Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney and the talented creators, cast and crew. I'm just pirating around the edges for fun because I loves it so. No profit, no sue.
Author Notes: These should have gone at the start but I was still figurin' out this whole posting thing. It started as a one shot then someone said they liked it so I tried to think of more ways to screw with the characters. Ch. 3 and semi-sequel coming soon...
The brig or at least the storage cranny Bootstrap decided as they descended to the lower decks. While it was located in the darkest, foulest part of the ship (which was saying a lot), and there were life-forms growing down there even the crew didn't want adorning themselves (which said a lot more), it also had the advantage that no-one went there unless forced to, thus giving them the closest thing to privacy on board.
Above him Will missed his footing, skidding off the last half of the ladder and biting short a bark of pain as his back jarred against it. Bill threw out a hand to steady him. "Hold up. We're nearly there".
They hit the brig, Will sinking painfully onto the nearest heap of random junk piled in the small dimly lit chamber, the sullen blackness of the brig entrance hatch crouched in the far corner. Bill stood for a moment; half of him hoping like hell no-one realized he was officially still on duty and came looking for them, the other half suddenly being struck by realization. The rumour had been all over the ship as they'd left their last 'appointment'-the captain had taken someone on board not bound in service to escape impending death. His brain only now registered what he'd seen that first instant he'd looked into his son's face. Even after only eight years you recognised the eyes of a walking dead man.
"It's you" he said, terribly afraid it would turn out to be a cruel mistake. "You swore no oaths to the Dutchman?" Will looked at him, his face unreadable except for the tension of pain and slowly nodded. "Yes". Reminding Bill why he'd been hunting privacy. So much he wanted to ask, knowing he had no right. Easier to focus on immediate issues.
"Will, I need to treat your injuries". Sitting down nearby somewhat hesitantly, well aware of the irony of this coming from the man largely responsible for their infliction. "There's a good chance they'll fester...here" gesturing to the Dutchman at large and realising as Will nodded again that there was going to be absolutely nothing useful on board. No-one medicked dead men. Not even a bottle…Shit. Items were occasionally 'souvenired' from wrecks, possibly even alcohol; but such items tended to end up in a certain cabin…More shit.
'Good' and 'bad' were suddenly very inadequate terms for how this night was going. Bill rose, not wanting to increase the risk of discovery by delay. "I need to get some things. I'll be back as soon as I can; I doubt they'll look down here". Will's mouth twisted. "I'm not going anywhere".
He managed to bluff his way past the crewman on station at the captain's door, mostly he suspected due to Grin's reasoning that if Bootstrap wanted to go looking for trouble by approaching the captain who was he to stand in the way of more potential free entertainment that night?
"Mr. Turner, there are 2 hours of your watch still to go are there not?" Jones enquired as the door closed rapidly behind Bill. The room was quiet but for occasional soft tones from the organ in time to the creak and roll of the hull.
"Yes Captain". Damn. So much for not being noticed.
"Then what matter of 'overwhelming urgency'", tones of warning, "leads you to neglect your duty for the second time in one evening?"
"The boy's..condition needs attention. I..came to ask for alcohol" Tread carefully; act like it's a routine request.
"Did you now. And why would there be grog on a ship full of dead men?" Jones' enquiry lazily mocking.
"I thought perhaps there might be some, from previous salvages"
"And if there were, why would I be givin' it to ye'?" Playing like an idly circling shark, no way of knowing which way it would go when the shark became bored.
"He can't work now, but he could if…" Not a good direction for this conversation, Bill tried to ignore the warning bells. Silence wasn't an option and he was all out of arguments, they both knew it.
Jones gave a snort of laughter. "Perhaps he could. However as it happens Mr. Turner your solution will not be needed. We have another engagement. Some distance, we'll make better time once we dive. Wouldn't want to miss it. But don't worry" he continued, enjoying the look of horror that crossed Bootstrap's face for the second time that night "Perhaps with luck we can return for your lad, under terms that will make him a much better crew member in the long run".
He thought he'd never be colder than the chill that had become a part of him on taking his oath, but desperation ran like ice through Bill's body at that moment. "No" he breathed. "Please-" falling silent, the look in the captain's eyes telling him clearly that another word spoken and the threat would become a reality.
"What's it worth to you Mr. Turner?" Jones enquired softly, holding up a bottle he'd taken from one of the cabinets scattered along the cabin walls. "Perhaps it's what you need, perhaps it's not. But then, beggars can't be choosers".
Payment in pride then. He's playing you. And if he doesn't win, Will dies. You don't have to do this. I'll do worse before I'm free of this place. Why start now? Why hold onto what's already gone? It's all you've got.
No. It's not.
Dropping to one knee, then two, bowing his head and forcing the words out as they bit and scratched in protest. "Please Captain I ask this mercy. For the life of Will, I am..begging you not to submerge the ship. Please".
He kept his head down, not wanting to know what played across Jones' face in the following seemingly endless silence.
"You will stand the next watch Mr. Turner to make up for the one you missed. You will also be part of the boarding party until I say otherwise, and you will bear responsibility for culling those unfit or unwilling to serve. Are those orders quite clear?"
"Yes Captain, they're clear". After all, why give that job to any one of the crew who enjoyed such slaughter when you could give it to someone else.
The captain's presence at the edge of his vision, the bottle dangling in front of him. "Dismissed". Fist to forehead in salute Bill took it, forcing his hand steady despite the relief washing through him and scrambled for the door, not looking back.
Based on the evenings' previous events he supposed that should probably count as 'looking up'.
Comments? bring 'em on. Makes cute pirate eyes>