veronica_rich | POTC fic: "The Sea's Gift"

POTC fic: "The Sea's Gift"

Title: “The Sea’s Gift”
Rating: PG-13
Jack/Will (not Jack and Will)
Disclaimer: I laugh in the general direction of anyone who implies I own these characters. I laugh at lawsuits assuming I’ve made a profit off of these creations! (I don’t laugh at process servers. Please don’t sue.)
Summary: Standalone or sequel to The Sea’s Keep – your choice. Humor, romance, sharp pointy things involving Turrow.
A/N: Thanks to

metalkatt for the beta,

crevette for a mental image, and

pktaxwench for some instructive parries (boy, did we weird out the normals at DeSoto, or what?).

The heavy quiet of the room was what woke Jack, he later decided. No noise at all, and certainly not sunlight, for it was pitch dark out the portholes, from what he could tell. A few hanging lamps were lighted, however, and Jack sat up to see the glow across the room from a better angle.

It was the orange-gray of blackening coals, far enough away to keep from burning the bed’s lone occupant but hot enough to provide warmth even in this cavernous room. Jack shifted to face forward, shaking his head anew at the sheer space of what the Dutchman’s captain could call his private quarters. The covers fell away as he yawned, and he looked around, eyes landing on Will’s greatcoat and baldric on a hook near the door – hanging next to his own coat and baldric. No other hooks were visible, he absently noted.

Jack certainly didn’t remember hanging things up; Will must’ve done it sometime between falling asleep half-sprawled across Jack and now. He pushed back the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as he stood – he was in good shape for a man of his years, but this wasn’t exactly a typical ache. This was the kind a man of less than twenty years would be hard-pressed to vault over right away. Still, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant; he flexed and arched his toes into the wood of the floor and chewed at his lower lip as he grinned at how he’d managed to make Death himself need a nap.

He walked around the bed – an honest-to-God bed, where there would normally be only room for a bunk, even a generous one – supposedly nailed into the floor and wall to keep it from moving around. He spotted his tricorn hanging from one of the posts, and laughed, wondering if all his clothes were likely folded and stacked neatly somewhere, his boots cleaned and brushed. He began looking around, and his gaze alighted on something across the room catching the shine of the hot coals.

Swords.

Jack crossed the cabin and paused near the rack of blades, sleek and sharp and undoubtedly perfectly balanced. Going up on his toes, he lifted one by its pommel and examined it, gripping the handle briefly before laying the fuller across two fingers. It barely rocked. “Thought so,” he murmured, nodding.

Somehow, the footsteps scraping the floor behind him had sneaked up without him hearing the man’s entrance. Jack flipped the sword into the air enough to wrap his fingers around the grip and turned, swinging it into an arc around the back of his head.

With an overhand, Will stopped the blade by grabbing it mid-air, just short of his neck. Jack held perfectly rigid, every muscle arrested as he breathed shallowly, his eyes narrowing on Will's. Neither said a word for several seconds; gradually, Will lowered the blade and Jack relaxed his arms. "Need to stop sneakin' up on the living like that, mate," he warned, controlling his breathing. "Bad for th' heart."

"Hmm." Will released the sword and held up his hand, which had a blood-smeared cut across the meat of his palm. "Not so good for me, either."

Setting aside the sword, Jack took the hand to inspect the gash. "If you have some cloth, I can wrap this up-" He shut up as the skin began closing, knitting itself back together. He'd forgotten what and who Will was, apparently. "I'll be damned," he murmured, shaking his head.

"Oh, I doubt the afterlife would be that unkind to you." Will smirked. "What are you up to?"

“Swords shine; I’m a pirate. Add the sums, mate.”

Picking up the blade Jack had put aside, Will hefted it. “You can swing something heavier than this,” he judged, replacing it on the rack and pulling down two others, passing one to the older man. “Here, see if this suits.”

Jack tried; it was a little heavy, but not uncomfortably, and the grip was short enough to get a better hold around. He eyed Will sideways, watching him nonchalantly inspecting the other sword’s manufacture – but the man’s expectant manner vibrated off him like a stirred hornet. Jack casually raised his sword, letting his wrist swing it up; as he turned into it, he lunged quite suddenly toward Will. As he suspected, the poor ruse vanished and the smith snapped his sword into a defensive cross, Jack’s blade ringing off it.

“Knew it,” he chuckled, bracing his stance for more.

“I think you’d better get on some breeches, or a shirt,” Will mildly observed, pushing Jack’s blade aside with his own, the susurration of an almost-ring as they slid apart.

“Don’t fight with cloth, do I?”

Will indicated his own boots, breeches and long shirt pulled on, tail left outside. “I’m not going to fight you with-” Jack lunged, cutting him off, but Will swung aside, avoiding the parry. “Naked,” he finished, pointedly eyeing Jack’s groin.

He kept his eyes on his opponent’s face, like any good fencer. “That’s extremely fortunate, William, seein’ as you’re not.” He made another parry, smoothly changing mid thrust to switch direction, getting closer, forcing Will to bring up his sword. “Nothin’ you’ve not seen before,” he needled. “Maybe more close up …”

Will sighed and Jack detected something akin to impatience in his expression. “It’s not a fair fight to begin with. This leaves you even more vulnerable.”

“Why?” He prodded Will into retaliating with a few of his own parries, carefully aimed – or rather, carefully not aimed toward any soft bits, and less effective. “Do you believe I haven’t defended myself in th’ altogether before?”

“Jealous husband?” Will hummed, blocking another. After a couple of beats, he added, “Jealous wife?” Jack grinned. “Dear God, tell me it wasn’t a farm animal.”

“Now, William,” he chided, never stopping. “Henny was special.” Will snorted, but still moved too sluggishly for Jack’s taste. He pressed harder, deliberately aiming for weak spots he knew wouldn’t matter anyway. Another moment of halfhearted blocking on Will’s part, and Jack stabbed harder, right at his side. “What in th’ hell happened to you?” he demanded.

“I’m not going to fight you like this.”

“Why?”

“Jack, give up.”

”WHY?” he practically bellowed.

The next time he lunged, he stumbled, realizing he was standing where Will had been. He righted himself, about to look around, when he felt the light slap of lukewarm metal to a buttock. Spinning, he found Will, who had apparently vanished from one spot to another. “You cheated!” slipped out before he could check himself.

Will lifted one eyebrow, obviously amused. “Demigod.”

Rather than accede to the man’s point, Jack attacked again. Will responded more solidly this time – finally! – but still checked himself as Jack shamelessly moved as if he had the protection of clothing, refusing to change his posture to meet the expectations of a naked man holding certain things away from danger. He watched Will’s eyes for clues of his movements, narrowing his own to mask intent – for all the good it would do against a man he knew could’ve bested him without the aid of the supernatural. Sure enough, after a couple of minutes, he judged, Will grew tired of caution and began parrying harder, though Jack suspected still not to his limits. If he went to his limits, you’d be dead, he considered.

Instead of slowing him down, it made Jack fight just as hard, and Will gave him just enough retreat to lash back within limits, coming a few inches from mortally endangering Jack with every press. Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes to slits and chase Jack closer to the warmth of the forge. “Still play with your sword three hours a day?” he taunted.

“Don’t have to.” Will simmered, the matching expression reaching his eyes, and Jack moved his sword and shimmied out of the way just in time to avoid a stab at his thigh.

“Still haven’t learned to fight dirty, eh?”

“Still haven’t learned how to wave that thing around without it?” Will snapped.

Jack kept pushing; Will kept occasionally forgetting himself and advancing, then retreating after a short burst. Jack was breathing hard, feeling sweat around his hairline and dampening his neck, but of course Will didn’t seem exerted. At one point when Jack rather viciously went for Will’s midsection, the other captain cut him off hard and pushed back. Jack kept pressing his luck, getting roughly countered, but he still got into Will’s space, metal crashing and ringing in time with the surge in his blood, and Will gave it back. At one point, the edge of Will’s blade landed an inch from the side of Jack’s throat, near the hilt, paused only because of a quick stop of iron control. Will narrowed his eyes and flared his nostrils, a victorious smirk curving his mouth. “Give, pirate.”

So, Jack did. He leaned forward and gave Will a hard, quick kiss, flummoxing him just long enough to duck under his blade and out of the way.

Will set his teeth and lowered his sword. “Jack Ass,” he muttered, setting apart the two words, but its object could tell he was holding his jaw so rigid, not to laugh.

“More than that, you play your cards right and don’t stab it,” Jack retorted, lunging once again at him.

“How the hell else do you win a fight?” Will demanded.

They said nothing more, only grunting and occasionally jeering, until Jack finally, somehow, wormed his way in under Will’s defense and pressed the tip of his blade to the open vee of his loose shirt. They came to a stop, Jack tightened his grip, and Will lowered his weapon. “Well?”

He knew Will would survive it, but the puckered gash bisecting his chest was too much. “Parlez,” he answered, lifting the sword away.

Will snorted. "Talk, then."

"Why're you fighting like a fop?" Will's eyebrows went up. "Overextending, leaving yourself open, slowing down - it's horseshit, Will. You could kill me if you wanted."

"Yes," the Dutchman's captain agreed, eyes hard. "I could've. Why didn't you drink it, Jack?"

He thought about playing dumb, but had caught Will a few times already eyeing the bundled strands of silver at his temples - and parts south. "Just haven't gotten around to it."

"Around to it," Will repeated, flatly. "You don't 'get around' to careening the ship. You don't 'get around' to polishing your sword regularly."

"More fun t' have someone else do it for me, love." Jack winked.

"You don't 'get around' to taking questionable advice," he continued, unfazed. "I wouldn't describe seizing eternal youth as 'getting around' to it. Since when don't you want it?"

Jack sighed, bringing the heel of his free hand up to wipe some of the sweat from his forehead and to give him an excuse to briefly shield his face as he answered. "Since I figured out there's no one will do it with me, as I'd have."

"Come again?"

"Barbossa was eager enough. Just like that worm Beckett would've been. But not Gibbs. Not Anton or Jezzy." He shook his head against the memory of being turned down by the few associates he'd be willing to share such a future with, in either friendship or at least occasional conjugal bliss. "Nobody decent."

He might've imagined Will's expression softening a touch. "Did they say why?"

"Told me they didn't wan' outlive everybody around them. Wives, sons, sisters." He jiggled his sword by bouncing the hilt lightly on his thumb, annoyed. Frustrated.

Will looked pleased. "The infamous Captain Jack Sparrow needs loyal friends. Who'd've thought?"

Jack stilled his sword. "Oh, shut it," he grumbled, turning to carry his sword back to hang it up. "Besides, the water is gone, William. Gave it to someone else."

"You gave it to someone else?"

"Bartered, more like." He turned back to face Will in a smooth arc. "Let's just say it's an investment in near-future goodwill with potential politicians."

Rolling his eyes, Will said, "So it's all gone. You're not interested in the future, seeing how the world turns out, then?" He closed the space between them ... and stepped past, hanging his own sword. "You're good with sailing on to the distant shores one last time?"

Jack looked around, remembering what ship he was on and its purpose. "You have something you're not telling ol' Jack, Ferryman?" he finally thought to ask, his heartbeat picking up in anxiety.

Will's chuff of laughter was soft and warm. "You're neither dead nor dying, Jack." He paused. "Today."

"Ahh. You're wondering if I'll stay around for you."

“I’m wondering when you decided that you need anyone but the Pearl and a fleet’s worth of rum for the next nine hundred years, actually.” He cupped a hand to Jack’s bare shoulder. “Not the Captain Sparrow I met heading to Isle de Muerte to blast Barbossa off his ship.”

“Age has a way of reshufflin’ one’s priorities, mate.” Jack didn’t so much shrug as roll into Will’s fingers. “Or at least adding to them.”

“You’ve not answered me,” Will observed.

Jack scratched the side of his nose, stalling. “I’m not keen on trudging through that swamp and hacking through th’ local haunted beasties for another dram of it, if that’s what you mean.”

“Liar.”

He threw his hands up. “I’m not sure I’d survive another excursion through it at this age, alright? And if I don’t have much time left, well …” He eyed Will meaningfully, eyes making a quick circuit of his long, lean body, as he flexed fingers itching to caress. “I can think of more rewarding ways of strutting toward the edge of Shakespeare’s stage, darlin’.”

“Very well.” Will’s hand moved to the back of his neck and he leaned in to cover Jack’s mouth in a kiss. Their moustaches brushed and ruffled, and Jack went along as he felt Will backing up, pulling him. When they finally broke, it wasn’t the bed behind Will, but the wardrobe. He pulled the door open and removed a brown corked jug, along with a small smudged glass.

Jack’s eyes lighted up. “Man knows his way to a pirate’s heart,” he grinned.

“I certainly do.” Will pulled the cork, splashed out a glassful, and set the jug aside. “Just the thing after a hot, sweaty bout of exercise.”

“And before another.” Only then did Jack notice the non-amber liquid, and started to protest – until he looked twice. The water was a light pink, nearly glowing, and mildly cloudy with brine. He blinked, his pulse picking up this time in excitement. “Where did you get that?”

“Don’t you mean ‘When?’ or ‘How?’” Will nudged it toward him.

He considered that, choosing instead, “Why?” The same intensity Will had ever showed every time he had charged in to cover Jack’s backside in a fight – the same he had expressed hours earlier, as they’d rolled between his sheets – colored the shift in his expression. Something in Jack’s chest skipped, and he breathed out, “Oh.”

Will offered him a small smile. “Now your loquaciousness deserts you? Shame.” He shook his head. “I was just keeping you around for the conversation, after all.”

“Aye – and I’ve just been visitin’ for the morality lessons.” He lifted the glass, sniffed its contents, and made a face over the singular odor. “Really bad eggs,” he hummed, taking a deep breath and raising the glass toward Will. “The ‘Immoral Captain Jack Sparrow’ has a nice ring.”

“Immortal,” Will corrected automatically.

He finished draining the drink and licked his lips as his other hand latched onto Will’s wrist. “But what’d be fun about one without the other?”

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I love you. Marry me. I'll work out what to do with my husband.

He can pay the bills. We'll give him a purpose. ;-)

Thanks!

Perfect ending. It's so perfectly Jack that I have to laugh. Marvelous!

Jack's a real piece of work - I just do the best I can to try to catch his voice (and I don't to do it too often - he doesn't "talk" to me so much!). Glad you enjoyed!

I love your stories, Ver. <3 Just what I needed this morning before several boring classes.

I hope it buoyed you through the suffering of your day of academia. Glad you liked it!

It seriously did. You have no idea.

Loved it!

And yeah, we entertained the normals at DeSoto. Went back out last weekend as Sparrow for photos, and got even more attention. :D

I'm still surprised by the lack of self-preservation. I would give people with large sharp objects as wide a berth as I could, not walk right next to and behind them when I'm not sure they're looking out for me!

Thanks!

Good stuff!

Thanks, Maynard! *G*

Oh yes, that's it exactly :) Loved it.

Glad it hit just the right spot. ;-)

"“The ‘Immoral Captain Jack Sparrow’ has a nice ring.”

“Immortal,” Will corrected automatically."

It does have a very nice ring. And they're both right.

I don't think Jack could be moral any more than the sun could come up in the west, do you? *G* Thanks for reading.

Love this one even more than Sea's Keep.

Three lines jump out on the favorites parade:

>“Now, William,” he chided, never stopping. “Henny was special.”<

>“You cheated!” slipped out before he could check himself.

Will lifted one eyebrow, obviously amused. “Demigod.”<

>“The ‘Immoral Captain Jack Sparrow’ has a nice ring.”<

I like you carrying on with your premise that Will ditches the organ he can't play and makes a forge to craft his exquisite swords. He may be the Ferryman now, but you don't ever permanently stymie an artist.

I like the way Jack uses the swordplay to unmask Will's concern for his mortality. Also the consideration that Jack can't get any friends to join him in "forever", implication that Jack's not such a loner after all.

Also like the implication that he gave Elizabeth or the child his Fountain of Youth water.

And of course I like that Will just happens to have some more for Jack to quaff after all.

Mmmmmm!

I'm glad to see you back, and that you enjoyed reading this. It wasn't easy writing the bit with Jack and friends, because on the one hand, every person wants to have "peeps" to call their own and interact with, and not have to lose them all every few decades; on the other, Jack IS largely a loner it seems, so who's to say he couldn't get by just fine on his own for a thousand years or more? (Well, I guess I am, since I wrote the story. LOL)

And Will may not want to devote his life to ironwork, but he's good enough that I think he'd want to keep up with the artistic, cathartic side of it. After seeing all that death, it makes sense he'd want to create something once in a while to sort of counter it.

Veronica Rich? You make me smile. :)

I think that list dwindles as the years go by and people get interested in other fandoms, or writing their own stories ... but it's always very good to see a familiar longtime name who still keeps up with me. :-)

And your comment made ME smile.

I fear I might be interpreting things a tad too deeply, but I hope you can forgive me for that.

Jack fighting naked against the one reason he ultimately chooses to live forever with, shows exactly how vulnerable he is. In a way I see him ascertaining that Will knows exactly what he's getting into, sort of asking him if Will is really ready to accept Jack, skin and bones, forever.

Jack knows that when he finally reaches the horizon, there's no coming back, and although he's the master of hiding, veiling true meanings behind contradicting, and often lewd words, occasionally the dreamer who longs for true partnership shines through. Now, as from this moment on, there's no return.

And I'm not ashamed to admit I'm turning green out of sheer envy. I wish I could write a swordfight too!

A lot of times I write things and I don't really know why - it comes into my brain and I put it down on paper or the keyboard. More like taking dictation, really. So any interpretation someone offers usually has a fair amount of accuracy in it, I'd say. Can't go wrong having people like your stuff enough to try to figure it out! *G*

Thanks for popping by and giving it a read ...

Lovely sword fight--nothing like the thrust and parry of a man with a sword or two. Like that he bartered away the waters--and for some reason Jack with a little gray is very attractive. A couple of lines in what you've writ stand out--see Lady Mouse's comment. Will has always been beautiful to me for entirely different reasons than Jack. Nobody likes to be alone, man just weren't constructed that way. Thanks.

I think Jack with a little gray would be quite appealing. I don't think Will would want to think he's aging closer to death, but it might make him more "human" and less "legend" (sleeping with a legend is a pain in the ass, more trouble than a human, LOL). I'm glad you liked the story.

Now I would ask you, out of curiosity, what it is you like about Will in contrast to Jack. You discuss in comments to things and in your own stories what you like about Jack, so I sort of know that, but being a Will fan, now my brain is piqued by you saying that ... :-D

Well, interesting question--okay, you asked, here's the top of my brain part of it.

He feels--there is a warmth in his response, a loyalty, humor indicating a vast intelligence, and the man is passionate. He is stubborn and faithful to himself. He learns quietly and keeps his own counsel. He would be a formidable ally or enemy.

If you live long enough, all combos are possible. In the stories I have no ability to write, the ones I dream up, the three are always--they live, love, respect, partner or part as live dictates. Each one of them vital, Jack and Elisabeth more force of nature, Will depth of heart. Being an older, it's important to me to see each one have their own life, as well as a partnered life. Will does.

Have no clue if this answers your question. I love the beloveds. Since I have been/am the maid, the woman, the crone--they are parents, partners, and children to my eyes and heart. How does one not love? Ah, and did I mention I'm a recovering traditionalist with a strong sense of oh, yeah. Short answer: Cause I do.

In the stories I have no ability to write, the ones I dream up

Oh, I don't know ... there was a time you weren't posting any stories at all, wasn't there? (I don't know if this also means you weren't writing them, or if you just weren't posting what you wrote.) Once in a while I sort of like taking on a challenge I'm not sure I can do very well just for the sake of trying - I once wrote a J/E and had a devil of a time figuring out how I was going to meet the prompt and still maintain what I saw as their individual character. It took a while and I was mostly satisfied with the end result, but I couldn't tell you if most J/E fans would actually have liked it, LOL. I also did a prompt for some other place that centered on Elizabeth and at the time I was not "feeling" the character very well, but the story sort of helped me in that regard. So maybe if you try the kind of odd story you think of, it'll turn out better than you think?

And it's good to see a J/E fan who appreciates Will. I feel it's about as uncommon as us J/W fans who like Elizabeth, sometimes. *G*

Appreciate encouragement--IMO, writing is work. I am only minimally interested--my burning desire doesn't include twisting myself into knots. The drabbles are a perfect venue for me--I liken them to spray paint--the immediacy is what I require.

I'm a "beloveds" fan--those who were give to me by PotC--I love them all. I didn't offer any scribblybits prior, just started back in November I think.
For me, it's framing the feeling I have, past that I could give a fig. I'm old school--I like writing letters, keeping my diary, contacting friends. Love stories though--love reading beautiful words strung together to make beautiful thoughts bloom--that's gooden.

Fanfic graffiti ... fanficciti ... I like it!

Clever! and worth a giggle--yes, a quick get--did you ever plan the name game "banana fana fo fana...."

Late to the party, but wanted to drop a few words about how much I enjoyed this. I've got a weakness lately for older Jack; grey at his temples, and 'further south' - oh my! - and maybe moving more slowly, cautiously, but still with good fitness and being carefree. Oh yes, I like it muchly. Also enjoy him sparring in the nude. It doesn't initially seem like something Jack would do, but you've written it very true to the way I see his character.

Also? "this wasn't exactly a typical ache." Ooooh, baby!! I like me some big strong blacksmith-muscled Will! I..*tries to shut up*

I think Jack used it to catch Will off-guard and to see if he could gain an advantage - I'm pretty sure, for example, that Elizabeth would give him no quarter for fighting in the altogether, but Will probably would (even if he weren't immortally strong and fast).

As for big strong Will - yep, you got exactly what I was going for without saying too much out loud. *BG* I like some top!Will on occasion myself.

Thanks for feedbacking!

Oh. My. Effin'. God.

I have SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much love for your right now. Even more than normal that is!

Thanks you so so so so SO much for writing this. It was a lovely thing to find! XD!

(Is at work, but when she get's home is gonna write something more concrete. Promise!)

*Memories*

This alone would have thrilled me - more detail is always welcome, but I'm glad just to know it made someone happy. :-)

Thanks for reading!

Oh gawd... o.O This is so so good. A perfect continuation of the previous fic, I'd say. And I loved that one muchly to! I really really adore how you write Will here. *falls down on knees and worships*

Um ... you don't have to worship. Honest. If it made you happy to read, that's good enough for me. :-) Thanks!

HOLY EFFING HELL! NAKED SWORDFIGHTING!!!

It's like all my dreams came true :D

I adore this. I love, love, LOVE the banter, and the themness of them both. I love how when you write I can 'see' everything so clearly (which was a particular delight in this installement *g*) And the ending... Guh. Just perfect. I hope you know how completely wonderful it is to have more delicious Turrow from you *bows before the maestra*

Nekkid and swords go together! Don't you know?

I wanted to concentrate on the banter, which I hadn't done in a while and has been difficult since just lately. But I like the boys and thought I'd take a crack at it, see how it worked out.

Thanks, dear. Harpy Barthday!

Love this one too. :) The emotions there subtle but powerful. And Jack's indignance at Wills cheating is priceless, lol. I really love fics where they're finally on a more even keel, more equals then they were before. Especially when swordplay is involved. :D

Lovely ficlet. :)

I really love fics where they're finally on a more even keel, more equals then they were before.

I think that's my favorite kind of Turrow. There's some really good old-school fics written years ago where Will is the junior and Jack is the older-and-wiser teacher, so to speak, but I like them on an even keel as well. :-)

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POTC fic: "The Sea's Gift"

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