Elizabeth wondered sometimes if Will would have fallen into Jack Sparrow's clutches if it weren't for the opium. Jack was always charming and handsome, and would be even more so without the vile smoke that clung to his clothes. And he certainly would be a better man without it.

But without the opium, he would not need Will Turner so much. It is a powerful thing, to be needed by someone so strong.


///


"Those who've done things to you, you tend to forget. It's the things you've done to others... those are the things that hang on."

His father had told him that, but he hadn't really believed it. Not until Jack's shivering body dropped onto the Pearl's deck, and William Turner, Junior found himself pushing the others out of the way to be the first to embrace the man tightly. He had run belowdecks for a blanket and to make up a hot toddy for Jack, and so missed Elizabeth's reunion with the captain.

Gibbs assured him later he hadn't missed much. Jack had murmured that there was nothing to forgive, that he would have done the same, and moved on to the next in line to welcome him back.

By the time Will had wrapped the blanket around Jack's shoulders and placed the rum in his hands, it seemed that everyone had gotten their turn. Will steered Jack into the captain's quarters and made sure he was comfortable.

It was surprisingly pleasant to care for Jack. Looking back, it seemed his entire engagement to Elizabeth consisted of her hissing at him, "let the servants do that, Will," "quit fussing so, Will" and "I can take care of myself, Will." Jack just lay back, and accepted Will's ministrations with the magnanimous air of a monarch.


///


On the way back from the end of the world, the Black Pearl stopped in Calcutta for supplies, and to sell the treasures that they had plundered. Captain Sparrow, who had been haunting his cabin and refusing all visitors, finally showed some sign at being, in point of fact, back to life as he made his way through the crowded marketplace. It was impossible for Will to tell whether the man actually spoke the foreign tongue, albeit with an atrocious accent, or whether the locals were simply able to discern his meanings through the hand waving. Jack somehow had managed to purchase supplies, though; men carrying all sorts of mysterious looking items were swarming over the dock. One ornate chest was delivered especially to the Captain's cabin, the wood gleaming in the late afternoon sun.

Will watched the loading distractedly, his mind occupied elsewhere. Something had broken in Will when he saw Elizabeth kiss Jack. He realized later what it was—his idealized image of her, his cherished belief that she was perfect and that darkness and evil could not touch her. He forgave her for it, easily. He knew she had no choice, not if she wanted to save herself, and Will himself as well. But his feelings changed, and there was no help for it.

Elizabeth, too, did not regard him in the same way. She has always seen him as safe, as the one that would never dare to lay an unkind hand upon her. She had thought his only flaw to be a tendency towards doting that had quickly turned cloying. But seeing the hard man he was becoming, she trembled a little. He had not directed that anger and force of will at her, not once. But he could, and it wasn't a risk she was willing to take. By the time that Jack was returned to them, they had both made their peace with the breaking of their engagement.

It was still a shock, though, when Elizabeth announced that she would stay behind in Calcutta. He knew with her father gone she had no reason to return to Port Royal, and she could not stay aboard the Pearl with him. The English contingent of Calcutta was as good a place as any to reinvent herself.

Will looked up to find a full moon had risen while he was immersed in his brown study. He shook his head, and went to check on Jack.

For once, Jack actually let him enter the cabin. Jack was smoking a pipe, and a heavy sweet smell filled the air. Jack seemed as relaxed and happy as he'd been since his bloody, naked and shivering body was first dumped on deck by the gods of the sea. It suddenly occurred to Will that he hadn't been bothered by Jack's state at the time, although upon contemplation, he felt badly that Jack had to endure that humiliation on top of everything. Perhaps embarrassment was part of the reason for Jack's current isolation.

His thoughts occupied him while his hands automatically straightened the cabin, refilled the ewer with fresh water, and brought the dirty dishes back to the galley. When he returned, Jack gestured to the chair at the map table, indicating to Will to take a seat.

"So, how did you get stuck being cabin boy, then?"

"I'm hardly a cabin boy. I've been conning the ship a watch in three, in case you haven't noticed, Jack. And my navigation is already better than Gibbs'."

"And yet you clean up my cabin because..."

"I just thought you'd rather have someone who understood that you value your privacy. Once you're feeling better, you can fend for yourself."

"Well, it is appreciated, mate." Jack took another puff of the pipe; the air seemed thick with the strange smell.

"Is that opium?"

"Yeh. Great stuff, feels like you're floating. Not your sort of thing, I'd imagine, though. Now, if you've been at the conn, you can tell me whether she's changed any since being raised again. I remember the first time; she handled just a bit more lively, like she was glad to be back up."

Will fell easily into conversation, giving Jack the details of the running of the ship that he had missed, and receiving in return Jack's tales of adventure in a highly unlikely fashion. Will did not believe the one about the Sword of Cortez at all. By the time he finished picking holes in it, the moon had set, leaving the cabin very dark. Jack readied himself for bed unselfconsciously in the gloom, while Will's eyes restlessly tracked his movements.

Jack ducked under the covers, and began a more sordid tale about a cabin boy on the run from a lecherous captain. Will listened from the single chair, resting his feet on the map table, and restrained from asking about the various inconsistencies in the young innocent's tale of woe. Once Jack made reference to the end of the reign of William and Mary, so it was clear that the story must have happened close to thirty years ago. If it really had happened at all, Jack would have been young enough to be a cabin boy himself, Will thought idly. He firmly resisted questioning, though, and instead enjoyed the tale from a literary standpoint.

False dawn was beginning to glow in the west before Will left Jack to his rest. Conning the ship with sleep-heavy eyes, he relished the insights into Jack's past, true or false. It was worth losing a night's sleep, to see the world through Jack's eyes.

Will had hoped that their long conversation would encourage Jack to leave the cabin once more, but the trip back from Calcutta saw Jack even more reclusive. Will checked on him daily, keeping the cabin neat and assuring himself that Jack wanted for nothing. The smell of smoke permeated the cabin even when the pipe was put on its shelf.


///


The sea was glassy, the air thin and cool, and the journey seemed to be taking even longer than the difficult trip out. Will went to Jack's cabin for more tall tales, and Jack obliged. Will took his usual position on the map table chair, while Jack sat at the edge of the bed, seemingly fascinated by his bare feet.

The tale this time was of mermaids, and a barter for freedom. Will almost believed it—although not the parts about sexual congress with beings with no legs to get between. As the story wound down, Jack's voice got slower and quieter, the puffs on the pipe sounding clear in the stillness.

"I think I'll just shut my eyes for a few minutes." Jack swung his feet onto the bed, still half sitting, but now resting his head against the headboard.

"Jack, you need to get some real rest. Let's get your clothes off and get you to bed." Will came to the head of the bed, and good-naturedly shoved Jack back up, to crawl between the headboard and Jack's back. He took off Jack's jacket and baldric, and reached down to the lacings of Jack's breeches, brushing against both his own groin and Jack's bottom as he loosened them. He reached forward, wrapping both arms around Jack to untuck the long shirttail from the front of his breeches. Jack leaned back to accommodate him, and the move pushed his arse into Will's erection.

"Oh, so that's how it is, then."

"I... It isn't—"

"That's fine." Jack ran his fingers over the back of Will's hand, encouraging him to continue the disrobing, and leaned back more firmly, tilting his head back to rest it on Will's shoulder.

"Jack—"

"You're on a pirate ship, lad. Take what you want."

His lips were hesitant against the skin of Jack's neck, barely brushing against the skin. But his lower body was not so shy, squirming as best he could with the weight of Jack holding him down. Jack took pity on him, lacing their fingers together and trailing their hands across his chest and stomach, before abandoning Will's hand over the growing evidence of Jack's own enjoyment. Will touched him slowly through the thin cloth of his breeches, tracing his length with two fingers. Will's mouth was still stuck on the same patch of his neck, but chapped lips had given way to kisses and licks.

Jack reached behind them both to unlace Will's breeches as well. Will responded to this by reaching into Jack's waistband, and grasping hold of Jack's hard cock, his mouth still pressed against Jack's neck. He stroked Jack firmly, quickly, as he would his own rod, and Jack thrust into his hand, pushing his ass into Will's hardness with every move.

It seemed to go on forever, the warm skin pressed against his mouth becoming more hot and swollen as he sucked on it, the tarse thrusting in his hand, the rhythmic pressure of Jack's behind rubbing into him. Finally Jack took pity once more, and turned around, letting Will pull his cock out of his breeches and thrust against Jack's bare stomach. Three hard thrusts against the naked skin, and he was falling, come flowing out of him to mark that flat belly, the room spinning with pleasure. Throughout, he managed to maintain the furious stroking of Jack's cock, and was rewarded with a hot shower of Jack's release over his spent organ.

Jack collapsed on top of him, using the washcloth beside the ewer to clean them both before promptly falling asleep on his former-blacksmith mattress.


///


For all the talking they did, there were things they did not discuss. Forgiveness, for one, although both seemed to think it was implicit. Elizabeth was another conversation they did not have—Will cutting off questions he did not want answers to. They did not discuss the opium, Will never asking nor Jack offering the opportunity for the younger man to feel its affects. And they did not discuss what would happen when the opium ran out.

Oddly enough, sex was one topic they did discuss, at length, as it were. Will's interest overcame his shyness handily once he was assured of a favorable response. Jack's answers to his queries about the ways of love between men were eye-opening, and left him eager put most of the lessons into practice.

Jack had brought up penetration in an offhand, almost academic manner—but reluctantly admitted that he did not enjoy receiving it, after slapping Will's hands away. Will assumed that would be the end of the matter—if Jack, ever the hedonist, did not enjoy a thing, it was unlikely that Will would, despite Jack's florid assurances to the contrary. Indeed, the strength of Jack's reaction caused Will to be even more apprehensive of such a thing. When Jack continued to bring it up, Will saw it as a sign that Jack wanted him to play the woman, to cede some measure of control, and ceased his visits to the Captain's cabin altogether.

Gibbs took over the care and feeding of the Captain, grudgingly but with genuine affection. He drew the line at cleaning the cabin, but at least made sure that food was available, whether or not the Captain ate it, and that the minutia of daily life aboard the ship were brought to the Captain's attention, whether or not he chose to act upon the knowledge. When the Captain chose not to act, Gibbs deferred to Will's decision making.


///


It was over a week before Will gave in, although he told himself he was merely consulting with the Captain to double check navigation. Gibbs' math was sketchy at best, and while Will had the schooling, he did not have the experience. He found Jack lazing about, the haze of smoke curling thickly over the bunk.

He kept his tone brusque, his frustration evident when it was plain that Jack was in no condition to assist with anything that required thought. Jack languidly assured Will that they would make landfall one way or another, and pulled Will in close for an unpleasantly wet kiss. Will's frustration and anger were not enough to prevent his response to Jack's torpid passion. He fisted Jack's hair and tugged him rudely down, pointedly thrusting into Jack's face and lowering his breeches.

Jack obliged him, his wet sloppy kisses much more welcome on a stiff cock. He began trailing one finger down to Will's entrance, timing his attack carefully, distracting Will by swallowing his cock down to the root as the questing finger gained entrance.

Will's eyes were wild, his fists clenched, unable to dislodge the probing finger or stop the assault on his rod that had him thrusting into Jack's mouth fiercely. Jack had somehow managed to grab lamp oil from the map table, and copious quantities were spilling onto Will's lowered breeches as Jack pushed two fingers into Will, curling them until Will gasped.

At the noise, Jack pushed Will onto the bed and withdrew, removing his clothes quickly. Will panted like a trapped fox, and fought viciously when Jack attempted to push the younger man's knees to his shoulders.

"Treat me as a man, damn you!" he spat, and tried to force Jack's mouth back to his manhood.

"Perhaps you'd prefer to be on all fours like an animal?" With a smirk, Jack disengaged from their combat, rolling onto the far side of the bed to give Will space to decide. The smirk dripped off his face when Will straddled him and maneuvered the swollen entrance of his body over the tip of Jack's cock.

"If we do this, we will do it my way."

Will hissed as he forced himself down, savoring the pain of moving too quickly. He braced himself on Jack's chest, and began a rhythm that sped frantically faster. Will pushed harder, flailing, clawing, caterwauling inhumanly. Approaching his peak, he was completely out of control, sobbing, forcing himself down on a curiously-placid Jack, pain calming him as pleasure could not.

Jack did not reach his own peak, but seemed satisfied nonetheless.


///


When the Pearl returned to Calcutta, Elizabeth was safely ensconced in her new position as governess to a minor lord's daughter. She was surprised at how much she enjoyed the lowly position. The simple fact that she knew she could go back if she wished turned a life of drudgery into playacting. And the lord's embraces were all the sweeter for not having to worry if he would marry her or no.

Will, it seemed to her, had found his place as well. He had his arm around Jack, going down the gangplank, and it was hard to tell if it was to support Jack's now painfully-thin frame, or whether there was affection in the touch as well. Will's voice echoed over the docks with pleasure at her appearance, and gave orders that made the crew snap to the work of loading the supplies. It was Will's voice, too, that bargained for another chest of opium.