Sitting by the fire was pointless, William thought, on a warm night such as it was. Crickets wouldn't be chirping if it wasn't so balmy. But then, had he built the fire for its heat? William looked at it, at its bright flames bursting up from the timber he'd gathered, and he felt the sweat upon his brow bead up.
He snorted. "So what if I want them to see me out here? That so terrible of me?"
"More than likely," growled a voice making him jump, "unless you're a wholly different man than the scruplesless scoundrel I've been privileged to meet."
Not daring to rise to the bait, and being angrier at himself for having not noticed Jack Sparrow's approach, William only smirked. He did not dare glance over his shoulder. He would not give Jack the satisfaction…
"So is this how you spend your nights, William? Assuaging your guilt by questioning the air that hasn't the answers you don't wish to hear?" Jack snorted. "Pity it's come to that for you."
"What would you know of guilt, Jack?" He bit hard on the bitter words that wanted to spill forth from his lips. "To feel guilt is to first care and you and I both know how inarguably careless you are."
"Don't presume to know me for so long having not, William."
"And to you the same," he shot back, finally finding the fire to leap up and face the man he hadn't wanted to. "Do not belittle me!"
Sparrow stepped back but his black eyes hardened. His jaw clenched. When he spoke, rage seethed through his clenched teeth.
"You belittle yourself!"
"Oh, rot!" William took a step forward, a thrill of victory emboldening him as he saw Jack back up a step. "You know well as I that you've done your best to down me to my worst, Sparrow!"
"You're bloody well full of it and by the by, William Turner, it's Captain Sparrow—"
"Oh, stuff it ye bloody bird—"
"The only thing I'd like to stuff," Jack shouted, advancing on him with a raised fist, "is that nonsensical hole in your face!"
"What's stopping you!"
But William felt foolish; he was stepping hastily back even as he posed the provocative question to the man he'd rarely seen so incensed. Jack's eyes burned brimstone black in the night. It was, William knew, the same predatorial gleam that blazed at all those who had forced the man to fight battles he'd rather not have fought. Knowing as well what had happened to those men, he took a few steps back rather than stand his ground and reached for the blade strapped to his boot.
Jack stopped abruptly, a feral grin replacing grim determination.
William hesitated.
"Coward as ever you've been, aren't you?"
The pommel of the dagger was heavy in William's hand. He tightened his grip on it, hoping Sparrow didn't notice what he was sure by practice was nearly an imperceptible movement. The man had always had a sharp eye—
A click told William he'd hoped in vain. He froze. There was no other sound like it. William didn't need to see what Jack's fingers were wrapped around to know it was a pistol.
"And you're ever the cheat."
Jack snorted. "Takes one to know one, doesn't it?"
William, unable to refute the accusation, glared at him. His arm tensed.
"You throw that blade at me, William, and I'll not hesitate to win this game."
"What have I got to lose? Go on—take your shot, Jack Sparrow. I'm in no position to barter…" He trailed off, a spark of flame catching his eye. It sputtered out above the spot he'd marked with a scrap of muslin. Or maybe I am.
"Barter?" Jack cocked his head. "Out of the question. You're inept at bargaining, really. Didn't those ten years you wandered about being skinned to the skelly by the light of the moon teach you anything?"
William strained against the urge to see his blade stuck in Sparrow's heart just then to brush nonchalantly past his former friend. He reached the spot untroubled by the man and without a glance backward bent to dig in the sand. His cautious fingers brushed the black luster hidden there and braced himself for the jolt of recognition.
Be done with this nonsense, i no toleros!
Warmth filled William's hands as he lifted the black pearl from its hiding spot. No mérimna, io.
For a moment the gem went cold and silent, but it just as quickly warmed to the touch again. Good.
"What's that?" Jack Sparrow's voice still held its edge but now there had crept into it a note of curiosity. "Hiding things even now?"
Biting back a salty retort, William whipped around, pointedly placing the pearl behind his back. His sudden movement had forestalled the approaching pirate, and William struggled not to smirk. He raised a brow instead. "What matter is it to you?"
Jack looked about to remark when William decided it was best to turn on heel and make for the trees. For a moment he wondered if he'd made some stupid mistake… until he heard the unmistakable sound of sand sloughing behind him. He cautioned a glance over his shoulder and saw Sparrow's face twisted with irritation. It was with the greatest satisfaction that William knew the man's frustration had been his doing.
"William," Sparrow's growl carried on the wind, "stop!"
"I think not!"
His step quickened; the shadow of the dark forest loomed tall as he neared. Fronds fluttered—it was, he knew, a disturbance among the birds that rested high above in the branches. William paused at the trunk of the foremost tree, glanced backward at a fuming Sparrow, and stepped into the darkness.
"Stop," Jack shouted, "I command you!"
"Jest who d'ye think ye are!"
"That's a stupid question," Sparrow called, out of breath as he'd taken to running after, "I'm—" he stopped and then groaned, "Captain Jack Sparrow…"
Against his will, William stopped and turned around. He narrowed his worried eyes upon the man bent double at the waist clutching his ribs. Sparrow was wheezing—and William remembered one of the stories he'd heard… He frowned over his shoulder at the pearl that was growing white hot under his touch.
Go to him!
With a sigh, he obeyed—albeit cautiously. He stopped a few feet away, knowing well the pirate's propensity for deception, and looked Jack over with a sharp eye. William froze when Sparrow's wary eyes met his: the man wasn't faking. He dropped the pearl and rushed forward despite the frightened sound of the pistol once again being readied. With a tsk he struggled it from Jack's hand and tossed it aside.
"You always hated those things," he told him.
Jack had not the grace to agree, rolling his eyes. "If you're going to kill me," he said roughly, "I ask that you do so without delay."
They stared at each other for a moment, William marveling at how much Sparrow had not aged in so many years. There were a few telltale twirls of grey in the man's long locks and a cluster of lines at the corners of his eyes that were not painted. His stature was still the same as William remembered—a weird strength to his lean and limber frame. He studied his former captain, and friend, as he'd not before had such an opportunity to see Jack Sparrow up close since they'd first again laid eyes on each other in the cavern.
"Don't be stupid," William told him, unnerved to feel his age creep into his weary bones, "I'd have made you a heap on the sand if murder's my intent."
Jack snorted. "What's stopping you? Here I am, clearly at a disadvantage—thanks," he muttered to his chest where beyond skin and bone rose and fell the offending lung, "and here you are, with your hands," he looked worriedly aside at the strong hand pinning his shoulder to the tree trunk, "on the man who fancied your wife, kept you from your family, and who was ultimately the reason you chose to be shackled to the seafloor never to see them again. I'd say you've more reason to make me a… heap… than to not."
William couldn't help it—he laughed. He let go of Sparrow's shoulder and began to laugh. Jack slid a few inches, still unable to stand properly for his struggle to breathe, but glared up at him suspiciously from the spot nonetheless. William shook his head.
"Shackled to the seafloor was I?"
Jack's breath seemed to be returning to him. He inched up against the tree, frowned at William, but said nothing.
"Only till I found a spot of moonlight," William said. "and used a rock to snap my foot from its ankle." He shuddered, remembering the sound. "I still can't forget the pop… and I still can't figger—how's a man made a skeleton hear?" He shrugged. "Wasn't shackled to the seafloor long enough to never see my family again. T'was my choice not to." He saw Jack open his mouth to argue and held up a hand to forestall him. "Couldn't, being tailed by Barbossa."
"Ah."
"Speaking of though," William said, reaching into his pocket and taking out the charm he'd long ago picked up from that godforsaken spit of sand, "I've something belongs to you." He tossed it to Jack, who caught it, turned it around in his palm, and stared silently at it. "Picked it up soon as I reached shore. You'd already gone… smugglers?"
"Aye, though the telling of the tale around about Tortuga," Jack said, pocketing the charm, "is a much saltier story—raft of sea turtles and all." Ignoring William's snort, he stood straight having caught his breath and stared hard at him. "For all his grandiose gibbering, Barbossa never mentioned chasing after you."
"No and he wouldn't, would he?" Despite the discussion, William couldn't keep the smirk from his face. "Not one to admit to a fault, Barbossa. Sent me to the bottom of the sea—indeed. But our curse was shared. They felt the weight of the water pressing in on their bones much as I did. I can only imagine how sour he must have been, Barbossa, as the days wore on—knowing he'd only sent himself and that nasty lot on the Pearl to their doom." He looked at Jack. "To this day I can hear the nonsense Pintel must have spewed when he and Ragetti felt the weight come off their shoulders as I surfaced."
Jack's mouth twitched. "Are you sure those two would have noticed?"
William canted his head in question.
"They were never so quick on the draw."
William would have laughed if it wasn't for the tale he was telling. "They would have felt it. They all would have felt it. They must have. It was not long after I made it to land that they showed up, guns blazing, to hunt me down. I hadn't realized till I perched high in a tree above them that feeling nothing didn't include feeling the curse to our bones—all our bones. We shared it. Our curse was greater than any of us had realized—we were immortal, yes we were, but we were not free—what had been our freedom became our shackles. No longer was the water the wind under our wings. It was clouds pressing down and we all felt it together, not one of us free from the other's burden." He shook himself from his musing and looked up at Jack to see he'd rightly intrigued the pirate. "They followed their burden over the sea as I wore on beneath it…"
Jack's eyes narrowed and he gave an 'ah' of understanding. "They would have followed you wherever you'd gone."
So lucky he was that Sparrow had always been 'quick on the draw.' The weight he hadn't noticed William felt lifted from his shoulders as he shrugged them and offered Jack a modest smile. "S'what I figgered, anyway."
Captain Jack Sparrow stood where he was, unsure of himself now that he'd taken in all of what William Turner had had to say. When he'd made for shore he'd meant to tell the man off—but somehow the words were dead on his tongue. Oh, he still wanted to tell Bootstrap what a fool he was for forsaking the relationship he could yet have with his son, but he was so unnerved by the tale the man told that he could not quite form the words. B'times he finally found them, he looked up to see that William had retreated to retrieve whatever it was he'd been hiding behind his back that had caused Jack to give chase in the first place.
"Speaking of burdens," he called over, "are you going to forever keep that one a secret?"
William straightened but did not turn around to face him. "I cannot."
Jack frowned.
"I'd like to, see," said Bootstrap, "but I've an obligation to her." He turned around and Jack's eyes narrowed on the gleaming black orb clutched in the other man's hands. Bootstrap's thumb slid over the perfectly round pearl. "To Neris." When Jack started forward, Bootstrap backed up. "If you don't agree to take me off this island, you curse her to remain here as well."
"Ah, so that's how it is," Jack said, stopping short. "You do have something to barter with afterall."
William's grin was ghostly in the moonlight. "I might have learned a thing or two during those ten years wandering about being skinned to the skelly by the light of the moon." He advanced over the snapping twigs and skittering pebbles to stand over a scowling Jack with a smirk on his face. "Wouldn't you say?"
"Unfortunately." Jack rolled his eyes, annoyed knowing he was stuck. "To where shall I take you?"
"Home."
Jack blinked, having never before heard that particular word fall from Bootstrap Bill Turner's lips. "H—home?" His eyes narrowed, trying to see if the man was putting one over on him. "You've got one?"
William raised a brow and walked past him. "Hasn't everyone?"
"Aye," Jack growled, turning on his heel to follow the man out of the forest, "'cept you." He frowned, remembering the pistol, and doubled back to retrieve it. He uncocked it and with a grumble stuck it between his belt and his sash. "Wait," he called to William, rushing to catch up. "Where is it you call home?"
"I was wondering if you'd ask."
"Well I have to, haven't I, if I'm to take you there?"
William did not answer. He did not seem inclined to answer. In fact, Jack was about to ask him if he meant to answer at all when he looked up and followed the man's distant gaze to the fire—and the solitary dark figure standing beside it. Feeling William's arm tense to reach for the dagger tucked in his boot, he hurriedly stalled the action.
"It's Will," he hissed. "Can you not see that?"
Bootstrap straightened, letting the dagger stay where it was, but he stayed tense. "Not at this distance."
Jack sighed. "I should have known he'd follow." He took a deep breath and stepped cautiously forward. As he neared the fire its light illuminated the stricken face of Will Turner and he felt a pang that made him feel the anger that had spurred him to the island at so late an hour in the first place. He turned to glare at William only to find that the man had not accompanied him the rest of the way. Turning back, he saw that he'd instead turned tail back to the cover of the forest. "Oh. Not out of the woods yet, I see." He gave Will a narrow look. "Will be soon enough, I expect."
Will raised his chin. "It's no matter to me."
Jack snorted and made for his boat.
"I was worried about you," Will asserted, following him to the two boats bobbing in the water. He waded out alongside Jack, water sloshing angrily around his ankles. "I saw the both of you facing off…"
"I assure you, Will—I can fight my own battles."
Will's brows met and his mouth bunched up as if he'd eaten something sour. "I think you underestimate him."
Jack bent to untie the rope knotting Will's boat to his. "You're wrong about that." He threw the rope at the younger man and leapt into the longboat, waiting for Will to do the same. When he had, Jack took up the oars and pushed off. "And you're full of it besides. We both know why you made your way to shore, Will Turner. I'm only sorry it didn't turn out the way you'd hoped."
Will made no conversation as they rowed back to the ships waiting for them. He parted ways with Jack in silence and the pirate stopped rowing for a moment to watch that he made it safely to the Swan. When he saw the Intuits lend Will a hand up, Jack rowed the rest of the way to the Black Pearl and let Gibbs and Cotton hoist him up. Gibbs looked as though he wished to ask questions but Jack waved him off and stalked the length of his ship in lonely silence. Only when he reached the Pearl's nose did he spy another lonely figure perched on the bowsprit.
A lonely figure dressed in Royal Navy threads.
Jack stopped short. He narrowed his eyes and leapt up onto the joint of the railing. "What sort of idiot," he growled at the man's back, "pulls such a deadly stunt aboard a pirate ship!"
"It's no stunt."
Jack's eyes widened, then narrowed, as Isaac Faust turned to look at him. The lad's face was glum but determined. Jack frowned and looked over the unmistakable uniform. He wondered, for a moment where he'd got the blasted thing—until he saw, to his horror, the gleaming white initials decorating the breast pocket.
"I've decided it's time to tell you," Isaac said. "I enlisted. In the Royal Navy."
Intuition : Be done with this nonsense, i no toleros! I won't tolerate it. No mérimna, io. Don't worry, I am.
