Playing for Keeps

Dropping anchor in the deeper blue waters surrounding the harbor of
Basse-Terre, the crew of the Black Pearl prepared to put to port in
order to re-supply their diminishing provisions after long months at
sea. Months that had yielded riches in treasure and tales of grand
adventure, earning Jack Sparrow a well-deserved respite.

As the skiffs approached the bustle of activity upon the pier, Jack
watched the tropical paradise just beyond with a small grin.
Sunlight sliced through palm fronds, creating dancing shadows upon
the sparkling water. Exotic flowers sprinkled the lush green of
rolling hills with riots of color and the shadowed outline of simple
clapboard structures stood regal against the backdrop of mountains
overlooking the harbor.

A playing field of opportunity for a man looking for a good time,
which most definitely characterized his intentions.

Climbing up onto the wooden planks, he tossed his satchel over his
shoulder and turned back to give his first-mate, Gibbs, a hand,
pulling him up. Propping his hands on his hips, Jack peered through
the crowd impatiently, wondering where the nearest bottle of rum was
lying in wait.

"I trust I can leave the stockin' to you and Duncan," the captain
replied heartily as he resisted the urge to rub his hands together in
anticipation. "Seein' as I have official business to see to and
all," he added, waving a hand absently.

"Official, Cap'n?" Gibbs drawled with a smirk.

"Aye, *lots* of official business, so I best get at it, mate. Meet
back at the docks in two days time. . . midday," Jack ordered as he
sauntered away. Suddenly, he turned back, tottering slightly upon
his sea legs, "And, Good God, man, don't forget the rum!"

That important detail being seen to, the elated pirate made his way
to the street to explore the town and its possibilities. As he
headed towards what suspiciously appeared to be indeed a tavern, a
quick glance to his left stopped him in his tracks and quickened his
breaths.

Twenty yards away, staring distractedly towards the turquoise ocean
water, stood Will Turner. The very same young man that haunted his
dreams and too many of his waking moments. Visions of sinfully dark
eyes that morphed into onyx pools with desire. An endless expanse of
smooth skin that he yearned to map with his calloused fingers. A
lithe body he hungered to have writhing beneath him, his name spoken
in passion tumbling from full, succulent lips swollen from his kiss.

He had not seen Will since the day the lad had surprised him and had
come to his rescue. His last sight of the boy one with the Swann
lass in his arms. That had been nigh eight months ago.

Although, he had yet to sail into Port Royal since, Jack had made an
effort to keep a breast of town happenings whenever possible. He
knew the Governor's daughter had realized life with a penniless
blacksmith was akin to the gravest of mistakes and had renounced
Will's love, turning instead to an influential match with Commodore
Norrington. He knew the two had been married shortly thereafter,
leaving the young blacksmith heartbroken…not to mention available.

Yet, Jack had not heard word that Will had left Port Royal and his
worthless employer's forge for these eastern waters.

The captain had instantly recognized his attraction to the striking
young man but had managed to keep his lust hidden within Will's
presence for no other reason than his numbing fear of the lad's
rejection. He may have been Captain Jack Sparrow; yet, matters of
the heart still terrified him, and knowing that he felt more than
desire for Will Turner effectively kept his mouth shut and his Black
Pearl at sail.

He longed to possess Will in every way imaginable, claim him as a
zealous conqueror would a stretch of land. And while Jack was well-
versed in the art of seduction, the notion of a *relationship* was
completely foreign territory. He had always kept his entanglements
blissfully short, merely a night or two of meaningless lust, and then
a quick farewell.

Did he really wish to alter his habits? For the son of a former
member of his crew?

Watching the sea breeze rustle the silky curls about the finely
sculpted features of Bootstrap Bill's son, Jack unmistakably knew the
answer to that question. He wanted this young man in his arms for
more than a few days. . . in fact when he captured Will's heart, he
had no intention of letting it go.

Expelling a pent-up breath, Jack schooled his expression into one of
mild disinterest and swaggered sensually towards the unsuspecting
blacksmith until he leaned slightly over Will's shoulder.

"Excuse me there. . . I happen to be lookin' for a blacksmith's
skill. Might you know of one?"

Startled out of his trance, Will spun around, the confusion evident
in his eyes transforming slowly into utter astonishment.
Unconsciously licking his lips, he whispered in disbelief, "J-Jack?"

Grinning sardonically, the pirate carefully looked himself over
before drawing his gaze back to the younger man's widened eyes, "Last
time I checked."

"You're. . .*here*," Will murmured, half-convinced the man standing
before him was no more than an illusion conjured from his memories.

"Noticed that, did you?" Jack answered bemusedly. Tilting his head
slightly and crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned closer, "I
see your powers of observation are as keen as ever, lad."

"How? W-why?"

"When?" Jack added with a raised brow, immensely enjoying the blush
that tinged the boy's cheeks. However after a few moments of terse
silence, the captain wished to set Will more at ease so adopted his
most dramatic tone, "Well you know even we unruly pirates take a
reprieve in our plunderin' and evil ways from time to time to mingle
with the proper law-abiding citizens. All that ransackin' takes a
bit of a toll on a bloke, especially when all the ship's blasted grog
has gone and dried up as would a well in a damned desert."

Draping an arm companionably about Will's tense shoulders, he winked
conspiratorially before adding matter-of-factly, "But tis a good
thing…otherwise, who would free all these poor folk from their
boredom? We provide a most invaluable service. Now, the real
question is what are *you* doin' here?"

Will quickly glanced away, his face stoic. "Working."

Jack seemingly pondered this curt response, watching as the lad drew
further within himself, pulling just out of his reach. "Ah. . .aye,
so you are. Right. `Cept Basse-Terre is a long way from ole Port
Royal, wouldn't you say?"

Will remained silent, staring forward sullenly.

"Business was slow, eh?"

"There was nothing for me in Port Royal."

Jack winced slightly from the bitter despair lacing that softly-
spoken statement, knowing exactly from whence that well of resentment
sprung, not sure whether he wished to thank Elizabeth for her
decision or cursing her arrogance which had so deeply wounded this
pure soul. "So, Basse-Terre more to your liking?"

"Have no complaints."

Resisting the urge to snort at that obvious lie, Jack clasped his
hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels, "That so?"

"*Yes*, that's so," the young blacksmith snapped, shooting Jack a
scowl over his shoulder.

Smoothing his index finger over his mustache, Jack finally nodded,
having no desire to push Will further, considering another craving
had taken precedence. "Well then, guess that's settled, mate. Now
seein' as you're familiar with this lovely town, why not lead the way
to some good brew and see what trouble we can manage," he suggested,
leaving little room for argument.

As he followed alongside the reluctant lad, Jack watched him
surreptitiously from the corner of his eye, wondering how to break
through the barriers Will had constructed around himself and what
would be revealed when he succeeded.

The Captain of the Black Pearl had no intention of failing with the
stakes so high. For, this time he was gambling with his heart.

"You want to slow down there?" Jack asked dubiously as he watched the
empty mugs accumulate before the young man at an alarming rate, even
by his standards. He watched Will raise incredulous eyes to his, a
sneer crossing the young man's lips. Truth be told, even Jack felt
more than a little hypocritical by his words.

But it would seem while dodging danger and rolling about in treasure,
his subconscious had further developed a protective streak where this
boy was concerned. It defied all reason.

"This advice comin' from you?" Another mug was drained with
brazenness.

"Yes, well...a man should know how to hold his drink," the pirate
retorted as Will swayed precariously from his side of the bench, a
glazed expression enveloping the normally bright, russet eyes.

Putting forth his best glare, the blacksmith shakily pointed an
accusing finger towards Jack, his words becoming slurred. "So what's
your bloody excuse, then? You're always stumbling about like a mad
fish out of water. And...and...always talking about your bloody
precious rum and can't ev - "

"At least I'm not falling on my ass, eh there, mate?" Jack was all
too happy to point out to the disoriented man now sprawled upon the
wooden floor. Sighing dramatically, the captain rose and then held a
hand out to lift Will to his feet. He quickly wrapped a steadying
arm about the boy before he had a chance to topple in an ungraceful
heap.

"You're goin' have the devil to pay. Now, don't you wish you had
heeded my warnin'?

Will grimaced, clutching a shaky hand to his aching
temple. "Ugh...the room is spinning," he groaned as a wave of nausea
washed over him.

Snickering, Jack started to lead the young man outside, flinching
when the sunlight accosted them unmercifully. "I'll just bet it is.
That's one hell of a bloody headache comin' to you, whelp," he
informed cheerfully.

Will tried to glower, but the action proved not worth the effort as
it was a challenge just to put one foot in front of the other.

"So tell me, lad...which way might your home be?"

Raising his head with difficulty, the blacksmith waved vaguely in no
particular direction before mumbling, "That way."

Mimicking the young man's motion, Jack replied sweetly, with a
healthy dose of sarcasm, "Oh, yes...that way, eh? Care to be more
specific?"

Will simply shrugged and went back to holding his head, soft curses
leaving his lips.

Rolling his eyes heavenward, the pirate began forward unsteadily,
half carrying the boy, as he searched for signs of a smithy, or at
least a soul who could point him in the right direction. This of
course proved easier said than done as the townsfolk rushed by
without so much as meeting his shadowed gaze, completely ignoring his
raised finger and charming smile.

"Hmm...well, Will Turner, we sure would seem to be makin' headway
here. Yes indeed...such delightful hospitality," he grumbled with a
hint of a frown. When Jack got no response from his inebriated
charge, he looked down to discover Will had promptly gone and passed
out on him, the captain's hold the only thing saving Will from
falling face-first right in the middle of the town square. Shaking
his head, he smiled ruefully, "I'm goin' have to teach you a thing or
two, I see."

"Masta Will!"

Wobbling slightly, Jack turned to see two young children, a boy and
girl, darting through the late afternoon throng, narrowly missing a
collision with a merchant towing a cart of sugarcane in their haste.
Upon reaching the pirate, the boy drew back his shoulders, his eyes
flickering from Jack to Will and back again; his sister hiding behind
her brother's back, occasionally peering over his shoulder.

Tilting his head, the mulatto boy spoke in heavily-accented
English, "Masta Will sick?"

Awkwardly pulling the blacksmith into a more upright position, Jack
grinned winningly, a hint of gold glinting in the sunlight. "Why
Master Will is simply tuckered out. Be needin' a nap `tis all."

"Whose you be?" the little girl asked as she nibbled on a finger, her
hazel eyes wide as she watched beads and gold jewelry dance when the
pirate swayed.

"I would be an old mate of Mr. Turner here. Captain Jack Sparrow at
your service," he announced, brandishing his arm with a flourish and
nearly dropping Will in the process. "And who might you little sea
urchins be?"

"Name's Djo," the boy answered, then pointed to his sister, "sista is
Yanira."

"You know Mr. Turner well, do you?"

Staring back at the pirate for several long moments, Djo finally
nodded, "Will make s-sword for papa's Masta. He is friend."

"Make us horseshoe," Yanira enunciated slowly, a small smile curling
the corner of her lips.

"Did he now?" Jack asked, giving Yanira a conspiratorial wink. "Well
then...perhaps you can help me get Mr. Turner here home. You know
the way?"

Yanira nodded enthusiastically, turning around and pulling her
brother's hand. Djo waved for Jack to follow. The captain grinned
at this stroke of luck and tagged after the children. It wasn't long
before he was muttering about Will's increasing weight and the swift
feet of the young as he wandered along a number of labyrinthine side
streets he was almost sure he had seen Djo and Yanira turn down.

The siblings backtracked, Djo shouting down the alley, "Cap'n
Jack...this way!"

"The little mites are as quick as bloody rabbits, and you, luv, are
beginnin' to feel like a sack of bricks," he huffed softly,
exasperatedly blowing a wayward lock of hair from his face. Yet, as
much as his muscles were protesting the exertion, the rest of the
pirate absolutely delighted in the feel of Will so close. He could
smell the scent of bergamot and sandalwood emanating from the sleek,
chestnut curls and a virile aroma wholly Will stemming from the boy's
warm flesh.

It was tantalizing yet comforting all at the same time, surrounding
him like a tailor-made glove. And Jack couldn't help but feel this
young man was the missing piece to complete the puzzle of his future.

The man who belonged to both land and sea, belonged first and
foremost to Captain Jack Sparrow.

He only had to convince Will of the same.

"Masta Jack...here be home," Yanira affirmed shyly, pointing to the
side.

Jack shook himself from his musings and glanced in the direction
indicated. He saw wisps of smoke rising from a building overlooking
the sea, a collection of grand palms and pine lining the structure on
its eastern side.

"Ah...so it is. Excellent," he started forward but was stopped by
Djo's voice.

"We go now...work to still do. You sure Masta Will no sick?"

"He'll be right as rain, lad, or I'm not Captain Jack Sparrow."

Djo nodded as if the avowal meant something, although the accounts of
the pirate's notoriety were unknown to him, "We see Masta Will when
can. Bonswa, Cap'n Jack." Clutching his sister's hand, the pair
soon disappeared around a corner.

Jack, after disposing of the padlock upon the front doors, carried
his cargo inside. The workshop actually had a smaller room towards
the back, which he soon discovered was Will's living quarters.
Seeing a cot in a corner, he gratefully deposited the young man upon
the patterned quilt and drew back, rubbing at a particularly sore
muscle in his upper arm.

Even in sleep, Will's brow furrowed whilst he curled his arms
protectively about himself as if to ward off demons that pursued him
in his dreams. The bronzed skin of his cheek was almost ashen, the
flawless flesh marred by a streak of soot. His full lips were as
unnaturally dark as a fresh bruise.

Jack removed the boy's boots and pulled the blanket from under his
body, tucking it securely around him. Unable to resist temptation,
the pirate trailed his fingertips across the soft cheekbone, down
over the strong jaw. His own skin felt as if it had been branded by
the simple touch, igniting a fiery web of longing in his blood.

"Sweet damnation," he murmured under his breath, his tongue wetting
his suddenly parched lips.

Hesitantly, he brushed his thumb over Will's bottom lip, lost in
imaginings of kissing that mouth. The contact caused the young man
to groan softly, and Jack snatched his hand back quickly when the
moist tip of Will's tongue ghosted over his finger. He watched as
the blacksmith fidgeted before settling down again in deep slumber.

Straightening, Jack swallowed against the lump in his throat and the
need sweeping through his gut like a heady wine, irresistible, so
sinfully decadent...the feel of Will's tongue upon his skin so
erotic, intimate...

He ran a hand down his face, wishing he could as easily wipe away his
rampaging thoughts. The captain could almost swear he could count
his heartbeats in his cock under the force of blood rushing to his
groin. Irritated with Will for no better reason than he turned him
on and didn't even know it, Jack scrunched his nose and turned to
focus his attention elsewhere, in hopes that the pressure in certain
parts of his anatomy would subside to a bearable ache.

He just needed to think of something other than Will and that mouth
of his...

The room was small, but rather tidy, had it not been for a desk
overflowing with haphazardly placed books and scrolls. Curiosity
getting the better of him, he sifted through the collection,
discovering a wide range of works. There were manuscripts on
philosophy, history, poetry, geography, even several ones on maritime
law. Selecting a book resting on top of an ill-constructed stack, he
flipped through the well-worn pages, each creased with care, faint
smudges of dirt from the blacksmith's fingers lingering behind.

Obviously, Will had a love of the written word, a fact he had never
noticed in the elder William. `Eh...a literate pirate,' he
thought. `Stranger things have come about.' Jack could picture the
young man, book in hand, brow deliciously lined in concentration as
his eyes drank in the information before him, limber fingers turning
and smoothing down each page.

This apparent obsession was just another distinction that set his
Will apart.

HIS Will...the captain liked the sound of that.

Peering around another stack, Jack was surprised to find pieces of
parchment, charcoal sketches upon them. Quite good, in fact. The
top drawing depicted the graceful lines of a ship's hull, sails
unfurled to capture the wind. Sorting through several others, his
hand stopped on one in particular. He tilted his head this way and
that but the image was still the same. A sketch of him. Hat and all.

So the lad had thought of him during the past months. It was said,
after all, that absence did indeed make the heart grow fonder. A
rakish smile transformed the pirate's face into one of absolute
smugness that would have rivaled ole Christopher Columbus himself
upon his discovery of this brave new world.

To win the boy's affections might not be so difficult after all.
Once he whipped out the charm, Will would be as good as his.

Collapsing into a chair, Jack propped his feet onto a corner of the
desk, miraculously managing to knock nothing to the floor in the
process. He crossed his ankles and slumped into a somewhat
comfortable position, his eyes trained on the sleeping figure across
the way. Slowly, a frown materialized and his gaze darkened
dangerously.

The longer he stared, the more convinced he became that more than
wounded pride and a broken heart afflicted young William Turner.
Something else was wrong and he couldn't help but feel that if he
just thought harder, looked deeper, the answer would present itself
from the shadows in which it hid.

Unable to sit still any longer, the pirate lurched to his feet. . .
but he soon discovered that he couldn't stand still, either, so he
paced. But here and there, the floorboards squeaked noisily and
grated on his nerves, so he sat back down again, flinging his arm
across the back of the chair and stretching his legs out before him.
With his other hand, he stroked his goatee distractedly as the wheels
in his head spun from one likely scenario to another.

Softly, he begun to sing under his breath as the minutes ticked away.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me..."

Eventually, he slept.

*~*~**~*~*

Will awoke to the soothing rustle of the sea breeze wafting through
the room's window. Opening his eyes slowly, he blinked drowsily as
his gaze adjusted to the soft glow of light from the lantern upon the
table as it cast comforting crimson shadows about him. Despite the
muted light, he could distinguish shapes and forms. He was in his
home.

He could not remember how he had ended back in his room, didn't even
recall it having been night. For a moment, his vision blurred as the
world tilted off its axis. But then it began crashing down into
place with the blistering pain cracking his skull in two.

The tavern. The liquor snaking a burning path down his throat. The
smirk upon Jack's face.

*Jack!*

Will swung his legs over the edge of his cot and vaulted to his feet,
only to immediately crumple as his head swam precariously. He
groaned in anguish.

The sound had Jack springing to his feet in a defensive stance,
bloodshot eyes blinking dazedly. Focusing on the source of the
commotion, the captain swayed as he scratched his head and smacked
his lips.

"Ah, Will. I see you're awake."

Will grimaced and leaned forward, holding his head between his
hands. "Unfortunately," he rasped. "I feel like death reborn."

"Sounds highly enjoyable, mate," the captain replied without much
compassion as he breached the distance between them and fell down
beside Will, propping his arm on his bent knee.

"This is entirely your fault."

"Mine?" Jack asked flabbergasted, hand upon chest and eyes wide.

"Yes, yours. If you hadn't insisted we find some *good brew* then I
wouldn't have this splitting headache now. So obviously, this mess
is *your* doing," the blacksmith muttered with a scowl.

"Hardly seems fair..." the pirate commented with a slight pout as he
nonchalantly studied his splayed fingers.

"And just what *are* you doing here, Jack?"

"Well someone had to carry your drunken self back here, and I might
add that - "

"Not *here*, here. Here, as in Basse-Terre. What are you doing here
of all places?" the young man posed exasperatedly, still confused how
this man had simply waltzed back into his life.

"The usual of course. Pillagin' and plunderin'." He leaned closer,
his tone sing-song, "Yo ho..."

Will simply glared at the madly grinning captain.

With a sigh, Jack swept his hand outward, "A ship doesn't simply take
care of her self, lad. When the time comes for it, we have to put to
port for supplies...for the crew and the Pearl. Just so happens,
this was that harbor. Savvy?"

Grimacing as another bout of nausea flittered about in the pit of his
stomach, Will wiped a hand across his brow. "Was rather surprised,
you showing up like that."

"No more than me, lad. No more than me. Now, you mind tellin' me
how you ended up here on this little slice of paradise?" the pirate
asked with an unreadable expression.

"I told you."

"No, not really. You said there was nothin' left for you in Port
Royal *but* you failed to give any specific whys," Jack pointed out
with quick jabs of his finger.

For long minutes, the young man said nothing, his jaw clenching and
unclenching reflexively. Just when the captain thought for sure the
boy wouldn't answer, a soft confession was issued. Course, a
confession he already knew, but that was merely semantics.

"Miss Swann had a change of heart."

"Change of heart, you say?"

"Aye, Commodore Norrington's proposal became more to her liking,"
Will murmured, trying to keep his voice level and collected.

"Aye, so your bonny lass kept to her initial promise, eh?"

"She is not my lass, Jack, and, yes, she kept that promise."

"So, Miz Swann takes the Commodore's hand and you..." Jack waved a
hand absently, fishing for the missing pieces he knew not.

"When Elizabeth made her choice, I just wanted to escape from the
pitying looks, from the anger that consumed me. So I packed a few
belongings with just that in mind. There happened to be a merchant
ship docked in Port Royal, ready to set sail that day. I offered my
skills as a blacksmith for passage, not caring where we would be
heading as long as I could see no sign of Elizabeth in the distance.
The captain said his destination was Basse-Terre for a shipment of
sugar he was transporting back to the mainland. Sounded perfect to
me. When the ship reached port, I stayed."

"Just like that?" the pirate arched a brow.

"Yes, just like that. I wanted a new life, and this place was as
good as any." With the chemical heat of adrenaline sliding into his
blood with his growing temper, Will managed to stand and keep his
feet under him much to his relief. The pirate had the innate ability
to ease himself under his skin, to say just the right thing to make
his irritation blossom, to simply throw him off balance, in more ways
than one.

"So you trade one misery for another? That your plan?" the captain
inquired with a look of idle bemusement, hands now propped behind his
head.

"I'm happy here. Can't you just leave it at that?" the blacksmith
countered as he crossed the room, leaning his hands upon the table as
his gaze looked out upon the rather peaceful spring night

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"Leave me be, Jack. I've accepted my course in life."

"Well that is a fool thing to believe, Will Turner. The course is
ne'er set...it changes just like the wind. You still tryin' to deny
the sea longin' in your blood, lad?"

"I'm not a pirate, Jack," Will warned, hardly in the mood to listen
to this same argument he had heard many times from this man.

"We bloody back to this again, mate? You can take the blood outta a
pirate but you can't take the pirate outta the blood. It's part of
you, livin' and breathin' inside you," Jack reasoned with conviction,
his words punctuated with wild hand movements.

Grinding his teeth, Will all but spat in disgust, "Spare me your
skewed logic. I am *not* my father. His mistakes are not mine to
make."

Jack's eyes narrowed to slits at the utter stubbornness of this young
man that was too afraid to admit his true desires, "Mistakes, you
say? You seemed to be followin' right along in your father's
footsteps on our last little adventure. And without a second
thought, I might add."

The boy began to pace agitatedly, his hand raking through his
hair, "That was different. Then the cause justified the means. I
was a fool, but you need not fear for I learned my lesson well. It
will not happen again for my senses are clear."

"So you plan to hide here like a blasted coward then?"

"I am not a coward, Jack!"

The vehemence in Will's words did not impress Jack, whose voice took
on a new quality of gravity, "I had not thought so either. But
hidin' from yourself is nothin' more than fear."

"You know nothing! Do not presume otherwise!"

"I know more than you can possibly imagine, lad. I may delve into
hypocrisy every now and then, but even a swindler like me knows when
to listen to his instincts. You're happy forgoin' the sea, you say?
Is that why when I first found you, you were starin' off at her with
longin' in your eyes?"

Stiffening, Will clenched his hands into fists, bitterness welling
within him, "The longing in my eyes, or that in my heart, is none of
your concern, Jack Sparrow. *I* will decide whose instincts to
follow and what is or isn't to be done. Savvy?"

"Whatever you say, mate."

Unable to withstand the patronizing smirk or blasé stance, the young
man turned away abruptly, storming from the room and muttering about
getting some fresh air. Jack watched him go, cloaked in his denial,
and shook his head. There was one mention in Will's avowal that
caused him pause, however.

*Or that in my heart* What longing lay within the young man's
heart? Simply for the swell of the sea? For the life he was always
meant to lead? Or for something more?

Indeed, his *course* remained unchanged, after all, his hunger for
Will seemingly had become inexhaustible and could only be quenched by
the sweet taste of success.

"You forgot one important thing, luv...I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," he
murmured with a self-assured smile.

Oh yes, greed was without a doubt a powerful motivator.

Humming delightfully to himself, he pulled out the half-full flask he
had found earlier in Will's desk and climbed through the window.
Taking a long swallow, Jack looked upon the stars and reflected upon
his rather good fortune of late.

Yet, it soon became apparent that his luck had just run out as a
bloodcurdling scream split the night air.

***

                            
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