the Dalaverse

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The storm tossed them and drenched them and generally made a nuisance of itself. Jack clutched his compass tight in one hand. The Pearl would have gotten caught in the bad weather at least two hours ago, slowing her down some, for which he was grateful. The wheel beneath his fingers leapt, the Interceptor crying her fury into the blackened night. Jack couldn’t keep a feral grin off his face. She was no Pearl, but he could not think of a ship he’d rather have to chase his own beloved down. He wondered if the commodore appreciated her, if he ever took the helm himself and sailed through the heart of Hell like this.

“We should drop canvas, sir,” came Gibbs’ shout over the howling wind.

“She can hold a bit longer,” said Jack, stroking his fingertips over the water-soaked wood beneath them.

Gibbs argued as he always felt the need to do so, which was one of the reasons Jack liked having him onboard. “What’s in yer head that’s put ye in such a fine mood, cap’n?”

Jack snapped the compass closed and tucked it safely away, rain lashing nearly horizontal so that he had to slit his eyes. “We’re catching up.”

When the winds began to die down a bit, he looked about for Will. The boy was a highly capable seaman, but Jack didn’t like the way his eyes had gone unfocused once or twice during the day, or how quiet he had been. Jack respected his right to brood himself into a stupor, but not when it might cost him his life.

He needn’t have worried. Will was helping Moises and Cotton to tug a sail straight. His hair had been whipped free of its tie and flew about, making him toss his head to get it out of his eyes. Muscles strained as he pulled and his face was alight from the exertion. As Jack watched, their eyes met and he saw his own joy at triumphing over Mother Nature reflected in the boy. Will grinned at him, all else between them forgotten for the moment, and Jack was hard faster than he would’ve thought possible. The look he gave Will in return was all dropped eyelashes and softly curving lips. The boy gulped as he understood; his eyes darkened and he nodded almost imperceptibly before turning his attention back to the sail.

Jack gave Anamaria the helm and shut himself up in the tiny captain’s cabin, lighting a hanging lantern. He wanted to see Will this time, the way he writhed, the look on his face when Jack was making him come apart at the seams. Shedding every stitch of clothing, he settled down in the hammock and touched himself, thinking of Will’s long, tapered fingers. He kept his eyes closed when he heard the door open, his hands still moving, until the sounds of fabric shifting as Will undressed faded away.

He looked up to see Will standing naked above him, an indulgent half-smile on his face. Without a word Jack reached to pull him down, the hammock sagging under the added weight. Will bent his head to lave his tongue over a hardened nipple, one hand going down to close around both their cocks. With a soft noise Jack buried his face in Will’s hair, still damp from the rain, and rocked up against him. It was simple, so simple and so fucking good that he laughed aloud. Will’s head came up, his eyes widening adorably. Jack chuckled again and lifted his knees, drew the fingers that had come up to touch his face into his mouth before shoving them downwards. Bright lad that he was, Will got the idea and opened him up. He looked positively amazed at his good luck when he pressed down and into Jack, which Jack found funny enough to keep laughing as he wrapped his legs around Will’s waist and arched into his thrusts. The ship was still swaying erratically from the power of the winds, setting their rhythm. Jack could see that Will had never known the pleasures of the flesh while at sea – couldn’t blame him, frankly, for not wanting to bring a lass onboard with Barbossa’s crew. Now he panted and strove in time with the swinging of the hammock, the rocking of the ship, the way Jack moved beneath him. Jack pulled him down for a kiss, still smiling against his mouth and tasting the electric thrill of the air outside. He said things, not quite sure what – lovely, please yes, harder, holy God, and Will Will Will...

“William, love,” he breathed through clenched teeth as he came, spilling his seed between their heaving bellies. It was a dangerous word to use at such a time, but it had slipped out before he could catch hold of it. Luckily it went more or less unnoticed, for Will was somewhat preoccupied with his own orgasm. His eyes screwed shut and the cords of his neck bulged as he threw his head back and wailed, and Jack knew he was going to hear that sound at the edges of his more interesting dreams for the rest of his life.

Will fell heavy atop him, their bodies curving to accommodate one another even as his spent member slipped free. The thunder rumbled again outside, nearly drowning out the sounds of labored breathing. Jack let him recover a moment before shifting him to the side. Will smiled tiredly, and kissed him, and arranged his arms more comfortably.

The night, Jack decided on the spot, granted them a reprieve from other troubles. By an unspoken agreement, they did not once mention what the morning would bring or the reasons they were sharing a bed at all. When Will shyly asked for stories of his father, Jack told him things that were mostly true and only embellished a little. In return, Will shared stories of growing up in England with his mother, who sounded like she’d been more than a match for Bill. He had a long memory; his earliest recollection, he said, was the night his mother had suffered to bring his stillborn little sister into the world. He had been little more than two and everyone told him he couldn’t possibly remember that, but he had nonetheless. Jack didn’t volunteer to speak of his own upbringing, and Will didn’t ask.

He spoke of Elizabeth though, watching Will’s jaw drop when he learned that she was the girl who’d saved him years ago. Jack rather wished they’d all come across one another in different circumstances; he thought the boy and the lass would get along nicely. Eventually Will began to yawn more often, so Jack let his voice grow quiet and his stories less linear until the boy had drifted to sleep, still clutching tightly. He woke again just after dawn, pressing kisses to the underside of Jack’s jaw. Jack grinned into his tangled curls and rolled him over, making love to him slow and long and deep the way he’d wanted to do the first time, when he hadn’t quite had the patience for it. Afterwards he let the boy sleep for a few hours more, dressing silently and going to check their bearings. They would be sure to reach Isla de Muerte by sunset.

When he returned to the cabin, he found Will dressed and standing. The boy held out Jack’s weapons. “I suppose I ought to give these back.” They exchanged looks, both knowing that Jack could have easily picked them up from the floor where they’d been dropped, but he recognized it as the peace offering it was. Peace he would accept with grace; however, the cautiously hopeful look on Will’s face was something he had to discourage.

“Remember, William, that this is an arrangement that benefits us both.” He paused, holding Will’s gaze, and cringed internally at his own words. “But we are not on th’ same side.”

Hurt flared in Will’s eyes, but there was nothing Jack could do about that. A healthy distance was necessary now; were Barbossa to suspect they were in league, it would be the sword or the cold sea before you could say Jack Robinson.

The boy lifted his chin defiantly. Good lad, thought Jack in approval, even if it pained him more than he would have suspected to face such coldness.

“Of course,” said Will. “I’ve my business and you have yours. Can we get underway before the light goes?”

As they were lowering the boat, Gibbs came by to lean in close to Jack. “Cap’n, what if the worst should happen?”

His eyes shifted to Will before he answered. “Keep to the Code.”

“Aye, the Code,” Gibbs confirmed with a nod. Will’s jaw tightened. He said nothing as they rowed out.

When they came around the point Jack’s heart leapt, for there she was, looking the worse for wear and improper attention but as magnificent as ever he’d seen her. Ten years, ten long years of yearning for just one thing with only an occasional scrap of information in the odd tavern – it was no wonder he had to ask Will to repeat himself.

“I said, do you see the girl?” He flicked a strand of hair out of his eyes, leaning over Jack’s shoulder and looking thoroughly annoyed.

“No.” He thought he was deserving of a moment, just a moment to admire the unobstructed view of the Pearl.

“It’s begun, then.” Will nudged Jack impatiently. “We’d best get going.”

Jack shook himself, snapping the spyglass closed. “Aye.

As the sun sank below the horizon, the silence was only broken by the oars dipping into the dark water. He could feel Will squirming at his back while he held the lantern aloft, however, and presently the boy had to say something before he burst.

“They’ll find another way.” His voice came out strong and sure, but too loud.

“They might do,” said Jack neutrally. Will was quiet again while they pulled the boat up onshore, though he started when Jack’s fingers touched his. Together they crept into the cave, drawn forward by a flicker of light.

The rock gradually gave way to a clearing of sorts, where Jack’s attention was first captured by glitter. There was treasure everywhere, of the sort filling a pirate’s dreams at night, in the water and in scattered piles. The light fell from an opening in the ceiling of the cave along with torches borne by the gathered pirates. Barbossa himself had the lass up on a little hill, behind a stone chest that could only contain the accursed gold.

“Elizabeth,” he murmured, nodding to Will. Watching the boy’s face was interesting; upon first seeing his crewmates, it had lit with relief. When his eyes fell upon Elizabeth, he crouched a little straighter and brought his hand to the weathered kerchief knotted about his neck. She looked frightened, but otherwise appeared fine. Then Barbossa kicked the lid off the stone chest, theatrical and nattering on as always, and something twisted in Will’s eyes. He started forward when Barbossa stabbed a finger at the gold dangling in front of Elizabeth’s bodice and Jack pulled him back down.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “We wait for the opportune moment.” Which was not to be found from this vantage point; it was too exposed. He straightened up and began to circle, searching for a better spot.

Will followed him, fists clenched. “When’s that? When it’s of greatest profit to you?”

Jack closed his eyes. Perhaps it was not such a good idea to have the boy angry; it seemed to cloud what little sense he had. “If you’ll listen to me for just a moment?” He drifted in close to Will, who pursed his lips and leaned back. “We both want that girl alive, so please, do as I say for a bit longer. I know it’s difficult for you, but stay here, and try not to do anything stupid.” Will’s brows drew together and he batted at Jack’s hands, which had been wriggling from trying not to wrap themselves around the fool boy’s throat.

He turned around to watch Barbossa once more. The man was still going on about blood repaid and heathen misery. Jack rolled his eyes, hating him just that bit more. Finally he lifted the knife. Jack leaned forward eagerly – things were progressing quite nicely now – Will tapped him on the shoulder and he spun, prepared to give the boy a more lasting reprimand.

Something flat and brown hurtled toward his face, and then he saw nothing more.




Will looked down at Jack’s prone body for a moment, guilt pricking the fingers holding the oar. “Sorry, Jack. But you said it yourself: we’re not on the same side.”

He swallowed hard as he reached down to brush a matted lock of hair from Jack’s face, hoping he hadn’t swung too hard. Since Jack had not seen fit to let Will in on whatever plan he’d made, if any, Will felt no obligation to take that plan into account. He was through playing by someone else’s rules.

Still, he had no wish for harm to come to the man with whom he’d just spent a long, wonderful, entirely perplexing night. He dragged Jack behind a boulder, where he ought to be quite safe until he awoke. Not even Jack would be stupid enough to go stumbling into Barbossa’s midst if that awakening came too soon. He’d be furious, no doubt about that, but since Will intended to return for him once they’d gotten clear of the Pearl, there was no reason for Jack to hold it against him.

He could just catch the tail end of some kind of scuffle as he found a bit of unoccupied beach and slipped into the shallow water. Barbossa knocked the girl in the head and she tumbled down, the coin falling beside her. Will swam a bit faster, knowing how hard Barbossa could hit when he had a reason. He was arguing with some of the men when Will popped his head back up again, but he took no notice of their words because he’d gotten to Elizabeth. She woke at his touch and he quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. Holding a finger to his lips, he tried to impart that he meant her no harm without saying a word. It must have worked, because she nodded and let him pull her under.

It was clear when they made their way to the slippery shore that she wanted to start asking questions, but she held her tongue all the way out of the cave. Will started to pull her into the boat, but she shook her head.

“Wait a moment,” she whispered, backing away.

Will bit back a frustrated yell. “We have to –” he hissed, but Elizabeth was already busy gathering up the oars the pirates had left behind. Surprised at her shrewdness, he quickly bent to help her dump them into the Interceptor’s boat.

When they were a safe distance away from the cave mouth, Will paddling and Elizabeth sitting at the other end hugging her knees, he made a belated introduction. “My name is Will Turner, and I’ve –”

“I know who you are.” She peered at him intently, pressing her full lips together. “You’re the boy we pulled out of the water.”

“Yes,” said Will, relieved that she remembered, even more relieved that he remembered now, looking at her. The freckles were mostly gone and her hair had been lightened by the Caribbean sun, but she was the same somber-eyed little girl who’d knelt by him when he was twelve. “And you’re Elizabeth Swann.”

Her smile was a bit like Jack’s, sudden and sincere.

“You aren’t hurt, are you?” he asked as he rowed, glancing behind his shoulder to see the hull of the Interceptor drawing nearer.

Elizabeth shook her head, attempting to wring out the skirt of her old-fashioned dress. It proved too water-logged for her to climb up on her own; Will had to help her, heaving upwards while the boat tipped dangerously beneath his feet. He finally dragged himself on deck, breathing hard, to find Elizabeth shrinking away from Gibbs. The man’s eyes fell to him immediately.

“Hey boy, where be Jack?” was the gruff question. Will took Elizabeth by the elbow, resisting the urge to glance backwards.

Elizabeth straightened, turning eagerly to Will. “Jack? Jack Sparrow? Where is he?”

“He fell behind.” He shouldered past the pirates, not wanting to see what they’d make of this, taking Elizabeth with him. The cut on her hand needed to be tended. He led her below, picking up the bottle of rum Jack had left half-drunk on top of a barrel, trying not to remember how his fingers had circled around the cool neck, the way he had held to Will in the night, as if afraid of spilling him from the hammock like the liquor might be spilled...

Elizabeth hissed when he doused the wound with rum, but didn’t pull away. Instead she watched him with wary eyes. “Jack is with you?”

“Was,” said Will shortly, setting the bottle aside.

“You left him behind!” Elizabeth accused, her eyes hot and angry.

There were many things she obviously didn’t understand and Will was not accustomed to explaining himself to women, but he gave it a try because Jack had spoken of her with respect. “We can return for him later. At the moment, I would prefer to put as much distance between this ship and the Black Pearl as possible.” He bound her hand with a strip of linen, and this time she did flinch. “Sorry,” he said with a rueful smile, tucking the end of the linen into the layers. “Sailor’s hands – I know they’re rough.”

“You’re a sailor?” she said, leaning back and crossing her ankles.

Will nodded. “I sail with the Pearl.” He cleared his throat, wondering at how that might seem to her after what she’d been through, and wondering if it could even be called true. “Or I did, at any rate.”

“I know that. They spoke of you – wondered where you were. I –” She glanced down at her lap, toying with her bandage. “I believe they kept me alive because they thought we were related.”

Will raised his eyebrows. “Why would they think that?”

“I gave my name as Turner and told them I was a maid,” she said, fiddling with a shred of lace on her sleeve. “Do you remember – no, I suppose you wouldn’t, seeing as how you were unconscious at the time – when they took you from my father’s cabin, there was another girl with me. Her mother had worked as my mother’s maid, so we brought her from England with us. One of the dark-skinned ones said he remembered us both, and thought I must be a sister to you.”

He touched a hand to his temple, where it habitually ached when he tried to remember that day. “I...I think I do recall her. Somebody’s teeth were chattering.”

Elizabeth smiled, her eyes unfocused in memory. “I was leaning over the side to look at dolphins and I started to fall. Estrella pulled me back and in the process went over herself. I assume they thought she - I - had been rescued along with you”

“But I never spoke of a sister,” said Will, frowning as he tried to puzzle it out.

“The little fat one who came to the house for me – always had a tall, skinny bloke with a false eye at his side –”

“Pintel,” said Will absently. “And Ragetti.”

She looked at him rather coldly. “He said that he’d sailed with someone called Bill on the...the Ravens Hollow, I believe, and that the wife of the man was soon to have a second child.”

“Yes,” said Will, “but the babe was stillborn.” He tapped the wooden table triumphantly. “And Bill – my father – probably would never have mentioned it again. Jack certainly didn’t know before I told him. But then why would they take me and not her?”

Elizabeth’s cheeks turned flushed beneath her fledgling tan, for no reason that he could discern. “They thought you had the medallion on the chain around your neck. I had put a cross there instead.” When Will blinked, surprised at this revelation, her lips grew thin and upset. “Don’t tell me you lost it. It was my mother’s and I never meant to give it to you, really, only lend it –”

“I’m sorry,” said Will honestly, “I don’t remember it at all. Why didn’t I have the medallion?”

Her color deepened even more as she reached into the bodice of her dress, drawing the bright coin out with a broken gold chain trailing beneath it. The sight of it sent a curious jolt to Will, as it had when he was a child. It was the only thing his father had really given him – he’d sent money, but never gifts. Will had meant to treasure it when it arrived just after his eleventh birthday.

“I took it,” said Elizabeth, looking properly sheepish. “I was afraid you were a pirate.”

Will reached for the token and she dropped it in his palm, where it lay heavy and warm from the heat of her body. “I was,” he said, turning it over and staring at how the carving caught the light. “Still am.”

“But not like them,” said Elizabeth, her eyes wide and serious. “You and Jack – you aren’t the same manner of pirates as Barbossa’s men.”

Her words struck too close to home. “I am not the same as Jack Sparrow,” he snapped, slamming the coin down on the table. Elizabeth jumped, her face flickering with fear before she narrowed her eyes and gave him an aristocrat’s sneer.

“No, you’re not,” she retorted. “Jack would never have abandoned a friend to certain danger.”

“I didn’t –” Will began, but Elizabeth gathered her skirts in one hand and stalked off.

Sighing, Will looked down at the gold skull leering up at him. In a way, she was right – but in a way he had been right too, because what proof did he have that Jack would stay true to him? It had only been sex, albeit multiple bouts of mind-numbingly incredible sex – and a look he thought he’d caught, a gleam in Jack’s eye the previous night when Will had been so deep inside him and Jack had seemed to be inviting him deeper still.

But then he remembered Jack’s words in the morning, and why he thought he’d attributed too much to that look, which had most likely been just a maneuver calculated to keep Will obedient to Jack’s whims...

His thoughts ran like that for some time, making him ignorant of everything around him until finally the sounds of shouting and the Interceptor’s guns being run out roused him.

Sprinting up the hatch to the deck, he saw Elizabeth conferring with Anamaria and Gibbs. Jack had said she had a good head for sailing and it must be true, if they were nodding along with what she was saying. He pulled himself up onto the rail to get a better look at the Pearl. The Interceptor was outpacing her, which was something he hadn’t seen in a good long while. He almost allowed himself a moment of pride in the ship he and Jack had commandeered. She was a worthy vessel, but he knew the Pearl and she had no equal.

Sure enough, there were the sweeps. He imagined he could hear Barbossa bellowing even now, and he stopped Marty from shoving a gun overboard. “We’re going to need that.”

Elizabeth proved as capable as Jack had claimed and he offered up his experience with their pursuer (much as he hated firing on her), but in the end the battle was decided before it begun. The Interceptor was outweighed and outgunned.

But Will was damned – damned if he was going to let Barbossa have his life back this easily, not after what he’d done to Will’s. It took Elizabeth to remind him, but once she did, the medallion was the only thing on his mind.

Until the hold began to flood with him trapped inside it, of course.




Stupid monkey, thought Jack over and over as he scrambled across the fallen mast in pursuit of the thing. Bloody stupid monkey, with its grabby little paws and its screech and the way it had gone right to the gold. And bloody stupid Elizabeth, for letting the medallion out of her sight, and bloody stupid Will for knocking Jack over the head with an oar, and bloody stupid...

...himself.

“Why thank you, Jack,” said Barbossa grandly, accepting the coin from his pet.

Jack simpered up at him, boiling inside. “You’re welcome.”

“Not you, we named the monkey Jack,” said Barbossa in his rolling, oily tones, and the creature flashed its little teeth at him.

Of course he had. Jack slit his eyes at Barbossa’s back as the turncoat roared to his crew, “Gents, our hope is restored!” He grinned along with their cheers, silently debating whether he would shoot Barbossa in the heart or the head.

He soon found himself being manhandled by two former crewmates who had, if they’d been able to expire, would have done so immediately upon catching their own scents. He was relieved to see the lass still alive, not to mention snarling at her snickering captors like a she-tiger. But the boy was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they’d taken him below for safekeeping, or perhaps he’d gone willingly after all.

He was mourning the imminent destruction of the Interceptor (though perversely pleased that it had not been the Pearl) when he saw Elizabeth’s eyes widen. “Will,” she breathed, ducking under the ropes.

Jack whipped his head around just in time to see the ship ignite, blowing pieces of herself into the air with an ear-splitting boom. Something cold lodged in his throat before thunking down into the pit of his stomach, chilling every bone in his body.

Elizabeth flung herself at Barbossa, shrieking. Jack hardly heard whatever he said before throwing her to a knot of men, so busy was he staring at the burning wreckage of the Interceptor.

It’s not much of a home, but it’s the only one I’ve got, Will was saying in his head, and I’m quite familiar with Tortuga, thank you – archly because Jack was trying to show off while he wove his way through the crowds. The boy should have been left behind there, even if it would have destroyed any shred of trust he’d ever had in his fellow man. In Jack. Though he had, apparently, never trusted him to begin with, Jack couldn’t quite bring himself to be angry with the boy any longer. He couldn’t quite bring himself to breathe, in fact.

“Barbossa!” And Jack thought that Will should indeed be angry with the man, even if he could only act on his feelings in Jack’s own mind. Elizabeth had stopped screaming and everybody was looking at a man pointing a pistol at the cap – at Barbossa, he’d never be captain to Jack – and it was Will, it was, Jack wasn’t seeing things like he had on the island. Dripping wet and trying not to shiver and the sexiest, most brain-addling thing Jack had ever set eyes on.

Barbossa had gone still except for one fingertip stroking the head of his monkey. “Well, well,” he said, looking at him in such a way that Jack knew in an instant he was never going to believe in Will’s loyalty ever again. Which was fitting, actually, since loyalty to the man standing before him appeared to be the furthest thing from Will’s mind.

“‘S our Will!” cried Ragetti, not quite getting the way the temperature around Barbossa had dropped by about sixty degrees. “Come back t’ us!”

Will didn’t look at him, didn’t look at anywhere except Barbossa. He stood tall, with his head high and the pistol neatly cocked. “Not quite, I’m afraid.”

“The pup shows his teeth a’ last,” said Barbossa, looking distantly amused. “Too bad he’s forgotten we can’t die, not from a single paltry shot nor an’thing else.”

“You can’t die,” Will allowed with a dip of his head. He backed up and jumped onto the rail, holding the pistol under his throat. “I can.”

There were disturbed murmurs among the pirates. Elizabeth gasped, struggling under the hands holding her. Barbossa regarded Will calmly and, if it was possible, even more coldly.

“What’s in yer head, boy?” he wanted to know. Jack made a mental note never to call Will that again, at least in not that tone, provided they all got out of this alive.

“Negotiations,” said Will flatly. “I’ll be your errand boy as I’ve been for eight years, but it will cost you.”

Barbossa narrowed his yellow eyes for a moment, considering, then said, “Name yer terms.”

Jack brought his hands together in a steeple, an unconscious holdover from childhoood even though he hadn’t put stock in prayer for many years. Will knew the man, would have to know that he kept his word to the letter – and that his spelling wouldn’t necessarily be to the other party’s standards.

“The girl goes free,” said Will, glancing at Elizabeth. His eyes turned to Jack next, who couldn’t help but be caught within them even though he could see Barbossa noticing, practically hear the wheels grinding in his head. It was a bad, bad idea to give that man any sort of leverage, and Will had done exactly that with the way he looked at Jack.

“And the crew,” said Will, “the crew are not to be harmed.” His nostrils flared as he looked back at Barbossa. “Give me your word that you’ll honor the agreement.”

Barbossa held a hand to where his heart might have been, once upon a time. “Ye have it, William, as always.”

Will smiled grimly as he stepped down. Too soon, thought Jack, much too soon for that.

Sometimes he really hated being right all the time.



Twigg and Hawksmoor bound his hands and escorted him to the captain’s cabin, looking uneasy all the while. Will was busy trying to remember if Jack had gotten to the tale of his escape from the island while they’d lain together. Looking back, it was difficult to tell what had been truths, what had been lies, and what had been his own dreams.

“‘Tain’t nuffink personal, Will,” said Hawksmoor apologetically as they looped his ropes through a ring bolted to the ceiling. A potted plant had hung from it awhile, but this was clearly its original purpose.

“‘S just...” Twigg paused, scratching at his beard and not meeting Will’s eyes. “Well, ye know how ‘tis.”

“I know,” said Will, resting his suddenly heavy head against one suspended arm. He closed his eyes as they left, seeing red tentacles and stinging pain and Jack’s bloated body drifting in the waves.

The chitter of Barbossa’s monkey drew his attention, though he had not heard the man enter.

“William,” he said, inclining his head.

“Sir,” said Will. He wondered if the brother had been older or younger.

Barbossa swept a hand out at the ropes. “Jus’ a precaution, ye understand. Ye’ll not be harmed f’r true.”

He was lying and not even bothering to hide it well. Will would not give him the satisfaction of answering. Barbossa, used to approaching a problem from various angles, tried a new one.

“So you let Sparrow fuck ye, eh?” Despite his resolve, Will stiffened and the ropes creaked. Barbossa saw his reaction and chuckled. “If I knew ye were tha’ desp’rate fer a proper rogering, I’da obliged meself.” Will shuddered at the thought, his lip curling in disgust.

Barbossa stepped up to him, touched a hand to his belt as he drew around behind. “He holds t’ nothin’, ye know.” Barbossa’s breath against his ear was not warm like a man’s breath should be, nor was it cold; it only disturbed the air, smelling of rot and death. “Ye were only a plaything, a rosy young cock fer hiim t’ suckle an’ a pair o’ legs t’ spread as he saw fit. Nah, come t’ think on it,” he added after a thoughtful pause, “ye were prob’ly meant to fill yer pa’s shoes. Jack were always after Bill, ne’er quite got ‘im, but then I guess he weren’t a whore like his boy.”

He concentrated on keeping his weight balanced on the balls of his feet, trying not to sway like a side of meat. When he got no response, Barbossa snorted and ambled to the door, looking back at Will over his shoulder.

“Hope ye tol’ the lass I’ve gotten t’ quite like this little trinket.” He lifted something from beneath the neck of his filthy shirt. It shone silver before Barbossa tucked it away again, snickering at the rage Will had not managed to suppress. It had belonged to Elizabeth’s mother and she had entrusted it to him. Such things were not meant to be defiled. There were was much he regretted, but nothing more than having forgotten to thank her for saving his life.

Then he thought of the way Jack’s tar-stained fingers curled around his hip, how small he had looked at the end of the plank, and his regrets shifted considerably.




On to Part IV