Will held up another card. "And this is what Jack?"
"An 'O'," said Jack, confident.
"No, Jack, this is a 'Q'," said Will.
Jack grabbed the card and squinted as he held it up to the light. "It looks like an 'O'. Why isn't it an 'O'. It has to be an 'O'."
"Does the 'O' have a line right here Jack?" wondered Will, pointing to the line distinguishing a 'Q' from an 'O'.
A pout formed onto Jack's face as he let the card fall to deck. He folded his arms and looked away from Will. At the moment, he was anything but happy. His eyes wandered around deck at the many faces looking at him in curiosity.
"Jack, what is this?" asked Will.
"I won't know it," said Jack. "Remember Will, I don't know anything."
"If you didn't know anything then why do you know my name?" wondered Will.
His arms dropping and lower lip curling, Jack's eyes rolled as he turned to Will again. Entirely, everything inside of him lit up as he pointed at the card. "That is the letter on my wrist. That's a 'P'. 'P' for pirate is wot I always call it mate. And proud to have the mark on my wrist."
The cards fell from Will's hand as his fingers loosened. A smile widened across his face and his eyes grew wide with hope. Slightly, his mouth opened and formed into a small smile.
"Jack," he began.
"Yes," replied Jack just as slow.
"Do you have your memory back?" wondered Will softly.
Shaking his head, Jack looked at him oddly. "What makes you say that?"
"I never told you that letter. You knew it on your own. 'P' for pirate; it is something you never mentioned to any of us," Will told him.
Jack's face brightened as he grew pale. "Will, are my memories still in me? Is that why I remembered that?"
"Yes," replied Will quickly. "Captain Jack Sparrow is still in there. I told you once we began doing things you would begin to remember."
"I didn't think I would," said Jack, his eyes lowering in deep thought and wonder. "I didn't think it was possible for me to remember anything, but I did remember something." A smile tugged on his face. He rapidly motioned to Will. "Keep going, I might remember more."
Will smiled. Simply the idea of Jack remembering more lightened his heart and brought hope. Jack Sparrow was still there, he just proved it.
A review of the alphabet brought back more of Jack, for he remembered all the letters this time. Teaching Jack to write the letters, Will brought more pieces of scrap paper from inside the great cabin and instructed him to write these letters four more times, two of which were capital letters. In the end, five papers of each letter were stacked neatly in front of them.
Jack's arms suddenly flailed about in the air. He searched the pile for specific letters as he began spelling out a word and another word and another.
"Will what does this say? I don't know why I put these letters like this. I saw it in my head," Jack said.
"It reads 'up is down'," replied Will.
"What does that mean?" wondered Jack.
"I'm not sure," lied Will. "I promise I will tell you when I find out."
"You said you had books you were going to read about my life," reminded Jack. "When are you going to read those? Soon?"
"I may begin tonight," said Will.
"William, I think this is for you," said Pintel as he looked through a clear bottle with a paper inside.
Curiously, Will gently brought the bottle into his hands. "How do you know?"
"It has your name on the paper," said Jack, pointing to the inside of the bottle.
Will turned the bottle to indeed find his name written quite neatly on the rolled piece of paper. "Jack, while I read this, play with the letters."
"You will tell me if I've spelled a word right?" questioned Jack.
Nodding, Will smashed the neck of the bottle to reach for the note. His back leaned against the bow of the ship, facing Jack and the rest of the crew. A smile widened across his face when he realized whom this letter was from.
Little one, thank God you are all right and healing well. Onto the other matter, I have but one thought. WHAT! Jack has what? How is
"Great," Will muttered to himself as he slumped. "No ending to a thought."
"Hm?" wondered Jack, hearing a voice outside his head.
"My father didn't finish his thought," replied Will.
"Oh," said Jack, acting like he had some care, but truly didn't. Instead, he pushed Will's head down to his letters.
"That says Wicked Wench. I have no idea what that is," said Will.
"And this?" wondered Jack as he quickly arranged the letters into another word.
"Tortuga," whispered Will with a smile.
"Tortugo?" wondered Jack.
Will shook his head. "Tortuga."
"What is it?" asked Jack with a shrug.
"Tortuga is a port where pirates roam freely drinking, singing, fighting, wench hunting, and mutinying another man for the second time," replied Will, knowing the figure behind Jack without having to focus.
'Jack' scurried from Barbossa to sit neatly on Jack's right shoulder.
The pirate looked at the monkey with a small smile. He brought a finger across 'Jack's' head in a caressing movement a few times then returned to his letters.
"I shouldn't be the one at the helm Mr. Turner," said Barbossa.
Tiredly, Will nodded. He pushed himself to his feet and with assistance from the rail. For a moment, he stood still and pressed his hand against his chest. Discomfort passed across his face. He walked past Barbossa with his hand still pressed against his chest.
Barbossa's eyes moved as Will did.
"He did that a lot today," said Jack.
"Did what?" wondered Barbossa.
Jack raised his eyes and turned his head. "Rub his chest and look like that. Hector, is something wrong with him? I saw his chest before, but I think something else is wrong with him."
"Then Mr. Gibbs will just have to look him over tonight," said Barbossa. He made to turn away, but didn't.
Instead, he watched Jack play with letters and spell out words as a child would have done. His heart sank as Jack struggled to spell a single word.
"Jack, can I show you something?" he asked quietly.
Jack nodded.
Barbossa knelt. He arranged letters into a word.
Over and over Jack's eyes moved over the word until he looked at Barbossa quite disappointed. "What does it mean?"
"The word is friend Jack. Only time and experience explains the word," said Barbossa. He stood slowly. "But it is what I consider us."
Without another word, he walked away from Jack and to Will.
"Friend," whispered Jack as he looked at the word then Barbossa. Confusion passed across his face. "Friend?"
-)(-
"Uncle Will, Barbossa was never friends with my daddy," said Niamh confidently.
Jack and I shared a small look at each other. I then turned to Niamh. "I told you there were going to be secrets told from the very beginning."
Interrupting me, Jack continued. "It turns out Barbossa and I became good friends after I got my memory back. He was accustomed to me being only one way. When I lost his memory, he realized just why he always hung around me and the Pearl. Although he admitted it to me once, Hector Barbossa was my friend, one of my closest friends. He still is today."
"How? I thought you two didn't like each other at all," noted Niamh.
"How about you let Uncle Will continue the story so he can get to the part where it is explained?" suggested Jack.
Niamh nodded. She looked at me. "You can go on."
My grasp tightened around James's little body, knowing everythign was going to become worse soon enough.
As you would expect, Jack recalled several words and phrases throughout that day. Some I knew and others I didn't know where he got it from. And sometimes, I simply didn't know how to explian it to him. By the end of the day, he sat at the bow watching sunset like he watched sunrise while I was told something very, very bad.
-)(-
Gibbs helped Will slip his arms back through his tunic after the usual evening of stitching and bandaging.
Will breathed sharply. He cried out softly through his teeth. His brown eyes squeezed shut as he sat his back against the pillow. "Josh, don't look at me like that. I've done everything you've told me to. I don't know how it's worsened. I know the infection worsened today. I know."
"When were you going to tell me William?" wondered Gibbs.
"There was no need. I knew Jack would tell someone," said Will.
"And it wasn't me. He told Barbossa Will," said Gibbs.
"This world has changed too much," whispered Will.
"Jack is beginning to trust Barbossa as much as you," agreed Gibbs.
"What do you recommend Josh?" wondered Will.
"I don't want you on deck until that infection has lowered," Gibbs told him. "A light fever has begun. The heat of the sun and conditions at sea are the last thing you need right now Will."
"We have over a month to London," reminded Will. "Why do I have the feeling I'm going to be dead by the time I get there?"
Never before had Gibbs grabbed Will's arm in such a grasp as he did. "Don't you ever think that William Turner. You will make it to London. I need you, Jack needs you, Elizabeth needs you…we need you Will."
"Why?" wondered Will.
"Because you have done so much for us. You helped win this war Will. You are one of us now," said Gibbs.
"I helped you win this war?" wondered Will. "No I didn't. You need me because Jack trusts me. I'm the only one you think who can bring Jack back."
"No, you need to stay alive because too many people will die if you do. I don't mean just people on this ship either," said Gibbs.
"If this does worsen what do you intend to do to keep me alive?" asked Will.
Gibbs shrugged and honest shrug. "I don't know, but I will find some way of keeping you alive. For now, read those journals of Edward's I know you have. The sooner you learn of Jack's past the sooner you can understand him and bring him back. I know you want him back as much as we do."
"I want him back more than any of you," whispered Will.
"Just rest Will. Jack will come in when he's tired," siad Gibbs.
Will nodded as he gently swung his legs off of the bed. He walked to the edge of the room where the chest beside the cabinet rested. Drawing a deep breath, he opened the chest where the six green books lay in there neat stack. For a reason he didn't want to read these, for he knew Jack's past was not the greatest. Perhaps they left it to him to read the books and bring Jack back because he was the most mentally strong of them all. Or it could just be the Turner stubborness he continued to hear about.
He sat on the bed with his back against a pillow, five books on the table beside him and one book in his hand. He opened to the first page where he had read so many times before and began.
"Will, William…Will, are you listening to me?"
As the book tilted down, Will's face followed. He noticed the long, slender fingers that were on the page and raised his head.
"Jack," he noted. "How long have you been here?"
Jack flung his arms in the air. "Now you decide to notice me."
"How long?" wondered Will, his face twisting into guilt.
"About a half an hour. I was trying to tell you about my day but you wouldn't listen to me," said Jack.
"I'm sorry, I was reading," said Will, turning his face back into the book.
"That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you. Will, I remember how to read!" cried Jack.
Hearing that, Will's head shot up. "You remember exactly how to read?" Jack nodded. "If I was to set a book in your hand you would know what it said?"
Jack nodded. "Barbossa did that already."
Will flipped to the beginning page of the book. He flipped the book around. "Read it."
"Jonathan Galvyn Thomas Teague, I write this for you. Although I am a young man newly made father on this day of October 27, I will one day no longer be with you. I write this journal and expect many more to follow so you will always know who your father is and how much I love you. Everyday, or as often as I can, I will write my thoughts of you. And one day, when I am no longer with you or should you be lost from the world, this journal will be here to give you my company and memories we've had together," said Jack.
He looked at Will with narrow eyes then took the book in his hand again. He read the words over and over again. Somewhere inside of him this seemed so very familiar. "Will," he began softly.
"Yes Jack," said Will.
"What are you reading?" wondered Jack.
"This is one of six journals a father wrote to his son long ago," replied Will.
"Where did you find this?" wondered Jack.
"In Shipwreck Cove. I knew this journey would be long and I thought it best that I have something to read along the way," said Will.
"Jonathan Galvyn Thomas Teague," whispered Jack. "I've heard of that name." His fingers brushed along the handwritten words. "My little white Jack Sparrow."
Tears suddenly formed in Jack's eyes and fell on the page. He shut the book and held it close to him, close to his heart. He bit is lip and softly wept.
Will leaned forward. A single touch on Jack's shoulder caused the young man to move into Will's body. He opened his mouth then decided it best if Jack speak first. Quite simply, he held Jack gently in his arms.
"It's what my mother called me," Jack whispered at last. "I can hear her voice in my head, but I can't remember what she looked like. I feel like I lost her appearance long before I lost my memory." He pushed away from his friend. "Will, are you reading the journals about me?"
Will nodded slowly.
"Who wrote them?" wondered Jack.
"Your father," replied Will. "Do you want me to read them before you?"
Jack shook his head. He noticed the other five sitting on the table beside Will. All six were brought into his arms. He set them in his hammock then crawled beneath the blanket with five at his feet and the one in his arms. His back faced Will.
"Jack," whispered Will.
"They're mine Will. You shouldn't be reading them," Jack snapped.
Understanding, Will nodded his head. He left it as that, for Jack was correct. Instead, he read through the medical book for reasons involving Jack and his own. Paging through the book became reading the symptoms and medicines to assist recovery. While Jack read through the journals with the occasional explanation of a word, he sat on the cot reading through the book. Both were eventually given a warm drink by Barbossa who also wanted to know if the two of them were fine.
"Ah ha!" cried Will happily as he laid the book out in front of him.
In the corner, Jack flinched and turned his head. "Wot?"
"I found something I've been looking for," said Will as he walked to the chest where Teague's apothecary was stored.
"What's in there?" wondered Jack. Now intrigued, he set the book flat on the two pages he was reading to walk to Will and stand over the chest.
Will pulled out several bottles searching for the ones needed, careful not to let Jack read some of them.
Curiosity taking the better of him, Jack pulled out a small bottle. He twisted the lid from the jar and took a whiff. That resulted in a most disgusting expression twisting on his face and immediately capping the jar. He looked at Will.
A simple amused smile spread across Will's face. He collected the proper jars, added the correct amounts to a bowl of boiling water heated by a candle, brought the bowl to the table beside the cot to cool and thicken, removed his tunic, and began undoing the bandages around his torso.
"Jack, I need you to help me do something," he said.
Nodding, Jack approached. "Do I know how to help you?"
"I'll show you. It is not difficult at all. Once you are shown you will either remember or know how," said Will.
"You want me to put that on your chest and side don't you?" asked Jack quietly.
Will nodded. "And removed the stitches then replace them then bandage me again. Can you do that?"
"I've watched Josh stitch you before so I think it won't be quite too difficult," said Jack.
"And I'll show you to the best of my ability," said Will.
Breathing deeply, he shut his eyes, not allowing his mind to accept what was beginning to form on his chest.
"These yes?" Jack's voice asked.
Will opened his eyes. He looked at the tweezers in Jack's hand and nodded. "And the small knife."
Jack raised his other hand. "I know." He sat beside Will on the cot and lit another lantern to set on the small table. "I'm not going to hurt you am I?"
"You can't hurt me more than I already am Jack. What you can do is help me live," said Will.
"What do you mean by that?" wondered Jack.
Will shook his head, silently telling Jack to let it go. With the bandages removed, he lay flat on the cot, one hand behind his head on the pillow and the other free to help Jack if needed. He avoided the expression on Jack's face.
"Does it hurt badly?" wondered Jack.
"Not badly, but it does hurt," admitted Will. He lifted his head to point at the stitching done to his side. "What you need to do is carefully cut the first stitch. I'm going to help you through this one item at a time."
"If I hurt you or do something wrong you better tell me," Jack told him, his voice concerned and demanding. He looked at Will's side while rolling his sleeves to his elbows, as they were distracting him.
The dark stitches on Will's belly were quite clear against his pink skin around the wound. Concentrating on this first stitch, he brought the knife down on the thread, barely running the blade along the black stitch.
"I got it and I didn't hurt you," he told Will.
"Good," said Will. "Take the tweezers and gently pull the rest of the stitches from my skin beginning with the small piece not attached to the long thread. After the removal of a few stitches, cut the thread so you don't have to pull quite an amount through my skin."
Jack nodded. Calmly, he took the tweezers in his right hand and set his left on Will's skin to gently pull, as it would be easier to begin removing the stitching.
Curiously, Will watched Jack work. The expression upon Jack's face was concentration, and his tongue was biting his lower lip. Not once did his eyes leave the black thread in Will's body. He knew where he set the knife on the cot. Every third stitch, he cut the thread to make working simpler. Clearly, Jack's calm, concentration nature should have given him relief, for it was nothing like the pain he was expecting. Instead, Jack made his heart race. The pirate did this many, many times in life. That was the only explanation. How else would Jack have the hands to work as well as he was without being told or have the conscious memory of knowing? Everything seemed to be instinct.
"Jack," Will began softly.
"Mm hm," replied Jack.
"You do realize you are doing this as well as Josh?" said Will.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" wondered Jack.
"You know how to do this without being shown or told," said Will. Jack nodded as if telling him to continue. "You have done this several times in your life that it has become instinct."
"I don't want you to explain that do I?" wondered Jack, finally looking up at him.
Will shook his head sadly. "No, you don't."
"Should I remove the ones on your chest first or put whatever it is you made on the wound?" asked Jack.
"Slowly pour the liquid on my side and try to pour some of it in the wound. There is boiling water above the table. Take a cloth from the water and set it over my side after you have put the liquid on the wound. Do you understand?"
Already, Jack had the bowl over Will's side. He nodded to simply express to Will he knew what he was doing.
Although the liquid had a small amount of minutes to cool, it still burned terribly. The mixtures of different medicinal herbs and plants along with the heat nearly immediately turned his skin red upon contact. Hiding the pain, Will clutched the pillow behind his head and discreetly grabbed the blanket with the other hand. He breathed deeply and shut his eyes.
"It hurts badly now doesn't it?" wondered Jack. "I can see it on your face Will. I'm hurting you."
"No, Jack, you are helping me," said Will.
Jack shook his head as he sat back. Changing his mind, he stood and walked towards the door.
"Where are you going?" wondered Will.
"I'm telling Josh about you," said Jack.
"He's going to do the same thing you are. Most often, to recover one must have pain. Pain is healing Jack," Will told him.
Jack whipped around. He bounded back to Will and spoke in a voice that was frustrated and, more than anything, afraid. "I may have amnesia Will and I know you believe I don't know anything because I have amnesia. I know more than you think I do." He pointed at Will's side. "I know your skin should not be dark pink around the cut, nor should there be lines folding across each other beginning to form, not to mention, which I am going to, you have a fever. I don't know what it means but I know it is bad; you have an infection Will. I need to tell someone who will know what to do."
"Jack, he's going to do the same thing I'm having you do," Will told him again.
"Why are you making me do this?" wondered Jack, his tone pleading for an answer.
"Because I trust you more," said Will, lying straight through his teeth. "And this is a good skill to know."
"You're not lying are you?" wondered Jack.
"I would not lie to you Jack, not with you like this," said Will, his fingers slowly crossing behind the pillow. "Now, please, set the boiling rag across my side before the liquid dries on top of the wound rather than inside."
Seeing his friend's eyes true to his words, Jack did set the rag on Will's side. He slowly pulled the stitches from Will's chest more careful than he did with the side.
It took near of an hour for Will to sit up with his tunic opened and torso bandaged. He had to admit, despite the pain of the medicine and the small infection, he felt better than he had in recent days.
"Will, do you know who did this to you?" wondered Jack softly.
"No," replied Will, his eyes low. "I don't."
"Do you know why I lost my memory?" wondered Jack.
"Your head made contact with something hard. The impact was taken in such a way that you lost everything," said Will.
"Do you know what did hit my head?" asked Jack.
Will shook his head. "I think I was already dying when that happened."
"Will, go to sleep," Jack told him. "I'm not tired. I think I'll lie on the deck of the ship and look at the stars so I won't bother you. You look tired and not like yourself. I think sleeping will be good for you right now."
A smile crept onto Will's face. He couldn't hide it. Jack was quite a caring soul. And because Jack was his friend who he did promise to help in any form, Will did lie on the cot and eventually drift into an uneasy sleep.
Jack, just as he said, blew out the candles, halfway shut the door on his way out of the room, and walked on deck. The monkey scurried across deck. He knelt to let the monkey climb on his shoulder where he remained proudly perched. Needing to talk to someone, he was pleased to see Barbossa at the helm.
The older pirate greeted him. "How's it been young Jack?"
"Has Will always been like this?" asked Jack.
"Stubborn, stupid, selfless, noble, determined, honest, unpredictable…did I mention stubborn," said Barbossa. He nodded his head. "Aye, the lad has always been like that. Why do ye ask?"
"Can you answer another question for me?" wondered Jack.
"I can try," replied Barbossa.
"What is an infection?" asked Jack.
"Why ask?" wondered Barbossa. He turned to Jack and gently pressed the back of his finger's on the young man's cheek. "Are ye feeling well?"
"I'm fine, I was just curious," said Jack.
"An infection is not pretty lad. Should some fool have an infection he may as well kill himself rather than die from the delirium and fever caused by the infection or live without a limb for the rest of his pathetic life," replied Barbossa. "I've had a few in my times as have ye lad. There are medicines in this world that prevent infection or lessen it."
"Would one of these be in a book that was used to find things in jars that Will brought in a chest?" wondered Jack.
"Without doubt, in that book Jack. That is yer father's medical book. Yer father had a bit of a passion for the medical knowledge," said Barbossa.
"Is it possible to end an infection once it's started?" Jack asked.
"Tricky but possible," replied Barbossa. Only his eyes turned to Jack. "Why are ye asking me lad?"
"Because Will has an infection on his side and chest," Jack suddenly said.
Barbossa's hands fell from the wheel as he whipped wholly around to face Jack. "Are ye sure lad?"
Jack's head nodded rapidly. "He made me remove the bad stitches, pour a boiling liquid on his cuts and I stitched him and bandaged him again and now he's sleeping because I told him to."
"What did his wounds look like?" wondered Barbossa.
"The skin looked red, but that may have been just the stitches pulling on him as he moves," replied Jack.
"We'll take a look at him in the morning then," said Barbossa. "He's not stupid enough to allow an infection to completely take over him. Turners are stubborn and smart. Probably by morning he'll be better lad. If ye did all that ye told me he made ye do, he stopped it quick enough and he'll be fine. Young Turner only needs to rest."
"Are you sure?" wondered Jack. "I don't want him to die."
"Jack Sparrow, always know it is near impossible to kill a Turner. He is too stubborn to die," said Barbossa.
Not quite understanding the meaning of that, Jack nodded slowly. Feeling like a fool, he walked away from the helm and did lie out under the stars.
Well to the front of his thoughts, Barbossa also looked upon the stars. If anything happened to Will Turner, his life was the cost. His eyes turned to Jack who nestled himself on the bowsprit and stared toward the starfilled night. He knew if anything happened to him it meant an eternity in the Locker. Unfortunately, something had already happened to both of them. If there was a higher power looking down on the world as he looked toward the vastness of space, he asked for a bit of assistance before two fathers discovered the conditions of their sons.
Among the superstitions in the world, a blood red sun rising from the sea was enough to ward off several pirates from deck as well as a few who came from Edward Teague.
Barbossa looked at them with disgust and shame. "Are ye really more frightened of a bloody sun than what ye've just seen?"
"It was raining when we were in the battle and rain is a bad sign," noted Ragetti.
"And look what happened to the three of them," added Pintel.
Barbossa rolled his eyes again. Clearly, it was not worth wasting time away trying to argue with them. He was too old for that nonsense and knew their logic would only simply destroy his own.
Although, he did notice something odd as morning continued. Neither Jack nor Will was seen. It was uncommon to not see one of them before noon, Will especially. He never was the one to sleep near noon. Usually he was fetching breakfast or seeing to it that the course was holding steady and everyone was doing all that he was meant to.
But this morning, neither of them were spotted.
Casually and slowly, Barbossa walked to one Joshamee Gibbs sitting on a barrel knifing an apple to eat.
"Have me eyes been the only ones that haven't seen our favorite Turner who usually snoops around deck in the morning?" he asked.
"Nope," replied Gibbs.
"Thought not," noted Barbossa.
"Odd to you I assume?" wondered Gibbs.
"It's just not like him to not demand and try to control us," said Barbossa.
The two looked at each other. Their eyes shared one thing in common.
"I'll take a peek at them," said Gibbs slowly as he moved just as slow toward the great cabin.
He quietly pushed the door open. Silence and organization. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. All appeared well.
"Jack, Will, are you two all right?" he called not loudly, but loud enough or once to hear if he was not sleeping.
Jack's head popped out of the door to the quarters. He smiled as he walked into the cabin to meet Gibbs. "All right yes. I'm fine."
"Is Will with you?" wondered Gibbs.
Jack nodded. "He's sleeping."
"It's not like him to sleep this late," noted Gibbs.
"My fault," admitted Jack softly. "I woke him in the middle of last night so he could answer my question. It took a long time to explain and he was still tired so he decided to sleep more and he's been sleeping for a little while but he's fine."
"What was your question?" wondered Gibbs.
"I wanted to know more about his life," replied Jack.
With a nod of quite an amount of uncertainly, Gibbs nodded. He slowly made for the door until Jack's hand slapped his from opening the wood.
"You can't!" cried Jack. "Don't wake Will. I already don't feel like I think I should from keeping him up all night."
"You may have no memory Jack," began Gibbs. "But a person acts as you are now when something is not as it should. I know Will's chest wasn't healing well last night. I'm going in there Jack Sparrow.'
Jack watched him slowly push the door open. His eyes squeezed shut as he waited. Nothing. Silence. Now curious, he stepped in the room.
Gibbs stood over a sleeping Will Turner simply looking at him.
Impressed, Jack stood beside Gibbs.
Will was on his back sleeping uneasily. His face pressed into the pillow. Movement under the blanket was caused by his arm slowly pulling across the cot.
"Well, he looks worse than I've seen him," noted Gibbs. He pressed his fingertips on Will's forehead. "And he's quite warm."
"It's the blanket," said Jack. He lowered the blanket to Will's waist.
Relieved to see no blood through the bandages, Gibbs breathed a small sigh. He nodded to himself then turned to Jack.
"When he wakes please tell me. His health is not quite as it should be."
Jack nodded with a smile on his face. He sat in a chair by the window, put his feet on the wooden stool in front of the window, and continued reading the book he took from the chair.
Shaking thoughts from his head, Gibbs quietly left them. As he shut the cabin door, he shook his head again.
"And?" came Barbossa's voice.
"Will is sleeping while Jack reads. Apparently Jack woke him last night and needed a question answered. He wanted to know more about Will's life," replied Gibbs.
"And you believe him?" wondered Barbossa.
"No," replied Gibbs immediately, confidence in his voice. "But I'm not going to wake Will."
"Do you think that is best for the lad?" wondered Barbossa. "It's my head if anything happens to that boy."
"I'll look over him in a few hours if Jack doesn't tell me when he wakes," said Gibbs.
Barbossa rolled his eyes, as that wasn't the effect he desired. Instead, he trudged a return to the helm.
Gibbs followed with a question on his mind.
"Why would it be your head on Will's account?"
"I may not have been the greatest of acquaintances Bill Turner knew in his life, bit I know he would have me look after his child for him until the whelp sets off on his own foot in the world," replied Barbossa. He added a few more words. "And Edward already has a place reserved for me in the Locker."
"And why would you be responsible for Jack?" wondered Gibbs.
"Because Edward and I have a long past when I was a young lad myself. We knew each other Joshamee, and we were a trio the three of us," said Barbossa, his eyes lowered. The older frame of his body turned to gaze at the horizon.
A heavy sigh slipped through is body. His mind turned the past into the present.
"Hector," began Gibbs quietly. "How do you know Richard Seastone?"
"I can't tell ye Josh," replied Barbossa. "We agreed on a pact to never tell another soul the other two are, or what we did. Our trio was destroyed by the death of a brother and great responsibilities it was time for us all to accept. We formed together by rebellion. Our destruction was caused by that very thing we rebelled against."
"Can I know what that was?" wondered Gibbs.
"Society," replied Barbossa simply.
Understanding that explanation as well as him, Gibbs nodded.
One understanding comment became an argument over the most unlikely issue the two of them would care about a month ago.
Hesitantly, Bailey approached Pintel and Ragetti as they sat quietly at the bow simply looking toward the helm. "They have never argued before have they?"
"I've never heard them yell like this," admitted Pintel.
"I didn't know Barbossa cared about Jack or Will," said Ragetti.
"Josh, damn, you need to do something," Barbossa told him.
"I told you, there is nothing I can do."
"You have the only medical mind on this ship."
I don't know anything about stopping an infection once it has begun."
"We can't let Will die."
"I know, I know, Bill is going to have your head."
"Josh, perhaps you haven't noticed, but I've come to think of Will as my own son. It's the least I can do for Richard. And Jack, well, he's been my little boy for a while. It's always been me to keep an eye on the sons of the trio. Will isn't going to last until London. He'll be dead tomorrow because of you."
"Me? Hector, he was the fool who couldn't come to me when he felt the infection growing."
"Fool? He was a fool for saving your arse then. It's because he fought the reason you aren't dead now."
"I'm sorry. There isn't anything I can do at sea."
"Then we'll go on land."
"Where? I don't know anything . I need someone who has learned the medical advancements. My medical career ended years ago. Unless a miracle act of the Lord comes upon Will, we can do nothing more than keep him comfortable."
"I'm not losing the only family I have left."
"You're going to have to accept it. I hate it just as much. Will is the best of us all. He doesn't belong here. He's too good and that's why he's going to die."
"Captain Barbossa!"
Both Barbossa and Gibbs turned their heads to look at Ragetti oddly.
"There's a ship waving us down," Ragetti told them calmly, his finger pointing to the horizon.
His lips pursed in anger, Barbossa stepped away from them. As he walked to the rail, he pulled his spyglass from his person.
Indeed, there was a ship approaching on the horizon. As if to amuse himself, he observed the man at the helm. The man was rather young. His face was round and bore quite a childlike appearance. The features were soft and gentle. Simply by his stance and composure, refinement and sophistication glowed around him. Now more curious than amused, Barbossa looked further into the details. His golden curls pulled tightly behind his head. The eyes looked familiar. They were rich, brown orbs that reminded him of someone.
Suddenly, quite unexpectedly in fact, Barbossa began laughing.
"Here is our miracle act of the Lord Mr. Gibbs," he announced gloriously.
Barbossa waved grandiosely back to the ship.
Within no time at all, the young captain climbed over the rail. "Hector Barbossa, give me one good reason why I shouldn't run you through where you stand."
"Joshamee Gibbs, may I present Alexander, the famous uncle of our Will Turner," said Barbossa.
The anger in Alexander's composure vanished. "How?"
"Will and Jack are in the captain's quarters," replied Barbossa.
A smile widened on Alexander's face. He shouted in joy to the sky. "I knew it. When I heard rumors of a war, I knew I would find my little nephew here. On the Black Pearl like his father was. Will ended up a pirate in the end."
"The blood of a pirate runs heavily in your family Alexander," reminded Barbossa.
Alexander nodded. "So, my nephew?"
"You know him and Will apparently has become your son," Gibbs told Barbossa and immediately walked away.
"Alex, I apologize in advance and I'll explain later," began Barbossa.
Alexander slumped as he shut his eyes. "Is he mostly alive?"
"I don't know," admitted Barbossa.
Immediately, Alexander wove his way through anything blocking a clear path to his nephew.
Hearing the door slam open, Jack, and everything pulsing through his body, suddenly stilled. Hot water dripped onto Will's chest since the rag and his hand stopped above his chest. His eyes were as wide as his mouth.
"Will," Alexander whispered frightened. He rushed to his unconscious nephew and softly called his name while caressing his burning forehead.
Will seemed to notice the foreign touch. He moved uneasily, his head moved into his uncle's hand. The fever and delirium consuming him, he breathed in struggled gasps.
Barbossa grabbed Jack's arms, keeping him in a tight hold. "Why didn't ye tell one of us?"
"Because," said Jack, a small fright on his face and in his voice.
"Why?" demanded Barbossa, shaking him.
A sudden change of mood consuming him, Jack pulled from Barbossa's grasp. "Because everyone else hurts him. You don't care about him. Every time Joshamee Gibbs goes near Will he hurts him. You make him do something or yell at him. I don't trust any of you with him. He's been the only one to help me and I wanted to do something for him. I read the book. I've been doing what it says; that's why he's not awake. I made something from the book so he wouldn't feel any more pain. I gave him something that is supposed to relieve fever and something else to heal an infection, but it's not working." His voice became worried rather than defensive. "I don't want him to die, but I don't know what else I can do more."
"I know what to do," said Alexander.
"Who are you?" wondered Jack.
"I'm his uncle. I know what to do," said Alexander.
Jack looked at this Alexander. He noticed one hand caressing Will's burning forehead and the other tightly holding one of Will's hands. Turning back to Alexander, he nodded. "I trust you."
"Barbossa, bring as many clean bandages as you can find, boil cloths in half the drinking water and the other half here, and boil sea water to replace the drinking water. Jack, stay here and keep an eye on Will. I'll return in a moment," said Alexander.
"What are you doing?" wondered Barbossa.
"Come with me and I'll tell you," said Alexander as he began leaving the room.
As he was told, Jack remained with Will. He wasn't going to leave him now. Someone else was going to help him, someone he had a feeling would save Will's life.
"I think I know your uncle," noted Jack. "I think I know Alexander. He seems familiar from somewhere. Well, everyone seemed familiar from somewhere, but not like Alex. I don't know. I don't know much, but I do know I trust him more than anyone else on this ship."
Alexander quickly returned with a bucket in both hands. "Jack, I need you to take these rags and cover Will's body in them."
"With what?" wondered Jack.
"The water," replied Alexander, setting the water bucket beside Jack. "I need to cool him."
Nodding, Jack began tossing the rags in to the bucket as Alexander cut Will's breeches to the middle of his thighs.
Alexander hustled around the room and through the chest with the jars. He hummed softly to himself as he mixed powders and liquids into several cups that were placed at the bedside table.
"When did you last give him the drink that caused him to sleep?" he asked curiously.
"This morning when he woke up," replied Jack.
"I need more than that Jack," said Alexander.
"About an hour after sunrise," added Jack.
"I thought so," muttered Alexander as he began to mix certain contents for that.
Will's breathing became heavier and more difficult.
Worried, Jack leaned over him. He squeezed the water from a rag on his forehead.
Surprisingly, Will twitched and moved uncomfortably. Right after the rag was pressed against his forehead, his eyes opened.
"No, Will, you can't be awake. I told you I wouldn't let you feel anything," said Jack, his eyes wide and voice distressed.
"And I'm not going to let him feel anything for the next few days," said Alexander.
Through delirium, Will's eyes narrowed in wonder. They turned to the right where Alexander was sitting.
"Hello little nephew," whispered Alexander while gently lifting Will's head to pour a liquid gently down his throat. "I am here Will, and I'm going to take care of you. I'll be here looking after you for a while. When you wake, I promise everything will be better."
Because of the taste that was now in his mouth, Will's face twisted into disgust for a moment until fever consumed him. He suddenly grabbed his uncle's hand and squeezed.
"I'm here Will, I'm here," whispered Alexander as he knelt to Will's face level. He began to gently caress his cheek with the back of his fingers. A smile came on his face. "You look so much like your father. It's exactly what she said. She always did say you would turn out just like your father."
"Alex," Will moaned in such pain.
"Go to sleep Will. You'll be fine when you're awake again," said Alexander.
Another cold rag being placed on his forehead, Will shut his eyes. He attempted to keep them open for as long as he could, but the pain eventually allowed him to give in.
Resuming humming, Alexander slowly set the cup on the floor and continued stirring the molasses like thickness of the liquid.
"How are you so calm?" wondered Jack.
"I've done this many times in my life," replied Alexander. He felt Will's chest. "Keep cooling him, I'll return soon."
Long after Alexander stepped out of the room, Jack continued nodding. He wiped the sweat from Will's chest and actually took a good look at it since he realized it was infected. The wound was red and the skin around it was a combination of pink and red. Dark lines were beginning to weave out of his chest. His side was similar to this as well, however not to the same extent. He also noticed Will's heart was beating quickly and pink circles surrounded his eyes. Although not knowing much, he knew no one should have been white and pink at the same time.
"Jack," Alexander's voice said as he walked in the room. "Keep the rags cold."
"Why?" wondered Jack, but did so.
"Because I need him as cool as I can before I have to do this," repeated Alexander.
"What do you have to do?" wondered Jack.
"I have to burn his chest and side," said Alexander quietly, the very thought already beginning to torture his mind.
"Okay," said Jack, not understanding what it meant.
He gently scrubbed Will's wounds with water that turned his hands red. One of the many contents of the cups poured across the infliction as well. Again, boiling water was used to clean the wound.
Slow feet came approaching. "Alex, now's yer time to prove yer worth to us."
"Thank you Hector," replied Alexander. He looked at Jack and gently set his hand on the pirate's shoulder. "Jack, I need you to not move from there. No matter what, don't move. You have to trust me. This is going to give Will a lot of pain, but it is the only thing that can be done to save his life."
"I trust you," said Jack.
Alexander reached from Barbossa to take a short metal bar in his hand. He set his hand across the edge of the metal and nodded.
Jack quietly watched as the metal pressed against Will's side. When the searing came to his ears, he tensed, but didn't move. Instead, he looked to Will's face, relieved to see no pain twisting on him. After a moment, his nose began wrinkling at the smell.
"Put a cold rag on that," Alexander told him.
"Is it supposed to look like that?" wondered Jack, feeing his stomach churn as he moved to set a cool rag on the blistered, red and pink skin.
"Quite," said Alexander.
Hearing and smelling the process again, Jack's stomach churned worse. It was all the more worse this time through.
"Look at that, he was cut down to the bone," noted Alexander to himself. "He's like his father in more ways than appearances." He muttered under his breath as he continued to work on Will.
Again, Jack looked at Will's face still to find no pain or change.
"Jack, keep the rags cold," Alexander told him.
Snapping out of it, Jack nodded. He soaked every rag on Will's body before realizing Alexander was through with what he was doing.
"Yep, he'll be fine in a few days," said Alexander.
"Are you sure?" wondered Jack.
"It next to impossible to kill a Turner," said Alexander. He poured the contents of another cup on the burns. "I hate this; it stings on burns but cools them well."
Jack nodded. He bit his lower lip and exhaled. Feeling dizzy, he shut his eyes and rubbed his head. A new feeling coming over him, his head tilted to the side. No thought or explanation was required, it was instinct to rush to the window and vomit into the sea.
"Leave the window open when you're through. There is a nice, cool sea breeze that will help cool him," said Alexander.
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"Will," said Elizabeth, her voice not pleased and the tone that meant she wasn't quite pleased with something, but tried to be nice. "Can you please not give such detail next time?"
I looked at her then realized six pairs of eyes under the age of thirteen looking at me in horror and disgust. Guilt consumed everything that I was when I realized I forgot the children were still in there. I don't know how I managed it, but it did explain why I couldn't feel my arm very well, as James was clinging to me.
"I'm sorry," I apologized, to Elizabeth mostly.
"You didn't feel anything?" wondered Lily.
"And I'm glad I didn't feel anything," I told her.
Her eyes widened more. "How?"
"My wonderful uncle of course," I told her.
Alexander smiled in the corner with such pride I knew granfather would smack him for later.
"Will, son, please continue," Father said.
"I know why you want me to continue," I told him.
"Well obviously," Father said with a roll of his eyes. He made a rolling motion with his hand. "While I'm still free from the ship William."
I pulled the clinging arms of James from my arm and simply held him.
Jack was sitting beside me again, looking down on me in horror or wonder. Horror for obvoius reasons and wonder because I didn't feel a thing.
Alexander cleaned his mess and was the one to keep me as cool as my body would allow now, as Jack was a bit petrified to do anything but stare.
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