{Fic} Ocean Soul 9/18 | Will/Jack
Ocean Soul
Part 9 of 18
By Clarity Scifiroots
Standard disclaimers apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn’t quite the same. By a fan, for fans.
Rating: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.
Pairing: Jack/Will
Summary: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the Interceptor to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the most famous (or is it infamous?) Jack Sparrow.
Warnings: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such
Edited January 18, 2008
Nine
Soft hiccups accompanied the sound of rolling waves stroking the ship. Jack hadn’t said anything for a long time, remaining the steadfast comfort that Will so needed.
Resurrection would follow in the near future, and the realization that such a thing could even be possible let loose a wild, strange light of hope. Nothing was perfect or resolved as of yet, but the point of the moment was that resolution was finally in sight. Will knew for the first time that life would get better. He could feel it.
It slowly sunk in that Will clutched Jack as if he were all that remained in the world; in return, Jack cradled the skinny body in a very unpirate-y gesture. Embarrassment couldn’t win out over the thorough exhaustion that encompassed Will’s being, but he did force his body to uncurl and move away, putting some distance between them. He immediately felt cold.
“I...” he trailed off. He tugged the blanket back over his lap and stared blindly at his fingers as they played with the fabric.
Jack tilted his head a bit in attempt to better see the other’s face - unsuccessfully. Hiding a sigh, he said, “You alright, luv?”
Will nodded numbly, still not meeting the inquisitive gaze. Why had he allowed himself to break down? He had held on for so long, so why did he let himself break apart now? What was it about this ship? No, not the ship or the crew as a whole… What was it that drew him to AnaMaria? And to this odd pirate captain? How could he trust such lowlifes when it had already been proven to him that so-called honest men could be as bad as the rumors of lusty pirates? Wouldn’t the lowlifes be that much worse?
“Listen, mate, after I ‘ave the Pearl back I’ll go back with you to Port Royale ‘n the crew will take care o’ anyone you want. Savvy?”
Startled, Will looked up to see Jack’s serious expression. He felt mostly horrified at the thought of ever seeing some of those men at port again, but the surprise of the offer triggered suspicion in him. Questions crowded his mind again, wondering over Jack’s unconventional character. He could never second-guess this man or even pretend to know what his next move would be. It ought to have scared Will, but something thrilled him about it all the same.
His body felt chill again, bare and open to the cabin surrounding them. It seemed as if the cabin encompassed the entirety of the world, nothing lay beyond, not now. He didn’t want to acknowledge the outside world of cruelty at the moment. He wanted to revel in this freedom that held up his now unguarded, vulnerable soul where he didn’t feel afraid.
He stared at Jack, meeting the dark eyes, searching for... something he could not name at present. Jack let him look.
-----
It didn’t seem like Will would respond to his offer, Jack thought, matching the boy’s gaze. The chocolate-brown eyes peered into him, delving into his soul and searching for something - gods knew what. The curious, silent exchange continued, mostly because Jack wanted to know just what the boy wanted.
“Does it matter?” Will said suddenly.
Jack blinked and the intense gaze broke. “What?”
Will looked down at his arms, palms up. With the fingertips of his opposite hand, he trailed the crossing pattern of old scars on covering his forearm. “If I made them or not, does it matter?”
Jack paid more attention to Will’s face than the scarred arm. He searched for further reactions and emotions - regret? Pride? Nothing came but that studying gaze. Slowly Jack shifted his focus and studied the cream-colored underarm and the trembling fingers that ran the path of a carved history. Gently he captured the wrist of the trembling hand and moved it away so that he could study the damage himself. Will glanced at Jack without fear, only slight apprehension.
Years of living on ships and constantly working with his hands caused a strange inkling of fear that his hands might be somehow too rough, that somehow the deceptively frail-looking skin would tear if he didn’t proceed carefully. He brushed a thumb over a long, horizontal scar that crossed from one side of the underarm to the other.
“Three years ago,” Will murmured impassively.
Jack took the time to caress each scar and wait for the short information of its placement in time. Indeed his earlier impression had been correct - Will’s scarred arm marked a sort of timeline. Like men who remained in cells for too long to recall, he had carved into his skin the permanent reminder of time passing. Dimly, Jack wondered if the sight of these scars would be a blessing or curse in years to come. Perhaps he had been wrong about these injuries not being battle wounds...
A strange urge over-powered Jack’s current act of playing the gentleman, and he went with his gut instinct, used to taking risks; if this could turn out well...
------
Will gasped in surprise when Jack laid the first kiss on the oldest scar. His brow furrowed in consternation; Will stared silently as the pirate lifted his eyes in question. Finding no protest, the captain again traced every scar, this time with his lips gently caressing the marks of faded years in chronological order. The former blacksmith had the unfamiliar, uplifting sense of letting go. Unlike his earlier tears, this left him with no amount of pain, only a gentle, warm comfort - warm and moist from Jack’s lips.
“Why...?” he whispered quietly when Jack had finished.
Jack’s gaze looked as unsure as Will felt. Will let his hand be cupped to the weathered cheek of the pirate. He felt as if he sat in two places at once - part of him cradled to the warm body of comfort that Jack had become; his other half sat aside and studied the scene, trying to figure out the answers to all the questions flooding his mind. They stared at one another in silence for some time.
Will watched in amazement as Jack turned his head slightly so that his lips brushed over Will’s palm. Another soft kiss, so foreign. What was the reason for this treatment? Will couldn’t even begin to comprehend his own feelings with the situation, let alone figure out the motivation for such gentleness.
Neither realized yet that the years in Port Royale had taught only pain and Will was unable to understand the course of gentle, affectionate emotions. Lust he had seen. Relationships driven by pure, physical need, greed, or emotion had been common sights in his recent past. The only peace he’d experienced had been the occasional glance of Elizabeth and that, well... that was different from this.
He shook his head hopelessly, staring at his skin where Jack’s lips insisted on resting. At the same time horrified and confused, Will’s fascination kept him from pulling away from the physical contact. He watched with a calculating gaze, clinically detached simply because his uncertainty of how to approach the situation.
“Was only a violent ‘and offered you?” Jack asked in a low tone. His eyebrows knit together in astonishment as Will slowly nodded his head. Muttering a soft curse, Jack gently kissed Will’s palm before meeting his eyes again. “Would that Bill were ‘ere - ‘e’d go back to lop off the ‘eads of such asses. Bu’ me ship is me heart…” A strange look that Will could not define entered the pirate’s dark gaze. “Forgive me?” Jack murmured almost inaudibly against a pale, calloused hand.
Will stared at him in confusion. His lips parted slightly as if preparing to speak but nothing came to mind, and he couldn’t force anything to form without being sure of what to say. Will had the sense that this was very important - a key to something that lay just beyond the wall that kept him back from the world in which Jack belonged. He ached to join the pirate on the other side, to be able to drink carelessly, toss back his head and laugh, offer up such a wide range of emotions, and - strangely this seemed the most important - to be able to give and receive with comprehension these gentle strokes of skin against skin.
His lips quirked up into an ironic smile. “I can’t understand you,” he admitted longingly.
Jack responded with a wistful smile of his own. “With yer permission, luv, I would gladly guide you.” A brief sparkle of amusement crossed the tanned face, but his sincerity lingered.
Hesitant because he didn’t know where this would lead, Will carefully nodded his head. Apprehension noted, Jack smiled reassuringly. He took the sunburned hand still in his grasp and kissed the knuckles.
“’Fore yer lessons go far, I suggest a rest, savvy?”
Will blinked, temporarily surprised; a moment later he decided that the pirate must be psychic - a yawn stretched his jaw wide. He glared at Jack’s smirk.
“No’ me fault. You ge’ some rest, I’ll sleep elsewhere tonight.”
As Jack made to leave, Will grabbed for an arm. “No,” he whispered, expression contorted with sudden fear. “I’d rather you stay.”
-----
After a few moments of consideration, Jack motioned for the younger man to make himself comfortable. He blew out all the candles save one near the bed and returned to his companion. Will’s eyes trailed after the pirate’s moves; not in anxiety, rather in a sort of...patience. Jack sat at the edge of the bed, taking off his boots and hat before easing into a horizontal position. Will lay on his side, a distance away, studying Jack with a confused expression.
The pirate eyed him. “What?”
Will struggled with a shrug and frowned. “Something’s not right.”
Jack looked at the last candle, then at Will, then back again. Although he had no reason for the change in gaze, it gave him something physical to do while his mind worked over what to do. Shaking his head slightly in amusement, Jack blew out the candle and inched closer to Will before settling again, this time close enough that body heat mixed between them.
“This alright?”
No answer so Jack waited long moments, pondering if he ought to move away or not. He ended up assuring himself that Will wouldn’t be stupid enough to stay quiet - any longer, at least - about anything that made him uncomfortable. Jack settled down for sleep; the next day he would have to develop further plans regarding Barbossa and his precious Pearl. He needed a clear head for such things.
Just as he drifted off, he felt the tentative brush of an arm cross his stomach. A heavy weight settled on his shoulder and stray strands of hair brushed against his cheek. In the dark, Jack Sparrow, current captain of the commandeered Interceptor, smiled.
-----
TBC
-----
Part 9 of 18
By Clarity Scifiroots
Standard disclaimers apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn’t quite the same. By a fan, for fans.
Rating: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.
Pairing: Jack/Will
Summary: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the Interceptor to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the most famous (or is it infamous?) Jack Sparrow.
Warnings: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such
Edited January 18, 2008
Nine
Soft hiccups accompanied the sound of rolling waves stroking the ship. Jack hadn’t said anything for a long time, remaining the steadfast comfort that Will so needed.
Resurrection would follow in the near future, and the realization that such a thing could even be possible let loose a wild, strange light of hope. Nothing was perfect or resolved as of yet, but the point of the moment was that resolution was finally in sight. Will knew for the first time that life would get better. He could feel it.
It slowly sunk in that Will clutched Jack as if he were all that remained in the world; in return, Jack cradled the skinny body in a very unpirate-y gesture. Embarrassment couldn’t win out over the thorough exhaustion that encompassed Will’s being, but he did force his body to uncurl and move away, putting some distance between them. He immediately felt cold.
“I...” he trailed off. He tugged the blanket back over his lap and stared blindly at his fingers as they played with the fabric.
Jack tilted his head a bit in attempt to better see the other’s face - unsuccessfully. Hiding a sigh, he said, “You alright, luv?”
Will nodded numbly, still not meeting the inquisitive gaze. Why had he allowed himself to break down? He had held on for so long, so why did he let himself break apart now? What was it about this ship? No, not the ship or the crew as a whole… What was it that drew him to AnaMaria? And to this odd pirate captain? How could he trust such lowlifes when it had already been proven to him that so-called honest men could be as bad as the rumors of lusty pirates? Wouldn’t the lowlifes be that much worse?
“Listen, mate, after I ‘ave the Pearl back I’ll go back with you to Port Royale ‘n the crew will take care o’ anyone you want. Savvy?”
Startled, Will looked up to see Jack’s serious expression. He felt mostly horrified at the thought of ever seeing some of those men at port again, but the surprise of the offer triggered suspicion in him. Questions crowded his mind again, wondering over Jack’s unconventional character. He could never second-guess this man or even pretend to know what his next move would be. It ought to have scared Will, but something thrilled him about it all the same.
His body felt chill again, bare and open to the cabin surrounding them. It seemed as if the cabin encompassed the entirety of the world, nothing lay beyond, not now. He didn’t want to acknowledge the outside world of cruelty at the moment. He wanted to revel in this freedom that held up his now unguarded, vulnerable soul where he didn’t feel afraid.
He stared at Jack, meeting the dark eyes, searching for... something he could not name at present. Jack let him look.
-----
It didn’t seem like Will would respond to his offer, Jack thought, matching the boy’s gaze. The chocolate-brown eyes peered into him, delving into his soul and searching for something - gods knew what. The curious, silent exchange continued, mostly because Jack wanted to know just what the boy wanted.
“Does it matter?” Will said suddenly.
Jack blinked and the intense gaze broke. “What?”
Will looked down at his arms, palms up. With the fingertips of his opposite hand, he trailed the crossing pattern of old scars on covering his forearm. “If I made them or not, does it matter?”
Jack paid more attention to Will’s face than the scarred arm. He searched for further reactions and emotions - regret? Pride? Nothing came but that studying gaze. Slowly Jack shifted his focus and studied the cream-colored underarm and the trembling fingers that ran the path of a carved history. Gently he captured the wrist of the trembling hand and moved it away so that he could study the damage himself. Will glanced at Jack without fear, only slight apprehension.
Years of living on ships and constantly working with his hands caused a strange inkling of fear that his hands might be somehow too rough, that somehow the deceptively frail-looking skin would tear if he didn’t proceed carefully. He brushed a thumb over a long, horizontal scar that crossed from one side of the underarm to the other.
“Three years ago,” Will murmured impassively.
Jack took the time to caress each scar and wait for the short information of its placement in time. Indeed his earlier impression had been correct - Will’s scarred arm marked a sort of timeline. Like men who remained in cells for too long to recall, he had carved into his skin the permanent reminder of time passing. Dimly, Jack wondered if the sight of these scars would be a blessing or curse in years to come. Perhaps he had been wrong about these injuries not being battle wounds...
A strange urge over-powered Jack’s current act of playing the gentleman, and he went with his gut instinct, used to taking risks; if this could turn out well...
------
Will gasped in surprise when Jack laid the first kiss on the oldest scar. His brow furrowed in consternation; Will stared silently as the pirate lifted his eyes in question. Finding no protest, the captain again traced every scar, this time with his lips gently caressing the marks of faded years in chronological order. The former blacksmith had the unfamiliar, uplifting sense of letting go. Unlike his earlier tears, this left him with no amount of pain, only a gentle, warm comfort - warm and moist from Jack’s lips.
“Why...?” he whispered quietly when Jack had finished.
Jack’s gaze looked as unsure as Will felt. Will let his hand be cupped to the weathered cheek of the pirate. He felt as if he sat in two places at once - part of him cradled to the warm body of comfort that Jack had become; his other half sat aside and studied the scene, trying to figure out the answers to all the questions flooding his mind. They stared at one another in silence for some time.
Will watched in amazement as Jack turned his head slightly so that his lips brushed over Will’s palm. Another soft kiss, so foreign. What was the reason for this treatment? Will couldn’t even begin to comprehend his own feelings with the situation, let alone figure out the motivation for such gentleness.
Neither realized yet that the years in Port Royale had taught only pain and Will was unable to understand the course of gentle, affectionate emotions. Lust he had seen. Relationships driven by pure, physical need, greed, or emotion had been common sights in his recent past. The only peace he’d experienced had been the occasional glance of Elizabeth and that, well... that was different from this.
He shook his head hopelessly, staring at his skin where Jack’s lips insisted on resting. At the same time horrified and confused, Will’s fascination kept him from pulling away from the physical contact. He watched with a calculating gaze, clinically detached simply because his uncertainty of how to approach the situation.
“Was only a violent ‘and offered you?” Jack asked in a low tone. His eyebrows knit together in astonishment as Will slowly nodded his head. Muttering a soft curse, Jack gently kissed Will’s palm before meeting his eyes again. “Would that Bill were ‘ere - ‘e’d go back to lop off the ‘eads of such asses. Bu’ me ship is me heart…” A strange look that Will could not define entered the pirate’s dark gaze. “Forgive me?” Jack murmured almost inaudibly against a pale, calloused hand.
Will stared at him in confusion. His lips parted slightly as if preparing to speak but nothing came to mind, and he couldn’t force anything to form without being sure of what to say. Will had the sense that this was very important - a key to something that lay just beyond the wall that kept him back from the world in which Jack belonged. He ached to join the pirate on the other side, to be able to drink carelessly, toss back his head and laugh, offer up such a wide range of emotions, and - strangely this seemed the most important - to be able to give and receive with comprehension these gentle strokes of skin against skin.
His lips quirked up into an ironic smile. “I can’t understand you,” he admitted longingly.
Jack responded with a wistful smile of his own. “With yer permission, luv, I would gladly guide you.” A brief sparkle of amusement crossed the tanned face, but his sincerity lingered.
Hesitant because he didn’t know where this would lead, Will carefully nodded his head. Apprehension noted, Jack smiled reassuringly. He took the sunburned hand still in his grasp and kissed the knuckles.
“’Fore yer lessons go far, I suggest a rest, savvy?”
Will blinked, temporarily surprised; a moment later he decided that the pirate must be psychic - a yawn stretched his jaw wide. He glared at Jack’s smirk.
“No’ me fault. You ge’ some rest, I’ll sleep elsewhere tonight.”
As Jack made to leave, Will grabbed for an arm. “No,” he whispered, expression contorted with sudden fear. “I’d rather you stay.”
-----
After a few moments of consideration, Jack motioned for the younger man to make himself comfortable. He blew out all the candles save one near the bed and returned to his companion. Will’s eyes trailed after the pirate’s moves; not in anxiety, rather in a sort of...patience. Jack sat at the edge of the bed, taking off his boots and hat before easing into a horizontal position. Will lay on his side, a distance away, studying Jack with a confused expression.
The pirate eyed him. “What?”
Will struggled with a shrug and frowned. “Something’s not right.”
Jack looked at the last candle, then at Will, then back again. Although he had no reason for the change in gaze, it gave him something physical to do while his mind worked over what to do. Shaking his head slightly in amusement, Jack blew out the candle and inched closer to Will before settling again, this time close enough that body heat mixed between them.
“This alright?”
No answer so Jack waited long moments, pondering if he ought to move away or not. He ended up assuring himself that Will wouldn’t be stupid enough to stay quiet - any longer, at least - about anything that made him uncomfortable. Jack settled down for sleep; the next day he would have to develop further plans regarding Barbossa and his precious Pearl. He needed a clear head for such things.
Just as he drifted off, he felt the tentative brush of an arm cross his stomach. A heavy weight settled on his shoulder and stray strands of hair brushed against his cheek. In the dark, Jack Sparrow, current captain of the commandeered Interceptor, smiled.
-----
TBC
-----