still searching for a way out, never truly giving up all hope. He'd faced cursed pirates–fought skeletons of men he'd sailed with and called friend. He'd faced Killianall right, so maybe that had scared him a bit, but Jack had learned long ago that bravery wasn't the absence of fear. It was being able to stand up and face it without soiling yourself.
No, Captain Jack Sparrow was neither a fearful man, nor one who ran from trouble, but his–apprehension–had grown recently. This search had barely begun and already the detritus of his past that had been dredged from the depths of his memory were more than he wished to face. It seemed to him that the past should stay where you put it. If you leave it behind, it shouldn't come after you like a puppy seeking attention. It shouldn't sneak up on you like a thief in the night wanting nothing other than to steal away any semblance of perspective, balance, or normalcy you managed to build. It shouldn't hide so well that you thought it lost if you bothered think of it at all, only to invade your thoughts when you should be occupied with other things.
Jack cut off his line of thinking and wondered where his good mood had gone. Dark thoughts seemed to linger on the edge of awareness lately, poisoning the elation he should feel. He'd rescued Elizabeth and Will, and rid the world of Killian. What better cause to celebrate?
It was Joe's insistence that William Turner lived that had churned up such bad memories. It all tied together with Killian and the friendship Sparrow had shared with Nick and William. He'd made a choice years ago, and he still hadn't found a way to live with it. Now, with the real possibility that his friend, Will's father, could be alive, he knew he had to find a way to face it, or let it torment him always. Just like he'd have to face the fact that William Sr. had retrieved the item they'd left with Ol' Joe.
He was entitled of course. It belonged to him as much as to Jack, and if he was the last one of them alive, he'd have thought it reasonable to take it. That was really what bothered him. Ol' Joe had claimed that William was set on searching for him. That implied that his friend didn't think he was dead. Of course, there was so much about William recent life that he couldn't even guess. How long had he been trapped in the depths of Davy Jones' Locker? How had he found a way out of that harrowing predicament? Why hadn't he bumped into Bill once in all this time, or at least heard tell of him? There were so many questions he'd have to ask the man once they found him.
Of course, just because he had been alive more recently than presumed, didn't mean he hadn't died since. Ol' Joe had said three years. A lot could happen in three years. That was the one thing Jack hadn't mentioned to Will. The boy was bright enough to guess that for himself, and if he hadn't, Jack didn't want to add to his anxieties.
Of course, there were other things racing about in the darker corners of Will Turner's mind. It was obvious from the brooding the boy seemed to be doing lately. Even as he thought it, Jack was surprised to come upon the lad alone on deck; a dark figure sitting huddled by the rail unidentifiable, hidden in the shadows, and silent as the grave.
Jack cleared his throat, unwilling to speak before announcing himself. The small sound caused the figure to all but leap to his feet, eyes wide. Jack smiled in spite of himself. No pirate–or perhaps he should say seasoned pirate–would have been so startled. What had brought the would-be pirate to hide in the shadows deep in thought he couldn't guess.
"What's all this, then, mate? Why aren't you asleep, or with your loveor for that matter sleeping with your"
"Jack!"
Jack held up his hands as if in surrender, then pressed palm to palm, bowing slightly over the prayerful gesture asking forgiveness for the remark without having to say a word. "Didn't mean to upset your sensibilities, Will. Of course, we gentlemen don't discuss our romantic conquests."
Will was shaking his head, a slight blush upon his cheeks. "There was no conquest!"
"Ah," Jack took a step closer. "Sounable to perform or unequipped to"
"Jack!" His gaze dropped to the deck beneath his feet, and Jack felt the unfamiliar sting of regret that he hadn't held his tongue. Jack was about to speak again, when quiet words reached his ears.
"At least my love for her has never failed."
Jack frowned. The way Will spoke seemed to imply that he had failed in other ways. "Out with it, lad!"
At first, Jack wondered if Will hadn't heard him speak. Then, he wondered if he had spoken. Will raised his eyes to look at Jack, and the Pirate Captain saw the storms raging in his eyesand, Jack could only assume, in his soul.
Ahhh, lad. Jack sighed internally, not letting on what he suspected. Will would need to find the words to tell him about this on his own.
"I had no wish for her to see methat way."
"Which way is that, Will? Crossing countless miles to find her? Fighting Killian when any fool could see you lacked the strength to stand?"
Will made a gesture as though to discount such things, but Jack wasn't having any of it. "Out with it, boy."
Anger seethed in those still stormy eyes, as Will glared at his friend. "I am no boy!" Just as quickly as it had come upon him, the anger drained away, leaving Will looking younger and smaller, and more like the boy he denied being. "You know what I mean, Jack." His gaze was again on the deck. "Weak, ill, in need of rescue"
Jack had been expecting this. Defensive, easy to anger, these were familiar aftereffects of Killian's drug. The boy was fragile from the bout with the Commodore's foul drug. Not fragile in a physical way, no, he was well on his way to being over that, but his ego was likely bruised at best.
Jack had seen it in others who'd had the fortune to survive an addiction to the brew. Will was beginning to gain his strength, but he was also beginning to realize how much strength he had lost. Imagining his ladylove seeing him in that condition had been about as good for him as having it happen at all. Somehow, the lad likely thought the worst thing about it had not been that he'd fallen, but that Elizabeth had witnessed his fall.
"Lad, you're too 'ard on yerself." He draped an arm across Will's shoulders and spoke in soft, conspiratorial tones. "Elizabeth isn't in love with you because she thinks you're invincible. She's in love with you. Period. No because. No whys or wherefores. She's a lass, not a business partner, and you're in love, not negotiating a contract."
Will didn't look at Jack. "I wanted to be worthy of her, but I couldn't even save her." He raised his somber eyes and stared into Jack's and the older man got the distinct impression he was searching desperately for his own worth as if he wasn't at all aware that to find that, he needed to look inside himself.
Silently, Jack cursed whatever upbringing Will had had that would leave him with so little belief in himself. Sure, Killian's drug had amplified these issues, but it couldn't have created them. He had first thought the boy lacked self-esteem when he'd received the gift Will had sent to him. Beautiful it was, but the note that had come with it had told Jack all he needed to know about Will Turner's opinion of himself.
He'd hidden it well. Jack never would have guessed it of the lad during the Barbossa incident, but, of course, it was after that that his life had likely changed. Nothing like wooing a girl above your station' to shine a light upon all the inadequacies others might imagine you possess. Killian's interference certainly hadn't helped.
Jack began to stroll around the deck, his arm still draped across Will's shoulders thus forcing him to keep pace. He looked left and right as though to be sure he wasn't about to be overheard, then spoke quietly to Will. "Tell me, Will. Elizabethshe isn't very bright, is she?"
"What? Jack! How can you say"
"Shhhh!" Jack waved his free hand in front of Will as though he would physically beat down the volume of the words the younger man had spoken. "Keep it down, me lad. Keep it down. I was just askin' a question. Ye don't think too 'ighly of 'er intelligence, do ye?"
"Don't be ridiculous! Jack"
"Hush! I said to keep it down, mate!" Jack's hands wavered in front of Will in an odd dance of movement none, possibly not even Jack, could easily interpret. "Soyou do think she's a bright lass. Well then" He paused in his walking and stroked his beaded beard as though deep in thought. He snapped his fingers then as if a something had occurred to him. "I've got it! You think she's a bit shallow."
"Jack!"
"Shoulda seen that before, really"
"Jack, stop it!"
"I meana girl like that"
"How can you say"
"used to the finer things in life"
"She's not!"
"dresses from Paris
"You know very well"
"and London"
"You're not even listening!"
"not Singapore, though"
"Jack!" Will fairly exploded. His face was red with barely suppressed rage. "Take it back! Elizabeth is the fairest, sweetest, most intelligent, thoughtful, kind, considerate, compassionate woman in all the world. I'll have an apology from you at once, or"
Jack moved to stand in front of Will. He grasped the lad's shoulders in his hands and looked his friend in the eye as he spoke softly, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Or you'll what? Throttle me with your bare 'ands? Come at me with a sword? Aye, lad. That she is. We've proved something 'ere, though, 'aven't we?"
Will shook his head. "We"
"We've learned two things. ONE" Jack waggled a finger in Will's face. "You're not the weak coward you think you are, since you threatened an armed Pirate Captain with every intent of causing said captain great bodily harm though you are completely unarmed, and TWO" He waggled two fingers in Will's face. "You think Elizabeth thinks very little of the one man in her life who would leave hearth and home, move heaven and earth, and sail the seas with pirates and cutthroats just to find her."
Will stared at Jack, the fire of his rage doused soundly by the icy logic Jack offered.
The younger man took a deep breath and a step back and hitting the ship's rail. "Am I a fool, Jack?"
Jack pursed his lips and looked up at the sky as though considering it before dropping his gaze to look his friend in the eye. "Only some of the time, lad, and the smartest man in the world is often a willing fool for the lady of his heart's desire."
Will raised an eyebrow at the poetic remark, but refrained from teasing his friend about it.
"Come, lad, why be so 'ard on yerself?"
"II don't knowshe's the governor's daughter"
"And you're the lowly blacksmith? Come along, lad. You're an artisan, a crafstman. It's not as though you sell rotten apples off a cart in the market. You 'ave a trade, which is more than a lot of men can say."
"I knowI can't support her on my wages. I'm an apprentice, really"
"To that drunken sluggard? Everyone knows who does the real work!"
"At most, a few might suspect, but I can't afford to set up a shop of my own. I'mhe took me in as an orphan"
"So you need to be grateful for all the rest of yer days? Pull the other one, lad, it's got bells on!"
"I'm serious, Jack! Do you know how much it would cost to set up my own shop? Do you have any idea at all how little I make?" Desperation was creeping back into his voice.
"Well, no, lad, but I know 'ow you can make more!"
"I'm not a pirate, Jack." Will turned away from him and faced the dark ocean though little could be seen.
Jack saw and heard despondency take hold once more. The moon slipped behind the clouds plunging the pair and the Pearl into a world black as pitch, though oddly befitting the somber mood.
Jack's eyes gleamed, and he spun the lad around to face him. The smile on his face glittered with gold as the wind picked up obligingly tearing the clouds from the moon. "No, you may not be a pirate, Will, but you are Bootstrap's son. Whatever else Bootstrap was, he planned ahead. If we find 'im, you'll 'ave a shop of your own, and enough to pay for ring, wedding, and 'ouse!"
"What are you talking about? My father wasn't rich." A look of doubt crossed Will's face. "Was he?"
"Not as such, but the pair of us 'ad an agreement." Jack was enjoying himself immensely.
"I don't understand."
"No. Nor will you, since I'm not about to tell you anything else." Jack smiled happily as Will stared at him in confusion. It was the way he preferred to keep the people around him. "Don't you be worryin' about it. I'll find William Senior. I suspect we'll find 'im soon."
"How do you know?"
Jack shrugged. "Just a hunch really."
"A hunch?"
"Don't knock it, lad. Sometimes, it's all you've got to go on!"
To Jack's eyes, the lad did seem in slightly better spirits, but he could sense another subtle shift as talk had turned to finding William. The boy was likely unsure they should be doing this at all. Jack knew they had thrust this choice upon him. He and Elizabeth had decided it was in Will's best interests to find his father and had changed course while he slept. It wasn't a decision he'd made lightly, nor would he change his mind now, but it occurred to him that maybe Will wasn't willing to search for his father because he wasn't ready to face that part of himself.
Will had grown up believing the Senior Turner was a merchant. When he'd lost his mum and come looking for the only other relative he had, his ship had been beset by pirates. It was a lot for a lad of 13 to deal with, and the image of his father had likely grown in his mind over the years. Maybe Will was afraid of disappointment. Maybe he was afraid of losing another long held belief in the face of harsh reality.
Whatever was going through the lad's mind, Jack knew the one thing Will needed more than anything right now was to have some tangible link to his father. It was time. "Lad, I've got something for you."
***********
The Painted Parrot had seen busier days, but the man who stood darkly silhouetted in the doorway cared only about one patron. Spotting his quarry sitting with a wench in his lap, he strode across the room and sat himself uninvited at the man's table. "I told you before," he said without preamble, "that I've taken all I can take. Did you hear me? I've 'ad enough! You give me back what's mine, and I'll leave ye be. If you don'twell, a man who 'as nothin' 'as nothin' to lose, so it won't cost me anythin' to take back what ye won't give freely."
"Aww, Bill," the woman said to the man she was perched upon. "Wot ye gonna do, then? Go off and fight this'un when ye could find better comp'ny 'ere."
Bootstrap Bill eased the wench off his lap and leaned menacingly across the table. "I told you more than once, and you should know it already. Wot kind o'pirate be ye? Take wot ye can, and give nothin' back! You'll not be takin' from me what I've already took from you. It's mine now, by the code."
"Don't speak to me of the code! Ye don't know a thing about it! There's lines pirates don't even cross"
Bootstrap's laughter rang through the near empty establishment, cutting off the words of his nameless accuser. "Who taught ye that! That's a lie if ever I 'eard one." The bitterness dripped from Bill's words and even the man confronting him drew back involuntarily. "Truth is, mate, we set limits to see if we'll cross 'em, and you know what?" He lowered his voice and leaned closer to the man. "It takes remarkably little to make a man do what 'e swore 'e never would. You should know that better than anyone." With that, Bootstrap Bill suddenly rose, a dagger in his hand. Lashing out with it, he put a gash in the man's arm and knocked him down. As the man hit the floor, Bootstrap grabbed him by the shirt and held the knife to the other man's throat. "I've no desire to take yer life"
"You've done that already!" The prone man growled.
Bootstrap's eyes took on a hard glint. "Aye, but I can do worse! Remember that, and keep your distance." Throwing the man down, he secreted the knife, rose to his feet and left the Painted Parrot without looking back.
The man stayed where he'd fallen for a moment or two, then got shakily to his feet. His hand clutched at the slice in his arm desperately trying to keep hold back the blood.
The wench knelt by his side. The man she'd thought to get her day's wages from had left her dry, so she had no recourse but to try to separate the wounded man from whatever money he had. "'Ere love, let me 'elp you! Ain't you a sight!" After leading the man to another table, she scurried off returning a moment later with rum and bandages. She poured the rum on the gash eliciting a surprised cry before the man could bite his lip to cut it short.
The woman bandaged his arm with a surprisingly gentle hand. "Thanks." He whispered the word, lacking both the strength and the inclination to speak louder. "Ye didn't need to do that."
She smiled at him sweetly. "So we'll say ye owe me one, won't we?" Curiosity overwhelmed her business sense, and, as she tied off the bandage with a neat little knot, she had to ask her question. "Wot is it ye wanted from 'im?"
"Everything."
Irritated at the nonanswer, she scowled at him. "Wot's that s'posed ta mean?"
"He stole it all, and I will get it back."
She shivered not so much at the words but at the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes. While he was lost in his own dark thoughts, she slipped away more willing to lose the wages than to hear what tale the man might have told.
*****
Will stared at the box Jack had given him. He still hadn't opened it, though Jack had left him alone with it more than an hour ago. He hadn't known what to make of Jack's sudden seriousness when the man he considered his closest friend ushered him to his cabin. On the short walk, Jack had been deep in thought. He'd made no extraneous gestures, no small talk, and no off-color observations, and from that alone Will had been certain that Jack Sparrow was about to turn his life upside down once again.
Jack had always been good at that. In their very first meeting, Sparrow had managed to best him in a sword duel by cheating, something he somehow hadn't suspected, believing that even a pirate would follow a code of conduct. Jack's single word defense had told the blacksmith how naïve he had been.
It was while on their way to rescue Elizabeth that first time, that Jack had again irrevocably altered his view of the world by telling him that William Turner, Sr. was a pirate. Only discovering his father was an undead pirate had been more unsettling.
Of course, just when he had begun to come to terms with his newfound heritage, Jack had informed him that there was a better than good chance that his father was still alive.
That first night after Jack had broken that news to him, he had dreamed again. The dreams had left him for a time, though he hadn't a clue why. Jack's news had inspired his subconscious mind to churn out the most memorable nightmare he'd yet suffered since it had occurred to him that he might well have caused his father's death.
There was the chance that, perhaps, he had forgotten how bad the dreams had been. Perhaps the joy of having been reunited with Elizabeth had lowered his defenses. Whatever the reason, that night had been horrifying.
The dream had not started like most of the nightmares about his father. He had been in Port Royal. It was the night of Killian's raid, yet it was also the night Barbossa had taken Elizabeth. Skeleton pirates raced about the streets side by side with Killian's men, and Will, sword in one hand, pistol in the other, was doing his best to find Elizabeth and keep her safe. He'd managed to fell one pirate and turned towards another, only to find himself facinghimself. The other Will Turner stared at him in wide-eyed astonishment.
Will knew, in the way you know things in dreams, that the other man was not him, but his father. He could do nothing else but stare at his father. Feeling something sticky, Will looked down at his hand, which, to his horror, held his sword plunged deep into his father's stomach. He could not have done it, for he had not moved, yet there was the blood from the wound, and there was his hand on the hilt of his sword. He released the hilt and took a step back, and his father took a step with him, then another closing the distance. The older man stepped into the moonlight, and, as its silvery threads touched him, William Turner, Sr. was transformed, as the rest of Barbossa's crew had been, into a skeleton.
Hands of bone, rotted flesh, and rotting sinew reached towards the sword hilt his son had just abandoned. Then, as Will watched, his father slowly drew the blade from his own now skeletal belly, and turned it around. With one thrust forward it would pierce Will's stomach. That was when he'd wakened in a cold sweat, lungs heaving in desperation to take in his next breath.
What the dream meant, he did not know. It made little sense, since Barbossa's crew could not bleed, and since his father had apparently not been killed by the removal of the curse. Will couldn't be responsible for his death. So why dream the very act of killing him?
The young blacksmith reasoned with himself that dreams need contain no logic, and certainly, nightmares contained far less than the benign images of their less intense counterparts. Still he puzzled over it, though he'd come to no satisfying conclusions.
Will's thoughts came back to the present as he heard the sounds of morning. No birdsong on a pirate ship, but he heard the unmistakable sounds of the crew who had been asleep now rising and returning to their chores.
Still he made no move to open the box, or, as Jack had called it, his birthright.
Sparrow had rummaged through a chest where, Will knew, he kept only those things most important to him. Then he'd held out the box wrapped in a plain bit of cloth.
"I didn't know he'd left it for ye, or I'd have put it in your 'ands a long time ago, Will." Jack told him, apology and regret in his voice.
"What is it?"
"It's your birthright. William put this aside for you, a long time ago. He left it with Ol' Joe and Joe gave it to me when 'e told me your father was still alive." Jack paused.
Will held it in his hands, not bothering to remove the soiled, tattered wrapping. "You've had it all this time." It wasn't a question. It was obvious that Jack had had it all this time, but it was something to say when all other words escaped him.
Will sat down heavily on the one chair in the room eyes still on the box. He felt Jack's stare, but was unwilling to speak.
Jack filled the silence himself. "Your father was the best friend I ever 'ad. If I'd knownWill, I know you feel betrayed but I can tell you 'e loved you."
"You know I feel betrayed. You're better at this than I am, Jack, because I haven't a clue how I feel." Abruptly, Will stood. "He left this for me? He could have brought it himself."
"William was looking for me and Barbossa"
Will's voice was quiet and laden with the hurt that he knew had shone in his eyes since he'd come around from Killian's drug. His emotions had insisted on remaining close to the surface where they could surprise him by bursting out unbidden from time to time. "Sohe was looking for you and Barbossa. I suppose I just had to wait my turn."
He pushed past Jack and walked out to the deck. It was too stifling in the cabin and he needed the cool air of predawn and the scent of the sea to still the rapid beating of his heart.
He'd sat right here staring out at the ship's wake since then. He was curious what might be in the box, but he didn't want to open it. It seemed foolish somehow, a piece of his father, here in his hand, and he chose to ignore it.
Will forced his gaze down to the box. It was square, and made of a fine wood stained a deep mahogany. The top was carved beautifully in a design vaguely reminiscent of the sea. Great curls and swirls suggested waves or shells, though the design was more abstract than to accurately depict either. The sides of the box were likewise decorated, and on one side was a latch and keyhole. The key, Jack had shown him, was secreted in a small enclosure on the underside that easily popped open when you pressed two of the curlicues down at the same time. Infinitely clever, he'd thought when he'd seen it. The craftsman in him wondering how it was accomplished.
Will knew he should open it, yet somehow it seemed a comforting thing to do the opposite of what his father would wish. Perhaps he was hurt, angry, afraid, but he found it strangely satisfying to be in control for once. He got to his feet as the sun began its climb and he returned to his own bunk, stowing the box with what little he had to his name.
Perhapshe would look at it later. For now, he didn't want to tie himself to the past. He didn't want to be the son of Bootstrap Bill. He didn't want to be Port Royal's blacksmith, or the upstart boy who didn't know his place in proper British society. He didn't want to be the whelp whose blood could reverse a curse, or whose life could be stolen to extend some immortal monster's time in this world. He wanted only to be Will. Whoever that was, and whatever that meant, he was tired of being all those other things. For now, being Will would be enough.
********
Elizabeth Swann stared at Will as he worked with the crew of the Pearl. She was afraid he might push himself too quickly and send himself into some sort of relapse, but the truth was he was growing stronger every day and seemed very much at home. He stretched a bit, as he helped trim the sails, his bare chest showing her how much weight he'd lost recently thanks to Killian's games.
He was laughing with the pirates as they worked, and she realized that she hadn't often heard him laugh before their first adventure on the Pearl. He might have offered a timid smile, or a small sound that was little more than the promise of laughter he was unable or unwilling to share, but never before had she heard this hearty, joyous sound.
He had always seemed so serious before, but here, at his ease, smiling and laughing freely, she was struck by so many things.
The most obvious was that he was a handsome man, especially when he laughed. Yes, he'd lost a lot of weight because of his recent illness, and his color wasn't as healthy as it had seemed, but then, as she recalled, his color improved on the sea. It had certainly done that the last time. Though he lived in the sunniest of climes, a blacksmith's shop was by nature hot and dark. He got little sun as a rule, and it was his time aboard the Pearl that had given him his healthy pallor.
Also, he rarely seemed happy in Port Royal. He had nothing but smiles for her when they met, but they were subdued, as though he feared he might offend by being too happy and be cast from her side with not a moment to plead forgiveness.
Then there was the undeniable way he made her feel. He made her happy, especially now, hearing him laugh as though he hadn't a care in the worldthat thought struck her. That was what it came down to, wasn't it?
He did have a care in the world. He had quite a few of them. She'd grown up privileged and pampered, and he'd grown up wondering when he might next eat. He'd felt like he was outside her circle for so her circle maintained. A blacksmith, uneducated, uncouth, unimpressivethose were the words she'd heard about him behind his back. Those were the things, among others, that high society tried desperately to perpetuate about him and people like him–people in his circle'.
The truth of the matter was that Will Turner might well be a blacksmith, but he was certainly educated. He'd taught himself most of what he knew, to be sure, for he'd had a drunkard for a teacher. He'd learned through watching, through listening, through asking, and through trial and error. He was anything but uneducated. As for the other things people said of him, he was most assuredly the most mannerly and elegant man she'd ever met. Soft-spoken and insistent that they adhere to the proper social protocols, no matter how often she requested he call her by her given name.
Certainly, Elizabeth did not see how anyone could call him unimpressive if they had seen his behavior at the Almost-Hanging of Captain Jack Sparrow. Nor if they'd seen how determined he had been to rescue her. Will Turner was, in fact, the most impressive man she had ever met.
As she gazed at him now, seemingly enjoying the work he did though it was not easy, she realized that she wanted to get to know this Will Turner. This Will was the one who had declared his love for her and saved Jack Sparrow from the hangman's noose. This was the Will Turner who had come for her, even hiring a pirate to do it. This Will Turner was neither concerned with his recognized station in life, nor with the impossible task of impressing her father and the other Port Royal dignitaries who were less than emphatic in their acceptance of him.
She loved him, and it was about time that she made him understand that this wasn't a fleeting emotion. Perhaps he hadn't seen her devotion to him. Perhaps he hadn't realized that he meant the world to her. She hadn't been clear enough. She hadn't impressed it upon him.
"Well, no time like the present." She moved quickly across the deck and towards Will. She didn't stop to look left or right. She stood before him, and, when he'd finished coiling the rope he held, she stood upon her toes and kissed him soundly on the lips, relishing the surprise and embarrassment she sensed in him.
**
Will laughed at the joke Gibbs had told, though he told it poorly. The mood on the Pearl was as light as the breezes, and even Gibbs' poor attempt at humor was appreciated by the crew. They worked together trimming the sails, and someone had begun singing. It was a raucous song, and Will blushed to hear it. He knew it wasn't the type of thing one was apt to hear at the Governor's Mansion, and perhaps that was why it made him laugh.
He glanced toward Jack, who sang and laughed with the rest, even while his eyes were glued to the horizon. It was when he finished coiling the rope in his hands that he got the biggest surprise of his life.
Elizabeth had crossed the deck when he wasn't watching, and stood directly in front of him, a determined expression on her face. She stood on her toes, and leaned into him, kissing him full on the lips. His eyes widened in faintly embarrassed surprise, but then he lost himself in it. Closing his eyes, he reached around her trim waist and pulled her closer to him and returning the kiss.
She pulled gently away from him, and they saw only each other, heard only their beating hearts and not the catcalls, whistles, and comments from the rest of the crew. "Elizabeth," he said her name like a caress, cradling the tones in his mouth and pouring his passions into each syllable.
"Will." She said his name softly–a breathless, hopeful word that obviously meant more to her than any she had ever uttered before.
Will found himself lost in her eyes. "What was that for?" He was still a bit breathless from the kiss, but he had to know what had provoked that most lovely interlude.
She smiled up at him. "I should have told you every day from the moment I met you. I love you."
He returned her smile almost laughing out loud at the sound of his own words being said back to him. Perhaps Jack was right. Perhaps, if Elizabeth could love him, he was already worthy of her.
*****
"The Painted Parrot!" Jack stared at the sign outside the pub. The Pearl had just made berth not more than an hour ago, and a beautiful sunset had been their greeting to this Pirate's haven. Not as popular a spot as Tortuga, the place did still have its merits. One was that the barman at the Parrot, the best local drinking spot, was quick to sell information, for the right price.
Jack had sent AnaMaria and Gibbs to secure some much needed supplies, and he had taken Elizabeth and Will with him–since neither would be left behind–to visit the one pub on the island that Jack had frequented with William Turner the Older.
"That's it?" Elizabeth asked, her tone incredulous.
Jack could see her point. The building looked as though pieces of it propped each other up like a house of cards. In front, just to the left of the doorway, a pirate had passed out still clutching an empty bottle of rum in his hand. The sign above the door was weather worn and hanging in such a way that it seemed a good wind would send it half way to London. The entire thing was just downwind from what must have been the local trash dump.
Jack frowned. "It may not look like much out here, lass, but inside" Jack's smile fell. "Well, it still won't look like much, but it is the best there is in these parts."
"Do you think my father would be here?" Will's anxiety was as plain as Elizabeth's incredulity had been.
"Not to worry, me lad. If 'e ain't 'ere now, 'e's been 'ere. It won't take but a bit of persuasion to get the barman to tell us when was the last time William was in port." Jack stepped confidently forward only to stop and spin around again, arms waving, and ruffles flapping when he realized he was alone.
Elizabeth stood a pace or two behind him, looking back at Will who stood a pace or two behind her. Jack looked questioningly at his young friend. "I know the view is so good from there that ye can't tear yerself away, but trust me, we'll learn more inside." He gestured with one hand, but Will didn't follow. Sighing, he walked back to look the boy in the eye. "Tell ol' Jack what's wrong."
Will hesitated, but then he locked eyes with his friend. "I can't go in there. What if he's there?"
"Then that would make this the shortest search in the history of searching." Jack sighed in amazed frustration. "It's unlikely your father's in there. We're just asking around. Come on, lad!" Jack gestured for him to follow.
Will stood where he was.
"It's not at all likely we'd find 'im in there, mate. Information is what we're after, savvy?" Jack was sympathetic to the boy's predicament. It had to be a daunting moment. The possibility of coming face to face with his father, whom he'd at various times thought was a merchant seaman, dead, a pirate, and undead because of an ancient Aztec curse.
Jack narrowed his eyes, assessing Will's frame of mind. "You need to come along, now, Will. We aren't likely to find your father in there. At least not yet. We go in, we ask a few questions, and then we decide out next move. It'll be alright." He smiled. "You know, you didn't have half so much a problem facing Barbossa, fighting skeletons, or putting a knife to your own throat as you seem to have walkin' into that bar."
The absurdity of what Jack had said, of what they'd all lived through seemed to bring Will back to himself. He offered Jack a grin and a nod, and the three friends walked towards the Painted Parrot.
It was early evening, yet the nightlife of the Painted Parrot was in full swing. Ladies of ill repute were seeking their best bet for a profitable evening among the lads from more than half a dozen ships in port. There was no shortage of candidates, as every table was filled to capacity and beyond.
The sound of laughter and boastful talk mingled to create a wall of sound. The scent of stale beer, rum, and cheap perfume permeated the smoke-laden air, and the dim light from the scattered oil lamps and candles cast oddly shaped, multi-limbed shadows across the walls.
Jack felt at home immediately. He grinned, then looked to his friends. The grin became a frown. Even dressed in AnaMaria's spare pirate clothes, the girl just seemed too posh for her surroundings. She would draw attention. He could leave her in Will's charge, but the boy was equally out of his element. He turned to Elizabeth. "You stay with me. You don't say a word unless I ask ye to, understand?"
Elizabeth took a breath preparing to unleash a string of words Jack was certain he didn't want to hear. He raised a hand. "It's that or back to the Pearl."
Elizabeth looked to Will, who shrugged. "He knows what he's doing," Will offered.
Elizabeth turned back to Jack. "All right, but we will speak of this later."
"I've no doubt." Jack muttered as he moved through the room towards the bar.
Once he managed to attract the barman's attention, he ordered rum all around, ignoring the look of disgust on Elizabeth's face.
When the drinks arrived, Jack held up a coin worth five times their cost. "I was wondering if I could buy a bit more than drink."
The barman's eyes widened and he nodded. "Women? We got the best on the island workin' 'ere."
"No, mate, information would be what I'm after. I'm lookin' for a man named Bootstrap Bill Turner." He waggled the coin in front of the man's eyes.
"Boostrap" the man repeated the word, though it was obvious his every thought was on that coin, or, more likely, what he could do with it.
With a deft flick of his wrist, Jack hid the coin in the palm of his hand. "Of course, I don't expect he's been here recently, but if you 'ave 'eard where 'e might be, I'd begrateful."
The man was nearly salivating, his eyes only reluctantly pulling away from Jack's hand to look him in the eye. "Oh, aye, Bootstrap's been 'ere."
Jack smiled at Will, who's eyes were wide as saucers.
"Did 'e say where 'e'd be goin'? What ship was 'e with?" Jack had been certain William would have been here at some point. It was where they'd come to drink to Nick's memory whenJack shook off the thought. There wasn't time for memories right now.
"'E's between ships right now, or so I'ear."
It took a moment for that to register.
"Jack" Will whispered, breathless anticipation unable to mask the trepidation in his voice.
Jack held up a hand to silence Will. It was the same hand that had palmed the coin upon which the barman's hopes and desires were hung. Consequently, the barman's eyes were glued to it.
He addressed the barman again. "Right now? Are you sayin' Bootstrap's 'ere?"
The man nodded and reached a hand towards the hand that held that precious coin.
Jack turned abruptly to face Will, moving out of reach, and unaware of the other man's resulting distress. His hand, as was his wont, drew patterns in the air, though Jack was oblivious to the effect this had on the barman. "Take it easy lad" he said to Will, his hand moved up, drawing the barman's eyes with it. "We need more information. Remember" His hand came down level with the bar, still trailed by the hapless man. "We can't just take 'is word for it" With that he swirled around with a great flourish and faced the barman who took a step back and audibly swallowed though his eyes had not lost contact with Jack's hand.
Jack glared at the man, the picture of suspicion. "As a matter of fact, how do we know yer tellin' the truth at all?"
The man, seeing his precious reward slipping further and further from him, tore his eyes from Jack's hand and locked them onto the pirate's face. "Look, ye asked about Bootstrap, an' I told ye about 'im. 'E's in 'ere every night at about 10:00."
"Jack" Will's voice was almost pleading.
Jack turned again to face him not noticing as Elizabeth forced open his hand and gave the grateful barman his coin.
"If this is true, Will, you'll be speakin' to yer ol' man by tonight."
Will looked anything but sure of this. "So, we wait?"
Jack smiled. "Splendid idea!" He raised his rum to his lips, and drank it down.
**
After a few hours at the bar, Jack, Will and Elizabeth were able to move to a table, and Jack kept himself entertained by chatting up several of the barmaids and other ladies who worked at the pub.
Will, however, found his anxieties increasing the more the night wore on. He was lost so deeply in thought, he didn't realize that Elizabeth was talking to him until she placed her hand on his.
"Will? I asked if you need to talk."
Will slowly shook his head, but began to speak in spite of that answer. "I'm not feeling well." The admission cost him, for once more, he felt weak in her eyes, but, when he looked at her, he saw only love and support. "I might be meeting my father."
She smiled. "I know."
"I don't know what to say–how to act." A cloud descended on his excitement, darkening it, and turning it bitter. "I don't even know why I should care."
"What do you mean? I thought you'd be pleased." Elizabeth, even frowning, was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.
"He left me. He never tried to find me"
"We don't know that."
Will knew she was trying to help him, that she wanted desperately to help him, but in truth he couldn't say what troubled him. "I need to go out and get some air." He stood, and when she stood with him, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Please, Elizabeth, stay with Jack. I won't be long."
She nodded reluctantly though her eyes followed him as the barman's had followed Jack's coin earlier.
Stepping outside, Will breathed deeply surprised at the difference in the air outside the Painted Parrot. He'd been in there so long, his lung's had grown used to the thick smoke and the smells of sweat and alcohol. Outside, the air was cleaner and carried the faint perfume of tropical flowers. Will could also smell the sea, and the salt seemed a balm for his agitation.
He was just about to return to Elizabeth and Jack when the barman who'd helped them earlier stepped out for a breath as well. Before Will could say anything in greeting, the man slapped him on the shoulder to get his attention and pointed to a shadowy figure who was fast approaching. "That's 'im, mate. If yer lookin' for Bootstrap. There 'e is! "
Will turned, his heart in his throat. Fear of rejection could not stifle the elation he felt at finally laying eyes on his father.
************
Elizabeth tried to keep herself entertained, but Jack's admonition that she not speak still rankled. She wasn't stupid. She could handle herself. Deciding he was certainly preoccupied enough not to miss her for a moment, she walked towards the bar intent on getting something palatable from this bizarre establishment. The rum had been watered down, and the food Jack had ordered wouldn't have been considered good enough for the Governor's hounds back in Port Royal.
She stopped the thoughts of her home knowing to dwell on them would make her mad with worry.
Half way to the bar, she began to doubt the wisdom of her action. While she'd been sitting with Will and Jack, she'd had to endure only a few lecherous stares. Removed from the proximity of her presumed protectors it seemed she was fair game. Taking note of her manly attire they were quick to assume she was a pirate, and she had that at least above the women who worked here. Unsure if she'd be an easy conquest or a quick way to add to the number of scars they already owned, they sidled up to her with a grudging respect–if not for who she was, then for what they assumed her to be.
"Oy, Missy! You need to jump ship, you do! We'll show a lady like you a fine time aboard the Scarlet Lady!"
"Naw, don't pay 'im any mind! You've be better off with me, love!"
She ignored all of them, and, finally reaching the bar, asked for a glass of wine.
The barmaid who'd taken over for the man who'd earlier helped them only laughed. "Wine? We might 'ave an old bottle somewhere, but you'd be better off with the ale!"
"Fine then, Ale!"
"Listen to 'er, then, will ya?" The Barmaid called out amidst the laughter of those closest. "What you doin' 'ere, love. With a posh accent like that, piracy shouldn't be in yer blood."
It was then that Elizabeth felt the horrid sensation of a man's hands pinching her bottom. Livid, she spun, the hilt of the dagger AnaMaria had loaned her already in her hand. The man held his hands up, obviously too surprised by the sudden attack to do anything else.
Elizabeth took a step closer backing the man up several steps with the sheer force of her anger. "What do you think your doing?"
The man regained his composure and glared down at her. "I'm checkin' out the merchandise before I buy."
"I am most certainly not for sale!"
"Everything's for sale." The man declared trying to find a way to sidestep her blade.
"Leave 'er be." A soft voice, deep and sonorous, pierced the calls of encouragement the man's friends shouted to him. Everyone fell silent and turned to the cloaked figure at the end of the bar.
"It's not yer concern." The man declared, and made a grab for Elizabeth, who slashed out with her knife and had the satisfaction of hearing her attacker give a yelp of rage and pain.
The cloaked man stood and stepped to Elizabeth's side, and Elizabeth got a quick glimpse of a bloodstained bandage on his arm before the cloak swung back into place hiding it from view. "She's obviously more than you can 'andle, mate. Leave it while you can."
The other man was going to press the point when another voice came from behind him. "You feel that? That's my sword and my pistol both stuck in your back. Leave the girl alone, or you'll 'ave three of us to fight."
Elizabeth held her breath, dagger at the ready, hoping she wouldn't have to use it. To her delight, the man raised his hands and left the bar.
Jack watched him until he was sure he wasn't going to try anything else, then turned to Elizabeth. "What did I tell you?"
"I wanted some wine," she said holding up the glass of ale he barmaid had placed before her.
"Nice to see you got what you wanted." Jack turned then to face the cloaked man as Elizabeth stewed over his retort. "I want to thank you for your 'elp, mate. I'm"
"Captain Jack Sparrow." The voice said as the man dropped the hood of his cloak.
Jack smiled in absolute joy. "William Turner!" The two men grinned at each other, and embraced.
*****
Jack turned to Elizabeth. "My dear, may I present William Turner, or as he's sometimes known, Bootstrap Bill."
The barman who'd spoken to them earlier had just returned and overheard the introduction. "That ain't Bootstrap Bill!"
"Are ye daft, man? Of course it is!" Jack glared at the man.
"Naw, it ain't. I just seen 'im outside. I left 'im with your friend." The man tried to move away to return to work, but Jack's hand shot out and held his arm in an iron grip.
"What are you talkin' about?"
Fear widened the man's eyes, and he was beginning to wish the odd group had never entered the bar at all. "The other one! Your friend. The young man! I left 'im outside with Bootstrap Bill!"
"Who was it, Jack?" William asked, curious who would cause Jack Sparrow, of all people, such concern.
Jack looked William in the eye. "It's your son."
William stared at Jack as if unable to understand for a moment, and then he raced from the Parrot. Jack and Elizabeth followed.
William scanned the quiet street, but there wasn't anyone in sight. Fear was apparent in the way he held himself and in the frantic way he continued to look up and down the street as though the object of his search might appear.
"Your turn, William." Jack's voice was soft, but there was threat behind it. He wanted to know what was going on, and he wanted to know now.
"He's been pretending to be me. 'E took my identity. 'E took my reputation. 'E took everything I own. I've been trackin' 'im for more than a year." William hesitated to go on, but finally explained. "Jack, it's Nick."
"Nick?" He didn't ask if William was sure. He knew better than that.
Elizabeth stared at Jack and demanded answers of her own. "Tell me what's going on, Jack."
"I wish I knew." Jack's quiet whisper belied the fear in the pit of his stomach.
To Be Continued
Rachel the Insane Unicorn: Yes, he's alive, but with a twist! I hope you like it.
Deana: Thanks! Will has suffered, that's true, but he's a tough kid!
Inu lover: Thanks! I'm glad you liked it!
Lordlanceahlot: Sorry this took so long. Bill is alive, and there's so much more to come!
Emiri-chan: Sorry, that reunion between Bill and Will is going to be delayed! It will come eventually, though. I hope you like this!
ErinRua: Sorry this took so long. My muses were most definitely not playing nicely! Your encouragement means so much, though. I will try to keep the updates more timely!
Lady Lunas: Surprise! The Unnamed attacker WAS Bootstrap! I hope you like it!
Kristen Wahlquist: Sorry this took so long. I hope I haven't timed this extra long chapter with your next long drive!
Catheringxxix: You hit the nail right on the head as far as the relationship I'm working out between Jack and Will. There is definitely a lot we don't know about Jack and Bootstrap's past as well as my OC, Nick. Your flattery is wonderful! I'm glad you enjoy the dialogue and that I'm getting into the characters' heads! Keep reading!
Sweetspy05: hee! I mention that again in this chapter! I'm glad you liked it! I wish Johnny Depp had included that line!
Rocky Racoon: Thank you! I haven't had a lot of mentions about the Billy Joel reference. It's been in my head since the first time I saw the movie, and I can't believe it isn't all over the fanfics! Maybe it is by now. I am behind on my reading!
Ping*pong5: Thanks so much! I'm glad you liked it! There's going to be a lot of Bootstrap from this point. I hope you like it!
Unplugged32: I accept your apologies for not reviewing chapter 12. Now PLEASE accept mine for being so late with chapter 14! Please review so I know I still have a reader or two left after my long absence! I'm glad you liked that line. I was trying to keep the dialogue in character!
BrokenSkye: Thanks! I hope you like this chapter!
Hpdancer92: Thanks! More soon!
TheRowan: I'd say Jack was in his early twenties in that flashbackabout the age Will is in the film. I'm happy to reply to reviews, since getting them just about makes my day! I'm thrilled you like my Jack. It's a fine line between making him caring without losing his edge. I'm glad that's coming across. Thanks ever so much for your kind words! I do hope I haven't alienated you (or any of my other readers by taking so long on this chapter!) Please read and review!