I burn for you

~~~~~
You and I are lovers.
When night time folds around our bed,
In peace we sleep entwined,
~~~~~
Two years had passed, Will thought, watching the sky grow darker and darker. His marriage had faltered at first, and then run strong and steady for almost six months. He had put the thoughts of Jack out of his mind, and had concentrated on working hard and making Elizabeth happy. He had his own forge by then and his work was at a high demand. As long as he had hard work all day, Will was able to keep his mind on Elizabeth. But all things go in cycles in Port Royal, and demand for Will's swords had dropped off, and he was making less and less commissions. He still practiced for three hours a day with the swords he made.

Things had been going rather well, and then Will had started dreaming. Most times it was after sex with Elizabeth. Sex with Elizabeth was always tender and caring, but he knew that there was more out there. Elizabeth didn't make him burn. The dreams were always of Jack, of those two moonlight kisses. Of the way Will's skin had burned and throbbed all night, even as he made love to Elizabeth with Jack on his mind. Over time, Elizabeth began to only physically satisfy him and he would lie awake at night, his wife's head on his shoulder, idly dreaming of Jack.

Then one day the dam had burst. Will had awoken, Jack's name on his lips, to find that Elizabeth was not in bed with him. He had found her in the garden, exchanging kisses with Commodore Norrington. Two days later, Will had moved out of the master bedroom of their tiny house. They had stayed that way, Will using the excuse that Elizabeth's restless sleeping kept him awake. Elizabeth, happy that he would now not be able to catch her sneaking out of their marriage bed, had no arguments.

Almost a year had passed before Elizabeth found herself with child. A child that was in fact, not William's. They hadn't had sex in well over four months. Will not even bothering to make the effort, and Elizabeth always with a headache potion at the ready to keep him away.

When Elizabeth confessed all, Will had surprised elf elf by not being angry. He felt only a lingering sadness at the way things worked out. Elizabeth and Commodore Norrington had shared an illicit kiss on the wedding night, and Elizabeth had been carried away on the wings of love. Will himself had his own secrets to keep about love. So in the end it had become a conspiracy. A way to get Will out of the picture so Elizabeth and her lover could marry. Will and the Commodore had several stiff meetings, the Commodore on the edge of his seat with nervousness until Will, smiling, had simply shook his head and laughed. Norrington hadn't gotten the joke, but after that things were less stressful. Will accepted congratulations with a straight, if somewhat stiff, face. Elizabeth grew larger with the child, and Will worked harder and harder every day to keep out of her way. Her pregnancy was not hard, except for her mood swings. One moment she would be laughing, smiling and gay, the next she would be screaming, crying or raging about the slightest thing.

The day after a small fire in town, Will had hatched 'the plan.' They would wait until one of the homeless people of Port Royal, of whom there were plenty, passed away. The next night Will would stay at the forge, working hard on a commission from the Commodore. There would be a disastrous fire, and William Turner would die. The Commodore bought Will a small sloop, on which he would make his escape. Weeks passed, and finally the opportunity had arrived. William Turner was a dead man now, and his life was all the sweeter for it.

That night had been almost two years ago, Will thought, staring at the sky which was now studded with stars. He'd sailed all over the Caribbean, avoiding Port Royal and the other Navy posts in the area. Eventually, he'd sent a single letter to Commodore Norrington, asking general questions about Elizabeth and the baby's health. He'd stayed in one port for a month and a half until the reply came. The Commodore sent a tiny portrait of mother and daughter, along with a letter detailing the wedding ceremony that had tied the grieving widow to the Commodore for life. The letter had also contained details concerning the whereabouts of the Black Pearl. Will had followed them to Tortuga where he received a new last name. They called him Dove now, for the way he made the barmaids coo. William Dove. It always made him smile as he reached each port and the one or two people he knew called out to him.

Will shook his head and stood, stretching. The little sloop's sails were tightly tied up for the night, and in the early morning, he would head for the Pearl. With a smile and a happy whistle, Will headed for his tiny berth below deck.

He woke long before dawn the next morning to a knife at his throat and hot h pin pinning him down. He opened his eyes to see Jack leaning over him, eyes dark.

"You died," the pirate accused. Will shook his head, trying desperately to wake up.

"I'm dreaming," Will said finally. Jack laughed, a harsh short sound.

"Then both of us are. Luv, they said you died." Jack said, pulling the knife away.

"William Turner died," Will said shortly, placing a hand over Jack's left wrist. "I'm Dove now, William Dove." Jack raised a sardonic eyebrow.

"Birds of a feather, luv?" he asked. Will laughed, long and hard. Then stopped, staring up at Jack.

"I came to the docks," he said urgently, "but you were so far out and there were no boats, and then I just couldn't leave." The words tumbled from his lips. Jack nodded softly. "There was Elizabeth, and the forge, and I just didn't know how. But I did try. I really did." He stopped there, as Jack's lips were on his and that wonderful burn was spreading through him once again. Will had never felt more alive.

~~~~~
And your love flows through me
Though an ocean soothes my head,
I burn for you.
I burn for...
~~~~~
After a few very busy and exciting minutes, there was a sharp rapping on the door, and from outside, a smooth voice could be heard. Will and Jack disentangled themselves.

"What?" Jack asked, fixing his shirt and opening the door. "Speak up, can't bloody hear ye through the damned door, now can I?" On the other side of the door is Anamaria, who has a knowing grin on her face.

"I'll be damned." She smiles. "If it isn't Jack's Mr. Turner." She saunters past Jack and pushes the door shut again. "Aren't ye supposed to be dead?" She hops to sit on the berth, one hand on Will's knee.

"It's a long story," Will manages to say, hoping fiercely that his blush is fading, at least. But, by the look on her face, no such luck.

"And the baby?" she inquires, leaning forward. "The one Jack's sent various treasures and presents to, in the hopes that something of yours lived on in her? Is she actually yours?" Jack's face is white and pinched and Will feels his blush fading.

"No," he manages after a moment. "She's Norrington's." The pain is sharp now; Jack gave the baby presents, Jack cared enough to send treasure, loot, stolen goods to Norrington's home. Jack cared. Will shakes his head. "They've married now?" Anamaria nods, a tiny amount of pity in her eyes. "Well then," Will is cut off.

"I'm glad," Anamaria says. "She didn't look like you, anyway." She laughs then, ending the moment. "Well Jack, here's your first mate, and here for me, is the boat you owe me." She raises an eyebrow at Will. "I doubt you'll mind, eh, deadman?"

"She's a good boat," Will says slowly. "You'll probably want to rename her." Jack tossed him an unreadable look.

"It's a fine name," Jack protested.

"I'll not be sailing a boat named after you, Captain," Anamaria protests laughingly. "Now I'll head to the Pearl, and get my things. I'll be taking that sweet little slave girl we took off the last boat." Her smile is pure devilment. "She'll make a better hand for me than you." Jack laughs and it strikes hard to Will's chest, a pure bolt of lust and love and happiness.

"Don't have too much fun, then," Jack's saying. "We'll get the lad's things and be ready for when you two come back. " Anamaria nods and then leans over, kissing Will lightly, bringing back his blush. She smiles and places her mouth next to his ear.

"If ye ever leave him alone again I will hunt you down and kill you dead," she threatens, voice cold. "And I'll make very sure of it." She leans back and now she's smiling again. "But if he ever hurts ya lad, ye've a home on the Turner here." Will smiles then, a strange sort of awe spreading through him.

"The Turner?" he questions, needing to make sure. She nods, laughing, moving lithely down the bed.

"As soon as I get my hands on some paint." She winks. "I've a dearly departed friend to remember." Then she's gone, her laughter ringing behind her in the small space. Will looks at Jack and the world freezes.

"You gave the baby presents?" he asks, slowly, treading in dangerous waters now. "Because you thought she was mine?"

"Ye were only late. I had to catch the tide, and then," Jack's eyes are suspiciously bright as he speaks, "then ye were dead and she was all I had. This tiny lump of flesh and squirm and warm brown eyes. They said she was yours..." He sighed and stepped back towards the berth. "It was all I had. So I sent presents, little things, things that reminded me of you. Dresses and baubles
and letters. Pictures I had painted, things I wanted to show you. Places where I thought of you and burnt. I sent it all. Poetry, books, paintings," Jack laughed shortly. "But she wasn't yours." Will felt a sharp pang of longing, then. Longing for a child; a daughter of his own, that Jack could spoil, and that he could teach.

"I think that in a way, she is now," Will said softly, then cut himself off. "But that doesn't matter. I don't have much." But this wasn't true, it did matter, and he had lots. "A few trunks in the hold, my things in here." Will shrugged. "It won't take long to get it all ready to go." Jack nodded and turned away, and for a moment, his calm acceptance of Will's topic change stung, like salt on a wound.

"I'll get the trunks," Jack said, his voice an odd mix of strained and relieved. He stepped towards the door, then stopped. "You died for her after all, didn't you?" Will didn't need to ask who Jack was asking about.

"I'm a man of my word." Will's voice was steady, even as anger raced through his veins at the memory. "We all are here."

"And the baby?" Jack asked, pressing the question.

"Didn't matter till now," Will said flatly. "Didn't matter 'til you cared." He looked back at the older man and smiled at the flare of something in Jack's eyes.

"A thought occurs, but we have time for that later," Jack said with a grin. "We have time for a lot later..." he raised an eyebrow. "Savvy?" Will laughed, realizing this was home. Anywhere Jack, his smile, crazy ideas, and insane vocabulary was.

"Savvy."
.................

please r and r

tbc