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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: NC-17. Some BD.
Pairing: Jack/Will/James. Ref. to Will/Elizabeth.
Feedback: Fave lines, errors I've made, where your mind snapped, etc.
Disclaimer: Not mine, for some odd reason.
Notes: José Gaspar info here, courtesy of monkeypuzzle; damn the historical truth, he's Banderas, all right? Port Antonio courtesy of copper_rose, because I had to use it. Rutters are logbooks completely devoted to navigation. Not intended to be historically accurate.
Summary: In which a few outstanding threads are resolved with much explosions.
***
It was certainly a pleasant morning, full of fresh wind above and playful dolphins below. Rolling his shoulders, still a bit strained from the morning's sword practice, Will leaned over the Pearl's rail and let the breeze sprinkle him with ocean. Footsteps padded up behind him, but he didn't bother tensing up. After three months aboard, he and the crew had settled into an easy relationship, which was now mostly not based on his father's reputation. A few battles against Spanish galleons, and he'd shown them ample proof of his abilities. "How's matters, Anamaria?"
"Fine, fine. We'll be set for th'parley this noon." A brown hand appeared on the railing beside Will's own, and another swept through his peripheral vision as Anamaria shaded her eyes. "I'm reckonin' another hour till Port 'tonio."
"If Jack doesn't decide on a detour," Will muttered in a wry voice, unconsciously glancing up at the wheel and its listing captain. He frowned. "Am I seeing things, or is he swaying more than usual?"
Anamaria rocked around on one heel to squint at Jack. She snorted, then clapped Will on the shoulder. "Beli've y'd know best 'bout that, Turner."
With that sly comment, she strode off to holler up at the sailors toiling in the sails. Fortunate timing, because Will was furiously scrubbing at his cheeks, trying to hide the blush warming them. Perhaps the pirates had little-to-no qualms about his nighttime relationship to Jack, but he was still having difficulties with…well, to be honest, with the sheer ease of it. Winning Elizabeth's hand had taken undead pirates, commandeered ships and much sword-swinging, but as far as he could remember, Will hadn't done a single thing to attract Jack's affections. Except save the pirate's hide several times, but those just balanced the times in the beginning when Will had double-crossed Jack.
In point of fact, it should probably worry Will more that he was much more concerned over the why of Jack than over the mere presence of him. If society looked down on a blacksmith marrying up to a Governor's daughter, then it would hang a blacksmith who consorted with a male, no matter which side of the law they stood on.
James. Yet another knotty dilemma. Will couldn't quite comprehend that man's decision to risk rank and all for quiet kisses behind locked doors. But to be honest, when Will truly thought about it, he didn't want to care. He simply wanted to enjoy whatever moments of happiness that came his way. Because now he knew that no fairy tale ending was ever guaranteed. Life went past the wedding finales of his childhood stories, and so did death.
"Well, Elizabeth. It's been interesting since I last spoke to you." Blinking salt out of his eyes, Will looked down at the ring he still wore, twisting its gold around his finger. The light winked merrily off it, and if he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the sunshine bouncing up past his cheek to strike the small jewel that studded one earlobe. "Yes, Jack finally talked me into getting one. I'm still not sure about the tattoos, though. Gibbs says that piercings can still close over, but there's no getting rid of a tattoo. Short of a hot knife. And I don't know how far this will go."
He opened his mouth to add something else-maybe a bit about James, whom Will missed with a surprising intensity-but Jack was calling. The Pearl needed her first mate, and so Will made a small farewell with his fingertips, then turned and stepped up to his captain's side. "Hmm?"
A patchwork grin of white and gold greeted him, while Jack's braids clinked crazily as he threw an arm over Will's shoulders to draw him closer. "Mornin', Will. An' how's Anamaria? She forgive m'for swipin' her rum yet?"
Will sighed, putting one hand on the wheel for support against Jack's…unique sense of rhythm. "I told you, I refuse to act as your go-between in this case. Running the Pearl, I'll help you. Pillaging the Spanish and the French, yes. Even going into Tortuga and watching your back while you drink the entire town dry, yes. But Anamaria? No. I just found her good side, and I have no intentions of losing the coordinates."
As dampening to the normal spirit as his words were, they didn't seem to bother Jack one bit. More like encouraged him in pressing into Will. "Y'sure? I seem t'recall that y'got y'r fair share of pleasure from that bottle."
"Indirectly." Will slid his hands up and pushed himself off of the wheel before Jack could trap him into a compromising position. When a pathetically disappointed expression popped onto Jack's face, Will folded his arms and stood his distance. "You promised to tell me about this José Gaspar."
"Did I? Oh, yes." Jack's left eyelid fluttered as he returned his attention to steering. "An' it does warm m'cockly heart t'hear y'reasonin' like a pirate."
"It's 'cockles of my heart,' and Gaspar?" Will began to tap his toe. When Jack started humming that song, the tapping sped up. "Spanish? Pirate friend-"
"Wait a minute." Jack made a minute adjustment to the wheel, then draped himself over it and presented an unusually serious face to Will. "José is a good pirate, mate. Genuinely can say he's a member of th'Brotherhood. But he…I wouldn' call him friend. He's good, but not a good man. Savvy?"
"Jack. I have heard of Gasparilla before. I've heard all about his wicked deeds and ferocious temper, same as your daring escapes." More impatience was bubbling up in Will, but a hand swooped imperiously through the air, and he battened down on it to wait for Jack's undoubtedly lengthy explanation.
To Will's surprise, however, the other man kept his words short and clear as the daggers hidden in his boots. "They're true. Every one of them. Gaspar's got a grudge 'gainst th'Spanish for accusin' him of a crime he didn' do, an' one 'gainst th'British for a woman down in th'Indies. An' one 'gainst th'French, just on general principles."
"And you two work together." Will couldn't keep the condemnation out of his voice, even though Jack's wince hurt him just as much. "Damn. I'm sorry, but I don't…"
"S'all right." His captain swiveled shoulders in a movement that, after a moment, Will deciphered as forgiveness. "Y'haven' seen this part of th'trade yet, so y'can' be held t'blame for what y'couldn' know." Jack waggled his fingers before Will's face until a ring, heavy and tarnished, dropped off into Will's hastily-cupped hands. "That's from th'last time José an' I met up. After Barbossa took th'Pearl."
"And-" Will stopped and composed himself, absently rubbing a finger over the ring's engravings. "And he didn't offer to help you get her back?" he asked in an impressively collected tone.
Of course, Jack detected the undercurrents anyway, and reached across to give Will's arm a hearty whack-pat. "Kind of you t'be so outraged on m'account, but that's how th'code runs. Whoever falls behind…anyway, this wouldn' really be his territory. José works more north, toward th'Florida coast. An' N'Orléans. An' that's th'matter of business for today, Will."
Whose mind had been busily processing through Jack's weird patter, sorting through the dross for the meaningful nuggets. He'd gotten rather good at that, which put an odd warmth in his belly that he refused to acknowledge as smugness. "Territory?"
"Good boy. 'xactly. Y'see, Barbossa paid no heed to th'agreed-upon boundaries for th'Pearl, which means that now she's back wi' me, I have t'set new lines. Thrashed out most of them before we picked y'up, an' Gaspar's th'last I have t'see." Jack tilted his head, then flinched almost imperceptibly and shifted his hips. Which made Will grin, even though he knew he'd most likely be doing the same tomorrow morning, and without Jack's natural grace to help disguise it. "Right. Now that that piddle's been seen to, we can get to th'real problem."
With some difficulty, Will kept his eyebrow from disappearing off the top of his forehead. He tried to hand the ring back to Jack, but the other man refused to take it. "Keep th'pretty. Y'might need it. Now, then…th'singin'. Months yet, an' I still haven' heard y'sing th'song." A warning finger forestalled Will's protest. "C'mon, Will. Y'know y'want to."
***
The British Royal Navy had some of the finest sailors in the world, and all its men were rigorously trained to be capable, loyal, and above all, gentlemen. Or so James kept telling himself all through Captain Jeremiah Bradley's pompous blathering. He could have celebrated the arrival of Bradley's command, the Fortitude, at the Port Royal ceremony and then gone straight back to his office. There was really no need for continuing to accompany the other captain on the Fortitude's day-tour of the Jamaican coast.
Will.
Except for the possibility of glimpsing the Black Pearl's sails, James quietly amended, glancing out to sea whenever Bradley wasn't looking at him. Even one of the English dock's latest like the Fortitude wouldn't have a chance in hell of catching Sparrow's ship, but at least James would know that it was still afloat.
Of course, no rumor of the Pearl's demise had yet reached his ears, but neither had any concrete information. Of course, Will had promised to come back, but it had been three months with nary a word. And without either him or Elizabeth, no place in Port Royal held any peace for James. She haunted the finer side of town-and a good deal of the less fine, being quite the handful of scamp when she was younger-and Will's absence loomed over whatever parts were left.
"Commodore?"
James startled, then hurriedly shook himself back to dull, aching reality. "I was noting the sky, Captain Bradley. It's uncommonly fine for this time of year."
"Ah, yes. I have heard more than my share of tall tales about the storms that plague the Caribbean. Pure poppycock, I assume?" Not waiting terribly long for an answer, Bradley produced a box of snuff and noisily sniffed up some. "On my second voyage to India…"
You most likely traveled as passenger and hid your seasick head in the nearest bosom, James thought sourly as he continued to smile pleasantly and nod at the appropriate times. And hope desperately for something to distract Bradley. Lord in Heaven, another week of this nonsense before the man left for his post in Charleston.
"I believe we'll put into Port Antonio for lunch before turning back to Port Royal," Bradley finally wound up his excruciatingly self-promoting spiel. "I hear it's a very lovely spot for pirates to rendezvous."
"Not of late, I assure you," James replied in a slightly tight voice.
Blind as only the true fool could be, the other man failed to realize what he had just implied about James' reputation, and instead bumbled on. "Oh, of course the common thieves that cruise these waters are far too frightened of our navy to dare venture so close to Port Royal. But I still believe several notorious rogues are still at large, aren't they? Gasparilla, surely, and Jean Lafitte near New Orléans. And of course there's Jack Sparrow's Black Pearl." Bradley huffed till red of incredulity matched the creeping pink of sunburn. "A myth if I ever heard one."
"Perhaps." James turned his smile to the waves so he wouldn't entirely give himself away. "I prefer to be cautious about anything in these waters."
He could feel the dubious stare rumpling up his wig and boring into the back of his head. "You can't be serious, sir. A man of your position and rank?"
"I've been out here for quite some time, Captain Bradley, and the Caribbean continues to astonish me with her wonders and terrors." A passing breeze unsettled James' tricorne, forcing him to reach up and adjust it. "Fighting has to be done when it has to be done, but I would much rather have a quiet day than a battle."
***
Just beyond the outer reaches of Port Antonio's bay, another ship flying the black flag bore down on the Pearl. Jack brought his ship to a graceful halt, slur temporarily vanished as he snapped out orders crisp as any whip-crack, and for a few minutes, Will was briefly distracted from his internal debates.
There was a long, stretched moment of nerves as the two captains regarded each other over the separating space, and then Gaspar signaled for a longboat, which caused Will to droop a little in relief. Meeting on the neutral ground of the shore this close to a British settlement was obviously out of the question-Will made a mental note to keep bugging Jack about why the damned pirate had chosen this place for a parley-and by coming over to the Pearl, Gaspar was neatly solving their dilemma of who held precedence.
"Calm down, Will," Jack muttered, stepping up beside the first mate and poking at Will's jittering hand, which Will abruptly noticed. "Take a quick swim, if need be. Gaspar's a warmhearted, gen'rous lord t'his friends. Which I'd be."
"It's your fault for telling me all those stories when I wouldn't sing." Will gritted his teeth and pretended to a calm he certainly didn't feel as he studied the approaching captain, who stood tall and proud in the longboat despite the rocking of the ocean. Black-haired, dark-toned skin that nevertheless had a touch of gold to it, and hawk-handsome features. One large but well-made hand, almost delicate in its long tapering fingers, played over a filigreed hilt and occasionally clicked up the first few inches of blade. Toledo steel, to go with the glowing-charcoal eyes and the overall air of tigerish menace. "And what, pray tell, did you do to earn such a favored standing."
"Played priest for him an' a beauteous companion of his." Bicolored brilliance flashed at the corners of Will's sight as Jack smirked, comfortable and satisfied as always, no matter what the circumstances. The other man bent over the railing to shout Spanish at the newcomers, to which Gaspar replied with a broad smile and a lewd-sounding call that set Jack to chuckling.
When the long boat reached the Pearl, the Spaniard bounded up onto the rope ladder with a surprisingly effortless grace, but swiftly assumed a more reverent attitude the moment his foot actually touched the Pearl's planks. Relief smoothing down his shoulders, Will re-slanted his hat and unclenched his hand from his hilt, then kept a respectful half-step behind Jack as the two captains exchanged backslaps and jokes. Gaspar glanced over at Will once, and then a hand was unexpectedly dragging the blacksmith forward. Jack nearly snapped Will's feathers in two as he swung an arm about Will's neck, pressing indecently close.
Well, it would have been on land. That was what Will told himself when he found that he was pressing back. Though the other man's constant imbalance implied otherwise, when at sea, leaning into Jack was possibly the best way to stabilize oneself against the waves. Precisely. It had nothing to do with the molten amber shading Gaspar's eyes whenever he looked at Jack. Or the odd cinnamon scorch that slipped under Will's skin whenever that same gaze turned toward him. "José, meet William Turner."
"The swordsmith," was the low-voiced reply. His eyes narrowed against the sun, Gaspar tilted his head so a long dark ponytail slipped forward over one shoulder. "You are shocked I know of you?"
Will blinked, hastily gathering himself back together into something presentable. "A little. Most people-most of the pirates I've met-"
"-think of Bootstrap Bill." White teeth flashed as Gaspar rocked back on his heels and clapped hand to hilt, then slowly drew out the blade to present its length to Will. "Fine workmanship, yes?"
"Very fi-my God. Where did you get this?" Jack's stiffening set warning bells dinning in Will's ears, but he couldn't stop himself from touching it. From taking it and running his fingers over its gorgeous lines, every inch of which he knew. Which he'd shaped from forge to tempering cask. "One of mine…"
Gaspar chuckled indulgently, waving off Will's apology when the blushing blacksmith handed back the sword. "No, no, a man wears his sword closer to his heart than his wedding ring, but if you of all men cannot touch this blade, then certainly I wouldn't deserve it."
"Deserve it, now?" Inflection bent the words so they dropped like coal from Jack's lips. "That wouldn't be how y'told th'story, first time 'round."
Shrugging in a deprecating manner, Gaspar resheathed his blade and took off his hat so the wide brim no longer veiled his eyes. "Oh, but I did. Simply as a riddle, sir. Same as you told me when I first asked after the sword you've used to scribe your legend into these waters."
Scribe. Naval proclamations and stained dispatches fluttered through Will's mind, scrolling it with blood as red as a soldier's coat and char as black as James' look whenever reports of lost ships crossed his desk. Whether it was due to Will's presence or to some other reason of Jack's, the Pearl hadn't turned itself toward a single British ship since he'd joined. But as for other pirates…
Gaspar seemed to understand whatever strange look was passing over Will's face, for the Spaniard made a little excusing gesture. "I recall your father remained quite patriotic, and only a fool hates the land that bore him. I carry no grudge against your English, Mr. Turner, but I do object to my lady-" a sweep of one hand toward gold-painted Floridablanca "-being fired upon, and I will revenge her honor when necessary."
"As any captain worth his rutters would. You're a blessed man to have sword and ship match each other." Despite the frisson still quivering the air, Will had to smile at both captains' apparent confusion: wind and water might sing to them in voices that Will might never quite hear, but he heard his own music in steel and fire. "Captain Sparrow, Captain Gaspar, may I suggest we retire to the dining cabin? We've quite the feast ready, and I would hate for any of it to be ruined."
"Right y'are, an' there we'll go," Jack declared with a cheer that satisfied Gaspar and his men, but deceived Will not a whit. He slowed his pace as they moved en masse to the cabin, and his anticipation was rewarded when Jack begged a moment to see to crewing dispositions, then left Anamaria and Gibbs to open the meal while he whirled Will into a side hallway. Feathered unsure hands up to Will's cheeks, stroking light and soft along the jawline. "Will? Y'all right? Knew I was forgettin' somethin'-am very, very sorry an' next we're in Tortuga, I'll be sure t'make it up to-"
"Jack." Will curled his palms about the other man's shoulders in order to still their dizzying movements. "I know what pirates do. I've seen-no, listen to me. I've seen it. All of it." He closed his eyes, then snapped his head away from the memories that surged up against the backs of his eyelids. "All of it. When I was a boy, I sailed from England to the Caribbean. And Barbossa took my ship, leaving me as the only survivor. But before that, I had to watch."
"Will, I-"
"And I remembered all of that perfectly well when I agreed to follow you onto the Pearl, and when I followed you into my first raid." Will turned his head back to look Jack in the eye, trying to wordlessly transmit all the nameless things that made up his trust in Jack but refused to be said. "I know what I'm doing. Most of the time."
"I know y'know what y're doin'." The fingers lying against Will's chin drifted around to curve about his neck, tugging so their foreheads rubbed up against each other. "Just want t'be sure that y'know I also know that y'know what y're doin' isn' somethin' that I know is stupid. Savvy?"
"No," Will growled in frustration. "Stop trying to explain things, Jack. I think I do better when I just try to feel them. And we need to get back to our guests."
Earnest expression fixed on his face, Jack enthusiastically nodded and started to sashay off. "True. Very true. But-" finger tapping chin "-I've still got th'feelin' that I'm missing…right."
And then Will was sliding down the wall, a fragmented recollection of sweetsour alcohol steaming his lungs and softening his bones. For a moment, Jack regarded his mouth's handiwork with a distinctly smug look, then reached down and hauled Will back to his feet. Sneaking another kiss and grinning madly through his tutting. "Straighten up, whelp. Gaspar's a man of breedin', an' y'need t'be on y'r best behavior."
***
"There's the marker for Port Antonio." Trying his damnedest not to betray his inward giddiness, James obligingly pointed it out for Bradley, who immediately pretended that he had seen it, but a speck of something must have gotten in his eye, which was quite prone to this and that and another five minutes of this would make James forget that shoving colleagues over the side was quite the unacceptable thing to do.
God. How had he put up with this before? And even, if he remembered correctly, managed to consider this customary behavior?
Yes, he had changed since Elizabeth's death. Since Will's decline and revival. James was perfectly aware of the reshuffling his priorities in life had undergone, and moreover, he'd had a hand in most of them. But what else could he do, with one dream-castle gone and another tottering on its cloud? Before, there had always been time. Or at least, it had seemed like there had been time. The one flaw with beauty was that it always imagined itself to have more longevity than it in fact did, and immersed an earthly paradise like the Caribbean, it was no wonder that men began to think themselves immortal. Believe that the world would wait while they climbed ladders from point to point.
James had seen immortality, and found it horrific. He had seen mortality, and found it devastating. And now he was either privileged or cursed with the knowledge of life's true worth. Though in the end, the exact circumstances didn't matter. He would not lose anything else to his ill-judgment. He could not.
"Well, there appears to be a welcoming party." The oblivious heartiness of Bradley's voice was to James' hearing as the bitterness in the back of his throat was to his tongue. "You do put on a good show-wait."
As the deep jade trees of the coastline pulled away to reveal more of the other two ships, James felt his stomach plummet and his heart wrench. Black sails on one, a familiar figurehead on the other, and raven-hued flags on them both. "Gasparilla and Sparrow."
"Wonderful! We'll have something to toast to over lunch!"
Bradley spun about, undoubtedly to order guns readied and other idiocies, but James lunged forward and seized his shoulder. "Captain Bradley. They are two to our one, and the Floridablanca alone outguns us."
"Then there's no one with which to share the glory, is there?" All that could be seen in that sun-crisped face was ambition and foolishness so dense that a cannonball most likely wouldn't dent it. "Come, now…"
But James still had to try. "Listen to me, Bradley: we still have the advantage of the wind, and there are other Navy ships not too far from here. The prudent course, the one that would best play to our strengths and safeguard the lives and property of the British Navy-"
Bradley's face swelled with anger and disbelief as he violently shook off James' grip. "You coward," he spat, righteousness swirling about him like a blinding cape, and then he stalked off, bellowing orders. Halfway to the mainmast, he twisted back to add one last comment. "You are not captain here, and furthermore, I am not under your command. I suggest you retire to the guest cabins, Commodore."
A scathing reply and a frantic plea both battered themselves against James' teeth, but he clamped his jaw shut and held his ground. More words were clearly useless here, and judging from the looks on the other officers' faces, even holding a pistol to Bradley's head would do no good. But idiocy or no, he wouldn't hide from whatever happened next and thus suffer more uncertainty. He would stay and watch, no matter how much it cost him.
With all its faults and failings, he still thought of the Navy as the most fulfilling and suitable path that he could have chosen, and he would remain its man to his dying day. He had a responsibility to see all of its actions through to the end. Which meant that-James hunched over the rail, digging his nails deep into the wood-if the need came, he would fight to defend this ship. And her absolutely crackbrained captain. With Will's sword.
Oh, Christ. If it was Will, or Jack, that he faced…
James stared across the sapphire waters, feeling his guts lurch and knot as the two pirate ships loomed closer and closer. He couldn't lay a hand on either of them, and they knew it. He knew it. Everyone else might know it as well in a few minutes.
From childhood to adulthood, James drew out every prayer he'd ever learnt and gave them to the winds, hoping so hard that his eyes stung. And then-
--only the Floridablanca, the nearest ship, turned and prepared to give battle. And James fervently thanked God.
***
"Hoy! Jack!" His longboat halfway through the return trip, José waved his hand over his head, then jabbed at the air when all attention had gathered to him. Jack followed the pointer out to the distant ocean, which was quickly becoming the near ocean, and inwardly winced. British fools. As his boat picked up speed and shot across the remaining space to his ship, José shouted to his crew, then to Jack: "As you've done me the honor of hosting this affair, I shall do the honor of the guest and deal with our intruders!"
A hand grabbed Jack's forearm, and Will hissed, "We can't let him do this! It's too close to Port Royal, and-"
"-an' if I don't, my agreement with James is for naught. If I do, my agreement with José is for naught. Damn them-why couldn't your commodore be sensible for once?" Jack shook off Will's grasp, then gestured for a worried-looking Anamaria to come over. Next to him, Will jerked and glared. "Y'brought him into this, so don' be arguin' otherwise."
"Jack, do not make me choose." Like a stricken beast, Will whirled from rail to captain, then snatched out Jack's spyglass and leveled it to his eye. A strangled sound came from the other man, and then Will was running for the tiller. Swearing, Jack seized his bullheaded first mate and slammed him up against the nearest object. Which was a squashed Anamaria, but they could deal with her fire-breathing later. When Will's eyes weren't dilated with anger and fear, and his hands weren't trembling so much that they couldn't pry him free from Jack. "James is on that ship. There's another captain-the colors aren't that of the Caribbean fleet-but he's on there. He's there."
And today, Lady Fortune seemed intent on making Jack work for his living, his life, and his love. Feeling rather nasty toward her coquetry, he pinioned Will's flailing arms till the other flinched and stilled. "Calm-hell and damnation, Will, calm down!"
"How am I supposed to when-God damn it." All the fierceness abruptly drained out of Will, leaving him limp and sorrowful in Jack's hold. A frighteningly familiar air of black resignation bloomed in the other man's gaze, which dulled even as Jack, chest clenching, watched his own sight sharpen to a razor's edge. "He said he'd always revenge her honor. We truly can't do anything, can we?" Will's voice was softly crushing. "I'll have to lose another."
Anamaria hesitantly tapped at Jack's shoulder, then nodded toward the other two ships. "Think they're 'bout t'engage, Cap'n."
"Head for 'tween them," Jack snapped, his eyes still fixed to Will's, which shocked themselves back to life. When Anamaria didn't move, he slanted her a look. "Head for them. We'll not be in time t'stop th'first broadside, but after that, we'll play our hand."
Anamaria opened her mouth, then shut it as her face glowed with sudden comprehension. "Aye, sir." Hand planted to hip, she swung about and glowered at the staring crew. "Well y'heard him! Get on wi' it, y'scabrous rogues and scoundrels!"
"Jack?" Tentative hands closed over Jack's own, and Will began to look hopeful. Which lifted a net full of lead weights from Jack's heart; Will's terrifyingly steep descent after Elizabeth was one of the worst memories that Jack had to carry within himself, and he had no intention of letting it become reality once more. But back to the man wrapping up against him, Will's wobbly beginnings of a smile warming his skin. "Can we argue they're in our territory?"
Jack winced, but he had to say it. "That's just th'official excuse, Will. If those Brits fire, José'll want better'n that, but first, we've got-" beams groaned and he whipped about "-Matelot! Y'know better'n t'treat her like that!" He squeezed Will one last time, searching the other man's eyes for a sign of Will's usual steadiness, then bounded for the wheel. "Ready cannons!"
"Jump to it!" came the welcome sound of Will seconding Jack's commands. So the man would hold, at least till the battle was done. If it came to a battle. At this time, Jack was more than a little irritated with the idiocies that seemed to plague everyone. Glory-hunting, honor nonsense-all life really required was a star in the sky, a good ship beneath the feet and a friend at the back, so why on earth would anyone need petty rules about insults and dueling?
No matter. Others thought they needed it, so he'd best acknowledge that fact and get on with saving the British. At that thought, sourness leaked across the back of his thought and he forcefully forgot that he'd ever gave shape to such ideas. Jack stroked his hands across the Pearl's wheel, rippling his fingers over the spokes. "Come now, lady. We've a tide t'turn."
***
As James had feared, Bradley's eagerness led him too far; Gasparilla played dumb and let the Fortitude build up momentum and let off a few early shots that arced completely over the pirate ship, then slewed the Floridablanca about to present a side bristling with guns. And then screaming zeal turned to horror as the Fortitude's crew realized they had no time to stop. Thunder reverberated through the shattering sky, and great gouts of smoke and fire burst into the air as Gasparilla raked their passing ship with a broadside.
Wood snapped, seemingly against James' ears, and the bucking of the deck threw him to his knees. All around him, the air shivered ominously, making him roll sideways just in time to avoid a cannonball that raked through the upper planking. Splinters shot through the air, one skewering the fold of coat he'd thrown up to protect his eyes, and more abruptly halting with sickening squish-thuds behind him. Something heavy fell across his foot. Yanking the sliver of wood from his coat and rubbing the burning fumes from his eyes, James discovered to his horror that the weight was a dying sailor, studded through with red-splashed splinters. But he had barely enough time to catch breath for a gasp when the ship shook again.
No explosions, so it couldn't be another round of firing. The sailor gave one last flop, then went limp. Muttering an apology, James carefully freed his leg and rushed to the side, where to his amazement, he saw the Pearl shouldering her way between the two other ships, which were hastily piloting back. Jack's gaudy form leaped into view, then-as James followed the direction of Sparrow's apparent shouts-Gasparilla's long tail of hair, whipping in the stiff breeze. And then, Will swung down to the Pearl's deck, eyes somehow seeming to find James' through all the black-smudged air and falling debris, and James felt his heartbeat stagger.
"Splendid!" came Bradley's bellow. "Two in one shot!"
"What?" James whirled himself about and was shaking the other man before he quite realized. Although he certainly didn't stop when his sense of propriety caught up. "Damn you to hell, but don't you understand, you utter fool? The ship is taking on water-she's listing!" He furiously gestured at the gradually sharpening tilt. "We can't win this. You aren't accomplishing a single thing except the irresponsible loss of your men and your ship."
"Unhand. Me." Contempt fixed into his face, Bradley pushed himself free. "We shall simply transfer to the pirate ship, once we've taken it." He called past James, "Prepare to fire on the Black Pearl!"
"Taken…you're throwing away your ship! You complete jackass!" James had quite a few more choice words to say, but his rage and frustration burned them all before they could make it out of his throat. Choking, he helplessly threw his hands up, then snatched blindly and came up with Will's sword in his hand, naked blade throwing a fierce pure gleam as the sun glanced off of it. Bradley's eyes widened comically, but before any more action could be taken, a third tremor tore through the ship.
Gasparilla. Having been forced from one side by Sparrow, he'd continued on to the other and blown another full load of shot into the Fortitude. A few balls even continued on into the Pearl, though slowed as they were, they didn't seem to do her any great harm. In addition, she'd managed to twist perpendicular to the Navy vessel so as to present a smaller target.
The Fortitude herself, however, had no such luck. She groaned and cried out, then wailed as yet another broadside poured into her. Bradley was bellowing and hopping like a mad frog, but his crew couldn't wrench the cannons around to face the new attack in time. Biting his lip, James raked a hand through his hair-he'd lost hat and wig somewhere along the line-and readied his sword. Listening for the next inevitable step.
And the Spanish renegade did not disappoint. Grapples sang their piercing melody, and men of richly wild dress swung across space like so many jeweled birds of prey, dropping down to engage the Naval men. One landed directly before James, marlinspike in one hand and pistol shoved through his sash. Howling eerily, he raised his weapon high and ran forward, only to stumble into a heap as James dodged and slid his sword into the opening. A quick cut to finish off his opponent, and James was turning to parry an overhand slice, then stepping back and blocking again. He twisted to avoid a thrust coming from the side, spinning between his two attackers to come up from behind.
One pirate was taken out by a random bullet as he turned about, while the other soon met his end on James' sword after a brief clattering of blades. But as well as he was doing, it was readily apparent that Gasparilla's men were slowly but surely overwhelming the Fortitude's crew. James worked his way toward the other side of the deck, hoping to at least get another glimpse of Will, but a high scream froze his feet to the planks and jerked his head sideways.
A goggle-eyed expression on his face, Bradley clutched at the crimson pouring from his chest as he slowly sank to his knees before the grim-faced Gasparilla, then toppled over. Dead. "You've lost your captain!" the pirate leader called out in ringing tones, Spanish accent adding an additional layer of soft menace to his words. "Surrender!"
A great sigh went up as the hearts of Bradley's men dissolved; with all the faults the man had had, he had managed to hold the loyalty and affections of his sailors. One by one, they surrendered.
Damn, damn, and double damn. There was no realistic choice, but as for noble decisions--his fingers now almost welded to his sword hilt, James backed up until his ankles struck something solid. And something solid struck his temple, sending him dizzily to the deck.
"A holdout?" As rope swished round James' wrists and tightened till it bit deep into his wrists, increasingly louder thumps sounded through his aching head. Someone dragged him up again, and Gasparilla's intense regard met his gaze. And the man was holding James' sword. "Curious."
"That is not yours, nor are you worthy of touching it," James hissed, bracing himself against the blow that, of course, hit the bruised side of his head. He reeled, but managed to remain standing.
"The third of its kind that I've seen," Gasparilla continued, manner imperturbable. "And I suppose it'll be the second I take from a British officer." He smiled, and there was both respect and antagonism in it. "I admire your spirit, sir, but for that same reason, I cannot allow you to live."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," piped up a second voice, all strolling confidence that belied the efficient way Sparrow was knocking aside pirate and Navy man alike as the Pearl's crew streamed on board. "Goin' from bad t'worse, José. Think we'll be needin' a second parley."
Gasparilla glanced up, then settled into an elegant slouch. "What in heaven are you talking about, Jack? If it's about the territorial matter, then I assure you that this incident notwithstanding, I will hold to our agreement. But they fired. On. My. Ship."
"And you charged them first." Will stalked out from behind Jack, eyes focused on Gasparilla. "You didn't even bother consulting with us."
One eyebrow rose as the Spaniard took in the other man. James struggled to keep his gaze fixed to that, to the fingers Gasparilla was impudently running all over his sword. He sliced his tongue with his teeth, using that small pain to distract him and thus ensure that he didn't give anything away.
"You seem peculiarly defensive, Mr. Turner," the Spanish pirate observed, lifting up the sword he held. "Has it something to do with this?"
"Might want t'point that elsewheres, mate," Jack interrupted as he swayed in front of Will. Tapped the blade, then gave his colleague a warning look. "S'a bit sharp for friends."
"Is that what this man is to you?" Gasparilla asked, watching both Jack and Will.
"Of course not." The lie felt thick and foul coming off James' tongue, but he dragged it out anyway. "Why on earth would I lower myself to consorting with such villains and lawbreakers?"
"More like we've an understandin'," Jack agreed, bobbing in and out of James' vision.
The Spaniard blinked, then cut loose a disbelieving laugh. "Jack Sparrow, privateer? I cannot credit this."
"Good, 'cause I'm not." Jack's expression hardened, radiating quiet threat. "But th'commodore an' I have a pact, which I'm not inclined t'break. An' th'details aren' y'r business, just as th'matter of Barbossa wasn'. Savvy?"
"Savvy." Gasparilla's dry tone imparted a trace of caution to the word. "There are other matters to consider, on the other hand. Ones that are my business."
As the phrases whipped away in the wind, a tall, heavily-muscled man stepped out from among the ranks of Gasparilla's men. He made a brusque bow to the captains. "I am Juan Gomez. My wife was raped and killed by British soldiers, and I have taken a vow never to let a single British uniform go unburied, should it cross my path."
Jack leaned back, hands flittering aimlessly in the air. "Well. Seems we've got a bit of a difficulty."
"No difficulty," Will declared, stepping forward and making his own short obeisance. "Mr. Gomez, I am William Turner. My parents were both good British citizens, and in their honor, I have sworn my own vow: on the day of my mother's death, I will protect any honorable British citizen whom I meet."
An exasperated look on his face, Jack spun back-and-forth, waving his hands in negation. "Sorry, m'first mate got knocked overboard yestermorn, still has a bit of th'salty sloshin' 'bout his brains. Picklin' them. Don' listen t'him; I'm certain gent'men like ourselves can-"
"And how far are you willing to go for your vow?" Gomez inquired, producing a fine cutlass.
"As far as necessary." Will laid a hand on Jack's shoulder and gently pushed his still-protesting form out of the way, then unsheathed his own sword and walked forward to meet the other man.
"Turner!" Thrashing and straining against the hands wrapped about his arms, against the ropes binding his wrists, James tried to reach Will. Any part of him-body, mind, spirit-it didn't matter, as long as James could slap some sense into it. "This isn't necessary!"
***
"I thought you didn't 'consort' with such dregs of society?" Gasparilla questioned mildly, staring interestedly at James.
Will again restrained himself from reacting to that aggravating gaze and instead answered, quite calmly, "While it might not be Commodore Norrington's place to call me a friend, given our relative positions in the world, I have no qualms about calling him one. He's an honorable and good man, and I feel no shame in acting for him."
In front of him, Gomez nodded. "Good. This is not a shameful business, what we do."
The Spaniard began to move into a fighting stance, but Will held up a hand. "Wait. Before this starts, I want your captain to give his word that the results of our duel will be held as binding on both crews."
Gaspar broke out in a hearty laugh, slapping one thigh. "By God, Jack, you've gotten one with fire in his belly! He bids fair to outdo his father."
"Terms." Jack snapped a glare at Will, then turned to the other pirate captain. "Terms. They're very important, an' we should settle, shouldn' we? Seein' as I'm allowin' this nonsense an' all." He fiddled with one ring, then counted the beads in his braids as he went on. "Gomez wins, y'finish y'r business right quick an' leave. Will wins, we take th'sailors an' y'can have whatever y'can drag off here 'fore it sinks. Which won't be long. An' this isn't to th'death."
"I accept all your terms except the last, for Juan's sake," Gaspar replied, motioning for his men to let go of James, who stumbled as if he were concussed, then fell heavily onto his knees. "And I will not negotiate."
"That's fine," Will declared, briefly resheathing his sword while he bundled his hair back into a hasty ponytail and lashed it like that. Both Jack and James looked furious and aghast, but Will turned his back to their forming protests and readied himself.
Which wasn't more than a breath; Gomez opened with a lunge that jolted up Will's arm and back into his spine as he blocked it. The meeting of their blades sent metallic music shivering the air to pieces. Will pushed back from the first parry, feinting tentatively in order to get a feel for the other man's style.
A good deal of reliance on strength, but quickness and intelligence were far from absent. Simple in regards to footwork, but what was there was solid. Favored diagonal slices that, if they met skin and bone, would lay Will open from collarbone to opposite hip. One little twist at the end of one such cut flicked blood up from Will's forearm when he didn't dodge in time. Someone swore behind them, low and harsh and heartfelt.
"You're very good for being so young." Gomez sidestepped, then blocked a thrust and whirled around to try taking Will from behind. But the ship lurched a little, slowing him and allowing Will to twist and meet the sword with his own. "Too good to be wasting such skill for the sake of a raping bastard like that one."
"He's not." Dancing back, Will took a moment to wipe the trickling sweat, blackened by the powder stains through which it trailed, from his brow. Then he dove at Gomez's waist, cutting left at the last minute so the tip of his sword tore scarlet-flecked white from the other man's shirt. "He's worth it."
And Will meant that with every single atom of himself. He'd had to watch, a hand stuffed in his mouth so he wouldn't scream and Jack pinning him to the Pearl so he wouldn't jump into the water, as Gasparilla had boarded the Fortitude and as James had fought, gallantly and desperately and futilely. And suddenly it hadn't mattered what James was willing to risk for Will and why. It hadn't mattered why Jack had taken him in. All Will wanted was that both men would continue to live, and moreover, continue to stay with him. He couldn't explain why he felt like that. He only knew what he would do to keep it.
It'd been the same with Elizabeth. He would have done anything for her. And now, Will finally accepted that he was willing to do the same for someone else. Two someone elses. "Be happy for me, Elizabeth," Will whispered to himself. "Because I am."
Clack clack clink. As they pivoted and padded over the unsteady deck, Will's and Gomez's swords rang in a steady rhythm. The next lunge-and-parry came at the same moment as a particularly bad pitch threw almost everyone to the planks. Will lost his balance, then recovered it, but his sword didn't come with him. Its edge snagged in the loops of metal that made up Gomez's hilt, and then-
Snap.
"Will!"
No time to pay attention to the fierce cry. Grinning in triumph, Gomez flung himself at Will, who was still staggering. That bright point came singing at him-singing. He listened, and he twisted in a miraculous evasion that sent the sword safely past him.
And, as hot fluid flooded out over Will's hand, put Gomez's stomach in the way of Will's broken blade. The other man hissed, gasped and fell back, his face full of shock. Then it clouded over, life fading from it as fast as the warmth from the blood staining Will.
***
"Mi Dios-" Hand to hilt, José started towards Will, but a sword appeared at his throat, seconds before Jack had his own there.
White-faced and disheveled, James leveled his sword-wrenched back while José was distracted by the death of his crew member-and shook his head. "You gave your word, sir."
Well, well. If Jack wasn't feeling quite so ill at the moment, he would have congratulated Norrington for finally showing some common sense. Outside of the bedroom, at any rate. "That y'did, José. Don' mind th'swords; it's not personal. I know y'r honor's untarnished, but even th'best men can' be predicted when emotions come 'round."
José seemed about to order the commencement of another battle, but then he dropped his head into one hand. Coming back up, he presented a rueful countenance. "I understand perfectly, Jack, and I take no offense. Gomez was a good sailor and will be hard to replace, but he chose his bearings."
"Mebbe lost a few others," Jack muttered, lowering his blade. "On account of this bein' such a complicated matter, I'll let you off th'hook in regards t'Barbados in return."
"You're very gracious. A true man of the sea, and I would shame the sword I wear if I did not follow your example." After nodding to Jack, and then to an edgy Will, José gathered his men into a retreat back to the Floridablanca. With a huge sense of relief, Jack put away his sword and took James by the arm to lead him back to the Pearl. He handed the suspiciously docile commodore, along with the surviving crew of the Fortitude, over to Gibbs' capable hands, then retrieved Will and hauled the stupid, stupid whelp back to the Pearl.
Where, as soon as they were safely under sail, he backed Will up to the wall of his cabin and lit into him. Because the damn-his-pretty-eyes blacksmith was-"Beyond doubts an' deeps, th'most idiotic knight-pretender I've ever had th'misfortune t'meet. Lord in heaven, Will, what th'hell were y'thinkin'? An' don' tell m'that y'knew y'd win-"
"I didn't. I didn't know what would happen."
Oh, for the love of minnows. Why…because Jack loved him. Because he would most likely have done the same for Will, had all the roles of the day been jumbled otherways round. Grumbling, he settled hands on Will's shoulders, then slid them down to shape against Will's waist. Never mind the stickiness; Jack was used to that. What he wasn't used to-and what he intended to become used to-was the warm yield of Will's flesh beneath his palms, was the constant aura of fire and smolder around the other man. He bent in to lay their foreheads together, sighing. "Y're impossible. Lucky thin' that what I don' know is what that rightly is."
Fingers tangled in his hair as they shared breath. "If it helps, I didn't like doing that. I don't want to ever have to do that again."
"But you will if you have to." Jack tilted his head to gently crush their lips together, palms stroking Will's shirt loose from his trousers. "Fine. But don' think I won't yell till y'r deaf afterwards. Y'need t'learn cunning, Will."
"You'll teach me." Sparks lighting in his eyes, the other man eagerly rumpled Jack's coat and sash loose from him. A hot mouth skidded from Jack's ear to throat as Will efficiently dealt with their shirts, then started to help Jack with their waistbands.
Which is when the door opened and a slightly wobbly James entered. One moment his eyes were widening at the sight of Will, and the next, Jack found himself somehow facing Will's back as the younger man shoved James onto the floor, the two of them locked in a messy kiss. Still-bound wrists looped themselves over Will's neck and tugged him into what appeared to be a hysteria-laced moan. Jack couldn't help but smile a little as he kicked the door shut and took a quick damp rag to the filth on the other two. At least if he ever thought himself soft on the whelp, there would always be James.
***
"You complete-" teeth scoring lips "-utter fool-" hair wrapping itself round his clutching fingers "-can't believe you'd-" Will's mouth swallowed up the rest of James' words, and more hands dabbed at the bruises that were just beginning to make their presence felt. James attempted a count, failed, but still vaguely sensed that something was wrong with the numbers. Then Jack's beads swung into view as what appeared to be a wet rag went soaring off to the side, and things made sense. Somewhat. "Christ, Will, what-"
"What were you doing there?" Will growled into James' throat while fingers rolled up James' shirt so another mouth could attach itself to his nipple. James bucked up into Jack's lips, snatching little kisses at Will's forehead, nose, cheekbone-whatever presented itself. He curled nails into a soft nape as Will slumped down to rub their cocks together. "Never mind, damn it. Just-oh, God-if this sort of thing ever happens again-"
"Y've got no sail t'hoist," Jack mumbled, alternately licking at Will and James as his hands eased down their trousers. "Y'r sword broke." When he jerked, his braid ornaments smacked sting into James' belly. "Broke. It broke. Why'd it break? Mine doesn't break."
Above James, Will rolled his eyes. And then rolled them again, faster and accompanied by a groan, as James twisted up against the other man. "I didn't make…my sword," Will panted, writhing himself free of his trousers. "Got it off a Frenchman in Tortuga, remember?"
Like a buoy, Jack's wild mane popped up between Will and James, a fearsome frown on his face. Though more worrisome by far was the fact that both he and Will were undressed now, while James' trousers remained puddled about his knees. "An' why didn' y'use one of y'own blades?"
Will smirked as he craned over to twine tongues with Jack, his tanned cheek a rich brown against Jack's gold. A keel under the languid Caribbean sun. "Didn't have any left. Some were commissions…some I left for Governor Swan…some I gave away."
James struggled to breathe through the tight closing of his throat, bringing up his knees to stroke along Will's ribs. Which both helped shove his trousers the rest of the way off, and sent rippling heat all through him. Lassitude pooled in the base of his spine and in his shoulderblades, weaving its mellow magic, while the bite of his wrist ropes faded to a small tingle. "You should make more, then."
"Yes." Will drew Jack back with him as he returned his attentions to James, licking long bands of lust into the skin of James' chest. The last shirt was finally yanked onto James' arms by Jack, who James hazily felt untying his bonds. Not that that accomplished much, as his clothing remained knotted about his wrists. "I think I do. The forge-" one simple graze of teeth during a wet kiss set James' nerves to spasming "-is calling."
"Is it." Jack's eyes shaded dark as they regarded Will, who looked slightly apologetic, but determined. Sparrow blinked, and his usual mischief once again skipped through his gaze. "S'pose th'agreement does call for equal shares, James."
Whose head was muddy with touches and rubbing and oh, Christ, he needed more. Needed to sear this into every fiber of him just in case he ever…but he wasn't going to think about that right now. He wasn't going to think. "What?"
"Watch him," Jack added, and then James understood. But before he could give a decent reply, Jack was snitching the remaining breath from him with lips and tongue and God knew what else. Will's lovely firm heat left for a few agonizing moments, but then fiery heaven enveloped James, incinerating the memory of ice.
A thud sounded in the distance-hands. Those were James' hands, falling over his head to claw at the floor as Will lifted up, then plunged himself down. Teasing scratches as Jack wormed his head between them to-Will's face went into an ecstatic rictus, and he clenched so sweetly-most likely to apply his clever mouth to Will's urgent erection. And with every wet suck, Will jerked and shuddered, driving wedges into the cracks that were fragmenting James as he did. White-hot lightning whipped up and down James' bones, melting them and then-
Oh, God.
***
The good commodore came round just as Will was lapping up the last of Jack, who sprawled bonelessly beside James. Lazy and content, Will eeled up between the two other man and nestled himself down into their hollows.
It was hard, managing limp bliss, but Jack managed it. He turned over, curled himself close to Will, and started remembering. For his three months of lack, which he was already dreading. No doubt Will would want to leave when they dropped off James and the Fortitude survivors at Port Royal later. Jack shivered, feeling a chill sweep up his back.
But then Will murmured, small and sleepy, clasping the hands of both James and Jack, and the cold breeze left. It would return, Jack knew, but so would the heat that was its bane.
And after all, that was enough.
***