Parts 96-100

Posted: June 2004
Author: Haleth

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Chapter 96 - Heaven

Captain Jack Sparrow gradually grew more aware of a light, brighter than any light he had ever seen in his life. It surrounded him, bathed him with its profound glow, warmed his chilled limbs.

He was comfortable. Lying on a bed, soft as a cloud, his naked skin caressed by coolness while his whole body seemed suspended in the warm air, he was completely at peace.

Except for that damned light. It was far too bright, really. Why would anyone be shining a light that bloody bright when he was finally at peace?

At peace.

Jesus, he thought. This must be heaven.

There was a faint rattling noise and the light dimmed to a manageable level. That was better. In fact, it was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he'd wished for. Interesting.

A weight settled next to him on the bed. He was lying on a real bed, or so it seemed. The cover was being pulled down, and he noticed the phenomenal cleanness of the sheets. It was the coolness he'd felt on his skin, which now slipped down his torso, exposing his chest to the warmth of the air. The sheets were crisp and smelled of the fresh sea air.

In fact, wherever he was smelled of salt air and the ocean. And the whole place was swaying gently as if rocking with the waves, and he could even hear water lapping against the sides of a ship. This heaven was wonderful. It knew he was most comfortable at sea. Remarkable.

A hand settled lightly on his stomach. It was a small hand, narrower than Will's hand, the fingers not as long, and softer as well. He could tell that without looking, because he knew exactly how Will's hand felt on his stomach. He knew precisely where fingertips would be in relation to palm, and just how the roughness of Will's fingertips would feel if they were gliding gently over his skin, which is what these narrower, shorter, softer fingertips were doing.

In circles. Slow, careful, soothing circles.

Where was Will? Jack thought anxiously. He wanted Will. The last thing he could remember was the terror in Will's eyes when Jack fell over the cliff. No, that was the last thing he remembered imagining. The last thing he actually remembered was that Will did not put in an appearance at his hanging. The last time he saw Will, Will's face was covered in dirt and he was looking rather miffed that his sluggard of a master had taken the credit for apprehending the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow.

Damn, he thought. That's what he should have done; he should have shouted from the scaffold that it was really Will Turner who'd beat him in a swordfight, or could beat him in a fair fight, and that Will should get all the credit for his capture. It wouldn't have changed Jack's outcome, but it might have helped Will, given him a little status, some well-earned appreciation. Anything to help Will.

Humming. Definitely not Will. That was a woman's voice, soft and sweet, humming a tune Jack remembered from his childhood.

Jack thought about the sneer plastered across Norrington's face in the gaol. Damn, if Jack'd said Will was a hero, then maybe Elizabeth would marry him and Norrington would be left out in the cold where he belonged. Too late now. And it was nicer to think of Will not marrying Elizabeth, when he thought about it more.

Unless the dream was real, and then he would have left Will on that cliff with… while Will was catching Elizabeth and tending her wound, Nagaraj had taken he time to hiss a few things in Jack's direction. Things he wanted to do once Jack was dead. Things he wanted to do to Will. If Will was lucky, he was dead too.

The rubbing on his belly stopped abruptly. The hand, warmed by the vague friction against his skin, rested delicately on his forehead, smoothing the deep creases there. "Shhhh."

The rubbing on his belly started again, soft and sweet. Jack dared to open his eyes.

Breathtaking she was. She had long, waving dark hair, gleaming black eyes and the softest, sweetest smile he'd ever seen, which went well with the soft sweet humming. She rubbed in larger circles, fingertips trailing over his belly lightly. Such fine, porcelain skin. Eyebrows arched so elegantly. Little bit of a pout to the lips, which only served to make them seem fuller and richer, a deep, ruby red. Like rose petals. Or that other red flower that used to grow in the garden past the hedge. He could never remember the names of mother's flowers. The circles gradually decreased in size, until they hugged his navel, then slowly grew again.

It must be odd, he thought, for her to rub a grown man's belly like that. It was harder than it used to be, with more ridges and scars. Then there were the tattoos, and he was sure she couldn't entirely ignore the hair. But it was so very soothing.

Jack opened his mouth. He tried to speak. He tried to say, ‘mother'. But all that came out was a hoarse croak.

"Poor dear," she said. "Let me get you some water."

She got up in a rustle of skirts and Jack looked around.

He was in his cabin. The captain's cabin aboard the Black Pearl. But not. It couldn't be, there had to be some mistake, because everything was very incredibly clean.

The beams, the walls, the table – they were all scrubbed and gleaming in the sunlight that was filtering through clean white curtains. The mugs on the table shone. The hardware on the doors and furniture sparkled. The frosted panes of glass in the doors reflected the sunlight back at him. Candlesticks, a lantern, his compass on the dresser; all spotless, with the faint scent of lemon and soap in the air, and no smell of rum, or lingering male sweat.

There was no dust. Not soot. No salty residue. It was a little too perfect, like someone's idea of what his cabin should look like, in a painting or a romanticized memory. Sometimes you remember someone as perfect. Your memory of them includes the colour of their eyes and the shape of their face, but it ignores the imperfections that make a person real. He was full of imperfections. He expected his cabin to be as well.

He inched his fingers to the side, then inched them further. This was his bed. The bigger bed. The better bed. With crisp clean fresh sheets and the mattress plumped and un-lumped to within an inch of its life. Even the pillow was perfect.

What kind of a sick god would do that? What sort of perverse, evil deity would give him a heaven that included a perfect captain's cabin, the best bed ever built, and intense memories of the most perfect man who ever existed, and then not give him the actual man?

It wasn't that he didn't appreciate being with his mother. She was most comforting at this time of distress. But he couldn't help feeling that Will would have been more of a reward for all the trials he'd suffered over the years.

Rustle of skirts and there she was again, with a cup of water and a kind smile. "Drink, Jonathon," she said, and helped him raise his head.

Her hair fell in inky waves over her shoulders. He'd only ever seen her with her hair down at night, when he was sick or scared. She used to come to his room to comfort him, with a thick brocade robe wrapped around her slender body and a white cap on her head, but her hair used to spill out of the cap. She used to let him touch it, pet it. The silky texture gave him solace. He was always very tactile, even as a child. Then she would rub his tummy, which is what she was doing now.

Strange heaven, he thought.

She got up.

"Don't leave," he said. He was going to say ‘mother', or maybe even ‘mama', like when he was a very little boy, but he was strangely choked up. He didn't want her to leave him alone in this place. It wasn't right. It didn't feel right. He might get used to it eventually, but now he felt small and scared.

She gently pressed his shoulders into the soft bed. "Hush, Jonathon. It's not as if there is anywhere I can go, is there? I'm only going to fetch someone who's been waiting to see you."

Jack sank into the bed. He couldn't imagine who might want to see him in heaven. Unless she was referring to his father. Oh, no, that was the last person he wanted to see. He shut his eyes. Maybe if he pretended he was asleep, his father would go away. Maybe if he pretended his father didn't exist, he wouldn't exist. Not that he really did exist. Nothing really existed in heaven, did it?

"Jack."

Not Jonathon.

"Jack, wake up."

That didn't sound like his father.

Jack opened his eyes.

Will Turner. Glorious Will Turner. Tall and strong and beautiful. His hair was shining, glowing with golden highlights. His eyes were wide and soft, framed by heartbreakingly long dark lashes and little crinkles at the corners because he was smiling. His lips, curved into that tender smile, were pink and moist and looked so kissable it was scandalous.

He sat on the bed next to Jack and put a broad, long, rough hand on Jack's chest. It felt heavy, but Jack didn't care because now he really was in heaven.

"So perfect," he whispered.

Will just smiled at him.

"How did you? Why? Are you really Will?"

Will didn't love him. Will hadn't even liked him enough to rescue him from the hangman's noose. This had to be some kind of illusion.

"You had me worried, Jack."

No kidding, thought Jack. Me too.

"But you're alright, now."

Was he?

Jack just stared at him. He did look as if he'd been worried. His eyes were a bit red. The skin under them was darkened. There was a little raised part on his lower lip, just to the right of centre, where he must have been biting it enough to raise a bruise; it was a touch darker than the rest of his lips, swollen. How utterly perfect.

"I'm dead," Jack said.

"Far from it," Will replied. "Although, Okonkwo was starting to fret a bit."

Okonkwo? What was he doing in heaven?

"Me too," Will said. "I was getting frantic. Tessie had to slap my face to calm me down, at one point."

Tessie. Tessie DeMaurier? There was no way in hell his heaven would include Tessie bloody DeMaurier. This had to be real. Somehow.

Jack looked around. It didn't look real. It was far too clean.

He looked back at Will. Flawless skin, except for the rather fetching shadows under the eyes and the little, kissable bump on his lip, which were the most perfect flaws he'd ever seen. Rich, chocolate eyes, a little damp with emotion. Lustrous hair. Angelic cheekbones. Far too beautiful to be real.

Wait a minute… Will always looked like that. Even when he was dripping wet in a rainstorm he looked angelic. Even when he was filthy and tired from work or injured from a fight he looked that perfect.

You can't judge heaven by how good Will Turner looks.

"I'm not dead?" What if this was some sort of trick? Maybe they made you think you were alive when you were in heaven, and you got to live your life the way you really wanted to when you were living, but you couldn't because the bloody navy and interfering relatives wouldn't let you. That would explain how he had this perfect Will and his mother at the same time.

"No, Jack." The amusement that flickered through Will's eyes seemed real enough. Of course, if Jack had been hanged, then this illusion of Will would be in on the joke, wouldn't he?

"This isn't heaven?"

Will's eyes roamed over the bed. His hand crept along the too-crisp, too-fresh, too-clean sheets. That wicked glint in his eye did not belong in heaven. "It's felt like heaven, on more than one occasion," Will said quietly, and then the hint of a blush warmed his perfect, angelic cheeks.

Heaven!

"I'm only allowed to visit for a few minutes."

Not heaven!

"I'm not supposed to tire you."

Please, tire me, exhaust me, Will, make me tired and boneless and completely drained - I won't mind at all, Jack begged silently.

"I'm going to tell Jonathon that you're awake. I'll be right back."

Then he was gone.

Jack stared up at the ceiling. Well, that was… inconclusive.

Really, there was no way to tell where he was. If he was in heaven, and that was really Will, then perhaps Will had not survived his fight with Nagaraj. Or maybe he wasn't really Will, he was Jack's dream of Will come to life. Or death. The hand had felt real. He could still feel the shape, the heat, the texture of it on his chest. And he'd said he was going to talk to Jonathon. That would be his son, Jonathon. Why was Jonathon dead? Did Nagaraj take the Pearl?

Unless this wasn't heaven, and he had survived the fall off the cliff. He stared up at the ceiling. There was the beam. The same beam he'd held onto the very first time he ever…

Jack, slowly, carefully, rotated his body on the bed. As soon as he moved, it hurt. He hurt all over. It wasn't supposed to hurt in heaven. He was almost sideways on the bed. He bent his knees and pushed his heels into the mattress. They slid on the too-crisp sheets, but then his heel caught on a lump.

Ah, a flaw - now he was getting somewhere.

He pushed so that he slid back and his head, now suffering from a pounding ache – which Jack took as a very good sign, albeit an excruciating one – hung off the edge of the bed.

There were scars in the wood, eight long scars where his fingernails had dragged across the soft grain. The wood was clean, soot and grime from lanterns and candles and dirt and the long years scrubbed off it, but the scars remained.

He rolled back to the middle of the bed again and wondered if it were possible for a god to know a detail as intimate as that. That would have to mean the god was watching as he gripped the beam and Will did that incredible turn while still impaled on Jack's cock, and then slammed his legs down to wrap them around Jack's waist… randy bloody gods. Can't even get away from them in heaven.

Jack reached up to his chest. There were two bullet holes. Did you carry things like that to heaven? He slid his hand across his chest to the opposite shoulder.

It wasn't a fair test. If his heaven included Will, even if his Will was imaginary, then it would include the wound he got when he and Will washed up on that shore. And the brand that Will had made with his own hands, the one Mr. Bertram had seared into his flesh.

And it did.

He ran his fingers over the rough and crinkled skin. Real or not, it was there.

The door opened again and there was Will. Still perfect. No big surprise there, Jack thought.

"This is real," Jack said.

Will gave him one of those looks, like when Jack wanted more rum and Will wanted him to stop. "What do I have to do to convince you?"

Jack looked around the cabin, trying to find something that would convince him.

"Jack, you're on the Pearl. My father pulled you out of the water himself."

"But I woke up in jail. They were going to hang me. Norrington was there."

"That was ages ago, Jack. I rescued you. Sort of. It didn't go exactly according to plan, but you did swim to the Black Pearl."

"Your father?"

"He's at the helm."

"And Elizabeth?"

"She's recovering." Will looked relieved.

"And the island?"

"Which island?"

"You and me. On the island. Naked in the surf."

Will nodded, pink showing on his cheeks at the mention of the naked surf-romping.

"Kay and the children? Charlotte? Matthew? Shimura and Juni? The village, and that randy heathen god? I didn't imagine all that?"

Will grinned. "You must have hit your head very hard, Jack." Will sat on the edge of the bed and touched Jack's temple. His voice softened. It had been soft to start with, now it was so soft it was a mere breath. "You'll have a scar to match the old one, but Rina sewed it very neatly."

"Rina, you mean the healer's wife? But she hates me, why would she sew my wound?"

"She doesn't hate you. And she's the best seamstress on board. Next to Tessie, but she was far too upset to be sewing up a head wound."

Now why would Tessie be upset? Oh, because Will and Bootstrap were upset, of course, because Jack was injured close to death and they wanted him to live. Apparently, he had. Lived. Jack's head reeled. This couldn't be happening, could it? He wasn't this lucky.

But then, he *was* Captain Jack Sparrow.

"You're sure I'm not in heaven?"

"Jack, why would you think this was heaven?"

"Well, I did fall off a bloody great cliff."

Will got the worried crease between his eyes. "I know. I watched you fall. I wanted to jump off after you. I was so scared."

"And there were nasty bloody rocks at the bottom."

"It was a miracle, Jack. My father saw the whole thing. A huge wave came right when you fell. Matthew swears the gods made it happen. It carried you right past the rocks to the Pearl."

"But the Pearl was leagues away."

"Tessie insisted they return. And it's a good thing they did, because it saved your life."

"But the cabin, it's so clean. It's not right."

"That was Tessie as well. She was so panicked about the attack, worried about Alphonse and Jacob and Marina and Franklin and Matthew and me… she was making everyone nervous. She started cleaning everything in sight. Finally, my father locked her in here to keep her out of the way. She had to do something to occupy her time, but not before she'd yelled loud enough to convince everyone to turn back."

"But… my mother."

"What?"

"She was right here."

"That was your sister, Jack. When you started breathing deeper and muttering in your sleep, Kay told me it proved you would recover. She insisted I go outside for a few minutes to get something to eat. Alex came to sit with you while I was gone."

"But she was rubbing my belly and humming that song, just like when I was a little boy."

Will caressed Jack's cheek fondly. "You don't think your mother did the same for all her children?"

Jack blinked.

"Jack, you're alive. What more can I do to convince you?"

Jack sucked one side of his moustache thoughtfully.

Will concentrated, which gave his brow the loveliest crease yet. Will pursed his lips, which made them look ridiculously appealing. Then the wicked gleam came into his eyes That was just stunning. He got up, and Jack strained his head to watch him walk across the cabin.

Oh, yes, that was Will Turner's arse. There was no mistaking that.

Will bent over to open the linen chest.

Gods, yes, that was Will Turner's arse! Jack had to stop looking before he felt faint. Fainter. Fainted.

Will stood beside the bed. He held up his boots.

The boots.

"You found them," Jack said.

"When I was looking for clean sheets."

"That doesn't prove a thing," Jack said defensively.

Will sat down and pulled one long, supple boot over his bare foot and up over his lean, long calf. "Heaven is a spiritual place, Jack." There was a clunk as Will forced his heel fully into the boot. "A place where things are ethereal and pure." He pulled the other boot on. "Untainted and wholesome." He stood up and walked to the middle of the cabin.

He turned around.

"Do you really think they would allow something this real and this decadent and this utterly wicked into heaven?"

Jack stared at the boots. On Will's legs. Will's long legs. Legs that went all the way up to Will's slim hips, which were nestled under Will's snug trousers. Slim hips bracketing the flat, silky skin of his belly, above the solid ridge that was now hidden under Will's snug trousers, tucked to the left side, tucked against what Jack knew was a delicious, firm, lightly-haired, golden inner thigh, a thigh that was supremely partial to the rasping touch of a flattened tongue. Which was just below thick chestnut curls and the soft trail of hair that led up to the most tongue-fuckable navel on earth. Which was below the nipples, wide pink discs, the plucking of which never failed to bring forth a soft rolling purr. He felt his cock twitch a little.

"Everything I want," Jack croaked.

Will was beside him in a second. "Everything you want and more," he purred.

And then Jack felt Will's lips on his, soft and sweet. And Will's tongue flicked daintily across Jack's lips until they opened and Jack sucked it into his mouth, wet and slippery.

Heaven indeed.

---

Chapter 97 – Rehabilitation
Excerpt from the personal log of Commodore Jackman Whitfield.

"Met with emissary from the Black Pearl. Negotiated terms of release for imprisoned British seamen and return of the Cassandra to British possession. Negotiated terms of amnesty for those who brought about the demise of the pirate known as Captain Nagaraj (true identity unknown). Have agreed to allow sailors of the Black Pearl their freedom, in exchange for a vow that they not engage in piracy in these waters. Have agreed to amnesty for the mutineer Jacob DeMaurier, in exchange for the delivery of the surviving pirates of the Serpent Fire. Have agreed to leave the Dauntless in the hands of DeMaurier, in exchange for the return of the Cassandra.

The emissary has informed me of the untimely demise of Mr. Norrington after his heroic rescue of his wife, who wishes to remain with these people until such time as her grief over the events of the last few weeks has subsided. Alas, we shall be deprived of Norrington's court martial.

Negotiations lasted throughout the night. Am due to meet with Captain DeMaurier in several hours. In the meantime, I will continue with my engagemen… discussions with the emissary."

* * *

Matthew peered through the eyeglass at the two small boats bobbing on the ocean waves, and frowned. He didn't like this one bit. He didn't trust the navy, he didn't entirely trust the emissary, and he did not like Alphonse DeMaurier being so far from his side. He passed the glass to Charles DuBois.

Charles took it gratefully and trained it on Jacob, who sat beside Alphonse, as Mr. Bertram rowed them out to the rendezvous point, between the Black Pearl and the somewhat disabled Cassandra. The Commodore's ship, the Emgee, floated a little further off to the west. If Charles were to have trained the eyeglass in that direction, he would have seen the sailors swarming over the deck in preparation for any attack, frantic that their Commodore had decided to trust these pirates and was attending a dangerous rendezvous in between the ships. As it was, Charles kept the glass trained on his lover and Alphonse.

It never ceased to amaze him how much the brothers looked alike. Fine-featured and handsome, with identical rows of twisted hair and the prettiest eyes. Alphonse was darker in colouring, Jacob was of a heftier build, but they were undeniably brothers. They were talking to each other, and Charles could tell, even through the eyeglass, that they were finishing each other's sentences. A conversation that would take half an hour for two ordinary men was sped through in a matter of minutes when conducted by the DeMaurier brothers.

They arrived at the rendezvous. Commodore Whitfield sat primly at the fore, his chiselled jaw dusted with a day's growth of hair and wisps of light brown escaping willy nilly from under his, it looked, hastily-donned wig. A sailor behind him holding the oars, and the emissary was seated in the rear, draped over the bench languorously.

"Bloody emissary," Charles heard from over his shoulder. "No reason for it to take so bloody long…"

Captain Jack Sparrow squinted out at the boats, while listing dangerously to one side. Charles had been shocked to discover that the swaying and leaning was considered a sign of recovery. In fact, when Jack had first ventured forth from the cabin, he'd been walking fairly normally, erect and sturdy, and the crew had been abuzz. Everyone seemed reassured now that Jack was once more weaving like a cheap drunk.

"Is there any reason to talk with the enemy all bloody night long? I don't appreciate my ship sitting in the water like a target for those navy…"

"Hush, Jack. They won't attack while we have Governor Swann on board," Will Turner reminded him.

Jack shrugged, not really caring about the navy, and lurched closer to Will. "Feeling a bit weak, luv…" he muttered, and crashed into the younger man.

Will smiled and put his arm around Jack's shoulder. Jack had only been up and around for a few days. He was still a bit uncertain on his feet.

Jack was in a grouchy mood, with good reason. For the last week, he'd been in the cabin under constant surveillance. Every time he moved, there was someone watching, judging, gauging, telling him to stay away from Will. A tragedy. A tragedy because Will had given him the most perfect, most heavenly kiss imaginable, slow and steady, gentle little flickers of the tongue and then a languid exploration of his mouth, building and heating by degrees until Jack was positively dizzy.

And then Tessie had come into the cabin.

"None of that, lad, he's not well enough for that sort of behaviour!" And she'd made it her objective to keep Will away from Jack. And Jack away from Will. It gave him horrible memories of the two days and two nights he and Will had had to stay apart for the sake of Charlotte having a baby. It gave him terrible memories of when Will was recovering from near-drowning, and Jack was kept on a short leash. It gave him an ache he could not get rid of, because there were always bloody people watching him, waiting for him to need something, waiting for him to act weak so they would feel superior.

"Don't be so grumpy, Jack," Will whispered in his ear as he guided him to a crate. "Sit down and relax." He kept one arm around Jack's shoulders, while the other hand stroked Jack's thigh in a soothing manner. Actually, it was less soothing than… suggestive. "As soon as we get back to the island, we'll have the Pearl to ourselves."

Now, that was something to look forward to.

"Hands to yourself, dearie. Mustn't get the patient excited."

Bloody Tessie, always sticking her nose in it. Jack turned to her with all the dignity and hauteur he could muster. "The bloody patient is already excited, Madame. So would you kindly leave me alone and allow me some relief?"

But it was too late. Will had obediently withdrawn his hands and was standing beside Jack like a good boy. A good boy with an irresistible arse. Jack reached over and caressed the underside of it. Muscles tightened under his fingers.

Jack didn't understand all these restrictions. He felt fine. He felt dandy. He felt as if he could conquer the world. Except for that nasty headache, and the dizziness that assaulted him at odd times, and the way his limbs went sort of limp when he got tired. Which was far too often.

"Incorrigible," Tessie muttered, and handed him a cup. "Not taking enough fluids, either."

Jack grumbled, but accepted the water she handed him. He was actually starting to get used to the taste of it. He would have traded a fair bit of swag for a decent cup of rum, but water no longer made him sputter. That worried him, when he bothered to think about it.

"What are they talking about?" Will asked.

"Terms," Matthew said.

Darria slid between Mathew and Charles, and plucked the glass from Charles' hand. "Give me that thing! Can you two not read lips? Let me see… they're discussing a review of the prisoners."

Everyone looked past the stern at the Cassandra, and the rows of nervous sailors lined up on the deck, dressed in naught but their underclothes, needing only a few ropes to hold them in place. Fear kept them well in line; they were utterly terrified of their captors, mostly because they had never seen their like and had no clue what to expect.

Marina sat on a chair in front of them, stuffed into a tight corset and brilliantly red low-cut dress, with her hair piled up in its customary, elaborate arrangement, and a shiny rifle laid across her knee. The sailors eyed the rifle warily. She had shot over their heads once, early that morning, when someone had dared to complain about their general state of undress. No one was complaining now.

The sailors were also keeping a sharp eye on Shimura, who was prowling the deck like a caged panther. He'd removed his shirt so all his tattoos were showing, a technique he'd always found useful in the cowing of the English. (They seemed frightened of colourful dragons – superstitious lot.) Elsie's husband perched on the rail, toying with one of Nagaraj's spare swords. The atmosphere of unpredictability was thick enough to taste.

The sailor on the very end of the front line, a young man who looked barely old enough to enlist, shifted the bandage on his arm. Marina got up and stalked over to him. "You need the healer to look at that, boy?"

He shook his head fearfully. Okonkwo scared him even more than Marina. The healer had been rather curt with the injured prisoners. He had fixed their wounds, but he hadn't seen any need to be gentle about it.

Marina tugged at the sling and repositioned it on his shoulder. "Better? Good. I am sorry I shot you, lad. If I'd know you were so young I might not have. But you understand how things are…"

The lad held his breath as the Madame looked him over, up and down, stem to stern, as if sizing him up for dinner.

"Look, I am sorry. Let me make it up to you, dearie." Marina reached into the frothy nest of her hair and retrieved a single hairpin, a twist of metal with a little, coloured flower at one end. "Take this, and when you're feeling up to it, go to my house – you know the one, it's the last on the street, with the wide veranda and the green door. Give this to whoever answers the door, and you'll have a free go. Your choice."

The lad took the pin nervously.

"Well, what sort of manners do you British have?"

"Thank you, ma'am. I… I'm… deeply indebted to you, madam. Ma'am," he stammered.

She patted his head absently. "Good lad. I'd advise you to pick Ariel. She's a lovely artistic girl, and she'll give you a plenty of good loving, very creative with none of the rough stuff."

He nodded, blushing from the tips of his ears to the waist of his underpants, and probably lower as well. "Thank you for the advice, ma'am."

Marina nodded and moved away, rifle resting on her shoulder easily, as if it were a parasol. She halted and turned back toward the boy. "Stay away from Faith, though. She might be a bit… advanced for you." She ignored the murmurs from the men and sat back down with a growl. She had proven she was fair, and a nice person, but she certainly wasn't going to give free rides to every man she'd shot.

Shimura caught the rope Jacob threw from his boat and waited for the negotiators to climb on board. So, the Commodore himself had accompanied the emissary to the rendezvous. Shimura'd never met a Commodore before. He was grinning when he turned back to look at the captives, flashing gold teeth in the sunlight. The British all shrank back from him, not knowing what a smile from the pirate could possibly mean, but convinced it was a bad sign.

"Honestly," Shimura muttered to himself. "What a load of gutless, cowardly babies!"

* * *

"Jacob."

"What?"

"Aren't you forgetting …?"

"What? We got everything we wanted, didn't we?"

"Amnesty-wise, yes."

"They got the Governor back…"

"We kept Elizabeth, though."

"Because she wanted to stay. And they got their men and ship back…"

"How upset do you think Commodore Whitfield will be when he finds out how badly the Cassandra is damaged?"

"And that we stripped it of everything of value?"

"At least he's completely convinced that Norrington died after killing Nagaraj…"

"… and saving Elizabeth's life…"

"So what would I have possibly…?"

"The emissary, Jacob."

"Oh. Right. The emissary."

"We weren't supposed to lose her."

"We didn't *lose* her. It was *her* choice to accompany the Commodore back to port."

"Do you think that was wise?"

"The deal was ‘no DeMauriers in Port Royal'. Claire is not a DeMaurier, and has never been a DeMaurier. She just worked for a DeMaurier."

"Marina will be upset."

"I know. That was one of her best harlots."

"Seemed happy, though, didn't she?"

"Happy and healthy… except for the…."

"Yes, except for the bite marks."

"Not that bite marks are necessarily unhealthy."

"I wouldn't know."

"So, Commodore Whitfield enjoys biting - that's his business, I suppose."

"And I wish he would keep it to himself."

"Oh, and you never bite Matthew in the throes of passion?"

"Of course I do, but I don't leave marks in such obvious places!"

"They weren't that obvious."

"They were all over her! You couldn't miss them unless…"

"Maybe I don't make a habit of looking at women's breasts…"

"And I suppose you never bite Charles?"

"Not yet. Although I intend to at the first available opportunity…"

"He does look rather delicious…"

"He is, and he has the most amazing…"

"Gentlemen!" Mr. Bertram yelped suddenly, oars poised in mid air, look of supreme distaste on his face. "Some of us would rather not hear about the intimate activities of the DeMaurier brothers in quite such detail!"

Jacob sniffed. "Excuse us."

Alphonse giggled. "Don't mind Mr. Bertram, Jacob; he doesn't like men that way…"

* * *

"So. What are we to do with him, then?" Bootstrap asked as he circled Norrington. Once they were out of visual range of the Emgee, they'd hauled Norrington up from the very bowels of the Black Pearl, where he'd been hidden so well Governor Swann hadn't a clue Norrington was still alive, even though he'd been on the Black Pearl for almost 24 hours.

"I say we kill him," Anamaria suggested helpfully.

"Oh, no," Elizabeth said. "He did save my life."

"That was Will, dearie," Marina said.

"Oh, right."

"But he killed Nagaraj," Charles said, willing to defend anyone who had done harm to his former captain.

"True, so his fate then depends upon his motives," Jacob said with a sinister edge to his voice. He crowded close to Norrington, who tried not to shrink away.

"How so?" Will asked.

Jacob tilted his head to one side and into Norrington's eyes. "Well, why was it, ‘Commodore'? Did you kill him because he pushed Jack off the cliff? I thought not. Was is because he broke your deal? You were supposed to be the one to kill Jack, weren't you? Or were you truly upset that he threw the knife at Elizabeth? Come on, Norrington, we haven't got all day… "

Norrington kept his chin up, proudly, but did not answer. He couldn't think of how to answer. Nothing would satisfy these pirates and mutineers. They wouldn't understand the revelation of the moment, when Norrington realized that Nagaraj had thrown the knife at Elizabeth, and intended to kill Jack himself, and that Will was helping Elizabeth, and Nagaraj would have left her to die. That Norrington suddenly understood that what he was doing was… wrong. And that he had to do something right. Which, it seemed, may have been right but not smart.

"You gave our location to that snake, you commandeered a ship of the navy – and don't pretend it was yours to command, we all know you were stripped of your captain's rank right after Elizabeth ran off with Alex. I heard all about how you got drunk and caused that scene at the whorehouse. You were demoted so far down you don't have a hope in hell of ever wearing blue again. And now, we must decide your fate. Do we hang you? Shoot you? Slit your throat?"

"Or do we show forgiveness, and let him live?" Alphonse said in his best preacher's voice, as he put a restraining hand on Jacob's shoulder.

"Perhaps Jack should decide," Charles said.

Jack stared at Norrington. He'd wanted to kill him for such a long time. Here was his chance. Norrington was unarmed. Alone. Helpless.

Yet, he had stopped Will from going over the edge of the cliff. And he had saved Elizabeth, which made Will happy, for some unfathomable reason. But then, he had ordered Will tossed over the edge of the Interceptor II, so long ago. Even if he'd done something to redeem himself recently, he still had to pay for that act of attempted murder. What a minute, wasn't there something about one good act not being enough to redeem a life of… Jack couldn't remember, and trying to remember made his head ache.

Jack scrunched up his face in concentration. He could sense Will at his elbow, tense with emotion, buzzing with energy, ready to jump or shout or do something when Jack spoke. He didn't want to make a decision that would upset Will, who was so honourable and decent. The urge to kill Norrington was overwhelming, but not strong enough to warrant having Will angry with him. Not when Will had been giving him charming hints all day about what they might like to do once they were alone…

Norrington glared back at Jacob defiantly.

Mr. Gibbs stepped forward. "Let him go and he'll do it all again. Mark my words."

"Consider them marked," Norrington growled.

"Hang on a minute," Tessie said, and pushed her way past Gibbs to stand in front of Norrington. She stared at Norrington as if seeing him for the first time. "Say that again," she commanded.

Norrington looked back at her, silent.

Tessie's hand flew, slapped across Norrington's face with a loud retort. "Say it again, whelp!"

Norrington gritted his teeth. "Consider them marked," he grimaced.

Tessie reached up and touched Norrington's reddened cheek. "Saint's alive," she muttered, "I thought you sounded familiar.

Jacob bounced on his heels. "Mother, please, we're trying to conduct a tribunal…" he whispered.

"Hush, Jacob, I'm scrutinizing the prisoner," Tessie replied. She pushed Norrington's shoulder, turned him and studied his profile. "Spitting image of his father, he is…"

The crew of the Black Pearl, the DeMauriers and Will, Charles and Alex, everyone who had been waiting for Jack to make his decision now waited as Tessie poked and prodded at Norrington as if he were a bull for sale.

"Saint's alive!" she finally exclaimed. "You can't kill him, Jacob. He's your brother!"

The sound of a body hitting the deck made everyone turn to look at Jack, but Will had a firm arm around his waist and Jack was surprisingly clear-eyed. They all looked down to see Jacob DeMaurier prone, and Charles struggling to lift him up.

Jack blinked. "You are jesting about that, are you not, Tessie?"

"Heaven's no, dearie. Jacob's father told me he had several sons, all of whom he hoped would join the navy. He was a merchant seaman, you know. Left me to go back to his wife and boys, he did."

"No, it can't be," Norrington said, looking as if he'd been given a death sentence instead of a reprieve. "I can't be one of you."

Tessie patted his arm. "Oh, yes, you can. Untie him, Alphonse."

"He's dangerous!" Anamaria protested.

"Nonsense," Tessie said, "he's just been missing his family. We'll keep an eye on him for a while, make sure he doesn't fall into any evil habits, and he'll be fine. Once we get back to the island, we'll give that nice Mr. Gillette the responsibility of watching over his commodore. He's been missing him something awful – he told me so himself."

Charles helped Jacob to his feet, and Jack looked at the half-brothers. He'd never noticed the resemblance before, but there it was. As much as Jacob looked like Alphonse, he also looked like Norrington. They even wore identical expressions of disbelief.

Well, Jack thought, it wouldn't do to kill a member of the family. There was only one way to respond to a situation like this. He lurched forward and yelled. "All right, you scabrous dogs! Man the braces! Let down and haul to run free!"

"Jack?" Tessie turned to stare at him.

"Didn't mean to include you in the scabrous dogs part, of course, Tess, I meant the pirates. It's high time we got this ship back home." Jack reeled around and stopped himself from falling by grabbing Will's shoulders. "I'm feeling much better now, luv. And the sooner we get these people back home…"

---

Chapter 98 - Real (Better Than Heaven)

Rocking. From the waves, but with no forward motion. Anchored not far from the same cliff that had almost killed him. Alone. That it how Jack woke up.

This was not good.

Why was Jack alone?

Not entirely alone. There had been an irritating, incessant mewling noise coming from the corner all night. That bloody Monkey'd had her kittens, and they were always hungry.

Well, Jack was hungry too. They were back at the island, back home, as Will called it, and by all rights Jack should have been enjoying Will Turner, but he was alone in the big bed, naked but alone, sprawled across the clean, crisp sheets.

Jack wriggled against the cool linen. It did feel good. Smooth.

But why was Will gone?

He'd gone ashore, with his family. They were returning, reuniting with the ones who'd stayed behind, welcoming a thoroughly shocked Norrington to the clan with some sort of party Jack didn't feel up for because his legs had gone all wobbly and he had a headache. Overdid it, Tessie said.

"Overdone," Jack muttered into the warm air of the night. He trailed his hand down his chest, across his belly. Lost a little weight, he had, but he wasn't too skinny. There was still wiry muscle in his limbs, even if it did go weak every now and then. There were still ridges across his stomach, even if the ridges of his ribs were more prominent.

Maybe Will didn't want him, weak as he was.

Jack sighed, plucked at the dark hairs below his navel, felt his cock stir under the thin sheet. At least, when he was alone, he could do this without someone staring at him, warning him that he wasn't up for this sort of activity.

Hot. His cock was hot. Of course it was hot, it was filling with hot blood. Jack wrapped his fingers around the shaft and pulled lightly. That felt very good. It had been three weeks since he and Will had last been together, but it felt like a lifetime. Three weeks since that night on the watch hill, and that morning after the night on the watch hill. There was the night after the night on the watch hill, but there were people all over the place and they'd not managed to do much more than rub up against each other for a bit. Just as well, they'd both been exhausted, what with the guard duty and all.

And then there'd been the night before the battle. A quiet dark corner, repeated reminders to be quiet about it, no time for more than a quick fumble really. But Jack had ignored the restrictions and got on his knees, because Will was in great need of relief from the tension.

Since then, nothing more than kisses, a little petting, that one time when Mr. Gibbs had been left to watch over Jack and Will snuck in when Gibbs fell asleep and had his hand under the sheets and his mouth on Jack's nipple before Tessie's burst in and hollered at them. Taking unnecessary risks, she's said. Ridiculous. The risk was in walking around with a bloody great erection for days at a time, as far as Jack was concerned.

He reached up with his other hand and felt the raised scar on his forehead. It had hurt like hell when Rina removed the stitches that afternoon. Everything was healing perfectly, but the scar would always be there. A reminder, he supposed, that he was lucky – actually, quite lucky. His head didn't hurt at all, now. He'd been sleeping, alone in the big bed, but now he was awake. It was the middle of the night, and, finally, the kittens had drunk their fill and gone to sleep. There was no sound but the lapping of water against the hull and the sound of the Pearl.

With all those people on board, he'd been unable to hear the Pearl. It was good to hear her again. It wasn't a distinct sound, it was more like a constant, comforting hum in his mind. His ship, his life. Jack sighed again. Will would be back on the ship tomorrow, but that was too long to wait. He stroked his cock slowly.

The Pearl was home. It didn't matter where she was anchored. And this bed was his bed, even if Will wasn't in it. Their bed. But even without Will in it, it felt good because he knew Will would be in it eventually.

Jack stretched out his legs, stretched his fingers around his cock, stretched his neck and arched his back a little, pushing his cock up into his fist. His low moan mixed in nicely with the sound of the water, the faint purrs of the contented kittens, and the hum of the Pearl, and he smiled. Not as good as when Will was here, but that was all right, because he should probably take the edge off things before Will arrived. It had been far too long.

His hand stopped when warm breath washed over his shoulder.

"You couldn't wait until I got back?"

Jack opened his eyes.

"Honestly, Jack. I told you I'd be back as soon as possible."

"Did you?"

"You didn't hear me?"

"I was tired."

"But now you're not."

"No, I'm not. Now I'm…"

"Hard," Will whispered.

"For you," Jack added, needlessly. Will already knew that. Jack was always hard for Will.

And Will was looking at him in the moonlight; a shaft of it came through the open windows, and Jack was in the middle of it, glowing in the pale light. Will was backlit, so all Jack could see was the shape of him, indistinct around his head where loose curls framed his face, sharply defined around his broad shoulders, naked, as they had been all day long.

"Shall I light the lantern?"

"No. I know what you look like," Jack said. He didn't need to see Will. He didn't want to see Will. If he could see Will clearly he would be undone in an instant. He'd almost been undone that afternoon, when shirtless Will was lifting the crates and barrels of supplies they'd liberated from the Cassandra. He'd been at the wheel, watching Will on deck, and wondering if anyone would notice if he ran down the stairs and dragged Will into the cabin. When Will had helped lower the first boat into the water, gripping the rope with strong sure hands, Jack had leaned against the wheel so that his hard cock could have some much-needed pressure, and gripped the wood hard so his hands could have something to keep them from grabbing his cock out there, in the open, where everyone could see. Will looked so good Jack could smell the vanilla and nutmeg from halfway across the deck. It was impossible to watch that without having inappropriate thoughts.

He wondered briefly if anyone else responded to the sight of half-naked Will Turner quite the way he did. He hoped not. He didn't want to have to kill anyone in his weakened state. He wanted to preserve his strength, save all his energy for this.

His hands trembled a bit as he followed the contours of Will's shoulders and arms. "This is real," he said.

Will nodded.

"Not heaven?"

"Are you still on about being in heaven?"

"This is heaven."

"Do you need me to get the boots?" Will shifted a bit, as if he were about to get up, go over to the trunk, retrieve the boots.

"Don't want the boots. Just want you."

Will got up from where he crouched on the floor, pushed his trousers down over his hips and down his legs, climbed naked onto the bed beside Jack. He pushed Jack's hand away from where it still curled around his cock, replaced it with his own, and squeezed gently.

"I think you've recovered," Will murmured against Jack's cheek.

"I'm feeling remarkably hale."

"Good," Will said right before he pressed his lips against Jack's.

Jack opened his mouth and waited for Will's tongue, because he wanted to feel Will inside him.

The sound of the Pearl was drowned out by the sound of Jack's heart pumping madly in his chest. Amazing how a tongue could do that, he thought. Just a tongue. A tongue and lips. Oh, and that hand on his cock, stroking firmly.

Will pressed against him, chest against Jack's shoulder, belly against Jack's forearm, cock against Jack's hip, thigh on top of Jack's thigh. Not good enough. Jack rolled to face Will and pushed his whole body forward. Much better.

Will's hand stilled, pulled out from between then and curved over Jack's hip. There was something unbearable comforting about the way Will's hand fit his hip. There was something even more unbearably arousing about the way Will's cock slipped against Jack's cock.

There was a question hovering between them, about whether Jack really was well enough for this, quickly answered by the way his leg slid up over Will's thigh, and the way his heel hooked the back of Will's knee and pulled them even closer together. Jack traced up the hard muscles of Will's back to his neck and twisted his fingers into silken curls. He tugged. Will delved deeper into Jack's mouth, coiling their tongues together slowly. Too slowly. Jack was fit to burst but he could not speed it up, slow it down, make it stop or change the rhythm.

Pure agony, of the sort that makes a man moan. So he did, and the moan vibrated through Will's mouth. When Will moaned back at him, Jack felt it in his throat.

Jack realized Will's hand was splayed across his lower back, and that Will was pulsing their hips and bellies and cocks together, pulling Jack so he was half on top of Will. Jack could just do this and it would be enough, he thought. But Will moved his hand down to cup Jack's arse, fingers teasing in the cleft.

Oh, yes, more was good.

Jack scraped his teeth around Will's tongue and the fingers clenched, slipped further down, brushed over Jack's arsehole, made Jack moan again. Will tilted his head back and dragged his tongue out of Jack's mouth, down Jack's chin, curled it around a beaded braid. Tugged the braid with his teeth.

"I'm going to fuck you," he said, a little breathlessly.

"I know."

Jack knew where the oil was without looking. Funny, he normally kept it corked tightly, but it took only a flick of his thumb to remove the stopper. Someone had planned ahead, he thought. Will must have done that after Jack had fallen asleep while the sun was setting. Jack lowered the bottle behind his back and drizzled oil over Will's hand. Will twisted his fingers together to coat them and kept stroking the sensitive skin around Jack's opening. He patted and rubbed gently, as if it were the first time anyone had ever touched Jack there.

Jack lifted his leg up to Will's hip, and concentrated on keeping the bottle upright. No use in spilling the oil all over these nice, clean sheets he thought. Save it for where it was needed most.

Will kept up the gentle touching, changed to a circular motion, fingers spreading the slick oil with a tenderness that made Jack nudge Will's head back. He wanted to see Will, now. Wanted to see the little furrow of concentration between Will's eyebrows. He craned his neck so he could lick the crease. The first fingertip pushed into him.

Jesus, it was like a first time. It burned when his arse stretched to accommodate only one finger. Will wriggled his cock against Jack's, his breaths coming in short, harsh pants. He pushed his finger in a little further, purred when the tight muscle tensed around it. Pulled it out and patted the quivering hole.

"More oil, please," he said quietly.

Jack obliged, tipping the bottle and flinching when one of the cool drops fell on the sensitive opening. Will pushed the oil inside, where it heated immediately. His slick finger moved in and out, fucking Jack steadily. Jack groaned and tried to lift his leg higher. Then the finger was gone, Jack pushed onto his back, and the finger back before the guardian ring had a chance to close. Much better, because now when Will pushed his finger inside he curled it, and swallowed Jack's moan in an open-mouthed kiss.

Jack spread his legs shamelessly. The tongue was good, very good, but he wanted more of Will inside him than just his tongue. He lifted his hips and dug his heels into the mattress. All of Will inside him, that's what he wanted.

Will slid another finger inside, moved so the smooth skin of his forearm brushed against the velvety skin of Jack's cock. He shifted, rubbing against the cock, rubbing inside, opening Jack with his fingers. Will nibbled Jack's lower lip.

"You're going to fuck me," Jack rasped.

"I am fucking you."

Jack pried his hand out from under Will's hip and grasped Will's cock. "Not with this…" He wormed his other hand between them and tipped the bottle once more.

Will grunted when the oil hit his cock. He pushed another finger into the tight hole. "Not yet."

"I'm ready, mate."

"Really?" Will twisted his fingers and Jack hissed in surprise. "I'll decide when you're ready. You'll put that bottle back on the shelf before you spill it all over the bed." He stroked inside carefully, and licked across Jack's parted lips when Jack squeezed his eyes shut.

Jack somehow managed to get the bottle up over his head, onto the shelf, before his arms went limp. "Oh," he managed to breathe into Will's mouth.

Will pushed up with his free hand and moved between Jack's spread thighs. "Want to taste you first," he murmured as he slid down Jack's body.

He licked at the wet tip of Jack's cock, loving the bounce of the head against his lips. The flavour rolled around his tongue. Decadence. Will opened his mouth wide and took Jack inside. The clenching around his fingers was almost painful. He twisted them, gentler this time, until he felt the muscles relax.

Jack clutched the sheets with one hand, Will's shoulder with the other. It *was* the first time. The first time he'd ever been quite like this, let Will do this to him, fingers so deep inside, mouth so hot on his cock, Jack so passive and open and wanting so badly he was shaking all over.

Will squeezed the base of his cock hard and slurped at the crown.

"Fuck!"

"Very well."

Will crawled up Jack's body and knelt with his legs spread wide. He lifted Jack's legs up over his shoulders. One hand held Jack's hip steady, the other pulled out of Jack and guided Will's cock, rubbing the wide head over puckered, pulsing flesh.

Jack whimpered when Will sank into him. It was still a bit of a stretch, burning but in the best way imaginable. "Don't stop, all the way in…" he urged.

Will shuffled his knees back and let his weight do the work, sheathe him totally. Jack shuddered from head to toe.

"More oil?" Will panted.

"More fucking," Jack growled. He had no leverage, with his legs up over Will's shoulders like that, so he was dependent on Will. Will did not disappoint him. Within a half dozen hip rolls, Jack's arms were flailing in the air, his head tossing from side to side, and his mouth open in a guttural moan. Another dozen strokes, and then Jack howled when Will grabbed his cock.

* * *

"What do you suppose your brother is doing to make Jack sound like that?" Matthew gasped, far above the Pearl on the watch hill.

"Same thing I'm doing to you," Alphonse grunted as he gripped Matthew's hip and rammed his cock deeper inside.

Matthew dropped his elbows to the ground and pushed his arse up to meet Alphonse's thrusts. He pulled up handfuls of grass when Alphonse's fingers tightened around his cock, stroked harder, pulled roughly. "Love, I can't hold back any longer!"

"Don't!"

Matthew's moans floated down to the Pearl, but they were drowned out by the frantic wails of Jack's climax.

* * *

Will pushed into Jack one last time and half-purred, half-growled as his seed flooded into his lover. Jack spurted between them, hot and hard. Will let go of Jack's cock and held the lean thighs against his chest. They shook under his palms, in time with the pulsing of Jack's arse around his spent cock.

Jack was babbling incoherent sounds, not quite words but not pure moans anymore. Will stroked up and down Jack's thighs to calm him. The stuttering noises continued, after Will carefully spread and lowered Jack's legs, after he rocked back to pull his cock out gently, even after he rolled to one side and lay beside Jack, sweaty and sated.

"Jack, slow down," Will said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Better than heaven," Jack said.

"Jack, shut up about heaven and kiss me."

Jack did what any man would do when given an order like that.

---

Chapter 99A - The Wedding (Part 1)

Captain Jack Sparrow adjusted the left cuff of his shirt, so the cream coloured ruffle flowed more gracefully out from under his deep russet coat sleeve. Lovely frock coat, he thought to himself. The thick brocade fitted his torso as if it were custom-made for him, and the heavy lower panels fell almost to his knees, which were encased in fine, black trousers, which hugged his thighs and arse. His new black boots sported heavy silver buckles, gleaming and bright. All in all, an excellent costume.

He glances at the wavy looking glass above the chest of drawers. His hair was sleek from that coconut mixture Will liked so much. He wore a new, dark red scarf, and all his trinkets and beads sparkled, they were so buffed and polished. A thin line of kohl graced his lower lids, just enough to bring out the feline in him.

"Speaking of feline," he muttered, and bent to pet Monkey. Now that her kittens were weaned and gone, she spent a good deal of her time lying on the end of the bed. All five kittens were grown and moved ashore, except for the grey striped one that now lived on the Dauntless. "Don't miss them at all, do you, luv?"

The cat mewled and stretched and gave Jack's thumb a lazy lick.

Kay patted Jack's arm. "You should be out there greeting the guests."

Jack grimaced.

"I know, it isn't much fun if you're not allowed any rum," Kay whispered, and passed him a silver flask, positioning her body so the other people in the room wouldn't notice it. "Don't let my mother see that!"

Jack flashed her a golden smile. "Secret's safe with me, luv. Thanks."

Kay straightened the collar of his coat. "My, this is so handsome. Fits you like a dream. And you look so nice, Jack. I'm proud to have you as my brother, you know."

Jack actually blushed a little when Kay kissed his cheek. Over the past year, he'd developed an uneasy acceptance of Kay's unnatural interest in his sex life, her sometimes emotional outbursts when defending her siblings, and her motherly ways, but he still felt a tad overwhelmed when she called him ‘brother', and meant it so sincerely. Not wanting to begin the emotional part of the day too early, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and tucked the flask into a pocket.

"Thanks for doing me kohl, too," he said lightly, and sidled out the door.

The deck of the Black Pearl was swarming with wedding guests. All the DeMauriers were there, a good portion of the settlers from the Isla de Muerta, and his sister was visiting from Nassau Port. All were decked out in their finest, with much of the finery due to a little trip Jack had made a week earlier in anticipation of this day.

He'd taken Shimura, Bertram, and a few other carefully chosen lads out for a few days, and returned with frock coats, gowns, shirts, trousers, skirts, blouses, corsets, spools of thread in every colour and a few other items he thought might be useful. Tessie had scolded him at first – it wouldn't due to have Jack carted away for piracy, and he shouldn't be stealing from anyone, and it was wrong to take what wasn't one's own – until he'd pulled a packet of beautiful, brand new sewing needles from the pouch at his waist. And he revealed a spectacular red and gold shawl with a gathered ruffle along one long edge, and a pattern of winding vines and leaves worked into it by a clever hand.

"Got this one just for you," he'd whispered conspiratorially. "I thought the colours would go nicely with your skin."

And who would have thought that Captain Jack Sparrow would have such excellent colour sense? Tessie stood in front of him now, looking absolutely splendid with the shawl wrapped around her ample form - ample because she was due to deliver her baby any day now.

"The most radiant mother of the happy couple ever!" Jack proclaimed, giving her his best Jack Sparrow smile. He was good at those sorts of ingratiating compliments.

Of course, Tessie insisted she be referred to as the ‘mother of the happy couple', since she'd long considered both halves of the happy couple equally as her children. She adjusted one of the ruffles self-consciously and smiled.

Things had changed greatly between Jack and Tessie. Oh, she still thought him too decadent for Will, but she'd grown to accept him. And he still resented her civilising influence on Bootstrap, but they'd developed a mutual respect he would not have thought possible almost a year before, when she'd walked into her parlour and insulted him without so much as a by your leave.

Bootstrap stood beside her, handsome in a dark grey coat and breeches, bright white shirt and black boots. Tessie fiddled with his hair, tucking it behind his ear, put her head on his shoulder, then suddenly buried her face in his neck. Bootstrap patted her back mildly. "She's a little emotional like, you understand." He gestured at Tessie's large belly, which looked about ready to burst.

Jack nodded and moved through the crowd. He'd made a truce with Tessie, and didn't mind her thinking of him as one of her sons, but he wasn't in the mood to have a maudlin mother-to-be crying on his shoulder. That was clearly Bootstrap's responsibility.

He slipped off to one side, slid the flask out from his jacket and took a quick drink.

"Is that allowed?"

Jack turned and squinted in the direction of Charles Dubois. Jesus, but he looked striking. He hadn't filled out much, but he was fit and healthy, with outstanding posture and a delicate way of holding himself, when he wasn't fighting. He'd taken to wearing kohl, similar to the way Jack did, and it looked as if Kay might have had a go at him earlier, judging by the even, dark lines around his lovely eyes – not really chocolate, Jack had noticed, but with a hazelish cast to them. His hair had regrown in thick, untameable curls, sneaking around the top of his ears, silky looking, although Jack wouldn't know what it felt like.

Jacob would know what it felt like. He'd spent every moment he could learning the texture of Charles, ever since the first time they were together on the Dauntless. Just the night before, he'd spent at least half an hour running his fingers through those curls while Charles lay between his legs, head on Jacob's chest, breath washing over Jacob's left nipple in even, warm waves, tongue darting out every now and then to punctuate the conversation.

"Are you sure the wedding is a good idea?" Charles had asked. He wasn't opposed in any way, and he knew that the whole family was in favour of it, but he also knew there were restrictions on who could married who, based on things he didn't think mattered but that other people thought mattered very much indeed, like race and gender and class. It would be frowned on greatly by the outside world.

That's what everyone called it – the outside world. Visits to the outside world were conducted with some regularity, but visitors from the outside world were viewed with great suspicion. And sometimes alarm. There had been little warning the last time Commodore Whitfield and Claire had dropped in for a visit. They'd barely had time to stash Norrington in one of the mountain caves. Charles smiled when he thought of the position he'd found Norrington and Gillette in, when he'd been sent up to tell them the coast was clear. Norrington had been aghast, until Gillette gave him an affectionate smack on the arse and told him to stop being so uptight.

The night before, Jacob had pulled Charles up, until their mouths met, their cocks lined up, their naked bodies melded together. "It's perfect," he'd said in between kisses. "Everyone loves weddings."

Jack bit his lip. What had Charles asked? Oh, yes, the flask. He tucked it back into his pocket. "Allowed? It's still my bloody ship, eh?"

He noticed how Charles' shirt billowed out a little in the breeze, open at the neck. Oh lord, mustn't ogle his nipples, Jack thought. Not that they weren't worth ogling. He'd seen a fair bit of young Mr. Dubois' nipples, and knew they were, if it were a word, perfectly ogleable. The lad had a fondness for swimming, indulged in it whenever he could. It wasn't unusual to happen upon a naked Charles swimming around the cove in the evening.

Jack couldn't help thinking about the night Will had decided to join him. Jack and Jacob had stood together on the beach, watching the two men laugh and swim and float and generally be so bloody sexy it made Jack get hard just to remember that it had happened, let alone to actually remember what actually *had* happened.

Will and Charles were like brothers. (They were, in a way, brothers, given the way Tessie insisted on adopting anyone who was a son of her lover or lover of her son.) It made Jack nervous, because he couldn't help being attracted to Charles, given his resemblance to Will, and he knew Jacob had always liked Will, and that complicated things far too much. But Will and Charles seemed to feel no attraction at all toward each other, besides the friendship/brother feelings.

In a way, it was a pity. Because on the night they'd swum together, Jack and Jacob had been forced to grab each other's arms, to steady each other, when Will and Charles waded out of the water together, side-by-side in the moonlight.

Long, lithe legs, identical slim hips, chests not quite the same – Will was broader – but they had very similar wide, pink nipples, pebbled hard from the cold water. Jack had not been able to keep himself from looking lower. They'd both been soft, again from the temperature, but that didn't make them any less beautiful. Jack had stood on the beach and listened to the sharp intake of breath from Jacob as he watched the same thing – his lover and his lover's double, naked and dripping and perfect in the moonlight.

"Jack?"

Jack blinked. There was no moonlight. In fact, the sun was annoyingly bright. And Charles was, thankfully, fully dressed. Thankfully, because Jack was hard enough just from remembering that time he'd seen Charles naked next to Will. Nice cock. Not as nice as Will's, but then no cock was as nice as Will's. Charles was frowning at him.

"Is there something required of me?" Jack asked. He'd always found that offering to help was a good way to cover up inappropriate behaviour in social situations such as this one.

"No, Just making sure you're well. I thought I might stand over here. I find the entire family at once a little…"

Jack grinned. "Overwhelming?"

Charles shrugged bashfully. "I'm not always sure how to behave."

Jack laughed. "These are DeMauriers, lad. You can behave however you bloody well please, and as long as you don't hurt any of them, they won't give a rat's arse."

"Ahem."

Jack turned his head and peered over his shoulder into the serious eyes of Alphonse DeMaurier.

"Could we have a modicum of decorum, Captain Sparrow? In honour of the occasion, if you please."

"Sorry, mate."

Alphonse looked very nice, Jack had to admit, for a preacher type. New black coat and trousers, hair tamed into semi-neat rows, his pretty eyes sparkling. Nice looking man, Alphonse was.

In fact, Jack was surrounded by nice looking men. There was only one he really wanted to see, but Will was still fussing in the cabin. Bloody weddings - there was so much preparation. Even Jack had spent a good deal longer than usual getting dressed and groomed, and he still didn't entirely understand why. If there weren't going to be drinks all around, what was the point of all the fuss? Whose idea was it to have a dry wedding? Who'd ever heard of such a thing? At least the party after the wedding would have drinks. Alphonse, though, insisted on what he called ‘good' behaviour for the ceremony portion of the festivities.

"You should speak to the guests," Alphonse said in his lowest possible tone, which was quiet enough to be private, but rumbled enough to draw attention because of the vibrations in the air. "And keep that flask hidden." He winked.

Damn. Everybody knew. Jack adjusted the flask self-consciously, and headed back into the crowd. He spotted Anamaria off to one side, sitting on a chair someone had put on deck. Great with child, she was. Very great. Jack was happy Mr. Gibbs had decided to stay ashore. He would have been grumbling about the bad luck of having pregnant women on board, especially so many of them.

Yes, Charlotte was also pregnant. Finally. And it gave Jack no small satisfaction to know that Will Turner had nothing whatsoever to do with that state of affairs. The father knelt at Anamaria's side, and was rubbing her feet. Rubbing her feet, here on the ship when the wedding was moments away! Jack couldn't see why he was being told off for a little profanity and a flask of rum, when Mr. Bertram was openly rubbing a pregnant woman's feet for all to see.

He was smiling, though, Mr. Bertram. He seemed perfectly happy to serve Anamaria, no matter how demanding she got. And Charlotte, too. Jack had always known Mr. Bertram was fond of women, but he never imagined the man would get himself involved with two of them at once. Especially not those two.

Beyond that, Jack had never imagined Anamaria would want to be involved with a man. But there it was –he'd started out by offering to get Charlotte pregnant. However, it quickly became clear that Anamaria would not, as her mother was doing, breeze through her own pregnancy, but would in fact be plagued by every back-aching, foot-swelling, ill-humour-inducing affliction known to womankind. The scope of Mr. Bertram's role grew to include not only stud activities, but services of a more ongoing and salacious nature.

"Are you sure you don't want to lie down?" Bertram asked the visibly irritated Anamaria.

"Of course not! We're here for a wedding," Anamaria snapped, but her tone was tempered by genuine affection. This situation worked out very nicely for her, since Charlotte, probably due to her previous profession, was quite capable and eager of going all night long; she needed two lovers to keep her satiated. Bertram fit the bill nicely. He was experienced enough to keep Charlotte happy without overly taxing her emotionally, kept himself reasonably clean, never made inappropriate suggestions to Anamaria, and he gave excellent foot rubs.

What Anamaria did not know, but Jack did, due to a rather spectacular drunken confession on the part of Mr. Bertram, was that Mr. Bertram had secretly carried a wee torch for Anamaria for over two years. He'd known she would never be interested in him sexually, but they were fast developing a close, even loving relationship, and Charlotte was more than enough to keep him content on the physical side, so the rather bizarre triangle of two pirates and an ex-harlot seemed to be working out quite nicely.

On that island, in this family, no one seemed to mind. Except for Darria, who didn't approve of much, so no one took her too seriously in matters such as this. And she was ashore with Mr. Gibbs. Jack didn't want to know what they might be up to. They'd been spending entirely too much time together, though.

"Is it not time to start?" Alex asked.

Jack whirled around to look on his sister. She and Elizabeth were dressed in matching grey silk dresses. They tended to do that, dress alike. Some sort of a business decision, Jack thought. It was quite striking, the contrast of Alex's pale skin and black hair with Elizabeth's golden hair and rosier skin.

"Ah, Alex, you look lovely." And she did.

She raised an eyebrow in the direction of her lover.

Jack made a pouty face. "You look nice too, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth beamed at him. She beamed a lot, at least whenever Jack visited her or she visited him. "You look splendid, Jack. Is Will ready yet? I haven't seen him."

Jack fussed with a cuff. "He's still preparing, I would imagine. So… how is your new business?"

"Wonderful," Alex replied. "We're fast gaining a reputation as the finest hotel in Nassau Port."

"With the finest… entertainments," Elizabeth added. It was a habit they'd picked up from the DeMaurier brothers, finishing each other's thoughts aloud.

Jack screwed up his face. He was quite sure he didn't want to know any more. It was fine for his sister to have been a courtesan in Paris, and a madam in Port Royal – that was in the past, and the past was easy to accept. But he did not like thinking of her providing those sorts of services in the present, even if it was from a managerial position. And to do so in the company of that… well, he was utterly shocked that the Governor's daughter was taking part in such an enterprise. Of course, he's heard that the hotel had an impeccable reputation. None but the clients knew what went on in the less public areas.

Jack had also heard that the clients included the Governor of Nassau Port himself, a handful of commodores, several magistrates and at least one well-known preacher.

The thought of a preacher drew Jack's attention to Alphonse, who stood on the bridge looking mildly impatient. Time to take his place, Jack assumed. He mounted the steps and joined the small crowd up top.

"This is it," Jacob said.

"Indeed," Alphonse replied.

The door of Jack's cabin opened and the groom stepped out onto the deck. The other groom, that is. He walked up the stairs with his best man.

"I love weddings," Jack said to no one in particular, then his breath caught in his throat.

He didn't think he'd ever seen Will looking that stunning. Well, not when he was wearing clothes. Or when he was wearing more than nothing but the boots. However, fully clothed and not wet, it was possible, and even probable, that Will had never looked better. Although that may have had to do with the happiness of the occasion.

Will's hair was quite long, falling in soft waves and a few ringlets well past his shoulders. His snug waistcoat and trousers showed off every luscious curve, and the dark blue of it, almost black blue, made his golden skin glow. His eyes were shining, they were so happy. A little moist with emotion. A rich chocolate Jack wanted to swim in.

Will smiled shyly at Jack. That was the most wonderful thing Jack had ever seen. After all they'd done together in the past year, Will still felt shy when Jack stared at him like that. Hungry. Ravenous. Jack licked his lips.

Will looked stunning indeed. But not nearly as stunning as he was going to look when this bloody ceremony was over, and Jack had kicked every last guest off his ship, and he and Will retired to his cabin where they could be alone.

"Shall we begin?" Jack asked.

---

Chapter 99B - The Wedding (Part 2)

Captain Jack Sparrow cleared his throat. He had an idea of what he wanted to say, but his eyes slid to the left and were halted by the sight of Will Turner standing nervously beside Matthew.

Stunning. How could he have thought Bootstrap or Charles or anyone else looked in any way, shape or form attractive compared to Will? He was wearing… no, he was being caressed by smooth midnight blue trousers that hugged… no, clung to every curve of his long legs. When Will shifted from one foot to the other, Jack could see the raw silk slide over his hip. Mercifully, Will wasn't hard. There was only the merest hint of the goods, since the crotch didn't fit as snugly as the legs. Pity that, but not. If Will got hard, in those trousers, Jack would be unable to breathe.

Jack was also thankful Will was facing him. The back view would have made him dizzy.

Jack let his eyes sweep up over the flowing shirt and open vest. Not buttoned up and uptight, no, Will was loose and comfortable, with only the lower two laces of the shirt tied. The top two hung open, and his smooth, golden skin complimented the rich blue like… like gold buttons on a uniform? Jack didn't like to think about uniforms. Unless Will was in them.

Will. In a dark blue commodore's uniform - not the whole uniform, just the coat. That would be a bit scratchy, though, wouldn't it? Jack supposed Will could wear a shirt under it to protect his skin, but that would spoil the whole golden skin/blue uniform contrast, would it not? Best have him naked under the coat. If it itched, then the coat would come off all the sooner.

"Ahem."

Bloody Alphonse, always spoiling his fun. Jack straightened his back and turned to face the crowd, but not without noticing the glare from the preacher. Now what could he be glaring about? Oh, yes, Jack thought, he thinks I was ogling Matthew.

Jack spared a moment to give Matthew a quick once over. Very fine, he agreed with Alphonse silently. Matthew was in blue as well, a pale blue shirt under a dark blue jacket, with black trousers and boots polished to a glittering shine. He was lovely looking. All broad shoulders and tremendous height and gorgeous eyes. But he couldn't hold a candle to Will.

The wind whipped a chestnut curl out of its place, sent it spiralling across Will's forehead. Don't look, Jack told himself, you'll never be able to look away.

He gripped the railing hard enough to make his knuckles turn white. Cleared his throat again. "Your attention, everyone, please."

Well, that worked. Everyone looked up expectantly. Jack smiled faintly. Now that everyone was looking, he would simply have to not look at Will until this whole thing was over. "It is my great honour, and pleasure, to officiate on this most auspicious occasion."

There were murmurs of approval from below. Evidently, the guests appreciated the level of decorum Jack was showing. And the appreciation was well earned, because it was taking every ounce of decorum Jack possessed not to drag Will down to his cabin and…

"We are gathered here to celebrate and witness the marriage of two very lucky people," Jack began, and then promptly forgot the speech he'd planned. It might have been the rum, it might have been the fact that everyone was staring at him, it might have been because there he'd not been able to think of anything adequate to say.

So, he decided to tell the truth.

"Ten years ago, a terrible tragedy occurred. A young man, a young warrior, was ripped from his home, carried across the ocean, and treated so horribly, frankly, it makes me ashamed that I didn't do anything about it, even though I didn't know what was happening at the time. He was scared and probably would have preferred to be dead, but to our immense relief, he survived," Jack said. He searched his mind for details, late night conversations by the fire, whispered confessions. The exact details didn't matter though. This was a day for joy, and it wouldn't do to dredge up all the bad things. He would concentrate on the good. "And he found he wasn't as alone as he thought, because after a year he met a young student who treated him with respect. Treated him kindly. And then treated him with a good deal more than simple kindness…"

That little meander into the personal earned Jack a look of severe reprimand from Jacob. Jack gave a slight pout. What fun was a story like this one without the salacious details? But there were children present, of course. Jack forged on. "These two men formed a bond that nothing could break – not time or distance. And when they were separated, cruelly, after their love was discovered by…" Master? Owner? The very words filled Jack with repugnance, and he wouldn't say them out loud. Not today. "They were parted and feared they might never be together again. But they never gave up hope."

Jack looked at Matthew and Alphonse, who now stood side by side, holding hands. "Alphonse left the church, but did not leave his faith - his faith that people could be good, and his faith that he and Matthew would be reunited. That faith sustained him over the next seven years he spent searching, and helping those in need and doing all the things the church should have been doing. And Matthew was…" Jack had to say it, because to not say it would be to pretend it hadn't happened, and the only way to prevent it from ever happening again was to face it head on, "… sold and taken far away from his lover." It sounded unspeakable when it was said aloud. It was unspeakable. Yet Jack had said it, and it was time to move onto the more positive part of the story. "But his love never left him. He inspired his people to rise up and demand freedom. And that is what lead him to Alphonse, because Jacob DeMaurier discovered that the notorious slave rebellion leader was being brought to the Caribbean, and decided that he should do something to reunite his brother with his lover."

Jack looked down at Norrington at this point. The ex-commodore looked back up at him, shame showing in his eyes but dignity in his stance. Norrington knew it would be a long time before he could make amends for his sins against the very people who shared the deck of the Black Pearl with him. He also knew that those people were willing to forgive him, and to let him start fresh. He was immensely grateful to have been allowed to attend the wedding, for once he'd been properly introduced to Matthew and Alphonse, he'd grown genuinely fond of them, and they of him. Because once they took the uniform off Norrington, and took away his authority, and took him away from the people he'd been trying to impress his whole life, they found a man who was quite capable of directing his sense of honour and righteousness for the good of all people. As long as Gillette kept a close watch on him. And kept him satisfied in other ways.

Gillette beamed up at Jack. He was looking very satisfied indeed. And by the stories, passed on by Charles and Matthew, and a few others who'd happened across Gillette and Norrington when Gillette was keeping a particularly close watch on Norrington, Gillette was being satisfied in the deepest possible manner.

Jack blinked and looked away from Gillette's hand, which was inching its way up under Norrington's shirt. Really. At a wedding. Jack looked at Alphonse and Matthew, careful to train his gaze on their faces, and to not let it stray to where Will stood enticing, in Jack's mind, Jack to inch his hand up under his shirt. At least, he had no right to look that good if he didn't want Jack to want to put his hand up his shirt. Or other places.

Concentrate! Jack reminded himself.

Jack continued. "I wish I'd been on the beach at the moment they saw each other for the first time in seven years. I've been told it was…" Okonkwo had tried to describe it to him once. The fact that they didn't speak each other's language had not been a barrier. "… most moving."

That was pathetic, Jack thought. There had to be some better way to say it. But when he tried to think of something better to say, to express how joyful Alphonse and Matthew were to be together, his mind was filled with the image of a breathtakingly breathless Will Turner telling him about what he'd seen, when Will had seen Matthew and Alphonse together, and Jack couldn't think about that now because he still had a wedding ceremony to perform.

"It is my honour today to marry them."

There was a burst of applause from below, but Jack ignored it. Will handed him the bible. Jack raised an eyebrow. They'd agreed not to use the bible in the ceremony, since there might be a question of inappropriate wording involving women and obeying and the like. But when he opened it there was a piece of parchment, and Jack read what was written there in Will's steady script.

"We stand here today to witness the joining of these two men in sacred matrimony. We stand here as a community to witness their love for each other, and to offer them our abiding support and love. And we stand here to share in their joy." That was very nice, Jack thought. He wondered who had written it. Probably a team effort - Matthew, Alphonse, Will and Jacob all looked very pleased with themselves.

Alphonse turned to Matthew. Jack knew that would happen. Everything was moving according to plan, Jack thought with relief. All he had to do was keep his mind off Will's body. How difficult could that be?

Will brushed his hair off his face and his shirt fell a touch more open. He had the smoothest skin on his chest, Jack knew, right in the middle, where sweat trickled down on hot days, and where he tasted of salt and… stop it!

They'd agreed long ago that the regular vows would not do. Jack read from the paper. "Alphonse DeMaurier, do you take Matthew…" Jack paused. Damn, but there was no way he would be able to pronounce Matthew's tribal name. He looked helplessly at Will.

Will said it. To Jack's ear, it sounded like nine or ten random syllables with far too few vowels, but Matthew smiled. Will must have been practicing that one for a while. Very impressive. Talented tongue.

"…to be your…" Jack paused again. Lawful would not do. "… your loving husband, in sickness and in health, through whatever trials may come, forever and beyond?"

"I do," Alphonse said clearly, but a bit shakily.

"And Matthew, do you take Alphonse to be your loving husband, in sickness and in health, through whatever trials may come, forever and beyond?"

Matthew looked a bit unsteady. Will gripped his elbow. "I do," Matthew said, quieter. Softer.

"Rings," Jack whispered.

Will and Jacob pulled out the rings, lovely gold bands Will and Matthew had made.

Alphonse and Matthew had decided against words for this part of the ceremony. They slid the rings on each other's fingers and clasped hands. They leaned forward until their foreheads rested together. They looked too emotional to talk, anyway.

Jack looked back down at the parchment. There was nothing else written on the page. He turned it over, but the back was blank. He looked up at Will, for guidance, suggestions, anything. But Will was looking at Matthew and Alphonse with utter joy, and was being no help at all.

"Well, then, by the power I hold as captain of the Black Pearl, I now pronounce you wed, in the eyes of…"

Murmurs rose as the ship pitched to one side, quite unexpectedly, since it was an unusually calm day. A wide, smooth wave had rocked it, and Jack suspected he knew what had caused the sudden disturbance.

Jack saw Will's eyes shutter closed, and a swift shiver run through his body. Bloody hell, Jack thought, even the randy heathen god wants to have a part in this ceremony. When Will opened his eyes again, he was smiling. Jack let out the breath he'd been holding. In favour of the proceedings, the nuisance of a deity must have been. Good, then.

Jack looked back down at the crowd. Pirates and rogues. Freed slaves, escaped slaves. Harlots and madams. Misfits and mutineers. Deserters and rebels. People who had at one time been under the lash, and some who'd been on the other end of it. All happy, ecstatic even, to see these two men married.

"… In the eyes of all who matter," Jack concluded. "You may- "

But it was too late, because Matthew and Alphonse were already kissing.

There was a great cheer from below, and Jack stepped away from the railing to make room for the newly-wed couple, who were still kissing, but that didn't stop Will and Jacob from pushing them closer to the railing so everyone could have a good look.

"Well done, Jack. Simple and honest, as we planned," Jacob shook his hand. "Thank you so much for giving my brother such a lovely ceremony."

Jack nodded and smiled and pressed himself up against Will, who looked a little choked up.

"Y'alright, luv?"

Will nodded and squeezed Jack's hand. "Isn't it beautiful?" he whispered.

Jack looked at Will's moist eyes. He felt a little ache in his heart. "Is this… is this what you want?"

Will looked him in the eye.

"Do you want to be married?" Jack asked, barely a whisper.

Will bit his lip. "Alphonse and Matthew got married because they wanted to share with everyone," Will said. "They were apart for so very long, and they were frightened they would never see each other again. This is a way to show they can never be parted again. And to share their happiness with everyone." Will gripped Jack's hand hard. "We've never been apart, have we? Not really. Once we were together, I mean. We might have had a few misunderstandings, but we've been together since…"

"I've been yours since the first time we touched blades," Jack said. "And you came around soon enough," he grinned. Then he grew serious once more. "Tell me, Will. Honestly. Do you want to get married?"

"No," Will whispered, "we already are."

Jack didn't know what the tug in his heart meant, but he decided it had to mean something very good, because it spread warmth through his whole body.

"And I don't want to share with anyone," Will added, and pressed up against Jack.

Jack groaned. "How soon can we get all these people off my ship?"

Will laughed. "Don't be a poor host, Jack. We have forever. We can wait until the end of the party."

Jack frowned.

Will laughed again. "We'd better join the party, Jack." Will reached up and tapped the flask in the breast pocket of Jack's coat. "And you can have that out in the open now. But don't have too much. I want you awake and alert tonight!"

Jack squinted his eyes shut tight and groaned again. This would be, he was sure, the longest party he'd ever attended.

Tessie and Kay had baked the biggest cake Will had ever seen. Not that he'd had much opportunity to see cakes in his life, but this one had to be spectacular by anyone's standards. He stood to one side and watched the children line up for their shares. Then the adults all took pieces and Shimura pulled out the bottles of wine he'd ‘found' on the expedition the week before. Elsie's husband started to play a drum, one of the pirates had a fiddle, and there was a flute as well. The dancing was vigorous.

Jack tried the wine, but found the rum much more to his liking. He settled against the main mast, and watched the festivities while sipping his drink. Not too much. He wanted to be alert. He felt a presence behind him and peered over his shoulder.

"Cheers, captain."

"Marina. Yes, cheers."

She clinked her metal cup against his flask.

"So, what are your plans?"

"Plans?" What plans? Jack thought.

"To do with our son," she prompted.

Jack's head swivelled, and he saw Jonathon sitting beside Young Frank. The two of them had plates piled with cake and other treats on their laps, and they were studiously ignoring the younger children, as older children are wont to do at social events.

"No plans. He seems quite happy with my sister, don't you think? Elizabeth is tutoring him, and he's making friends in Nassau. He visits the rest of his family when he can."

"He'll want to go to sea, sooner or later."

"Later," Jack said. "He's too young yet. But when he's old enough, if he still wants to, I'll take good care of him, don't you fret."

Marina made a noise, half agreement, half suspicion.

The silence was awkward for a minute or so.

"I didn't recognize you, at first," Marina said finally. "Not until Alex told me who you were. You did seem a bit familiar, but I didn't realize.

Jack shrugged. "I look different."

Marina reached up to finger a long dreadlock. "Aye, you do. You used to look so…"

"Young?"

"I was going to say ‘respectable'."

"All part of the pirate plan, eh." Jack whispered, "Confidentially, it was a good scheme, pretending to be a businessman. Paid better than outright pirating in some ways."

Marina didn't bother to stifle her laugh. "That's why I didn't recognize you. You were such a gentleman with me, honestly Jack. I think you would have paid me if I hadn't laid a finger on you. I just couldn't reconcile that nice young man with the lecherous pirate who so obviously lusted after my handsome stepbrother."

She was teasing. Wasn't she? Jack didn't care. She was speaking the truth.

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you," Jack said. "You're still as pretty, you know. But you dress differently." He gestured at her tight, velvet bodice and voluminous skirts. "And your hair…"

Marina patted her intricate curls. "Takes a lot of time, you know. But the customers expect it."

"How's the new business, then?"

"Oh, excellent." Marina was managing the less legal aspects of Alex and Elizabeth's new hotel. "You should come by for a visit."

Jack shook his head vehemently. "Sorry, but I'll not be setting foot in a brothel again."

"Will would kill you?"

Jack laughed nervously. Wouldn't do to be seen as beholden to another. Not very piratey, was it?

"Don't lie to me, Jack. That's not it at all."

No, it wasn't.

"I'm teasing you, Jack. What you should do is thank me very politely, tell me that you've no need of my services, and say that if you ever run into anyone who is in need and is heading my way…"

"Aye, Marina. I'll do that."

Will leaned on the railing and watched the party. Kay leaned next to him.

"You look happy," she said.

"I am happy."

"I'm glad."

Will looked at her.

"I worried you might not be happy. Family on shore. Lover on the sea. Alphonse has given up the sea to be with Matthew. But Jack can't give it up."

Will smiled. "I worried about the same thing. But I'm going to sail with Jack as long as he needs to travel."

"That could be forever, you know."

Will nodded. "Forever and beyond."

---

Chapter 100A - The (Obligatory) Happy Ending Part I

Will Turner opened his eyes and let out a long, plaintive moan. He was tired everywhere, it seemed. He hurt in almost as many places, but that didn't overly bother him, as most of the hurts were of the pleasurable sort. When he stretched his arms up toward the ceiling, his muscles complained in a lazy, post-sex sort of fashion. Sated, like, but sore.

He stole a quick glance down at his limp member. He couldn't imagine it ever getting hard again, not after last night. Soft, a little shrivelled, close-to-sad-looking it was, lying on top of his dark, springy curls like a wounded soldier. A wrinkled, pink tube, no life left in him. Was he normally that pink? Or was that from the friction?

He lay back on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling of the Black Pearl, worn beams and planks and sea salt stains. Tessie had cleaned the cabin, over Jack's loud protests, before the wedding the month before. She'd cleaned the whole damn ship, whether the pirates wanted her to or not. If her son was going to be married on a ship, it would be a clean ship.

Will grinned. Tessie was so happy about Alphonse getting married. And it was such a beautiful wedding, so full of love and good wishes all around. The party really got going when Mr. Shimura taught Elsie's husband some new, or perhaps old, rhythms on his drum, and they two of them invented a wild, strange mixture of musical styles that made even Norrington dance.

The thought of Norrington dancing made Will think of Norrington doing other things, because Will had run across Gillette and Norrington the day after the wedding, and it made Will wonder why the two of them weren't more careful about where they did things like that.

But then, he and Jack had been ‘happened upon' many times themselves, including that time on the beach when Elizabeth showed up unexpectedly.

Elizabeth. How had Norrington and Elizabeth ever… Will shuddered. It couldn't have been comfortable for the poor girl. It was an utter shock to Will when he entered the clearing and saw the two of them, Gillette and Norrington, engaged, Will thought, in activities of a most personal nature. Carnal nature.

On his hands and knees, with Gillette kneeling behind him, Norrington had certainly made Will ponder all possible meanings of the phrase ‘hung like a horse'.

Will had heard people say things like that for years, comparing the size of men to various different animals, but ‘horse', perhaps, didn't do the man justice. Will still couldn't comprehend how an appendage of that nature ever fit inside Elizabeth. She was so small, and dainty, even, compared to that monster.

It was safer to think of Norrington at the wedding, dancing with Charlotte and laughing, until Anamaria interrupted the whole celebration by yelling out a terrific and most scandalous curse. Then all hell broke loose.

Really, it wasn't considerate to go into labour in the middle of a wedding reception. But babies aren't known for their social graces. A group of women swarmed over Anamaria and hustled her into Jack's cabin, ignoring Jack's waving of hands and vehement protests about the sanctity of his bed.

"Birth makes a lot of mess!" he'd shouted, with no one really listening.

Tessie finally shut him up with a brusque shove away from the cabin. "Oh, do be quiet about your precious bed, Jack. What sort of barbarians do you think we are? You think we'd lay a woman down on a *bed* to deliver a baby? My daughter's going to do this the proper way – squatting, with her sisters holding her up and the father there to catch the baby!"

Jack turned quite pale when confronted with this bit of information, and was greatly relieved to learn that Mr. Bertram had insisted on being the one to catch the baby, even if Jack was the actual father. The young pirate had been accepted as ‘the father' not only by Anamaria and Charlotte, but by all the women, since they considered him to be a much more appropriate husband for the two women.

"After all," Will had heard Darria telling one of the other women, "this one actually likes women that way!"

Will and Jack had spent the evening huddled under a blanket on deck, listening to the curses of Anamaria and the encouraging shouts of the women. Sometimes they sang, steady, rhythmic songs like the work songs Will had tried to learn from the men. And the things Anamaria shouted! The things she claimed she wanted to do to Jack for getting her into that state in the first place – they made Jack grip Will tightly and cringe, with one hand between his legs to protect the goods.

But, finally, at midnight, Tessie came out all smiles, a grandmother once more. Anamaria was fine, the baby was fine, everyone was tired. The women filed out into the moonlight, passing around a bottle of rum and laughing, except for Kay and Charlotte, who were caring for the new mother. Then Tessie got a funny look on her face and sat down heavily and said, "Ladies, the night is not over yet."

At that point, Will and Jack retreated to the other end of the ship. Bootstrap was summoned from below and Mr. Bertram came out of the cabin, as he was not welcome at Tessie's labour. He sat down next to Will, took a healthy swig from his bottle, and turned to look at Jack.

"If I didn't love that woman so much…"

The implication was clear; it would have been Jack in the cabin for the last seven hours.

"I owe you, mate," Jack said and clinked his bottle against Mr. Bertram's.

"A girl," the dazed pirate told his captain. "A perfect little girl."

Jack grinned. "Seraphina," he said.

"What?"

"Seraphina. The baby. I'd like it if she were named Seraphina."

"That's a lovely name," Will said.

"I don't think Anamaria will refuse. She hasn't thought of any names at all. Said she'd think about it tomorrow."

‘Well, it'll save her the trouble."

"Seraphina, it is." Mr. Bertram agreed.

Jack rolled his head to the side and regarded Mr. Bertram. "You really love her?"

The answer was an enthusiastic nod.

"But she doesn't let you… you know."

Mr. Bertram shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I don't need to… you know. Besides, I get all the ‘you know' I can handle from Charlotte. That woman is wild! You know all about that, don't you Will?"

Will bit his lip and tried to look innocent. "I don't know, actually. Not really. I'm not very, um, experienced with women."

Mr. Bertram laughed. "Forgot. Sorry." He stood up. "Well, I'm going below to get some rest. Not that there'll be much sleep on this ship with that racket going on."

And it was quite a racket. Tessie was hollering even louder than her daughter had. But it was actually over quickly enough, and two babies were crying together by the time Will nodded off. He woke when Bootstrap touched his shoulder and told him to come meet his new younger brother.

Will sighed. Younger brother. He was a strong little fellow, Albert was. Not as big as Seraphina, but tough. Albert would grow up surrounded by people who loved him, and with Will and Jack visiting him whenever they could. Will wondered if he would have a son or daughter of his own soon.

The first try with Elizabeth had not worked. That was a few days before the wedding. He still wondered why Jack had been so calm about the whole thing. He thought Jack would refuse when Elizabeth made the suggestion. "Now is the time, Jack. Hate to spring it on you, but we're only visiting for a week, and tonight would be ideal. I'll understand if you say no…" Elizabeth had said, so straightforward and unashamed, with Alex smiling nervously at her side.

But Jack had acquiesced right away. When Alex came up with the idea of using the side-by-side huts, Jack acted as if he'd thought of it already. And through the whole thing, Jack was calm and collected, as if he knew it was just a chore. He'd been a bit frantic when Will was sitting on his lap, kissing him and getting hard, but when Alex called for Will, Jack had simply taken Will's hand in his and said, "S'okay, Will. Just get over there and fuck her good. I'll be waiting for you."

Later, he admitted there had been some sort of a dream, when Jack had thought he was dead, that there would be a child. That Alex and Jack would be outside listening. That Jack would pull Will off the path on the way to the baths and swallow his cock and suck until Will moaned and purred and cried out Jack's name loud enough for everyone to hear. Which he did.

Twice.

He hadn't been so calm when they stopped in Nassau Port found out Elizabeth was not, in fact, with child. Jack had become quite agitated, saying that Elizabeth had to have Will's child, or the whole thing wouldn't come true. He'd convinced Anamaria and Charlotte to call the baby Seraphina, and so Elizabeth *had* to give birth to Stephan.

It made no sense to Will, but you can't reason with a pirate when he decides to be superstitious. Alex calmed him by telling him to take Elizabeth out to the Black Pearl that very night.

That was how Will knew it must have been a tight fit for Norrington, because he'd been inside Elizabeth not once but twice, once before and once after seeing Norrington in the clearing with Gillette. He knew that on both occasions, Elizabeth had been a pleasantly snug fit. Nowhere near as tight as Jack's arse, but not big enough to fit that… thing.

He wondered if Norrington ever fucked Gillette. He felt himself grow hot in the face. It would have to hurt, at least at first. He looked down at Jack's cock. It was as soft and spent as his right now, but it was a decent size when it was hard, and at first he'd never thought it possible that it wouldn't hurt, and it had turned out that it didn't hurt, as long as Jack was careful. And even sometimes when he wasn't. It all depended on the preparation, doesn't it?

Like the second time he fucked Elizabeth. Jack was so careful about the preparation.

Will felt the impossible happen. His seemingly spent cock twitched when he thought about Elizabeth, right there, on the very same bed, just four nights ago.

And Jack.

Jack in the bed. When Elizabeth was in the bed. What a memory.

This time, Jack didn't wait outside while Elizabeth hissed images of Jack into Will's ear. Jack insisted on being present. He promised on his honour to not put his cock in Elizabeth, and she agreed, and he was there the whole time.

Saying things. Doing things. Saying things and then doing them.

Will closed his eyes. Inside Elizabeth. With Jack inside him. It was impossible to think of it without getting hard, no matter how tired he was. Elizabeth had waited outside, patiently, while Jack whispered naughty things in Will's ear, got down on his knees and sucked Will - oh, but Jack was good at that - and then guided him to the bed. Then Jack let Elizabeth in, asked her to stand in front of Will, and slowly, teasingly, taken off her clothes, while Will watched.

Will felt himself burn with envy when he saw Jack's dark hands caressing Elizabeth's pale skin like that. He made her shiver. He licked her neck sweetly. He sucked a nipple into his mouth until she made a little cooing sound. But he didn't kiss actually her anywhere. He'd already told Will he wouldn't kiss her.

Will didn't know why Elizabeth allowed it – he'd been under the impression she couldn't stand Jack. But she swayed a little when Jack's hand swept over her breasts, and down to her hips, and as his fingers dipped between her legs. Will knew exactly how Jack's fingers felt, how they seemed to know their own way around skin and bones and flesh, how they were impossibly soft and then demandingly hard and then they touched in just the right spot.

Painfully hard and jealous beyond compare, Will wondered if this was some sort of punishment for agreeing to sleep with the woman in the first place. But Jack's smile wasn't malicious, or even teasing. He pushed Elizabeth down on the bed, crossways, and pulled Will down so he knelt on the floor between her legs, and stroked Will's hair gently.

"Go on, mate" Jack whispered. "Lick her." Elizabeth shuddered, Will leaned forward, and Jack caressed his back lovingly. "That's it, make her moan. You want her nice and ready for your cock, don't you?"

It was immoral, Will thought at the time. It was most obscene. It was just plain wrong.

It was supposed to be Elizabeth talking about Jack fucking Will, not Jack talking about Will fucking Elizabeth!

But his cock throbbed and his mouth worked on Elizabeth diligently, while Jack's fingers crept between his legs, oiled and slippery, to stroke over the ridged of skin around his entrance, and Will moaned against Elizabeth, which made her moan even more. He rubbed her with his fingers, and licked and sucked exactly as Jack told him to do, hot breathy whispers in his ear as Jack's fingers pushed up inside.

When Jack decided it was time - and Jack was making all the decisions - he shifted Elizabeth up on the bed and coaxed her legs apart and guided Will between them as if it were something he did everyday. Will found it so much easier with Jack there. He didn't have to consciously think of Jack, so it was easy to be hard. He didn't have to think of what to do, because Jack was directing him so thoroughly. All he had to do was enjoy the feeling of hot, wet, tightness around his cock, and hot, slick hardness sliding into his arsehole.

Jack bit Will's shoulder when he pushed all the way in, and whispered, "God, Elizabeth, I'm sure he's tighter than you," which made Will push into Elizabeth, and Elizabeth spread her legs a little more. She slid her hands around Will's arse, so Jack's hipbones bumped against the backs of her hands. Will concentrated on not falling on Elizabeth. He was sure she wouldn't appreciate his weight and Jack's on top of her at once.

Then he realised Jack was pushing them, rearranging them. Making things better. He allowed himself to be shifted and prodded until his knees were on either side of Elizabeth's legs, which were pressed together, which made her unbearably tight around his cock. The next thing he realized was that when he pulled back, or rather, when Jack pulled him back, the full length of his cock rubbed against that sensitive little bump-like-a-prick Bootstrap had spent so much time telling him about, and that when Jack pushed into him, he pushed into Elizabeth, and the length of him scraped across it again. Elizabeth, he realized, was moaning non-stop, and Jack was fucking him in earnest and he was going to spend very soon if Jack didn't slow down.

But then, Jack didn't want to make things last long, did he?

Elizabeth began to quake under him. Jack must have really got her ready when he'd been touching her all over. Jealousy flashed in Will, when he thought of Jack's hands pushing Elizabeth's thighs apart, and how his fingers were all shiny when he pulled them away, and how she canted her hips to follow them when he pulled them away. But Will remembered that he was the one Jack was fucking, the only one Jack was fucking, even if Elizabeth was getting the benefit from Jack's pumping cock through Will's cock.

Her thighs went stiff and she started to squeeze around him rhythmically, Jack grunted and pushed hard as he peaked, and Will was shocked it was all happening so fast. But then, he was concentrating so hard on not crushing Elizabeth; his orgasm was almost mindless thing. He was still hard, though, even after spending inside her, because Jack was still inside him, thrusting shallowly but steadily, growing again instantly, and moaning in his ear.

"Let's make sure, this time," Jack said roughly. He gripped Will's hips and pulled him out of Elizabeth, while somehow remaining inside Will.

Will whimpered sound as he was unbent, made upright, made giddy with pleasure at the angle that put Jack's cock inside him.

"Roll over, that's a good girl."

Elizabeth obeyed, rolled over, and Will looked down at her arse and it was so very different from a man's arse, wasn't it?

"Up on your knees, now. But keep your shoulders on the mattress."

Will felt Jack's cock twitch a little inside when Elizabeth slowly pushed her arse up in the air. That was different, Will thought, looking down at her, dazed.

Jack grabbed Will's semi-soft cock and rubbed the head against Elizabeth's slick lips. With her arse pushed up like that, they protruded. They were shiny and slipped across his cockhead. Will didn't think he could fuck her again so soon, but Jack stroked him gently, and cupped his balls and rolled them in his palm. "Looks like a flower, doesn't she? All dark pink petals like that. Lovely cunt, you've got, ‘Liz. Charming little arse, too." Jack ran his thumb over Elizabeth's arsehole and she jumped. "Don't worry, lass, there's only one arse being breached tonight," and Jack thrust his hips up a little, prodding inside Will.

The dirty talk about Elizabeth had made Will hard enough even without the fucking, but now Will gasped to see her cunt part around his cock when Jack fed it inside.

"Pretty sight, isn't it?" Jack chuckled in his ear, and bent him at the waist.

Will hovered over Elizabeth, afraid to crush her. He whimpered when Jack pulled his cock out. So sensitive. He felt a trickle of seed drip down to his bollocks.

"Hold onto his wrists, ‘Liz. This is going to get a bit bumpy, but it'll give you a better chance of a baby… I promise."

Will wasn't entirely sure what Jack was talking about. Evidently, he was going to make sure Will spent in Elizabeth a second time, which made some degree of sense. Maybe he would make Elizabeth peak a second time as well, since the women seemed to think that improved the chance of making a baby, even if Bootstrap disagreed on that point.

Elizabeth's hands clasped his wrists, and Jack's tongue snaked down his sweaty back.

Oh, no, Jack couldn't be thinking of that. That would be too much. He would make noises and she would hear them. He couldn't do that, not with Elizabeth there. But Jack's tongue was past his back and at his waist and creeping down the crevice of his arse and Will shuddered, not wanting to loose all control. Elizabeth tightened the grip on his wrists. Jack smiled against his arse; he could feel it clearly.

He saw Elizabeth look over her shoulder, to see what was making him squirm so.

Jack scooted down and licked the trickle of his own seed.

"Oh, no," Will choked.

"Oh, yes," Elizabeth said enthusiastically. "Do it, Jack. Lick him! Make him moan."

Will moaned, even before he was licked. He gritted his teeth and plunged deep into Elizabeth at the first touch of Jack's tongue to his arsehole. There was no prelude, no teasing, no gentle escalation. Jack was fucking him with his tongue and Will was as far into Elizabeth as he could go, and Elizabeth was saying the nastiest things imaginable, about how Jack should lick Will clean, and how good it felt to have Will's cock so far in her.

Will purred. Then he growled, loud enough, he was sure, for all of Nassau Port to hear. Jack did not let up for a second. He speared his tongue and shoved it in and out relentlessly. He'd never done that right after fucking Will before, and the full implications of it made Will ache to spend anew. Which was the whole point, after all.

He felt Jack's reach around him, fingers brushing around the base of his cock, and then Elizabeth got tighter around his cock. What the hell?

"Jesus!" Elizabeth wailed, "you're as good as your sister!"

Jack made a slurping sound in Will's arse and started to move his hand steadily. Will groaned because he could have sworn Jack was sucking now. Elizabeth ground back into Will's groin and cried out louder than Will was groaning.

Will wanted Jack to keep licking his arse forever, he wanted the whole thing to go on forever, but his hips started bucking uncontrollably. Jack cursed and bounded up, over Will's back, to slide his cock inside again.

For a full six minutes, Will and Jack managed to fuck in perfect harmony with Will and Elizabeth's fucking. Jack kept his hand on Elizabeth, and she was squeezing and gripping Will without a pause now, digging her fingers into his wrists and wailing into the pillow. Will felt his orgasm from deep inside. He took Jack along with him, and he wasn't surprised when Jack fell on him, so he was able, miraculously, to support Jack's weight and keep from crushing the woman.

But he was surprised when Jack kissed his shoulder and said, in the tenderest of tones, "Ah, fuck, I love you so much, Will."

Elizabeth tried to wiggle out from under them, to leave them alone, but Jack insisted she stay. "Don't get up, you don't want that seed falling out of you." And she'd curled up on the bed in front of Will, and Will fallen asleep with her body pressed against his front and Jack plastered against his back, cock still inside