"Not another jar of dirt, Jack!"

"Dirt's on the outside of these, not the inside. Thusly, not the same thing at all."

"Still filthy, though."

Jack grunted in agreement and continued digging. Will straightened up for a moment and rubbed an already grimy cuff over the sweat on his forehead, leaving another streak of muck across his cheek. They were both chest-deep in a mud and sand-filled hole, surrounded by a grove of tall date palms. Jack looked up from his task and grinned.

"Nice war paint, mate. A little heavy-handed, but it suits you."

"Any more of this and I'll be wearing enough to rival you," Will shot back, then dropped to his knees and started loosening the impacted dirt round the jar they had uncovered, his hands more suited to the delicate task than the spade. Jack followed suit, and soon the two of them had outlined the elegant teardrop shape of a long, clay container, with one of two curved handle still intact.

"What exactly is inside this?" Will queried, eyeing the jar suspiciously. "Why do I have the sneaking suspicion you've brought us all the way over the Atlantic for an enormous bottle of rum?"

"Your faith in me is so very heartenin'. An' although I wouldn't be averse to findin' another one of these capacious amphorae full of grog, I'm countin' on this one containin' some rather legendary maps I already told you about." Jack sighed as if he was explaining trigonometry to a small child, and definitely not looking at the way Will's shirt was sticking to him as he burrowed in the ground, nor the large, strong hands doing the burrowing.

"But where and what do the maps lead to?" replied Will, speaking with exaggerated slowness.

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be needin' a map to get there, now would I? Though judgin' by the fact that these are most probably from Greece, an' been lyin' here a good couple o' thousand years, I'd hazard at it bein' somethin'..."

"Greek?" Will said, deadpan.

"Old," Jack sniffed.

They continued in pointed but amiable silence, and quickly cleared away enough of the sandy earth to lift the jar upwards, the thick wax stopper grimy but thankfully still intact. Will propped the jar up while Jack scrambled out of the pit, then braced himself and leaned over slightly as Will strained to lift the heavy earthenware vessel out of its grave.

"Careful. It's heavy," Will warned. Jack hauled on the slender neck of the jar, muscles tensing with the weight.

"Thanks for statin' the bleedin' obvious, mate. Feel's like there's bloody rocks inside, not maps," he said, adjusting his grip as he was momentarily distracted by the corded tendons and sheen of sweat on the other neck in his line of vision.

"Well, the jar is made of clay."

"Will! Less talky, more pushy!"

"Fine. Hold steady." Will growled and with some effort shoved the jar up, almost sending Jack flying in his attempt to launch the jar skywards. Jack staggered backwards and managed to deposit the jar on the ground without falling over to any great extent. He peered into the hole. Will looked up at him archly, brushing as much of the dirt off his hands as he could before taking Jack's proffered palm to help pull him out.

"I think you should be the one getting hot and sticky next time, Jack."

Unfortunately, Will chose to say this just as Jack was hauling him up and Jack nearly lost his grip. Will had to reach out swiftly with his other hand and clutch at Jack's shoulder to stop himself from sliding back into the pit as the edge he was bracing his feet against started to crumble. Jack's other hand automatically shot out and wrapped round Will's waist, and they inadvertently ended up chest to chest as Jack heaved a very red-faced Will up and out of the pit.

You an' your bloody filthy mind, Jack Sparrow.

Will hurriedly stumbled back to put a respectable distance between himself and Jack, and was unsuccessfully trying to flick the dirt off his clothes in an attempt to regain some dignity.

"My champion," Will mumbled, turning away so Jack couldn't see the smirk that no doubt was on Will's face. Jack didn't like to be made fun of by anyone, particularly members of his crew, but Will least of all. Jack knew he was softer on Will for being soft on him, and it frustrated him that he'd let his feelings impede his authority. It was even more annoying that Will had no clue about how Jack felt, and if Jack had anything to do with it, he was never likely to know, as it would assuredly send him running to the nearest port in disgust. Sometimes Jack thought that might be for the best.

"Dammit, Will! How many times do I have to remind you that you serve under me? I won't stand for insubordination," he snapped angrily.

"Aye, Captain." Will whipped round to face him with no trace of a smile.

"Don't be makin' insinuations that I ain't as strong as you." Jack said roughly, noting the look of concern on Will's face.

Maybe I overreacted.

"Sorry, Jack." Will's eyes were large, anxious.

Either he's a bloody good actor, or he's genuinely upset. Or he's hidin' somethin', most likely... But this is Will. What would he hide from me, I wonder?

Jack relented and clapped Will on the shoulder.

"Even if I ain't built like a brick shithouse, I don't need bloody remindin' of it. Dunno which is more of a lump, the jar, or you."

"Ah, but the jar wouldn't have helped you to dig it out," Will said, and gave Jack a smile of appeasement that was warm and undisguised. Jack rolled his eyes.

Oh, bugger off, Will Turner. Bugger off an' stop confusin' me an' let me pine for you all over again like some preposterously smitten wet bitch. Think I could stand that more easy than gettin' tied up in knots ev'ry time I look at you for wantin' you so.

Jack had realised quite some time ago that he was fond of Will. Uncommonly fond. Really, quite vehemently fond of him. Infuriatingly, disgustingly, frustratingly fond, in fact.

It was terribly inconvenient.

Will was still fussing over the dirt on his shirt and breeches. His hair was plastered back damply against his head, bound by the leather thong he habitually wore, all save for the few, maddening curls that always seemed to escape and nestle round behind his ears and down his neck for the sole purpose of taunting Jack.

"Is there any way of cleaning off before we go back to the ship?" Will asked, fastidious as always, trying to get the fabric of his clothing unstuck from his damp skin.

I am not thinkin' about you taking off your clothes. No, I decidedly am not. I am thinkin' about, er... maps. And treasure. And rum. And all the things I am supposed to think about, and not how you'd look when you're covered in sweat just like now, and nothing else...

Dammit! Concentrate!

"There's a pool over there," Jack tossed his head to the left, "beyond the trees."

I wonder if he'd ever let me take a dip with him...

"Let's be gettin' this open first though. No sense in gettin' mucky twice over."

"That's... sensible," Will said with almost-believable amazement.

"Don't go insultin' me any more than you already have," Jack retorted with a grin. He pulled out a small dagger from one of the many hidden pockets dotted around his person, and started to prize away the seal. Centuries of wax flaked away under the blade, leaving red flecks over the sandy soil, and eventually the seal started to come free.

"How do you know there's a pool over there anyway? I didn't see you check the map that got us here in the first place," Will said, leaning over to check the progress and casting a shadow across Jack.

"Remember from last time, don't I."

"You were here before?" Will squatted down beside him.

"Aye." Jack was carefully clearing away any last remnants of wax from the lip of the jar.

"So why didn't you get the jar last time?"

"Because I didn't have anyone else to help me dig it out last time. Besides, there was the small matter of the chap whose ship I'd borrowed to get here turnin' up. He had the most unhelpful timing."

"Let me guess, he was a bit upset that you hadn't asked him first before you borrowed it?"

Jack looked up from his task to glare at Will, but was somewhat arrested by the sight of him leaning on his haunches, resting his elbows on his knees as he sat back on the heels of his muddy boots. Will's already snug breeches were now stretched to ripping point over the muscles of his thighs.

And that damned expanse of tight, curved heaven he has the audacity to show me every time he walks off in a huff. It's a wonder I ain't died again of a bloody seizure.

Jack thought back fondly to the waistcoat Will used to wear when he had first met him. There was a particular button on it that had a most engaging habit of coming undone. Every now and then, Will would glance down to discover the nefarious tendencies of the reprobate button. Jack could barely contain himself as he watched Will look at the button with deep consternation, as though the hateful thing had cruelly disappointed him. Then Will would fumble with it hastily in an attempt to restore some sense of propriety and ruin the view entirely. Once, Jack had offered to sew Will into a hair shirt, to save him the time and trouble of battling with his clothing and sense of modesty. He had received a look that made the glower directed at the impish button seem positively mild by comparison.

Why exactly was it that Will's clothes were always at least one size too small for him? Even now that he had three new sets at Jack's insistence (and after lengthy persuasion that it was not extravagant) and despite the fact that he hadn't got any bigger, his clothes still seemed to be barely able to contain him. They hugged close to him, providing the kind of contact that made Jack jealous just to look at them.

Though right now, he was doing his best to look through them.

"Can you perhaps do somethin' a bit more useful than blockin' me light an' pesterin' me with pointless questions, like tippin' the end of this damn thing up so I can get at whatever's inside it?"

"We could just smash it," Will suggested.

"Typical. You can take the smith out of the forge, but you can't take the hammer and tongs attitude out of the smith."

"I'm only trying to help," Will grumbled, straightening up and stalking over to a tree where he had hung a water pouch. Jack watched him retreat, a smile quirking up one corner of his moustache. Then he caught Will giving him a dirty look between gulps, and shook himself a little as he pretended to be very engrossed in trying to fish the maps out from the narrow neck of the jar.

Honestly, I can't go on like this. It's preposterous. What's all this unrequited passion absurdity? Damn, these things are jammed in tight... I mean, Will prefers wenches, and he's not even remotely... is he? But then he looks at me like that sometimes an' I wonder if... Maybe if I just use the end of the dagger to tease 'em out? But really, the likelihood of him bein' in any way amenable to the idea is about as forthcomin' as me bein' canonised... Hmm, St Jack... Patron Saint of Uncanny Good Fortune In Gettin' Away With It... 'Cept I ain't havin' any luck gettin' it away with you. Besides, I'm old enough to be your... No. no, no! Yes, but you're old enough, too. Not a boy anymore.... Enough! I can't stand this! They're hopelessly stuck. How is it I'm here doubtin' meself?Me?! Bugger buggerin' bastard maps! If I wanted to seduce you, I bloody would. And I don't, so I won't.

Oh, this ain't goin' to soddin' work.

Jack looked up and narrowed his eyes at a very amused Will.

"Fine, let's just smash it."

Will was already on his way back over with the shovel slung over his shoulder.

"Bit pre-emptive, ain't you?"

"No, I'm observant." Will handed him the shovel.

A few moments later, and the jar lay open in a pile of shards, revealing the ancient rolls of papyrus inside.

"Will, be a dear and snap a couple of decent-sized twigs off that tree. Ta." Will didn't look entirely pleased at being called a 'dear', but passed Jack the twigs without making too much of a face.

Jack gingerly used the twigs to unfurl the maps with the utmost caution, pausing every time it looked like the map might crumble or crack. He stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, frowning with concentration.

"Probably shouldn't be doin' this here, but I don't want to get 'em back to the ship an' then find out they ain't no good to me."

Will kneeled down and peered over his shoulder.

"What's that thing?" he asked, his hand weaving under Jack's arm to indicate a little figure drawn near a place that showed a city on the map.

"Don't bloody touch it! It'll disintegrate!"

Will whipped his hand away, cursing at Jack under his breath. The back of his knuckles dragged across Jack's knee in his haste to withdraw the offending hand.

Oh, fer chrissakes!

"Mind keepin' your hands to yourself? If you must know, that is a Minotaur. Looks like we'll be takin' a trip over to Knossos."

"Where?"

"Crete, mate. Fancy a jaunt in the Aegean?"

Jack scanned the map, affectionately taking in the black scrawls of Koine that marked various points, the blue contours of the coastlines, and the tiny drawings of triremes and fellucas scudding across ancient seas.

Greeks. Thalassophiliacs the lot of 'em. Men after me own heart.

Then he noticed that Will had gone very quiet, and half-turned to look at the younger man.

"You'd better not be sulkin'."

"I don't sulk. I was thinking about that Minotaur. I remember it was in a book Elizabeth lent to me. Doesn't it have a bull's head and live in a labyrinth?"

"The Labyrinth. First one. The palace of Knossos is one big maze."

"And in the middle is this gigantic creature with really big sharp horns guarding some sort of treasure that you want to get? Hmm, I can hardly wait."

"Minotaur's a myth, mate."

"Like all the other things we've seen that are supposed to be mythical, you mean? I'd better start collecting string now, just in case."

"You do that. Leastways if we get bored we can always play cat's cradle."

Will snorted in amusement, then shuffled out of the way as Jack carefully rolled the map up again.

"Now, about that swim," Jack said, smirking as Will licked a finger to try to rub a patch of dirt off his forearm. "Follow me."

Jack swished through the undergrowth, following a narrow, almost indiscernible path that spliced through the dappled shrubs. The background chitter of birds and the chirp of cicadas intensified as they went deeper into the forest.

"Not far now." Jack turned to see Will trudging behind him, looking pensive.

"Wha'?"

"Have you been to Crete as well?"

"Yep."

"Jack, wherever we go, you seem to have been before." Will swatted at a swarm of midges, trying not to inhale them.

"An' got meself into trouble, no doubt."

"Is there anywhere you haven't been?"

Jack suppressed a chuckle.

I can think of one very obvious answer to that particular question.

"When you've been piratin' as long as I have, there's only so many places left that you ain't been around already."

"Yes, well, you've certainly been around, by the sound of it."

Eh? Bloody cheek!

They suddenly came up against a low but steep incline of rock. Jack started clambering up, and called back to Will,

"I beg your pardon, but I don't think that someone with such limited experience of the diverse delights that the world has to offer in its four corners is in any place to judge how well-travelled I am."

Will took a slightly different route up the rockface, and ended up overtaking Jack halfway up. Jack watched as Will swung his legs up onto the ledge and leaned over, wriggling onto the top.

The view was magnificent.

Oh lord, not again. I think you're doin' it on purpose. My bloody 'eart can't take it.

Jack scrambled over the edge of the rock, panting slightly, then stood up and stalked past Will, who was grinning triumphantly. The pool lay below them, and they made their way down to the margin over the sun-streaked rocks. The water was clear enough to see the smooth pebbles at the bottom. A slow trickle ran down into the pool from the higher ridge they had climbed down, and it was punctuated by green fronds of soft ferns clinging to the wet fissures in the rock.

Jack sat on a rock by the water's edge, and began to pull off his boots. Will sat down next to him and gazed at the glittering surface of the water.

Now for the moment of reckonin'.

Jack continued undressing, throwing each item he removed into the water, as he happily stripped down to his breeches before jumping in and submerging. The chill and silence of the pool surrounded him, before he broke the surface again with a gasp.

"Ooh, very refreshing!" Jack said with a shudder.

"Cold, do you mean?" Will asked, still sat immobile on the rock. Jack collected each of the discarded items of clothing, swooshing them around in an attempt to clean them off.

"You'll get used to it. Come on, just the thing after a hard day's pilferin'. I'll throw me clothes at you if you don't get in." Jack balled up the sodden pile and aimed it at Will's head.

Will hesitated for a moment, then took off his boots. He stood up and waded into the water, still fully clothed.

Jack regarded him with some bemusement. This was getting ridiculous. He lobbed the wet bundle of clothes up onto the rock Will had abandoned, and put his hands on his hips.

"Will, you are never going to get clean that way. Take 'em off."

"No."

"How do you propose to wash when you are covered in all that lot?"

"If it's all the same to you, Jack, I'd rather leave my clothes on, thank you."

In four and a half months aboard the Stella, Will had never once taken even so much as his shirt off in front of anyone. Come to think of it, he never had in all the time Jack had known him. For someone whose clothes barely managed to stay intact at the seams, he had an almost obsessive insistence on prudery. His clothes remained resolutely on, no matter what the temperature was. Will had told Jack that he'd probably burn in the sun or get heatstroke when Jack suggested he might feel more comfortable with fewer layers hampering his progress. Will's explanation struck Jack as being rather peculiar, since as far as Jack could tell from studying the portions of Will's skin that had seen the light—his feet and calves; his forearms where he would roll his sleeves up; and his face, neck and the delightful triangle of chest where he left his shirt tantalisingly unbuttoned (though not nearly far enough for Jack's liking—damn, I miss that waistcoat) were all a perfect, even, golden colour.

Despite the desire to remain covered up, Will never seemed to miss the opportunity to bathe, and did so (Jack thought) almost incessantly. Will had requested the use of the Captain's cabin for this very purpose, but made it quite clear that if it was ever likely to be an inconvenience to Jack, then he would find an alternative location to wash. Jack, of course, told Will he'd be more than happy to have him in his cabin, though he became somewhat peeved when Will absolutely insisted upon privacy. On more than one occasion, Jack wished that Stella was a bit more rickety, because it seemed terribly unfair that there was a naked Will Turner in his cabin, and no hole to peep through. What made it doubly infuriating was that at any other time Will consistently declined to go into Jack's cabin, especially if Jack was in there, always refusing with his customary politeness, and remaining steadfastly outside.

Jack scudded away on his back, looking up at the sky and ignoring the man on the other side of the pool.

"Makes no difference to me what you do. I've seen plenty of blokes without their clothes on, and I'm really not interested in what you very obviously haven't got to hide."

He looked at Will askance, gauging his reaction. As he predicted, he saw Will's eyebrows shoot up, in an expression of surprise and relief (of course), then more than a little perturbation.

Yes, luv, that's right, I have seen several men naked. No, we were not swimmin' at the time. Yes, that probably was the biggest lie I've ever told about not wantin' to see you in a similar state of undress. No, I don't think for a minute you ain't got much to hide. I've been around you an' your damn breeches long enough to know that.

Jack turned away, and began to swim in lazy circles around the perimeter of the pool, keeping one eye on Will.

Will looked down at the dirt on his clothes with some annoyance. He backed up to the rock, and reluctantly stripped off underwater, pulling off his stockings and peeling off his shirt with some difficulty, until he too was only clad in his breeches. He flipped the clothes up over his shoulder onto the sunlit rock next to the pile Jack had thrown there without turning round, then leaned back against the safety of the stone surface behind him, regarding Jack warily as though he was a jungle cat.

In all that time, only his head and neck had remained above water, with the occasional glimpse of arm and shoulder making a bright, sunlit flash against the dark surface of the pool.

Jack resolutely feigned indifference to Will, having perfected the art of watching people out of the corner of his eye many years ago. After a few moments glued to the rock, Jack noticed Will start to relax. He slipped down further in the water, then eventually reached up and untied his hair from the thong, tossing it up to join the mound of clothes strewing the rock. He ducked underwater, sluicing the grime out of his hair and scrubbing the back of his neck. A moment later, and he popped to the surface again, his eyes shut and head tipped back, sleek and wet as an otter.

When Will opened his eyes, he looked suddenly startled. Jack had surreptitiously swum up to him while he was underwater, and was now standing only about five feet away from him, the water lapping around his waist. Will gave him a tight little smile, and dipped down until his chin touched the water, even now keeping himself as covered up as possible. Jack didn't fail to notice how Will's eyes flicked down for a split-second to look at the pattern of white teethmarks and the two dark circles on Jack's chest. Jack skated a hand over the puncture marks, and touched a finger to the puckered edges of the old bullet wounds, grinning.

"Hmm. I do have a tendency to keep my enemies closer than I'd entirely like."

Will raised an eyebrow.

"Close enough to kiss them?" The innocent tone was undercut with a current of accusation.

Jack frowned, rather confused for a moment, then snorted when he realised what Will meant.

"'Liz'beth's not my enemy. 'Sides, she kissed me. Thought we were done with all that, mate."

Will grimaced, and looked away.

"We are." Will slipped down underwater for a couple of seconds, and then re-emerged, rubbing his hands over his face to get every last spot of dirt off. He looked at Jack again and gave a little chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Jack asked, cocking his head to one side, and slumping down in the water so he could bob closer to Will. Will rolled his eyes.

"Ever thought how I've got every reason to be your enemy?"

Many, many times. And yet, you're still here.

"Hmm. You've also got ev'ry reason to be my friend. Or at least, amicable acquaintance."

"Is that so?"

"You're the one who asked to join me crew, mate. Didn't see anyone holdin' a knife to your throat."

Will made a noise halfway between a snigger and a growl.

"Ah. But I might be seeking to destroy you from the inside."

I think you already have.

"Do I detect a hint of mutiny, Mr Turner?"

This time, Will giggled outright.

"Wouldn't be much point in telling you, if I wanted to keep it a secret."

Jack waggled a finger at him, smirking.

"Unless you think I wouldn't believe you."

Right on pat, Will retorted,

"Even if I was telling the truth."

Jack threw his head back and laughed, lifting his hands up in a parody of surrender. He edged even closer to Will, who was doing his best to look indignant.

"Then I'd better keep you close, just to make sure I know what you're up to, eh?"

"Closer than you'd like, or just close enough, hmm?" There was suddenly an intense look in Will's eyes that made Jack feel unexpectedly uncomfortable. Will immediately ducked further into the water, his hair fanning around him, until only the bridge of his broad nose, and the two dark, unblinking sources of all the trouble remained above water.

An' now I'm bloody imaginin' that you're flirtin' with me.

"Close enough, eh? For what, exactly?" Jack tried to keep the tone as light as possible, but it had still managed to sound suggestive, even if he had suppressed the urge to leer outright. A stream of bubbles winked and popped at the water's surface as Will's mouth re-emerged, flanked by cheeks that had reddened at Jack's reply. Jack expected a sarcastic response, but he must have flustered Will slightly, because all Will could manage was,

"Close enough for you to... to keep an eye on me." He wasn't looking at Jack anymore. He was scrutinising the swirling surface of the water, his long eyelashes spiked wetly in clumps, hiding his expression.

Hang on, unless you actually are...

No. No, no, no. Wishful thinking. Best get this back on an even keel.

Jack was overcome with the sudden urge to break the tension that was coiled up inside him like a tightening spring, the need to snap it any way he could. He'd found that happening a lot, lately.

"I think it's you who might need to keep an eye on me, mate. You never know when I'm going to pull a stunt like this."

He lunged towards Will, who looked up suddenly, eyes wide.

Then Jack splashed him with a faceful of water.

Will blinked as the water ran off his face, his open-mouthed gasp of surprise changing almost immediately into a snarling scowl. He drew his right hand up and back.

Now what the bloody hell did I go and do that for? How is this a good idea?

Jack hastily tried to paddle back and away, but not before he saw Will's hand swooping down fast and hard towards him. Will scooped up a palmful of water along the way, and dumped it over Jack's head. Jack had swallowed most of it before he realised with great relief that he was not being beaten to a pulp by the erstwhile blacksmith. He was now, however, in very real danger of drowning, because he made the mistake of laughing and ended up with another mouthful of well-aimed water.

Jack coughed up a lungful of the pool, then aimed a retaliatory jet at the side of Will's head.

"Jack! That went in my ear!" Will spluttered.

"Serves you right. For bein' so..." Loyal. Funny. Beautiful. Tolerant. "so...bloody annoyin'."

"Oh, really? You started it." Will rose up suddenly, the water level with the bottom of his ribcage, and assumed the fencing pose, but with his dripping palm facing outwards, ready to use the element surrounding them as his weapon of choice.

Oh bugger.

A disconcerted look crossed Jack's face as he found himself gazing at the rivulets of water running down the centre of the curves and planes of Will's chest, and he found himself totally distracted by the sight of the two perfectly lickable adornments on either side of the glimmering trails.

So that's what you look like. It's hardly fair to utilise hidden weapons like that.

Then a veritable torrent hit him, as Will lifted up armful after armful of water, drenching Jack even more than before. It was not dissimilar to sailing through a typhoon.

"Oi!" Jack yelled, then submerged underwater so he could splash back at Will without being attacked by the dual onslaught of a faceful of water and an eyeful of bare chest.

What he hadn't expected was for Will to duck underwater too, grab him by the shoulders and forcibly try to haul him up. For a second Jack struggled against him, then realised that this was probably the closest he was ever likely to get to a semi-naked, wet Will Turner, and decided to go limp instead.

I stand corrected. This idea was not without its advantages.

He was a dead weight against Will, and for a moment their legs tangled together, Will's hipbone sharp against Jack's.

Whoever invented breeches deserves to be shot.

A loose strand of Will's hair floated almost imperceptibly against Jack's cheek, and he turned his head to try to brush it with his lips. Jack brought a hand up to push at Will's chest. One finger skated experimentally over a nipple, hard and tight from the cold water.

Oh god, Will.

Then Jack winced as Will elbowed him in the ribs, and heaved him to the surface.

They were both breathing hard. Will let go of Jack's shoulders and backed off a couple of inches until he found the solidity of the rock behind him again, looking at Jack disapprovingly.

"You cheated. Again."

Jack did his best to look innocent. In this case, his best was woefully unconvincing.

"But you have an unfair advantage. Your hands are bigger than mine," pouted Jack.

This was true. Jack had spent most of that afternoon (and many others previously) silently contemplating Will's hands and their various merits.

"Are they?"

Will held up his right hand and studied it momentarily. Then he did something entirely unexpected. He faced his palm towards Jack and offered it to him.

"Prove it," Will said.

This is turning out to be a very good day.

Not quite believing his luck, Jack raised his left hand in return. An unreadable expression crossed Will's face as he glanced at the white mark that slashed diagonally across the centre. The noises of the encircling forest dimmed. The only sound was the drip of water off their hands and hair, the ends of the beads on Jack's beard, and the quiet, erratic hiss of breath. Then their hands came together, heel to heel, fingertip to fingertip.

Neither of them realised that the other had stopped breathing.

The water should have cooled Will's palm, but it still felt like it seared Jack's as he pressed his hand against it to compare the size. Will's fingers were longer, the knuckles wider, the palm broader than Jack's. Earth hands and water hands. The sweet torment of salt skin and warm flesh. Jack could feel the tremor of blood beneath the surface of Will's fingertips, and realised he was staring at Will's mouth.

I want to kiss you so very much.

Will looked down at their hands appraisingly, then up at Jack.

"Oh. They are smaller," he said, redundantly. He didn't move his hand away. "It's funny how you have such neat fingernails. Seems so at odds with the rest of you," Will grinned.

That was probably Jack's cue to retort with a chastisement that ran along the lines of how Will shouldn't dare to cast aspersions on his appearance. But all Jack could think about was how very close Will was standing to him, and that with a fractional twist of his hand their fingers could interlock. And how very relieved he was that he was waist deep in water at that moment, because although his hands were small, his cock was not.

I could do it, you know. Reach out an' put my arm round your waist. Pull you to me, all that warm, wet skin pressed close. Wonder what you taste like...

Jack's train of thought was interrupted when he suddenly got another sobering faceful of water.

Ah, of course, Will does have another hand.

Jack, albeit reluctantly, swam away briskly on his back. He lifted his feet up and kicked, churning up the surface and sending a wave of spouting water in Will's direction.

"Hey! Using feet is cheating too!" Will coughed, edging away from the safety of his rock, and set off in pursuit of Jack.

With a smile, Jack watched Will dive forwards after him. But as the arc of Will's back flipped over the surface of the water, it exposed what by rights should not have been there. Suddenly, Will's obsession about keeping covered up seemed like much less of a quirk. Jack saw the cross-hatching of welts, still pink in places, not old. He felt his stomach lurch horribly.

Oh fuck. Not good.

The water was not warm, but the chill that went through Jack made him feel like he was surrounded by ice. Will emerged next to him and when he saw that Jack was immobile, he played up the advantage and sent a spray of water over him. Jack's arm snaked out and his hand snapped round Will's wrist.

"Don't," he said, his voice so cold and forceful that Will shuddered.

"What?"

Jack turned and frowned at him.

"Will, your back. Those scars. What happened?" His voice had lost all traces of joviality, and there was a dangerous rasp to the edge of it.

Will shook his wrist out of Jack's grasp and started backing away, shaking his head and folding his arms over his chest.

"You're covered in them. You didn't hear me asking you about yours," Will replied with a scowl.

Jack waded through the water towards him, his expression hard and intent.

"Yours are new. Mine are not. Who did that to you?"

Will narrowed his eyes and turned away. In three brisk strokes he was back at the rock and clambering out, the water running off him and the scars all too visible against the olive skin. Jack felt the unwelcome inner struggle in various parts of his body.

His head said, Don't try an' make him tell you if he don't want to.

His heart said, You know full well how they bloody got there.

And his groin, despite still being submerged in cold water, unhelpfully just said, Grr. Wet skin.

Jack swam back to the rock and glowered up at Will expectantly. Will had already put his still-damp shirt back on and tugged on his boots, and was now scraping his hair back off his face and into submission. He tied the thong aggressively round the dripping curls, and shot Jack an angry look.

"This is precisely why I didn't want to get undressed. I'm going back to the boat. Enjoy your swim."

Jack was out of the water and in front of Will in an instant, blocking his way. He held up his palms in a gesture of appeasement. Will weaved from side to side in an attempt to get past Jack.

"Please, Will. Are they because of me?"

"Why do you want to know, huh? Why does it matter?"

"Oh, it matters. Believe me, it matters. It was Jones, weren't it, eh?"

An' that makes it my fault.

Will made a frustrated growling sound, and put his hands up to indicate that he wanted Jack to refrain from saying anything else. But by now, Jack was livid.

"If he weren't dead already, I'd... I'd..."

"You'd what? Kill him again? Ha!" Will gave him a scornful look, and Jack clenched his fists.

Will squared up to him, shaking his head.

"Actually, it wasn't Jones. He just gave the order."

Jack looked surprised, and Will shoulders sagged suddenly. His arms dropped to his sides again. Jack's curiosity got the better of him, and he said softly,

"If it weren't Jones, then who was it?"

Will closed his eyes and took a breath, staccato and disjointed. He reached out and sat down on the nearby rock, then looked up at Jack with a mixture of anger and despair. Jack bit the inside of his lip and frowned when he saw the pained look on Will's face. He hated that look. He dropped to the ground in front of the rock, and sat cross-legged, prepared to wait for however long it took for Will to tell him anything. Waited for the blow to come. Waited for the one argument they had managed to avoid and gloss over for all these months.

After the longest time, Will looked up, but not at Jack. He tilted his head higher, and looked up into the treetops, his brow furrowed and jaw tight. When he eventually spoke, his voice was quiet, but contained an edge that rivalled any blade he had forged.

"The bo'sun, he gave the order for... for Mr Turner to haul up one of the cannons. And of course, both Turners went for it. My father must have put two and two together when he saw me, because he jumped and the rope slipped out of his fingers. I couldn't hold on. It went through the deck. Next thing I knew I was being shoved up against the mast, and... this stranger... was pleading with the bo'sun. He was asking to take the punishment instead of me. He told me later that I'd have probably died if the bo'sun had whipped me. That's when Jones arrived."

Will paused for a moment and drew in a long, deep breath through his nostrils. It hitched once, and Jack looked away. A light breeze stirred up the dried leaves at Jack's feet, making a sloughing sound like waves. He saw Will shudder out of the corner of his eye, but knew it wasn't because of the cool air.

Jack was well acquainted with physical pain. He was less intimate with the hollow ache gnawing inside his ribcage, but knew it well enough to recognise it as the kind of wound that didn't heal over time. The most he could hope for was that it would become easier to ignore.

Will dropped his head to look at the ground, scuffing at a pebble with the toe of his boot. He deliberately let out the breath he had been holding slowly and evenly, then blinked a few times before he spoke again.

"Jones wanted to know why my father was so keen to take on my punishment. So did I. That's when he said who he was."

An' knowin' Jones, that was the best weapon anyone could've handed him. Oh lord, I think I know where this is goin'.

"I'd spent most of my life looking for him, and I'd given him up for dead. I got what I'd always longed for, but not under quite the circumstances I'd hoped for. Jones wouldn't transfer or retract the punishment. Within less than a minute of finding my father, Jones gave him the choice. Either the bo'sun did this," Will waved a hand abruptly up towards his shoulder, "Or..." Will broke off, his jaw clenched; the meaning was clear enough.

Usin' love of parent an' child against each other. Fuckin' sick bastard...

An' what does that make me, I wonder?

Finally, Will looked up at Jack. Will's eyes were cold, the bright embers ashen. He said bitterly,

"Quite the reunion, hmm? Did it go how you planned? Better than expected?"

The words left bruises in the air. Here it was, then. Jack swallowed hard, but something still felt like it was stuck in his throat.

You must think I'm a monster.

"Will, I am truly sorry ."

He had his hands pressed together, but the pose felt disingenuous, contrived. He was accustomed to begging for his life, but not to begging for forgiveness.

Will leaned forwards, and said in a clear tone that was brittle and terrifying.

"Why did you do it? Why did you send me over there?"

Oh no, luv. Don't think I can tell you that.

"'Cause I knew you were the only one who could get that key. You know, for your Da, an' all. I couldn't do it, someone else had to. So I chose you."

Will gave an angry rumble and stood up, staring down at Jack, seething. He was pale with fury.

"And yet you chose not to tell me why. You knew you could use my feelings for my father the same way Jones did. Fine excuse for a motive, Jack!"

'Scuse me, but you ain't so bloody perfect.

Jack jumped to his feet and pointed an accusatory finger at Will. He hissed,

"You weren't exactly honest about your own motives for comin' to find me in the first place, were you? It wasn't, 'Hello Jack, just droppin' by to see you're alright, an' ain't still got rope burn round your neck after we last parted ways.' Oh no, it was 'I ain't seen you for a year, but gimme your bloody compass so I can go tup my incarcerated doxy. An' by the way, I'm working for Lord Soddin' Beckett, but I won't tell you about that bit."

That didn't sound bitter at all.

Will stepped in closer, his lip curled.

"And yet what was the first thing I did when I found you on that bloody island? I went and did what you asked and saved your bloody life again, you ungrateful bastard! I should have left you to your loyal and hungry subjects. As it is, I probably saved them from choking on you." His voice started to rise in volume, and the colour leapt back into his cheeks.

Jack started speaking in the clipped, terse manner he adopted when he was very close to losing his temper.

"Technically you didn't save my life, you provided a distraction while I made my escape. And you only did it because you wanted my compass."

"Which really doesn't work now," Will said snidely.

Oh, it does, I can assure you of that. Not much good for navigatin' no more, though. An' right now I'm not so sure where it would point. Most probably at that hole we dug in the ground...

Will tipped his head back and looked at Jack narrowly.

"Don't judge me by your own evident lack of standards. If I'd merely wanted your compass, I could have waited until they'd eaten you and then taken it, couldn't I? But I didn't. I wouldn't have left without you. And you repaid me by tricking me onto the Dutchman."

"I didn't intend for you to stay there!" Jack shouted, then breathed in sharply, trying to regain control. He spoke again through gritted teeth, one hand fluttering towards Will's shoulder.

"I didn't intend for that to happen."

Will jerked backwards, then tried to dodge past Jack again, apparently unwilling to even endure the contact of shoving him out of the way.

"I seem to spend a large proportion of my time trying to keep you safe, yet you see fit to use me as bait at every opportune moment. You told me to tell Jones I was there to settle your debt, so I could take your place!"

Wrong. This is all wrong.

Jack's hands flew up again, in a cross between a pacifying gesture and an attempt to stop Will from getting past him.

"No! No, that's not it at all. I knew he wouldn't take you as a substitute. He wanted me, not you. You were a... conversation starter. A go-between."

Will drew level with Jack and stopped moving, glaring at him.

"An unwitting pawn in your game, you mean."

Jack's control broke and he grabbed Will by the shoulders, practically shaking him. Will didn't resist, he just watched Jack with detachment as Jack enunciated every syllable with great care.

"It weren't a bloody game! Life or death, Will. An' I ended up with 'or death' anyway. I tried to get you back straight away, but he refused. I bargained with him, in the hope that I'd gain enough time for us both to do somethin' useful. Like you gettin' the key, an' me findin' the chest. I knew your Da was on there. I knew Bill would help. Believe it or not, I did actually want you to see him again."
An' me.


Will's hands came up and gripped Jack tightly around the elbows, his thumbs digging in hard. He leaned in close to Jack, and for a moment Jack wasn't sure if Will was about to bite him and tear his throat out.

"You should have just told me he was on there, when you knew all along how much I wanted to find him." Will's eyes glittered like glass, and Jack felt his grip prized away from Will's arms by the stronger, larger hands that were leaving bruises on his arms. Will was cold now. Completely cold. The fire had gone out and only the steel was left.

Oh fuck. Are you going to try to kill me?

Jack breathed hard and tried, desperately, to think of something rational to say. Something to make Will see sense. Failing that, he cast about to see if there was anything nearby he could hit him with if the worst came to it.

"If I had told you then you would have gone over there like a shot, an' done something stupid. Like play that bloody awful dice game they have on there an' tried to exchange his tenure for yer own, 'stead of gettin' the key an' abscondin' out of there. You bein' stuck there wouldn't have done any good to anybody, least of all him."

Will thrust Jack away from him with contempt, and sneered,

"Hnh. Yes, you would see it that way. At least I wouldn't have spent my entire life only serving my own needs. I trusted you. That's why I didn't question you when you asked me to do it. That makes me a damn fool, yes, but it makes you a manipulative, selfish bastard. I don't think I know you at all. You were right. No one forced me to join your crew. And I have no reason to stay."

This time Will did shove Jack out of the way. He scrambled down the rock, heedless to the jagged edges here and there, and set off back along the pathway without a backward glance.

Jack felt the pain radiating through his solar plexus. A hundred monstrous mouths were waiting for him, and all of them were repeating those words back to him.

'I don't think I know you at all.'

You don't. But I wonder if you'd understand if you knew the truth, or only hate me more...

"Will! Will, wait!"

Jack grabbed the pile of his sodden clothes and his boots, and went sliding down the rock after Will, earning a few bumps and scratches in his haste to catch up with the retreating figure. Will walked so fast that he was almost back at the clearing where they had dug the hole as Jack closed the gap between them. Jack lengthened his stride further and laid a hand on Will's shoulder, trying to stop him from going any further.

No more lies.

Will turned on his heel and smacked Jack's hand away. His fists were raised, but there was a hint of desperation in his eyes. Jack swallowed hard.

"That... weren't the only reason for sendin' you over there."

Will unclenched his fists and dismissively gestured for Jack to continue. The hard, dead look was in his eyes again.

"Please, tell me what was. Go on; give me one of your watertight justifications. Enlighten me. I'm waiting."

Jack licked his lips; they seemed so parched it was as though he hadn't been near water all day.

This is it. Try to make him see.

"Until I knew that Jones had given me a reprieve, me, an' the Pearl," Jack made a little, unconscious noise at the name of his lost love, "were his target. Do you understand so far?"

"Oh, just about," came the reply, heavy with sarcasm. Will folded his arms across his chest and regarded Jack with palpable mistrust. Unperturbed, Jack continued.

"Therefore, while you were on the Pearl or anywhere near me, you were just as likely to be taken down as the rest of us. An' I couldn't very well set you down on land, 'cause you'd only have come after me again for my soddin' compass. You're a tenacious git, I'll give you that."

Will ignored the backhanded compliment, indicating that Jack should hurry up and continue before his patience ran out, and muttering,

"Wouldn't have been only the compass that made me insist I stayed. Not back then, anyway."

No, I'm sure it would've been that misplaced sense of heroism, an' your mad insistence on self-sacrifice at evr'y given opportunity...

"Don't you see? Getting you to go over there, it was the only way I could keep you safe."

Will gave a derisive snort.

"Really. How so? By sending me over to a ship run by a madman? Thanks a lot, Jack."

Will made to move past Jack again, but this time it was Jack who gripped him round the arm. Will turned to glare at him, then stopped when he saw the look on Jack's face. It was hard, sincere, and commanding. Jack spoke again, and his tone was authoritative, all traces of pleading gone.

"Because while you were on his ship, you weren't on mine. And while you weren't on mine, and on his instead, there was no way you could get swallowed up by that pet of his, savvy?"

"No, I distinctly do not savvy." Will still looked blank, angry.

"Please! Listen. Understand. The Dutchman was the only ship that could not be sunk by the Kraken. Or by any other means, supernatural or otherwise. So at that point, it was a damn sight safer than bein' on a ship captained by a marked man. It was the only safe place in the whole damn ocean."

It was the only thing I could think of doin' that would mean you might not die.

Jack slackened his grip, and Will's arm dropped by his side.

"Course, I didn't bloody know at the time that you are apparently impervious to drownin'."

Will opened his mouth to say something else, then exhaled slowly instead. For a few moments he said nothing as a look of realisation dawned, easing the frown from his forehead. When he spoke again, his voice was almost back to its customary velvety tenor.

"You did it... to keep me safe?" He looked at Jack in puzzlement, as though trying to put his finger on something else Jack wasn't telling him. "Why didn't you just tell me what you needed the key for? Couldn't you have asked me to help you? Or told me that you were... looking out for me by sending me to the Dutchman?" He still sounded rather dubious.

What, so you could question my motives for keepin' you safe? Have you frettin' about that as well? Better you just think I'm a mad ole' bastard, eh?

Jack sighed heavily.

"You make it all sound so simple, don't you? I didn't ask you, because I didn't think you would believe me. I thought you might've said no."

Will's jaw dropped. He looked deeply offended, and hurt. Then he gave a sardonic smile of disbelief. He walked off towards the clearing to gather the results of the day's labours together. Jack strode after him.

"Will, I..."

"So, that's your version of saving someone, is it? Very heroic."

"I... yes. I'm sor..."

"I don't need it, Jack. I just wanted to know why. It's done. It's finished with. We're both still here, aren't we?"

Jack's brow furrowed. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he felt he'd already said too much. He looked at Will and nodded silently, searching for any trace of forgiveness on Will's face.

"Are we done?" Will said curtly, fastening his sword belt back on with a snap and click of metal and leather tugged erratically.

"Er, yes."

"Then let's go." He turned, gently gathering up the map and grabbing a shovel, and headed through the trees. Jack hastily tucked his clothes under his arm and retrieved his sword and the other shovel, and followed behind, subdued but still rather amazed that Will hadn't clobbered him. They walked silently for a couple of minutes, until Jack became aware of an odd, rhythmic squishing noise.

"What's that sound?" he ventured, in an attempt to resume communications.

"Urgh. My boots are wet on the inside from my feet," Will complained.

"Ah. I'm sure you can dry them out on deck when we get back. You can borrow a pair of mine until they're sorted."

"You're joking, right? As if I'm going to put my feet into a pair of boots you've been wearing. God knows I'd be lucky to keep all my toes."

"You'll be lucky to keep your tongue at this rate."

"If you put your sword anywhere near my mouth, I swear I'll run you through."

"Promises, promises."

"What?"

"You just concentrate on keepin' your tongue in your mouth, mate, an' I'll keep my sword tucked away where it's s'posed to be."

"Agreed."

And just like that, a hesitant truce was struck. That is, until they reached the edge of the trees leading down to the beach, when Will stopped short and Jack almost ran into him. Will turned abruptly, and Jack found himself only inches away from him for the third time that day. Jack's heart constricted as he looked at Will's narrowed eyes, wild and challenging, and so beautiful it hurt. Jack had to try not to stare at the movement of Will's throat as he swallowed hard, then Will said fiercely,

"I would have said yes, you know. If you'd asked me, I would have said yes. Without hesitation."

Jack felt his jaw drop, and felt the need to make a noise to justify the movement, though it was less articulate than he would have liked.

"Uh. Um."

Will was still watching him expectantly, his face softer now, his chin tilted downwards.

Think of something to say, quickly! An' not, 'Thank you. I want to ravish you as a token of my appreciation'. Not appropriate.

Jack thought desperately for something meaningful to say, and compromised with,

"Will... If I ever encounter certain danger with little chance of survival again, an' need someone to get me out of it, I can assure you, you will be the first person I ask."

Will raised an eyebrow in exasperation, but Jack saw the faint whisper of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, I'm so glad that's settled, then."

Jack risked a smirk.

"Me too. Shall we get back to the ship then? Dry your feet out before they rot? Or worse."

Will gave him a half-smile.

"Yes, let's," Will replied. That was when Jack saw the look of forgiveness he had hoped for.

"Yes? Come on then, go grab an oar."

At least, Jack thought it was forgiveness. What else would it have been? He looked at Will again, just to check.

For a split second too long, neither one of them moved, and neither one of them looked away.

The journey back in the longboat was notable for its silence, and for how fascinating both men suddenly seemed to find the waves surrounding them, and the crumbling edges of the maps wedged between them. When they reached the ship, all Jack could think of saying was,

"Are you sure you don't want to wear me boots?"

Will shook his head and grinned, turning away silently before Jack could fully see him blush, and leaving a trail of damp footprints on the deck in the wake of his bare feet.