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CERTAINLY
UNEXPECTED
BY: Colimbina*** William hadn't been a man of great instinct until he met Captain Jack Sparrow. There were a lot of things William hadn't been until he met Jack, actually, but as he and Elizabeth watched the man sail toward the horizon on his beloved ship, for the first time in his life Will felt that something was off. His blood was still singing from the escape—it had been like nothing he'd ever felt before, battling at Jack's side, each knowing exactly where the other was and what they were about to do. Now, standing next to the woman he loved and watching the other man sail away, Will felt he'd miss-stepped and the folly would lose him something critical. "Will," Elizabeth whispered close to his ear when the Black Pearl was reduced to a dark spot quickly blending with the horizon. "I love you, too, Will," she said. Will tried to smile genuinely, remembering how he had longed to hear those words, trying to summon that warmth that had come so easily when he had dared to imagine them, but the unsettled feeling was growing stronger as the ship faded and he couldn't understand why. "Will, darling, are you alright?" Elizabeth asked, now sounding genuinely worried. The Black Pearl vanished completely. He finally turned to Elizabeth, smiled as well as he could, and pulled her close. "Of course, I'm… wonderful." When he returned after four weeks at sea working as a privateer—the governor's daughter could hardly be engaged to a true pirate—his fiancé greeted him with nothing warmer than ice. In public that day she was cold and stoic, mechanically polite as a lady of her standing must be in company, but that afternoon when they found a moment to themselves, the ice melted instantly. Will ducked as pottery was hurled at his head with great precision. "Elizabeth!" he said. "William! You left me here, alone, for a /month,/ William! All I've had to do was stare out the window and pine for you like some… some… sailor's wife!" She threw a powder jar, which exploded on impact and covered Will's chest in dust. "I don't understand, Elizabeth," he said with a touch of panic and dodged something else, "I thought you wanted me to be a pirate— privateer." "I wanted!—" she paused, eyes flashing, hand poised to throw a heavy silver hairbrush. She let out a growl of frustration, put the brush down, and marched over until they were nose to nose. "You will /not/ leave me behind again, William Turner," she said fiercely and marched out of the room. The next time he left port, she came along. Her father had forbid it, of course, despite the pleas from both Elizabeth and Will—as had Commodore Norrington, who had commissioned the journey. Will had naively thought she had given up on it. Elizabeth, hardly being one to forfeit adventure so easily, had stowed away with the provisions. Will had to barter away a quarter of his share of loot and remind the crew very forcefully that she was Elizabeth /Swann/, only daughter of the governor, to convince the crew not to throw her overboard the moment she was discovered. Even with that he had fallen out of favor with the crew, having broken the Articles, and was made to do all the worst jobs and take all the worst shifts. On Elizabeth's part, she learned that not all adventures on the high sea were terribly adventurous. Her first one had lasted less than a week during which she had been kidnapped, marooned on an island, propositioned by cursed undead pirates (along with a cursed, undead pirate monkey,) saved multiple lives multiple times, and began her romantic relationship with her fiancé. This second voyage mostly consisted of sitting and waiting. The boat was old and slower than any she had ever been on, so there days of inaction between the raids, and when those did come around, the crew locked her in one of the cabins despite her kicking, screaming, and scornful looks to Will. They let her out for the celebration afterward, but being the only female on the ship, she was more want to lock herself back in the cabin. The salty air made her skin constantly itch, and a diet of hardtack and grog did little for seasickness. When they finally returned to Port Royal, she was desperate for her life of fine lace dresses and meals that consisted of more than stale bread and very bad alcohol. William hadn't faired any better on that voyage, having to deal with both the taunts of the crew over his Missus, and scorn from said Missus for taking her along on the wretched trip. Afterward William had virtually locked himself in the smith, putting all his conflicting emotions into beautiful blades. He did not hear from Elizabeth for weeks, having secluded herself in her father's mansion, and he thought better than to approach her for… well, as long as he could avoid it. It stopped being an option when, one day at dawn, a messenger delivered an invitation to his own wedding scheduled two weeks from that day. He went to the mansion as quickly as he could, still covered in filth from doing little else than working at the forge for weeks. "Oh, William, you're filthy," Elizabeth greeted cheerfully and kissed the air near his cheek. "Come, let's get you cleaned. You need to be fitted for your gown as soon as possible." He was dragged into the bath room, stripped, and bathed by two servants despite a great deal of protest and blushing on his part. Elizabeth stood behind a screen the entire time, speaking matter-of- factly about the wedding and their future plans, most of which were a surprise to William. "You're going to buy me a forge?" He said. "Yes, daddy decided to include it in the dowry. Your talent with blades is too good to waste, and you can hardly be Master Brown's apprentice your entire life, can you? You'll get your own shop, with the best equipment available. You'll be world-renound for your work!" "That's—" he said, picturing his life anchored in a shop overlooking fleets of ships that he wouldn't be on. One of the servants scrubbed restlessly at his scalp, trying to get all the dirt out. "Great…" "Is anything the matter, dear?" she asked. "Of course not," he said, trying to sound anything other than desolate. She went on to talk about the plans for the wedding. It would be a huge ceremony, nearly the entire town attending. Will imagined it vast and bright and clean, and the wrongness he had been feeling since he watched the Black Pearl sail away increased, churned around his stomach while the maids rinsed him off one last time. He stood through the fittings by day and worked on swords at night, dread building silently, so vast and encompassing he struggled to muster any emotion beyond blankness. The swords he made were possibly the worst since he had begun his training. His wedding gown was… elaborate. It was possibly more expensive than everything he had ever owned combined, layers of fine cloth and lace, all creamy white. The hat was nice, though, gigantic with an unnecessarily large plume. More than once he thought about a particular pirate that would quite like the monstrosity, and the thought seemed to be the only thing that could make him smile anymore. The sun was setting when he left the governor's mansion the night before the wedding. He hadn't seen much of Elizabeth lately, her being to busy with the wedding preparations, but that night she met him at the door before he left. She felt so fragile in his arms, and when she kissed him all he felt was the heavy weight in his stomach. "I love you, William," she said. "I love you, Elizabeth," he said, and felt awful. He walked home slowly, watching the sun set over the water. This would be the last night he would spend in his childhood home, curled up on the hard but familiar apprentice's cot in the blacksmith's storage room. He would move into the mansion and sleep in a fine bed, eat fine meals, and wear fine clothes. He would be married to the woman he had loved for as long as he could remember, and he would be /happy./ Surely. He was so absorbed in these thoughts that at first nothing seemed amiss in the smith. Only when he situated himself in front of the forge did anything seem wrong. He frowned and looked around, and noticed… a hat. A familiar hat perched on his anvil like the first time he had ever glimpsed it. He reached for it, thinking it was a mirage brought on by stress or possibly the peculiar soup he had been served for dinner, but his fingers brushed worn leather, sure enough. A sword came down and rapped his knuckles smartly. His eyes followed the blade up slowly, stomach fluttering with something other than dread now, something far more exciting, and he met familiar kohl-lined eyes. *** "Jack?" Will said, disbelieving. "Hello, Young William," Jack crooned and bowed slightly, "lovely to see you again." "Jack, I. How—you—why—" Jack grinned and tilted his head back, gazing at Will though half-lidded eyes. Will paused a moment and gathered enough thought to form a complete sentence. "What are you doing here?" "I've recently found myself in the market for a new blade," Jack said, "and who better to provide me with one than the best blacksmith in the Caribbean?" Will glanced at the sword drooping lazily at Jack's side and saw that it was indeed one of his better creations. "Were you planning on informing me of this acquisition, or simply `borrowing it without permission' and running? The pirate sniffed, hefted the cutlass, and began inspecting it, making it obvious he wasn't going to dignify that with a response. Will felt elated by Jack's presence, a mixture of amusement and annoyance that only came in Capitan Jack Sparrow's company, so he let the issue slide. Instead he said, "I didn't see the Pearl in the harbor. You haven't lost it again, have you?" Eyes flashed briefly up from their inspection of the sword, then quickly back down. His voice was thick with menace when he spoke. "Nothing short of death—if even that—could separate me from my Pearl again, lad." Then he looked up once more his sinisterly gleeful self, gold teeth flashing in his grin. "My being a wanted man, I couldn't risk your dear Commodore recognizing her. I temporarily commandeered a--less /conspicuous/ vessel." William grinned. "Was the owner informed?" "They know by now, no doubt. This is a beautiful piece of work," he said, tucking the saber into his belt behind to the empty scabbard, the new one being wider than the previous blade. "Thank you," Will said incredulously, "by all means, keep it if you like." "Aahhhhh, you're too kind," Jack said, swaggering over and putting an arm around Will's shoulder. Despite being taller, Will always felt like the smaller of the two around Jack, and in such proximity he felt like he was surrounded, smothered in coat and hair and the scent of unwashed pirate. "Now," Jack said, guiding Will to the door, "how's about you buy your dear old friend a drink or twenty while you pour your aching heart out about waning lady love?" "How—" "Drinks first," Jack insisted in a tone that broached no argument, and escorted them into the street. None of the bars in Port Royal had low enough standards for Jack's tastes, but they made due with the seediest place in town, an inn at the very outskirts where the less savory seafaring folk stayed while in port. When they entered Jack surveyed the room as grandly as he did everything. He seemed to find the place—whatever it was he wanted it to be—so he strutted toward a table near the back of the room and sat. Will sat as well, leaning heavily on his elbows toward Jack. "Elizabeth and I are not having problems," he insisted too quickly. "We're to be married tomorrow." Jack looked unimpressed. Then he looked at the bar. Pointedly. Will sighed and got up to order the first of what he guessed would be many rounds of drinks. The woman behind he bar leaned in close when she put the two mugs down, showing off ludicrous amounts of cleavage. "Eh, boy," she said in a voice that thought it was whimpering but was often wrong about these things. "Issat Jack Sparrow, there?" He glanced back at Jack, who reached out to catch a passing wench and pull her into his lap. Will turned back to the bar rather than see where it went from there. "He prefers /Capitan/ Jack Sparrow." "Word around town is the Capitan there has a very pretty price on his head." That was hardly a surprise. "Is that so," Will said, reaching for the drinks. The woman held them fast. "Yeeaah," she said pointedly, "that's so." "I'll be sure to inform him," Will said and yanked the mugs out of her grasp. She grinned unpleasantly. At a second glance, the grin wasn't unpleasant so much as the teeth were. "Eh," she said, grinning and darting glances at Jack, "issit true, that he escaped from a deserted island by taming a pair of sharks wit' not but a boot tack and his wits?" "So I hear," Will said and took his drinks. Jack was muttering something near the whore he had commandeered's ear. Will couldn't make out anything beyond gravely, rough mutterings, but the woman seemed to like it, because she was giggling and pawing at Jack's chest. She gasped as Will approached. "How on earth did you escape?" she said. "Well, you see, the Admiral—" he broke off, seeing Will set the beer in front of him. "'Scuse me, dahhling," he said and virtually pushed her off his lap. Will glared at the woman's back while she walked off to find a customer. When he returned his attention to Jack, the man was staring at him with large, innocent-looking eyes over the rim of his mug. Something in Will's stomach rippled pleasantly, like it used to do when he thought about Elizabeth. That thought reminded him of Elizabeth and the impending wedding, and all the dread he had been suffering returned at full force. Something must have shown, because Jack squinted at him and said, "Alright, there?" Will nodded slightly. /Happy/, he reminded himself, and nodded again, a bit too vigorously. "Fine," he said. Then, trying to change the subject, "the woman at the bar told me you're a wanted man." Jack grinned. "Wanted by many, luv." He turned and winked at the woman, who had been pretending not to be keeping an eye on him. She grinned and blew a kiss that Will could smell all the way across the bar. "It's idiot for you to be here, Jack. I find it hard to believe you'd take such a risk for only a sword." "A sword and to witness the union of my two dearest friends in wedded bliss," Jack insisted. William thought better than to mention his doubt that he and Elizabeth were Jack's dearest friends, that title having already been filled by a ship and a hat. "So you did know about the wedding?" he said. "The entire Caribbean knows about the wedding, mate. Quite a scandal you've started, the daughter of Port Royal's governor marrying a common blacksmith and scallywag. And you didn't think to invite me, I might add." "/I/ thought to invite you," Will said, "but Elizabeth arranged everything, and…" "And the impression I left on her rather resembled a pock mark." Jack emptied what remained in his mug. "No worries, had I been invited, I wouldn't have come. No sense in being where you're wanted, eh?" Will tried to nod like he agreed, or at least understood. "So," Jack said, leaning forward on his elbows, "how is it that you're scheduled to marry your lady love on the morrow, yet you've got the airs of a condemned man?" "I don't—" "I've no head for denial, mind," Jack said. "I'm—" Will stopped the denial quickly, seeing the warning glint in Jack's eyes. "I don't think I'm drunk enough to admit it yet," he said meekly instead. "I know the perfect cure for that," Jack said and slid his empty mug across the table. "None of that hog's piss this time, either." After three rounds of very weak, very bad rum, Will's tongue was feeling looser, and he had taken to hunching over his mug, doing a marvelous impression of a kicked puppy. "She just… changed," he said. "Aye?" said Jack. "/Aye/," Will said grandly. "I imagine you knew her well before your went off and saved her life, her being of high social standing and you being the apprentice to one of many blacksmiths in port. Plenty of opportunities for bonding there." "It wasn't like that," Will said, "we were… she /saved/ me. Not with you, I mean, before that… but then too. When I was a boy." "And you grew up being the closest of friends." "We talked a lot," Will said defensively, though now that he thought of it most of the conversations they had were in his imagination, and the actual ones had been short and impersonal. She had been kind, but she was a kind woman by habit. "Honestly," he pressed on, "I didn't need to talk to her, I knew her. She was beautiful, and sweet, and perfect, and…" "And then you got to know her." Will snorted. "More like she got to know me." "Eh?" Will took a deep breath. "I got a job as a privateer under bloody /Norrington/, to please her and she got all uppy when I left without her. Then she came along, and she wasn't pleased with /anything/. She even refused to drink anything, because there was only rum and grog, and for some reason she gets sick at the mere mention of rum." Jack grinned briefly. "You know what I think, mate?" "No, Capitan Sparrow, I very rarely know what you think." "Far as I see it, the lady doesn't know what she wants." Will blinked slowly. "How could someone not know what they want?" "Couldn't tell you," Jack said, "I always know /exactly/ what I want." "And what is that?" Will asked. "Hear some advice, lad," Jack said, leaning over the table again and looking at him with that oddly innocent expression. "If people don't know what you're after, they'll have a time of keeping you from it. Savvy?" Will nodded and lied, "yes, /very/ savvy." "So what is it that you want, then?" Jack said, smiling pleasantly. 
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