Disclaimer: The characters and concepts in this story pertaining to The Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl are the property of the Walt Disney Corporation. This is an amateur writing effort meant for entertainment purposes only.

Chapter Sixteen: Sway

Unfamiliar sounds roused Will from his slumber. Wood groaned, creaked, and twisted painfully against the powerful waves pounding outside the cabin. Footsteps shifted frantically from above, moving this way and that, as rain fell in buckets against the deck.

And then there was the sound of Jack Sparrow's mumbling as he dug about the cabin feverishly, searching for rum.

William pinched the bridge of his nose in a feeble attempt to block out the headache that had centralized there. He now understood why he had avoided liquor for so many years, aside from the obvious reason of being too poor to afford it.

"Where are you?" Jack asked no one in particular, storming across the room to the desk on the opposite wall. He began yanking out the drawers and spilling contents to the floor before dropping like a sack of potatoes to dig through the papers. He only managed to create a larger mess than the cabin was already. "Come on, lovelies. Come to Jack…"

"Jack," Will interrupted him. The pirate leapt three feet in the air, slamming his head against the edge of the desk in the process. He stared at William as if he were a bomb that had just exploded. "Where the hell are we?" He inspected himself, confused as to why he was half naked. "Where's my shirt?"

"WILL!" Jack announced at the top of his lungs. William really wished he hadn't. His head could scarcely stand the captain's thunderous pacing, let alone shouting, joyful or not. He groaned loudly and sank lower on the bed, clutching his face in his hands as his head throbbed. "WILL! Jolly good to see you still breathing, mate. Did you happen to see where all the rum's hidden on this blasted ship?"

"Rum?" Will asked, still confused. He could barely keep up with his own thoughts, let alone the ramblings of Jack Sparrow.

The pirate captain yanked another drawer from its place in the desk, dumping the contents over the floor again. He filtered through them hurriedly and then grabbed another. The search was in vain, however. Morgan's rum supply was either very well hidden or no longer existed.

"Jack, where are we?"

"60 leagues south of Tortuga, although I think the navigator just got washed overboard."

A scream was heard on deck. Jack stopped moving. "That was him."

Will tried to coordinate his woozy thoughts. "We're on a ship?"

"Yep," Jack stomped over to the chests on the other side of the room, throwing open the lids and digging through what sounded to be glass, metal and fabrics inside.

"How long have I been asleep?"

Jack wasn't listening. Either that or he was thinking. William couldn't be sure with his head buried so deep inside the chest. When he reemerged, he had a bottle of green liquid in his hands and was examining the label on the bottle.

He wasn't listening, Will decided with a small groan. The constant swaying of the ship was making him sick to his stomach. To make matters worse, the pain in his shoulder had also returned.

"Abs…absin…absinth-ee?" Jack was sounding out the syllables, but they didn't mean anything. Whatever was in the bottle, it wasn't rum. He tossed it back into the chest and kept digging.

The door to the cabin was thrown open, sending a shower of rain and seawater into the room. The figure in the doorway jumped inside the cabin and slammed the door shut behind them, before pulling down their coat lapels and turning their sights on Jack.

"GOD DAMN IT JACK! What the hell are you doing?"
It was Morgan, and by the looks of it, she wasn't too happy. Her usually well-kept self had been overthrown by the waves, giving her the appearance of a drowned kitten. Her hair was a mess, tossed about into thick, curly knots, and her pale cheeks were flushed with colour, partly out of anger, seeing as how Jack had turned her cabin in a disaster area, and partly from the cold.

She tossed off her wet clothing, stripping down to practically her undergarments without any care for who was in the room and set about reorganizing her desk. She tossed the papers haphazardly into the drawer, not caring particularly about order, just that they were out of the growing puddles on the floor.

"Blast," Jack swore, slamming the lid shut on another chest. "Where's all the rum on this bloody ship?"

"I haven't got anymore! I used the last bottle last night!" she slammed her drawer shut again and got back to her feet, collecting her clothes off the floor. The grace of Sir Andrew was gone, leaving only the gawkiness of a young woman behind. Her angular form would not have attracted many men in court, least of all in a bodice meant to hide her natural form. But her face was charming enough, with high cheekbones and brightly coloured green eyes. William say she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, that ideology was reserved strictly for Elizabeth, but she was pleasant looking, and on the high seas, that would suffice.

She set her clothing neatly on top of one of the trunks and waltzed over to the one Jack was digging in, before grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and pulling him out.

"Get out of my things!" she ordered, slamming the lid of the trunk once more.

"Technically," Jack began as he rose from the floor, "This cabin became mine once you named me captain."

"The cabins were never part of our accord," she snapped. "You can sleep in the galley if you want to. I'm sure there are some vintage wines in there."

"Wine!" he said, astonished at the very suggestion of it.

"Yes, wine," she said. "Now get the hell out of my cabin before I rethink this whole accord of ours."

Jack was about to argue, but any alcohol was better than none at all. He marched out of the cabin grumbling noisily about the appalling taste of wine and slammed the door behind him.

Morgan sighed the last of her frustrations away and looked to William at last. The constant rocking did not seem to be agreeing with him, least of all in the midst of a hangover, and he was looking pretty green by the time she cared to notice. She reached quickly for a metal bucket on the opposite wall and just barely had it under his head before he was vomiting.

Shaking and shivering, Will Turner wretched until he was doing nothing but dry heaving, and by then he was in so much agony he could barely support himself. He could feel blood oozing over his spine and his headache was only getting worse without fluids. Even Morgan's cool hands on his shoulders and brow made him tremble more violently. Was there no peace to be had in this condition?

When he found his strength again, Morgan retreated to her usual state of silence as she cleaned house. She tossed the bucket into the hall presumably as Jack was passing by since William was pretty sure he heard the tortured cry of the captain slipping in his vomit. That and Morgan was looking slightly pleased with herself when she reentered the room.

"You're dehydrated," she said, clinically, of course, and picked up a lone rum bottle hidden under several books on the desk. Jack had obviously missed them. Pulling out the cork, she sniffed the contents and nodded approvingly. "There's some fresh water in here, plenty to start with. But don't drink it too quickly. You'll make yourself sick again, and I haven't the means to treat dehydration on top of hangovers."

"Where am I?" William asked, still wheezing. He was leaning limply against the wall, lacking the strength to hold himself up any longer. Morgan knelt next to him and offered him the bottle, which he tried to grasp, but was shaking too badly to do so. She understood, and placed the mouth of the bottle to his and poured it back, ever so gently, pouring a teaspoon of the contents into his mouth.

The cool water slid slowly through his stale mouth, easing the headache as it trailed down his throat.

"You're on board the Wayfarer's Redemption," she replied, letting his stomach rest before he received another mouthful. "I am…was the captain. Morgan Andrew, at your service Mr. Turner."

"Sir Andrew?" he asked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"An alias," she replied placidly. "Only one of many names I've used throughout the years. Morgan, however, is my given name. Unless you hear otherwise, that is what you may call me. Think you can manage more water?"

The honest answer was 'no'. Will's stomach was doing flip-flops at the sight of the bottle. But he nodded anyways, knowing that it was a necessary evil. He choked back another mouthful and breathed deeply, waiting for his stomach to settle.

"What's happened?" Will asked, unable to make sense of everything. "The last thing I remember I was…"

Yes, Will, what is the last thing you remember?

He remembered Elizabeth staring down at him, intensely frightened. Cannon balls exploded all around while pistols fired wildly, giving Elizabeth an even more angelic appearance. He remembered the cold feeling of her hands on his face as she fled, leaving only darkness and pain behind. After that, he had a vague recollection of more pain and the warm, drunkenness that followed his consumption of rum. And then he woke up here, hung over and sick to his stomach.

But Elizabeth…

Oh God, where did Jack say they were?

"I've got to get back. I've really got to get back."

He couldn't stand. His legs were dead weight underneath him, rendered useless by his injury and his sickness. Morgan watched him, half-humoured by his attempt to rise, but didn't move. She'd come to terms with his weakness, even if he hadn't.

"I think it's best if you stay lying down for now, Will," she said with a small smile. "We're in the middle of a storm, headed due south."

"South?" Will said suddenly. He was struggling to rise now. "I have to get back to Port Royal."

"And you will get back, but not now. Getting shot in the presence of Jack Sparrow is not the best terms to leave a Port under. And with your reputation, Mr. Turner, I can hardly fathom the governor being pleased with you."

Will groaned. No, the governor wouldn't be pleased. He'd have Elizabeth accept the Commodore's proposal on the spot before sentencing Will to be lynched publicly.

"You're probably feeling sicker because your body needs to orient itself right now. At the next port you can send word to Elizabeth and her father, implicating me in your disappearance."

"You mean Sir Andrew."

"Yes," Morgan said.

He sighed. Sir Andrew's name on the message would give him a little bit of immunity from the wrath of the Swann's, though he figured his credibility was already shot, what with half of Port Royal now lying in ruins and Jack Sparrow sighted?

Not that he had much of a choice anyways. The thought of stowing away was quickly dismissed when he thought of how terrible it would look for him to show up unaccompanied and wounded, looking and feeling more like a pirate than he ever had in his entire life. Weatherby wouldn't just lynch him. He'd have him lynched and fed to the gulls too.

"You should try to drink a little more."

His stomach wasn't protesting as much, so Will took another sip, and then another, much to Morgan's approval. She finally smiled at him, eyes gleaming from the speed of his recovery.

"I'm going to leave this here," she said, corking the bottle and setting it near the bed. "You should try and get some more rest, but if you're feeling bold, there are some clothes in that trunk and some food over in the galley. Just make yourself at home, Mr. Turner. The men on board this vessel once sailed under your father, at least…my men did. I'm not sure about Jack's. But I can promise that no harm will come to you."

"You knew my father?" he asked.

"Yes, long ago. I was his cabin boy when I was a child, and then later, his first mate. And now, the ex-captain of his ship."

Will's blood was surging. "This was my father's ship?"

"Yes," she replied. "The mermaid on the bow is modeled after your mother."

His fingers brushed the timber under the blankets, smoothing over their coarse surface as the thought sunk in: this was his father's ship, and that meant this had more than likely been his father's cabin. Once upon a time, Bootstrap Bill Turner had paced about these floors like Jack had done earlier. He'd conversed with crewmembers within these walls, probably fornicated with women-of-ill repute for all Will knew.

He felt flustered and changed the subject.

"And you know Jack?"

She hesitated. "I knew Jack. We haven't spoken in years."

"You and he didn't…"

He didn't have to finish the statement. Morgan got the implication immediately.

"Heavens, no. Our relationship is…familial."

"You're related?"

"We share a mother," she replied. "But we've barely spoken since she died."

Now William understood why she looked so familiar. The high cheekbones, pointed chin, and sharp nose were the same as the ones Jack Sparrow himself bore, say for hers being several shades paler.

She opened her mouth to speak again when the door was thrown open.

"Captain!" the figure said, though Will couldn't rightly tell whether he was human or not, he was bundled up in so much clothing. It was only when he pulled away his hat and folded his coat lapels down that William could see his face clearly. He was dark-haired and fair skinned, several inches taller than William himself. His brown eyes met Will's, sending shivers down the blacksmith's spine. This man meant business, whoever he was. "The main sail can't take much more of this abuse. We've got to raise sails or else we're lost."

"Raise sails then, Mr. Ridley."

"NO!" another voice shouted from the hall. The dark woman called Ana Maria had appeared and forced herself into the cabin. "We've only several leagues more to go before we hit land for the night. There's a port not far from here."

"We're never going to make it that far," Ridley snapped.

"The ship can hold!" Ana retorted. "Where's Jack?"

"Gone to the galley to raid the wine stores. Mr. Ridley, raise the sails. I'm not taking any chances, even if there's land to sleep on tonight."

"You're not acting captain!" Ana interjected.

"And neither are you. So go raise those bloody sails or else I'll do it myself."

"Aye captain," Ridley said, shooting Ana a dirty look before leaving again. Ana just turned on a heel and headed out, probably going to find Jack and tell him what his quartermaster was doing.

"I'll be back," she said. "Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Turner."

She left the room. Once the door closed William felt the walls close in around him, a familiar embrace he'd only ever felt once before when his father was alive.

Author's Notes

I realize that Will is not one to get seasick. He lasted out a storm on the Interceptor in the movie without any adverse effects. However, in the movie he was in perfect health, and sleeping in unsteady conditions with a hangover is never a cure for nausea. A hangover alone is enough to make you want to expel all your internal organs. Translation: DRINK RESPONSIBLY!

There's a little bit about Morgan in this chapter, but the rest of her life will be looked at a bit later. There are some things that need to happen before she's about to spill her guts.

As acting captain and resident ship lover, it would be assumed that Jack would be on deck for the remainder of the voyage. However, he has been without rum for a while, and I assumed his first priorities as acting captain would be breaking into Morgan's alcohol supplies. Sorry if this offends anyone! I'm trying to loosen him up a little, that's all.

Oh, and just in case anyone was getting ideas from this chapter: William and Morgan are not going to become a couple. Though I dislike Elizabeth and find her pretty useless as a character, Will would not be swayed so easily from the woman who rescued him. And Morgan's feelings for him are…well…you're just going to have to read and find out.

Reviews

BlkPearl: Thank you for reviewing! I'm trying to update on a scheduled basis nowadays, but sometimes school comes out of nowhere. Hope this was up fast enough for your liking!

Whiterosesforme: Definitely going to look closer at Morgan's relationship with Jack from here on in. The title not only came from Will's examination of his father, but naturally, the bond the two share through the scars on their hands. Oops! Giving away plot prematurely. I realize the distance between them, but the two really haven't kept in touch, what with them both being sailors from childhood on. Anyways, I'm working on giving them a little more spice in a VERY non-incestuous manner. I'm just being a little cautious for those who dislike female inserts. The rapid introduction of OFC's usually throw readers off. I hope she's not too two-dimensional!

I promise there's more! Thanks for the comments though. They're really helpful while writing!

JackFan2: Your review was so eloquently written that it made my day just reading it! I am humbled that you would think that about my writing, humbled and grateful that I didn't embarrass myself. Jack's characterization is one of many contradictions, so finding out about how the readers feel is great.

I know how you feel about stories you never finish. A lot of my original fic isn't even started yet, and most of them have been WIP's for over three years! I was actually considering abandoning this one just because the school year was getting so hectic, but my friend's dorm room is decorated wall-to-wall with Johnny Depp posters and Pirates of the Caribbean memorabilia, so it was hard to escape the plot bunnies. Don't be over critical about it, when you want to write, the story will come. I just hope it comes soon. Your review alone was very well written!

I actually find Will and Jack's characters equally as intriguing. Their characters were both underdeveloped in The Curse of the Black Pearl and I really wanted to flush them out a little more. I agree though, their dynamic is a wonderful one with Will being so uncertain and Jack being overly so.

And thanks so much for the Texas weather! The snow here never seems to leave.

I appreciate every single one of the reviews I receive, so keep them coming, please and thanks!