jackxwill - pirates of the caribbean slash

Title: Mutiny

Author: Hellborne (the_ferret_mom@yahoo.com)

Pairing: J/W

Rating: PG-13

Copyright: Characters, not mine, See the Mouse. Story and Angeline Hawk, mine, but I make no money. He does, but not on this.

Typing convention: / is used for thoughts.

Beta: The greatest, most humble, modest, and oh so magnificent BetaGoddess, Pendragginink! You really ARE the greatest!!! I can’t thank you enough!

Summary: This is my rendition of the challenge given me for the Jack/Will Ficathon. The Challenge: A) A mystery, murder or otherwise, B) A UST, and C) Not a parody. Blue Buick R, this one’s for you.

* - * - * - *

The hands holding him finally released their grip, pushing him forward. His hands were bound before him, and he near fell off the plank prematurely. He saw the island, if that’s what they wanted to call it; white sands, a few palm trees. /Well, at least it’s above water at high tide./ “Hector, ye don’t have t’maroon me. The treasure’s for everyone, Share and share alike I say.”

“Ah, Jack. A nice sentiment, but that would leave you captain o’the Black Pearl, and we can’t be havin’ that, now can we?” Barbossa and the rest of the crew chuckled—save one. Bill Turner stood stock still, barely able to watch his friend and lover be marooned. Barbossa called for Jack’s weapons and threw them overboard.

Jack dove off the plank after his effects, kicking strongly with his feet, his bound hands, like the bow of a ship cutting through the water. He grabbed the bound up package and kicked off from the bottom, but something grabbed his foot and held him there. He kicked, trying to unwrap the package and grab his sword to no avail; whatever it was plucked the package away from him as if he were a babe holding a bottle. He looked at the beast, his head starting to ache with the pressure in his lungs. Before him was his lover Bill, with what seemed to be dozens of tentacles: holding him still, twining around his legs and now up his chest, squeezing the life out of him. The more he fought, the tighter his chest got and the harder it became to hold his breath. Finally, a tentacle wound its way around his throat, and the monster that looked like Bill said, “I love you, Jack,” and jerked on his neck, snapping it.

* - * - *

Thud.

Jack sat up and looked around. He didn’t usually wake up on the floor with his comforter wrapped around him, strangling him. He disentangled himself from the comforter and stood up, looking at the ruin of his bedding. “Too many nightmares lately. Something’s wrong.” He grabbed his clothes and threw them on. “I wonder what the crew’s up to today?” He walked through the door and climbed the stairs to the helm.

Anamaria heard Jack’s cabin door open and nodded. She didn’t notice that Jack saw the end of the nod, nor did she notice that he followed her vision to the open hatch to the galley, where Pintel hastily closed it as carefully as possible.

/Anamaria and Pintel, eh? Where Pintel goes, Ragetti is surely with him./ He looked across to Gibbs, who was repairing a sail, intent on his work. /Gibbs is never that intent on the boring jobs./ He looked up to the crow’s nest and saw Will sitting on the edge, bare feet dangling, bare chest tanning nicely even after only two weeks with the crew, apparently not a care in the world. /The spittin’ image of his father. Fantastic body, adorable feet...lovely curls...looks like a lady he does...all right, Jack Sparrow, you stop thinkin’ those thoughts right now. He’s Bill’s SON for the love o’Christ!/

Jack took the helm from Anamaria and looked around at the skies. It was a beautiful day, the sails of the Black Pearl full with a perfect wind at her back. Not a cloud in the sky, and as his gaze fell to the sea, he noticed a family of dolphins racing his Lady and playing with each other. He smiled, knowing his Lady would never allow this crew to do what Barbossa’s had done to him. But why was Marty coming out from the hatch below deck, walking over to Gibbs, telling him something and receiving a short reply, and jogging back to the hatch and disappearing below? /That’s interesting. Marty is on night watch./

Jack started watching the crew. Throughout the day, he saw many oddities, including Cotton’s Parrot flying from Anamaria’s cabin to the crow’s nest and back, leaving what appeared to be notes with Will and taking them back later. /Will too? I’d ha’ thought he’d be loyal like his da./ He rubbed the side of his head in memory of an oar knocking him senseless. /Maybe not./

At dusk, Will slid down the shroud and went directly to the galley for his dinner and didn’t reappear for the evening. As Jack walked into the galley, all talking stopped and all eyes watched him as he got his own meal. Several of the men hastily scurried below. Although he usually had his meals brought to him in his cabin, he didn’t expect such an odd welcome. /I swear there’s something up. This crew wouldn’t usually stop talking for anything short of a typhoon!/ He hurriedly grabbed some bread and some meat and left quickly, feeling unwelcome. He tried listening just outside, but the talking didn’t start again. /They know I’m listening./ After a few more minutes of standing there, he shrugged and went back to his cabin with his food.

* - * - *

His hands bound, he looked at the crowd below him. Everyone dressed in their best for him. /Why?/ He looked around and saw the hangman. /Oh yes./ He looked to the rear of the audience and saw Commodore Norrington, Governor Swann and Elizabeth. The crier was reading his crimes...”impersonating a cleric of the Church of England.” He remembered that and smiled to himself. As the crier finished and the drums rolled, the hangman put the noose around his neck and he started to get worried. /I’m Captain Jack Sparrow. Certainly I’ll get out of this...?/ The drums stopped and the trap door opened. As he fell, he noticed that the hangman had removed his hood. It was Will, who stared at him, smiling, and said “I love you, Jack” as he heard the disgusting sound of his own neck snap.

* - * - *

Jack woke up gasping for breath, his bedding wrapped several times around his neck, choking him. “This is getting ridiculous.” He dressed quickly and left his cabin as quietly as he could. He saw several groups of the crew standing and speaking in hushed tones with each other. Will walked out of the galley, saw Jack, and turned around, slamming the galley door on his way in. The groups of men looked over at him, and dispersed quickly, each man going to his appointed task. /Looks like the whole crew is in on it. Even Will! Why could he not be like his father?/

Anamaria tied off the helm and climbed down the stairs to where Jack was. “Ye don’t look well, Jack. Perhaps ye should stay in yer cabin today and rest. I’ll have Ragetti bring ye some breakfast.”

Jack eyed her closely. She looked genuinely concerned, but he wasn’t so sure. “No, I’ll take my place at the helm. I wouldn’t want the crew to think I’d gone soft, eh?”

“Jack, nobody thinks you’re ‘soft.’”

“Then perhaps I’ve been too hard on ‘em?”

“Why would ye wonder such a fool thing as that? Jack, ye’re the fairest Captain in the entire world. None could say ill about ye. Now go back to bed and relax today.”

/She wants me out of the way. So they can plot some more? They must realize that I suspect them./ “I feel fine. Really. Perhaps I’ll just go to the galley myself and grab a bite t’eat before I take the helm, eh?”

“Suit yerself, Jack.”

He turned and walked toward the galley, almost being knocked over by Cotton’s parrot as it flew past him, screaming “Dead men tell no tales!” at the top of its lungs.

As he opened the hatch to the galley, he saw Pintel sitting on a box, looking innocent. /As if Pintel could be innocent of anything!/ Ragetti was stirring something on the stove. “Mr. Ragetti, what is for breakfast?” He tried to sniff the pot Ragetti was stirring.

Ragetti moved to block him. “We have fresh biscuits with butter and cream this morning, Captain. I managed a whole churn o’butter from when we were in port day before yesterday. A good keg o’cream as well. Or if you’d like some fresh—“

Pintel innocently stood up, stepping directly on Ragetti’s foot, interrupting his thoughts.

Jack grinned. “Some fresh what, Mr. Ragetti?”

Ragetti looked at Pintel, who frowned at him. “Oh. I told you about the biscuits. Yeah. Biscuits with butter and cream.” He reached into the cupboard above the stove and pulled out some biscuits, put them on a plate and lobbed some butter on it.

“And the cream? What would I use that for?”

Pintel spoke before Ragetti could answer. “For makin’ more butter, p’r’aps, Cap’n? You know Rags isn’t quite all there in ‘is head.” He thumped Ragetti on the side of his head with his palm for emphasis, Ragetti grabbing his eye as it popped out of his head and stuffing it back in.

“Yes, I suppose so. Mr. Ragetti, what is in that pot?”

“Tonight’s stew, Cap’n.”

“May I taste it?”

“Oh. No, Cap’n. It’s not ready.”

“I understand that, Ragetti. I just want to see how it’s coming.”

“It’s not good enough that I’d want you to try it yet, Cap’n. It needs a few more hours stewin’.”

Jack wondered what they were hiding, but took his hot biscuits and butter and left to eat at the helm, not wanting to be rejected again in the dining area.

* - * - *

As the afternoon ran on, Jack noticed more and more groups of the crew “bumping into one another” and having brief discussions. Often as not, these included Will Turner. /Will looks like he’s the leader. Sparrow, you’re just imaginin’ things! Will couldn’t lead a Christmas Carol let alone a mutiny. There’s got to be someone else!/

He watched and waited, and noticed that, no matter which crewmen bumped into whom, it always seemed to go back to Will.

When Anamaria came to take over the helm, he ordered his meal sent to his cabin along with Will’s.

Will arrived with the two meals and sat one before Jack at the head of the great table. “You wished me to eat here, Captain?”

“Aye. Sit down lad. Make yerself comfortable.” He grabbed a bottle on the table. “Rum?”

Will sat down, food in front of him. “No thank you, Captain.”

“We’re alone here. Call me Jack. And as for the rum, ye wouldn’t wish t’hurt an old pirate’s feelin’s now, would ye?” Jack poured a tankard of the rum and put it in front of Will.

“Umm...all right, Cap—er—Jack.” He picked up the tankard and took a tentative sip. /This rum is like fire!/ “What kind of rum is this?!”

“It’s a good one. Put some hair on yer chest, boy. So, ye’ve been part of me crew for nigh on two weeks, isn’t it?”

Will smiled, taking another sip of the liquid fire. “Yes.” He wondered what Jack was getting to.

“And ye’ve done well according to Anamaria and Gibbs. And I’ve seen ye for meself up in the crow’s nest. So, Will, how do ye like the crew?”

“It’s a fine crew, Jack. I wouldn’t wish to sail with any other.” Will could feel the effects of the rum already. /This is the strongest rum I’ve ever heard of!/

“And how would you say I fare as Captain?”

He took another sip. “You fare just fine, Jack. I chose the Black Pearl because you were her Captain.”

“Aye, so ye said when ye signed the Articles. So...how do ye like the Pearl?”

Will smiled. “She’s a beautiful ship, Jack. I’ve never heard of another like her.”

“Aye, that ye won’t. She’s more than a ship, lad. She’s a Lady. In fact, she’s MY Lady, and she talks to me.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Talks to you? In words?”

“Aye, sometimes in my sleep. Usually she just talks to me in the way she moves...the way she rocks and creaks at times in calm waters. But of late she’s been rather talkative.”

Will looked surprised. “Oh? In what way?”

“She’s been comin’ to me in me dreams...tellin’ me things I ought to hear.” Jack looked deeply into Will’s eyes. “And I don’t like the news.”

Will took a large swig of the rum. He looked just a bit frightened. “I didn’t think...”

“I’m sure you didn’t. Now take your dinner and your drink and tell your friends that I’m on to you!” He lurched to his feet, death in his eyes. Will fled, not caring about dinner, the tankard falling to the floor.

* - * - *

Jack felt good about himself. He’d told the boy that he wouldn’t allow any kind of mutiny. Or at least that’s what he thought he told him. /Don’t think I mentioned “mutiny”...no matter. The whelp understood, that was clear in his eyes./

Instead of sleeping, Jack settled into the bed with four guns, his cutlass, and several well-balanced daggers. /If they try it tonight, I’ll show them the price is too high to take Captain Jack Sparrow in his bedchamber!/

* - * - *

As the dawn broke over the Caribbean, bleary eyed and exhausted, Jack climbed out of bed, still fully clothed, and started putting his weapons all over his person. /They’ll not take me as easily as last time!/ He staggered out of his cabin and up to the helm. Harris was there, steering the Pearl. “Harris, where is Anamaria, and why is she not at her post?”

“She’s been with Turner most of the night, Cap’n. He was rather upset and she took it upon herself to calm him.”

“I see. And where are they now?”

“In her cabin, Cap’n.”

“Thank you, Harris.” Jack climbed down the steps and turned to Anamaria’s cabin door. He waited for a moment, thinking whether it would be prudent to knock, or if he should just barge in. Finally, he lifted his hand and knocked squarely on the door. “Anamaria, you’re not at your post!”

The door opened and a hand came out, smacking Jack. “And who is the fault of that, Captain? Ye had to go upset the lad, didn’t ye? Now he’s scared to come out. Ye better put him on the binnacle list. And yerself, too! Ye must be out o’yer head t’scare him s’bad!” She smacked him again and slammed the door in his face.

Jack rubbed his jaw. /Well, Anamaria’s acting normal./

All through the morning, various crewmembers visited Anamaria’s cabin. Unlike Jack, they were allowed in, stayed for a few minutes, then left again. Jack noticed Mr. Cotton’s parrot doing a lot of flying around as well...from picking up a small item from a crewman, then off the back of the ship down to Anamaria’s open portholes. He knew it was going to Anamaria’s windows because he watched it once. Even after Anamaria emerged from her cabin later that afternoon, the messages continued to fly into her cabin. /So the whelp is still planning the mutiny!/

Jack, pondered what to do to him. Flog him? /No. He’s too bloody stupid. It would make him want to mutiny that much more./ Maroon him? Somehow that didn’t sit well with Jack. /I could hang him...no, too permanent. I can’t think of losing him forever!/ He thought about it for several minutes. /I know! We’re only a few hours out of Port Royal! I’ll take him home and leave him there!/ He ached over it for a while longer, but saw no other alternative. /I’ll miss that boy. So much like his father, yet so different. If only he felt for me as I do for him. Ah well. I can’t go having to watch my back every time I turn around just because I have feelings for the boy. Port Royal it is./ Jack spun the wheel toward Port Royal.

* - * - *

Three hours later, he called Anamaria to the helm. “Anamaria, bring the boy here. And have the men lower a longboat.”

“Aye, Captain, but why?”

“Are you questioning my orders?”

“Never!”

“Then get about doin’ it, or I’ll have to adjust me plans.”

Anamaria left for her cabin, calling out the orders to lower the longboat. She returned with Will almost immediately. The crew began to congregate below the helm, watching this spectacle.

“Mr. Turner, you are found guilty of planning a mutiny. The penalty for mutiny is hangin’. However, as ye never were able to plan anything that could work, I’ll be lenient to ye.”

Will looked horrified. “But Captain!”

He pointed north, toward an island. His voice hitched, a tear in his eye. “That way be Port Royal. Go home, Will Turner, and never darken my ship again.”

Will broke free of Anamaria’s surprised grip and stepped up to Jack, putting his hands on his shoulders. “But Jack!”

“WHAT?!”

Will looked him earnestly in the eyes. “There is no plan of mutiny. I just wanted you to have a happy birthday party.”

“What?” Jack whipped around to the crowd. Ragetti brought out a giant cake, Pintel and Hatcher with a barrel of peaches with clotted cream between them.

Will choked back a tear as Harris brought a long box up to Will and stepped back. Will presented the box to Jack. “Happy Birthday, Jack.”

Jack took the box, numb. He held it, blinking at it. It was made of teakwood, with a mother of pearl image of the Black Pearl in it.

Will smiled. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Jack’s mouth was open, speechless. Will helped him open the box. Inside was the most beautiful cutlass Jack had ever seen, with a message in gold filigree etched into the blade. “To the greatest captain in the entire ocean on his birthday,” after which there was an etching of a sparrow in flight, much like the one on his arm. As he took out the sword and turned it around, he saw Will’s mark on the other side, with a smaller message etched there. “To the greatest friend a blacksmith could ever have. I love you.” As Jack’s eyes saw the message, Will blushed.

Jack noticed and smiled. “I didn’t know. I love you too, Will Turner.” He turned to the crewmembers. “This calls for a party! Drinks all around!”

* - * - *

The last that anyone saw of Jack or Will that evening was Anamaria watching from the helm as Jack and Will stumbled together into the captain’s cabin, not to be seen until well into the next day.


End

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