THE STORM INSIDE

The drunkards cheered as the whores began to dance in the center of
the tavern, seamen young and old entranced with the ripe swell of
breasts and the vigorous sway of hips.

That is, everyone but William Turner.

Actually, that was untrue. If honesty was called for, Will could say
with all validity that they were comely enough, their assets not
being completely lost upon his inexperience. But it was an empty

glean from seeing a glorious summer outside, rather than that of a
sexual stimulation.

But he was longing for something that wasn't there, waging the first
battle in his life that he was now dead certain he would inevitably
lose. Even the teaming bodies cloaked in sweat and the erotic charge
of the atmosphere surrounding him couldn't produce a stir from his
loins.

Now's the time to face it Will, he thought. You're a failed man.

Hell, maybe Captain Jack Sparrow had been right. Perhaps he was a
eunuch.

With that depressing possibility staring him in the face, Will took a
desperate swig of the Rum he'd been sporting in his hand since the
night's festivities had begun.

Granted, it had only been a month, but the blacksmith could almost
truthfully declare the alcoholic beverage his spouse. Rum was quickly
starting to appear to be a permanent fixture in his life, one that
was depleting his funds to the very dregs.

God look at yourself, the young man mentally berated. You're well on
your way to developing into something like that scoundrel Sparrow, if
not worse.

Turner slammed his fist down into the wooden table, cutlery
clattering to the floor noiselessly.

He couldn't understand it. For the life of him, everything he did
eventually came back to that infuriating fugitive.

The young man sighed, rubbing his temples. It'd been only seven
months since he'd last seen the pirate and already the fairytale he'd
wrapped himself in was shattering.

Oh he'd had such high hopes, such ridiculous confidence that life
could be a thing so black and white as he'd idealized in his dreams.
How Will had seen the world then...it made him either want to weep
uncontrollably or laugh hysterically.

No.

He realized now why the smarmy Captain had always looked at him with
such amusement, dark eyes glittering and imperfect teeth pulled back
in what appeared to be an indulgent smirk. Will had carried with him
the sneaking suspicion that Jack had been laughing at him in some
way, as though he were humoring some naive child in a game.

Elizabeth had been all that he had wanted. She'd epitomized his idea
of the Perfect Relationship, the Perfect Joy, the Perfect...

Everything.

He'd worked so hard to get her, so hard to earn and keep her. Had it
not been for that difficult journey, Will sincerely doubted that he
would have even recognized her as a mortal. As human as himself, not
some deity to be worshiped from afar.

In all likelihood, he probably would still be pining away for her
this very moment.

He shook his head, pulling back his chestnut locks. In some ways, he
still wished for that ignorance. It would have been nice to live in
the dark with his distant sweetheart still implemented so strongly in
the roots of his mind.

Ever since he'd met the dynamic lady, the blacksmith had held a
startling fascination with her. She was so different from what he
remembered of the woman figures of his childhood. All fine boned and
delicate, porcelain skin that looked to be as soft as silk and just
as supple. The moment he'd awaken on the English ship, he had
believed her to be an angel. His angel. Sent to him to save his soul
that fateful day he'd been half drowned.

And at the end of all his laborings to get his much sought-after
prize back from the clutches of Barbossa, Will had finally been fully
received into her heart. And oh, how he'd adored the position,
walking amongst her just like any loyal priest in religious fervor.
She'd been his temple.

It was then when he had all that he'd wanted, that he truly
comprehended the great error he had made.

William Turner had nothing left to strive for.

And what was a life without something to yearn about?

Kissing his goddess had been the biggest revelation of them all. It
had been sweet, pleasant even. But he'd been left wanting, needing
more.

Where was the passion? He had asked himself this night after cold
night, spent alone in his bed as he courted Ms. Swann.

She however, had looked nothing short of radiant in the times he
would go and call upon her. All seemed to be in the workings. Will
had won the approval of her father, and was genuinely liked and
respected by the rest of the socially elite.

But the few, chaste kisses he'd managed to bring himself to give her
had been without any need on his part. Ever since that particularly
extended liplock when Sparrow had left the scene, he wasn't looking
forward to a repeated performance.

And she deserved better than that. He knew it. He also knew that she
was beginning to suspect that his feelings were not as
inextinguishable as they both had originally perceived them to be.

So that was why he was here now, in the Faithful Bride. Even William
could see the irony in the tavern's title.

In the midst of the wild crowd he stood, feeling the immediate
effects of the drink upon his equilibrium. Somehow the stupor always
succeeded in being a comfort zone of sorts. His environment no longer
would appear so harsh and bleak, but would fade into a quiet, tilting
surreality.

Turner blinked, seeing a familiar face take shape from no where in
front of his. He squinted, trying to clear his vision of the
hallucination before him.

"You're here? Why'er you here again?" He slurred, lips quirked in a
snort of unabashed befuddlement that was unique to the thoroughly
pissed.

Two strong hands clasped his shoulders, and for a moment Will thought
that he'd either faint or toss his supper as he got a whiff of sea-
salt and unwashed body.

The figure grimaced, nostrils flaring. "Ye gods Laddie, if I had
known I'd left you here with this as your future, I woulda put you
aboard the Black Pearl. Leastwise then drunken revelry would have
been put to good use."

The blacksmith giggled hazily, reaching out to grasp the other's
shoulders and maintain balance. "'Ill 'ave you knoooow I'm per-fect-
ly fine. 'Jus taking a break from training and courting, 'tis all."

Will's brow furrowed. Why was he having so much trouble pronouncing
his vowels? And where did this slang suddenly arise from?

"Turner, are you listening to me?"

Will watched the kohl-painted eyes narrow in annoyance. Why Sparrow
would almost pass for a woman without the beard and that hair, and...

The young man used his infamous concentration, holding up five
fingers and watching them multiply before his eyes, as did the
Captain's glowering form.

He stoppered another snicker, lids drooping in exhaustion. "Jack?
Jack why'er their three of you?"

The rogue pirate rolled his eyes heavenward, taking the swerving man
offguard and hoisting him up on one shoulder.

"W-wha-"

"Just be silent whelp, I'm taking you to your bed. That looks to be
the only sound place for you at the moment."

Will pounded half-heartedly at his rescuer's back, stifling a yawn.

When they reached the workshop, Turner barely recalled fumbling with
his set of keys for the door. In the end, Sparrow had taken them from
him, cursing something about 'incompetence' under his breath, and
slid them into the iron lock himself.

He didn't remember being carried to his cot either, after nye missing
a collision with his tool rack. Jack had filled him in later about
that.

What he did recollect, however, had been when his face had been
smothered in the recesses of his pillow, and he'd flopped over and
saw the Captain lighting a fire in the hearth.

"I'm not a woman you know. I've got balls."

He still could easily bring up the look of- was it incredulity upon
Jack's demeanor?

Then the weather-beaten face had softened, an expression of dry mirth
curling the volatile lips and lighting his dark eyes.

"I know that Lad. Now get some rest."

"You sure?"

The charismatic Captain crossed the area below his breast bone,
murmuring an "I'm sure" and after those last words of assurance on
behalf of his masculinity had been uttered, William Turner, Bootstrap
Bill Turner's son, fell into a dreamless sleep.

~~()~~()~~()~~

"William Turner, open this door at once!"

The pounding in his head was growing louder by the second. Damnable
hell, why did he have to have that last bottle?

"By God child, if you don't open this door in the next five seconds,
I'm calling in the Commodore and he'll see to it that you get what
you deserve!"

There was a shuffling of feet for a moment, and then a calloused hand
gripped his chin, turning his neck from side to side in observation.

Will opened his eyes.

...Only to gaze into the unholy smile of Captain Jack Sparrow.

"You better do as 'Ol Daddy says Luv, or you just may become a eunuch
after all."

The blacksmith bemoaned the fates that would curse him to such an
early face-off with Elizabeth's father.

If only he didn't have such a splitting headache...

Rum was the devil's drink, he chanted silently, firming his resolve
to never partake of it's charms again.

"Oh, and by the way. You look like shit. Not that I suspect you'll be
looking much worse for wear when yer bonny lass's sire is through
with you."

Will glanced over to assess the casual figure of his guest.

Indeed, Rum was the devil's drink.

He straightened his clothes in an ill-attempt to look presentable,
motioning for Jack to hide somewhere before he let the hell-bent
father inside.

Surprisingly, the pirate simply leaned against the wall, giving Will
a once-over to make sure that the boy still had his wits about him.

Turner raised a brow, shrugging in resolution.

"Suit yourself. If you get caught, don't expect me to go on another
crusade to save you from the gallows again."

Sparrow's gold teeth shown in the shadows.

The pounding interrupted his thoughts once more.

"I'm coming Sir, I'm coming. Please, allow me to explai-"

As soon as the latch was undone, the elder didn't hesitate to plow
through the threshold and almost lifted the boy off his feet by the
lapels of his coat. Bulbous nose threatening and inches away from his
own.

"What have you done to my Daughter Mr. Turner? The entire night she
was crying her heart out over you, throwing china and crockery at
anyone that tried to console her. What is this I hear of you being
aloof and avoiding her mere presence as of late? What is this that I
hear of your attentions being a farce?

Sweat was beginning to creep down his spine as he stared in amazement
at the Governor gripping his jacket in near desperation. For a man
well into his early sixties he was strong as an ox, and just as angry.

The sound of someone meekly clearing their throat broke the
confrontational mood, the elder letting go of the youth's garments in
uncertainty.

Remembering that they were not alone, Will watched Jack peer
inquiringly at Elizabeth's father.

The expression was returned in full. "Sparrow? What in the Lord's
Kingdom are you doing here so early? I wasn't anticipating your
arrival for at least another month."

The Captain of the Black Pearl began pacing in distraction, jauntily
stepping and moving his arms in the manner that soley belonged to him.

"Oh, you know how't is Mate. Once the Spaniards get an idea into
their heads to sail off course an go make a stop, nothing'll
detour 'em. Ruined my crew's entire plan to head the galleon off at
Cape Horn, it did. So we 'ad to come back. No choice in the matter
once we saw 'em meet up with two escort ships. Even the Black Pearl
has it's limits, friend."

In confusion, Turner tried to catch Jack's eye, willing the man to
give him any insight as to what it was the two were discussing.

How could such an admirable man be working alongside a pirate? And a
very wanted one at that, or from what he'd last heard. Even if Jack
had proven himself to be trustworthy when it came right down to it,
the notion still didn't sit right. There had been since a hefty sum
upon his companion's head, and he was sure the Commodore would be
beyond happy to get him into an English prison cell once more.

Weatherby Swann sat down in Will's workchair, idly steepling his
fingers in bemusement.

William was relieved for the time. At least their current scuffle was
temporarily on hiatus.

"Have you spoken to Norrington yet?"

He snapped his neck around, that single question pulling him out of
his reverie. Now this was shocking. Something was remarkably strange
here, and he wasn't being let in on it. Norrington knew about the
dingy pirate's whereabouts? Gregory Norrington knew that at this
exact instant, his feet were planted on England's soil?

And he hadn't issued a warrant for his arrest yet?

In fact...from what the elder had just said, it appeared they were in
accordance with one another. Conversing like business associates.

Mayhaps the seven hells were freezing over.

The very idea was enough to peek all of his curiosity, one that
demanded satisfaction, and soon.

But something that Will had learned in his short life was that
listening could often be a better way of extracting information
rather than verbal interrogation.

Besides. He had plenty of time to ask Jack later.

"Aye, I have. Last night I arrived in port and made that my first
priority. Second one being to get me self some good Rum. And wouldn't
you know I find that our little Mr. Turner here was thinking along
the same lines as I was."

The aged official studied Will, taking in for the first time his
haggard disposition with a hinted a frown of disapproval.

Bootstrap's son could practically read the malice that gradually
became acute dissatisfaction on the man's face.

Must be thinking how he could have ever let someone as I come near
his daughter.

"Turner...I do appologize for my actions. It wasn't necessary to come
barging into your home like this. I ask you to forgive this blunder
of mine, for I wasn't thinking. But please. You've hurt her so much.
If only you had seen the heartbreak in her eyes. It's a father's duty
to protect his family. No matter the cost."

An audible creak of wood gave as the Governor got up from the chair
and dipped his head in thanks to the Captain, stiffly pattering over
to the entrance of the shop.

Before he exited, he flexed a last rueful gaze once more upon
William, face red and flustered with disappointment. He opened his
mouth, fighting for the proper way to tell his would-be son in law of
the wounds he had caused. But in the end, he couldn't bring himself
to further degrade the boy he'd always held a liking for and decided
against it. Instead, he let a plea linger in the air of the workshop
while he closed the door.

"Just stay away from my Liza please. She's the light of my life, and
you've done enough already Turner. More than you can know now.
Hopefully she'll be wise this time and select a man for her fiancee.
Not some foolish child still playing the part of one."

His footsteps could still be heard, along with the wooden 'click' of
the cane as he retreated down the cobblestone.

Will was frozen in place, those words reverberating in his ears.

What had he done?

Jack shifted, clapping his hands to ease the density of the moment.

"Ouch. That was a bit cutting, Mate. Pay no 'tention to the 'ol coot
though. He's as balmy as I am. You'll kiss and make up with yer lass
in no time."

The blacksmith leaned foreward, resting his head upon the rough-hewn
stone of the hearth.

"Somehow I don't think you're right about that Jack."

Will saw the wayward Captain train his stare upon his face. But it
wasn't one of the languid, bored variety he was used to. Odd, but
there was an avid intensity there, so fixated that Turner wouldn't be
at all dumbfounded if he began feeling holes burnt into his flesh.

"That's nonsense Luv. Any woman would give her eye teeth to have you.
Ye've a strong jaw, just as yer father did. The only difference being
that you acquired a smooth, pretty face, whereas your sire's was all
roughened angles. Not much to look at, Bill was. But a good man,
nonetheless."

His impenetrable attitude was wearing thin, but that didn't matter at
the moment. Jack was there, someone he'd managed to share an easy
rapport with, despite all of his brash bravado and manipulative ways.

"You and my father were truly friends, weren't you?"

A darkness shaded Sparrow's eyes at that, before it was pulled back.
Just one of the many veils shielding the heart of the Captain of the
Black Pearl.

Not that many even thought he had one. But William did.

There was an awkwardness that abruptly took over the man beside him,
Will supressing his amusement at the man's embarrassment. Jack shied
away from emotional subjects like the plague.

"Well-er...yes. We were. Now, let's go back to that Tavern, boy. 
Ne're did get my chance for a keg of Rum, what with you falling
allover yourself like some miserable lass."

Turner shook his head. "Yes, and then you can tell me what that
conversation was about. I'm very interested because you are
apparently working alongside Norrington. Is that savvy enough for you
Jack?

The sensual black eyes held his for a minute in the mute
understanding that he had no choice but to explain the recent
circumstances of his arrival in England. For Will, there would be no
denying an explanation.

"Just like a woman. Gossip monger an all. Aye, that's 'savvy enough'
for me little William."

Will laughed, heartily thumping the slightly taller individual on the
back. For some reason, when the Captain made light of his effeminate
looks, or passive nature, it didn't seem so cruel. More like an
affectionate gesture between comrades.

He grabbed his coat and they walked back up the alley to the Faithful
Bride. And never in his pondering that evening did Will even think to
question his loose use of the term 'sensual' when regarding Jack
Sparrow's eyes.




"And what else did he say?"

Will was positively enthralled as Jack continued to make elaborate
hand gestures, voice low and beseeching, as though he were set out to
prove some dire truth to the man opposite of him.

"Then? Aren't you astonished enough with the fact that our favorite
Commodore gave me a pardon, let alone begged for my assistance, Luv?"

The blacksmith eyed the seaman with close scrutiny, taking care to
analyze every lapse and pause within his speech to ascertain the lie.

There it was. It was in the slight widening of the man's eyes...too
innocent. There was something that the Captain was not telling him,
and no doubt would not tell him until it was opportune for himself.
The story was just too final. Too blase.

Too obscure.

Knowing that it would be a failed attempt were he even to try and
press him for further knowledge this night, he nodded, satisfied. It
appeared that for once, Sparrow wasn't constructing too much of a
ludicrous fabrication for his benefit. It was either that or he'd
become much more clever in his tactics since Will had last been at
this side.

He'd let it pass. For now.

The tavern was as chaotic as ever, the stench of cheap tobacco
wafting through the stale air. The only thing that made their
presence at the table known was a single candle flame lighting the
visages of the man and boy.

Funny how the light can play so many devious tricks. It made the
defined cheek bones of the rugged Captain appear even more narrow and
jagged. Nearly as piercing as a blade slashing through the darkened
hall, and just as vicious.

William had never before seen such a glow in another being's eyes.
They spoke volumes of a life that thrived and had seen things most of
the world didn't dare imagine. Volumes of a simple, primitive lust
for living that Sparrow would always possess.

The word savage came shrewdly to Turner's mind. But it was a tamed
kind of savagery. One that could be called upon for the right
occasion.

Jack had very obviously spent years in exercising self-restraint.

And even now...there were things that he couldn't resist.

Shaking his head in perplexity, Will stretched his limbs as the
seedlings of exhaustion grew within his muscles. "I still can hardly
believe that Gregory Norrington pardoned you just to get his hands on
a few Spanish merchant ships."

Raising the tin mug in agreement, Sparrow threw back his neck and
guzzled the liquid down greedily before gasping a "Neither can I" out
from between his glistening lips.

"So they needed you to go after some Spanish gold. Is the English
economy that bad off?" The youth asked the room at large.

"Who knows. All I can say is that the crew's never been more
compensated before in their lives. My beloved Pearl's been 'needin
knew rigging for quite awhile, and now we finally have the means to
do it without 'worryin when well see our next plate 'a biscuits."

The son of Bootstrap smiled, a light chuckle rumbling up from his
chest and escaping his throat. "So does this make you a Buccaneer now
Jack? Working for the British government? Really. I thought you had
higher standards than that."

Twin coals widened in mock horror. He pressed a many-ringed hand to
his breast and a palm to his brow.

"How could you ever judge me so harshly, whelp? Why I'd never
completely bring myself to that level...and well you know it. What
think you I've been doing with all of my free time? Just because I
work for 'em now and then doesn't mean me poor heart has suddenly
become immune to the the glitter of British gold. Wealth is wealth.
Matter's not where it comes from, boy. I've never been a
discriminating pirate."

William's eyes shown like sparks as he digested this new bit of
fact. "So you're stealing from your benefactors and your prey? You're
correct Sparrow, I never should have underestimated your
insatiability"

The man's earing jingled maddeningly as he waggled his finger, a
slow, methodical curl of the lips breaking out across his features
like the dawn. "Damned right, Mate. Damned right."

~~()~~()~~()~~

Making their way out of the ever-increasingly riotous pub, they gave
the proprietess a few shillings and stumbled about the street,
shrilly singing verses of the ballad Jack had insisted that he teach
Will.

"Else Billy would ne'er forgive me," he'd clarified dutifully.

Voices erupting in the night, they brokenly ground out the song,
sloshing Rum to and fro down their path as they went.

"No, no, Luv. Yer supposed to sing it like this. Put more infrection
in yer tone."

Turner took a lazy swipe at the bobbing head of the man beside him,
refusing his advice.

He was hindering his performance, after all.

"Don't you giiiive me 'at.  Stop...s-stopping my creative flow! An by
the way Cap'n, that's 'inflection' not 'inflection.' Er, yes.
Whatever it was."

His spiel however, seemed to go unnoticed, as his companion closed
his eyes, humming the tune to himself. But alas, the peace was short
lived when he gave an 'oof!' of bewilderment and tripped over a
particularly unleveled stone.

Laughing uproariously, the young man fell down beside him, stupidly
grinning from ear to ear and without a care in the world.

"Oh what would anyone say if they were to see the 'Great Cap'n Jack
Sparrow' sitting on the ground like some common ruffian? Ah can hear
it now! 'This is the day yu'll remember as the day Jack S-sparrow
fell on his ass!'  Yes, 'member it well!"

Jack groaned, glaring up petulantly at the blurred figure before
him. "None would live long enough to 'ear me say't."

"'Course."

Helping the disgruntled criminal up was no small feat, because he
himself wasn't exactly in possession of that little helpful tool
called 'balance' yet.

Eventually though, they did make it back to the workshop, save for
the fact that there was no longer one oblivious drunk fumbling with
the lock but two.

It's an enigma to this day how he and Jack had managed to open that
bloody door. Nature was not kind to those that became neigh senseless
with drink in their meanderings.

"Bed's in the cor-"

"I know where't is!"

Without so much as a backwards glance, Sparrow weaved over to the
other side of the room and fell in a tangled heap upon the small cot,
snoring softly as he righted himself and switched positions from his
stomach onto his back.

Silent as a stone, William Turner edged closer to the foot of the
bed, peering down with an unreadable expression in his brown eyes at
the man that he for some reason unbeknownest to him, had always
somehow met up with, one way or another.

As if they were bound.

Had his higher intelligence decided to come back at any interval of
that given period, he would have found something terrifically
abnormal with the feelings he was deriving from the image of the
bearded man lain askew on his coverlet.

Why did it feel so...wonderfully wrong to have him there?

Rather than dwell on the foreign aching within his chest, he cleared
his thoughts of any other alien emotions that could spring to life.
The boy climbed into the small niche of space Jack had afforded him
near his side, and shut his weary eyelids.

Not once stirring and seeing the unnervingly aware gaze of the
subject of his troubles.

~~()~~()~~()~~

Jack was staring listlessly out the window, as though in search of
something that wasn't there.

Will would forever see him in his mind's eye like this, held captive
by the rays of daylight streaming through the panes of glass in a
rush of vibrancy and color.

He looked so separate from himself then. So unlike the queer,
dreadful Captain that many a friend and foe alike knew.

Sparrow must have felt the blacksmith spying upon him, because he
swept around and smirked, crossing his  arms over his chest and
giving a lascivious wink to the man sprawled upon the cot.

Neither said much of anything for the goodly span of a minute. Mayhap
it was because there wasn't anything that needed to be said. There
never was much effort put forth for contriving useless drabble
between the two.

Turner slid out from the blankets, the realization that he wasn't
wearing a shirt coming back with a flood of mortification.

Seeing the traces of red dust his cheeks, Jack grinned, deigning to
enlighten the panicking boy on the other side of the room.

"I took it off of you in the middle of the night. You were sweating
like a hog and I couldn't sleep with the stink. No offense, Luv."

"None taken," Will assured, feeling the adrenaline rush down from his
skull and settle into the pit of his stomach.

"Can't understand why you'd be so modest about it. S'not like yer
some virginal little maiden Willy, and well...we are both men."

Glancing frantically around the room, Will could feel his flesh
crawling once more. What in Jesus's name was wrong with him? The
Captain was right of course. They were both men...

And even if he was still, to delicately put it, virginal, a man
should't affect his body this way.

"How's your head faring?"

Grateful for the change in subject, William leapt at the
topic. "Fine! Fine. Just a dull throbbing. Not like it was yesterday
when the Governor paid me a visit."

Jack nodded, shoulders stooping into an even more relaxed posture
than what Will had thought a human physically capable of.

"I don't like being sober, boy. Puts to much into perspective. That's
why drunken euphoria suits me so well. World's a helluva lot more
interesting when you can pick and choose what and what not to
acknowledge. 'Specially with such an inexpensive excuse."

"Inexpensive? How so? Three excursions to the Faithful Bride almost
empty my pockets for the week."

Leering secretively, Sparrow now had a smug air about
himself. "That's 'cause you're too young to know how to exude the
right kind 'a force."

Will pursed his lips at the minor blow to his ego. "And what would
that elusive force be? Please, inform me since you apparently have it
in such abundance."

He grinned just so, and without a hint of contrition. "Sensuality
Laddie. Allow just enough 'a it to ooze into your manner, and you'll
have the barmaids giving you Rum along with themselves."

Choking at Jack's bluntness, he recoiled, rolling his eyes and
appearing to admonish the pirate's claim in an attempt to regain the
vestige of his dignity that the dark-haired man had robbed him of.

But he knew well as any other that it was not a foundationless
bragging.

There was a courteous cough to his right, and the blacksmith again
focused on what the man was getting at.

"Turner, I've got to leave again." Done, to the point. No hidden
meanings or fond farewells.

Quirking the edge of his mouth in grudging acceptance, William
breathed deeply. He made to crack a full smile, but it was
bittersweet.

"Pity. It was...your presence always takes the predictability out of
things."

The mad looter chuckled. "Is that a compliment, Mate?"

He sighed patiently, wishing he could feel as indifferent to the man
as he had when they'd first met. For some reason his existence
already seemed to be going back into the same paltry motions. The
same dismal pattern.

"Where will you go now do you think?" Bootstrap's son brought the
quandary from the turmoil swimming within his thoughts.

The other waved a long hand as if he could bat away the
question. "Still got those galleons to hunt for. At the rate they
be 'goin I'd say they've nye reached Panama by now. Wherever they
turn up, I 'spect."

"What's so important about the Spanish ships?"

"I already told you. They carry more gold than an entire armada
carries weaponry. Savvy?"

He was growing irritated. His prying wasn't getting him the least bit
closer to what Jack was hiding, and it must have been a burdensome
confidence if he was willing to go through such lengths for the
Commodore, Governor, and rest of the British hierarchy to keep it.

Some part of his soul trembled with that insight.

Trembled with the unforeseen insight that somehow, someway, Jack was
in danger.

Bloody crazed idiot probably thinks he can handle it all by himself,
he thought with a premonitory shiver.

"How, when will you be back in the harbor?" Already he could make an
educated guess as to this, but he still needed to hear it come from
the other's tongue to make it reality. Reality that he wouldn't
anytime soon be receiving a visitation from this lunatic that had
become his...ally? No, more than that. Friend even.

Sparrow shuffled his feet, twirling about and spinning his pistol
around on a finger. Always with such unwitting, pandemic grace did he
move. Will was sure that he did it on purpose. It kept one on guard
and bizarrely at ease in the same breath.

Looking down, Jack picked at a thread that had come loose from his
black vestments. His purring voice sounded like an addictive
combination of sandpaper on polished oak as he muttered, "No more'n a
year and a half I'd say, if all goes well and they don't end up
transporting their cargo before we get to 'em. But if not, ye can't
be too sure. If they do make it to the port they intend to unload at,
me crew may hafta go on a bloody goose chase to steal the gold back
from the settlement itself."

William growled, exasperated with Sparrow's constant evasion. Even he
had limits.

"There is no way that Gregory Norrington would have petitioned a
pardon for your sake without it being a, how shall I put this?
Apocalyptic situation! You've obviously been doing some work that
bastard doesn't want getting out into the open to taint his pristine
reputation! He wouldn't have gone through the arduous task of
reversing the judgment that was placed on you unless this 'something'
that your doing for him involved gain. But gain for whom is what I'd
love to know."

Jack lowered his tone, words spilling forth brusquely and without
preamble. "Are you trying to browbeat me into submission, whelp?
Because if ye are, you 'ought ta be discouraged to know I don't take
kindly to bullyin'."

"Bloody hell! I'm not a novice to your past tricks Sparrow! And I
know that you wouldn't ever build ties with any form of government
unless there was something of great magnitude and value in it for
you! I suggest you stop trying to dupe me, because your strategy is
for not!"

"And you know me so very well, do you Mate?" The pirate had a
peculiar hitch in his voice that made him look distinctly lurid, on
the border of ominous.

"Not at all. But what I do know wouldn't be very flattering to your
ears."

The other appeared to regard him in disbelief, eyes turning up at the
corners and wrinkling in tiny folds of laughter as he gave a
bellowing chortle, slapping his knee at Will's expense.

"Would that you'd let me in on what you find to be so comical?"

"Ye-ye just reminded me so much of Bill then. He'd always get so
ruffled when he knew I was 'omittin 'somethin. S'enough to send
this 'ol bootlegger into stitches, as it was. Me apologies, Mate."

Turner felt the muscles in his jaw clench, visage contorting in
defeat. "I just wish for you to tell me what this is that you're
concealing. I'm not too fond of the prospect of never seeing-talking
to you again because of some hazard you'll confront at the hands of
Norrington, Weatherby and...whoever else is embroiled in this whole
affair."

A slyness overcame Jack Sparrow's demeanor for a moment, hands
reaching outward to brush an invisible bit of lint off of the
blacksmith's cravat.

"My, my Luv. Ne'er did think that an uppity mite like you would find
it in yer decent little self to be concerned for an old swindler's
welfare."

Will swallowed, feeling his throat constrict. For some indecipherable
reason, being in such close proximity to the Captain made him
distinctly distressed if not a little perturbed.

He tittered, edging away from the elegant hand that was unabashedly
caressing his upper arm.

Caressing?

Just before he could analyze that thought further, the petting had
desisted, concluding so quickly that he scarce was certain if it'd
actually occurred.

"To put a stop to any other curiosity ye might 'ave Lad, I swear on
Davy Jone's Locker and my thieving black heart that I'll tell you
when it's safe. Other than that, you'll just a've to keep 'pertendin
that you believe everything that comes from yer Captain's mouth.
Savvy?" He said the last with an effortless florish of his arm.

"Well, I doubt I'll believe everything that comes from your mouth.
You're still a dishonest, flea-bitten pirate with a conscience about
the size of a pea. But I suppose I won't be getting anything else
from you for now."

"'Cisely. Take what you can get and whenever you can get it, Laddie."

~~()~~()~~()~~

The sea had never ceased to calm his fears. It'd always been the best
balm to his spirit, more soothing than the embraces of even the
mother he'd known.

Will remembered sitting many an hour of his childhood upon the docks,
watching the men in the shipyard build, take apart, and repair entire
hulls. The muscles in their backs had exerted almost to the point of
the grotesque, rendering and ripping under the punishing, merciless
weight of the timber. Skin had darkened to a deep bronze by the end
of the first week of work for many of the workers, whom spent long
periods under the intense glare of the sun.

It did nothing less for his problems now.

"So I don't 'spose this is about the time where I say 'till we meet
again' eh, Luv?

Still mindful that he had volunteered to enlist his assistance and
haul the Black Pearl's provisions up to the deck with Jack, he
ignored the taunt and set a baleful eye on the balls of dense iron
that would next need to be taken up.

"Remind me never to aid you in the reloading of these godforsaken
cannons again."

The Captain smirked, bringing his hat low to shadow his face from the
sun's scrutiny.

Once Gibbs and Cotton had made a last round and had checked to make
sure all was prepared for the voyage, the anchor was taken up,
settling aboard deck like the misshapen tooth of a sea serpent.

All was ready.

Before he boarded ship, Sparrow whipped around and sauntered back to
the blacksmith.

There was an appeal in his stare, a request.

Jack Sparrow was too proud to ever plead for anything he desired.

And it was evident that he desired William aboard the Pearl.

The trice seemed to last an eternity. A myriad of emotions was
running through Turner with breakneck speed.

Could he leave the life he'd made for himself behind? All on a
meager, adolescent whim? Did he want to? And what of...

Peering back up at the man who seemed to have seized much more of his
adherence than he cared to think about, he knew. It wasn't exactly a
religious epiphany, nor something that just took hold of him from
nowhere. It was something he'd always known, in the recesses of his
consciousness. As if it'd just been waiting for the right time to
step out from the shadows of his innermost longing.

The life he'd always denied himself was summoning him, as was the
fire scorching his blood. And who was he to defy this call?

Clasping the arm that had subtly lifted in offering, he felt a
connection. The kind that most men and women search tirelessly
through life for and most aren't fortunate enough to encounter.

It was one that spoke of finally finding the destiny that had been
luring him on a wayward path for years. A destiny that spoke of many
obstacles and trials to come.

Not that he believed in such things. No, Turner was much too sensible
for that.

Comprehension broke out across the dark pirate's features, and with
that well-suppressed reverence as he too, realized that Will had
found his future. His home.

But first there were amends to make and bonds to sever.

~~()~~()~~()~~

"Lucille, can you please tell your mistress that I'm requesting her
audience and that it's urgent."

The doe-eyed girl looked about through the sliver of space in the
entry way suspiciously. "You should'na be here Mister Turner. The
Gov'na, he ha-"

"Yes, yes. I know. He despises my very existence here on God's green
earth. But please, I don't have the patience nor the time to spare
quibbling over such trifles."

"But Sir! Me mistress is indisposed!"

"Then tell her to 'dispose' herself. I must see her this instant."

The servant unlatched the door, making a sweeping motion around the
grand staircase.

"You know where the parlor is Sir. 'Beggin yer pardon, but I doubt
that I need to show you to 'at."

"Of course you don't need to Lucille." With that he brazenly leaned
in and gave her a peck on the cheek, marching through the room
without a glance in her direction.

"Mister Turner!"

His breath caught when he gently pushed the door ajar, catching the
light playing in his ivory goddess's hair.

"William."

She'd dropped the pain-stakingly illustrated book she had been
perusing, tossing it away as a child would a toy that they didn't
know how to cherish.

And she had flew to him as if she truly had wings.

Clutching her to his breast, he'd kissed her cheeks, forehead, eyes.
All the fine, doll-like feature's he had devoted memory to, and ones
that he hadn't.

Will had felt the salty tears soil his shirt vest. But he didn't give
it any heed as he continued to hold her and stroke her sandy tresses.

"Shh. It's alright Beth. It's alright. I'm here now. I'm truly here."

Elizabeth had gone quiet then. Grim silence would have been too easy
a description.

"Are you?" She'd queried, as though she really wanted the answer, but
already had drawn her own conclusions.

Oh how those amber orbs had engaged his, communication without words.
The most eloquent of all.

Burrowing her face once more into his neck, she'd diligently carried
on, solemn and as sober as any military man. But likely with more
strength of purpose.

"I know why you're here. I'd wanted to believe...had prayed. God how
I had prayed that you would be here for me. But I had known. All
along I'd known..."

The blacksmith had felt a rivulet of his own cascade down his
cheek. "Elizabeth-"

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

It was a statement that allowed no room for false assurances.

The distraught woman took a step back, eyes beseeching in their
accusation. "Your leaving me."

Turner had sworn that he would never lie to this lady. Sworn it with
passion enough to match Jack Sparrow's old vow that he would one day
defeat his treacherous first mate.

And like the Captain, he intended to keep it.

"Yes." He'd murmured. More like a whisper of air than any actual
confirmation.

He'd watched as she had trembled first. Then shattered and broke, all
the while still gripping his arms like he was the eye of a storm. A
place where she hoped their really was peace, though great men had
yet to prove it the theory.

But this is what she'd begged him for. What she'd needed. And now,
after months of dreading the possibility that her first love was to
be lost to her, the Governor's daughter had the affirmation she'd
sought.

And now Elizabeth Swann could let go of her dearest friend.

"And I am to lose you. Were I a fighting woman, I'd wage another
Golgotha if that meant I had the chance at keeping you here with me."

The young man shook his head at the allusion. Yes, knowing the girl
like he did he was sure she would have.

"When do you leave Merboy?" She'd stroked his palms then, studying
the shallow crevices with infinite care in the morning light.

Merboy. He smiled, though it was a weak gesture, all considering.
She'd affixed that as an endearment for him ever since she'd found
his near lifeless body that night floating away from the ravages of
the ship when he'd been thirteen. Turner had never exactly taken a
liking to it, but he would give her what little he could, even in
it's smallest measure.

"When I finish. Here." He'd hated himself for the agony he saw flash
anew across her face when he'd recklessly said that. It was a cruel
reminder.

She hid it well.

"And that pirate's delaying the Black Pearl just for you, Will
Turner? Honestly. You'd think that Sparrow would say one of those
phrases like, 'The Pearl waits for no man' or something as equally
drull."

He was too flabbergasted to reply. "How'd you-"

His Angel held a finger up to his lips, silencing the babbling youth
before her with a shake of her head. "Don't ask. You'll only question
me further, and that my darling, we don't have time for. Or rather, I
should say that you don't."

Glancing into his face once more, she trailed a dainty finger against
his cheekbone, eyes wandering shamelessly over the planes of boyhood
that had developed into that of a man. "I'm going to miss you
something terrible Merboy of mine."

Laughing softly, the blacksmith closed his eyes, fighting the tide of
sorrow. "And I you, Angel."

Allowing for an unladylike sniffle to escape her, she'd wiped
absently at her eyes, pulling forth the blue, silken ribbon that
bound her hair.

"Something for you to remember me by, Beloved."

In awe, he'd held specter to the way her locks had framed her oval
face, for a time emanating the illusion of girlhood. But this was no
girl that stood pressing her breasts to his chest now, with her
fragile arms twining about his.

He hugged the lithe body close for a while longer after that, just
indulging in the pleasure of the swiftly beating heart against his.

...Until she pulled back, shoving him toward the door as if she were
too afraid of the consequences of spending another minute in his
presence.

"Now off with you William Turner. Or I'll see to it that that Captain
of yours comes and takes you away himself."

"But Elizabeth, he's not mine-"

"Go on Will." It wasn't a suggestion by any means, but an order.

Turner walked dazedly out of the parlor, glancing back at the last
second before he disappeared from sight. He couldn't leave it like
this.

He couldn't leave her with nothing to hold on to.

Voice cracking with the strain, he'd said his last goodbye to his
Queen.

"An old sailor once told me a bit of wisdom that may give you some..."

What, Will? What would it give her? Closure?

He tried again.

"They say if something's yours, that if you let it go, it'll come
back to you."

Instead of a lecture on his romantic's notions as he'd anticipated,
the woman had simply smiled.

Smiled through the haze of pain and blinding anguish that the
blacksmith was sure she had grown very much accustomed to in all the
pretenses of their relationship. A brilliant, glorious smile that was
just for him, though he believed himself too unworthy ever to deserve
it.

She'd smiled at the deliberate, false hope he'd nursed her, like
spoon feeding a child tonic diluted in sugar to shield the bitter
taste.

Elizabeth knew that Will would not be coming back.

~~()~~()~~()~~

Carrying a small pack of clothing and the three best swords he'd
sculpted into creation that had won his favor throughout the years,
Will trudged up the gangplank of the dark ship, feeling the wood
creak and sigh beneath his weight.

"Ahoy there, Mate. Glad to see ye've found your way back. For e'while
thar, I'd thought you'd changed yer mind."

William tensed, missing the undercurrent of teasing in Jack's voice.

"Well forgive my dalliance then. It's not everyday you say farewell
to your old life and the woman that you find yourself to be too inept
to love at the same time."

A flicker of something shot across the other's expression.

Was it regret?

Sometimes Turner wasn't sure if he marveled at the man's ability to
withdraw into himself or envied it. He also would find himself
wondering if there was not but an entire ocean lapping beneath the
surface of his unartfully erected insanity.

The breeze was pungent with seaweed and imported fish. Will savored
this for the first time, knowing too well that as soon as they
reached the high seas, there would be not but the tang of salt in his
nose and mouth.

Standing at the bulwark, he had tied the ribbon in his own hair,
indifferent to the stares of ridicule he would soon be receiving.

A coarse, many-ringed hand settled upon his sloping shoulder.

"Ye sure, boy?" It was a drawling lilt that emerged from the figure
behind him, not quite devoid of it's regular licentiousness.

He raised his gaze to the horizon, the one point where the sea had
ever mated with the sky.

"I'm sure."

They'd set sail, one lost young man aboard the Black Pearl not
knowing where the next journey would take him.

And not wanting to.


For six days he'd been onboard the Black Pearl. And what an
indomitable beast she'd proven to be. They'd been hit with two
tropical storms from the south now, and still she didn't look to have
a single scratch marring her external framework.

Of course none could have known this better than Will. For he'd
founded quite an intimate relationship with the railings of the ship
each morning after breakfast.

Just as he took his usual post that particular day, and was
courageously heaving up his innards near the ship's mast, he felt a
body stumble into his side.

"Oh, sorry Luv. Didn't see ye 'thar. By the stars ye must 'ave a
healthy appetite! Ne'er did see anyone make such a mess."

William winced, feeling the nausea start in again. "Dully noted,
Jack."

The seaman continued to prattle on pointlessly, seemingly oblivious
to the ill man's condition.

"Ye know I ne'er 'ave been seasick before. No Sir, not even when I
was a lad. Took me awhile to learn to hold me liquor, though. But
I 'ventually figured that one out too," He'd declared, slapping his
gut with a lordly finesse.

Turner attempted a tight smile of complacence, fighting the bile down
in the back of his throat.

"'T'is unseemly how yer 'hackin up your gizzard. Isn't even yer first
time at sea! One'd wager that you'da been sick last time ye and I
sailed together, what with all the belly-achin your 'doin now."

The shorter-haired individual wrenched his eyes shut, feeling another
round come on.

Sparrow hung back, piteously patting his young charge's spasming
shoulders. "If only ye'd been like me..."

"Now if'n that's nary the biggest crock of horse shit I've heard in a
long time."

"Annamaria! Me belle! To what does me lecher's eyes owe the
pleasure?" The Captain had spun about, wide eyed and with a gracious
grin spread across his face like butter.

The Tortugan woman folded her arms below her breasts, glowering at
the fake flattery. Though the strategy may have stood to be tried and
true with most women, she wasn't among that vast percentage.

"Don't you try your silver-tongued luck with me Jack Sparrow. I'm
wizened to yer ways. 'Aven't you pestered the poor boy enough? Can't
ye see he's already bad off?" She gestured caustically to the blatant
display Will made.

"I? I have a silver tongue?"

The ship hand's disposition darkened even more if that was
possible. "Forgive me, my mistake oh Fearless Leader. Make that a
leaden one."

The Captain's lips threatened to break a smirk as he acknowledged
that jibe to his pride.

"Nay, I wasn't but having a spot 'o fun with the lad. He know's it,
don't you, Mate?" Sparrow rapped the prone form of the former
blacksmith on the back, earning an unintelligible moan of complaint
for his troubles.

The pirate smiled guilessly, unconvincing.

"You know as well as I know Jack Sparrow that there's been many a day
and night where you've collapsed on deck from that damnable drink
after ye've spewed your guts a sufficient amount. Half the time
Joshamee and I have to play bed-nurse to you for more'n a week."

The deranged sea Captain swept his limbs about eccentrically,
discarding the claim. "Ha ha! There art but instances I wished I
possessed yer imagination, 'Darlin. Don't know how you come up with
such tales sometimes."

William watched from the corner of his eye as Annamaria flopped down
on a crate of dried meat, fiddling with the rope she'd been braiding
beforehand and shook her head. He knew that look well. It was
the 'Why do I persist in a lost cause?' expression.

Gods I need to lye down, the weary youth repeated over in his mind.

Pushing himself up from his sprawled stance, he moved to walk, but
only succeeded in toppling over and panting at the stress of the
motion.

...Or at least he would have, had it not been for the lanky form of
an odious plunderer catching him before he hit the polished wood of
the deck.

"Ho 'thar! Consider it a 'blessin I was 'ere, Luv. Otherwise that
pretty face of yours might 'a been smashed flat 'an ugly."

The former blacksmith no longer had control of his own appendages as
he felt the world tilt on it's axis, Jack pulling him to his feet
like a useless rag-doll.

He heard the distant sound of voices talking animately before there
was a rush of gray tinting his vision.

"You better take him back to his bunk Jack, he looks terrible."

"F'er once I agree with you."

And right before his vision sputtered and faded, he felt an acute
weightlessness, only realizing later that the Captain had carried him
back to his bed for the second time in their history together.

~~()~~()~~()~~

James, The Black Pearl's resident full-time cook and part-time
surgeon, had posted strict orders that William Turner was to stay in
bed for three days. At first he'd protested this, believing that the
hapless Sparrow would never yield to the thought of him lazing about
while the rest of the shipmates did their jobs, but quickly found
himself disillusioned of that concept.

"I may be Cap'n boy, but what the doc deems necessary here's rule."
Jack had told him this in surprising seriousness.

And now here Will was, lying in his bunker like an invalid. What was
even more remarkable, was the fact that Sparrow hadn't uttered a
single disparaging comment about his state..

If anything it appeared that his...paternal instincts had kicked in.
Albeit slightly demented ones.

Whereas many caretakers would bring the infirm broth, the inebriated
Jack chose instead to bring his sick ship hand a hearty amount of
alcohol, staggering clumsily into the the narrow room and popping the
cork with a deft twist of his thumb and index fingers.

"Here be a fine remedy to cure wha'ever ails you, whelp. This'll 'ave
ye" -hiccup- "scurryin' up that there crow's nest quicker'en you can
say 'Yo Ho.'"

The young man sat up, throwing the blankets off of his legs and
dangling them from the side of the bunk.

"Is that Rum you've got there?" Turner wrinkled his nose in distaste.

The unkempt pirate gaped at the other's simplicity. "Are ye 'jestin?
Of course it's not Rum! Even I know that had I decided to give ye Rum
this 'ere recoup of yours woulda been for naught!"

Blushing at his own naivete, William demurely took the frothy bottle
from Jack.

Sniffing the contents, he transfered an approving eye to his
companion. "Brandy? I never even dared to dream that you'd heard of
it."

Sparrow frowned, deep creases etching in the tan skin of his
forehead. "'Jus 'cause I 'ave a particular adoration fer Rum doesn't
mean I've never had my share 'a the other stuff."

The former blacksmith's mouth curved teasingly as he took a swallow
of the amber fluid.

"Can't rightly believe ye actually thought I woulda given you Rum,
Laddie. Even my 'ol boozing soul knows well enough that it'd be
like 'sendin a lamb to the slaughter if I gave ye 'anythin
stronger'n 'at now."

Bootstrap's boy chuckled at the absurdity of that statement. "Well
can you honestly blame me? That and the occasional biscuit that
Annamaria practically shoves down your throat have been about the
only things I've ever witnessed you consume."

The madman looked to be contemplating that for a second, then
shrugged in acquiescence when he'd found nothing to argue the point
with.

Will was content to be silent for the while, listening to the calm
waters strike the side of the Pearl as his 'boss' absently spied him
guzzling the remainder of the beverage down.

"I did'na just come down here to sneak you Brandy, Mate. There are a
few things I been 'meanin ta discuss with ye s'well."

Perfect, Turner inwardly mulled over this new predicament. You knew
that you'd been too slow with your responsibilities...just lovely.
Well, here comes the end for your stay aboard the Pearl Will. They'll
probably want to dump you off at the next port we reach.

"Now I know that ye used to be-"

Holding up a hand in interruption of what he believed to be his
banishment from his new home, the brown-haired man said his peace,
proud of the lack of quavering in his tone.

"I understand Jack. I know that my chores have been, for lack of a
better word, slackening since I'd arrived, and that I've had trouble
keeping up with the rest of the crew, but I swear on my grave, if I
start skipping meals in the morning, I'll be perfectly adept at th-"

"What in blazes are you 'goin on about, Luv?" The other asked,
agitation forming at Will's jumbled, nonsensical garble.

He scowled mildly, taken aback by the Captain's explosiveness.

"Well you're reprimanding me, aren't you?" A puzzled look stole
across his face along with the inhibitions that had been lurking.

Sparrow scratched his head, muttering something undetectable to
himself. "Have ye gone daft? I was only 'goin ta ask you how yer lass
took the news of your departure. Where'd these doubts of yer
performance come from?

Curling a toe in distraction, Turner was no longer sure if he wanted
to finish the contention.

He cast his eyes to the ground, avoiding the pair that was sizing him
up.

"I suppose that I haven't fallen into the routine tasks as fast as it
is expected of me. I've been a laggard compared to the others, though
I have tried. It's just my own insecurities mostly."

The sluggish pirate assented, stroking his chin with a thoughtful air.

"You know Lad, I ne'er did 'spect you to suddenly manage an entire
ship on your own. Least of all Pearl. Me Lady's not so typically
sized, when you take all 'a her into account. Hell, I wouldn'ta taken
no stock even if ye'd merely sat on your ass the entire voyage and
twiddled yer thumbs. You're a guest 'ere. Not a member of the crew.
T'is yer choice if ye want to 'elp out er not."

The slightly taller figure floundered. "But the Interceptor-"

"-Was a smaller ship, and therefore less to handle. Plus the
rest 'o 'em Brits already had most of the rigging and like secure.
You did'na have to do much, if you recall. Though I 'ave to admit, if
it'd been my choice, I'd ne'er let you learn how to sail a ship with
that as yer first model if'n I knew you were to be back here. Got a
great mass 'a misinformation 'bout the job you did."

The younger grunted, teeth grinding in self-annoyance. "I guess
you're correct, but still, I should've been abl-"

The Captain came in with a swift rebuttal, not letting the sentence
pass. "What's really beset'n you, Laddie? The fact that ye'd thought
it was too easy, or the fact that you were disavowed 'a that notion
and now think it's too hard?"

Will didn't know how to respond to that. Well frankly he did, but
found he couldn't choose to ignore the obvious.

He lamented, knowing that it wouldn't be beneficial in the long run
to keep subjecting himself to continual frustration when there was
someone, even if it was the ambivalent Jack Sparrow, to listen.

"You actually 'hit the nail on th head' so to speak, when you
originally came here to discuss Elizabeth. The way I left her...it's
been haunting me."

Jack didn't press him. "What happened, Luv?"

"Oddly nothing. It was almost as though she'd been anticipating the
event. I felt deplorable for her grief on my behalf of course...but
what nags at my mind is the fact that she'd ordered me to go. Ordered
me, Jack. She'd given me her hair ribbon, and had virtually slapped
my back as if to say 'have a good life.'

"Doesn't sound like any woman I know."

Turner felt his nightshirt slide down his left arm. "Yes, but how
long have you stayed in a female's company?"

"'Parrantly not long enough," He'd waggled his eyebrows in a vaguely
suggestive manner.

"You're incorrigible."

"Would I be 'anythin else? By all means, carry on."

Turner withdrew into himself for a spell, desolation a nye welcome
respite.

"I miss her."

There was a dispirited exaltation of breath from the professional
pilferer, boots scraping along the dusty floorboards. "Ye be re-
'thinkin your options then? Is that what yer 'tellin me? Not so
convinced that ye elected the right choice?"

"No!" He'd blurted out on impulse, skin heating with the denial and
conviction he was attempting to impress upon the man. "I'd never
forgo this. Not when I've just discovered what it is I've been
hunting for. It's too precious to me."

As soon as he saw the smug smirk stretch out across the sharkish
features, it'd abruptly dawned on him precisely what it was that he'd
just said. Sparrow let out a snigger of self-gratification.

"Knew you'd someday come to terms with what's in your blood. You're a
plunderer through and through, Mate. Just like yer 'ol Dad. "

"If you start singing that bloody song again, I'll be more than
obliged to kill you."

The Captain merely kept a speculative grin plastered to his mouth as
he clumsily came to his feet and tripped toward the door.

"Oh, and one more thing Willy. I meant what I said about you be'in a
guest 'ere. I could care less if ye decided to do naught but watch
f'er sea monsters all day. But if ye are that set on do'in work to
pass the time...I'm sure me brain can devise 'somethin. The crew
respects those that aren't afraid of good, clean, and honest labor."

William settled back down in relief as Jack Sparrow inconspicuously
stepped out of the room.

~~()~~()~~()~~

"A cabin boy? You want me, a man of twenty no less, to be your damned
cabin boy?!"

Never before had the pirate come up with such a preposterous
conjecture.

"It's not so bad, Lad. Why even you yerself said that all the upper
deck work was too daunting for ye. So I thought this would
come...more naturally. You know? Start small and build yourself up?"

"Small? Small? That's essentially starting from infancy!" In a moment
or two, his reserves of patience would diminish, and he'd no longer
be able to resist throttling the fool man before him.

In a soothing, hushed voice, the other broached the subject once
more, in the way that one would a spooked animal. "It was just a
proposal, Luv. Don't go 'frettin about it yet."

"So what then, do you want me to go around shining everyone's bloody
shoes?"

The Captain heaved a resigned sigh. "Don't be ridiculous, Laddie. No
one here's got any shoes that'd need 'shinin ta begin with. 'Excludin
myself  'a course."

Will cursed the satire that was his life.

"Then what is it that you would have me do?

"The usual responsibilities that apply to the cabin boy. Helping our
Cookie serve the meals at breakfast and supper time. Running me
errands each port we dock at...'keepin yer Cap'n's rooms neat 'an
orderly. It'll keep you busy, it will." There was a surliness in his
inflection that the boy wasn't certain he liked.

Turner circumspectly swept a gaze toward the approaching storm in the
west, at a loss.

"Wha-what would the ship hands say? How would they react?"

Sparrow waved his arm about in a wide arc, dismissing the thought as
though it'd never even crossed his mind. "They'll be supportin' it,
in likelihood. Most 'a 'em said that ye be 'needin a hobby."

The former blacksmith stared slack-jawed, then wisely bit his lip
from replying.

A mutual understanding existed between the two as they stood,
opposing inclinations battling for the upper hand.

It was William that submitted.

With a long-suffering moan, he nodded, eliciting a cackle of triumph
from Jack.

"I'll do it. You've had your fun, now stop rubbing salt into the
wounds."

The pirate gave him a look that boldly said he'd do no such thing,
and would continue harrassing him with the issue until he knew he'd
derived all the sourness he could out of Bootstrap's son.

Skipping with a jaunty clap of the heels, the other man made for him
to follow.

"Come on, Pup. I'll show you to your new quarters. Afterwards I'll
get Twigg to show ye the ropes. He was the last Cabin boy we had."

Glancing up at the back of the burly man talking to Murtogg, Turner
felt the apprehension rise.

"Jack, how old is Twigg anyway?"

The other threw a lingering gaze his way, smiling wistfully.

"Thirty six."

~~()~~()~~()~~

Jack Sparrow's tendencies to be slovenly had been well-circulated
amidst those employed upon the Black Pearl, and his notoriety
apparently didn't stop there. It was almost as though even the
rodents turned their whiskers up at venturing into territory from
which they may or may not emerge.

So to put it quite bluntly, organizing the idiot's room into any
semblance of order was a task that the Catholic Church may have very
well requested to use as an obstacle course aspiring men and women
who claimed to be worthy of 'Sainthood' could've undergone.

And if Will somehow managed to make it out alive with his sanity and
body intact...he just may have qualified as first on that list.

Lifting up the soiled mattress that should have been burnt a decade
ago, the dark ship's new cabin boy shut his eyes, fighting to calm
his anxieties about reaching into the unknown...

Literally and metaphorically.

God knows what he's got under here. Just pray that it doesn't slyther.

Unearthing a tattered piece of leather that one would logically
assume to have once been a belt, and an ancient scone that was weevil
infested and hard as a rock, he tossed them into the center of the
floor, disgusted.

"Does the fiend know how to throw any of his filth away?" Turner
mumbled, standing up and dusting himself off as he trotted over to
the mahogany bureau that was the only thing that appeared to have
known any form of conservation.

Pulling the well-oiled hinges open, he began clearing out the random
paraphernalia.

"Impersonal belongings for a man that so avidly regards this place
his home," William deduced in a conspirator's whisper to the room at
large.

An object glinted in the half light offered by the porthole, catching
his impassive gaze and suspending his breath.

It was beautiful. A knot of silver designed into a deliberately woven
crest. Realizing it to be an ornament worn by that of the Celts, he
touched it gingerly, taking it up from the pocket of black velvet it
had peaked out from.

Directing his attention to the chest of gold doubloons laid out in
plain sight to whomever waltzed into the area, Bootstrap's son
shifted his tentativeness back to the cool chain residing in the
folds of his palm.

What a mystery you are Mr. Sparrow. Why hide this little piece of
treasure when you've got a case full of it sitting over in the corner
for any onlooker to be tempted by?

Slipping the enigmatic find over his head, he looked into the
splintered mirror, his image refracted in eight different ways.

Better put it back before you get too attached, Will. It suits you.

The former blacksmith laughed at his own childishness, moving to
return the trinket to it's original home, when he heard the thunder
of footsteps approaching, and judging by their proximity, intent on
the Captain's Quarters.

Knowing that he didn't have the luxury of putting the knot back in
it's hiding place before the arrival, he slammed the locks shut,
covering the prize up with his shirt fabric.

A towheaded man burst through the entrance seconds later, wheezing
with the effort it took to catch is breath. "Turner! Where's the
Cap'n?"

Recognizing the panting sailor to be John, an individual he was
shocked to find knew his name on account of his total indifference to
the goings on around him, the boy shook his head in puzzlement.

"Damnit, I 'ave to find him! The crew's running about like hens with
their 'eads cut off!"

"Calm down man. Now a little slower. What's the problem?"

"A French brigantine's been spotted. If we manage to capture it,
we'll have enough booty to last us till we find the Spaniards."

Grabbing a saber that he'd salvaged from one of the various piles of
refuse, he raced out of the room, trailing behind the anxious pirate.

And in the midst of all the commotion, forgetting that he'd kept the
necklace securely fastened at his collar.

~~()~~()~~()~~

Their carousing waxed into the early hours, the sky still onyx and
littered with constellations as they celebrated their good fortune.

The Devin Messager had yielded a mighty bounty, storage compartments
packed to the maximum with precious stones of every cut and size
along with the regular French currency.

Namely the vast majority of their entourage had bedecked themselves
in the finery, relishing the ropes of pearls, along with rings of
rubies, emeralds and sapphires that had been thefted.

Devin's crew had been ambushed, almost pitifully unprepared for the
attack, yet that had given them the upper hand that they'd needed to
tip the scales in their favor. Jack had advised him that whenever it
was possible for piracy to go unnoticed for as extended a period as
they could achieve, the more success they were guaranteed.

He hadn't been bluffing.

Barrels of rum were being ravaged, a few of the mates getting rowdy
and wallowing about in it like hogs in mud. Will was positive that if
there had been any women, aside from the stoic Annamaria, the revelry
would have turned into a burlesque.

Watching with conservative interest, the chestnut-haired youth saw
two of the seamen reemerge from the lower storage levels, having
retrieved a set of lutes.

They each flashed twin smiles of mischievous intent, then sat down on
the trunks of gold, striking up a rapturous flow of music.

Buffering his courage, Turner sidled up next to the ebony-skinned
ship hand, trying to gauge her notice as she murmured tune, having
obviously learnt it before.

She started for a minute when she spotted him, smiling brightly at
the hand he'd presented. "May I have the pleasure, Anna?"

Wickedly smirking, the woman grasped the tip of his fingers,
exclaiming with an exaggerated shake of his hand to the rest of the
crowd, "See this 'ere?  Here's a man that knows how to treat a girl!
S'gest the rest of y'all take notes."

Laughing with abandon, they commenced to spin round the brawling,
talking and unconscious men, setting a feverish pace in the dim glow
of the lanterns.

Some snickered at their merriment, cheering them on in guttural roars
of approval and tapping their feet in perfect sync.

The pair's enthusiasm only seemed to grow as they twirled about,
raven tresses flying out from Annamaria's hat as she struggled to
keep it on her head.

"Love is the traitor of a sailor's life
He cause the girls to loose their hearts' delight
He cause them to sigh, he cause them to mourn
All for my true love, never to return"

When they had gradually decreased the dance's speed, Will's attention
was ensnared by the Captain's sash blowing with the breeze, the man
appearing thoroughly engrossed with their antics. A chuckle tugged at
his mouth, orbs of shadowy black alight with gaiety.

He was on the brink of tripping, but luckily his partner caught him,
forcing him to tear his focus away from the pirate absorbing his
thought processes.

The ragged voices of the men broke into his musings, intent on
heightening the tempo. There was a haggard beauty to it. One could
almost believe they'd lived the tale they sung of if one had a vivid
enough imagination.

"She went a-sailin' on down the main
She met three ships just out from Spain
There she hailed each ship as she passed by
There she enquired for her true sailor boy"

"Captain, captain, tell me true
Do my sweet William sail with you
Oh, no fair maid he don't sail here
He's drownded in the Gulf my dear"

A moist breath whispered confidentially against the pinkening shell
of his ear. "Why do you think the Cap'n is staring so queerly at us
Will?"

The cabin boy resumed his evaluation of Sparrow. Indeed, he'd seen
the gaze before. Had been the recipient of it a sparse amount of
times...but it'd never been so amplified as it currently stood to be.
It was almost comparable to that of enchantment.

"I haven't the slightest. Does he have an aversion to dancing? Maybe
it's envy," Turner listened as she stifled a snort, thrashing him
haughtily on the bicep. "Aye. But envy of what's the question."

"She ran her boat up against a rock
Thought to all her soul she'd broke her heart
She wrang her hands and tore her hair
Just like some lady in despair"

William's brows furrowed in bemusement, eons coming and going as he
continued to spy upon the oddly provocative smile of the other man.

Ye Gods, will I ever understand you Sparrow? Every time I think that
there is hope, you contradict the definition I've given you, forcing
me to rule out a new one..

And in the brief instance that that smile had deepened, richer now
that he knew the younger was studying him, Will had thought that he
one day, he just might.

"Father, father, dig my grave
Place a marble stone at my head and feet
Upon my breast a turkle dove
To show to the world that I died for love"

~~()~~()~~()~~

When he at last permitted himself slumber, the harrowed son of
Bootstrap Bill Turner fell into Morpheus'  embrace with the anomalous
pirate's hungery gaze plaguing his dreams and scraping along the
ridges of his subconscious.

He's drownded in the Gulf my dear

~~()~~()~~()~~