Ocean Soul

Part 5 of 18

By Clarity Scifiroots

Standard disclaimers apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn’t quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

Rating: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

Pairing: Jack/Will

Summary: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the Interceptor to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

Warnings: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

Edited January 16, 2008

Five

            “Tha’ arm’s givin’ yeh a bad time.”

            Will looked up at AnaMaria standing over him and said nothing. He knew he couldn’t deny it, not when his right hand cradled the area just under the bandage of the opposite shoulder. She had her back to the sun, and he wished he could see her expression.

            “Take a break, lad. I’ll give yeh a peek of where we be weighin’ anchor t’nigh’.”

            The blacksmith looked at the bucket of soapy water in front of him, prepared to protest for fear he might get in trouble. AnaMaria solved the dilemma with a swift kick – soapy water went flying and the empty bucket rolled along the deck.

            “Now c’mon.”

            Resisting the urge to smile, Will followed the woman, keeping his head down to avoid meeting the gazes of any of the other pirates. So far he could only meet the stares of AnaMaria, Gibbs, and Cotton – the mute with the weird parrot. While he’d not had the problem of keeping the pirate captain’s stare during their first meeting, after the events of their “proper” introduction he couldn’t bear to meet those eyes for more than a few seconds.

            “Take a look.”

            Will caught the spyglass thrown to him automatically. AnaMaria watched him with a look of amusement; he ignored her as he raised the spyglass to look through it.

            “’Tis a half-decen’ place. We’ll be addin’ t’ supplies an’ seek ou’ news of the Pearl.”

            Will started and took the telescope away from his eye. “The Black Pearl?” he asked, astonished.

            “Aye. Yeh ‘aven’t ‘eard the crew mumblin’ abou’ it?” Will shook his head, still a little stunned. “Ah, well, ‘tis a tale better told by th’ cap’n or Mister Gibbs.” She looked behind him, her brow creasing in annoyance at whatever she spotted.

            Will turned and froze when he saw Jack standing at the top of the stairs leading to the forecastle deck where they stood.

            “Chores finished so quick, luvs?” the captain inquired as he swaggered towards the pair.

            “Oh, leave ‘im be,” AnaMaria scowled.

            “Don’ be scoldin’ me, luv. Yer the ones slackin’ off. Get goin’. No, you wait, whelp.”

            AnaMaria glared at Sparrow one last time before marching off. Will watched her go, wishing it would distract him from the anger and disgust that came along with the nickname.

            “Well, I ‘ave the feelin’ that if she’d just leave you alone I’d ‘ave meself a ‘ard-wokin’ cabin boy.” Jack plucked the spyglass from Will’s hands and used it to study the shoreline. “I’m ‘fraid you’ll be stayin’ aboard whilst the crew ge’s time ashore. Trus’ ‘n loyalty issues, that.” The captain closed the telescope with a click and gave a charming, white-and-gold smile. “Bu’, as long as you finish yer work for the day, I’ll le’ you ‘ave the time free of duties, savvy?”

            Will stayed silent with his continued indecision of what to think of the pirate captain. When Jack raised a brow in obvious question, he nodded shortly to acknowledge that he had heard.

            “Then wha’ ye waitin’ for? Back to work!”

            As Will turned away, a firm hand slapped his rump. Startled, he quickly whirled around, too late to catch whatever expression had passed through the pirate’s gaze.

            Suspicious, he kept part of his attention on Jack as he resumed his work.

-----

            “Hey, boy!”

            Will opened his eyes and sat up in bed, turning his gaze to his door. “Aye?” he asked tentatively, wondering what he was wanted for. As far as he knew, only two look-outs, the captain, and himself remained on board as the rest of the crew went ashore.

            The door creaked open and the dwarf stepped through. “Capt’n wants y’.”

            Frowning, Will slipped his legs over the edge of the bed. Once they reached the main deck, the small man jerked a thumb towards the cabin under the quarter deck and walked off.

            Why in the world would Sparrow call for him? Well, he supposed with nothing better for him to do and perhaps the right sort of prompting he could get the tale AnaMaria had hinted at earlier.

            “Com’min, com’min!” came the slurred response to Will’s rapping at the door. A slight frown still creasing his brow, he entered the captain’s cabin and slowly shut the door as he took stock of the situation.

            Jack reclined on the cushioned window bench with a bottle of rum in his left hand. His arm swung lazily back and forth beside him, provoking the sound of liquid sloshing against its glass cage. His right hand rested on his stomach when not engaged in erratic, occasional bursts of motion where he muttered something to himself and not needed for some grand gesticulation.

            Will stood just inside the door, staring blankly at the obviously drunk pirate, not sure what he was doing there in the first place. He waited a few moments more during which Jack readjusted his hat with his right hand while bringing up the bottle of rum with the other. Hand still at his hat and bottle dropping back to his side, the captain seemed to notice Will’s presence for the first time.

            “Thar ya be! All ya Turners keep me wai’in’ furever.” He made some indistinct noise that Will didn’t think was really supposed to be a word. “Fer Chris’sake, don’ jus’ stan’ thar, boy! Co’mere.”

            Cautiously Will took a seat on the opposite side of the bench so that he could face the pirate captain.

            “Why did you call for me?” he asked.

            That question sparked a long session of Jack attempting to put Will into focus by scrunching one eye shut and opening the other wide, but no matter the adjustments he made, apparently the details wouldn’t clear.

            “I called ya, dinn’i...” He stroked his braided beard thoughtfully with that realization. “Now why I go ‘n do a thin’ li’e tha’...?”

            Will sighed in frustration. He didn’t particularly care for drunk company, but he found himself unable to be completely frustrated. In fact, he realized the muscles around his lips were trying to twitch up into a smile. Rather scandalized by that realization, he worked harder on controlling his expression and forced a frown on his face, considering the implications while Jack puzzled over his summons.

            “Arg, ‘oo cares!” Jack exclaimed, clearly giving up the headache-provoking thought process. “Why ya frownin’ boy? Gawd, Bill nev’r look’d so severe. Ta’e a drink!”

            As Will clumsily accepted the bottle passed to him, he peered curiously at the pirate, wondering if the man he had just been compared to was really—

            He swallowed a large mouthful of rum and coughed harshly in reaction, then asked, “Did you know my father?”

            Jack wriggled his fingers for the bottle and took a long swallow. Will’s eyes narrowed, suddenly aware that the man would ignore the question. “Nothin’ li’e a good bottle o’ rum, eh, whelp?”

            “Don’t call me that,” Will whispered harshly, averting his eyes in a mix of anger and fear.

            Jack readjusted his hat and cleared his throat. “I’ really bugs ya, eh?” Will didn’t answer. “I cahn’ very well stop callin’ ya tha’ wit’ou’ good reason. Care t’ share?”

            Will didn’t meet the captain’s gaze. He pulled his knees to his chest and curled in on himself. The memories plagued him no matter how hard he tried to block them. Haltingly, voice laced with bitterness, he started to reveal the burdens of his past, if only to be free of the unbearable silence.

            “The people I left... I don’t think I could hate anyone more. I did my uncle’s work. He took me in after the Governor’s ship brought me to port.” He barely noticed Jack fingering the dagger on his belt with a visible spark of understanding and new appreciation. “They hated me. I rarely ate. There were always orders to fill.” He ran his fingers through his hair, only peripherally aware that he was trembling.

            “Nothing was good enough. He was always drunk.” Instinctively his hand hovered over the bandages hidden by his shirt sleeve. “No one cared. He’d shout and I was loud.” His vision swam and he fought back the burn behind his eyes. “No one came,” Will exhaled, his voice quaking. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment.

            “An’ he called you whelp?” In his current state, Will didn’t register the fact that Sparrow sounded normal, although even then he seemed a little tipsy.

            Will shook his head self-deprecatingly, quietly laughing. “Aye... like a dog.”

            A long pause ensued during which neither man moved but were conscious of the bitterness in the air.

            Suddenly Will opened his eyes and met the darker gaze. The younger man’s fiery eyes glistened with tears that would not fall. “He wanted to whore me! They said I was – ” his lip curled in disgust and spat the next word out like a bite of rotten meat –  “pretty.”

            His gaze dropped, but his muscles remained tensed. He shuddered at the knot of hatred and anger burning in his gut. He dragged roughly bitten nails over his face, leaving little streaks of red and white in their wake.

            “I hate it,” he whispered brokenly. “I want to be ugly. I did’t want them to look! Don’t look at me...” His words broke into a gasp, and the tears in his eyes refused to fall. Too many tears had been shed and while so many more needed to escape, Will was unable to unlock the barriers to let him break down that far.

-----

            Two days after the Interceptor set sail with new supplies, Gibbs regaled Will with the tale of the Black Pearl, including the details of why they were chasing her.

            “…an’ ever since ee’s been after ‘is mutinous crew. That one shot goes ta Barbossa.”

            Will paused momentarily in mending one of Jack’s boots to squint up at Gibbs. The older pirate worked at a section of rigging.

            “So to break the curse they need to collect all the Aztec gold? Do we know how many more pieces they have to find?”

            Gibbs eyed him warily, taking a break from his work. Looking around, he gave a heavy sigh and then took a seat beside the young man. His gaze turned serious, and he lowered his voice. “They may be missin’ only a single piece, lad.” Will cast him a confused gaze. “An’ we ‘ave it right on board.”

            Eyes rounded in surprise, he asked breathlessly, “Where? How?”

            Gibbs snuck a peek towards the captain’s cabins where Jack had been locked away since leaving port. “I ain’t s’pose ta mention this, ye understand? Ye had something in yer possession, a gold medallion, aye?” Realization dawned; Will opened his mouth to argue, but Gibbs stopped him. “That’s it, lad.”

            “But my father sent it to me! Why would it be part of the curse?”

            Gibbs studied him seriously, a frown drawing his lips downward. Carefully, he said, “Yer father was part a’ the Pearl’s crew.”

            It took a while for the words to sink in. When they did, Will shook his head vehemently. “No! My father wasn’t a pirate, I would have known!”

            “Would ye? I know yer mother came from a respectable family – would they want it to be known?” Will shook his head, still in disbelief. “Well, I told ye, at least. T’was comin’ sooner or later, lad.” He stood up and nodded towards Jack’s quarters. “If ye want details, ee’s the one who knew Bootstrap best.”

            Will repeated the nickname under his breath. Still shocked, he numbly went back to his work though the words kept him otherwise engaged.

-----

            Gibbs fidgeted with the rigging even after he’d finished the repairs and took short glances at the boy from time to time, worrying over the effect the recent revelation would have on the lad. It seemed something else bothered both captain and cabin boy since the night at port, but there were no hints as to what exactly had happened.

            Hearing a cabin door creak open, Gibbs turned his gaze towards the captain who had just made his appearance. Jack, hands on hips, searched the sky with a critical eye. Gibbs looked as well, knowing that his friend had a knack of sensing certain things before anyone else. A storm coming, likely; preparations would have to be made.

            He reached into his shirt to pull out his beloved pouch of rum and swallowed a good mouthful before stuffing it back next to his skin. Mother Nature’s storm and then to Isla de Muerta to wait for the Pearl to come in and drop off the newest collection of treasure. He shuddered. Mother Nature would be a far easier foe to face than the crew of the damned.

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TBC...

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