the Dalaverse

See previous post for exposition.

Snippet 9:

Lieutenant doubt and reassurance, more like. All in dialogue.

“Tom?”

“I thought you weren’t speaking to me.”

“...I have a question.”

“Ask and ye shall receive.”

“Why do you love me?”

“What an odd question that is.”

“Will you not answer it?”

“Only if you’ll tell me why you have asked it.”

“Well, I’ve often thought – and I thought it tonight – that you...there is a certain type of man to whom your personality is suited.”

“Andrew. I was not flirting with Jack Sparrow.”

“.....”

“Oh, very well, perhaps I was, but it didn’t –”

“I’m not angry with you, Tom. I only wonder, because I see how easy you are with him, and with certain others of the men – don’t look at me like that, this isn’t jealousy, it is merely an observation. You’re close to James as well, but it isn’t – your interactions with him do not have the same flavor, the same sense of natural camaraderie.”

“Is there a point to all this, love?”

“That’s exactly it – that’s my point. We are not suited to one another, because we do not have that – that basic connection. You like to gamble. I like to make lists of things I’m going to do the next day. You keep your hair too long –”

“I’ve never heard you complain about it before.”

“You interrupt me.”

“If this is going to be a rote recitation of my flaws, I’m going to sleep in the parlor.”

“They aren’t flaws, Tom. They’re important differences between the two of us. You and I – we don’t look at the world and see it the same way. How on earth can we look at each other and expect our views to balance? What sort of life can we make for ourselves if, in addition to all the other troubles we’re bound to face, we are each unable to gain a fundamental understanding of the other’s nature?”

“.....”

“Tom?”

“Which question would you like me to answer? You only get to choose one.”

“Well...the first, I suppose.”

“And that would be why I love you.”

“Yes. Everything else sort of falls upon that.”

“The truth is, Andrew, that despite what you think, you are not an easy man to love.”

“I know I –”

“No, let me finish. You’re governed by any set of rules than happens your way, the Navy’s merely being the most recent. You’re priggish and you pride yourself on being more intelligent than many of the men who cross your path. Your ambition approaches manic levels and there is little you wouldn’t do for James’s approval. Perhaps worst of all, you believe that expressing honest emotion is a sign of weakness, so you suppress it all and find it nigh impossible to say anything of deeper meaning, even to me.”

“I – that is simply –”

“Oh, don’t widen those blue eyes at me, I’m far from finished."

Snippet 10:

This was a sequel to "By Blood Undone." That fic is OT4 done wrong, and it becomes apparent when they start to break apart. I'm really content to leave that fic as is and I have no idea why I wrote this coda. The themes did pop up in subsequent fics, most notably "Adaptation."

James doesn’t notice the loss of one body in the bed, but he is awakened by the loss of the second. As Will detangles himself from the bedclothes and slowly rises, James fumbles at his other side. Jack is sprawled there on his stomach, so it must be Elizabeth who’s taken her leave.

A hand slides lightly across his shoulder – Will checking to see if he’s asleep – and he doesn’t stir. Jack mumbles something in Portugese and snuggles closer, seeking the warmth of a lover’s familiar body. James tucks his head down under Jack’s chin, so that his face will be hidden as he opens his eyes.

“Elizabeth?” Will says, so faintly that James has trouble catching it.

She is standing by the window, dressed in one of James’ spare shirts and folded in on herself like a little girl. Will goes to her and puts one hand at the small of her back.

It has only been a week since he and Jack returned to the oversized bed. When she lost the baby, the three men silently dragged musty hammocks from the bowels of the ship and slept out on deck, leaving the grand captain’s quarters to Elizabeth and Pearl. Jack and James were content to leave her be until she asked them back again. Will, however, deserted his makeshift shelter on the second night. James peeked into the cabin a few minutes later to find him sitting up in bed with Elizabeth and the child asleep in his arms, stroking his wife's hair with his eyes closed.

Jack slept through this rearrangement, as well as each one succeeding it. Jack sleeps through almost everything, even certain nocturnal activities taking place right next to him. He is sleeping now, his breath lightly stirring the hair at the back of James’ neck, though granted there isn’t much noise to wake him.

“Do you think I’m being punished, Will – that we all are?” Elizabeth whispers.

Will settles his arms around her waist and takes only the briefest of pauses before answering, his voice admirably firm with conviction. “Of course not.”

“Had to think about it though, didn’t you?” Her dry chuckle turns into a sob and he kisses her shoulder, bared to the moonlight.

“Here, sweet,” he murmurs, turning her in his embrace. She buries her face in his neck and holds onto him like she is drowning. Her breathing grows rough and ragged as she cries, rattling her chest and painful to hear. Will strokes her gently and talks very softly, his voice muffled against her ear.

James feels the heartbeat underneath him quickening. He draws his head away to look at Jack, whose dark eyes are open. So he isn’t asleep after all. James is surprised to feel Jack’s body shaking. He pulls him close and tries to locate the memory jogged by this fragile-feeling trembling. Ah yes – Jack once told him, when they were very drunk in Tortuga, of how he’d shake whenever he heard his father came home drunken and raging from one tavern or another. That’s how he’s shaking now, one hand pressed tight on James’ chest, over his heart.

His eyes wander from Jack’s face to the cradle beside the bed. If he strains his ears, he can hear Pearl sigh in her sleep. It usually stands empty at night – whoever is on watch is more than happy to babysit as well. Will must’ve gone to get her, as he does now and again. He says it eases his mind to hear the baby breathing, when he can’t sleep and doesn’t want to rouse any of the three of them.

To anyone else, the circumstances of Pearl’s conception would never square with Will’s love for her. Although they all adore her, Peal and Will have a particular rapport. When she’s at her fussiest, he is the only one who can quiet her, and he can spend hours just holding her and watching her doze. Pearl has her green-flecked eyes from James and the name of Jack’s beloved ship, but she is Will’s darling. James can still remember the light in his eyes when Elizabeth told them she was pregnant again, and how his whole body had seemed to crumble when she miscarried a few months later. He had not slept for three days as she recovered, sitting by her side and only taking a bit to eat when his two worried lovers joined forces and threatened to throw him out of the room.

He wonders now if that was when things started to change.

Elizabeth is still weeping as Will cradles her and Jack and James listen. “Why couldn’t it have been enough?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Will’s voice is heavy.

“It wasn’t, though, and now...now...” She trails off and James can almost see her biting her lower lip.

“Just tell me what you want,” says Will desperately, the soft sounds of his lips against her neck audible in the quiet cabin. “Anything you want, I’ll do it.”

Jack’s fingernails dig into the naked skin of James’ back. He is, oddly enough, the only one to never leave a mark on James after sex. Jack made it clear from the beginning that he would not allow anyone to be rough with him; said he’d had too much of it in his past for it to hold any appeal now, and they all respect his wishes. James was surprised to hear this, but he has proven adept at loving Jack slowly, powerfully, with all the care and concentration he once devoted to his career.

“I want to sleep,” says Elizabeth. “And I want you next to me.” He must have started towards the bed, because she adds, “No, we’ll wake them.”

James opens his mouth, feeling slightly guilty about eavesdropping, but Jack raises a finger to his lips. His tremors are weaker, though he is still clutching James with the sort of grip he usually reserves for a rum bottle or the wheel.

They hear a creak as Will settles down onto the big rocking chair across the cabin, Elizabeth curled in his lap. Gradually her hitching breaths even out and slow down into the regularity of sleep.

Jack raises his head to risk a glance and James follows suit. Will has fallen asleep as well, the rise and fall of his chest lifting his wife in his arms.

Exchanging a look, they relax against the pillow again. James threads his fingers nearly unconsciously through Jack’s hair. It is thick and soft where it isn’t pulled into twists or braids or snarls. Jack returns the favor. It was he who cut James’ hair short again a few weeks ago, claiming that the length he and Will favor isn’t flattering to James’ features. James allowed this interference for no other reason than the feel of Jack’s long, callused fingers running along his scalp.

“How much of that did you hear?” he whispers, leery of once more waking Will, who is a light sleeper, though Elizabeth could join Jack in sleeping through hurricanes.

“Enough,” says Jack shortly. “I guess we’re all pirates at heart, then – taking what we can, what we want...”

“Not if we give it back,” James counters.

Jack’s fingertips tap a jig against his chin. “Can we, though?” He sounds sad and more than a little wistful.

“I’m not sure.” No, James decides, things didn’t start to change with the miscarriage. Things have been changing for awhile now.

He loves them all still – Elizabeth, the first, stealing his heart and breaking it before returning to him, broken herself. And he loves Will too – his honesty, his sense of humor, the genuine need he has for the sea. Unlike Jack and himself, though, Will needs Elizabeth and her daughter more. Even after exploring uncharted waters he has gone back to her, more devoted than ever. Jack the temptation, James the novelty – Elizabeth the truth and the real sovereign of his heart.

And then there is Jack.

“You going to leave me too, Jamie love?” Jack asks, his tone light. But James knows him well now, knows his every inflection and how to read his eyes, and he isn’t fooled.

“No, Jack.” James kisses him, angling his head for a depth proper to his words. Jack moans low in his throat when James pulls away again. “Whatever happens, I won’t.”

Snippet 11:

This is some of the first PotC I ever wrote. I'm still really fond of it; I was just never able to work out a scenario or an ending. I don't know why Norrington is on the Pearl to begin with.

Norrington couldn’t sleep.

He got up, pulled on a shirt, and left his tiny cabin to wander the deck. It was a clear, cool night, stars thick in the sky. It eased his heart somewhat to see them. They were the same stars whether he viewed them from Port Royal, from London, from the Dauntless...even from the Black Pearl.

Making his way to the helm, he found Jack Sparrow already there, dressed only in breeches. He was sitting on a barrel with his feet up on the wheel, apparently using them to steer.

Norrington turned to go, thinking that Jack hadn’t seen him, but the captain waved an arm at him. “Where else are you going to go, Commodore?” Norrington noticed for the first time that Jack had not only a bottle in his hand, but an empty one beside him and another that hadn’t yet been opened.

Against his better judgement, Norrington stayed. “Were you expecting someone?” he asked, indicating the bottles.

“Nope,” said Jack breezily. “Couldn’t sleep, eh?” Norrington shrugged and he continued, “Get that way meself sometimes. No good reason. Sometimes it’s the neighbors makin’ a racket –” Norrington blushed, knowing Jack couldn’t see it in the dark. “ – but mostly, mostly I just get restless.”

“Even on a ship?”

“Even on my ship,” Jack confirmed with a decisive nod. “Been a problem since I was a boy. Figured you for the good healthy type, though, eight hours every night and all that.”

“My mind just wouldn’t settle.” Perhaps it was the darkness loosening his tongue; in any case, talking to mad Captain Sparrow in the dead of night was preferable to staring at his ceiling and listening to the ship creak.

Jack held out the half-empty bottle. “You want?” Norrington caught a whiff of spirits. He stayed away from hard liquor on most occasions, but to his own surprise, he took the bottle Jack was offering.

“What is it?” he asked, peering at the interior.

“Rum, o’ course. Never drink anything else if I can help it. Don’t suppose it’s to your fancy.”

Norrington gave a well-bred sniff. “I like a good dry white.”

Jack snorted in contention. “Wine,” he informed Norrington haughtily, “is well enough if you can’t get your hands on anything good, but it certainly isn’t a man’s drink.”

“And rum is?”

“Rum most certainly is. It’s also Elizabeth’s. You ought to see her; she can drink half the men on this ship straight under the table.”

Norrington tried to picture this and found, to his dismay, that he could.

Considering the green bottle in his hand, he raised it to his lips. Couldn’t hurt. He took a swig and choked as fire ran down his throat. Jack reached over to slap him on the back, chuckling.

“Have another, it’ll go down easier.”

Norrington gave him a withering look and he said, with perfect conviction, “You’ve already got the taste of it.”

He had a point. Norrington took another swig and indeed, it was much smoother. The burning drifted to his stomach and warmed it quite pleasantly.

Jack tugged a cork out of another bottle and raised it. “Drink up, me ‘earty, yo ho.”

And Norrington did.



An hour later and the bottles were rolling around the deck around the two of them. They were sitting cross-legged now, Jack with one hand on the wheel, consistently losing to Norrington at paper-scissors-rock with the other. They drew one more time, Norrington with scissors and Jack with paper that he tried in vain to switch to rock at the last moment.

“Cheater!” Norrington slurred, waving his scissors hand in Jack’s face.

“I get to cheat!” Jack hollered. “I’m a pirate!” They both started laughing again at that. Norrington couldn’t remember when he’d had such a good time – of course, he couldn’t quite remember when Jack had gotten up to fetch more rum either, though he must have, because they were surrounded by far more empty bottles than there had been full ones to start out with. He had, in fact, lost track of exactly how much he had been drinking, but it was without a doubt the most at once that he’d ever had in the course of his lifetime. Even Jack was thoroughly sloshed – normally Jack Sparrow drunk wasn’t too dissimilar from Jack Sparrow sober, but it was something about his eyes that told Norrington he’d gone fully off the edge.

It also might have been that Jack kept leaning over to touch him every thirty seconds or so.

Now they were both rocking with mirth, holding each other by the shoulders. Jack rocked a bit hard forward just as Norrington was rocking back and they tumbled over, prompting a fresh wave of giggles. Jack fell heavily onto Norrington as he sprawled back, taking deep breaths and trying in vain to get himself under control again. It wasn’t going very well, all things considered. The thing to be considered most was that he was rather enjoying the way Jack kept touching him, and now...now he was discovering something else: he wasn’t so drunk that his body’s reaction to having Jack Sparrow pressed flush against it was impaired.

A glint appeared in Jack’s eye as he noticed too. “What’s this, then, James?” he inquired with a purr. “The Commodore standing at attention even as he’s flat on his back?” Then Jack’s mouth was on his, wet and open and hot. He tasted of spices and gold and brown sugar, but mostly, he tasted of rum. And Norrington had developed something of an affinity for rum.

He moaned low in his throat as Jack straddled him, grinding down so that Norrington could feel the hardness echoing his own. Jack was kissing him roughly and fumbling at his breeches while mumbling wicked things into his ear, mostly about his mouth and what Jack had wanted to do with it ever since they’d first met. His talk made Norrington start to panic and he shoved Jack off, getting to his feet mostly with the aid of adrenaline. It failed him soon after and he stumbled as he tried to get away.

But Jack was right behind him, spinning him round and knocking him back against the mast.

“I couldn’t – possibly –” Norrington said as Jack took up his previous work again, slicing teeth across his tongue.

“Won’t know till you’ve tried,” was Jack’s reply as he got Norrington’s shirt open and began kissing a trail of fire down his chest, his belly – he dropped to his knees and tore at the fastenings of Norrington’s trousers, and before Norrington had half an idea of what was going on Jack had taken him in his mouth.

His knees locking, Norrington’s shoulders thrust back against the mast in shock. If he had thought kissing Jack was intoxicating...His hand tangled in Jack’s hair as he gasped out, “Sparrow!”

With a tut in the back of his throat that Norrington could bloody feel, Jack stopped what he was doing long enough to admonish, “Now, now, nobody likes to be called his surname when he’s doin’ his business.”

“Jack – Jack,” Norrington managed.

“Good,” Jack replied with a stupid pleased grin, and resumed his mouth’s activities.

A embarrassingly short amount of time later Norrington was sinking down onto the deck beside Jack, sweat pouring over his face as Jack grinned saucily at him. Norrington stared at him, completely flabbergasted.

Jack didn’t let him rest for long. He yanked Norrington up under his arms and started to drag him in the direction of his cabin, kissing him again “Don’t think I’m finished with you yet, do you?”



Elizabeth was dozing in Will’s arms when she heard Jack’s door bang shut. Immediately afterwards two bodies smashing up against the wall between the two cabins rattled the Turners’ unlit lantern.

Will muttered in his sleep and turned over, but his wife was fully awake. Getting to her knees and sitting back on her heels, she stared at the wall suspiciously. Moans and cries issued forth from the other side. When she could make out the speaker, she shook Will’s shoulder urgently. He grunted and tried to wave her away, but she persisted.

“Will!” she hissed. “He’s got James in there!”

At this news Will raised his head, listening to the goings-on next door with a bit of interest. “Hmmm. Must be awfully drunk.” Then he burrowed back under the covers again.

Elizabeth continued to nudge him. “This is important!”

“I don’t care,” said Will, voice muffled by a quilt. “Let them have their fun, and let me sleep.”

Shooting him a glare he couldn’t see, she adjusted herself into a more comfortable position and pressed her ear to the wall. They had moved onto Jack’s bunk and it began to knock against the wall. Will poked his head out again and Elizabeth grinned triumphantly, but he merely grabbed his pillow and twisted himself in a half-circle so that his head was at the foot of the mattress and his feet were in her lap.

She scowled and told him that he was boring. He pulled her pillow over his head and ignored her.

Back to listening at the wall, she said thoughtfully, “Wonder where they are at the moment...”

As if on cue, there was a pause before she could hear Norrington’s inebriated but still indignant “Ow – owww!” Jack replied in low soothing murmurs that she couldn’t make out, and after a few moments Norrington’s ragged gasps had changed from shocked pain to pleasure. Indeed, he began to get very vocal, very quickly.

Will kicked uselessly at the headboard. “Why couldn’t they be polite and do this out on deck like respectable pirate sodomites?”

“James isn’t a pirate,” she corrected automatically. Chin on her knees, she gazed at the opposite wall with a slight frown on her face. “Don’t you think it odd that we can’t hear Jack at all?”

“You can never hear Jack during sex,” said Will grumpily. “He prefers to get other people to do his screaming for him. Besides, that idiot would drown him out if he tried.”

Elizabeth pinched his backside through the blankets. “You leave James alone! He’s had a very difficult time adjusting to –” She was cut off as Will suddenly leapt up and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her down on top of him.

“Elizabeth, my love,” he said, kissing her lightly, “do be quiet.”

She smirked and wriggled obligingly as his hands slid under her nightshift. Seemed he was resigning himself to wakefulness after all. “I usually am, darling. It’s you who’d give James a run for his money.”

“I am not a noisy lover,” he protested.

She bit his earlobe. “Prove it.”

He failed spectactularly at that particular challenge, but fortunately for Jack and Norrington they had fallen deeply asleep by then.



Elizabeth and Will were in the galley having breakfast when Jack came in, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

“Morning, all,” he sang out, snatching an apple off of Will’s plate. Will rolled his eyes and gave Elizabeth a warning look, which she promptly ignored.

“Any particular reason for your good spirits today, Captain?” she asked with a perfect inflection of innocence. Or for that bite mark on your neck, she added silently.

He tossed his plunder in the air, catching it on his shoulder and rolling it deftly down to his hand. “Not that I can think of,” he replied through a mouthful of apple, swiping at the juice on his chin with a sleeve.

Will kicked at her under the table and she lifted her foot, digging her bare toes into his crotch and raising an eyebrow. Deciding that it would be far better to preserve chances of any future progeny than to save himself some embarrassment, he heaved a sigh and gave up.

“Hmm,” said Elizabeth, calmly dragging her knife through a tough piece of bread, “I don’t suppose it would have anything to do with shagging our dear Commodore rotten last night?”

Jack paused with the apple halfway to his mouth, favoring her with a pained look. “You heard that, did you?”

Elizabeth chuckled. “Oh yes, we heard it.”

“Your wife is a despicable voyeur,” Jack informed Will.

“Oh, I’m well aware of that,” he replied good-naturedly. “Still, you might have mentioned any plans of seduction beforehand. It was rather a shock.”

His good humor restored, Jack slung a leg over the bench next to Elizabeth and shrugged. “Didn’t actually have a plan. Just drank a whopping lot and jumped him. I would have run and told you then, but me mind, shall we say, was on other things.”

Spotting a rumpled head outside the doors, Elizabeth said sweetly, “Speak of the devil...”

Norrington stumbled in, looking like he’d been keelhauled with the benefit of extra barnacles. His lips were swollen, his clothes were hopelessly twisted around him, and he was holding his head in both hands.

“Water,” he rasped. Will held up his cup and Norrington drained it, his brow furrowed as if the mere act of swallowing were an effort. As he let his hands fall down he caught sight of Jack, leaning back against Elizabeth with his feet kicked up on the table, and he turned white.

Jack grinned at him. “What, no good-morning kiss?”

Norrington’s mouth turned down and fell open in a vaguely turtle-like expression. His eyes darted to Elizabeth, who smiled sheepishly and looked away. A quick glance at Will, who wouldn’t look at him either, and he knew.

“You –” he began, pointing a shaking finger at Jack. Jack brought his hand to his chest in a clear ‘who, me?’ gesture. “You told them!”

“Didn’t have to, mate,” said Jack cheerfully. “You sort of did that yourself, last night.”

Norrington looked as though he wanted nothing more than to fall through the deck and into the sea at that very moment. Elizabeth took pity on him.

“James,” she said in a soothing voice, “there’s no wrong in –”

He shook his head, still wagging an outraged digit in Jack’s direction. “You’re...you’re...I should have let you hang! Evil, evil –” he muttered as he stalked out of the galley.

Jack gave Elizabeth a mock quizzical glance. “D’you think it was something I said?”

“Jack,” Will admonished as Elizabeth pushed him roughly off his seat.

“What? What did I do?” Jack demanded from the floor, his hat fallen over his eyes.

“You know very well what you did,” Elizabeth snapped, irritated with him now. “You encouraged him to...misbehave, and then did so yourself when you knew very well what the results would be –”

“He was quite willing, I assure you,” Jack muttered.

“– and now you’ve humiliated him,” she continued stridently. “He just woke up alone in your bed, hurting in God only knows how many ways...”

“Hey!” Jack protested. “I didn’t break the man, Lizzie!”

She fixed him with a withering stare. “Would it have killed you to show some compassion, to wait there until he was awake? To make things a bit easier for him?”

“She’s right, you know,” said Will. “Norrington’s not one of your cabinboys, Jack, and it isn’t right of you to treat him like one.”

“You were the one encouraging me,” Jack accused Elizabeth darkly.

“I did nothing of the sort,” she sniffed. “I teased you a bit. There’s a difference. Now I want you to go find James, apologize, and let him sleep it off in your cabin.”

Jack made a face at her as he got to his feet, dusting himself off. “I hate people sleeping in my bed, you know that.”

“Then you shouldn’t have invited him there last ni-iiight,” Will sang out as he left. Jack chucked the remainder of the apple at his head, having suddenly lost all appetite.



Norrington had not gone very far. He was near the stern of the ship, leaning over the side, looking as though he was contemplating jumping.

Jack couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Of all the people on this ship he could have slept with, he’d gone and chosen the most troublesome. Not even a Turner or two could have given him great problems once the morning rolled around

“Commodore, I really hope you’re not going to make an ill-planned suicide attempt. I’m in no mood to fish you out.”

Norrington drew back and looked at him. His eyes spelled blind panic and Jack began to feel a bit sorry for him. Just because a man had a stupid worldview didn’t make it right for somebody else to come along and blow it out of the water. God, Elizabeth was rubbing off on him.

“I’m – I’m sorry about last night,” said Jack. He hated having to make sincere apologies, but he managed to get this one out.

“I’d really like to forget about that,” Norrington replied quietly. Jack had expected more of the bluster and fury he’d shown in the galley, not this pale shadow of remorse. It was unsettling.

He came up beside Norrington, who shuffled his feet a step away. “That’s your choice. Me, I don’t want to forget it – it’s too pleasant a memory to banish.”

Norrington blushed and looked down at his hands. “Not everything that’s pleasant is good for you, Captain Sparrow.”

“And not everything that’s new or different is bad,” Jack countered. “As I’d rather hoped you would find out, on the way to Port Royal. Not in regards to...certain practices,” he added delicately, off of Norrington’s incredulous look. “But me in general, and my crew. Can you still honestly say you’d fire on us, had you your own ships now?”

“You are pirates,” Norrington said. “You do loot. You’re not doing it now, but I know you must, at some point.”

“Aye, that we do,” said Jack agreeably. “But then, so do your own privateers. Don’t see you hunting them down.”

Norrington put his head in his hands again. “I don’t want to think right now. About anything, really.”

“Go and rest in my cabin,” said Jack, far less reluctantly than he had been planning on. “No one will bother you there.”

“Is that an order?” Norrington asked with the hint of a bitter smile.

“No,” said Jack. “It’s an offer. And it stands, for as long as you’re here.” He caught Norrington’s gaze and held it.

“Thank you,” said Norrington without looking away. Jack felt the temptation of those dark green eyes once again pulling him in, telling him to bring Norrington close, to take him. He resisted. With a nod, Norrington turned and made his way to Jack’s cabin.

Snippet 12:

Yeah, so this was supposed to be a trilogy.

For the entire afternoon following Elizabeth Swann’s disappearance, Commodore Norrington is holed up in his office with the governor. Gillette, relieving Theodore from duty at eight o’clock, mentions that the commodore has eaten nothing all day. They exchange a resigned glance and Theodore makes his way to the kitchens. It takes a good ten minutes of pleading before the fort’s cook will make him a plate; he doesn’t dare name its intended recipient for fear of even more talk about Norrington’s mental state.

Balancing the tray on one arm, he raps on the door, then tugs his jacket straighter. Curse these bloody nerves. Eight months in Port Royal and the man still turns his knees to jelly.

“Come in,” Norrington calls.

When Groves enters, he sees that his superior’s face is as weary as his voice. His face is slightly discolored as though he’s spent a good deal of time resting it in his hands. He is remarkably unkempt: coat flung over the back of his chair, cravat loose, wig abandoned to a rack. Groves swallows at the sight of dark, rich brown hair pulled back into a tight queue. If he had the courage to speak, he’d suggest that Norrington let it loose. Perhaps it would ease the tightness at the corners of his eyes.

Norringtons sighs his gratitude as Groves hands him the plate. “Thank you, Theodore. I’d forgotten



“Perhaps that life will please her, make her happy.”

“And that ought to have been her primary concern? Happiness?”

“Is it so wrong a thing to seek?”

“At the expense of duty and obligation, yes.”

“But all duty is not the same. Miss Swann may feel that duty to her heart is more important than duty to her father and her country. ... I must apologize, sir. I have – forgotten myself. The things I say are not meant out of disrespect.”

“It’s of no consequence, Theodore. You are excused for your boldness.”

“But it is – again, forgive me – it is meant out of honesty. And – and concern.”

“Oh?”

“Just because you do not share your troubles, sir, doesn’t mean others are blind. I have nothing but respect for your dedication to your post, but no one would think poorly of you if you were to take some time for yourself.”

“I spend every hour of the day with myself, Lieutenant.”

“With another, then. When you were first courting Miss Swann, you were – lightened. More than once I saw you smile. It would please me to know that her treatment of you has not hardened you to the charms of other companions.”

“Is that how you see me? A man without joy or...or warmth in his life?”

“More a man who will not let himself desire simple human contact, even conversation, because it would make him vulnerable to hurt.”

“Vulnerable to being made a fool, you mean.”

“I mean nothing of the sort. You are not a fool, James, nor are you a heartless tyrant. You are – you seem...sad. You need – you deserve some way to ease it.”

Snippet 13:

Another really, really old bunny. I was never particularly attached to this one.

"When you say you love me, what is it exactly that you mean?" Will attempts to define a relationship, and Jack would really prefer that he shut up.


"...while one minute you act as though you want me in a -- in a sexual way and the next you can hardly say one word to me, and you never tell me why --"

"BECAUSE I BLOODY WELL DO WANT YOU!" Jack shouted, flinging his bottle to the deck in a sudden display of temper. Will flinched as the glass shattered, its amber contents soaking into the wood. Jack stepped very close to him, dark eyes flashing. It was due to two separate reasons -- the frequent downtime between the raids and exciting capers typical of pirates, and the way Jack walked and spoke -- that Will was apt to forget how dangerous Jack could be. He was reminded now. "Because the only reason I'm not shoving you back against the bulkheads at this very moment is that I've done the supremely foolish thing of going and falling in love with you as well, and I know you would never -- if I ever tried you'd leave me in a second and then I'd be completely at odds -- you think I'm half-mad now, boy, but if you ever left me I'd never be good for anything, anyone, again. Not ever. This ship, the treasures of kings, all the leagues of ocean in all the world...none of it would be worth dirt if you were gone from me." He was gasping for breath like a fish out of water, fists clenching and relaxing at his sides, and he looked so out of control that Will, though he had never once been even remotely afraid of Jack, was rather hesitant to move. He could not think on his words, not yet; he could only stare at the man before him, laid bare as the moon had once laid his bones, finally shedding light on everything after the six years they'd been at sea together.

Jack had lost momentum when he paused and now his voice was just above a murmur. "There's your explanation," he said, casting his gaze down at their feet. "Please forget it ever happened. I'm going to sleep."


"You're an idiot, Jack."

He stood in the doorway, leaning casually against it. The darkness of the cabin shrouded his face so that Jack could see only a silhoutette. Jack didn't get up.

"I told you to forget it."

Will crossed his arms, still built like a blacksmith's, over his chest. "You really think things can go back to the way they were before tonight?"

"Yes," Jack said. "We can make them. Or, if you'd prefer, you can leave." His voice was flat and dead, devoid of all the passion it had held earlier.

"I thought that would ruin you. Isn't that what you said? That you'd be useless to the world if I left you?"

The silence stretched between them. Jack would not give him the satisfaction of either denying or confirming his own words. Will knew him too well; he was far too good at detecting his lies. What was said had been said, however Jack might regret it or blame it on the rum.

"So," Will continued, walking slowly across the small room to stand beside the bed. "It looks as though I have a choice."

"No, lad, you don't," Jack snapped. He decided denial was worth a shot after all. "Not the one you think you have. What I said -- I never did say any of it, savvy? It never happened. You don't get to base your choice on that."

"And you don't get to tell me what to do."

"I do so, I'm your damned captain," Jack began indignantly before realizing that Will's whisper was much closer than it should have been. He had moved while Jack wasn't looking and was leaning down over him, close enough to -- Christ. And he was.

For a moment he could tell that Will was only testing the waters. He was calm and detached, merely discovering how it felt to kiss Jack Sparrow. Then Jack's body took over and Will found out what it meant to be kissed by Jack Sparrow, and that there was no calm or detachment in it at all. He fell onto Jack with a smothered gasp, knees dropping to either side of his hips. Jack buried one hand in Will's hair and slipped the other under his loose shirt, trying to pull him closer and to touch all of him at once. Many times had Jack thought about what Will would taste like, but never could he have imagined this particular combination – the ale he’d been drinking, but behind that, cream and almonds. Will moaned into his mouth, pushing down against him.

It was Jack who finally broke the kiss, twisting his head away although he did not release his grip. Will stared down at him, eyes dazed, and Jack felt a touch of glee at having the upper hand once more.

Will shook his head as if to clear it. "Well," he managed, "it seems as though I don't have a choice after all."

At this Jack hesitated. It would be easy to shove him off, to demand he believe that Jack was only invested in whatever willing body happened to cross his path. Whether or not Will did believe him, that part was still Jack’s to play.

"You don't have to stay," he said.

"Jack," said Will with a smile and an air of authority, "I am going to stay, and that is that." Settling down next to Jack, he began to explore his body with surprisingly sure hands. Jack closed his eyes and arched against him, still feeling slightly mystified by the turn of events. Will tried to explain it to him with his lips trailing over Jack’s skin.

“I knew,” he whispered. “I always knew my place was here, with you, I just didn’t know how. Do you understand?” He looked up, eyes anxious. Jack kissed his fingertips, realizing that he did understand. The two of them in this bed – it wasn’t new. It wasn’t an addition to what their friendship was – it was their friendship. Only...more so. He opened his mouth to offer this revelation, but Will had already reached it, so he received a kiss instead.

Snippet 14:

Long before "Adaptation" was actually written, this was supposed to be in it. Will and Jack on the beach.

“What say we retire somewhere a bit more private?”

“Hmmm, I’d say I like the sound of that. Thought for awhile you weren’t going to be any good to me tonight.”

“I feel better now, though I’m sure I’ll pay for it in the morning.”

“You usually do. Are you sure you’re...ah, up to the task?”

“‘Course. You make me come alive.”

“Do I, now. Drunkenness makes you all fuzzy and rhapsodic, Turner.”

“You love me like this and you know it.”

“Aye, I do – love you like this, like that, every which way – on your back, on your belly, inside me, all around me...”

“Looks like I’m not the only silly tipsy one here.”

“Drunk on kisses, love, and nothing more.”

Snippet 15:

This is fairly recent; I have more of it hand-written, but the paper's buried somewhere in my desk drawer and hasn't been copied over yet. For some reason, I just couldn't the actual writing to work. Concept is that Will goes to sea with Jack to earn some booty, and he and Elizabeth fall more deeply in love through letter-writing. But he gets distant and vague, so she gets suspicious and pissed until he comes home and she learns that he was being so secretive because he was building her a house. All together now: awwww.


During the first month Will was gone, Elizabeth received a letter from him at least twice a week. They arrived smudged and tattered – more so after the sixth or seventh time she’d read each one. And they were quite lengthy. It seemed that Will was a great deal more talkative on paper than she’d ever known him to be in person. He told stories, he told her how much he loved and missed her, he mused over various subjects and backtracked on his thoughts and hoped he wasn’t boring her.

Elizabeth was anything but bored. Each word taught her more about the man who was going to share the rest of her life, and she felt she’d never tire of this peek into his mind. They had not spent much time together before his departure, and even less time alone. Reading his letters, she was surprised by how very much she liked him. She had always known he was handsome, and kind, and good at heart. Now she discovered that he was thoughtful, meticulous, observant, well-spoken, and

That's it. Anybody else want to play? It's fun!