Title: Sea Shanty

Author: Berne

Rating: PG

Characters: Jack, Will, Gibbs

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Gore Verbinski, Ted Elliot and Terry Rossio, various studios including but not limited to First Mate Productions Inc., Jerry Bruckheimer Films, and Walt Disney Pictures. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN: As always, love to Ociwen for betaing. The sea shanty in the first part of the fic is written by me. Written for KHohen, who requested Jack/Gibbs. I couldn't quite get the slashiness in (subtext, maybe?), but threw in Will to make up for it.

The fic follows after the shanty.

Sea Shanty

"'Twas a stormy, stormy night

And the moon it shone bright

(Bright as a silver swan's flight

Across a sky of malachite)

The day Jack Sparrow died.

There'd been a squall rising in the west

And the Captain had caressed

The Black Pearl's wheel to a new course lest

Madame Fortune had not bless'd

Old Jack's person on that night.

But the storm it came up strong

And Cap'n Jack he did no wrong

He ordered his crew to run along

To go set sail for Eastern Kayongsong

But when they returned he was gone.

Some say he was swallowed by the sea

Some say he was damned for eternity

Some say this, but no, not me

I say he jumped to set his soul free:

For his voice can be heard with the tides

And I've heard that the winds are his sighs

And that the twinkling stars are his eyes

And that the gold to be seen at sunrise

Are really his teeth and that wise

Are the men

Who sail when

Pirate Jack was set free.

'Twas a stormy, stormy night

And the moon had shone bright

(Bright as a silver swan's flight

Across a sky of malachite)

The day Jack Sparrow died."

Will snorted into his drink. "Jack needed his whole crew to change course?"

Gibbs frowned; Jack took a fortifying gulp from his tankard. "The Black Pearl's a big ship, mate. Sails, rigging…"

"Never needed the whole crew before," Will insisted, stubbornly. "You said you could sail her all by your -- what was it? -- onesies if you had to."

"And so I could."

"Then why--"

Stubborn as a mule, that one. Never shut up, either, with perhaps the exception of his ever-inappropriate righteous fuming. That was when the furrowed brow made an appearance, making Jack want to reach over and straighten it out. He had resisted thus far.

"Did you not listen to the ending? Captain Jack wanted to set his soul free. A grand way to go, if I do say so myself."

Will's eyes darkened. "I wouldn't have thought you were one to condone suicide, Jack."

"Did I say I was?" Jack spun around to shoot Gibbs an exasperated look. "Did I say I was?"

Gibbs shrugged, mumbling something indistinct.

"Then what are you trying to say?"

"I am trying to say -- if you let me get a word in edgeways -- that being taken by the sea is far more elegant a death than, say, starving. Or thirsting. Or skinning. Or being eaten by an unidentifiable flying beast."

"Poor Daryl," said Gibbs mournfully.

"Aye," agreed Jack, thumping his tankard against Gibbs' hearteningly half-empty and Will's disgustingly full one. "Drink up, lad."

Will curled his lip at the suggestion, sliding the tankard across the table. "It's disgusting. You have it."

"Anyway," continued Jack, after downing the boy's drink (much to Gibbs' amusement), "I think it's a fine piece of poetry."

Gibbs echoed his agreement into his ale, but Will snorted again, derogatorily. "You only think it's poetry because it's about you."

"William Turner!" Will looked up sharply. "I am insulted, offended and affronted."

A smile, half-hidden behind a hand. "They all mean the same thing, you know."

"Not at all. For all you know, that poem could have been scribed by Shakespeare."

"I doubt it; Shakespeare's been dead a century."

"Skeletons!"

Will blinked, before turning to Gibbs. "How much rum has he had?"

"Skeletons, boy! Skeletons! The ones stemmed from the ancient Aztec curse of Cortez. Surely they've given you a fresh perspective on life?"

Will blinked again, gnawed on his lip. "I suppose…"

Bloody Will and his bloody mule-stubbornness. "'I suppose'," he mimicked, shooting Gibbs an exasperated look.

"Yes, then!" Will snapped, bristling. "How could it not?"

"Well," said Jack, nodding decisively, "how could there not be the slightest possibility that William Shakespeare wrote that shanty?"

Will scowled. "Because."

"Because…?"

The scowl deepened. "Because."

"There," said Jack, grinning triumphantly. "You have no foundation on which to build your argument. Am I not right, Gibbs?"

"Aye, Captain, perfectly--"

"Because," Will interrupted (rather rudely, in Jack's opinion), "the curse would never have been lifted if all the pieces weren't returned and they obviously were, because I saw most of the crew hang at Port Royal and you shot Barbossa and he died, so ha!"

Gibbs nudged Jack. "If you don't mind me saying, Captain, I'm thinking he's been around you too much. I haven't seen someone babble that much since that time Bootstrap--"

Jack coughed loudly. "Thank you, Mr Gibbs."

Gibbs grinned, but Will was oblivious, still seeming happily flushed.

"There are other curses, you know," said Jack.

Will wrinkled his nose. "I don't want to know."

"You remember Daryl's curse, Gibbs?"

"Aye. Unlucky blighter, he was."

"Apparently." Will looked amused. "Didn't he get eaten by an unidentifiable flying beast?"

"The beast was only unidentifiable because it had wings and horns and fire blasting out of its nostrils."

Raised eyebrows. "I'd call that a dragon."

Jack shook his head, taking a swig out of Will's bottle. Not like he'd miss it. "No, no, no, dragons don't breathe fire. Common misconception, that one."

Will's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "And how would you know?"

Jack grinned. "How do you think I know?"

Will's mouth twitched into a smile. "You're awful, Jack."

"It's true! Right, Gibbs?"

Gibbs grinned. "Aye, Captain, every word."

Will rolled his eyes. "And I wondered where people got these ridiculous tales about you…"