FANFIC: Good Will to All - A Secret Santa Gift for Stealmybike (3/3)
A special thanks goes out to all my wonderful Secret Santa beta elves. They know who they are. And a very special thank you to my very special Patron Imp.
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ACT I - The Guise
ACT II - The Ruse
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ACT III - The Reveal
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Governor’s Mansion - December 24th - Evening
As they reached the front door, Father Christmas turned to the crowd and bowing, said,
“Our Christmas cheer has just begun,
We’ve many to visit before we’re done.
Alas, we must now bid Adieu,
Good Will we leave with all of you.”
Under his breath he said to his troupe, “Time to go, mates. Now.”
The Commodore had followed them out into the foyer, his eyes narrowed as he approached them. “Leaving so soon?” He advanced menacingly. “Governor Swann has offered you his hospitality. Surely you would not want to refuse him.”
Jack flashes a golden grin. “Sorry, mate. Another time.”
The men beat a hasty retreat down the drive, not stopping to catch their breath until they were safely away. Only then did Jack glance around and note that one of the group was missing. “Where’s Will?” he demanded, turning on Gibbs.
Gibbs had taken off his mask and was mopping his brow with his neckerchief. “Don’t know, Cap’n. Thought he were with you.”
“Must ‘ave fell behind,” Pintel said.
“Aye, you know how difficult ‘tis t’ run in a skirt” Ragetti agreed.
Pintel rolled his eyes. “Don’t start nothin’ about them skirts again.”
Jack gave them a glare then said to Gibbs, “I’m going back. ”
“Jack! It’s fool’s folly.” Gibbs shook his head. “The Commodore’s sure to have recognized you.”
Jack brushed off his protests impatiently. “Folly or not, I’ll not be leaving without Will.”
Gibbs sighed. “I’ve got yer back.”
After securing arrangements for the others to meet back at the ship, the two men retraced their steps, peering ahead in the gloom for any sign of Will. As they approached the mansion, Jack motioned for Gibbs to stay put, then crouching, darted from bush to bush until he’d circled around to the gardens behind the house.
He had no doubt where he’d find Will.
****
Governor’s Mansion - Gardens - December 24th - Evening
“Will!” Elizabeth hurried down the moonlit path to where the figure in blue stood in the shadows.
Will removed the veil and smiled. “Elizabeth!”
They hesitated then, a year’s separation making both of them self-conscious.
“You look beautiful,” Will said, stepping closer, taking her hands.
Elizabeth stammered back, “You look, um, lovely yourself.” She gave a small smile. “I wondered what you would be wearing but I must admit, I wasn’t expecting…”
“A doxy?” Will chuckled ruefully.
She smiled. “Well, yes, I mean no. Anyways, it’s so good to see you!”
“Your note said you had something you couldn’t wait to tell me.” He searched her eyes, his face earnest.
Elizabeth turned away, unsure of how to break the news to him, of her impending engagement to the Commodore. “So much has happened, since we last saw each other,” she said, stalling for time. “I don’t know where to begin.”
“So start by telling me about your trip,” Will said, taking her hand and leading her to a bench where they could sit and talk.
“Oh, Will! I saw Paris!” Elizabeth told him, her enthusiasm overcoming her. “And Vienna!” She described her tour of Europe, and the many people she met. Finally, she paused. “And what about you? Have you had a good year?”
“I kept busy.” Will looked down at his hands. “If all goes well, I hope to make Journeyman soon, perhaps open my own shop.” He took her hand and told her with heartfelt emotion, “I had hoped we might still be wed. I know your father is against it, but once I have my own shop, he might see things differently.”
“But that could take years,” Elizabeth said, her voice less than enthusiastic.
“I know, the thought of waiting any longer is too much to bear for me as well.” He didn’t seem to notice her change in demeanor, and plunged on, excitedly. “We could be married sooner, if you wish. I could take on extra commissions; there should be plenty, with Spain threatening war, the Navy will certainly be in need of armaments. If all goes well, I might be able to afford us a small cottage, by this time next year.”
Elizabeth’s reply was interrupted by the scrunch of footsteps on the gravel path, causing them both to jump up in alarm.
“Put your veil on, quickly,” Elizabeth whispered. “And be quiet. Let me do the talking.”
Will nodded, replacing the veil across his face, stepping back so his face was in the shadows.
“Elizabeth! Your father was worried where you’d gone.” Norrington exclaimed. “Thank goodness you are all right.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Elizabeth said with a toss of her head. “My father is always worrying about something, you know that.”
Norrington smiled. “It’s only because he cares about you.” He turned towards Will and asked with a raised brow, “Would you like to introduce me to your lovely friend?”
“This is…er, ” Elizabeth paused, then said quickly, “Wilhelmina. She’s from Austria.” She said sotto, “She doesn’t speak much English, and is very shy.”
Norrington’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t I see her with that Mummer troupe, earlier?”
Will’s eyes widened as Elizabeth quickly offered an explanation.
“Yes. She was feeling faint, so I thought a walk in the garden might help. See, she is not used to the heat of the tropics.”
Norrington smiled at the woman in blue and said coolly, “Perhaps if she took off her veil she could get some fresh air.” Before either of them could react, Norrington took two quick strides and pulled the veil free of Will’s face.
“Mister Turner. I thought it might be you. Or should I say Miss? Fancy meeting you here.”
“I was just leaving,” Will said curtly, turning to Elizabeth he added, “I am sorry we couldn’t talk longer, but I believe I’d best be going.”
“Yes, perhaps you ought to go.” Elizabeth agreed. “Before my father sees you.”
“Miss Swann is correct. It wouldn’t do to have the Governor see you dressed that way, now would it?” Norrington said with smirk. “By the way, who were you supposed to be in the little play? A strumpet?”
“Actually,” a familiar voice chimed in, “he’s supposed to be the Christmas Queen.” Father Christmas stepped from behind a bush. “Hence the sprig of mistletoe.”
“Jack?” Elizabeth stared incredulously. “Jack Sparrow?”
****
Jack had been lurking in the bushes long enough to hear the conversation between the young couple. He had hoped the Swann girl would have the decency to break the news to young Turner, the news everybody and their uncle seemed to know…everybody except Will, that is. Apparently, according to the Governor’s house staff, Elizabeth Swann was as good as engaged to the Commodore.
The girl had played them both for a fool before, promising marriage to Norrington, only to later reject him for Will. Now it appeared she had changed her mind, yet again. Woman’s prerogative and all that, but it didn’t sit well with Jack. An accord was an accord, and, once struck, a man didn’t renege on a bargain. ‘Course Elizabeth wasn’t a man, she was, in fact, a woman. And if Jack didn’t know anything else about the fairer sex, he did know one thing: they were capricious and fickle, the lot of them.
Well, one thing was for certain: if he were going to get Will away from there, he would need a distraction. Fast.
“According to a custom of Christmas cheer, any two people who meet under a hanging of mistletoe are obliged to kiss.” Jack waved his hands as he circled the two young persons. “Well? What are you waiting for?” He paused in front of them, dangling a piece of mistletoe over their heads. “Kiss the girl!”
Will and Elizabeth appeared more embarrassed than enamored. Jack threw up his hands and sighed impatiently. “’Tis easy. All you have to do is this.” Before either of them could respond, he gathered Will up in his arms and gave him a resounding kiss.
Will’s eyes widened with surprise. “Get off me, Jack!” he said, pushing the pirate away.
Jack flashed a gold and ivory grin, before turning and saying with a bow, “Like I said, ‘tis quite simple. Really!” He then did the same to Elizabeth, drawing her close and kissing her thoroughly.
“That will do!” the deep voice of the Commodore sounded behind them. “Unhand her this minute.”
Jack gave Norrington a calculating look. Then, in one swift move, he spun Elizabeth around, and pulled his gun from beneath his robe, placing the muzzle to her head as she gasped in surprise. “Commodore Norrington, it’s been too long.”
“Jack!” Will turned a worried look his way. “What are you doing?”
Jack glanced briefly back at him. “Getting us out of here.”
“You can’t stop being a pirate for a minute, can you?” Will’s tone was bitter.
Jack pointed a finger. “No more than he can stop being a Commodore.”
“You won’t get away with this, Sparrow.”
Norrington took two steps towards Jack, but stopped short as Jack tightened his grip on Elizabeth. “If you wish no harm to come to your fiancée,” he threatened, “I suggest you step aside and allow us free passage.”
“Fiancée?” Will’s brow furrowed in surprise.
“That’s why I wanted to see you Will,” Elizabeth stammered. “I wanted to explain things, before you heard about it from one of the servants.”
“And I thought…” Will’s face was crest-fallen.
“Why that was clever of you, Elizabeth,” Jack said. “Devising an elaborate ruse, just so you could jilt him.”
“That’s not true!” Elizabeth protested, squirming. “I thought it might be easier, if I could explain things in person.”
Jack loosened his grip enough to turn her, in order to look her in the eye. “Easier for whom? You, perhaps? You knew what was to come. Unlike dear William here, who thought your urgent summons might be because you missed him.”
She stiffened. “I never meant to hurt him. Things have changed, that’s all. I’m sure he’ll understand.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly. “Now, let me go!”
Jack chuckled. “Don’t believe that would be wise, seeing how the Commodore there is practically wetting himself, in desire to lay his hands on meself.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Norrington said. “I have no desire to…”
“Pity.” Jack interrupted.
“Jack!” Will glared at him. “Let Elizabeth go.”
“When we are safely away.”
Will crossed his arms. “I’m not going with you, Jack.”
“You’re not?” Jack and Elizabeth asked in unison.
“Will! If any of the guests see you like that, they’ll be mortified!” Elizabeth protested.
“Are you worried about what they will think, or how it will reflect on you?” Will’s voice was bitter.
“Listen, luv,” Jack said, his mouth next to her ear. “I am sure the Commodore would rather be comforting you than Will there, so I’ll just be trading hostages, if you don’t mind.”
With a sudden thrust, Jack shoved Elizabeth at Norrington and grabbed Will, aiming the gun at his head. “Commodore Norrington! Mister Turner here is a fine, respectable citizen of Port Royal. A citizen you have sworn to protect, even if he decides to dress like a doxy. You’ve your girl, now. I suggest you allow us to leave, quiet like.”
“You won’t get away with this, Sparrow.” Norrington repeated.
“That remains to be seen, doesn’t it Commodore? Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
And with that Jack faded into the night, towing Will in his wake.
****
Tortuga - Twelfth Night - Evening
“So, there we was, ready to shove off at a moment’s notice, when we see the Cap’n there, running along the beach, still dressed as Father Christmas, hollering at us to launch the boats.” Gibbs took a long swallow from his tankard, and ran a hand through his grizzled hair. “And what a sight t’were! Ol’ Will, struggling t’ keep up in that fancy blue gown, and cursing up a storm.”
The two wenches on either side of Gibbs giggled.
Encouraged, Gibbs continued his tale. “You ought t’ have heard it! Don’t believe Father Christmas has been that sorely abused, since Cromwell’s time.”
“So how’d ya get away?” Giselle asked, eyes wide.
“What blue gown?” Scarlett asked, eyes narrowed.
Gibbs looked sheepishly at the two women. “Best be askin’ Jack that,” he mumbled, burying his nose in his tankard.
Jack wisely retreated from the now suspicious women, taking his mug and bottle over to where Will slumped on a bench at the back of the Bride. Jack set the bottle on the table with a thump. Will looked up briefly before resuming to stare morosely at a letter lying in front of him.
Jack could just make out the opening lines, in delicate woman’s script:
Dear William,
It is with deepest regrets I write to you…
“Not sure whether to offer my condolences,” Jack said, slipping onto the bench beside Will, “or to congratulate you.” He took a swig from the bottle, before pouring a liberal amount into the cup, which he pushed towards Will. “Same difference, really.”
Will didn’t answer, just poked at the letter with one finger.
Jack pushed the cup a bit closer to Will. “You see, William, the way I see it, marriage is like a placing a wager on who will fall out of love first.”
Will glared at Jack. “I’m sure, for you, that’s all it would be. What do you know about love?”
Jack sat up and placed a hand on his breast. “William! You cut me to the quick.” He took the rum bottle and held it up to the light and, finding it empty, grabbed the cup of rum in front of Will and downed it. “You are the one that has the mistaken notion about love,” he said, pointing a finger at Will.
“And how’s that, Jack?” Will reached for his glass, giving it a perplexed frown when he found it empty.
Jack signaled for the serving maid to bring another bottle.
“You, dear William, are the one under the mistaken notion that love is the essence of your life, when it should be on the contrary.”
Will just stared at Jack, dumfound. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“But it does. Hear me out Will.” Smiling charmingly to the serving maid for the quick delivery, Jack grabbed the new bottle and filled their glasses while choosing his words carefully.
“How long have you been pining after that lass, what, ten years? And how much time have you spent with her, eh?” Quirking his eyebrow in question over his drink, Jack gave Will a moment to think it over, but not the opportunity to answer. “That time, I wager, can be measured in hours, am I right? Fleeting moments, eyeing her from a distance, a time or two when she was close enough for you to smell her perfume. Then it all comes to this grand finale, when you think you‘ve won her heart, and what does she do? She takes off for a whole year.”
The warning tilt of Will’s head made Jack swallow and rethink if it was a good idea to go on. Fortifying himself against a possible blow, he went on. “She goes off for a year, and comes back, as precious as ever, right? And is all set to marry Norrington, while you’re being left to play the second fiddle. Now, don’t get me wrong. There was no way you could’ve known all that, I’ll give you that. And yet - here we come to the essence of it -”
Will raised a sudden hand to quiet him, Jack recoiling from the expected punch.
“Shut up, Jack.”
“Whut?”
“I said, shut up. I know all that, and I can’t deny any of it. It’s the reason, you got wrong.”
“And what, pray tell, might that be?”
With a slow, lung-filling sigh, Will gathered his nerve to say aloud the things he’d been dreading to confess, even to himself, over the past six months.
“I know I could never be her match, there’s a whole world between us.” Looking past Jack, Will’s lips turned into a sardonic smile. “Or at least a few continents, as of late. I could never live up to Paris, and she could never live down to soaking her hands in lye.”
Will took a long gulp from his glass and slammed it back on the table with a clatter. Jack listened carefully, wisely keeping quiet and refraining from any interjections.
“I’m not sure, if I ever really wanted to get married.” Will gave Jack a direct look. “But I couldn’t just let go of something I’d been wanting for ten years, and having it there right at my grasp, could I, Jack?”
To that, Jack couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
Instead, he changed the subject completely. “There’s one thing, I’ve been meaning to bring up, and this seems like the most opportune moment to do so…”
Searching Will’s face solemnly to create a dramatic atmosphere, Jack put his hand on Will’s shoulder and leaned forwards a little. “How is it that a fine blacksmith such as yourself, has not made it to Journeyman yet?”
Will opened his mouth in vain a few times, the question catching him completely unawares. “I…uh, Mr. Brown says it’s only a matter of another year or so. I wouldn’t want to-”
“And how long has the old drunk have been saying that? Two, three years, by now?”
“Four. The first recommendation came when I was sixteen, and obviously not ready yet-”
“Not ready! Not ready? You’ve been making all the commissions for nearly six years, I hear, all by your lonesome, and you’re not ready to be a Journeyman? Will, would you listen to yourself!”
The thought that Will actually believed the drunken sod mad Jack go livid. “I’ll indulge you and repeat meself: You, dear William, have been doing all the work, including Mr. Brown’s, for the past six years. And you think he won’t give you the chance, of putting up your own establishment, because you don’t know what you’re doing?”
Jack watched as the comprehension alighted on Will’s face, and then rapidly turned into flushed mortification. Will sat, mouth agape, unblinking as his thoughts tried to align themselves into anything reasonable. Finally, when they did, Will turned and slowly started listed towards the table.
His forehead met the wood with a loud thunk, followed by the agonized moan of a man who has been played a fool, and played quite well.
With the third moan, after Will drew another breath, Jack lost his patience, and patted Will on the back. “There, there now, lad, it’s not that bad.”
****
“Not that bad?” The voice was but a mumble, aimed at the floor. Apparently the concept triggered something in Will, since he bolted upright. “Not that bad, Jack?” he snapped, his words clipped. “How can you say that? I can never go back there!”
Jack inclined his head and peered at Will questioningly, challengingly.
“Is it really such a bad thing? What would you be going back for? You waiting for an invitation to the big wedding?”
Will pulled a face of utter distaste. “Ha-ha. Very funny Jack. While you're having this fantastic moment of insight about everything in my life, I suppose you also know what I'm going to do next? Start begging on the street corner? Or better yet, maybe I should ask for that dress back, there must be a need for male hussies in this bloody town.”
Jack didn’t seem the least bit put off by Will’s outburst; rather it seemed more like he was glad to see it. “Actually, I was going to suggest, you’d consider joining me crew, become a pirate.”
Jack's cheerful tone led Will to suspect his mental state. The thought was but momentary, as he realized trying to find reason in Jack was probably a losing battle.
“You mean a privateer. There’s a difference between a pirate and a privateer.”
”Oh, yes.” A cunning narrowing of the eyes passed over Jack, so brief, it led Will to doubt that it had ever existed.
“A big difference at that, about a rope’s length.” Jack took a sip of his rum in consideration. “Doesn’t do much for you squaring with your pirate blood, though.”
Jack fell silent, swirling his drink and frowning at it, to the point Will began to think he’d missed something in the conversation. Hel didn’t get a word out of his mouth, before Jack spoke.
“Although, it’s a shame. After that particular piece of paper has been signed, we’ll be losing all the shiny things, in the ways of the English vessels. But, we must think of the bright side.” Looking up, Jack flashed a familiar grin and downed his drink, as if to close a deal. “We’ll be hell of a lot safer, now that we don’t have t’ worry about Norrington breathing down our necks. Otherwise, that man would never give up.”
Gesturing Will to fill their cups and clapping a hand over Will’s shoulder, Jack leaned back to give Will a proper once-over, and nodded determinately. “So, what say you, Will Turner? Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders, and stay true, in the face of danger and almost certain death, death being much less likely, nowadays…” Jack spat into his right hand and took his glass in the left. “In other words, do we have an accord?”
Despite it happening all too fast and Jack’s flurry of words circling around in Will’s mind, the deal was a sound one. What did he have to lose?
Mirroring Jack, Will seized his drink, spat onto his palm and shook Jack’s hand firmly. “Agreed.”
Jack beamed. “Agreed.”
Without another word, the men clinked their glasses together in a toast, then quaffed them in a single toss.
Will gave a healthy grimace and a shudder, mumbling an excuse after. Jack leaned forward conspiratorially, beckoning Will closer. Lowering his voice, raising a secretive finge, Jack shared a piece of information.
“Now, just between you and me, mate -- and don’t tell them I said this -- but you’ll be one fine addition to that bunch.” Jack flicked his eyes towards the next table, where the working girls were surrounded by a crew of miscreants, and looked back to Will, his face honest, shocked even. “I mean, look at them, Will. Does that look like an able-bodied crew, to your eye?”
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