Title: Dead Man's Chest
Rating: This Chapter: PG-13 Overall: NC-17
Pairing: Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, James Norrington and various permutations thereof
Warnings: character death, violence, non-con
Summary: 15 men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Disclaimer: At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don't sue me.
Word Count: 1801
Notes: Don't overlook the warnings. I implore you, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT overlook the warnings. If you have an inkling that this sort of thing will rub you the wrong way, now would be the time to stop, before you're reading this like one watches a train wreck. And then you'll be mad at me. But I warned you.

VII. A Collecting of Dues

Will and Jack set out in relatively high spirits, compass in hand and ship newly borrowed, as it were. Jack had proved quite busy on his excursions, and had their voyage well-prepared before Will had even given thought to how they might set sail. They did so with haste and secrecy, to ensure that they would not be found out by the Commodore. Will spread a rumor that Jack had set off for fairer weather and better rum, and they sailed into the pale horizon.

Jack distanced himself from the compass, eying it cautiously from across the deck as Will stood at the helm. Will distanced himself as well, although it was not for fear of distraction from the compass, but for fear that intimacy with Jack would impair his readiness for the coming confrontation. Jack let the issue lie, not wanting to stir up conflict, in spite of his imminent desire. Instead, Jack stewed in rum and fear, not at all anxious to meet with Davy Jones a second time.

Will swiftly and easily navigated them to an island with many ships at port. They kept abreast of it and then took a smaller boat into the port under the cover of night. There was a scuffle on deck and they were compelled to defend themselves most fiercely, but the conflict was relatively quick and did not arouse suspicion, at least while they remained on shore. With a quickness, the heart was retrieved and the stealthy pair made haste back to their ship at anchor.

At first, the two thought that Davy Jones would not be able to find them, since he was thwarted in discovering the heart before, but he sought them out quickly, sensing the presence of himself on the sea. With a flurry of water and wind and sound, the Flying Dutchman rose from the great depths and loomed forbiddingly beside Jack's ship. Jack cringed when he heard the heavy peg leg pounding across their deck, making quick way toward Will.

Jack ran quickly under the deck, fleeing like a coward, but little did the crew of the Dutchman know, he was hiding himself so he could guard the heart unobserved - this was the only way to defend Will against the tyranny of Davy Jones. No suspicions arose and Will remained on deck to make negotiations.

"Surrender my father," Will demanded, staring unwaveringly into the strange, slimy face of the ship's captain.

"Where is it?" Jones growled.

"My father first," Will insisted.

Jones huffed and the tentacles of his face twitched with anger and tension. He turned back toward his ship and motioned to the crew. Bill Turner was shoved from the ranks and he gained the deck, eyes shining brightly with surprise and hope and apprehension.

Will breathed deeply, chest heaving and nostrils flaring. He stood firm, waiting for Jones to make a move.

"You will bring him forward unharmed. Let us go free and do not sink our ship. I will be expecting your blessing in future passages," Will stated resolutely.

"You may have the man and the ship, but Davy Jones gives no blessings."

"I insist," Will's voice sounded deeply.

Jones motioned to his crew and they stepped forward, preparing to board and search Jack's ship. Below, Jack heard the commotion and showed himself on the deck, heart in one hand, dagger in the other. With a start, Jones waved his arm and the crew halted. Jones huffed and looked back and forth several times before giving his word and shoving Bill Turner forward. Bill scurried across the deck and stood behind Will.

Jack put the heart back into its bag and looked to Will who nodded. Jack took the cue and tossed it across the deck to Jones who snatched it greedily from the air. With a slight bow and a surprisingly quick scurrying, Jones disappeared back onto his ship which promptly sank back to the depths. In a moment, the skies cleared and the sea was calm. The blessing of Davy Jones, indeed.

As Jack, Will and Bill sailed off toward the horizon, finally reunited, Norrington took also to sail, having determined with the compass before he gave it away, the location that Will would choose next to go. Jack broke out a special store of rum and it was consumed with great mirth and merriment. Bill began to look much like his normal self, albeit grizzled and waterlogged. Will's disposition warmed considerably, though he was still reluctant to be affectionate with Jack. Jack wasn't sure whether it was because he had no more motivation to do so, being unable to gain anything more than a warm bad, or whether it was for the benefit of Will's father. Indeed, Bill Turner would surely have found their interactions surprising, to say the least.

Bill asked them to return him to land and they gladly obliged, as Bill wanted nothing more than to roam free and dry on something that feels unmoving, which seemed a more than reasonable request to Will. He, too, longed for rest and land and peace. When they arrived at the nearest island, Bill thanked Will up and down and praised him for what seemed like hours before running off for decent food and pleasurable company. Jack gave him a few shillings. He hadn't changed much, that was for sure.

Will sent Jack off the ship for provisions, knowing Jack's skills for attaining good things that he perhaps had not earned, and stayed behind thinking. He paced the ship, checking for any faults, counting all the supplies, and busying himself with arbitrary tasks to steady his mind. Will heard footsteps thumping along the deck and he finally felt at ease. This was not the shuffling gait of his father, so it must be Jack, back with supplies and fortifying rum. Will turned to face him with a smile but found a different figure blocking the light from pouring down into the belly of the ship. Will squinted to discern the face from the light behind him when the realization struck.

"Commodore!" Will whispered. Norrington stepped forward into the even light of the hold.

"I've come to collect my due," he said, calculated and quiet.

"I owe you nothing," Will said, spine straightening and resolve hardening.

"Ah, Will, but that is where you're wrong," he replied.

When Jack returned, he found the ship was very quiet. He surveyed the deck and found it had been cleaned, so he figured Will must be tidying below deck. Normally, he would have been right, but when he looked into the hold, it was every bit as quiet as the deck. Jack noticed a few things overturned and he thought it unusual, as Will was famously tidy in his chores. Perhaps, Will had to run off the ship for a moment, or perhaps he had simply forgotten something from another area of the ship. Jack refused to accept the possibility of something seriously wrong, but he could not shake his concern.

Jack paced across the deck, listening to the silence and made his way toward the Captain's quarters. Perhaps, Will was simply napping. Indeed, Will could be anywhere… taking a swim, buying more rum, trailing his father… Jack swung open the door and was nearly bowled over by the sight confronting him. There were two chairs facing the door. In one of them sat the Commodore, pistol in hand, and in the other sat Will, bound and gagged. Will breathed heavily and choler colored his cheeks. He did not attempt to speak to Jack, but sat in mute fury. Jack could tell the fight had been unfair, and decided against speaking as well, with Norrington's pistol leveled at his head.

"I have come to collect my due," Norrington finally spoke.

"He owes you nothing," Jack said, motioning to Will who followed the interaction with his eyes.

"It is you who owes," came the reply, intentionally vague.

"What exactly do I owe you, Commodore?" Jack asked, his tone sharp as a blade.

"You owe him to me," Norrington answered, "as a prevailing officer of the Royal Navy, it is my duty to return your captive to his rightful place, with or without his cooperation."

"Nonsense," Jack spat, "what is the real reason you're here?"

"I am here to collect my due," his manner was flat and cold.

"What is that due?"

"Your fortune, in its entirety, is my due. Whatever you may be wanting in character, the Queen sees it fit to deprive you comparably of your riches. You shall not be allowed to parade the failure of good people as your own success. My due is your fortune," Norrington spoke eloquently, "and your life."

"It is not unfair to deprive a man so wanting from the only things which he does not want?" Jack asked with a swagger.

"I am less concerned with what you want than with what I want."

"Aha, so the truth be told," Jack said with a sarcastic smile, "fear not, Commodore, for there is no man without a fault. What you are wanting in fulfillment and adventure, if not righteousness, I can surely teach you to enjoy."

"Enough of your talk," the Commodore growled, fighting the contortion of rage within him. "Sit."

Norrington stood from his chair and offered it to Jack with a wave of his hand. Jack sat, eyeing the pistol nervously. He bound Jack to the chair and warned the pair sternly that if they moved, it would be their deaths. He disarmed Jack and went to the helm, taking their small ship quickly from port, glad to have caught them while Bill Turner was still ashore. He propped the wheel on its course and went back to the cabin where Jack and Will struggled obstinately at their bonds.

"Predictable," Norrington noted as they strained to free themselves.

"Where are we sailing?" Jack demanded.

"To a place where justice can be served," He replied, flicking Jack's old compass from his pocket and checking the bearing.

Jack frowned, but decided not to push his luck. For the second time that day, Norrington leveled his gun at Jack's head. He untied Jack with the free hand and hauled him to his feet.

"Walk," Norrington commanded.

He marched Jack up to the deck and tied him to the mast, where he would be easily visible and well within the range of shot from the helm. The same treatment he gave to Will, tying them each with separate ropes and differing knots to slow their progress in escaping, should the worst occur. He took his place at the wheel and sailed them for the nearest accessible, but isolated island. The weather was unusually fair and Norrington mused over how Jack had acquired the blessing of Davy Jones.