Crew Knows Best…

by Loui

Crew Knows Best…
by Loui

Looking at her co-conspirator, Anamaria raised her full glass to Mr. Gibbs and drank - for the first time that evening - from a bottle of rum that actually contained rum. He, smiling blearily, returned the silent toast and manfully gulped down the remainder of what was the fourth… or was it fifth… tankard of rum he had swilled that evening, beer not withstanding.

Assessing gaze fixed on the other man at the table - her captain - Anamaria thumped her three-quarters full bottle of rum down on the table. Jack Sparrow, *Captain* Jack Sparrow, didn't so much as twitch from the rum-soused lump on the table that he was.

Lips narrowing, Anamaria gazed at her captain. If it wasn't for the fact that it was one year to the day from a certain near-hanging in Port Royal she'd be seriously worried about the capabilities of
her captain. As it was, having spent the last year at sea with the man, she knew what troubled him… and, remembering the seamless way in which - all appearances to the contrary - her captain and a certain blacksmith had worked together, she could even find it in her heart to understand… this time.

That - and a romantic soul that she fought hard to deny - was the only reason she had agreed to assist Mr. Gibbs in this madness. Especially considering the fact that, if they were wrong, they'd be lucky to find themselves consigned to the brig, much less walking the plank for their otherwise betrayal of their captain.

Snapping her fingers, Anamaria gestured to two - otherwise well-paid and sober Black Pearl crew members - to assist her and the clearly listing Mr. Gibbs in carrying their captain from the aptly named Slug and Lettuce - she wouldn't eat here for all the gold in the Indes - and towards *destiny*.

**

Several hours later, *Captain* Jack Sparrow roused from slumber with a suffering groan and headed towards bowl and bucket he could blearily see at the other end of the room. Groaning, he liberally poured some water into the bucket and then gathering his courage, he manfully stuck his head under the water.

Almost a minute later, he raised his head and shook it vigorously while striving to keep on to the contents of his stomach. Walking slowly - for fear that the floor might suddenly desert him - he made his way towards the closed door of the room that he found himself in.

Stepping out into daylight, his senses returned more quickly than he might have otherwise anticipated… something to do with the fact that it was not the hallway of an inn in Tortuga that he found himself in. No, it was a ramshackle cabin. Sandy beaches and ocean vistas were not something readily found in the south side of the main port of Tortuga.

Heart stilling in his chest at the thought that *another* crew might have betrayed him, Jack Sparrow stared in quickly sobering dismay at the vista in front of him. At first, nothing penetrated the rapid heartbeat of his own chest echoing its dismay… nothing, not until he heard a rhythmic sound of metal on metal.

Heart quickening in his chest, Jack Sparrow turned his head towards the direction of that sound. Plucking up his nerve, he took a deep breath and headed off in that direction. That sound… was it… please god, could it be what he thought it was?

Scant moments later, he arrived at a clearing and a sight that made his heart leap in his chest. Working in what was obviously a purpose built if temporary forge, he watched a lithe form hammer diligently against an anvil… muscles in their back moving smoothly with every strike of hammer on hot metal.

Hardly daring to breath, Jack took every ounce of courage he had in one deep breath and called out, "Well, bless me. `Tis that the son of Bootstrap Bill Turner I see before me?"

Jack watched - heart in his mouth - as the silent form gave a couple of last smooth thwacks of the hammer before plunging the metal they were working on into a nearby bucket of water. As the steam rose, the figure turned.

Almost against his will, Jack breathed out, "'Tis you, right enough." Any other words dried up in his throat at he took in the sight in front of him. The leather apron protecting the breeches and
simple cotton shirt that the blacksmith wore could not detract from the power or beauty of the man in question.

Seeing the shy smile on the face of the man that had haunted his dreams for many a night, Jack murmured, "Will?"

The next thing he knew, the smith was in his arms and he had his arms wrapped around the sweaty, grimy back of the man that had effortlessly captured his heart. Inevitably, and as though Lady Fate had always intended it so, Jack put his hands to the face of Will Turner and pulled his lips towards his own.

Long, long moments later, he raised his head and gazed into eyes equally as dazed as his own and said, "Will…?"

With a shy smile that belied the triumph in his eyes, Will Turner said, "Everything in its due course, *Captain* Sparrow. We have enough food and water for a week before the Pearl returns for us.

"Time enough for answers… later."

Grasping Will close to him and feeling a hardness equal to his own, Captain Jack Sparrow silently decided that - this time - answers could wait. A man whose prayers have been answered should never question providence. Lowering the gasping form of the man in his arms to the beach in front of them, he quickly decided answers could indeed wait for later… much, much later.

Fin