Tar And Ember
folder
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male › Jack/Will
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
1,254
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male › Jack/Will
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
1,254
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
The PotC franchise belongs to Disney et al. I make no profit out of using their characters here, monetary or otherwise.
Tar And Ember 10 - Memories
Memories
Will woke up in the middle of the night, the nightmare too tangible to pass as such - what it felt like, was an epiphany. Something was about to happen, and the longer he stared into the darkness, the sweaty sheets clinging to his skin, the more elusive his memory of the dream became.
Fast, passing, fleeting images of burning houses. Of Jack standing before their home, face slack and emotionless, except for his eyes spelling despair and…insanity.
Turning, evening his breath, Will smoothed a hand over the covers under which laid his lover of fifty years.
Eyes slowly accommodating the meager light slithering through the crack between the curtains, Will scrutinized the sleeping beauty of Jack. Peaceful, his eyes lightly shut, and a small smile in the corner of his mouth. Will didn’t have the heart to wake the man to ask him the question which burned inside his hollow chest.
Taking a deep breath, Will banished the lingering terror by rolling to his side and wrapping his arm around Jack’s waist, the comfort of his presence finally lulling Will back into the gentle arms of Hypnos.
--------
The flames burned almost as hot as the ones consuming Jack when he stood too close to the fire, watching with little interest as the conflagration ate everything on its greedy path.
Eyes unfocused, gleaming, Jack’s face was decorated by a crooked smile. His mind lost in too many ways to mention.
It was him who started the fire, the very net day Will had left back to the seas beneath seas, leaving behind a rusty, brittle heart which struggled to beat for them both.
It was better to burn it all. Better to turn it into ashes, the same that Jack could taste in his mouth when he walked along the beach, down the road, around the corner, and into the empty house.
Terrified people running here and there, the fire spreading along with Jack’s smile. Motionless, he stared, smelling the burning wood, beneath which he could the whisper of the fire.
The sounds of paper crackling in the heat woke him from his trance, his breath hitching as he clenched his fists, startled of what he’d done.
The letter. He’d forgotten about the letter.
And Will had trusted him to keep it safe. Trusted him. Called him a good man more times Jack could count, and this is how he repaid him? Allowing his own need to put the past behind overcome his reason, gone far enough to destroy the one thing Will had sworn to keep and to hold.
Jack relaxed his hands again. None of it mattered. Not anymore. Not now, when this was what he wanted. Someone else would have to wait for the Captain. For Jack Sparrow, even eternity was too short.
------------
Captain Turner woke up in the middle of the night, the smell of burning wood and more filling his nostrils, raising him from his sweaty sheets, forcing him to rush on deck in panic.
‘No smoke‘, his half-awakened brain informed. ‘The Dutchman doesn’t burn.’ Still, the smell lingered.
In a debilitating swoop, his mind took over, flashing images before his eyes; Of Jack, of fires, of bristling, boiling words on a piece of parchment. Words of Jack’s love burning away.
Until it was no more.
------------
The smoke long since vanished, new sprouts of grass taking over the ground where their house once stood, stood a lonesome man too, holding in his hand a silver ornament which had once decorated a pirate’s hair. He’d worn it as a token, and passed it on as a token of something else. Something fire shouldn’t burn.
Still, there stood a man, on the ruins of love, burned too hot, too fast, too perfect to stay.
Slowly, Will stepped on a blackened stone, dangling the trinket between his fingers, and dropped it - grabbing it again right before it hit the ground.
Determinately, he wrapped his fingers around the silver edges, in that moment learning something about himself; ”I'll wait for you,” he shifted his weight from one leg to another, scoffing at his own thoughts. ’I know you'll never come home, but I’ll wait for you.’
Will turned to leave, the flair of a captain returning on each step. ‘You’ll find me,’ he thought, glancing at the sea glimmering in the distance. ‘and where I am, there you’ll find home.’
--------------
Will woke up in the middle of the night, the nightmare too tangible to pass as such - what it felt like, was an epiphany. Something was about to happen, and the longer he stared into the darkness, the sweaty sheets clinging to his skin, the more elusive his memory of the dream became.
Fast, passing, fleeting images of burning houses. Of Jack standing before their home, face slack and emotionless, except for his eyes spelling despair and…insanity.
Turning, evening his breath, Will smoothed a hand over the covers under which laid his lover of fifty years.
Eyes slowly accommodating the meager light slithering through the crack between the curtains, Will scrutinized the sleeping beauty of Jack. Peaceful, his eyes lightly shut, and a small smile in the corner of his mouth. Will didn’t have the heart to wake the man to ask him the question which burned inside his hollow chest.
Taking a deep breath, Will banished the lingering terror by rolling to his side and wrapping his arm around Jack’s waist, the comfort of his presence finally lulling Will back into the gentle arms of Hypnos.
--------
The flames burned almost as hot as the ones consuming Jack when he stood too close to the fire, watching with little interest as the conflagration ate everything on its greedy path.
Eyes unfocused, gleaming, Jack’s face was decorated by a crooked smile. His mind lost in too many ways to mention.
It was him who started the fire, the very net day Will had left back to the seas beneath seas, leaving behind a rusty, brittle heart which struggled to beat for them both.
It was better to burn it all. Better to turn it into ashes, the same that Jack could taste in his mouth when he walked along the beach, down the road, around the corner, and into the empty house.
Terrified people running here and there, the fire spreading along with Jack’s smile. Motionless, he stared, smelling the burning wood, beneath which he could the whisper of the fire.
The sounds of paper crackling in the heat woke him from his trance, his breath hitching as he clenched his fists, startled of what he’d done.
The letter. He’d forgotten about the letter.
And Will had trusted him to keep it safe. Trusted him. Called him a good man more times Jack could count, and this is how he repaid him? Allowing his own need to put the past behind overcome his reason, gone far enough to destroy the one thing Will had sworn to keep and to hold.
Jack relaxed his hands again. None of it mattered. Not anymore. Not now, when this was what he wanted. Someone else would have to wait for the Captain. For Jack Sparrow, even eternity was too short.
------------
Captain Turner woke up in the middle of the night, the smell of burning wood and more filling his nostrils, raising him from his sweaty sheets, forcing him to rush on deck in panic.
‘No smoke‘, his half-awakened brain informed. ‘The Dutchman doesn’t burn.’ Still, the smell lingered.
In a debilitating swoop, his mind took over, flashing images before his eyes; Of Jack, of fires, of bristling, boiling words on a piece of parchment. Words of Jack’s love burning away.
Until it was no more.
------------
The smoke long since vanished, new sprouts of grass taking over the ground where their house once stood, stood a lonesome man too, holding in his hand a silver ornament which had once decorated a pirate’s hair. He’d worn it as a token, and passed it on as a token of something else. Something fire shouldn’t burn.
Still, there stood a man, on the ruins of love, burned too hot, too fast, too perfect to stay.
Slowly, Will stepped on a blackened stone, dangling the trinket between his fingers, and dropped it - grabbing it again right before it hit the ground.
Determinately, he wrapped his fingers around the silver edges, in that moment learning something about himself; ”I'll wait for you,” he shifted his weight from one leg to another, scoffing at his own thoughts. ’I know you'll never come home, but I’ll wait for you.’
Will turned to leave, the flair of a captain returning on each step. ‘You’ll find me,’ he thought, glancing at the sea glimmering in the distance. ‘and where I am, there you’ll find home.’
--------------