"And what else did he say?"

Will was positively enthralled as Jack continued to make elaborate hand gestures, voice low and beseeching, as though he were set out to prove some dire truth to the man opposite of him.

"Then? Aren't you astonished enough with the fact that our favorite Commodore gave me a pardon, let alone begged for my assistance, Luv?"

The blacksmith eyed the seaman with close scrutiny, taking care to analyze every lapse and pause within his speech to ascertain the lie.

There it was. It was in the slight widening of the man's eyes...too innocent. There was something that the Captain was not telling him, and no doubt would not tell him until it was opportune for himself. The story was just too final. Too blase.

Too obscure.

Knowing that it would be a failed attempt were he even to try and press him for further knowledge this night, he nodded, satisfied. It appeared that for once, Sparrow wasn't constructing too much of a ludicrous fabrication for his benefit. It was either that or he'd become much more clever in his tactics since Will had last been at this side.

He'd let it pass. For now.

The tavern was as chaotic as ever, the stench of cheap tobacco wafting through the stale air. The only thing that made their presence at the table known was a single candle flame lighting the visages of the man and boy.

Funny how the light can play so many devious tricks. It made the defined cheek bones of the rugged Captain appear even more narrow and jagged. Nearly as piercing as a blade slashing through the darkened hall, and just as vicious.

William had never before seen such a glow in another being's eyes. They spoke volumes of a life that thrived and had seen things most of the world didn't dare imagine. Volumes of a simple, primitive lust for living that Sparrow would always possess.

The word savage came shrewdly to Turner's mind. But it was a tamed kind of savagery. One that could be called upon for the right occasion.

Jack had very obviously spent years in exercising self-restraint.

And even now...there were things that he couldn't resist.

Shaking his head in perplexity, Will stretched his limbs as the seedlings of exhaustion grew within his muscles. "I still can hardly believe that Gregory Norrington pardoned you just to get his hands on a few Spanish merchant ships."

Raising the tin mug in agreement, Sparrow threw back his neck and guzzled the liquid down greedily before gasping a "Neither can I" out from between his glistening lips.

"So they needed you to go after some Spanish gold. Is the English economy that bad off?" The youth asked the room at large.

"Who knows. All I can say is that the crew's never been more compensated before in their lives. My beloved Pearl's been 'needin knew rigging for quite awhile, and now we finally have the means to do it without 'worryin when well see our next plate 'a biscuits."

The son of Bootstrap smiled, a light chuckle rumbling up from his chest and escaping his throat. "So does this make you a Buccaneer now Jack? Working for the British government? Really. I thought you had higher standards than that."

Twin coals widened in mock horror. He pressed a many-ringed hand to his breast and a palm to his brow.

"How could you ever judge me so harshly, whelp? Why I'd never completely bring myself to that level...and well you know it. What think you I've been doing with all of my free time? Just because I work for 'em now and then doesn't mean me poor heart has suddenly become immune to the the glitter of British gold. Wealth is wealth. Matter's not where it comes from, boy. I've never been a discriminating pirate."

William's eyes shown like sparks as he digested this new bit of fact. "So you're stealing from your benefactors and your prey? You're correct Sparrow, I never should have underestimated your insatiability"

The man's earing jingled maddeningly as he waggled his finger, a slow, methodical curl of the lips breaking out across his features like the dawn. "Damned right, Mate. Damned right."

~~()~~()~~()~~

Making their way out of the ever-increasingly riotous pub, they gave the proprietress a few shillings and stumbled about the street, shrilly singing verses of the ballad Jack had insisted that he teach Will.

"Else Billy would ne'er forgive me," he'd clarified dutifully.

Voices erupting in the night, they brokenly ground out the song, sloshing Rum to and fro down their path as they went.

"No, no, Luv. Yer supposed to sing it like this. Put more infrection in yer tone."

Turner took a lazy swipe at the bobbing head of the man beside him, refusing his advice.

He was hindering his performance, after all.

"Don't you giiiive me 'at. Stop...s-stopping my creative flow! An by the way Cap'n, that's 'inflection' not 'inflection.' Er, yes. Whatever it was."

His spiel however, seemed to go unnoticed, as his companion closed his eyes, humming the tune to himself. But alas, the peace was short lived when he gave an 'oof!' of bewilderment and tripped over a particularly unleveled stone.

Laughing uproariously, the young man fell down beside him, stupidly grinning from ear to ear and without a care in the world.

"Oh what would anyone say if they were to see the 'Great Cap'n Jack Sparrow' sitting on the ground like some common ruffian? Ah can hear it now! 'This is the day yu'll remember as the day Jack S-sparrow fell on his ass!' Yes, 'member it well!"

Jack groaned, glaring up petulantly at the blurred figure before him. "None would live long enough to 'ear me say't."

"'Course."

Helping the disgruntled criminal up was no small feat, because he himself wasn't exactly in possession of that little helpful tool called 'balance' yet.

Eventually though, they did make it back to the workshop, save for the fact that there was no longer one oblivious drunk fumbling with the lock but two.

It's an enigma to this day how he and Jack had managed to open that bloody door. Nature was not kind to those that became neigh senseless with drink in their meanderings.

"Bed's in the cor-"

"I know where't is!"

Without so much as a backwards glance, Sparrow weaved over to the other side of the room and fell in a tangled heap upon the small cot, snoring softly as he righted himself and switched positions from his stomach onto his back.

Silent as a stone, William Turner edged closer to the foot of the bed, peering down with an unreadable _expression in his brown eyes at the man that he for some reason unbeknownest to him, had always somehow met up with, one way or another.

As if they were bound.

Had his higher intelligence decided to come back at any interval of that given period, he would have found something terrifically abnormal with the feelings he was deriving from the image of the bearded man lain askew on his coverlet.

Why did it feel so...wonderfully wrong to have him there?

Rather than dwell on the foreign aching within his chest, he cleared his thoughts of any other alien emotions that could spring to life. The boy climbed into the small niche of space Jack had afforded him near his side, and shut his weary eyelids.

Not once stirring and seeing the unnervingly aware gaze of the subject of his troubles.

~~()~~()~~()~~

Jack was staring listlessly out the window, as though in search of something that wasn't there.

Will would forever see him in his mind's eye like this, held captive by the rays of daylight streaming through the panes of glass in a rush of vibrancy and color.

He looked so separate from himself then. So unlike the queer, dreadful Captain that many a friend and foe alike knew.

Sparrow must have felt the blacksmith spying upon him, because he swept around and smirked, crossing his arms over his chest and giving a lascivious wink to the man sprawled upon the cot.

Neither said much of anything for the goodly span of a minute. Mayhap it was because there wasn't anything that needed to be said. There never was much effort put forth for contriving useless drabble between the two.

Turner slid out from the blankets, the realization that he wasn't wearing a shirt coming back with a flood of mortification.

Seeing the traces of red dust his cheeks, Jack grinned, deigning to enlighten the panicking boy on the other side of the room.

"I took it off of you in the middle of the night. You were sweating like a hog and I couldn't sleep with the stink. No offense, Luv."

"None taken," Will assured, feeling the adrenaline rush down from his skull and settle into the pit of his stomach.

"Can't understand why you'd be so modest about it. S'not like yer some virginal little maiden Willy, and well...we are both men."

Glancing frantically around the room, Will could feel his flesh crawling once more. What in Jesus's name was wrong with him? The Captain was right of course. They were both men...

And even if he was still, to delicately put it, virginal, a man should't affect his body this way.

"How's your head faring?"

Grateful for the change in subject, William leapt at the topic. "Fine! Fine. Just a dull throbbing. Not like it was yesterday when the Governor paid me a visit."

Jack nodded, shoulders stooping into an even more relaxed posture than what Will had thought a human physically capable of.

"I don't like being sober, boy. Puts to much into perspective. That's why drunken euphoria suits me so well. World's a helluva lot more interesting when you can pick and choose what and what not to acknowledge. 'Specially with such an inexpensive excuse."

"Inexpensive? How so? Three excursions to the Faithful Bride almost empty my pockets for the week."

Leering secretively, Sparrow now had a smug air about himself. "That's 'cause you're too young to know how to exude the right kind 'a force."

Will pursed his lips at the minor blow to his ego. "And what would that elusive force be? Please, inform me since you apparently have it in such abundance."

He grinned just so, and without a hint of contrition. "Sensuality Laddie. Allow just enough 'a it to ooze into your manner, and you'll have the barmaids giving you Rum along with themselves."

Choking at Jack's bluntness, he recoiled, rolling his eyes and appearing to admonish the pirate's claim in an attempt to regain the vestige of his dignity that the dark-haired man had robbed him of.

But he knew well as any other that it was not a foundationless bragging.

There was a courteous cough to his right, and the blacksmith again focused on what the man was getting at.

"Turner, I've got to leave again." Done, to the point. No hidden meanings or fond farewells.

Quirking the edge of his mouth in grudging acceptance, William breathed deeply. He made to crack a full smile, but it was bittersweet.

"Pity. It was...your presence always takes the predictability out of things."

The mad looter chuckled. "Is that a compliment, Mate?"

He sighed patiently, wishing he could feel as indifferent to the man as he had when they'd first met. For some reason his existence already seemed to be going back into the same paltry motions. The same dismal pattern.

"Where will you go now do you think?" Bootstrap's son brought the quandary from the turmoil swimming within his thoughts.

The other waved a long hand as if he could bat away the question. "Still got those galleons to hunt for. At the rate they be 'goin I'd say they've nye reached Panama by now. Wherever they turn up, I 'spect."

"What's so important about the Spanish ships?"

"I already told you. They carry more gold than an entire armada carries weaponry. Savvy?"

He was growing irritated. His prying wasn't getting him the least bit closer to what Jack was hiding, and it must have been a burdensome confidence if he was willing to go through such lengths for the Commodore, Governor, and rest of the British hierarchy to keep it.

Some part of his soul trembled with that insight.

Trembled with the unforeseen insight that somehow, someway, Jack was in danger.

Bloody crazed idiot probably thinks he can handle it all by himself, he thought with a premonitory shiver.

"How, when will you be back in the harbor?" Already he could make an educated guess as to this, but he still needed to hear it come from the other's tongue to make it reality. Reality that he wouldn't anytime soon be receiving a visitation from this lunatic that had become his...ally? No, more than that. Friend even.

Sparrow shuffled his feet, twirling about and spinning his pistol around on a finger. Always with such unwitting, pandemic grace did he move. Will was sure that he did it on purpose. It kept one on guard and bizarrely at ease in the same breath.

Looking down, Jack picked at a thread that had come loose from his black vestments. His purring voice sounded like an addictive combination of sandpaper on polished oak as he muttered, "No more'n a year and a half I'd say, if all goes well and they don't end up transporting their cargo before we get to 'em. But if not, ye can't be too sure. If they do make it to the port they intend to unload at, me crew may hafta go on a bloody goose chase to steal the gold back from the settlement itself."

William growled, exasperated with Sparrow's constant evasion. Even he had limits.

"There is no way that Gregory Norrington would have petitioned a pardon for your sake without it being a, how shall I put this? Apocalyptic situation! You've obviously been doing some work that bastard doesn't want getting out into the open to taint his pristine reputation! He wouldn't have gone through the arduous task of reversing the judgment that was placed on you unless this 'something' that your doing for him involved gain. But gain for whom is what I'd love to know."

Jack lowered his tone, words spilling forth brusquely and without preamble. "Are you trying to browbeat me into submission, whelp? Because if ye are, you 'ought ta be discouraged to know I don't take kindly to bullyin'."

"Bloody hell! I'm not a novice to your past tricks Sparrow! And I know that you wouldn't ever build ties with any form of government unless there was something of great magnitude and value in it for you! I suggest you stop trying to dupe me, because your strategy is for not!"

"And you know me so very well, do you Mate?" The pirate had a peculiar hitch in his voice that made him look distinctly lurid, on the border of ominous.

"Not at all. But what I do know wouldn't be very flattering to your ears."

The other appeared to regard him in disbelief, eyes turning up at the corners and wrinkling in tiny folds of laughter as he gave a bellowing chortle, slapping his knee at Will's expense.

"Would that you'd let me in on what you find to be so comical?"

"Ye-ye just reminded me so much of Bill then. He'd always get so ruffled when he knew I was 'omittin 'somethin. S'enough to send this 'ol bootlegger into stitches, as it was. Me apologies, Mate."

Turner felt the muscles in his jaw clench, visage contorting in defeat. "I just wish for you to tell me what this is that you're concealing. I'm not too fond of the prospect of never seeing-talking to you again because of some hazard you'll confront at the hands of Norrington, Weatherby and...whoever else is embroiled in this whole affair."

A slyness overcame Jack Sparrow's demeanor for a moment, hands reaching outward to brush an invisible bit of lint off of the blacksmith's cravat.

"My, my Luv. Ne'er did think that an uppity mite like you would find it in yer decent little self to be concerned for an old swindler's welfare."

Will swallowed, feeling his throat constrict. For some indecipherable reason, being in such close proximity to the Captain made him distinctly distressed if not a little perturbed.

He tittered, edging away from the elegant hand that was unabashedly caressing his upper arm.

Caressing?

Just before he could analyze that thought further, the petting had desisted, concluding so quickly that he scarce was certain if it'd actually occurred.

"To put a stop to any other curiosity ye might 'ave Lad, I swear on Davy Jone's Locker and my thieving black heart that I'll tell you when it's safe. Other than that, you'll just a've to keep 'pertendin that you believe everything that comes from yer Captain's mouth. Savvy?" He said the last with an effortless flourish of his arm.

"Well, I doubt I'll believe everything that comes from your mouth. You're still a dishonest, flea-bitten pirate with a conscience about the size of a pea. But I suppose I won't be getting anything else from you for now."

"'Cisely. Take what you can get and whenever you can get it, Laddie."

~~()~~()~~()~~

The sea had never ceased to calm his fears. It'd always been the best balm to his spirit, more soothing than the embraces of even the mother he'd known.

Will remembered sitting many an hour of his childhood upon the docks, watching the men in the shipyard build, take apart, and repair entire hulls. The muscles in their backs had exerted almost to the point of the grotesque, rendering and ripping under the punishing, merciless weight of the timber. Skin had darkened to a deep bronze by the end of the first week of work for many of the workers, whom spent long periods under the intense glare of the sun.

It did nothing less for his problems now.

"So I don't 'spose this is about the time where I say 'till we meet again' eh, Luv?

Still mindful that he had volunteered to enlist his assistance and haul the Black Pearl's provisions up to the deck with Jack, he ignored the taunt and set a baleful eye on the balls of dense iron that would next need to be taken up.

"Remind me never to aid you in the reloading of these godforsaken cannons again."

The Captain smirked, bringing his hat low to shadow his face from the sun's scrutiny.

Once Gibbs and Cotton had made a last round and had checked to make sure all was prepared for the voyage, the anchor was taken up, settling aboard deck like the misshapen tooth of a sea serpent.

All was ready.

Before he boarded ship, Sparrow whipped around and sauntered back to the blacksmith.

There was an appeal in his stare, a request.

Jack Sparrow was too proud to ever plead for anything he desired.

And it was evident that he desired William aboard the Pearl.

The trice seemed to last an eternity. A myriad of emotions was running through Turner with breakneck speed.

Could he leave the life he'd made for himself behind? All on a meager, adolescent whim? Did he want to? And what of...

Peering back up at the man who seemed to have seized much more of his adherence than he cared to think about, he knew. It wasn't exactly a religious epiphany, nor something that just took hold of him from nowhere. It was something he'd always known, in the recesses of his consciousness. As if it'd just been waiting for the right time to step out from the shadows of his innermost longing.

The life he'd always denied himself was summoning him, as was the fire scorching his blood. And who was he to defy this call?

Clasping the arm that had subtly lifted in offering, he felt a connection. The kind that most men and women search tirelessly through life for and most aren't fortunate enough to encounter.

It was one that spoke of finally finding the destiny that had been luring him on a wayward path for years. A destiny that spoke of many obstacles and trials to come.

Not that he believed in such things. No, Turner was much too sensible for that.

Comprehension broke out across the dark pirate's features, and with that well-suppressed reverence as he too, realized that Will had found his future. His home.

But first there were amends to make and bonds to sever.

~~()~~()~~()~~

"Lucille, can you please tell your mistress that I'm requesting her audience and that it's urgent."

The doe-eyed girl looked about through the sliver of space in the entry way suspiciously. "You should'na be here Mister Turner. The Gov'na, he ha-"

"Yes, yes. I know. He despises my very existence here on God's green earth. But please, I don't have the patience nor the time to spare quibbling over such trifles."

"But Sir! Me mistress is indisposed!"

"Then tell her to 'dispose' herself. I must see her this instant."

The servant unlatched the door, making a sweeping motion around the grand staircase.

"You know where the parlor is Sir. 'Beggin yer pardon, but I doubt that I need to show you to 'at."

"Of course you don't need to Lucille." With that he brazenly leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek, marching through the room without a glance in her direction.

"Mister Turner!"

His breath caught when he gently pushed the door ajar, catching the light playing in his ivory goddess's hair.

"William."

She'd dropped the pain-stakingly illustrated book she had been perusing, tossing it away as a child would a toy that they didn't know how to cherish.

And she had flew to him as if she truly had wings.

Clutching her to his breast, he'd kissed her cheeks, forehead, eyes. All the fine, doll-like feature's he had devoted memory to, and ones that he hadn't.

Will had felt the salty tears soil his shirt vest. But he didn't give it any heed as he continued to hold her and stroke her sandy tresses.

"Shh. It's alright Beth. It's alright. I'm here now. I'm truly here."

"Are you?" She'd queried, as though she really wanted the answer, but already had drawn her own conclusions.

Oh how those amber orbs had engaged his, communication without words. The most eloquent of all.

Burrowing her face once more into his neck, she'd diligently carried on, solemn and as sober as any military man. But likely with more strength of purpose.

"I know why you're here. I'd wanted to believe...had prayed. God how I had prayed that you would be here for me. But I had known. All along I'd known..."

The blacksmith had felt a rivulet of his own cascade down his cheek. "Elizabeth-"

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

It was a statement that allowed no room for false assurances.

The distraught woman took a step back, eyes beseeching in their accusation. "You're leaving me."

Turner had sworn that he would never lie to this lady. Sworn it with passion enough to match Jack Sparrow's old vow that he would one day defeat his treacherous first mate.

And like the Captain, he intended to keep it.

"Yes." He'd murmured. More like a whisper of air than any actual confirmation.

He'd watched as she had trembled first. Then shattered and broke, all the while still gripping his arms like he was the eye of a storm. A place where she hoped their really was peace, though great men had yet to prove the theory.

But this is what she'd begged him for. What she'd needed. And now, after months of dreading the possibility that her first love was to be lost to her, the Governor's daughter had the affirmation she'd sought.

And now Elizabeth Swann could let go of her dearest friend.

"And I am to lose you. Were I a fighting woman, I'd wage another Golgotha if that meant I had the chance at keeping you here with me."

The young man shook his head at the allusion. Yes, knowing the girl like he did he was sure she would have.

"When do you leave Merboy?" She'd stroked his palms then, studying the shallow crevices with infinite care in the morning light.

Merboy. He smiled, though it was a weak gesture, all considering. She'd affixed that as an endearment for him ever since she'd found his near lifeless body that night floating away from the ravages of the ship when he'd been thirteen. Turner had never exactly taken a liking to it, but he would give her what little he could, even in it's smallest measure.

"When I finish. Here." He'd hated himself for the agony he saw flash anew across her face when he'd recklessly said that. It was a cruel reminder.

She hid it well.

"And that pirate's delaying the Black Pearl just for you, Will Turner? Honestly. You'd think that Sparrow would say one of those phrases like, 'The Pearl waits for no man' or something as equally drull."

He was too flabbergasted to reply. "How'd you-"

His Angel held a finger up to his lips, silencing the babbling youth before her with a shake of her head. "Don't ask. You'll only question me further, and that my darling, we don't have time for. Or rather, I should say that you don't."

Glancing into his face once more, she trailed a dainty finger against his cheekbone, eyes wandering shamelessly over the planes of boyhood that had developed into that of a man. "I'm going to miss you something terrible Merboy of mine."

Laughing softly, the blacksmith closed his eyes, fighting the tide of sorrow. "And I you, Angel."

Allowing for an unladylike sniffle to escape her, she'd wiped absently at her eyes, pulling forth the blue, silken ribbon that bound her hair.

"Something for you to remember me by, Beloved."

In awe, he'd been spectator to the way her locks had framed her oval face, for a time emanating the illusion of girlhood. But this was no girl that stood pressing her breasts to his chest now, with her fragile arms twining about his.

He hugged the lithe body close for a while longer after that, just indulging in the pleasure of the swiftly beating heart against his.

...Until she pulled back, shoving him toward the door as if she were too afraid of the consequences of spending another minute in his presence.

"Now off with you William Turner. Or I'll see to it that that Captain of yours comes and takes you away himself."

"But Elizabeth, he's not mine-"

"Go on Will." It wasn't a suggestion by any means, but an order.

Turner walked dazedly out of the parlor, glancing back at the last second before he disappeared from sight. He couldn't leave it like this.

He couldn't leave her with nothing to hold on to.

Voice cracking with the strain, he'd said his last goodbye to his Queen.

"An old sailor once told me a bit of wisdom that may give you some..."

He tried again.

"They say if something's yours, that if you let it go, it'll come back to you."

Instead of a lecture on his romantic's notions as he'd anticipated, the woman had simply smiled.

Smiled through the haze of pain and blinding anguish that the blacksmith was sure she had grown very much accustomed to in all the pretenses of their relationship. A brilliant, glorious smile that was just for him, though he believed himself too unworthy ever to deserve it.

She'd smiled at the deliberate, false hope he'd nursed her, like spoon feeding a child tonic diluted in sugar to shield the bitter taste.

Elizabeth knew that Will would not be coming back.

~~()~~()~~()~~

Carrying a small pack of clothing and the three best swords he'd sculpted into creation that had won his favor throughout the years, Will trudged up the gangplank of the dark ship, feeling the wood creak and sigh beneath his weight.

"Ahoy there, Mate. Glad to see ye've found your way back. For e'while thar, I'd thought you'd changed yer mind."

William tensed, missing the undercurrent of teasing in Jack's voice.

"Well forgive my dalliance then. It's not everyday you say farewell to your old life and the woman that you find yourself to be too inept to love at the same time."

A flicker of something shot across the other's expression.

Sometimes Turner wasn't sure if he marveled at the man's ability to withdraw into himself or envied it. He also would find himself wondering if there was not but an entire ocean lapping beneath the surface of his unartfully erected insanity.

The breeze was pungent with seaweed and imported fish. Will savored this for the first time, knowing too well that as soon as they reached the high seas, there would be not but the tang of salt in his nose and mouth.

Standing at the bulwark, he had tied the ribbon in his own hair, indifferent to the stares of ridicule he would soon be receiving.

A coarse, many-ringed hand settled upon his sloping shoulder.

"Ye sure, boy?" It was a drawling lilt that emerged from the figure behind him, not quite devoid of it's regular licentiousness.

He raised his gaze to the horizon, the one point where the sea had ever mated with the sky.

"I'm sure."

They'd set sail, one lost young man aboard the Black Pearl not knowing where the next journey would take him.

And not wanting to.

~~()~~()~~()~~