Ad Infinitum

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Chapter 12: Viam fatum nobis ostendit vitae

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Jack studied the figure across the table from him with growing concern. Will had succumbed to the stress of the day, ending up sleeping, head resting over his arm on the table, hand still cradling the bottle of rum he’d consumed with an impressive pace. His steady breathing belayed any worriment of death, though Jack wasn’t entirely sure whether Will was still immortal or not. One could never tell with Calypso, cunning water witch that she was. It would be just like her to complicate matters by returning Will to the ranks of the mortals along with the heartbeat.

And if that were the case, then it was quite possible Will COULD catch his death, sitting in those wet clothes. Suddenly alarmed, terrified of the thought, Jack stumbled to his feet, pausing to steady himself against the table. He had matched drink for drink with Will, and while not passed out, was listing seriously to port as he started to round the table.

“Come along, William. Best be puttin’ you t’ bed,” Jack slurred, placing an arm under each of Will’s and heaving the inert body upward. Swaying under Will’s weight, Jack shook his head to clear it, regretting such foolishness immediately as a wave of nausea threatened to deck him.

Taking a deep, purging breath and holding it, Jack concentrated on the man in his arms, continuing his chatter to stay focused. “And best be gettin’ you out of these wet clothes as well.”

Jack half dragged, half carried Will across the cabin to the bunk, propping him gently against the bulkhead. Will’s head lolled to one side, with an indiscernible mumble followed by a loud, decidedly intoxicated snore. With a small grin, Jack gave the sleeping man’s shoulder an affectionate pat before turning to the important matter of removing his wet shirt. Straddling Will’s knees, Jack leaned him against his own chest while pulling the shirt up by the hem. Managing to tug the cloth over Will’s head, Jack let the unconscious man slump against him while he pulled at the sleeves. During the manoeuvres, Will did not awaken but continued to snore softly into Jack’s chest.

Dropping the shirt, Jack couldn’t help his hovering hands as they gently traced the angry white scars crisscrossing Will’s back. Immortality had not removed the ravages of life, it appeared. Catching himself right before he clutched Will against him, and after only briefly burying his nose into Will’s hair, Jack took his mind back under control. With a sigh bordering on groan, he eased Will back onto the bunk, and set about tackling the wet boots. It took several fumbling tries before Jack managed to wrestle the boots off, the second one sending him sprawling onto the floor of the cabin.

“Bugger,” Jack muttered, cradling his head which had contacted the leg of the table with a thunk. Hauling himself to his knees and glancing up, Jack could just make out the bobbing finger in the rum bottle. Rubbing his eyes in frustration and disbelief, as for a moment, he’d imagined the finger had turned and was pointing accusingly at him, Jack got to his feet. “Would you please shut it?” he growled in the direction of the digit, before swaggering back to the task at hand.

Jack peeled Will’s wet socks off steadfastly and started to remove the breeches, his movements slowing down, then stopping with his fingers on the fastenings. With a grimace he snatched his hands away as if burned, closing them in a tight fist and he thought it best to leave the breeches on. Reasoning that they weren‘t so wet after all, that it was highly unlikely that they’d be the cause of Will’s premature departure, Jack eased Will back further onto the bunk and began to cover him securely with a blanket… then halted, frozen in mid-move, tilting his head when his gaze caught one last scar - the jagged rend where Will’s heart had been removed.

Slowly, carefully, eyes wide and his lower lip sucked into his mouth, Jack let go of the blanket and sat on the side of the bunk. He flexed his fist open and closed, hesitating, then reached out to touch the prominent reminder of what, and who, Will had become.

Jack didn’t know how much time had passed, or how long he’d been holding his breath, lost in outlining and crossing the scar, familiarizing with it. Finally, he gave up to one more urge and pressed his hand over Will’s chest. The steady thumping beneath his touch was both reassuring and disconcerting.

Startled by Will talking in his sleep, Jack found the whole experience all too sobering for his liking. Clambering to his feet he decided to remedy the situation post haste and headed back towards the table.

“Leave it to that fishwife t’ complicate matters,” Jack muttered irritably, slumping once again in his chair and swigging more rum. “Let alone you,” he added, pointing his own accusing finger at the one in the bottle. “Couldn’t be a good little wife and stay somewhere safe, could you?”

Jack paused and answered his own question. “Of course you couldn’t. That was what Will loved so much about you, weren’t it? Your free spirit. Yet look where it’s gotten you. Him. All of us.”

Jack slithered further down in his chair, watching the steady rise and fall of the sleeping man’s chest, mercifully able to sleep. Much unlike Jack, whose mind was swirling with thoughts best left alone. It would take copious amounts of rum to silence the voices in his head.

Turning to look at the severed finger buoying in the liquid in a manner Jack swore was smugly mocking him, Jack downed another long dram and resignedly found the bright side of things at least for one of them; “You’re the lucky one, you know that? At least you get t’ be drenched in all that rum.”

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Will woke to the morning sunlight streaming through the window. His mind clouded from the rum he’d consumed the night before, it took him several minutes to recognize exactly where he was. He turned his head, only to be met with an intense throbbing, which caused him to close his eyes, warding off the bright light of the room. Peering through half closed lids, Will could just make out the slumped figure of Jack, cheek pressed to the table, where’d he apparently slept the night. The bottle with Elizabeth’s remains was nowhere to be seen.

Will groaned miserably as he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck in the false hope it would stop the nauseating pulsing in his temples. He sat on the side of the bunk, clutching the edge and waited for the room to quit spinning. How much rum had he drank?

He remembered Jack being unusually quiet, leaving Will to do the talking once he was drunk enough to speak. He remembered the anger and frustration he’d felt…and the helplessness. Face to face with the mortal remains of his wife, sitting there with the man Will had once again succeeded to drag into something he should by all rights be able to do himself, he’d been trying to blot out the guilt he felt at being still alive. He remembered trying to find someone, anyone to blame when the sheer enormity of the situation struck home with devastating clarity.

It hadn’t helped much, any of it. No matter how many times he found his thoughts closing the circle, always concluding it was all his fault, Elizabeth was still gone.

Feeling as if he were being watched, Will raised his eyes to meet Jack’s solemn brown ones staring at him soundly. Seeing Jack’s growing concern, before he could speak, Will blurted out, “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Jack asked him, sitting up and twisting his head back and forth to loosen the kink in his neck.

“I don’t want your sympathy, Jack. I don’t need your pity. It’s my fault. All of this.”

“Bollocks.” Jack made a face, annulling the gravity of Will’s words and gave him a worried look. “How, precisely, is it your fault? Answer me that, Will. Did you send Elizabeth out on a fool’s mission? Huh? Did you perhaps order her to be sent to the gallows?” He wiped a weary hand across his face, smoothing his moustache while chasing another idea. “Or maybe you’re referring to the heart? Would say that if anyone was t’ blame for that one, t’ would be me.”

“You?” Will was perplexed by the sudden turn of the tide, feeling a twinge of worry of his own at Jack’s carefree, evert tone.

Without a warning, Jack slammed his fist to the table, then crunched his eyes shut tightly in enclosed agony for a moment before spewing out the gist of all his frustrations.

“Bloody hell, Will! Can’t you see?” He pounced up, taking a step closer to Will, and stopped like having another, a better thought. “I brought this on all of us,” Jack continued, tapping a finger to his chest. “I fuckin’ couldn’t wait t’ gloat, t’ rub it in.” Jack shook his head. “I never imagined Jones would…”

As quickly as it had started, the two men sunk into silence, both wracked by wretched guilt and remorse. Face solemn, Jack scooted over and sat next to Will, offering the world the rare, sad sight of the two immortals deflated and defeated… Until Will broke the staleness.

“Destiny,” he said, louder than seemed appropriate, then continued in a softer voice. “That’s what she called it, Jack. Destiny. Perhaps that included all of us. You. Me. Elizabeth.”

Jack looked at Will blankly for a second before huffing, mitigating the thought he hadn‘t quite yet accepted. "So what now Will? This is where we've arrived at, what's to be next? What does your precious Destiny have in store for us?" Closing his eyes briefly, Jack tried to calm himself, noticing his temper rising again, which would put him in the risk of uttering words that oughtn't be said out loud.

Upon opening his eyes again, Jack saw Will looking at his own hands, sweeping a finger along the faint, pale line on his palm in deep thought. The set of his jaw told Jack Will had reached a decision, and he settled with waiting.

His gaze surprisingly soft, Will turned and shared it with Jack; “We have to find Elizabeth. After that...” He shrugged. “...Perhaps we should find out.”

“Perhaps,” Jack said quietly, choking slightly around the word as Will‘s look held him still and played his heartstrings. Jack averted his eyes from Will’s and cleared his throat.

“Right.” He stood with a pat to his knees and a determined look, and announced, “I believe a bit more speed can be coaxed from the Pearl.” He pulled his coat on hurriedly and ducked under the table, emerging with his hat. Donning it, he added, “Best you stay below for now. The crew may be a bunch of sorry, superstitious miscreants, but they’re all good sailors.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want t’ have t’ keelhaul the lot of ‘em.”

Will gave Jack a wry smile in response, and nodded. Looking around with a puzzled expression he stopped Jack at the door with his question. “Where’s Elizabeth?”

“Her nibs? Oh…“ Jack pointed to where he‘d picked up his hat. “Under the table. Couldn’t stand her starin’ at me any longer.”

With a whirl of coat tails he left the cabin, leaving Will alone with his dearly beloved.

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They reached Tortuga on a moonless night, slipping past the mouth of the harbor with doused lamps and dropped anchor further out in the bay, away from prying eyes. After leaving instructions with the anchor watch, Jack had sent the rest of the crew ashore, paying them their shares and informing them they’d be needing to find another berth.

Jack and Will stood silently at the rail, waiting for Gibbs to return with the boat. The lights of the town flickered in the dark night, the sound of random gunfire and shrill laughter wafted across the black water, bringing back memories of another night, another time.

“Seems a lifetime ago,” Will said quietly.

“And, if I remember correctly,” Jack added with a grim smile, “we were in the same boat, figuratively speaking.”

“Searching for Elizabeth,” Will said, careful to look right in front of him and nowhere else, mentally checking one more time that he packed the bottle of Elizabeth in his satchel for certain.

“Aye.”

A thump against the hull announced the return of the boat. The two men climbed down the sea ladder, and settled in, Jack running a loving hand alongside the black ship’s hull. “At least the Pearl is back, safe and sound,” he murmured.

They traveled the stretch of water to the dock without speaking, each lost in their own thoughts and fears. They tied up at the dock and after a quick glance around, headed towards the town. They hadn't gone far before a familiar voice rang out.

“Jack Sparrow!” The blonde wench made her way through the crowded Tortugan street, arms wide in delight.

Her companion, the buxom redhead, followed. “We haven’t seen you in a month!”

The two women clutched Jack’s arms, practically dragging him along.

“You promised to stay the night the next time you were in town.” Giselle wriggled closer to Jack and ran a practiced hand along his sleeve.

“We've our own place now, above the dress shop.” Scarlett added, snuggling up on the other side.

Bending a finger under the hem of Jack’s sleeve, Giselle leaned to Jack’s ear, whispering loudly; “I hope you’re feeling better.” She drew back and batted her lashes seductively, not leaving much room for interpretation.

“That’s very kind of you,” Jack smiled as he gingerly removed their hands from his sleeves, slipping out of their grasp. “Most kind. But I’m afraid we are in a bit of a hurry.”

In their eagerness to claim Jack, neither had noticed the silent figure accompanying him. Surprise registered on the two women’s faces as Will joined them.

But before they could comment, Gibbs caught up with them. Flustered and out of breath, He nodded briefly towards the girls, then turned to Jack, his words coming out in a rush.

“Cap’n! You better get back to the Pearl double quick like!”

“What is it, man? Well? Out with it!”

“She’s… she’s…” Gibbs for once was rendered speechless.

“Sinking.” Will finished the sentence matter-of-factly.

“Whut?!” Jack whirled around in panic and headed back towards the waterfront. “S’impossible!”

Will instantly followed Jack, who, as he soon as he was within shouting distance, began to loudly berate the dripping wet and slightly sheepish anchor watch, standing huddled together on the wharf.

“Don’t blame them, Jack. I asked her to.” Will landed a calming hand on Jack’s arm along with his words, bringing him to a halt.

Jack stood like an absurd salt statue, finger raised and mouth gaping open, only his eyes shifting from left to right in search of even the tiniest bit of sanity, since obviously everyone had suddenly lost theirs.

Trying his best not to swallow his tongue, Jack braved a testing question.“You… You asked her to?”

“Yes.”

“The Pearl?”

“Yes.”

“The Black Pearl?”

“Yes.” Will, bless him, obtained the presence of mind not to roll his eyes at Jack.

“Why in God’s blazes would you do a bloody thing like that?” Jack shouted, causing more than a few eyes to turn their way. He added, in a lower voice, “I thought we had an accord.”

“You want her safe, don’t you?” Will asked quietly, looking past Jack. “And we don’t want to draw unnecessary attention, do we?” He veered his eyes, looking directly into Jack’s. “Wouldn’t the Black Pearl, sitting at anchor out in the harbour or careened on a beach do just that, Jack?” Will gestured towards the streets full of rowdy sailors and townsfolk. “You know better than me that any one of these scoundrels would betray their own mother for a chance at selling that piece of information.”

Placing his hand on Jack’s arm to placate, Will gave Jack a grim smile and added in a reassuring voice. “When we get through all this, I'll raise her back up for you.”

“Is that so?” Jack hissed through clenched teeth. “Well then, it appears that we’re in need of a boat, Captain Turner.” Brushing off Will’s hand, he stomped away into the night without looking back.

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A/N: Thank you Neith for your comment. That was truly encouraging :) We hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story too!
And to whoever arsed to rate the thing; Thank you so much!
Also, to anyone still reading; Thank you for sticking with the story. It is nothing without you.

- dd & mz