Parts 36-40

Posted: October 2003
Author: Haleth

~~~~~~

Chapter 36 – Promises

Anamaria kept a close eye on the Interceptor II at all times. She did not trust Commodore Norrington as far as she could throw him. And while that would undoubtedly be further than the Commodore could throw her, it wasn't a considerable distance.

"Bad luck to be cooperating with the navy, Captain," Gibbs hissed in her ear.

"I'm not cooperating, Mr. Gibbs. We're taking advantage of a situation.

"How's that, ma'am? We don't need to make deals with His Majesty's men to help Jack. Jack can take care of himself."

"I well know that, Mr. Gibbs. But my dear brother cannot."

Gibbs frowned. "Brother? You don't think Jack will take care of him too?"

Anamaria smiled grimly. "Wrong brother."

* * *

Commodore Norrington stood on the deck, scanning the horizon for a sign, any sign. If nothing else, if all else failed, at least he would have to opportunity to sink the Black Pearl and rid the Caribbean of the last real pirate threat.

* * *

Anamaria frowned as she checked the navigational instruments again. They were definitely headed in a dangerous direction now. A supply ship had passed within an arrow's distance of the Interceptor II a few hours earlier, and Mr. Cotton had indeed seen an arrow fly across, probably with a message attached. That's what Mr. Cotton had said. Or at least his parrot had said. Or at least, that's what the rest of the crew agreed that Mr. Cotton's parrot had said. So the change in direction likely had something to do with the message. She hoped the parrot was wrong.

* * *

Norrington sat in the captain's cabin, eating his dinner alone, as he felt was proper for the captain of the ship. He knew Gillette stood on the other side of the door, at attention, waiting for his orders. As he always did. No matter what happened, he knew Gillette would remain loyal. As to how his wife would react when she learned of his actions, he was not so certain of that. Elizabeth would be furious if she knew there was any treachery on his part. He would have to be careful.

* * *

Anamaria was reluctant to give up the wheel, no matter that she was close to asleep on her feet.

"Come on, luv. Mr. Gibbs is more than capable of tending to the Pearl while you sleep. It's only a few hours left to sun-up, please ‘ave a rest!"

She let herself be guided to the cabin by her lover, and lay on top of the covers, fully clothed, in case she had to rise in a hurry. Charlotte climbed over and nested behind her. "Shh, luv, I'll take care of ye." She hummed a tune and stroked Anamaria's thick hair. As much as she loved being the lover of the woman in charge, Charlotte couldn't help hoping the Black Pearl would some day rendezvous with her former captain. All this responsibility was wreaking havoc with Charlotte's sex life.

* * *

"It's dawn, sir. You asked to be woken."

Gillette looked stiff and overly formal in the bright morning light. He always looked like that when he was asked to rouse the commodore. He stood to the side of the bed, careful to not actually touch any of the bedding with anything but his pointed finger, which poked Norrington's shoulder pragmatically.

Norrington blinked his eyes, groggy. He'd been having a fantastical dream, in which he was on a sandy beach, standing in the sunlight, naked except for a pair of leather boots. There was no ship in sight, no village or house. Just him, and one other. Someone who sat on a rock, near the shore. It was a man, and he was also naked, but he couldn't see who it was because a mass of thick, black hair obscured his face. He was tanned brown all over, and he toyed with a sword, shining in the sun, swinging it this way and that so it flashed bright. Such a strange dream.

He looked up at Gillette. Stiff white wig in place, red coat buttoned to the neck, hands folded behind his back deferentially.

"Very well, I'll be on deck in ten minutes. Have we made progress?"

"Yes sir, we are almost upon them."

* * *

Alphonse DeMaurier loaded the last crate of supplies onto his little ship and stowed it in the little hold. He stood upright and faced his young brother-in-law.

"Don't know how I can thank you," Will's soft voice came to him.

The boy stood tall, shoulders broad and clad in a too-large shirt that billowed in the breeze. The new boots fit him much better, and he stood solidly in them. If it weren't for that scallywag Sparrow, Alphonse might be willing to throw all propriety to the wind. Sparrow and the fact that his mother was married to the boy's father. Bad luck, that was.

"Be happy and enjoy all you can in this life."

"I would wish you the same happiness, but Kay… she seems to think you lost it."

"Long ago, but it wasn't lost. It was taken from me." Alphonse said after a long pause "And it's too late now, so let us not dwell on the past. The present is enough. You have a home now, a family. And a lover."

Will blushed.

"If Jack would have me, I would follow him. But I won't deny leaving this place will be difficult. I haven't had a family for a long time. And I won't deny seeing you leave makes me sad. I shall miss you. I never had a brother before."

Alphonse him a warm smile. "Ah, but young Mr. Turner, this is not just any family. We DeMauriers tend to travel. Wherever you go, one of us is sure to be nearby."

Will laughed. He was half-dreading the return to the Black Pearl. He suspected that Anamaria would not be nearly so encouraging as her siblings. And he feared how the crew would react to the permanent presence of their captain's inexperienced lover.

Jack climbed up on deck, ready to row with Will back to shore. He stood in front of Alphonse and the two men looked into each other's eyes.

Jack saw a very proud and defiant man, but much kindness as well. Alphonse had plucked the two of them from the shore of that island and delivered them to safety asking nothing in return. He'd traveled to bring them supplies, clothes, even a small cask of rum for Jack. Jack had been suspicious of him at first, the questioning of motives added to his natural mistrust of the clergy. And he hadn't liked the way Alphonse looked at Will. Hungry. But he'd grown to like him. And now he worried about the man sailing alone on the ocean on such a small ship.

Alphonse saw the swagger and pride and arrogance of the pirate, but could clearly see through it as well. He'd been suspicious of Jack's behaviour toward Will at first, worried about his young stepbrother in the hands of such a rogue. But now, on this morning, he saw something more. He could see a new protectiveness, a new possessiveness on Jack's part. He wondered what had been going on during the long nights, when the pirate and the blacksmith rowed out to the ship. Well, he had to admit, he knew very well what was going on. But today was different. And he liked what he saw.

"Farewell, Captain Sparrow. May your journeys bring you all you deserve," Alphonse looked over at Will, "And all you desire."

"Farewell, Captain DeMaurier. May you find what you desire as well."

"Jack!" Will yelled and pointed into the distance.

White sails and the colours of a ship of His Majesty's Navy hovered on the horizon.

* * *

The pride of His majesty's navy sailed toward the bay, fierce and determined captain at the helm. A slightly smaller ship followed, with a less determined, more suspicious captain. Nothing was certain in these waters. And no one could be trusted.

* * *

"What are you going to do?"

"I can outrun them easily in these shallow waters. Lure them out to sea. We've got to get them away from the island, away from Kay and the children."

Jack grabbed his arm. "You can't do it alone, mate. They'll catch you soon enough. I could help you."

Alphonse turned to Jack. "Just how wanted are you?"

Jack grinned. "About as wanted as I suspect you are. Care to enlighten me with the specifics?"

Alphonse reached up and adjusted his white collar self-consciously. " There may have been a few incidents. I expect either one of us would be worth their efforts."

The two captains eyed each other warily, then with glee.

"Will, go back to the house and gather Kay and all the children. There is a camp, deep in the bush, just for such emergencies. Franklin will know what to do, but you must warn them now!" Alphonse pushed Will to the ladder.

"Are you mad? You think you can outrun them? In this?" Will grabbed the railing, refusing to disembark.

Jack took Will's hand in his. "Will, luv. If they catch us here, they'll go ashore and find your family, living without king or country, and paying tribute to neither. The King doesn't take well to being cheated of his taxes. If we draw them away the island, and everyone on it, will remain safe."

"I want to stay with you!" Will's eyes were afire with determination.

"No!" Jack shouted, furious. "We're the wanted ones, we'll go. You row ashore, warn your sister. If you are caught, you've done nothing wrong, savvy? All will be well. Please, do it for me. You'll be safer." He drew Will's body against his for one, painful moment. "They won't catch us, I promise." A single kiss on a tearstained cheek. "We will return."

Alphonse was rushing about the deck, preparing to make way. "Go, Will! They'll know what to do on shore."

Will squeezed Jack's hand. "I'll see you very soon. Promise."

Jack busied himself with work, sparing only a few glances at the strong figuring rowing away. Soon the little ship was heading out of the bay, and Jack frantically looked back at shore. But Will had already dragged the boat off the beach and disappeared into the trees. To the west, the sails of the navy ship ever grew.

Alphonse took the time to clap a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be surprised at how fast she can go, my friend. And don't worry about the boy, Kay and Franklin will know what to do."

Jack nodded numbly. That hadn't been a proper goodbye. He hadn't told Will how much he loved him. That he would gladly face death to save Will's life. How much he regretted not saying that. And he hated himself for thinking that if he did face the hangman, his biggest regret might be that he'd stopped the night before. That he hadn't pressed harder, hadn't drawn Will to his side and told him then how much he loved him, and then given him a proper fucking, just like he knew Will would enjoy, if he'd only had the chance.

And that bugger Alphonse was reading his mind, with a sly glance and a resonant chuckle. Perverted, filthy clergy. "What are you smirking at, preacher?"

Alphonse laughed outright, loving the wind in his face and the sea rushing past beneath his feet. "I am looking at a pirate." He sang over the wind. "A pirate who's found his home. And I'll get you back to him, I promise you that."

---

Chapter 37 - Family Reunion

Captain Jack Sparrow and Captain Alphonse DeMaurier eyed each other across the deck of the ship, which as Jack now knew was called ‘The Matthew'. Which struck him as the oddest name for a ship he may have ever encountered. But then, DeMaurier was the oddest captain of a ship he'd ever encountered.

All the convivial feelings he'd had before, it appeared, were a direct result of his proximity to Will Turner, and now that he was floating around in the ocean, being pursued by a bloody great ship, or perhaps just because he was separated from Will, he was feeling less sanguine in general, and in particular toward the other sailor.

Either way, they were being hunted by the Dauntless, and it was only a matter of time before the Dauntless caught up, mired though it had been in the shoals, wounded though it almost was by rocks so close to the surface that even Jack had feared for the safe passage of tiny, shallow The Matthew. Dauntless it was indeed, pursuing them now for a day. Just when they were sure they'd given it the slip, white sails appeared again.

And now, as the sun was setting, Jack wondered what the coming night would bring. A night, if he'd minded his own business, he would have spent in the delectable arms of Will Turner, but was doomed to spend on The Matthew, or worse.

Alphonse grimaced at Jack. "Looks as if our experience is worth nothing out here. I am, alas, out of tricks, Captain Sparrow. If there are any remaining aces up your sleeve, I'd suggest you throw them on the table."

Jack looked over his shoulder at the growing sails. "I'm fresh out of aces mate. And frankly, I can't conceive of why this ship is still on our tail. Took more than navy training to get them out of that last scrap." It was as if the ship was being sailed by a fearless pirate crew, and in Jack's experience, the navy didn't pay enough for men to be that fearless. They had to be driven by something other than pay, other than loyalty to the king. On pirate ships it was treasure, or fear of a murderous captain, that made men take such outrageous chances.

There was no treasure to be found on The Matthew. So murder it must have been.

* * *

Will Turner shifted backward and banged the back of his head against a sharp outcropping of rock. A small brown hand silenced his hiss of pain over his mouth.

Little Tess, as the family called her. Kay's eldest daughter. She glared at him in the half-light of the cave. It was easy for her to be upset with his clumsiness, she could move around with ease in the cramped quarters. But Will was folded near in two, and Franklin was practically rolled into a ball in one corner.

Then her look softened, she slid her little hand in his and squeezed it gently, giving him a shy smile. "S'okay, Uncle Will," she breathed so quietly he could barely hear it. "We won't be stuck in here forever."

Will had been feeling the walls of the cave grow closer with each passing moment, but her words held them back for a minute or two.

Young Frank crawled back in from the dim opening. "They've gone back to the ship, all of them. I counted," the boy whispered.

Franklin unfolded himself and slithered out the two-foot high arch. "Good lad. Knew we could count on you."

Will emerged last, rubbing the back of his head. He pulled himself through the opening and looked around the clearing. It didn't look as if anything had been disturbed.

"No, they didn't come up this far," Kay said, reading his mind, as she bounced her youngest on her hip. All the emergency supplies were still stashed in the thicket where they'd left them.

"Funniest looking sailors I ever saw," Little Frank mused as he sat on a rock and played with a long stick, drawing odd symbols in the dirt.

"How's that, son?" Franklin asked.

The boy shrugged. "Well, all the navy I ever saw looked like you or him," he pointed at his father and uncle. "But every one of these ones, they looked more like, well, me."

"You mean they're all tiny?" laughed Little Tess, who stood a head taller than her brother.

He kicked at her shins the way little brothers do. "No, silly. ‘Most every one of them looks like us. You and me and mama."

Will looked over at Franklin. "What do you think of that?"

"Never heard of an crew of freed men, and there couldn't be a whole crew of slaves…"

"Frank, what is that?" Kay interrupted, although it was unclear which Frank she was spoke to. She was pointing at the ground, at the series of strange marks her son had drawn; a circle with a lined slashed across it, an upside-down ‘U' with a dot in the centre and a line above.

The boy looked up at her. "They all had them, all the sailors."

Kay dropped to her knees and took her son by the shoulder. "Where? On their uniforms?" The boy shook his head. "Their skin?" He nodded and pointed to his own shoulder. "And you could see them? They didn't have shirts?" Kay leapt up. "Slave brands!"

Will and Franklin winced.

"They aren't navy!"

Will was confused, but all he could do was follow as Kay ran through the trees, baby in her arms, shouting, "Jacob! Jacob!"

* * *

Jack and Alphonse rejected the notion of fighting the Dauntless, opting for escape at a later date as the most probable course of survival. They waited patiently on the deck of The Matthew as the larger ship loomed above them.

"It has been interesting knowing you," Alphonse said softly. "And I pray you'll get back home safe some day, I really do."

Jack shrugged, all brave and nonchalant now. He hadn't had a home for so long.

Alphonse shook his head. "You're wrong, Captain. You have a home. And he'll come looking for you, and he'll find you."

Now, how did do that? Bloody mind reading preacher.

A thick knotted rope fell with a loud thunk to the deck at Jack's feet. He looked up and saw a navy man leaning over the edge of the deck, silhouetted by the sinking sun. How fortunes change in the course of a single day.

"Bloody hell, Al, climb the rope and let's ‘ave a parley here, mate. I can't wait all day. Always the laggard, you never bloody change, do ye?"

Alphonse looked up in shock. "Jacob?" he shouted.

* * *

By the time Will caught up with Kay she was standing alone in a circle of men, all dressed more raggedly than the cursed Pirates of the Black Pearl. Franklin was following but with two children in his arms and several riding his back his progress was hampered. Will had no idea what would happen next, but he did have the presence of mind to note that Kay was strangely calm about the situation, in spite of the two dozen hungry, desperate men who appeared to be threatening her. He rushed to the centre of the throng and threw a protective arm around her.

But they weren't threatening. They seemed to be waiting for something. Will turned to his left sharply when he heard murmurs in the crowd, and the men parted to let another through.

He was very tall, very handsome with high cheeks and beautiful dark eyes. His skin was gleaming brown, his hair shiny black, twisted into neat rows, and he bore himself with a regal air.

"So, if the descriptions I've heard are accurate, this would have to be the lovely Kay DeMaurier." He stepped forward, bowed elegantly and took Kay's hand in his. Kay made a little giggling sound when he kissed her hand, and now Will was thoroughly confused.

"My goodness," she whispered. "I simply can't believe it. You must be Matthew."

* * *

Jack was hauled over the edge of the Dauntless' rail by far too many pairs of strong arms and dumped onto the deck without ceremony. He looked up hazily to see Alphonse embracing the man who seemed to be in charge of the ship. He looked like a right navy sort, with the wig and the sword and the uncomfortable-looking uniform, all scrubbed clean and fresh in spite of the chase. But something about him looked familiar. Jack wracked his brain but couldn't quite place him until the two men turned in his direction and he saw them side by side.

The navy man was the spitting image of Alphonse, only with olive instead of brown skin. Same eyes, same shape of the face. Same nose, same cheeks, and come to think of it, very same shape of mouth, but the navy man's lips were a darker red and he had a gold tooth, visible because of his broad smile, which faded when he took in Jack.

"And what," he asked with distaste, "Is this?"

Jack stood, collecting whatever dignity he could. "I beg your pardon, Captain," he mumbled. "I believe we've yet to be introduced."

Alphonse laughed. "This is the infamous and noted Captain Jack…"

Jack rushed forward and waved his arms to silence Alphonse. He'd rather be keeping his identity secret at this juncture, thank you very much. In the confusion the rest of Jack's name was lost and Alphonse was gesturing toward the navy man.

"This is my youngest brother, Jacob."

Jack stood still in his tracks. Another bloody DeMaurier. He should have known. He did a quick mental count. This was, as far as he knew, the last one. Why did he ever borrow that wench Anamaria's boat in the first place? Was he doomed to suffer a plague of DeMauriers to the end of his days?

Jacob surveyed Jack with distain. "And since when did my brother travel with ruffians of this sort?"

Jack made a little hmmph noise, drowned out a genuine laugh from Alphonse. "It's a long story, brother, you'd best get yourself a rum, and Jack here would probably appreciate on as well." He continued once they'd settled with a drink apiece. "The short version of the tale is this; you see, mum got married again."

Jacob spewed out his rum, all over Jack. "To him?" he choked, gesturing toward Jack.

"No, no, to his lover's father."

* * *

"So Jacob is fetching Alphonse back here," Kay repeated, trying to follow the whole story from Matthew, just as Matthew was trying to follow hers.

"Yes, it was decided I would captain the slave trader's ship, and Matthew would keep command of the Dauntless. That wreck," he gestured toward the ship listing in the bay, "Wouldn't catch up with a row boat. It's amazing the entire cargo wasn't lost. Not that the traders would care, they don't see us as people, only profit."

Will stared wide-eyed at the men about him. Half were from the original ship coming from Africa, the others were men who had been slaves further north, and were sent south to be re-sold, mostly for being trouble-makers, like Matthew.

"It was by sheer chance that Jacob learned I was the leader of the slave revolt. He overheard it from another officer, so he seized the opportunity to launch a mutiny on the Dauntless and sail to our rescue. Lucky for us; for we would have perished on the seas without his aid. I only wish Alphonse were here now," he sighed sadly.

"He'll be here soon," Kay soothed, patting his arm. "Don't fret. Once he knows you're here he'll be racing back." She rose and kissed him on the forehead. "Thank heavens you're here. We thought you were lost forever. Alphonse and I prayed together every night that somehow you would return to him. And Will here, he just found out his father is alive after years of believing him drowned. So we all have something to celebrate." She busied herself finding food and clothes and bedding for the ragged collection of men. "There are so few of you," she murmured.

Matthew frowned. "Many were lost during the voyage. But this isn't the entire compliment. The women and the youngsters are on the ship in the harbour, and more men are on the Dauntless. Jacob had only a skeleton crew when he reached us. I fear, though, that our destination will be made evident. A supply ship spotted us. It's not safe for us to stay here."

"Then we'll have to go elsewhere, as soon as the others return."

Matthew turned to Will. "We? You want to throw in your lot with a group of runaway slaves?"

Will stood proudly. "No. I want to throw in my lot, as you call it, with decent people. And, well, you are my family, if you are with Alphonse."

Matthew laughed and stood with Will. "I suppose so. You would be what? My stepbrother-in-law?"

Will grinned. "I like that. I've gained quite a few siblings in the last few weeks. I would gladly count you among them."

Franklin rose with them. "Perhaps we should save the family reunion for later. We have more serious things to contend with."

And he pointed to the Interceptor II, entering the bay with the Black Pearl not far behind.

* * *

Norrington's eyes lit with glee. The missing slave trader was found. At least he could retrieve it, and its cargo. Then he would deal with the Black Pearl.

* * *

Anamaria grinned when she caught sight of the dilapidated ship anchored in the bay. So that was why Jacob mutinied. Made perfect sense to her. She'd have to find a way to help him keep the poor people on the slave trader free, and her family safe. Then she'd figure out a way to deal with Norrington.

---

Chapter 38 - Norrington's Prize

Norrington sneered at the figure huddled in the corner of the brig on the Interceptor II, chained hand and foot, weakened from the battle, dark hair messed, a hint of blood smeared at the edge of a cut lip. It was a small ship, and the brig took up far too much space under the deck, but he was immensely pleased it had been built, for it contained a real prize, someone who would lead to his redemption in the eyes of his superiors.

It was amazing what a bit of bait could do for a man's career.

So what if he didn't have the Dauntless back yet. He would soon enough. And so what if the merchant vessel was lost. The ship wasn't important. What were important were the heathens and their leader. He spat in disgust. Leader. An escaped rebel slave. What kind of a leader was that, and what kind of an army did he control, a bunch of half-dressed pathetic savages.

They'd put up a fierce battle. But Norrington's guns had prevailed.

Unfortunately he had not prevailed over the Black Pearl. That red-haired hussy had screeched a warning to the pirates and the Black Pearl had manoeuvred its way out of his reach. But that too was acceptable, since it had left the trading vessel wide open to attack and the beach at his mercy. It hadn't taken much to sink the other ship; it was listing badly to start with. The sight of all those wretched creatures swimming to shore would have moved him to pity if he hadn't been so busy pursuing them. Searching for treasure.

And now, here in the brig; his prize. He leered at a long leg, folded in half under torn clothes. "You'll do quite well. I don't imagine anyone will be letting me go far without you. And when they come, that traitorous mutineer, the rebel slave leader, the notorious pirate captain, and the renegade preacher – they'll all be mine."

But his words fell in the air unheard.

* * *

Will Turner was having a dream. A surreal, confusing dream. He was in the wild with Jack, just the two of them. And they were bathing in a spring, cool refreshing water poured over his calves, and Jack was scooping up water with a piece of curved wood, and letting it stream down Will's legs and torso. He was naked and free in the sunshine again, and he would have smiled, in the dream and out of it, but his head ached so very much. Even smiling hurt.

He pursued the dream further, forcing his mind to conjure up the images again until he and Jack were lying together on soft moss, and Jack was stroking him gently, running a soothing hand up and down his flank, curving it around his hip, dipping down to stroke his stomach with lingering fingers. That's what he wanted. If that were all he thought about, if he concentrated very very hard, it would happen. He would awake and he would be safe again, with Jack at his side.

His mind wandered back, back to the last night on Alphonse's ship. He was lying back in a daze, body quaking from head to toe. There was something wet, something on his foot, and someone rubbing at it. Then Jack was there, beside him. There was a strange but not uncomfortable pressure inside him. Oh, now he remembered. That was Jack. Inside.

"Jack," he repeated, out loud this time. "What are you doing?" And then he strained up, reached his mouth up to catch a shimmering drop of white cream from Jack's beard on the tip of his outstretched tongue. Delicious. Did he really taste that good?

Jack shifted his finger, just slightly, and made Will gasp. "I'm exploring, mate." Jack's voice was laced with humour, and a husky lust that made Will's cock twitch, soft and satiated as it was.

There was a bit of a burn, too much friction. "A little dry," Jack croaked, his voice sounding as if it needed the lubrication more than his finger did, "perhaps." and then he disappeared from Will's sight. And the next thing he knew there was a hot, wet pressure just behind his bollocks, around where he was stretched to accommodate Jack's finger, and that wasn't anything he'd expected or imagined and beyond what he could have dreamed or wished for because it was possibly the best thing he'd ever felt.

Jack was licking wetly at him, sliding tongue over ridges, then sliding his finger out and Will could tell Jack was licking around his finger and then he was filled again and Jack moaned against him. And he could feel the moan vibrate deep inside.

Then Jack was up beside him again, suckling on his throat while he worked that finger deep inside Will, so deep inside the thought of it made Will blush.

"No, no, don't get shy on me now, luv." Jack's voice tickled his throat. "You've got a lovely arse, and I plan to explore every, ah…" Jack's teeth sank a little in Will's throat, corresponding with the clenching of Will's muscle around Jack's finger, a result of Jack applying just the right amount of pressure on a little bundle of nerves so deep inside Will had never known they were there. Until now. "Every inch," Jack breathed heavily.

Will purred.

But his head hurt, and the absolute pleasure of Jack just stroking him like that, just sliding his finger in and out and making him turn to liquid, was lost and Will groaned and tried to hold his head in his hand but he couldn't reach. His chapped lips tasted salty, briny, maybe even bloody, and he shivered with the cold.

And he would have given anything to go back to that ship on that night. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and willed himself to remember.

He did remember. He remembered Jack's finger slipping from inside him, slick and smooth. And the sense of loss and emptiness when it did. He whimpered, just a quiet little whimper of complaint that made Jack smile against his chest, where he was doing the most delightful things to Will's left nipple with his tongue.

Jack rubbed little circles around his curiously tender flesh, so cautious and loving, stroking the wrinkled skin slick with spit. He'd never felt so much concentrated in such a small area… well, he had, deep inside, but this was outside… and not in a place he'd never associated with pleasure before. Yet there he was in Jack's embrace with Jack's hand between his legs and he was spreading his legs more, wanting ever more.

"Shh, love, that's enough of that for now. I don't want to hurt you and I'm afraid I've got nothing else to ease the way." Will tried to protest, but Jack hushed him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Will licked it now, the corner of his mouth, but the taste of Jack was long gone.

"Spit's not enough, not for your first time, luv. And I'm rather," Jack shifted closer and pressed himself against Will's thigh, "larger than me finger."

Will groaned when he thought of Jack's cock, inside him. He wanted it, wanted to be stretched, wanted to be opened, but when he reached down and took Jack's cock in his hand he had an understanding of Jack's restraint. Its girth was considerably larger than what Will had imagined when he'd thought of Jack fucking him, and it wasn't even fully hard. Yet.

"How could I forget," he panted. "You're hardly slender." Circled his thumb around the head, pushing back the damp foreskin, teasing the wet slit. Jack hadn't even had time to properly clean up. He was sticky, and still tender, and Will's fingers were relentless. It would have hurt if it didn't feel so good.

"No," Jack agreed, not boasting, only being reasonable. "But if you keep touching me like that…" His words were cut off by a fierce kiss, and Will's body flung against him. Insatiable.

Will kissed and writhed and did everything he could to drive Jack to distraction. He knew that if he was excited enough, if Jack got excited enough, restraint would be thrown overboard and Jack would take him, right there on the deck, with or without something to ease the way.

"I mean it, Jack. I want you. Please, I know how much you want it, and how much it will mean to you."

Jack groaned. Will was licking his ear, all around the outside of it, dipping his tongue teasingly into the shell, tracing whorls with his lovely lovely tongue. Jack hooked his leg over Will's legs to keep them together. The inexplicable image of their first fuck occurring on clean sheets in a proper bed filled his mind to the point of explosion.

"Jack." The whisper was low, right in his ear. It sent hot, stinging fingers down his spine. "Jack, you want to take me. I'm yours, so go ahead."

But Will's plan wasn't working. Oh, Jack was moaning, he was bucking his hips against Will, he had taken his now hard cock in hand and was trying to stretch his fingers around Will's at the same time. All good things. But he wasn't spreading Will's legs; in fact, he was pressing them together with more force. And he was setting a brutal, brisk rhythm on their cocks, pressed so close together, as if he wanted to satisfy them both fast.

"Jack," Will whispered again. One last try. One last reckless offer. He thought of how stretched he'd felt, the pressure of just a finger inside him. And he thought of how Jack had made that helpless little mewling noise when Will's arse tightened around his finger. He knew the clenching wasn't just at the guardian muscle, it would be all through him. "Jack, think about how tight it would be, how hot I would be around you." He reached down and threaded his fingers between Jack's, surrounding their cocks, together, and squeezed. "You want to be inside me."

Jack bucked against Will's hand. He would have to be insane to refuse. Inside the sleek heat of Will Turner, those long legs wrapped around him. He shoved his hand down, worming it between Will's thighs, so anxious to touch him he couldn't wait until he found the muscle control to lift his leg up and slide it between Will's thighs, pushing them open. Finally, Will was on his back, legs spread, Jack had his fingers poised at the tight opening he so cherished, Will was panting heavily, cock trickling silver fluid in the starlight onto a flat, smooth belly.

Will moaned and pressed down against Jack's fingers. The sting of the first finger entering him was nothing compared to the sharp surprise of two. He gritted his teeth, desperate to feel the exquisite pain of Jack's fingers wriggling and spreading him open, so preferable to the pain he felt in his head now. Jack withdrew, and recoated his fingers with saliva, and then was more gentle, slipping and sliding and stretching and oh, yes, touching him there.

He could feel himself open, relaxing and loosening under Jack's still careful ministrations. It had disgusted him when he thought Jack just wanted to stick his cock into him, to make himself feel good. He'd thought it dirty and depraved then. But this wasn't about Jack's cock, it was about Will's whole body responding to Jack. And this wasn't like he and Jack grabbing at each other and making each other's cocks feel good, this was about him and Jack, about how much Jack wanted to join with him and be a part of him.

He'd had no idea it would make him feel so very special.

"You're magic, Will, when you open up like that. You feel like velvet inside, hot hot velvet." Jack twisted his wrist and felt Will clench around him deep inside. He pulled out and tucked a third finger against the other two and pressed back in again.

Will jumped and his cock softened against Jack's other hand. Jack stroked him in encouragement, but Will whimpered again, and not in the needy tone of before, but in an alarmed manner. Jack felt himself soften as well. "But I won't do anything to hurt you." Jack removed his fingers against, pressing his fingers against the heated, pulsing orifice.

Ha gathered Will in his arms and kissed his face. "Shh, luv, you're fine. I'm fine. We're both fine, and we have all the time in the world. We'll try again later, I'll get some of that oil and you'll like it much more. This is plenty for now."

And it was, at the time, but now Will ached for more. He would gladly endure any pain to be beside Jack again. But he didn't know where Jack was. He didn't know where he was. He only felt the dreadful pounding in his head.

When Jack slid that single newly-slicked finger inside again, Will marvelled at how it was so perfect, just the perfect length, to stroke him in the right spot, and how perfect it felt to have Jack against him with his hips thrust forward like that so their cocks lined up and they had their fingers entwined around them but Jack's body stayed twisted so his finger was inside Will. Will angled his hips to make Jack's fingertip press inside him harder, fiercer.

"Jesus, Will, you're a natural at this, you know. You're so incredibly responsive." Jack was muttering now, low and dangerous sounding, grinding their cocks together but keeping perfect control over that one finger. "It's like, oh God, like playing an instrument." Will purred louder and the sound got an edge to it, a sharp and persuasive edge.

Strong hands gripped Will's arms and hauled him to his feet roughly. His head bumped against wood, causing his brain to jar against the inside of his skull, excruciating. He blearily opened his eyes a crack, closed them again, still unwilling to leave his fantasy, this fantastical replay in his mind of him and Jack, pulsing hot liquid at the same time, heated sticky hands intertwined, tongues dancing together with the faint taste of Will's musk lingering between them, his whole body turning inside out with pleasure, his dream of a time much more desirable than this real time.

"Wake up, Mr. Turner." The voice was gruff. Familiar. It frightened him.

"No, leave me be. I only want Jack," he cried out, unsure if he really said it or not. Quite sure it wouldn't have been wise if he did say it out loud.

Water splashed on his face, bringing the world into focus. He was on the beach. Had been trapped under a broken mast, washed ashore from the sunken vessel. His feet had been chilling in the water, he didn't know for how long, waves lapping at his knees.

Franklin pulled him free from the debris, "I don't know where Jack is, and I don't care."

Will opened his eyes, finally, to look upon the distraught face of his brother-in-law.

"Kay is missing!"

* * *

Norrington went topside, leaving his prize locked up safe. She would bring him all he wanted, if what he'd been able to glean from the child was accurate. All those uncles.

The little boy sat on a barrel, glaring at the Commodore with a dangerous look in his dark eyes. Perhaps Norrington would be wise to lock up the whelp with his mother.

---

Chapter 39 - Melee On The Interceptor

Commodore Norrington glared at his first mate, Gillette. Gillette who was supposed to be his trusted lieutenant. His dependable aide. His friend.

Gillette glared back, twice as fierce. He'd put up with a lot. He'd followed and helped in the tracking of the pirate Sparrow who, compared to some, wasn't actually all that bad. Not compared to how Barbossa had been. He didn't understand his commander's obsession with the pirate, but he obeyed.

And when the slave trader went missing, right before the Dauntless was reported stolen, really mutinied, he'd gone along. Even though he despised the slave trade, because he was a good Christian and as a decent human being. Because the law was the law and they had to uphold it.

And he'd allowed Norrington to draw the Black Pearl into his game, even though it wasn't necessary because Sparrow-less he didn't think they were all that much of a danger, but he went along with it because it was a pirate ship and thus it did contain pirates.

But this was too much.

Gillette tightened his hold on the boy's arm. "You cannot, sir. I won't allow it."

Norrington unsheathed his sword. "Gillette, I told you to throw the boy overboard as a warning to those on shore. Now do it!"

Little Frank spat at Norrington. "Go ahead, I can swim that far easily!"

Gillette shook his head. "This is madness, sir. You've captured a civilian, who has nothing at all to do with this vendetta of yours, and now you're threatening a mere child. I can not abide by this blatant…"

But Gillette's words were cut short by a body hurling itself across the railing. "Let him go!" Will Turner growled as he tackled Gillette to the deck.

Little Frank squirmed out from under the tussling men and ran for the hatch, to where his mother was chained below. But Norrington stopped him short, sword at his throat. "Get up, Gillette. You as well, Turner, or the boy…"

Will stood up, seawater pooling on the planks under his bare feet. He was soaked, having swum out to the Interceptor in an effort to rescue Kay. He was shocked to see Little Frank under Norrington's blade.

"No, you can't. Take me." Will stepped forward. "A trade. It's only fair. Let Kay and the boy go and I'll stay willingly as your hostage. You have my word."

Norrington gave a short, sharp laugh. "Your word? And what is that worth?"

"It's all I have, if you take my family away." Will stepped forward, causing Norrington to press his sword more threateningly against the boy's throat. But instead of attacking, Will dropped to his knees and raised his hands behind his neck. "I willingly submit," he said, staring hard at the deck. "Just let them go."

Norrington released his hold on the boy and loomed above Will's passive form. "Very well, at dawn we'll give the boy a boat and tell him to row to shore. My demands are as follows, the safe return of Mr. Turner to the island on the delivery of Jack Sparrow to me, as my prisoner."

Will looked up sharply. "What about Kay?"

Norrington laughed. "Oh, Mr. Turner, you are far too trusting. You'll never be a real pirate, will you?" He ran the tip of his sword up Will's torso and rested the point of it at the base of his throat. He watched Will swallow, the tip of his blade rising with the movement. "My other prisoner awaits the arrival of my mutinous Lieutenant Jacob DeMaurier, and his brother, the pirate. That man has been roaming the Caribbean for years, stealing cargo from vessels from all over the world."

"Don't you mean freeing people from slave traders?" Frank yelled.

Norrington shook his head. The boy was obviously incapable of understanding commerce.

"You're despicable," Will spat, earning himself a hard slap from Norrington.

* * *

Anamaria watched the failed prisoner trade through her spyglass. "Looks like my brother tried to give himself up in exchange for Kay," she whispered to Charlotte.

It was so dark, she could only see parts of what was going on, and only then because of the lanterns hanging about the deck of the Interceptor. She was a bit surprised that Norrington didn't realize he was so visible. But then, he didn't know that The Black Pearl had crept back into the bay. He would most likely believe the pirate ship had fled for safer waters, unconcerned with the fate of some random settlers on a remote island. "Will probably assumes he's more valuable than Kay. I don't think he realizes that Norrington doesn't want him, he wants Jack."

"Oh, Norrie's not stupid." Charlotte frowned, highly disappointed with Norrington. He'd always behaved such a gentleman in her presence. "He well aware that if he has Will he'll soon get Jack."

"Aye," came the voice from behind Charlotte. Low and angry but controlled. "But I fancy he won't be very happy with the way he's about to get me."

Captain Jack Sparrow strapped the pistol to his belt, and slipped a gleaming throwing knife into the sheath strapped to his thigh. The Dauntless loomed behind the Pearl, obscured by tall trees at the edge of the bay. If it weren't so overcast both ships would have been plainly visible by starlight. But the night was as black as the kohl around Jack's eyes. He picked up his sword and sheathed it silently.

He stood straight and menacing, and Anamaria noticed for the first time that Jack did not sway or list or move a single muscle that wasn't necessary as he prepared for his assault on the Interceptor II. He radiated a determination and fierceness she had never seen from her captain.

And it scared her half to death, even though she knew he was on her side.

* * *

After watching Jack make his way over to the Pearl, Jacob turned his attentions to the shore. It was evident enough what had happened here. He knew how devious Norrington could be. The almost sunken hulk of the slave trader filled him with dread, but he saw a small figure near shore, paddling out to the Dauntless on a log. He was soon pulling the niece he'd never met out of the water and up on deck.

Her little hands could barely wrap around the thick rope, but she held on until she reached the top.

"So you would be Uncle Jacob," she panted. "Oh my, that's a long way up. This ship is enormous. I don't suppose you would have room for all of us?" She rubbed her hands together to get the feeling back in them. "It is a miracle, you know. No one went down with that cursed ship. And we don't think this will be a safe place to stay by morning, so you'll have to take everyone with you. There's almost two hundred waiting for your signal."

Jacob nodded, anxious to move everyone to safety. He glanced over at the pale lights on the Interceptor II. "But, your mother," he said. "She was taken, was she not? That's what I understood from Anamaria."

Little Tess gave a grim but girlish laugh. "My mum's tough," she said. "You should know that, you grew up with her. But you don't know the half of it. Uncle Will went over there to rescue her. And we all saw from shore that you brought Uncle Alphonse back with you."

Jacob tilted his head in confusion, not fully understanding what the girl was saying.

She pointed to the Dauntless. "You understand, don't you?" A dark figure swung deftly from a rowboat and slithered up the side of the Interceptor in the distance, little more than a spectre in the night. Barely visible.

"He's Captain Jack Sparrow." Little Tess said plainly. "And he loves my uncle, savvy?"

Now Jacob understood.

* * *

Alphonse set out in his rowboat to begin the transfer of people to the Dauntless. It was a fine ship, the Dauntless, and he had discovered, in his many travels, the perfect island for a group of runaways and wanted people to settle. Distant, hard to locate, sheathed in fog and mystery. No one would think to look there, and no one would be able to find it even if they thought of it. And best of all, all they would ever need was on the island, for once it's rocky shores and forbidding cliffs were crossed, it was an inland paradise. All he had to do was get them there.

He didn't know what was going on with the Interceptor II, didn't understand why it was still sitting in the harbour. He assumed someone must have been captured and held hostage, there was no other explanation for the ship to be that open. Of course, Norrington didn't know about the other two ships.

Alphonse was trusting Jacob to take care of the navy. And he trusted Jack to deal with the hostage situation. The other thing he trusted, he prayed, was that no one had been hurt, and that he would find Matthew among the refugees he could barely make out, huddled on shore.

* * *

Will knelt on the deck, his hands now bound with a rough rope, the cord wrapped around his neck and snaking down his back where it secured his bare feet together. A rag was shoved in his mouth, tied behind his head. It pressed down rough and dry against his tongue. Rather helpless and more than a little disappointed in himself. He couldn't move at all, couldn't see much, and was embarrassed he hadn't been able to secure the release of his sister. He could, out of the corner of his eye, see Frank's bare feet swinging back and forth, as they dangled from the barrel Gillette had perched him on for safekeeping. From the other corner he could see the open hatch, leading to where he was sure Kay was being held.

His arms were beginning to ache from the strain of being held up and back for so long. The pounding in his head returned. He could not see a way out. Despair. Held prisoner, without Jack. No Jack. That was simply unacceptable. He had to find a way to escape, to warn Jack, or at least a way to tell Jack to be careful.

But then he thought, he can take care of himself. He is, after all, Captain Jack Sparrow.

* * *

Kay DeMaurier grimaced as she slid her contorted wrist out of the iron cuff. It wasn't easy, but the manacles had been made with somewhat larger, male wrists in mind. The skin was scraped off one side but she would manage. She'd already picked the lock of the leg irons and was free of them. Her head hurt, and she vaguely remembered when the man in the navy uniform hit her with the butt of a rifle as she pulled a woman from the surf. At least the woman had survived up to that point. Then she remembered her baby crying. Was she hurt? Had they hurt any of her children?

Kay decided to forgo picking the lock on her cage. Her anger felt like enough to force the door open. And it was.

* * *

Jack slinked over the rail and crouched behind a crate. There was Norrington, blaring orders to his crew. They all looked a little uncomfortable, as they should. He looked over to where the Black Pearl lay, a hazy gloom in the night. The sun would rise soon and reveal her. He had to work fast.

There was the boy, sitting on a barrel. His sharp eyes lit on Jack. None of the King's men had noticed the pirate. Bright boy. In the future, Jack thought to himself, this would always be his favourite nephew. Young Frank gave no sign at all that he'd spied Jack, but the tempo of his leg swinging increased, and he banged his heels against the barrel with more force. Not enough to cause damage, only irritation.

Oh, the little fellow was a natural. Create a diversion, first thing to do when aiding one's own rescue. Norrington turned on the boy in a fury and shouted for him to desist that infernal racket at once. As Jack readied himself to pounce, it crossed his mind that Elizabeth would do well to breed as few brats as possible, for this man would make a terrible father.

The boy was humming. Loud and tuneless. Norrington looked ready to explode. He advanced, attention focussed solely on the boy. Jack heard a shout from the other side of the ship. It was Mr. Cotton's parrot. "Avast, matey, or I'll have you keelhauled!" the bird shrieked.

Jack took the opportunity to leap from behind the barrel and tackle the guard who stood on the other side of the crate. He knocked the poor sod out and sprang to his feet. He threw the knife at the next guard, sending him down handily. But then, and only then, did he see Will.

He was hogtied and gagged in a most undignified fashion, a sight that filled Jack with rage and something else that he didn't have the luxury of dealing with at the moment. Jack noticed some blood matted in the thick hair at the nape of Will's neck, just below where the gag was tied. He was facing to one side, and Jack could see the clear imprint of Norrington's hand on his cheek, under the gag, skin paler than it usually was. He was injured, and had been struck. Jack's ire put him off balance and caused him to stumble just enough to give Norrington time to draw his sword and rest it neatly at Jack's throat.

"Captain Jack Sparrow, what a surprise," Norrington sneered.

Young Frank, watching all this with keen interest, had not really trained for this sort of situation. Not on purpose. But his contact with his various relatives had taught him a few useful skills. Why, only last week, whilst roughhousing in the yard along with his siblings, Jack had shown Frank one or two things that might come in handy. Piratey, sailory sort of things. Rope tricks, as it were.

Frank slipped down to the deck and grabbed the end of a rope that lay coiled by the feet of Norrington, who was balancing precariously as he leaned over the sprawled body of his pirate nemesis. Frank whipped the rope to the side, just enough to make Norrington jump. He flicked it so it looped around an exposed ankle and yanked hard.

Norrington went down fast, at the same moment Kay burst up on deck with a broken stool leg in her hand at the ready. She ran to Frank and pulled him out of reach of the guards who'd finally realized that the squawking parrot was a diversion, and smacked the nearest one in the face with her makeshift weapon. Jack struggled with Norrington, trying to wrench himself out from under the Commodore. Norrington pinned him and leered down at him.

"So now I have the infamous Jack Sparrow in my grasp," he growled. Jack stilled under him, looking for the best means of escape. He rolled his hips up, to throw the Commodore off, and was shocked to feel a distinct and hard shaped against his thigh. Couldn't possibly have anything to do with him; some men are just like that in battle. But then Jack remembered how Norrington had Will tied up. Had he taunted him? He must have been the one who slapped Will. That couldn't have anything to do with it, did it? He bucked, enraged, and threw Norrington off him, lunging in the direction of Will. Norrington recovered too quickly though, and shouted orders at his men. In the melee, Jack struggled to keep an eye on Will.

Will was aware of Jack's presence, but couldn't see him. He was jostled to and fro, thought he saw Kay kicking a guard between the legs, but he couldn't be certain, because in the next instant he was turned painfully upside-down and dragged across the deck.

Jacob's crew had rowed over to the interceptor and were clamouring over the sides. Limbs flailed in all directions as dawn arrived and the surface of the ship, was covered in flailing bodies. Jack managed to seize Norrington's sword, and was about to run the Commodore through when his blood ran cold.

Because that's when he saw Will's bound body going over the railing.

---

Chapter 40 - New Plans

All was dark and cold and Will was sinking in the water so he couldn't breathe, bound so he couldn't swim to the surface, frightened because the last thing he'd managed to see was Jack and Norrington in a struggle on deck, and he didn't know who won. If Norrington won, he didn't care that he was floating steadily in a downward direction.

The last few weeks, for all the turmoil and danger and difficulties, had been the best of his life. Without Jack there wouldn't be much sense in swimming to the top anyway. He twisted in his ropes and only succeeded in tightening the part around his neck. The gag pried his mouth open, making it hard to keep the water out of his throat. Resigned, he tried to make his last thought a happy one, forced himself to picture Jack with a smile on his face. More of a devilish grin, really. Gold glinting in the sun. There was only a dim light around him, but he could see the glint as clear as if it were day. The last thing he would ever see. If only that glint would set him free.

* * *

Jack's dive into the water was graceful; not for show, but for speed. As he propelled himself downward he wasted as little effort as possible, concentrating on only one purpose, to reach the rapidly receding form of Will Turner.

He hoped Kay could get herself and her son off the Interceptor before the Black Pearl attacked, which would be any second now, as surely the sun was rising. Because he couldn't help them now. If he couldn't reach Will, he wasn't planning on going back up again.

* * *

Then Will blinked a few times, clearing the salt water from his eyes. He was on the deck of the Interceptor. He recognized the wood, after staring at it for so long. How on earth did he get here, and what was in store for him next? He noticed a scratchy woollen blanket thrown over his shoulders. So that's why the wood grain was all blurry. He was shivering so violently. His mouth was dry, chafed at the corners.

But why would the navy give him a blanket? That was absurd; they would just throw him in the brig or tie him up again. Again? He wasn't tied any more, although he could still feel the abrasions on his wrists and his neck, and his ankle was warm with something pressed against it. Or was he just fantasizing about the other night again? He moaned and turned his head to look around.

Gillette. With his sword out. Damn.

But where was Jack?

He heard a familiar panting, and rolled onto his back. There, crouched above him, was a thoroughly soaked and thoroughly pleased Captain Jack Sparrow, still catching his breath from the long dive but grinning, flashing gold for all to see. "Almost lost you there, luv, but I won't let you get away that easily." He cut away the last bit of rope from Will's ankle with the knife Will recognized as the one he kept in a clever sheath on the inside of his boot.

"It wasn't your tooth, it was the knife," Will murmured.

"Eh?" Jack leaned down to push the matted hair off Will's forehead, so he could drop a relieved kiss there. "You gone a little daft, luv?"

Will swivelled back to look at Gillette again. His sword was indeed drawn, but it was pointed toward a supremely angry Commodore Norrington, who was tied to the mast quite securely.

"An unexpected sight, but most welcome." He fell back onto the deck, exhausted. Jack gathered him up in his arms, and Will was safe.

* * *

On shore, Alphonse crossed the beach to the rest of the injured, behind some sheltering boulders. He saw part of Franklin, struggling to get to his feet even though his leg was bound tightly to staunch the flow of blood from a gunshot wound. A dark man with a brand seared onto his bare shoulder held him down. "I have to get to Kay!" he insisted, pushing back at the man who held him down.

"Franklin, stay still, you are badly injured," an authoritative voice commanded, and Alphonse stopped dead in his tracks.

Matthew knelt down and checked the bandage. "I can't believe you wanted to swim out to that boat. You would have killed yourself."

"My wife is out there!"

"We have seen what is happening on board. Kay is fine, and so is your son. And it is no use complaining to Okonkwo, he doesn't speak a word of your language." Matthew said something is a rich, low tone and the other man nodded, and elevated Franklin's leg.

Alphonse found the nerve to step around the rock just as Matthew looked up.

They were both frozen for a moment, with the struggling Franklin completely forgotten.

Then Matthew rose and stepped around the injured man and his caregiver. He stood in front of Alphonse, a little thinner than the last time they met, with a few new scars and the ugly brand showing on his shoulder, but just as tall and handsome as ever.

Alphonse reached up and touched just his fingertips to Matthew's cheek. He couldn't speak.

Matthew reached out as well, and put his large hand against Alphonse's chest, reassured by the rapid but steady heartbeat he felt there.

"Seven years," the taller man whispered.

Alphonse nodded, blinking back tears. "Eternity," was all he could say.

* * *

Kay and Franklin were ensconced in the captain's quarters on the Black Pearl, since Franklin's leg injury was one of the worst sustained by any. Even the guard Jack threw the knife at was recovering nicely, although he was locked securely in the brig with Norrington and the rest of his crew. Except for Gillette and that pair of bumbling oafs who, as soon as they'd realized that Jack was fighting so hard because Will was his lover, had switched sides immediately and aided in the confinement of the rest of Norrington's crew.

Jack manned the wheel, thrilled to be back in control of his ship. He hummed a piratey tune and swayed to the invisible rhythm. Anamaria approached him warily. "Know you don't want to give it up, Jack, but I figured I would take over for a while."

Jack gripped the wheel possessively, fingers sliding over the wood, sinuous and smooth.

"Will's awake again."

Jack let go the wheel and lurched down the steps to the deck. Will was propped up in the shade of the stairs, where he'd been napping in the soft folds of a sail salvaged from the sunken ship. Okonkwo knelt next to him, feeding him some broth.

"Stand aside, lad, I know how to take care of him properly."

The African just stared at Jack, unwilling to give up his role. He was a healer, this was his job, and now that he was finally allowed to perform it he wasn't going to let some filthy, ragtag pirate take over.

Will smiled and squeezed Okonkwo's hand, murmuring something Jack didn't understand. The man shrugged and handed the mug to Jack reluctantly, muttering something sinister that Jack knew he didn't want translated.

"Doesn't like me much, does he? How the devil did you learn to speak to him?" Jack settled himself next to Will, taking a pale hand in his.

Will gave one of those brilliant smiles that made Jack feel warm and not altogether stable inside. "It's been three days, Jack, you'd think you would pick up at least a few words."

"What did you say to him?" Jack lifted Will's hand to kiss it, gently, not salaciously, there were too many children on board.

" ‘Everything is alright, he loves me'. I think."

Jack actually blushed a little. "Did you really say that to him?"

Will nodded shyly. "I might have just said you cared about me, I'm not entirely sure. Whatever it was, it made him trust you enough. He takes very good care of me. This salve he mixed up is a miracle, look my wrists are almost healed."

Jack ran gentle fingers over the pink marks where rope had cut into Will's skin. The scent of tree oil and herbs wafted up, mixing in a fresh and not unpleasant way with Will's essence. But Jack would be happier when he could smell Will and Will alone.

He fingered the marks some more. "Norrington is below deck," he said in a gruff low voice. "I could go down there and…"

Will shushed him. "Jack, please, it's over. We'll get rid of the Commodore and his men as soon as we can, but not that way. I've caused Elizabeth enough pain as it is, without leaving her a widow. Let's not talk about that, Jack. What are you going to do when we get there?"

Jack slid his arm under Will's shoulders and settled back against the sail with him. "First thing I'm going to do is find a safe berth for the Pearl. Then I'm going to kick all these bloody relatives and pirates off my ship and spend at least a week alone with no one but you. But I don't even know where we're going. That scoundrel Alphonse is leading the way, I'm just following."

Will raised his head to see the other ships, one on the left, the other two on the right. They traveled in a loose formation, wary but not worried, since two of the most dangerous ships in the navy were not a threat as Alphonse and Jacob were piloting them. Mr. Gibbs had taken charge of the Matthew for the time being. Much debate had gone on about how to deal with the navy men scattered throughout the various brigs. In the end, it was decided to send them home, unarmed, on the Matthew. Alphonse didn't need it any more, now that he had the real Matthew. The new settlement would keep the Interceptor II, and Jacob would take the Dauntless, a worthy ship to sail the seas in and carry on his brother's noble work of attacking slave traders. About half of the freed men and women wanted to go with Jacob, the rest were to settle with Kay's family on the new island.

Gillette stood on the deck of the Dauntless beside Jacob.

"I really am glad you saw the light, old chap. I would have hated to lock you in the brig with the rest of them. Always liked you, Gillette." Jacob looked much more comfortable now that he'd discarded his navy uniform for a looser shirt and trousers.

Gillette, still in uniform but without the wig, shrugged. "You can only go along with things you know are wrong for so long, and then you must take a stand. Besides, I always liked you, DeMaurier."

They stood side by side for a long time, saying nothing.

Jacob remembered three days earlier, when Gillette had come aboard. He was efficient as he moved from person to person, tending wounds and checking that the men previously under his charge hadn't done anything too untoward. He seemed grimly satisfied when he ascertained that Norrington had been the worst of the lot.

Jacob recalled seeing Alphonse and Gillette in deep discussion, argument even, about how to deal with the prisoners. To Jacob's utter shock, it was Alphonse pushing for more lenient treatment. They'd reached something of an agreement by the end of the day, when the crews were being distributed among the various ships. In fact, Gillette stepped rather too close to Alphonse and asked if he might be a part of his crew.

Jacob had been amused by Gillette's forwardness. It wasn't like him to make a move like that. He'd watched Gillette be enthralled by Norrington for years, never daring to say a word about his feelings. And there he was, almost throwing himself at poor Alphonse, who had no idea how to deal with the lovesick sailor.

A problem solved nicely by the growling Matthew, who wedged himself between the two and suggested, not without hostility, that perhaps Gillette would be more comfortable serving under the younger DeMaurier captain, on the other ship.

Charlotte emerged from the captain's cabin on the Black Pearl, Kay's youngest child balanced on her hip. Kay followed, looking well with only the bandage on her wrist and a bruised temple to show for her ordeal.

"Oh, there you are Will. We were just discussing how to deal with the issue of runaways, and Charlotte here came up with a simply brilliant idea." Kay gave Charlotte a fond look. The two of them had been thick as thieves since the moment they met. "But we may need your help. It's the problem of the slave brands. You need to make a new one."

One of the women stepped forward, with her son beside her. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"I figured out a way to alter the brands, both of them so they look the same. And then you could say you belonged to someone else." She held out a piece of parchment with a design scrawled on it, combining the different elements of the brands.

The woman looked at her with scorn. "I don't belong to anyone, I never did!"

Charlotte gave a brilliant smile. "Oh, love, we can't have the navy showing up to take you away can we? We can forge the paperwork that says you've all been freed. But the brands give you away. The new brand will give you a new identity."

The woman looked at her doubtfully, and the little boy shrank away. "But it hurts."

Kay knelt down. "I know, but a little hurt could make you free."

The boy shook his head. "You don't know, you've been free all your life. You don't know how much it hurts."

Jack moved toward the boy and held out his arm. He rolled his ragged sleeve up his arm, revealing the pirate mark branded on him years before. "I understand," he said.

The boy stared in wonder. He'd never seen a brand on white skin before. "They did that to you?" He touched a finger to the pale skin.

Jack nodded. "And I'll make you a deal. If we decide on this plan, and it sounds like it might work, I'll get the brand too. Just so you know you're not alone."

"Really?"

Jack nodded solemnly. "Do we have an accord?"

The woman pulled her son away from the pirate. "This is ridiculous. They would never believe it, not without someone to testify they'd set us free."

"What about Charlotte? She could say she set her whole plantation free."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Kay, I think you were hit too hard on the head. Only the wealthy own slaves, so only the wealthy can set them free. No one would ever believe she," he rolled his head in a dismissive gesture in Charlotte's direction, "Was some sort of a high toned and fancy sort. She's a harlot!"

Charlotte huffed, tossing her red hair defiantly. "Better me than you, filthy pirate. And I'll have you know I had quite a high toned and fancy upbringing! I can act the part of a real lady; before I came to the Caribbean I was brought up on a fine estate."

"Then what were you doing selling yourself in Port Royal, your highness!" Jack sneered. He was thoroughly tired of the harlot having all these brilliant ideas.

Kay shot a warning look at Jack. "You're not one to talk, Jack."

Charlotte set a calming hand on Kay's arm. "Don't vex yourself, dear. I know how I must look sometimes. How could he know that I had no choice but to leave my home? My father, aristocratic as he was, he was quite awful. A hateful and violent man."

Jack grimaced, remembering his own hateful and violent father. "Just be thankful you didn't have my father," he muttered.

Charlotte laughed, one of those nervous laughs from someone remembering a close call. "I'm sure he couldn't compare to mind. He'd already driven two of my siblings away by the time I was born. No one's temper matched that of the Earl of Duncroft. But the past is in the past. What do you think of the plan?"

But there was no response from Jack. At the mention of his father he'd fainted dead away.

*****

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