Ocean Soul

Part 10 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

January 18, 2008

Ten

            “What are we doing?” Will asked AnaMaria. He leaned over the quarter rail to look at the Island they slowly circled.

            The dark-skinned woman glanced at him briefly to check that he was well and safe after the night spent with Jack. She had been on deck off and on for most of the night and heard a number of things left open to wide interpretation, but dawn’s light found a strange sort of peace lingering over both men.

            “Cap’n’s lookin’ for a well-‘idden cove. Yeh can’t see it from out ‘ere, but we’ll be able t’ see when th’ Pearl shows up.”

            Will nodded absently. His brow furrowed in concentration, perking the female pirate’s curiosity.

            “Now wha’ are yeh thinkin’?”

            His serious look immediately disappeared as he turned to face her. A faint smile crossed his lips. “Nothing important.” She cast him a doubtful look, but he only glanced away, again studying the island. AnaMaria sighed to herself and continued about her work. Suddenly, Will spoke again. “Do you know how the curse is broken?”

            She looked up, startled, and found the considering look back on his face. “Eh? I’m ‘fraid tha’s somethin’ I don’ know much abou’.”

            “Right... Thanks.”

            Will pulled back and searched the deck. AnaMaria followed his gaze and realized he had been looking for Gibbs. Will bid an absent farewell before heading towards the old sailor. With a frown AnaMaria focused back on her work, wondering what troubled the lad when he seemed to finally have lost the worst of his tension concerning all else.

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            Jack strode across the deck of the Interceptor shouting orders in all directions to the crew. He sent a group to shore to venture into the interior of the island in search of good positions to watch for the Pearl.

            Mentally he calculated how long they could stay put with the supplies they had; he was comfortable saying that a full month of food could last them here, and they would be able to make it back to a port to resupply within a week’s travel. He stood still to observe the setup and in those few moments, AnaMaria walked pass on her way towards the boat that would take her ashore. She swung her pack up over her shoulder, narrowly missing Jack’s face. He glared at the woman, and she met him with a stern stare of her own.

            Before she moved on, she growled, “I ge’ back and ‘e’s hurt... I’ll make sure yeh ge’ left behind an’ at Barbossa’s mercy.”

            Jack cast her a heavy frown as she walked away. No trust! he huffed silently.

            After another check around, he felt satisfied that things had been set up the best they could for the time being. He finally allowed himself to relax and headed towards his cabin for a little meeting with a bottle of rum. Despite the lack of tension, his nerves buzzed eagerly with the thought of the face-off against his mutinous former crew.

            In his distraction, he almost walked into Will, who stood in front of the door to his cabin. “Wha’ is it?” he wondered aloud, eyeing the boy with a slight frown. He had been looking forward to some time alone to ponder over recent events, some of which concerned the man before him.

            “I want to know the details of lifting the curse,” Will told him bluntly.

            Jack eyed the serious expression and nodded uneasily. It appeared that whatever Will suspicions had didn’t favor the captain’s lack of detail when he had explained the situation earlier on their voyage.

            “Right. C’mon in then.”

            Will sat on the window bench. Jack let out a long sigh while he opened a locked cupboard for his precious bottle of rum. The former blacksmith waited patiently as Jack pried free the cork and took his first swig from the bottle. “Ahh, I’ve been waitin’ for tha’.”

            From within his shirt, Jack produced the golden, Aztec medallion and tossed it to Will. The younger man caught it easily and studied the pendant as if seeing it for the first time. “I admi’ it, mate. I wasn’t quite on the level with you ‘fore.” Jack settled himself across from Will, one leg drawn up on the bench. “All the coins ‘ave to get back in the box, savvy? ‘N in addition,” he caught Will’s eyes to ensure his words sunk in, “thar’s go’ to be some form of blood repayment.”

            Jack was surprised that the chocolate-colored eyes didn’t widen in shock or narrow in anger at having been deceived; on the contrary, some of the tension seemed to ease from Will’s face as he inquired, “Do you know the details?”

            “Eh...” Still feeling slightly put off, Jack took another swig – two for good measure – from his beloved bottle. “Ahem. A bi’ of blood, I imagine. Barbossa’s likely to ‘ave had the crew already pay theirs.” He eyed Will uneasily, “Bootstrap’s...”

            “Wasn’t paid. Right.” Will nodded, taking it all in stride. Jack took another drink for his confusion. “So my blood is needed, correct?”

            Jack stared at him, just short of gaping. “Why’re you takin’ this so calm like?”

            A strange sort of half-smirk crossed Will’s lips and his eyes glittered teasingly. “I just asked Gibbs about the truth. You’d think he was part of your old crew with all his stories. I just needed to know if you’d be honest with me.” He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. “A little more blood isn’t much to lose, and I suppose it’s part of my due for coming aboard.”

            Now Jack really gaped at him. Will eyed him uneasily. Automatically, the captain stuck the bottle of rum back between his lips and didn’t stop swallowing until less than a half of the rum remained.

            After Jack made a short show of clearing his throat, their eyes met again and Will tentatively inquired, “Are you alright?”

            Jack shook his head in amazement and grinned. “Damn, boy. Yer full of surprises.”

            Will ran his fingers through his hair self-consciously and averted his gaze. The fingers of his free hand turned over the gold medallion and the men’s focus returned to the object. Will looked up at Jack and tossed the necklace back to him.

            “Keep it until it’s to be gotten rid of.”

            Jack caught the item and slipped it back into his shirt. When he looked up, he saw a slightly pained look on his companion’s face. Glancing down in the direction Will’s gaze had been cast, he realized that the lad’s eyes focused on his ringed fingers. The reason escaped him momentarily until he remembered that the first day he had taken away the items the lad brought on board.

            With a sinking sense of guilt, Jack loosened the two rings from his finger and offered them to Will. The young man looked up in surprise, eyebrows drawn high. His hand opened beneath the proffered items and Jack let the rings return to their rightful owner.

            “Sorry, luv,” he quirked a smile. “A bad ‘abit of mine.” He watched as Will carefully studied the two rings. “Judgin’ from yer situation back at port, I don’ think those be yers.”

            Will glanced at him and shrugged mildly. “I think they were my father’s,” he said softly. “My mother had them on the chain with the medallion; I got them when she slipped the chain about my neck just before our ship was attacked.” He looked out the window, a crease forming on his brow. “I think it was the Black Pearl.”

            “Yer lucky they didn’t get you,” Jack muttered.

            Will caught his eye, expression serious. “Maybe not me.”

            Jack kept quiet, knowing the lad’s meaning. Will seemed to brush off the memory and returned to studying the rings.

            “It’s a wedding band, isn’t it?” he more stated than asked as he held one of the rings to the light. “My mother really loved my father, but I guess he didn’t love her.” He reached back to undo the clasp to the necklace he wore beneath his shirt and slipped the rings on the chain. They slid down to rest beside the locket. He refastened the clasp and sighed, an obvious tension exhaled.

            “What is love, really?” Will wondered aloud, no bitterness in his voice, only pure, unadulterated inquiry. He looked at Jack plainly, neither insisting nor pleading.

            Taken aback by the question, Jack considered taking another swig from the bottle of rum at his side. He didn’t know what to do with a talkative Will Turner.

            “I don’ think I be the best to ask, mate. Pirate ‘eart for the ocean ‘n all.”

            Will nodded absently. “But you would know it if you felt it, right?”

            Wondering just where this would head, Jack eyed him as he answered slowly, “Aye...”

            “That’s the difference. I wouldn’t. I don’t.” Jack saw something flicker in the brown eyes, something that looked like another question that he didn’t feel should be asked.

            “Wha’ is it?” he prodded gently, strangely anxious to know.

            Will smiled and closed his eyes. He shook his head minutely. “Nothing. My mind’s wandering today.”

            For a long time they sat in companionable silence. The sound of crewmembers above them and outside on the main deck was muffled. The sun filtered in through the large windows. The sun’s angle of light mercifully didn’t cast its direct light through the window where they sat, saving them from scorching heat. Occasionally Jack took a drink from the bottle still in hand, out of instinct more than want.

            The pirate captain felt perfectly content lounging there, studying Will’s profiled face as the lad leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The sun played over the planes of his face, bringing out the beauty Jack had noted early on. Only now the beauty somehow seemed intensified... No, not from the Caribbean sun – the beauty had grown because he knew some of what lay behind the “pretty” face that had gained unwanted attention and caused so much pain. He realized, with a brief skip in his breathing, that the beauty belonged to a survivor, an adventurer or warrior.

            Did the lad understand that? Somehow he doubted that very much. Jack’s fingers flexed involuntarily, and he found himself leaning forward slowly, silently. He startled, as did Will, when his hand rested upon the younger man’s knee.

            Will stared at him with open surprise. Jack lost himself in the rich brown gaze, seeking any of that fear he had seen the night before – sadness or even bitterness –  but the emotions seemed to have been freed from their hidden corners; the emotion Will now offered to him pure. He felt his lips twitch towards a smile and he outright grinned when Will’s expression changed to that of someone who was staring at a madman. Jack laughed aloud as he slapped the other’s knee merrily and then sat back.

            Shaking his head slowly in exasperation, Will waited for Jack to settle down. “What was that about?” he inquired when the pirate seemed capable of responding.

            Still grinning, Jack said, “I ‘aven’t the foggiest.”

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            As Will settled himself for sleep, he found that he felt strangely empty and chill laying alone in the bed he had occupied during most of his stay on the stolen – er, commandeered, as Jack said – ship. He turned from his right side to his back, and then to his stomach, and then through the process again. Frustrated, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the dark ceiling.

            After how many years of sleeping alone, now he couldn’t seem to manage? His breath left his lips in a huff. His mind went back to mulling things over; things like Jack’s expression when he found out Will had been testing him, or the feel of lips on his arm. He shivered a little at the memory, not out of any sort of fear, but because although it felt surreal, it had warmed him within to have such attention paid to injuries no one but he had known about.

            The sadness threatened to encompass him again but he drove it off, remembering Jack’s wild laughter earlier that day and the body heat that had been so comforting last night despite the heat and humidity Mother Nature had already been providing.

            What is this? he wondered. What does it really mean to trust someone and reveal inner secrets that no one is supposed to hear? For an instant, his guard dropped and he froze at the memory of hands clawing at his hips and the breeze of cool air on his skin. He drove the memory away in a hurry, jaw tightening. No, that time had ended. Never again. He stroked the inside of his left arm, remembering the scars and how Jack had seemed to purify them with his touch.

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            “How long are we going to wait here?” Will asked a few days after his sleepless night. Currently he made himself comfortable, spreading out in a lounging position in the shadow of the forecastle deck. Jack sat on a crate nearby, surveying the crew on duty.

            “We can sit ‘til a month’s time.”

            Will cocked an eyebrow in skepticism. “And you think your crew will hold out for that long?”

            Jack glared at him, a playful hint in his eye. “Tha’s mutinous talk, mate.”

            “That’s just what I meant.”

            The pirate frowned. “Wha’, you doubt me good looks ‘n enamorin’ charm?”

            Will laughed, closing his eyes against whatever reaction Jack provided. As the days passed, he had found himself more and more often in the company of the captain and with next to nothing to do unless he asked to help someone stand watch. Jack had nullified the requirement that Will act as cabin boy, and Will really didn’t know what to do with himself when not practicing sword-fighting, having never had complete freedom from any sort of chore before.

            Through his time spent with Jack, he found himself warming up to the pirate more than he had ever expected. A smile frequented his lips and laughter escaped him, musical even to his ears because of its rarity. His uneasiness diminished greatly along with his fears and melancholic memories after the night of revelation. He longed to again engage in the gentle touches Jack had offered that night, but he felt too nervous to try to initiate something himself. He made himself content to wait. Verbal banter, after all, turned out to be rather enjoyable in and of itself.

            “I take tha’ as a deadly cut, Mr. Turner,” Jack growled.

            Will opened his eyes and looked innocently at the captain; he had found that the expression usually weakened the pirate to the point of averting his eyes and taking a long swig of rum if any was in the vicinity. Not having the option this time, Jack frowned, which more resembled a pout, and stood up. He didn’t like to admit defeat, and so instead acted as if he had caught something amiss and had to see to it.

            The former blacksmith watched him go with a small sense of loss, but he knew that Jack would return soon. With that reassurance, he leaned back again and closed his eyes, hoping for a short nap to pass the time.

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TBC

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