Next of Kin

RATING: R (Will progress into NC-17 much later)
ARCHIVE: Anyone is more than welcome to archive any of my stories at
any time as LONG as I'm asked first and given a link to the site.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own, don't sue.
WARNINGS: Slash (der), slight character bastardization but not AU,
slight OOC on Jack's part but that's explained, future sexual
situations, violence and non-con sex. Language may become an issue.
REVIEWS: Any reviewer with sensible comments and/or constructive
critism will be granted a request for a fiction. I will email you
personally (so leave your e-address) to ask for thecifecifications
you wish to have in the story. Note, I am only doing requests for
PotC and I only do slash (of course).

~*~
{Prologue}

The rolling sea was such a comforting sight, gentle waves beating
against an old shoree wie with the broad sails of grand ships
trekking across its horizon carelessly. It soothed many distraught
souls, but on a morning such as this it was unable to cure the
disease that plagued one Will Turner's spirit. The boy recently
turned man stood alone on the wall that surrounded a great home, a
home that housed his once thought true love and her father, but he
could not comprehend it's existence at that moment. He was lost in
the depths of his musings; eyes half-lidded and fogged with a
painful realization.

Truth was inescapable, because if you ever ran from it, it would
always find you, even in death. The misery that had overcome William
was something he could not avoid, nor was it something he wanted to
refuse to believe was there, because he'd based his life around
honor and that included honesty. He'd always been the voice of
reason, someone to look to as a hero for his most recent adventure,
but lately he had begun to think that it was all just some front for
what really lay beneath. His confusion had led him to what he
wanted, but it had turned face up to reveal something he did not
like. Elizabeth had played him.

He had become her puppet, and because of his blind love for the
woman who had saved his life, he'd given her his all without
question. She'd needed a reason to get away from regulation, away
from repetition, and she'd taken William as her outlet for temporary
freedom without any real hesitation. She used him not only for an
excuse to rebel, because it was natural for her age to want to do
so, but because he made himself her toy willingly, thinking only of
the benefits that they would have as a couple if he won her over.
But it had happened upon him too late that he found this out.

Maturity was a curse to Will, ignorance being his bliss for the past
year after Elizabeth had taken him into her hospitality, but now
that everything had been set firmly into it's rightful place he
didn't want to be here any longer. He was not needed now that
his `love' had taken back on the Commodore's proposal, even after
all this time. This news, having perplexed him for a good month or
so, had led him to Elizabeth's father, where he found that she had
been re-engaged to the other man for just over a half a year. Her
father had boldly said she had wanted security, and that being with
a desant ant of piracy gave her nothing but company when what she
deserved was the world. Thus, officially labeling him an outcast
from the Swan household and any relations to their doings.

A deep, saddened sigh escaped William with the breeze that pulled at
his hair, tugging at the band that held it securely at the nape of
his neck before he turned to the flight of stairs behind him. They
led him to the grass on the outside of the gates, before he made the
slow journey back to his former home in the town. He'd been moved in
with Elizabeth, as per her request, but now as he resolutely left
the familiarity of the estate he felt the bindings of deceit
unraveling from around him.

He came upon the old blacksmith shop, itbuilbuilding reduced to
rubble and its business long since closed, and had to smile up at
its presence bitterly. After he'd resigned from the and mnd mastery
of the work it had been economically ruined, his former master a
drunk who could never finish a piece of work without destroying
something, and the entire shop had to be sold for the man to be able
to keep his shack of a cottage and his liquor. It disgusted Will to
know he'd been the only one keeping the place running, even though
he'd been the apprentice, but it also gave him a sense of freedom.
Once everything had been settled Elizabeth had torn him from his
duties here to bid to her callings personally, and in that small way
Will thanked her now, because he was bound to absolutely nothing.

His walk through the waking streets led him to the smallest port in
the poorest part of the town, his feet taking him out onto the docks
to where an old man sat fishing. His name was Dillard Winston, an
African American slave thad had been released to Port Royal some
twenty years ago to live freely. He had been a frequent customer to
William, his order always the same three sets of shoes for his
ageing stallion who'd passed away just last year or so. He was a
kindly old man just the same; quiet and reserved but wise none-the-
less and always someone Will could talk to on rare occasions. His
presence roused the man's attention, and his head rose as his black
eyes opened and a broad, toothy smile immediately overcame Dillard's
face.

"G'mornin'." He crowed in a rustic, cracked voice that was common
for people who were awakis eis early. Will grinned gently, a genuine
gesture this time.

"Good morning, Dill. Catch anything yet?" He asked, taking a seat on
a vacant wooden stool next to his companion. Dill chuckled
heartedly.

"Wha do yah think?"
"I guess I know then."

Silence fell after that, the two men watching the sunrise over the
vast expanse of ocean and the boats and patrol ships that dotted it.
Nothing was needed to be said, it never was necessary until
something drastic came around to add drama or excitement and rouse
conversation. The two had similar pasts, they understood each other
on a level neither wanted to tamper with, and it had stayed that way
since they'd first met.

No matter the tranquility though, watching the rise and fall of the
water breathing pitched William back into his troubled thoughts, his
expron bon blank even as his eyes swam with emotion, unfocused to
the world in front of him. Dillard was old, but he wasn't blind, and
after checking the lines to his barrels and hooks he sighed towards
the man next to him with his eyes still on his poles.

"Yah don' b'long ere Will. Yer meant fer `er."

William didn't reply, he had nothing to say and Dillard had meant
for his statement to create that kind of impact. `Her' was not
Elizabeth; `Her' was the sthe the Goddess of the oceans and her
everlasting, astounding beauty. Will carried a respect for Her that
no one in this town could compare with except Dill, but even then
the man had admitted to everyone and himself he could no longer keep
up with her energy.

"I never used to pay attention to Her before, you know? Now it seems
as if I've lost Her, even though we're still so close."
"It's in yer blood, son."
"I know, Dill. But I can't find Her, and it hurts in a way I can't
explain."
"But yah can esplane. I can."

Will turned his eyes to the man's wide black gaze, the corners
crinkled into long crowfeet even though he was not smiling. Dillard
nodded gently, sending encouragement to his young friend and hoping
the man took it.

"I need a boat." Will said finally.
"Yah need a ship."
"I don't have one."
"Sure yah do. It's rite there."

Dill jerked a thick thumb over his shoulder at a moderate sized
boat, rusty in color but floating proudly with the wake of the port.
It was Dillard's personal mini-ship, the one he'd bought to sail
here when he'd first been freed, the one he used to fish on and the
same one he hadn't moved in almost a decade because he didn't want
to mar the perfect surface of the seas with his age. William said
nothing when he stood to study the vessel, its size enough for one
person to manage by himself but still large enough to travel across
great expanses and withstand a smaller storm.

"She d'serves yah, son. Take good care of `er a'ight?"
"I will."

No thanks were needed, no verbal `farewells' and no long last
glances to the past. William's first step onto the deck of that boat
gave him power, a force so strong it took him and the pieces of his
soul out to the sunlit waters of the ocean with the shrinking image
of Port Royal vanishing from sight, and his life.

It was in thamentment in time that the world finally began to spin
again after so long, and Will's blood rushed to life in his ears. He
smiled, a true, authentic smile, at the thought of him following in
his father's footsteps. He felt like a newborn pirate, and that
sudden emotion cleared his system, so that he could face the Goddess
of the Seas with a pride that mirrored no other man, except one
friend that he'd lost, but had never forgotten. It was that memory
of that particular man that sparked the fire of a better future
within the blacksmith, and William Turner's eyes took on that much
more life.

~*~

TBC

~*~

If there is ever anything in my stories that confuses you, tell me
in a review and I will clarify.