Things Nautical 4: With Red Flag Flying
by Tarnneth

* * *

It's funny how easily a person can stop caring about living or dying with the right inducement. It wasn't that Jack wanted to die, far from it. He just really didn't care any more about doing something so risky it was guaranteed to get him killed. Like killing Dylan. The man did indeed deserve it.

How to kill him was the issue. He didn't have access to weapons or poisons or much of anything. Also, Dylan was stronger than him so killing the man bare-handed was unlikely. No, he'd have to think up something right clever.

Just now, he was enduring his bath in sullen silence. Dylan had been absent all day and now someone other than Sami was bathing him. A horrid, corpulent man who kept copping feels. Jack just added him to the list of people who needed to die. How many could he manage to kill before meeting his own demise, he wondered?

With the bath done he moved to recline on the bed and stare at the ceiling, still thinking about murder. It made him smile, at least.

"And why are you smiling?" Dylan walked into the room with his usual flourish.

"Just thinking... about killing you." Why lie about it, Jack figured.

"How pleasant. But I do need you to think in a manner more practical, Jack. So get up and come over here to the desk." The look on Dylan's face indicated that a slow response would result in punishment.

He was tired of punishment. Jack sighed and got up, crossing the room to sit down in the chair as the bastard pulled out an inkpot, a quill and a small stack of paper from the normally locked writing desk. "Need a new clerk, Dylan? I thought Sami did all that for you. What? Did you finally have to kill the little rat?" The rat in question chose that moment to walk in carrying an ornate black and red lacquer box. "Never mind, I see you haven't. Pity really."

Sami's eyes narrowed as he set the box on the dining table and waved other members of the crew into the room. The various men began to set the table with fine linen, silver, china and cut glass. "Having a party, Dylan?"

"Just a quiet dinner for us, Jack. To celebrate." He relocked the desk, hiding away such potentially useful things as letter openers and penknives. Jack let out a sad sigh, as the writing tools were set before him. "I want you to write a letter."

Jack looked at the madman. "To whom?"

"Your former crew. The Pearl has been sitting there taking up valuable harbor space for too long. I think it would be prudent if you instructed them to be on their way. Name a new Captain and all, since you've chosen to retire and spend your days with a dear, old friend. They'll understand." There was that oily smile again.

Jack didn't return it. "Ah. And if I don't?"

"Well, then. I'll have to see to it that Will and Elizabeth Turner are captured, tortured, raped and killed. You'll get to watch, of course. You'll also get to watch me execute your crew and burn your ship. How's that?"

"You have the most fascinating concept of dinner entertainment, Dylan." He picked up the quill and dipped it in the ink.

"I thought you'd finally see things my way." Maurer walked over to the table and picked up a red cut-glass decanter. He poured a small glass of thick red wine. "Port, Jack?"

Jack made a sour face. "Never could stomach the stuff. Got any rum?"

"Not with this dinner. Maybe with dessert." Dylan sipped the liquid and made a sour face of his own as he set the glass down. "Sami. This bottle is corked. Refill the decanter from a fresh one."

The Hungarian nodded and picked up the dirty glass and the decanter, before leaving. Dylan watched him, then turned back to Jack. "Cheer up, Jack. I brought you a gift."

Dylan picked up the box Sami had left at the table and brought to the desk. He set the box on the sheets of paper. Jack set down the quill and looked at the dragon painted in red over the shiny black surface of the box. The beast twisted around in a pattern that seemed all too familiar to him. Memory swirled about him, almost like opium smoke.

"So open it." This was one of the madder facets of Dylan Maurer. After weeks of torture and debasement, he really thought there was something between them. Some kind of relationship or affection that he thought could be made better by the presentation of a gift. Like they were doting lovers rather than master and slave. It was sick.

Jack opened the box, fearful of the possible contents. Maybe it was a necklace of James' bones, or something equally twisted. But no, it was a beautiful pipe carved of green, black, and red jade, and set with silver fittings in the shape of dragons. An opium pipe, the likes of which Jack had always longed for in his nights haunting dens in the East. It sat in the red velvet of the box surrounded by tools for the smoking of the drug, and the care and cleaning of the pipe. Brass scrapers to load the damper and teak wood ramrods and silk clothes to keep it gleaming and ready for use. A round red leather box coated with lacquer sat in one corner and Jack knew exactly what it held. Opium, almost certainly a lot of it.

"It's lovely." Jack wasn't lying. Not at all. It was a stunning piece of craftsmanship. He picked the pipe up and looked over it, checking the silverwork and the bore of the channel running through it. He picked up a ramrod and slid it in, marveling at how clean and straight it was.

"I think I got enough." Dylan pulled the lid from the round box with a twist to show him the dark paste packed into it. Yes, it was a lot. Enough to last him a few solid months of pleasurable delirium. The bastard knew his weakness all too well. Dylan waved his hands in a near perfect imitation of Jack's manners as he straightened to walk to the door. "Well, Jack. I'll leave you to it. Feel free to indulge, but not too much. I want you alert during dinner. And what's more, I want that letter finished. So write, write, write."

"Die, die, die... you bloody bastard." Jack muttered to his retreating back. The door closed with a snap, leaving him alone to stare at the open box before him. He quickly pushed the lid over the opium box and put the pipe back into its nest of velvet. Carefully he moved it off the sheets of paper and tried to think of writing rather than opium.

The last letter he'd written came back to him and Jack fought the melancholy that thoughts of James brought. Damn, it was hell. Hell to think about how much he'd looked forward to staging the act described in that letter. Like a playwright acting in his own work, an erotic bloody Shakespeare.

He looked again at the box, but looked away quickly. The temptation to smoke his sorrow away was great. To just let his pain drift from him on the swirl of opium smoke and bliss.

"Bugger." Jack said the word loudly just to hear it. He was better than he had been just after Dylan brought him the sword, not so inclined to self-pity. He didn't need to deaden his aching heart. Mourning had turned to righteous fury and before long, that fury would burn Dylan like a pyre. Jack was confident of it. He'd see Dylan dead before long. Whatever it took.

"How is the letter coming, Jack?" Sami returned with the refilled decanter of wine. He set down the tray and moved a few things around on the table.

"Splendidly. I'm telling them all about what wonderful hosts you are. I'm sure they'll envy me terribly." Jack didn't hide his vehemence.

"You are so ungrateful. Do you know how much that little gift cost Dylan? He would give you anything you asked, you know." Sami turned to him, his arms folded over his chest.

"Anything? I'll have to ask for your head on a platter, then. Silver one. Like that there." Jack pointed at the one with the decanter of port on it and gave a sinister smile. "Some of us don't aspire to being kept, Sami."

"Funny. I thought you were already playing cabin boy to that Commodore fellow. Did you not give your pretty ass up for a Letter of Marque? Did I hear wrong?" Sami's smile lacked Dylan's particular evil flair, but it was wolfish nonetheless.

"Aye. All wrong." The words should have stung more, but his heart had gone too numb. Even without the help of drugs. "Though, I am flattered that you think me a talented enough whore to merit a pardon for it. Itching for a go, Sami? Want to see for yourself how good I am?"

"I'd sooner kiss a lamprey, Jack." The man gave a saccharine smile and left. Jack contented himself with imagining that kiss after he was gone. Would serve the son of a bitch right.

Jack returned to staring at the paper. He would have to write something. Maybe it wasn't a bad idea to send the Pearl off. Keep his ship, and those still on it, safe. He couldn't protect James any longer, but maybe he could do something to keep Will, and Elizabeth, and Gibbs, and Anamaria, and all of them from more harm. Away from Dylan and his cruelty. It would be up to him, and him alone, to kill Dylan and escape. They probably wouldn't leave even if he told them too. And if they did, and if he lived through this, he'd find them again. He was Captain Jack Sparrow. He'd always find his ship and his fortune again.

And what of love? Jack shoved away his pain. James was gone, just like Bill. The best he could do for both of them was to avenge the death of one, and protect the son of the other. He dipped his quill again in ink and watched a few dark drops fall on the page. Nothing came. He was empty of ideas, empty of words.

He threw the quill down, watching the tip skitter a line of ink over the paper. In anger, he flipped open the pipe kit and brushed his fingers over the cool jade and silver. Jack shut the box again and stood, his hands rubbing over his eyes. He fought the desire to give in the seduction of numbness. The comfort that a total lack of feeling would bring.

Jack pushed himself away from the desk and crossed the room to the table. He glanced over the fine dinnerware, noting that the eating utensils had been left off. Probably to dissuade him from attacking Dylan with a fork. He stared at the wine sitting on its silver tray. It wasn't what he wanted. Jack longed for rum. The drink had always been a balm to his worries and a lubricant to his thoughts. It didn't dull his senses the way the opium would.

There was no rum to be had, though. Port would have to do. He snatched up a glass and filled it halfway from the decanter, gulping back the wine as fast as he could. Still, the cloying sweetness made his stomach flutter. Dear god, he hated the stuff. Like drinking raw cane syrup. Rum might be made of sugar, but the burn offset the flavor to make it palatable. The scent of the red liquor was worse then the taste, though. It reminded him of the lingering aroma of laudanum that had clung to his mother in her last days.

Laudanum. Opium mixed with wine. His eyes jumped suddenly from the wine decanter on the table to the box on the desk as a hundred thoughts collided together at once. Laudanum was powerful stuff. It could kill you if you took too much. How many tragic stories ended with some poor slip of a girl, her honor and dignity ruined by some man, drinking half a bottle of laudanum and dying quietly? Like falling asleep and never waking.

Jack's eyes came back to the decanter of wine. A decanter made of dark red cut glass, with matching goblets of the same style. Not a clear glass that someone might notice a bit of extra sediment in. A decanter full of Dylan's favorite dark ruby port, which was a wine so red it was almost black. Almost black, like the lacquer box of the opium kit was black.

His sudden glee was as sweet as the wine. Sweet enough to hide the bitter taste of the generous portion of opium he was planning to put into it. He laughed out loud. Yes, it would be a lovely dinner.

* * *

"Has he said anything?" Will said as he looked up from the sword he was sharpening. The action bordered on the obsessive given that the blade was already razor sharp.

"Nothing useful. I fear he's more afraid of Maurer than us." James sat down at Jack's desk and rubbed his temples. He'd been questioning the scoundrel for nearly two days with no luck. The man would not budge.

"Perhaps we could offer him passage to a place where he'd be safe from his Captain. Or a pardon for past wrongs." Will finally set down the sword and picked a small hatchet up from the table. An array of weapons lay displayed across the surface, waiting to be put to use. Considering the arsenal, it was clear that they intended to give Dylan and his men no quarter. Will began honing the blade of the axe with the same intensity he'd shown with the sword.

"I've tried that, much as it rankles to offer such a thing to a man so obviously wicked. Every day I'm learning to appreciate the difference between the kind of pirates Jack and his crew are, and the sorts like Barbossa, Maurer and Brock." James' hands drifted over various things on the desk. Not so long ago, Jack had sat here writing a letter whose contents had made the Commodore gasp with need and longing. The depth to which he missed Jack was unfathomable.

"Yes. Well, it's something that should have occurred to you before." Will's voice held a tone of indignation that was impossible to ignore.

James sighed. "I thought we were beyond this, Will."

The blacksmith set down the hatchet he'd been working on and looked at the other man hard. "So did I, but I still can't make sense of your reasons for being here. You say Governor Swann demanded it, and his letter to Elizabeth supports that, but there's something else. Something you're not saying. All I can surmise is that you owe Jack somehow. That there is some debt between you that I'm completely unaware of."

"Yes, completely. Whatever is between Jack and me is just that. Between us. It does not involve you, or Elizabeth, or anyone else on this ship. Do I make myself clear?" James had turned in his chair to give his friend a very intent look.

Will's return look was as earnest as ever. "Yes. For now."

James let it go. It was not the time to have this particular discussion. He supposed that in the end, the Turner's would have to be told about him and Jack. Elizabeth's father knew and Jack was not likely to keep such a thing from the man who was basically his closest friend.

Actually, he might. James realized suddenly that Jack's secretive nature made it entirely possible that he would try to hide the truth from Will. After betrayals from Barbossa, and likely from Maurer, Jack had learned to be more careful, no doubt. It was also unlikely that Jack would ever tell Will about his relationship with the lad's father. Not willingly, at least.

He hadn't really told James, either. He'd merely surmised it from the mix of longing and loyalty that Jack seemed to harbor for the younger man. The strange look of loss that came over him when Will would tilt his head in a certain way, like Jack was remembering something from long ago. That and a few dreamy mutterings in the pirate's sleep had told him that Bootstrap Bill had not been merely a random crewman of the Black Pearl. But then again, it was only a guess.

"Maybe we could offer him the Osprey?"

James shook himself from his thoughts to look at Will. "What?"

"Give him Maurer's ship and leave to go wherever he likes?" Will had resumed his sharpening. He felt the edge of the hatchet with his thumb and set it down, seemingly satisfied with the job.

"No. If the ship is in good condition, I plan to take custody of it in the name of the Royal Navy." James fiddled with his cane. He wasn't sure how Will would take the news.

"Why?" He just looked confused, really.

James shrugged. "If I'm going to even try and keep my military career alive, I need to come through this with something to show for it. Headquarters isn't going to be particularly impressed if rescuing a notorious pirate from death is my only achievement."

Will looked like he might protest but Gibbs ran into the room before he could. "He's talk'n! Brock's giv'n us the location of Maurer's den."

Both men stood up abruptly. "How did you get him to talk?" Will asked exuberantly.

"I didn't." Gibbs shook his head with a grin.

"Then who did?" James' brow creased in puzzlement.

Conner walked in smiling, his brogue thicker for laughter. "Anamaria did. She's get'n a full confession from him now. Marty and Tearlach are down with her plotting the course."

"Did you get the bleed'n stopped?" Gibbs shared a grin with Conner.

The Scotsman nodded. "Aye. It wasn't really that deep."

"Bleeding? What did she do exactly?" James demanded.

"Just cut him a bit. Not bad, but enough to get him talking." Gibbs was still beaming, a fact that worried James in ways he couldn't explain.

"Would someone please tell us exactly what part of Brock Anamaria injured?" James looked at the men trying very hard not to sound like a petulant child. He felt a bit like one though.

"His bollocks."

Will and James both turned to look at Elizabeth as she walked into the stateroom, wiping her hands on a rag.

"Elizabeth!" Will exclaimed with a look of embarrassed shock on his face.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, Good Lord, Will! I'm not a child. I can say bollocks if I like. It's not like I'm a blushing virgin anymore."

James smiled, holding back the laughter that threatened to explode from him.

Will look positively aghast. He sputtered, trying to find words, but gave up before long. He sighed and sat back down. "Be thankful you didn't marry her, James. I don't know if you could have lasted."

"I know I wouldn't have." James smiled at Elizabeth and then turned to Gibbs. "Do we have a plan yet?"

He nodded. "Starting to. It's an island, it seems. Marty will have the bearing soon enough."

"Right." James walked out of the stateroom and looked at the setting sun. "As much as I hate to delay, I suggest we wait until morning for our assault. We don't know the island well enough to invade in the dark."

"Aye." Gibbs moved up behind him. "We'll set sail as soon as we know where we're going. Don't you worry, Commodore. We'll save him."

"Yes." James gave Gibbs a troubled look, wondering just what state they'd find Jack in when they did.

Gibbs seemed to sense his unspoken worry. "Jack's strong. He's been through worse. I'm sure of it."

But however sure Gibbs was, James did not feel comforted.

* * *

Lamp and candlelight danced around the room, making the glass and silver sparkle. The food was quite good, really. First cheese and fruit, followed by a hearty clam chowder. The main course was boiled crabs and roast pheasant, with herbed boiled potatoes as a side. All very lovely. Jack was pretending to drink some white wine while Dylan was moving through his decanter of port at an admirable rate. Jack was surprised that he hadn't passed out yet.

The man had, however, become very giddy. "I know you find it hard to believe, Jack, but really, I was devastated when you left. I mean, yes, you mutinied and burnt my ship, but I was more upset that you broke off our affair without warning."

"I didn't mutiny, mate. I instigated a slave revolt. Very different." Jack watched Dylan's servant clear the scraps off the table and then set out dessert. Two slices of a Hungarian cake with prune filling that only Sami had the recipe for. His eyes were more fixed on the Negro slave who was holding the confection, than it. She had to be no more than thirteen. Dylan had shown her off as soon as she'd entered the room.

"Like her, Jack? She's new." He'd smiled and Jack knew exactly why he'd felt the need to make the purchase. Leverage. With the letter written and the Pearl destined to sail away, Dylan would need some new person he could threaten to insure Jack's cooperation. An innocent slave girl was a perfect fit. Jack was astounded once again by just how much of a bastard Dylan was. Him and Barbossa would have got on famously.

Dylan took a bite of his dessert and seemed to achieve orgasm instantaneously. "Oooh. It's so good. Do have some, Jack. Sami really outdid himself this time."

"I'm sure he did." He took a bite and yes, as much as he hated the sniveling little rat, it was good. The trouble was, here they were at dessert and Dylan was still upright and awake. Jack was starting to worry that he'd not drugged the wine enough. Hell, he'd put nearly all the opium in and stirred the mix with the pipe cleaner ramrod for a long time to try and get it right. Dylan always could hold his drink, but this was ludicrous.

"You know, I should do something nice for him." Dylan was refilling his glass and looking longingly at his cake. "Sami does so much for me. I should give him a gift. I gave you one."

"Yes. You did indeed." Jack smiled, trying to look as grateful as possible. "What would you get him?"

"I should get him his own ship. Yes, make him a captain." The man sipped his wine. "Damn, I'm thirsty. I don't think my throat has ever been so dried out."

Jack brightened. That was a good sign. He'd always had a dry mouth on opium. "Probably the cake. It seems a little dry to me."

"Yes. Still, it's good cake." He drank more. "Does it seem warm to you, Jack? I'm sweating awfully."

"The room is rather stuffy." Jack tried to see Dylan's eyes by the lamplight. Yes, his pupils were smaller.

"Oh, dear. I don't think I can finish my dessert." He pushed the plate away. Dylan's already pale skin was looking sallow and beads of sweat showed on his forehead.

"Feeling ill? Should I fetch someone?" 'Like a hangman?' thought Jack. He half stood, trying to show concern rather than the glee he was feeling. He wanted to whoop and holler.

Dylan started to rub his face, focusing on his nose. "Itches. Everything itches." He rubbed his eyes hard, and then back down to his nose. For a man who looked to be in a great deal of distress, he acted damned tranquil. Every action was done slowly and calmly. The opium was working its magic.

"Well, now I'm cold." Dylan said around a yawn. "I'm sorry, Jack. I was going to bugger you tonight, right hard too. Now, I don't think I can manage. Forgive me?"

"Oh, don't worry about it. I'll get over my disappointment." Jack watched him try to push his chair away from the table, try to stand, try to move at all. He couldn't. Dylan stayed rooted to his seat.

"Jaaa... Jack?" Dylan's pupils were now tiny dots. He looked around in a slow mockery of panic, his breathing so shallow he was almost panting. "What's happening?"

"I've poisoned you, mate. I hope you don't mind too much." Jack got up and walked round the table.

Alarm might have registered on Maurer's face, if he hadn't been too drugged to feel alarmed. "But how?"

"The opium. Put it in the port. Really, Dylan, I can't believe you thought it was safe to give me that much opium. It should have occurred to you that I'd use it on you." Jack came closer, a triumphant grin on his face. "I am, still and all, Captain Jack Sparrow."

Dylan chuckled. "Yes, it should have. So now that I'm unable to stop you, what do you plan to do?"

Jack picked up the silver bell that Dylan's hand was trying to reach. "None of that now. We don't want Sami in on our private party, do we?" He leaned against the table, looking down at the man slumped bonelessly in his chair. "I had thought of just letting the opium kill you, but there's just too much of a risk that you'll live. I just can't have that. So I'll be stabbing you with that big, sharp knife your new girl used to cut the cake. Nice of her to leave it for me, wasn't it?"

Those pinpoint eyes followed Jack as he moved around Dylan and the table to pick the long blade up from the serving dish. The edge of it wasn't very sharp, but it was long and pointy. With Dylan in his present state, it would be easy enough to sink the thing handle deep into his flesh. "So what's it to be? Throat, heart, stomach, or back? I'll let you choose."

"Bastard." Dylan spat with little passion.

"Oh. I'm the bastard, am I? Only I haven't been raping you for over a week, and I didn't kill the man you love. So how exactly am I a bastard? I hope you like hell, Dylan. Say hello to my old friend Barbossa when you meet him." Jack started to advance, the knife clenched in his fist. Fuck letting Dylan choose where the knife was going. He'd stab him in the chest or the gut, somewhere slow and lingering. Jack hoped the opium wore off enough so that Dylan could feel his death just a little.

"You really loved him, your Commodore. Deep and true and all that shite?" Dylan tried to move, but his muscles were like jelly. He only managed to fall sideways off the chair and on to the floor.

Jack moved to kneel over him as fast as he could. "Yes, I loved him. I think I'll love him forever, even dead. Just like I'll hate you forever."

Wild, sable eyes flashing, Jack rolled Dylan over onto his back and wrapped both hands around the handle of the cake knife. He aimed for the heart and thrust downwards with all the strength he could muster. Down came the knife, driving deep into the man. And he could only gasp and squirm a little. Jack knew he wasn't feeling any pain, just the strange confusion that seeing a great knife sticking out of your chest must cause. The dying man wheezed and sputtered, blood coming up with the ragged breaths.

"Hit your lung, I think. Don't matter, you'll be dead soon regardless." Jack looked at the man with an iciness that frightened him.

After a few weak tries, Dylan at last found words. They were hard to make out, though. Jack leaned down a little and heard the whispered words.

"I'll be waiting for you... in hell."

"Yes. Well, I'll likely arrive there someday. But not for a good long time, I hope. Anyway, who knows? I might go to heaven yet. I'm sure my James will put in a good word for me with the Lord." Jack was smiling. He'd just killed a man ruthlessly after long days of torture and tears were streaming down his cheeks, but Jack was smiling nevertheless. It was the image of James stubbornly petitioning God on behalf of his immortal soul that was doing it.

He almost started chuckling over it, but stopped when someone let out a surprised gasp from the door. "Master?"

The slave girl. Jack tried to get up as fast as he could. "No no no. Quiet. If they know he's dead, they'll kill me and do some fairly terrible things to you, I'm sure. Just for fun."

The girl nodded and came into the room, closing the door behind her. "What do I do?"

"Do you have somewhere safe to go?" It might be his undoing but Jack couldn't leave an innocent behind. Never could.

She shook her head, glancing at Dylan's now lifeless body in worry.

"Damn. No worries, we'll deal with that later. You'd best come with me for now. Next question, do you know your way out of this place?" Jack had been allowed to see very little of the house.

"Yes."

"Good. Let's get out of here, then." Silently they slid out the door and crept together down the hall. Jack hoped it wasn't too cold outside. He was still in only a loincloth, a robe, and some slippers. Getting free just to freeze would be very ironic indeed.

The girl led him through empty dark corridors, occasionally ducking into unoccupied rooms if they heard someone coming. Jack realized that the place had to be some sort of manse. How Dylan came by such a spacious island home, he didn't want to know.

"What name do they call you, girl?" Jack asked as they snuck down a flight of servant's stairs.

"Sally." She didn't say more.

"Well, Miss Sally. I'm Jack." He cast her what he hoped was a friendly smile; most of his attempts at those lately were coming out as grimaces. "And do you know how old you are?"

A lot of slaves didn't know. Hell, a lot of freeman didn't know either. Few enough had had parents who kept track of such things. This girl nodded, though. "I'm just twelve."

Twelve. Younger even than he'd thought. He'd no clue what to do with her once they were out, but he'd think of something. "So where are we headed?" Jack asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"The kitchen. There's a door to the outside." She looked around the corner cautiously. A smart one, this Sally.

"Yes, that's the stuff. Lead away." Jack followed her into the short hallway that led to a door. He got a funny little itch of worry. This was the spot where things either turn out just as you hope and you get free to dance and sing and carry on with your merry life, or where everything goes sour and you get caught just as you're about to do it. He was running about even on those two possible outcomes these days. "Best if I go in first, Sally."

She nodded and held back as he pushed the door open. It creaked terribly, which sent a shiver up Jack's spine. The kitchen appeared to be empty. Jack slipped in, the girl right behind. He could see a door across the room. The door out. The door to freedom. The door that Sami was walking through carrying a bottle of blood red wine.

The two men stared at each other, stunned and blinking for a few tense moments. It was Jack who broke his shock first and rushed forward to tackle the other man round the knees and cause him to lose hold of the bottle. Glass shattered, sending dark red splatters of wine over the men where they struggled on the floor. Jack called out, hoping that wasn't making the biggest mistake of his whole bloody life. "Run for it, Sally!!!"

* * *

The island was small and easily dismissed by the casual observer. One of the many smallish ones that existed along the coast of Rhode Island. Most were only big enough to support a few trees and the occasional leisure sailor, mooring his boat for a day of pheasant hunting. Others were big enough to have houses on them forming small island villages separate from the mainland. This one fell in between, big enough for one large house and enough wooded area to keep said house hidden from view. A secluded mansion on an island. Rather the perfect hideaway for a pirate.

The Osprey was anchored in a secluded horseshoe harbor on the far end of the island. Someone had gone to the expense of building a dock. James looked over the ship through his spyglass. He, Gibbs, Will, Anamaria and Daveth were hiding in a knot of trees south of the harbor. Will was sketching the layout of the harbor and house with a bit of graphite and paper. He'd proven the most able to draw up diagrams, something he did with sword designs frequently.

James snapped his glass shut and looks at Gibbs. "She looks shipshape, only a few lads on her. I expect that most of the crew is in the house. Much as I hate to delay our search for Jack, I feel we must secure that ship and its guns before we make our assault."

"Aye. Dylan does seem the sort to fire on his own house in a fight." Gibbs said it with all seriousness.

Will looked up from his sketch. "Can I use the glass, James?"

The Commodore nodded and handed it over. He was still wearing civilian clothes rather than his uniform. Will had suggested changing into his official garb as a way to intimidate the enemy. "What, and make myself a target again? They think I'm dead, apparently. Let us allow them to continue in that misassumption."

"And use it to our advantage." Gibbs had interjected. Will had seen the logic in that. James now wondered if his uniform might have been the better choice, though. Wearing it would have certainly improved his morale. Maybe he could just wear the wig.

"There are some guards in front of the house. Just two. I think there might be a signal system between the harbor and house, so we should probably dispatch them as we do the ship." Will handed the glass back to James, who used it to find the guards. Sure enough, there were two bored looking buccaneers sitting on the front porch. One had his eyes on the harbor at nearly all times. James followed the line of his glaze to the mast of the ship. Yes, it would be simple enough to run up a particular flag and warn the house of attack.

"Damn. Good thinking, Will. We'll have to send someone to dispose of them too." He handed the glass to Gibbs, who lost it as Anamaria snatched it away.

"I'll handle that." She set the glass to her eye and studied the front porch intently.

James gave Gibbs a startled look. The old salt motioned him closer and whispered. "Jack told me her first job was burglar rather than pirate, I'd let her handle it."

He nodded as he straightened, casting the woman pirate an appraising glance. There wasn't a person aboard the Pearl that didn't end up surprising him in some way. He looked around the group and realized that Daveth wasn't with them. "Daveth?"

"Here, sir." The man called out quietly, emerging from a knot of brambles with a young Negro girl in tow. "I heard noises and went to look. Found this one sulking about."

The group stared at the trembling child as she glanced frantically at all of them. Anamaria turned toward her, the spyglass coming away from her eye. The girl gasped to see a face like her own. "You're not any of them!"

Her nod to the house told them whom she meant. "No, we ain't. Who are you, child?" Gibbs did his best to sound soft and gentle.

"Sally. The master of that house bought me two days ago, but he's dead now. That means I'm free, right?"

"I'm unsure what the exact legal circumstances are. Do you mean to tell us that Dylan Maurer is dead? A friend of ours is his captive so it's very important that you tell us everything you know." James tried to keep either military command or his concern for Jack out of his voice. He failed on both counts.

Sally shied away a little from him, but Anamaria came forward to put a hand on her shoulder. "Aye, Sally. You're free as any of us, and you've got my word that you'll stay that way. Now who killed your master?"

"He said his name was Jack. He told me to run so I ran. But this is an island so there's nowhere to run too. He did save me though." Her voice was nervous and fast. She pressed herself to Anamaria's side, desperate for any sort of support.

Gibbs cringed. "That's our Jack."

James felt a swell of love and admiration for the man. If someone had suggested a year ago that he'd ever admire, let alone love, a pirate, he'd have laughed long and hard. Since then he'd learned that there was far more to Captain Jack Sparrow than arrest reports and charges of piracy could ever convey. They never spoke of his humor, his capacity for kindness, or the strange brand of personal ethics and honor that dictated most of his actions. A pirate and a good man, indeed. At first, he'd been drawn to Jack's mysterious sensuality. Those eyes, that smile, that body; how they'd haunted him. And yes, Jack was an erotic scoundrel who'd awakened a long hidden yearning in James. But he'd fallen in love with the real man.

Now was not the time for such mental wanderings. James steeled himself and focused on the issue at hand. "If Dylan is dead, but Jack is still captured..."

"He won't be alive much longer, if he is still alive." Will's voice was close to panicked.

"Bite yer tongue, lad. Sally, was it?" Gibbs looked at the girl, who nodded. "Sally, we're going back to our ship now. You tell Anamaria here everything you know about the house. We'll get Jack out so you can thank him personal for saving you."

At that, Gibbs gave James a look that asked if they were moving out rather than demanded. Even years from Navy service, Gibbs deferred to someone he saw as a commander. It was something he probably did with Jack without thinking.

James just nodded and started back to the ship, his hand white-knuckled around the knob of his stick and his heart in his throat. Will's words were still sounding in his head. Like the death sentence he'd given Jack on their return to Port Royal so long ago. Then he could ignore the echo of guilt that had filled him at the prospect of Jack's hanging. Now he had no time for remorse. That, he'd have enough of later if they did not save Jack. The most powerful emotions James was feeling as they made their way back to the Pearl were his love and his fear.

* * *

Jack was jarred into consciousness harshly. Sami had slapped him. As soon as he was awake though, he wished he wasn't. The Hungarian's fury was palpable. His whole body seemed to spark with rage, his eyes danced with madness as he moved away from Jack's battered body.

Sami had really given him a pounding. He could feel fresh bruises all over and one eye wouldn't open it was so swollen. His ribs hurt when he breathed too. One or more was likely broken. He wasn't dead though, so that was something. But from the way Sami was looking at him, that wouldn't last for long. "I take it he's dead then?"

"Whore." Sami spat. "Yes. But don't worry; you'll be with him soon. And when he's fucking your sweet ass in hell, Jack, do tell him it was me that sent you to him."

"Won't you join us, Sami? I'm sure Dylan would want both his whores to comfort him." Jack was a dead man anyway, so it really didn't matter how much more Sami beat him. Which was good because, after Sami started, it was clear he was going to beat him a lot more.

When he again became conscious, Jack was outside. He could hear birds and smell a fire. Cold air licked over his bare body, making the pain in the many cuts and injuries sharper. He opened his one good eye and tried to see around him. Oh shit.

He was standing, by virtue of the rope tied to his wrists and suspended from a wooden beam overhead. He was naked, a fact that worried him rather a lot. His body felt similar to how it had years ago when he'd learned Moses' Law with the cat. He'd been left to kiss the gunner's daughter for a few days after, his injuries exposed to the elements. The years after had seen fights and beatings aplenty, but none so painfully humiliating as that first. Until now. Funny, he couldn't remember what he'd done to deserve the punishment. Whatever Sami was planning for him this time, though, he knew the reasons.

"With us, Jack?" Sami's voice was like a knife into his flesh. Or maybe that was a real knife the man was sliding over his belly. A stinging, thin pain bloomed across his skin as the blade glided slowly across it. Jack looked down to see a red line of blood spring into being. "You like? It's just a start, of course. I have to mark my way before I start the procedure."

Jack grunted. It was all the sound he could make.

Sami continued as though Jack had spoken. "What procedure, you ask? Why, I'm going to disembowel you. Slice your guts out and leave them hanging for the crows. You'll bleed to death or the pain will kill you. Either way, your filthy life will be over. Anything to say?"

It took great effort to summon the spit that Jack sent shooting to hit Sami in the face, but it was worth it. He felt the knife push into his flesh a little deeper and a thousand wild thoughts careened through his head at once. This wasn't at all how he'd expected to die, but one death was as bad as another. Regret wasn't something Jack had ever bothered with much. Only a few things had ever spurred him to remorse before. Now the regret that he did feel, here at the end, was for things that hadn't happened. He should have told James he was falling for him before he'd left. Not kept himself guarded. When had Jack Sparrow ever held back? Of all the bloody times to hold his tongue, why with James?

Jack very rarely prayed. His voice wasn't working so the words came out a horse whisper. "God. Please, I know we haven't been on the best of terms, but if you could forgive me just a little, just enough to see my James again, I'd be humble as hell in heaven. Really. No lies."

Something spattered onto Jack's cheek and for an instant he thought that Sami had spat on him before sinking the blade in full. But no, the loud, ringing report of a pistol shot and the sudden withdrawal of the knife at his abdomen, said otherwise.

He opened the eye he'd shut tight to see the Magyar bastard slumping on the platform, blood welling from a great hole in his neck. Someone was a bloody good shot not to have hit him as well. Jack started wriggling, trying to get a look at what was going on as the sounds of a battle echoed around him. He could hear his name being called out.

A rescue!! A bloody, brilliant rescue! Huzzah And Holy Fuck!! Jack started to fight against the ropes holding his wrists harder.

"Careful, Jack. You'll do yourself an injury."

His swollen eye fought to open as wide as the other as he heard a voice he'd never expected to hear again. Jack's head turned to find James standing before him. The apparition kneeled down to check Sami's body and stood again with the man's knife in his hand. He wrapped an arm around Jack and cut the rope just above his wrists to allow the bonds to unravel.

They crumpled together onto the wooden floor of the odd scaffold like structure, Jack pressing himself into the other man and sobbing. "You're supposed to be dead."

"Am I not? This does seem a little like hell." James pulled a handkerchief from his coat and pressed it to the bleeding cut on Jack's stomach.

Jack smiled, able suddenly to ignore the hundred little hurts of his body. "No. It's heaven. Which means... I have to keep that bloody promise to the Lord."

"What promise?" James was struggling with his coat. He finally got it off and set it around Jack's shoulders before gently raising them both to stand.

"Never you mind, it's between him and me, and best not repeated. Maybe he'll forget I said it." Jack leaned against James, tired and drained.

"Doubtful." They started moving, making their way off the platform and away from the house.

"James?" Jack felt himself tremble a little. Damn, it was overwhelmingly good to be back in this man's arms.

"Hmm?" James was leading them through the fighting. Members of Jack's crew joined them to form a protective knot around the pair.

"Why haven't you kissed me, yet?"

James looked up from the pistol he'd been trying to reload one handed and gaped at his lover. "I'm a bit busy at the moment."

"Right. Just, it's not a proper rescue if you don't give me a fiery kiss and all that." Jack's face, bruised and bloodied, was also determined.

He was serious. Dead serious, James realized. "You're delirious. I'll kiss you once we get on the ship, is that satisfactory?"

"It'll have to do. Why are you limping?" Jack looked down at James' leg, noting that the faltering of his lover's step slowed their progress.

"Because I twisted my ankle. My God, do you ever cease speaking?" James stood still, looking around the yard.

"Now I shouldn't have to answer that. You know better than anyone that I don't. And here comes Will." Jack's working eye set on the approaching blacksmith.

"James! Your sword." Smiling, Will presented the weapon. "The house and ship are taken. Jack! You look terrible."

"And you're a right ninny. Of course I look bloody terrible. Sami was planning to rip my guts out. That rum?" Jack pointed weakly at the flask at Will's side.

"Water." The younger man said, shaking his head.

"Close enough." James and Will helped Jack drink from the flask, pulling it from him as he started to choke.

"Sorry, Jack." Will set Jack's other arm over his own shoulder and the two men carried him back to the ship.

"Mr. Dracup. You and your squad have the Osprey. Return to Newport once the island is secure." James barked to the man as he and Will carried the Captain of the Black Pearl onto his ship.

"Aye, sir. No quarter, sir?" Dracup's eyes were flinty as he spoke.

"None, Abraham." James called back over his shoulder as they hurried Jack into the stateroom, and through the doors to his cabin to his bed. Gingerly, like the man was made of glass, they set him on the bed.

"I'll fetch Elizabeth." Will sprinted from the room as soon as Jack was abed.

James felt a hand grasp the front of his shirt, pulling him down to meet Jack's lips. Fear and worry coursed through him as he kissed back, their mouths weakly begging for more. His arms went around Jack and brought his torso up to press their bodies together. James' urgency was startling, but not as much as the feeling of Jack's answering need. The kiss deepened just as far as it dared, before Jack's head fell back in exhaustion.

"Just what I needed, James luv. Now I'll lose consciousness, if you don't mind." Jack was out before his head hit the pillow.


* * *

"Dr. Potter?" James stood as the surgeon emerged from the bedroom of the two-room suite he'd hired. "How is he?"

The doctor gave him a look of concern. "He will live. Most of his wounds are superficial. The worst are the broken ribs, and if he stays in bed and rests, they should heal with little trouble."

James nodded and looked at the doctor. There was something the man wasn't saying, but the look he was wearing was hard to read. "Is there anything else?"

"You're his friend? A close friend?" Dr. Potter looked back at the door at James' nod. "He's been sodomized, repeatedly. Violently, in fact. The rectal damage will heal, but I've no idea the effect on his mind."

The rush of angry bile that rose in James' throat stung. He bit it back and thanked the physician. The man left, giving James a bottle of laudanum in case the patient needed it. James had a feeling that Jack wouldn't want the stuff. He put it away and pulled out a bottle of rum. That, his Jack would ask for.

With a little shudder of worry, James opened the door. Jack was sitting in the bed staring at the wall, his fingers twisting a bit of his hair. It still looked so strange without the charms dangling in it. Jack looked strange sans kohl and baubles and his customary sash or smile.

Well, he hadn't been smiling until he saw James enter the room. "That for me?"

James looked at the bottle. "Yes. The doctor also left laudanum." Jack didn't respond. "I had a feeling you'd not want it."

"Good instincts. Now give me a glass or hand over the bottle. Whichever." Jack reached for the bottle, but James moved it away to instead take a glass from the cupboard and pour a healthy portion. He walked to the bed, and sat down on the edge. James passed the glass to Jack. The pirate took it in his shaky hands and brought it to his lips, drinking deeply.

"God damn it, I was parched. Thank you, James." Jack smiled at his lover, trying to hide the rush of fear that gripped him. The doctor would have told him about all the injuries.

"He raped you."

Right to it then. "Yes. Nothing more to say, really. Details won't make it any easier on you than it was on me. Dylan's dead, James. Let's leave it at that."

James turned his face to Jack with a look of trepidation. "How? How do I forget that some vile, wicked man touched you? How do I forget that he hurt you and I couldn't save you from it."

"Not your job to save me from anything, mate. No one named you my protector." Jack took another drink, his eyes narrowed over the glass.

"I did. I named myself that. That and a myriad other things the moment I chose to invite you into my bed." James' voice rose sharply.

"What? Do you own me now, James? A few tumbles and we're as good as wed? That what you're getting at? You're the only man allowed to touch me, is that it?" Jack sounded more snappish than he meant to. Damn. He didn't want to fight. Why didn't the stupid bastard just climb into bed with him and hold him like he wanted him to?

"No. I guess not. We... Do you want...forget it." James stood, walking from the bed to lean against the windowsill and watch people moving through the streets of Newport.

"Oh, bugger. James, get your navy arse back to this bed. We're both being complete imbeciles over this." Jack set the glass of rum on the bedside table. "Think you can forget all the nasty things he did to me long enough to get into bed and bloody hold me?"

James turned, his fist clenched at his sides. "Do you want me to?"

"Would I have asked if I didn't want it?" Jack pulled aside the bedclothes to reveal his bandaged sides and bruised thighs. James' breath caught in his throat as he came toward the bed, discarding excess clothing as he went.

He climbed slowly into the bed next to his battered lover, shifting carefully to avoid hurting the other man. Jack nestled against James' larger frame, loving the solid feel of him. The pirate sighed, tension flowing from him as he snuggled deeper into James' embrace.

"I'm sorry, Jack. I just feel so angry. Enraged. If I could somehow resurrect Maurer, I would, just to kill him again." James stroked the loose hair that framed his lover's face.

Jack chuckled. "Oh, I'd love to see his face if you did."

They both laughed a little and fell back into silence, just holding each other. James found himself wanting to tell Jack how much he loved him, but the words got all jumbled. Why couldn't he say it? It had been easy enough to tell Gibbs he loved Jack. Why was telling Jack so hard? The terrible possibility of rejection was a barricade he couldn't quite get over.

And why did he think Jack might reject him? Maybe because Jack had balked at the rather possessive way he'd been reacting. And of course he had. Captain Jack Sparrow didn't want to be owned. Wasn't that what Maurer had been trying to do? Keep him captive, like an exotic beast in a personal menagerie. Like a harem slave, maintained for private gratification. The idea of it sickened James.

But so did the idea of sharing Jack. It angered him to the point of disgust. The thought that some other hands, some other body, some other man or woman, would taste the sweetness of Jack's passion. It enraged him beyond rationality. He'd never been so jealous of Will's open affection for Elizabeth. That, he'd seen as a nuisance at worst. It had never occurred to him that the woman would choose wild ardor over a practical marriage, but she had.

And wasn't he doing just that himself? Dismissing the possibility of future matrimony in favor of a life of secrecy and subterfuge? All to keep the affections of a man whose concept of loyalty and fidelity were likely suspect? He was a pirate withal.

'And a good man.'

Will's words would forever haunt James. They sounded in his mind whenever doubt over his decision to follow the desires of his body and the hopes of his heart came up. Jack was a good man and he loved him. Nothing changed that. Not his fear or Maurer's brutality or Jack's skittishness. Nothing.

"Jack?" He voice faltered slightly with the weight of what he planned to say. "Are you awake?"

"Yes. Can't fall asleep. Think you could take your shirt off?" Jack shifted, pulling at the linen shirt that covered most of James.

"Why?"

"Because I want to feel your skin, that's bloody well why. Something wrong with that?" Jack tugged harder at the fabric.

With a sigh, James sat up and worked the garment off. He dropped it to the floor before lying back down again to pull Jack to him.

"Jesus Bloody Christ on the cross..." Jack whispered, his eyes wide in shock. "You must really love me."

James blinked at him, then smiled. "Well, as a matter of fact I do, but what makes you say that?"

"Your shirt." Jack said it as though it was perfectly logical.

Why did people always do this to him? Make absurd statements as though they were self-evident? "What about it?"

"You just dropped it on the floor, so you could resume holding me. You didn't play Mister Right And Proper Military Fop, and get out of bed to put it away. In fact..." He sat up a little, wincing at how his ribs bent. "No, you didn't put your britches away either. They're just sitting on a chair. Damn, you do love me."

Jack smiled and snuggled closer to James, fingers twining into the hairs on his chest. He mused, his voice singsongy and light. "My James loves me... la la la-la. He really really loves me, ha ha ha-ha."

James chuckled. Jack's joy was infectious. "Yes, I love you. Jack Sparrow, I love you."

"Captain Jack Sparrow. And I love you, Commodore James Norrington. There, I said it. I'll say it again. I love you." Jack punctuated the words with a kiss to James' nipples. The kisses continued until their mouths were locked together. And James wanted more, so much more. They both did. He could sense Jack's need wafting off him like heavy perfume, but it was mingled with worry.

He pulled away from his lover, his left hand caressing Jack's shoulder. "You're not ready."

Jack shook his head. "Won't be for awhile, I fear. Between Dylan's idea of lovemaking and Sami's idea of gratitude, I'm all one great bruise."

"Of course. We'll wait as long as you need to." James stroked Jack's hair as the man nestled against his chest. As noble as his words were, James could not help the splinter of doubt that worked its way into his mind. Just how long would he be waiting?

* * *

Boston Harbor was really quite lovely. The Boston Light stood looking out over the water, tall and daunting. Jack liked to watch it shine across the harbor at night, inviting ships in. A beacon to welcome the weary. He liked that.

The city was not unpleasant. There were some interesting shops and friendly taverns. He and James had taken tea with Elizabeth's aunt, Constance Wade a few times. Even so, Jack preferred to stay on the Pearl and get reacquainted with his ship and crew. He'd only just begun to thank them all for once again setting aside the Code to come to his aid. Had any other pirate captain ever inspired such loyalty?

James seemed just as happy to stay on board the ship with him. He didn't like the Bostonian's tendency to think of themselves as Massachusetts' colonists first and citizens of the Crown a distant second. There was far too much freethinking going on for his military tastes. Of course, the irony of where he spent his nights didn't occur to him.

It was also that no one seemed to have any respect for his rank, and it galled him greatly. In Newport, he'd made rather a show of himself after reporting his attack on Dylan Maurer's sanctuary and his capture of the Osprey. The ship was now James' to deal with.

He took his report, and the bounty for Dylan and Sami, to Rhode Island's Royal Governor and the Commander of the local fort. With Jack's blessing, of course. It was a move that garnered a great deal of favor. Both had seen fit to approve the refurbishing of the ship for Navy use. A crew was assigned to man it for the return trip to Port Royal. They would be meeting up with the ship on their own return voyage.

Jack laughed out loud. They'd be three ships in tandem, the Black Pearl, the Osprey, and the Nereid. He'd joked to James that it made him feel like bleed'n Christopher Columbus. "Three ships! Three bonny ships. Like the Niña, the Pinta, and the Santa fucking Maria!"

And like those ships after their voyage, the Pearl was filled with fine swag. Now the house and island had gone to the governor's coffers, but the spoils of Dylan's house did not. It made for a tidy sum that James and Jack had Gibbs distribute among the crews of the Pearl and Nereid as partial payment for the rescue.

"No need, sir. We were proud to do it." Gibbs had told him once he was back on his ship.

"Nonsense, man. It's either this or I punish the lot of you for breaking the Code yet again. And for my sorry hide?" Jack had grinned merrily as he taunted.

"Well, sir. To tell the truth, we mainly wanted that Letter of Marque back. It made us feel right respectable." Jack had given him a smack on the shoulder for that.

Jack didn't doubt that most had been motivated to rescue him because of the Letter and his tight fisted control of the bearings to Isla de Muerta. Still, the crew was treating him like a returning hero rather than a battered survivor. It was Elizabeth, Will and James who were treating him as the latter. All three were like bleed'n nursemaids, constantly watching over him to make sure he didn't break like a bone china cup. James was vaguely less obnoxious about it all than the Turners, but he still was on eggshells round him. Mostly when they bedded down for the eve.

On doctor's orders, they had stayed two weeks in Newport to allow both him and James to do some healing. James had managed to stress his ankle during the assault on Maurer's island. They were a fine pair of invalids, taking every opportunity to be slugabeds together. James commented that the woman who cleaned their room in the inn, knew far too much about their sleep habits considering the way they left the bedclothes.

"Aye, but just think if we were having wild monkey sex in the bed as well? She'd be thoroughly scandalized then." Jack had replied with a certain note of melancholy.

At first, James hadn't seemed bothered by their nightly snuggling. How they would strip and climb into bed to fondle and kiss chastely for a bit before they settled into a cuddle and fell to sleep. But after time, the celibate closeness had started to wear at him. Jack would wake in the night to the sound of muffled panting, his lover's body trembling with the effort to hold still while he pleasured himself.

Jack was both aroused and troubled by it. If he woke James up, it was with bad dreams of Dylan and Sami and that God-cursed island. If James woke him up, it was with guilt-ridden self-abuse.

Silly James, what had he to be guilty about? Jack smiled. It had taken rolling over and watching the erotic display to get him to stop being so bloody ashamed of it. How James had gasped to find him watching.

"Oh, please don't stop? It's too pretty a picture, really. You with your head back and your eyes closed, bite'n your lip and looking so very, very delectable. So don't you dare stop, James Norrington." Jack had leered eagerly and settled down to watch his lover touch himself, watch him gasp and moan until his unrestrained release shook the bed. That time, Jack didn't make a move to help, or touch himself or anything. The times after he had.

Now the nights consisted of snuggling, fondling and a heated paired show of sexual self-gratification. Each night, Jack grew bolder. Each night, James seemed to tremble more with a mix of need and rage.

Jack sighed and grinned wider. He really had to stop taunting James. It wasn't nice to get him so worked up, and then claim weakness either due to injury or continued emotional stress from Dylan's rough treatment. He'd kept James waiting for a right and proper fuck for, how long? Near a month?

He counted the days off absently. "A fortnight in Newport, four days to sail to Boston, and now seven days in Boston. Hmm... Yes, nearly a month. Surprised he hasn't gone up like a powder keg yet."

"Who?" Anamaria's voice pulled him from his errant thoughts.

"Norrington. It must be bloody hard for him to have to spend so much time with a crew of cutthroats like ourselves. It must be just terrible for him." Jack cast the woman a playful grin before putting on a serious face.

"He's got a ship." Her head jerked to indicate the Nereid, which was moored nearby. "He could go anytime if he liked. If he didn't have something to keep him here, that is."

"Elizabeth, you mean?" Jack sighed in fake sympathy. "Yes, the poor man. Pining for a married woman like that. If I didn't care for William as a brother, I might tell the Commodore to seize the lady and make off with her." He shook his head sadly.

Anamaria rolled her eyes. "Right, like you'd give him up. I've got better things to worry about than who you're sharing your bed with these days, Jack."

"Why, Anamaria, I'm shocked. I didn't think you were the sort to be jealous. Connor isn't enough for you, eh? You'll just have to forget about it, lass." He clutched her hand to his chest and batted his eyelashes.

She pulled her hand away with a snort. "Aye, Norrington is very handsome, but you can have him. Now if yer done being a twit, we need to talk about Sally."

"How is she?" Jack composed himself a bit. He owed Dylan's former slave a lot for leading James and the rescue party to him just in time.

"Doing fine. Finally putting on some weight. She's still too afraid of the crew to come out of our cabin much, but I think she'll get used to things. Connor thinks she's got a knack for the fiddle." Anamaria smirked. She probably would have been happier if the girl had shown more aptitude with sails and rigging than a violin.

"Wonderful." Two musicians? His ship would never be quiet again.

"Aye. About the Widow Wade's offer to take Sally into her house as a servant? Sally thanks her for it, but she'd rather stay on the Pearl. She doesn't want to live as a servant, even a paid one with rights and all." Anamaria had a look that dared him to challenge her. Not that he had any intention to.

"Ah. So I take it you and Connor are planning to set up house on my ship and raise little Sally yourselves? It's commendable to be sure, but please do me a favor and don't take it into your head to have a litter or anything. This is a pirate ship, not a nursery." Jack could just see himself dodging toddlers running around his deck. Good luck children might be on a ship, but too much good luck could kill a man.

"A privateer, you mean. Don't worry. I'm not planning on getting myself pregnant. Can't steer a ship with my belly all swelled, now can I?" She smirked. She was enjoying her turn at the wheel. Connor was fully accepted as one of the crew, Sally was slowly coming out of her shell and Jack hadn't been in much shape to steer. Anamaria could concentrate on being a helmswoman again.

"Trying to get you away from that helm will be harder than scraping barnacles. So it's settled, Sally stays with us. Well, I hope she likes Port Royal, we'll have to stay awhile once we get back. I want a rest and a keg or two of rum before I go anywhere. Savvy?"

"Oh aye, I savvy. I think we all need the rest, and no more nice easy voyages, please? I think I prefer fighting cursed pirates to this." Anamaria smiled and winked as she turned and headed away across the deck.


Jack shook his head. He looked back over the harbor "Now, what was I thinking about before she'd interrupted me? Oh yes, James." Jack started grinning again. Why was he continuing to tease the man when he knew he'd been ready for lovemaking something like four days ago?

Why? Because of the power. Because after so long without control, so long at the mercy of someone else, the feeling of being totally in command of the situation was too intoxicating. To see his lover quiver with repressed desire. To watch James touch himself as he wanted to touch him. The sight of the man, normally so proud, reduced to silent begging was just too lovely.

Jack was in control and it felt stupendous. It was also dishonest and more than a bit mean. Here James was, doing everything he could to care for him after his ordeal and all Jack could do was take advantage of his love. For that's what it was, love. James loved him and what was he doing with that devotion?

Shaking his head, he gave the sky a smirk. He wasn't really being selfish, just testing things. Moving forward by degrees. This was a perilous course and had to be charted out with care. He just felt a little guilty for giving it up so easy to Dylan. As though it had been easy to submit to the bastard. As though he'd had a choice. So why did he feel like he'd betrayed his love for James by letting Dylan have his way with him?

Good bloody Lord, it hadn't bothered him half so much when he'd actually cheated on Bill. Of course, that had been the problem, that he'd done it without thinking and hurt the man. But James wouldn't think him unfaithful for allowing a man to ravish him. How could he?

No, James was gentle and patient whenever Jack allowed him to touch him. Over the past few nights they had come closer and closer to making love. And just this morning Jack worked up the courage to start the day with a hearty breakfast of Commodore. James' grateful thank you had come in the form of enrapt worship of his Pirate-hood and a promise for a bottle of fine rum.

Yes, he supposed he could have just swallowed his worry and presented his arse to James a week ago. Held back his fear and let himself be taken hard and sweet. And James might have lost control and done it. But what sort of start was that for their romance?

"Permission to come aboard?" The cry went out over the harbor, finding Jack's ears to make him smile. He looked down the boarding plank to the dock where James was standing in his uniform. It was getting a little odd to see him all prettied up in his Navy finery. He'd been doing it lately as a favor to Elizabeth. Her aunt was rather impressed to find out that she had a friend so well placed in the Navy. It seemed her late husband had been a Navy man.

"Permission granted. Now get your lovely ass up here with my rum." Jack called down before moving to meet his lover at the top of the ramp. "How's your ankle?"

James reached the top after a slow limping climb. "Improving, though sitting to tea in Mrs. Wade's cramped little parlor isn't helping. You won't believe what happened today, Jack."

Jack snatched the bottle from him, looking over the label. "Damn, this is a fine one. What? The widow throw herself at you?"

"Basically." James sighed. He watched Jack's eyes widen in surprise and reached out to catch the bottle before it slipped out of his lover's hand. "Careful."

"You're joking. No, you're not joking. She really did throw herself at you?" Was he jealous or just confused? It was a funny picture, Elizabeth's widow aunt trying to get into his Commodore's breeches.

"Yes. At Elizabeth's prompting, no less. Apparently my former fiancé feels it's her duty to find me a wife." James' smirk was so long suffering that Jack couldn't hold back his laugh.

"How sweet of her. Remind me to give her a slap on the ass for trying to take away my man." Jack broke the seal on the bottle and took a quick slug of rum.

"Jack. Don't be cross. She doesn't know any better. I'll deal with it, somehow." The man reached out to finger one of the trinkets Jack had recently returned to his hair. "I love you."

"Say it a little louder ,James. I don't think the seagulls heard you." Jack grinned and mouthed 'I love you too'. They stood grinning at each other a moment before Anamaria walked by and rolled her eyes at them. "Maybe we should stop standing on the deck mooning at one another."

"Indeed. We do seem to be drawing attention to ourselves." James looked around at the crewmembers giving them strange knowing looks.

"They're just jealous. So, are the newlyweds coming back tonight, or are they staying with the hussy?" Jack hooked his arm into James' and started leading him to the stateroom.

"Jack, don't. Pettiness doesn't become you. I think they are returning to the ship. I left soon after she approached me. In part to escape the situation, and in part to get your rum." James' allowed himself to be led into the room. The dining table was set for two, he noticed. "I think they're having dinner with her, however, so if you're planning a romantic supper..."

"I was. Hopefully we'll get it. Jory won't tell me what he's cooking. So what did she say? She just unlace her corset and shove her tits in your face?" Jack plucked an orange from the fruit bowl on the table and sat down to peel it.

James moved to hang his hat on the hat stand outside Jack's cabin door. He went then to the sideboard to pour a few fingers of scotch into a glass and fetch a second, empty glass, before returning to the table. There was a momentary juggling match as James propped his cane against a chair and set down the two glasses. "No Jack, that's how you seduce people."

"I don't have tits." Jack pulled his already open collar open a little bit more and looked at his chest.

"True, but it's still your sort of tactic." James picked up the rum bottle and poured Jack a glass, which Jack gave a slightly dirty look. James sighed and added a little more rum before sitting down.

"Thank you. So what did she do?" Jack picked up his glass and drank, looking at his lover intently.

James rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Well, she invited me to see the room where she keeps her late husband's Navy things. He had a rather impressive saber collection. So we made small talk about that and she asked if I was terribly upset about Elizabeth. I of course said that I wasn't, which she said was good since Elizabeth was happy. She then suggested, that perhaps I should set my sights on a woman closer to my own age. Like herself for instance."

"And how much closer is she?" Jack smiled.

"Well, Elizabeth is twenty, I'm thirty-four..." James words were interrupted as Jack sputtered and choked on his drink.

"Thirty-four?!"

James jumped up to slap Jack a few times on the back as the pirate found his breath. He gasped, muttering 'thirty-four' as he did.

"Yes. Why does that surprise you?"

"Cause' I'm bleed'n forty, mate!" Jack drank down the remainder of his rum quickly. Why had he assumed that James was older? Probably his stuffiness. How could anyone so prim and proper be six years his junior?

The now established to be younger man grinned. "Oh yes, forty. Practically ancient. Maybe I should give this to you when I'm done with it?" He picked the cane up from where it had been leaning against his chair, and shook it at Jack a little.

"It's not funny. Now I feel old. Don't tell me how old the Widow Wade is, I might start crying." Jack caught up the rum bottle again to refill his glass.

"She's thirty-six. Which does make her closer to me in age than Elizabeth, and you." James remained leaning on his cane before Jack's chair. "She was surprised to find out my age as well, Jack. Most assume I'm older. But forty? I am impressed. I doubt many pirates reach such an age."

"Depends on when they start being pirates. I think Barbossa was over fifty when I killed him, but then he was immortal for ten of it. Gibbs now, he's just shy of fifty, but he only came to piracy about seven years ago. Soon after sailing under you, I believe." Jack grinned. "That's likely why people think you're older James, me luv. That great stick up your arse."

"And people generally assume you're younger due to your Devil-may-care flippancy. I don't care how old you are, Jack. Young or old, madman, pirate, braggart, or saint. I love you." James set his cane on the table and leaned down, his hands coming to rest on the arms of Jack's chair. As he finished, he closed the small distance between their mouths to kiss his lover hungrily. One of Jack's came up to slip inside James' coat. The other moved further up to work between the ridiculous wig the man was still wearing and his nape to feel the skin and real hair there.

James' hands gripped Jack's shoulders and pulled him to standing, the kiss becoming deeper and more urgent as their bodies rubbed together. The kiss broke as James' head fell back with a gasp. His wig fell off to land on the floor with a soft tap.

"I thought we were having dinner, Jack." James said as his lover kissed the skin just above his high cravat.

"Changed my mind. Rather have a repeat of breakfast, maybe make it a full course meal. How do you get his blasted thing off?" Jack's fingers were trying to untie the bow of the cravat.

James was just about to reply when a familiar voice rang out loud enough to hear through the closed door. "They're in the stateroom, Mrs. Elizabeth, charting our course back to Newport. Best not to disturb them."

"There's no need to shout, Mr. Gibbs." Elizabeth said as she opened one of the doors and turned her head to see James brushing off his wig.

"That's quite a good disarming move, Jack. Though I doubt most assailants will be attacking you with a periwig." He moved to place the item on the head of a cherub figure on the wall.

"I expect not, but you never can be too careful, you know." Jack reminded himself to thank Gibbs for the warning.

"Playing nice, I hope?" Will said, looking between the two men.

"Yes. Jack was just giving me a demonstration of hand-to-hand techniques. The Navy is sorely lacking in unarmed combat training. I'm hoping to instigate some new drills." James smiled at Jack before taking a drink of the scotch he'd left on the table.

Will scowled a little, his eyes scanning over the room and his friends.

"Thought you were dining with your auntie tonight." Jack gave the Turners a sarcastic grin and scooped up his rum glass.

"We were going to, but after a long talk with Aunt Constance, we just had to come back and tell you the good news." Elizabeth's smile was so infectious that Jack couldn't stop grinning, even with the rotten feeling he was getting.

"Good news?" From the look on James' face, he was getting a similar feeling.

"Yes. My aunt has accepted my invitation to come back to Port Royal with us. Isn't it wonderful, James? James?"

Jack looked at his lover to find he'd turned a particular shade of green that no living man should ever be. It clashed with his eyes terribly. He moved to the man's side and reached out to touch his shoulder. "James?"

He shook himself and smiled at Elizabeth. "Is she? How lovely for you."

"Well, she's always wanted to visit, but never worked up the courage to leave her comfortable Boston home. Now though, with us here to take her back, she's quite ready. And really James, I think she's very taken with you." Elizabeth was beaming. Will hung back, smirking fondly at his wife's enthusiasm. They both turned in shock at Jack's sudden snorting bark of laughter.

He'd tried to hold it back, but it wouldn't stay down. Jack wasn't sure what exactly had set off the sniggering chuckle, Elizabeth's earnest glee, Will's vague indifference, or the barely restrained panic on his James' face. Probably that last one.

"Jack." James voice was full of warning.

"Excuse me, I'm truly sorry. I didn't mean to... speak out of turn, so to speak." This was too much. Really, too much. He'd just gotten James, only just become used to the idea that they were both safe and secure and together. Not just together in the same place, but together. In love, and willing to fight in order to stay that way.

So now he had to watch some aging tart flaunt her 'womanly wiles' all over his man? His James? And on his ship? If laughter was the worst thing he did, they were bloody lucky.

"Is there something wrong with my aunt, Jack?" Elizabeth's voice was cool. It had that delightful tone of calm that could only mean she was seething.

"Did I say that? Your dear aunt is a lovely woman. Simply lovely." Jack turned to James with a sinister smile. "Go ahead and marry her, James, I doubt you'll get as prime an offer again."

"Thank you for the advice, Jack. But with all due respect to Mrs. Turner, Mrs. Wade is not what I'm looking for in a long-term partnership." James set his gaze on Jack, the intensity of the stare bewildering. Jack felt as though he might drown in an ocean of jade.

"Good God Almighty!" Both men were startled from their mesmerized gaping by Will's sudden exclamation. "They're lovers!"

Elizabeth blinked at her husband. "What?"

"Them!" Will pointed. "Look at them! They're in love. Can't you see it?"

"We are?!" Jack piped up with sudden joy. "Oh good, I can do this then."

Before James could respond, he was pulled into a mad kiss. Jack's lips were as demanding as they had been before, without an audience. At first he stiffened and then melted into the beauty of it, his hands moving up to grip Jack's shoulders fiercely.

They remained in the embrace, Jack's fingers gripping at James' nape, while his other hand made a show of squeezing his ass. He swallowed his lover's exclamation, knowing that the two parts of the man were currently warring. The wanton who'd give Jack anything he asked for, would pay any price to feel the pirate's touch, and the officer who so desperately needed to be seen as proper and controlled and respectable. Definitely to the two people who were now witness to his baser nature.

Elizabeth finally broke the moment by gasping loudly, as though she'd only just realized that James was not fighting Jack, but kissing back with passion. Jack released his beloved, but not without a lazy smile that promised heat. He moved to whisper in James' ear before turning to the waiting couple. "More of that later."

James composed himself even as the warmth of Jack's breath lingered on his ear and the shiver his words sent through him left a tingle at the base of his spine. He folded his hands behind his back and raised his chin, before giving Will his full attention. "Your assessment of the situation is correct, Mr. Turner. Jack and I are lovers. We are also adults and therefore more than capable of maintaining a romantic relationship without guidance or approval. Just as you and Elizabeth are."

"How? When? I'm speechless." Elizabeth was grinning, delighted astonishment all over her face. She came forward and embraced James in a rather improper manner. "If this is what you want, I think it's wonderful."

"For someone who's speechless, Elizabeth darling, you talk an awful lot." Jack chuckled. The woman let go of James to hug Jack instead.

"You scoundrel. I want the whole story. I just hope it doesn't involve a bottle of rum." She gave Jack a playful tap on the arm. The two of them started laughing, and James soon joined them. The sound of their merriment filled the chamber as Jack assured her it was James who made the first move. That fact made Elizabeth grin wider, and smack James next for not telling her sooner. " I mean it, I want the whole sordid tale of your love affair. Spare me no detail."

All the while, Will just stared at them in stunned silence. They might have continued the mirth, but at his wife's last insistence he started shouting. "I can't believe this! Elizabeth, how can you act as though this is normal? This isn't Jack introducing us to some trollop he's fallen for, or James courting your Aunt. How can you titter about it as though it were nothing?!"

The look his wife turned at him was one Jack hoped never to see directed at him. "Because, William my husband, they happen to be our friends. A fact that you seem to have forgotten."

"They're sodo..." The word stopped, half formed on Will's lips. He gave it up and forged ahead less rudely. "They're committing a grave sin. It's wrong, vile and base."

"How can you say that? It's Jack and James! Your best friends! Jack stood by you at our wedding, for God's sake! And during the attack on Maurer's Island, you and James saved each other's lives a dozen times. That's how you told the story at least. Doesn't any of that mean anything?" Elizabeth took a step closer to Will as she spoke, her hands wildly pointing between the three men to emphasize her words.

"It did." Will's voice was the coldest Jack had ever heard it. He reached out to catch James' hand and give it a squeeze, needing the comfort. His lover turned to him with a look of worry, the handclasp continuing as he looked back to the other couple.

"But it doesn't anymore?" Elizabeth crossed her arms and scowled at Will reproachfully.

Will stood in silence for a tense moment, his dark eyes growing darker still as he glared at his wife. For a breath it seemed he might speak, but all that came out was an angry growl as the man started for the door. He was out of the room faster than Elizabeth could sigh his name.

"Well, that went splendidly, don't you think?"

"Jack." James' voice had that warning tone that it so often did with Jack. "I'm sorry Elizabeth, we didn't mean to put you at odds with your husband.

Elizabeth waved dismissively. "If he wants to be a jackass, I say let him." She crossed her arms and gave the door a sour look.

Jack cleared his throat. "I take umbrage at your word choice, lass."

She smirked and rolled her eyes at the pirate. "Fine. He not a being a Jack-ass, just an ass."

"Right. And don't forget it."

James sighed at the exchange, but otherwise ignored it. "Do you think he'll... "

"Stop being an ass?" Elizabeth helped James when words seemed to fail him. "I expect so. Honestly, I don't know what the problem is. Just yesterday we were discussing young Daveth and Rueben, and he didn't act as though he had a problem with them. I don't know what got into him."

Jack tried not to think of what it might be. The look on James' face said he was thinking the same. "Don't worry about it, Elizabeth dear, Will's a honorable man. Not the sort to abandon friends just because he finds out they're buggers."

James winced. "Must you use such vulgarities, Jack? Don't answer."

Jack's just opened mouth snapped shut and he grinned. "So Elizabeth, pray tell a man how you came by such an accepting attitude toward..." Jack gave James a look and then proceeded "our sort of arrangement?"

Elizabeth smiled. "You're both unbearably sweet. Are Will and I this bad?"

"Worse." They said in unison, casting little grins at each other. "Doesn't answer the question, lass."

"Well, let's just say you can 't move about in fashionable society without running into a few men of Greek persuasion."

"Swarthy and curly haired?" Jack raised one eyebrow in puzzlement.

"See what happens without the benefit of a classical education?" James shook his head in mock exasperation.

"Funny you should say that, since my tutor was the first gentleman of your sort I knew." She smiled at the memory.

"Our sort. I do so love that. Just because I'm not overly picky about the sex of those I dally with, I'm branded as a certain sort. It's really bothersome, you know." Jack groused, still feeling stung by the slight about his schooling.

"Sorry, Jack. Would it make you feel better if I told he liked Naval Officers too, and that was the sort I meant? An attraction to men in uniform?" Elizabeth grinned, enjoying the banter.

"Ah, well yes, that does seem to be the sort I am currently. Though I like him out of his uniform better." Jack leered, wiggling his eyebrows at Elizabeth. The woman started laughing and soon the pair were carrying on like school girls.

"Would you two stop nattering like washer women?" James' eyes again rolled skyward. He found he was doing that a lot lately. "Thank you, Elizabeth, for being so understanding. Shouldn't you go try and find your husband soon?"

"He's right. Though, if Will deals with anger like his father did, then he's likely in a tavern and doesn't want to be found." Jack smirked knowingly.

"His father." Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Jack, were you and Will's father... um... lovers?"

Looks of genuine shame were rare on Jack's face. The sudden drop of his eyes and the curious way his hands fidgeted with his sash answered the question before he did. "Er... damn. Yes."

James frowned at the confirmation. He'd guessed as much, but to hear it raised a tingle of jealousy. Jack was the first man he'd ever loved, the first man whose touch he'd known. He was fully aware that Jack Sparrow had a great deal of sexual experience with men. Their lovemaking was testament to that. But the thought that another man had once possibly held Jack's heart bothered him. And the fact that it bothered him bothered him. James had to deal with his possessive reactions toward Jack. The man would most likely resent it.

Jack sighed after the awkward silence had run its course. "So, yes, Bill Turner and I were lovers, and yes, it's in part because of me that Bill didn't return to his wife in England like he'd planned when he first married her and fathered a son. Will's right about his father being a merchant seaman. He was at first, at least. When I met him, he was already a freemen forced to go on account by a cruel captain and a wrongful charge of thievery. Bill figured that if you were going to be branded an outlaw, it should be for crimes you really did commit." Jack grinned, happy memories coming back to him with the tale.

"But if you were lovers, why didn't Mr. Turner side with you during the mutiny? Why did he only act against Barbossa afterward?" Elizabeth's spoken question was reflected in James eyes.

No amount of fidgeting would get him out of this question, and he couldn't just tell her it was none of her bloody business since he'd likely have to repeat the whole thing to Will anyway. Easier to tell it the second time if he did it the first. "I hurt him, lied when I should have been honest about other lovers and dalliances. I was bloody stupid is what I was and Bill took it hard. He might have returned to England and his family rather than stay with someone who took him for granted. So when Barbossa organized his little insurrection, Bill just stayed below and neither helped nor hindered the bastard. The last time I even saw the man was when he told me I'd broken his heart." Jack gave a derisive little laugh. "I've been feeling a blackguard over it for years, I can tell you."

"I'm not who you need to tell anything, Jack." Elizabeth gave him a stern look.

"I know, lass. It ain't easy to look a man in the eye and say 'I loved your dad, but I treated him like shit'. I'll do it just the same. I owe Will that much." 'Probably more.' Jack thought, but didn't say. He did have to wonder, did he want to do it to help Will, or himself? Would he end up doing more harm than good?

Jack tried not to think about it and gave James a worried glance. His lover was altogether too quiet for comfort. Sure enough, the man's eyes were fixed on the floorboards. Damn, Jack would have to find a way to assure him that he didn't look forward to the same fate as Bill.

A knock in the door saved him for a moment, however. Daveth and some of the crew stood at the door with covered trays. "Dinner, Capt'n Sparrow, Commodore."

"Well then, let me leave you to your dinner, gentlemen." Elizabeth moved to embrace them both again. "I'll go try and find my husband I suppose."

"Mrs. Turner?" Daveth put his burden down and came toward them. "Mr. Gibbs asked me to tell ye to go on back to your aunt's house. 'E's with Mr. Turner and will be keeping an eye on 'm."

"Thank you, Daveth. I'll have to thank him later." She smiled at them all and made James promise to have a long talk with her sooner than later, before taking her leave. With Elizabeth gone and dinner served, the lovers sat down to eat in silence.

After long moments with nothing but a few comments about the meal, Jack broke the tension. "You sore about old Bill?"

"No Jack, I know you've had other lovers before me. Just as you know you are my first male lover, but not my first entire." James sipped his wine. He still didn't know what exactly had him overwrought.

"So, lovers before you aren't a worry. What about lovers after you, or during you?" Jack watched James tense still more. "There hasn't been anyone else you know, not since you bought me that drink. Well, unless you want to count Dylan and whatever nameless sailor of his he let have a turn with his toy. There were a few. Are we counting those, luv?"

"Of course not. How can you ask that?" It stung, but it was meant to. They were treading on rather thin ice here, had been for weeks since Jack had been freed from Dylan's clutches.

Jack shrugged. "You wouldn't be the first to blame he that got raped for the act. Seen it happen before, to lads and lasses alike. Shame and jealousy can lead even the most devoted paramour to think it. But you don't, we've established that. What we haven't established is the rules for this mad affaire of ours. You know, I had plenty of chances on the journey, plenty of comely bar wenches and more than a few lads given me that look on the street, but none of them were worth it you see."

"Worth what exactly?" James shifted in his seat and set down his silver pointedly.

"The chance I'd lose you. I'm a right talented bugger when it comes to losing things, James. Lost my lover, my ship and much of my dignity in the space of a year. It's taken me ten bloody years to build my reputation back up, find my ship again, and woo a new lover. It might take me a bloody lifetime to keep a hold of them, but I intend to try." Jack smiled fondly at James.

"Ah. So I take it then that you also intend to make a stab at fidelity?" James crossed his arms and gave his lover a disbelieving look.

"And why is that so hard to believe? Am I such a cad, such a rascal, that you can't even imagine that I could to be faithful to one lover?" Jack gestured dramatically, setting his hand over his heart as though wounded.

"Your history does count against you, Jack. Remember Bill?" James smirked.

It was his usual smug smirk that always drove Jack to the most lascivious thoughts. Why? Because he wanted to banish that smirk from dear James' lips with a kiss and grope. "Course I remember, but I'd rather thought I'd redeemed myself for that one. I'll square it with William and all will be mended. As for you, I did say I loved you and I meant it. Bill's trouble was he assumed we were being exclusive to each other, never asked about it though. I made the thick-witted mistake of lying when he did ask rather than admitting I'd strayed and asking if he wanted things different. After that, I proved just what a dolt I am by panicking and acting a complete trollop with anyone and anything that would let me. Course it got back to Bill, and of course he was mad."

"And what guarantee is there that you won't panic again?"

Again Jack shrugged. "None. Just the word of a pirate, and the fact that we're actually discussing it. You see, Bill and young William share the same naïve charm. They themselves are such honest sorts they forget that other people don't always think the same way. Bill had another problem, and that was he hadn't quite forgiven himself for not returning to that wife of his. So his own guilt made him angrier with me than was likely warranted. At first at least."

"I'm just supposed to trust you then?" Skepticism colored the question.

"As I said, word of a pirate. But I love you, and I'm thinking that should count for a lot. Besides, I'm getting too old to keep carrying on like a satyr. You're still young though, James. Maybe I should be asking you if you'll be true to me?" It was Jack's turn to smirk.

"That's ridiculous, Jack." James' whole demeanor was one of bruised pride. The very accusation that he might be unfaithful was an affront to his honor, and to his love for Jack. It needled him.

"Oh, is it? Let's face facts, James my love. Once I'm all done recuperating from my adventure with Dylan, I'll want to take the Pearl out for a run. Not sure yet what, but it's bound to last a bit, months even. It's a long time to be separated, mate. I'm pretty sure we'll both find temptation round every corner. Hell, I have a feeling that the Widow Wade will be trying to tempt you just on the trip home." Jack shook his head as he stood. The meal was good; Jory and Daveth were quite a team in the galley. Jack's appetites had changed however, and he really wanted to get his James into bed before the man could worry himself right out of the relationship.

"You have nothing to fear from her. So we just have to trust one another, is that it?" James watched his lover walked around the table with feline grace. There was no real reason for the swaying rhythm of his hips, the ship wasn't moving. No reason aside from the tingle of desire that it sent down James' spine to rest somewhere in his ass.

"It's all a matter of trust, James. Think you can trust a lewd old pirate captain who loves you?" Jack set his hands on his hips before the man and tried to give him the most smoldering look possible.

James didn't speak. He just stood and took a half step to bring his chest just a hairbreadth away from Jack's. His hands slide behind his back to take that typical, military stance. Even without his wig and hat, he was the picture of Navy prowess and control. "And can you trust a stuffy Commodore of His Majesty's Navy, who returns your love?"

Jack grinned and threw an arm around James' neck and brought his mouth to his lover's. "I think I can manage."

Breaking the stiff pose, James caught Jack's shoulders in his hands. Their mouths pressed together to fight and caress, each man breathing the other in. Hips rocked in concert like the roll of the ocean as they strained bodies still tender and healing.

Jack let his head fall back as James took the opportunity to nuzzle and kiss his neck. "Bed."

"Yes, I concur." James took a step back only to have his leg buckle under the sudden shifting of weight. He tumbled down, taking Jack with him to land atop his body in a heap.

The pirate stayed still a moment, catching his breath before the laughter started. Jack shook with mirth. "Dammit James, we are a right pathetic couple of twits aren't we? How's the leg?"

"It hurts, but not horribly. Tell me you didn't re-crack a rib." James winced as he tried to shift his right leg under Jack.

"Doesn't feel like I did." Jack was still chuckling slightly as he settled himself to press his hip into James' left side. Still avoiding the man's injuries, Jack slithered up his body more agilely then his recent ordeal should have allowed. With a sly grin, he ground his hardened cock into James' lower abdomen. At the same time, his lover's answering arousal pushed achingly against the limits of his underdrawers. James gasped as Jack's continued slow rutting caused the linen to rub deliciously over his heated flesh.

James tangled his hands into the thick tresses of Jack's hair. The recently re-braided locks were still silky from the days spent in Dylan Maurer's twisted care. James took hold of the odd arrangement of braids at the back and used it as a makeshift handle to hold his lover's head still while he plundered his mouth.

So sweet, that place of heat and moisture, its eager occupant moving in a welcoming dance. Their tongues flicked and played, and James was oddly reminded of the seals he'd watched in the harbor that morn. How their bodies had rubbed and crashed together as they idly frolicked in the surf. Much the same as they were doing now on the floor.

Jack twisted his head to pull from James' grip, a leering grin gracing his lips. "Maybe I'll just take you here, on the floor, like a proper harlot."

"Isn't that usually against a wall?" James' eyebrow rose mockingly.

"Wall, floor, what's the difference? Either way I'll have you." Jack's fingers worked slowly down the buttons of James' shirt until he got the waistcoat. "It's gonna be hard to get all this frippery off you and get to the good stuff under, though."

"Jack, I implore you. Yes, please take me. Take me however you like. Slow and breathtaking or hard, fast and without mercy. Just don't take me on the floor. I doubt either of our injuries will weather it."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Fine then. You're probably right, as usual. Bloody logic and common sense anyway."

He reached out to catch hold of the chair near by and dragged it closer to them. Bracing against it, he rose up, careful of both his ribs and James' leg. Jack reached down a hand to help his beloved off the floor. With a heave, both men were again standing.

"There, now. Right as rain and ready to go, I hope." Jack grinned and started to pull his lover toward his cabin door.

"Impatient, aren't we, Jack?" James held back a wince as he started to walk. He really should retrieve his cane, but the urgency with which Jack was drawing him toward the cabin and bed thwarted any attempt.

"Bloody right I am. I've a mind to commit some sin, as young William so eloquently put it." Once they'd cleared the threshold and the anxious pirate slammed the door, Jack's fingers began to work on the buttons of James' waistcoat. As he unfastened the garment, James pulled his coat off and tossed it recklessly over a chair. Jack shook his head, clucking his tongue. "You're getting more and more untidy. I am a bad influence."

"I'll put it away after." The officer smirked and reached to untie the sash gracing Jack's slim waist.

What started as hurried fumbling with each other's clothing slowed as their ardor mellowed with each lost garment. Clothing removal became interspersed with kisses and caresses, which brought little moans and gasps of encouragements from both men.

James, his shirt hanging now off a wall sconce and his hair disheveled from Jack's repeated petting, leaned down to drop kisses at the edge of the bandage holding Jack's ribs secure. His hands moved to start working on the laces of Jack's flesh hugging trousers, cursing softly as the ties seemed to labor against him. "Why in God's name do you wear these old-fashioned lace up ones? Buttons are more practical."

"But less romantic." Jack's hands stroked down his lover's hunched back, loving how the pale skin felt.

"Oh, so it's romantic to make your lover have to fight with ridiculous antiquated clothing to get you naked. I thought it was merely annoying. A-ha!" James exclaimed in triumph as the laces finally yielded. He pulled the waistband down to find Jack's customary lack of underdrawers. "Going without again, I see."

"Makes the challenge of the laces worth it, luv, right to the goods, you know." Jack grinned and pulled at James' shoulders.

The man straightened to meet his lips, kissing deeply as his fingers worked the tight trousers down Jack's hips. With a push, Jack's arse found the edge of the bed and sat. Kneeling gingerly, James hands grasped the partially removed garment and pulled as Jack lifted his rear to help. The trousers peeled off, revealing tanned skin decorated by healing yellow bruises.

James winced at the sight. Desire mixed with anger rushed through him as he drank in the sight of his lover's body. Jack was now naked, save the bindings round his ribcage and his oft-present headscarf. The latter he was even working to untie so that the unruly locks and braids could fall haphazardly around his face. He was so beautiful that James gasped. "How do you do that? How do you disarm me utterly every time? I've memorized every look, every part of you, but you still take my breath away."

That particular Jack Sparrow shining smile spread across his face to pull even more at James' heart. "Flatterer."

"And you are a unrepentant charmer." James kissed one of the healing bruises on his thigh "Beguiling and sweet."

Jack snorted. "Watch it, you'll ruin my reputation for infamy."

It was James' turn to give a derisive snort. He again started to concentrate on stroking Jack's thighs and calves, nuzzling the thighs as Jack opened his legs invitingly. James' mouth moved in slow kisses over the bronze skin, tasting sweat and rum and all that was Jack. His lips made contact with the rigid flesh of Jack's cock, forcing a moan from him as he leaned back on his arms and thrust his hips forward.

James suppressed a chuckle as he began to draw his tongue up the underside of the shaft, making Jack moan louder. The sound spurred James to take the whole of it into his mouth. In answer, Jack's fingers wound into his hair, not pushing or guiding, just keeping a hold of him while he slid his mouth over the hot length of Jack's cock.

"Oh god, James! You're getting good at this. Been practicing on anyone I should know about? Joking, joking. Meant nothing by it." Jack groaned as the speed over his tortured flesh increased. "Don't stop, oh don't stop. I mean stop, stop."

The pirate pushed his lover away, panting to catch his breath. A look of worry broke out over James' face. "Is anything wrong?"

"No, I'm fine. But you're still bloody dressed and it's not your mouth I'm wanting." Jack gave him a lazy grin and coaxed him up to start unfastening his breeches. James waited, watching his lover's fingers slip each button out of its hole. With reverent care, he finished the task and pulled down James' breeches and smallclothes at once. "There now, much better."

Jack eagerly enveloped the penis before him, taking it in deeply as his finger caressed and stroked his beloved's testicles. The resulting whimper of pleasure was music to Jack's ears. Sweet music. Like coins jingling together, or waves crashing on the hull, or seagulls. The best sounds. James' needy moans and gasps of delight were among Jack's favorite noises.

He felt the same tickle of fear that he'd known since Dylan. And just like it had done that morning, it lessened as he thought of the differences between the men. James wasn't holding his head and fucking his face like a whore. James wasn't hurling foul curses at him. James didn't smell like cheap perfume and port. This was James. He loved James. James had killed Sami and saved him from evisceration.

And James made the prettiest sounds of gratitude. He'd make noises even prettier once Jack was sheathed deep inside him. Jack moved a hand around to rub and knead James' ass. Tight with years of physical training, James was no pampered officer of the crown who sat on his arse more than he used it. Oh, he wanted inside him so bad. Like that first time, that first morning when James had wakened happy and eager rather than scared and shamed as Jack had feared. He'd surprised Jack by asking for it. Was it out of a sense of fairness or an honest desire to be claimed? Jack might never know, but it hardly mattered why he wanted it, since when he got it, he took it with joy.

"Hoping to act out your letter, Jack?" James managed through his grunts and moans.

Jack let go of his prize, moving his hand to stroke James' cock instead. "Was thinking about it, though it's that end part I really want to reenact."

"And where are we going to find the Pope at this hour?" James smirked down at him before pulling Jack up.

It was Jack's turn to stand into the kiss, rubbing his body against James' ardently as he did. They kissed and stroked together, their cocks meeting to slide and rub. Still twined together they started toward the bed, moving onto it while trying to keep their mouths attached. James kicked his breeches from off his ankle as he climbed into the bed to press himself to Jack. He rolled onto his back to bring his lover atop him as they had been on the floor. This time, however, he was happy to feel Jack's weight pressing down into him.

Shudders of pleasure wracked James as he opened his legs to invite Jack in. It was unfathomable how much he wanted the man. It overwhelmed him, making speech impossible. All he could do was moan and whimper beseechingly, begging for it. Pleading to be taken, the all consuming need cleansing as it burned through him.

Jack watched his proud Commodore transform into a sniveling wanton, watched him shift from stalwart control to begging. Anger should not have been the reaction. He knew it as soon as he felt it. Knew it while he reached for the bottle of scented oil left out for just this. Yet as he slicked James' tight hole, he couldn't stopped himself from being harsh, anymore than he could control the blood speeding through him. Anymore than he could stop himself from pressing James' strong legs to his chest and thrusting into him violently.

Fuck if it didn't feel good, too good, being in control again. Being the one to take instead of be taken. The one in command. Power. Dominance. Supremacy. Everything he'd lacked under Dylan, everything the bastard had taken from him.

And James submitted to it, didn't do more than gasp as he was suddenly filled. Only flinched a little as Jack growled and pinned his arms to the mattress. Fear and excitement shined in his eyes as Jack plunged into his body again and again. Harder and harder as his rage mounted, turning the man into something so animal like that James scarcely knew him. He didn't fight, didn't cry out or protest, just turned his head to expose his throat as tears escaped from his tightly shut eyes.

That froze Jack in mid stride. Stopped cold as the taut fury broke inside him. When his voice found itself, it was rough and broken. "Why are you letting me do this?"

James swallowed, opening his eyes to allow the clenched tears to flow out over his cheeks. "I... you seem to need it."

"No." Jack spat the word out. "I don't need to hurt you. I don't have the right and you shouldn't let me. Not out of guilt or pity or whatever. Damn it, James."

Jack started to pull away, started to leave James, but strong legs wrapped round his back to stop him. "No! Don't you stop, Jack Sparrow." Now James was growling. "I won't let you hide from this. Yes, it was hard. Yes, it hurt a bit. But did I fight you? Did I tell you no or ask you to slow down? No, I took it because I wanted it. Because sometimes all I want is for you to fuck me, for you to take me hard and without mercy. I've craved this for days. Don't you dare take it from me now."

Liquid brown eyes grew more wet. Jack blinked the tears away and kissed his lover solemnly, resuming his movements. Anger and severity had been traded for intense desire and love. Quickly Jack retrieved the oil bottle to help ease his way. With a joyous shout, James moved to meet him, his body responding to the change and to the feel of Jack's hand stroking his cock.

Jack moaned into his lover's mouth. The spent wrath had left him as fragile and needy as James had been just moments before. They bucked together, bodies linked by more than mere flesh.

"Jaaaaack..." James arched, moaning and writhing in pleasure. His mouth was caught in a slack o, unable to close or make coherent sounds as the whole universe became only this. Only Jack and the scent, feel, and taste of their union.

"God damn it, James! Sweet Bloody Christ!" A stream of curses and oaths fell from Jack as he thrust into the tight grip of his beloved's body. He edged toward the same ferocity that had overtaken him at first, but kept hold of himself. Far too easy to get lost in it, but hadn't it been like that from the first? With James, it was all about surrender, all about losing himself to loving this man.

And what did he give up by doing it? Loneliness and a wall of mock safety that had been blasted through the moment his Commodore had spoken his love. Jack wanted to laugh. Earlier yet. James Bloody Norrington had broken through it with a smile and a drink in a tavern in Port Royal. Or had it been the way his eyes had darted to Jack's mouth as he'd taunted James before falling off the battlements of Fort Charles? Or had it been with that first handclasp on the dock when he'd saved Elizabeth from certain drowning?

Jack's mind reeled with the combined puzzle of just when the act of loving James had become as necessary to his existence as eating, sleeping, or breathing, and the current glory of making love to the very man in question. It was enough to drive him mad, if he wasn't already at least.

"Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack!" James was keening so loudly that not a member of the Pearl's crew could possibly doubt what was happening in their Captain's cabin. Luckily, most of them were likely off making happy noises of their own in Boston's brothels and taverns. Jack couldn't have cared less who heard at that point. All he cared about was the wild jerking orgasmic fit his James was having.

The evidence of it spilled over Jack's fist as he pumped out his lover's release. With James limp and mewing under him, Jack let go of the spent cock and took hold of his lover's hands instead. He interlaced their fingers as his own climax started to sweep through him, thrusting his hips sharply to speed things. The motion seemed to spark a second peak for James, making the other man gasp as heady bliss overtook Jack. It was sublime, glorious, brilliant, magnificent, composed of everything good and right and extraordinary. And in that moment Jack felt something, like a clenched ball of pain and anguish, open up inside him to flow out and be lost in the mingled fluids of his issue.

James seemed to know it too, kissed Jack's tears away gently as they panted and murmured and snuggled into the safe comfort of Jack's bed. Lantern light flickered, painting both bodies with light and shadow. Contentment settled in the room, peace and tranquility. Little stirred and the only sounds were soft breathing, and the low tones of a cello coming from somewhere below the floorboards.

"Connor's at it again." Jack's voice was hushed.

"It's pretty." James replied, his fingers petting his lover's hair. They'd resituated themselves so that Jack's body was nestled to James' right side. The younger man's arm wrapped protectively around the pirate's back and his right hand gripped Jack's right shoulder lightly. James could feel the man's forehead wrinkle under his cheek.

"This can't last."

"Why not, Jack?" James smirked. How could someone so reckless and wild share a body with someone so vulnerable and needy? Jack Sparrow was a mystery, a great ball of conflicting emotions. One minute so sure of what he deserved and what he could get if he only tried, and the next self-effacing and meek.

Jack shrugged. "Because it never does. I'll hurt you or you'll hurt me. One of us will do something stupid and thoughtless like I did to Bill. You'll get tired of waiting for me to retire from piracy and I'll get bored with trying to be good so I don't get hanged. Someone nasty will find out about us and you'll get court-martialed and thrown in prison. Sure I'll try to break you out, but I'll probably get myself killed doing it. Really James, I love you, but how does that compare to a whole bloody world of odds against us?"

"Doesn't. Nothing ever does. Listen Jack, how many people told you that you'd never get the Black Pearl back?" James shifted to look Jack in the eyes.

"Lots, most people I knew said it. Said I was mad to think I'd ever have this ship back as me own." Jack smiled. "They were wrong."

"Exactly. And a great number of people told Elizabeth she was mad to marry a blacksmith rather than a Commodore. And Weatherby Swann's wife died of a weak heart when Elizabeth was a child, but he doesn't regret their short time together. Mrs. Wade's husband died before they were married more than a year, but she recalls him with fondness, not sorrow. Nothing lasts Jack, not forever. I am not giving you up, however. A friend said to me that we do not love with our heads. The odds of this insane entanglement working matter not a jot to me. What matters is loving you and making the most of things." James ended the declaration with a kiss.

It was rather sweet. Really the sort of kiss that when you're old, you look back on and sigh in that way that makes the people caring for you wonder what you're thinking about. It ended with a sigh and with Jack snuggling into James. "I was hoping you'd say something foolish and romantic like that."

"Jack Sparrow, you're incorrigible." James laughed.

"Only just figured that, did you? And that's Captain Jack, remember?" Jack propped himself on his elbow to look down at his lover, grinning. "Hey James, think there's a molly house in Boston? Sometimes they hold weddings. We could get married."

James laughed. "And if I marry you, will you stay true to me alone for all our days to come?"

Jack gave James an unsure look. Was he serious? Sometimes James Norrington was bloody hard to read. Oh, what the hell. "You have my solemn word. On my honor, you'll be my one and only."

"That's funny. I wasn't aware you had any honor, Jack." James' green eyes twinkled playfully as he said it. He tried to hold in an impish smile, but it didn't work.

"You'll pay for that, Commodore!" Jack pounced, grinning wickedly as he tickled James' sides without mercy. Laughter filled the cabin and spilled out to echo across the Pearl's deck. Those on watch just shook their heads in bemusement.

* * *

"Will." Jack walked to where his friend was sitting on the railing of the Pearl. "Walk with me, lad?"

Will's eyes narrowed, but he set down the bellows he was mending and stood. "Fine."

Jack nodded and walked down the ramp. They walked together up the docks and into Boston proper. The city was having a warm spell and people were bustling about, taking advantage of the sunshine. "Nice day, isn't it?"

"I don't want to discuss it, Jack." Will's eyes stayed fixed ahead of him.

"Ah, the weather just not your topic, is it?" Jack smirked, but his friend continued to ignore him. After a while more of walking, Jack cleared his throat. "Have to talk about it sometime, you know."

"Why didn't you tell me, Jack?"

"About James, or about your father?" He stopped to look at some shoes in a cobbler's window. He cast a sidelong look at Will and waited for a reaction.

"I really don't mind about you and James. What you do is your business. Gibbs and I had a long talk, and Elizabeth gave me a severe scolding for being so thoughtless. I'm sorry." Will looked at his shoes, mortified.

"Apology accepted, whether ye truly mean it or not. Don't worry none, we'll have our own long talk about love among the brethren over a lot of rum, sometime." Jack snorted. A great bloody lot of rum if he had his way.

Will's brow furrowed and his mouth quirked into a thoughtful smirk. "I can understand men alone at sea looking to each other for comfort, but it's not like you and James couldn't find women if you opted to."

Jack stifled a bit of annoyance. People really didn't understand at all. "Very true, but we can debate the social ramifications of sodomy another time. What you're wanting to know about is your father, right?"

The only response Will could manage was a nod.

"Right then, William Turner the First. Yes, we were lovers and yes, I treated him unkind. Why I didn't tell you sooner is simple. For one, I didn't think that was really your concern, and for two... well, what was I supposed to say exactly? Will lad, loved your father and kept him away from you and your mother. Oh, and probably insured that he'd end up sunk to the depths by Barbossa. Sorry about all that. Would that have sufficed?"

After a moment a smile cracked Will's face. " I likely would have hated you."

"Exactly, and what good would that have done any of us? Hmm?" He grinned wider and started walking again.

"Jack?" Will spoke timidly after walking a few blocks.

"Hmm?"

"Do you love him? James, I mean." His eyes darted around the street as he said it, as though he was worried about who might hear.

Jack grinned. "Utterly. Ah, here we are." He stopped before a jeweler's shop.

"What we doing here?" Will looked suddenly very worried.

"I'm not planning to rob the place, Will." Jack smirked. "Just getting a bit of a gift for James."

"Jewelry?" The lad blinked. "James doesn't seem the type."

"Wasn't getting him a tiara, mate. Just a ring." Jack started to walk toward the door, but Will pulled him back.

"What sort of ring?"

Jack's eyes darted down to the gold band on the fourth finger Will's left hand, thinking terrible thoughts. "Well I have to give him something when we exchange our vows, don't I?"

"Exchange vows!?!" Now people outside the shop were staring at them. Jack grabbed Will's arm and pulled into an alley.

"Do you always have to shout? Yes, exchange vows. As in a wedding, as in marriage, as in those sorts of vows. Dear God, William, do I have to bloody spell out everything for you?" Jack rolled his eyes and started to leave the alley.

Will stopped him. "You're mad, Jack."

"When did that first occur to you?" Jack tried to weave past him, but Will again blocked his escape. "Do you delight in getting in my way?"

"Yes. Jack, you can't marry James." Will crossed his arms and stayed where he was.

"Why not? I asked and he said yes. What's the fuss? Not like there's anyone about to steal his fiancé from him. Not this time at least." Jack's waggish grin did not have the desired effect. Will's look was as sour as before.

"You can't because you're both men." Now the look was changing, going from sour to panicked. Jack didn't want to know what sort of insane scheme Will was imagining he'd concocted. It probably involved a vicar, a few rum kegs, and a ceremony at gunpoint. Right, like James would let him get away with it.

Jack rolled his eyes. "I know that. Bloody Christ, Will, we're not really having a wedding. I just wanted to give James a gift. You are easy to dupe, aren't you lad?"

Will let out a huge breath and shook his head. "You had me worried a moment, Jack."

"Might be fun though. Just think about it, we could rent some tavern for the eve. You could be my best man. Elizabeth could witness for James. Might even get Gibbs to officiate, with enough rum, that is. We'd even have music, if Connor were willing. Or more to the point, if Anamaria would let him. Just think of it?" Jack allowed himself a rather wistful smirk.

"Who's wearing the fancy dress?" Will's tone was droll.

"All of us. Why not? And veils all around. You know, you'll look fetching in scarlet." Jack waggled his eyebrows.

"Whatever you say, Jack. Shall we go procure the ring for the bride to be?" The words came with an exasperated sigh, but also with a fond smile.

"Oh yes, let's. After you." Jack bowed with a flourish. The gesture was met with rolled eyes, but he was used to that. Ah well, even if he didn't have a wedding with cake and punch and his best friend standing next to him in a foppish suit, this ring was still going to be as good as any blessed wedding band to him. And more importantly, he hoped it would mean as much to James.

"All the rest of my days, James. They're all yours, whatever hardships befall us." He whispered it like a prayer as he walked into the shop to find the perfect ring.

The End