Pirate Dreams 15

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.

The day might have gone on being perfect if they had not opted to interrupt the bedtime festivities with something to eat. For when they went downstairs, and were nearly to the dining room door, Jack suddenly grabbed Will's arm and swung him away down the hall out of view of the room.

no. "Now they're having lunch together? This has got to stop." Will whipped round towards the dining room entry.

Will spun round to face him, nearly nose to nose. "Why is she having lunch with him? What can she possibly see in the man? He's old!"

"That doesn't matter." Will was adamant that this was wrong, that Flynn should not be encouraging her visits. "Norrington would be better all around. At least he could provide for her."

"I'd really rather have lunch." Jack strolled down towards a nearby tavern that served soups, stews, and bread.

Will started to protest, wanting to continue complaining, until he remembered what day it was. He supposed Jack should have whatever he wanted today. So he relented, and went to the tavern with him, where they ate a hearty meal.

Yet he couldn't leave the subject alone entirely. While they were finishing up their food, they happened to see Elizabeth's carriage pass by outside. So the visit with Flynn had ended, and it was safe to return to the inn. They passed by the parlor and the dining room with no sign of Flynn. When they went up to their floor, Jack halted outside their room.

"Oh, I don't know." Jack gazed upward, looking thoughtful. "Tall, handsome, red-brown hair, eyes like emeralds, keeps his clothes clean."

"He's Irish," Will said, "isn't he? Is he a Papist?" He dearly hoped so, for if the Governor thought a blacksmith was a bad match for his daughter, a Catholic would surely be worse.

Will sighed, but did as he was asked. "All right. But he'd better not trifle with her affections!" He turned the key in the lock and went inside.

He sat on the bed to wait. He supposed he shouldn't have brought up Flynn's age, as it honestly wasn't fair. After all, Elizabeth and Flynn were as similar in years apart as he and Jack were. And in those stories she liked so much, the young heroines were always being married off to considerably older gentlemen. Nothing unusual about that at all. He'd only said it because he needed something about the fellow to complain of, and there was precious little else. Will had wanted to dislike the man from the start, but when he considered his character honestly, he had to admit Flynn did cut a striking figure, comported himself well, was committed to his duty, and had acted bravely.

This assessment annoyed Will no end. Though of course, if Flynn did decide to remain in Port Royal, and to keep his friendship with Jack, then Will would have no choice but to get along with him. So it was probably for the best that Flynn be a likeable fellow.

He just wasn't sure how much he wanted Elizabeth to find him likeable. Which didn't make any sense, since he had no romantic interest in her any longer. He knew she'd fall in love with someone someday. Yet for some reason it bothered him that she seemed to enjoy Flynn's company, maybe only for the simple reason that he did not.

Jack returned after just a short time. "All's well," he said as he shut the door.

Jack sat on the bed beside him, and gave Will's thigh a pat. "He still hates you."

"Oh. Well, good." That constant, at least, made Will's world a less confusing place. "And what about you, then? Does that mean he's still distraught about losing you to me? He's still in love with you?"

"Called her," Jack yanked a boot off, "a 'fascinating distraction'." He yanked off the other.

"A distraction? From you?" Will didn't care for the sound of that. "Is that all she means to him? A pleasant diversion? He bloody well better not lead her on to think anything more!"

"He's a gentleman," Jack replied. "Now then, I'd really rather spend the rest of this day thinking about something else." He gave Will a pointed look. "Or not thinking at all."

Will started to say more about Flynn and Elizabeth, caught the warning glance in Jack's eye, and opted for silence on that matter. "Yes," he said. "We can do that." And so they did.

In the end, they finally did wear each other out, and slept for several hours, until early evening. Then they dressed and went down to supper, first checking the dining room for signs of Flynn. He was nowhere to be seen, so they had a meal there. Afterwards Jack suggested they row out to the Pearl. The crew, he thought, should have completed the repairs, and he wanted to see how they'd done before losing the last rays of daylight.

As Jack rowed the jolly boat out to the Pearl, Will had the best view of the ship, and he thought she looked good. He could see the places where the hull had been repaired, as the new wood had yet to be painted, but she looked a hundred times better than when he'd last seen her.

They came aboard, where the crew stood waiting on the main deck. Gibbs showed them around, pointing out the holes patched up in the deck, all the ruined wood and splinters cleaned away, the torn rigging replaced, the damaged taffrail repaired. The sails were furled, of course, but Gibbs assured Jack that none had holes anymore. Everything had been restored, all at Governor Swann's expense.

They ended the inspection back in front of the crew. "It's a fine job," Jack told them. "So I have a proposition. Mr. Turner and I shall guard the Pearl tonight. You lot can spend it in town. Any way you like."

The crew gave him a rousing cheer, and then quickly piled into the longboat to shove off towards the wharf.

When they'd gone, and they had the Pearl to themselves, Will asked, "Guard her against what?"

"He must be long gone by now. Norrington's men have had no luck finding them, no one's seen or heard anything about them for days. He's got off the island, surely."

Will looked out at the calm waters of the bay, where the golden-red reflections from the setting sun were slowly dying as the sky faded into an ever darker blue. "It seems very peaceful out here tonight."

"Of course not." Will liked the idea of spending the night in Jack's sumptuous cabin, in a bed more familiar and comfortable than the one at the inn. Though truth to tell, he felt too tired and sore from their daylong activities to do anything more than sleep in it. He could stay awake a few more hours though, so long as it involved nothing strenuous. "We could play cards."

"I'm still recovering from my grievous wounds," Will replied, striving to sound affronted.

"Are you now?" Jack wrapped an arm round Will's waist. "Best help the invalid along, then, hadn't I?"

Will groaned for effect. "Oh, my aching back." Then he leaned hard into Jack for support, nearly toppling him over. They both broke up laughing as they staggered about the deck.

Jack started at the shout, loosing his hold on Will. He instantly snatched his pistol from his belt as he crossed to the rail. "Who's that?"

Damn it, I can't get away from the bastard. Will watched him climb up the ladder as Jack waved him on. What does he want here at this time of night?

Flynn lighted easily onto the deck, bearing a plain-wrapped package under one arm. Will deliberately stepped closer to Jack as he came up to them. "Evening, Captain Sparrow." He nodded curtly at Will. "Mr. Turner."

"No need for formalities, Nate." Jack clasped him warmly by the shoulders. "Welcome aboard the Pearl."

"Ta very much." Flynn held up the package. "I brought you something. On the occasion of your birth."

"You what?" Jack took the package, grinning for all he was worth. "You remembered!"

Will wanted desperately to tell Flynn to go jump overboard, but Jack was too pleased for him to spoil the occasion. So he smiled gamely and waited impatiently for Jack to open the thing, say his thanks, and send Flynn on his way.

Instead, much to Will's distress, Jack clapped Flynn on the back and said, "Come down to my quarters. We'll open it over a drink."

"I will not!" He pulled Jack aside. "Why can't we have a nice night together, alone?"

"Son, we've had all day together. Won't be more than an hour or so, trust me. Then I'll send him off, all right?"

Will hesitated, then he reflected back on his own words to Jack earlier, about Jack needing to keep Flynn's friendship, how he shouldn't let that go. And here he was putting himself in the way of that. Flynn wasn't merely getting an hour while he got a whole day; Flynn was getting a small part of Jack's life while he got all of it. Will had everything he wanted, couldn't he afford to be a bit less selfish? He looked into Jack's eyes and nodded. "I do trust you." He nodded towards the cabin. "Go on. I'll stay here." "You sure?"

The only problem was that Will might trust Jack, but he didn't trust Nate Flynn. First Elizabeth, now this... what was he up to? Will couldn't imagine why Flynn would encourage Elizabeth's visits, if he truly did find her merely a distraction, other than to annoy him. And his presence here this evening, bearing a gift, while pleasant for Jack, was also annoying, and Will felt certain Flynn knew that.

Oh well. So he hates me. Fine. Will strolled down to the bow to lean against the rail, gazing towards town, where the lamplight twinkled against the growing darkness. He hoped the crew would have a rousing good time tonight. They deserved it after the labor they had put in on the ship. Jack had looked enormously pleased with the work during the inspection. Will knew they were all very fortunate to have the ship back in one piece, that she hadn't been beyond repair. He had no idea what Jack would have done if she had been unsalvageable. The Pearl was his home. He'd be lost without her.

Will watched the town's lights for a while longer, and he watched the small fishing boats coming in to the docks. There were clouds high up this evening, blocking out the starlight and moonlight, and when night truly came on the world around the ship grew intensely dark. He left off the rail to sit atop one of the raised hatch covers, waiting for Flynn to reappear. He would give them their one hour, and then he was going to knock on Jack's cabin door, no matter what.

But it never got that far. Half an hour after Flynn and Jack had gone inside, Will heard the distinctive slap of oars on water nearby. A bit late for a fishing boat to be heading home. He went to the port side first, going up the length of the ship to peer over the side in search of the mystery boat. Nothing. He went around the bow to check the starboard side, hearing a bumping sound of wood against wood. The sound of a boat coming alongside them.

Will contemplated rousing Jack and Flynn, but by the time he thought of doing so, he was at the opposite end of the ship from the cabin. He heard another distinct thump. Will took his cutlass from its scabbard. He still couldn't see any boat. Then he heard a lighter thumping, this time from the port side. He dashed round, in time to see a man climb up over the rail and drop onto the deck. A second man was right behind him.

The first man turned to face him, bringing Will to a flailing halt at sight of the pistol in his hand. "I'd advise you to stand still," he said. "If you want to keep breathing."

Will rapidly calculated the odds of surviving the shot at this close distance. Not very good. He slowly lowered his cutlass. Then, as he was still thinking of making some sort of fast turn or leap to get out of range, he heard another sound behind him. He whirled round to find himself facing Captain William Rosser, pointing a pistol at him as well. He was trapped.

"Well, here's a fine thing. If it isn't our bold young lad." Rosser stepped closer. "You weren't the most helpful lad when last we had hold of you, as I recall. Perhaps you might be regretting the error of your ways about now, hm?"

As he spoke, a fourth man came on deck, whom Will recognized as the first mate, Marston. He slid up beside Rosser, holding both a sword and a pistol.

"Ah, that's no way to make amends," Rosser replied. "Now, we saw a boatload of crew rowing away from this fine ship not too long past. Perhaps you'd care to tell us if any more are still on board?"

"I see you're a liar as well as a fool." Rosser motioned at the two crewmen whom Will had not recognized. "Take his cutlass. Marston, bind his hands."

With four against one, Will had no choice but to comply. His hands were bound behind him. Rosser held the pistol to his head. "Now then, what's your name, my bold boy?" "Will Turner," he said proudly.

"Good to know." Rosser addressed Marston and their two crew men. "Search the ship. Anyone you find, tell 'em I'm holding Mr. Will Turner one shot shy of the grave, and if they don't surrender on the instant, all peaceful and quiet like, if I should hear the slightest hint of a ruckus from any quarter, Mr. Will Turner shall be shy of the grave no longer."

Not more than a few minutes passed before the pirates found Flynn and Jack, and convinced them to give up any fight. Will hated being held hostage again, the pistol to his head an all-too-familiar reminder of Nicholas Crane's method of coercion. And he hated that Jack had to obey this man's orders because of him.

Rosser and his men rounded up the three of them on the quarterdeck. Jack cast Will a quick look of relief that he was all right, then stepped forward to speak to Rosser. "What do you want with my ship?"

Rosser's eyes widened in surprise. "Why, not Jack Sparrow the infamous pirate? The same Jack Sparrow who earned his pardon by aiding the worst enemy of a pirate, the very Governor of this place?" He held his pistol to Jack's head. "Why, I've a good mind to shoot you where you stand!"

"Because I'm still familiar with pirate haunts around here, and I know these waters well, and you don't. You'll be wanting a safe haven, am I right?"

Jack shook his head sadly. "I know how this works. I give up the bearings, you shoot us all, and take my ship."

"Naturally." Rosser stepped back from him. "Now, I can be a reasonable fellow when circumstances demand. I'm willing to keep you alive for as long as you prove useful."

Rosser shrugged. "It would make sense to keep them alive so long as threatening their lives makes you more amenable to my wishes. Does it?" He aimed his pistol at Flynn. "Or should I just dispatch them?"

"No? Good." Rosser turned to Marston. "We'll be making ready to sail. Take this one with you." He waved at Flynn. "He'll not be causing any trouble, or his friends here will be dead. Captain Sparrow will be at the helm, and I'll be standing right behind him with Mr. Turner at the end of my pistol.

"Captain Sparrow will navigate this ship to his safe haven, and he'll not be trying anything stupid, nor be sailing us into a British port by mistake, or he'll find himself without any companions."

"Weigh anchor!" Rosser called after them. "Set the mainsail!" He directed Jack to the wheel. "When she's ready, you know what to do. How far is this pirate haven of yours?"

Rosser continued to direct his small crew while keeping his pistol aimed at Will. Flynn obediently lent assistance to the setting of the sails. Will stood watching the proceedings with a sinking heart. They were only outmanned by four to three, but Rosser and his men now had all the weapons, and he was bound and at risk of being shot if he made the slightest wrong move. Will knew Jack would not try something if it would bring harm to either him or Flynn. They were at Rosser's mercy, just as they had been at Crane's.

An hour later they were underway, sailing slowly out of the bay. Will had no idea where Jack was planning to take the Pearl. Not Tortuga. For one thing, the town had been cleared out of pirates by Norrington's men, and for another, it was only one day's sail from here. He didn't know of any pirate havens left, not since Swann and Norrington had so thoroughly hunted down every pirate ship in the area. Though Rosser most likely wouldn't be aware of that.

But Jack seemed to have a firm idea of where he was going, setting his course without even asking to check his charts. Will puzzled over this for a while, until an uneasy thought crossed his mind. What course would Jack know that well, if not the one they had just returned on? One that was two or three days' sail, one that would take them to an uninhabited place where pirates once anchored?

Over that long a voyage, they all needed to get some sleep, and to take meals. Rosser worked out a method where his men took four-hour watches, one man getting rest or food while the others worked. When Jack needed to sleep or eat, he set Flynn to take his place, after letting Jack whisper instructions to him on their course out of Rosser's hearing. And when Will took rest or food, he held Flynn hostage with the pistol while Jack had the helm. Even while working the sails, while eating, even while sleeping, one man always stood guard over them, and they never had a chance to talk with one another, no chance to make a concerted move to overtake their captors.

And so they sailed onward, into the next day and the next night, and the day after that. By that evening, Will was desperate to get a word with Jack about what he might be planning. Will did not want to set foot on the Devil's Isle again, if that was where they were heading. Jack certainly knew the place terrified him, he surely wouldn't risk their being stranded there. Would he? He must have a plan.

Then again, when did Jack Sparrow ever have well-thought-out plans? Will knew the way Jack enjoyed making things up as he went along, how he relished spontaneity in everything he did. There was a very good chance that he'd decided on this course on sheer whim, that he had no clear idea how they'd escape from Rosser once they arrived.

Perhaps Jack intended to simply rely on the strangeness of the island itself to provide the needed distraction. Just sailing close to it should cause unease among Rosser's men. And the weather was often peculiar near the isle, which might provide an opportunity to act. Will recalled the entry in Eaton's journal about the fog sweeping over the ship which had sailed near, how that phenomenon was often more powerful at night. And Jack had no doubt aimed to arrive there after darkness fell, perhaps because he'd also remembered what Eaton had written. Will supposed it wasn't the worst idea Jack had ever had. And where else could he have taken Rosser, after all?

By that third evening of sailing, they were all growing weary, despite getting chances to rest. That was yet another reason to choose this course, Will realized. The longer they sailed, the better chance Rosser and his men would not be at their most alert.

They were nearly at their original positions that evening, with Flynn on the main deck with Marston and one other crewman, while the fourth crewman slept below decks. Jack had the wheel, while Rosser stood behind him, keeping Will at pistol length. The night was clear, moon and starlight shimmering on the black water. Even as he thought they must be drawing near their destination, Will noticed what looked like a fog bank ahead.

The first mate came up to the quarterdeck, standing a few feet off from the helm. "Sir?"

Marston held his spyglass up. "Looks like fog, Captain. Shaped like a small mountain."

"No, sir." Marston lowered the glass. "It's not like anything I've laid eyes on before, except in daylight."

"Your course is taking us straight for it," Rosser said to Jack. "Is this fog surrounding your pirate haven?"

"It's a strange isle that lies shrouded in fog under a clear night sky, or are these waters of yours more unusual than most?"

"What?" Rosser raised his hand to strike him, but then held off. "I fear nothing, you traitorous rat! Sail on!"

Marston started to leave, but Rosser ordered him back. "Stay put. I'm not liking this, and it's best to have two men to two up here until we reach land."

"Aye sir." Marston put his spyglass to his eye once more, keeping a steady lookout as they drew closer.

Will tensed as the Pearl sailed nearer to what he knew now was the Devil's Isle. He needed to stay strong, he needed to fight any unnatural forces emanating from that cursed land.

The fog shot out tendrils towards the ship as they approached, and grew thicker, whiter, nearly filling the whole sky. Marston dropped his glass, his body trembling. "This ain't natural, Captain. We should change course."

On the main deck, the crewman and Flynn stood near the rail watching the fog, and the crewman had his pistol out to keep Flynn from making a move. Neither of them looked happy about where they were going, and Will noticed the man's hand quavering even from the quarterdeck.

"Bit dangerous," Jack said, "not being able to see the land. Best anchor here for the night."

Before Rosser could respond, the fog suddenly moved outward at a rapid speed, completely engulfing the Pearl. Will could feel the island's ghosts inside the fog, he could feel the chill of their presence.

"Silence!" Rosser sounded rattled, his voice hoarse. "Where have you brought us, you bastard? Why has it gone so blasted cold? What is this fright in the air?"

Rosser shouted at his man and Flynn below. "Drop canvas!" He gestured at Marston. "Help them, or we'll run aground!"

Marston leapt down the steps to the main deck, and in the next instant, he and the entire deck below were lost to view, shrouded in thick white.

"It's the devil's work!" Rosser grabbed Jack's shoulder to spin him round. He pointed the pistol at his face. "Get us out of here! Hard to port!" Will tensed again, ready to make his move, forcing the haunting chill from his mind.

Jack looked at him, made one of his odd hand gestures in a circling motion, and said, "Right." He nodded at Will and smiled. Then he returned to the wheel.

Will bent his legs slightly, steadying himself. Jack put both hands on the wheel, waited just long enough for the dense fog that had swallowed the main deck to swirl up towards them, and then spun the wheel hard to port.

Rosser had planted his legs firmly in anticipation of the ship turning, but he had not anticipated the swirling fog. He cried out in terror as it swept over the quarterdeck. The ship veered to port. The thick white cloud surrounded them, cutting off Will's vision. He could see nothing but white. He pivoted, launching himself at where Rosser had been standing behind him, and knocked into him. As they both fell backward onto the deck, the pistol fired harmlessly into the air.

The ship veered back to starboard, then steadied. Will and Rosser rolled with the motion across the deck. Will lost his hold on him as they fell apart, and then lost sight of him in the all-consuming whiteness. He scrambled to his feet.

Will grabbed onto him, not wanting to lose sight of him. "Brilliant idea. Do you have any more where that came from?"

"Come with me." Jack clutched Will's arm and led him through the fog to the captain's cabin, confidently navigating his way along the ship despite the inability to see anything that wasn't directly in front of their faces. He knew the ship blind.

Once inside the cabin, they were blessedly free of the fog. "Weapons," Jack said. He opened a cabinet where he stored extra firearms and swords for just such a situation. "Here, take these."

Will took the rapier and flintlock Jack handed over. "We should go below, try to secure the man who was sleeping if he's still down there."

He probably was, for if he woke from the ship's turning and came up top to see what was going on, one look at the fog would send any sane man back below. It wasn't just that you couldn't see through the stuff. The very air held that same unnatural chill, that same sense of a ghostly presence which Will had experienced on the island. It filled him with dread, and he knew what to expect. Rosser's crew had no idea what was happening to them.

"Easy enough to do." Jack grabbed a pistol and sword for himself. They went out briefly onto the deck, again holding tightly to each other, found the companionway, and climbed down into the relative security of the lower decks.

The crew's sleeping quarters were empty, but they heard whimpering from the galley. They approached quickly, flanked the entryway, then both burst in together, weapons drawn. This proved unnecessary, as they found the crew man cowering behind the galley stove, quaking in fear.

They hauled him back to the sleeping quarters and secured him using ropes from the hammocks.

Then, as they headed up the companionway, they heard noises from the main deck above, scuffling, thudding, and shouts. One of the voices sounded like Flynn's.

"Wait up!" Will tore after him, scrambling onto the deck, and found himself instantly shrouded by fog. He could see nothing but the whiteness. He flailed out with his arms, searching, panic setting in. "Jack!" He tripped over a hatch cover, falling flat, the pistol skidding out of his hand across the deck, swallowed up by the fog. He got to his hands and knees, struggling to calm down. Stay still. Go by sound, not vision.

Will knelt on the deck, listening intently. He heard someone grunt not far off, then a moan and a thud as of a body hitting the deck. Then nothing.

Where had the pistol gone? Will moved forward on his hands and knees, sweeping the deck in front of him, able to see just a few inches of it as he went. No sign of the weapon. After covering ten feet or so, he gave up and stood, standing still, listening again. He thought he heard footsteps to his right.

He carefully took a few paces in that direction, sword out, walking slowly. He stopped to listen after every step. Then he nearly ran into the ship's rail. Will paused, stepped back a pace. Whoever had been here was gone now, though where?

Then he heard, ever so faintly, a movement above him. The rigging. Will jumped sideways, just in time, as someone leapt onto him from the ropes, catching only a glancing blow on his shoulder.

Will staggered, quickly recovered, and made a hard slashing cut at the man with his sword. The man cried out, but kept on at Will, a cutlass in hand. He was close enough now for Will to see it was Marston. He jabbed at Will wildly with his cutlass, and Will easily parried the thrusts. Marston stumbled backwards, his breathing raspy. The fog closed in around him, and Will leapt forward, not wanting to lose sight of the man. But Marston had collapsed onto the deck, and Will nearly fell over him.

"Drop your weapons," Will replied crisply. He touched the point of his rapier to Marston's neck.

The first mate tossed his cutlass across the deck. "That's all I have. Do what you want, but take me away from this wretched place!"

Will knelt to make a brief search, finding no other weapons. He was bleeding from Will's cut, which had slashed across his lower back. Not a deep wound. So Will simply cut down a piece of rope from the rigging, frayed it enough to make workable, thinner strands, and bound Marston's hands and feet. Then he left him there.

He inched slowly down the deck near the railing, stepping round a cannon that loomed out of the fog. He had gone only two or three feet when he stopped to listen again. Footsteps ahead. He froze, waiting, sword raised, wishing he hadn't lost the pistol.

The steps drew nearer. He didn't want to give himself away, but at the same time, he didn't want to lunge out at anyone before seeing who it was. What if he wound up running his sword through Jack?

That didn't bear thinking about. Will waited, cautious, still shivering from the unholy chill. Finally, when he judged the footsteps to be only a few feet away, he heard a sudden cry followed by a loud thump, then all went silent. He waited for what seemed like an eternity, then threw caution aside and called out. "Who's there?"

Then the fog thinned just a little, and Will saw Flynn standing not five feet away, directly facing him, with the second man from Rosser's crew lying in a heap just beside him. He gaped as he watched Flynn raise a flintlock, aiming it chest high. Good God, he's going to kill me! He can blame it on Rosser's man, and Jack will never know.

The thoughts flashed through his mind like lightning, the horror of dying at the hands of this man, of Jack never knowing who'd murdered him, of Jack going back to Flynn's bed. But even as the fears raced through him, even as he prepared to make some last-moment, futile attempt to avoid this fate, Flynn pulled the trigger.

The shot's report reverberated in Will's head as his eyes clenched tight. Echoed and fell away, as a shriek of pain split the air. But not his pain. Confused, Will opened his eyes in time to see Marston, a dagger in hand, the frayed ends of the ropes Will had used to bind him dangling uselessly from his wrists. He had come up right behind him, unseen, unheard, and Flynn had shot him straight through the heart. Will watched, stunned, as Marston slowly dropped to his knees, staring blankly, then fell face forward onto the deck. Flynn lowered the pistol. Will dearly hoped the utter terror he'd felt couldn't be seen in his face, now that he knew Flynn had meant to save his life, not take it. He closed the gap between them.

"Right, of course it was." Flynn's expression turned more serious. "I'm no coward. Had I wanted to kill you, I would have challenged you to a fair fight. But to what point and purpose? You've already won."

Will frowned in consternation. "I had no intent to win anything, nor for anyone else to lose."

Flynn nodded, his eyes sad. "I know that. I know I waited too long to try to find him, to try getting him out of prison. Believe, me, I know the mistakes I've made." Then he looked away for a moment, and when he turned back, he had the grin in place again. "Come on, let's go find the scallywag." He headed off in the direction of the quarterdeck.

Will followed as well as he could in the fog, which still trapped the Pearl. When they reached it, they found Jack at the helm. Jack spied Will, stepped away from the wheel, and clapped him on the shoulders. "See? That wasn't so bad."

"You bastard." Will smiled as he said it, relieved to find him unharmed. He pulled Jack close for a short hug. "Now get me out of here!"

Will saw Rosser sitting on the deck, hands and feet bound, with a gag in his mouth. "What are you planning?"

Did Jack honestly still have qualms about hunting a pirate? "He deserves it. He's a butcher."

"He is," Flynn put in. "He and his crew brutally tortured and killed ninety-three people on the Good Fortune alone. Hanging's too good for the devil."

"Agreed." Jack surprised them. "That's why I'm thinking we should punish him the way a pirate would. I want you two to man the helm. I'm going to make a little trip ashore."

"I'm not that bothered by it, remember?" Jack nodded at Rosser. "But he was bothered, worse than you, I reckon."

Now Will understood what Jack was up to. "You're going to maroon him there." What a horrible fate. It would drive Rosser insane, no doubt in a very short time. Though given the man's cruel murders of innocent people, any prolonging of his life was better than he deserved. "What about the two crew men?"

Will felt relieved that Jack's resistance to chasing pirates didn't extend to these vicious murderers. "All right. But row fast, will you? And don't get lost."

Jack turned the wheel over to Flynn. He picked up a piece of circular metal and a mallet sitting on the deck. "Recognize this?"

"It's that bloody dinner gong." He handed it to Will. Now he remembered. He'd got it for the Reverend Johnson's expedition, so Cotton could announce the meals. And he remembered how much Jack disliked being interrupted by its insistent ringing.

"Give me half an hour," Jack said. "Then bang on that thing so I can find you. Savvy?"

"Got it." Will smiled. "And after you've made it safely back aboard, may I toss it overboard?"

"Hang it from the yardarm to use for target practice," Jack replied. "Much more satisfying."

The rest of their voyage was thankfully uneventful, after Jack succeeded in stranding Rosser on the Devil's Isle. When they sailed away, the fog departed, leaving them as rapidly as it had come. Marston's body was commended to Davey Jones's locker, and the two crew men, who both survived their injuries, were locked in the brig.

Which left only the three of them to man the schooner, requiring a great deal of effort, leaving nearly no time at all to converse, or do anything else but take very quick meals. Sleep was also limited to short periods, and by the time they reached Port Royal, they were on the point of collapse from sheer exhaustion, having spent three days sailing back.

Yet it took several hours after they arrived to get their prisoners taken off their hands, and to report to Norrington. When they returned to the Port Royal Inn at long last, close on midnight, Will thought he might sleep for a day or two straight through.

In fact, he woke in the late morning, feeling fairly refreshed. However, he distinctly remembered falling asleep in Jack's arms, yet he woke up alone. Well, perhaps Jack had got up earlier, and gone downstairs to get something to eat.

Will took his time getting ready, then headed down to the dining room. No sign of Jack. He moved on to the parlor, and paused in the entryway. Jack was there, sitting on the divan with Nate Flynn.

Oh well. Suppose I ought to get used to this, if he's planning to stay around. Will strolled into the room, which was thankfully empty of any other guests. "Morning." He sank into a wingchair across from them. A coffee table between the chair and the divan held a tea service and a basket of bread. He helped himself.

"Morning," Jack said. "Well, what's left of it." He cocked his head towards Flynn. "Nate was telling me that Rosser and his crew had rewards posted."

"By the East India Company," Flynn added. "For the murder of my uncle. It's a substantial sum of money."

"But we can't prove Rosser is dead," Will said. "Will they accept his marooning?"

"He's as good as dead," Flynn replied. "And his ship is destroyed, his crew are all either dead or captured. You could claim the money in good conscience." He glanced at Jack. "Without any qualms."

While meting out justice to a man like Rosser was one thing, accepting blood money for a pirate wouldn't set as easy on Jack. Will shook his head. "We don't need it."

Jack cast him a quick smile. "Thanks." He turned to Flynn. "You're welcome to claim it all, mate."

"Well, I was up earlier than either of you two laggards this morning. And I paid another visit to your Commodore. Nice fellow. I wanted some advice on staying here in Port Royal, on what my prospects might be."

Will saw Jack's face light up at this news, and this time he felt no jealousy. He was happy because Jack was happy, because he would not lose a close friend.

"As a matter of fact, it turns out I do." Flynn looked very pleased with himself. "We got to talking about my various talents, and it turns out your Commodore Norrington is extremely concerned about his marines, and their skill with swordfighting. Or rather, their decided lack of skill in that art. They're well trained with their muskets, and they have some training in fencing, but not enough practice. And they don't know how to use their weapons effectively in close up fighting, the kind you're most likely to get in the navy. Apparently the Admiralty keeps sending him the rawest recruits, and he's rather irritated by it. Fortunately, I had a ready solution."

"I'm going to train them," Flynn replied. "Official sword master to the King's men of Port Royal at your service."

"It'll be good to have you here," Jack said warmly, to which Flynn responded by bowing his head.

But Will could see him biting his lower lip. He suddenly felt out of place, knowing Flynn wanted to say something more to Jack, but not with him there.

"Wait," Jack said. "This calls for a celebration. We should go down to the tavern."

"No, honestly." Will stopped in the doorway. "You two go ahead. I'll meet up with you later, Jack."

He dashed out, hearing a snatch of brisk conversation behind him. He'd got out through the front door of the inn and onto its front steps before he felt the tug on his arm. He turned round, prepared to tell Jack to go back inside, and was surprised to find Flynn there instead.

"I made him stay behind," Flynn said. He motioned for Will to follow him a short ways from the inn's entrance, to a quiet spot against its brick wall.

"Listen," Will started before he could speak, "I know you can't abide the sight of me, but that doesn't mean I hate you in return. I want you and Jack to have good times together, I truly do. Go to the tavern and have a round, have a celebration, I don't care. He's your mate, too, but we can't all three go there. Maybe when you stop hating me, we can. Just not yet."

"Then why did come after me? Just stay there then and have some tea. You looked as if you wanted to spend more time with him." Will paused. "Alone."

"I want you to stop," Flynn replied. "You see, I was planning to go see Elizabeth."

"You what?" Will gaped. "But I thought she was only a 'fascinating distraction' for you!"

Flynn laughed. "I really must speak with Jack about brandishing my words about."

"Please calm yourself. I do find her distracting. However, during our three-day sail home from the Devil's Isle, when we had no time to do anything but work the ship, I found my mind wandering, thinking over our return to Port Royal, considering my potential future here. And whenever I did so, I found my mind filling with visions of Miss Swann." His brow creased slightly. "It was all rather confusing. But I believe it is entirely possible that I may have some genuine feelings towards her which I may possibly wish to pursue."

He's starting to sound like Norrington. Will rubbed his forehead, not quite taking this all in. "But what about Jack?"

"I will always love Jack," he said. He looked a bit wistful for a moment, then added, "But you may wish to acquaint yourself with the simple truth, Mr. Turner, that the love one feels towards another does not begin and end between the bed sheets."

Will started to protest that he knew this very well, then decided to let it lie. "I'll bear that in mind." He glanced towards the inn doorway. "You're done with your conversation?"

"Thank you." Flynn started off, then stopped. "And by the way, I do not hate you." He raised a cautionary finger. "That does not mean that I like you. It only means that I don't hate you. Good day, Mr. Turner." He continued on his way.

When Will walked into the parlor, he found Jack gazing vacantly, looking rather lost. He started at Will's approach, coming back from wherever he'd been. "Hello there," he said. "Fancy a drink?"

"I do," Will replied. "Though not in town. I know a more comfortable place." "Ah. Home, then?"

They rowed out to the Pearl after Jack stopped in at The Broken Arms to tell Gibbs that the crew's unexpected holiday from the ship could continue another night. The crew did not seem to mind.

True enough. They had painted the ship to disguise her from the Spanish during the recent hostilities, blue with a gold band. Not really appropriate to the 'Black' Pearl. "You could simply drop off the "'Black' and call her the Pearl."

"Maybe." Jack stood at the helm, staring off at the horizon past the harbor. "I was thinking of naming her Freedom."

"That's a very good name. It's a very important change, though. You'd want to consider it carefully. You wouldn't want to do anything in haste."

"Nor repent at leisure," Jack finished. He lay a hand on the wheel, caressing it like a lover. "And honestly, am I as free as I was before?"

Will had been wondering how Jack had taken to this first mission of Norrington's. Had he liked being under the employ of another, doing someone else's bidding? "I suppose you're not. Then again, you're free to go on living. More so than as a pirate, anyway."

"I know." Jack looked up at the furled sails. "Free to stay here at anchor, 'til Norrington cooks up another mad plan for us, hm?"

"And you're always free to tell him you're quitting if it ever does get boring," Will said.

"Oh. Hadn't thought of that. I am, aren't I?" Jack smiled. "Come on then, let's have that drink."

Will followed him down to the cabin, where Jack settled on a bottle of very fine port. He filled their glasses, kicked off his boots, then brought the bottle over to the bed. He stood beside it, waving to Will. "After you."

"It's only noon," Will replied. Not that long ago, on the first morning they sailed with the expedition members, Jack had mildly chastised him for suggesting a romp at ten in the morning, so it seemed only fair to pay him back. "You're a randy sod. Have you got a lot of excess energy to expend or something? You could always go swab the deck."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Me? Why, I'm fully clothed." He raised the port bottle in one hand and his glass in the other. "And fully armed. I swear my intentions are pure."

Will grinned. "Armed, yes. Pure, no." He pulled off his boots, though, and leaving the rest of his clothes on, climbed into the bed. He propped himself up against the pillows, glass in hand. "Get in, then."

"I'm getting. Hold this." Jack handed him the bottle as he got into the bed. He sat back, pulling the coverlet over his and Will's legs. "There. Perfectly decent." He took several sips of his port. "Ah. That's better."

This was, Will thought, an excellent port. He was slowly growing to appreciate the finer quality spirits under Jack's patient tutelage. He felt grateful that Jack's tastes went beyond rum, though there was no denying it would remain his favorite. "It's good stuff, this."

"That day we were at the Governor's, when Flynn turned up. That brandy he served us? Very nice. Wanted to see what else he had there." He grinned. "Sorry. Couldn't resist." "You bastard!" Will laughed as he said it. "And you idiot, too. He'd have given it to you if you'd asked."

Will let out an exasperated sigh. "And you're the one who always tells me not to do anything stupid." He shook his head in disbelief, then took another drink.

"Of course not," Will replied. "You'll do something else which is just as crazy."

"Cheers." Jack clinked their glasses. "To being unpredictable." He took a large swig.

Will drank, then held his glass up. "To freedom." He touched his glass to Jack's.

Then Jack topped off both their glasses once more, and set the bottle down on the floor. He drank his port more slowly, cradling the glass against his chest between sips. "It's all gone different now, hasn't it?"

"You mean the things we've gone through since your pardon, is that it?" Things were definitely different for Jack, first with being a privateer, and now with this spying business. Jack had been a pirate a long time, and it must be hard for him to travel a new path. But he wasn't alone. "I've been through a lot of changes as well, you know. I spent the best part of eight years in a smithy before that fateful day you chose to hide there. I've had a few upheavals in my life since then."

"It is." Will looked at him with a heart full of warmth and love. "Besides, nothing can stay the same forever, can it?"

Jack closed his eyes. "No." He brow creased a little, then he opened his eyes and looked into his glass. "No, it honestly can't."

Will knew he was thinking about Nate Flynn. "You know, Jack, believe it or not, but I like him better now. I can tell why you loved him." He paused. "Why you still love him. He's a good man."

"He is." Jack took a sip. "And you were right. I didn't want to lose him." He looked at Will and smiled. "Thank you for that."

"You're welcome," Will replied. "By the way, what did he get you? For your gift?"

They drank quietly for a while. A feeling of deep content settled within Will as he sat there, warmed by the port, and warmed further by Jack's presence. He needed nothing more. His life, his world, felt complete whenever Jack was near, in simply knowing he had Jack's love. After finishing the second glass, Will handed it across. "That's enough for me."

"Right." Jack took it, drained the last of his own, and set the glasses down. Then he twisted about to rearrange his pillows, laying them flat. He stretched out, lying down to face Will, one arm propped up. "You're looking thoughtful, mate. What's that about?"

Will set about arranging his own pillows, following suit, and lying on his side towards Jack. "Don't get me wrong," he said, "but I was thinking I'd like to have a nice sleep."

"You don't mind?" Will knew they'd make love some time, maybe tonight, maybe not 'til tomorrow night, it didn't really matter. What mattered was the bond of friendship between them, a bond which could never be severed, no matter what course they traveled.

Will shifted closer, and wrapped an arm round Jack, who returned the embrace, resting his head on Will's shoulder. Will yawned once, then shut his eyes. If only some things could last forever... for if they could, he would choose to extend this one moment of uncomplicated affection into eternity.

As he held Jack near his heart, Will let himself drift off towards slumber. And while he drifted, he heard Jack whisper, "Dream good dreams."

Will drifted back a bit, and smiled, remembering the dream Jack had on Bermuda, of being above the island like a bird. "You mean like flying?" he said teasingly. "Like those terns? With some shrieking, perhaps?"

"Very well." Will felt himself drifting off again. "Then I shall only dream of you."

"There you go," he heard Jack say, "getting romantic on me. Miss Swann has much to answer for."

She does not, Will thought. Because I don't think you honestly mind it one bit. "Go to sleep, Jack. You can tease me later."

Pirate Dreams

Chapter 15