Next of Kin

Chapter One: Solitaire

Warning: Just so everyone knows, this story is going to be slow,
development wise. So if you're an impatient person and it seems like
forever before Will and Jack 'get together', then your probably not
going to end up sticking around to wait for the part where they
finally have wild monkey sex. One: Because I procrastinate with the
best of them, and Two: Because I'm an actual, in real life,
published author making money off original stories and I'm used to
the plot being drawn out to butt-fucking Egypt. It's how I write so
if you HATE detailed plot lines then this story is going to either
bore you to no end or piss you off.

Disclaimer: I do not claim rights to any Pirates of The Caribbean references or character names. Don't sue me!

~*~

It had taken nearly a week, but William managed to sail to Tortuga
without much trouble. The island had been close and he'd remembered
the course he'd taken the year before so it had been in his best
interest to stop for rest. He didn't figure he'd be sleeping at all
during his stay, the deafening noise of drunks and sex surrounding
the plot of land like an aura and seemingly never-ending. He
couldn't explain it, but the familiarity of the atmosphere as soon
as he stepped off onto the dock made him feel at home. The dirty men
and the shameless whores welcoming him as if he were family although
he'd never met them before, and he accepted their presence without
thought.

Most of the businesses in the town were hotels and bars, a very
little percent of the buildings being private homes or regular
stores, but Will found the most appealing lodge and rented out a
room anyway. He reasoned with himself that he'd only stay long
enough to restock and rest, before he would sail once more, and he
made it a truth to himself even though something in the back of his
consciousness told him it was a lie. He didn't have a clue as to
where he would go, but at the moment he just wanted to be with the
ocean, wanted to live it and clear his mind to a fresh start. Maybe
he'd visit Singapore.

His time on the water brought him peace, his thoughts clearing of
any conflicts he'd had over Elizabeth or her father, but he still
felt cheated. He hadn't found `Her' yet. His spirit felt empty,
almost like he was half of something and the other piece was lost to
the waves in a storm he wouldn't live through. He felt as though he
was searching for something, or someone. This gut feeling failed to
shatter his faith, but as he lay in the middle of a dirty cot placed
in the center of his boardroom, the emotion succeeded in preventing
him from sleep. He stood from the mattress gingerly, sore from the
journey here but ignoring the pain of his escape, and pulled his
trousers back on. He'd tucked in his shirt, donned his vest, sash,
knickers and boots, before leaving the dark room in favor of the
active streets.

Will lost himself in the throng of sweaty bodies in the port,
weaving through the crowd as if they weren't there and fending off
any advancing tavern whores. He found a bar that he recognized, and
didn't pause in his step before entering the musty place. It wasn't
a habit for him to drink, but his dry throat yearned for fluids and
the burn of Rum was becoming more appealing with each intoxicated
patron he passed. He settled easily, not noticing that the table he
sat at with his mug was familiar nor did he pay attention to the
people dancing foolishly around him. Voices rose to octaves that
stung at his eardrums, but he never flinched because he was devoid
of a connection with the common world. Once again, he began to feel
outcasted.

A small commotion, failing to draw his attention, began outside near
the port, a roar of anger billowing through the streets only to be
ignored by anyone who didn't know the reasons of the outburst. A man
with shoulder length, dark brown hair and dark eyes clenched his
fist around the forearm of a scrawny blonde whore, jerking her to
him furiously as a red print the strange shape of a palm became
noticeable on his cheek. Three other, burly men backed him, dark
skinned and rough looking with swords at their hips and guns in
bootstrap holsters, their eyes showing no patience. They were
pirates, battle scars evidence of the mercy they showed to no one
but their crew and their captain. It was their captain now that had
been infuriated by the treatment of one of the women he used to buy.

"Know yer place, yah filthy woman!" He hollered, dropping the near-
tears single mother to her rear before watching her run off
hurriedly.

He pushed his hat back on reflex, the tri-cornered article perched
over a pale red bandanna and covering random braids and dreadlocks
of thick hair. The assault that he'd just experienced though was
forgotten quickly, and his booted feet carried him directly towards
the nearest tavern for a glass of what he often said was the finest
drink of the seas. He knew most of the faces he ran into, but was
not accustomed to acknowledging them and didn't see a need to
interrupt their fun. He didn't trust anyone but his crew for the
most part, and his beloved ship, the waters of the oceans giving him
the only comfort and enjoyment he would ever need. It had been that
way for a year or so now, and Captain Jack Sparrow had changed
because of it.

He walked stiffly and proudly, a stubborn pirate long since used to
his life of pillaging and enjoying every minute of adrenaline he
could find, every moment where his life and the existence of his
Pearl were threatened, because it gave him power. He'd aged a
little, no longer a drunk as much as he had been, and nonsense was
no longer accepted in his world. His crew had been hardened to his
liking, his preference, but his reason for once again joining the
ragged world of Tortuga was for more hands. The mute had been lost
to the sea during the worst storm the Black Pearl had faced in
years, and the midget, whom he'd never learned his name, had left
willingly due to his finding his previously lost family. Jack had
been enraged by such news, but he had learned to control his ire
when it came to his crew.

The dim lighting of the old bar illuminated the sign hanging above
the door, `Fabled Lust' was it's name, and Jack smirked inwardly. He
remembered this place fondly. Inside he inhaled as deeply as his
lungs would allow, and breathed out with a menacing grin. This was
where his present crew had been formed, when the action of taking
back his ship had been set in more dramatic motion. He loved this
place for it's unique mess of people and music, and of course it's
drinks. His first stop was the wooden counter where a man stood
behind, checking his stock.

"Well, if it isn't Jack Sparrow. Welcome back." He shouted heartedly
above the commotion and crashing around them.
"Jus' gimme me drink, yah ol' bastard."

The man chuckled and moved to do as he was ordered, also checking on
his whores who were waiting for their men to pay what they owed to
the barkeep. Jack ignored them as he did everyone else, the men that
had been with him having left to find pleasurable company before
they would be leaving the port in the morning. He sat alone with
only his Rum and the music to think about. Jack didn't socialize
much with anyone, but as his eyes wandered around the room, looking
for able-bodied young men he could easily pick out a few people he'd
previously talked to often.

His drink was served, and without missing a beat he picked up the
mug and drank deeply as his gaze continued to run over the patrons
of the tavern. He snorted to himself, finding absolutely no one that
met his standards. He knew he should have figured no man here would
meet his requirements, because the stakes had been raised so much
since the first time, but he knew better than to wait around for
someone to show up. He stood; slapping the amount he owed on the
counter and began to stalk outside, his stride slightly uneven from
a limp that was forming in his left leg. He'd been almost
permanently injured in the kneecap of the same leg not too long ago,
and the pirate captain was not looking forward to old age stuck in a
wooden rocker or with a crutch.

Something caught his attention, as he made it to the open doorway of
the bar, a body sitting still in a back corner away from the crowd.
If a person in this tavern was not moving he was labeled either
passed out or plain dead, but Jack cocked his head to the side in
time to see the young man lifting a smaller mug to his lips
confidently. It took a couple of heart beats for the man to lift his
eyes, search for the stare he felt and lock gazes with Jack, but in
those moments the captain had been able to piece together his
memory.

"Will!" He shouted, smirking a little to the side, and waited for
the other to acknowledge.

Will's eyes widened dramatically, and he grinned in return to the
pirate's greeting. He stood as Captain Jack Sparrow made his way
over to reunite the two, Will ready to shake hands or something in
general and was caught completely off guard when Jack wrapped strong
arms around his upper torso for a hard but friendly hug. Regarding
Jack's stance and reaction, Will could gauge that he was trusted in
the pirate's world, but he still picked his words carefully.

"Jack, how's it been?" He asked when the two broke apart, keeping
the topic broad so as not to pry. Jack huffed but lost his grin,
eyes still bright with surprise and a glimmer of strange happiness
that brushed off some of his recent anger.

"Usual." He said simply, and Will understood. "C'mon, I'll buy ye a
roun'."
"Sounds interesting."
"It'll be very interesting, just wait." Jack said, guaranteeing
without saying anything else that Will would be pleased.

The two walked side by side out of the old tavern and into a newer
one, this one cleaner but still seedy and noisy, whores in every
corner as it should be in Tortuga. Jack and Will were unfazed as
they sat around a wooden table with mugs of chilled Rum, flavored
with spices and smooth in taste, completely absorbed in meeting up
with each other after a long year's past. Jack, as he seemed to
Will, was distant, almost in denial over something, and although the
younger man didn't know how right he was, he never spoke out about
such thoughts. If Jack was acting that way for a reason it was not a
right for him to know that reason, it was a privilege that he had to
earn instead. Jack saved him the trouble of saying anything though,
and the captain, whose hair had grown and his skin darkened, sparked
the conversation.

"Why'd ye leave Port Royal?"
"A woman." Will admitted without missing a beat. Elizabeth was his
past, not his present, and he would not wallow in the shallows of
something he'd been taken away from willingly.

"Ah, this woman wouldn't happen to be Miss Swann, now would it?"
"That would be Mrs. Norrington." Was the bitten response, and Jack
raised his eyebrows a little.

"Do tell." Jack inquired, voice dripping with sarcasm and yet total
interest.

The young Turner had grown considerably, and Jack easily detected
new maturity in the blacksmith's expression. Will had come into the
world for once, realizing the cruel reality of life and had run from
something he did not want to be a part of. Jack narrowed his eyes
slightly as he watched more than listened to William's tale,
catching on quickly to how the other had severed any connections
he'd once had to his old life, and how he was in search of one that
fit him better. It was a search Jack had been through himself not
too long ago, and he knew the difficulties Will would face if he
could not finish the puzzle that was his heart's demand. The captain
drank his liquor in earnest as he came to a conclusion in his train
of musings, and set his mug down quietly.

Jack needed good, confident hands; Will had those and the bravery
that came as a side-package every so often. He'd work well on the
Pearl, salt ran in his blood and the calling of the ocean was
natural. Jack worked his way around his loyal persuasion techniques,
and quirked a small smile as Will described how Elizabeth had
turned, devising a proposition inwardly to give to the other man
that would guarantee his joining the Pearl's crew. It was a bit
difficult, Jack judging his chances by watching how Will moved and
talked, how he drank his Rum with moderate swigs and how he met his
eyes more than a few times. William Turner was no longer a reluctant
fighter, he'd grown into his father's place almost perfectly, and
sitting straight in resignation, Jack had decided firmly that he
could make this boy into the man his father had been.

"I'm bein' a l'ttle off topic here but, wha would ye say if I
offered ye a place in me crew, eh? Ye seem to be in the m'ddle of
nothin' else."

This question caught William completely off guard, but did not leave
him that way for long. Jack was always blunt, quick and to the point
was his way of doing things, and Will understood him that way. Even
though the proposition was very frank as it should be, Will had not
expected Captain Jack Sparrow to just out of no where choose hands
to work his beloved Black Pearl.

"I'd tell you that you were perhaps a little too drunk to be
scouting. I can't sail hardly that well, at least not on a ship as
grand as the Pearl, and I've become a bit rusty with a sword."
"All the more fun to polish ye up, mate! And `sides, ye'd know if I
was too drunk tah be doin' anythin' sensible or not, and now is more
of a not."

A small chuckle escaped the old blacksmith, and he surprised himself
with it. He hadn't gotten anywhere near a laugh since, well since
the last he'd seen of Jack. Never had he smiled as brightly living
with Elizabeth afterwards, and now it seemed to fit perfectly with
the situation. Jack knew this some how, and it signaled his victory,
even if William would not verbally concede to joining the Black
Pearl.

The topic changed after that, William's life shng ang at that moment
to one of piracy and the emotion that brought up settled comfortably
in his conscious. The air around the two seemed to alter with the
new feelings Will felt running through him, the new dedication to
Jack as his captain where-as just yesterday he had felt so lost with
out some one to guide him, some one there to tell him what to do. As
a blacksmith he'd had customer orders to bid to, a Master that was
never really there to teach him as he should have been, and the
Governor to follow the laws under, but out at sea after leaving all
that behind him had left Will to himself. He hadn't liked being his
own King, his own boss in a way, and that was part of the reason
he'd felt he was here at Tortuga, searching. Finding Jack Sparrow
relieved a form of tension that had settled in his shoulders, and
without realizing it, William sighed deeply.

"We'll be leavin' port tomorra mornin', lad. Best be gettin' to bed
if yah wanna be awake when we set sail." Jack said suddenly, seeming
to cut the conversation short.

Will nodded, almost reluctant about not being able to talk to Jack
any longer, and stood besides the table. Jack didn't move, as he
wished to finish his Rum, and Will suddenly remembered something
important, something he was sure Jack would want to hear. The
younger man turned his shoulders to face squarely with his fellow
pirate, and he grinned a li to to the side, a smug expression
dawning over his features at the feeling of raw freedom wrapping
itself around him with his next words.

"Goodnight, Captain."

~*~

TBC