Pirate Dreams 14

Pairing: J/W
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean is owned by Disney, etc. No infringement intended.
Originally Posted: 2003
Summary: Will joins the Pearl's crew after Jack becomes a privateer, leading to many adventures, including the most dangerous adventure of all: romance.

Nate Flynn had also been brought to the inn, to a room just down the hallway. Swann's physician had treated Flynn as well. Jack had been in and out of their room, going down the hallway to Flynn's, then back to check on Will. He'd spent more time in Flynn's room, all in all, which Will understood, since Flynn's wound was more serious.

Jack had been in about an hour earlier, to light the bedside lamp for Will. He had stayed only briefly, going off to see Flynn again. As much as Will had come to dislike the man, he fervently hoped Flynn survived his injury. Ever since that unhappy conversation in the boat, Jack had been uncommonly morose, and Will knew the guilt was eating at him. And besides Flynn, their arrival at Port Royal had been traumatic, for the Pearl had suffered serious damage from the Ranger's cannons. The sight made Jack distraught, and the sole saving grace was when he found the crew alive and unharmed, waiting their arrival on the pier.

Will sighed, wishing Jack would return. He wanted to try sitting up a bit, but needed help propping the pillows behind him. And he was also starving.

He had no idea how Jack felt towards him at the moment. Yes, Jack had jumped Rosser when the gun pointed towards Flynn. And he'd done so because he loved Will more, of that he'd no doubt. But he gained little satisfaction from that knowledge, not when Jack seemed so completely miserable. Will couldn't imagine the kind of despair Jack would feel should Flynn die. And however indirectly, Will would be the cause of that despair, he would be the reason Flynn was dead. Jack might not want to be reminded of what he'd done every time he looked at Will. By the very act of loving him, Jack may have sundered them forever.

No, Flynn can't die. Will looked up at the ceiling, imagining the heavens beyond, and he sent up a heartfelt prayer.

Half an hour later, the door opened and Jack came in, bearing a wooden tray with a bowl. "Thought you might be hungry."

Jack set the tray down and helped place the pillows behind him, then lifted him into a sitting position against them. He pulled a chair over, picked up the tray, and laid it across Will's legs. "Don't move about, or you'll have soup everywhere."

"I think I can manage." Will took the bowl in both hands and sipped from it. Warm beef broth, with a few small pieces of onion and carrot. Exactly what he needed.

Will slowed down. Between small sips he asked tentatively, "How is Captain Flynn?"

"I don't know." Jack's head bowed. "The few times he woke when I visited, he wouldn't speak to me."

Will wanted to take Jack in his arms, wanted to hold him tightly. He said softly, "You had to do it, Jack."

"No, I didn't." His voice was laced with misery. "I didn't have time to think, I just acted." He looked up at Will. "I should have shouted instead, done something to draw his attention to me."

"You'd be dead, Jack." Will hated hearing him secondguess what happened, hated hearing the guilt in his voice. "Rosser couldn't have missed you at that range. We were much farther away, there was a better chance his shot would miss one of us. You made the right decision."

"What?" Will was shocked at the word. "Never!" He put the soup bowl down. "Jack, you can't believe that. You said yourself you had no time to think, none of us did. It just happened. If you'd let him shoot you instead, how do you think Flynn would feel? I know how I'd feel! I'd not be able to live with myself."

"Doesn't matter now, does it?" Jack rubbed a hand across his eyes. "He hates me for what I did."

Will leaned his head back against the pillow, sighing deeply. He didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't tell Jack that Flynn was a fool, that he didn't deserve Jack's love. If the events had been reversed, if Jack had chosen to jump Rosser while the gun was aimed at him, Will knew, no matter how heartbroken, he would not have hated Jack for it. No one should have to make such a choice, and they certainly should never have to be castigated afterwards. But he could not say any of this aloud, knowing how self-ennobling it would make him sound. Instead, Will quietly finished the bowl of soup, and set the tray on the bedside stand. Then he reached out to clasp Jack's nearest hand in his. "You should get some rest."

Will tried again. "Please stay. I haven't had a chance to tell you how stupid and wrong I was to spy on you and Nate."

"I knew it was wrong," Will said. "I couldn't stop myself from doing it anyway." He felt no need to tell him how jealous he had been, how scared he was of losing Jack to Nate. Not when Jack had now lost Nate's affections in this dreadful way. "Jack, I am so sorry."

"You know I don't get angry often." Jack squeezed Will's hand. "But where trust is concerned... well, that matters."

"I know it does." Will couldn't begin to express his misery over betraying that trust. "It's just, I've not loved anyone so strongly before...." He hesitated, striving to find the right words, knowing that Jack preferred to deny his romantic side. "What I mean is, I've been jealous before, when I thought I loved Elizabeth, when Norrington was in the way. But if that was like a spark of jealousy, this was a consuming blaze. You had everything with Flynn that I didn't have. A past together, memories, sacrifices. I thought I had no chance against that, no hope of holding on to you. I had both everything and nothing to lose." As he spoke, Will realized how overwrought his feelings sounded. "God, I'm like a character in a melodrama."

The mere fact that Jack could smile at him sent a wave of relief through Will. "No, I think I would be better at playing 'Simple Young Fool'."

The thoughts Will had been having about the difference in their ages came rushing up to the surface. "Definitely young, though," he said. He clenched Jack's hand. "Do you ever wonder if perhaps I'm too young for you?"

"I mean, maybe that twenty years between us is too much. You might be happier with someone closer in age, someone you have more in common with."

Jack sighed. "You mean I'd be better off with someone who isn't as melodramatic as you are, is that it?" "Something like that. Someone with greater experience of life."

Will bit his lower lip. A little too accurate an assessment. "You can stop any time."

Jack let go of his hand, and bent down to pull off his boots. "The years don't make a man change, Will."

"Sometimes." Jack tossed his boots across the room. "Not always. A man can still be a fool at forty."

"Well, now, you might be surprised, then." Jack slowly undressed, complaining a bit as he did so. "Bloody tree roots."

"More than once. Ouch. I've got bruises where no man should have bruises." He went round to the other side of the bed and gingerly climbed in under the covers. "Mind if I have a pillow?"

"Oh, sorry." Will forgot he'd taken them all. He leaned forward so Jack could pull one out, then fell back again. "Shall I put out the lamp?"

Will doused the lamp. Neither of them had remembered to draw the curtains over the room's one window, though. Soft shimmering moonlight bathed the bed. At least Jack wanted to share that bed with him.

"I wasn't planning to," Will replied. He knew what Jack meant. What had he and Flynn talked about while they were off careening the Destiny, what had they done together, how had they spent that one night together. "Whatever happened was between you and him. I don't need to know." He'd learned his lesson. "I've lost my taste for prying."

They lay close together in silence for a while. Will stayed propped up against several pillows, as it supported his sore shoulder better than lying flat. Jack lay on his back, one arm beneath his head on his pillow, the other resting atop the cover over his waist. He looked calm, more at peace than Will had seen him for some time. "Jack, I'm glad you're here."

Will fought down a brief surge of panic at those words. Had Jack honestly come that close to leaving him? "When did you think that?"

Oh God. Flynn truly had meant the world to Jack. Precisely what Will had feared. "I told you, I don't need to know."

Will gave in, knowing it took a great effort for Jack to reveal his emotional life. "Go on, then. What happened?"

"We talked over old times. I told him about the Pearl, how I got it back from Barbossa, all that happened." He paused. "I told him about you."

Not what he wanted to hear. Will shivered. He pulled the bed cover up to his chin, though he knew it wasn't the temperature making him cold. "Everything?"

"Enough." Jack sighed. "I know at least one thing that will make a man of forty turn foolish. Wanting to love two people, and knowing that he can't."

I should have known that. Will didn't voice his thoughts. He had been jealous, but hadn't spared much thought to how Jack had been suffering. He simply thought Jack had abandoned him for Flynn, when it really couldn't have been that simple. "He didn't have anyone else, then," Will said. "Not in four years?"

Then he still loved you... Will didn't voice that thought, either. He'd heard Flynn tell Jack he loved him, after all. And though he couldn't be certain the man told the truth about everything, given his strange tales, Will knew that one declaration had been honest. "You were with him that night." He didn't have to make it a question. He knew what was true. "You shared his bed."

No need to elaborate. Will was surprised at feeling less disheartened than he would have thought. Obviously something had gone awry, or he'd be the one lying alone down the hall. "Did four years absence make such a difference?"

Will thought perhaps he understood, at least a little. Good things that happened in the past could take on a brighter luster, or bad things a darker shadow, the farther from them you stood. "You can color the past in your own mind," he said. "Make it better than it truly was, make things larger than they were, like an exaggeration." Did that mean Nate had meant more to Jack in those past years than Jack had meant to Nate? Was that what he'd discovered during the reunion? That what they'd actually had in the past had been an unequal relationship, but Nate's supposed sacrifice for Jack had colored all his memories of them. The vail had been lifted, and the falseness of that sacrifice come to light. Jack knew Nate had been playing a part during their years together, and perhaps his professed love was part and parcel of that lie.

And yet Flynn claimed to still love Jack. Had their one day and one night together put that statement to the test? Had it destroyed the memories Jack had clung to so dearly? "Is that what happened?" he asked. "You found out things weren't the same as they were before?"

"Sometimes," Jack said slowly, "the people a man comes to know closely, the people he comes to love... sometimes he cares for them more than they care for him."

So he had judged that correctly. "That's not foolish, Jack. You can't always see it clearly. Trust me, I should know. Sometimes you're blinded by what's in your heart. But you can't always tell what's in someone else's."

"No, I don't think you understand. When we first went off together, I figured it would be the way it had been before, nothing changed. But after that day, and after that night, I knew I was wrong. Couldn't be the same. Not because he didn't love me enough, either, if that's what you're thinking."

That had been precisely what Will had been thinking. And he was wrong? But if Flynn truly did love Jack, then what had happened to ruin things? "You're right. I don't understand."

"I was bloody well angry with you," Jack said. "More angry than I can remember being at anyone. Should have been easy to leave, then, right? Easy to go back to Nate, to stay with him instead. But you wouldn't let me go."

"That's just the trouble, mate. You were there. The whole bloody time. No matter what we talked about, no matter what we did, no matter how hard I tried to stop it, nothing worked. All I could think about was you."

I had it the wrong way round... Jack was the one who hadn't loved Flynn as much as Flynn loved him. Memory can play you false.

"I don't think he knew," Jack went on. "I damn well didn't tell him. I couldn't, he was too damn happy to have me back, and I did still care for him. I still do." His tone turned bitter. "But he knows now, doesn't he?"

For the first time, Will felt empathy for Nate Flynn. He had gained Jack's love at Flynn's expense. Flynn must be suffering greatly, having lost something he'd believed he had recovered, and having nearly died because the man he'd loved had saved another.

"Maybe he should have stayed dead," Jack whispered into the darkness. "I can handle ghosts all right. He should have stayed in the dead past, where he belonged."

"I'm sorry." Will slid down a ways on his pillows, and reached across with his good arm, resting it across Jack's chest. "Time may help, you know. Let it rest for a while, all right?"

Will started in surprise. "Since when?" "Since that standoff in the woods. You were going to move, weren't you? To draw Rosser's attention so I wouldn't need to choose."

Had that slight motion he'd made, that tensing of his body, been the thing that made Jack act when he did? "Maybe."

"No need to pretend, mate. I know what you were going to do. Draw his fire. I didn't want that. Just..." He trailed off.

Will let that simple heartfelt acknowledgment settle within him. Then he tightened his embrace a little. "Now can we let it rest?"

Will laughed. "I didn't mean to make you sound ancient." He considered. "How old are you, anyway?"

"I've lost track. November something." Will thought backwards to the last date he recalled clearly, then calculated forwards. He reckoned it must be the twenty-fourth, which made him realize something. He was a year older. "My birth date fell three days ago."

"Why not?" Will looked at him in surprise. "I think I should know it well enough."

"Well, that's good, we haven't missed it yet. We'll have a celebration." Will remembered then that when they were first getting to know each other, Jack said he was a year older than Bill Turner, and his father was twenty when Will was born. So Jack would be turning forty-one. In the glow of the moonlight, he studied Jack's face. He didn't look like Will's idea of forty-one. He looked younger, despite Edward Eaton's remark about seafaring men looking older than their real years. Curious. Could Jack have made a mistake about being older than his father? "Jack, what year were you born?"

Will made the quick calculation. "Can't be. You'd be younger than my father then."

Maybe he'd got the year wrong, or maybe he didn't really know. What with all the lies Jack had woven to support his pirate legend, maybe he'd lost track of the truth. Will decided to do some roundabout questioning to get at the answer. "All right then, how old were you when you went off to sea?"

"Very well, let's try this another way. What year did you join the Rosinante? The ship you met my father on?"

Jack muttered to himself, then said, "It was spring, the year of our Lord seventeen hundred and eleven." Got him again. "My father was twenty-one years old then. He'd only just left England. I was a year old. He was twenty when I was born. But if you were born in November of sixteen ninety-four, then you were only sixteen years old in the spring of seventeen eleven."

"But you didn't go to sea until you were thirteen? What did you do for those three years?"

"No, I was... that is... I thought I was thirteen..." The confusion grew in Jack's voice.

"To get on board the ship. You're rather a slight man, you were probably always slight for your age. You told them you were older so they'd let you aboard, didn't you?"

"And you've lied about your age ever since. You must have added another year here, one there, maybe to get promoted. You've lied about it for so long that you came to believe it yourself!"

"Absolutely sure. You're going to turn thirty-six in five days time, not forty-one."

"I am?" Will was cheered at the discovery. "Here I thought there were twenty years between us. There are only fifteen."

"Yes, but I'll take those five years, if you don't mind. Even if it means I'll need to put up with five more years of you."

Will leaned over to brush his lips against Jack's forehead. "I want as many years as I can get," he whispered.

Will turned his face to the pillow and closed his eyes. He slept well, and he did not remember his dreams.

When he woke in the morning, Jack was gone. For a few moments, while still in that hazy state between waking and sleeping, Will wondered if the entire encounter with Jack last evening had been a dream. Then he came more fully awake, and spied Jack's boots lying on the floor exactly where he'd tossed them.

Not long after Jack returned, wearing just his breeches and shirt. He had Swann's physician with him. "Time for ministrations, mate."

"You're doing better, lad," he told Will when he'd finished. He turned to Jack. "No sign of fever?"

The physician raised an eyebrow. "Really, sir, a man's health is no joking matter."

"Of course not." Jack showed him out of the room, then came over to sit on the edge of the bed, facing Will. "You are better, aren't you?"

"I feel stronger, and the wound doesn't hurt much. More of an ache. Help me up?"

"Certainly." Jack supported him down the hall to the one bathroom on their floor, and then helped him back again. Jack eased him gently onto the bed.

"Good." Then Will belatedly realized where Jack had brought the physician from. Flynn's room. He touched Jack's arm. "How is he?"

"Better as well. The shot seems to have damaged mostly muscle, and caused a lot of bleeding. No fever, though. It's believed he will live."

Will had a feeling that while relieved at Flynn's improved condition, Jack was still downhearted. "Was he awake? Would he still not speak to you?"

"He was awake." Jack bowed his head, rubbing a hand across his forehead. "No, he won't speak with me."

"Then I'll go tell him what a fool he is." Will tried to throw aside the covers and get up.

"Stop that." Jack pushed him down. "What's in your head? It's not your concern."

"Everything about you is my concern." But Will's flash of anger had already subsided, and he settled down in the bed. He cast Jack a sheepish smile. "You're mad to want me around, you know."

"I do know." Jack gazed at him warmly. "And I do want you around. You're never boring, I'll give you that."

"Did you now? Slaving away at the smithy, making swords all day long, nobody to use 'em on, pining away after Elizabeth?" Jack glanced upward, putting a finger to his chin. "Aye, you're right. That's dead boring."

Will nearly threw a pillow at him, but thought better of it. "you're the one who's never boring."

"Me?" Jack put his hand on his chest in mock surprise. "Why, all I do is sail around the Caribbean, drinking rum and getting me brains addled by too much sun."

Jack quirked an affronted eyebrow. "Not when we fought? I thought I was quite threatening."

"No, more when I went to spring you from jail. Lying there waving your hand about, spouting nonsense about a mythical isle, acting as if being imprisoned was nothing more than inconvenient. And your whole notion of walking underwater inside that boat, why it was madness. By the time you swung me out over the sea on the jib boom, I knew you were daft."

"You were daft," Will said. "And I'm afraid your manner of lurching about Tortuga getting slapped, getting drunk, and rounding up the most wretched looking crew I'd ever laid eyes on did not qualify as 'charming'."

"Ah. Pity." Jack cocked his head, brow creased in puzzlement. "Then when did you decide I might be worth knowing?"

Will considered, thinking over those hectic events when he and Jack had gone off to rescue Elizabeth. "Well, despite your being daft, and despite my not trusting a pirate, there was still something from the very beginning. I'm not sure I can describe it properly. I'd never met anyone like you before, never seen anyone behave the way you did. There was a certain appeal, I suppose because it was all so opposite to my experience. You were so peculiar that it was fascinating. Even when I was working hard not to trust you, I couldn't help but fall under the spell."

"Maybe so." Will fondly recalled their recruiting effort in Tortuga, when he had briefly tried to follow Jack's way of doing things by offering Anamaria the Interceptor as a bribe. "You opened my eyes to a different way of living. Not quite so humdrum."

"Of course," Will went on, still thinking about their first adventure together, "you went and stopped Barbossa from slitting my throat, which made me think you might actually be a good man."

"Oh, yes. I thought you might be worth saving." Jack smiled. "There was something about you, too, mate. Even after you whacked me on the head, I thought, 'well, the lad's got spirit, can't fault him for that'."

Will liked hearing this very much. "Often wondered what you saw in me." Jack may have wanted, at one time, to be with him simply for physical pleasures, but Will knew he hadn't stayed with him for that reason. Nor had he chosen him over Nate Flynn for something that simple.

"Courage," Jack replied. "Boldness, daring. Loyalty. Honesty. Dedication. Not to mention self-sacrifice."

"You are." Jack laid a hand on Will's thigh. "You stood between me and the hangman's noose, mate. You were ready to die to save my neck."

"Well, it's a nice neck," Will said lightly. He wished he felt well enough to kiss that neck, that throat, that chest... which he did feel well enough to do, but not well enough to do the things it would inevitably lead to. And that would be far too frustrating. He sighed.

A knock sounded. Jack took his hand away and rose from the bed as a servant entered with breakfast. "Ah, good. I'm famished."

They ate together quietly. When they finished, Jack pulled his boots on. "I'm off to take a closer look at the Pearl. You'll be all right on your own?"

"I'm fine." Will hated to think what Jack would find at the ship. "Will Norrington pay for repairs?"

"Hope you're right, mate." Jack crossed to the bed, leaned over, and tilted Will's chin up. "Wish me luck." He gave Will a long kiss.

Two days later, Norrington and the rest of his men returned to Port Royal, having rounded up half a dozen surviving pirates, who were hauled off to the jail.

By then Will's shoulder wound no longer hampered him, though still sore. He was able to get around, so he went with Jack to Swann's mansion, to meet up with Norrington when he gave his report.

They arrived in the late afternoon in time for tea, which was served out in the parlor. Will always found it incongruous to think of Jack sitting on a floral chintz-covered chair sipping tea from a dainty china cup. Yet Jack actually liked tea, and approached it with his own special aplomb, dumping a mass of sugar in, enough cream to turn it beige, grabbing a great handful of petit-fours, and then leaning back comfortably with one leg crossed over his thigh. "Cheers," he said to Swann, who shook his head with a sad resignation.

Norrington walked into the parlor, looked round at Will and Jack sitting there, then nodded to Swann. "Governor. I'm pleased to report the capture of eight men from Rosser's crew."

Norrington joined Swann on the settee and took a cup offered by the serving girl, who then silently withdrew. "I regret that we failed to apprehend Captain Rosser himself."

"We chased him and his first mate, Marston, through the woods, but they circled back around us to return to the shore. By the time we discovered our error and followed, they had made their way further up the beach, where they stole a canoe from one of the local fisherman. We were unable to find them."

"He would have pulled into shore again," Jack said, "as soon as he felt safe. Much harder to find him on land."

"That would be my best guess as well," Norrington agreed. "And he'll want to get off Jamaica as quickly as possible, and not in a fishing boat. He'll be looking to commandeer a larger vessel."

"Gillette should be returning from Tortuga with the warship within a week's time," Swann replied. "Then we'll have the men and firepower needed to capture a hundred pirates, let alone two."

Norrington looked downcast, no doubt thinking about the Dauntless, which was unsalvageable. "Yes, it would be better if we had a decent ship in the bay. Rosser is most likely to head for Port Morant, or somewhere further to the northeast, which was the last direction we saw him heading. If we had a ship, we could sail round the whole island until we found him. But at the moment, there are only fishing boats and a few small merchant snows and barques in the harbor."

Jack looked uneasy. "She could be made seaworthy inside three or four days. The damage to her hull was above the waterline, the masts are in good shape. The foresail and mizzensail need replacing, but the crew are already working on the repairs."

Will knew that Jack had given the crew something of a drubbing over their extended drinking bout, which had put the Pearl at such risk. The crew were anxious to make amends, and had set to work on the ship with great energy.

"Then possibly you could take her to Port Morant," Swann suggested. "Take some of Norrington's men with you, catch out the last of these pirates."

"And why is that?" Norrington said. "You are still under our employ, are you not?"

"Oh, I see." Norrington gave him a disdainful look. "But not as a pirate hunter, is that it? Having a few moral qualms, are we?"

"Commodore," Swann snapped, "is that really necessary? Captain Sparrow is quite correct that we engaged him as a spy, and nothing more."

Norrington muttered something beneath his breath which Will couldn't hear, then gave Jack a brisk nod. "My apologies."

"The reason not to take the Pearl to Port Morant," Jack said, not to Norrington but to Swann, "is that it would leave Port Royal less protected, at least until Gillette returns."

"Less protected?" Swann nearly choked on a tea cake. "You can't be serious." He took a sip of tea, clearing his throat. "Do you honestly believe Rosser would dare turn up here? Or that our marines couldn't handle him if he did?"

"I've heard stories of Rosser," Jack said. "He once attacked a thirty-six gun, four-hundred-ton merchantman of some two hundred crew with only fifty men in five open boats. And he captured her." He paused to let that news sink in, then added, "There are plenty more stories out of Madagascar and India, where he's been roving. He's dangerous, fearless, and brutal. If he'd been captain of the Black Pearl ten years ago, he would have had Barbossa's head served up for breakfast before the mutiny ever got underway."

"Then we'll increase the guards around the harbor," Norrington said. "Put more men on the docks, and at every entrance to the town."

"That might just stop him," Jack replied. "If he comes this way. He might have more than just Marston with him by now, too, you know. You've no idea how many of his crew were in those woods, or how many you let slip."

Norrington's face flushed. "My men searched those woods for two solid days and nights, already wearied from the battle, until they could barely stand."

"Please," Swann intervened. "Calm down. We will keep the Pearl here in Port Royal until Gillette returns."

"Very well." Norrington rose, obviously finished with this conversation. "I will send a contingent to keep searching the woods north of here. Good day, Governor." He strode briskly from the parlor.

Will rose. "Yes, thank you for the tea, sir." Swann walked them to the door. "I'm sorry about Norrington. But you do rather tend to set him off at times."

Will followed him out of the parlor. As they walked back towards the town proper, he asked, "Do you honestly have qualms about hunting down a man like Rosser just because he's a pirate? It's not as if he ever served under you. And you said yourself he was worse than Barbossa."

"Not just that. You'd be helping him out, now that he's unable to finish the task himself. He's been chasing Rosser for a long time."

"You thought if I caught Rosser, took revenge for Nate, and for his uncle, that he'd be pleased. You thought maybe he'd forgive me then."

Truth to tell, that idea had crossed Will's mind. "Why not? What could it hurt to try?"

Jack stared at him for a long, silent moment, then he sighed. "And then what? He forgives me, and then what? We become best of mates again?"

"I thought you wanted him to at least talk to you." Will found this attitude confusing. "You were awfully downhearted when he wouldn't."

As they walked on into the outskirts of town, Will thought this over, and decided Jack was still as daft as he'd ever been. Why couldn't you stay close to someone you cared dearly for, just because you were no longer sharing their bed? He still loved Elizabeth, and she loved him, they were as close to each other as any two people could be. Of course the closeness he had with Jack was different, of course it was more intense when you shared your body as well as your mind and heart. But should that prevent you from feeling that kind of close, dear friendship with anyone else? What if everything were reversed, what if Jack had chosen Flynn instead? Would he have lost Jack's friendship as well as his shared bed? He would never have wanted that.

They had turned down the street leading to the Port Royal Inn. "Thought you liked me that way," Jack replied.

"I do. But not when you're only hurting yourself. Nate Flynn will forgive you someday, because he still loves you. And you still love him, whether you want to admit it or not. He's your friend, Jack." Will spoke with the same passion he would feel were Jack trying to deny their own friendship instead. "He's an old friend and a close friend, someone you've shared the world with, and you can't just let that die. It isn't fair, and it isn't right."

"Oh, and you know all about right and fair." Jack reached the entrance to the inn and held open the door. "But you don't know a lot about life, do you?"

Jack gestured at the doorway. "You coming in, or are you planning to sulk out there all evening?"

Jack headed up the stairs to their room. Will hesitated for just a moment, then followed. He stopped again in the corridor outside their door. "Go down the hallway first," he said, reaching for the key Jack held to the lock. "Go see him."

Jack bowed his head, letting out a long sigh. He pulled the key from the lock. "I know what you're thinking. It's all right between you and Elizabeth, is that it? Hm?"

"We're close as ever, yes. Don't you see that it can be the same for you and him?"

"No. It can't. She's not in love with you, mate. She doesn't hate me for taking you away from her, if she even knows about that. But do you honestly think Nate will want to stay around here? Stay mates with me, while you're always around?"

"If you had chosen to stay with Flynn, to share his bed instead of mine. I would not have left. I would still want you in my life."

"I do mean it." Will touched Jack's shirt, over his heart. "Because I can't imagine life without you around. My world would be much too dull a place."

Jack stared at him for what seemed like ages. Then he looked down the hallway towards Flynn's room.

"If I'm wrong," Will said, "you're no worse off than you were before. But if I'm right, then you haven't really lost him." He turned the key in the lock, and pushed the door open. "Come back to get me for supper, all right?" Then he walked into the room, and shut the door on Jack as he stood there in the hallway.

Half an hour later, Will was lying on the bed, resting his shoulder, when the door opened and Jack came in. He slowly closed the door, stood there for a moment, then crossed to sit down in the wingback chair by the window.

Will couldn't tell at all what his mood might be, so he sat there in silence, just watching him.

After only a few minutes, Jack turned to him and said, "I take it back. You do know something about life after all."

"I know." Jack rose, drew the curtains to, and crossed over to the bed. "Supper? Up here or downstairs?"

"Let's go to the dining room," Will said. He needed a change of scene. He got up to put on his boots, then they went downstairs. Will hadn't eaten a lot of solid food while recovering from his injuries, and he'd grown tired of broths and stews. Fortunately, roast mutton was on the night's menu.

Not long after, he was digging into the meat with great relish, and was enjoying some potato-onion pie as well.

"Save room for afters," Jack told him between bites. "The cook's got an apple pie baking."

They stayed on safe subjects for a while, talking about the progress the crew was making on the Pearl's repairs, about Norrington's sour mood that afternoon, which Jack put down to the loss of the Dauntless and his general ineffectiveness of late.

When they'd exhausted those two topics, Will cast about for something equally inoffensive. Their visit with Swann helpfully reminded him of something he'd been meaning to ask Jack ever since their previous meeting with the Governor. "Jack, you remember when we talked with Swann before this? When we reported on our Bermuda adventure?"

"Well, I've been wanting to know something since then, just didn't have a chance to ask."

Jack stifled a laugh as he tried to finish swallowing. "Of course not," he said when he'd got control again. "Yes, my mother did like to read those plays aloud, but I was never the sort of lad who takes to fine language. It just happened that was her favorite play, and the one line always stuck in my head."

"Well, I know you had a decent schooling until you were ten, but somehow I can't see you spending your evenings reading poetry by the fire."

"A decent schooling." "Not much," Will admitted. "Not when I was in England. We were too poor, and I wanted to work. I had a few years of schooling after I came here. Just the basics, really, nothing fancy. Elizabeth allowed me to take any books from their library, but I was never much of a reader. She used to read from her favorites to me. I enjoyed that much better."

Will considered. "Maybe I'd like to know a bit more about the world beyond England and the Caribbean, a little history, or geography perhaps."

They finished their meal, and then the apple pie arrived, steaming hot. Will wasn't going to take this slowly. He gave it the barest amount of time to cool down enough to not burn his mouth, and then ate with abandon.

Jack ate his pie more slowly, clearly savoring each bite. When they had cleaned their plates, Jack leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and said quietly, "He doesn't like you."

"What?" Will frowned, puzzled. Who didn't like him? Oh. Of course. Flynn. "What did you tell him?"

"Well, I thought I'd start there, since his father was a blacksmith. Thought he might like you better for it, having that somewhat in common. That, and the fact he's quite fond of fencing."

"Didn't work, though." Will felt that was a pity, as he never really had a chance to talk swords with anyone. "He's a pretty good swordsman, then?"

"Not as good as you," Jack replied. "Which I did not remind him of. Didn't matter. He doesn't like you at all."

"Well, not right now. Given time, he might find out what a fine, upstanding young fellow I am."

Will thought that sounded hopeful. "He's talking to you, at least. He doesn't hate you anymore, does he?"

It was a start, anyway. "Do you think he'll stay here?" Though Jack didn't have what one might call a home, other than the Pearl, Will had come to think of Port Royal as their refuge between voyages.

Will had not given a moment's thought to the loss of the Destiny, nor to how devastating losing a ship would be to a captain. "Sorry."

"Not your fault." Jack waved his hand. "Come on, what say we go down to the tavern."

"It should be nice and quiet in there tonight." Will shoved out of his chair. Jack had told his crew they were not to go anywhere near any of the taverns in town until the Pearl was seaworthy once more. "Might even be able to hear ourselves think."

"I'd rather hear myself drink." Jack stood, and clapped Will on his good arm. "Norrington sent our pay over, so it's drinks all round."

"Generous of you," Will said as they left the inn, "seeing as how we'll be the only crew members there."

"Precisely the idea, mate. More rounds all round!" Jack grinned as he strolled off down the street.

The next day Jack left Will on his own, as he wanted to oversee the Pearl's repairs. There was only so much lounging about in the room that Will could tolerate before becoming unbearably bored, and by late morning he'd had enough. Fortunately, the inn had a small front parlor for its guests, to which he went in search of a different chair to be bored in, and was pleasantly surprised to find Elizabeth walking through the inn's front door on his way there.

"Oh, Will, I'm so glad I caught you. I've brought the latest Port Royal Gazette. I thought you might like something to read."

"Of course." She took his arm as they entered the parlor. "It will be like old times."

The parlor was empty, and the next hour passed swiftly as she read the news items aloud, often putting great emotion into the reading, no matter how mundane the story. Will had always enjoyed listening to her read, for she dearly loved writing of all kinds, and brought her enthusiasm to every word.

They spent another enjoyable hour chatting aimlessly. Then Will began to feel a bit tired, not entirely due to his shoulder, but rather more to the late night he and Jack had spent in the tavern. When he yawned the third time in as many minutes, Elizabeth touched his arm and suggested he go up to his room.

They both stood up to leave, but when they turned to the doorway, they found it blocked. Nate Flynn stood on the threshold, supported by a servant.

He and Will stared at each other, unmoving, until Elizabeth coughed. She nudged Will's foot with her own.

Will broke his gaze to look at her quizzically. She merely raised her eyebrows, tilting her head at Flynn. Realization dawned. She was waiting for a proper introduction. "Oh, sorry." Of all the awkward things. "Miss Swann, this is Captain Flynn."

"Charmed." Flynn gave a stiff bow, no doubt due to his injury. He moved slowly into the room, the servant assisting. He looked round at the various armchairs.

Flynn grunted. "If I stare any longer at those same four walls and that damnable ceiling I shall go raving mad." Then he seemed to remember Elizabeth's presence, for he gave her another stiff bow. "My pardon, Miss Swann."

Flynn looked at her more intently. "Did I not hear your name was Swann? The same as the Governor?"

Will just wanted to escape back to his room. "Elizabeth? Shall I walk you to your carriage?"

"I don't think that will be necessary." She picked up the newspaper she'd brought and turned to Flynn. "Captain, if you are wanting some diversion, perhaps I could stay and read from the Gazette?"

"But Elizabeth," Will whispered fiercely. "You can't mean to stay here with him."

"We've been properly introduced," she whispered back. "Didn't you want to go rest now?"

Flynn eased himself into a chair and waved the servant off. "I should be delighted if you would grace me with your presence, Miss Swann." Oh for goodness sake... Will started to say something, but Elizabeth shooed him towards the door. He gaped at her, unable to understand what she was thinking. Surely she hadn't been impressed by that effusive response?

"Fine," he replied, casting a baleful glare at Flynn. "But at least keep the door open while you're in there with him."

She cast an exasperated look at him, then pointed to both sides of the doorway. "Will, there is no door."

He looked at the door frame, and its complete lack of hinges or anything to hang on them. "Oh." Completely proper and aboveboard. "Well." He looked sheepishly at his feet. "Sorry."

"Yes, I'd like that." He gave her a light kiss on the cheek, and left the parlor.

Jack didn't return from the Pearl until evening. Will had stewed all afternoon, waiting for someone to vent his frustrations upon. And specifically waiting for Jack, to whom he immediately complained about Flynn and Elizabeth the moment Jack returned to their room.

"She read the Port Royal Gazette to him." Will had been sitting at the room's small table. The cook had sent up a veal pot pie for his supper, along with a bottle of port, and he had only just began eating. He waved his fork at Jack as he spoke.

"Interesting? Is that all you can say?" Will jabbed a forkful of veal at him. "It's bloody well wrong, is what it is!"

"Sorry." Will ate the piece of veal, and set down the fork. Then he realized what Jack had just said. "He what? But he's in love with you!"

Jack pulled the bedside chair over to the table and sat down. "Well," he said slowly, yanking the pot pie towards him, "he still likes women." He took Will's fork and dug into the pie.

"That doesn't matter!" Will found the whole thing incomprehensible. "He shouldn't be sitting around in parlors being read to by Elizabeth. He should be pining after his lost love."

This caused Jack to nearly choke on his food. He snatched up the port bottle, poured some into a glass, and drank a few sips. "So you would be happier if he were more miserable."

"Exactly." Will didn't see how it could be any clearer. He knew how things ought to be.

"Of course not." Will frowned at this refusal to follow the rules of romance as he imagined them. "You're supposed to be miserable that he's miserable, and you're both supposed to stay miserable. That's the way it works."

"What I said earlier about you having experience of life. What the bloody hell did that girl read to you when you were a lad?" Will didn't see what that had to do with anything. "Well, you know, her favorite stories... dramas... some poetry."

Maybe that did have something to do with his reaction to seeing Flynn with Elizabeth. "More or less," he said noncommittally.

"Would you stop saying that?" Will took the fork back and dug into the pie. He stabbed a piece of veal. "I'm trying to tell you that he didn't look very broken hearted when I saw him. And he didn't look like he hated me, either. He gave me a rather nasty look, but he didn't try to kill me or anything." He popped the veal into his mouth.

This was ridiculous. Why couldn't Jack see the truth? "No, I'm upset because you're not more upset."

"Fine." Jack abruptly stood. "I'll go talk to him again." He moved towards the door.

Jack stood close, eye to eye, studying him intently. "Will, do you have any idea at all what's in your head?"

Will dropped his gaze. "Not really." His thoughts were a tumbled mishmash. "I'm... just confused."

"That's all right then." Jack smiled softly, gently taking hold of Will's shoulders. "Your natural state is confusion, mate. So everything's the way it should be. Savvy?"

"Oh, good." Jack shoved him backward onto the pillows, climbed onto the bed, and straddled him. "Show me."

Then Jack touched him in a way that made Will forget that Nate Flynn and Elizabeth Swann even existed.

Pirate Dreams

Chapter 14