Taxes 4 - Die Hard with Pirates

The invitations were for a barbecue. On the surface, they seemed classic Jack flippancy, reading "Come, if you remember." But the recipients knew what he meant.

A free trip to Disneyland decoyed Monty and J.B. Bill went to visit friends in San Diego - he was on sabbatical this semester anyway, and pld tod to spend the rest it with various acquaintances, all in the Golden State within driving distance of his son.

Today was a call to pirates, politicians, and old soldiers, and they came, one and all, to Jack.

Gibson was one of the first there, with a bowl of potato salad. Annie Mae wasn't far behind, and the two fell to talking.

"I think the most disturbing thing is - you remember last year, when I wouldn't change my socks until the Buccaneers won the Superbowl?"

"Ugh. Tried to forget."

"Well, I'd just about convinced myself that was ridiculous and I was never going to do it again, and now..." Josh put his elbows on the back of Jack's couch and leaned forward, head down. "Not only does ~he~ think it's a great idea, but he's sure it did the trick! I'm going to be back on Prozac in a week, I know it."

"I know a counter," Jack said, handing Josh a rum and coke.

"Really?"

"Yep. No socks at all, 'till the Bucs do it again. Or the end of football season, whichever comes first."

Josh sipped the rum and coke. "Y'know, that might just do it." Pondered. "Not quite dress code, though."

"Well, your boss won't tell if you won't."

Annie rolled her eyes. "Don't encourage him."

"Y'all think you've got problems?" Greg, wandering in through the open screen door. "Who the hell am I supposed to root for at the Army/Navy game?"

"You tell me, Little Jimmy."

"Y'know, I wish I didn't remember that it takes a ship full of guys with bayonets t' shut you up, and that it only works for about ten minutes anyhow."

"What's that, there?" Will asked. Greg put down a foil-wrapped package, then turned to take another from Liz as she walked in.

"Ribs. Pre-seasoned. No offense, but I don't trust any of you to know good barbecue."

"Hey guys," Liz added. "Seriously. Give them a shot."

"Don't know what's worse," Annie Mae said from the couch. "British or Texan chauvinism."

"While I'm loath to admit it," and Norrington's voice made them all turn their heads, "the Texan variety comes with better food."

Now leaning with Will along the wall, Jack murmured, "I think those two are going to have a very interesting relationship. It's possible I might be in a little trouble here."

Will's mouth quirked. "Well, there's always the Jill factor."

"Aye, especially if what I suspected all those years was true, and I'm fairly seldom wrong about such matters." Will got his drift, and raised his eyebrows. "But that's me hole card. Use it too often, he'll see it coming, and it'll lose its effect, savvy?"

"Aye."

Liz, who'd been wandering around the kitchen, kicked a small, empty bowl on the floor. "Jack, did you get a pet?"

"Yep. I'll introduce you later. He's at the vet right now - be okay, but he got in a fight."

"Don't know why I'm not surprised. I'll bet he likes rum, too."

Pulling up at that moment in his silver Q45, Swan was the last to get there. He walked in with a bottle of what Jack recognized as *very* expensive rum - a host gift more than a party contribution. Of course, he also had a bottle of moderately expensive tequila. The modern half of Jack was mildly shocked that Warren endorsed his daughter's liking for margaritas, while the pirate approved wholeheartedly.

"Dad!" Liz hugged him, and Jack watched as she looked deeply into his eyes. Searching for signs of sleeplessness dou doubt. She'd been the one to tell them both that the Governor had awakened too, otherwise they might never had known it. The man was so controlled...and perhaps the most changed of them all. Weatherby Swann had been many things, including a surprisingly able administrator, but Jack had never considered him dangerous. Warren, on the other hand...from just the little Jack had gleaned working on the premises, his present life might just be summed up as "no more Mr. Nice Guy." Not that he wasn't a nice guy - he had, after all, brought alcohol.

"Jack?" Liz said. "I *know* you have a blender..."

* * *

Jack waited until they'd all had time to get drinks, 'till the ribs were on the grill, and they were all in his backyard enjoying the sunset and the unseasonably warm fall evening. He listened to Greg and Gibson get into a fairly good-natured argument about the relative merits of the Dallas Cowboys and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, and heard Annie Mae wonder out loud if this was a barbecue, a war council, or a support group.

Time to remind them all it was all of the above. Almost subconsciously, he slid an arm around Will's shoulders and cleared his throat.

"Okay. I'm only going to say this once, because it sounds stupid. We're all here today because I saw a monkey."

Absolutely no one laughed.

"I thought I'd seen something the night we..." Will blushed, looked away for a second, Liz smi ". "...woke up," he continued, "but the flashbacks were coming fast and furious then, and I think I wanted to ignore the possibility that it was real. Because there's really only one thing it could mean."

The smile was gone, and Elizabeth said, "Barbossa."

"Aye, Barbossa," Jack growled, all Sparrow for that instant. And those that weren't used to hearing it did stare a bit, as they had at Greg earlier. "We're all back, all here," he continued in modern tones, "and Will isn't the only one that wanted to ignore the possibility that we weren't the only ones."

"The two scalawags sacking Royal Inc. should have been enough of a hint, I suppose," said Gibson, or more properly, Gibbs, and he was the one to get the looks this time. "It was on his orders, then?"

"I don't think so," Jack said, "at least, not directly, if only because Ragetti or whoever he is now was as floored by the whole monkey thing as I was."

"Robbie," Greg put in. "Jill let me watch some of the interrogations. Pintoli didn't give him up, but one of the gang let the name slip."

"Do they remember too?" asked Annie.

"No," said Liz, confidently. "I'd know. I think I've got a sense for these things. Dad didn't tell me. I took one look at him and I knew." She shrugged. "Maybe wearing that medallion for eight years did something to me - like working next to a reactor and having kids with six toes or something."

"You always did kind of think outside the box, didn't you?" Gibson put in.

"At any rate," Jack continued, "History's repeating, if in weird, twisted ways..."

"I'll say," Annie Mae broke in. "You didn't steal my car, this time, but it's as dead as me boat was."

"And while we know some of it's fate," He gestured, elaborately, at Annie, "Like that, I have to think that some of it may be design."

"Hard to tell, isn't it?" Swan said, and everyone looked at him, not because he sounded any different, but because these were the first words he'd spoken, save to Liz. Jack suspected he'd been saving them, so as to sound profound. "Either way, though, I think I know who he is."

Well. If he had been saving his speech for dramatic effect, Jack approved.

"Liz GregGreg may have figured it out already. A tycoon and a recluse, no pictures of him that I've found. The man's name is Ross, or at least, it is now." He explained, briefly, what else he'd put together, as he'd shared it with Liz and Greg that night, and Jack held up a hand.

"Eden Corp., you said." Focus tightened, Swan returned the gaze. "What's his first name?"

"Hernando. Hernando Ross."

Jack put his drink down. "It's him." Then he looked at the drink, took it back up, and drained it. "It's him, and he remembers."

"How do you figure?" Gibson asked.

Will had come to it at the same time. "Eden. Apples, temptation...and there was another famous Hernando, once upon a time."

Jack's hand, outstretched, caught the group's attention. He explained with one word. "Cortez."

"So," Annie Mae said, "what do we do about it?"

"...I'll come to it presently."

* * *

"Ah," Jack said, back on the patio after all the guests had gone, his arm around his Will again. "That was everything I'd hoped."

"But we didn't resolve anything. Barbossa's still out there somewhere, probably powerful and filthy rich, possibly coming for us again, and none of us have any idea of what to do about it."

"Yes, but we're *talking.* The one thing we couldn't do, back then - could a pirate truly coordinate and communicate with a commodore without one of us being in irons? Even though we're not all friends, really..."

"We did a pretty good imitation tonight, though."

"That was partly the strangeness of everything and the novelty of having people who understand it."

"Which may be our saving grace," Will said thoughtfully. "We've got that to connect us all this time. And...other things, I think, maybe things we haven't remembered yet. So much is still so vague, even when we're Turner and Sparrow."

"Speaking of which, you promised to fill me in later. I'd love to take that the naughty way, but it's been a few days and you haven't brought it up. What was that...thing that happened when I switched, that made you change too?"

"Give me a moment," Will said, taking a breath. Jack watched, truly *watched* the transition this time, and it was sublimely sensual. All of Will stretching almost imperceptibly, a subliminal roll of every muscle as his body language changed, filled with the blacksmith's grace and fire. Jack was rock-hard and at attention immediately, and then he felt it.

It was an ache in his bones, like the sea longing. A need, suddenly, to be Jack Sparrow once more and see the world with that skewed vision, to yield himself to those passions. To be Will's mad pirate again. It *itched,* and it was getting worse, and he wanted, and he always took what he wanted, and he readied himself, felt his other self ready...

"Hold, Byrd," said Will Turner, and Jack heard, listened. A shivery feeling from Sparrow, within, but especially since that wonderful, horrible weekend, he would never go against his other's will. Or his own Will...

"You see," said Turner, "We're linked, in our aspect. When I come forth, it pulls forth my captain, and the other way as well. It's resistible, but not pleasant. I feel it too."

"I know," Jack said. Partly, it was the bond between them, made manifest. "The others aren't like this. Not even Liz and Greg. It's only when we truly, completely change drivers, but...nnh. It's just dissonant. Off, somehow. I wonder why..." Now, it was becoming fascinating, though, like poking at a sore tooth.

"Perhaps there is no "why" to it - it may just be the way of things. And it may be that it will ease in time, or that we may find a remedy, if we need. But I think in part it is how we woke one another, and why, that weekend, I went as far away as my Jack."

"Will said it was because he was angry - he shut you out."

"That was what he thought at the time, but we like this theory now." His breathing grew deeper, and his hands twitched. Jack *knew* Will wanted to touch him, wanted it badly, but feared to drive matters out of anyone's control. It was up to him, then...

"I think that understanding more can wait, don't you?"

"Oh, *yes,*" Turner breathed. "Come, my captain..."

Shift. Rush. *Sway.*

"Oh, I fully intend to," he grinned, "but I'm hoping we'll arrive together, or near enough. Now, are ye going to fill me in or not?"

Will tackled him, bearing them both off the patio and onto the grass. Well, and it was a lovely evening. Night. Oh, oh, my...

//...my thoughts exactly...//

Will kissed him hard, so hard, they rolled just a little to one side and he smelled warm, moist earth. They had a moment each to gasp, and then he said,

" 'S what I love about ye, lad. You keep me grounded."

Will's groan began annoyed and became ardent as Jack reached inside loose jeans to grasp him firm, tight. Hands to his hips, Will pushed his jeans down and off, not bothering with the buttons. He moaned beautifully into Jack's mouth, started thrusting slightly, and then came to himself just a little. In his ear, Jack murmured, "Such a pity I'm wearing button-fly myself - you can't undo it with your teeth."

"Can't I?" Oh, the lad had always been a sucker for a challenge, but the sight was more than Jack had expected. Almost, he came just from the intermittent pressure-heat and from watching that mouth move. Will blew softly on the revealed flesh and his eyes gleamed at the resultant whole-body shudder. He smiled, and had one finger inside before Jack really knew what happened.

"Y'cheated." He smiled. "Good lad."

And now (now !?) Will was taking his time. His other hand reached up to trace lazy circles on Jack's chest while the finger within crooked, pressed...Jack pushed back on it, eyes hazing out for just an instant. Long, lingering kiss this time as two fingers ... mm. He felt oddly lazy himself, and rode Will's attentions like he'd ride the sea. Ah, the third merited Will's warm and beautiful lips and he rocked slowly forth and back and then...abandoned, so briefly yet he felt the loss so keen..."Now," he growled, and Will replied, "As you wish," with an impish grin and where had he seen that smile before? He pressed in slowly...so slowly...too slowly and Jack could not speed it for the blacksmith's hands held him to the soft, green-scented grass...oh, this would not do - he shivered, quite obviously and deliberately, beginning with his toes and not ending 'till he'd gone to his fingertips and .
.

Will's eyes widened, and efforts at slow and tender torture went to naught. Jack smiled bright as the man worked him hard into the grass, thrusting faster and faster as Jack worked his hips around. Yet somehow, somehow even maddened with hands digging in turf, the lad had the presence of mind to twist in that way he had, or maybe it was natural and OH- THERE! Sudden, so sudden, nuddeudden at all, up and back and in and yes, please - oh, this always happened...so, he thought with perfect clarity, why fight it? Gave it up, all of it, felt himself tighten as Will rocked all through him, and he smelled Will and the earth and the black of the night sky...then the moon filled his eyes and he cried a familiar name.

Will came an instant later, then took his name back with a kiss.

* * *

Just a bit later, after a shower, tender and erotic but both men too exhausted to do more than wash one another, Jack Byrd found himself on his couch, a low fire going, rum to his right. Sparrow had left him a bit of a buzz, but he took another pull to mellow the weird empty/fullness he felt in the pirate's wake.

//...no fears, me own self. I'm here yet...//

//...I know...// And Jack felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire or the alcohol. It was not long, though, before he fell back into a contemplative mood. By and by, seized by an ime, he, he stood and took his guitar down from the wall. He placed it on his lap, strummed softly.

"I was a highwayman, along the coach roads I did ride ..."

* * *
Elsewhere, Greg Norton stood on his balcony, grey sweat pants his only protection from cooling night air.

* * *

"With sword and pistol by my side..."

* * *

Eyes closed, he sought the quiet, steady core that he'd only just become able to name.

//...Norrington...//

Inhaling deeply as he felt the contact.

//...here...//

He stood for long seconds, just feeling and remembering. Then...

//...I'm glad...I am, y'know. you're like...the answer to a question I didn't even know I was askin'...//

//...though, I know I leave more questions in my wake...// the Commodore's thought felt almost apologetic. Greg smiled a second, letting him know it was all right.

//...not all important as knowing you, finally...but there's one...something...one outta so many memories we can't quite see yet...//

* * *

"Many a young maid lost her baubles to my trade..."

* * *

//...we are the keeper of a secret, you and I. I sense this, though I do not know what it is. there is a memory of profound power and sadness over which we hold charge...// Norrington replied.

//...yeah. I can feel it too. what do we do about it?...//

//...nothing, I think, for now. if it is needed, it will unlock first within us. our duty, though we know it not...//

"Greg," came Liz's voice from within. "Come to bed." And he came back to himself slowly, opening his eyes, but he took too long, for next, low and oh, so warm...

"James. Come to bed, my love."

No choice but to obey that call. His will was hers. "Elizabeth, you are a siren. I can deny you nothing."

As she took him to her bed, all memories but those of her scent, her touch, her utter warmth, faded into the background.

* * *

Elsewhere, Jack sang on.

"Many a soldier shed his lifeblood on my blade...The bastards hung me in the spring of twenty-five,
but I am still alive..."

* * *

END TAXES 4
TMF

Credits and references:

Jack is singing "The Highwayman" by The Highwaymen. Find it here: http://www.thesonglyrics.com/h_song_lyrics/highwaymen_lyric1.html .
We may be seeing this song again :).

The sort of pranks Jack and Josh got up to in college can be found here: http://hacks.mit.edu/ . There are some great ones - the one with the dean's - actually President's - office is here: http://hacks.mit.edu/Hacks/by_year/1990/vest_bboard/ - I think the timing might even work.

This fic contains a couple of references to Gundam Nymph's story "Sea Longing (located on her aff.net author page at http://adultfan.nexcess.net/aff/authors.php?no=4525)." One of them's obvious, the other one's not quite as. Can you spot them?

Gundam Nymph's also my Beta - Thanks muchly as always, GN!

Speaking of references, I did, in fact, have permission to rip off Sinister_Beauty's best LJ icon text *ever* - Jack saying "I will fuck your shit up, savvy?" Thanks SB!

Cleo came up with Anamaria's line about the boat/car/spaceship. Thanks Cleo!

Visual Help:

I've decided that Warren Swan, corporate mogul, looks an awful lot like Jonathan Pryce playing the Bond villain/ corporate mogul in Tomorrow Never Dies. So, Warren looks a lot like this:
http://jamesbond007.net/advers/ECarver.html , or, slightly less sinister: http://www.geocities.com/ultimatejbwebsite/carver.html

Yes, he drives an Infiniti. :) Yes, I'm old enough to remember those commercials. ;)

Also, I think we'll have Bootstrap / Professor William Smith, Sr. played by Anthony Stewart Head of Buffy, because he's just so damn cool.
Here he is after getting off the plane from Boston: http://buffyworld.senet.com.au/content/images/full/giles/ash01.jpg