Parts 91-95

Posted: May 2004-June 2004
Author: Haleth

~~~~~~

Chapter 91 - The Waiting

Charles DuBois tried not to cringe as the Dauntless weaved her way through the passage. The walls rose, sharp and forbidding, on either side of the ship. The sailors, a few navy mutineers but mostly escaped slaves, performed the complicated routine of rowing, pulling the ropes secured to the dark, damp walls and, it seemed, a liberal application of sheer willpower, to manoeuvre the huge ship through the narrow crevice in the mountain.

He gasped as the Dauntless slid past the grey walls to glide across the bay. Brilliant blue water sparkled up at him, the green on the shores was so vivid it did not look real, and the white sands of the shore glimmered. Like some unearthly paradise. "Should I be frightened?" he whispered so only Jacob could hear his words.

Jacob squinted. "Hmm. I think not." He put a reassuring hand on Charles's shoulder. "My family will welcome you; my mother could very well smother you with attention. The only thing you'll have to fear is growing fat from their care."

"And what of Will Turner?"

Jacob smiled. "Is that what you're worried about? I would think it is the other way around. Should you not resent him for what Nagaraj did to you because of his memories of Will?"

Charles shrugged. "That was not Will's fault."

"And did Will not give you that wound on your shoulder?"

Charles blushed. "Aye, sir. But you kissed that better."

Jacob cleared his throat. This lad was surely going to kill him. That soft voice pulled at his very heart. And the way Charles was looking at him through lowered lashes affected his anatomy in a considerably lower location. "And that is why I love you. You are able to forgive, and to move on, and what is more, you have shown great courage in coming here when you know Nagaraj is not far behind. I will do everything in my power to protect you from him."

* * *

"You look well, Jacob," Alphonse enthused. "I haven't seen you look this good since…" His voice trailed off when he saw a man climbing from the longboat. He was tall, with broad shoulders and willowy limbs, close-cropped hair and the biggest, roundest brown eyes Alphonse had ever seen. Absolutely exquisite he was, and for the most part it was because he looked almost exactly like…

"Saints alive!" Tessie exclaimed. She'd rushed down to the beach to see her youngest son, and here was the spitting image of her stepson.

Marina got out of the boat and poked Charles in the back. "Get a move on, dearie, my shoes are getting wet."

"Marina!" Tessie pushed Alphonse out of the way and rushed to her daughter's side.

There was much ado as various family members were acquainted and reacquainted. When they met up with Anamaria and Kay in the village, Tessie had all her children together for the first time in fifteen years. She would have been overwhelmed, if not for the presence of the nervous-looking Charles.

"Look at this. Where's my Bill? He has to see this to believe it. I never seen the like, that is the god's truth. I never." She ran her hand over the bristly hair. "Just wait until Will sees you…"

"He already has, mum," Jacob interjected. "This is Charles DuBois."

"Charles?" Tessie stared at him critically. "You mean the one who tried to kill my stepson?"

"I, um… I didn't know who he was… I was just…" Charles stammered at Tessie.

She frowned at the sight of the bruises on his body and face. "Did your nasty captain do that?"

"No, Jacob would never hurt me! I mean, Captain DeMaurier."

Tessie grinned broadly.

"She meant Nagaraj," Jacob whispered.

Charles blushed. Beautifully.

* * *

Will Turner tucked his shirt into his trousers and smoothed his hair down. He should have known better than to think he could walk all the way down to the beach without Jack waylaying him. Not that he did not appreciate being waylaid by Jack. In truth, it had been a thoroughly enjoyable waylaying.

He ran his finger through the hair just above his left ear. Damn. It was all sticky now and would dry to a hard crust in another few minutes. He plucked a broad leaf off a shrub and tried to scrape the congealing seed from his hair with it.

Captain Jack Sparrow sauntered down the pathway with a satisfied grin plastered across his face. He tossed a clump of hair over his shoulder and felt his kerchief shift, reached up to straighten it, obscured his own vision and ended up bumping into a tree. Damn, he felt good. He rubbed a hand over his beard and noticed a little daub of semen on the edge of his moustache. He licked it lazily. Damn, but Will tasted good. He spotted Will up ahead, and came to a halt a few feet from him.

"Trouble with your hair, eh?" he drawled.

Will grimaced. "I wish you'd warned me. There isn't time to wash it out. We're late. The Dauntless must have arrived ages ago."

Jack leaned forward and weaved his fingers through the damp strands. "We can meet up with everyone in the village. Don't fret; you look fine, mate, in fact, you look better than fine. You look delicious," he sidled up to Will and licked his cheek. "Hmm, and, if I do say so myself, I am rather delicious as well. Ooh, your eye's a bit red, luv. Did I get you there?"

"I'm fine," Will said in an irritated tone. "Just stop licking me. What will the other pirates think?"

Jack laughed. "The other pirates? They'll think, ‘Oh look, there's that lucky Captain Jack Sparrow. He gets to lick the most beautiful man on the Spanish Main! I wish I was him.' That's what they'll think." But they wouldn't say a word of it aloud. No, they wouldn't dare.

* * *

Will Turner stepped toward Charles, not entirely believing what he saw. "You?" he said. Fists clenched, he took a step toward Charles, menace written all over his face.

Charles wisely stepped a little to the left, so Tessie came between him and Will. He looked over at Jacob and saw the light in his eye, a light he believed only a man's lover or his mother could recognize immediately. He firmly believed that, until he saw Will look into Jacob's eyes, and then the harsh look on Will's face softened, and by the time he turned back to Charles he was smiling.

"You got away from that snake," he said.

Charles nodded.

"I'm glad."

* * *

Jack wanted nothing more than to pummel Charles. He had threatened Will, and remained a threat to Will, and should not be holding out his hand in friendship like that. And Will should definitely not be clasping his hand and touching his shoulder like that in response. And Charles had absolutely no right to put his hand on Will's shoulder. Jack started to spring forward, to stop this aberration from going any further, but Kay grabbed his wrist.

"Let them be," she told him.

But Will was pulling Charles toward him, embracing him like a long-lost brother, and the sight of those pale hands coming around Will's back and Will's long body pressed up against the other's slim body was too much. All those long limbs. Both those lean torsos. Those impossible cheekbones side by side.

Kay's hand slid up Jack's arm and her grip tightened. It was enough to steady Jack. Not enough to stop his head from spinning, but enough to keep him from falling over. He hadn't felt this dizzy since the first time he saw Will and Bootstrap hug.

"Don't they look lovely together?" Claire cooed from somewhere over Marina's shoulder.

Jack and Jacob looked at each other sharply. "No," they said in unison.

Kay stroked Jack's arm. "Shh, Jack. Don't be foolish."

Foolish? It wasn't foolish; it was reasonable. Charles was too slender, too exquisitely sculpted, too beautiful, and altogether too much like Will. He looked even more perfect with his hair gone. Jack could see, without the distraction of the curls, that Charles's cheekbones were a touch more angular than Will's, his nose that much straighter, his eyelashes a shade longer, his everything was a little more refined, like someone's perfect idea of Will, not the real thing.

It was eerie.

Except it wasn't, because Will had a huge grin on his face and Charles was smiling back, and Will was asking all sorts of questions and Charles was trying to answer them, and it was clear that they were two separate men, and that Charles was not some sort of mirage.

By the time Jack was brought forward to greet Charles, he was almost able to speak.

It took a fair amount of courage, but Charles faced Jack. "Nagaraj is coming for you. To kill you. But he wants…" His gaze drifted to Will.

Jack nodded. It didn't matter how spectacular Charles looked. It didn't even mater that Charles still had an arm around Will's waist, and Will had his arm around Charles's shoulders. Under any other circumstances, he would have taken the time to grow tremendously hard and perhaps even moan at the glorious image.

But Nagaraj was coming for Will. That took precedence.

* * *

The meeting about who would stay and who would go was held in the village. It was obvious that the refugees should leave aboard The Black Pearl – it was the fastest ship and would take more of them further away from the battle than any other. Young Frank and Jonathon were enraged. They wanted to fight, but were being sent away with the children.

Elizabeth insisted on staying. "He's my husband, and if he's so upset about me leaving, well then he should be allowed to tell me in person," she reasoned. Alex was horrified, but had to reluctantly agree once Elizabeth added, "Besides, if I'm not on The Pearl, there's no reason for him to go after it. It's safer for everyone."

After that, Marina had insisted on staying on the island. Jack had seriously doubted the usefulness of a Madame in a battle, until Marina grabbed a pistol from one of the pirates and said, "See that gull?" and then bang, there was a dead gull lying at Jack's feet. Marina pointed to a cliff overlooking the entrance to the bay. "I'll be right up there…" She stroked the barrel of the pistol.

Jack did not want to know where she'd learned to shoot like that.

None of the adults who weren't pregnant or injured wanted to go on The Pearl. Even Anamaria, who was pregnant, wanted to stay. However, it was decided that there had to be a compliment of fighters to defend the Pearl from possible attack, and eventually it was decided that Bootstrap would lead them, with Mr. Gibbs as his first mate. So the Pearl was readied for sail right away.

* * *

"What the devil is wrong with that cat?"

"Nothing."

"It just keeps getting fatter and fatter."

"She's pregnant."

Jack stared down at Monkey, who was dragging a scrap of linen from somewhere into the corner of the room, where she appeared to be constructing some sort of nest. "Does every bloody female on this island get pregnant? Is there something in the water?"

"They're aren't any other cats on the island," Will mused.

"Well, don't look at me. I bloody well didn't do this one!"

Will giggled. "I wasn't saying that. She must have been pregnant when we got her."

"You got her, not me," Jack said, shoving the last of his many weapons into a large sack. He looked around the cabin. "I'll miss her."

"It won't be for long."

"I know."

"The Pearl will come back as soon as we've dealt with Nagaraj and Norrington."

"I know."

"It's the safest place for the children, and the women. Or at least the pregnant ones."

Jack smiled. So many of the women were staying to fight. He almost felt sorry for Norrington. He was going to so hate being beaten by women.

"The cat stays on The Pearl, Jack. We have to go ashore now."

Jack nodded. He stroked the surface of the doorframe as he passed through it. "I'll be back, luv," he whispered. "Keep safe."

* * *

Charles paced nervously across the deck of the Dauntless. "How long do you think?" he asked for the third time.

Jacob grabbed his arm. "Mr. Gillette, you have the wheel," he said as he dragged Charles down the stairs and into the captain's cabin.

"You're too tense," he said, pushing Charles up against the wall.

Charles bit his lip. "I'm sorry. I suppose I'm nervous."

"You need to relax. Fear can be useful in battle, but this fretfulness will not do."

Charles bowed his head. "My apologies, Captain. I will endeavour to…. Ahhhhhh."

Jacob looked up at Charles as his lips caressed Charles's linen covered cock. He breathed out, hot and moist. The stirring of the flesh underneath the trousers was exquisite.

"Um, aren't I supposed to be doing that for the Captain?" Charles choked out.

"If you honestly want to, you may. But not until I'm finished…"

* * *

Alphonse peered out into the night. The moon was a thin sliver in the sky, and the stars mostly hidden by cloud. He could barely make out that there was an ocean at all.

"He can't see us any better than we can see him," Matthew said as he stretched out on the grass of the watch hill next to his lover. "And he likely won't be here for another day at least."

Alphonse nodded.

"So…" Matthew trailed his lips over the back of Alphonse's neck. "I think we'll have to do something to pass the time."

Alphonse shivered.

Matthew slipped his hand up under Alphonse's shirt. "Mmm, I love to feel your skin. Almost as much as I love tasting it…"

Alphonse shuddered.

He was glad they'd volunteered for the first watch.

* * *

Will hugged his knees to his chest. "Is it always this tense?"

Jack looked up from the knife he was sharpening. "Hmm? Before a battle?"

Will nodded.

"I suppose. Don't really know. I'm usually on the other end of the battle, if you know what I mean."

Will nodded again.

Jack put down the knife. "Need some help with that?"

"What?"

"The waiting."

Will bit his lip. "What did you have in mind?"

Jack grinned. "Thought you'd never ask, luv…"

---

Chapter 92 - No Quarter

Captain Jack Sparrow climbed the rigging of the Dauntless and cursed loudly and profusely.

No one ever listened to him. First, he'd insisted that Will sail away from the island on the Black Pearl - Will wouldn't hear of it.

Then, he'd said that everyone should sail away from the island, abandon the whole place and find a new refuge. They'd had a big enough head start. They could have gone anywhere - anywhere but where Norrington knew where to find them. But no - people were bent on defending their bloody land. It was the only land that had ever been their own, and they weren't about to abandon it.

Then he'd told Will they should go aboard the Interceptor II with Jacob and Charles. Shimura was there, and Mr. Bertram. They would be able to fight off anything that attacked. But no - Will wanted to stay closer to the stupid island, and he didn't want to draw Nagaraj's attention to Charles, since Nagaraj didn't know Charles was with them.

Then Jack had said they would be better further out in the open water, but he was outvoted on that one too, so somehow the Dauntless had been pinned at the base of this bloody cliff.

And now Will was swinging up a rope with that bloody snake in hot pursuit, and Jack was trying to jump from mast to mast, to get to the stern, to kill Nagaraj.

Bloody Norrington had opened fire on the Dauntless from the deck of the Serpent Fire, and he had no clue whom the Interceptor II was engaging in battle, but it sure as hell wasn't either of the two men who were the biggest threat.

No one had even considered the prospect of a seasoned naval officer commanding the pirate ship while the pirate boarded the Dauntless with his crew of well-trained, blood-thirsty brutes. No naval man would ever abandon his ship to take up with pirates. It was inconceivable, Jack thought. But he could hear Norrington yell at the men on deck. And he was using pirate tactics. Improbable, Jack amended his earlier thought, but not impossible.

Oh, what the hell was Will doing now? He'd swung out from the rigging and was on the cliff, scaling up at a steady pace. Trying to draw the evil man away from the ship, leave the pirates below leaderless. He'd kicked some rocks down at Nagaraj to slow him down, but the snake was still crawling up after him.

Made sense, if Will wanted to be noble and brave. Draw the most dangerous enemy away. Sacrifice himself for the greater good. But what was he doing being noble and brave? Jack didn't want him noble and brave. Jack wanted Will safe and sound. Why had he ever let Will stay and fight?

The cannons roared below, and Jack had only a second to respond to the sickening crack of wood as the chain attached to the cannonballs wrapped itself around the mast he was climbing. Jack threw his weight toward the cliff and tucked his head under his arm. With any luck, the cliff wouldn't smash his skull in.

Will looked down and gasped in horror when he saw the mast Jack was perched on start to fall. He held onto the jutting rock, held his breath, and watched it shudder and tilt toward the cliff. Jack held on, though, and when the dust settled, more rocks had fallen on Nagaraj, who had swung onto the cliff to the west of Will, below where Jack was now scrambling for a hold on the sharp rock.

"Climb!"

Will nodded in response to Jack's yell and made his way up the sheer rock face. He could do this, he told himself; Jack had shown him how. He couldn't see Jack anymore because of the way the rock jutted out. He could hear the battle far below, the shouting of men, the crack of firearms and the boom of cannons.

How had he ended up in this mess? The battle had started well enough, but then there'd been pirates swarming over the sides of the Dauntless. The sun was only starting to rise and on this side of the island, and everything was still gloomy and misty in the shadow of the mountains. The pirates had slipped silently through the water in narrow boats, faster than rowboats. Then Will had caught sight of Nagaraj in the midst of the battle, and as soon as Nagaraj saw him, the chase was on.

He couldn't tell where Nagaraj was. He could only wish the snake was in range of Marina's rifle. She'd been picking off pirates steadily from her spot on the cliff on the other side of the channel, but the Dauntless had been pressed too close to the cliff for her to shoot the pirates on deck. Which probably was a good thing, since he doubted her aim, or rather the aim of the rifle, was good enough for bullets flying in such close quarters to be accurate.

His right foot slipped on a loose rock and he had to press his body as close as possible to the rock to maintain his balance. He turned his head just in time to see a pirate in the crow's nest of the Serpent Fire aiming a rifle at him. And to see the same pirate fall down to the deck with a shout. Good for Marina, he thought, and continued his way up.

How high was this cliff, anyway? He looked to his right. He still couldn't see Jack. He couldn't see Nagaraj below, either. It looked as if the top of the cliff was nearing. He reached up and closed his hand around a jutting rock. Steady… he tried not to look down. He didn't want to know how far below the deck of the Dauntless lay. He swung his other arm up over the edge of the cliff and felt a rough hand close over his wrist.

Will panicked, tried to pull his hand away. His left foot slipped and he almost fell, but the hand gripped him like iron and hauled him up over the edge. The teetered at the brink for a moment and fell forward onto the solid top of the cliff.

"Careful, luv, it's a long way down."

"Jack?"

Jack grinned down at him. "Must have been an easier climb on my side, eh?" He hauled Will to his feet. "Don't look so upset. You know I'm a better climber than you. And I managed to kick a good bit of rock down on old Nagaraj, so we've got a good head start."

Will looked over the edge of the cliff. It was dizzying, how high they were.

"So, where are we going, mate?"

Will jerked his head to one side. "I think we can get over to the watch hill from over there. I didn't really have a plan, after that. I just wanted to get Nagaraj away from the ship."

"No plan. Again? Did you at least remember to bring your sword?"

Will tilted his hip and his sword swayed at his side. "You?"

But Jack didn't answer because he was mesmerized by the way Will had swung his hip like that. God, but those slim hips were beautiful. And those legs, so long and lean. And those boots. Not the ones he'd been wearing when Jack fucked Will, but that didn't matter. Any boots looked good on Will.

"Jack, as much as I appreciate you admiring my arse, don't you think we should be worried about the battle?"

Jack nodded and they went across the cliff top, clamouring over some boulders. "How was it going?" Will asked.

Jack shrugged. "Those pirates are experienced fighters, but our men are tough, and they've got something important to defend. Could go either way." He reached out to pull Will over a gap in the boulders.

"I thought I saw Matthew knocked overboard."

"You did. But I saw Alphonse dive in after him. Sorry I didn't see anything else, that was when Nagaraj… bloody hell." Jack stared at the narrow tree trunk spanning the chasm before them.

"Ah, the bridge is still here."

Jack looked down at the jagged rocks fifty feet below. "You call that a bridge?"

Will nodded. He turned back to look at the edge of the cliff and saw a hand reach up over the edge. "Those rocks didn't hold him back for long. It's Nagaraj!" he said with panic in his voice.

Jack climbed back up on the boulder to look at the cliff edge. Nagaraj's black hair appeared over the rim. He yanked Will down to the ground before the cold, hard black eyes appeared. There was no need for him to be any more scared than he already was.

"Over you go, then, luv," he said, and watched Will carefully mount the makeshift bridge.

Jack didn't want to think about what would happen if Will slipped. He prayed Will was comfortable enough in the boots to balance well. He watched step after step on the thin trunk. The wood bowed a bit when Will reached the centre. It really wasn't a big enough tree to serve as a bridge over such a long span. It must have been twelve feet across.

Jack looked over his shoulder and saw the black hair of Nagaraj over the edge of the boulders. He'd made it up the cliff. He was standing at the edge, wondering which way to turn. Jack turned back to see Will reach the solid ground on the other side. Jack had no time to be so careful. He ran straight across, feeling his boots slip on the smooth, rounded surface, but his speed made up for his lack of finesse.

He felt Will's hand on his shoulder before he realized he'd actually shut his eyes for the journey over the tree trunk. Then Will bent and heaved the edge of the trunk over the edge of the abyss. The whole thing went crashing down to the rocks below.

"This way," Will said and pulled Jack behind him over a sharp rise.

Jack looked back and saw Nagaraj arrive at the chasm. He watched him pace back and forth across the length of the fissure. Then he saw him stop, pick a spot, and draw his sword.

The sword glittered in the sunlight as it soared over the chasm and landed on the other side.

"Bloody hell," he said under his breath. "Nagaraj would never leave be parted from his sword."

"What?" Will asked.

"He means to jump after us."

Will's eyes widened. "He'll never make it."

"Just watch him."

Nagaraj moved back, rubbed his hands on his thighs, bounced on his heels for a few seconds and then ran at the gap. He leapt high and came crashing down at the edge.

Even Jack winced. That had to have hurt.

But he didn't fall down. He'd managed to wrap on arm around an outcropping, and was pulling himself up over the edge.

"Run!" Jack yelled.

Will pelted over the rough rocks until they came to another chasm, this one only a few feet across. He jumped it easily and scrambled up a steep slope. Jack followed, and found himself on the grassy plateau of the watch hill. There was a lantern on the ground, with a candle beside it, and a flint. There was a waterskin by the edge of the grass. There was the scarf Will had been wearing the night before when they'd come up here to sit the watch, and Jack had unwrapped the ragged cloth from Will's neck so he could kiss him all over.

And there was Norrington standing by the path to the village, with his sword drawn and a smirk on his face.

"How the hell…?"

Norrington laughed. "You aren't the only one who can scale a cliff, Mr. Sparrow. I merely anticipated your destination."

"Captain Sparrow!"

"I don't see your ship," Norrington said. "But I'll find it, once I'm finished with you."

Will drew his sword and stood at Jack's side. "I think not," he stated boldly.

Jack brandished his own sword and angled himself at Will's side, shoulder to shoulder, so he could keep an eye out for Nagaraj. "Really, Norrington, it would be much easier for you if you stepped aside and let us be on our way."

"What, and miss having you where you belong, between me and your old captain? That would be a shame. And he told me such lovely stories about you…"

Jack's hand tightened on his sword, but he kept his head. Old tactic, that one. Trying to rattle him. Wouldn't work. No, it wouldn't. He nudged Will toward Norrington. Better to be closer to the weaker enemy.

"Think you can beat us in a fair fight, eh? Well, be warned. We'll be showing you no quarter," Jack snarled.

Will jumped when an oily voice rose from the other side of Jack. "No, I think it's me who'll be showing no quarter." Nagaraj rounded the last boulder and stood in front of Jack.

Will wasn't sure whom he should be paying attention to. He decided Jack was closer, he'd have to deal with the pirate. Jack and Nagaraj stared at each other with as much malice as they could muster. Will turned his full attention to the man at the path.

Will watched in shock as Norrington raised his sword arm, and then swooped forward, falling to the grass face first.

All three men stared at the heavy club that had crashed down on Norrington's head, held high in challenge.

Will gasped. "Elizabeth!"

---

Chapter 93 - The Blood of a Pirate

Jacob cursed and ordered the men to being the ship closer to the Serpent Fire. He'd wasted precious time chasing after the navy ship, hunting down a skeleton crew of confused seamen. Really, Norrington hadn't been able to rouse much of a fighting force, he'd thought. Then he'd realized Norrington was nowhere in sight, and that this ship was a decoy. He couldn't see Norrington anywhere, but he could see that the fighting was not going well for the Dauntless.

The Interceptor II came about and lined up next to the Serpent Fire. Jacob ordered his men to sink it, without mercy. Many of the pirates were swarming over the deck of the Dauntless, and while Jacob could not get there to help, he could make sure they'd have no ship of their own by the end of the battle.

He looked up and saw three figures climbing up the steep rock face.

"Will," he said. "And Jack!"

Charles pointed to the cliff. "Nagaraj is after them." But there was nothing to be done about it. The pirate ship was firing in both directions now.

* * *

Matthew threw himself over the rock that jutted out from the water, while Alphonse clung to him from behind.

"You alright?" he gasped.

"I've seen better days," Alphonse said. "Were you injured?"

Matthew shook his head. "Only startled."

"I lost sight of you. There was a repugnant pirate hacking away at me with his sword. By the time I cut him down, you were gone. Jack yelled to me, told me you'd gone over the edge." Alphonse pressed his face against Matthew's wet shirt. "But you're alright now."

"And we have to get back to the ship."

* * *

Elizabeth grasped the plank with both hands and stared down at her husband. She couldn't quite believe she'd bashed him over the head like that.

It felt good.

She looked up to see an evil sneer on the face of the pirate.

"Norrington's missus? Oh, that's precious. You really have fallen into bad company, Jack."

Jack took up a fighting stance and backed away from Nagaraj, toward Will. Nagaraj spun and cut off Jack's path, without actually turning his back on Will.

Nice footwork, Jack thought, shame he's on the wrong side. He whipped his blade up to parry a thrust. "Nagaraj, you're outnumbered."

Nagaraj backed up, looked over his shoulder at Elizabeth and then at Will. "You're right," he said, and in a move that was almost too fast to follow, he pulled a blade out from his boot and hurled it.

Jack panicked. Will had thrown the last blade in a fight with Nagaraj. He knew exactly how much that had irked his old captain. Nagaraj prided himself on his knife skills. Jack's mind flashed back to years before, one night when a drunken Nagaraj had dragged him out of bed under the light of a full moon.

"Up against the wall, lad. I need some practice, eh?"

Jack remembered the wood of the wall clunking against his head, and the way Nagaraj kicked his feet apart to throw him off balance. His hands were shoved up so his fingers gripped the very edge of a ledge. And then Nagaraj walked ten paces away, spun and threw the first knife. It had ripped the inside seam of Jack's breeches.

That was early on, just after Richard had been sent ashore in disgrace and Jack had taken his place. Nagaraj was always volatile when he lost a Will Turner. He would do things like that at random, with no warning. Jack remembered the feel of the blade, still later that night, when Nagaraj had dragged him back into the cabin and cut the clothes off him. Cold steel lingering over his skin, the keen edge touching enough to scare, enough to raise goose bumps, enough to feel sharp, but not enough to cut.

Nagaraj had been upset when Jack didn't get hard. "You'll have to learn what to like, boy," he'd snarled before taking Jack from behind. Jack looked at Will.

Will saw the flash of steel in the sunlight. He thought of the knife he'd thrown at Charles, and the wound Charles had shown him the day before. It was almost healed now. Okonkwo really was a miracle worker. But this blade was traveling so fast, and it was heavy. It would do far more damage, and there was no way to stop it.

Elizabeth felt the searing heat of the blade before she realized what it was. It burned into her, ripping through her coarse, linen trousers, her pale skin, her red flesh, embedding itself in her thigh.

Hot, she thought at first. Like a brand. Like it was cauterizing the wound as it cut through the very muscle. As hot as a sword Will was forging. It went in so easily, she marvelled. Hot knife through butter.

Then she felt the pain radiating out through her thigh. Intense. Overwhelming, really.
She dropped the plank and her knees buckled.

Will reacted from instinct, not strategy. He didn't even think if there was anything he could do for Elizabeth. He only knew he couldn't let her fall. Somehow, her being there was all his fault. He was responsible. And as much as he didn't love Elizabeth anymore, he'd always respected her, and he'd grown quite close to her since she came to the island. After all, she was Jack's sister-in-law now.

He leapt to her side, sword clattering to the ground, and caught her before she hit the ground.

Nagaraj laughed. "So, this is your loyal boy, eh? Gives it up for his old girlfriend. Mine would have never done that."

"Yours gave you up like yesterday's news, Nagaraj. How did you think we knew you were coming?"

That wiped the smirk off the pirate's face. "Charles is here? Where? I'll kill the whelp."

"You'll do no such thing," Jack snarled and raised his sword again.

Will held Elizabeth around the shoulders. She gasped and clutched at his chest wildly. He moved his hand down to the hilt protruding from her thigh. If he pulled it out, he would have to bind it fast or she would bleed to death. If he left it in, the pain would be unbearable.

"Help Jack," she said between gulps of air. "He needs you more."

Will shook his head. But then he looked up and saw that Jack and Nagaraj had started to battle in earnest. The clanging of the steel was frantic. He could help Jack immediately. To help Elizabeth would waste precious time. Then she shrieked and her leg convulsed. Blood spread out fast from the wound. In or out, the knife was going to kill her if Will didn't act fast.

Will lay Elizabeth down on the ground and ripped his shirt off. He gripped her thigh just above the knife and threw his leg over her body to hold her down. He grabbed the hilt. "This will hurt, but I have to do it," he gritted out and yanked hard.

Elizabeth saw stars explode on a black background. She was vaguely aware of Will moving her leg, wrapping something around it, the tightness around her thigh. Then she fell back into a blissful loss of consciousness.

Nagaraj slashed away at Jack, egged on by the wench's screams. But wait, the boy was helping her. Oh, Lord, he ripped the shirt off his back. Off his chest. Nagaraj had trouble keeping his footing. He'd never had a Will Turner with a chest like that. The first one was leaner, then Richard had been a bit bulkier but without the definition, and Charles had a different shape to him entirely. This chest was magnificent. He couldn't wait to get his hands on it, to see it heave from exertion like it was now, but while Will was on his back with his legs spread wide in the air.

Jack did his level best to ignore the expanse of golden skin hovering over Elizabeth. He had the rest of his life to enjoy that, but only this one chance to kill Nagaraj. The Snake had lost his concentration. Ha, Will Turner will do that to you, Jack thought, and drove his nemesis back to the very edge of the cliff.

* * *

Jacob slit the throat of a pirate who had leapt aboard the Interceptor II and was trying to grab Charles. Charles made a sickened face at the brutality of it. He recognized the pirate. He was a burly Irishman who'd come aboard a few months before. Nasty man, he'd had his eye on Charles from day one. Whenever Nagaraj was in a foul mood, he would threaten to send Charles down below to him. Now he lay on the deck with his life oozing out over Charles' boots.

"You know him?" Jacob panted as wiped his knife on the man's coat, leaving a thick smear of the blood of a pirate.

Charles only nodded. He had no taste for killing. Not any more.

The roar of the canons shook the entire ship and the Serpent Fire began to list to one side. "Finally," Jacob muttered. He spotted Alphonse on the Dauntless, climbing up over the railing with Matthew at his side. They began to hack their way through the attackers with relish.

For a sometime-healer, Matthew had a nasty side to him. His powerful body surged through the ranks of the enemy pirates. He literally tossed as many of them as he could overboard. Jacob grimaced. He was glad he wasn't one of Norrington's men. It looked as if Matthew's warrior training was in full control of his actions today.

He looked over the deck of the sinking Serpent Fire. Where was Norrington? He wasn't on the navy ship. He didn't seem to be on the pirate ship. If he were, he would have been on deck, barking orders and bullying people around. Jacob had never seen Norrington flee from a fight.

* * *

Norrington shook his head and tried to remember where he was. There was grass under his hands. And rocks. And his head hurt. Someone had hit him on the head. But who?

He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Will Turner, sitting on Elizabeth with a knife in his hand. He lunged toward him.

Jack saw the flash of red as Norrington leapt at Will. Good god, no, Norrington thought Will was putting the knife in, not taking it out!

Nagaraj took advantage of Jack's momentary lapse of attention. He twisted to the side and lunged so that it was Jack backing up to the brink.

Norrington couldn't locate his own sword, but he saw Will's lying on the ground. He reached out for it, grabbed the hilt in his fist. He could see Will wrapping something around Elizabeth's leg. She was bleeding. She was injured. The bloody knife lay on the ground and Norrington instantly recognized it.

It had an ornate handle, with a serpentine body wrapped around it and a cobra's head at the top. Nagaraj had taken it out that night in the tavern. Showed it to him. Thrown it across the room and skewered a man's sleeve to a post. That was Elizabeth's blood on the knife. Nagaraj had thrown it.

Jack stumbled and risked a quick glance down. He couldn't see the battle, it was happening too far up the coast. They must have travelled quite a long way on the tops of the cliffs. The waves crashed against the jagged rocks below him, very far below him. Not good. Definitely not the way he wanted to go.

Norrington gripped Will's sword tightly and lunged to his feet.

Will tied the knot in the tourniquet and looked around. Elizabeth had passed out, which was for the best, all things considered. Norrington was up, though, and he had Will's sword in his hand. And he was heading for where Nagaraj and Jack were fighting by the edge of the cliff.

"No," he shouted and leapt to his feet. He looked around wildly and located Norrington's sword on the ground. It was a sword Will had made himself, and irony not lost on Will as he snatched it from where it lay and turned toward the fight.

Jack slashed at Nagaraj and nicked his cheek.

Nagaraj roared with rage and hacked at Jack with all his strength.

Will saw it all in slow motion.

The line of blood appearing on the Snake's cheek.

Norrington stumbling toward them.

Nagaraj's face twisted in a grimace of fury.

Jack's foot slipping on a rock at the very brink.

Nagaraj's sword coming down over and over while Jack tried to keep his balance.

Jack's arms wheeling in the air as the rock under his foot broke off.

The rocks below were sharp and rose from the water in deadly spikes.

Jack plunged off the edge of the cliff.

---

Chapter 94 – The Gaol

Captain Jack Sparrow's head hurt. He moaned and clenched his eyes shut to block out the feeble sun penetrating the dusty air. He felt like he'd been hit on the head with a bottle of rum. He smelled like it, too.

He reached out and felt rough stone under his hand. Dry rough stone. Not water. Not the ocean. Not drowning. He opened his eyes.

He was in the gaol.

He could handle that, for the moment. Been in plenty of them, always survived them so far. He looked around. This was a familiar gaol. This was Port Royal. He moved toward the window, even though every fibre of his being was telling him to say away from the light, and peeked outside. Quiet harbour. There was the Interceptor at the dock. That was odd.

Then he looked around the cell. The walls were solid, thick rock hauled from the quarry he knew lay west of here. They'd done an excellent job of repairing them, he thought absently. There was no sign at all of where they'd been patched up after the Pearl's cannonballs ripped through them.

Now why had he thought he should be drowned?

He heard whistling from the next cell. A dog sat in front of the cell with a key ring in its hairy mouth. The men in the next cell were trying to get it to come near. That dog was never going to go anywhere near them.

He sat on the cold, hard stone ledge and tried to think. He thought of water and rocks and falling. God, yes, he'd fallen off a cliff. That was it. It was a miracle he'd missed the rocks. But what was he doing in the Port Royal gaol?

Nagaraj! Where was Will? He jumped to his feet. Bad mistake. The pain was dizzying. He rubbed his forehead and grimaced.

Will, on the watch hill, with Nagaraj. He had to find out what happened.

He heard the door open and the shuffling of a soldier standing at attention. Norrington. That bastard. There he was, in full uniform with that ridiculous wig on his head, strutting along as if he owned the place.

"Mr. Sparrow," he said in his most officious and irritating tone.

"Captain Sparrow, if you please," Jack said automatically.

Norrington gave an uptight laugh. "It matters not what you choose to call yourself, pirate, you'll still hang in the morning."

Hang. Wasn't that just like Norrington?

"Well, you seem to have recovered just fine…" Jack muttered.

"Recovered? I am not the one who was knocked out cold, pirate!" He spun on his heel and started to leave.

But where was Will?

Jack reach through the bars, clutching at the air. "Where's Will Turner?"

Norrington looked back at Jack. "Will Turner?"

Jack nodded frantically. "Yes, where is he? Is he safe?"

Norrington smirked. "I hardly think it's any concern of yours, Sparrow. It was his master who apprehended you. You barely scratched the lad."

Norrington had never made much sense to Jack.

"But Will…"

"I'm sure he's already back working at his forge like a good apprentice. He's hardly going to waste any time over the likes of you, is he, now? I shall see you at dawn, Mr. Sparrow. I trust you will not be late."

Jack sat back down. Forge. The likes of Jack. Didn't scratch…

"What's the date?" he hollered.

The men in the next cell told him to bugger off. It was the day before his hanging, what else did he need to know?

Jack wracked his brain, trying to figure it out. He was in Port Royal. He'd been hit on the head. He stank like cheap rum. Norrington seemed to think Will was still a blacksmith.

A horrid idea began to ooze through Jack's mind.

Slowly, carefully, he raised his hand and slid it under his shirt, up over his shoulder and down the back to feel… nothing. Smooth, unblemished skin. No scar from the rocks, no double brand. Just plain skin.

He frantically reached to the other side. Maybe he was mistaken about the side it was on. But no. If he stretched his arm back as far as he could, he could trace the outline of an exit wound with his fingertips. But that was old. He reached around the front. Two entry wounds. Everything was where it was supposed to be, except for Will Turner.

He was back in time. It was impossible. Tonight, the Black Pearl, HIS ship, would attack Port Royal.

That must have been some conk on the head, he thought to himself, to have made him imagine all that. All those people, who didn't exist. Tessie and Kay and Alphonse and Charles… Bootstrap. Bootstrap wasn't alive. Even Charlotte didn't exist. And his sister… he had no idea where she was. His son. He probably didn't even exist.

Jack dropped his head down to his knees. How could it be possible? It seemed so real. When he closed his eyes, he could see Jonathon and Will sparring in a clearing. Laughing with each other. He could feel Will's hair slipping through his fingers. He could taste Will's lips. He could smell nutmeg and vanilla and the scent of Will's sex mixed with the smell of the Black Pearl, fresh sheets and sweat and salt air and some godawful stew cooking below and Will Turner's golden skin under his nose, his lips, his body.

There was nothing for it. He had to escape. Tonight. When the pirates struck. He had to get out, and go find Will. He would stop Will from fighting them, keep him from going after Elizabeth. It was the only thing to do. He had to keep Will safe. His mind filled with images of Will fighting pirates, fighting Charles, fighting Nagaraj. Will injured on the beach, Will going over the side of the Interceptor II… which didn't exist.

He went to the window. Yes, that was the original Interceptor in the harbour. He thought about the ship. She was fast. He'd enjoyed sailing her while it lasted. But more than that, he'd enjoyed being anchored in the harbour at Tortuga, with Will Turner down below. The first time he ever touched Will. The silkiness of his skin. The soft soft trail of hair on his belly. The rippling of stomach muscles under his fingers. Even the feel of Will's fist connecting with him and throwing him back against the post.

He had to feel that again. For the first time.

But Will wouldn't want him. Will didn't know. He didn't know that he loved Jack, and Jack loved him. He had no idea how much in love they were. He probably still thought he liked girls. Or at least one girl.

Jack tugged at his beard and scowled. Bloody Elizabeth. If it wasn't for her, Will would know what he really wanted.

Jack. Will wanted Jack. Except he'd tried to kill Jack. And, Jack had to admit, he might have succeeded with a little luck. It was certainly the most fun Jack had ever had when someone was trying to kill him. He thought about the way Will's trousers stretched over his thighs when he took up a fighting stance, and the bulge of muscle in his forearm. The way his hair was always trying to escape, be set free.

Will's hair set free, blowing in the wind. Will's whole body set free, splashing in the surf off an uncharted island. Will, naked in the sun, golden and limber and perfect in every way. He would never see that, now. He'd never actually seen it. This was wrong. It was insane. How could he have imagined all that?

Jack sat back on the ledge and let his head loll back to bang against the stone wall.

When he opened his eyes again it was bright. The sun beat down on him and the smooth, weathered wood of the Black Pearl's wheel caressed his palm. The wind blew even his heavy dreadlocks back from his face. Salt. Fresh. Perfect.

He was having another dream. That had to be it. He turned to the side, and there was Will Turner. Ridiculous, he told himself. Never happened. Will was smiling at him, and that was absurd because Will Turner would never smile at a pirate.

A tall man mounted the stairs from the deck. Lean and beautiful, he was, with high cheekbones and a sensual mouth, dark smooth skin and glossy black hair. "Do you have a moment, father?"

Jonathon. All grown up. Jack tried to beat himself on the head to knock some sense into it. This never happened. He had to stop torturing himself.

But there was Jonathon with a serious look on his face. He was talking to Will now, and Will was pulling him over to Jack, encouraging him to speak frankly. Jonathon fixed Jack with his black eyes. "I want to know… I want to tell you…"

Jack raised an eyebrow. He couldn't wait to see what his dream would come up with next.

"I think I like men."

Jack griped the wheel harder.

"I mean I fancy them. Not all of them, but I've never met a girl I really liked. I mean, I'm friends with Little Tessie and all that, I like her a lot. But not like that."

"Well, it would be highly inappropriate, at any rate. She's your cousin." Jack liked this role of father. Authority sort of role. Hmm. He could be a father.

"I know that," Jonathon stuttered, "but what I want to know is how I can tell. For sure. That I fancy men. How did you know?"

Jack coughed. He didn't know. He didn't know anything. This wasn't even happening.

"Jack, tell him," Will said. He had one hand on Jonathon's shoulder in a friendly fashion, and he was urging Jack to be serious with the crease, loveable lickable adorable crease, between his eyes. Jack could ignore the question and simply lick the crease. That would answer everything. Instead, he thought about the question.

"I don't really know, Jonathon. It was a long time ago, long before I met Will. I don't think I can remember." More like he couldn't answer a question when he didn't know what was real.

"What about you, Will?"

Will's face broke into a smile. "That's easy. I knew when your father broke into the smithy one night. He kissed me, and pressed his body up against me, and I just knew it was right. That it was what I really wanted - a man…" Will blushed. He still had the decency to blush, even in a fantasy, how charming. Jack noticed he'd left out the part about meeting up in the whorehouse. How very discreet of him. And the part about Will spreading his thighs and Jack fitting between them as if he'd always belonged there, because he did belong there.

"One man," Will added. "I think I knew then that I loved your father."

Jack felt a wrenching in his heart.

"When did you know you loved Will, father?"

Jack felt a strange prickling in the backs of his eyes. "I broke into a smithy…" he faltered.

Jonathon grinned. "I think I heard this story before…"

"It was empty, but then he came in. And the moment my sword touched his…" The faint grating of steel on steel as he ran his blade up Will's. Wide brown eyes full of anger. Spirit. "I'm pretty sure it was love at first sight."

Jack opened his eyes and peered into the gloom. It was late. Dark. The Black Pearl would be attacking any moment now. He moved to the window to look down at the still, empty waters of the harbour. The pirates had to come. Maybe he couldn't break out but that was fine, he would manage. The hanging would be delayed by the invasion, and Will would show up all distraught and sweaty. He would make a deal with Jack, and then Jack would know for sure.

He didn't know, in the smithy, who Will was. He only new he was in love. But when Will said his name, Jack suspected. And then when Will agreed to break him out, and their hands touched for the first time. Lightening.

Then Will bent down to pick up the bench and Jack got his first really good look at his arse and that was when Jack knew who he was for sure. And he was hopelessly in love, no matter how much he tried to convince himself he was only reacting to Will's ridiculously good looks. No matter how much he tried to tell himself he was only reacting to his dead lover's image, come alive before him like a dream. A dream.

He was in the cabin of the Black Pearl. It was different. There were some things in it he couldn't remember. But it was his cabin. His table. His bed. The wide one. The one he shared with Will.

Will. He was sitting at the table fussing with a lantern. He had some sort of tool in his hand. He was bending metal with it. He was stunning. His hair was long, halfway down is back, pulled back loosely so if fell in tendrils around his high cheekbones. The chestnut was shot through with streaks of grey, and there was a little bit of grey in his beard, still scruffy after all these years. The lines around his eyes were deeper, and the worry line in his forehead was there, faintly, even though he wasn't worried. He was just fixing a broken lantern.

He looked up at Jack and smiled.

"You look a bit lost," he said in that maddeningly gentle voice. It was a bit gruffer than Jack was used to, not harsh, but it had some texture at the edges that didn't used to be there.

"I am," Jack replied. "I'm feeling… misplaced." He had to be honest. He did. But the feel of Will's warm hand on top of his was reassuring.

Jack looked up when the door opened. Who was this? He'd never seen her before. Tall and graceful, lustrous dark skin and eyes. She was clad in a simple shirt and trousers, and she wore a sword at her side, naturally, as if she'd been born with it. "Father," she said. And she was looking right at Jack. Jack nodded, mute.

"What is it, Seraphina?" Will asked.

Seraphina had inherited Anamaria's lovely skin, and the determined set of her mouth. Her hair ran down her back in thick, shining dread locks. She had gentle hands, though, as she laid them on Will's shoulders and bent to give him a kiss.

Will grinned, and Jack wondered what was going on.

The door opened again and a man walked in. A young man. A young, beautiful man. Jack thought it might be Charles for a moment, but he was more angular, less delicate. Plus, Charles would be older now as well, wouldn't he? He had lighter eyes, too, and his hair was smoother, not so curly. He smiled at everyone shyly. "Hello, Jack," he said in a friendly manner. "And father." And he bent to kiss Will on the cheek.

"We have news," Seraphina said. She reached for the man's hand and clenched it tightly.

Jack picked up a cup from the table. He wasn't sure what was coming, but he knew he'd want a drink to prepare.

"Stephan and I, we're going to have a baby."

Jack spewed rum all over the table.

Will leapt up and rubbed his back. "Jack," he whispered. "You should be more polite. You were encouraging enough before."

Jack looked up at Will, befuddled.

"I know you talked to Stephan about it, about how you and Anamaria…" he made a little gesture with his eyes, which Jack found utterly appealing. "And I know you told him about how his mother and I…"

Jack looked sharply at this Stephan. Good god, no, but he looked a bit like Elizabeth. How could he? How could Jack allow such a thing?

Then he remembered. Alex came up with the idea, clever girl. Two huts on the edge of the village. Jack and Will in the first one, Alex and Elizabeth in the second. His lap was full of squirming, nervous Will, nipping at his neck and face. Will sucked Jack's lower lip into his mouth. His hands were frantic, everywhere at once. Jack just had to get him ready, but that wasn't enough, he wanted all of Will, right now, right there. It wasn't fair that Will was going to go next door to spill his seed inside that wench, but everyone had convinced him to let it happen, and what harm would it do, really?

There were moans from next door, high pitched and girlish. Then Alex's voice. "Get him over here right now, Jack!"

Jack smiled at the memory. It hadn't been so terrible. He'd stood outside with Alex, listening. They should have felt ashamed, brother and sister listening to their lovers like rut together that. But they were grinning at each other. Because they both understood what it was, and Jack knew that as soon as he was done, Will would be back in Jack's arms begging for more. They could hear Elizabeth frantically talking, talking about Jack. About seeing Jack and Will together. The details, oh, the girl had a knack for story telling. Jack was aching in his trousers as he listened to Elizabeth tell Will what it was like to watch Jack slide his cock into Will's tight arse.

There were moans from Will. Grunts. Panting and gasping. But no purrs.

Jack smiled when he remembered Will's moan of completion, and then how he appeared in the doorway, haphazardly dressed and wild in the eyes. He'd dragged Jack up the path, up to the springs. He insisted on bathing but Jack couldn't wait. He didn't care. He tackled Will in a clearing half-way to the springs, yanked off his clothes roughly. He didn't care what Will tasted like, he just wanted him right away. He could ignore the scent and the taste of Elizabeth, because Will's musk was strong underneath it all, and he was so hard in Jack's mouth, the instant Jack's lips surrounded him he was hard and straining and purring like that bloody cat and her kittens.

Jack shut his eyes. He could even remember the cat. What the cat looked like. Fat and self-satisfied as she arranged herself in her nest with the litter of kittens crawling all over her. Will kneeling down to offer her some fish. She licked it off his fingers, lazily.

Jack was licking Will's fingers. Will was lying next to him in bed, and Jack was licking the taste of Will off Will's fingers. It was one of his favourite pastimes. Jack could see, out of the corner of his eye, that his own hair was white in places, and Will's hair was grey, and that Will had a little scar over his eye that Jack had never seen before. How old were they? What kind of a dream was this, that went on for decades as if it really happened?

Jack felt the cold stone against his back, and saw the first rays of the morning light seep through the barred window. Dawn. The Black Pearl had not attacked in the night. He had not broken out of jail, and broken into the smithy and swept Will away from this awful place that made Will think he had to be good and honourable and decent and like girls. Or at least one girl.

How would he convince Will, show him that he really loved Jack? The usual seduction techniques wouldn't work. Will wouldn't drink rum. He probably wouldn't even drink wine. And he wouldn't want to go dancing, so that sort of groping and flirting and teasing with vaguely naughty songs would be out of the question. He would have to be wooed, with poetry and sweet words of love. But he wouldn't accept them from a man. Jack had to face facts – the boy was a bit of a stick. He supposed they could have another sword fight. That had certainly worked to get Jack's blood flowing. He pictured the power and passion in Will's eyes. Lovely. Perfect. He wanted it for his own.

But it appeared he was going to hang, and fairly soon. He could hear the guards opening the doors. They would come to fetch him any minute now.

---

Chapter 95 - Appointment With The Hangman

Captain Jack Sparrow shuffled, not because he wanted to but because the bloody irons dragged his feet down. Arms bound securely in front of him, he made his way down the corridor toward the square where he would be hanged.

Hanged. Barbossa had not appeared in the night to terrorize Port Royal. The town was not in an uproar. Will Turner had not burst in to beg him to help find Elizabeth. Therefore, Will hadn't bent over the pick up the bench. Oh, what Jack would give right now for one last look at Will's exquisite arse. He had to smile. He'd only had a few glimpses of it during the fight in the smithy, but in that dream, that fantasy, he'd feasted his eyes every chance he'd got. Feasted his hands. His mouth. His cock.

Jack felt a little twitch in his trousers. How pathetic. Here he was, on his way to his death, and he was lusting after a man he barely knew.

It seemed so real, though. How could he have imagined that smell of nutmeg and vanilla? How could he have invented the feeling of Will's tongue sliding across his, twining around it, licking the backs of his teeth, of Will sucking his tongue and nipping at his lips? How could he have only dreamt of the excruciating heat of Will's arse, the intensity of Will's kisses, and that purr… he couldn't quite believe the purr wasn't real.

Now that he thought of it, Bootstrap had purred. Bootstrap had purred often. So maybe he did make the whole thing up.

The sun was bright, painful to his eyes as he entered the courtyard. The whole town was there. What an entertainment it was, to see a notorious pirate hang. There was jeering; there were taunts; Jack ignored them. He shuffled along, eager to have this done with. It was clear it was going to happen anyway. It was probably for the best.

* * *

Will Turner stared down at the rocks in disbelief. Dumbfounded. Dazed. Defeated. Jack was gone.

There'd been a look of surprise on Jack's face, and then he was gone over the edge. Will ran to the brink, but Jack was gone. When Will looked down, a great wave had washed away from the shore, and the jagged rocks pointed up at Will menacingly, taunting him.

He'd barely registered the blur of red, and the slice of sharp steel through a torso. Awful it was. Butchery. Nagaraj roared when he swung his sword, Will heard the sickening, sucking sound of the blade being pulled out, dripping with life.

Will's stunned eyes met those of the pirate. Nagaraj leered at him, malice in his eyes, blood filling his mouth. Norrington swung his foot up to plant it on Nagaraj's chest, and kicked hard. The Snake tumbled down and Will watched as his bleeding body was broken on the rocks below.

Jack was down there. Will hovered at the edge of the cliff. If Jack was at the bottom, so Will should be as well. He took a step forward and watched the waves wash over Nagaraj's body. He leaned forward.

There was a hand on his arm. Norrington's blade gleamed with the blood of Nagaraj. Will stared at the red drips falling down. The two of them were so close to the edge, the blood was falling over the edge, all the way down to where the twisted corpse lay.

"I'm sorry, Will." Norrington tugged at his arm gently. "Come away from the brink."

Will shook his head numbly.

"Will, I understand. But I need your help. We've got to help Elizabeth." Norrington was pleading. He kept his voice a gentle as possible, he didn't want to frighten Will, or prompt any rash actions. "Will, please."

Will stepped back from the edge and turned to look at Elizabeth. "I'll help," he said roughly. There was nothing else he could do.

Jack was gone, not to be found anywhere.

* * *

Jack scanned the crowd from the scaffold. Yes, it did indeed look as if the whole town had turned out. Mildly flattering, it was, to know that he was notorious enough for so many to want to see him swing. Of course, in a town like this there wasn't much entertainment, aside from the local brothel.

He wondered who really did run the local brothel. He'd never visited it, although he knew there had to be one; one couldn't imagine a fort of this size without a brothel nearby. He remembered, or imagined, Marina DeMaurier. What a fine madam she was, with her piled up hair and her fancy gowns and her imperious manner. Must have been a fine harlot too, before she moved up in the ranks. He searched his memory for a young woman in Nassau Port so long ago.

Yes, that had really happened. Marina was young and scared and she needed money, and Jack had taken pity on her because she didn't really know what she was doing. He hadn't even bedded her at first. He'd bought her lunch and they'd spent the afternoon in a room where Jack went over his business papers and Marina slept. She'd been exhausted, living on the street, hungry, scared. Then he'd had dinner brought up to the room and they ate again. Lord, the girl had an appetite, and he remembered finding that very attractive. She told him stories about her sisters and her brothers – especially her younger brother Jacob, who had a different father and looked different from the others, and was always getting in trouble.

Jack squinted in the sun. He hadn't imagined that at all. He could remember Marina clearly. He'd laughed at her stories, they had some rum, and he'd felt almost as if he was courting, not buying a night. He'd kissed her pretty cheek and told her she was under no obligation to him, and they went to sleep together fully clothed. Then he woke up. She was kissing him and telling him he deserved his money's worth. She felt so good, warm and soft, with her arms around him. She smelled like sunshine, and her unpractised, awkward kisses had made sure it hadn't taken long for him to change his mind.

Jack frowned. Did she really become a madam? Or did she take the money and go home and get married to some nice young man… damn, they were already reading the charges. He'd missed whether or not they'd called him ‘Captain'.

He looked over the crowd again. Where was Will?

* * *

Will carefully placed Elizabeth down on the beach. Her leg wasn't bleeding anymore, but she was dreadfully pale and had not regained consciousness. Norrington knelt beside her with a groan. He touched her forehead. "Please, Elizabeth, this is all my fault. I didn't want you to be hurt. You don't have to come back to me, just come back!"

Elizabeth sighed. Her eyes did not open.

Will wondered if the grief on Norrington's face was present on his own. He couldn't tell. He felt numb all over. He couldn't remember carrying Elizabeth down the path to the beach. He couldn't remember anything but the sight of those rocks.

Norrington fumbled with his jacket, and Will was shocked to see the spread of rich red staining his white shirt.

"You're injured," Will said. So much blood today. So much.

Norrington grimaced. "Nagaraj got me, while my blade was still inside him." He sat down on the sand gracelessly. "There must be someone who can help Elizabeth."

Will got up mindlessly and walked to the pool at the base of the stream. He didn't think about Elizabeth discovering him and Jack beside it. He couldn't. He found a bucket by the pool, probably left here when the Pearl was getting ready to sail. He filled it and stumbled back to Norrington. The wound was deep, but not fatal. Norrington had carried his half of Elizabeth down from the watch hill and bled into his tunic without saying a word.

"Take off your shirt, I'll use it to bind the wound. Let me wash it," he said, and he scooped up some water and let it fall over the cut across Norrington's chest. He watched the blood trickle down Norrington's torso, pink, diluted by the fresh water.

"Will?"

Will didn't move.

"Will, answer me," Norrington said. His voice rose with his panic. There was something frightening in Will's eyes, something that was…

Dead.

Will tried the word out. First in his mind, then he spoke it out loud. "Dead," he said. It sounded so… final.

* * *

Jack couldn't see Will anywhere. Of course not. Will was a fine, decent human being. He wouldn't care that it was the only entertainment in town. He wouldn't watch someone hang for pleasure. He would be at work, ignoring the whole spectacle. Hard at work with his sleeves rolled up, lovely forearms tense with effort, sweat trickling down his throat and chest.

Now Jack would never get the chance to lick those forearms, to run his tongue along the paths of veins and muscles, to nibble gently at the inside of the elbow and over the peak of the bicep, to explore the curve of his shoulder and latch onto the pulse at his throat and suck hard enough to leave a mark, but gently enough that Will purred.

Jack closed his eyes as the noose was placed around his neck. There would be no rescue, so his last moments would be spent contemplating the truly fine things in life. Unfortunately, the only things that came to mind were things that, apparently, had not actually happened.

He didn't care. He let his mind fill with the image of Will Turner naked in the surf, and Will Turner naked in his bed. Will writhing under his hands and mouth. Will clutching him tightly while his cock erupted between them. Will purring at every twitch and wriggle of Jack's fingers deep inside him.

Will smiling at him. Just smiling. At Jack. Because he loved Jack.

This whole hanging was so unfair.

* * *

"Get him into the boat, quickly!" Jacob commanded Norrington.

Norrington dragged Will to his feet and led him to the longboat.

"I'm so glad we found him here. We've been worried sick about him."

Elizabeth had already been moved to the boat, where she lay between two seats.

"Are you well enough to row?"

Norrington nodded and picked up an oar.

Will stared at nothing, eyes unfocused, his whole body lax. He couldn't row. He had no reason to row.

Jacob bit his lip. He had no idea what to say to Will, what to tell him. He just had to get him to the Pearl.

* * *

Jack felt the noose tighten. The command was given, the trap door fell from beneath his feet and he felt himself fall down.

* * *

Will Turner sat on a stool in the captain's cabin on the Black Pearl. His eyes ached. They felt as if there was sand in them, they were that dry.

The feel of Tessie's strong arms around him failed to give him comfort, but it did serve to release his tears. After he soaked her blouse through, his father had taken his turn, trying to comfort him but it was nigh impossible. Will had never cried like that in his life.

Everything was a blur, people running to and fro, fetching medicine, caring for the wounded. He'd been hauled up onto the deck by Alex and Jonathon, both beside themselves, fraught and desperate. Okonkwo had talked to him. So had Anamaria. He couldn't tell what they were saying at first, but Anamaria was dragging him to the cabin.

It was Bootstrap who had spotted Jack in the water, hauled him up on the deck, dripping seawater, unmoving, pale as a ghost.

Will blinked. He had not thought it possible to run out of tears.

He turned his head and looked on the motionless, colourless face of Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Will, you've got to come out of there. Come out and get some air, eat some food."

Will ignored Kay. He refused to leave the cabin. He didn't want to eat. He didn't want to feel the wind in his hair. He wanted to sit here, beside Jack.

Jack was never this still. Even when he was sleeping he moved. He mumbled in his sleep. His eyes darted under closed lids, his fingers twitched and moved and sought. His limbs wrapped around, or draped over, or entwined with Will's.

"Jack," Will whispered, with his voice hoarse, throat sore from crying. "We can't be apart. I can't live without you." He traced his fingertips over the neatly-sewn scar on Jack's forehead, the one Rina had sewn up so carefully. The skin was held together tightly by tiny black stitches, bloodless and stark.

"I wanted to throw myself off that cliff, follow you down, follow you where ever you go. You're too much a part of me now. I can't live without you."

* * *

Aocmoilhuicpa, spawn of the great Lady Mictlantecihuatl, Goddess of the Realm of the Dead, and Yacatecuhtli, the God of Merchant Adventurers, avenger of the devastated valley of Chantico's faithful, and all-round randy heathen god, reached out and let his essence settle throughout the cave that glittered with the treasure of pirates. The stone cask of cursed gold, his sole responsibility, his reason for existence, sat on a veritable mound of gold. It soaked up the surrounding glitter, a black hole, as Aocmoilhuicpa threw lazy sprays of his mistress's light into the dank air.

Randy heathen god.

He liked it when Jack Sparrow called him that. It had a nice ring to it.

Aocmoilhuicpa was tired. Tired from his labours. He stretched out into every nook and cranny of the cave, counted the treasure, tasted the gold, smelled the lingering scent of the four men who had visited not that long ago.

Randy heathen god.

He would admit it. Everything about Will Turner had made him randy. Will woke something in him that he hadn't even known he possessed. Warmth. Hunger. Lust.

He existed for one purpose only – to carry out the curse of the Aztec gold. And he had fulfilled that purpose admirably. When the men invaded his cave, he'd intended to carry that out once more. But something happened.

Will Turner happened.

In reality, Jack Sparrow happened. Without Jack, Aocmoilhuicpa would have only seen the good in Will, that purity of spirit that was so admirable. It was through Jack that he saw the rest of Will. *That* vision of Will had consumed him for a time – it was enticing. Entrancing. Hot and writhing and with a purity of an entirely different variety.

But as time went on, he had to admit, the focus of these feelings had shifted, and he found himself concentrating his considerable energy elsewhere.

The pirate. Captain Jack Sparrow himself. Rogue. Scoundrel. Duplicitous and carnal. Licentious and dishonest to the bone.

There was something about the way his sinew clung to those bones, the rattle of the jewellery in his hair as black as the night, the way his lean limbs swayed when he walked. And his hips. Aocmoilhuicpa was fascinated by the hips. In particular, the way those hips moved when he was fucking Will Turner. So eternally delightful.

He wished he could have him for his very own.

Aocmoilhuicpa sighed, or the nearest thing a randy, disembodied heathen god could manage, and the lights rippled over the treasure like a thousand candles.

Tired. It had taken all of Aocmoilhuicpa's might to raise that wave up from the ocean, to lift the waters fast enough and high enough to catch Jack Sparrow before he was smashed on the rocks. He'd only just managed the feat. Jack had an unpleasant cut on his head, but he was not broken in two.

Now that nasty one - Nagaraj, they called him but Aocmoilhuicpa knew, because he knew everything, that his real name was George – that one was broken in two. Aocmoilhuicpa had yanked back his wave and watched with no small amount of satisfaction as the snake's body was dashed against razor sharp edges.

He'd carried Jack gently, carefully, straight to his ship. There the older Turner, the one Aocmoilhuicpa remembered from years before, pulled his body up on the deck.

It felt good to act like that, not because he was obligated or destined or told to do it, but because he wanted to do it. He enjoyed the delicious sense of emancipation it gave him, to act of his own free will. He felt larger than he ever had in the length of his existence.

He did it for himself. He did it for Jack. He did it for Will.

Now it was out of his hands. There was nothing more Aocmoilhuicpa could do. The fate of Jack Sparrow was no longer something he could affect.

* * *

Jack lay, pale and still as death.

"I know you're there. I know you want to come back to me," Will sniffed.

It was cruel, that Jack should somehow, by some twist of fate, improbably but not impossibly, survive the fall from the cliff, and the depths of the ocean, and lie here before him unresponsive, hovering between life and death before Will's eyes.

It was no wonder Jacob refused to tell him why he had to return to reach the Pearl with such urgency. He didn't want to give Will hope, in case Jack had died in the interim. It was no wonder Okonkwo hadn't wanted Will to enter the cabin at all. The sight of Jack so lifeless was horrific.

But Will had entered, and not left since entering, and could not tear himself away from Jack's side. He knew Kay and Tessie would eventually drag him out of the cabin, force him to eat. But he didn't want to. He only wanted one thing.

"Please, Jack."

*****

previous | Chapter Index | next

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Haleth