Here's Luck to You (6/6)
By Honorat
Rating: K
Disclaimer: Aye, Disney doesn't allow anyone else to make a profit, but we're not tryin' to make a profit, are we?
Summary: Jack and Will in the Dauntless' brig have a conversation about the past. Sixth and final in a series of significant events in the lives of Bootstrap Bill and Jack Sparrow with a cameo by Will. This was supposed to be a drabble for the "lucky charm" challenge at Black Pearl Sails.
Thanks to the peerless beta editing of geekmama2, this is much better than it was
6. Here's Luck to You
His Black Pearl was gone—again. And with her, hope had fled. Captain—yes he was still her captain—Captain Jack Sparrow leaned back against the bulkhead of the Dauntless, knees pulled up, hands hanging limply across them and stared dully through the bars of the brig. The view, in the light of the single swaying lantern, was singularly uninspiring. He closed his eyes and concentrated on feeling the swell of the sea under the ship's decks. It was beginning to look like he was shortly doomed never to feel it again—on the Black Pearl or any other ship for that matter. The motion soothed him a little, each rise and fall like the beating of his heart, a rhythm to which his soul moved.
He had never believed that he would die on land. If he thought about it at all, he had always imagined he would die with his Pearl—in the glorious conflagration of battle, in the cold slide into the dark violence of a storm, or if he should predecease her, at least with his life's blood draining out onto her decks, soaking into her timbers, becoming a part of her soul. But now it looked like the "short drop and a sudden stop" was his fate, Elizabeth's Commodore seeming hellbent on ridding the Caribbean of pirates in general, and Jack Sparrow in particular. He snorted to himself and smiled. His lovely little rum-burner was likely to make the Commodore suffer for that decision. Good. He hoped she'd blow up his powder magazine—the bloody little pyromaniac—or better yet, his wine cellars.
Jack was too damned sober to think straight. He wished he had some of that rum Elizabeth had incinerated. A man needed a little blurring between himself and the clear sharp lines of the gallows etched against the grey sky of his mind.
Since his own mind was proving to be such bad company, Jack turned to the other occupant of the cell. Not that young Will Turner looked to be in any condition to provide cheerful conversation. Right blue-deviled he was. Not particularly surprising.
Will seemed to become aware that he was an object of scrutiny.
"Jack?" he asked softly. He did not look up. Hadn't really met Jack's eyes since he'd caught that tossed sword in the treasure cave.
"Aye?"
"Why wasn't my father marooned on that island with you?"
Jack had asked himself that question a thousand times. That decision—it had seemed like the right one at the time—had cost Bill his life. But through all of his self-recrimination, Jack could not see how they could have made any other choice. And now Bill's orphaned son wanted to know why his father hadn't escaped Barbossa as his captain had. On second thought, Jack decided he'd rather contemplate being hanged.
But now Will turned to pin him to the wall with those dark eyes that reincarnated Bill every time Jack looked at them. He couldn't evade this truth.
"Tryin' to obey his captain's last orders, son—something along the lines of 'I know it's difficult for you, Bill, but stay here and try not to do anything stupid.' He had a wife and kid, see." Jack said, attempting a light tone. Unfortunately Bill hadn't been any better at that than his son was.
Jack expected some kind of accusation, some blame or anger to match his own self-judgment, but instead, Will winced at the memories those words recalled. After a long silence he glanced up at the pirate. "I'm sorry, Jack."
"For what?"
"For hitting you over the head."
"'S alright, son. All my friends do."
Will looked startled, and Jack let out a breath that might have been a laugh and might not. He closed his eyes. I couldn't save you, Bill, but I've saved your son.
Jack's hand drifted up to brush the amulet in his hair. Here's luck to you, Bill Turner. Coming to a decision, he worried the knot free and unwound the leather cord from the ratted strand. Will was watching him, puzzled. Jack retied the cord so the charm could be worn around the neck again. He held it out to the boy.
"What is it?" Will asked, taking the warm ivory in his hand.
"It's a gift. From your father. He would have wanted you to have it. It always brought him luck."
The End.
Thank you for the review MeraSparrow. I'm happy my ideas work for you. I do love answering my own questions in these fics.
Welcome again, oh faithful reviewer, Captain Tish. It's lovely to hear from you again. Poor Bootstrap is doomed never to make that journey to Jack's island. The next day he sends away that medallion and Barbossa gets him before he can get away. Thanks also for your kind words about the art. Drawing is an obsession for me. I'm glad you're enjoying these. This will be the last one of this series. I hopeWorthy of His Steel will be ready to post soon.