Taxes 5 - Halloween / Day of the Dead

* * *
"Nothing in life is certain except death and taxes."
--Benjamin Franklin
"... however, death doesn't get worse every year."
--Unknown
* * *

Previously...

"...By the by, we think it's still the time of year getting to us. Today, and tomorrow for some, is the Day of the Dead."

"Dia de los Muertos," Will replied. "Right. Yeah, makes as much sense as anything." Shivered. "Ooh. My feet are cold."

"Going to be chilly today after the storm. I'll go get the fireplace going."

"Good plan."

"Squeak!" agreed Hector, untwisting from the bed-frame, and crawling up on Jack's shoulder once he'd shrugged on a robe. Humming "A Pirate's Life for Me," Jack wandered out into the living room, igniting the fireplace, and moving to the windows. Letting in the filtered sunlight, he blinked twice, and then screamed like a girl.

Which is pretty much what one does when a skeletal face is peering in one's window.

* * *

The Mad Fangirl proudly presents
Taxes 5B - Day of the Dead

* * *
5B, Part 1: Fiesta
* * *

Sparrow's instincts surged protectively, Jack's hand going to a hip that held no sword. But then, one of them realized...

//...paint. It's paint...//

The black-lipped mouth curved in a grin, and then the skeleton began laughing, near soundless through the glass. He doubled over with it and Jack had the chance to study him.

The cowboy hat was the real tip-off.

"Norton."

Still wearing only a robe and a ferret, Jack headed outside, stopping just to scoop a sword off the kitchen floor. Slipping out the back door and the yard gate, he came around behind Norton and leveled the sword at his neck.

"Oh, Jimmy?"

Greg must have sensed the sword, for he straightened and turned slowly. Then he looked Jack up and down and started laughing again, so hard he fell on his rear. That was all it took for the humor of the situation to get through to Jack as well, and he laughed so that he staggered and had to lean on his windowpane.

"H-how often," said Greg, when he could speak again, "Do I get the chance to do something like *that* t' you? I mean, c'mon." He blinked. "That a ferret?"

"No."

"Okay then."

"Squeak!"

"Shush, you," Jack said, absently, giving Greg a long look. The black-and-white painted skull pattern he wore looked disturbingly familiar...of course. A Mexican holiday inspired by traditions both Spanish...and Aztec. Otherwise, crisp black jeans-

//...irons them, I'll bet...//

- and a cowboy shirt, part solid black, part striped grey and white. Looked damn good, actually.

//...nearly as handsome a skeleton as I was meself...//

A disturbing memory, but one Byrd felt drawn to - that sore-tooth feeling again. Later. For now-

"-You're starin'," Greg pointed out.

"I think I can be excused," Jack replied, allowing just a bit of innuendo into his tone. His eyes narrowed. "Liz put you up to this, didn't she?"

"I did tell you - momma used t' paint my face for Day of the Dead. 'S a pretty big deal all across the Southwest. So I was gonna go to the festival like this anyhow. But, well, as to peekin' in the window..." A bright volley of flashes went off, causing Hector to hiss. Mostly, they centered on Jack holding a sword and wearing a bathrobe.

"Yeah," Liz said, lowering the camera. "That was me."

"Minx! Where'd ye *come* from?"

"Hell itself spat me back out?" she suggested with a wink.

"Taken, love. Try another."

"If you must know, I was hiding behind the magnolia shrub."

"Not quite as poetic," and Greg was James again, "but it's difficult to argue with results." Jack shrugged, accepting the inevitable. At least it wouldn't go up in Greg's office; folk might question why he had a half-naked picture of the firm's IRS auditor, Jack's preferences being well known.

Will, more sensibly in sweats, chose that moment to poke his head out the front door. "If you guys want to come inside, I just put some coffee on."

Coffee, and, as it turned out, bagels, with the option of smoked whitefish or berry cream cheese. It was one of the new things about Will that Jack loved, his gourmet tendency. Whether he was cooking or not, Will paid *attention* to food. Breakfast began oddly harmonious, too, even with Jack Byrd and Greg Norton in the same room. Jack decided he was still sleepy enough to be off his game. Greg, being military, had probably been up and running, literally, hours before, but that might have left him hungry enough to be off his. There was the occasional half-hearted exchange...

"You sure you can eat that fish? Hasn't been barbecued."

Greg replying, mouth full, "Mrmph."

They really should have paid more attention to Will and Liz, chatting happily over their coffee cups. Sleepy Jack, though, had tunnel vision for his own brew, and hardly registered Liz describing the nearby Dia de los Muertos festival and her plans for the day.

"You know, Jack and I should go, too!"

"Yeah! You know what? You should come with us!"

"Wha-?"

"Mrmf-?"

Twin doe-eyed regards so powerful that Hector, perched behind Jack's chair, whimpered. Jack and Greg had no chance whatsoever.

Thus it was they found themselves, all four, parking Liz's Jeep at Seventh and Carmilla Streets, Jack's attempt at starting a round of Ninety-Nine Bottles of Rum on the Wall unsuccessful. Which, he supposed, might have been just as well - there were easier ways to discover whether or not Greg kept a gun in his girlfriend's glove compartment. Greg looked frustrated, someholl tll the same, and Jack wondered at it a little because he didn't think he could take most of the credit.

As they closed their doors, Jack held his an extra second after hearing a muffled "squeak." Well, if Hector didn't get back to the Jeep by the time they left, it'd teach him a thing or two about hitching rides. Strains of music drifted over the buildings.

"Mariachi?"

"Yeah, should be," Greg replied. He smiled. "Should have a whole range of music. Ranchera, if we're lucky."

"You even like *Mexican* country music?" He shot Liz a sidelong glance. "You *sure* you can marry this man?"

"Hey, I'm limiting country to half the play list at the wedding."

"Half!?"

"Does this mean you won't go?" asked Greg hopefully.

"Does that mean I'm invited?" Jack smirked.

"That's it," Greg said to Liz. "We're having a cash bar."

"Oh, come on, Greg. Your family'd disown you." "Jac"Jack didn't know that!"

The first they saw of the fair were the police cars and sawhorses that blocked Carmilla at Ninth. One of the cars was manned, and Norton traded nods with the grizzled veteran inside. Then they shouldered through a small crowd gathered before the first stage, where the mariachis stood playing. They were all made up too, and the guitarist wore it especially well...Jack caught his eye and the other man grinned, winked.

Then something bright, flapping...he looked over Will's head at the multicolored hanging curtains made of many intricate paper cuttings. From the fair booths to the buildings they ran, and hung down from the streetlights. There were abstract designs, animals...but most were skeletons engaging in various activities. Eating, drinking, playing trumpets, getting married...

Crewing a sailing ship...

He caught his love's sleeve. "Will," he murmured, moving his head so slightly in that direction.

"Bit high up for you?"

"Not for me, love. But a bit public."

Horns and guitar weaving through the background, they came next upon the first food booths. Jack marked the taco stands, in case there weren't any farther down, and there was roasted corn, as well, and bread from the local bakeries. This neighborhood had a definite Mexican flavor, and so they were sweetened, topped with sugary spreads and crusts. Some Jack recognized as holiday-themed.

"Pan de muerte," he said, eyeing rolls topped with bone-shaped crosses, and bready skeletons with blue sugar eyes.

"Yeah," Greg said. Looking at Liz, he went on, "Y'can buy these to eat, or for the ofrendas - the altars."

As they wandered on into the fair proper, Jack bought one of the skeletons, and took a certain satisfaction in biting off its head. He handed Will a foot and Will raised his eyebrows, but took it and chewed thoughtfully.

The crowd swirled about them, others in skeleton makeup sprinkled throughout. A reminder of death, and that today, the dead walked beside the living. Rising again, the memory of his own bare bones, and he lifted his right hand slightly, staring. Will caught it, breaking his introspection in the best way with fingers ghosting over his palm.

"Angst," Will murmured with a grin, and Jack smiled a little. Then Will turned to Greg with, "Sorry - you were saying?"

"Yeah - so today's the first of November and the day to honor los angelitos - children's souls," he replied, Will and Liz both looking to the cowboy. And maybe Jack was a little interested - there was the off chance that Greg knew something he didn't. "The second's technically for the adults, but this fair's only one day, and there'll be altars out for everyone."

"Yesterday we frightened off the angry dead," Jack responded. "Today's for honoring the ones we *want* to have come visit."

"Exactly," Norton said. kne knew there was something beyond figures and that old miscreant in your head, but it isn't as though you make it known often." Ah, only the Commodore turned such an elegant insult, but Jack noted how his hands and body stilled when Norrington spoke. Something was odd, slightly off, carried over from the last evening, and Jack's suspicions heightened when Liz took her fiancée's hand. Patience...if he pressed now, the two would close ranks, but perhaps Liz would confide in Will later.

Meantime, arts and crafts abounded, and Jack picked up a handful of small pewter beads worked into skulls with crossbones attached. Picked up and paid for, much to the chagrin of the pirate that was still so close to the surface.

//...oh, c'mon, he wasn't even *lookin'*...//

//...you know I don't mind indulging our need for larceny, but not with local artisans, okay?...// When Jack's eyes refocused, he saw Will watching him.

"Tempting, huh?" the kid said with a smirk.

"Kinda. But I want these guys to make a living. I was just getting the rest of me on board." The smirk softened into an approving smile that was very Turner.

//...the sort that warms even as it annoys...//

Jack let out a brief, amused breath, and Will looked at him. "You gonna let me in on it?"

"Uh-uh."

"'Kay."

"Hey, guys?" Liz, from the booth across. "What do you think? All I get from him is "whatever you sayar.\ar." Greg looked vaguely offended as Liz held up a gold necklace with a swirling, abstract pattern.

"I like it," Will said decisively. "Jack?"

"Whatever you say, dear."

Will snorted.

"You walked right into that one," Liz observed, and Will admitted it with a shrug. She made her purchase and they moved on, Greg fingering a bolo tie clasp but then letting it go. "We must be near the center of the fair," Will said. "We've gone four blocks, and it was, what, eight, right?"

"Yeah, I think so..."

They wandered under awnings, and came eventually to a pavilion in the middle of the blocked street, where several altars were set up back to back. Tributes to departed souls, all, some manned, some not, some roped off and some free to access. Flat or layered, some in patterns traced by dyed grains or sand, but all laden with pictures and other memories. With these rested offerings of fruit, pan de muerte, and that which was beloved in l Nor Norton was leading now, and he stopped at one altar with a light green overhang.

"Mayri! Hi. How've you been?"

"Good, Greg. Been good." The woman sitting at the chair by this altar took a sip of soda, then stood to shake Greg's hand. Jack, Will, and Liz looked on, and then Greg introduced them. Liz was first, and Mayri said, "Good to meet you. I heard Greg and Jill got divorced - she was never right for him anyway. You two look good together."

"So, all this for Rey?" Greg said, looking over the altar. A life-sized sugar skull wore a policeman's cap, and on tiers layered with colored grain rested fruit and candy bars. "I remember - he always had a Snickers or something..."

"Yeah. This is for Rey."

"Reynaldo Ortiz was one of my officers when I was on the force," Greg explained. "He was killed in the line."

"I'm very sorry to hear that, ma'am," said Jack, taking her hand and brushing it gently with his lips. She giggled.

"Oh, you're one of those 'flirt with the widow' types. You want some flirting, you introduce me to your friend, okay?"

"Ye wound me, love. Really, ye do." Jack looped an arm around Will's waist. "Anyway, Will's taken."

"Oh, that's how it is, huh?" She shrugged. "Guess I'll just live with it." Greg, meanwhile, was dipping into a jar of mini-Snickers set out for passers-by. "Go ahead, all of you, if you want. Take one." Jack and Will did, and then Mayri engaged Liz in conversation. Jack noticed Greg watching the women with an odd, haunted expression, making a sizable dent in the Snickers as he did so.

Something in Greg's manner began to trouble Jack, maybe the unblinking stare. He waited for a lull in the conversation, and then said, "Mayri, it's been lovely to meet you, but we really should get moving."

"No, it's cool. You guys feel free to call or come over whenever, all right?"

"It was ... really good to see you again, Mayri," Greg said, and the woman shivered.

"Huh. You know, for a minute there, you sounded just like Rey...You have a good day, guys."

As they moved away from the altar pavilion, Liz gave Greg a look. "You know, I ought to kick your butt for that, but I've got a weird feeling something else was going on besides you and Jack both flirting with the Widow Ortiz..."

Greg looked at her, looked at the candy in his hand, blinked, and tossed the candy bar in a nearby bin. "Liz, I don't remember the last minute and a half, and neither does the Commodore."

* * *

It was a disturbing thing to realize, that was for sure.

//...truly sorry...// Greg felt something like chagrin from the other soldier inside him.

//...'sokay. blindsided both of us...and if it is him, then it's a chance...//

Removing to a quiet alley off the crowded main street, the four huddled together. The green awning was still in view out of the corner of his eye.

"You okay?" Will was asking. "What just happened?"

"Not sure..."

Inside, part of him was calling. //Rey?//

Echoed by the rest of him. //...Officer Ortiz?...// Greg felt the Commodore drift, searching for a trace.

He watched Liz watch him, monochrome face paint reflected in her eyes. She said, slowly, "Rey Ortiz' murder was never solved. He was chasing a suspect with his partner and the man twisted an ankle, went down. He heard a shot from around the corner, and when he got there..."

"Rey was dead," Greg finished.

//Rey?// //...Officer Ortiz?...//

The alleyway felt so cold all of a sudden...

'Sir?'

"James Norrington, answer me this instant!" Elizabeth, beginning to penetrate the black, but far away...it was Liz saying, "Greg?" and sounding scared that brought him back.

"How...how long?" Greg asked. He was on his knees now.

"What? Your eyes glassed over and you went to your knees, and that's about it..." Greg half-expected some salacious comment from Jack after that, to break the tension if nothing else, but it wasn't forthcoming. The ex-pirate's eyes were unusually sober.

"Rey Ortiz died in this alley," Greg murmured. "My God, his altar's right over there and he died right here..." Which, of course, he should not know...

"You didn't work that case, did you, Greg?" Liz, again.

"No, I didn't..."

"We should get you out of here," Will said, and moved to take his arm.

"No." Greg allowed Will to close a hand around his arm, but moved not at all. Then Jack was looking into his eyes, and the pure, cold menace...

//...he *is* a pirate, still...//

"Let him go," Jack said. "Right now."

Greg just shook his head, sighed slightly. "Shoulda known you'd've figured it. I'm me right now, though. I mean, we're us...oh, hell. Point is, I *heard* Rey this time, but then he went away again."

"Is anyone else completely creeped out by this?" Jack, arms spread unevenly, turning.

"Yeah," Liz, whose warm hand had replaced Will's. "But if he feels this to be his duty, he shall not be moved in it. This I know."

"You do know me," James admitted.

Then Elizabeth's face set. "Rey has time only to tell us what he must. I will not share either of you with some spirit."

"Understood."

//...Officer Ortiz? We're here...//

//...Rey?...oh, I know...// Greg turned his eyes to the green awning and thought of Mayri.

...falling...dark...

'sir...thank you...both of you...'

'don't touch it...*careful*'

Greg opened his eyes and found himself at ground level. "Don't touch it, he says. Who the hell taught who how to handle evidence?" There, sunk into the pavement, half-covered in plaster...

The bullet that killed Rey Ortiz. The last thing he'd ever seen and the piece of evidence they'd never found.

"Greg? Is that..."

"Yeah, hon, it's me. Rey's...gone." It was a weird, bereft feeling and so they suppressed it ruthlessly. Cell phone out, speed-dialing...."Jill? 'S Greg. You need to get some guys over here - found something on an old case."

As he explained the parts that wouldn't get him committed, he heard Jack say, "Okay. We done with ghosts now?"

Will, sighing, "I don't know why we expected today to be any less strange than Halloween. I mean, we always were weirdness magnets. So, now what?"

Greg snapped his phone shut. "Well, I don't know about you all, but I'm starved. I could go with maybe ten tacos." He and the Commodore both enjoyed the stares that followed, they decided. He shrugged, gave a slight grin.

"Yeah," Liz said, smiling and sliding an arm about his waist. "No offense, Rey, but we're alive, and we're going to enjoy it. You go hang with your wife."

"Widow, technically," Jack pointed out.

"Jack! He could still *be* here."

"So what's your point?"

Greg let the conversation wash over him, hearing the Commodore speak.

//...that was not an easy thing...but it was well done, Greg...//

//...yeah. But, dammit...why can I give it up for him, for the job, for duty, and not for you? Only one other person I *want* walkin' in my skin, and I can't...James, I'm sorry...//

//...it will come...//

//...okay...//

But he had a few things he wanted to try in the meantime.

* * *

"So that's it?" Jack said, hanging back with Will, who watched him feign interest in a gold necklace that disappeared and reappeared in his hands a few times. Okay, maybe it was more than feigned, but still. "'I was possessed, let's go get tacos?'"

"'I was a skeleton, let's loot the treasure?'"

"*Entirely* different." Jack turned to the bracelets, eyeing one with squarish spiral links. "And the thing is, this isn't *it* either. The thing Pearl wanted me to know, or do, about Greg - it's still...not yet."

Turner was still so close, it took but an instant to confirm..."Our fires implied much the same." This time they'd consciously given Turner voice, to catch Jack's attention, and when he looked up, Will smiled, layering the look with both comfort and heat. Gratifying, the sharpening of Jack's focus down to him. Good. Byrd was beginning to show a penchant for brooding that Sparrow had rarely evidenced.

//...and that's my department...//

//...damn straight...//

"You know the problem with public places? They're just so...public." Oh yeah. Hooked. But nowhere to reel him in. Jack did have a point. Still, Will stepped close behind, running his hand over Jack's as it traced a bracelet, slowly.

"I haven't got a problem with public displays of affection."

"Yeah, but the authorities might have a problem with public throwing you down and fucking you senseless."

Oh, damn. Teasing worked both ways. And then there was Jack's hellacious competitive streak. Not to mention Jack's rear rubbing his...Will bit his lip, his other hand tightening on Jack's waist. Each turned their head slightly and shared a long kiss that left both with a little difficulty walking.

A low whistle interrupted them. Oddly enough, it wasn't Liz, but the jewelry vendor. The man with longish grey hair just smiled.

"Don't mind me. This is better than cable."

Will felt his cheeks warm just a bit. Public. Right.

//...shyer about some things then I, and yet sometimes so shameless...//

//...well, that's us, right? Captain Contradiction...//

The feeling from Turner was closest to an amused snort. Will smiled and sighed just a little when he felt Jack rub a small circle on his back, through his shirt. "Can you blame me?" Jack said, and Will felt him shrug.

"Not a bit, son. He got a brother?"

"...I think his dad is straight," Jack replied.

"Oh, ouch." But the man smirked anyway. "You look pretty good, but you're no spring chicken yourself, you know."

"Yeah, yeah."

They didn't end up buying anything, but Jack took a card and shoved it in his back pocket. As they turned to wander back to the northernmost food area, Jack slid a hand in Will's, then squeezed it and yelped. He spun and Will half-turned, only to find the vendor with his hands clasped innocently behind his back.

Will felt no impulse to defend Jack's honor. //...karma...// he thought, and Turner agreed, while Jack shot the man a cockeyed suspicious look, then led them back to Greg and Liz. Greg was downing a large spiced cocoa, and Will saw him eye Jack, who was rubbing his backside, with a look that clearly said, 'I don’t want to know.' Liz, though, eyed the offended area and reached over, while Jack shied back, making a great show of affront, Sparrow-style, arms akimbo.

"Elizabeth! What would yer fiancée say?"

"He's probably going to snicker into his cocoa. I think you sat on something."

"That one's just way too easy." He caught Will's eye and grinned.

"Seriously, though." Deft fingers plucked and she pulled away a tiny silver pin, a design worked on the end.

"I suppose I'm a pirate all over," Jack said with a shrug.

Norton frowned. "I did once swear to hang your thieving arse. I may have been fairly drunk at the time, but I don't believe I meant it literally." And oh, Will was glad he didn't have a mouthful of whatever went up Liz' nose at that one. He contented himself with just raising his eyebrows. Jack, of course, took it in stride, though he did look as though he was trying to work Jill into the conversation somehow to even things out. Greg's former colleague and ex-wife in this life had been a former *male* colleague in the last, though Will hadn't twigged to it till he'd seen her again. It was a little more obvious when one recalled her full name was Gillian.

Jack, meanwhile, pulled Will aside and murmured, "I don't recall him getting the last word quite so often before."

"Well, he grew up with two brothers this time. It's gotta count for something. And you did get all the best exit lines."

"Yeah, but today isn't really conducive to that sort of thing. I mean, getting possessed had nothing to do with me and I'm just glad it was a..."

"...friendly ghost?"

"Yeah. So, what am I going to say? 'You'll always remember this as the day you went shopping with...'"

"Hey, it's got a ring to it. And don't forget, we got some culture too." Culture that had turned creepy, sure, but still.

When they rejoined the conversation, Jack made one more attempt, which Will appreciated, though he knew it wouldn't work. "So, nobody's going to talk about oh, I don't know, Greg getting possessed by the spirit of a dead cop?"

"Look, Jack, no offense, but you, me, and close personal discussions don't really go together, okay?"

Jack shrugged as if to say he'd given it his best shot. Will, meanwhile, recalled Jack saying at his barbecue that they weren't friends, really. They shared a common characteristic, but how much was it worth? A twinge of sadness, and then...

//...hold to the faith you had then, my own self. believe that it shall be enough...//

Will closed his eyes and sighed, buoyed by Turner's resolve. //...thank you...//

//...whenever there be a need...// Oh, and that thought was laden with sensual energy...was he mistaken, or was Turner offering to switch just because Will got such a charge out of it...

//...no mistake...//

//...wow, you came a long way in a day...//

//...// Just a feeling, but a feeling of Turner wanting to help, to heal...

A hand on Will's shoulder started him from his reverie. "Hey, whenever you're done talking to yourself..."

"Oh, sorry, Liz."

"No problem. I know how it goes. Anyway, I hung onto that pin. I'm guessing you're a little too pirate to give it back, so..."

"Thanks," he said, eyeing the silver and starting a bit when he realized the design worked into the head was a tiny coyote. Head whipping around, he found the booth again, a block or two down, but he didn't see the vendor.

Not that he expected to.

//Huh,// he thought, pushing the pin through the end of the scarf he'd wrapped around his neck. And was it his imagination, or was that a yip in the distance?

* * *

Once everyone was done with lunch, they headed back down the fair and to the car, Greg waving again at Mayri Ortiz, Jack giving the altar pavilion as wide a berth as possible. Aztec dancers had taken up the open area at the beginning and all paused to eye the performers with their long-plumed headdresses. Eventually they left the press of the crowd, walking two two empty blocks back to the car.

Liz clicked open the doors and Jack slid in, heard a "Squeak," turned, and stared. There behind him was Hector the ferret, but Hector was now wearing a tiny black sombrero. It appeared to be affixed to his collar. He was also nibbling on a wheel of fried dough.

Jack nudged Will, who also turned and looked in the way-back.

"How do you suppose..."

"I have no idea."

Liz looked, and said simply, "That may be the cutest thing I've ever seen."

"He's housebroken, or he's earmuffs."

"Greg!"

* * *

Will and Jack were dropped back at Jack's house, and then Liz and Greg were home. She steered him up the stairs, straight to his kitchen table, poured him a shot of whiskey, and slid it over. He downed it with his eyes closed, then took her hands as she sat down.

"How are you, really?" she asked.

"Well, this whole Rey thing doesn't have me as messed up as the boys seem to think." He looked at her earnestly. "You'll understand when y' meet Mom at Thanksgiving. She raised me t' believe there's more out there than we see every day, that this kinda stuff happens, and more than we realize." One hand let go and found its way to stroke Liz' blonde hair. She leaned in with a sigh.

"I can't believe Jack thinks you're such a tightass." That same hand gave a playful swat and she kicked his ankle.

"I kinda am, hon, and if the Commodore's any indication, I come by it honestly. Still, doesn't mean I can't be open-minded." With his free hand, he pulled in a jar of cold cream and a cloth, and set about removing the paint. Liz grabbed a towel from the stove handle and put it around his neck to save the shirt.

"I'm sensing a gigantic 'but' hanging over this conversation."

"I'm sensing I could say something here that'd get me smacked."

Liz snickered. "I have a perfect 'but,' and don't change the subject. Level with me, baby."

"It's just...y'know, I helped train Rey Ortiz. I liked the guy. But it's not like we were close. And he just walks in and takes over, but me an' James...he can talk and that's it. He's okay with it; I think he's tryin' your Zen approach to the whole thing. We both know, though, that we need to find this balance within." He blinked. "See? That was him again. Liz, girl, this is killin' me, keepin' him back, and I don't know how to stop it."

"Are you certain it's yourself and not James? Perhaps it's an issue of timing, or accord between you both."

"I think it's me, beautiful," Greg answered Elizabeth. "An' Norrington's not pushing, so I've got to. I'm...we're...gonna try to do this the cowboy way. I'm getting my truck and headin' into the mountains with some food, a bottle of whiskey, and plenty of old-school Johnny Cash. And maybe something moody with a lot of strings. We still like that kinda stuff."

"You want to do this alone, don't you?"

Makeup mostly gone, hed hed her hands again. "Like I said, hon. The cowboy way."

"Okay. You go get in touch with yourselves. But you be home Sunday night."

"Wild horses couldn't drag us away."

* * *

Greg and Liz drove away, leaving Will and Jack on the doorstep. The two were touching constantly as Jack slid the key in thek. Sk. Something about the way his hand moved made the act almost obscene. Then they were inside and embracing, and Jack shivered. This turned Will on, of course, but the temperature of the other man's hands indicated it might not all be from passion.

"Hold a moment," Turner whispered through Smith's lips. "We've something we'd like to try that may warm you up." Slipping away, Will opened a bottle and a tin, and set a pot to heating. He heard the furnace kick on as he did so. "Okay, that'll work too."

"And then there's always body heat," Jack said, sliding up behind him, hardness evident against Will's back as he stood at the stove.

"We're getting there. But first..." Will pulled out a mug and poured. "Hot buttered rum."

"Oh my god. I love you."

"Me or the rum?"

"Still Byrd over here. So you by a hair."

"Cute."

"Hey, you set yourself up."

"Yeah," he allowed, pouring himself a mug. He took a sip, then unwound the scarf, slowly. Jack responded by undoing half his buttons. Shoes were next, then shirts entirely. Jeans came as they progressed, mugs in hand, to the bedroom. Mugs were emptied and set aside as Will came to rest on the bed, only his socks left on. He noticed, though, that Jack left his on too, and smiled. Then he put his arms about his lover and tried to pull him close, only to meet unexpected resistance.

And there, the unmistakable look of a plan on the once-pirate's face.

"Okay, what're you up to?"

"Well, it strikes me..." Sparrow's voice, teasing Will in such good places..."there's something we haven't done all the while we've been back, and I do recall us enjoying it thoroughly...

"Mmm?" Fingers tracing Jack's thigh, Will watching his length twitch at the contact.

Jack looked at him, pirate's grin on his lips. "Give us a show, love."

//...oh, yes...but...//

"As the captain bids, but would you mind us binding your hands, that you may not take matters into them?"

"Ah, hoped you'd forgotten that bit." But from his still-present smile, he really hadn't. Will slid from the bed to pull Jack's scarf from their pile of clothes. He bound Jack's hands to the bed-frame, with knots good enough to hold most men that weren't Captain Jack Sparrow. Still decent, though, for their indecent purposes.

Will stood back, took a moment to truly appreciate the sight before him. Jack bound and reclining on pillows, arms above his head. And somehow, Jack in bonds always seemed more in control than ever. It had to be his smile.

//...damn him...//murmured the part of Will that was Turner, but fondly.

//...yeah...let's see what we can do about that...//

They swung into the bed, reclining alongside and slightly lower down. //...now, I recall you wishing to yield...and I've an idea with that...// At Turner's urgings, Smith relaxed, drifted, felt his older self take his arms to the shoulders, and pull him back, current-like, to the rest.

//...oh...I get it...ohhh...// "Ohhh..." Will sighed, as his hands moved of his other self's volition.

//...well, you like to put yourself in my hands. So, put your hands in my hands, and I shall...//

"...mmm..." Hands his and not-his traced circles on Will's stomach, and his hips began moving, slowly, in counter time. Eyes opened again, lazily, and turned, to watch Jack watching him.

"Lad," he said, slightly hoarse, "Are you two doing what I think ye're doing?"

"Mm," Will assented, and heard him become Byrd again.

"That is so damn hot." And now Jack's neck was swaying, Sparrowlike, eyes fixed on Will's tip tracing its lazy, glistening circles. Turner moved their hands oh, so close, only to knead Will's thighs and make his other self whimper. This continued, one-handed, and the other hand was rising to his lips. Obligingly, Will sucked his own index finger slowly, hardness rising higher in sympathy.

Turner pulled their fingers away, their other hand from their thigh, and ran fingers and palms over their abdomen, nearing...nearing...not quite reaching...Will rolled his head side to side and ended watching Jack again. Jack was rigid now, breathing oh so hard, eyes tracking the movements of Will's hands. Every so often, cock, shoulders, or hips would twitch. Arms strained at their bonds.

One of Will's hands, now, straying just an inch or two, brushing Jack's thigh for a satisfying moan, then pulling back, and it was Jack's turn to whimper. That *sound...*

//...oh...now?...//

//...oh, yes...//

Turner took them in hand, beginning slowly. "Ahhh...yeah...mm..." Smith's voice lowered in pitch as Turner grasped tighter, sped up...Will's eyes slid shut, but he could still hear Jack's hard, heavy breath, hear the pine-log frame creak. Hands moving fast tight knowing what he liked, exactly what they liked, exactly how to oh..."Ohh...oh...nnh...ah...please...yes...ah...AH!"

Warmth, slick, pulsing all across his chest, and this had to be the first time he'd made himself come shouting.

"Ahhh..." he sighed, opening his eyes again, wiping himself with a pillowcase. Then he considered Jack.

Oh, yes. The look in his eyes, torn between sincere appreciation and bloody murder. Not to mention the manhood leaking and straining fit to burst.

Well, desperate times...Will crawled up Jack's side to low, guttural moaning, and positioned, hovered. Moaning became needy growls...and then Jack was silent, gasping, as Will swallowed him whole, shuddering, pulsing, and spilling down Will's throat in seconds.

"Gah..." from Jack, afterward, as he tried unwisely to speak. There wasn't much higher praise.

Will pulled away, wiping his mouth on that same pillowcase and tossing it over the side, then falling atop Jack in a sleepy embrace. They kissed, long and slow, with some of Jack's taste still on Will's tongue. "I ...guess," Jack yawned, once they broke apart, "that watching you wouldn't be near as much fun if ye both weren't such a damnable tease."

"You know you love it."

"Mm," Jack allowed, then flicked his fingers, twisted his wrists, and returned the embrace in kind.

* * *

Night fell on Will and Jack, abed early, only to wake ravenous later that eve.

Night fell on Liz, lifting weights and watching the Sopranos on DVD.

Night fell on a truck in the woods, door ajar, on a tent not unpacked, on a whiskey bottle leaking into the dirt, and on absolutely no one at all.

* * *