Pirate Dreams 7

Pairing: J/W
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean is owned by Disney, etc. No infringement intended.
Originally Posted: 2003
Summary: Will joins the Pearl's crew after Jack becomes a privateer, leading to many adventures, including the most dangerous adventure of all: romance.

Will watched the stone drop into the water without so much as a single skip. Had he lost his touch? He searched for a flatter pebble, tried again. Skip, skip, skip, then down into the pool. Better, though not entirely satisfactory.

He sat on a large flat rock at the edge of the water that settled into the cavern at high tide. Jack and about half the crew had rowed into the cave of the Isla de Muerta after anchoring the Pearl just outside the entrance. Jack had gone off with Anamaria to survey the supplies stacked round the dry parts of the cavern. Will preferred to sit off by himself for a spell.

The treasure had all been taken away, of course, months ago when Jack had first recovered possession of the Pearl. Except for the Aztec chest, still sitting atop a rock-strewn hill in the center of the cave, the grotesque carved faces adorning its sides daring anyone to come take the cursed coins inside. Be best if they chained it up tight and dropped it out in deep water where no one could ever find the damned thing.

After a quarter-hour or so of skipping stones, Will heard someone coming up behind him and turned, hoping it was Jack, disappointed to see Gibbs standing there. Well, no need not to be friendly. "Are you any good at this?"

"Mind if I sit?" Gibbs joined him on the rock before hearing the reply. He took his habitual flask from his pocket and took a sip, then offered it to Will.

Gibbs shrugged, took another sip, put the flask away. "Noticed you slept with the crew last night."

Ah. So this was going to be the "what's wrong between you and Jack" talk. Fine. Will liked the fellow all right. He was a good sailor, a good fighter, knew how to handle the cannon. And he seemed genuinely fond of Jack. Besides, Will had spent the past few months with no one else but Jack to talk to, so it would be refreshing to chat with someone different for a change.

"True." Will looked over to the far side of the cavern, where Jack bent over a chest, poking about among its contents while Anamaria stood nearby making notes in the logbook. Anamaria had known Jack before, and so had Gibbs. His own history with him seemed so short when he thought of all the years Jack had sailed about the world, all the people he'd met, the friends he'd made.

Will remembered when they first came to this cave aboard the commandeered Interceptor, and how he had asked Gibbs where Jack's strange compass came from. Gibbs had told him he didn't know much about the search Jack made for the ill-fated treasure, as it happened before they'd met. Which meant they'd met sometime after Barbossa's mutiny ten years earlier. And Gibbs had also been aboard the ship taking the Swanns to Port Royal, the ship that had saved him as a lad after Barbossa destroyed the ship he'd traveled on. That happened eight years ago, and since it seemed unlikely Gibbs had met up with Jack while sailing the Caribbean in the Royal Navy, it must have been after that time as well. Perhaps when Jack was wandering about the far east?

Curious as to where Gibbs fit into Jack's past, Will nodded towards Jack and asked, "When did you first meet up with him?"

"Ah, now there's a story," Gibbs said. "See, the navy didn't agree with me, 'cause I liked the drink much more than their daily ration of rum allowed. Not long after we rescued you as a lad, I left the service. Spent some years hereabouts, on this merchant ship or that, then wound up in Tortuga, getting my hand in on the smuggling trade. I liked it fine, but a man doesn't become a sailor just to see the same waters over and over. He does it to see the world. So I moved on. Mediterranean. Africa. India, and farther east. Must of been about two years ago when I run into a spot of trouble out there, and got taken in for petty theft. One year's hard labor they gave me, and that's where I met Jack Sparrow. In a prison camp."

Will realized that Jack had not talked about his time in prison. But then, memories of prison could hardly be worth revisiting. If Gibbs didn't mind talking about it, though, Will wouldn't stop him. "What kind of labor did they put you to there?"

"Oh, whatever they needed at the time. Ditch-digging, tree chopping, rock breaking, road building. No liquor to be had, only enough food to keep us alive. Wretched quarters that let the monsoon rains in, or grew sweltering hot from the heat of the day, and riddled with rats. We worked from sunrise to sundown, though we did get some time now and then to call our own. Now, I could see that Jack Sparrow wasn't like the other men. Mostly they was an unruly lot, complaining all the time or starting fights or trying to get power over each other. Jack, he kept off by himself, played things close to the chest, very quiet like. And odd. One day I noticed him sitting by himself, as usual, but fidgeting with something. I got a little closer, though I could see he didn't care for any company. I saw he was twisting a ring round his finger. He still wears that ring, the silver one with the black oval."

Will nodded. He'd noticed it all right, since Jack never took it off, not at night, not during their swims in the lagoon, never.

"Well," Gibbs went on, "he kept turning it round his finger, and at first I figured maybe it was stuck and he wanted to get it off. So I slowly got closer, 'til I could see I was wrong. He was pushing on the thing, twisting and shoving it hard towards the knuckle of his hand as if he were trying to get it stuck, to force it farther up so it would never come off. I thought then he might be a bit touched, but seeing as how he couldn't avoid noticing me by then, I figured I ought to say hello. So I was careful not to say anything about what he was up to, and told him my name, and some of the ships I'd served on, places I'd sailed. He didn't seem too interested until I mentioned Tortuga. That's when I first saw a spark of life in him. 'Tortuga,' says he.

'When were you there last?' he asks, and I tell him, and we set to talking about the people we knew there, and after that he didn't mind if I talked to him once in a while. I was a short-timer, though, and he was supposed to be there for life. After my year, I was a free man again. Jack, he wished me well when I left, and said we'd meet up again someday, and then he thanked me. When I asked what for, he said it was because I'd reminded him, with my talk of Tortuga, of something he'd left unfinished. He had a reason now, he said, to keep going on."

Will knew what that meant. Jack had been mourning Nate Flynn's loss for what—a year, two years—before Gibbs turned up at the prison? And at a time that must have been the darkest point in his life, Jack had been brought a reminder of another time, another place that still held meaning for him. Tortuga. The place where he had manned the Pearl for the final voyage under his command.

"You gave him something to live for," Will said. By reminding Jack that he had a ship of his own once. And that maybe, just maybe, if the fates allowed, he could captain his ship again. So he found a way to escape the prison, found his way back to the Caribbean, in search of the Pearl. Full circle.

"Hm?" Gibbs gave him a puzzled look. "Sailors haven't got homes, boy." "Jack does." Will nodded towards the inlet. "It's anchored right out there."

"Ah, the Pearl. Aye, I never saw him happier than when he got her back. She's a grand ship."

Will agreed. He only hoped he'd get to stay aboard, that Jack would let him call it home as well.

He turned at the sound of splashing oars. A crewman rowed into the cave, shouting wildly. Jack ran down to the water's edge.

Will and Gibbs hurried over to hear the exchange. "A ship," the crewman said, nearly out of breath. "A big one, heading straight for the Pearl."

Everyone in the cavern piled into the rowboats they'd used to come in, and they rowed out as rapidly as they could to the Pearl. As Will climbed up to the deck he could see the other ship coming in towards them, at full sail, and he had no trouble recognizing it. The Dauntless. And she was already much too close. The Pearl would be in range of her cannon.

Jack frantically shouted orders to the crew to hoist anchor and come about, but it was far too late. The Dauntless fired a warning shot that flew over the Pearl's stern, landing harmlessly in the water. Will stared helplessly at their own guns. They couldn't possibly bring the Pearl round in time. He came up to Jack, who stood near the helm, gazing at the Dauntless through his spyglass. He dropped it at Will's approach and turned to him.

Will looked round at their crew. They'd done nothing wrong, committed no crimes. "There's no reason for that."

Gibbs ran up to them. "Captain, what orders?" He had a fighting glint in his eye; he clearly wanted to run out the guns.

After one awkward moment when Will feared Gibbs might openly rebel, the old sailor begrudgingly nodded. "Aye aye, Captain." He strode away to carry out the order.

A short time later, the Pearl's crew stood on the deck of the Dauntless, facing Captain Gillette. Jack slowly removed his sword, handing it to Gillette's lieutenant. Will stood close behind him, the other crew members gathered in a knot nearby.

"You are all under arrest," Gillette said crisply. He smiled primly at Jack. "I've been looking forward to this day. You have escaped retribution once too often. I've a good mind to string you from the yardarm without further delay."

"Lieutenant!" Gillette snapped. "Clap this man in irons. Clap them all in irons, and throw them in the brig." He spun on his heel and stalked off.

At least it was clean down there, spotless in the way only a Royal Navy brig could be, and free of leaks. There were enough cells to keep each one's occupants down to two, and Will wound up being thrown in with Jack. A wooden bench ran alongside the hull. Will sank down onto it. The irons felt heavy round his hands. He didn't blame Jack for giving up the ship without a fight, though. It made no sense to chance all their lives when they weren't guilty of the crimes they stood accused of. By this time tomorrow they'd be in Port Royal, and could explain everything to Swann and Norrington. He only hoped they'd be believed.

Jack studied the bars for a while, then sighed and came over to sit down beside him. "Hope they remember to feed us."

Will hadn't seen him look so defeated, and he hated it. If only there were a way to cheer him. Not bloody likely. But at such a low point, there could hardly be much risk of sinking even lower. "He runs a tight ship," he replied. "It's so spotless down here, I'll bet even the rats are clean."

Now that was more encouraging. Will hadn't seen much of Jack's nonchalant, take-whatever-comes approach to life lately. He missed it dearly. He tried to relax a bit. "We'll get out of this soon enough. I'm sure everything will be fine once we reach Port Royal."

Will felt the ship moving, collecting speed. Gillette had sent some of his men to the Pearl to bring it in as well. The two ships should arrive at Port Royal by dawn. Which meant they had some twelve, maybe fourteen hours to spend in this cell, with nothing but a hard floor to sleep on. Not even a hammock. "Pity they didn't let us stay on the Pearl, under guard." He would have behaved himself in exchange for a comfortable bunk.

He wondered if he could survive a real prison, the kind Gibbs had told him about. If you were condemned to stay in such a place for life, hanging began to sound merciful. "How many times have you been imprisoned?"

"Not that many." Jack fingered the irons round his wrists. "Four, five times. Only for a few days, except for the one."

"About how you met there, and what the conditions were like. He said you were under a life sentence. Governor Swann told me you spent only three years there. How did you escape?"

"Luck, mostly. I caught a fever, they put me in the prison hospital. A surgeon came round who was about my same age, same size, same hair color. So I waited my chance, pretended I felt worse than I did, and when I was strong enough I followed him out of the sickroom, waylaid him, found a private room to switch our clothes in, tied him up, then walked right past the hospital guards, and out of the prison."

Luck, and some quick thinking. "You're good at that. Coming up with ideas on the spot. Suppose Norrington doesn't believe we were marooned? How do we get away?"

"Well, I have an idea," Jack admitted, sitting up a little straighter, "on what to tell Norrington. I don't care to cogitate too much, though, so I'll just keep it to myself for now."

Will was pleased to see him looking more confident, less downhearted. Now, if he could just feel less downhearted himself, he'd be even happier. That wasn't going to happen, though, unless he had the Jack he'd come to know and love back in his life. "So after you've charmed Norrington," he said, "we can go off to hunt down whoever is using your name, right?"

"And after we've dealt with the bastard, you and the Pearl sail off to unknown shores, with no notion of what to do next."

Jack turned his head to give Will a piercing look. "Maybe. I'm not one to think too far ahead."

"Fine." Will met his gaze with a determined look of his own. "It doesn't matter to me what you choose to do in the future. You can go wherever you like, do whatever you want. All I want is to be there with you."

One simple word, and it broke Will's heart. He dug his fingers into his palms as he struggled to hold Jack's gaze. "Why not?"

"Because—" Jack actually broke first, looking away, down at his hands. "Because I do better on me own."

"Wrong." Will knew then that he wasn't going to let this go. He needed Jack, he wanted him, he loved him. And all those things were worth fighting for. "That's not why you're pushing me away. You're doing it because you're afraid I'll up and die on you just like—" He stopped, catching himself in time from calling Flynn by name. "Well, it won't work. I'm not going anywhere, Jack." He grasped Jack's arm and whispered fiercely, "Look at me!"

He did, with a resigned expression. "You don't see it clear," he replied softly. "I can't give you what you want."

"No," Will replied. "I don't think so." He let go his grip, turned it into a caress. "Let me stay."

"That's good, 'cause I'm not planning to die anytime soon. I thought you didn't like to ponder the future. Don't think about mine, then. Don't make my decisions for me, either. I know if I stay with you, I'll lead a more dangerous life. Fine. Let me take my own chances. You could lead me straight down the paths to hell itself and I'd follow, because if I can't be by your side, I might as well be dead." Will reached up to touch Jack's face. "Savvy?"

Jack merely stared at him, for the longest time. Then he slowly smiled. "Mate," he said, looking past Will, "we have an audience."

Will turned his head to look at the cell next to theirs, where Anamaria and Cotton stood at the bars, rapt with attention to their conversation. Great. He made a motion at them to move away, and they had the decency to pretend they were no longer listening.

He turned back to face Jack. "I won't be leaving easily, that's all I'm telling you. Make of it what you will. You always do." Then he turned away, resolutely staring straight ahead.

Silence followed. Obviously Jack didn't want to keep that conversation going. Will accepted the fact that he was about to spend some long hours in the company of the one man he most wanted to be with, the same man who probably wished he were anywhere else with anyone else right now. He'd done everything he could do, said all he had to say. He'd made it clear how he felt, that he wasn't the kind of man who gave up.

Thankfully, their drawn-out silence was interrupted not long after by the arrival of a meal. Not much of a meal, but at least Gillette didn't plan to starve them. They ate quietly. All the crew members in the cells were subdued, no one was in a talkative mood, not with such uncertainty lying ahead.

Later still, Will decided to try getting some sleep, despite the lack of any comfortable place. He rose from the bench, yawning, stretching his arms overhead. He stared at the wooden floor, studying it, as if some of the boards might be more forgiving than others, knowing they'd all be too hard.

Without a word, Jack stood, took off his heavy coat, and laid it down on the floor for him, then sat down again on the bench.

One simple gesture. Nothing more important than a simple act of friendship, and yet it nearly made Will fall apart right then and there. Why can't he say in words the tenderness he gives me with every action? Will already knew the answer. Because it wasn't his way. That was all. No deep mystery to be solved, no secrets left to be revealed. Jack had no need to explain himself or his feelings to anyone. He just did what he did.

Will gave him a quick smile. "Thanks." Then he made himself as comfortable as he could on the floor, the coat providing some cushioning, and he tried to get some rest.

He rose hours later, stiff and sore, and traded places with Jack, who now took a turn on the floor. Will sat on the bench, watching him settle quickly atop the bunched-up coat, then drop off almost instantly into sleep. The true sign of a lifelong sailor—the ability to sleep anywhere, anytime, under any conditions.

Will sat on the bench, looking down at Jack's easy repose, wondering what dreams he might dream tonight. Dreams of freedom, perhaps. Whatever that word might truly mean. What kind of freedom did you really have, if it meant leaving behind those you loved, the way Bill Turner had left his young wife and son behind? Was it the freedom to live alone, minding only your own rules, going only your own way, doing what you alone wanted to do? What kind of price did you pay, was it worth the cost? What you had, at the end, when all was said and done, was the freedom to die alone. The freedom to trade love away for the sake of an empty dream.

He watched Jack sleeping, watched his calm face, his slow, deep breathing. Will leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. I'm not going to let that happen. Not so long as Jack cared for him. And Will knew, the moment Jack laid his coat down for him to rest upon, that he still did.

The prisoners were hustled out on deck, then into the longboat for the trip to the dock. A group of red-coated soldiers stood waiting for them, and as they got closer in, Will spied Norrington at their head.

When they climbed onto the dock, Gillette started towards Norrington, only to have Jack suddenly shove his way past him, still shackled in irons.

Gillette fumed and shoved him aside as Norrington rolled his eyes. "It's all right, Gillette. Let him forward."

Jack grinned at the hapless Gillette before stepping boldly close to the Commodore.

Norrington sighed. "Why do I have the feeling I'm going to regret listening to this?"

Will worked his way closer to the two men until he stood beside Jack, while Gillette shot him dark looks.

"I suppose," Norrington said, "that you're about to try convincing me that after our little disagreement with the Spanish came to a peaceful conclusion, you did not return to your former ways?

Gillette apparently couldn't handle any more of this friendly banter. He pushed his way in front of Norrington. "Sir! We should toss them all in jail immediately. We should get the gallows ready—he's slipped out of our hands once too often—"

"Right." Jack leaned in even closer. "Listen, I'd really rather we discussed this in front of Governor Swann, if you don't mind."

Norrington raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "You want me to take you up to the mansion?"

"Absolutely." Jack stepped away a pace, still grinning. "Show us some of that generosity of spirit for which you are justly famous."

"Yes. So it would seem." Norrington motioned a lieutenant over. "Put the crew under house arrest at the Port Royal Inn. Guards round the clock, all entrances and hallways. Meals to be taken to the rooms."

"That may yet happen." Norrington smiled. "As for now, I am expressing my generosity of spirit."

Under the lieutenant's direction, the soldiers started moving the Pearl's crew members along the dock.

"Not these two." Norrington nodded to Jack and Will. "They'll be coming with me to see the Governor."

Swann met them in his drawing room. Norrington left a little knot of soldiers on guard in the hallway, then escorted Jack and Will into the room.

Jack greeted Swann warmly, then ambled over to the French windows overlooking the bay, where both the Dauntless and the Pearl could be seen lying at anchor.

"No worries," Jack replied. He turned to look at Swann, who stood near a table in the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back. "No reason to escape—we're not guilty."

Will moved to stand close by him. "I haven't left Jack's side in months, sir. He hasn't become a pirate again. I give you my word on that."

"It's like this," Jack said. "While we were off on our little privateering mission, doing your work—" He cast Norrington a look. "—we were captured, wrecked, and marooned. The Pearl found and rescued us three days ago."

Norrington produced another one of the posters that Gibbs had shown them earlier. He spread it on the table. "Then how do you explain this? You've been seen."

Jack strolled over to stare at the drawing. Then he turned his head so that his profile was clear to Swann and Norrington. "Tell me, when did I develop that massive harelip?"

Swann and Norrington both studied the drawing more closely, as did Will. The portrait claiming to be of Jack Sparrow did indeed have a quite distinctive harelip.

"The reports we've received," Norrington replied, "are fairly accurate. They tell of a three-masted ship similar in tonnage and general description to the Pearl, a black ship with black sails."

Norrington crossed his arms. "Yes. They're aren't many of those about, are there?"

"Fewer than you might think." Jack crossed to the French windows, gesturing for them all to follow. "Perhaps you've been experiencing some difficulty with your eyesight."

Will already knew what he'd see, but he was curious to watch Norrington and Swann as they reacted to the sight of the Pearl. She stood just beyond the Dauntless, and she was clearly painted a golden yellow with a blue band, and though her sails were furled, they were obviously normal-colored sailcloth, not black.

Norrington coughed, pointedly looking anywhere but at Swann, who frowned at him.

"We did that ages ago," Jack said. "When we were harassing the Spanish so successfully, they got to know us well, so in the longstanding grand tradition of Royal Navy ships-of-the-line, we disguised ourselves as a merchant vessel. We even sailed several prizes into this very harbor during the war, looking precisely the way you see her now." He favored Norrington with a sympathetic smile. "Surely you remember, or perhaps you're having troubles with your memory as well as your eyes? You haven't had a knock on the head of late, have you?"

"You could have painted it back again for all I know," Norrington said, sounding flustered. "And then repainted more recently, and changed out the sails."

"Don't be absurd," Swann snapped. "You know perfectly well it would take at least a week to paint a ship that size."

"I can see where you might be reluctant to let us go free," Jack said. "So I have a proposal. You keep us all here under house arrest while we wait long enough for the imposter to strike again. You'll know for certain then we aren't incredibly dab hands with a paint brush. You'll know we're telling the truth."

Swann nodded. "I see no objection to such a surprisingly sensible plan. Commodore?"

Norrington didn't look pleased with the idea, nor with Jack in general. "How do we know this isn't part of some elaborate scheme of his?"

Swann raised an eyebrow. "Are you seriously suggesting Mr. Sparrow is capable of forethought regarding contingencies?"

Norrington stared at his feet for a moment, then looked up. "Your point is well made, sir. I shall place them under house arrest with the rest of their crew. These attacks have occurred with some regularity, usually at least once per week. If nothing occurs within a fortnight, perhaps we could revisit the situation."

With the rest of the crew members already under guard at the inn, there was only one room left for Jack and Will. Norrington shoved them inside and departed, leaving four soldiers to patrol the hallway and more at the building entrances.

Will watched as Jack quietly surveyed the room, first checking the window, which was far too small to escape through, then examining the meager furnishings of one bed, one bedside stand with lamp, and one chair. Jack took off his coat and hung it over the chair.

Will had no idea what sort of mood Jack was in, so he simply stood in the center of the room, waiting, slightly tensed. Had Jack listened to anything he'd told him, had he changed his mind about letting Will travel with him? He didn't feel like going over the same ground again. He wanted this to be over, one way or another.

He waited. Jack stared at the bed for a few moments, opened the bedside table's one drawer, shut it, picked up the lamp, set it down again. He tapped his fingers idly on the table top.

Will waited. Jack took a deep breath, let it out as a long, slow sigh. Then he took the few steps to where Will stood, stopping mere inches away, his expression blankly unreadable. Will nervously wondered what would come next, and he stood absolutely still, meeting Jack's gaze, and he waited.

Jack dropped his gaze, and he placed his right hand on Will's chest, over his heart. Will nearly stopped breathing.

"Last time," Jack said, "you came with me, and you nearly died from that knock on the head. You come with me again, I will not lose you." He looked up again, straight into Will's eyes. "Don't even think about dying, 'cause if you do, I won't be far behind."

It took every ounce of Will's strength not to clasp him in an embrace, but he resisted. "So, first you don't want me to go with you because it's too dangerous," he said, striving not to react to the warmth of that touch. "Because you can't live with the risk of losing me. And now you're saying I can go with you, but if I die, so will you. What would you have done if I had stayed here, if I had let you go off alone? You still would have lost me that way."

"I would have gone on living, if that's what you're asking. I could manage that, knowing you were alive and safe."

"Alive, safe, but utterly, miserably alone." Will shook his head. "And that would have made you happier?"

Jack frowned, as if he were fully contemplating the consequences of that earlier choice for the first time. "Put like that, it does sound daft."

At last, Will relaxed, all tension fled. Finally, Jack understood that it didn't matter what happened in the future, so long as they were together. He smiled. "Well, you are a bit touched, mate."

Jack nodded. "I am." He gave a little shrug. "Sorry." He slid his hand inside Will's shirt. "Are we good now?"

Will didn't want to push for anything more. He felt content knowing he could stay with Jack. "Good enough." He leaned in for a kiss, long and deeply satisfying.

"Don't care." Will pulled him close, their bodies tight together. He wrapped his arms round Jack, pressing against him, both their needs evident. He tugged at the waist of Jack's trousers, started to pull them down, when he heard a key turn in the door lock.

They hastily jumped apart as the door opened. A soldier strode in bearing a tray of food. "Commodore Norrington ordered breakfast sent in." He glanced round, then set the tray on the chair seat.

Will laughed, turning round to face Jack, whose trousers were falling halfway off. "Don't think he noticed."

Will stepped close, staying his hand. "It's not likely we'll be interrupted again."

Will was very hungry himself. But there was one thing he felt hungrier for. "Not if we're quick about it."

And so they were quick, stripping down in record time, tumbling onto the bed to indulge their needs in frantic haste, eager to satisfy delayed desires. After they finished, and after retrieving their clothes and half the bedding from the floor, they dressed and sat down to a breakfast which was still warm. #

Later, long after their evening meal ended, when the inn fell under the quieting spell of night, they slipped beneath the bed covers again. Jack doused the lamp as a brilliant shaft of moonlight streamed in through the window. This time they favored a slow, languid encounter. Will reacquainted himself with every inch of Jack's body, running loving hands down his chest, his abdomen, along well-muscled thighs.

Jack responded in kind, caressing Will everywhere he could reach, hands circling in a gentle rhythm. He kissed the side of Will's neck, then the top of his right shoulder, then his lips drifted down to Will's chest, lighting here, roving there, until settling to a thorough exploration of Will's nipples.

Heat flared within Will at each new touch he received, and he sent back the heat with each touch he gave. Slowly, with infinite care, they continued their rediscovery of each other's bodies, charting the most responsive places, mapping each sensitive spot, and lingering there.

Will lost all sense of time, carried away on a wave of desire. The heat kept rising within him, around him, driving him. He increased the pace, moving his entire body against Jack's. He needed ever more contact, he wanted to own him completely.

Jack's mouth suddenly took his in a short, fierce kiss, then Jack whispered in his ear, "What do you want?"

Jack nodded, and rearranged the pillows for support. Will straddled him. Jack lay on his back, raised his legs over Will's shoulders. He casually reached over to the bedside table to lift off the glass chimney from the long-dead lamp. "Go on, then."

Will dipped his fingers in the lamp oil, rubbed it on himself, dipped again, slid two slick fingers into Jack, who arched up to meet him. Will slipped his fingers out, pushed his cock in with a smooth, rhythmic thrust.

Jack's face shone in reflected moonlight as Will leaned over him, pushing farther, harder. Jack's own cock was hard, and Jack pumped it with his right hand as he looked up into Will's eyes. Will met his gaze, one full of longing, full of need. Then the bed covers, the pillows, the room around them began to dissolve into a silvery light as Will merged his body with Jack's, lost in a haze of love, as if the world had disappeared and the only thing that existed was the two of them here, now, completely alone together. He felt Jack shudder beneath him, head arched back as he came. Moments later Will came inside him, aching pleasure flooding through him in long rolling waves of release. He slipped out, rolled over onto his back, and slowly felt the world returning. He vaguely became aware of Jack shifting beside him, settling the pillows, pulling the disheveled bedding up around them.

All was well. He knew that. All was right, nothing would ever be wrong between them again. Will turned on his side towards Jack, kissed him quickly, and said, "I love you."

Five days into their enforced captivity the news came of another attack perpetrated by the false Pearl, on a merchant sloop in waters not far off. But the imposters miscalculated the sloop's strength. She was more heavily armed and manned than most merchant vessels, and after a close-fought battle on board, her crew repelled the invaders and made good their escape. Better still, they captured one of the pirates. They put in at Port Royal, where they related their tale and dropped off their prisoner.

Jack and Will were escorted to the fort, where Norrington and Swann met them in the fort's jail. There they had the captured pirate brought to an interrogation room.

This room had no windows and was furnished with just one chair, on which the prisoner sat, his hands and feet in irons. Norrington, Swann, Jack and Will crowded in around the hapless-looking fellow, a thin, rat-like man in his twenties who looked thoroughly cowed.

They had proof now that Jack had nothing to do with the crimes recently committed in his name. They hoped this man could tell them who was behind the ruse.

"You were caught in an act of attempted piracy," Norrington said. "This is punishable by death." He stared down at the fellow, a hard glint in his gaze. "What's your name?"

The man nervously pursed his lips. "Josiah Whitcomb, and I ain't no pirate, sir. I'm the ship's cook."

"I see. And why was the ship's cook part of the boarding party? Looking to restock your larder, perhaps?"

Whitcomb shook his head. "No, sir. I didn't never go on board afore, and I wouldn't 'ave gone now, but what the Captain ordered it on 'count of us being shorthanded. I couldn't 'ave hurt no one, sir. I didn't no nothing at all."

"Possibly both," Norrington agreed. "Listen, Whitcomb, if you tell us everything we want to know, we may consider a lesser sentence. Now then, why were you shorthanded?"

"Why, 'cause the men drank too much the night afore, sir, and too many was sick."

"Oh, mostly she's run tight. Captain wouldn't allow that sort of thing, he'd bring out the lash quicker than look at you. Those men drunk on the sly like, and Captain was that ready to string 'em all up, when we come across the sloop, so he had no time. That's how it all was, sir." He rubbed his hands together, then scratched at his wrists beneath the shackles.

"What?" Whitcomb seemed confused. "Captain who?" Then he brightened. "Oh, you mean Mr. Ellis, the mate. Captain makes him out to be in command when strangers is about, and calls him Sparrow, but it ain't his real name. His name being Ellis and all, like I said." He stared at Jack intently. "I reckon you might say they's similar in some ways."

"But if this Ellis—this Sparrow double—isn't the true Captain of the ship," Will asked, "who is?"

Norrington chuckled. "Smith. Naturally. Sometimes I wonder if anyone exists who actually is named 'Smith'."

"I don't ask no questions 'bout what folks call themselves," Whitcomb said. "Not if they're paying me a wage."

"Yes, it is obvious you are not terribly particular about the company you keep. Tell us, where did this Captain Smith hire you on?"

"Aye, sir. He sailed in one day looking to add more crew, saying he'd been in the north too long, and had a mind to go south. Said we'd be well paid if we asked no questions. He never did talk much, 'cept to mutter to himself 'bout some score he had to settle." Whitcomb trembled slightly. "Cold, hard man was the Captain."

Whitcomb looked at Norrington, who nodded. "Well, he's an older fellow." Whitcomb gestured at Swann. "Your age, maybe, with grayish hair. Tall, heavy, looked strong enough to kill a man with one blow."

"Aye, he had." Whitcomb raised a shackled hand to draw a line down his face. "Nasty looking thing, like someone tried to slice his face in two."

A chill shot through Will. No. It couldn't be. He looked to Jack, whose eyes had gone hard, cold as ice.

Jack held up his hand, all five fingers splayed. He drew three fingers down into his palm. "And his right hand, did it look like this?"

Whitcomb stared at the thumb and one finger, all that Jack left showing. He nodded, eyes wide. "How did you know that?"

Ned Hardcastle. The chill Will felt was swept aside by a white-hot hatred. The Intrepid's first mate under Pritchard. The man who had brutalized his father. Alive. The images he had so firmly shoved to the back of his mind tore loose, swirling forth in a torrent he could barely control.

Norrington looked curiously at Jack. "You believe it's Ned Hardcastle behind all this?"

And when we find him, I'll kill him, Will silently added. Norrington crossed to Swann for a whispered conference that didn't take long. Norrington turned to Jack. "We can offer you our help."

"no." Jack cast Norrington such a malevolent glare that even Will was startled. "Am I free to go, or not?"

Norrington opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and glanced at Swann, who merely gave a resigned shrug. Norrington sighed. He waved at the doorway. "You're both free to leave Port Royal, as is your crew."

Jack strode briskly from the room without another word, and Will was right behind him.

Pirate Dreams

Chapter 7