Will was, for once, glad he'd worn boots instead of shoes. Stomping was much easier. Dancing was not as painful on his toes. In fact, he thought, as he hooked arms once again with the big man, boots were made for more than walking. For whatever reason this thought amused him and he laughed, unable to control himself.

"Something funny?" The stranger grinned down at him while they skipped a circle together. "Or is it the ale?"

"A bit of both."

They switched arms. It occurred to Will that he had never had so much fun. Of course, he had never drunk so much ale either. The stuff had been so warming that he had been as unwilling to stop drinking it as the big man had been, and so at some point they had lost count how many drinks too many they'd each had. A good decision, Will had decided, as it had been with the last mug that the stranger had had the idea to teach Will the tune they were singing. Warm and fuzzy, he'd been eager to learn it, and it wasn't long after that that they had enlisted the fiddler and three crooners passing by to play along. The Faithful Bride's pirate patrons had been pleased by the impromptu performance.

They still were, he noted, letting the stranger hand him off to the center to sing again. He grinned down at the crowd. Most of the men grinned back at him, some raised their mugs, and others cheered. That quite a few wenches whistled was not lost on him. Flushing with the energy that rushed through him, he sang.

Sailed the blue for many a year,
Till I found me a ship of my own.
She was a beaut so I took her away,
And sailed off with her alone.

Will stepped aside, stomping in tune with the interlude that he, the stanger, and the crooners sang together. He accepted a hand off from the big man and bent low to the crowd. Stomping and clapping them on, he listened as the other sang.

Yo ho uh oh then I was a captain too
I had to find jolly good men
To be my faithful crew
So I set off to the isle of Tortue
To pick up a faithful good crew

Hoots and hollers rang out and Will grinned up at the man as they took arms once again. They jigged in a circle, shouting out a merry 'rum tee fiddle dee dee'. Laughing, they skipped apart to the tune of the crooner's chorus.

I'm a pirate it's true and I sail on the blue
As far as the eye can see.
There's not a man alive who can take that away
Cos for all the world I'm free.
A pint of rum and a quart of grog rum tee fiddle dee dee!
I'm a pirate it's true be nothin else I'd do
For it lives inside of me.

Will stepped forward and nodded down at the grinning men. An old salt offered his mug and he took a hearty drink. The warmth, it seemed to egg him on, and he opened his mouth to sing.

Loyal men they sailed off with me,
And we found a rich man's ship.
We pillaged we plundered we took all the loot
And gave that fat Frenchie a dip.

To this the crowd roared and crowed, and Will flushed as he and the stranger took arms again. "I love this song!"

"So do I!"

The stranger switched arms and Will glanced down at the crowd. His eyes went wide and his face went white and he was sure he squeaked aloud. "A pint of rum and a quart of grog, rum tee fiddle dee dee!" Oh, it just can't be.

"Jack Sparrow!" The stranger boomed, delighted. "Get up here!"

Of course it was, and Will closed his eyes though he didn't lose the beat. Opening them he saw the big man grab hold of Jack. The protesting pirate was hauled between them, eyes wide, and Will laughed, in spite of himself, both at the dismay plain on his friend's face and the oblivious man who egged the pirate into clapping and stomping along.

The crowd crowed, and Captain Jack Sparrow forced a wide smile on his face. "Sweet Sam Samson." His eyes narrowed on the man. "You're nothing but trouble!"

"Don't blame me, mate, blame this song!" The stranger-or Samson, Will figured-whirled Jack to one side and Will to the other, stepping forward to sing.

Yo ho uh oh what rich men we were!
Gold in our pockets had to be spent
So then it was back to Tortue we went.
That was when I met the girl
And fell in love with her.

Samson grabbed Jack's arm and Will's as well, the both of them eyeing the other warily across the broad expanse of the man's chest and exchanging nervous smiles. "This is definitely your part, Sparrow!" Samson pushed the two of them forward. "Sing it together lads!"

Jack had to fight to right himself, and Will chuckled. His eyes went wide in innocence at the scowl shot his way. "Just one girl?"

"It's more like three."

"Or ten and two more likely!"

"Whatever the case warm was her embrace," Jack sang, grinning crookedly at the crowd, "and I enjoyed such spoils nightly!"

Isaac Faust, arms crossed in front of Jack, rolled his eyes, but the rest of the pirates in the place ate it up, laughing and slapping each other on the back. Will recognized the three card-playing pirates singing along with the interlude, heads bobbing together, and as he took arms with Jack, he arched a brow at him. "Come looking for me?"

Jack arched the opposite brow back at him. "Aye, we did." He glanced down at their jigging boots and his brows snapped together. "And quite the trouble it's been."

Will winced. "Sorry?"

"You will be," Jack growled.

Will didn't have time to respond, whirling him to the other side of the circle. But Samson grabbed the pirate's wrist in passing and tugged him toward the center. Watching both Jack and the big man skipping in a circle tickled Will and he laughed uproariously. His mirth was cut short however, as Samson grabbed his wrist as well and drug him into the jig. Jack smiled sweetly at him, and though he normally would have scowled, Will laughed. It was a breathless laugh, and he nearly regretted it, but Jack's startled misstep was worth it. He chuckled.

Samson grinned down at the two of them. "Let's finish this together." He turned them all toward their audience and sang. "Bein a pirate's bout treasure, drinkin, and dancin!"

"Gold, silver, rum-"

Jack grinned and bent in front of Will, holding a finger up pointedly. "And woman romancin," he put in, batting his lashes at a blushing wench.

Will snorted.

"Yo ho uh oh Sissy oh Sally O'Malley," boomed Samson's brogue, "How I hate to break it to you-"

"Now don't be mad, I'd hate for that-"

"But," Jack tipped his hat, "there's two dozen other girls too!"

A cheer rose among the pirates, the fiddler skipping and stomping too. "A pint of rum and a mug of grog," Samson, Jack, and Will fiddle dee deed, "It's a pirate's life for me!" The baritone choir of sparkle-eyed men intoned the chorus, voices raised, over all of the hullabaloo.

I'm a pirate it's true and I sail on the blue
As far as the eye can see.
There's not a man alive who can take that away
Cos for all the world I'm free.
A pint of rum and a quart of grog rum tee fiddle dee dee!
I'm a pirate it's true be nothin else I'd do
For it lives inside of me.

Will found himself yanked to Samson's side. Jack, too, looked startled, crushed to the other. Unable to control himself, Will exploded, laughing outright. The pirate rolled his eyes, which only set him off worse. Somehow, he managed to calm himself as they three went forward to finish the song.

"So here's to all you wenches-"

"All you rascally Son of a G's," Will cut in, grinning up at an approving Samson. "We'll all be pirates together-"

"And free we all shall be!"

Whistles and shouts and hearty applause went up in the Faithful Bride. Will glanced down and grinned at the crowd for the joyful uprise. He let the big man take his arm and skipped again in a circle. Then they split up and jigged on their own and nodded at Jack to reprise.

"So all you wenches, rascals, and Son of a G's," Jack sang, flicking his hands left and right at them, "sing along with me."

A pint of rum and a quart of grog rum tee fiddle dee dee!
It's the pirate's life for me.

We're pirates it's true and we sail on the blue
As far as the eye can see
There's not a man alive who can take that away
Cos for all the world we're free
A pint of rum and a quart of grog rum tee fiddle dee dee!
We're pirates it's true be nothin else we'd do
For our hearts lie with the sea

Samson grabbed Will with one arm and Jack with the other. Will grinned at both of them and then out at the equally happy pirates. The three he recognized, who were bobbing in unison, had coerced Isaac Faust into singing along. The look on the lad's face reminded Will of himself years before when Jack had first come into his life. He nodded at Isaac, who looked surprised, and then glanced at the rest of the grins surrounding him. In the yellow glow of the candlelight their eyes twinkled up at him, a merry sight. Wenches kissed some of the men but more of them clinked their mugs. A handful had even started to jig. When Will looked right he caught Jack's eye and the two of them exchanged shrugs.

A pint of rum and a quart of grog rum tee fiddle dee dee!
Pirates all are we!

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

There was something to be said of the perks available to those of the performing sort, Jack decided, winking at the demure wench across from him who sat rubbing his weary feet. Pleased to see the blush rise into her cheeks, he glanced down the long planked table. Most of those at the Faithful Bride had sent over something of value. Several bottles of the purest rum—one of which he clutched to his chest and lifted to swallow down the fire before evaluating the rest of the offerings—and two bottles of fine wine. Both fancy labels bore the mark of a sought after vintage, but Jack didn't need to read them to know that the rich black sap inside was an exquisite Syrah. That both were yet to be uncorked was what most exceedingly rich men would consider a minor miracle, but glancing at the others gathered at the table—near all with a mug of crude ale in hand—Jack was not surprised.

Between the three crooners and the three odd pirates sat the wench and Samson beside her. Shakes sat beside him. That the man trembled was only natural—either Sweet Sam was a mammoth of a man or the wiry pirate just couldn't still himself for a solitary moment. Whichever was the case, Jack could not be sure. He was sure, however, that Toddul was quite heartily enjoying the plate of sweets. Stubby fingers snatched up the fine confections and into his mouth they went, disappearing one by one. Lemmy scolded him, and the fiddler, across from the tall, lanky pirate, took the opportunity to snatch one of the remaining chocolates. To that man's left and his own right sat Will, who took a deep gulp of ale and flushed red, eyes sparkling. Raising a brow, Jack turned to Isaac. The lad's own disbelief was aimed at the crooners, who seemed never to stop humming even as they drank from their mugs or nibbled the tiny raw fish a man from Sicily had left with the wine.

Relishing the likely possibility of his snagging the Syrah and savoring the lush peppered-plum taste all by his onesies, Jack smiled at the black bottles of it. On the darkest, warmest nights aboard the Black Pearl it would serve well to fill his mouth with its exotic sting. Near lost in thought, Jack glanced up at Samson.

The big man smiled, green eyes flashing at the wine bottles. "Might have to fight me for it."

"A connoisseur of fine wine, are you?" Jack leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. "Tell me Sweet Sammy, is it the splendid spirits of Tortuga that bring you to our most humble corner of the world? Last I heard you were working for Big Mac."

"Aye, MacDonald." Samson took a drink of his ale and nodded. "Good man, he is. But he's passed on and I won't sail under his sons. Understand the passing of one's legacy to one's own, don't ya get me wrong Jacky, but I don't get on with the McD's so it's just best I was movin on."

"So off to Tortuga you went."

"Lookin for you!"

"Lucky I was looking for him," Jack pointed out, nodding at Will. The big man's narrowing eyes rose his brows. He turned, frowning at Will in an attempt to figure what it was Samson was seeing in—he swallowed a sigh. Sometimes, given the right light or affectation, seeing Will was seeing William. "Aye, mate. Looks just like his father."

"Thought he was Bootstrap earlier…"

"You knew my father?" Will leaned across the table, eager. "Tell me about him."

"Knew?" Samson furrowed a brow. "I know him. You don't?"

Will sighed but Jack held up a hand to indicate that he would bear the burden of explanation. Crushing weight upon his chest—the sort he imagined was only fair, as it wasn't he who was pressed to the depths of Davy Jones'—and a tingle in the back of his neck, Captain Jack Sparrow took off his hat, laid it on his lap, and stared at it. Careful not to look at Turner—whose frown-drawn face would certainly only serve to haunt Jack's waking memory of another Turner lost to the both of them—he turned steady eyes on the glassy green ones of the big man.

Candlelight flickered in them, a dim realization sputtering behind the glaze of his gaze. Sam Samson's frown eased and in the next moment deepened. Then it was that brightness washed over the great big green orbs. The great big giant of a man blinked. "Not Bootstrap, Jacky," he said, rubbing a great big hand over the scruff of his beard and the scar that faded behind it. His eyes darkened. "Blast an' blimey—how long've I been gone?"

"Long enough. But a good thing it was, perhaps, as you're here to be blatherin on, aye?" To that he wasn't surprised to see the small shake of Samson's head. Some things weren't an easy gauge no matter what the measure. Jack knew it well, and he nodded. "Bootstrap was a good man, and a good pirate, and a great mate. He'd have wanted to see the both of us well no matter the cost." He frowned. "Fortunately for you, it wasn't your hide he was defending when Barbossa tossed him overboard strapped fast to an sinking cannon."

Samson's eyes widened.

"Aye, the stories are true, mate." Jack sighed, shoulders slumping with the weariness of having to tell the tale again. "Mutiny me, kill Bill, and worst, cursed."

"In that order?"

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but the air rushed from his lungs before he could, and he promptly shut it. Feeling the heat of Will's gaze on him, he swallowed and gave a slight shake of his head. "Not exactly." The fury that flashed in the big man's eyes was not lost on him and he rushed on. "Twas either of us we'd have done the same."

"Nae, we wouldn'ta." Samson took a gulp of his ale and shook his head. "Naether you nor I'd've sat idly by."

Naether you nor I'd've sat idly by—
if a friend of ours was left to die.

The three crooners' interruption drew Jack's glare, and they shrugged, hands up and out to the air, as if helpless to their intonation. Jack shook his head. "Was either save me neck and cut his own or save his neck and hope mine healed," he pointed out. "Wish he'd have saved me neck and kept on with the saving of his own. Then we'd three be here." He frowned. "Though something tells me there's a great deal of ponderance to that notion."

Wish tha' t'would have happened differently—
here we'd be, we three. He, you, and me.

Jack frowned at the men only to bolster the same shrug from them.

"Ponder it none. Couldn'ta been here the either of us if things'da been different, Jacky." Samson nodded at Will. "Might'a not found him, aye?"

Jack's eyes widened, and he shot the big man what he hoped was a warning in his eyes. "We would've found him," he lied, throwing an arm around Will's shoulders and tugging him close. "Dragged him to sea, the two of us, and made a man out the lad. Think he managed to do that on his own though." He grinned at Will, glad to see the responding flash of pearlies, and shrugged. "Sort of."

Will's smile turned to a frown. "Sort of?"

"As it is I think we'll be heading back to sea," Jack said, turning back to wink at Samson, whose amusement shone in his eyes much as his disappointment had. "Morn'll break soon and I've a mind to be off sailing."

"Would you be needin an extra pair'a hands?"

Jack laughed.

Samson frowned.

Jack stopped laughing and frowned as well. "Where's your ship?"

"Told you I wasn't goin'ta sail under those sons of McD, Jacky. Twasn't me ship but the old man's." He sighed, placing a hand over his heart. "Left me high and dry. Though there was a matter of compensation sent to me wife. Goin'ta miss her, I am." Samson gulped some ale and shook his head, tears in his eyes much as before. "Bonny lass she was. Faithful. Steady too. N'er gave me trouble."

"Your wife?" Will asked.

"My ship."

Will's brows rose.

"So it is I came a-lookin for you, Captain Sparrow." Samson nodded at Jack. "Always been a good man, and a good pirate, and a great mate."

Much to his dismay, Jack felt a genuine smile lifting his lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes. He coughed, cleared his throat, and coughed again. Thumping his clavicle, he nodded at Samson. The man's stoic stare told him he hadn't fooled him one bit, and so he cleared his throat and flashed a nervous smile. "Kind words, those."

"Well you always were easy to win over that way."

"Gratification is, of course, highly profitable. Pays off. Flattery does tend to get you everywhere," Jack agreed, drumming his fingers on the table. "Well." He frowned. "Haven't been plaguing society much as we used to aboard the Pearl. Seems most of us grew out of that. Mostly." Still drumming his fingers on the table, he stopped short and shrugged. "To tell you the truth mate, we haven't had to take a ship for months."

"Eh?" Samson stared at him for a moment. "You're still a pirate, aye Jacky?"

Jack arched a brow. "Always be a pirate, mate. It's in my blood."

"No it's not." Samson frowned.

"Either way," he shrugged. "Point is," he said, lifting a finger to make one. He frowned and turned to Will. "What was my point?"

"That in order to make a killing, one must not shed blood?"

"Aye that'll do. Point is, Sweet Sammy, we haven't had to take a ship for months due to the glorious brilliance of a certain pirate captain—me, Captain Jack Sparrow, Reverend Sparrowe, Master Joh—." Jack broke off, smiling broadly as he realized the direction of his rambling and that all eyes had turned to him. He cleared his throat. "As I was saying. Being that I'm of a certain mental aptitude which allows for the devision of extemporal excursions not involving evasion or encroachment of the law, we aboard the Black Pearl have been able to net sizable profits without the limitations of or to repercussions."

"Poor man's english, Jacky."

He grinned. "We deal in antiquities."

"What sort?"

"What he means is," Will explained, "that he digs up trouble."

Jack tsked. "Treasure is not trouble!" He turned to Samson. "Relics. Ancient ones. Very profitable. High market value."

"What he means is," Will translated, "that they're trouble to find and take."

Samson frowned.

"Really, what he means is, he likes tossing on the high seas with his unfortunate crew and even less fortunate friends on circumnavigal trips to find terribly awful cursed treasure which is nothing but trouble and twice as difficult to leave behind for all its glittering glory," Isaac finally put in. "And then he takes a ship to appease the crew."

Silence reigned for several long moments. The crooners had not a tune for what Isaac had said. The fiddler dropped his fiddlestick. The three odd pirates looked aghast, as did the wench. Samson sat stock-still. Will Turner, however, burst out laughing, and soon the rest of them followed suit until the only one of them not slapping his knees was Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Well Jack," Samson boomed, reaching across the table and giving his hand a thwack, "sounds exciting!"

"Extremely," Jack said, wincing at the throbbing in his hand. "I might need another pair of hands on the Pearl afterall."

"Just one pair?" Lemmy exchanged glances with the other two odd pirates and looked down the table at the captain. "Could you use another three?"

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

So it was that after parting with the wench—whom Jack made a show of smooching and sending off with a handful of gold—the fiddler, and the three crooners—whose chorus of 'Beads and baubles and trinkets galore, Jack wears more kohl than a Tortugan wh—' had been cut off immediately with the offering of the last bottle of rum—Will and the rest departed from the Faithful Bride. Though the sky was turning from black to blue, the town and its taverns and other lascivious licensure were still abustle, and Will decided, with the warmth of all of the ale still in his belly, that he would not want Tortuga to be any other way. Taking in each man of the group, he decided also that he would not want any of them to be any other way.

He would not want Samson, who was at the front of the pack beside Isaac picking off drunken pirates who made passes to punch, kick, or otherwise maim Jack Sparrow and the rest of his friends, to be meek and mild. He would not want Isaac, leading them all, to be less proud. He would not want Toddul to be—taller. He would not want Lemmy to be—shorter, and he would not want Shakes to be… shakier. He would not want Jack Sparrow to be…

Will trailed off in his own head, glancing askance at Jack. The pirate had fallen back to walk beside him, bottles of wine held in one arm. His kohl-rimmed eyes met Will's and he arched a brow. "What?" Jack frowned down at himself, and finding nothing amiss, turned the frown on him. "Something the matter?"

"Nothing." Will shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, shut it, and opened it again. "It's just that I…"

Jack paused to let two drunken men stumble past them, paling at the sight of one's pegleg. It creaked. Jack shuddered, hurrying on. "Well Mr. Turner, spit it out. We haven't all night. Already used that up trying to find you as it were."

"So sorry to be such an inconvenience to you, Jack." Will shot him a dirty look. "What I was going to say was that I would not want you to be anyone but who you are."

The pirate cocked his head, studying him out of the corner of his eye. For the rest of the walk through town he was quiet. Then, when they began their trek through the forest, he spoke. "You know, you're not an inconvenience as much as a living, breathing pain in me arse. And feet."

Will sighed.

Jack rolled his eyes. "It was a joke!"

"Sometimes jokes go too far."

"If you're referring to what happened in Port Royal, Will Turner, I take no blame," Jack told him, lifting his chin. "It was you who flew off the handle. Or grabbed one and pointed its blade at me throat, rather."

"I thought you had used my family against me!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "I did." He jabbed a finger in the air. "To get you aboard the Pearl. For what it was I planned."
"For my birthday."

"For your birthday."

"Could you not have just sent a card?"

Jack stopped and looked at him. The moonlight that illuminated his hat and bead-laced hair cast his face in shadow. His eyes were black in the darkness but deep with the mire of hurt. "Trying to tell me something, Mr. Turner?" A soft sigh escaped his throat as he stood studying Will. "Is it that you would rather not celebrate such an occasion with the likes of me?"

"Celebrations are for friends and family," Will said, unable to keep the bitter tone from creeping into his voice. "Neither of which you are to me." He picked up the pace, caring not whether the pirate came after. When he did, however, Will stopped short and glared at him. "Since I saw that you cast aside our friendship."

Jack frowned.

Will shook his head and forged on after the rest of the pirates. They were so far ahead that Isaac's lantern was but a speck of yellow light against the deep blue of the early morning. He was going to break into a run to catch up when Jack grabbed his shoulder and hauled him around.

"I would never do that."

Even in the darkness, Will saw the solemn look on Jack's face and the purity, so rare, in his eyes. Still, he remembered seeing the sword he'd spent hours crafting to what he knew would be Jack's liking, at Alice Witter's side and it stung. "Then why is it that you gave away the sword I gave to you as a token of our friendship?"

"I would never do that either."

"Then why was it tucked in Alice Witter's skirt?"

Jack's brows snapped together.

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

The Black Pearl was at rest when the party returned. Only a few men stood on deck. They were the crew that had retired early to serve the ship in the morn, and they were, all of them, bright-eyed and helpful, lending all men—even the strangers they eyed strangely—a hand out of both of the longboats they pulled up. Jack, who'd been in the second, did not wait for their help. He stepped out onto the deck of his ship, two bottles of wine in arm, and nodded at Gibbs. Isaac, who'd been in the first boat, was explaining the strangers to the sailor as Jack had insisted upon. Free of that particular obligation, Jack's gaze swept the deck from stem to stern.

Ambling toward him, mussed grey hair giving away his recent rising, a groggy Cook reached up to fix his spectacles. Yawning, he frowned down at the two bottles his captain was placing carefully in his arm. Jack nodded toward his cabin. He patted the man on the shoulder and strolled to the other side of the ship, that which faced the Odessa. Alice Witter's flagship gleamed bright blue under the breaking dawn, as did the peaceful water she rested in. Jack's eyes narrowed. He strolled to the other side of the ship, that which faced the Celamar. Anamaria's pride and joy glowed with the gentleness of morning, and he sighed.

"Morning, Cap'n."

Jack glanced at Gibbs. "And a fine one at that." He looked up at the heavens. "Clear skies today, aye?"

"Looks like it."

"Aye, it does…"

Gibbs frowned. "What's in yer head, Jack?"

"It's just that..." With a rueful glance over his shoulder at the dark beauty of the Celamar, Jack turned on his heel and strode purposefully toward the other side of the ship, Gibbs trailing, to glare at the Odessa. "It seems a nice day to set sail."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Isaac was showing the four new hands to their temporary cabin. It would serve them well for their resting until the captain found a moment to properly introduce them to the existing crew. Will hung behind in the hall, watching the younger man apologize to Samson and Lemmy for the low ceiling. The lanky one shrugged. The big man did much the same and hunkered down beside the other on a cot. He caught Will's eye and they shared a smile. Will gave a quick wave of his hand a moment before Isaac swept the door shut.

There they stood in the hall together, both of them regarding the other. Isaac's blue gaze was wary, and Will's brown the same. When they met, both looked away. Will studied the planked floor. When he finally glanced up, he found the blue eyes set on his bruised jaw and he raised his brows.

"So there has been some trouble."

The reminder did not please Will. He shot the lad a dirty look before he turned to walk down the great hall. That Isaac followed irritated him. He pressed his lips together, forcing himself not to glance askance at the man who'd fallen into step beside him. They walked in silence, slowly, toward the stairs.

"May I ask you something?"

"If I allow it, will you leave me to myself?"

"Why is it that you hate me so?"

The earnest way in which Isaac had asked the question forced Will to look at him. He bristled, noticing that the lad's eyes were equally earnest. "I don't hate you," he said quietly, looking away. The guilt that resonated from his resentment tossed his tummy and he winced. "If you don't mind," he said, passing him to start up the stairs, "I've a wife to return to."

Relief flooded through Will when he realized that Isaac had not followed again. More conversation with the lad he simply couldn't bear. At the moment he wanted nothing more than to slip into bed beside his wife and kiss her. When he found her amongst the pillows in their otherwise empty cabin, he did just that.

Elizabeth's eyes opened slowly. "Will…"

"Elizabeth," he said, bringing her hand to his lips, "I was wrong."

She sniffed.

"I am sorry." He sighed. "I don't think words could ever repair the damage I may have caused to your heart with my brash and unfounded accusations. I should have trusted you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I don't know what I was thinking or if I was thinking at all when I said what I did."

She sniffed again.

"I love you."

"Oh, Will…" His wife's voice was soft; gentle as it had been the day that Jack Sparrow had sailed free from Port Royal on the very ship they lay in. Tears filled her eyes. She sniffed and arched a brow. "Have you been drinking?"

"Only a little," he said, smiling at the coy quirk of her lip as he bent his head for a kiss. Their mouths met for a moment. In the next, the Pearl swayed and knocked Will away. Elizabeth giggled. She grabbed him and kissed her smile to his. Then it was that Will Turner decided that he and his wife were to be lost to all but each other in the warmth of their love and the morning light.

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Alice Witter yawned and lifted her head.

In the center of Jack's bed she lay, a cat on each side. Cinder lay between she and Little Lucy, who looked as much the angel snoozing as she had before. Ash lay between she and the boy. Air whistled through Jack Turner's nose as he slept. She sighed, relieved that the ship wasn't swaying as she'd thought, and stretched in the morning light.

In another part of the ship, Anamaria woke with a start. Her dark eyes fell upon Roth sleeping at her side. His longish dark hair tickled her arm. The pirate was wrapped in the red, white, and blue of the Union Jack. A smirk touched her lips as she fell back to her pillow.

"Must have been a dream," both women murmured, closing their eyes.

"Clear the rocks! Trim all the way if you have to!"

At the sound of Jack's voice, Anamaria and Alice Witter jumped awake. One's eyes narrowed, and the other's popped wide. "That bloody pirate!"

"Trim those sails port to fill and if that doesn't work, trim them starboard!" Jack stood with a hand on the helm, glaring out at his men as they scrambled to answer his call. He glanced up at the rigging. The black sails furled to port and filled with the wind. Gently, he touched the rudder to port. "If she loses wind she'll breathe it back!"

Indeed, as the ship slipped between the two sparkling waterfalls into the pass, she lost air. A quiet calm descended upon the Pearl. Her sails slackened. Ropes fell easy in the hands of the crewmen. The pirates looked to one another, and up to the resting rigging, and beyond the railing to the craggy rock walls passing by. The Pearl was moving still, despite having lost the wind. She sailed easily through the pass as if guided by some steady unseen force. Her crew leaned on the rails, looking out and over them. Finding nothing, their murmurs swept the decks.

Jack's mouth twitched. He had explained the mechanics of the canal and its changeable current to them time and again but they refused to absorb such things, preferring to believe instead that the Pearl moved of her own free will thanks be to some hidden majesty, some esoteric magickal compulsion. He couldn't blame them, of course. The Black Pearl was a most majestic ship and Jack could not deny her sweet mystery entranced even him. Besides, he thought with a shrug, the notion of supernaturalism attached to his name and reputation was a nice touch to both.

"She'll carry us through," Jack called down, glancing over his shoulder at the two ships disappearing from view. The sprit of the Celamar seemed a pointing finger. Anamaria's pointing finger, to be exact. Wincing, he turned from it. To his dismay, the woman herself was standing, arms folded, in front of him. He forced a smile to his face. "Anamaria! How lovely you are in the light of the morn! Beautiful, really. A sight for sorry—"

"You'll be sorry!"

The slap that spun him around he'd expected, and he sighed softly, rubbing his jaw. "Already am." He turned back to her, flinching at her jerking arm and stepping back to avoid another blow. "Don't—" he grabbed the spokes of the wheel and ducked, missing a slap, "be mad." Popping back up, he twitched a sweet smile. "I've every intention to make it up to you, love. I promise. I swear!"

"Don't ya give me that, Sparrow," Anamaria hissed, knocking him upside the head. "Ya knew I wanted off!"

Below their feet the doors to his cabin burst open. Alice Witter flew on deck. Disheveled she was, her white curls a mass of bed-ridden mess and her dress as bedraggled. Outrage screeched from her as she spun in a circle, eyes wide at the proof of the process of sailing. Between the scenery slipping by and the working pirates, one of which she shoved out of her way to storm furiously up the stairs, Jack was fairly certain that she had figured out that the Black Pearl had set sail. From behind the wheel, one hand lying idly upon it, he arched a brow at her. "Nice hair."

"Turn this ship around!" As an afterthought, the woman reached up to her hair and felt for it, squeaking when she discovered its distress. She hissed, baring her teeth. "Right now, Sparrow!"

"Well…" Jack glanced port to the rock wall and starboard the other before turning solemn eyes upon her. "We're sort of walled in right now. It'll have to wait."

"I won't wait!" She stamped her foot and pointed a finger at him. "Put out the sweeps! Row backwards!"

"No."

Frustrated, Alice curled her fingers in her hair. She tugged on it. "Please?"

Jack smiled and leaned across the wheel. He swooped the air with his hand. His brows rose. "You're asking? Politely? Well there is a first time for everything!" They rose further and, in the next instant, snapped together. "But I'm afraid my answer is no."

"Jack!"

"Sorry, love. I can't turn this ship around right now, and when I can, I won't." He laid a hand on his hip. "Nor will I break good men's' arms—row backwards, indeed—for a woman with sticky fingers." He glared pointedly at her hip. "Like you. Stole my sword, aye?"

"Is that what this is about?"

"Something like that," he agreed. "May seem petty to you, Miss Witter, but the sword you thieved from me has caused me a great deal of grief. Seems to me it's only fair that you should suffer the same sort of consequences. Besides, Ice Queen, you're on my ship. What I say goes."

She lifted her chin and reached toward the hiding place. The sword hissed from its hidden holster, steel blade glinting at him in the sunlight much as her steely eyes glared. She stabbed the tip into the wood of the deck and, with a sniff, whirled and stormed down the stairs.

"Thank you," Jack called after her. Rolling his eyes, he reached for the handle. The blade was pried easily from the wood. He slid it into the scabbard at his own hip only to feel the brunt of Anamaria's swift palm crack against the back of his head. It was unexpected and he growled, whirling to face her. "What was that for?"

"For not thinkin' of me! Aye," she spat, cracking him across the face and whirling on her heel, "thank ya, Jack!"

Red faced—in more ways than one, he thought, wincing and reaching for the stinging flesh—he glared after her as she chased down the other woman. "Don't mention it!" Jack averted his gaze when the two women huddled below shot him a dirty look. He glanced up at the sails. They shivered in the breeze. The wind was picking up. Such could only be if they were nearing the end of the passageway where the cliffs were not so steep. Jack's gaze swept forward. Indeed, Tortuga Bay came into view in the space angled between the two walls. Ships bobbed, buoyed, in the water. He frowned down at the crew. "We're making the turn!"

Jack gave the rudder a gentle tug. The Pearl shuddered, turning to follow the curve that opened to the bay. The black sails furled and snapped taut with the wind's following breath. "Let her lift," he called to the men, giving the wheel another tug to push her sprit through the pass, "and tug that line to see us off!"

The two redheaded Irishmen reached for the plait of rope dangling above their heads and gave a mighty tug on it. Stone scraped stone. Thunder rumbled. They looked at each other, eyes wide. Shouts from the other crew turned them astern to look over the rail and their mouths dropped. Behind them the water rushed, rolling a mighty wave. The men—and women, too—scrambled, grabbing wood and ropes and each other. No sooner than they'd steadied themselves on the ship, the wave lifted her stern. The water swelled beneath the Black Pearl and carried her swiftly into the bay.

Jack grinned and turned her to the northeast. "You know where to take her," he said to bright-eyed Cotton, eyeing the parrot on the man's shoulder before heading to his cabin. "Squawk if you need me!"

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

When Will woke, it was late in the day. The sun was still out, but it was soon to sink. He knew such by the beams of golden light that set Elizabeth's skin aglow and the darkening blue that washed the cabin's contents through the porthole. His head ached but he smiled. The events of the late eve and early morning had lifted his spirits, and he was determined to stay as light-hearted as was possible.

Finding Elizabeth's open eyes watching him, he bent to kiss her. Joy zinged through him at the touch of her lips to his and he smiled again. "Let's go find our children, Mrs. Turner."

"Yes," she agreed, allowing him to take her hand and help her from the bed, "let's."

Will leant down to the trunk of clothes. The scrap of green material lying atop it puzzled him. He picked it up and held it to the light, frowning at it. "Is this—"

Elizabeth flushed and grabbed it, tossing it aside. "Nevermind that."

He raised a brow and lifted the lid.

After dressing in the loose, well-worn clothes they stored on the Pearl for sailing ventures with their pirate family, the two of them paused in the doorway to look at each other. They shared a gentle kiss. Will took Elizabeth's hand and led her out of the cabin and up the stairs to the deck. Just as he'd thought, the sun was beginning to sink behind the Black Pearl as she eased through the waves like a black swan. Her crew was hard at work. Cotton was manning the helm. Tearlach was adjusting the mainsail. Marty and Cook were lugging jugs across the deck. Gibbs, overseeing it all, spotted them, took a slug from his flask, and headed in their direction. Will waited, looking up at the clear sky. The warmth of his wife's hand in his warmed his heart and he marveled at the open sky and sea around them.

"Good day for sailing it was so we set off," Gibbs told them. He nodded. "Cook tells me the wee ones are with Jack."

"Thank you," Will said, leading Elizabeth toward the cabin. On their way, they passed Anamaria and Alice Witter. The two women were pulling a wooden crate. Both whispered and glanced furtively about as they did so. They brightened when they saw them. Anamaria smiled at Will, and Alice waved. He arched a brow but decided it best not to ponder.

Elizabeth glanced at them over her shoulder. "What do you think they're doing?"

"If they're working together," he said, holding the door for his wife, "it can't be good." He frowned. "I hope that they're not cooking—" he broke off, realizing it was a blessing that Elizabeth was not cooking with them. The owl pudding had been a disastor, he remembered with a wince.

Elizabeth shot him a warning look. "If you even mention it, Will, I will gladly join them!"

He pressed his lips together.

The two crossed the great room. Elizabeth allowed Will to lead her down the spiral staircase to Jack's private quarters. The pirate was sleeping. On his back he was, snoring softly, one hand on his chest and the other lost to the pillows. The two cats, Ash and Cinder, sat each to a side. They kept a steady watch over Jack, and Little Lucy, perched quietly to one side, kept a steady watch over them. Not even as both her parents descended the steps did she look up.

"Mama'n Da," she whispered when they drew near. "Untle Jat talts in his sleep."

The pirate, as if in reponse, frowned. He began to mutter and mumble. Curious, Will raised his brows and leaned down to listen. Jack's mumbling was low but it was distinct. "…will, if you don't mind. I'm taking them there… Yes, 'about time's right.'… Don't tell me about your headaches, mate. He's your son!"

A shiver shook Will's spine.

"He's been talking like that all day." Their son, who had been sitting on a chest near the windows watching the beginnings of the sunset, had snuck up on them. He'd pushed between them to stand at the edge of the bed. His glinting eyes met his father's. He held a crinkled piece of parchment out to him. "This was in his hand when I woke."

Will took it. Upon the parchment was a portrait. There had been several times in the past that Will had wanted to ask his friend for a family portrait, but he had not. Though he'd known of Jack's talent with the artist's quill, it was one of the things they did not speak much of. He stood and straightened the paper in his hand. It was his own face that gazed warmly upon him from the page. A near perfect likeness it was. Perfect it would be if he were gazing upon it five years earlier.

"Uncle Jack must have drawn it awhile ago," Jack said.

Will frowned down at it. He wasn't preoccupied with vanity, but he knew he'd weathered a fair share of creases in his face since the birth of his and Elizabeth's second child. The shiver that shook him did so again as he wondered if Jack's inability to draw his current likeness had anything to do with the likeness of his father. He wondered again if the man in his dreams, the one who always listened but rarely offered counsel and complained frequently of headaches brought on by both he and the pirate, was of the same likeness.

Nodding, he tucked it in his pocket and turned to his wife. Elizabeth had gathered Little Lucy in her arms and was waiting for his approval to leave the room. He smiled at her, and laid a hand on his son's shoulder, guiding him up the stairs behind his mother. "I hope that you've been keeping out of trouble."

"I don't think you've room to talk about keeping out of trouble, Da."

Author's Babble: Song's original. It's my first foray into Pirate Pieces, so I'm slightly proud of it. Wrote it with the POTC ride and movie both in mind…I'd prefer not seeing it posted anywhere else, thank you.