"Contradictions 7 - Freed" Part 1
CONTRADICTIONS 7: FREED (POTC)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: J/W slash
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Jack and Will, nor the details associated with “Pirates of the Caribbean.” I am simply borrowing them for a while for creative expression and writing practice (and because the boys are in my head and won’t leave me alone).
Special Thanks: To N. Ranken for beta-reading and God knows what all else.
Summary: This is continuation of an AU fic, breaking off from the movie’s events immediately after Barbossa’s defeat and death in the caves of Isla de Muerta. The previous parts consist of, in order, FLIGHT, FIGHT, LOSE, WIN, ADMIT, and DENY.
“I’m going to tell ye a story.” Jack Sparrow hunkered down near the man measuring a new iron fitting against a section of railing.
“Long time ago, ‘twas a woman named Siobhan Shaugnessy. Men thought ‘er the prettiest thing living, and women were intimidated by her. They didn’t necessarily wan’ be like her, but most had a healthy ‘nough respect for th’ damage th’ lovely Miss Shaugnessy could do with only a look or a few syllables.”
Jack settled himself further, taking up a cross-legged seat on deck. He noted with some pleasure out of the corner of his vision that nearby crewmen slowed their work to listen. He did love being the center of attention, never mind that he was only trying to make a point to one stubborn Will Turner.
“The lovely Siobhan had few suitors, for there weren’ enough men who felt up to th’ challenge of trying to capture her attention.” Will paused and gave him a dry, skeptical look that made Jack clear his throat. “Or, could be they thought her a bit too spirited. Rather reminds one of another hardheaded lass of both our acquaintance.
“At any rate, when she and your father met, she was no more impressed with ol’ Bill Turner than she’d been with any of his predecessors. Right soured her, he did, treatin’ her like a lady an’ such - tossin’ his coat over puddles, offering to defend ‘er honor, shite like that. Unnecessary tomfoolery, ye ask me.
“I knew all this because Bill wrote t’ me often, detailing his woe at th’ likelihood he’d e’er have a chance to sit down and impress your mum properly. Th’ hell of it was she carried on like a highborn lady instead o’ the washerwoman she made her living as-“ Here, Jack paused and leaned forward, dropping his voice to a stage whisper between himself and the still-working blacksmith. “And I think that’s really what set off th’ hens around her, ye want me opinion.”
Will sighed without looking up. “Perhaps there is a point to this, Captain?”
There will be once I poke you in the arse with a stick, you don’t start conversing with me in a normal fashion again. It was uncharitable, but Will had been all stiff like this for the better part of the three months they’d been back on the Black Pearl, and Jack was getting damn right sick of it. “Don’t all my tales have a point?” he retorted, then sallied forth to forestall more insouciance, to the light chuckling of those around the two men. “Short of it was, Siobhan wouldn’ give Bill the time of day until he finally got past treatin’ her like some highfalutin’ doll. He had to practically arm-wrestle her in a tavern just for the privilege of buyin’ her a proper supper and holding a conversation, and this was almost a year after they first met.”
Will glanced over, and for the briefest moment there was a flash in his eyes. “You wanting to arm-wrestle, Captain Sparrow?” The smith made a subtle show of transferring his hammer from one hand to the other, flexing the bicep of the arm closest to Jack.
Jack decided to bait him. “Depends - you offerin’ to have me whelps, too?”
He’d hoped it would draw a snort of laughter from the young man, maybe a long-suffering roll of those hazel eyes. Instead, Will ground his jaw and turned his attention back to work, even as those around them tittered. “Ah, well,” Jack philosophized, lifting his knees to place his booted feet against the boards and rocking forward to stand in an abbreviated motion. “Someday I might even get t’ tell ye how Bill came up with the arm-wrestlin’ idea. I’m wagering whatever your mum told ye doesn’t have that in there.”
Turning in a rustle of peplum and sash, Jack crossed to the poop deck, trotting up the short flight of steps and gliding close to his first mate, holding the helm steady in the calm weather. Anamaria’s navigational skills were excellent, and her strategizing was invaluable, but Jack knew enough to take her off wheel duty if the sea was anything less than compliant with Pearl’s rudder. “Getting’ tired yet, love?”
“Doing fine, Captain.” She spoke in clipped tones that were more a result of concentration than impatience with him. Then, she grinned, but kept her eyes ahead on their course. “You can’t helm her around the clock, Jack.”
“Why do ye think I learned to talk to ‘er?” he agreed. “I let her do th’ hard work for me, and happy she is for it.” Anamaria gave him the snort he’d tried for earlier from Will, and Jack shook his head. “Then again, she’s not fixed on thinkin’ of a sweet’eart just a few days behind.”
She scowled, but he could see the blush stirred even beneath the surface of her dark skin. “There’s your problem, you know,” she fired back, sotto voce, causing Jack to draw nearer to hear. “Always worrying more about everyone else’s love life instead of your own.”
“Oh, darlin’, I have no such thing.” It came out not as a lamentable sigh, but a graveled laugh. “Do, however, have quite th’ appetite for lust, as well as a few of the other deadlies. This isn’ new information.”
“He is.” She tilted her forehead to indicate the foredeck, and Jack cocked his head in time to see Will stand and stretch, rolling his head around on that fine, long neck. “That is, if you hadn’t set a light to his temper.”
“You have t’ be joking.” Her expression indicated she wasn’t. “That one’s about as amenable to buggery with yours truly as his Pa was likely to get a courtship with th’ King.”
“There’s your first mistake,” Ana corrected him. “’Tis not ‘buggery’ to some, so much as it’s companionship and passion. You’ve lived long enough to realize that, so I thought.”
“And what about me fine self, m’ dear, announces permanency to ye?” Jack wanted to know, spreading his arms wide. “I’m willin’ to be his friend - isn’t me fault he went questioning his own captain before an enemy. Nastier arseholes than meself have hanged men for far less.”
She fixed him with a level expression. “Be reasonable; to him, you’re Jack, and that bloody commodore is a childhood savior. Doesn’t it occur to you he doesn’t see either of you as his enemy?”
Jack pressed his lips together, suddenly, unaccountably annoyed. “Well, more th’ fool him, then. He’s a pirate now, on a pirate ship, and he’d better get used to th’ idea of self-interest and kill or be killed, where th’ limeys are concerned. I expect him to have more sense than that.”
“Personally, I would expect more patience of character from the man legendary for biding his time for ten years just to get a ship back.”
“I’d remind ye that you wail and gnash more than ‘nough about a fishing boat, given half a chance,” Jack rebutted, arching an eyebrow sardonically. “Or is helming your own ship no longer in your sights, Miss?”
She laughed. “You are a master of changing the subject, Sparrow. Probably how you got me to part with the Jolly Mon in the first place - I was too distracted to argue, by something or other.” He leered. “Something small and indiscriminate, I’m certain.” At that, Jack pouted, and she snorted again. “So mercurial …”
“Yes, well - I’m nothing like him.” What he liked about Ana is she didn’t need him to explain. “Christ on th’ cross, you’d think I’d shot his mum, th’ way he’s carryin’ on and ignoring me these past weeks. All I did was inform him of a few facts of life.”
“Knowing you, you did so in such a warm, friendly fashion.”
“I’m a goddamn pirate!” He dropped his voice as a few of the crew glanced up at his outburst of words and sudden gesturing. “’M not sure it’s even by th’ Articles for me to tolerate half the shite I put up with out o’ this crew. Why does ever’one think I’m obliged to be their bloody nurse?”
“You’re the one who established the tone of your relationship with Will,” Ana pointed out, voice low again between them. “You led him to believe you were equals in so much. All I’m saying is you shouldn’t start pissing vinegar when he takes advantage of it. Wasn’t like he gave up our swag or handed the ship over to someone else, Jack.”
The captain snorted, but didn’t reply further. Ana didn’t understand the point he was trying to make, and there was no use letting her know he didn’t quite understand it anymore. He didn’t understand Will’s indifference, either. Didn’t the man savvy Jack’s position? Was he really so sensitive?
Lord, Bill, he is just like his mother, Jack thought at his long-dead friend. It’s not just the eyes, after all.
*****
Truly, Jack didn’t know why he was so angry with Will.
The lad had kept a steady, pointed silence toward his captain since that day in Norrington’s presence a few weeks earlier. Jack had been ready to forgive Will for his lapse in judgment around the Commodore, questioning his captain and all, but Turner had stonewalled all Sparrow’s attempts to be friendly or even amiable. So, by God, he’d deserve of that kind of treatment, if that’s the way the smith wanted it.
Jack peeled out of his shabby waistcoat and sighed, having already tossed the complicated sash over a hook protruding from the wall near his bureau. Even now, in the relative safety of his own cabin on his own ship, he shivered a little with the random memory of Elias Francois’s hands on his skin. The odious Spanish pirate had done everything imaginable to Jack, and Jack had allowed him, all in the name of keeping Will - that ungrateful, arrogant, haughty whelp - out of the fellow’s bunk. Times like this, he didn’t know why he’d bothered after all, since it was clear the gesture was neither appreciated nor would it ever be reciprocated upon Jack’s own person by the rescued party.
He frowned, annoyed with himself yet again for continuing to want what he couldn’t have. He needed to get tumbled by someone who wanted to actually fuck Captain Jack Sparrow, who would at least feign some affection and desire for him for his own sake, instead of wanting who he couldn’t have, and getting reamed as a substitute for someone else. It hadn’t been the first time Jack had traded sexual favors for another kind - hell, he’d even taken a few here and there, though he’d never forced anyone or threatened them into the act - but it had been the first time he’d felt qualms, as though he were somehow irreparably harming something in the process.
It’s because you know if you ever did have a chance with Turner, it’s gone to ruin because of this, a neglected part of the back of his brain hissed. It’s one thing to just get around a lot, but you’ve ventured into true whore territory, now haven’t you, mate?
Jack’s nostrils flared, angry with that little, dark voice. He’d have liked to say it was all bollocks, but the truth was, he’d all but admitted to Will what he’d done with Francois to save his fine, high arse and … well, look at their strained relationship now. It hadn’t made a difference in Will’s opinion of him after Jack chewed him out for questioning his authority.
He shook his head to clear it. Almost anything was attractive on Jack, but self-pity and self-recrimination were not. He was not cut out for the loser’s role or for humility, and he’d be damned if this drove him to either. He just needed to put Will out of mind once and for all; after all, he reasoned, a person can’t lose what they don’t want and never get.
Not in any mood to read this late at night, he finished undressing, blew out the candles, and crawled between the sheets, stretching out on his back and staring up at the ceiling, getting his eyes used to the dark as he did every night before falling asleep. It was habit, a way to make sure he was acclimated for any disaster that might strike - attack, mutiny, storm - and he wouldn’t have to waste valuable seconds beyond the burden of coming awake quickly blinking himself into awareness.
*****
Part 2
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: J/W slash
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Jack and Will, nor the details associated with “Pirates of the Caribbean.” I am simply borrowing them for a while for creative expression and writing practice (and because the boys are in my head and won’t leave me alone).
Special Thanks: To N. Ranken for beta-reading and God knows what all else.
Summary: This is continuation of an AU fic, breaking off from the movie’s events immediately after Barbossa’s defeat and death in the caves of Isla de Muerta. The previous parts consist of, in order, FLIGHT, FIGHT, LOSE, WIN, ADMIT, and DENY.
“I’m going to tell ye a story.” Jack Sparrow hunkered down near the man measuring a new iron fitting against a section of railing.
“Long time ago, ‘twas a woman named Siobhan Shaugnessy. Men thought ‘er the prettiest thing living, and women were intimidated by her. They didn’t necessarily wan’ be like her, but most had a healthy ‘nough respect for th’ damage th’ lovely Miss Shaugnessy could do with only a look or a few syllables.”
Jack settled himself further, taking up a cross-legged seat on deck. He noted with some pleasure out of the corner of his vision that nearby crewmen slowed their work to listen. He did love being the center of attention, never mind that he was only trying to make a point to one stubborn Will Turner.
“The lovely Siobhan had few suitors, for there weren’ enough men who felt up to th’ challenge of trying to capture her attention.” Will paused and gave him a dry, skeptical look that made Jack clear his throat. “Or, could be they thought her a bit too spirited. Rather reminds one of another hardheaded lass of both our acquaintance.
“At any rate, when she and your father met, she was no more impressed with ol’ Bill Turner than she’d been with any of his predecessors. Right soured her, he did, treatin’ her like a lady an’ such - tossin’ his coat over puddles, offering to defend ‘er honor, shite like that. Unnecessary tomfoolery, ye ask me.
“I knew all this because Bill wrote t’ me often, detailing his woe at th’ likelihood he’d e’er have a chance to sit down and impress your mum properly. Th’ hell of it was she carried on like a highborn lady instead o’ the washerwoman she made her living as-“ Here, Jack paused and leaned forward, dropping his voice to a stage whisper between himself and the still-working blacksmith. “And I think that’s really what set off th’ hens around her, ye want me opinion.”
Will sighed without looking up. “Perhaps there is a point to this, Captain?”
There will be once I poke you in the arse with a stick, you don’t start conversing with me in a normal fashion again. It was uncharitable, but Will had been all stiff like this for the better part of the three months they’d been back on the Black Pearl, and Jack was getting damn right sick of it. “Don’t all my tales have a point?” he retorted, then sallied forth to forestall more insouciance, to the light chuckling of those around the two men. “Short of it was, Siobhan wouldn’ give Bill the time of day until he finally got past treatin’ her like some highfalutin’ doll. He had to practically arm-wrestle her in a tavern just for the privilege of buyin’ her a proper supper and holding a conversation, and this was almost a year after they first met.”
Will glanced over, and for the briefest moment there was a flash in his eyes. “You wanting to arm-wrestle, Captain Sparrow?” The smith made a subtle show of transferring his hammer from one hand to the other, flexing the bicep of the arm closest to Jack.
Jack decided to bait him. “Depends - you offerin’ to have me whelps, too?”
He’d hoped it would draw a snort of laughter from the young man, maybe a long-suffering roll of those hazel eyes. Instead, Will ground his jaw and turned his attention back to work, even as those around them tittered. “Ah, well,” Jack philosophized, lifting his knees to place his booted feet against the boards and rocking forward to stand in an abbreviated motion. “Someday I might even get t’ tell ye how Bill came up with the arm-wrestlin’ idea. I’m wagering whatever your mum told ye doesn’t have that in there.”
Turning in a rustle of peplum and sash, Jack crossed to the poop deck, trotting up the short flight of steps and gliding close to his first mate, holding the helm steady in the calm weather. Anamaria’s navigational skills were excellent, and her strategizing was invaluable, but Jack knew enough to take her off wheel duty if the sea was anything less than compliant with Pearl’s rudder. “Getting’ tired yet, love?”
“Doing fine, Captain.” She spoke in clipped tones that were more a result of concentration than impatience with him. Then, she grinned, but kept her eyes ahead on their course. “You can’t helm her around the clock, Jack.”
“Why do ye think I learned to talk to ‘er?” he agreed. “I let her do th’ hard work for me, and happy she is for it.” Anamaria gave him the snort he’d tried for earlier from Will, and Jack shook his head. “Then again, she’s not fixed on thinkin’ of a sweet’eart just a few days behind.”
She scowled, but he could see the blush stirred even beneath the surface of her dark skin. “There’s your problem, you know,” she fired back, sotto voce, causing Jack to draw nearer to hear. “Always worrying more about everyone else’s love life instead of your own.”
“Oh, darlin’, I have no such thing.” It came out not as a lamentable sigh, but a graveled laugh. “Do, however, have quite th’ appetite for lust, as well as a few of the other deadlies. This isn’ new information.”
“He is.” She tilted her forehead to indicate the foredeck, and Jack cocked his head in time to see Will stand and stretch, rolling his head around on that fine, long neck. “That is, if you hadn’t set a light to his temper.”
“You have t’ be joking.” Her expression indicated she wasn’t. “That one’s about as amenable to buggery with yours truly as his Pa was likely to get a courtship with th’ King.”
“There’s your first mistake,” Ana corrected him. “’Tis not ‘buggery’ to some, so much as it’s companionship and passion. You’ve lived long enough to realize that, so I thought.”
“And what about me fine self, m’ dear, announces permanency to ye?” Jack wanted to know, spreading his arms wide. “I’m willin’ to be his friend - isn’t me fault he went questioning his own captain before an enemy. Nastier arseholes than meself have hanged men for far less.”
She fixed him with a level expression. “Be reasonable; to him, you’re Jack, and that bloody commodore is a childhood savior. Doesn’t it occur to you he doesn’t see either of you as his enemy?”
Jack pressed his lips together, suddenly, unaccountably annoyed. “Well, more th’ fool him, then. He’s a pirate now, on a pirate ship, and he’d better get used to th’ idea of self-interest and kill or be killed, where th’ limeys are concerned. I expect him to have more sense than that.”
“Personally, I would expect more patience of character from the man legendary for biding his time for ten years just to get a ship back.”
“I’d remind ye that you wail and gnash more than ‘nough about a fishing boat, given half a chance,” Jack rebutted, arching an eyebrow sardonically. “Or is helming your own ship no longer in your sights, Miss?”
She laughed. “You are a master of changing the subject, Sparrow. Probably how you got me to part with the Jolly Mon in the first place - I was too distracted to argue, by something or other.” He leered. “Something small and indiscriminate, I’m certain.” At that, Jack pouted, and she snorted again. “So mercurial …”
“Yes, well - I’m nothing like him.” What he liked about Ana is she didn’t need him to explain. “Christ on th’ cross, you’d think I’d shot his mum, th’ way he’s carryin’ on and ignoring me these past weeks. All I did was inform him of a few facts of life.”
“Knowing you, you did so in such a warm, friendly fashion.”
“I’m a goddamn pirate!” He dropped his voice as a few of the crew glanced up at his outburst of words and sudden gesturing. “’M not sure it’s even by th’ Articles for me to tolerate half the shite I put up with out o’ this crew. Why does ever’one think I’m obliged to be their bloody nurse?”
“You’re the one who established the tone of your relationship with Will,” Ana pointed out, voice low again between them. “You led him to believe you were equals in so much. All I’m saying is you shouldn’t start pissing vinegar when he takes advantage of it. Wasn’t like he gave up our swag or handed the ship over to someone else, Jack.”
The captain snorted, but didn’t reply further. Ana didn’t understand the point he was trying to make, and there was no use letting her know he didn’t quite understand it anymore. He didn’t understand Will’s indifference, either. Didn’t the man savvy Jack’s position? Was he really so sensitive?
Lord, Bill, he is just like his mother, Jack thought at his long-dead friend. It’s not just the eyes, after all.
*****
Truly, Jack didn’t know why he was so angry with Will.
The lad had kept a steady, pointed silence toward his captain since that day in Norrington’s presence a few weeks earlier. Jack had been ready to forgive Will for his lapse in judgment around the Commodore, questioning his captain and all, but Turner had stonewalled all Sparrow’s attempts to be friendly or even amiable. So, by God, he’d deserve of that kind of treatment, if that’s the way the smith wanted it.
Jack peeled out of his shabby waistcoat and sighed, having already tossed the complicated sash over a hook protruding from the wall near his bureau. Even now, in the relative safety of his own cabin on his own ship, he shivered a little with the random memory of Elias Francois’s hands on his skin. The odious Spanish pirate had done everything imaginable to Jack, and Jack had allowed him, all in the name of keeping Will - that ungrateful, arrogant, haughty whelp - out of the fellow’s bunk. Times like this, he didn’t know why he’d bothered after all, since it was clear the gesture was neither appreciated nor would it ever be reciprocated upon Jack’s own person by the rescued party.
He frowned, annoyed with himself yet again for continuing to want what he couldn’t have. He needed to get tumbled by someone who wanted to actually fuck Captain Jack Sparrow, who would at least feign some affection and desire for him for his own sake, instead of wanting who he couldn’t have, and getting reamed as a substitute for someone else. It hadn’t been the first time Jack had traded sexual favors for another kind - hell, he’d even taken a few here and there, though he’d never forced anyone or threatened them into the act - but it had been the first time he’d felt qualms, as though he were somehow irreparably harming something in the process.
It’s because you know if you ever did have a chance with Turner, it’s gone to ruin because of this, a neglected part of the back of his brain hissed. It’s one thing to just get around a lot, but you’ve ventured into true whore territory, now haven’t you, mate?
Jack’s nostrils flared, angry with that little, dark voice. He’d have liked to say it was all bollocks, but the truth was, he’d all but admitted to Will what he’d done with Francois to save his fine, high arse and … well, look at their strained relationship now. It hadn’t made a difference in Will’s opinion of him after Jack chewed him out for questioning his authority.
He shook his head to clear it. Almost anything was attractive on Jack, but self-pity and self-recrimination were not. He was not cut out for the loser’s role or for humility, and he’d be damned if this drove him to either. He just needed to put Will out of mind once and for all; after all, he reasoned, a person can’t lose what they don’t want and never get.
Not in any mood to read this late at night, he finished undressing, blew out the candles, and crawled between the sheets, stretching out on his back and staring up at the ceiling, getting his eyes used to the dark as he did every night before falling asleep. It was habit, a way to make sure he was acclimated for any disaster that might strike - attack, mutiny, storm - and he wouldn’t have to waste valuable seconds beyond the burden of coming awake quickly blinking himself into awareness.
*****
Part 2