Will Turner, First Mate of the Black Pearl, took in a deep breath of sea air. The heady mix of salt, wind and *freedom* grounded him in ways that a scant few years ago he'd thought only the metallic, hot air of a smithy would ever be able to do. Now, he couldn't conceive of a life other than the one he was living.

Relinquishing the helm to Anamaria, Will checked with Mr. Gibbs as to the status of their wounded and was pleased to find that all were recovering nicely. Truthfully, it had only been a few minor injuries that had been suffered in their latest escapade. Even so, this was a tight-knit crew and he, as First Mate, took his responsibilities in looking after them seriously.

Excusing himself with a nod, he then headed off to the one crew member with slightly more serious injuries… the captain… *Jack*. Knocking quietly on the door to Jack's cabin, Will made his way inside with a cheery, "Good morning," effortlessly ducking the cushion thrown at him by his grumpy captain.

Considering the very nature of the man in question it was no surprise that he was an awkward patient. It was something that both amused and saddened Will at the same time. Amused him because - let's face it - Jack Sparrow could imbue a splinter in his finger with as much dramatic pathos as a dagger wound to the thigh.

The sadness still came when he realised that Jack had never before felt safe enough to let his guard down in the past - injured or not. The glaring example of Barbarosa and what choosing to trust could do to him still lingered in Jack's memory.

According to Mr. Gibbs, Captain Sparrow had never warmed to a person as quickly as he'd done to him. Whether or not that was true, all Will knew was that Jack had been there for him as soon as he'd heard about the carriage accident that had claimed Elizabeth's life scant weeks before their wedding day.

Lost in grief in the weeks that followed, he remembered the days as nothing more than the beat of hammer on metal as he lost himself in his work… nothing until, as if by magic, a familiar weathered hat appeared on a peg in the smithy. Looking up into the rafters, he'd seen a much-missed familiar face wearing a smile as one of the Caribbean's most famous pirates sat on a rafter, legs swinging freely. Within the week, he'd been a blacksmith no more; Will Turner, crew-member of the Black Pearl was his new destiny.

Bringing his mind back to the present, Will said, "Stop moping, Jack. It's not as though you're dying, you bloody daft sod."

The `harrumph' from his friend had Will grinning within seconds. Moving to the glass decanter holding Jack's brandy, he quicklyand efficiently poured a drink for each of them. Moving toward him, he said, "Be a good patient and let me check your arm and I might consider giving you this."

Eyes narrowing at his First Mate's impudence, Jack quickly shot out his uninjured arm with an imperious `give me that' gesture. Chuckling, Will gazed at the other arm. Sighing his exasperation, Jack nodded his go-ahead, though he did mutter, "'ad I but known, I'd be takin' on a second mother when I took you from Port Royal…"

"Shut up, Jack," said Will, absently handing him the brandy as he adjusted the makeshift sling and checked the bandaged wound on his captain's upper arm. "Two more days ought to do it, Jack."

"Oh, for the love of--"

"No arguing, captain. If I have to keep you in the brig to get you to heal, I have more than one willing accomplice to get you there.

"That's what happens when you save crew-members' lives like you did. They get grateful… and protective. They tend to want to keep captains like that alive, you daft git."

Will just grinned at the embarrassed shrug that that announcement produced. Jack was just going to have to accept that - for a pirate crew - the crew of the Black Pearl were ridiculously happy with their current lot in life. Thanks, in large part, to their crazy captain and his adventures.

"Anything else you need before I head off to get something to eat?"

"Yes," was the quiet response. "Would you…" with a glance to his left and a nod of his head, Jack wordlessly made his request.

Going over to the table near Jack's bed, Will picked up the ivory box that he'd indicated. Moving back to his captain, Will opened the lid of the box and, with nimble fingers, removed the stick that was used to apply the kohl powder that Jack favoured.

The current application on Jack's face was long since beginning to fade and it was not easily applied with only one working hand. Steadying Jack's face with one strong hand, Will softly said,
"Hold still, Captain Popinjay."

Intimately close to his captain, neither said a word as the kohl was once again used to accentuate the fathomless eyes of the rogue that was *Captain* Jack Sparrow. Once done, Will carefully closed up the box and put it safely aside.

Still without saying a word, Will once again raised a strong hand to Jack's face, this time gently moving it to the back of his captain's neck and pulling him forward. Lips gentled touched and
opened before tongues more feverishly meshed together in a wordless yet elegant communication of their own.

Reluctantly separating from Jack, Will smiled and said, "Get some rest, Captain. You have the midday watch."

"Insolent whelp," was the grinned reply.

"That's why you love me, you crazy pirate."

Eyes sparkling, Jack Sparrow assessed the grinning countenance of the man that had quickly become the truest friend he'd ever had, not to mention the most capable first mate, and said, "Well it's one of them, Will-me-lad. `Tis definitely one of them."

Laughing, Will dropped another quick kiss on his lover's mouth before heading off to get his breakfast.

Fin
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