{Fic} Ocean Soul 3/18 | Jack/Will
Ocean Soul
Part 3 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 16, 2008
Three
Will roused himself from the depths of sleep upon hearing clumsy, heavy footsteps from the passage outside the storage room door. He frowned, his tired mind noting that naval soldiers didn’t walk like that. Shaking his head in attempt to rid himself of some of his sleepiness, he brought himself up to rest on his good arm and look out from the crates and barrels behind which he had taken refuge. A portal window graced the room with pleasant sunlight.
He had picked his hiding spot in the dead of night by touch and sense of smell alone, recognizing that where he decided to sleep would be surrounded by military supplies of ammunition and the like - items not likely to be needed as the ship first set sail. Unfortunately, it also meant that there was nothing comfortable to cushion his sleep. Had his shirt not been stuck to the burn on his arm, he would have removed the piece of clothing for a pillow, at least. Even the smallest movement sent jolts of pain throughout his body. He rubbed his face tiredly after he forced himself to sit upright. His back rested against one of the ammunition crates and he stared out the small, round window at the sky. No more... he was no longer in the hell hole that he’d been dropped in so many years ago. He smiled.
Beside his hand lay the few belongings he decided to take on his journey: Two elegant swords, a stiletto, and a dagger, all fashioned by his skill, were wrapped carefully together in an old, worn leather hide. He hoped that if the need came, he could either sell the weaponry or use it to barter his continued passage. He brushed his fingertips over the small pouch he had tied to his belt last night, now laying by the weapons. Like his locket, he knew the contents by heart: a medallion keepsake from his father, an earring that Elizabeth thought she lost one day when they were visiting together, and two rings that his mother had passed into his keeping when they boarded their ship from England. One looked much like a man’s wedding band. His mother had smiled sadly at him when he asked and shook her head.
He wondered what he had missed in his childlike innocence. He had no recollections of his father, for he had disappeared long before Will could clearly remember. His mother was very cryptic with details, and no one else in his grandfather’s household said much about the absent Mr. Turner. Looking down at the pouch, he wondered if his father had abandoned them, just given up the family and any ties he once had. The thought raised a tight feeling of anger in his gut. It was a reasonable supposition, he realized, for it would explain the sadness always lingering in his mother’s expressions, and the tears he occasionally saw her shed.
He didn’t know why such thoughts suddenly plagued him. It hadn’t been something he’d thought on much before, always too busy with his work and keeping himself alive. With an unknown father likely dead -or at least far away from Port Royale -and a deceased mother, it made no sense to linger on past mysteries that wouldn’t do much good in the present.
His entire body ached and he clutched his stomach as a sharp pain bit him from the inside. No food. He closed his eyes and eased his breathing. He couldn’t risk sneaking out yet, he reminded himself. There would be time, later. No soldier was so cruel as to let a person starve to death, right? He sighed as part of him snorted skeptically in response. Best to return to sleep in which only the darkness surrounded him. His exhaustion had gone on for so long that there was no room for dreams.
Will slid down to the floor again and curled up on his good side, stoically ignoring the blazing pain around the brand on his other arm.
-----
The next time he awoke was due to the fact that someone prodded him with the end of a long gun barrel. His vision blurred, not just from exhaustion - he had a sense that he had a fever, likely from infection in his open wound. Two faces looked down at him, dour frowns on both lips.
These weren’t British soldiers…
He blinked a few times to clear his vision and looked again. The two figures didn’t suddenly become soldiers; the man looked like some beggar, and the dark-skinned woman wasn’t like any female he’d known; she wore a man’s shirt and man’s pants and a red bandanna tied around her head kept her hair tamed.
“Looks like we ‘ave a stowaway, mate,” the woman directed to her companion. The man just grunted, staring curiously down at Will.
A strange voice said, “Pillage and plunder!”
“Exactly,” the woman responded.
Confused, William looked between the two and then caught sight of a brightly colored parrot shifting its weight from one foot to another on the edge of a nearby crate.
“Get yer ass up, boy,” the woman commanded.
Slowly he obeyed, wincing slightly as his movements pulled at his aching shoulder. The man, he could see, was already holding his wrap of weapons and the pouch with his keepsakes.
“Don’ try anythin’ funny, now. Jus’ come out real easy like and we’ll see wha’ th’ cap’n ‘as to say about yer stealin’ away.”
“It’s not even your ship!” Will protested as he followed her orders, stepping in front of her and walking slowly as she prodded him with the gun again. She snorted softly in reply, apparently the only answer he’d get.
The little group passed through hold and up the hatch, onto the deck. The full attack of sunlight caused Will to raise a hand and shade his eyes to adjust. He hadn’t been quite prepared for the situation laid out before him, even with the forewarning of the looks of the two people who had awoken him.
Somehow the Interceptor had been stolen right from under the notice of the Royal British Navy. Who could have pulled off such a stunt? he wondered. His arrival on deck drew the attention of the entire crew. A strange mix, although all appeared to be as disreputable as he’d expect pirates to look.
“C’mon, boy, quit yer gawkin’. Cap’n’s this way.”
The man with the parrot moved in front of him, heading towards the door under the quarter deck and knocking a knobby fist against the wood.
“What’sit?” came an oddly familiar voice from inside. “Din’ I tell you buggers t’ leave me be?”
As Will pondered how he knew the voice, the woman stepped beside him and opened the door. “An’ we found somethin’ interestin’ for ya.”
“Ah, AnaMaria, my love, come in.”
AnaMaria snorted in disgust and again used her gun to wave Will through the door. The man inside raised both eyebrows in surprise. Will’s mouth fell open in shock as he recognized the man he had met the other day.
“Y-you!” he stuttered.
“Aye. I din’ think you the type t’ follow lil’ ol’ me. Wha’ brings you aboard?” His eyes turned to the man behind Will and motioned him forward. “Whatcha got there, Cotton?”
Will gripped his hands in fists as the pirate captain accepted the weapons and pouch. The pirate ran a critical eye over the blades upon unwrapping the thick fabric. “Wha’s a lad like you doin’ with such sharp toys, eh?” He balanced one of the swords on his finger and nodded approvingly. He next drew out the stiletto and grinned. He looked up, met Will’s stare for a moment, and suddenly flung the blade across the room.
Heart pounding rapidly in his chest, the blacksmith slowly turned wide eyes to find the blade buried into the wood not far behind him. He turned back, swallowing. The pirate’s eyes narrowed with a smirk.
“Ge’ back t’ yer duties, mates. I’ll decide what t’ do with our lil’ stowaway ‘ere.”
“Aye Cap’n,” AnaMaria muttered, casting one last glare at Will before leaving with Cotton. The click of the shutting door sounded ominous to the young man’s ears.
“Well, boy. Since we’ve run int’ one ‘nother again, I s’pose it’s time fer introductions ‘n the like.” He tilted his head, a little smirk still decorating his features. “Capt’n Jack Sparrow; ‘n yer name?”
He hesitated momentarily. “Will Turner,” he said flatly, unsure what to think of his situation.
The pirate’s eyes widened momentarily before his expression regained its nonchalance. “William. Named after yer father, I s’pose?” he inquired innocently, toying with Will’s dagger.
“Yes. Why?”
“No reason, lad, none whatsoever.” Sparrow grinned, a devilish look entering his eyes. “Now, le’s talk plainly, shall we? I be feelin’ generous, lettin’ you share yer reasons fer being here, ‘n all. It’d be far more fun t’ see you walk off’a the plank, but you stayed undetected fer nigh three days, givin’ yerself a bit o’ a push on my admirin’ list. Wha’ you doin’ on board, boy?”
William shifted his feet to have a better hold on his fading balance. His head ached terribly and his body was hot and sore. “Obviously I was hiding.” The captain snorted. “...I was running away,” he admitted reluctantly.
“From wha’?”
He frowned, averting his eyes from Sparrow’s intense stare, “People.”
“Hmm.” Jack stroked his twin braided whiskers, catching Will’s attention, something startlingly fascinating about that action... “Judgin’ by yer state, I’d say these be mighty bad people, eh?” He didn’t receive a response. He grinned knowingly. “Okay, boy. You wan’ned t’ get away, then you picked the righ’ ship t’. This be me pirate ship for the presen’, and me, bein’ the generous sor’, will give you leave t’ stay...” He paused dramatically; Will found it extraordinarily annoying.. “...As long as you follow the orders ‘bout ‘ere and pay your passage.”
“I don’t have any money-” Will started.
“Aye, but I’ve taken a likin’ t’ these blades o’ yers. Then thar’s wha’s in ‘ere purse and you’ve still ‘ave a body, aye?”
Will took a step back, bracing himself. “What do you mean?” he asked sharply.
Sparrow studied him with consideration. He finally nodded to himself, as if confirming some earlier suspicion. “I ‘aven’t a cabin boy, mate, an’ the skill tain’t much.” He bared his teeth in a condescending grin. “A’course you should be able t’ handle somethin’ so simple.” Will swallowed back a retort. It wouldn’t be that bad...
“Wha’ say you, ‘ave we an accord?”
Will studied the strange man, eyes raking over the unique hair and the layers of weathered clothes. He looked far less dirty than the other members of the crew (with the exception of AnaMaria) and seemed just with the decision... But one thing, “Will I be able to get my belongings back?”
Jack raised an inquiring eyebrow at him, tossing the pouch from one hand to another. “Le’s see jus’ wha’s in ‘ere ‘fore I decide, eh?” Will held his tongue as the captain pulled open the pouch and spilled its contents on his desk. The rings went rolling and Will feared they’d be lost, but Jack skillfully caught them up in one hand. With a triumphant smile, he placed them on a bare finger and winked at Will. “Yer hands dun’ need such pretties. Wha’s this? A lady’s earring? You like t’ be a woman?”
A strange expression fell over the captain’s face as he hesitantly touched the glittering medallion. His dark eyes slowly lifted to meet Will’s as he murmured, “Where’d ye get this, whelp?”
The nickname cut through his tenuous control over the nausea brewing in his anxious stomach; Will clutched an arm around his belly and clapped his hand over his lips as the bile escaped into his mouth.
“No’ in me cabin!” Jack cried, jumping forward and pushing the boy out the door.
Will stumbled to the deck on his knees and wretched the thin, sour taste from his mouth. He noticed specks of blood, since there was nothing left in his stomach to turn out. He heard footsteps running towards him and then a firm, slender hand touched his forehead. “Blimey!” AnaMaria. “The lad’s got a blazin’ fever!”
His body trembled weakly as he tried to escape her touch. He hurt and wanted everyone to go away, leave him alone.
“Take ‘im below and fix ‘im up. Ee’s no good like tha’.” Will wanted to retort with a acerbic thank you, but couldn’t manage any words as AnaMaria helped him to his feet and practically dragged him to the hatch. He let his head roll forward and closed his eyes, unable to put much effort in supporting himself.
-----
TBC
-----
Jack: Not in me cabin! Not in me cabin! *flailing his arms*
Will: O___O *turning green*
Jack: Nooooooo!!!
Will: BLECH!
Jack: ;;_;; *miserable* me cabin!
*snickers*
Part 3 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 16, 2008
Three
Will roused himself from the depths of sleep upon hearing clumsy, heavy footsteps from the passage outside the storage room door. He frowned, his tired mind noting that naval soldiers didn’t walk like that. Shaking his head in attempt to rid himself of some of his sleepiness, he brought himself up to rest on his good arm and look out from the crates and barrels behind which he had taken refuge. A portal window graced the room with pleasant sunlight.
He had picked his hiding spot in the dead of night by touch and sense of smell alone, recognizing that where he decided to sleep would be surrounded by military supplies of ammunition and the like - items not likely to be needed as the ship first set sail. Unfortunately, it also meant that there was nothing comfortable to cushion his sleep. Had his shirt not been stuck to the burn on his arm, he would have removed the piece of clothing for a pillow, at least. Even the smallest movement sent jolts of pain throughout his body. He rubbed his face tiredly after he forced himself to sit upright. His back rested against one of the ammunition crates and he stared out the small, round window at the sky. No more... he was no longer in the hell hole that he’d been dropped in so many years ago. He smiled.
Beside his hand lay the few belongings he decided to take on his journey: Two elegant swords, a stiletto, and a dagger, all fashioned by his skill, were wrapped carefully together in an old, worn leather hide. He hoped that if the need came, he could either sell the weaponry or use it to barter his continued passage. He brushed his fingertips over the small pouch he had tied to his belt last night, now laying by the weapons. Like his locket, he knew the contents by heart: a medallion keepsake from his father, an earring that Elizabeth thought she lost one day when they were visiting together, and two rings that his mother had passed into his keeping when they boarded their ship from England. One looked much like a man’s wedding band. His mother had smiled sadly at him when he asked and shook her head.
He wondered what he had missed in his childlike innocence. He had no recollections of his father, for he had disappeared long before Will could clearly remember. His mother was very cryptic with details, and no one else in his grandfather’s household said much about the absent Mr. Turner. Looking down at the pouch, he wondered if his father had abandoned them, just given up the family and any ties he once had. The thought raised a tight feeling of anger in his gut. It was a reasonable supposition, he realized, for it would explain the sadness always lingering in his mother’s expressions, and the tears he occasionally saw her shed.
He didn’t know why such thoughts suddenly plagued him. It hadn’t been something he’d thought on much before, always too busy with his work and keeping himself alive. With an unknown father likely dead -or at least far away from Port Royale -and a deceased mother, it made no sense to linger on past mysteries that wouldn’t do much good in the present.
His entire body ached and he clutched his stomach as a sharp pain bit him from the inside. No food. He closed his eyes and eased his breathing. He couldn’t risk sneaking out yet, he reminded himself. There would be time, later. No soldier was so cruel as to let a person starve to death, right? He sighed as part of him snorted skeptically in response. Best to return to sleep in which only the darkness surrounded him. His exhaustion had gone on for so long that there was no room for dreams.
Will slid down to the floor again and curled up on his good side, stoically ignoring the blazing pain around the brand on his other arm.
-----
The next time he awoke was due to the fact that someone prodded him with the end of a long gun barrel. His vision blurred, not just from exhaustion - he had a sense that he had a fever, likely from infection in his open wound. Two faces looked down at him, dour frowns on both lips.
These weren’t British soldiers…
He blinked a few times to clear his vision and looked again. The two figures didn’t suddenly become soldiers; the man looked like some beggar, and the dark-skinned woman wasn’t like any female he’d known; she wore a man’s shirt and man’s pants and a red bandanna tied around her head kept her hair tamed.
“Looks like we ‘ave a stowaway, mate,” the woman directed to her companion. The man just grunted, staring curiously down at Will.
A strange voice said, “Pillage and plunder!”
“Exactly,” the woman responded.
Confused, William looked between the two and then caught sight of a brightly colored parrot shifting its weight from one foot to another on the edge of a nearby crate.
“Get yer ass up, boy,” the woman commanded.
Slowly he obeyed, wincing slightly as his movements pulled at his aching shoulder. The man, he could see, was already holding his wrap of weapons and the pouch with his keepsakes.
“Don’ try anythin’ funny, now. Jus’ come out real easy like and we’ll see wha’ th’ cap’n ‘as to say about yer stealin’ away.”
“It’s not even your ship!” Will protested as he followed her orders, stepping in front of her and walking slowly as she prodded him with the gun again. She snorted softly in reply, apparently the only answer he’d get.
The little group passed through hold and up the hatch, onto the deck. The full attack of sunlight caused Will to raise a hand and shade his eyes to adjust. He hadn’t been quite prepared for the situation laid out before him, even with the forewarning of the looks of the two people who had awoken him.
Somehow the Interceptor had been stolen right from under the notice of the Royal British Navy. Who could have pulled off such a stunt? he wondered. His arrival on deck drew the attention of the entire crew. A strange mix, although all appeared to be as disreputable as he’d expect pirates to look.
“C’mon, boy, quit yer gawkin’. Cap’n’s this way.”
The man with the parrot moved in front of him, heading towards the door under the quarter deck and knocking a knobby fist against the wood.
“What’sit?” came an oddly familiar voice from inside. “Din’ I tell you buggers t’ leave me be?”
As Will pondered how he knew the voice, the woman stepped beside him and opened the door. “An’ we found somethin’ interestin’ for ya.”
“Ah, AnaMaria, my love, come in.”
AnaMaria snorted in disgust and again used her gun to wave Will through the door. The man inside raised both eyebrows in surprise. Will’s mouth fell open in shock as he recognized the man he had met the other day.
“Y-you!” he stuttered.
“Aye. I din’ think you the type t’ follow lil’ ol’ me. Wha’ brings you aboard?” His eyes turned to the man behind Will and motioned him forward. “Whatcha got there, Cotton?”
Will gripped his hands in fists as the pirate captain accepted the weapons and pouch. The pirate ran a critical eye over the blades upon unwrapping the thick fabric. “Wha’s a lad like you doin’ with such sharp toys, eh?” He balanced one of the swords on his finger and nodded approvingly. He next drew out the stiletto and grinned. He looked up, met Will’s stare for a moment, and suddenly flung the blade across the room.
Heart pounding rapidly in his chest, the blacksmith slowly turned wide eyes to find the blade buried into the wood not far behind him. He turned back, swallowing. The pirate’s eyes narrowed with a smirk.
“Ge’ back t’ yer duties, mates. I’ll decide what t’ do with our lil’ stowaway ‘ere.”
“Aye Cap’n,” AnaMaria muttered, casting one last glare at Will before leaving with Cotton. The click of the shutting door sounded ominous to the young man’s ears.
“Well, boy. Since we’ve run int’ one ‘nother again, I s’pose it’s time fer introductions ‘n the like.” He tilted his head, a little smirk still decorating his features. “Capt’n Jack Sparrow; ‘n yer name?”
He hesitated momentarily. “Will Turner,” he said flatly, unsure what to think of his situation.
The pirate’s eyes widened momentarily before his expression regained its nonchalance. “William. Named after yer father, I s’pose?” he inquired innocently, toying with Will’s dagger.
“Yes. Why?”
“No reason, lad, none whatsoever.” Sparrow grinned, a devilish look entering his eyes. “Now, le’s talk plainly, shall we? I be feelin’ generous, lettin’ you share yer reasons fer being here, ‘n all. It’d be far more fun t’ see you walk off’a the plank, but you stayed undetected fer nigh three days, givin’ yerself a bit o’ a push on my admirin’ list. Wha’ you doin’ on board, boy?”
William shifted his feet to have a better hold on his fading balance. His head ached terribly and his body was hot and sore. “Obviously I was hiding.” The captain snorted. “...I was running away,” he admitted reluctantly.
“From wha’?”
He frowned, averting his eyes from Sparrow’s intense stare, “People.”
“Hmm.” Jack stroked his twin braided whiskers, catching Will’s attention, something startlingly fascinating about that action... “Judgin’ by yer state, I’d say these be mighty bad people, eh?” He didn’t receive a response. He grinned knowingly. “Okay, boy. You wan’ned t’ get away, then you picked the righ’ ship t’. This be me pirate ship for the presen’, and me, bein’ the generous sor’, will give you leave t’ stay...” He paused dramatically; Will found it extraordinarily annoying.. “...As long as you follow the orders ‘bout ‘ere and pay your passage.”
“I don’t have any money-” Will started.
“Aye, but I’ve taken a likin’ t’ these blades o’ yers. Then thar’s wha’s in ‘ere purse and you’ve still ‘ave a body, aye?”
Will took a step back, bracing himself. “What do you mean?” he asked sharply.
Sparrow studied him with consideration. He finally nodded to himself, as if confirming some earlier suspicion. “I ‘aven’t a cabin boy, mate, an’ the skill tain’t much.” He bared his teeth in a condescending grin. “A’course you should be able t’ handle somethin’ so simple.” Will swallowed back a retort. It wouldn’t be that bad...
“Wha’ say you, ‘ave we an accord?”
Will studied the strange man, eyes raking over the unique hair and the layers of weathered clothes. He looked far less dirty than the other members of the crew (with the exception of AnaMaria) and seemed just with the decision... But one thing, “Will I be able to get my belongings back?”
Jack raised an inquiring eyebrow at him, tossing the pouch from one hand to another. “Le’s see jus’ wha’s in ‘ere ‘fore I decide, eh?” Will held his tongue as the captain pulled open the pouch and spilled its contents on his desk. The rings went rolling and Will feared they’d be lost, but Jack skillfully caught them up in one hand. With a triumphant smile, he placed them on a bare finger and winked at Will. “Yer hands dun’ need such pretties. Wha’s this? A lady’s earring? You like t’ be a woman?”
A strange expression fell over the captain’s face as he hesitantly touched the glittering medallion. His dark eyes slowly lifted to meet Will’s as he murmured, “Where’d ye get this, whelp?”
The nickname cut through his tenuous control over the nausea brewing in his anxious stomach; Will clutched an arm around his belly and clapped his hand over his lips as the bile escaped into his mouth.
“No’ in me cabin!” Jack cried, jumping forward and pushing the boy out the door.
Will stumbled to the deck on his knees and wretched the thin, sour taste from his mouth. He noticed specks of blood, since there was nothing left in his stomach to turn out. He heard footsteps running towards him and then a firm, slender hand touched his forehead. “Blimey!” AnaMaria. “The lad’s got a blazin’ fever!”
His body trembled weakly as he tried to escape her touch. He hurt and wanted everyone to go away, leave him alone.
“Take ‘im below and fix ‘im up. Ee’s no good like tha’.” Will wanted to retort with a acerbic thank you, but couldn’t manage any words as AnaMaria helped him to his feet and practically dragged him to the hatch. He let his head roll forward and closed his eyes, unable to put much effort in supporting himself.
-----
TBC
-----
Jack: Not in me cabin! Not in me cabin! *flailing his arms*
Will: O___O *turning green*
Jack: Nooooooo!!!
Will: BLECH!
Jack: ;;_;; *miserable* me cabin!
*snickers*