jackxwill - pirates of the caribbean slash
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Title: Dreams
Author: Vireyda Magodaly (elemental_elf_013@yahoo.com)
Pairing: Jack/Will
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "There were many problems being a mystic... the dreams were just one of them."
Authors Notes: I was humming a song from the movie "The Mists of Avalon" and I remembered part of the lyrics so I typed them into google, and I found them! It’s called "Mystics Dream," and it inspired this.
Warnings: Slash, and song fic. Yes the song fic is a warning as some can be tediously boring.

A clouded dream on an earthly night
Hangs upon the crescent moon
A voiceless song in an ageless light
Sings at the coming dawn
Birds in flight are calling there
Where the heart moves the stones
It's there that my heart is longing for
All for the love of you.....

The clouds dissipated to reveal the full moon not long after fourth bells tolled. That was Joshamee Gibbs’ watch, and he shivered as The Black Pearl was bathed in pristine moonlight. He took a consolatory swig from his hip flask. It had been a good two years since his clash with undead pirates, but for him - and the rest of the crew- moonlight still held some degree of fear.

Joshamee nodded to the other person on watch, the only woman on board, Ana Maria, and she joined him at the helm. She whispered in her low husky voice, a sound that, even as quiet as it was, resonated over the still waters of the Caribbean, "the captain’s dreaming again."

Joshamee sighed, his beloved friend and captain, Jack Sparrow. The captain was a Mystic, or a seer of dreams. Every so often, Jack would have a dream and then lead his crew off on another adventure that landed them rich. "What do you think it is this time?"

Before the mulatto woman could answer, the door to the captain’s cabin opened and Jack slid out. He moved over to where the two pirates were standing and Jack said, "set a course for Port Royale."

Joshamee gasped, "Captain, we’ll be killed!"

Captain Jack Sparrow fixated Joshamee Gibbs with his mahogany eyes, and said in his gravelly baritone, "do it, Gibbs."

Mr. Gibbs was not one to argue such with his captain. With a few twists of the wheel, the Pearl was headed North, towards Royal Navy waters, and towards the certain Blacksmith that haunted her Captain’s dreams.

= = = = = = = = = = =

The shutters were open when the moon came out, and William Turner quickly shut them, keeping the moonlight at bay. He continued to pound the steel, folding and pounding until what he had was perfection. Everything had to be perfect. And seeing the moonlight on a blade would only taint it.

He laid black pearls into the handle, not so many as to be gaudy, but not so little as to be sparse. He chiseled an elegant W.T into the handle where one had a strain to see, the only two letters he knew how to make.

Whispers flew around the room, banging open the shutters, and the door, filling the smithy with moonlight and terror. With a cry, Will ran for the door to shut it, and then the window, but the wind caught inside the smithy sang out, ‘she is coming’ before dying and leaving Will panting and alone.

"The Pearl..." he whispered. He eyed the doorway then dusted off his hands and lifted the sword. First, he had to finish his work, then he could go down to the docks. And hopefully by then...it would be morning.

= = = = = = = = = =

A painting hangs on an ivy wall
Nestled in the emerald moss
The eyes declare a truce of trust
And then it draws me far away
Where deep in the desert twilight
Sand melts in pools of the sky
When darkness lays her crimson cloak
Your lamps will call me home...

= = = = = = = = = = = =

The sun rose as the Pearl sailed closer and closer to Port Royale. The sun gave off a red glow that stained the waters around it crimson, tainted with blood. Jack dreamt on, knowing that the Pearl was safe. He knew why he set course to Port Royal, because of the picture in his mind. The very picture of perfection, William Turner.

He assumed Will was happily married to the rum burning wench, but the Magic in Jack didn’t care. Jack was being pulled to Will, and the dreams that plagued him would not cease until the smith’s foot stood upon the wood of the Pearl. There were many problems with being a Mystic...the dreams were just one of them.

Jack turned, the sunlight lighting his features, making him look younger and not so strained with the tribulations of life. When his skin heated and tightened with the sun, Jack opened his eyes, and rolled out of its path. He rose himself, seeing Port Royal on the horizon, and knowing that he could catch it, ordered full sail ahead.

It would take most of the rest of the day to reach the Port, but Jack didn’t care, the tugging lessened and he knew he was close. William was close. But the relentless ache of separation would never cease unless William agreed to join with Jack and the Pearl. And there was some deep part of Jack that was utterly terrified that William would refuse.

There were many problems with being a Mystic...falling in love was another one. But Jack could wait. He spent a lot of his life just waiting. He waited for the opportune moment to kill Hector Barbossa, and he’s wait for the opportune moment now. He was good at waiting, but the Magic was not.

= = = = = = = = =

The hot white sand burnt Will’s feet as he walked along the shore line early that morning. With the moonlit shadows chased away, the world was no longer a scary place, but a bright and cheerful one. The water lapped over his feet, cooling the burning sand.

Will took one last look at the horizon, and seeing nothing, turned and walked back to his smithy, ignoring the whispers on the wind. He had work to do. Waiting for him at the door was Mrs. Elizabeth Norrington, Will smiled and said, "Good day, Mrs Norrington."

"Will.." Elizabeth said with a lingering fondness, "how many times must I ask you to call me Elizabeth."

"At least once more as always, Mrs. Norrington." Will let her into the smithy where are pretenses dropped. "I think Jack’s coming here," Will said immediately after the door was closed.

"As do I. Feels like it, almost can smell the rum from here."

Will laughed, "but why would he come here? There’s nothing here for him."

"There’s you, Will."

"Elizabeth, surely you jest, Jack would have nothing for me."

Elizabeth smiled, "Sometimes Will, your naivety surprises even me. Just wait for tonight. He’ll come here, tonight."

Will shrugged, "I’ll be here, always am."

"I know. He’s counting on it."

= = = = = = = = = =

And so it's there my homage's due
Clutched by the still of the night
And now I feel you move
Every breath is full
So it's there my homage's due
Clutched by the still of the night
Even the distance feels so near
All for the love of you....

= = = = = = = = = = = =

The Black Pearl glided into port just as the moon was rising, giving off a sinister look. Passerby’s tilted their turncoats up, and hurried past, afraid some specter would howl down around them if they looked too long.

Jack hurried down the gang plank, fairly breathing in the scent of William. He was pounding another sword, and wiping the sweat off his brow. The shutters were tightly closed, blocking out the air and moonlight.

As the Pirate ventured into Port Royal, he saw less people, as most of the populations were buried in the dream scape’s where Magic lived and people could fly. The still of the night was broken only by the residual tapping of Jack’s boots on the cobblestones.

He couldn’t quite remember where the smithy was, but he let his feet take him where they may. Will was close, and that was all that mattered. Jack faltered in his step as he considered the bound to be wife, Elizabeth. How would she feel if he barged into her life and stole her love because of his own?

But the tug in his gut forced him on. There were many problems with being a Mystic...the last one being said that he could love unconditionally forever...and never have it returned.

There were lights ahead, illuminating a sign that said, "Turner’s Smithing." Jack paused and smoothed the invisible wrinkles away, and strode towards the door.

He raised his fist to knock, and when he did so, sealed his fate.

= = = = = = = = = =

Your lamps will call me home....

= = = = = = = = = =


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