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And Taxes 10 - The Mad Fangirl

Title: Taxes 7: The Holiday Season

Author: The Mad Fangirl - batya_93@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, savvy?

Rating: NC-17

Arrrrchive: Yes, please - just tell me where.

Pairings: W/J, A/K (sorta - you'll see)
Warnings: Hot guy-guy slashy action; i.e. men having graphic sex with
other men. Also, for those that avoid such things, there are het
references. Nothing graphic, though, and it's only to serve the greater
good of the slashy plot, I swear!

X-Posted to the usual J/W oriented suspects.

Summary and Notes:

Hi all! Okay, Taxes 7, at least the main story, did not want to get up
to X-Mas week itself, even though it was meant to be the holiday fic. I
tried for a while to whip it into shape but it stubbornly resisted, and
then started saying, "thank you, ma'am, can I have another?" I found
that to be just a bit disturbing, so I let up, and the fic smirked at
me. I backed away slowly. Thus, here we have a couple of loosely
connected Taxverse vignettes, taking place the week before X-Mas, 2003.
I do have a bunch more holiday-themed material, so I may just use it to
back-fill, eventually, doing snippets from the actual festive week
itself. I mean, y'all gave me some fun ideas for presents and events,
and I'd really like to get to some of them...at some point...Maybe it'll
be Christmas in July ;). I also do want to move on to the OUATIM xover
and other fun stuff, though, so we'll see what develops.

You'll want to have read Taxes 5A before this fic - Taxes 1-6 and the
Valentines' day special can be found somewhere around here, and also at
Melethryn's "High Seas" archive, specifically
http://www.melethryn.net/HighSeas/author4.html#madfangirl. You can check
out the Pet Shop of Horrors Xover snippet here:
http://www.livejournal.com/community/pirategasm/432749.html .

* * *

BTVS Continuity Notes: After the series finale, natch. Most of the gang
has spread out across the globe; Giles has sent Andrew ahead to Europe,
but hasn't yet moved himself. Giles has decided to stick around central
California to coordinate everyone's Federal disaster relief payments
(great Sunnydale quake, don'tcha know) and host the X-mas gathering. He
will probably keep the house available to Slayers and other Scoobies
passing through. Buffy has not yet found out that Spike is back.

* * *

POVs this episode: Will, Will, Jack, Jack, Buffy

* * *

Taxes 7: The Holiday Season

Part 1: My Dinner with Giles

* * *

Along the coastal highway, Christmas lights were beginning to pepper
hillside homes and the odd palm tree. Tinsel wreathed the signs marking
cities and harbor towns. There were trees in most windows, though many
of the trees were bare. As the moon rose on a particular mid-December
evening, Will and Jack were on the road, heading to the first of several
social engagements for the season.

"So you know and I know this whole dinner's a setup so he can pump us
for information on the curse."

"Yep." Will took a turn at prodigious speed and Jack compensated, but
leaned into Will anyway. The younger man continued, "So, how much do you
want to tell him?"

"Well, frankly, I can't see any good reason for holding much back. We
don't know where any of the elements are - Barbossa's got them all. And
this guy seems to be on the right side, what with the whole Halloween
incident."

"You mean his horny jackass sorcerer of an ex?"

"Right. So, while I can't say I trust him-"

"-or anyone else..."

"-or anyone else, save you," Jack went on, "I see a good bit of gain
possible without a whole lot of risk. And that's all of me talking."

"Sounded like it. Your accent kinda wavered."

"Yeah, huh. I mean, this guy seems to be fairly clued into magical
goings-on, and we'd like to be, right?"

"Because if we aren't, it'll bite us in the ass again, even though it
might anyway..."

"Mm-hm. And, since our friend Miles-"

"-Giles."

"Right. What'd I say?" Jack blinked. "See, this is what happens when I
meet people as Sparrow..."

//...Aye, but me incredible personal magnetism compensates...//

Will spared a glance from the road. "What'd he say?"

"Never mind."

"'Sokay. I can guess."

"Anyway, since our friend Giles wants to do some holiday entertaining
and incidentally find out all about the Curse of Cortez, we can use the
opportunity to do some fishing about modern-day magic."

"Take all we can, give up what we have to..."

"...And get ourselves some booze. Guy does know his pirates."

They passed the Santa Barbara city limits near sunset, and as they were
making their way through the town's streets, Jack leveled a look at his
Will. "There's the Turner angle too, of course."

Will glanced over again and then tapped his brakes for a stop sign. "I
admit I'm kinda curious. I mean, reincarnation is the hard way to look
like someone; there's an easier way to do it. And I may still be a dead
ringer for Dad at my age, but this guy looks a whole heck of a lot like
my dad does right now."

"Worse things t' have in one's family tree than Turner blood, me lad."

"Hope he agrees with you."

"Oh, c'mon. In this day and age, people think having pirate blood is
cool. It's far enough back, right? I mean," pointed glance, "I doubt
he'd react as you did."

"Oh, could you cut me a break? Barbossa nearly took me out when I was
how old? I'd think I might be forgiven a bit of a grudge." Smith and
Turner there, neither giving an inch. Jack smiled.

"Aye, and I managed to corrupt ye thoroughly in short order anyhow, so
no harm done save to your virtue, Will me love."

"Virtue," Will said slowly, in a tone that caused heat to spread through
Jack's...chest, "can be highly overrated."

"Lad, do ye want t' get there or not?"

* * *

They did eventually reach the modest two-story townhouse, perhaps only
five minutes late. Jack hefted a bottle of rum by the neck, and Will had
a pan-full of his chocolate-laced gingerbread. Bill had drawn Jack aside
a day or two after Thanksgiving and explained about the baking:

~"This isn't the last you're going to see of the gingerbread. He..." And
here the professor / pirate had paused, run fingers through his hair. "I
think it started with his missing his mother, as a way to keep busy. But
now, it just isn't the holidays to the kid without massive amounts of
baked goods. Seriously. Gird your loins, and your waistline, because if
you get invited out anywhere, he's going to bring something fattening."~

Bill knew his son. On the other hand, Will's cooking being what it was,
the gingerbread was nearly a better bribe for information on the
supernatural world than was a pirate tale.

"Are you sure, then?" Turner, speaking through Smith again as they shut
the car doors. "About not keeping things so close to the vest, this
time?"

Byrd gave Sparrow voice, that he could reply, "Aye, lad. Well, as ye
know, there was a time that I did not play it so close, and then I lost
me Pearl. On the other hand, once, I did play things closer, and got
meself hit by an oar, on account of one mistrusting my motives." He held
up a hand to stop any self-recriminations on Will's part, and then
raised the same hand to Will's cheek, stroking the remnants away. "Not
entirely your fault, love, and I'll have no guilt."

"I know," Will said, smiling slightly. "Bad for the digestion."

"Precisely. What I mean to say is," Hands spread wide now, wrists
describing small circles, "I've learned both lessons, so I've got me
choice of which to follow. So we'll ... go with the flow," Byrd
finished. "Anyway, we're here."

Obligingly, Will knocked on the door, heard a faint, "Coming!" from
within. Presently the door swung open, revealing the man they'd met
Halloween night. "Ah, hello," said Rupert Giles, pushing his glasses a
half-centimeter up his nose. Then Giles waited.

Jack waited.

Giles waited.

Jack waited more, and as he was Byrd again, would not barge past the
man.

Will broke the deadlock, politely, of course. "Um, no offense, but what
are we waiting for?"

"Surely anyone who has existed as long as you needn't ask that
question."

Click. Click. Some of the gears were in Byrd's mind and some in
Sparrow's, but the result was the same. "You're a detective, Mr. Giles,"
Jack observed. Will gave him a quizzical glance. "See, it's like this.
He doesn't want to invite us in, and he thinks we should know why he
doesn't." Jack slouched just a little against the outside wall. "He's
trying to gauge what we know, and from the way he phrased that question,
to attack the mystery of what we actually are." Partly to watch their
responses, and so to see if in fact they had existed that long after
all. He suspected reincarnation already, then. Well, he'd been
considering letting Giles have that one for free anyway.

And there was the other piece. "Will," Jack went on, "what supposedly
needs an invitation to enter a home?"

Will thought back to Halloween. "A vampire."

"Right. So, lesson the first, vampires are real." Sparrow was shading
his speech now, he could tell, but he didn't mind. "Answer the first,"
He paused, and then stepped over the threshold. "We aren't vampires."

"I hadn't thought so," Giles replied, as they walked in. "Not
considering that poor transformed woman's reaction on Halloween. But she
was not truly a vampire, so I couldn't assume."

Jack gazed about as Will asked, "But there are real vampires, then?"

"Oh, yes," their host replied. "Most definitely." And meanwhile the
house received a cursory casing aided by the pirate behind Jack's eyes.
Everything new, but not too new. Christmas tree, as yet undecorated.
Little that was personal - most of the d�cor shouted 'furnished
apartment,' but a cabinet by the door had a very old-fashioned hidden
catch and compartment.

All this ran through Jack's mind, but what he said was, "Well, this is
shaping up to be a very interesting evening." And he set the rum down on
the dining table as they passed it, then set about looking for more
expensive alcohol in trade.

* * *

Not much later, the three were sitting in a sunken den, settled about a
fireplace with drinks in hand. "I notice," Giles began, "that your
accents have changed..." Jack watched him, this uncanny image of
Bootstrap, but with a secretive ghost of a smile that would have been
out of place on Bill, either one.

"Well, yeah," Jack replied. Time to whet his appetite... "That's
because, while I am Captain Jack Sparrow, I'm not, except I really am,
but not right now, exactly."

Will snorted as Giles put two fingers to his temple. "That's a
bit...confusing."

"Wait 'till he gets going," Will murmured. Jack rolled his eyes, and the
kid managed to look innocent and guilty at once.

Then he turned his attention back to the Englishman. "I don't know. I
think you've already figured it out."

"Reincarnation."

Jack spread a hand out before him and inclined his head.

"You - you were Captain Jack Sparrow in a past life?"

"My last life, as far as I can tell. And my first, as far as I know."

"But...Halloween - that was not merely memory. That was a walking,
talking-"

Jack's hand went up. "Whoa. My turn now." He leaned forward over his
cocktail. "You know magic. You know people who do magic. You probably do
magic yourself. So, as my prior life might put it...what manner of man
are you?"

"English. My turn."

Eyes widened. "You cheated!" Narrowed, with a grin. "I approve." He
looked over to Will, and caught the kid rolling his eyes, of course.
Back to the Englishman..."Okay. Ask away."

"Well, I think you have an idea of what's next. How is it that the
Captain is a fully-realized person, moving and speaking as himself?"

"Ego," Will coughed, and then put the innocent look on again as Jack
shot him a very Sparrow death-glare.

"It's just the way he came back," Jack said, shrugging. "When I
remembered who I had been, there he was, all of him. Took some adjusting
at first," and a beautiful, terrible weekend flashed through his mind,
so that he had to focus on keeping it out of his eyes, "but we wouldn't
trade it for anything."

"And yourself, Mr. Turner?" Giles tossed casually to Will.

Jack sat up straight, but not before Will replied, absently, "No, nor
would we." And then, fully modern again, with a loud "D'oh!" Sheepish
grin. "Crud. Sorry, Jack."

"Another freebie," Jack sighed. Eyeing Giles with yet more respect, he
said, "I would really hate to play chess with you. Or poker."
"You'd cheat."

"You'd probably notice."

"So how did you know who I used to be?" Will asked.

Jack sighed. "There went our question."

"So sue me. I'm curious. You're a famous pirate - me, not so much."

"You sell yourself short, Mr...."
"Smith, this time around. So, for those of you playing the home
game...your turn. I think what Jack meant to ask before was, how do you
know about magic? And you also owe me about my last name. Or rather, my
last last name." Turner's accents just slightly, and Giles' eyebrows
raised.

"Well, as to the latter, merely research. Captain Jack Sparrow is in
many the history book, both standard and arcane. You are mentioned in
several as well, although I admit I found your name first in a book on
precedents for gay marriage in, among other places, pirate codes."

"More like guidelines, really," Jack murmured.

Will, meanwhile, sighed. "So I'm the girlfriend?"

"Or spouse, depending on the source," Giles replied, removing his
glasses to clean them. "And it also depends - are you the father or the
son?"

"William Turner the Second," Will replied. "And now you owe us two
again. So spill about the magic."

"You're not as bad at this as I thought," Jack said idly.

"Oh ye of little faith," Will smiled. "Was just lulling him into a false
sense of security."

"Right. If this were strip poker you'd be nude by now." Jack paused.
"Giles, do you have any cards?"

"Let's not get distracted. We haven't even gotten to the Curse of Cortez
yet."

"And we won't, not 'till ye pay up, so let's have it then. Magic."

"Does that partial change happen a lot?"

"Uh-uh. No more freebies," Jack said, although he was beginning to
wonder when "Interrogate the Pirates" had become a party game.

//...likely when we decided we could trust this one...// Sparrow
murmured. //...at least nearly as far as we might throw him...anyway, I
don't yet regret it, and I'm less trusting even than yourself...//

Giles interrupted their dialogue by stating, simply, "I was a member of
a secret society that was developed to watch and aid champions in the
fight against evil. We used some magic to those ends."

"Secret society..." Jack didn't turn it into a question. Instead, he
asked, "...Can I see your wrists? Your bare wrists?"

>From Giles' slight smirk, though, he had the idea he'd taken the wrong
tack, and in fact, the man's wrists were bare. No blue, circular, runic
tattoos, for certain.

"Wrong secret society," the Englishman replied. "It was a good guess,
though."

At Will's quizzical look, Jack explained, "I thought he might be like
that Tierney fellow. With the scar?"

Light dawned. "Oh! The one who kept following MacLeod around. Right." He
shrugged. "I thought it was a crush. You knew better."

"Well, not until the bloody Scot nearly set me mast alight after having
it out with Kerry..." He shook himself. "Anyhow, our turn, right?"

"No. Cheating?"

"Pirate."

"Of course." Giles gave a slight nod. "At any rate, it's my turn to ask,
and high time we discussed the -" Headlights, more than one pair, grazed
the curtains, and engine noise quieted. "Ah. That may be dinner."

"What's on the menu?"

"Roast duck, wild rice, and various other trimmings."

"Duck?" Will asked, as Giles opened the door.

"DUCK!" screamed a female voice, and Giles did, immediately before
something metal and spiked embedded itself in the wood.

"The cabinet has-" Giles got out, and by that time, Jack had already
thumbed the hidden catch, to reveal a rack of weapons.

"Ha! Thought so!" Jack withdrew a cutlass after Giles snatched an axe,
running outside and trusting Will both to select his own blade and
follow. And while the Englishman was not a known quantity, William was.
Jack could sense the other shift to the self who was master of blades,
as he did likewise. The captain kept his mate and the wall behind him as
he found himself facing...

...what the hell *were* those things, anyway? Hairy, ugly, very much
*not* human...three at *least*...didn't matter. The svelte brunette who
faced them bearing only a long knife managed to prove that they bled,
which was enough to start with. The blonde girl who faced them
bare-handed (bare-handed!?) proved that they broke.

Not, though, easily. One of the beasts swung its spiked mace with near
enough force to wrench Jack's sword from his grasp. Still and all, it
brought him close enough to run the knife he'd palmed across its throat.

"...no honor..." the beast gurgled as it fell.

"You're catching on," Jack said with a bladed grin, and proceeded to
backstab the one that Will led, instinctively, onto his knife. He
withdrew, began to turn away, heard a roar, turned back to see the
blonde twist the thing's neck around just as it raised its mace to
strike.

Of course, William had had to pull his own swing so as to miss her, but
that did not change the fact...

"Ye saved my life." Grin widened. "However shall I repay you?"

A quick scan of the battlefield, also known as Giles' front walk,
revealed the other monsters (four after all) down, and beginning to
bubble and steam. It also revealed trampled take-out containers and the
remains of a duck dinner, all about the flagstones. That which wasn't
scattered over the tall, well-built brunette girl, of course.

The brunette brushed rice from her hair. "Um, dinner's on me?"

"Yrgke?" Giles said, as he retrieved and cleaned his axe.

"Gesundheit," Jack murmured.

"Yeah," the blonde replied. "Angel got word they'd picked you out this
year." She gave Jack, then Will, slightly cross-eyed glances. Then she
stepped in to give the man a bone-crushing hug. "Missed you!"

"Gah...obviously..." And, axe dangling from his free hand, Giles grinned
like a madman, Jack being one to know. The lightly orange-sauced
brunette ran up to make it a group hug. "Buffy, Dawn, it's wonderful to
see you both. You're a bit early, you realize."

"'Well, yeah! Head-hunting demon clan..." Dawn, the brunette, trailed
off as she eyed Jack in turn. "...um, gang on PCP?"

"We're familiar with the monsters that lurk off the edge of the map,
love," Jack replied.

"Captain?" Giles inquired, disengaging both sets of slender arms and
composing himself in the process.

"The same. D'ye mind?"

"Not at all."

"Um, introductions would be really good, but can we go inside first?"
asked Buffy, the blonde.

"Yeah. Those things dissolve in thirty minutes or less, and I could
*really* go for some pizza."

"Dawn!"
"What? I'm hungry."

* * *


The Yrgke corpses were left to biodegrade while the somewhat larger
dinner party wandered inside. Will closed the slightly cracked door
behind him. Dawn slipped into the bathroom and emerged half a minute
later wearing noticeably less food.

This gave Jack time to observe the dynamic. These three were a family,
for certain, but also comrades in arms, and if they hadn't faced at
least as many mystic threats as had Will and himself in the Caribe of
old, he'd eat his hat.

//...and comrades in arms talk to comrades in arms...// he thought, when
he felt Byrd's attention.

//... you're right. if the objective is information, we may have the
most to gain from full disclosure...what the hell, we were going to give
most of it up anyhow...//

"...so, how are you finding Rome?" Giles was asking the girls, as Jack
pondered, and incidentally helped himself to more rum.

"With a really big map," Dawn replied. "Sometimes we even use a globe."

"If ye don't mind me interrupting, by the by, what were those things
outside?" Jack asked, with a smile calculated to be congenial but
slightly nervous, and thus to stop short of implying he was up to
something. "I mean, I'm no stranger to fell beasties, but that lot was
new t' me."

"The Yrgke are a clan of lesser demon families that compete each year to
see who can bring the best gift to the chieftain at Solstice," Giles
said, cleaning his glasses. "They each hunt for the head of the wisest
man. I should be proud, I suppose. It's generally a once-in-a-lifetime
honor."

"Giles," Buffy said, "who *are* these guys, anyway? New recruits?"

At that, Jack drew himself up, inhaling and spreading his arms wide,
then sweeping them both behind his back in a bow so deep he briefly saw
the opposite wall. "I am *Captain* Jack Sparrow, miladies, most
absolutely and abjectly at your service and in your debt." He stood and
waved an arm at his mate. "That there's Will."

Predictably, Will snorted and rolled his eyes. Then he gave a quick
glance to Jack - the patented Turner 'are you sure?' look.

Jack decided to answer it verbally. "Will, they're practically the man's
blood, anyone can see that. And while I do expect he'll keep our status
confidential, for the most part, I doubt there's much of his life that's
not shared with these lovely ladies." At sudden glares, he raised his
hands parallel to his face, and said, "Didn't mean it that way!" Shot
Will a glance, stage-whispered, "Don't offend the blonde, she's
freakishly strong..."

Twin exasperated sighs, or maybe more, as Will said, "This is how you
keep getting slapped..." Jack shrugged.

Then Buffy said, slowly, "Oh...yeah. The pirate guys from Halloween."

"See?" Jack said, and Will gave a shrug, a nod, and a slight smile.

It was Buffy, finally, who ordered the pizza, prompting Will to inquire,
"So, what happened to the last deliveryman?" Paused, frowned. "Or do I
want to know?"

"Chucked the chow at me and took off," Dawn said, shrugging. "Hey, is
that gingerbread?"

"With chocolate chips."

"Baking pirates. Huh." Dawn fished a piece out of the pan, to Buffy's
"Hey!" and a more considered, "Hey..." as she stared at the baked goods,
then pulled out a piece herself. "Mmsh ish pretty good..."

"Thank you, milady," Will said, with his soft smile that Jack knew he
couldn't help, but the bloody girls' eyes were looking just a bit too
dewy of a sudden - both pairs. Definitely time for a distraction...he
grabbed the pan in one hand and his drink in the other, and pivoted with
two fingers against the railing, leaping down to stand before the
fireplace.

"Well, our audience has rather grown, and so it does appear an
auspicious time for me to start in on that tale you were wantin', hmm,
Niles?"

"Giles." But perhaps this now-fatherly Englishman had caught the lasses'
eyes upon William, as he looked almost grateful for the distraction.

"Right. So gather 'round, mate, lasses, whelp..."

"Jack..."

"...sit right back, and you'll hear a tale..."

"Jack, no Gilligan's Island."

"I just always wanted t' use that opener."

But gather they did, and Jack thought he might as well begin at the
beginning, or near enough, with a mutiny at sea. Of course, he took full
advantage of the flickering light behind him, manipulating the shadows
with his fingers, and soon his audience was enthralled. The blonde's
face became less guarded, and he saw deep echoes in her eyes, the weight
of authority beyond her years. Of a sudden, she minded him of
Norrington. 'Twould be a public service, truly, to draw her further into
the tale and lift those cares...and so he began to embroider just a
little.

"...and then they made me their chief."

"Okay, I still don�t get what the goat had to do with anything." Buffy
looked at Will. "Will, is he making all this up?"

"Well, I've no independent confirmation of any events yet following the
mutiny. This was before we met. So...probably."

"Et tu, William?"

He did his best to look hurt, and when Will met his eyes, he did allow,
"Well, perhaps not all of it. The reality of our lives was frequently
quite fantastic." He grinned then. "But bear in mind that we're soon
coming to the part where I become involved, so I'll be here to keep you
honest."

"Ah, Will. Always settin' yourself impossible tasks."

Will sighed. "Improbable, at the least."

The doorbell rang for the pizza, and Giles moved to pay. In the
meantime, Dawn asked Will, "So when did you remember...y'know."

"This fall, actually."

"What was it like, finding out you weren't who you thought?"

Jack's ears perked up just a little. That question seemed a bit personal
to the lass...

"Well, actually..." and here Will took a deep breath. Turner did not, it
seemed, wish to speak for Smith on this matter, and Jack sighed at the
closeness of the overlap that was shifting back to Byrd, the more
grounded clarity that washed all through him as he came modern again.
"Actually, it was more like discovering why I was who I was, you know?
Little things about myself I never quite got, before. It was
like...meeting a long-lost relative or something."

"Did you just switch?"
Will nodded.

"That's kinda cool...in a freaky Sibyl sort of way."

"Thanks, I think."

"Hey, I always liked that movie."

In the meantime, Buffy and Giles were getting plates and
discussing...well, him, and so he edged closer to the doorway to
eavesdrop.

Buffy was saying, "...pretty good looking. You guys...you're not..."
Paused. "Are you?"

Giles sighed. "Jack is very much with Will."

"Oh! Okay. But Will's kind of...my age, and Jack's kind of..."

"My age?"

"*So* didn't mean it that way." She paused, apparently thinking about it
"Or *that* way! Ick!" Jack could nearly hear her blink... "Not that
you're ick, but it's - we'd be -" Deep breath. "I'm going to stop
talking now."

Jack edged away from the door, so as not to surprise them, or get
caught. He rejoined Will and Dawn just in time, as the others came out
dish-laden. Buffy's next words managed to surprise him, though in
retrospect they probably shouldn't have.

"Um, Giles?"

"Yes, Buffy?"

"There's a weasel on your couch."

"Jack may be just a bit scalawag, but there's no need to-"

"No, I mean there's a weasel on your couch."

Jack (who was not in fact on the couch), Will, Dawn, and Giles turned to
look. A dark-furred, light-masked ferret perched on the arm.

"Oh, my *god!*" Dawn squeaked. "That's the cutest thing *ever!*"

"Hector!" Jack shouted, and the critter stood on hind legs, at
attention. "Get over here!" The ferret ran down the couch, across the
living room, and up Jack to his shoulder. "I'm sorry," Jack said
helplessly, scratching Hector behind the ears. "He has a terrible habit
of hitching rides and going where he's *not invited...*"

The ferret looked entirely unrepentant.

"Can he have pizza?"

"Squeak!"

* * *

By the time they gathered again in the small sunken living room, Hector
was curled at Dawn's feet and was attempting to negotiate a piece of
pizza noticeably larger than his head.

"So," Jack continued, "Where was I?"

"Getting to the part where Will comes in," said the weirdly formidable
blonde, who'd polished off half a pie already.

"Right." He turned his back on the company for a moment and rolled his
shoulders like an actor assuming a role.

//...ye wish me t' tell it then?...//

//...you were there...//

//...aye, and tall tales were always me forte...that a good bit of this
one is true doesn't make it much the slighter...// Jack stepped into the
sway and twist that was Sparrow, rolling with him a moment, becoming him
again. With a bobbing nod, he turned to his audience.

"So I've told ye what I'd already heard, that the heathen gods placed
upon the gold a terrible curse. Well, in the time after I bestowed me
chiefhood on me as-yet-unborn issue, that bein' the princess' get, I
traced the odd legend, and ended up learnin' all the alleged details of
the Curse of Cortez. I wanted me ship back, savvy? And the breaking of
the curse was one of many brilliant plans I had on hand to do so."

"If in fact the curse existed."

"Well, ye know for a fact it did, dear William, so pipe down."

"Aye, Captain."

"Right. So, what I'd heard told afore followin' rumors of the curse an'
the Pearl t' Jamaica was this..." He paused. "Well, I'd guess ye two
lasses were born and raised in California, so ye'd know of the bloody
death Hernando Cortez an' his armies visited upon the Aztec nation."

The girls both nodded, and Giles said, "He had the element of surprise,
as he fit the description of their god Quetzalcoatl in human form."

"Aye, but he was not, in fact, Quetzalcoatl, for as bloody as the
heathen gods were, they weren't suicidal. At any rate, Cortez was a
greedy bastard, and let his hunger for gold be known. Thus, he was
constantly gettin' it shoved at him t' fend him off. The Aztec priests
added their own gold t' the mix, eight hundred and a few score of coins.
He took the coins and kept on killin', of course. Ironically, I don't
think he ever opened the chest, bein' as he'd plundered so much, just
shipped the lot to Spain only it never got there. And as he never
removed a coin, he were never touched by the vengeance meant t' be
visited upon him."

"That is frequently the way of curses and vengeance," Giles replied, and
now the girls were eyeing him with sympathy. Oh, there was a tale here.
"They are meant for the satisfaction of those taking revenge, and are
not overly concerned with justice."

"Well," Jack replied, turning his head so his eyes caught the firelight
just a little, "Justice was had, nonetheless. Barbossa and the rest of
those mutinous scalawags did in fact find the gold where it were hid, on
the Isle of the Dead..."

"Which is apparently a very popular seaside resort, these days."

"Would ye can it, whelp?"

"Aye sir." Utterly unrepentant, worse than the ferret. Oh, the whelp
lacked discipline, and he'd enjoy disciplining him later, and where had
he been, exactly?

Right. "Anyway, they took a coin, each and every one."

"What exactly did it do?" Ah, Giles leaning forward, *very
interested*... here was the meat of what Giles wished to know, and a bit
more detail here would tell Jack much about the man. "The context in
which I heard of the curse was the danger of its creating an army of
immortal, skeletal demons. Can it? And if so, how does one fight them?
How did you?"

"With guile and savvy, Miles me good man." Ah, such questions were of
use to two types only - those who sought the curse's power, and those
who wished to defend against it. On Halloween, Jack hadn't been entirely
sure Giles wouldn't fit into the former category, but now, hearing his
words on champions and seeing his relationship with one of those such,
perhaps two, all of Jack judged him as the latter.

//...it's almost like...Jack, this is how we vetted crewmembers, isn't
it?...you're eyeing them for crew, such as it is...//

//...well ye know me, me own. May have a ship no longer, but we're still
Captain Jack Sparrow, and though they be scattered, having such
resources as me *second* crew did give me would not go amiss...//

"The curse of Cortez," Jack continued, leaning forward, hunching
slightly, looking up, "does the following. It does indeed make of a man
an unkillable skeleton, what feels very little pain. On the other hand,
said man feels no pleasure either. Food and drink lose all flavor, and
touch brings no satisfaction. But the time it takes t' set in varies,
might be as long as weeks, or as short as hours, and ye don't see the
effects, nor feel them fully, 'till next moonlight hits you. And then
you see the bones beneath your skin and know yourself for what you are,
and the ghost of your emotion is all that's left when even your heart
sloughs away..."

He blinked, and found his audience rapt. He'd drawn the lasses in a bit
too close, perhaps, for in their eyes he saw the memory of pain. Back up
a little... "Aye, I was so accursed for a time. But was only a few
hours, and it wasn't all that bad, really." He turned to Giles. "In
answer to your question, the only sure way I know to destroy the
accursed is to remove the curse and kill the man. Though," and he
smirked at Will, "I did not, in fact, see one of them regain his feet
after dynamite was set off inside his ribcage. But to be certain, to
make the cursed men truly men again, every piece of gold has to be back
in the chest, with at least a drop of blood from every man who took
one."

"...Or, from a direct descendant." Giles said slowly. "Is that how you
two met, I wonder?"

Dawn was on the edge of her seat now. "So how'd you do it? How'd you
meet Will, get the gold into the chest, take down the bad guys, and get
your ship back?"

"Ah. Now, that...is another story." He grinned at her dismayed
expression, mirrored ever so slightly by her more stoic sister. "One
which I'm quite happy to tell, mind ye, but I think 'tis time to
trade..." He looked at Buffy and met her eyes "...Champion."

* * *

Buffy blinked.

That wasn't her title. That was Angel's handle. Though it was kind of a
catchall for those who fought the good fight, vamps with souls and
slayers included.

So Giles trusted these guys, kind of, but he was being cagey. She could
understand that, but she wondered if he'd thought it through...

"Actually," she said, to the pirate in jeans and silk, "the word you're
looking for is 'Slayer.'"

Giles' eyes on her, of course, so she explained. "Giles, think about it.
All the really big bads - did we ever have to tell any of them who I
was? They all knew. We only ever had to explain it to the good guys."

"But...ah..." She watched Giles blink, and rub at his temple. "You know,
you're right."

"Doesn't mean he's not a little bad, but we can handle that." She let
just enough threat into her tone for the younger pirate guy to sit up
straighter, eyes narrowing.

Jack, on the other hand, slouched more, leaning against thin air and
grinning. "Oh, I'm at least a little bad, love."

The warm tone felt...naughty. Buffy's turn to blink, because wasn't he
gay?

Anyway. Time for the Reader's Digest version. And Giles wasn't saying
anything - not because he disapproved, she knew, but because, well, this
was her job now.

"In all the world, there are a few girls given the power and the
instincts to fight monsters like we ran into tonight. They're called
Slayers." She met Jack's eyes. "That's what I am. We're not sure how
many Slayers there are out there, or how many know what they are, but we
think I'm probably the oldest."

"Ah." And something in those dark eyes said he really did understand.
"And what else is 'out there,' then?"

Giles did chime in now. "Well, vampires, as you know, humans with magic
of varying sorts, some who use it with ill intent, and demons of many
and varying kinds, for short. Most people go their lives without meeting
any, but..."

"Haven't been so lucky t' this point, have I?" Jack the pirate finished.

"We're...weirdness magnets," the younger hottie - ah, pirate - replied,
the phrase falling oddly from his tongue. "At least, we were then, and
since we've recalled ourselves, the strangeness has not abated."

"And what other *good* have ye seen, in terms of the mystical?" the
Captain inquired, tilting his head and moving forward.

"Not so much," Buffy confessed. "It's out there. Don't get me wrong. But
for a long time, our crew was mostly putting out fires and the odd
apocalypse, so we were seeing a way bigger variety of bad."

"On the other hand, the Vatican has warrior nuns," Dawn put in.

"The order really exists? You were going to tell me about this, of
course," Giles said. Heh. He was pouting, and Dawn wasn't having it.
"Just told you. Was gonna be a present - kind of a verbal
stocking-stuffer."

"Oh."

"Anyway," the Slayer continued, "We know some friendly werewolves and a
few good witches. There's even a vampire with a soul out there." She
swallowed a few times, and knew Jack saw it. For all the wobbling, he
didn't miss much. He even knew, instinctively, to let it go.

"Really, though," Giles said, "there's far too much to cover in an
evening." Oh, hey. Go Giles. He'd picked up the ball and was running
with it, in a British kind of way. Let's see if he'd really seen where
she was headed... "Threats and allies are so varied in type and degree,
I think the best thing to do would be to recommend or loan a few texts,
and to make ourselves available as a resource." Oh, yeah. He knew her,
all right.

And damn if the pirates weren't right there with him. "If we may be so
bold as to ask," Will began,

"What's in it for you?" Jack finished.

The wind-up, and now the pitch. Buffy took a breath. "I said before -
not all the Slayers know what they are. There are some girls out there
who just got massively strong and started having weird dreams. Some have
already been pulled into fights with the things that go bump in the
night. If you ever see a girl that moves like me, just give her a phone
number and let her know that there are people out there who know what
she's going through. The rest is up to her."

"An alliance, Captain Sparrow," Giles said, and he had his glasses off,
the better to look all intense. "For you, to aid us as eyes and ears.
For us, to remain your resource in time of need. Do we have an accord?"

Buffy watched Jack look at everyone, noting the small smile on Dawn's
face because she definitely thought it was a done deal. And Dawn had
good instincts, for sure, but from watching them all night, Buffy knew
this was all going to turn on one motion.

Jack looked at Will, and Will looked back. Almost imperceptibly, Will
nodded.

"We have an accord," Jack replied, to Giles.

But it was Buffy's hand he shook.

* * *

Just a little later, after he'd refreshed his drink and settled on the
edge of the fireplace tile, Buffy caught Jack casting a grinning glance
at her.


"What?"
"Well, it strikes me that you'd by and large help us anyway. Ye can't be
everywhere, Slayer, and you've a vested interest in helping ensure that
things don't reach apocalyptic proportions. As do I, I suppose - this
world's where I keep all me stuff."

"I'm still a bit disturbed that the world nearly ends every other year,"
Will said to Dawn.

"That's just a rough average," she replied. The guy looked cutely
nervous. Then again, he probably looked cutely everything.

Gay...both of them...*sigh*...
"Hey," Dawn went on, "You don't have to take our word for...stuff. Like,
why Slayers should have a heads-up and all. We're all gonna be having a
big Christmas party - you should come!"

"Christmas parties? I love Christmas parties. Drinks all 'round!"

"We have a few engagements that we must attend," Will temporized, "but
should we be able, we would be honored." Then he stifled a yawn, which
made its way around the room as such things do.

"I suppose we'd best be off," Jack said. "Promised my present self I
wouldn't make him late t' work...not that he needs me help in that
department. Giles, you'll call us with the details?"

"That I will."

"Well, then." Jack downed an impressive amount of alcohol in one gulp,
and then stood. "Oh, Will! Don't forget t' ask him..."

"I had nearly forgotten." The younger man stood, withdrew his wallet.
"Giles, do you know if you've any Turners in your family tree?"

"I...I'm not certain."

"Well, as far as we can determine, we resemble our past selves
precisely. This..." He withdrew a small card and Buffy clustered with
Dawn behind Giles' shoulders "...is a photograph of my father now."

"No WAY." And Buffy had to go with her sister on that one, because he
was the spitting image of Giles, only less tweed.

"Well..." he said...and then Jack tapped Will lightly on the shoulder.
Will replaced the picture, spun, and followed his Captain toward the
door. And then it occurred to her ...

"Hey, you never told us how you got the Pearl back!"

"Or how you met Will," Dawn chimed in. "Or broke the curse..."

"Always leave 'em wanting more," Jack said with a smirk. "But a token of
good faith..." Will was out the door, and Jack was half-gone...
"...Barbossa's got the chest and the curse back, though he's likely the
only afflicted, by his own nature. I doubt you'll ever meet, but if ye
should ever run afoul of him...let me know." His grin was predatory now.
"Please."

Then the door shut, and like the Cheshire cat's grin, that bright sharp
smile seemed to vanish last.

* * *

After the modern-day pirates left Giles' condo, Buffy asked,

"So if you're the descendant of his reincarnation...or his father's...I
mean, if the guy's dad is the reincarnation of your great, great..."

"Well, I sincerely doubt there's a greeting card for it."

Dawn, meanwhile, was smirking, and it was beginning to make Buffy a
little nervous. "Y'know," the younger Summers said, "I think we dodged a
bullet there." And she winked at Giles, who had that neutral British
considering look happening.

"...okay. I know you want me to ask, so I *know* I'm gonna regret it,
but why?"

Dawn swung her feet. "Tall, dark, handsome, cool accent, good with
weapons, was undead for a while - I was just thinking we're all pretty
lucky he's gay."

"DAWN!"

* * *

As they left Santa Barbara, Will watched Jack, who sat in
uncharacteristic silence for several minutes. Finally, Will saw a
shifting and swaying out of the corner of his eye, heard the intake of
breath.

"So," Jack said slowly, "Here there be monsters."

"Apparently, everywhere there be monsters."

"Vampires, demons, witches...oh, my."

"Don't forget the werewolves."

"I think the younger lass mentioned a giant snake as well, when you two
came to apocalypses? Only the one, though, I hope."

"Rule #34. I will not turn into a snake. It never helps."

"And I thought that list was just for kicks." The captain yawned and
stretched in his seat. "Well, we wanted to know."

"Do you think we were lied to, at all?"

"We've no independent confirmation, of course, but very few of their
words acted directly to their benefit, so I'm mostly inclined to believe
them. Their accounts did, however, seem heavily edited."

"As were yours," Will pointed out.

"Ah, but in their case, much was omitted rather than added."

"So you admit it!"

"I never admit it, me William, and what's more, I defy you to prove it."

"You are insufferable."

"And yet you suffer me."

"Gladly."

"So, since I know you do not suffer fools gladly, I can take from this
that I am not, in fact, a fool, although shame on ye William mine, for
such a backhanded compliment."

A tickle from his present, and..."Smith wishes me to mention that you're
one wave short of a shipwreck."

"Ye wouldn't have me otherwise."

"So I can have you now?"

"You're as turned on as I am, then?"

"More..." Will growled through his teeth, and made a sharp
gravel-spraying turn onto a side road that paralleled, and then rose
above the coastal highway. Thankfully, the lookout point had some light
tree cover, though the moonlight streamed through.

Immediately, he pulled himself up and swung atop Jack, levering the
passenger seat down all the way and sliding it backward. He kissed Jack
hungrily and found his hunger met, even exceeded, driving all the blood
from his brain and making him dizzy...when his senses returned even the
slightest bit, Jack had somehow flipped them in the seat and was on top.

"I shall be doing the taking tonight, me William,"

"You're the captain."

//...all the possessive language - should've known...// And how they
loved their Captain forceful and desire-mad...and unbuttoning their
pants and removing them...Will felt his present self so close, flush
against him as Jack was, because there was no *way* Smith was missing
this.

Jack shed his jeans too, and then his hands, oh, his hands were
spreading Will's thighs apart and working in, kneading, teasing both his
bits and his entrance at once...he/they wriggled in the seat and it
threatened to become thrashing as Jack's teeth chewed lightly on Will's
neck.

"How you make me need you..." Will whispered, which made those maddening
gestures more emphatic. Will shifted again against the fingers and they
danced away. He might have whimpered.

"Funny...was just thinkin' the same thing." Jack was hoarse. It was
gratifying. And thankfully, there was lubricant in the center console,
because Jack's rear was pressed against the glove compartment. Will's
legs slid farther up and as wide as he could manage, and Jack was a warm
weight atop him, though those long fingers were graceful as always as
two slid in and did *that* like *that* and his manhood twitched in
opposite direction to his hips. It seemed Jack felt it, by the smile
against Will's cheek. Will pressed his hips down and with Jack's other
hand ghosting around and over nearly...nearly...then both hands away
again, and there, with a groan, oh, there was Jack.

The desire and the need was so heavy and Jack was so heavy atop him but
it was good, comfort of the best kind....he panted as Jack slid in to
the hilt, and then his legs came up to wrap around and they began to
rock together. "Oh, me own, me William..." he murmured, mouth just
exactly against Will's ear and warm and wet there.

"Jack...GOD yes..." And it was close, too close, *they* were too close
for art or games on either side...they did not need them...fun, sure,
Smith murmured, then fell back a little ...but this was pure need, the
sort that drove men to writhe in a convertible seat and what was
Jack...maybe there was a little room for...aAhhh...
"That...aah...again...again...."

"For you...anything..."

The heat of Jack's breath was against his cheek now, and his tongue,
distracting except when he...oh, again...AGAIN...."Jack!" Will knew
nothing but the rocking and the motion and the driving heavy pleasure
that rode him as Jack rode him here rode them all of him all...all...a
hand grasped him tight and *moved* and he pulsed hard and warm against
them both, feeling the warmth within him just a breath later.

* * *

"Oh, my..." It was Byrd, waking in the afterglow, and he was Smith,
instinctively seeking their balance. Then, a half-minute
later..."That...you know that's been a fantasy of mine forever. You've
got to be psychic."

"Nah. That's Liz." Will yawned, then grabbed a Kleenex from the back.
"On the car, in the car...I'm sensing a theme. We missing any?"

"Haven't done it on the motorcycle yet."

"Challenging, but doable."

The captain surfaced for a second. "Perhaps if I were to tell ye I
didn't think ye had the balance..."

Will smiled. "I think I might fall for that." He paused. "You know, I'm
surprised we don't do this more often, actually."

"Why's that?"

"Well, we are two men in love."

"Yeah, but what does that..."

"It's just that we should be used to sex in smaller and arguably more
difficult places."

He didn't entirely manage to duck the smack from that one, nor, he
decided, did he deserve to.

* * *

Back down from the lookout, they headed along the highway toward home.
Will stole the occasional glance at Jack in the glow of passing
headlights. Beautiful, and just...damn. The dark eyes were closed,
mostly, but he wasn't quite asleep. Will slowed down to turn into Jack's
neighborhood and Hector slid from whatever corner he'd occupied. He
clambered into Jack's lap as the car curved about. Jack opened his eyes
and straightened his seat back.

A cold wind was beginning to whistle through the coastal hills, and it
blew eucalyptus leaves and twigs across the windshield. Will envisioned
a warm drink, non-alcoholic. They might each be more than just one man,
but Jack, at least, had drunk enough for three. Will turned up the
driveway and hit the brakes hard. There was a man standing on the steps
to Jack's house.

Jack's eyes went from heavy-lidded to wide to narrowed as Will watched.
He sat up straight, and as Will stared ahead, marking dark skin, neat,
short dreadlocks, a track suit with leather jacket thrown over. "Why,
that's Tyler Robbins."

But Will marked a danger in the man that stood before them. His hands,
one bound up in a cast, twitched restlessly at his sides. The rest of
his body was taut, a coiled spring, a cocked pistol. Will opened his
mouth to speak, but Jack beat him to it, correcting himself.

"No. That's Koehler."

* * *

Taxes 7
Part 2: Home for the Holidays

* * *

It was a shock, certainly, and Will could watch the wheels beginning to
spin behind Jack's eyes, calculating, planning. Then those gears paused
as the same thought occurred to both of them at once.

"Oh, God."

"Anamaria."

They vaulted out of the car and ran up the driveway in tandem. There
were no rules, no recognition yet established, and so Jack said, "Annie
Mae - is she...is everything all right?"

The man who was so clearly a mutinous pirate sighed and deflated. "Aye.
She - she's well, or was when last I saw her." His glance flicked to
Will, and then he stared directly into Jack's eyes. "Anamaria is well,
Sparrow."

Will felt Jack changing, and caught the look thrown in his direction. He
nodded, and let the shift carry him as well, Turner's heat encompassing
his world until he saw with the blacksmith's eyes.

"Well," Jack said, fluid gesture in the newcomer's direction, "D'ye mind
telling me what you're doin' here, then? Considerin' the circumstances
of our last meeting, and by that I do not mean Halloween but rather your
crying for me William's blood, I can think of many places you'd much
rather be."

"You are making this no easier," the pirate growled. "Not that I
expected you to. Nor you, especially," he said, indicating Will with a
brief head-turn. "But I came, nonetheless, because...because...ah,
HELL..." He turned his back on both of them, raised his arms, and
lowered them quickly with a pained hiss.

"Oh, now, interesting that ye should mention Hell. Out o' curiosity, how
was it?"

Koehler turned back, head leading, eyes dark with that old rage mixed
with something *else,* something ineffable. "'Tis not a thing built for
mortal minds to recall, I imagine. I could not tell you if in fact I was
gnawed at by demons in that ninth ring ye promised me. But in this new
world..." a shudder wracked him, and he gasped twice, before the old
patois was replaced with a bland Midwestern accent. "...I learned
Italian. Just so that I could read Dante in the original. And I now have
no doubt that Hell exists, above and beyond what we might make for
ourselves. None, whatsoever."

The energy seemed to leave him then, and he slumped, backpedaling to sit
down hard on Jack's front steps. Will and Jack approached from either
side, leaning against a low brick wall, looking down. Tyler Robbins
gazed back up at them. His voice was quiet as he said, "She threw me
out, Jack."

Shift again, to keep up, and suddenly it was a manager and an
accountant, faced with a colleague's husband who seemed in pain and
nearly in shock. Despite history, Will caught Jack's eye and then rolled
his toward the house. After a second, Jack nodded.

"Look, Tyler, right?" The man gave a weary nod in reply. "Why don't you
come on inside?" Jack gave him a slightly sideways glance.
"Just...behave."

"I'll be good. But I can't make any guarantees for *him.* I barely
understand this - *any* of..." He held up his plastered arm and stared
at it with an expression that Jack recognized. The man was looking at
the bones beneath.

"Come on. Let's get in out of the wind."

* * *

"I broke my arm this morning," Tyler said, sitting on Jack's couch. Will
handed him a cup of coffee and he stared down into it for half a minute
before continuing. "Slipped in the shower. It was a pretty clean
fracture, the doctor said. After he'd set it and I'd got my cast put on,
I asked if I could see the X-Ray. You know, just for kicks?" He looked
up and Will nodded. "I picked up the X-Ray, and I sat there, looking at
my *bones,* and..." Took a sip of coffee, went on. "It all came back.
All my bones, bare in the moonlight, and *him.* Everything. Absolutely
everything. Annie, so damn *fierce,* and beautiful...I paid the doctor,
and Annie walked in, and then...I went away for a while."

Tyler continued to stare into his coffee. "I thought I was having some
bizarre reaction to the Vicodin. When my senses started working again,
everything was all...disconnected. I felt like I was watching someone
else in my body. Then I realized I was."

Jack reached out to touch his arm in comfort and that convulsive shudder
ran through him again at the contact. "Do *not* put your hands on me,
Sparrow."

"Byrd," Jack corrected, "and you're going to want to behave unless you
want to get Tyler thrown out of yet another house tonight." Sparrow
might have the sharper edges, Will reflected, but his own Jack was no
pushover. It was times like these that one recalled he worked for the
IRS.

The shudder was more muted this time, and as Koehler yielded to Tyler,
the stricken look faded along with the anger. "I liked you when I met
you," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I was never totally comfortable
around you, though. That's why you didn't see me much. I..." He took a
breath. "I thought it was because you were gay. I never thought I'd have
a problem with that, but sometimes we surprise ourselves in ways we
don't like." A snort and a humorless laugh. "And this isn't any better.
A part of me hates you like I've never hated anyone, sees you as a blood
enemy, the man who got me killed, the man who got to *feel* through my
ten years of soul-destroying nothingness." Will tensed a little, for his
voice had neared Koehler's growl at the end.

"So, and Tyler, forgive me for asking, but why are you *here?* Why
aren't you hashing all this insanity out with your wife? It's not like
she doesn't know what you're going through."

"No, you know, she really doesn't. Do you know when she threw me out?"

Jack, like Will, was silent, waiting.

Koehler leaned forward sharply, hands clenched on his knees. It seemed
to Will they fastened there to keep from going for Jack's throat. "'Twas
when, in blind panic, I flew into a rage, screaming at my wife for
leaving our children alone with *Captain* Jack Sparrow."

"Hey, I'm a good babysitter!"

"Blood enemies. Blood enemies, Jack, recall? For I recall both what you
did to me, and what I did to you, and I am not so blind in this new life
to see that I gave ye no cause for vengeance! And so often, you've been
alone with my kin, and it would be so *easy...*"

Jack stood so quickly that he nearly upset his armchair. Will stood as
well, slowly and cautiously, ready to get between them if needed. Jack
backed up two steps. Byrd's eyes were suddenly as dangerous, though, as
Will had ever seen Sparrow's.

"I would never, *ever* harm Eric or Lia. Not ever. And I would utterly
destroy anyone who tried." Only after that did Sparrow speak through
him. "When, oh when, did I ever give ye cause t' think that I'd ever
harm babes - yours or anyone else's?"

"I think that there was nothing ye would not have done t' regain the
Pearl."

"Not. That."

"And I suppose ye'd not leverage the life of your lover, either?"

Finally, Will spoke, and it was Turner through Smith's lips. "That was
not the last time." He did not mention that they had not been lovers
yet. "But each time, I forgave him, after realizing he was in peril as
great as mine. And I know that I am by far the younger man, but I am no
child. I knew what I was getting into. As, might I add, did you, when
you and yours threw him from the Pearl. Curse or no, you sealed your own
fate that day." The dreadlocked pirate opened his mouth and Will held up
a hand. "Mention my father and you are out the door."

"'Tis a bit of an empty threat at this point, lad," Koehler said
tiredly. "It's not as if I'm spending the night."


"Which brings us back to the question - why are you here?"

"Because I had to face my demons, damn you! I had to see what manner of
men you were, and how much hate is still in ye and in myself as well. If
I don't find some kind of peace between the man I am and the man I've
become, I may not see my children for a long time, indeed." He stood,
walking past Jack to the door and his shoulders twitched. "Annie threw
me out when Lia heard us fighting. She said she'd tell them Daddy went
on a trip..." He looked back. "But it's nearly Christmas."

Then he was gone.

Will sat back down and exhaled. "Oh, man. Poor guy."

"And one o' me oldest mates, who turned on me with a cutlass and a
grin."

"Yeah. That too." Jack sat down on the arm of Will's chair, and Will
reached up to massage his shoulders. The muscles relaxed, slowly, Jack
giving a humming sigh. Jack slid down until he was sprawled across
Will's lap, legs over the chair arm. Will took Jack into his arms and
rested his chin on the head of dark hair.

"I do recall him wanting me dead," Turner said through Smith at length,
"but to me, he was a face in a crowd that *all* wanted my blood. You,
and I suppose my father, have more stake in this...whatever it is. And
the hell of it is that..." he sighed, and then in modern voice went on,
"Tyler seems like a really nice guy."

"An' could he be, if Koehler didn't have that in 'im? I knew him off an'
on for years before the Pearl, and he was decent enough for a scallywag,
though always deadly - there was no mistakin' that about the man."

A near-memory blazed behind Will's eyes for an instant, flaring out and
disappearing, but leaving just enough..."Jack, tomorrow at work - get
Annie alone and ask her about the brig of the Black Pearl, after they'd
caught us."

"What happened? Did you remember something?"

Will bit his lip. "Almost. Almost had it, but neither of us can quite
grab it. I think it's because, for me, most of that time was about my
Dad. But there's something with Koehler and Anamaria...You want to ask
her. That's all I know."

"Okay." He sighed. "When did I ever worry about being super-professional
anyway? I guess there's no way not to get involved here."

"I think we already are, were, and have been involved. For Annie's sake,
and the kids..." Will thought about it. "And maybe our own, too, in a
weird way."

Jack gave a brief chuckle. "Y' mean perhaps there's some divine plan
that's forcin' me t' aid me enemies?" He tilted his head back and rolled
his eyes skyward. "Thanks." He sighed, going even more boneless. "All
right. Tomorrow we'll start working on getting Koehler home for
Christmas. You know, there's a bright side to this..."

"Yeah?"

"I didn't have to tell her."

* * *

For the entire ride to work, Annie Mae said absolutely nothing to Jack.
He opened his mouth once, to be cut off with a hiss. The second time, he
was cut off with a hiss, a raised hand, and a pointed glance at the door
that, as clearly as spoken, asked if Jack wanted to walk the rest of the
way.

Obviously, she didn't want to talk about it.

In the interests of getting to work in one piece, he held his tongue.
But as they were walking past the giant lobby Christmas tree, Jack said,
"We're going out to lunch today."

"I really don't feel like..."

"Annie Mae?" He waited until she was looking at him, then held her eyes
and said, "We're going out to lunch today."

With a small sigh she nodded, once, then looked up just in time to miss
the mailroom girl, her arms full of ornaments.

The morning passed uneventfully if uneasily. Josh was casting knowing
glances at both of them, which meant he'd recognized Annie's husband,
too. Jack wondered when. Annie, though, seemed resolved not to speak to
Jack until and unless she had to. The waiting made him begin to twitch
and fidget. When he dragged Will into the broom closet on the
Manufacturing floor, it was truly just to *talk.*

Though the kid taking Jack into his mouth came as blessed relief in more
ways than one.

"I just...mmh, oh, no don't stop...I have to be so careful...mmm...with
her right now...oh, yeah...it's critical...gah...have t'play it just
RIGHT!"

"Yeah," Will replied as he wiped them both down with Kleenex, "You're
gonna be meddling, but you want to do it in a way that brings her closer
to you at the end."

"And not at Tyler's expense, either. All of me says if I do that, I lose
her down the road."

"Okay, so..." Will said, taking Jack by the shoulders and giving a brief
kiss before turning him to face the door, "...you have to be a sensitive
scalawag. You can do that. You're, well, you."

"And lucky I am t' have ye around to remind me."

"On the very rare occasion that you forget."

Jack weathered the rest of the morning with enough aplomb to garner
suspicious looks from Josh and Annie both. Well, fair enough. He *was*
up to something, even if it sadly couldn't be classified as "no good."

Annie, of course, tried to slip away at two minutes 'till noon. Jack
caught her wrist, lightly, causing her to jerk away. At which moment, he
leaned irresponsibly far forward and whispered, "Scared?"

"Of *you?*" She snorted, and he smiled. Ten minutes later, he was buying
her a French dip at the Friday's down the street. The place was bedecked
with pine garlands, and the waitress that brought the food wore ornament
earrings.

"You knew I knew," he said, waiting until her mouth was full, thus
forcing her to chew and consider before speaking. Jingle Bell Rock
played softly in the background.

"Of course I...we...knew." Her mouth quirked for just a second, and then
the tension lines returned. She sighed. "Ye've always been an open book
t' us, Sparrow."

Byrd caught the pirate within before he could insist on his title; it
wouldn't help matters. And there came the grudging acceptance that he
felt when he was right, and Sparrow didn't want to admit it.

Still..."I seem to recall a certain boat that says otherwise."

Another snort. "Please. I knew what you were after. I just never
expected ye t' drug rum you yourself were drinkin'."

Sparrow informed his smile and gesture then, the one that said he'd
still stolen it, and Anamaria's lips grew tight. Well, things weren't
going to get any better, so best to jump back in with both feet.

"I want you to know," he said, letting his face go serious, "that I'm
not talking to you as your boss or your Captain. Because while you
looked awful this morning..."

"Oh, thanks."

"...your work hasn't been affected. This isn't about that." He took a
breath. "I know you had a rough night last night."

Annie scowled down at her plate. "Josh talks too much."

//...*Interesting*...//

"I didn't hear it from Josh." And that got a sharp look up. "When Will
and I got back from dinner, your husband was waiting at the door." Eyes
widened just a little, and he cut it off before the moment stretched too
long. "We talked, and he left. I can't say we're going to be friends,
but he was trying..."

"What did I tell you, then, nearly the minute I came back? It isn't
always about you. He began - he, not I, mind ye - a screaming match
where our babes could hear us. That was the lesser bit of it. The
greater..." No hitch in her voice - where Annie might have been
tear-roughened by now, Anamaria spoke in clipped, clear tones. "...I
can't live with a man who doesn't trust me. He thought ye a danger t'
our children, when I'd never let danger about them. Tell me, Jack, how I
earn this man's trust when after all these years of marriage I should
not need to!"

//...Ah, proud Ana...now might be time for our hole card...even if we're
playin' it blind...//

Byrd agreed, and so he said, "Anamaria, what happened between you two in
the brig of the Black Pearl?"

Whatever she'd next expected, it wasn't that. Her sandwich was left
soaking in the cup of au jus as her eyes focused elsewhere, beyond.
"I...I hadn't thought about that...not since..." She took a deep breath,
and kept breathing, slow and measured. "'Twas cold, that night. The
Turner l- Will, Will was alone in his cell, and the rest of us all
together. Most asleep of exhaustion, but not I, for accursed or not,
they're still men, and I don't trust 'em. That night, he comes down the
stairs and watches me, only watches me. I trust them even less, now. And
then it's another night and a day, and he's there again, and I look
back, for I'll not show fear even with the moon out. He stands, walks
near the bars, though not near enough to touch. Invulnerable he may be,
but stupid he's not."

Jack watched her lips curve up at the corners, just slightly.

"He looks at me and says he's sorry. Which is rare to hear from a
pirate, and so I ask 'What about?" He says, that we didn't meet some
other place, some other time. So I spit at him, and miss. The bone face
shows not a thing, and he steps closer. He says I'm the fiercest, most
beautiful thing he's ever seen, and that he's been in love with me from
the moment he saw me. I ask him if that means he'll be first in line at
the rail once the curse is lifted - after the captain, of course. He
turns, sharp, walks up the stairs, and is gone."

Unconsciously, her finger ran along the edge of her steak knife.

"The next night, he's back, and he keeps to the shadows. I tell him that
I know he's there, and he says he knows, and he wants to tell me as a
man. He says I'll not be rogered, that he'll not allow it. I ask him if
he's somehow scuttled the captain as I heard was done t' Will's da, and
he shakes his head. He puts a hand on the hilt of his dagger and says
that there may be only one way for him t' prevent it, and would I wish
that? I tell him the crew would kill him for that, and he says that's
his affair and none of mine. It's the anger in his voice that convinces
me, I think, and so I consider the worst, should it happen. I nod, and
he says, 'We have an accord.'"

Jack reached out to touch her hand, and nearly got a steak knife through
his. Anamaria came back to herself with the point a millimeter from
Jack's skin and put the knife down, slowly.

"The rest, ye know. Navy took back the Dauntless and killed 'em all,
eventually, save yourself, and possibly a few others, but I never heard
anything of him, and so I must think he died. I thanked the blessed
Virgin on most major holidays that he never had t' keep his promise, and
said one or two words for his soul."

"Well," Jack said, "It seems to me that even though you didn't know him
long or well, you've got at least the basis for trust. I don't say this
as his friend. I'm not and may never be his friend, considering what the
older part of him did to me. I'm saying this as your friend, Annie. The
man you married is a good man. The man you found within him...may not be
entirely irredeemable. And if it's any comfort, I don't think either of
them are capable of hurting you or the children on purpose."

"And by accident? He was a violent man, Jack. Back then, dying was the
only help he had for me."

"We were all violent, Annie. Some of us got a little better." He gave a
wry grin, very Byrd. "Hell, I've had two chances to kill Ragetti, one
more or less legally, and I haven't done it yet."

She sighed. "Okay. While I don't so much appreciate your sticking your
nose in, I know there's no way I could've stopped it. That being
said...your saying what you did means something, considering the
history. I'll give him a call after work."

"No need," came a raspy whisper from behind the waiters' station. A head
with short, neat dreadlocks curved around the wooden half-wall, followed
by the rest of him. There might just have been a tear track down one
cheek. "Oh, Ana, don�t ye understand? Your prayers saved my soul. You
won me free from the ninth ring of Hell, t' come back to you."

Annie, meanwhile, had her hands on her hips, and gave the impression of
looking down at her husband from a seated position. "You were *stalking*
me!?"

"Um, pirate?" Which was Tyler, because it was impossible for Koehler to
look that meek.  Then he staggered, gripping the table edge.

In an eyeblink, Annie Mae had an extra chair out and her husband stuffed
into it. "Oh, you colossal idiot. When was the last time you had
something to eat?"

"Um, lunch, yesterday?"

"Baby, sit down, have a French fry, and shut up, okay?"

He took one at first, and then a pirate's survival instincts took over,
for next he shoved a handful into his mouth. Jack heard the murmur of
approaching conversation. Someone about to be seated in their section.

//...so much for privacy, then...//

The group rounded the corner and Jack's eyes could not leave them. Nor
could he help but wonder just how much Koehler recalled of the end of
his life. For it was a group from Royal Inc. Security lead by the
department head, who once had been a commodore.

An instant later, heads turned, eyes locked, and Jack could stop
wondering. The black man stood, eyes going wide, and an instant after
that, clawed hands went to his throat. His *own* throat.

Dammit! Three years since his last CPR class...enough time to lose most

of it...not enough time, not enough *time*-

And Greg Norton had his arms behind the choking once-pirate, hands
balled beneath his ribcage and thrusting up and in once, twice - food
flew across the room and the man breathed in shuddering gasps.

Slowly, almost tenderly, Greg lowered Koehler to the floor, meeting
Jack's eyes - ah, James, then. Of course, it would be James now.

The old pirate whispered something soft and low. Norrington replied,
just as quietly, and Jack thought he might be the only one close enough
to hear. Then he put an arm on one lobby guard's shoulder and said
something else, and the man moved aside to let him walk away.

Annie made it to Tyler's side as he started to sit up, her arm around
him. "Oh, baby. Thought I was gonna lose you."

"Likewise. Just add 'again,' there."

As they moved outside, Annie Mae and Tyler had arms around each other's
waists. Jack pulled out his wallet only to be told by a wide-eyed
hostess that it was on the house. They got Tyler seated in the back of
Annie's car, and she paused before opening the other doors.

"What did they say to each other, Jack? Did you hear?"

He looked at her, meeting her eyes. "Koehler asked Norrington why he
saved him."

"And the reply?"

"Norrington said, 'For the same reason that I killed you. It was the
right thing to do, and the only thing I could do.'"

And damn the calculating wheels in his mind that could not be turned off
or stopped, for he began to laugh. Quietly at first, and then 'till
tears ran down his face. Eventually they stopped, but he knew Will would
sense them in him, and he would have to talk about it.

"Jack?"

"I'm okay, Annie. Just drop me back at the office and take the rest of
the day off. Spend some time with your family."

"Aye, Captain."

* * *

Will brought Jack home that afternoon. Jack was silent for most of the
ride. As soon as they were out of the cherry red car, Jack pressed Will
against the door. One hand on the knob, Will opened it and they fell
back into the hallway. Legs entwined as they stumbled to the bedroom,
fetching up against walls as shirts, pants, shoes peeled away. Jack held
the man to their bed and kissed him hard, ground into him harder. He let
go, let the pirate flood him, for it was Sparrow somehow that needed
this more. He felt Will becoming Turner beneath him, saw the muscles
ripple and heard him sigh.

The pirate smith's eyes opened and Jack saw himself reflected, eyes
intent, face set. Then he saw only Will, and that familiar drowning took
him. Hard, equal, hungry kisses even as the rest of the man yielded to
his touch. Need *now* and so hands and tongue slid straight to the spots
that made Will most wanton. Oh, yes, the lad shuddered, rock hard and
full up, hips rolling high. Jack reached, spread, caressed, and the man
whimpered, glistened. Angling, stroking, pushing inside, mouths, breaths
linked. Delving harder, harder, eyes closed and were they both moaning?
Rolling around and into and oh, more, always *more* oh Will we could
only lose ourself...in...you...

Oh.

Will came just after, to strokes and sighs, and they clasped tight for
long moments. Then the younger man raised a hand, ran a finger through
the sweat-slicked locks by Jack's hairline, to his jaw. "My captain,
talk to me." Paused, then Smith spoke through him. "That was 'bad day
sex' if I've ever had it. What's up?" Soft kiss. "Is Anamaria still
ours?"

"Oh, aye. That's not at all the issue, love. 'Tis just... I've begun t'
see a pattern, and it disturbs me." He relaxed against Will, secure in
his love's anchorage. //...so to speak...// murmured Byrd, with a hint
of a smirk, which fell away as Sparrow continued. "'Twas actually
something that you, or rather we, said last night, and now today with me
old mate and me old enemy reconciled, I'm seeing it a bit differently."

"Mmm?"

"Well, it was your suggestion that somehow, helping Tyler might be
something we needed to do, which made me wonder whether there were some
plan to it all, something fated. And I'd fairly well dismissed it,
until..." Jack disengaged, and Will exhaled softly. Then Jack rolled
onto his back, arms splayed, hair spread across the pillows. "Greg
Norton saved Tyler Robbins' life today." And he recounted the whole tale
of lunch, and all he'd seen and heard. One hand tangled idly in Will's
hair, while the other raised to twist as he spoke. "I'm beginning to
think, Will me love, that we were more right than we knew, and for the
life of me I've no idea what it means. Consider Norrington saving the
man he killed, and recall I've helped, now, not only Ragetti but
Koehler."

"Ragetti was at my father's behest..." Will said, then stopped, eyes
widening.

"Aye. Your father, who remembers that one-eyed swab as one pair of hands
what bound him to his cannon. And I'm not certain that's the end of it."

"What more...?"

"You'll recall all the trouble that Barbossa's pet hypnotist caused,
planting doubts about each other and ourselves."

"I'll never forget," Will replied, "and I am still sor-"

Jack's fingers left Will's hair to cover Will's lips. "Shh. No regrets."
And when the other man nodded, the hand drifted lower, to trace patterns
on Will's chest. "And you recall the resolution of those problems."

"Aye. Smith and I found our forge, and you and Byrd found the Pearl once
more. We drew upon the connections between past and present. I'd never
felt anything like it, never felt so strong or sure..." He smiled in
recollection, and Byrd tickled Sparrow's mind in a place that made him
sigh. Then they watched Will make the connection they'd made. "Oh, God.
In a way...Barbossa *helped* us. *He* helped..." Will went modern again
for an instant. "Oh...if we hadn't just...all right, now I can see why
you wanted to nail me to the mattress. This is really disturbing."

"And it gets worse." Will's eyebrows went up. "Barbossa's already
mentioned wanting a favor. If there really is a pattern...what by all
that's unholy might we end up having to do for our worst enemy?" He took
a deep breath and added, as Byrd, "On the other hand, it might all be
nothing. Correlations happen all the time. People are capable of seeing
all kinds of patterns in nature that aren't really there."

"People, sure. But you're..."

"Aye, I am. Doesn't mean I can't choose t' disbelieve me own press when
I'd rather do so."

"You do have a point. And if some strange fate does have us doing him a
kindness...we can only hope it's as unpleasant for him as his 'help' was
for us." And then Will kissed him softly on the lips, shifting all the
way to Smith as he did so. Jack let out a breath and called his modern
self up, pressure releasing as Byrd became him and vice versa, and
trailed what felt like the psychic equivalent of a grope in passing.
//...eh, me own?...//

//...hey, take what you can, right?...// Byrd replied mentally. He
nibbled thoughtfully on Will's lower lip, and then said, "So, are we
agreed that the best course of action is to ignore the hell out of this
until we can't, anymore?"

"Maybe." Will Smith relaxed back onto the pillows. "But for now...the
Royal, Inc. Christmas party's on Friday, and then we're all off 'till
New Year's."

"So we party."

"Heck, yeah."

"I can ... mmm ... live with that."

* * *

END

TMF

* * *

Thanks to GN for the beta as always!

Evil Overlord List copyright Peter Anspach. You can find it here:
http://www.eviloverlord.com/lists/overlord.html. If you haven't read it,
open a new browser window and do it now, because you've been missing
out.

The line about apocalypses comes from The Tick - an interviewer asks him
if he can destroy the world, and he replies, "Egad. I hope not. That's
where I keep all my stuff!"

The quote about sex in difficult places is heavily paraphrased from
"Mallrats" and was probably funnier there. I figure, if I'm gonna steal
dialogue, I could do worse than Kevin Smith.

Many thanks to whomever it was way back when that suggested the boys
should get together over the contents of Giles' drinks cabinet - it
works even if the original is at the bottom of Sunnydale Crater. Holler
for credit.

And Taxes 9 - The Mad Fangirl

Title: "Have At" - A Valentines' Day Taxverse Snippet.
Author: The Mad Fangirl - batya_93@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: Not mine, savvy?

Rating: NC-17

Arrrrchive: Yes, please - just tell me where.

Pairings: W/J, E/N
Warnings: Hot guy-guy slashy action; i.e. men having graphic sex with
other men. Also, for those that avoid such things, there are het
references. Nothing more graphic than the description of lingerie,
though, and it's only to serve the greater good of the slashy plot, I
swear!

Summary:

As mentioned, takes place in the Taxes universe. My muses are being
kinda stubborn on Taxes 7, but they felt sorry for me and whispered some
smut in my ear. Yay muses! This fic is dedicated to my buddy Venka, who
came up with the main bunny. Takes place after Taxes 6, for sure, and
possibly also after the forthcoming Taxes 7, if I do in fact end up
setting that one around X-Mas '03.

Speaking of Taxes, you can now visit the prior stories here, thanks to
Melethryn:

http://www.melethryn.net/HighSeas/author4.html#madfangirl

Excepting the last snippet I did, set between Taxes 3 and 4, which is on
Livejournal here:

http://www.livejournal.com/community/pirategasm/432749.html

POVs this Episode: It's all Will, baby.

* * *

Liz was a decoy, and Will knew it.

Valentine's Day being on a Saturday, neither he nor Jack could sneak
home early from work to arrange a surprise, so when Liz dropped by for
advice on a last-minute gift for Greg, he watched her and Jack, both.

A sly look...he caught Liz, and by the time he turned back to Jack,
there was only the too-innocent smile. Peas in a pod, they were, but
Jack was generally better at some things. Of course, Liz left Will no
time to call them on it. With a hand catching the cuff of his sleeve,
they were out the door.

Only as the door closed did Jack wink.

* * *

"So should I be afraid or very afraid?"

"Will, I have no idea what you're talking about. Leather or lace?"

Will thumbed a hanger. "I think that one has both." He paused. "Aren't
you going to get him anything?"

"Why should I get Jack anything? He's the only one of you I *wasn't*
engaged to." Liz blinked. "I think..."

"You know what I meant. Greg."

"This *is* for Greg."

"It's not gonna fit."

"Much as it's a fun mental image, you're right." Liz eyed the confection
of brown leather and antique lace critically, then grabbed it. With her
other hand, she scooped black silk boxers with red lip-marks out of a
bin. "Okay?"

"What about the blue with the cowboy hats?"

"Ooh!"

She ended up getting them both, the friends then settling down at the
food court for a light brunch. Tearing a piece from her peach brioche,
Liz shot Will a sidelong look. "So how about you? What're you doing for
Jack?"

Will sighed and shrugged. "I was going to buy strawberries and chocolate
and take it from there, but then I figured that was clich�d." He ran a
hand through his hair, scratching his head on the way. "Then I thought,
maybe raspberries and whipped cream, and then I realized I was wandering
out of erotica and into recipes."

"That happens to you a lot, doesn't it?"

"More often than you'd think. Anyway," he said, eyeing her with renewed
suspicion, "he's obviously got nefarious plans for me, right?"

"Does he ever have any other sort?" she said in Elizabeth's accents,
with the same woman's deviltry gleaming in her eyes.

Smith gave Turner voice in return. "Miss Swann, you've just answered a
question with a question."

"Funny how knowing that doesn't help you at all, huh?" Liz replied,
smirking.

"You just did it again!"

"Nope. I answered a statement with a question this time. Fear the
liberal arts major, Will."

"Believe me, I do." He sighed. "So what should I give him, anyway?
Besides a rose - I've got a long-stem reserved at the florist's."

"And besides giving him a sound-"

"Liz! Public!"

Smirk again. "Yeah, huh? Anyway, you were on the right track. You're a
hell of a cook; I say pick up a lobster and make it for him tonight."
Pause... "I've got a feeling you're going to be hungry."

Will decided on very afraid.

* * *

Liz ran them by the supermarket and did, after all, pick up strawberries
and cream for herself. Then the florist's, and then Will was deposited
at the foot of the driveway with a brief smack to his rear, and a
decidedly inappropriate "Have at!" as Liz sped away.

Will approached the front door, and noticed first the small silver key,
hung from the doorknob by a black satin ribbon. He wasn't certain, but
he thought he might recognize the make, and so he licked his lips. A
fire kindled, not in his belly, per se, but nearby. His breath began to
come quicker.

//...but surely this is too easy, my own self...// Turner murmured.

//...ssh! you'll jinx it...// Smith whispered in reply.

And then he placed his key in the lock, and found that Turner was right.
The key did not turn.

The next thought was meekly apologetic. //...sorry?...//

Will just snorted. His foot brushed something, and he looked down.

A small red box lay wrapped with black ribbon. Written on the wrapping,
in gold pen and Sparrow's script, was a message.

'The course of true love never did run smooth.'

Will began to suspect the contents, and upon opening his present, found
that he'd been right.

Only a mad, paradoxical pirate-accountant would change the locks on
Valentine's Day, and give his lover a set of lock-picks.

//...is he trying to drive us mad with lust!?...// a pause, and then the
blacksmith continued. //...and was that an incredibly stupid
question?...//

//...gonna be a short trip...oh, *hell,* he locked the dead bolt...//

The bedroom window would arguably have been quicker, but they'd had
security shades installed, and Will knew they'd be down. Besides, it was
likely Jack had the old locks around the house somewhere, so they could
do as they would to these.

//...ah, well. let's have at, then...//

Will sighed, relaxed, closed his eyes, and brought forth old knowledge
and instinct. Turner did not seek full control, nor for once did Will
seek to yield it.

//...you wish to learn this with your own hands, don't you?...//

//...yeah. guide me...//

//...always...//

They began with the harder lock, the dead bolt, manager and smith
together feeling out the metal. Blacksmith's and pirate's skills became
of equal importance. Amid scraping and soft pressure, Will's eyes slid
shut. His breathing evened, deepened. They worked further in, and when
the lock gave with a click, he felt the flush of triumph throughout all
his soul.

//...well done, myself...if we do say so...//

The lock on the doorknob itself was easier, and took a third of the
time. When it opened, Will stepped inside to a darkened house, and a
trail of vanilla-scented votives.

The candles were very newly lit.

//...he knew! he knew exactly how long it would take us. how...//

//...you know how he'd answer that...//

He and Turner were so close now, the thoughts rode one another and
he...they...felt as if they walked in a dream. Down and around, along
the short candlelit path...the bedroom door was cracked and they pushed
it all the way open.

He'd been right about the key.

The tableau before him was lit with taller black candles, scented with
licorice. In a brief, distracted moment, Will noticed that warm blue
flannel sheets had been replaced with black satin. Another flash, and
Will saw a jar warming above another small candle. A brush rested
within...oh. Chocolate body paint.

And then Will had eyes only for the centerpiece. Jack, Jack, of course
Jack, handcuffed to the bedpost. Lounging, boneless, with the bizarre
ease he always had when bound. Naked, of course, but for a crooked arrow
of chocolate that pointed south.

Byrd's grin transformed into Sparrow's smirk as Will watched. "So. Did
ye both bond, then?"

Ribboned key tossed above a dresser, shoes back behind somewhere. "How
did you *know?*"

Grin went wide. "Why, lad, I'm *Captain* Jack Sparrow." He paused. "And
thanks for the lead-in. Best Valentines' gift ye could give
m-mmmph....ahh...um, you're getting chocolate on your shirt..."
The brief Byrd observation was correct, though Will hardly cared. Still,
the shirt would have to go, and if it were already stained, who cared
about a rip or two...twisting against Jack, he shimmied free of his
jeans and underwear at once, looking back merely to ensure they did not
start a fire.

"Your canvas awaits, Will me love," Jack murmured. To Will's senses he
seemed full, as Will was himself, and Will imagined he felt Jack's
selves flowing together and apart, ever-changing as the waves.

Will took the brush and drew that sea across Jack's chest, three
rippling lines. He got to the setting sun as well, but straddling Jack's
hips their lengths rubbed just *so,* and the bird in flight was
forgotten as he fell upon his captain, devouring his mouth while the
chocolate smeared between them.

"Squeak!"

Will lifted away but an inch. "Hector! Shoo..."
"Ah, Will..."

"Squeak?"

"Hector, c'mon, just for a little bit..." And claws clicked against the
floor, then receded.

"Will...mm...Aah..."

"You were saying?"

"Not...ah...at all important..." And they found each other's lips again,
tongues sliding, tasting chocolate. The stuff was sticky and slick by
turns between them. Will's hands closed about Jack's wrists, fingertips
against cool metal. Warm tongue flicking out now to lick his ear and the
friction between them was perfect, too perfect, madly perfect...calves
hooked together and Will ground himself against his captain, who moaned
low and feral. Bodies, souls, each to each in synch and Will cried out
now, his own warmth spreading out between them both. His captain
followed with a gasp.

Moments or minutes later they lay side by side across the dark
smoothness of the bedding. Will pulled the red rose from the nightstand
and drew it across Jack's cheek, and Jack closed his eyes and sighed.
Then he snapped at the rose with his teeth, and Will snatched it from
harm's way.

"But Will," Jack murmured, "Haven't ye ever eaten rose hips? Of course,
your hips rose well enough...though I haven't had the chance to ...
well..." He smiled, eyes half-closed, and stretched, cuffs jingling.

"Oh, my Captain..." Will turned and leaned across the darker,
chocolate-streaked skin. He propped himself up on an elbow and toyed
idly with Jack's hair. When he ran his fingers behind Jack's ears, the
pirate made a rumbling noise that was nearly a purr. Then Will's modern
self had an observation. "You know just exactly how hot you look chained
up, don't you?"

"Well, I don't like to brag..."

"Liar."

"Pirate."

"No kidding?"

"Mmmm...." A long kiss, Jack licking his lips after. Will felt himself
begin to stir again. "...Of course, love."

"That being said," the prior Will put in, "I'll admit I'm a little
surprised the Commodore never..."

"Well, I'm sure he was tempted - who wouldn't be...?"

Will snorted.

"...but all told, his type runs more toward either fine ladies, or
fellow officers and gentlemen. Sharing the angst of honor, the weight of
command, and all that." Jack raised his eyebrows, adding, "Perhaps I
ought to be jealous, as I've gone to all the trouble to chain myself to
our bed and here we are discussing Norrington."

"You do have a point."

"Well, not at the moment, but I feel you're one to remedy that in short
order."

"Nothing short about it."

"Ye flatter me."

"Your ego demands no less."

"Whelp!"

"Don't you forget it." Will let his hands stray to Jack's neck and
shoulders. Jack's head lolled, picture of sinful abandon.

He spoke, Byrd again for a moment. "Damn. Forgot how good you were at
that..." Trailed off into a sigh.

"I'll have to make it a point to remind you."

"Speaking of making points..." And Jack was filling again, stiffening
against Will's thigh. Will gave an experimental grind, got a definite
groan. Then his eyes fell again on the pot of warm chocolate.

"Ooh. Finger-paint."

At that, the gleam came into Jack's eyes and he smiled that bright grin
that made Will need to *do* things...he did a few and made Jack's hips
squirm, and then plunged his fingers into the heated tub. Will traced
spirals above Jack's hips first, then moved in and down, keeping the
circling motions constant on Jack's belly. Lower and lower...the man
writhed beneath him. Spirals became long stripes, and then Will  moved
in for a taste.

He licked, then suckled, staying high on the chocolate-streaked tip.
Jack shivered, trying to rise higher, and Will pulled back, reaching
around behind to grab and hold.

"I ... ohhh... I suppose that...mm... commanding ye to finish me proper
would...be ironic, considering the steel what holds me from a commanding
position...hh..." Will slipped down further and Jack gasped for air.

"Perhaps you should steel yourself, then, captain mine..." Will said,
lifting away with a lick.

"Why? I've stolen ye away well enough...but if ye want me to beg, I've
never been too proud..."

"No need." And Will fell back upon him hungrily, taking Jack half in at
once, at the same time sliding hands around from rear to front, holding
Jack's hips to the bed.

Unable to rise, they *shook*..."William, me own! Will,
Will...oh...ahh....AH! WILL!" and he watched as eyes shuttered and that
dark head flew back, as he drank in his love.

Jack gave a long sigh before opening his eyes. Will met that satisfied,
if slightly hazy look while licking chocolate from the corners of his
mouth.

"Beats chocolate-covered strawberries all to heck," he observed,
proceeding to clean his fingers.

"Playing it cool, huh?" Jack smirked in modern accent. "You know you
just want to jump me."

"Oh, *hell* yeah." And how, exactly, hadn't he noticed his own lust
returned so strong?

//...well, I know not, but it begs to be satisfied...//

//...and he's begging to satisfy...//

Will *lunged,* grabbing a tube from beneath the pillows as he took
Jack's mouth. One hand smoothed sweat-spiked bangs while the other
sought within, finding Jack utterly relaxed, accepting, beguiling,
tempting...oh, oh, yes, he needed this again, now, NOW...pulled back,
prepared, he felt himself fall into Jack with a moan that started in his
toes.

"Listen to your Captain, now..." came the low, irresistible voice. "Give
it up, love. Stop thinking. Just move, my William. Just move."

Thought fled and Will moved...nothing but the burning heat of that
movement and the cries that had to be coming from his throat but
sounding utterly foreign...heat, movement, sound...god...GOD..."AAAH!
JACK!" Every muscle stretched taut, pleasure unbearable as they all
released at once..."JACK..."

Will fell again and knew he had been falling forever.

"...Jack...oh, God, I love you..."

* * *

...Boneless. He was utterly boneless, sprawled atop and within his
lover.

"...love you too, lad. Happy Valentine's Day."

"It is, isn't it? Wow...I need to fall victim to your nefarious schemes
more often."

"Nefarious. Always liked that word." Beneath Will, Jack rolled his
shoulders.

Which led to another thought. "Man, I really ought to un-cuff you."

"Yeah, um...good luck with that...something we were gonna mention..."

"Jack?" Will looked behind to the dresser, then carefully pulled away.
"Where's the key?"

"Hector ran off with it right about when we were getting started."

"Oh." Will paused. "That was probably kind of important, huh?"

"Seems more so in retrospect."

"Well, where's the other key? You had to have another one to cuff
yourself..."

"Yeah. Little weasel ran off with that one as soon as I dropped it
behind the bed."

"Crap. Those lock-picks are looking like a better present all the time."

"Well, have at - you got through the door in no time at all..."

"Beginner's luck?"

"What about leverage? The proper application of strength?"

"Yeah, well, I did have help. I mean, I learned a lot about picking dead
bolts, but now Turner's asleep, so..."

"You're kidding, right? Will? Will?"

* * *

END

TMF

(They get out of there before the lobster spoils, I swear...)

Happy Valentine's Day!

* * *

Credits:

Gundam Nymph, for the beta - thanks again!

Venka, for the leather-clad lusty plot bunny

Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream," for the quote Jack writes on
Will's present (and the fanfic writer who used it last - I swear I'd
credit you if I remembered who�).

And Taxes 8 - The Mad Fangirl

Title: Yo Ho Ho...
Author: The Mad Fangirl - batya_93@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: Not mine, savvy?

Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Hot guy-guy slashy action. (Was that a warning or a
promo? :) ) Anyway, men having graphic sex with other men. Also, bad
things tend to happen to Jack's goods when I'm around - but only if
it's funny!

Notes: Okay, what  does it say about me when I read a "Jack/Bottle of
Rum" scenario and think, "Now, that's comedy!"

Pairings: Jack/Will, Jack/Bottle of Rum
Summary: This fic was originally written for the Slashers of the
Caribbean FUH-Q fest. Info is here:
http://gotyaoi.com/potc/information.html, homepage is here:
http://gotyaoi.com/potc/main.html .I combined three scenarios for
this fic:
1. Jack introduces Will to the pleasures of rum. 2. Will gets tied to
the wheel of the Pearl while Jack has his evil ways with him. 3. Jack
Sparrow loves to be on the bottom. All warped through my twisted
mind, natch.



* * *
Yo Ho Ho...
by The Mad Fangirl
* * *

What Will could remember of it had seemed to make perfect sense at
the time. Of course, there had been quite a lot of rum involved.

//"Th... the Pearl, she's a woman, savvy? You've got t' truly feel
her, to *know* her, an' this is the best way there is!" Jack slurred
more than usual, on account of the quantity of rum, and the weave in
his step was noticeable even aboard ship, which meant there had been
quite a lot of rum indeed.//

The fact that it made perfect sense should have tipped him off, as it
was fairly well accepted that the only time CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow made
perfect sense was when the listener was three sheets to the wind. 
Not to say that there hadn't been moments Will would look back on
with a warm glow of equal parts love and remembered lust...

//Lashed to the wheel, his body turned with the movements of the
ship, his hips even bucking in time as his captain loved them both
together.  "Th' two things I covet most in this world... y' can' know,
boy..." The last words heard as Will Turner passed out, utterly
spent.//

Utterly drunk off my arse, he reflected, and dared open his eyes,
clenching them shut again as the sun tossed cutlasses straight
through them and into his brain.  At least he knew why his arm hurt,
though. One wrist was still aloft, lashed to the wheel, turning
lazily this way and that.  He'd have to remedy that... when he could
move...

A low, throaty moan caught his attention, and he dared open his eyes
again, this time remembering to shade them.  His captain lay not far,
bare-chested on the deck and half-covered by his coat.  He twitched
in his sleep, face contorting.

"Jack!"

Kohled eyes flew open. "Captain to you, matey... ow!"  Kohled eyes
squinched shut. "Bright! Too bright! Ow!"  A hand snaked out from
under the cloak to rub between furrowed brows. "Oh, I wish you hadn't
have woken me, Will. You and Elizabeth were doing the most marvelous
things with your tongues, and your father... which I won't mention, as
this is beginning to sound perverse even for me... ah, where was I?"

"Not having a nightmare, evidently."

"No, no. And there's evidence, believe you me." Jack Sparrow leered
back at his half-bound mate and twitched his hips suggestively,
fingers twirling downward to the sound of the clink.

"Clink?" Jack frowned again. "Since when do I go 'clink'?" 
Expressive dark eyes widened in horror. "Will, did I... did I get
something... pierced... last night?"

"J-Captain, I doubt I've any more memory of last night than you do. 
I remember..." He indicated the wheel and his hand, attached to its
peg, "In fact, I don't think I'll ever forget... but as to what came
before and after, I can only say with certainty that it involved rum
and a great deal of it.  And that if I could move now, I would heave
any remaining rum over the side with great alacrity."

Jack's face, though still pained, turned wistful. "Your former lady
fair was similarly bloody-minded toward rum after their first
encounter, as I recall. Perhaps it's a good thing you're still fit to
be tied, as it were."

"Tied yes, fit hardly.  Captain, sir, do you think you might..."

"I will, Will, but, you see, we haven't yet settled the issue of why
I go 'clink.'"  He craned his neck a bit, stretching.  "It can't be
anything good, can it?"

"Perhaps you might lift your coat and take a look?"

"Well, Will, I would, but, well..."  The eye that could see the
Pearl's deck scanned quickly, found naught but pirates still dead-
drunk, and closed, as Jack whispered, "...I'm afraid..."

"How bad could it be?"

Jack winced in earnest now. "Oh, Will, Will, Will, if ye're going to
be a pirate, lad, you've got to learn a bit about our customs and
superstitions. Your first lesson, which I fear shall be proven out
shortly, will be in why you should never, ever, ask such questions."

"But really, Captain, how -"

"*Stop*" Jack hissed urgently. "I'll look! Just... *don't* say that
again!"

Will obediently kept mum as his captain peeked beneath the coat. He
watched dark eyes widen as a flick of the wrist snapped the cloak
back down.  Then another slow, cautious peek, and another snap.
Followed by several deep breaths.

Jack Sparrow remained silent, and this worried Will a great deal.

"Ah... it's still there, isn't it?"

"Aye..." the captain responded, slowly.

"Everything in one piece?"

"Aye..."

"Well, then..."

"Will," Jack replied, "Answer me honestly, now, lad, those were
rather wide-mouthed bottles of rum we plundered off the Marie Louise,
aye? Uncommonly copious?"

"A bit, perhaps... why-"

"No, not a bit, unusually so. _Right_?"

"I suppose. But why does it..." Will's own eyes went wide.  "Oh. Oh,
no..." They traveled south to the covered bits of Jack's... bits. 
"No, you didn't..."

"Aye. Makes this just the tiniest bit less embarrassing, mayhap." 
And Jack slowly nudged the coat aside to reveal his manly attributes
quite firmly aroused from his aborted dream, and also quite firmly
lodged in the neck of a bottle of rum.

"Yo, ho, ho..." Will murmured.

Jack sighed. "That the best ye can do, lad?"

He tried again. "Well, I knew you loved rum. I just didn't know you
were so literal about it."

The pirate rolled his eyes. "That probably *is* the best ye can do."

"How did this happen, anyway?"

"'Twas after you passed out, methinks. Something's vaguely coming to
mind about a bet... although I'm not sure if I won or lost..."

"Who was the bet with, then?"

"..." The pirate captain pondered.  "Y'know, I want t' say Cotton's
parrot. That can't be right, can it?"

"There was quite a lot of rum involved."

"But did the bird have any?"

Pondering this made Will's head throb anew. Talking with Jack Sparrow
while hung over was apparently the exact opposite of talking with him
while drunk.  He decided to focus on the task at hand.

Although, getting matters in hand might be a bit difficult as they
were somewhat encased in glass at the moment.  Well, first things
first... the blacksmith's fingers picked at the knot that bound his
wrist to the wheel, freeing it so that Will could then fall backwards
into a motionless heap. It was a better position in which to ponder
the problem, he decided.

At length, he said, "Well, won't this eventually right itself?" He
had more faith in that than in righting his own self at the moment.
After all, it might take a while, but absent relief, the excitement
that sealed the bottle to Jack's flesh had eventually to subside.

"Lad, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." And Will had never heard the words
spoken quite so ruefully before.

"You don't mean to tell me that, since you are the pirate captain of
renown, that..."

"It's more like I'm renown because of that. In part. Rather, my part,
or parts, are renown, because of their fortitude, which therefore
tends to remain in force, until, perforce..."

Will's headache attacked again with a vengeance. "Captain... please...
no rhyming..."

"It's assonance, which alas isn't nearly as dirty as it sounds..."

"You're changing the subject."

"You started it."

"...Right..." And Will discovered he could raise one hand to pinch
between his brows again.  "So you're saying that until you're
physically satisfied, that..."

"As the bird would say, the wind's in me sails."

The young man took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and let the
pinpricks of spray tickle his chest. Any sensation to draw attention
from the pounding in his skull.  "Well," he said, finally, "There is
one thing that's always worked for me."

"Lad, I do hope you're not about to suggest three hours of sword
practice."

"No. Rather, picture the most foul thing your mind can conjure."

"Won't work. I've tried it."

"Think of... think of Barbossa!"

"Won't do, lad. Revenge always gets me interest up."

"Think of Governor Swann! Naked!"

"I'm sure he was an attractive young man... his daughter's lovely,
after all."

"Aaaargh!"

"That's 'Arrrrrrr.' Thought you wanted to be a pirate."

Will pressed his fists to his temples and winced.  "All right, how
about this. We wake Anamaria. She laughs. I know nothing more
detrimental to a man's excitement than a woman's scornful laughter,
and I can't think of a better woman for it."

"Well, lad, that would be a good plan, save for that I've heard the
last man who woke Anamaria after a drunk this long ended up minus
what I've got in me bottle and a good bit more besides."

The new pirate went boneless on the deck in defeat. "Well, we could
always try breaking the bottle."

A sudden scrape of steel met his ears. "Try that and y' will get that
sword practice after all."

Will sat up suddenly, arms crossed to ward a blade, and then realized
belatedly... "I can move!"

"Good for you, boy!" Jack replied with the enthusiasm of one who had
been there. Recently.

"All right, then. No bottle breaking." And Jack nodded fervently,
causing the sword leveled at Will's chest to bob up and down before
lifting away. "So..." With supreme effort, he crawled the few inches
to the captain's side, lifting an aching arm to settle around Jack's
shoulders. "We'll have to work on your condition on our own."  He
kissed Jack's neck, sucking hard and listening to his captain sigh.

"Don't know if you've noticed, but it'll be difficult to access me
condition at present."

"Have you so soon forgotten teaching me the ways of men with men?"

"Kind of ye to say, Will, but I've a feeling I didn't teach ye so
much as give ye a refresher course."

Will wondered hazily when he'd figured that out, then realized Jack
had almost successfully changed the subject again. He swung one leg
up and over his captain's back and flopped to his other side, lips
finding more neck to suckle. Another deep sigh and a small shiver.
Experimentally, he ground his half-clad hips against Jack's unclad
backside.

"Do you not think I could pleasure you as you've pleasured me?

The captain leaned back into him, that warm-tanned backside pressing
close against Will's front-side. There came a soft, scraping clink.

"Ah, me lad, ye're so good at everything else physical... no, I've no
doubt ye could."

"Everyone's asleep..." Will murmured, idly thumbing Jack's nipple to
an accompanying whimper. "Let me take you, Captain... don't you wish
me to?"

"Ohhhh... aye, oh, I do and that's the problem. I've wanted ye to bend
me over a barrel since I first laid eyes on ye - but we can't!"

"Why not?" Will ran one bare foot up the inside of Jack's thigh,
while chewing on his ear.

A ripple ran across Jack's shoulders, washing back and forth and
landing somewhere in the small of his back.  "Isn't *seemly,* boy.
I'm your elder and your captain. I ought t'be atop ye, not beneath.
And I'm a pirate captain - I ought t'be doing the taking, not bein'
boarded!"

"But, if I'm to be First Mate, I must learn the captain's art myself,
is that not so?" Now he licked Jack's earlobe lightly, while his
hands cupped that firm, round rear. "For I'll need to captain this
lovely ship when you're ashore, while you sleep, while you're
incapacitated...?"

"Aye..." The word was oh, so heavy with desire.

"When you've got your mast caught in a bottle..."

"Aye..." A shivery whisper.

Will's hands moved through and under to the last bits he could
reach. "And who better to teach me to plunder than Captain..."
*rub* "Jack" *stroke* "Sparrow?"

*Squeeze.*

A flask of oil smacked him in the face.

"Is that a yes, then?"

"That, me lad, is a bloody well get on with it or I'll string ye up
for the gulls!"

"Yes, sir."

Will slicked his hands with oil, beginning high at Jack's shoulders
and working his fingers deep. The muscles tensed, relaxed, and
relaxed more. Jack gasped, sighed, and sighed more. Will's hands
pulled and pressed and rolled down Jack's back, moving ever lower,
working oil into the base of his spine...

"Lad, perhaps ye misunderstood... the oil's for - Oh! Ahhh,
yes... that's what it's for... ahhh..."

Will rubbed, stretched, and worked the oil in deep. He took care,
too, to coat as much of Jack's manhood as was reachable, drizzling
the stuff about the bottle's neck. Then he anointed himself, and
pressed in to ever-louder whimpers that might have been "more!"
or "harder!" or simply, "ahhh!"

And then, Jack surrounded him completely, tight slick heaven, and he
barely had the presence of mind to keep from working him like steel
on the forge...

"Ah! Me lovely smith...work me like..."

Well, all right then.

"Harder! More! Oh, there, there, there, YES! Will! PEARL!"

Will, thrusting madly, felt the shudder and spill and let go his own
need, hot and hard. After, it was he who shook, slightly, and let
each delicious shiver pass through him and subside.

"Well," he said finally, once reasonably sure his voice would not
crack. "How am I at ravaging?" He pulled, and the bottle came loose
with a pop.

"I'm ruined," Jack muttered, more to himself. "Utterly, completely
ruined. I'll be wanting it all the time, now, bending over for me
mate."

Still, Will noticed once they faced each other, the Captain couldn't
seem to stop smiling.

Across the deck, Gibbs blinked, opening his eyes and quickly shutting
them again as it was indeed far too bright this afternoon. Not that
he hadn't been awake for quite awhile, with his eyes closed.

"Did I dream that," murmured another pirate, "or did the two of them
finally get down to it?"

"Ye were wakin'," Gibbs replied, "and it's about time, too. Pirate
shouldn't have such hang-ups. Isn't seemly."

Meanwhile, Will had found his legs again. With his considerable upper-
body strength, he wound back and pitched a certain bottle of rum far
over the side.

A heavy, tanned body, now back in his coat and naught else, draped
itself across him, said in his ear,

"Will, me lad, never thought I'd say this, but that's one bottle of
rum I'm glad never to see again."

"Good, but I'd have tossed it over regardless." Jack craned his head
around to look him in the eye, and Will shrugged.

"Competition."

* * *

END

TMF

And Taxes 7 - The Mad Fangirl

Title: Taxes 6 - A Pirate Thanksgiving
Author: The Mad Fangirl - batya_93@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: Not mine, savvy?

Rating: NC-17

Arrrrchive: Yes, please - just tell me where.

Pairings: W/J, E/N
Warnings: Hot guy-guy slashy action; i.e. men having graphic sex with
other men. Also, for those that avoid such things, there are het
references. Nothing graphic, though, and it's only to serve the greater
good of the slashy plot, I swear!

Summary and Notes:

For this fic, it's fairly well essential to have read Taxes 4, Die Hard
with Pirates. Helps to have read everything (muahaha), but T4's the
biggie. They're all here somewhere, as well as at aff.net
(http://adultfan.nexcess.net/aff/authors.php?no=5576). Order is "And
Taxes," "Taxes 2 - Past Life Hangover," "Repression, Obsession, and Past
Life Regression," "Die Hard with Pirates," and "Halloween/Day of the
Dead."

"Hernando Ross" makes himself scarce this ep; he's either hiding out
from all the conspicuous consumption, or feeding the poor at a soup
kitchen somewhere. Hey, the man's got layers (who appropriated that for
the big B? Want to give you your due...), and nobody knows more about
hunger. But, anyhow, Thanksgiving's a time for family, so this little
slice of Taxverse life comes from the home front.



POVs this episode: Will, Will, Jack, Jack, Greg, James, Liz, Elizabeth,
Big Jim Norton, Professor Bill Smith, and [SPOILER].


* * *
Taxes 6 - A Pirate Thanksgiving
* * *
Will felt inordinately pleased and returned the grin. "Well, at the very
least, this should make Thanksgiving v-"

"If you say 'very interesting,' I'm going to hit you, *savvy?*"

---Taxes 4

* * *

Wednesday morning...San Diego, California

//Let me go let me go oh my jealous love let me go// "LET ME GO!" Bill
shouted, sitting straight up on the couch.

A slightly rounded man with thinning blond hair ran into the living
room. "Professor Smith! Are you all right?"

//Good question...// Sweat-soaked, Bill Smith took several deep breaths.
Finally, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, Albert. Thanks." He pulled the sheet off
his chest and started folding it, getting a few wrinkles in the folds.
This, of course, caused Albert to take it from him and re-fold it
crisply, though Bill knew he'd wash it presently. "Just a nightmare.
Been having the same one for years, but I never remember it."

"You know," Albert said, meditatively, reaching for the crumpled
comforter next, "I have an acquaintance who has recurring dreams. I
never had put a great deal of stock in that sort of thing, but his
dreams have tended to presage notable events. I'll admit that it has
made me rethink a thing or two."

"Huh. Well, maybe I'll see if my son has some books. He's started to get
into some new-agey stuff lately; saw some books on past lives when I was
over before." Bill stood, and Albert did likewise. "It was great to see
you, but I don't want to make you late for work. I'm off to stay with
another old student, if only because he's dating my son. Thanks for the
crash space."

"It was my pleasure," Albert replied. "The offer is always open when
you're in San Diego, subject to the requirements of national security,
of course."

"Of course." Bill grinned. "Look, you tell those guys at the Department
that next time I'm in town, we're gonna have a rematch down at the ol'
bowling alley, and I am going to kick their asses."

"I'll paraphrase you."

"Not a problem. Well, I'd better get showered. I think I'll grab some
breakfast, hit the Zoo and then head north."

"That sounds like an excellent plan." Albert gave his slight smile as
Bill headed for the bathroom. "And Professor?"

"Yes Albert?"

"Happy Thanksgiving."

* * *

Will Smith, Jr., awoke to pressure on his chest and a pair of tiny
ferret eyes blinking at him. "Go back to sleep, Hector," he murmured.
"I'll feed you when it's light out..."  He stretched, one arm continuing
farther than he expected. Jack wasn't in bed, nor was he out in the
living room with his guitar - Will could usually hear the strumming if
he strained. He flicked on a light, and heard Jack from elsewhere.

"Oh, you're up. Want to come with?"

Jack was in his wetsuit, as it turned out, with a hand on the garage
door. "I'd love to," Will replied. "Don't think I've ever actually seen
you surf. Saw you coming out of the water all slow-motion and
everything, which was hot as hell, by the way..."

"Yeah, it is, isn't it," Jack said, smirking.

"Ah, an ego undimmed by the passage of time," murmured Will Turner
through his present self.

"What? Ye were always wantin' me to be a more honest man," came the
reply in Sparrow's blur-edged speech.

Will just shook his head and yawned. "Okay, we'll put the top down and
take my car. No room on the bike for the board *and* me. It's still dark
o'clock in the morning, but we've got, what, forty-five minutes out
there before Annie Mae has your ass for making her late?"

"I don't know - I figured more like an hour, hour fifteen."

"Yeah, but you're not counting the time we're going to spend having mad,
passionate sex."

Jack blinked. "Hell with surfing."  He pulled Will in for a kiss that
the younger man swore somehow made his sweat pants tighter.

"I swear...ooh...we've got time for both...c'mon, you've got to work off
all that turkey you're going to eat, and if you don't get out before
things get all busy, you'll regret it."

"Damn. Hate it when ye're right, whelp. We'll have to work in the two of
ye, then."

"You know there's pretty much nothing I'd rather do, but I can just feel
it in you. You've been needing this."

"Yeah..." Jack Byrd sighed, and before long they were unloading the
surfboard from the back of Will's Lexus SC. Will swore he could hear the
ocean calling to Jack, calling through Jack, and knew he'd been right to
encourage him. This was an elemental need both part of and apart from
the bond between them, the connection they had with the sea.

Will watched Jack saunter into the waves, lie down on the board, and
feel the currents gather. He felt a buzzing and a liquid rush as Jack
Byrd became Jack Sparrow out there in the waves, and he became Turner
with him. Then another...they were shifting fully and quicksilver-fast,
riding wave and current sometimes one, sometimes other, sometimes both.

Perhaps it should have been exhausting, Will reflected, fairly sure he
was Will Turner at the time. But Smith got such a rush from yielding up
to his other self, and the sensual energy remained. They lay propped on
the sand, eyes half closed, focusing on Jack's form. Watched him move,
felt him change, gave themselves up to it entirely. After a time they
could only breathe shallow, eyes filled with Jack.

This time, when Jack left the waves, he was Byrd, and Will was Smith,
but it could have gone either way. Will felt the ocean's charge in Jack
now, something more in his walk and gaze.

"I *really* needed that," Jack said, soft and low. "Guess what I need
now?"

"God, Jack, do you have any idea how much I want you to throw me down
and screw me senseless? I just... I..."

"You *what*? " Oh, there was needy anguish to match his own in that
growl, but...

"I don't want to get any sand up my..."

"Oh. Yeah. Good point." Jack cocked his head, brows drawn tight, eyes
just this side of wild. "Home. *Fast.*"

Will always broke the speed limit, but he was rarely so blatant about
it.

* * *

The second the garage door began closing, Jack was out of the car. He
turned the garage sink on warm as he stripped, and pulled the sprayer
out to hose off.

"You know, the shower's just over- aack!" Warm and pleasant, but
surprising, as it really shouldn't have been. And Will's sweatshirt and
sweatpants were soaked, so of course, they'd have to come off.

Inside, Turner was a murmur and a shrug. //...pirate...//

//...yeah, yeah...//

Then Will had a wonderful view as Jack stretched on tiptoes to pull down
several towels from a high shelf. Appreciating it gave him a chance to
catch three out of five towels as Jack tossed them; the rest landed on
the hood of his car.

"Perfect!" Jack declared, and the purr in the "perfect" spoke of pirate.
Will braced himself, but Jack's tackle still bore him to the hood. Will
felt the engine's warmth through the towels.

"Mmm..." He stretched, and Jack stretched to cover him. The sand was
gone, for the most part, but Jack still smelled of the ocean. Beneath
Will was heat and metal.

//...also our element... oh...// "Oh, yeah..." Will voiced Turner's sigh
and called the blacksmith up, and the quicksilver shifting of earlier
made it easy. They were even more conscious of the barely quiescent
engine beneath them as they lifted their legs, toes curling over the
headlights.

Eyes opened again - oh, yes, they had been closed - to find Jack with
respect shading the heavy lust in his own.

"Laid out before me, legs up and beggin' for it, and I've hardly ever
seen ye look so strong. What's got into ye all of a sudden?"

"Blacksmith thing..." Will murmured, pulling one leg from the car to run
along the back of Jack's calf. "Come on, then..." And that was command
in his voice that his captain would not usually countenance. Now,
though...something warm and slick was traced in zigzags over his chest
that made his breath hitch, then spread along and below his length at
once by two very nimble hands. Will groaned, letting his hips rise from
the hood.

"Open your eyes, me Will," Jack coaxed, and he did, to be lost in dark
pools and then wet heat as Jack's mouth came down over his own. Warm
wetness that managed a fire, and they broke for air a second..."All of
you. Now," Will breathed, and Jack did indeed seem a bit compelled. Both
legs lifted up and out as Jack pressed, slid, *took*... "Aah! More..."
He needed this; the fire in him needed this, hard, strong... "Faster..."
Filled and rocking 'gainst the metallic warmth, he felt Jack heed him
again, eyes uncharacteristically free of any of the calculation that
shaded them even during sex. Especially during...oh, yes..."Oh, oh, yes!
More, Jack..." Voice failing him now, the next "oh, Jack," a gasp.

Legs wrapped around Jack, *him* wrapped around Jack, heat and metal
below and beneath, heat and the ocean atop and within, the *balance* was
an amazing, strong feeling and Will felt there was nothing he could not
do. Jack's hand between, with more of that slick stuff, Jack's tongue
and teeth at his ear...ah, his love was trying to make him lose all
control. Not this time...Will arched himself, clenched and twisted, and
Jack, oh, Jack made an amazing noise. Will at Jack's ear now, murmuring
"Oh, my captain. Come for me," clenching and twisting again.

He felt Jack spasm, whole body gone tense, releasing so hot and hard
with "Fuck, Will! WILL!" Thrusting that took some time to cease, leaving
Jack gasping...but stroking him still, leaning against the car, working
Will two-handed...he wanted to watch, but the sheer warm slick pleasure
closed his eyes. Those hands...God, those hands...surrounding him and he
pushed up and in, Jack softer but still warm within and without and
oh..."Oh, OH! Jack..." Yellow white blue heat he breathed fire and water
both, and Jack kissed him long and hard as he crested.

Kisses covered his throat, then, as he came down, as they slid off. When
Will opened his eyes again, he saw Jack grinning, satisfied, and
apparently fine with the power dynamic, whether or not he'd understood
it.  On the other hand, wherever control lay in that encounter, it
remained that Jack had laid Will across the hood of his own convertible.

"Wow," he said, definitely Byrd, "Now that was interesting. Amazing too,
naturally..."

"Yeah," Will said, smirking back.

"We do good work."

"Speaking of which..." Will sighed. "At least we're off starting this
afternoon. Come with me..."

"Just did..."

"...after work, and we'll hit the warehouse store before Dad gets here."

Jack gathered towels, ran one over his front, then tossed most in a
corner. "Hey, if you want a warehouse, I can get you one cheap. Tax
default."

"Cute." Will's eyes fell, finally, on the small tin as Jack picked it up
off the hood. "Hey, is that what we used..." Jack nodded. "What...?"

Jack grinned wider. "Surf wax."

"What!?"

"Hey, it's non-toxic."

"It better be!"

* * *

That afternoon, the holiday fever affected even the IRS auditors. Josh
Gibson was heading to Vegas with a girlfriend later that night, probably
the same woman he'd met on Halloween. In his mind, he was probably there
already. Jack had no doubt he'd come out ahead. Superstitious as the man
who'd once been Joshamee Gibbs generally was, for him luck held little
place in gambling. The two had met on their college's unofficial
blackjack team, and Josh hadn't met a card he couldn't count.

Liz Swan dropped by to wish Jack a happy holiday and express her
regrets. "I'd come if I could, and I'd definitely drag Greg, because I
can't think of any better entertainment than the two of you. Especially
after some eggnog. But I can't put this off any longer - believe me,
I've tried."

"Ma and Pa Norton are going to love you, Liz. You know Monty and J.B.
were the real test, and ye blew 'em out of th' water, so t' speak."

"My head tells me so," she replied, becoming Elizabeth a bit in response
to his Sparrow. "But my heart is an unbecoming shade, I fear."

"Yellow?"

"Precisely."

"Well, ye wear yellow beautifully. Off with ye, milady, and trust old
Jack."

"Since I can see no self-interest on your part, perhaps I shall," she
replied, with a smile.

Which just meant she wasn't looking hard enough. Jack had been obliged
to offer for Will's sake, and because the whelp would've done so anyhow,
but he was not nearly ready to spend an evening with Greg Norton. Things
had got all strange since the Commodore and his present self had
triggered the memory of their demise, in the process of saving Jack from
a very unpleasant end. Jack found his taunting of the man falling off
sharply, which didn't feel at all natural. So, the two of them in Texas
rather than across the table from Jack was very much preferred for now,
thank you kindly. On the other hand, if they and Greg's ex-wife Jill had
not had other plans, there might have been plenty of distraction at
hand; the latter invitation had been Jack's condition for the former.

Annie Mae was humming, and occasionally smiling. The tunes wandered
disturbingly between what Jack recognized as some of the most ribald sea
chanteys he'd ever heard, and the likes of Veggie Tales. She was headed
elsewhere too, Oklahoma, the Ozarks, Ohio...somewhere that started with
an O, Jack was certain. Along with her lovely children and her husband
Tyler, a perfectly good, kind man who'd choked Jack with bone fingers
through jailhouse bars a lifetime ago.

He was still working on how to address that.

Elizabeth, with her new uncanny perceptions, insisted that Tyler did not
yet recall he'd been Koehler the pirate. She had no way to determine,
though, whether Annie Mae knew it, and neither did Jack. Anamaria had
been one of the few people that could truly close her heart to Jack,
cloaking with sound and fury what she honestly thought or felt. Jack had
the feeling that Annie Mae was the same, only subtler. Tell or don't
tell; if she did not recall, did Jack have the right to tell her, and
did he have the right to keep it from her?

A part of him said he was her captain and had every right to either, and
another part of him warned against easy answers.  If she did, another
thorny problem. Did he tell her he knew, or did he wait and let her come
to him? And what sort of hell would it be for Annie Mae to choose
between her captain and the blood family that Anamaria had never known?
He could not be certain that she would choose him, not at all, nor that
he would not lose her in the choosing.

It was the very same once-pirate that caught Jack pinching the bridge of
his nose. "Jack, honey, we're done. Off the clock. Now you *know* I've
got no objection to staying late, usually..." she leaned in, "but if ye
don't get a move on, your feral whelp will have your balls, and make ye
into the eunuch ye liked t' accuse him of bein'."

"Ah, Ana, he's mellowed."

"As you have?" She snorted. "Off with you now."

"Insubordinate wench."

"Pirate," she replied with a wink.

Thus it was that Jack meandered down the stairs to Manufacturing, laptop
case in one hand. The director's office was dark, Brown having left for
the holiday already. A spare brace leaned against one wall; more than a
month had passed, but the older man's thigh was still healing. As he
considered the appliance, Jack felt movement behind, a prickle at the
back of his neck. No impulse, though, to draw the sword he no longer
carried...much...so he knew who it had to be, and he melted back into
Will's embrace.

The hug was all too quick, since they were still at work.

"Nothing to hide," Will murmured, "but, y'know?"

"Yeah," Jack sighed. "Still public."

"Shall we?"

"Let's."

* * *

Will Smith flashed his card as the two maneuvered the oversized cart
through the door, getting a raised eyebrow at his name. "No relation,"
he said, and got a smile.

After a bit of wandering, he noticed Jack heading off in one direction,
but Will had his eye on a sample of crab cakes and didn't follow. They
were ready in a minute, and as he popped one in his mouth his eyes
widened. Buzzing, odd dissonance, mounting pressure and need to... Will
felt Turner's inquiry and assured him it was just fine, and then with a
wash of heat he *was* Will Turner once more.

"Good, huh? They're right over there..." the woman with the apron said.

"Mm-yes, excellent," he replied, casting his eyes about for Jack. That
shift hadn't been his doing, and therefore - but why had he...

He saw Jack then, and moved to join him. "Oh."

There stood Captain Jack Sparrow, as evidenced by the cant of his
shoulders and head, even if Will hadn't felt it, immediately before the
biggest bottle of rum he'd ever seen.

"It's so beautiful..." Jack whispered. And yes, that was a tear.

"I'll get the cart."

* * *

Will suited actions to words, and soon they were off, Will pushing the
cart while Jack walked alongside, at least one finger in possessive
contact with the huge bottle at all times. Turner listened to Smith's
murmured guidance, realizing that it was his first time in such an
environment *as* Will Turner.

The sheer amount of food was mind-boggling. Part of Smith's gourmet
tendency had been inherited, his father's fondness for cooking, but the
rest...in days of old, food had always been sufficient but never
plentiful. Here, there was enough to play with.

//...never thought of it like that... makes sense...// And Turner felt
Smith's pleasure at the insight. These moments of knowing himself
brought out the warm connection that bound them, reminded them that they
shared a soul. Will smiled at the feeling. Jack seemed to sense
something, for he looked up and reflected the grin.

//...that it does, if I do say so...// Turner thought back to his other
half. //...what next?...//

//...well, try not to look as Jack passes the men's watches...// He
nearly looked anyway, but caught himself. It would just make him
nervous. Jack swore that Byrd had a way of avoiding video cameras, and
that he'd used it, but still. //...otherwise, I think we're done. have
enough Rice Krispies to feed an army...//

Unfortunately, his focus had turned just a bit too far inward, for as he
was lost in thought, he T-boned a svelte shopper with chin-length,
cinnamon hair. The shock to her cart sent her stumbling back, and she
tripped, landing deep in the 48-packs of Charmin with an "oof!"

Kneeling fluidly, Will batted away bathroom tissue until he was at her
side. She was gasping, wind knocked away, and so he rubbed her back
slowly as she drew halting breaths. "My apologies, milady. I truly
neglected to look where I was going."

"dhh shh," she coughed, looking up at him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't stop..." she sighed, breath evening out.

"Are you all right?" he asked, now that she could speak.

*cough* "Will be. Just gotta get my air back." With a deep breath, she
leaned back into the back rub.

"I am very sorry," he continued. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw
Jack approaching. Then he looked up at her cart and saw equal parts
food, books, and electronics including temptingly cheap memory, the
latter very much askew. "If you're worried about damage, I would be
happy to help you replace your purchases."

"No, it's okay..." she said, "I'll get it." Her eyes hazed out for just
a second, or perhaps she saw Jack as he neared. Then they cleared and
met his. "I'll let you off the hook entirely... on one" *cough*
"condition."

"I am at your disposal."

"Dinner. You, me - I can give you the when and where later."

And why did he suddenly feel like he did when Jack talked him into
something?

"Ah - I should tell you," he said, looking to Jack who was still a ways
off, "He and I are..."

"Yeah, I figured," she replied. "Bring him! The more the merrier."

Utterly hemmed in by his honor, he handed her a business card and then
helped her up. With an enigmatic look that scanned over to Jack,
arriving at his side, she was gone.

"Should be more careful, love." Will just rolled his eyes. "So, what's
that going to cost us?"

"A free meal."

"Cheap enough, I suppose. And she names the place?"

"Aye."

"I do fear your negotiating skills could still use some work. You know,
the way she was looking at you, ye probably could have bought her off
with a quick tumble in the ladies' room."

"Well, Jack, I suppose that's the difference between you and me."

"How do you mean?"

Will grinned. "It wouldn't have been quick."

//...walked right into that one...// Smith murmured as they headed for
the checkout.

* * *

Once through the line and to the car, they loaded the trunk. Will kept
an eye out for swag hidden amongst the boxes, but to no avail. His
captain had hidden it too well, or on his person. Thoughts of where,
possibly, had his blood redistributing itself just a bit.

"You know you'll never find it on your own, whelp," Jack interjected,
reading his mind as well as Will's present self could. "And of course,
ye know why..."

"Because you're - yes, I know. And since you're who you are, my Captain,
you undoubtedly know that I am easily seduced by way of challenges to my
skill."

Jack looked just the tiniest bit forlorn. "Figured that out, did ye?"

"Ages ago." He shrugged, smiled. "Again, not a simpleton."

Jack sighed. "Aye. Was hopin' you'd forgot, though." As Jack placed the
rum bottle carefully in the convertible's trunk, Will made sure his
fingers were slightly in the way, and turned it into a caress.

"Still, if you'd like me to, ah, search you for buried treasure..." It
was corny enough to make him wince slightly, "...I am always willing,
but it will have to wait. We must get back to your house to greet my
father."

"Aye," Jack sighed. "It'll be good to see Professor Smith again."

But when Jack said Will's father's name, Will heard the echo behind
it...

The pirate who slept still... Bootstrap...

* * *

Bill pulled his borrowed car up Jack's driveway as Jack and Will were
making a run into the house with assorted large boxes. "Hi, Jack! Will,
c'mere, kid!" He waved to one and grabbed the other in a hug. Bill then
reached into Will's trunk to carry his share and followed the other men
in.

"Wow. Stocking up?"

"Got to," Jack replied. "The whelp wants to play chef." He winked.

"Whelp." Bill gave his son a sidelong glance. "You let him get away with
that?"

"I think it's cute," Will replied.

Bill snorted, but smiled. As the dad, wasn't he contractually obligated
to give the boyfriend a hard time? Admittedly, he liked Jack, but he
could at least go through the motions.

"That about it from the car?" he asked.

"Pretty much. Can we help you with your things, Dad?"

"Nah. I'm keeping most of the clothes in the trunk; I just take out what
I need for a night or two at a time."

"Good system," Jack said.

"Yeah. I've always liked to travel around like this on my off months,
and I eventually worked it out." He thought of something, frowned.
"Will, I forgot what you said. Is Gibson going to be in town? I'd like
to drop by and say hello. I checked my records; turns out I was his
faculty advisor."

"Nope. Josh's in Vegas. Sorry."

He shrugged. "Well, I'll be back. I can catch him later." As he spoke,
he helped them stow the groceries, and soon, the thirty-six pack of eggs
went into the fridge as the last of it.

"I'm going to go get the fire started," Jack announced, and headed for
the living room, leaving the father and son in the kitchen. Now, why
would Jack make a point of leaving them alone? //Don't ask, don't ask,
don't ask...// he thought, afraid he knew.

"Dad," Will said, leaning forward, "I was waiting 'till Jack left to
ask, but... how are the panic attacks? Are they any worse?"

//He asked.// "About the same," Bill replied. //Just way more frequent
and the night terrors are back too.// "Nothing I can't handle." All of
it a stretch, none technically a lie. He waited for Will to see through
it, suggest he seek help, again, which he truly did mean to do upon
returning to Boston.

He was surprised. "Okay. If there's anything you need, just let me
know." Stood up, stretched. "Want anything to drink?" And just like
that, it was dropped.

//Less stress about needing to make sure the old man's taking care of
himself. That's a good thing. Can I blame Jack for that, I wonder?//
"Yeah, sure," he replied. "Soda's fine for now."

As Will removed the drink from the refrigerator, Bill looked down and
over, and saw the expected shadow at the doorway.

//How did I know Jack was going to be eavesdropping?// He shook his head
slightly, smiling. //I've got entirely too good an instinct for what
he's going to do.// It was the oddest feeling, and he'd noticed it when
he'd met the man. There would be moments where he felt he knew his son's
boyfriend as well as he knew his son, or better. //Only knew him for a
year off and on after I taught him, too. Maybe Jack's just someone who's
easy to get to know...but somehow I doubt it.//

Bill shrugged and sipped.

* * *

After a dinner involving barbecued steaks (which Jack accomplished, to
Bill's slight surprise) and roasted winter squash (which was all Will),
they chatted and sipped spiked coffees as the fire burned low. The
History Channel murmured in the background, something about tall ships,
which he'd always found interesting. The bowl of unshelled nuts on the
table became, eventually, a pile of shells, and Bill had one last pecan
before they cleared the trash and moved the table over, unfolding the
couch-bed.

The bed was made, finally, and Bill changed, settled in for the night.
He yawned, stretched, and turned his head slightly. In the dying
firelight, he saw Will and Jack reflected in the glass of a picture
frame. They embraced in their doorway, kissing long, slow, and tender.

Bill closed his eyes so as not to intrude, and heard the door closing
moments later.  //I thought I'd know how to feel when Will found The
One. But, damn, it's complicated.// He was happy, of course, but there
was a weird red streak of anger, and so much else...too much to identify
and sort out at once.

//Guess I'll sleep on it....//

* * *

Wednesday night...

Bill was out cold on the sofa bed, so Jack padded out to the kitchen
quiet as possible, which for him meant near soundless. He set the kettle
to heating while he spooned chocolate powder into a cup, then poured,
stirred, and tiptoed back the way he came. It was when he passed the bed
that he heard a hoarse whisper.

"Jack?"

Softly he set down the cup, then spun to look at Bill, whose eyes were
open.

"Sorry to wake you," he said.

"I wish ye could wake me, Jack." Bill said in the same hoarse tone. "Am
I dreaming this? I want to wake, if it's real..."

Jack was at his side in an instant, sitting on the bed. "Bootstrap?
*William?*"

"I want to wake," he continued, "oh, but I fear." He had not blinked
once, and Jack waved a hand before his face. Bill did not move or
flinch. He slept, and yet he spoke. "This seems so like a dream, but if
I wake I fear I shall be fathoms deep again, and all this a merciful
madness." A shiver wracked Bill's lean frame.

"No dream, me oldest friend," Jack said, running a tender hand over
Bill's damp brow. "No dream, and it's  safe to wake now. I'm here, and
William sleeps but steps away. Wake, Bill. WAKE UP!"

Bill came awake with a gasp, but then said, "Jack! Did - was I having a
nightmare? I hope I didn't yell or anything."

It took all Jack's control, which could be great, to school his face to
normalcy. It helped that Byrd was ascendant. "Yeah," he said. "No, you
were just talking in your sleep, but you sounded - scared, I guess."

Bill took another deep breath, let it out slowly. "I've had night
terrors for years, same as the panic attacks. You know, Will used to
think it was his job to wake me up, when he was a little boy." He smiled
slightly. "I tried to discourage it - kind of a heavy thing for a kid to
deal with. But it's funny that you kind of picked up where he left off."

"Yeah, funny," Jack said, rising. "'Night, Bill."

"'Night, Jack." Bill paused. "You know, though, I usually wake up
petrified. I feel scared but there's something else now." He yawned. "I
feel kind of...hopeful, too. Weird."

As Bill yawned again and lay back down, Jack padded back to the bedroom,
cocoa left to cool on the dining-room table. He closed the door, shed
his slippers and robe, and sat on the side of his own bed. The motion
woke Will, who blinked sleepily up at him, then took a longer look and
sat up himself.

"Will..." Jack said, and his voice broke. Will gathered his captain and
his love against his chest, and held him while he tried so very hard not
to cry.

* * *
Texas - Thursday morning...

Liz and Greg touched down at the El Paso airport early Thanksgiving
morning. Liz (and Elizabeth, too,) had slept almost the entire way, but
the Commodore had been in the driver's seat most of the flight as he was
fascinated by air travel - that, and the long feature the in-flight
magazine had on "Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World," which
they'd seen twice. Both selves now had a burning desire to get started
on the Aubrey-Maturin novels. The hero was named Jack, of course, but
nobody was perfect.

When the plane began its final descent, Norrington sent a thought to his
dozing other half, who stirred, the suppressed excitement waking him.

//...Can't wait t' see Texas with your own eyes, can you?...//

//...I want to discover this land that shaped the man I've become...//
the Commodore replied. //...but your family had best find you getting
off the plane, not me. from what I recall, Mother will know immediately
if we do not...//

//...that's for sure. okay, then, hang on...//

As they hit the turbulence that signaled the lowest levels of
atmosphere, and the hydraulics whined, Norrington felt them both relax
and focus on a point outside themselves. As perceptions shifted and it
became Greg in their skin, the thought drifted past that it was like one
of those 3D pictures that seemed at first to be nothing but dots.
Impossible until you learned the trick, then ridiculously easy once you
had.

//...much as I hate t' admit it, gotta give the pirate credit...//

Jack had triggered the first full shift between them, and they did owe
him for that. But recent revelations had made the relationship with
their old nemesis far more complicated... and they stopped that line of
thought cold, together. They did *not* want to think about dying.

The wheels touched the ground, and Liz woke with a yawn. "Morning,
baby," she said, stretching in her seat.

"Morning, hon," he replied. "We're here."

"Hoo boy." He watched appreciatively as Liz rolled her shoulders,
working the kinks out. "Time to meet the parents."

* * *

Very few things scared Liz Swan or even made her nervous. This was due,
in part, to her having faced down undead skeletal pirates in a past
life, as well as numerous other supernatural nasties that swam up from
Elizabeth Swann's memories at inopportune moments. It also had to do
with Elizabeth's sleeping presence, before past lives had been recalled,
encouraging Liz to explore to the fullest extent the opportunities for
excitement available to women in modern times. They had thrilled with
the freedom to jump from a bridge with a rope tied to their ankles, from
a plane wearing a chute, from a cliff wearing a thin, v-shaped wing.

None of these things prepared them for meeting Greg's parents,
especially his mother.

His brothers, now, had been no problem. They'd loved her, as all of her
had known they would. But Greg worshipped his father and mother both, in
different ways.

//...which says great things as to his character, really...I never had
the opportunity to meet James' parents as they passed on from illnesses
we've since cured or learned to treat...// Elizabeth's thought had the
feel of nervous chatter.

Liz adjusted the clips in her shoulder-length blonde hair, rolled her
shoulders again. At least they'd get a break in-between. It was only
-only!- Luz Norton and her son J.B. meeting them at the gate, and J.B.
was a known quantity, great guy really...

//...oh, man, now I'm doing it...//

//...we bearded Barbossa in his den aboard the Black Pearl... how much
worse can this be...// The next thought from Elizabeth was wry.
//...don't answer that...//

The plane stopped, readjusted. The arm sealed about the door, which
opened with a hiss. Being near the front they both stood, Greg reaching
back to help two small older women get bags from the overhead bin. He
smiled at her as he took their own luggage down, squeezed her hand after
handing her her bag.

"C'mon. They're gonna love you, you know it. Monty and J.B. have been
raving as much as I have. And don't worry about Mom. She's intense, but
she'll let you know that she likes you right off."

//...If she likes me...// Liz thought to Elizabeth.

"And she's gonna like you. C'mon, hon."

//...showtime...//

Walking out the door, the stewardess asked Greg, playfully, where his
James Bond accent had got to.

"When in Rome, darlin'," he replied., and once off the plane had his
cell phone on and open, coordinating with his brother.

They met up, finally, near an airport Starbucks. J.B. was the tallest of
the brothers and fairly easy to spot. Then Liz' eyes drifted over and
down to the dark-haired, deeply-tanned woman next to him and her eyes
were caught and held.

This woman...Liz felt something, akin to the sense she and Elizabeth had
of everyone who had lived with them, before. A ping sounded somewhere in
her mind, a kind of recognition, but different. This was  recognition of
power, pure. Greg's mother was... strong.

Then they were there.

"Hi," the woman said, reaching out a hand that Liz took, shaking firm,
but not hard. "I'm Luz Veracruz Norton. My friends call me Lucy."

A smile lit her face. "You can call me Mom." Then Liz was bending down,
getting embraced, and hearing J.B. whoop. He hugged her next, and Lucy
was hugging Greg, and then that quickly they were on their way to the
car.

//...whew...//

//...agreed...//

"Welcome to the family," Lucy continued. She looked up at Liz. "We got a
lot to talk about."

And Liz had the strangest feeling that she was addressing Elizabeth as
well.

* * *
California...

Somewhat near the time Liz and Greg's early flight was touching down in
Texas, Jack was waking wrapped all about Will. He woke with a sense of
melancholy that took him a minute or two to place, but in that time deep
brown eyes opened and chased it away. The feel of warm skin on skin
slammed the door behind it. Jack smiled.

"Squeak! Squeak Squeak!"

"Ugh... Hector..." The ferret was draped across the bedpost, front paws
swinging before him. Then he was scrambling between their heads, running
down the length of the blanket covering them both. Jack spat sable fur
out of his mouth.

"Time to feed the ferret?" Will said, yawning in the middle, and then,
"You're right. That does sound dirty."

"I guess..." Jack yawned, stretched. When he pulled the covers back,
Will immediately skinned into a sweatshirt. Jack swung his legs out,
pulled on pajama pants, and cinched his robe tight. "Hope your dad's
awake." Paused. "Will... last night..."

"I know. It's hard. I hate thinking of Dad in pain, too, and I want to
help him. I just don't know how."

"Bootstrap's stuck," Jack replied, keeping his voice low. "A whole
different kind of stuck from the Commodore. Half-aware and so afraid...
but we'll think of something, I know. I was, after all, and remain..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Will returned his smile. "You the man. Now, let's
get up before your pet ferret eats us."

As it turned out, Bill was not only up, but making breakfast. He'd dug
sausage out of some corner of the freezer, and had a pan-full of chorizo
and eggs mostly done.

"You guys have any tortillas?" he said as greeting.

"'Morning, Dad! Yeah, Trader Joe's flour. Top drawer in the fridge."
Will scooped a little of the food out of the pan, dumping it in Hector's
bowl.

"Whoa," Jack put in. "Now I know where Will gets it from."

"Yeah, I guess I have a little to do with his foodie streak."

"Got the perfect stuff to go on this, too," Will said, moving in behind
his Dad and taking a bottle of Pico Pica from the fridge. He set the hot
sauce down on the table as Bill served.

"You gonna do a sausage dressing for the turkey?" Bill asked.

"Nuh-uh," Will replied. "I'm going the simple route this year. Nothing
in the stuffing but croutons, onions, and celery. Herb rub on the bird,
and then I'm oven-bagging it and leaving it alone."

Bill considered, nodded. "Sides?"

"Green beans, which we've still got to run out and get, and Jack says he
makes this whipped cranberry sauce..."

"Only have four or five recipes," Jack said, "but I make 'em pretty
well."

"And then I've got chocolate-chip gingerbread for dessert." Will
finished.

His father's eyes lit up. "Kid, that stuff's like crack. You know that,
right?"

"Yep," Will said, grinning.

"Look," Bill said, "You tell me where the market is, and I�ll go get the
green beans."

"You don't have to..."

"I want to. You boys need a little time away from the old man anyhow."

"Nonsense. You just got here." But Jack couldn't seem to put a lot of
force behind that statement.

"So, you going to brine the turkey?" Bill asked, polishing off his
breakfast and clearing his plate.

"Nah. You have to submerge the bird in salt water the day before,
and..."

Jack noticed that Bill was suddenly stock-still. The plate slipped from
his hands and clattered to the bottom of the sink. Will was calling,
"Dad! Dad..."

Bill shook his head sharply, breathing in. "I'm all right."

"You sure you're okay to drive?"

"I'm fine. It never happens while I'm driving. I'll be okay." He turned,
and his face was only a little strained. "Wasn't even a bad one. I've
had worse."

"Panic attack?" Jack asked with sympathy, and Bill nodded. But as soon
as the elder Smith looked away, Jack traded glances with Will.

Because it might not have been a panic attack, exactly. Jack suspected,
and thought Will did too, that it was, in fact, a memory.

* * *

Texas...

Big Jim Norton adjusted the table centerpiece for the third time, then
stretched, his back cracking. His hands brushed the ceiling of the
low-roofed dining room. Most of the ranch house had higher ceilings, but
this room was part of the original adobe, and might be going on a
hundred years or so.

//Like all of us,// he thought to himself, mouth quirking wryly. Not
that he minded being retirement age. He and Lucy had raised their sons
in urban Fort Worth, but for their retirement they'd bought this place,
a small ranch near the New Mexico border.

>From the door he heard a clanking, and his son Monty struggled in with a
large metal contraption.

"Can I give you a hand with that?" he called out.

"Nuh-uh. I got it. Just open the back door and I'll put it in the yard."
A corner of his smile was visible around the unwieldy thing. "One deep
fryer for one big bird."

Obligingly, Jim slid the door open and Monty set the deep fryer down on
the concrete. Then the eldest Norton boy took a long look at his father.

"She's as nervous as you are, I'll bet."

"It that obvious?"

"Kinda." Monty grinned. "But only t' family."

"I just..." Jim shut the glass door behind his son and tossed some logs
in the fireplace. He turned on the gas and the pilot light lit it,
starting a low fire. "I really want this one t' work out for him, Monty.
He thought Jill was the one, y'know. We all did."

"I dropped in on Jill when I was out there," Monty said. "I don't even
think she knows why it didn't work out. She has a girlfriend now, mind
you, but that wasn't it, believe it or not. But Liz... man, Liz is
somethin' else. Brave, smart, fierce as all hell... an' I'm pretty sure
she can shoot."

"Y'think maybe she can keep Jimmy from bein' too serious?"

"Hell, if anyone can, it's Liz."

Crunching of tires on gravel announced the new arrivals, and Jim and
Monty headed to the door to greet them. J.B. held it wide as the two
women walked in, Greg behind them.

Well, damn.

Liz Swan was beautiful, first off. Not that Jill was ugly, mind, but
Liz... it wasn't all her looks, either. The glint in her eyes, her
smile, the way she looked at his son... the girl had spirit, and the
love was right there in the open. And the dynamic between Liz and his
wife already... Lucy had a way of seeing into people, and damned if Liz
hadn't already passed. Time for a proper welcome. Jim stepped up and
lifted the girl's feet from the floor in a great bear hug, swinging her
a little. He watched her eyes go wide and then saw her smile.

His wife just raised an eyebrow, mouth quirking.

Setting Liz back down, he inclined his head a little, grinning in
return. "You've got t'be Liz. I'm James Norton. Most folk around here
call me Big Jim."

"Hi," she squeaked, and then, catching her breath, "Good to meet you,"
and he saw tension leave her shoulders. Briefly, he hoped his nerves
hadn't shown that bad.

"Dad, could y' not kill my fianc�e?"

As reply, Jim treated his son likewise, though he couldn't lift him from
the floor. When he let him go, Greg was gasping. "Dad! For cryin' out
loud..." But he was smiling too.

"You'll live," Jim said. Coming up next to his wife, he laid an arm
around her shoulders, and she put hers about his waist. "I'm sure Lucy's
already welcomed you to the family, so welcome to our home. We're more'n
glad to have you with us." Looking to his sons, he said, "Boys? Y'want
to take their stuff to the guest room?" He watched Liz try to grab her
share and be just a bit too slow.

"We might spoil you a little," he confided. As she followed the boys, he
said, "Oh, and Liz?"

She turned her head.

"Help me settle something. Can y' shoot?"

"You'll find out as soon as you get me a gun and a target." She winked.

"See, Monty? Told you she could."

Monty just snorted and rolled his eyes, and then the kids were off down
the hall. Jim held Lucy close, watching after them, and then said,
softly, "They look right together, don't they?"

"They're meant to be," Lucy replied. "There's some serious magic
happening."

Jim squinted down at his wife. "You mean that in more ways than one,
don't you?" He'd been married to Luz Veracruz far too long to be a
skeptic.

"Y'know me too well, hon. Whatever went down with Greg, maybe what
landed him in the hospital, there was something supernatural about it."
'Supernatural' she pronounced with Spanish accents. "I can smell it. And
Liz - I swear she's got power she doesn't even know about." Then she
shrugged, seemed to deflate a little. "Or maybe they ran into something
spooky independently, and Greg had heart trouble after all. You know it
runs in your family."

"Trust me," he replied, rubbing his scarred chest through his shirt.
"Nobody knows that better than I do."

"Yeah, huh." Her eyes were serious. "I'm gonna try to get it out of
them. You okay with that?"

He smiled. "You do the digging. You're better at it."

"You know even if he opens up to one of us, he might not want us both to
know, and I'm gonna respect that."

"Hon, I trust you. So long as one of us knows what's going on. Army
taught me all about "need to know.""

In response, she pulled him in and down for a kiss. "Love you even if
you are an old fascist."

"Love you too, you old hippie."

"I was never a hippie! I'll have you know I'm one-hundred-percent
Tex-Mex cowgirl."

"Yee ha."

* * *

California...

The door closing behind Bill might just as well have activated magnets,
cleaving Will and Jack together. They remained behind the door until
they heard the car pull away, hands roaming beneath sweats and pajamas.
Heavy breaths taken with lips joined, and Will began to wonder if they'd
do it against the door this time. They hadn't yet... still, he had a
preference.

"I would be taken," and on that word, pressed his hips to Jack's,
"against the rug again." Turner and then Smith... "You. Me. Living room
floor, now."

It seemed Jack set a land speed record, there and naked in seconds. Will
followed, shedding sweatshirt and sweat pants with slow, deliberate
motions. Bill had thankfully folded the couch-bed closed, and they sank
together into the space left by the table.

"On the other hand," Will murmured, Jack's hands climbing his thighs,
Jack's teeth at his ear, "I've no desire to stain your carpeting."

"Normally, whelp, I'd ask ye to kindly make up your mind, but as it
stands, I think perhaps I've a solution..." Those hands continued to
knead his thighs, and Will wondered if it was the same solution he'd
considered... ohhhh yes, it was... he whimpered deep in his throat as
Jack suckled his tip, hard and tight. Hips rose all on their own and
Jack slid further down him, all-consuming pleasure. Will gasped, forced
closed eyes open because he wanted to *see* this... "hh... Jack...
oh..." Whole body wanted to buck, rise into the moist heat, and he
reached up, grasped the edge of the couch, watched dark hair bob as he
*felt.* And the expanse of tan skin beyond, rippling as the pressures on
Will's thighs ever shifted... "Too much," Will moaned, and part of him
whispered to the rest, //...let go...//

Hands opened, arms flew free. All of Will bowed backwards as he thrust
forth, completely encompassed and claimed. Such brightness behind his
eyes... exploding, dissolving into sparks, which dissolved finally into
Jack, looking up his love with a satisfied grin.

"Done me level best to take a round from the chamber. Can't ask for more
than that, and anyway there's carpet cleaner on the shelf... over now,
Will me love..."

Boneless, Will slid down and onto his stomach, still heady from the...
well.

//...can I blame the implied pun on you?...//

//...not this time, myself...//

Then Jack had one finger coated and in, Will so relaxed that he went
straight to three, after. Sighing with the fullness of it, Will arched
back. Jack knew just what to... "... ahh... yes..." and could he be
stiffening again? Well, he'd done his duty, and the carpet could just...
"nnh!" Jack at his entrance now, mouth roaming Will's shoulders.

"Oh, me Will..." Jack moving in oh so slow... turnabout as fair play?
Fair enough... They'd done their share of passionate torture, and while
need was rising again, they could easily relax and let Jack play.

"My captain... my love..." He pressed his hips back, equally slowly, and
imagined he could feel Jack's eyes widen.

"How amazing you are... like a debauched angel... or a whelp with a
pirate up his... mmm..." humming kisses covered the nape of Will's neck,
and he was again at attention, the rug burning friction, and he could
feel that Jack was going THERE.... oh again... again...

"Again... *please*... oh, yes..."

"Carpet's done for, then?" Jack sighed, increasing tempo, pressing Will
into the rug, a dual assault of pressure and other sensations too rare
to name... "Will, oh, me Will... so damned *perfect*... so mine... ah...
ahhh!" hard gasping that was almost a song as Will felt the urgent
release, trailing off into a moan that pulled Will tight and pushed him
over...

"Jack... Jack..." Writhing, burning, flying again.

It was a minute or so before either could talk. In that time, an
exhausted Turner yielded up to Smith, who basked in the afterglow.  Will
yawned, finally, and said, "I don't really want to move, but we'd better
get cleaned up before Dad gets back."

"In this case," said Jack, "I wouldn't worry. We sent him to the market
on Thanksgiving morning. He's gonna be a-"

"Jack? Will? Forgot my..."

Whatever Bill Smith had been holding fell to the floor with a crash.

* * *

Texas...

Greg slid easily off of his paint mare, and his mother did the same,
opening her saddlebag and unwrapping biscuits still hot enough to steam.
She had a thermos of coffee in there too, he noticed.

"I know why you dragged me out here," he said, giving his mother a
suspicious glance.

"What dragged? You too old to go on a morning ride with your momma?"
That had to be a smirk.

Oh, they were so screwed. Still, he bit into a biscuit and pulled his
jacket tighter.

"I know, you think I'm gonna try to get you to talk about what's been
goin' on with you out there in California. And yeah," Lucy said. "As it
happens, hon, you're right. But you're wrong if you think I'm not gonna
believe you. 'Cause I can tell you came into the potential I saw in you
as a kid to be a medium. I could see the mark of the beyond on you the
second I saw you again."

Greg stared, and James stared through him. Finally, Greg spoke. "I know
y' taught me t' believe in things beyond the natural world, but I just
wasn't sure...Momma, you gotta admit it sounds crazy."

"You let me be the judge of that, huh?" She chewed, then poured some
coffee. "What happened?"

"There was this cop - Rey Ortiz..."

"Yeah. I remember you telling me when he died. Poor guy."

"We never found the bullet that killed him. But he did. And he showed me
where to find it."

His mother considered him. "...What'd it feel like?"

None of him had been expecting the question. "First time, didn't feel
like nothin' at all. I just went away. Second time, I thought maybe we
heard him. Third time, it was dark and I was fallin,' and I could hear
his voice, real faint." He did not mention the fourth time, when Rey had
been crystal clear.

"We?" his mother asked, quietly.

Oh shit.

//...well crap, I did say "we," didn't I...//

//...that you did...//

And did his mother look up, slightly, when he heard the Commodore?

//...crap, crap, crap... please tell me my Momma can't read my mind...
's a wonder my hide's still intact after all these years...//

//...I'm certain she merely senses something... because from what I
recall of your adolescence, you're right...//

"Royal 'we?'" he tried weakly.

"Nice try, kiddo." She gave him a sidelong look. "Whatever's going on,
you know you can tell your Momma. I can't make you. You're a grown boy.
But I swear I won't tell a soul, not even Dad, if you don't want me to.
And I don't care how nuts it might sound." The look had sympathy in it
now. "You know, I've seen things, lots more things than you know about,
things that a mother doesn't tell her son, 'cause she doesn't want to
give him nightmares. Whatever it is, I can take it."

He took a deep breath, sent an inquiry within, and received nothing but
pure support.

"Would y' believe, I remembered who I used t' be in a past life?"

"Hmm," she replied. Damn. She knew there was more.

"An' that past life... kinda stuck around." He looked down, patted his
horse absently.

"What's his name?"

"Don't you mean, was?"

Smile again. "Nope."

"You're good, Mom."

"You have no idea, kiddo. You wanna tell me? Like I said, you don't have
to." Her horse whinnied softly.

"Commodore James Gregory Norrington, His Majesty's Royal Navy." And
something about this moment caught them, held them, invoked... a shift
and the Commodore looked at the woman he recalled as his mother;
continued, "At your service."

"Ah," she breathed. "It's like that, huh?"

He nodded, watched her. And for all that she was their mother, they
could not read her expression.

"Momma? It's still me. God, please don't be frightened..."

Another smile then, sunny and reassuring. "'Course I'm not. This is just
a new one on me, is all. But I knew you were an old soul, remember? I
mean, I don't know if I ever went around before, or who I might've been,
but the day you were born, I looked into your eyes, and I knew you were
someone coming back again." She looked into his eyes then. "Commodore,
thank you for guarding and guiding my son."

They tried to speak and found no words.

"What's wrong?"

"... I..." Norrington took a deep breath of the dry desert air. "I've
just realized I don't know what to call you."

"What do you want to call me, hon?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again. "I would like very
much to call you Mother, but I fear that I presume." And he tried with
all his particular stoicism to keep his voice flat and calm. But his own
mother had been so young...

"Not at all, hon, not at all." And he was bending down, embracing her,
if stiffly, and she was hugging him, arms surprisingly strong. That was
not at all a tear gathering, but he blinked quickly anyway.

They sat then on blankets, finishing breakfast as the shadows shortened
and the sun climbed. Norrington broke off a mesquite twig and inhaled
its distinctive fragrance, then let his eyes unfocus, yielding up to
Greg. When Greg focused again, he found his mother looking at him.

//...damn. she can tell...//

//...you suspected as much...//

//...yeah... so did you...//

"Well," Lucy said finally, "Guess this explains why you nearly joined
the Navy."

"Woulda broken Dad's heart, though." Greg sighed. "The Nortons all been
Army, mostly cavalry, since the days of the Alamo." He eyed her wryly.
"Both sides." The sun rose a bit higher, and he squinted.  "Momma, you
know if my Veracruz relatives got any Aztec blood?"

"Prob'ly," she said, shrugging. "Why do you ask?"

"Just recently started gettin' curious about history. Obvious reasons."

"Huh." She drained her coffee, tapping loose grounds out on a rock.
"Y'know, all these revelations, and we still haven't got to the other
big reason I wanted to talk to you alone." Looked him up and down. "You
gonna tell me why you were in the hospital? 'Cause after that big scare
with your Dad, if it's your heart, I wanna know. There's stuff you can
do to stay healthy. You're still a young man, miho."

"Oh, Momma." He took a deep breath. "I didn't want to worry you. Wasn't
my heart." Looked up at thin cotton clouds and endless blue. "More like
my soul."

He could feel her focus on him now, sharp as the mesquite branches. "How
d' you mean?"

A wall cracked inside and all the rest began to spill. The kidnapping,
the drugs, the woman who'd tried to make him kill his... damn. Jack was
his friend now. Go figure, part of him thought, while the rest was busy
trying to keep honest to God tears at bay. He told all save the memory
of his dying, for that was something no parent should have to hear from
their child.

His mother only listened, did not press, did not coax out his tears as
some mothers might. She only waited, and at the end, said, "You did
good, kid. And you thank your friend Jack for me. He did the right
thing, taking you to the E.R."

Deep breath again, and this one caught in the middle. "Thanks, Momma."

"Now," his mother said, tightening the leather about the horse's girth,
"there's just one more thing. What was that witch's name?"

"Celia Schuyler. For all the good it's gonna do me. I was a cop, Momma,
and I know when I got nothin'. Whole time I was with her, I was high as
a kite." As he swung back up into the saddle, he watched his mother do
the same. "I was a cop, and a commodore - Momma, please tell me you're
not gonna do anything illegal."

"Oh, don't you worry," she said, smiling slightly, though now her dark
eyes were opaque. "I'm not gonna break any laws, natural or otherwise."

* * *

California...

Will started at the noise, blushing furiously. Beyond the embarrassment,
though... something made his shoulders shiver just a bit, a tingle at
the base of his spine.

"Jack?" Bill's voice was different and dangerous.

"William?" Jack asked, hopeful, and familiar.

"Jack Sparrow... what do ye here?"

"I live here?"

"Seven *years,*" he growled, "Did I keep company with Davey Jones, sunk
for my love for you, Jack. This - THIS is how you repay me. Bending my
son over the bedside like a Tortuga whore!"

Slowly, very gently, Jack pulled away from Will, trailing his hand
tenderly across the other man's back, and then he stood. Will drew
himself up as well, naked and unashamed, and sensed Jack shift in a
rush. He felt Turner pulled forth, and then felt his other self stop.

//...Smith... I think you'd best stay... this... may be bad... and one
of us must not get caught in its grip...//

And in fact, Jack's face was blank, his eyes not truly seeing the room,
or, Will thought, the present either.

"William," he said, slowly and dangerously, "I love ye. Ye cannot know
how much joy it gives me t' see that bastard Barbossa didn't succeed in
killing ye, though I never had a doubt, mind ye, that you'd slip your
locks and chains at length. But if the first thing ye do upon returning
is call your son a whore, I've got t' wonder if you're still the man I
knew."

Oh yeah, that sounded familiar. This was going to be bad. But they
didn�t have swords on them this time, right?

Well, no, but apparently fireplace pokers would do in a pinch.

They were a flurry through the living room, around the fireplace, and
back, using the metal rods as bladed weapons and seeing old blood. Not
that a poker couldn't still draw blood... Will tried yelling, again, but
neither one heard him - they hadn't then, either.

"You've only ever loved a ship, Jack, only ever the Pearl! You relieve
yourself with doxies, but you've never loved a living thing! How can you
do this to my boy!?" The spiked rods crashed against each other, slipped
apart, dealt Jack a glancing blow that would have been a slice.

"Ye could be more wrong, Bootstrap, but it'd be difficult, as I've loved
a very few women and a very few men, and only two as dearly as the
Pearl. One of those, of course, was you."

"Liar!" Bootstrap Bill leapt the couch to attack again.

"Not to you." Jack blocked. "*Never* t' you, which should tell ye
something ye bloody daft merman!"

//...We must...//

//...How'd we stop them last time, dammit!?...// Then the answer, and,
//...oh, no, I can't...//

//...shoved his head in a washbasin... he was catatonic for a day and a
night...//

//...has to be something less immersive... less *cruel*... *got* it...//
The men were nearing the kitchen again, and Will turned the sink on. He
grabbed the spray attachment and turned the water on full.

Bill Turner dropped with a strangled cry as the spray hit his face and
neck. Jack's swing missed, and he ended up dealing himself a solid blow
with his own poker. And that had, in fact, been the worst injury from
the last iteration, hadn't it?

The poker clattered to the tile as Jack stared down at Bill, hands
trembling slightly.  //...Will...// Turner said, //...we cannot be sure
the danger is past... lend me your voice, and your voice only... hold me
back, my own self...// Bill sat crouched on the kitchen floor, arms
about his knees.

//...yes...// Smith replied, and oh, it was hard. Yielding up to Turner
was pleasant and easy, and this was the opposite, a grating feeling.
Smith held, and Turner spoke. Smith knelt. "Father? Can you hear me?
Father?" Bill let go a small gasp, but did not move.

"Jack, I may need your aid with him. Jack? Jack!" The pirate started,
and his hands stilled. "Jack, do you know where you are?"

"Tortuga..." Jack whispered, but then, louder, "This isn't Tortuga....
Where am I? Will?"

"You know, Jack." An idea...

"Everything's all strange..."

"Who is Jack Byrd?" Will asked suddenly, and heard Jack's sharp intake
of breath.

"Ah. That did it. Smart whelp, you are." And Jack was kneeling fluidly
to Bill's other side. Eyes cast up from his friend, meeting Will's. "You
know ye did what ye had to. We'll bring him back, all the way back,
together. Just as before, but less bleeding all 'round."

"Not for lack of trying," Will murmured.

"'Twere only self-defense, love."

Will, meanwhile, sent a thought to his older self. //...Jack's back... I
think we'll be okay... go, Will, Dad needs you...//

//...all right...// and Will felt the familiar warm rush of becoming the
blacksmith again. It did feel right, and he still saw the kitchen as it
was. He heard Jack sigh, too, as the dissonance abated.

And at that moment, Bill took a long, deep breath, shivered, and focused
his eyes on his son.

"He truly does love you, does he not?" Merely a whisper, and the same
words now as then... Will saw the kitchen waver just a bit, but firm
again into modern lines.

"Aye, Father, and he... he is my world."

"Oh, Will, forgive a damned foolish old man..." Bootstrap Bill Turner
gave a broken sob and Will clutched his father to his chest. Will rubbed
his back slowly, and after a minute or so, he quieted. Finally, he
inhaled, exhaled, and said, "Lad, d'ye think ye might want t' put some
breeches on?"

Will flushed more than a little, and moved to do just that. As he
scooped up his sweat pants in the living room, he listened.

"Jack..."


"No need, William, as ever. No apologies needed between us." A pause.
"As it happens, this time, I didn't deserve it, though I will admit that
I frequently did, so I can't say that I blame ye entirely. That's for
what ye did regarding me person only, mind, but ye've already asked for
your son's apology, so we're square."

"My son... my *son*... God, but he looks to be a fine man, Jack."

"A good man, as is his father."

On that, Will returned, and his father smiled up at him, but the look
turned to slight puzzlement. "If ye don't mind me sayin', those breeches
look a bit odd... and this place... there's something different..."

Will saw the sharp gleam in Jack's eyes. "Bill, what'd ye come back in
the door to get?"

"My driver's license," Bill replied absently, and then his eyes went
wide. "Oh!"

Jack's voice was low, now. "William Smith, Sr. and Bootstrap Bill
Turner. Know yourself for both. Recall your past and present together,
me oldest friend. Be whole again."

Eyes still wide open, Bill stared at Jack and his son in turn. "Oh, holy
mother of... oh, holy fucking shit!" Blinked. "Um, sorry, son. But...
holy... we've done this before! We've done all this before! Oh my God.
Jack, are you okay? What the hell did I hit you with?"

"Fireplace poker, I think."

"Thank God - I mean, not that that was good, chrissake, I battered my
son's boyfriend, but..." He stood, finally. "Bootstrap. My name was
Bootstrap Bill Turner. And... damn, I... I was a pirate." Now he was
smiling.

In tandem, Smith and Byrd came forward fully, matching Professor Smith.
"Yep," Will said, "and I was a blacksmith. And a pirate, eventually."

"Does this mean I might have a chance at luring you back to academia?"
Bill smirked.

"I'm through with school," Will replied. "Sorry. Sometimes blood will
tell, and sometimes you're..."

"S.O.L.?" Jack put in.

"Jack. No wonder it was so easy to get to know you. Wow," Bill said. He
pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table. "Hope you guys
don't mind, but I'm not quite ready to go to the market yet... my legs
are a little shaky."

"No problem," Jack replied. "Hey, you want some hot buttered rum?"

"Hell yeah," Bill replied.

"Whelp!"

"On it," Will replied, though he did give Jack a swat in passing.

"I guess this explains all that new-agey reading you've been doing,"
Bill said as Will prepared the drinks, for Jack and himself as well.
"All that past life stuff."

"Yeah. It all started coming back a few weeks before I called to tell
you about Jack and me. And we're not the only ones. There are other
pirates, not to mention some Royal Navy types..."

"I think I met some of them when we had that trouble at your office.
Thanks, kiddo," he said, accepting the warm mug. He blew on the beverage
and then took a long sip. "The man I used to be... Bootstrap Bill...
he's still here. I can feel him. Is that what it's like with you both?
Because it's the weirdest thing, but it feels...right."

"Was that way at the beginning," Jack said. "It'll probably get stronger
for awhile, and then balance out, if it's anything like the way it
happened with us." He swallowed. "My best advice is to trust William. I
recall him as a singularly good man among the brethren." Sparrow's music
shaded his speech briefly.

"And I recall ye as a singularly brilliant lunatic," Bill replied, then
looked somewhat startled.

"Yeah," Will said, "that'll happen too."

"But less randomly."

"Squeak!"

"Oh, who asked you, fuzzface?" Jack said, with affection. Hector ignored
him, climbing Bill's pant leg and shirt to alight on his shoulder. The
ferret nosed at his eyes, gave a lick, and made soft chirping noises.

"I like you too, fuzzy," Bill commented, then looked at Will. "Little
guy never even let me pet him before."

"I can't be sure, but I think he's agreeing with me," Jack said.

"Of course you'd see it that way."

"Can it, whelp."

"Stuff it, Captain."

"Boys..."

"Right." Watching Jack, Will held back a snicker. This all seemed a bit
familiar too. "What I mean is, he's saying he likes Bootstrap. You've
got the ferret seal of approval."

"Me joy knows no bounds," Bill said, still looking startled at speaking
as Bootstrap, but less so. "No offense, fuzzy. Just saying." Hector
seemed unperturbed, although he moved from Bill's shoulder to his lap.

* * *

Ultimately, they decided to go to the market together. Bill was still
half-lost in reverie, remembering and absorbing. Jack remembered a night
spent staring at a shot of rum and put a comforting arm about Bill's
shoulders before the older man slid into his back seat.

As they pulled out onto the street, Bill murmured, "I... *we*... feel
like there's still a piece missing. Something essential that we haven't
quite got our minds around yet."

Jack traded glances with Will, and it seemed the kid, too, knew what
that was likely to be. If you were Bootstrap, what would you attempt to
consign to your subconscious? But that dam was so weakened, it had to
burst...

Which it did, seconds later, as Will turned onto the coastal road, and
Bill saw the ocean.

At first it was but a whisper. "Will. Stop the car."

"What, Dad?"

"For the love of heaven, lad, stop!"

Will pulled over as soon as it was safe. Bill threw his door open and
leaned over, heaving. Then, eyes wide and wild, he ran for the shore.
Jack and Will tore after him, steps behind, leaping rocks and roots on
the path to the beach, for the accursed drowned darkness of Bill's past
had returned in full and all bets were off.

They found a man kneeling at the water's edge, arm outstretched and
trembling.

"I knew, you see" Bill said, voice rough with tears. "I knew that if I
did not go to her now, I might never have the courage to face the sea
again."

"Oh, Dad... Father..." Will was down with an arm about Bill's shoulders.

"I still can't touch the water," he said. "I can face her, true, but..."
his arm moved only so far forward and down, but no farther. "I am
sorry," he whispered out to the waves. "The fear is yet too new again
and too great."

"She'll be there when you're ready," Jack said, the lines of his
personality wavering. "What is both wondrous and fearsome about the sea
is that she'll always be there, different every moment but utterly
unchanged."

"Like some others I could name," Bill murmured. He stood, stepped two
yards back, and then knelt to lie on his back on very dry sand. "This is
why... the panic attacks. The nightmares. They're all from that time,
aren't they? Oh, Smith," he said, voice shifting halfway, "I am so
sorry. I never meant t' cause you such harm."

"And what does the Professor have to say to that, hmm?" Jack put in.

"He says..." Tension lines smoothed slowly, and Bootstrap's face took on
a look of wonder. "...there's nothing to forgive. He calls it...
post-traumatic stress disorder? And that it's no more my fault than the
color of his eyes... my God, Jack. How can I accept that? I knew the
curse first, I sent the coin, it was my choice..."

"Say that again," Jack urged.

"It was my choice. My penance... all our penance."

"And do ye regret it? Would ye do it again?"

"Nay, and aye." The words were crisp, clear.

"Feeling a little more in control now?"

"Ye bastard. But..." a shift in tone and accent, "Yeah. We...I really
am."

"It's going to take time, Dad," Will said. "This is an amazing thing
we've got, but sometimes it hurts."

Bill took a deep breath. "I hear you. And I'm ready. *We're* ready." He
stood. "Hell, we're ready to head to the store, too. As far as I know,
we still need green beans."

Will was first up the path, with a fondly incredulous look for his
father. Jack lagged behind, and so he heard Bill's murmured promise.

"I will not fear ye forever. I'll be back."

Jack smiled.

* * *

Not much later, a turkey went in the oven. Across two time zones,
another bird had a quick dip in the deep fryer, and Mexican rice went on
the stove. Cranberry sauce found its way from two refrigerators, and
bowls of eggnog to living room tables, one spiked with whiskey, the
other with rum. One laden board held green beans and the other salad.
Will set his gingerbread to reheating, and Monty's wife Julie set out
sopapillas with honey before anyone came near to finishing the meal; for
afterward, there were three kinds of pie. The Cowboys played the
Dolphins on two television sets, though one gathering was noticeably
louder, and as the game wore on, noticeably more depressed.

When toasts were raised at the Norton home, the first was to family and
the second to Dubya, the Commander in Chief. It was a tradition, J.B.
the Democrat confided to Liz - they'd toasted Clinton in his turn. And
then Lucy raised a glass, grinning, with "God save the Queen!" The
family echoed it, and while some looked slightly confused, Liz's head
whipped around to meet her soon to be mother-in-law's eyes. The
expression on Lucy's face could best be described as "gotcha," but it
was not unfriendly. Liz realized she did not, in fact, dread the
conversation she knew was coming.

The toasts at the Byrd house began with "To rum!" They went on in that
vein. Modern selves began with knives and forks, to give way to
impatient, hungry pirates gnawing on turkey legs and wings. Will managed
somehow to gnaw neatly, and the silverware did still get used, as it was
nigh impossible to eat cranberry sauce with one's hands. At some point,
the ferret got into the eggnog, and was later found walking on his front
paws. Barbossa was got out of the way early, as Bill needed to know, but
also needed to have time to build back the festive mood again. A toast
to the Black Pearl saddened Bill, for surely she must be scraps of
timber on the tide, but Jack explained his warm smile and Bill wondered
at the tale.

//...where do you think our place is?...// the Professor murmured, and
Bootstrap started just a little at the echo of his present in his mind.
Relaxing, focusing on the whisper, he replied.

//...to meet and have a reckoning? As the Pearl or Will's forge? I know
where we fear it be...//

//...yeah. well, if it's *there,* we'll be ready for it by the time we
need it, because nothing's going to get us there 'till we *are*
ready...//

//...oh, aye...//

Bill wandered away from his son and Jack, to one of the large windows.
He watched the moonlight shift through eucalyptus leaves, then closed
his eyes and remembered Boston in the fall, memories not his own.

//...but, 'tis lovely... I do look forward to our eventual return...//

Which would be a semester later than planned, he realized, recalling
Smith's thoughts again. For the visiting professor filling in had
expressed a desire to stay on one more semester, and Professor Smith had
agreed for the time to continue touring the Golden State, and to
discover and rediscover Jack and...

//...*me*// he thought, almost incredulous.

//...and why not?...// The link deepened, and Bill felt the Professor's
utter acceptance and hunger to *know,* to both learn and teach, recalled
mentoring young sailors, a skinny, tanned boy among them. And the other
way flowed Bootstrap's wonder that Smith would still know him, with all
the pain and fear he'd caused. //...no, oh no...// Smith murmured.
//...I said before that there's nothing to forgive, and I meant it. I
only felt echoes of that pain... you were the one in it... and we can
start healing now...//

Bill sighed, and then a warm arm fell about his shoulders.

"And did the two of ye have a nice chat?"

"Ye're positively uncanny, Jack. You know that, don't you?"

"I've been so told."

And Jack, swaying more than slightly, drew Bill back into the circle of
his family.

* * *

Texas...

On a ranch many miles from El Paso, the dishes had been cleared. Liz
Swan grabbed an instant of peace in the kitchen, sipping coffee laced
with eggnog. If it was good enough for Starbucks...she placed the cup
down on the sink when she felt Lucy Norton enter the room.

"So Greg pretty much told me everything," Lucy confided, as Liz turned.

"Yeah, I figured." Liz gave a brief, snorting laugh. "God save the
Queen?"

Lucy shrugged. "Sorry. Little bit of the devil in me, I guess. I just
thought I ought to come by and confirm. I know about Norrington and all
of it." She looked at Liz seriously. "You know he didn't tell me
anything at all about you. Said it was your call, and if I pushed you,
he'd know it."

"It's okay." Her eyes unfocused slightly and Elizabeth spoke. "We were
wed, once upon a time. Mind you, this was after many blind alleys and
false starts, not to mention other engagements on both our parts and our
own, broken and remade many times. You have no idea how grateful I am to
have found him and be given the wisdom to step over even one of those
pitfalls. I do not care to delay again, for I love your son beyond life
and reason."

"Who..." Lucy murmured.

"Elizabeth Norrington, nee Swann." Liz smiled. "Same girl, different
vintage."

"Well, like I said before, welcome."

"You're a very unusual woman, Mom." Liz paused. "And thank you."

"De nada. I can't fight fate, hon, and in this case I don't want to."
Lucy poured herself some coffee and sipped it black. "Speaking of which
- I probably shouldn't go into detail, but just so you know...the woman
who hurt him isn't going to get away with that." Cold, dry desert wind
found its way beneath the windowpane, whistling in to lift Lucy's hair
ever so slightly. Her dark eyes glittered.

"Two questions," Elizabeth replied. "Is it painful, and can I watch?"

"Don't know exactly. I have a few ideas, and the less you know,
probably, the better. Just thought I owed you the heads-up between us
girls." The rest went unspoken - Greg would probably not approve. Lucy
took another sip, and smiled. "But enough about that. You sit down here
and tell me your big plans for the wedding."

So they sat, and passed the rest of the evening in girl talk about
subjects other than revenge.

* * *

California...

Night fell, too, over the California coast. It looked to be a cool
evening by the Southland's standards, though balmy for a man used to
Boston's weather. Professor Smith felt a paradoxical shiver, then
realized it would be positively chilly for a pirate acclimatized to the
Caribbean.

//...sorry...//

//...you'll get used to it... but it's a good thing we're waiting on
Boston just a bit...// "Hey, Jack!"

"Aye? I mean, yeah?" Came the yell from the garage.

"Can I get an extra blanket for tonight?"

"Sure! My bedroom closet, top shelf, next to the hatbox."

Bill wandered in that direction, and was two steps in when he saw the
dark form slipping in through the window. Bill flipped the light on...

He was Bootstrap again in a wave of rage that consumed him. Lunging with
a hoarse, strangled cry, he grabbed the man as images flashed across his
eyes - an encounter in a Starbucks just weeks past, and back, much, much
farther.

"You!" Bill growled, shoving the skinny blonde against the wall. "I know
ye now, Ragetti. I remember you. Locks and chains about my ankles... I
remember you well."

"Not like it woulda killed ye," Ragetti said, eye wide, breath quick.
"We were all cursed the same, we were... please, Bootstrap..."

"Cursed the same? Oh aye, but would ye rather be aboard the Pearl,
longing for food and drink that'd quench your hungers, or would ye care
to be at the bottom of the sea, longing for a single... breath... of...
air?" His hand closed about the other pirate's throat, began to tighten.
Then, of a sudden, Ragetti stopped trembling, and a second later kneed
Bootstrap in the groin.

Bill folded, and the other man was on him in a second, pressing his
advantage. "Listen, *mate,* he hardly had a choice, now did he? Captain
had every man that could fit about you adding to the chains so they'd
all have a hand in the matter." Bill struggled, but the other had him
pinned. "And you. You mutinied same as the rest of them, though it could
be argued you had no choice, or the same choice he did. You could have
walked off the plank with Sparrow, damn you. So stop taking your guilt
out on Ragetti, as he has not earned it!"

"Who..."

"Robbie Jones, mate. Don't believe we've been properly introduced."

To the side, there came a click.

"Bootstrap, Robbie. Robbie, Bootstrap Bill. Robbie, step away now, if ye
please." Sparrow smiled, a shark's smile, and cocked his head. "Please."

Robbie let go and stood, raising his hands. "Jack. Been a little while,
eh?"

"Not quite long enough. So you did get away."

"You knew I did. The bit with the van wouldn't have fooled the likes of
you."

"And how is it that you know the likes of me?"

"I've had my memory jogged a bit."

"Apparently."

"What in hell is *he* doing here?" Will, walking in on the tableau.

"Excellent question, Will. Was just getting to that meself." Jack
gestured with the gun, and the other man flinched just slightly. "Well?
Either of ye?"

"Barbossa," Robbie said succinctly. "He's back, he's out there, and I've
been working for him again for years without knowing it."

"Is *that* all? Because I'd figured that bit out on me own."

"Well aren't you the bloody genius. Thing is, he doesn't seem to have
much interest in me any longer."

"Oh, you poor dear," Jack replied, fluttering his eyelashes. "Ye must be
so *terribly* disappointed."

"Shove it. I mean, he's hung Joey and me out to dry."

"And ye want me help? Sorry, love. Fresh out of charity for mutineers."

"Doesn't look like it to me."

Jack flicked his eyes to Bill and back. "He got me last bit. Like I
said, fresh out. And ye seem to have lost your sidearm, so I'm curious
as to your leverage."

"Screw leverage," Robbie replied. "I'll owe you, alright? He may not
trust me, but I was on the inside for years. Even if I didn't know his
name, I know how he operates now. Help me now and you'll not regret it."
The last bit was shaded with Ragetti's accents.

"Will?"

"Father, your decision, I think."

Silence for several beats. Then... "If you can help him without risk or
danger to yourself, Jack, do so."

"Bill, are ye certain?" All the mad gleam left Jack's face. "*Be*
certain."

"...I am." Bill looked the skinny ex-pirate up and down, then met his
eyes. "Much as I hate him, and I do, it does not change the fact that he
is, in part, right. It may be that he had less choice than I, but apart
from that entirely, I must begin to let go of hate that's centuries old.
It will warp me, if I do not."

"Good man," Ragetti murmured softly. "A good man, Bootstrap Bill." Then
his posture changed entirely - Robbie again. "What've you got?"

"I've a name," Jack replied. "As to whether it'll help ye or get ye
killed, I neither know nor much care, to be honest."

"Figured as much for anything coming from you. Go ahead."

"Serafina Pintoli."

"Who?" Will broke in.

"Joey's mum? What's she have to do with anything?"

"She's a prime mover in the Pintoli organization. Maybe as high as
second-in-command. And, so far, her tax records are impeccable, which
should give ye some idea of her savvy, savvy?" The hand without the gun
described a flourish, while the gun hand stayed steady as a rock. "If
anyone would be workin' t' get her son out of jail, legally or not, it'd
be her. If you want to help, it would likely be most advantageous to add
your efforts to hers."

Robbie shook his head. "Damn. And Joey always said his Mum was the only
one in the family what wasn't connected. Either she's that good, or he's
even better at keeping his mouth shut than I thought."

"Jack, how...when..." Will stopped, and just blinked.

"Just a bit of research, love. IRS's been trying to nail Sera Pintoli
for years."

"Well, in that case," Robbie said, "I think I'll be off to spend the
rest of Thanksgiving weekend with me dear mate's mum." He backed to the
window. "Captain, whelp..." One foot over the sill, he paused.
"Bootstrap. Ye are a good man... sorry for all the times I called ye a
stupid blighter..."

Bill sighed. "Just go."

"Right." Other foot up and over, and he caught his heel, pitched
backward. From beyond the window, they heard, "... ow...," and then
scuffling, and footsteps in the other direction, 'till a faint car
engine sounded.

"Somehow, I don't think we've seen the last of him," Will said, and
then, thoughtfully, "Jack, don't you have a rosebush under that window?"

Jack smiled as he put up the gun. "Aye."

* * *

The adrenaline wore off surprisingly quickly. Jack meandered off to the
garage, and Will to the kitchen, making certain all the food was safely
put away, if Bill knew his son. Bill found himself on the couch with
another hot buttered rum in hand, watching the fire and pondering mutiny
and the ocean.

//...'tisn't your guilt t' bear...// Bootstrap murmured to him.

//...but I can help you bear it. you think I'd rather have been a pirate
*without* a conscience?...// And there was warmth at the knowledge and
the thought of Will, a fine lad / good kid they'd raised. It was
something they couldn't have accomplished, really, if they'd been
completely scalawag.

//...and I needn't envy the time you spent with him, for I was there,
and I recall it...// All of it, including the one great fight they'd
had, which Will had attributed to his coming out. That had been
completely wrong on the boy's part - Bill had not wanted him to leave
the East because...

//...because we'd been so long parted before. I see that now...// And
anyway, they'd worked it out in time. Another soothing thought, but it
faded as his mind traced another circle, this time recalling the trap
that the far past had laid for him. Standing in California, seeing a
Tortuga inn...

//...Jack says that's rare. Maybe, but...//

//...Aye. We'd best watch ourself, just a bit...//

This was in his mind as he came to dwell on the ocean again, and her
layers of meaning. His eyes fell on the guitar against the wall and he
wondered idly if Will still played. Then he stood, walked to it, and
carried it back to the couch. Fingers lay upon the strings, and he let
the first song to come to mind flow out through his hands. His mouth
turned up just a bit at the corner when he registered the irony.

* * *

The guitar drew Will and Jack from their respective tasks, and as they
drew closer, they heard Bill singing softly. Jack got an odd, full
sensation when he looked at the man, and in fact, his voice was not
quite either self's, but blending. It was recent U2, and the mix of
accents gave a fair approximation of Bono's crooning.

"...I'm just trying to find a decent melody. A song that I can sing in
my own company..."

And this song... this *particular* song... Jack looked at Will, who
smiled, slightly.

"You've got to get yourself together...you've got stuck in a moment, and
now you can't get out of it. Don't say that later will be better. Now
you're stuck in a moment and you can't get out of it."

Jack found himself closer to Will, then resting against him.

"I am still enchanted by the light you brought to me... I listen through
your ears, through your eyes I can see..."

Jack Byrd closed his eyes at that line for a tingling in his chest and
fingers that was Sparrow's own gratitude. Soon enough, though, they
opened wide.

"I was unconscious, half asleep... the water is warm 'til you discover
how deep. I wasn't jumping, for me it was a fall. It's a long way down
to nothing at all..."

Will squeezed Jack's waist, and he leaned in. Bill's voice rose.

"And if the night runs over, and if the day won't last, and if your way
should falter along this stony pass... it's just a moment. This time
will pass."

Hands and then strings stilled, and Bill looked behind. "So, how long
have you two been there?" Back to being Smith, mostly.

"Second verse," Will replied. "You still got it, Dad."

"Thanks." With a slight grin, Bill handed up the guitar and Jack stowed
it. "You want to give me a hand with this?" Bill asked, and so Jack
moved the coffee table, Will relocated the couch cushions, and Bill
pulled his bed back out. Jack tossed the extra blanket atop the sheets
and felt Will's fingertips brush his neck, a whispered promise.

"'Good night, Bill," he said, and the other man looked up from
straightening the covers.

" I think, for the first time in a long time, I'm pretty sure it will
be. Thank you both."

"You know," Jack replied, "You're giving us too much credit. Even my
piratey half doesn't have the guts to stage a scene like... well, you
know." And Sparrow, while grumbling at losing any credit, did have to
admit it was true, if only to his other. "It was just blind bad luck
that we managed to turn to good luck, while avoiding getting maimed or
killed in the meantime."

Bill laughed at that, Bootstrap's low chuckle. "I knew that, and it
proves only that naught's changed in hundreds of years, for so did ye
always do. Sleep well, me old mate, and we'll see what the morning
brings." With that, Bill slid into bed. He was asleep seconds after his
head hit the pillow, and as he slept, he smiled.

Will looked up at Jack, his face glowing with relief and something else,
that burning something that made Jack want to lose himself in the man,
body and soul.

Jack moved to lead them back to the bedroom, and on his way, turned out
the light.

* * *

Hours later, words were whispered on desert wind, and many miles away, a
woman with mid-length brown hair shifted in her sleep and moaned.

* * *

END TAXES 6

TMF

* * *

Credits:

Thanks again for the beta, Gundam Nymph! You rock.

Bunny Credits!

Permetaform wanted Bill to meet Hector. Done and done.

Rokeon wanted... let's see... Bill to get all his memories back, in a
similar circumstance to the way he found out about Will and Jack the
first time, triggering Bootstrap, a duel and/or a chase scene. Shino
Hoshi wanted much the same. You got it, guys!

Juniper200, for the last fic, wanted Sparrow and Turner to find
themselves compelled to take over, and perhaps relive some event from
their lives the first time around. Well, not last time, but, heh. Also,
I owed Junie a cameo from the contest in 5A, so she was the chick Will
T-boned with the cart.

If I've forgotten anyone, please holler loudly. More bunnies are
absolutely wanted - send 'em on over!

---

References:

Full lyrics to "Stuck in a Moment" by U2:
http://www.hugelyrics.com/lyrics/29032/U2/Stuck_in_a_Moment/

Why the Nortons were all just a little depressed after Dallas played
Miami: http://www.nfl.com/gamecenter/recap/NFL_20031127_MIA@DAL

Albert (Eberts), from the prologue, is a character from "The Invisible
Man," the 2-season TV show on the SciFi channel a couple of years back.
Loved that show.

There's a very definite reason Will drives a Lexus convertible: in Taxes
2, I established that Will had a convertible. In Taxes 4, Jack heard the
rain beating down on the metal roof of Will's car. I only know of one
hard-top convertible available in the U.S. at present, so it looks like
Will drives the Lexus SC, which you can view here:
http://www.automotive.com/reviews/13/2003/lexus/sc430/buyersguide/index.html.
Thank goodness for Lexus; otherwise I might've made a mistake :).

Will's Chocolate Chip Gingerbread (and yes, it is like crack, when
served warm with a nice vanilla ice cream...):

Basically, use the Epicurious.com recipe for Old-Fashioned Gingerbread,

EXCEPT:

Bake at 350 for 30 minutes in a 13x9 brownie pan,

AND, top with half a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips

Taxes 7 is in the very early stages...may be one fic, or may be a series
of snippets. Not sure yet...Hey, I know X-Mas is over, but if anyone has
any Taxverse holiday moments you'd like to see, email me!

This means you, plot bunnies!

--a

TMF

And Taxes 6 - The Mad Fangirl

Title: Taxes 5 - Halloween / Day of the Dead
Author: The Mad Fangirl - batya_93@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, savvy?
Rating: NC-17
Arrrrchive: Yes, please - just tell me where.
Pairings: W/J, E/N, hints of G/E (you'll see...)
Warnings: Hot guy-guy slashy action; i.e. men having graphic sex with
other men. Also, for those that avoid such things, there are het
references. Nothing graphic, though, and it's only to serve the greater
good of the slashy plot, I swear! Also, Major Character Death in 5B.

Summary and Notes:
Hi all! Fangirl here. To follow, you'll find Taxes 5, which is really
two stories, 5A, Halloween, and 5B, Dia de los Muertos. Halloween's
going to be more loopy fun, Day of the Dead a bit heavier. Fair warning:
5B will also reveal the death of one of the past lives, which I guess
qualifies as a major character death, even if they've come back already
in our time.

If you're new to the Taxverse, the above should give you some idea that
we're going with the present reincarnations of our POTC favorites, but
it's not quite that simple. When Will and Jack remembered who they used
to be, they ended up with both personalities sharing space in their
heads, and it's been pretty much like that all 'round. Oh, yeah, and
Jack works for the IRS now. More details in the prior stories - order
is: "And Taxes," "Taxes 2 - Past Life Hangover," "Repression, Obsession,
and Past Life Regression," and "Die Hard with Pirates."

POVs in 5A: Will, Will, Jack, Jack, a little Liz, and a tiny bit of
Giles.

Oh, yeah, did I mention the Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover? 'Cause
Halloween is one. Wink.

POVs in 5B: Will, Will, Jack, Jack, Greg, James, Liz, and [SPOILER].

* * *

TAXES 5B: 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, somehow, all 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."

"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. "I 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 fianc�e'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 say, dear." 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 life. 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 fianc�e 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 the 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, he held 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 the lock. 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.

* * *
5B, Part 2: Memory
* * *

Warm...comfortable...floating...

//...where are we?...//

//...do not know...wrong...something...//

A voice, calm, measured. He listened...

"...feel good, relaxed. Hear my voice, focus on my voice, there are no
other sounds..."

Yeah...Norrington wasn't sound, not really. Just thoughts, even if they
sounded like sounds sometimes...

"...name's Celia. I'm here to help you. You trust me..."

Why not? She seemed...nice...

//...Greg...something is wrong...//

"...want to help you remember...need to warn you..."

"...Yeah," he murmured. "Something's wrong..."

"You're in danger," she continued. "Someone very close to you is a
terrible danger to you."

"...well, sure...work...there's..." He paused, not sure he should say
more, though not sure why. He heard a murmur, 'more,' and felt a tiny
pinch in his arm, and then the sensation seemed to float away.

"You want to know who. I can tell you. You need to know."

Oh, good. He'd been wondering.

"Jack. You know Jack. You remember Jack. Remember Jack then."

The Commodore seemed so far away, but Greg had his memories now, though
distant, vague. He remembered Jack then. Rogue, lawless man, nemesis,
pirate...

"History repeats. You see it happen. He was a danger to you then. He's a
danger to you now."

Her voice filled his world, calm, implacable.

"Jack is a danger to you. Jack is a danger to Liz. Jack is a danger to
Elizabeth."

Her speech fit the pauses of his heartbeat.

"Elizabeth needs you. Jack will take you from her. History repeats. Jack
killed you then. Remember."

"...wha...no...I..."

Could it be? It was Celia, he trusted her, but could it be?

And despite the fact that there were no other sounds, a rough-soft voice
seemed to whisper, "Ask him, love. Ask him if the last sight he ever saw
in life was Jack Sparrow's pistol. For, 'twas mine."

"...Yes..." Greg murmured, almost a sob. "...No...how..."

The not-voice was gone, and he heard Celia again. "I have everything you
need. I'm here to help you. You'll do what you have to. You have to
protect her."

//...Norrington? Help...she's making sense...I don't think that
should...Norrington?...James?...//

Another pinch, and he was floating again.

* * *

//...Greg? GREG!...//

It was so dark...so hard to reach him...and so hard to hear, but
something was terribly wrong. Someone was whispering poison to Greg,
forcing it down him softly, sweetly...Commodore James Norrington
strained with all the soul that was his and his other's, a desperate
reaching. At the last, he tried what he had not dared before, to take
the body from his other self by force. He found himself blocked as
always. Greg floated just beyond his grasp.

//God help us,// he thought, despairing.

'Not God,' came a whisper, 'but would you take a dead cop?'

//Officer Ortiz? I thought you were gone...//

'I knew I'd be needed. I've been watching. I can help. I owe you both,
Commodore.'

//Ortiz, what's happening to us?//

'Someone's trying to use you. You can fight it. You can help Greg fight
it.'

//How? Please, how?//

'I'm sorry, but...pain. And death. And knowledge. You carry a memory,
death and sadness. I'm dead and I can hear it. I can help you unlock it
now. It can help you fight.'

There was no choice. His duty was clear.

//Do it. And no matter the pain, Ortiz, I thank you.//

'Then come with me and remember. Always remember.'

* * *

Will rose earliest, yawning. "Jack?"

"Mm?"

"I'm gonna go to my studio. Turner's really curious about the welding
stuff, and I haven't made anything in a while."

"'Kay," Jack murmured sleepily. "I think I'll just..." He rolled over
and felt sleep reach for him again, soft and warm. When he woke, Will
was gone. Jack spared a moment thinking of Will in coveralls and an
apron, holding an arc-welder, and resolved to go with him next time.

Toes hugged by fleece slippers, he padded to the living room and opened
the blinds to let the sun in. A tingle, suddenly, at the base of his
spine, and he squinted, saw nothing outside but green.

//...wha?...// said Sparrow, sleepily.

//...nothing. Just had a funny feeling...//

//...then stay sharp...// the pirate thought back, suddenly more alert.

//...what does it mean?...//

//...Danger? Opportunity? Sex? Not a clue, me own...something,
anyway...//

Well, might as well enjoy the wait, then. Will had kindly left a thermos
of coffee and most of the paper, and Jack settled in to read.

* * *

In the coastal scrub, a man lay waiting, gazing in the window.
Camouflaged, all in green, Greg looked through the scope, Jack's head
directly in the crosshairs. A part of him still reached desperately for
the Commodore, but it was a blind grasping.

Then, suddenly, he was there, with a message that made something go cold
in Greg's gut.

//...always...Always remember...//

But...it was going to hurt, he knew, and she...someone...who was
Celia?...had told him how to keep that pain away this time...

//...don't...don't want to...//

Calm, insistent. As insistent as she had been, but different. Difficult,
and right.

//...it's time, Greg. It's time. It can free you. I have. You must...//

//...but, he killed us...//

//...that is a lie, all the more powerful for the grain of truth
within...we can save ourselves from this folly...we must, for *her* sake
if not our own...//

Her. Elizabeth.

//...we serve others...//

Duty. That pain he understood, and had to accept.

//...Yes...//

//...all right...//

//...then I need your full attention, soldier...//

Greg moved his finger off the trigger, became a statue, waiting.  When
it came, it rushed through him with gale force.

Always. Remember.

You will always remember this as the day...

The gun clattered from nerveless hands.

* * *

It was fair to say that the last thing Jack Byrd expected to see was
Greg Norton on his lawn, in makeup, for the second time in as many days.
That it was Greg in combat fatigues and camouflage face-paint only added
to the strangeness.

There was a bizarre magnetism to Greg as he stood, watching Jack walk
towards him, and Jack suddenly felt as though his hand was on a door he
feared to open.

//...and since when have we ever feared the unknown?...//

But Sparrow was afraid too.

//...we fear pain and sadness. We feel that in him, now...//

Beyond Greg lay memory, they knew, and the bane of all the brethren.
Regret. But they moved forward. Behind them, too, they felt Pearl
urging. Now, yes, now, go to him... So, this was what she'd meant Jack
to know, to do.

Unblinking, Greg reached out a hand and placed it on Jack's shoulder. He
looked into Jack's eyes.

"Always remember," he said, and it was impossible to tell which one of
him said it.

Always remember.

//Oh, God.//

You will always remember this as the day...

* * *

Port Royal, Jamaica...

~Captain~ Jack Sparrow heard the familiar click of boots down the stone
stairs of the stockade. He knew the Commodore's footfalls on those
steps, had known the sound long since.

Hmm. This was altogether too common an experience, then.

Jack eyed the Commodore up and down, and was just a bit startled to find
grey in his brown eyebrows. His own hair had a graying streak, true, but
his nemesis was not allowed to get old.

"You're not allowed t' get old," Jack said. "Just so ye know."

The Commodore sighed wearily and leaned against the wall. "I suppose
this is where I make some sort of crack about how you won't be getting
any older."

"That's the game, isn't it?"

Norrington looked at him, face grave. "Not today."

Jack watched him sharply now. "So. I am to hang. No last minute rescues,
you've got Will somewhere in irons, the Empire has the Pearl under her
guns, your lovely wife hasn't pinched your spare keys..."

"No, Jack. You're not to hang." His face retained that stone set, and
Jack began truly to worry.

"What, then?" Slowly.

"Tell me, Jack. Has anyone recently asked you for the bearings to La
Isla de Muerta?"

"People ask me every other day and twice on Sundays, love. Not like I'd
tell them, as I don't generally make near-fatal mistakes twice."

"Soon you may not have that choice."

Understanding and dread. "So it's to be torture." And Norrington nodded.
"The king that desperate to fatten his coffers, then?"

Norrington shook his head.

"There are rumblings in the Americas," Norrington said. "Taxes the chief
complaint, but they have many. The Crown is growing nervous. It is
beginning to increase its forces."

"If you're telling me all this, I must truly be a dead man."

Then a jingle and a click. "I hope to avoid that," Norrington replied.
"But better we both die than give them what they want."

Jack stared. "Commodore, this is treason."

Then Norrington was an inch from his face. "Don't you think I know
that?" he hissed. "But think. Truly think about why they want this
information, and know why I cannot allow it."

Jack was no simpleton. "Oh hells. They want an army that can't be
killed, to put down their little rebellion."

"Potential rebellion, but yes." Norrington stood aside as Jack gathered
his effects. "Eight hundred odd of the most loyal subjects, of course.
Men who would hunger and thirst and long forever in the name of their
king. I fought those things, Jack, and you *were* one of them. I saw the
most vicious pirates weeping with joy even as they died, that they could
feel again. I cannot let that become of eight hundred Englishmen. I can
not."

The quiet resolve in his voice frightened Jack a great deal.

"You know the bearings too, though, don't you, for all that I tried to
confuse the way?"

"Indeed. Which is why I must accompany you. Most of those now here or
those on their way do not believe I know, but they will likely decide to
make certain."

"Could the great Commodore turn pirate, then?"

"No," Norrington replied, honestly. "Not ever. But I might, perhaps,
retire."

"And what, then, of Elizabeth?"

"The further she can get from a gentlewoman's life the better, as well
you know. Now come *on,* pirate!"

Up the stairs, to the door, when suddenly a man in uniform confronted
them.

Gillette - bloody officious, sarcastic little *twit*...! Only one thing
could save them now, and Jack dearly hoped he'd been right about it all
along...

"Sir."

"Captain Gillette."

A deep breath. "Godspeed. I, of course, was napping in your office and
saw nothing." Voice laden with emotion...he'd been right! Of course he
had, he was ~Captain~-

"Jack, *move!*"

They took off, and were below the fort, beyond it, running...Jack, for
appearances, with his pistol in Norrington's back...and then they heard
the musket fire...

"Stop that, you colossal morons! You'll hit the Commodore!"

At Norrington's sharp jerk, Jack hoped Gillette had not been too late
with that last. They ran on, but then he dared to glance over and down.
Red blossomed on Norrington's shirt, and Jack caught him as he folded to
the cliff-top field's green grass.

Oh, no.

"Tell Elizabeth..." the Commodore gasped. "Please, tell her..."

No dissembling or false promises from Jack Sparrow, by God. "She knows,
mate. She knows."

"That...she does, but tell her...anyway. She will be waiting for
you...in Tortuga..." Hands batted at his belt. "Give Will my sword,
please. I do believe it is the finest he has ever made."

"Waiting in Tortuga. You bastard. How'd ye know? How did you know that
you'd die today?"

"...Couldn't explain it, not even if I had the time..." His eyes held an
unearthly clarity. "But swear something to me. Tell only Elizabeth and
Will the truth. I would not make her a traitor's widow. Otherwise...I
died a hostage."

"You have my word." No music in Jack's voice now. It felt inappropriate.

"One last thing I ask of you, and I shall...I shall understand if
you..."  A shuddering gasp, blood dripping from his lip, where he'd bit
it. "Captain Sparrow. This is a gut wound, and you have a pistol. I
would have you end it."

Jack was unable to look anywhere but those eyes, that saw beyond this
world already.  Slowly, face grave, he lifted the pistol, aimed it at
Norrington's heart.

"I never wished the game to end this way."

His hand shook, then firmed.

"Nor...did I...wish your death...though I suspect you knew that."

The pistol's report was so loud, Jack thought he might be deaf forever,
but he heard the next whispered words.

"You will always remember this as the day I died for Jack Sparrow."

The next breath of Commodore James Norrington was his last.

"My word on that as well, James, though you did not die for me," Jack
said to the dead man. "'Twas for eight hundred Englishmen and their
immortal souls that you fell. Damn them all." His voice was rough. "Ye
were a good man and me best enemy."  His breath hitched, then gathered
in his gut.

A young man fishing on the rocks below, recently freed by the death of
the harbormaster and the terms of his will, heard the scream. All the
rage in the world seemed contained in it, and all the grief. The sound
was graven into his mind, and he remembered it all the rest of his days.

Such a sound it was, he did not notice Jack Sparrow diving off the bluff
and swimming for a boat and the open sea.

* * *

"I'm sorry, James," murmured Jack, sinking to the grassy lawn, the other
man held in a half-embrace. "I'm so sorry. I swore, and then I went and
forgot. I'm sorry..." Jack Byrd sobbed, then, once, with Jack Sparrow's
grief.

"'Sokay," Greg murmured. "You meant well. Didn't mean you had to keep it
with you past your lifetime." His cheeks were tear-tracked through the
paint. Jack stroked his hair, soothingly, as he'd do with Will, and the
other man breathed deep. "None of us wanted to remember this, myself
least of all. It was a fearsome thing. Now, though, we all will.
Somewhere, Liz is crying. I should go to her." His voice flowed between
selves, ending up Greg again.

Jack took his own shuddering breath, and then took a good look at the
man with him. "What's going on here? Really?"

"Someone shot me up with some kinda drug cocktail. Wanted me to kill
you, said you'd killed me. Seemed wrong, somehow, but it wasn't 'till I
remembered that I could really fight it. The Commodore ... I couldn't
have done it without him."

"Okay, come on. We're getting you to a hospital."

Norton struggled just a bit. "Nuh-uh. I was a cop, Jack. God knows what
kinda crap they gave me..."

Working on a hunch, Jack pulled up a sleeve. Sure enough..."Greg, you've
got finger-shaped bruises by the puncture. Nobody's going to think you
did this to yourself."

"But Elizabeth..." His voice was fainter and Norrington's again.

"Can meet us there." With concern, Jack watched his head loll and his
eyes flicker, opening again to meet Jack's own.

"Elizabeth is so lovely, isn't she?"

"Aye, the lass is a beauty..." Jack moved an arm behind, trying for
leverage.

"Though, you were always beautiful as sin yourself, Jack, did you know?"

Jack's eyes went wide and he heaved them both to their feet.  "That's
it. Hospital. Now."

* * *

On the way, he spoke to a rough-voiced Liz and left a message for Will,
whose phone was off. Blood drawn, photos taken, reports jotted on pads
to be transcribed later. Much of the latter done by Jill Norton, who'd
come as soon as she heard the call go out.

"I knew he had a sensitive job, but I never really thought..." The
police lieutenant snapped her notepad shut. "Whoever did this pumped him
full of hypnotics. I don't know a hell of a lot about this stuff, but if
I had half that crap in my system, I'd be singing my ATM pin number in
the street."

"8901," Jack replied.  Her head whipped around.

"How the..."

"Wild guess. It's the date you got divorced." A corner of his mouth
quirked up. "You mean I was right?"

"Okay, you're an ass." Her eyes flicked in the direction of Greg's room.
"Damn, Jack. If you'd told me this was going to happen yesterday, I'd
have told you the Men in Black already told me all about it, and then
I'd've called the looney bin. I know Royal Inc. got looted for some of
its technology, but I never thought he'd run into this kind of X-files
bullshit."

Ah. One of his better cover stories, if Jack did say so. Because the
police, even Greg's ex-wife, did not need to know about the little
near-attempted murder. "Hey, the way they had him dressed, it might have
been something from his days in the Army. Who knows? At least he's going
to be okay."

"Yeah..." she said. "Look. He says he doesn't remember anything, and
they tell me that's possible, but I'm not sure he's not just being his
stubborn-assed self. He's got my number. If anything comes back, could
you have him give me a call?"

Jack smiled, shrugged. "Sure."

* * *

Jack passed Liz on his way to Norton's room. Her eyes were red, but she
gave him a soft smile and then drew him into a hug.

"I'm sorry..." he murmured in her ear.

"It wasn't your fault, Jack. We all know that." And he had a feeling she
let the words cover all events. "Jack, talk to him. He's pretty down."

"You think *I'll* help? Seriously, Liz. I think it was me that brought
that memory back."

"No, it wasn't. It was him. He was the only one that could have - he
knows that somehow, it had to be him first, and I'm not going to
question it. But that's not it, exactly."

"What..."

"Jack, Greg was under the influence, but James wasn't under anyone's
control. If he'd been able to take over, he might have stopped things
sooner. Greg can't give over to James, and now he's feeling guilty for
it on top of everything." Liz sighed. "He didn't want to get you
involved, but...just talk to him, okay?"

Sparrow looked through his eyes, suddenly, and spoke with his voice and
hands. "Have I your leave to try...extreme measures, then, love?"

Her smile lost a bit of its sadness. "You know, that might be just what
he needs."

"Then give us just a bit of privacy, mm?"

They switched over entirely as he entered the hospital room, the switch
in his walk becoming far more noticeable. "'Lo, Commodore. You're
lookin' a mite peaked."

"Sparrow. And to what do I owe the dubious honor?" Norrington seemed a
bit more sober now, but from the other Jack's knowledge, the drugs still
flowed through his veins. Jack smiled.

"Lovely 'Lizbeth asked I look in on ye. Said y'were a bit down."

"So she sent you to cheer me up. She and I need to..." His voice
softened and trailed off. He yawned.

"What exactly is it that you two need to do?" Grin sharpened. "Describe,
please."

"None..." Yawn... "of your affair, pirate..."

"Might it be something like this?" And Norrington's shutting eyes
widened as Sparrow stroked his short hair, trailing long fingers along
his jawline.

"What on Earth...!"

"I'll stop, Commodore, but it's you that must stop me, savvy? Not Greg.
You."

He groaned. "She told you."

"She's only concerned for your well being, love, as am I."

"Why do I...Jack, what are you..." Jack's hands moved to Norrington's
shoulders, rubbing and caressing. "Will is going to..."

"Will will understand. This has t'be done. And anyway, it's just a
massage, for now..." Jack let his voice go low, insistent. "I think
ye've both bound yourself too tight, mate. Mayhap ye need a pirate t'
slip the locks on your soul. Let go..."

"I can't...I've been tryin'..."

"Shhh, Greg. I'm talkin' t' James. It's only Jack. Worst pirate ye ever
heard of, recall?" He kept his hands to neck and shoulders, rubbing in
rhythmic patterns. "I'll never harm ye, the two of us are bound now.
Bound by memory and by your sacrifice that I witnessed..."

"...died for you...oh..." His eyes were closed again. "...don't regret
that, not at all...but that I died a traitor..."

"...I'll say again, as perhaps you didn't hear me the last time. Ye died
to keep the Crown from betrayin' all that made it worth fighting for. I
was just there."

"...catalyst..."

"Aye, so let me do me job, hmm? James, ye died a hero...ye deserve to
walk, live, breathe again. Now, stop me, Commodore. There's a pirate who
may not be satisfied with a massage much longer. Ye can stop me. I won't
let Greg do it. And I'll know..." His hands traced down over tape and
tubing, to Norrington's chest. He leaned in, tips of his hair brushing
skin.  "Ye do wish t' remain faithful to 'Lizbeth, don't ye? Or, do
ye..."

He took James' mouth then, in a deep kiss, fully expecting the Commodore
to sputter and repel him. He received a surprise.

I.V.- strapped hands came up to grasp his hair, holding him tight.
Jack's eyes opened wide as the kiss widened, deepened. The heart monitor
leapt and began beeping. They were held there for several long seconds,
and only after did the Commodore ...and it was the Commodore...push him
away.

"Well, what do you know," Norrington replied, sitting up. "It worked."
He stretched. "I'm...back."

"Ye're a bit of a bastard, too." Jack observed.

"Pot to kettle?" James replied. "But much as I'd love to have your
respect for my purported deviousness, I really did only gain this body
just this instant. And your arguments did help, for which I thank you,
pirate. But...I think what did it was something much simpler, something
I wish we'd thought of before."

"Go on..." Jack said, gesturing fluidly.

"Greg's completely straight," the Commodore said. "I'm...not."

Jack stood, turning a complete circle before facing Norrington again. "I
knew it! Ye were bending Gillette over the long nines for years, weren't
ye?"

"A gentleman does not kiss and tell."

Something occurred to Jack, then, and he cocked his head, saying, "Wait.
You mean that kissin' me so disgusted Greg that he fled into your
subconscious!?"

Norrington shrugged. "You said it, not me. Anyway, I don't think he's
gone quite that far."

"Oh, whatever. I should slap you, y'know."

"I really think I should be slapping you, if anything. I'm affianced,
after all. You quite took advantage of my weakened condition."

"Don't seem quite so weakened now."

"Only because it was Greg that got dosed, not myself, and I'm now truly
in control." He paused, blinked. "But that is odd. It's the same
body..."

"Aye, but now that ye mention, I've felt Byrd get less drunk the instant
I yield to him. Well, no one said this had t'make sense."

"I doubt most things having to do with you make sense, least of
all...Elizabeth!"

"No, she's usually quite clearheaded...oh. Right. Hi 'Lizbeth."

"Jack...did you molest my fianc�e?"

"Only a little." Her eyebrows were raised and her hands were on her
hips. Not good. "Really, love, it was only a neck rub and a kiss, I
swear on me mum's grave." He scrambled back as she advanced, just a bit,
certainly *not* in panic. "Was for a good cause! An' I had your
permission!"

"He *what?*"

"Well, as a matter of fact..." Her posture relaxed and she smiled. "You
did, at that."

"Ye're truly evil, Liz. And I should know."

"Oh, you aren't really such a bad egg."

Norrington, meanwhile, shook his head. "The two of you joining forces.
I'm doomed." But then he looked at Liz and stood. He was on the opposite
side of the bed from his I.V. stand, and so it leashed him in, but he
reached out his other hand.

"Elizabeth," he said softly, "It did work. It is I, moving us, my love."

"Oh, James," she said, stepping inside his arm as he wrapped it about
her shoulder.

"I can live in this body, if we choose," he went on, and Elizabeth said,

"That's wonderful, dear, but..."

"Yes?"

"Stop moving and get back in bed. You're still undergoing treatment for
a possible overdose of heaven knows what, and I won't have you straining
yourself, no matter how well you feel." She looked at Jack and winked.
"Savvy?"

"You've always had far too much pirate in you, Elizabeth, my love." He
was smiling, though, as he said it.

"I've always been willing t' put just a bit more pirate in her," Jack
said.

Liz rolled her eyes. "Couldn't resist, could you." At the same time,
Norrington growled, "OUT!"

Jack raised his hands in surrender. "I'm goin'...I'm goin'..." He'd
intended to leave them to their privacy, but alas, not so, for a nurse
was on her way in. //...hope Will is here...// he thought to his other
self.

//...I know...// Byrd thought back. //...never thought kissing that
tightass would be so *hot*...yeah, we really need to see him. soon.
maybe in the residents' break room...the lavatory...the middle of the
lobby... I don't *care*...//

Speaking of the lavatory...Jack meandered to the nearest and found a
stall. He reached to lock the door, and it was wrenched open.
Lightning-quick, a hand closed about his arm and a pinch at his elbow
sent consciousness spiraling away.

His last thought as darkness claimed him was a desperate fear that he'd
wake pointing a pistol at his Will.

* * *
5B, Part 3: A Man of Wealth and Taste
* * *

Consciousness returned slowly to Jack at first, but then the day's
events flooded his mind his eyes snapped wide and he gasped, and
realized he was Byrd again upon this waking.

He sat in a leather chair, in an office with rich, elegant d�cor. There
was a good bit of dark wood, and gold accents aplenty. The theme was
distinctly pre-Columbian. Dare he guess...Aztec.

There was a man across from him, mostly hidden in shadow. He sat very
still, moving only when he saw Jack awake.

"Pleased to meet you," came the voice, and it was raw silk over rocks
and oh, so familiar. A voice he'd hoped he'd silenced in a cave long,
long ago, a voice he knew in his heart he'd be hearing again and soon.

A voice that continued, "Won't you guess my name?" He leaned forward,
into the light. Hair slate and sand, long and curling just as it had
ever been, but beard neatly trimmed. Ice-melt eyes.

Hello again, Barbossa.

Oh, but there was no way he'd give him the satisfaction of reacting as
he'd expect. He eyed the nameplate on the man's desk. "Hernando Ross,
looks like." Squinted. "You look familiar. Have I audited you before?"

"So, that's the way ye want t' play it, is it now?" Barbossa folded his
hands. "I know ye remember. I've an inside source or two..." He pressed
a button on his phone. "Lass, could ye come in here?"

Moments later, a door opened, and in she stepped. Well. And that
explained a few things. Red rage behind his eyes again, though he
schooled his features so none of it showed. Her mid-length brown hair
was upswept now, setting off diamond earrings. She wore a wine-dark
dress. Barbossa liked his women in wine-colored dresses, Jack recalled.

"Dr. Schuyler? This is a surprise." He looked back to Ross. Barbossa.
"It's a good thing you've got a shrink. You obviously need one. Do you
have any idea what the penalties are for kidnapping an IRS agent?"

"Same as they are for kidnapping anyone else, I'd expect. Only, I didn't
kidnap ye. I found you passed out downstairs and brought ye up t' my
office to recover." He smiled. "Prove me wrong."

"Mr. Ross? Did you need me further, or did you just want me to stand
here and look pretty?"

"The latter, lass. Ye can go."

Celia Schuyler left with just a parting glance at Jack, those
captivating grey eyes utterly opaque. She'd wanted a confirmation too,
though. Jack could swear she wasn't completely sure, herself, that
Sparrow was awake.

"Jack, Jack, Jack," Barbossa chided, that old drawl growing stronger.
"The sooner ye own up, the sooner we're done here. If it helps, I give
ye me word that I won't kill ye or have ye killed tonight. And while we
both know just exactly how flexible me word is, that's about as plain a
statement as ye're likely to get."

Well. All right, then, and he'd asked for it. Jack closed his eyes just
a second, falling back as Sparrow leapt forth. The world did not shift
or spin this time, but swam into razor-sharp focus.

"In that case," Jack asked, leaning back in his chair, "Might I ask when
ye came back? That is, when ye remembered?"

The bastard looked far too satisfied as he said, "When did I come back?
When did I remember? Ahhhh, Jack, I came back a very, very long time
ago, and I never, ever forgot."

It couldn't be...but Jack was beginning to feel a sneaking suspicion
that it was...

"I was, of course, quite dead for some time, mind you." There Barbossa
took a deep breath. "Not something I enjoyed. I'll admit, if I'd known
ye were buggering Bootstrap's boy at the time, I might ha' played things
a bit differently."

No point in telling him the buggery hadn't come along 'till a good bit
later. Let him mistrust his judgment. "You remember being dead?" Curious
despite himself, but all the spinning, calculating wheels in his mind
saw no harm in asking.

"That I do, dying and death both." Barbossa steepled his hands, then
laced them behind his head. "Dying was cold, I recall that. Death, now.
Death made dyin' feel like a warm summer's day. If ye don't remember it,
you've got better than you deserve. Cold it was, beyond all imagining,
beyond all thought."

Jack did not remember cold at all. He did know, though, that in some
cultures Hell was so described.

"In that bleak void, I waited, and begged for even the need and the
numbness of the curse again, promised up me blackened soul that I might
return even to that benighted state. Lo and behold..."

And hadn't Jack always known that to be his first mate's true curse?
Always wanting what he did not at that moment have...and then for his
sins, getting it....

Barbossa thumbed a remote control and opened the blinds full. Moonlight
flooded the room and the flesh sloughed from his bones. And even though
Jack was half-expecting it, it was still an incredible shock, enough to
make him start and stare quite authentically.

Once, Hector Barbossa had looked a decaying zombie under the curse's
hold. Now there was no flesh to him at all, save his eyes. All sere, dry
bones was he, and the oddest thing was that his suit wasn't damaged by
the curse at all, fine Italian cloth not falling into rags.

"So, if ye'd wondered at all where me treasure got to..."

//*My* treasure, you bony...//

"There's part of your answer, and as for the rest, well, just look
around." A bone-white finger thumbed the blinds closed, and Barbossa
smiled a small, satisfied smile. "A company like Eden Corp. needs
capital to start, doesn't it? Though, in truth, 'twas Eden's far
predecessor that the gold begat. I was brought back...well, after your
death, but not too long after."

Brought back. That in itself could be valuable information if Jack lived
to use it. Jack smiled, relaxed, almost boneless, spreading out in the
chair. "Aren't ye hungry at all, then?"

"Having tried both, I can say for certain that it's better than bein'
dead. And anyway, I'm hardly the only one. This whole *world,* Jack, and
this country especially, it runs on unquenchable hunger and
all-consuming greed." He spread his arms. "To Hell with apples, wine and
sex! So I live in a state of constant want. Thanks to the wonders of
modern advertising, so does everybody else!"

"Want." Jack slouched sideways and in just a bit, eyebrows raised. "And
here we're at the meat of it. Ye've taken shots at me, twice at least,
unless I miss me guess, but again unless I miss me guess you could have
killed me just as easy as brought me here. What do you want of me,
Hector?" Used his first name as he only ever did when the two were
alone, not as a taunt this time, but the other way. Low, dark, almost
warm. Jack leaned forward, smile ever-present. "What is it ye want me to
do?"

And there, there for just a second, Jack saw flash in his eyes a hunger
great enough to consume the world.

//Caught you. Now that is interesting.//

Then it was gone again, masked, suppressed. "Do, Jack? Why, it's very
simple. I simply want you to do nothing."

"Beg pardon?"

"Well, you're right. I could've killed you at any time. I still can. So,
one, I wanted to be certain you knew that, and that you knew, as well,
that ye could not kill me. Chest, coins, and blood are all separate and
all quite secure. Two," Barbossa continued, "I wanted ye to meet me dear
Celia again, t' fully understand the new and very interesting things I
can do to you and those around you. The meat of it, as ye say, is this."

He leaned forward, and he met, captured Jack's eyes. "Y' don't break
your toys until ye're done playin' with 'em."

//Well. And...well.//

"Y' understand, if I were t' have ye killed now, or even shoot ye meself
- it's so *easy,* Jack. There's no point to it. Now, if ye'd had such a
great conflict with yer present life that ye'd leapt from a cliff, well,
that might have been fun. If Greg had in fact been compelled to shoot
you, and I understand 'twas a near thing, that might, just
might...satisfy. But 'twas still a decent show."

Jack kept his grin, though he let it grow a bit rigid. He let his eyes
grow just a little grave. There was not giving Barbossa the
satisfaction, and then there was giving his audience what he wanted. The
latter seemed to be the wiser course at the moment.

"You live t' amuse me, Jack Sparrow, and when ye die, again, it shall be
t' amuse me as well. So first I wanted to watch ye realize that fact.
Second, I know ye must have already begun to plot and plan against me,
as soon as ye worked out who I was, and so I say again, cease that. Do
nothing. For if I do find meself forced t' kill you, Jack, know that
I'll kill you last. After the commodore, after the lass, and especially
after the whelp." Barbossa leaned forward just a hair more and Jack
echoed the movement. "So, Jack. Are we to be two immortals locked in
epic battle until Judgment Day and trumpets sound? Or," and he smiled
that sly smile, "are you going to surrender?"

Jack leaned back again, stretching. "You've the advantage of me.
Obviously we have an accord."

"And that was truly all I wished t' hear. Thankee, Jack." So of course,
Jack cast his eyes about for the monkey, who didn't seem to be in
residence. "Oh, but there is one more thing. Someday, perhaps soon,
perhaps not, I'll come to ye for a favor. I'll just tell ye now that
you'll grant it, for I'll be certain to come bearing the proper
leverage, which may or may not be something as simple as a pistol t' the
whelp's head." Barbossa stood and walked around the desk, to stand
behind Jack's chair. "Ye should be strong enough t' stand by now. So,
out with ye. We're done here."

Obligingly, Jack stood, then stretched again slowly, making a show of
it, but feeling out what strength had yet to return to his legs.
Surrender was one thing, showing weakness before this man quite another.

He stood, walked, swayed, really, working impairment seamlessly into his
natural gait. His hand was on the door, and then he turned.

"If I might ask, why Royal Inc.? What was all that..." gesture
"...business about?"

Barbossa closed a hand about the chair top and cocked his head. "And why
not? Ye may have heard of that occurring elsewhere, earlier, or not, but
the whole gambit was designed with Royal Inc. in mind. I just found it
t' be more profitable with other competitors, sooner. Still, when I
found that ye were in residence there...well." Sly smile again.
"Couldn't resist, mate."

Jack opened the door, still facing Barbossa. "You realize, of course,
that you're stealing all me lines."

Barbossa shrugged. "Pirate."

Jack winced, and got while the getting was good.

* * *

He knew, of course, that there were eyes on him as he made his way down
through the darkened office building. Byrd had a sixth sense for video
pickups, an ability Sparrow had made use of before. He didn't doubt,
either, that a man like Barbossa had live guards at all times, and he
was fairly sure he spotted a few of those.

When he exited the plush lobby, he received a surprise. In the parking
lot were two uniformed guards, holding guns on Will and Elizabeth. Liz?
No, he decided, looking at the particularly indignant set to her eyes.
That was his rum-burning hellcat, to be sure.

One of the guards put a hand to his earpiece, and then they both backed
out of striking range and lowered their weapons. They walked back to the
building, one passing Jack on either side without any acknowledgment.

"Jack!" Will and Elizabeth exclaimed at once, and the lass moved in to
embrace him. Will did not; they were in enemy territory still.

For his part, Jack furrowed his brow. "Ye weren't taken, were you? Ye
found me." Raised a hand, wrist-first. "...How'd ye find me?"

"Car first," she said, and steered them to her Jeep. "I think we all
wish to be gone from here." And when they were on the road, she said, "I
found you. I think...I can always find you. I have a certain sense of
all of us, and that appears to be part of it. It was Will's idea - when
you vanished from the hospital, after what happened to James, he feared
the worst. And, well, Eden Corp...was that...?"

"Aye, that it was. Your father's right, lass. Hernando Ross is Barbossa
and none other. And you'll be happy to know that he doesn't intend t'
kill me, as it's much more fun for him to leave me alive knowing that I
can't kill him, and wonder what he'll decide to try to do to me the next
time he gets bored." Jack inhaled, exhaled, searched the car with his
eyes, then blessed Will with them as the lad violated the open container
law and handed Jack some rum. Several long swallows later, Jack said,
"Oh, and by the way, he'll be wanting a favor down the road, beyond my
not doing a bloody thing to make his life at all unpleasant, else he'll
kill all of us and me last. That's for me staying out of his business,
not for the favor, though he might use any or all of ye for that, too."

"Same old bloody bastard," Will observed, and Jack thought this to be
the perfect time for the rare expletive from his smith. "But should he
try, I think he shall find that we are not such easy meat."

Oh, and bless Will too for the old fire in his tone that brought Jack to
attention, and made him wish Elizabeth gone, unless she wanted to join
in.

"Can't kill him..." Will continued. "You don't mean..."

"Aye, Will me lad, I'm afraid I do. Unless I misunderstood, and I
didn't, not only is he cursed, again, but he has been for the past few
centuries or so. Mayhap some late and unlamented soul of the brethren
tried t' use his bony, rotted hand t' scoop out a coin and got more than
they bargained for...or not. However, he's cursed, and apparently he's
decided that he'd like t' stay that way. But the hunger..." Jack smiled
now, a little. "The hunger still has him, though he denies it with all
he's got. That might just be useful down the road."

They were all fairly quiet, then, 'till Jack's house, Elizabeth coming
in behind them to say, "You know, of course, why what he tried to do to
James did not work."

"Technically, he tried to do it to Greg, but aye, I've an idea."

"It's because we lied, all three of us," Will said, and Jack executed a
bobbing nod. "Norrington's last wish was that he not be remembered as a
traitor, and thus the history books have Captain Jack Sparrow as his
killer. Barbossa had no way to know that this was wrong, as only we four
knew, and could not recall 'till the Commodore unlocked his death and
the memories beyond." He reached out an arm to hold Elizabeth close and
she sighed, leaned in. Jack forgave himself a purely piratical,
possessive surge of jealousy.

"This being Barbossa," Elizabeth put in, "do you think that what he told
you in that penthouse had one shred of truth to it?"

"Oh, especially being Barbossa, it had at least a shred. The best
lies...at least, *his* best lies...all have a kernel of truth at the
core. But how to interpret..." He let his hands sway, conductor-like, to
his speech. "It may be just as he says. He's toying with me because he
wants to, with no better reason, and because he sees little risk to
himself in the game. Or, it's just barely possible that he wants me
alive as we're the last two pirates left in this world...no offense,
Will, I know ye try..." He had to duck a swat at that one. "...and when
I go he'll be alone again - better yer worst enemy than no one like ye
on the face of the earth."

"That's if you're still his worst enemy," Will said. "If you're right,
he's been alive a very long time, and a man like him will have made
others."

"Smart whelp - I was just getting to that. Brings me right up to the
third option." Perfect opportunity for a dramatic pause, which itself
was the perfect opportunity for a long swig of rum, and he took it, of
course. "It may be that he really has a use for old Jack that serves
ends I couldn't even begin to guess, and that he's finally looking past
both desire and revenge." He knew he looked uncommonly serious now, and
didn't care. "If Barbossa's finally gotten that savvy, we could really
be in for it."

"I shall follow your lead, my captain, as always," Will said.

"Leaving out all the times that both of ye *didn't,* that's gratifying
t' hear." But he made use of one of Byrd's softer smiles to take the
sting from his words. "For now, though, I've no problem doing exactly
what he wants, which is nothing. It's me favorite thing to do, after
all, especially when there's rum and good company." He managed to grope
Will and pinch Elizabeth at the same time, fluidly ducking her return
smack.

"I think that's my cue to rejoin my fianc�e - they may release him early
next morning, after all." She moved to the door, but before leaving,
turned and asked "So you'll keep your word, then?" No judgment
whatsoever in her tone, though Jack knew she would be overjoyed with him
for breaking it.

"Of course I will," Jack replied, and then let go his sharpest, fiercest
grin. "Until the opportune moment."

* * *

The Jeep started, the lights came on, and Jack turned to Will who was
all but vibrating with suppressed desire. "I thought she'd never
l-mmmph!" was all he managed to get out before he was tackled, covered,
ground into the couch by a desperate, grasping smith, who wasn't Smith
but Turner, primarily, and ohhh, that was nice. Undulating above him,
the lad was, and popping buttons in his haste to get undressed.

"Take me, Captain," Will gasped when they broke for air. "Take me hard -
I need to feel you, strong, alive..."

"Ah, my William, ye needn't fear for your Jack. I've two lifetimes of
tricks and savvy, and he'll not have me..." Jack slid his hands beneath
Will's jeans, caressing, coaxing a moan. "...which doesn't mean I'll not
give ye exactly what ye need t' feel secure...never let it be said I
didn't take care of me mmmm...ahh...oh, ohhh yes..." Teeth at his neck,
something they both liked well...but Will wanted hard...Supporting them
both for just an instant, Jack rocked them to their feet, backed Will
around the couch, steering him to the living room wall, where those
pants came down. Then Jack's pants, their shoes and socks kicked off and
away.

Up against the wall, now, was Will, and Jack was groping, sucking,
grinding. Will was groaning, which was very nice indeed. And leaking
from Jack's attention...well. Jack took that, mixed it with the beads at
his tip, biting his lip when his hand ran up and down his length.
Leaving off with regret, he licked that lovely, sensitive neck and
thrust three fingers in at once, to a toss of sweaty brown curls.

"Please..." Will moaned, hips jerking up and back, body bending and
braced. "All of you, now. *Hard,* Jack..."

No denying that plea, not for the world or all the gold in it. Fingers
out, himself in all the way at once and GOD this was life and need and
connection and hard, pounding desire, Will against the wall and crying
out, "Jack! Jack!" like a prayer...

"Right here," Jack whispered in his ear as the lad's warmth took him,
consumed him. "And I always shall be, sure as you belong to me..." Byrd
behind his eyes, keenly approving and riding the cresting wave of need
along with him...they grew tight...were close...were *there* were oh OH!
"WILL!" Came so hard their legs buckled and they bore all to the floor,
Will sighing and grinding his hips about their softening manhood.

"Jack..." Will moaned, in a voice that made Jack shiver through his
pleasurable haze, and Jack slid out, down, away, but back, replacing his
presence within with presence without, mouth closing around Will's tip
and sucking hard. Hips thrust up and he moved his head down obligingly,
drinking the man in 'till his thighs shook. Jack grabbed those hips and
teased the junctures of those thighs with his thumbs, and that was all
it took, Will releasing hot and sweet with a wordless cry.

They held each other there for a long moment, then Jack reached up,
grabbed thick blankets from the back of the couch, and wrapped them
both.  He slid a hand from Will's to go turn up the gas on the fire,
then reached down to give Will a hand up that turned into a kiss.

They left the fire on for heat, showered, and went to bed, but Will
caught Jack heading out for a post-confrontation, post-coital session
with his guitar.

"Helps you think, huh?" Smith again, as Jack was Byrd.

"Yeah."

"Me, too. So what's the song for the bad guy?"

"What else?" He ran his fingers over the strings, then started singing.

"Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm a man of wealth and taste..."

Will wrapped his arms around Jack's shoulders, swayed with him.

"Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name. But what's puzzling you is
the nature of my game ..."

* * *
EPILOGUE 1: SWAN RAMPANT
* * *

>From his desk chair, Barbossa looked out at the moonlit city by the sea.
The light filtered through the blinds, striping one arm flesh and bare
bones by turns. A long day, even longer night, and sleep, whether
satisfying or not, was still a necessity. He contemplated heading home,
and as he did so, his phone rang.

"Don't blame Jack for this," came the voice on the other end. "I'm
afraid I had him bugged."

"And you arrrre?" Barbossa drawled.

"Oh, my apologies. We've shared a corner of the same market for a while,
but we've never really talked. It's Warren Swan. Captain."

"Hmmm. So ye were that governor once upon a time."

"That I was. So how many times do you intend to sack me?"

"If I knew what ye were talking about, which of course I don't, I'd say
once per lifetime should work fine. Tradition, ye understand. Now, what
about Jack? I'm on my way out. Are ye going to ask me to relent, or some
such?"

"Oh, no, by all means," Warren replied. "Enjoy. Let him worry, let him
fear, let him twist in the wind. What do I care? There's just one
thing..."

"Aye?"

"If you ever, and I do mean ever, actually hurt any members of my family
*or* their friends again, I am not taking the time to find out what you
care about and destroy it. I'll go right to the source."

"Surely you heard. You can't..."

"Well, not traditionally, no. But nowadays, there are all kinds of
lovely weapons that can burn bones to ash. I wonder just how
indestructible you really are - do you care to risk it? And are you sure
you wouldn't feel that kind of damage?" A pause, and then, pleasantly,
"Just something to keep in mind. Good night, Mr. Ross."

There was a click, and the slightest bit of a dial tone, before Barbossa
set the phone back on its cradle.

* * *
EPILOGUE 2: THE ONE-EYED MAN
* * *

No one had found him yet.

That was all the proof he needed that Joey was doing right by him. Joey
had the weight of the whole Pintoli organization behind him to keep the
rest of the gang's mouth shut, but it was useless against Joey himself.
That and the fact that only Joey really knew Robbie's hangouts and
routines - Robbie knew that as long as he was free, Joey hadn't sold him
out. So, time to do right by Joey, then.

"First step's information," he murmured to himself. "Knowledge is power,
and all that." So, here he was, outside the window of the source he had
the closest connection to, gun in hand. Not wanting to wait for the
self-tinting lenses to adjust, he wore the glasses that were permanently
half dark, half light.

Robbie peeked in, pulled back, and slid a leg over the windowsill.
Pulling the rest of his body over, he flattened himself against the
bedroom wall. He saw the vaguest outline of a figure in the living room.
Robbie ghosted to the hallway, edged close. Then he stepped out, aimed
the gun, flipped on the light and said, "Lo, Mack."

"'Lo Robbie," the tall, bald black man said, without turning, in a
matching London accent. "Been expecting you, actually."

"Really."

"Yeah. Look, you want to come around and have a seat? I'm unarmed."

"And you say you were expecting me?"

"Would have been, even if I hadn't been told to."

"Well, now that is interesting." Robbie kept the gun trained on the much
bigger man - even if Mack was telling the truth, and apparently he was,
he could break Robbie in half without much trying. The skinny blonde
settled himself into a leather armchair, and said, "I hope you're ready
to share, then, mate. Time to tell me who you work for - who I've been
working for, even, this whole time."

"All right."

Robbie's eyebrow raised and his eye widened. "Really. Well. This is
turning out to be much easier than I thought."

"He told me to tell you, although he thinks you're mostly just seeking
confirmation at this point. So, I'm to confirm that the source for most
of your intel has been, in fact, Hernando Ross and his organization."

"Huh. Well, that's a start..." Robbie eyed Mack warily. "Tell me this
isn't the part where someone shoots me in the back of the head."

Mack shook his head, smiling slightly. "I asked him if that was how it
was going to go down. If it was, I figured I owed it to you to have it
be to your face, us being mates and all. You know what he said to me?"

"What?"

"He said, 'Waste not. And you can tell him I said that.' End quote."
Robbie opened his mouth, but was cut short when Mack held up a hand, and
then a white envelope. "He also told me to give you this, and then we'd
proceed once you'd seen it. Bit of a mystery to me, actually. I'm
curious."

Robbie took the envelope, which bulged a bit. There was an odd feeling
in his throat, suddenly, a welling behind his Adam's apple. He swallowed
and lifted the flap, retrieved a round, wooden bead, worn nearly smooth
by time.

//No splinters...// he thought idly, and then...

He breathed in hard and sharp. "My eye!" Shook head to toe, gun
forgotten on the floor. "Me eye! Me eye! Where'd you find it? Where?"

Mack stared at him. "I told you. Mr. Ross gave it to me to give to you.
That thing's an eye?"

"Eye. Aye, an eye." He let out a high-pitched giggle, and now Mack was
looking at him all cockeyed. Heh.

"So..." Mack said slowly, "Do you want me to take you to him or not?"

He stood and backed away suddenly, the chair skidding against the wall
behind. "Or not. Not, absolutely not." Wide-eyed himself now, because he
knew. He knew, he remembered, and he understood.

"Robbie?" the Bo 'sun said. Not the Bo 'sun, not, not, no...Mack, his
name was Mack...oh, best not to disturb the captain, he'd be very cross
indeed...

"Very cross..." he murmured. "I...I 'ave to go..."

" What...what'd I just *do* to you, mate? Robbie?"

"Not exactly," he whispered, turning and running for the window. He
didn't stop for rather a while.

* * *
END
TMF
* * *

* * *
Credits for 5A - Halloween:
* * *

First, as always, many thanks to Gundam Nymph for the beta!
--
Second, the Taxverse now has fan art! Woohoo! Yay! Thanks #_voidstar -
you're the best! Check Jack and Jack  (and Hector!) at
http://void-star.net/art.php?galleryID=9&picID=291.
--
Bunny Credits! Thanks, guys! I used as many as I could, and tabled the
rest for later:

Three separate people mentioned Buffy's Halloween ep, so I just had to.
They were Tathren, Merhawk, and Venka. Thanks, guys!

Permetaform suggested candy corn - heh.

Rokeon and Juniper200 thought Jack should have as much trouble putting
his costume together as the rest of us; I used one of Juniper's lines
verbatim 'cause it really worked...Ro also thought Jack should spike the
punch at the party :).

Shino Hoshi was curious how Jack and Will would react to
trick-or-treaters. My first idea was that they'd pass out candy, but
then Annie Mae made a phone call and the rest was history.

Kyouichi - sorry Jack didn't get slapped in West Hollywood! The whole
thing was fairly tame due to the rain, because, well, it *was* this
year. Yes, I got drenched.

Alicia Graybill advised it might be interesting for Jack to find his
ring at a costume shop; it became a plot point :).

Nightfire of the Braids...thanks for letting me use your icon text! I'd
been wanting to work it in.

To all who emailed / posted with Koehler (now Tyler)'s name and manner
of demise, thanks! I went with the consensus. Hope I don't miss anyone:
Audrey, andyeascrewyou, merimalfoy, firesignwriter, juniper200,
threepio, Lydia, Ziggy, Ann, Psocid, and Alicia Graybill.
--
References:
"I have to say these things or they just fester..." was a direct lift
from Darien Fawkes' dialogue from the late and very much lamented TV
show, "The Invisible Man." That show rocked the house.

The video game characters that the bar patrons thought Jack and Will
were dressed as can be found here:
http://homepages.ihug.co.nz/~wattses/char.htm. For extra fun, check out
Barbossa's doppelganger, LeChuck. Will doesn't look as much like
Guybrush after Guy gets his doofy red jacket in the fourth game, but
here are the G-man and Elaine with a monkey, anyhow.

http://www.gamescreenshots.com/fullpic.asp?category=PC&pic_id=5421&game_id=43&gallery=0&picOrder=0

If you want some background on Ethan Rayne and Rupert Giles, check out
Loey's great episode guides to the two Buffy eps ripped off...err,
*referenced* herein:
Halloween: http://members.aol.com/LRL94/halloween.html
A New Man: http://members.aol.com/LRL94/anewman.html

Songs for this episode included:
The Spongebob Squarepants Theme Song -
http://www.spongebobworld.com/themesong.htm
Stand Up by Ludacris -
http://www.lyricsondemand.com/l/ludacrislyrics/standuplyrics.html
Party Up by DMX - http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/dmx/partyup.html

No songs about reincarnation this go-round, but I take requests!

Finally, a little explanation re: Jack's first captain. Black Jack
Savage was a (fictional) Caribbean pirate who began his career by taking
over the slave ship that had him in the hold. Over the course of his
pirating he killed 100 people, though he really doesn't think the
slavers should have counted, and when he was finally hung in his own
courtyard he was cursed to haunt the place, somehow saving a life for
each life he took. More on this fun, short-lived D*sney series here:
http://www.tvtome.com/tvtome/servlet/ShowMainServlet/showid-4494/ and
here: http://us.imdb.com/title/tt0101082/. Anyhow, the rest of it is
that on the series, though not the pilot ep., Black Jack Savage was
played by Steven Williams. Steven Williams also played the captain to a
certain squad of high-school narcs that were based out of an old church
at...yep. 21 Jump Street. So, in a way, Black Jack really *was* Jack
Sparrow's first captain. Savvy? ;)

* * *
Credits for 5B - Day of the Dead:
* * *

Bunny Credits!
*The abovementioned Juniper suggested people getting possessed on DotD
-I took the original bunny and twisted it almost beyond recognition ;).
Thanks, J!
*Rokeon asked if we'd find out what unhappy memory Norrie was carrying.
Yep! Did it have to do with Jack or Will's deaths? Nope! Close,
though...
*Connie asked if we'd bring Barbossa back on DotD. Hoo, yeah.
*The street the Day of the Dead fair is on is, in fact, named after a
certain Irish vampire, currently co-starring in Psocid's "Crimson Ways."

References for Day of the Dead:
The Carmilla Street Fair is based on the Dia de los Muertos Fruitvale
Festival, held each year in Oakland, CA. Webpage for this year is here:
http://www.unitycouncil.org/dia2003/index.html. Click on the Artists'
Pavilion link to find a list of this year's altars.
More interesting links:
http://www.nacnet.org/assunta/dead.htm
http://go-southwest.com/articles/dod1.shtml
http://www.mexconnect.com/mex_/muertos.html

You can find the lyrics for "Sympathy for the Devil," by the Rolling
Stones, here: http://www.lyricstime.com/lyrics/32257.html .

That's it! On to Taxes 6, the Thanksgiving special, which I hope to have
out by New Year's...You think I'm kidding...Anyway, Professor Bill Smith
returns, and Liz goes to Texas to meet the parents.
---
TMF

P.S.: Anyone notice this is the second time Norton's dropped his gun? I
think he must be a Sentinel ;).

And Taxes 5 - The Mad Fangirl

Title: Taxes 5 - Halloween / Day of the Dead
Author: The Mad Fangirl - batya_93@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, savvy?
Rating: NC-17
Arrrrchive: Yes, please - just tell me where.
Pairings: W/J, E/N, hints of G/E (you'll see...)
Warnings: Hot guy-guy slashy action; i.e. men having graphic sex with
other men. Also, for those that avoid such things, there are het
references. Nothing graphic, though, and it's only to serve the greater
good of the slashy plot, I swear! Also, Major Character Death in 5B.

Summary and Notes:
Hi all! Fangirl here. To follow, you'll find Taxes 5, which is really
two stories, 5A, Halloween, and 5B, Dia de los Muertos. Halloween's
going to be more loopy fun, Day of the Dead a bit heavier. Fair warning:
5B will also reveal the death of one of the past lives, which I guess
qualifies as a major character death, even if they've come back already
in our time.

If you're new to the Taxverse, the above should give you some idea that
we're going with the present reincarnations of our POTC favorites, but
it's not quite that simple. When Will and Jack remembered who they used
to be, they ended up with both personalities sharing space in their
heads, and it's been pretty much like that all 'round. Oh, yeah, and
Jack works for the IRS now. More details in the prior stories - order
is: "And Taxes," "Taxes 2 - Past Life Hangover," "Repression, Obsession,
and Past Life Regression," and "Die Hard with Pirates."

POVs in 5A: Will, Will, Jack, Jack, a little Liz, and a tiny bit of
Giles.

Oh, yeah, did I mention the Buffy: The Vampire Slayer crossover? 'Cause
Halloween is one. Wink.

POVs in 5B: Will, Will, Jack, Jack, Greg, James, Liz, and [SPOILER].

* * *

It was the light he noticed first, so bright it made this place nearly
unreal, and somehow, also, more real than anywhere else. As before, his
eyes adjusted, and as before, once they did, he saw ...

Dark sails billowing, wood sun-drenched and glowing and oh, so
smooth...he stood at one of her masts this time, and he leaned his cheek
against it. Warm she was and scented like the sun as well. It felt like-

"-Home, right?" Jack Byrd opened his eyes and was unsurprised to find
Jack Sparrow before him. Only to be expected, when he stood on the deck
of the Pearl. The *Pearl*...

"Yeah. Oh, yeah."

"Afraid nowhere else will ever feel quite as much home as this, me own."
The pirate sidled around to Jack's left and then behind him, slid one
arm behind Byrd and one behind the mast. "Good thing we carry her with
us now."

"Well, she carried us so many years," Byrd replied. "I guess it's only
fair."

"Me thoughts exactly."

"Yeah, huh?" Byrd smiled and felt Sparrow smile too. The emotions, the
comfort, the joy washed through him and back, echoing both through the
pirate and their ship.

//Oh, how I love you...// And it could have been any of them that
thought it. But there was more, something more...He let himself drift,
searching in the warm, warm sun, eyes wide open. "There's something...I
can almost hear..."

Sighing, he leaned back into the arm supporting him, and the pirate
spoke in his ear. "'Twas she that brought us here this time. Pearl has
something to tell us, she does. Come...I always hear her best at the
helm, meself."

Byrd let Sparrow lead him - he felt dazed, sun-struck as his former
self. Then the captain moved behind him again as Jack's hands found the
pegs of her great wheel. Sparrow leaned flush against him, his own hands
one peg to either side. Jack let himself drift further, moved her as she
bid, and listened. There was more felt, though, than heard - mad joy
welled in him and he grinned, laughed aloud. And there was need, so much
need, need to find...find..."Jack, have you got..."

"Here, mate, right here." Sparrow handed him the compass and he stared
at the spinning needle, which suddenly made perfect sense. "Try not to
lose the message in the madness, me own, and I'll do the same. It's
hard, I know - she's glorious. Can overtake ye, and she will, but with
luck, we'll hear enough."

The wind caught her sails, then, and here the Pearl needed no crew
greater than the two who manned her now. Jack caressed the wood beneath
his palm; every bit of him in contact with the ship or with his other
self electrified. He listened, they listened, with every part of them,
trying at least to commit the message to memory so that they could sort
it out later, because now they needed to move, had to fly. The horizon
beckoned and receded, bloody tease that she was, and they gave chase,
and oh it felt so *good* - nothing felt like this bliss that was the
Pearl's communion with the rest of her soul. All that mattered, but not
all that mattered, there was a message, there *was,* it was in there
somewhere with the flight and the motion and the desire...they heard
even as they wanted, wanted...

Jack's eyes flew open. Desire still rode him and his fingertips tingled.
He stared deep into the brown eyes of his William, whose hunger matched
his own. Their mouths met in a greedy kiss. Both tongue-deep in each
other, their legs tangled and they rocked together. Jack reached beneath
pillows, found what he needed, and prepared Will fast as either of them
could manage, and then he was inside his love, plunging, thrusting, and
Will rose moaning loud to meet him. Roughly, Jack pulled and caressed,
drawing forth the other man's passion so fast and so ardent, hot against
him. He rode Will, then, to softer more musical moans and his own
shuddering cry.

Just breathing, then, and for a while later.

"Oh...my...God." Will, finally. "My God, Jack, that was fucking
amazing."

"Wow," Jack agreed. "Just...wow."

A few more minutes, then, Will ending up curled against Jack's side,
head on his chest. "I had one of those dreams again," Will said. "Turner
and I were at the forge together, and I saw something in the flames. I
was staring at it, trying to make it out, and Turner was too, and it was
like the fire got inside us and we *burned.*" Jack felt Will's eyelashes
brush him. "Not in a bad way, though." Jack felt lips turn up in a
smile. "But I'm ...we're...still trying to figure it out. All I've
really got right now is..."

"...Norrington," Jack said with some surprise, though he was not
surprised when Will nodded. "Norton. Well. Why would the Pearl have a
message for me about him, of all people?"

"Is that where you were? Should've known. No wonder you were all hot and
bothered." His eyes lost focus for a second, and his voice changed. "I
remember when she would take you so, when you would come to me afire,
lay me down with mad need. You would say then that Pearl needed it as
much as we did." Will leaned up to meet Jack's lips, long and tender.
"Those are good memories."

"Mmm," Jack agreed, with a lazy stretch and yawn calculated to heat
Will's gaze at least ten degrees. It was working, too, until his feet
brushed fur and he heard a "Squeak!"

"Oh, yeah. Morning, Hector."

The dark, svelte ferret ran beneath the covers, finally emerging at the
top and clambering to his favorite perch atop the headboard while
emitting a series of growling clicks.

"You know he's not going to go away until somebody feeds him."

"...You're right. Guess we'd better get up."

"What'd you mean we, Kemosabe?" Will gave a yawn of his own that came
with a grin.

"This is how ye know I love ye, lad," Jack sighed, swinging his feet out
of bed.

"I knew that already."

"And I know ye did," Jack replied, "but in this case, I was talkin' to
the ferret."

Will snorted, then, and did not look up when Jack said, "Oh, by the way,
Will?"

"Yes?"

"Rather large spider on your knee, there."

"GHAAA!" and *Thunk!* as his back hit the rustic pine.

And, of course, "Jack. You die now," as he realized it was black rubber.

"Happy Halloween, love....Will? Ah, Will, me love...put that
down...Will...Will!"

* * *

The Mad Fangirl proudly presents
Taxes 5A - Halloween.

* * *
5A, Part 1: Day
* * *

Liz Swan woke Halloween morning to find the sheets mussed, and Greg out
on the balcony again. Instead of calling him inside, she slipped on a
large, warm robe and padded out to join him.

"Morning, baby."

"Good morning, my love," he replied, and she felt the little thrill
inside that Elizabeth hadn't lost entirely since her commodore awoke.
"Liz, hon?" Greg again.

"Yeah, baby?"

"You ever - I don't know, switch over totally? So you're in the
background and Elizabeth's doing the moving and acting and all?"

"You know," she said slowly, "I don't think we ever have. I think we
could, though." And from Elizabeth she felt interest, certainly, but no
urgency. "The boys - Will and Jack, they have. Gibson and Annie Mae,
too. I have no idea about Dad."

"I...I've...*We've* been tryin'," Greg Norton confessed. "I mean, he can
speak through me easy as anything - sometimes we don't even know which
of us is sayin' what. But movin's hard, and taking over..." He gave a
slight shrug. "He can't. Or I can't. I don't know. I want t' give that
to him - I feel like I owe him. He helped make me who I am." Greg let
his breath out in a short, frustrated sigh.

"Oh, baby," Liz said, putting her arms around him. "I've never seen you
not get something you wanted badly enough. It'll happen. It took Will
and Jack a while to get the hang of it. For the longest time, they could
only switch when they were having sex..."

"Whoa." Greg said, holding up a hand. "Way more information than I
needed."

"Anyway, give it time. That's my...our...advice."

"An' it's good advice - yours usually is." He took that hand and raised
it to her face, caressing the line of her jaw. "Just...know that, could
I touch you of my own volition, I would do so with joy beyond measure.
For now, this must suffice."

"Oh, James," she sighed, eyes closing. "I love all of you, whole and
entire. This thing you want will come, I know." Reaching up, Elizabeth
brought his head down for a long kiss. Then she spun away, grinning.
"Now come inside! I want you to see my costume all put together."

"'Kay," he replied, following her in. "An' then, we'll get you out of
it." He winked, and she fired back, licking her teeth. "Or maybe the
other way 'round."

Later, they gazed idly at the closet, leaning against one another.
"Can't wait t' see Jack's reaction," Greg said, yawning.

"Oh, yeah," Liz grinned. "Almost all of them are going with the 'come as
you were' theme. I *know* we're getting plenty of pirates, and they'll
be expecting a commodore."

"Won't they be surprised to find I've taken a demotion for the night."

* * *

Jack never did get back to sleep after feeding the ferret...

//...sounds like a dirty euphemism, eh?...//

...as he was too excited. He'd always loved this holiday. Now, his other
self tingled with excitement at the modern concept of All Hallows Eve
and the delights it offered. He still drifted, just a bit, from
sleepiness, but with just a few more cups of coffee, he'd be able to
take on the world.

//...love this stuff, me own self. About the complete opposite of rum,
but it makes me...//

//...shake like a Chihuahua?...// Byrd held his hand sideways, stared at
it.

//...well, there's that, too...//

Jack mixed chocolate powder with the next cup and squeezed a liberal
amount of whipped cream on top. This had the bonus of making his inner
pirate happy; Sparrow loved sweets, though he had no tolerance for
sugar. On the other hand, when the captain took control, their alcohol
tolerance went up by leaps and bounds.

Very slight noise behind them that was Will walking in on stocking feet.
Arms fell about Jack's shoulders and the accountant's head was pulled to
rest in the hollow of Will's throat. One, maybe both of them, sighed.

"All's forgiven, then?"

"Ohhhh, no," Will replied. "We're getting you back. We just need to
figure out how. In the meantime, breakfast."

"What's on the menu?"

"We've got the day off; I figured I'd experiment. Pumpkin pancakes."

"Ooh."

As it turned out, they were laden with just enough cooked pumpkin for
flavor, and generous amounts of pumpkin pie spice. Hector got interested
enough in the pancake batter that Will ladled a little bit out for him.

"I have no idea if that's good for a ferret," he said, and Jack
shrugged.

"Man or beast, he's got the right to pick his poison."

"Sounds like you."

"Maybe a little." Jack smiled at Will. "So, tonight's going to be
packed, and I'd like to do a bit of last-minute shopping later for some
odds and ends...putting together my costume's been sheer hell, but I'm
just about done..."

"Now, Jack, you know it took Sparrow years to put that look together.
You've only been checking out thrift stores for a few weeks."

"Yeah." Listened... "He says he can't help it if his timeless style
failed to catch on."

"I think maybe you both need a nap."

"But we've only just gotten up..." He leered enough for a
double-entendre. "Unless you'd like to wear me out again."

Will leaned over to pour Jack's coffee, raising an eyebrow, and then
smiling. It was a very Turner expression, tolerant and interested just
the same. Jack watched other parts of Will as he turned to place the
coffeepot back on the warming plate. He reached for the sugar container
and flipped down the catches...

"GHAAAA!"

"The trick," Will said, without turning, "is to take the spring-loaded
snake out of the can of mixed nuts and put it in some other container. I
mean, who doesn't see the mixed nuts thing coming..."

Jack let Sparrow flood in, while himself remaining - the pirate was far
better at menacing. As soon as Will turned, he began to back away.
"Jack? Um, Jack?"

Will couldn't entirely drop the smile as he backed off, which just
enflamed them more. Together they stalked him, enjoying more and more
the feel of being the predator. They doubted Will was truly afraid, but
they could see the whites of his eyes around the irises, good and wide.
And the kid was scrambling back and back, and...

"Ack!"

Will was extremely graceful by nature, so when he'd tripped backwards
over Jack's couch arm, he'd done it quite gracefully. Excepting the
squawk, of course.

If Jack had been more Sparrow, he'd have pounced, but Byrd came
ascendant again and felt more guilt than his other would have. "Will?"

The other man moaned, "Ow." But then, "I'm fine, Jack..." He sat up,
rubbing his tailbone. "Butt missed the pillows and hit a board or
something. Otherwise, fine."

"Sorry about that," Jack said, with an apologetic half-smile and shrug.

Will sighed. "Not your fault. Takes two to do the whole "chase me"
thing."

Jack just looked at him. "You really have my number, don't you?"

"Well, you've generally got everyone's number, so it's only fair."

"I'm not sure if I've just been insulted or not."

"So take it as a compliment."

Jack considered. "Okay." He sat next to Will on the couch, slipped an
arm around, pulled the man close, and kissed him lightly. "I am sorry."
He blamed the handful of candy corn he filched from the bowl before him
on Sparrow, too.

For a while, they drowsed before the dormant fireplace, leaning against
one another. Then Jack yawned and put his feet up on the coffee table.
Or at least, that was the intent, for his heel caught the bowl of candy
corn, which sent the contents flying, to cover the couch and the both of
them.

Will turned to look at him, raised an eyebrow, and then Jack felt
fingers brush as Will plucked a piece from his hair.

"Today's forecast," Jack sighed. "100 % chance of flying fructose in
parts of the Southland."

That rated an eye roll, which Jack had to admit he deserved, but then he
was fascinated by the pieces of candy corn that had caught in the
waistband of Will's boxers. It was only natural that he remove them with
his teeth. He slid sideways along his Will and the other man moved
likewise. Once Jack plucked one piece away, other parts of Will were in
motion, dislodging more candy that slipped inside the shorts.

"I'm afraid these are in the way," he said. "Could be more candy corn
hiding in there. You wouldn't want to sprout an ear of candy corn out
your - aaaahh...." Ahh, warm, moist, *Will* of a sudden, and there was
no way he was getting away with *that*...The captain washed back into
his mind, and the two shared the sensation that made them whimper low in
their throat as they pulled his shorts down in turn, grasping him in
their mouth likewise.

More of a dizzy rush than usual, owing to the sugar, but they weren't
switching, only sharing. They...he...devoured Will greedily, hungrily,
*losing it* utterly, bucking into the lad's own mouth which was pleasure
itself, and needing to make him writhe as well, pulling, sucking,
lapping, tracing patterns...knowing well what would make Will scream
around them if only they could *think*...stretch, press, *squeeze,* and
oh...ohhhh...so very close, time to grab his legs, hold tight, pull with
the tongue just th...there...ohhhh...mmmm....Will...WILL!
Riding...cresting...long sweet draught of the other and....Ah.

"Mmm."

After a moment, Sparrow fell back again, sated and nearly asleep, and
Jack Byrd craned his neck up to look at his Will, who was studying a
piece of candy corn, pulled from somewhere in the cushions.

"Damn," he said, "What's *in* this stuff?"

* * *

By and by, they managed to dress, both in jeans and Will in the
ever-popular "this IS my costume" tee. Jack's shirt was black, with red
horns and a goatee scribbled on the front. Will grabbed a glass of
juice, draining it before they hit the door.

"You know," Will said, placing the glass in the sink, "It was Turner
that jumped you. The rest of it...we were one, completely in synch, but
now he's feeling all guilty again. You know, because he lost it a
little."

"Didn't notice you two losing anything," Jack grinned, but he took
Will's meaning. "Anyway, we're supposed to let go. It's sex, for crying
out loud. Which we would've been, if our mouths weren't occupied."

"I keep telling him...but I'm just saying." Will smiled. "I'll
straighten him out." Then Will's eyes went vacant for a second, and when
they focused again, Will sighed and shrugged. "Eventually."

Through the door, and they were in the garage, Will sliding in behind
Jack on the bike and pressing up against him, hands lacing for support a
little lower than they had to.

"So, some last minute shopping for effects?"

"Why not?"

* * *

There was no way he was finding a tricornered leather hat, and the
sooner he resigned himself to that fact, the better.

It was still the least bit depressing - he'd located a reasonable
facsimile of nearly everything else. After a brief morning doze, the
Captain was alive inside him and searching just as avidly, but they were
having no manner of luck at all.

He saw, too, a gleam in Will's eye and a flow to his movements that said
while Smith held control, Turner was strong. Well, it *was* Halloween -
spirits of the past were supposed to start showing up around now, even
when they usually weren't present.

On their latest stop, they parked in the lot of one of the huge gypsy
costume warehouses that seemed to sprout in late September and wither,
abruptly, on November First. The place was packed, of course, and they
ended up at the end of the lot, even with the bike.

It was then that he happened to glance across the street, to see a
smaller, nearly deserted costume store, with the legend "Ripper's." He
took Will's arm and inclined his head over, and Will shrugged as if to
say, "Why not?"

Will entered first and slipped to one wall without much notice. Jack, on
the other hand, stepped through the door and declaimed, hand raised,
"I'm looking...for a hat."

"We've got hats," said the man behind the counter, in a smooth English
accent. He sighed. "Lots and lots of hats. Lots of everything, really."
He glanced across the street, almost involuntarily.

"Bad location?" Jack asked, sympathetically.

"The worst." He rolled his eyes, and idly tapped a medallion he had
hanging near the register. It set to spinning, catching Jack's eye.
"They weren't there when I signed the lease. I'll be lucky if I come
near breaking even this year." Jack shrugged, already considering the
hat selection.

//...not here either...//

//...no, and I had a *feeling* about this place...//

"My name's Ethan, if you need anything," the man continued. Jack picked
up a large, wide-brimmed hat in maroon. Not his style at all, but
definitely reminiscent of the past. "Going as a pirate?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, but none of these hats are quite right. I
suppose I'll have to settle for a bandanna."  And perhaps an extra
bauble or two...a bowl on the counter caught his eye next, and he ran
his fingers through it. A glint of silver...

//...no, it can't be...//

Green fire so deep as to be almost black...

//...how...oh, how in the world...//

Jack removed an intricate silver ring with a wide, oval stone.

//...this...was *mine*...//

"That would be perfect for a pirate costume," the shopkeeper said.

"Don't I know it..."

And then Jack bit his tongue and put on his game face, but it was too
late - the man had seen how much he wanted this thing. This ring. *His*
ring.

//...if only it'd been you...//

//...oh, but 'twas me that gave the game away, me own. I was no help
here...//

"Fifty dollars," Ethan said, and Jack's heart leapt, for obviously the
man thought it a replica. Sterling, of course, and thus pricey, but if
he only *knew* the piece's provenance...

Well, Jack certainly wasn't going to tell him.

"I'll go twenty," he said.

"Thirty."

"Twenty-five."

"Twenty-seven, and you *know* you're taking advantage of me, right?"

//...pirate...// whispered Sparrow with the feel of a grin.

"Got it." It was a museum piece, really, and Jack very nearly felt bad
for him.

Then he caught the man examining Will's assets as the younger man looked
over a table of swords, and sympathy evaporated. Jack let his other self
out for an instant, just long enough to nick the marble medallion
hanging from the register. The pirate was just so much better at some
things.

Jack paid up, and then he and Will left past a familiar-looking woman
who fingered a pretty white snow leopard mask with plastic whiskers.
Thought for a second..."Amy, right? In Accounts Receivables?"

"You remembered! Hi, Jack, Will."

"Hi Amy. See you tonight?"

She nodded, and they were back on the bike.

* * *

"I'm sure you thought you got an excellent deal," Ethan murmured as he
watched them get seated. "But I think tonight you'll find that there are
those that do the taking, and those that get took. Oh, I think this
Halloween is going to be very interesting for you...very interesting
indeed..." He laughed, then, long and low in his throat, until-

"How much for the cat mask?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't know there was anyone else in here."

* * *

Not much later, Will and Jack stopped at an independent coffee house for
snacks. Over pumpkin spice lattes, Will asked, "So, how much did we
leave that store with that we *didn't* pay for? You look far too smug."
Beginning to sound Turner, a bit, and a brief cloud passed across that
same self's features before Smith grinned.

Jack eyed the other man. Sparrow would have let it go again, but... "You
okay?"

Will snorted. "*I'm* fine. *He* keeps popping up and then feeling guilty
about it. He shouldn't - I keep telling him the walls are going to be
thinner today. Halloween, y'know? Plus, I don't mind."

"...Okay."

"So, you still don't get to change the subject. What'd you filch? And
don't tell me it was Sparrow, because it probably was, but I'm betting
you called him."

Jack sipped his coffee, grinning, and didn't deny it. He pulled the
medallion from a pocket. "It was on the register. Look here - " he ran
his finger along the detailing. "It's the god Janus. He's a patron of
doorways and gates - what with the two faces and everything. I figure we
could hang this over the entryway. He's also a god of duality, obviously
- two of him, two of me, two of you, the two of us...we *had* to,
love..."

"Man, just a little pirate voice and I let you get away with anything.
And you know it, too."

Jack acknowledged this with a smirk. "He also had a little-known cult
that worshipped him as a chaos deity. Chaos and meself being old
friends..." He winked as he pocketed the smooth marble again.

"That's an understatement," Will said mildly. "Although...that's not the
deity I'd most associate with you."

"Really? Huh. This is starting to sound like an online quiz or
something. 'Find your patron deity.' So who's mine?"

"Coyote."

"Coyote?"

"Yeah. Native American trickster spirit. Canny, savvy critter -
outsmarts everyone, people think he's nuts...you know." Jack snorted and
Will went on. "Or Raven, Anansi the spider, the Monkey King...no,
seriously." He took another long sip of coffee. "Okay, fine. Pick one
for me."

"Aw, that's easy. Hephaestus, Vulcan, the god of the forge. God of
fertility, creation in some ways...hot and virile..." pause, sip,
"...even if he is slightly lame."

"I saw it coming," Will replied, "I just couldn't get out of the way."

"Well," Jack said, "That just-" He was cut off, though, by the ring of
his cell phone.

"Jack..." Will said slowly, "when did you program your phone to ring "A
Pirate's Life for Me?"

But Jack was listening to the other party, saying "...yes, but...but...I
*know* I owe you, but he...but it's...oh, all right." Things went on in
this vein for a bit, and then he hung up.

"So, Will, you have plans around three?"

"I was just going to see what you came up with," Will said. He glanced
at his watch. "It's one now..."

"Well, that was Annie - looks like we've been drafted. Her husband
couldn't get the day off, and she's taking her youngest to the church
carnival, so we're on."

"Do I want to know?"

"We get to take her six-year-old trick-or-treating." Jack shrugged.
"Boat, car...I haven't yet *begun* to pay."

"Wow. I'm not the only one that has your number. Still..." something
suspiciously like a smile lurked in Will's eyes. "This could be fun."

"Hmm..." Jack considered the possibilities. "A rug-rat to corrupt. You
think we can make him a complete scalawag by four thirty?

"You realize Annie Mae's going to kill us, of course."

"This is Anamaria we're talking about. Either she won't care, or we'll
be wishing shortly that she had finished us off."

* * *

When they arrived at two fifty-five, it was to a babysitter dressed as a
vampire and little Eric Robbins, who was a pirate, of course.

"Avast!" the six-year-old shouted from behind his sitter's legs,
pointing a plastic sword at roughly the area of Jack's privates.

"Nice form," Will said, "but kind of below the belt."

"I'm six," Eric pointed out.

"Yeah, but it looks cooler if you hold it up at shoulder height, and
*then* shout 'Avast!'"

"It might look cool," Eric said, considering, "or I might look like a
dork."

"Okay," Will allowed. He looked up at Jack, who was smirking, of course,
and then asked, "We ready?"

"Uh-uh," said the sitter, "His friends should be here any second."

"Um, friends?"

"Shouldn't be more than six or so this year. Probably more like three or
four." She smiled, showing fangs. "I charge quadruple to take 'em. Bet
Annie conned you into doing it for free."

"I owe her one," Jack said.

"Uh-*huh.*" The sitter gave him a look. "Seems like everyone owes Annie
a favor, but I'm seriously impressed."

"How bad can it be?"

The doorbell rang.

* * *

"Are you married?" This from the far-too-adorable little skeleton with
pigtails.

"What - no, you see..."

"Mr. and Mrs. Johnson took us last year. They were married. Are you two
married to each other?"

"Is that your wedding ring?" asked a diminutive devil.

"Ah - no, um..."

"They can't be married," said a Spongebob Squarepants. "They're both
guys."

"Uh-uh," said the devil. "They could be. I saw a book."

"Well, actually, technically, we couldn't be, yet, because the laws of
this country are unfair and unjust..."

Eric the pirate snorted. "I knew *that.*  I read Doonesbury *and*
Boondocks."

"He's straight *out* of Boondocks..." Jack murmured just to Will, but
Eric heard and apparently took it as a compliment.

"If you had kids, would they have two daddies?"

"They can't have kids," Spongebob insisted. "'m sure about that one."

"Could 'dopt kids."

"Are you going to adopt kids?"

Oh, Will decided, this was better than cable. At least, as long as the
kids' attention was on Jack, it was, and Jack drew attention like flames
drew moths.

"Look!" Jack said, and was that a hint of desperation? "Candy!"

Someone had, perhaps unwisely, gone away and left a bowl of "100 Grand"
bars on their porch.

"We should prob'ly only take one," said the skeleton.

"Nonsense," said Jack. "Take all you can! Or, at least, take all you
want to."  He pondered. "Do you think you could sell them or trade them
at school on Monday?"

Spongebob thought about it. "100 Grands? Yeah, probably."

"So, what do you think we should do, Captain Eric?"

"Clean out the bowl!" Eric said happily.

"There you go! Now, listen, make sure y'give everyone an equal share,
savvy?"

"Of course!" the kid said, pocketing his loot. Then he kicked an extra
candy bar with his foot and looked up at Will, who winked and nodded,
then looked over at Jack.

"I won't tell if you won't."

Eric pocketed it.

"But the older kids won't get any," said the devil.

"Yes, but they could have come out earlier. They think it's cooler to
come out in the dark," Will pointed out.

"And as a result, we beat them to the loot," Jack said. "It's just good
strategy on our part, so really, we *deserve* it all."

"Y'know," Eric said, "I think we should look for more bowls of candy."

"Also excellent strategy, Eric me lad."

* * *

There were more bowls of candy, but there were also doorbells to ring
with the cry of "trick or treat!" Everything was going quite well, even
when Spongebob asked Will and Jack both how much money they made,
because it gave Jack the opportunity to explain times when a little
lying was okay, if it made other people feel better. Of course, Will saw
the next question coming, and snickered when the skeleton asked if Will
or Jack felt better. It was visible, Jack biting back his first ten
responses because everyone there save Will was either six or seven years
old.  Fortunately for his boyfriend/captain, though, the kids spotted
another lit doorway.

"Trick or treat!" and each child received a plastic-wrapped item
delivered with a smile that Will found a bit smug. The door then closed,
and Eric examined his loot.

"*Toothbrushes!?*"

"Oh, that's just snide beyond belief," Will said. All the kids nodded,
but he had the feeling that Eric even knew what snide meant.

"These folk are definitely not in the Halloween spirit," Jack observed,
with a bit of the Captain's demented gleam in his eyes. "They didn't
give the kids a treat. Hey, kids, anyone know what you do when you don't
get a treat? C'mon, you just said it..."

"Trick?" asked the skeleton.

"Very good!"

"I've never played a trick before..."

"Any of you?" asked Will, and they all shook their heads.

"Even you?" Jack asked Eric, and the little pirate shrugged.

"Okay then. We're gonna do this one up right..."

It was Spongebob that found the napkins, next door on the porch, from
the remains of a Halloween party. Bright orange - Jack declared them
perfect. Eric kept a weather eye on the doors and windows while
directing their placement in the hedge along the side of the house. Once
they were well wedged, the devil held the hose and the skeleton turned
on the water, so that the napkins would melt and stick.

"Go, go, go!" Jack urged, and they all took off running, down the block
and around the corner. Will took one look back and smiled, for now, the
toothbrush house had a bush emblazoned, in bright orange paper mache
letters...

"L.A.M.E."

* * *

"Okay, one...two..."

"Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?"

"SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!"

"Absorbent and yellow and porous is he!"

"NO, no, not *that* song - the *other* song..."

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me! We pillage and plunder and rifle
and loot..."

Will looked at the chorusing children and smiled as they walked the last
block back to Annie Mae's house.

"We did good, didn't we?"

Jack walked back behind the group, to Will, letting Eric lead with his
swinging sword. He threw an arm about Will's shoulders.

"Yeah. Kinda gives you a warm glow, doesn't it?"

"Maybe we should adopt kids."

"Maybe two, or three...or ten...on the other hand, I can barely handle a
ferret." They came up the driveway to the ending verse, and Will and
Jack joined in. "...aye, but we're loved by our mommies and dads, drink
up me hearties, yo ho!" Annie Mae and her three-year-old were just
unloading the car, and Annie turned and waved. She also stared just a
bit.

"All right, kids! So, what did we all learn today?"

"TAKE ALL YE CAN! GIVE NOTHING BACK!"

"Very good! Okay, I'm giving you all back to Mrs. Robbins now, so be
good, or if you can't be good, don't get caught!"

Annie Mae just kept staring at Will and Jack, mostly Jack, as the
children filed into the house.

"God in heaven," she said. "What have I done?"

"Nothing that can't be reversed by a few sessions of Sunday
school...that is, if you're so inclined." Jack winked.

"Will, couldn't ye stop him?"

"Hey, why should I be the only one corrupted by ~Captain~ Jack Sparrow
around here?"

"I'll have ye know I was a perfectly respectable lady's maid before I
met that scalawag."

"Really?"

"Nah, I was a cutpurse since I could walk, but I wanted to see if ye'd
buy it." Anamaria smiled, and then her voice shifted. "So, I'm going to
go see just how badly you've corrupted the kiddies. Thanks, you guys."

"Any time, Annie Mae."

"You mean that, don't you? Well, what do you know. Jack Byrd's a kid
person. Who'd a thunk it?"

"This does *not* mean you get a free babysitter on demand, you know,"
Will advised, and it had been Turner come forth again. Another taste of
guilt...Will was going to have to head that off, and soon. Nightfall was
nigh, and he felt a change in the air. He looked at Annie and Jack, and
knew they felt it too.

"Please, me exploiting Jack is the definition of karma."

"Not when it gets in the way of him...exploiting...me," Will replied.

"Oh, honey, he's corrupting you all over again, isn't he?" Annie Mae
said, with a smile.

"If I'm lucky."

* * *

"Night's falling," Jack said, and his voice had an almost eerie quality,
hovering between halves. Will leaned against him as he filled the bike's
gas tank. "There's somethin' in the air, crisp and strange. Can you feel
it?"

"Yes," Will breathed. "I think...I think it's time for us to go home and
get changed."

* * *
5A, Part 2: Nightfall
* * *

They cycled through the shower, Will first - a pirate's scent was a
concession to authenticity neither quite wished to make. Then Will
wandered out, moist and half-naked, to the living room, drying off in
front of a crackling fire. Jack, on the other hand, used the heat lamp,
and then set about getting ready.

Now, the transformation was very nearly complete. Jack had kept his hair
bound back all day, and so the extensions were harder to see. Now they
hung loose, unfettered. Hadn't time to stop dying it, but he'd had
auburn highlights added back in. Dreadlocks were out of the question,
but braids, he could do. Of course, he'd been stockpiling beads.

Some of the clothes were on, some strewn on the bed. No flintlock
pistol, and Jack had not looked, because for some reason the instrument
of his vengeance spoke more to him of grief. But he did have quite a
fine sword, and of course, he had his ring.

Now he held the bottle of eyeliner in his left hand, and slowly raised
the brush to his eye with his right. He hadn't painted his eyes since
college. Jack felt the buzz behind his eyes, felt Sparrow shiver with
anticipation, or perhaps it was him that did so...

//...I feel you so strong today. I'll be you in an instant. This...this
is a key that invokes you faster than mere reaching, stronger than a
hypnotist's spell...//

//...Aye. 'Tis the season, I think...It's your choice, but I'll guard us
well, and I'll not let you sleep long...and truly I don't think you'll
be able to sleep at all this night...//

//...Oh, I *want* this...// Byrd thought in reply.

//...Then take it. Take it as I take us, and I shall give ye back, this
I swear...//

//...Yes...oh, come to me...//

>From the first thin stroke of black, his hand knew where to move. It
truly was like a switch being thrown this time, an internal click, the
tripping of a breaker, the crashing of a breaker...and oh, oh, yes.

Captain Jack Sparrow considered himself in the mirror and grinned, teeth
too even and too white, but that was a change he didn't much care to
undo. And clean-shaven, but why not? He had been, on occasion.

He felt an ache in those too-even teeth, did Jack, and knew it was Will.
Then, he'd expected it, and applied a bit of rum to the problem while he
waited for his lad to come around.

//...My Will will talk him into it, don't worry...//

//...Never had a doubt, me own...//

* * *

//...Oh, Turner, just *go*...//

The dissonance was making Smith itch. He wanted...oh, he wanted, and
Turner wanted too, which was the problem...and he'd *known* this was
going to happen...

//...I can't be enslaved to my desires, my own self. It's dangerous for
us...//

//...We've *had* this discussion. A *lot*...I want this...// Dirty pool,
he knew, but...he fed Turner just a bit of the sheer pleasure he felt in
yielding to him, felt his other self waver...

//...But this need, it's so strong now, and has been increasing all this
day...//

//...And the stronger your desire, the more you fear it, I know, God do
I know, how hard did you fight the ocean?...This is like that, you know?
It's so strong because it's bigger than us, bigger than Jack. Whatever's
happening, it's the time, the season, the night...a force of nature...//

//...There is no shame in yielding to that, is there?...// Needing,
hopeful, *wanting* to be convinced...almost there...

//...Not at all...Please, Will Turner, I need this too...we are meant to
be you tonight...//

"Mmm...yes...oh!" Quick shift pushing a rush of heat, and Will Turner
stood, Smith an inordinately satisfied murmur in his mind.

//...Now doesn't that feel better?...//

//...Yes, damn you...// But the thought was tender. //...You're as bad
as *he* is...//

//...Sometimes I'm worse...// Oh, Smith sounded entirely too smug. It
was hard to care, though, as he was pulled to the bedroom by something
invisible, irresistible.

Jack met him at the door.

"Ye're trembling like a virgin on her wedding night...mmph-nnh..." He
gasped, stumbling back from the assault. "Or not..."

"Why do I think you'd know?"

"Because you're wise beyond your years...but I haven't been a virgin in
any sense, or had one, for a very long while..."

Will wasted no more time in pulling Jack atop him to the bed. He got his
first good look...oh, the beads, the darkened eyes...*Jack*...

"So beautiful..." Will murmured. "Seeing you thus, again..."

"What does it do to ye, lad? Tell me. Exactly."

"It makes me tremble," Will said, pushing down Jack's half-done pants.
Jack trembled.  "It makes me want to drink you forever." Their lips met
in a kiss that opened wide, and they drank each other.  "It makes me
want you within me, filling and completing me, claiming...ah!" Jack
ripped the vestiges of modern clothing from his Will, thrusting two
fingers in at once. Smith's body knew this as well as his pirate soul,
and pulled, pulsed, relaxed.

Jack added a third finger, and leaned in to lick Will's member as he did
so. Just light touches, teasing, distracting. Will knew it was coming,
but there was no preparing for Jack finding the spot inside and pressing
as he did. He nearly came right then, but Jack withdrew slowly,
stretching as he went.

"You'd have me claim you, treasure?"

Will decided the perfect response was to spread his knees and arch his
back. He craned his neck, and Jack was at his throat, licking as he
positioned, biting down as he pressed within.

Turner bucked and twisted beneath him, working Jack in further,
tortuous-slow. He began the rhythm, slow still, like the beat of gypsy
drums, then speeding slightly, as would the drums again. Will thought of
Jack dancing, and knew that Jack was dancing now. He looked into his
captain's eyes, utterly possessed, and felt Jack take the rhythm, the
lead. No words, and the gaze was sharp, intent, but Jack smiled with his
fierce joy and Will knew his own grin to be as bright. His eyes rolled
back as Jack moved faster, faster, faster still...

This dance...this rolling...this feeling...this desire this need this
pleasure cresting...filling, almost too much, beyond too much, not
nearly enough, he could take more, he could take it all, he needed,
needed..."Jack...more...more...oh..." Hard, so hard within him, and then
the rough grasp surrounding him, working him, drawing him to...and
there...and beyond...oh, so *warm* they were...yes...YES...

The joy was so great...their world flickered... Turner was Smith was
Turner and all belonged to Jack...all Jack...

Who held their quieting body oh, so tenderly, as he pulsed his passion
within.

A jumble of arms and legs, and Will murmured, "Of course, I was yours
long ago."

"Aye, but vows are reaffirmed all the time. 'Tis fun, and a grand excuse
for a party."

"Drinks all 'round?"

Without disengaging, Jack handed him the rum. Will took a long swallow,
gasped, and grinned. When he put the bottle down, he found Jack looking
at his ring.

"'Tis odd, but I think I just felt me ring tingle, just a bit." He
pondered. "Wasn't cursed, was it?"

"Not that I knew of."

"Ah well. Maybe I'll remember better after some more rum." He grabbed
his vest, pulled it on over the shirt he still wore. "If only I had me
hat..." he sighed.

"Oh, well, as to that..." Will slid, slowly, away from Jack and stood.
He reached up to the highest shelf in Jack's closet and took down a box.

"But ... that's..."

"That *was,*" Will corrected. "What was in this hatbox is now
at...our...apartment. What is in it now..." He whisked the lid away with
a Jack-like flourish to reveal a brown leather tricorne.

"Me hat! Oh..." Jack ran a finger along the brim, slowly. He lifted it,
turned it, brought it to his eye. "Oh, lad, what've ye done?" His smile
had barely a hint of its sharp, mad edge.

"I had it made, as a surprise. Do you approve?"

"Do I approve, he asks me. Oh, Will, me love, if we weren't so recently
spent, I'd show ye just how much I approve, but even Captain Jack
Sparrow's got limits, much as it pains me t' admit."

"And I do love you, my captain, but more loving so soon would likely
pain me as well."

"So it's just as well, then."

"That it is."

The deep kiss that followed served just fine.

* * *

While the Royal Inc. party started soon, the pirates had time to kill,
and, as Jack pointed out, pirates were rarely early anywhere, save to
the odd ambush. Thus, the two pulled off the road for drinks at the same
hotel bar where they'd borrowed (with every intention of returning) a
cigarette boat some weeks back. They'd stopped for the tall windows'
amazing view of the moonlit Halloween sea, but upon arrival found a
Halloween party in full swing.

"Oh my God," said a drunken Link, his arm around a pink-skirted Zelda.
"You guys look *great!*"

"Seriously," Zelda said. "You've gotta be the best ever." She chugged
the last of her drink, and said, "You're gonna kick our asses."

"But we aren't..." Will began, and Jack cut him off.

"A costume contest, is it?"

"Well, yeah."

"And what's the prize?"

"Well, duh. Alcohol."

Jack smiled. "We're in!"

They drifted inside, getting in without cover as they were in costume.
Jack said a word or two to the bartender, who nodded, and then started a
tab in the hopes of getting it paid for.

Will requested dark ale thick enough to chew, and got pretty much what
he asked for. Jack, on the other hand, was exploring yet another
variation on the theme of rum, which called itself a peach daiquiri.

"Ah, lad, you and I loosed again for fun, and hopefully without all that
nasty angst, mm?" Jack leaned forward earnestly. "If ye feel any angst
coming on, lad, let me know, and I'll provide ye with rum."

"Smith is alive within, and alert," Turner murmured back. "He's enjoying
himself quite a bit, in fact, and he says he hopes we got all the angst
out of the way this morning. No, Jack, I think it's well."

"Well, ye should have more rum anyway, on principle." He snatched his
daiquiri out of Will's hands. "Not *my* rum, whelp!"

"You're welcome to my ale." So Jack waited until Will took a sip, then
kissed him and got it that way. Someone hooted, and then arms grabbed
their shoulders, and Jack half dragged, half swayed to the bar. Four
barmaids surrounded them, lifting them atop it, and the bartender
shouted, "Okay, that was Link and Zelda. Next up for best costume and
best video game characters..."

"Video game?"

Will shrugged.

"We've got Will and Jack as Guybrush Threepwood and Elaine Marley, from
the Monkey Island series! Give it up for the best Guybrush and Elaine
I've ever seen!"

Jack's head turned fluidly to consider Will. "Ye don't look like an
Elaine."

"I'm not."

"Ah, hell. Knew I should've grown a beard."

In response, Will pinched him on the rear, and Jack whacked him upside
the head, out of sheer reflex. Then he shoved Will forward, leaping
ahead of him to catch the whelp in his arms as he fell off the bar. The
crowd burst into hoots and applause.

"I'd say you cheated," Will murmured, "but you may have won us that
contest fair and square."

"More's the pity."

* * *

They meandered back to their seats, and Jack sipped at his rum.  A flash
of blue caught his eye, and he looked down and over to see a small blue
man, no more than three apples high. He stood just outside, at the
corner of the window, and wore a white cap and pants.

>From Jack Byrd's memories, Jack easily placed him as a Smurf, and also
recalled, vaguely, a similar white hat in the costume store they'd found
that morning. But that wasn't the question, anyway. The question was how
Jack had managed to start hallucinating so early in the evening's
drinking, and...Jack waved down a barmaid with his glass.

"Lass, can I get some more of whatever this was?"

He got another, all the while needling Will about drinking something
harder than ale. So Will ordered, with a grin, a shot of "Jack, straight
up."

The whiskey arrived at their table, and suddenly Will was grasping air
as Jack downed the liquor instead.

"What the...?"

Jack looked at him, suddenly solemn over the empty glass. "This shot was
not meant for you."

Will groaned, and even more gratifying, whacked himself upside the head
with the heel of his hand. "Couldn't resist, could you?"

"Ye know I have t' say these things or they just fester..."

The music cut for a second, and a voice proclaimed, "All right, you
geeks! Winners of the video game division and the couples division -
Will and Jack as Guybrush and Elaine. All your drinks to this point have
been comped! Congratulations!"

"T' this point? That's *it?*" Jack sighed. "Good thing we got an early
start."

"Well, there's always the Royal Inc. party - free drinks all around.
Plus," and Will did have a sly smile on occasion, "perhaps you'll be
able to get Norrington drunk..."

"I think Elizabeth rather takes care of that, love - and if I tried to
drink 'im, I'm fairly certain she'd shoot me..."

"Impossible...incorrigible...obnoxious..." Will paused, obviously
waiting for it. Jack gave a sufficient pause, then obliged.

"...Pirate."

The lad sighed. "Just so."

The two exited the bar past a clown juggling twelve colored balls with
professional skill. They crossed the hotel lobby and walked to the bike,
and Jack felt Will settle warm against his back. They took off down the
road to Royal Inc., only to stop suddenly for a highway obstruction.
Jack rubbed his eyes and stared, for it appeared to be a woman in
dominatrix leathers chasing after a cow. Also, upon closer inspection,
the cow seemed to be wearing shoes.

Jack watched them cross the road and clear it, and blinked. "Well.
That's something ye don't see every day. Will, what exactly was I
drinking, do ye recall?"

"Peach Daiquiris, but I think there was a Fuzzy Navel in there
somewhere. It wasn't, however, the drink that caused that, since I saw
it also."

"There's something odd afoot this night, not that that's necessarily
bad..." Jack mused, and gunned the motor again, passing a dark limousine
idling at the next crossroads. Then he barely avoided taking the both of
them down as he fishtailed the bike, for in the crack of the window,
he'd seen, or thought he'd seen...

A bony finger, tapping on the front edge of the barely open pane...

But when he looked in the mirror, the window was closed, and then they
were too far along the highway and gone. Will's arms tightened about him
and he gave one wrist a reassuring squeeze.

//...wouldn't be, anyway...he died, and he'd be flesh again...wouldn't
he?...//

//...o'course, me own...o'course...//

Something odd indeed...but not necessarily his problem...

* * *

"Ethan? Oh, Ethan..."

Another smooth English accent, echoing through the costume shop on the
heels of the shattering of glass.

"Ethan Rayne! I know you're here. You may as well come out. It's time
for your yearly thrashing."

A sigh, and the shop owner stepped into the light. "Ripper. It's been
entirely too long." Ethan removed, lightning-quick, a bone talisman, and
a blue brilliance forked from it ...to dissipate harmlessly against a
dried lizard the newcomer had concealed in his jacket.

"Been learning new tricks, I see." Ripper grabbed Ethan by the collar,
slamming him against the wall, headfirst. "So have I. That was courtesy
of a demonologist in Chinatown." He held the stunned sorcerer, for such
he was, pulled back for a punch...and then paused, let the other go.
"What's the matter with you, anyway?"

"How do you mean?"

Rupert Giles, for such Ripper was, shook his head sadly. "You know very
well. This is...uninspired. Your mischiefs may be evil and are
invariably dangerous, but they are never, ever, repetitive. Willow
sensed this spell again..."

"Armageddon girl. I should have known."

"...which made me wonder, and now - I come here expecting chaos and
terror in the streets..."

"Disappointed?"

"...and I find most of your stock still on the shelves. While I
tranquilized one werewolf, the scariest thing I've seen so far has been
Hilary Clinton out wandering with Arnold Schwarzenegger." Giles sighed.
"You may as well tell me where your focus is, so that I can smash it and
end this. It's just sad, really."

Ethan laughed. "You almost had me there. So, that was your ploy. It
might have worked, except..." He blinked. "Actually, I think it did
work. You're right. I didn't want to drag out the old 'turn them into
their costumes' bit - I'm well aware it's extremely
nineteen-ninety-five. But the god was getting cranky, and if I didn't do
something in his honor soon, he was going to revoke his blessing."

"This was a sop to Janus, then?"

"Bloody right. I was paying rent. As he's a chaos god, though, repeated
spells don't work nearly as well. Nothing's gone right!" The sorcerer
seemed to be...yes, he was pouting now. "No inventory moved, a Halloween
World came in across the street..." He looked heavenward, or perhaps
toward Olympus. "Sorry!" Giles eyed him with a look he hoped was free of
any sympathy. "The Aztec gods are disturbingly strong in these parts,
and I didn't want to be without his power. There you go. And I'd be
happy to give you my bloody focus, except..."

"Yes?"

"I don't know where it is."

"Oh. Really." Giles' face hardened again. "Well. It's to be a thrashing
after all, then." He kicked Ethan in the goods, knocked him down with
clubbed hands, and put a foot on his neck. "You had to have it to cast.
Where. Is. It?"

"I didn't need it to cast. I've been charging it all week. And I think
the bloody pirate stole it!"

"So let me get this straight." Giles pinched the bridge of his nose and
habitually pushed at glasses that weren't there, as he'd removed them
for a Ripper-style beating. "You turn someone into a pirate, and you're
surprised when he steals from you?"

"He wasn't a pirate at the time, all right? The spell was keyed to go on
at sunset. This was well before."

"All right. Fine. If you'd be so kind as to do a locator spell, then?
He's your patron; I've no special bond with Janus."

"It isn't that easy! I'm not your little power-Wiccan. I can
charge...let's see..." He murmured some words over a plastic compass as
a local disenchantment, then picked it up. "This. But finding the
medallion with it, not that you'll believe me, will only work as well as
the god wants it to. And I did mention he's not very happy with me at
present, didn't I?"

"Just do it."

"How corporate of you."

"Shut up. Get ready, and meanwhile, try to answer me honestly. Did you
sell any vampire teeth?"

* * *

The Royal Inc. party occupied several well-lit, heated tents on the edge
of the parking lot that bordered dense trees. Vehicles entered and
parked on the other side, across from the local Starbucks. Jack swung
the bike in and slid off the seat. Will slipped off behind, and asked,
"So, why did we..." his hand swerved in a fishtail motion and he
staggered slightly.

"Thought ye were gonna quit with the impressions..."

"I don't believe I ever said that, but you know I meant the bike."

"Oh, that. Was nothing. Just thought I saw someone I knew."

Will considered him, eyes narrowed, and then visibly let it go. Or he
looked like he did. Jack knew from both sweet and bitter experience how
tenacious the lad could be. The longer Jack could go without saying the
"B" word, though, the less chance of killing the party mood, which was
to be avoided at *all* costs.  As it was, their near-spill had gone a
good and disturbing ways toward sobering him up. Again, to be avoided at
*all* costs.

"Well," Will said finally, slipping an arm about Jack's waist, "Let's
get you some more rum, then."

"I love you."

"Ah, my Captain, that would mean so much more if I hadn't heard you say
it in the same tone to the rum." Will ducked another swat to the head
with his usual grace.

As they passed the nearest edge of cars, the decorations began. Jack
stopped suddenly, looking up.

"He couldn't resist, could he?"

Will followed his eyes. Hanging from a tree branch was a skeleton. Jack
doffed his cap, though there was no warning about piracy, merely a
placard that read, "Your Name Here."

"Isn't that great?" said a reveler dressed as the Headless Horseman.
"Norton puts that guy up every year."

"Why am I not surprised?" Jack growled. He glanced at Will. "Ye could've
warned me."

Will shrugged. "We both forgot."

"Ah, well. Let's get that rum. Alcohol makes everything better."

Will choked back a laugh and Jack wrinkled his brows, craned his head.

"Oh, nothing. Smith was just noting the similarities between yourself
and Homer Simpson."

There was really only one response to that. Jack swirled one hand up to
rest gracefully against his temple and said, "D'oh!"

The Captain did have just enough rum left in him to work up a decent
strut, which went into full effect as they stepped inside the main tent.
He noticed eyes on him, heard whistles, and smiled a little, satisfied
smile.

"We seem to be making quite the impression," Will murmured.

"Well, pirates are hot, savvy?"

"I suppose..." And the lad was not immune, for he was visibly pleased.
And did he have any idea how much Jack wanted to please him visibly,
with all those admiring eyes turned his way? A hand caught his mid-sway,
lingered in a whisper of a caress. Slight shiver at his shoulders and
his pants were tighter of a sudden. Oh, the whelp knew, all right.

"Pirates. There goes the neighborhood." A grinning Governor Swann
greeted them with pats on the back. Or perhaps it was Warren...a wolf in
sheep's clothing? For it was Swann's formal finery he wore.  "Welcome,
both of you. Do try not to steal everything that isn't nailed down."

"Your silver...is safe," Jack declared, spreading his arms and forcing
Will to duck. "Because it is, in fact, stainless steel, and anyhow, I'm
betting it's the caterer's, not yer own."

"You have a discerning eye for finery, Sparrow."

It was on the tip of Jack's tongue, and then he realized..."You said
that just t' hear me correct you, didn't ye? For old times' sake."

"Perhaps, Captain."

"Hmm..." And they traded wolfish smiles.

"Where is Elizabeth?" Will broke in, and the smiles took on mirrored
touches of pain, just the least bit, for this was a woman he'd once
loved. It had been against her father's wishes, of course, and far more
important, against the will of Jack's heart. But that had been long ago,
and it had changed utterly, long ago.

Was that angst? Oh, best to be getting to the rum. "An' more important,
where's the bar?"

"Both that way." Swann, or Swan, waved a hand, and Jack spun in the
general direction indicated, leaned, pulled Will along. On the way,
Gibbs caught his eye from across the room and waved; the old seadog was
chatting up a woman dressed as a stoplight. Anamaria didn't appear to
have arrived as yet. Happily, Jack found the bar next, and as he ordered
up a rum and coke, a familiar voice came from behind.

"~Captain~ Jack Sparrow. Well. They really will let anyone in the door
these days."

Will's stare should have tipped him off. Still, he began, "Inexpressibly
lovely to see ye also, Commo...dore..."

Jack trailed off, as it was not at all a Commodore's uniform and wig
that met his eyes. The voice, and the pure, flawless accent contained
within were Norrington's, certainly, but the clothes? A sharply-tailored
tuxedo that showed his long, defined form to advantage, with one of
Norton's guns in an obvious holster beneath. He looked at Jack over the
rim of his martini glass and said, "Commander. And it's Bond. James
Bond."

"We had the accents," said Elizabeth. "It seemed a shame not to use
them." Jack, despite Norrington's presence...

//...oh, let's be honest, *because* of it...//

...looked her up and down, slowly, toes to ... eyes, to toes again.
Rugged boots, tight tan shorts, an even tighter teal tank...and...he
squinted. Something seemed different. Bigger. And her thighs were girded
by holsters that held *two* guns. She turned to smile up at her spy, and
a long auburn braid brushed her calves.

"Milady Lara Croft." And she nodded happily. He took her hand in his and
kissed it, lingering long enough for even Will to raise an eyebrow. "Ye
look..."

"Terrific? Spot-on?"

"Bigger."

"Pirate," she said, but with a laugh in her voice. "All temporary. Part
of the character, you understand."

"Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"Nor I," said Commander Bond, putting a possessive arm about her
shoulder and pulling her close. Will raised the other eyebrow, and
Elizabeth shrugged. Jack, though, was watching Norrington. He pulled off
the 007 bit flawlessly, but there was something off...disjointed...he
flashed suddenly to the Pearl's message and wondered if that was the
meat of what she'd been trying to tell him and his modern half. But as
he pondered, Jack felt an echo that was nothing so much as a Not Yet -
Wait.

//all right, Pearl love, I'll wait...anything for you//

He knew his smile had gone soft and strange while thinking of his Pearl,
so he took a deep drink of the carbonated rum to hone it a bit.  "Well,
me hearties, and those that're hardly me hearties, drink hearty, hmm?"

"Now that you're here, that's a certainty."

"Mr. Bond, you say things to warm me black heart, truly ye do." Jack
noted that the martini glass, though, contained some sort of citrus
punch at present, and so he waited until the affianced couple wandered
off, then engaged the bartender in conversation. Pointing to a man in a
long black coat and dark glasses, he said, "I think that's Lloyd from
Finance. Doesn't he make an excellent Mauritius ... Martian ...
Maurice..."

"Morpheus?" the bartender offered helpfully as Jack liberated a small
bottle of light-tinted rum.

"That's it exactly! Knew it was something sleepy." And the rum found its
way to the punchbowl with none but Will the wiser. He rolled his eyes,
of course.

"It's an evergreen, love," Jack said, shrugging. Slipping an arm around
Will's shoulders, he meandered the both of them to the edge of the tent,
weighing leaving the heated area against stealing the whelp off for a
quick one. His libido was winning, of course, when he saw something
large and mottled-white move sinuously through the trees.

"Oh, Will?" he said, squeezing the other man's shoulder and pointing,
but when Will looked, the apparition was gone.

"What is it?"

"Panthera Unica," Jack murmured. Will blinked. "Unless I'm mistaking me
big cats, it were a snow leopard, Will, or reasonable facsimile. And
normally I'd attribute it to drink and get more of whatever this was,
but I've had rum an' coke before."

"And normally I'd attribute it to your drink, but as I think tonight is
tending toward the strange, perhaps we'd best stay by the tent. The
party's picking up, after all." A three-man team dressed as Haku the
Dragon from 'Spirited Away' wove past the pair, preceded and followed by
women with hand drums. "See?"

Jack smiled. "Aye. And there's a vacancy at the bar..." He took
advantage of that to nick a half-full bottle of Captain Morgan for
himself. When he returned, though, he found Will conversing with his
boss, Brown, who'd come as a quite decent Frankenstein's Monster, even
leaning on a crutch. Jack shifted left, just a little, intending to
explore, and ran into James Bond again. Somehow, he was having trouble
thinking of the man as Norrington tonight, and he resolved to explore
that further after the proper amount of lubrication. Thoughts of
exploring and lubrication led his mind back to Will, but then he noticed
the secret agent downing his rum punch. Which would have been amusing,
save for the expression on his face.

Looking to Jack, he said, "I know it's spiked, Sparrow. You did the same
thing at our wedding."

"I'm fairly sure I never married ye, unless I was drunker that one night
than I thought. I do have vague memories of livening up the punch at
some function, though - ah, that's it! 'Twas Elizabeth ye married, not
me. And ~Captain~ Sparrow, thank ye kindly."

"You know very well what I meant." He finished his glass, and
immediately dipped the ladle again. Jack watched him take a large sip.

"Easy now, 007. I may be Captain Jack Sparrow, but you're not."

"Tell me, Jack," he replied, voice flat, "Had you met Annie Mae's
husband?"

"Long time ago, once or twice, as Byrd, o'course, but why..." Followed
the pointing glass...fumbled his own bottle. "Oh. Oh, I see."

There was Anamaria, of course, hair in six thick braids, hat ringed with
cowrie shells. Next to her, of course, was Tyler Robbins, and Jack knew
him, all right.

//"betrayers - and mutineers.//
//"You know NOTHING of Hell!"//
//"So there *is* a curse. That's interesting. That's *very*
interesting."//
//"I always liked you."//

"Oh, my."

//"You know NOTHING of Hell!"//

Jack took a long pull on his bottle. Then he took another. Finally, he
said, quietly, "He was me friend once, ye know, 'till he did what they
all did, and laughed doing it, and the curse twisted him into something
wrong that forgot even that kind of joy."

"I killed him," the officer replied, and Jack's head came up at that.
"Standing at the rail of the Dauntless that unholy night, knowing that
my sword would make no difference but having to try for all our sakes,
and the sheer surprise, Jack, on his face ..." He downed this glass,
considered yet another.

"He was me friend," Jack repeated, "and I ran with him under me first
captain, Black Jack Savage, with the two of them survivors of the same
bloody slave-ship mutiny. But if I'd have been there, I'd have done for
him." Jack leaned back just a little. "Considering yer opinion of me in
general, I can't assume that's a comfort."

"Unfair, Sparrow," came the reply. "But then, you *are* a pirate."

"A sorry pirate, occasionally, as you're fond of pointing out." He met
the other's eyes. "In this case, I am sorry."

"An apology from you. Could there be hope for us after all?" His sarcasm
was not quite as edged as it might have been.

"Hope springs eternal, Jimmy."

"Stop calling me Jimmy."

"Then call me Captain."

"And break centuries-old tradition?"

"Humor from you? Ye must be drunk."

"I'm still talking to you. I think perhaps you're right." Elizabeth
neared, then, and he moved to join her. "Look to your blacksmith,
scalawag. I know Elizabeth holds all my hope for yet enjoying this
affair."

Good advice it was, and Jack decided to take it. He'd been blindsided by
angst that seemed stubbornly resistant to rum. Wandering near where he'd
left his William, he found another familiar face, but this one happily
from his present orbit.

"Honey! Glad ye could make it, love. Have ye seen Will?"

Annie Mae's tall, well-built sister considered, then smiled and
beckoned. This allowed Jack time to appreciate her very minimal vampire
outfit, from the plunging neck to the tiny black wings at the shoulders.

"He went off into the woods after all, then?" It was possible - the
facilities might have been full up...

She did not answer, merely walked into the cool night air. When they
were a few trees beyond the tent, Honey turned and stepped close. She
put a hand to either side of the pirate, pinning him against a tree,
then slipped a foot along the inside of his calf.

"Is Will here at all, lass?"

"You caught me," she murmured. "No Will. Just us..."

"We go no further without him, love. Will and I have an understanding."

"But...you promised me a taste." Her arms moved in to hold his shoulders
tight, and he twisted, but she was far too strong. With an animal sound
she reared back and her face changed, deforming, teeth lengthening. With
mad desperate effort, Jack threw her off, but she was up again before he
could draw his sword. Then everything happened at once.

"Jack!" came Will's shout from his right. A sword whizzed by that would
have speared Honey's arm to a tree, had she not crumpled a second
before. As it was, Will's sword vibrated between two men, one of whom
held a tranquilizer gun and had the other man by the collar.

"No vampire teeth?" he asked dangerously.

"Well, maybe a pair."

Jack and Will stared, then, at the man with the gun. "Bootstrap!?" Jack
said, without thinking, and the man replied, "I beg your pardon?"

"I see the resemblance," Will said, his voice a very frayed calm, "and
it's eerie, but that is not my father."

"Not - not that I know of," the man said, and it was obvious now, of
course, but very little else was, and Jack was beginning to think that

the oddness of the evening had nothing after all to do with his alcohol
consumption, and that being a little bit drunk and a little bit mad
might actually be of help.

"That's him!" said the other man, meanwhile. "That's the pirate!"

"I'm the pirate, he's the pirate, she, apparently, is the vampire, and I
have no idea what, in fact, you both are..." Jack had his sword out now.
"Except that you're Ethan from the costume shop, and you sold me me
ring. Now that we're all clear on just how unclear we all are, I would
very much like an explanation. If ye please."

"He remembered this morning? He wasn't supposed to..." Ethan said. "See,
I told you! Nothing's gone right."

"Words t' live by, mate, but do explain quickly." With a wrist-snap,
Jack's sword-tip touched Ethan's neck.

"Iusedmagictoturnpeopleintothecostumestheyboughtatmyshop."

Jack blinked. "Well, that was quick."

"I'm sure you find all of this a bit hard to accept..." Bill's
look-alike said.

"I've seen living skeletons crew a sailing ship. I can accept hard to
accept."

"Living skeletons..." The man took a good look at Jack. "The curse of
Cortez. You didn't become just any pirate...you're Captain Jack Sparrow,
aren't you?"

"You've heard of me!" Jack crowed.

"And yourself?" Will put in.

"Rupert Giles. This person you know..." Giles sat Ethan on the
pine-needled ground, and Sparrow's sword lowered with him, staying at
Ethan's neck. "...although how is a mystery to me."

"I told ye," Jack explained again. "He sold me part of me effects. Are
ye a little bit drunk yourself?"

"No - I mean...the spell doesn't... and I'm not..."

"Oh, the spell. That does explain the Smurf..." Will gave him a curious
look, and Jack returned a finger-twist that generally meant 'later.'
"...but I don't think it worked on me."

"Why not?" Ethan asked from the ground.

Will counted down on his fingers as Jack replied, "Because I'm ~Captain~
Jack Sparrow, of course."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Trust me," Will put in. "It would if you'd known him longer."

"You see, not only am I Captain Jack Sparrow, but I already was."

"I'm certain you think so now, but it's only the magic -"

"I'm not so sure of that," Ethan began, then shut up as Jack's sword
nicked his chin.

"Right," The man with the glasses - Niles? - said. "Captain Sparrow,
might you have liberated a medallion from this man's store? He claims
it's the focus for his spell, and it's best we destroy it and end this."

Jack looked at him sidewise. "...What's in it for me?"

"Jack," Will began, reasonably, "Think about it. You just found out that
the medallion you stole was accursed, and you already knew it was sacred
to heathen gods. From experience, I'd say no good can come of it."

"First, they weren't sure I'd stolen it until now. Second, I was just
trying to get some good to come of it. Third, it wasn't nearly as
incredibly stupid as it sounds in retrospect, and anyhow, not a zombie,
after all." But he did move his hand surreptitiously into a shaft of
moonlight to be absolutely sure.

"Look, will you just smash the thing so I can stop getting beaten and we
can all go home?" Ethan said, cutting his chin again as he spoke. Jack
lifted his sword away just as Will retrieved his and came in to cover, a
flowing transition. Styles, (was it Styles?) meanwhile, went for his
wallet.

"Would you let me see the medallion for..." he rummaged "...$100?" In an
eye blink, the bill was gone, and Jack had pulled the medallion from
beneath his vest. "Pirates..." Styles muttered, and Jack smiled and
shrugged. But when ...no, Miles... reached for the image of Janus, he
pulled it back.

"Let's...think about this for a moment, though. This magician seems a
bit eager for his work to be undone, and even on such brief
acquaintance, he doesn't strike me as the type what makes things easy,
savvy? He's not, right? In general?"

"Well, no..." Miles replied, meditatively, "but it worked that way last
time."

"Aye, but I've a suspicion..."

"Oh, just do it. He only wants to keep his treasure."

"He's right, isn't he?" Miles said slowly. "You do want- " He wound up
for a kick, then stopped. "-and if you've been lying to me all this
time, no amount of pain's going to persuade you to honesty, is it?

"Nope."

"Oh, I wouldn't say *that,*" Jack put in, sinking to his haunches half a
foot from Ethan's face. He had the satisfaction of seeing eyes widen,
but had to add, "Unfortunately, I'm a bit too drunk for proper torture
this evening, so I've a better idea. The spell turned folk who bought
their effects in his establishment into their costumes, aye?"

Giles (That was it! Giles. Had to be...) nodded, and Will put in,
"Special effects, then."

Jack groaned. "I'm working here, whelp."

"Begging the captain's pardon."

Said captain looked up to the other Englishman. "Hold 'im," Jack
advised, "and hold out his hand."

Bootstrap's look-alike crouched and did so, and Ethan twitched, twisted
despite Will's sword. Jack removed his ring.

"It's not going to work," the sorcerer said. "The spell isn't...it
can't..."

"Then why are ye struggling so?" Jack said with a smile. "Isn't and
can't are fine words, but they tend t' lose their meaning near me
person."

"And why is that, exactly?" Just the hint of a sneer now.

"Because," and Will mouthed the words with him this time, "Like I said,
I'm ~Captain~ Jack Sparrow, and now..." Jack slid his ring on the hand
that Giles held immobile, "...so are you."

It was astounding to watch, truly - Ethan's hair lengthened, tangled.
His skin turned a deep tan, and a few of his teeth went to metal. He
relaxed in Giles' grip, and his head seemed somehow *looser* on his
shoulders. There was even a hint of kohl around his eyes.

"Well..." he said, Ethan's voice but very much Sparrow's accents,
"...that's very interesting." He studied the ring, then eyed Jack up and
down, and Jack did likewise. "My, but you're a handsome one."

"The same t' you, love," Jack replied. "Now, me, would ye mind telling
me what this one had planned, near as ye can figure?"

"...What's in it for me?"

"Oh, come *on*..." Will muttered, as Jack held up the hundred Giles had
given him and it vanished again in an instant.

"Right. By the way, this one's shocked that you managed to re-trigger
the spell after the preset time, and that I don't think it's the
eighteenth century. Don't see why I should - 's obviously not..."

"Can ye get on with it, me? I think Honey's waking up..."

Ethan/Jack glanced over at the prone vampire, whose fingertips were
twitching. "...Right." He considered the medallion. "Well, when I'm
right, I'm right. Smashing this isn't going t' break his curse. It'll
set it until sometime between next Sunday and the following Leap Year -
no way t' tell for sure. It will do something else, though."

"Good lord - what?" Giles asked.

"It'll trigger a backup for the lust spell ye ducked when ye first
caught up to him."

"*Lust* spell!?" Giles shook his head. "I thought he just...My God. It's
all starting to make a twisted kind of sense. He named the store after
me, used a spell I or someone I knew was likely to sense...he *wanted*
me to find him...to...to..." He shook his head again. "My God."

"Not like he was goin' t' ravish ye - the spell wouldn't have compelled
ye to be with him, savvy?" Ethan/Jack looked earnest. "Ye could've gone
off an' had yerself...a lot...but he was hopin'...Y'see," the magicked
pirate said, leaning sinuously away from the sword and yet toward Will,
"He hasn't really gotten any in a long while, and when he had it w'
Ripper, here, 'twas the best he'd ever had. An' he never minded a bit of
pain from this one if it got 'im what he wanted."

"Yes, well, considering that the last time I even entertained the
notion, I woke up with horns and scales, you can see why I might not
want another go."

Ethan/Jack sighed. "Thought ye might feel that way. Pity...ye do so
resemble William...Are ye *sure?*"

"Yes!"

"Your loss, then, love. But you'll always remember this as the day ye
could've f-"

Jack cleared his throat. "Vampire waking up over here. How, exactly, do
we break this curse?"

"Me blood on the medallion."

"Well, that figures," said Will. He moved his sword to hover before
Ethan/Jack's hand, and the ensorcelled man pricked his finger, touching
it then to the medallion of Janus.

Nothing happened. Or at least, nothing happened until Vampire/Honey
lunged at Jack's throat and got shot again for her troubles.

"Mmm. I'm not exactly me, though, at the moment, am I?" Ethan/Jack eyed
his counterpart. "I always was the only one could truly outsmart
meself..."

"Here," Giles said, reaching out his hand. The backs of his knuckles
were streaked red. "Ethan's blood, when he was Ethan." Jack ran the
medallion across the stain, and a shiver spread out from it, through the
night. Ethan lost his pirate trappings, and Honey's face returned to
normal.

Jack and Will, of course, changed not one bit.

Ethan pulled the ring from his finger, but then stared at it 'till Jack
snatched it back. With his other hand, he pinched the bridge of his
nose, unconsciously mimicking Giles. "Ow...That man thinks
*sideways*..."

"Lust spell?" Giles said dangerously, then looked at Jack and Will. He
kept looking.

"You two haven't changed at all."

"Oh, now he notices," said Ethan. "Give the man a gold star..."

"I did tell ye," Jack said.

"But how...not the curse of Cortez, surely?"

"Ye were right about the skeleton bit, there. There's a fine crescent
moon out tonight...if I were cursed, ye'd know it."

"Absolutely fascinating..."

"'Tis me curse to be, I know."

"There's great debate in occultist circles as to whether that curse even
existed, you know. I would dearly love to continue this conversation,
but..."

"You've got to run our desperate friend out of town," Will finished.

"I'm not desperate!" To three sidelong looks, he protested, "I really
did need to placate my god, and he's still rather upset with me,
although apparently his sense of humor's intact at my expense. I did
just have a pirate dissect my sex life from inside my own head..." Then
he focused on Jack. "But he's noticed you, too, and I have a feeling he
likes you. My spell wasn't meant to be customized. You may well be a
votary of my god now, whether you will it or no."

"Well, it's not like I've got any other deity wanting my..."

A chorus of coyote howls split the night air.

"...and that was just good timing," Jack said, looking around.  "Right?"

Will and Giles both shrugged. As Giles pulled Ethan to his feet, Jack
slipped a business card into his pocket. Giles removed it, stared.

"A pirate working for the IRS?"

"I know, I know. I'm sure the perfect quip will come to ye shortly. But
I've a question in the meantime. How'd ye find me?"

"Magic, actually. That reprobate enchanted this, at my ... request."
Giles removed from his pocket a small toy compass. "It points to the
medallion."

The compass vanished from Giles' hands as quickly as the hundred-dollar
bill.

"I beg your pardon!"

"Sorry, mate. Pirate. And I've got to have that compass. Y'see, it
doesn't point north."

The bespectacled man rolled his eyes, resembling Bootstrap even more.
Odd, how Turners developed that little tic in proximity to Jack.

"Fine. If you really must-" Giles began. He was interrupted by Honey,
who was standing, dazed and shaky.

"Oof. Jack, I dunno what I had, but don't let me have another, huh?" She
looked around. "Um, who're these guys?"

"We were just leaving," Giles said, suiting actions to words. "Jack?"

"Ye seem t' be on the side of the angels. Feel free t' give me a call."

"Be seeing you," said Ethan, with a wink, as Giles dragged him away.

"Catfight?" Honey asked. "Hope they didn't drag you out here to get in
the middle of some lover's quarrel."

"Well, as a matter of fact..."

"Ick," she replied. "It's Halloween. Nobody needs that crap." The dancer
shook her head. "Whoo. Somebody spiked the punch."

As they led Honey back inside, Will murmured, "Shouldn't she be out
yet?"

"Could be the magic flushed most of it from her system. But I think we
should leave off questioning it and just be glad that Anamaria isn't
seeing us drag her sister around all unconscious."

"Good point."

Back inside the tent, Jack lifted his rum bottle from where he'd left it
and drained the last few drops. As he began edging back toward the bar,
the swing band who'd replaced the D.J. struck up a credible cover of the
Squirrel Nut Zippers' 'Hell.'

It got to him somewhere near his gut and he locked eyes with his
William. Smile sneaking about the corners of his mouth as he asked,
"How's yer footwork?"

"Smith learned swing dancing years ago...Byrd as well?"

"Oh, aye..." and he grabbed Will up in a spin, establishing in no
uncertain terms that he was the captain, and so he'd be leading, thank
you very much. Then they were lost in movement, more spins and dips and
of course, surreptitious grinds. Drums and feet kept the rhythm with
Jack and Will in perfect sync. Horns blared and Jack let himself go, let
a bit of his own madness creep into the dancing, odd syncopations that
Will still saw coming and met.

Eyes on them now, he sensed peripherally, but the world was nearly all
music and Will flushed with lips parted. Spinning away, pulling back
toward, rocking, sliding sideways, drums, horns and song rising to their
peak, building to the big finish. On the last loud note he reeled
William in, twisting, wrapping him in his arms, dipping and kissing him
soundly.

They did not part until well into the applause.

As they straightened, Will blushing, Jack sketching two elaborate bows,
Will murmured, "You know that bit about keeping a low profile at work?"

"Aye?"

"To hell with it."

"Mmm," Jack replied, holding him close. "Now, if ye don't object, I'd
like t' make an exit. I'm still thinkin' of tryin' t' get to the West
Hollywood street fair, now that we've put in an appearance here. Plus,
it turns out Annie Mae's husband was part of me mutinous crew, and
that's a thing I've got to think on."

"Do you think he...?"

"I doubt it. I'll ask Elizabeth later to be sure; I'm fairly certain
Bond over there will have her take a look. The question is, does she,
and methinks it's not a question for tonight. So, time to be moving on."

"Well, if you're ready to ... I suppose the term is 'party-hop,' then I
am, as well. You do know that Los Angeles has rain predicted, though."

"Lad, I've had some of the best times of me life soaking wet. But just
think - if it doesn't rain, it'll be the closest we get t' a modern
Tortuga 'till New Years."

"Fine, then. Let's get you some more drinking and debauchery. We're
taking my car, though."

* * *
5A, Part 3: After Hours
* * *

Jack had been hoping for wall-to-wall bodies and drunken folk with loose
grips on their belongings, as in Byrd's memories of years prior. He
found, however, a very sane, if not entirely sober affair, with all the
elaborate costuming at least slightly damp.

There was still a decent throng, and Jack marked men dressed as sexy
firefighters, three distinct Tina Turners, a Balinese dancer, and the
entire cast of 'Kill Bill.' It was acceptable, he decided, though as
they stopped before a stage with fairly loud music, he let himself look
slightly mournful. Ah, perfect - Will, leaning in to cheer him up. Full
lips found his as the light drizzle specked their shoulders. The beat
set them both to moving again - nothing so formal as before, just
forward-back-twist, touching a little bit beyond street legal. Ludacris,
blaring from the turntables...

'When I move you move'
'Just like that?'

...Hips swaying...

'When I move you move'
'Just like that?'

...Thighs locked...

'When I move you move'
'Just like that?'
'Hell yeah! Hey DJ bring that back!'

Wonderful thing, choruses, Jack mused, feeling Byrd agree. Practically
guaranteed Will would do that thing with his hips again. Whelp's eyes
were closed, too - entirely different kind of sexy from when they were
open.

//...too hot...// Byrd murmured, and Jack assented. Only the rain kept
them from completely embarrassing themselves...

//...bloody rain...//
//...yeah...//

The music died down for a second and Will opened his eyes, took a
breath.

"Ye haven't got a hat..." Jack observed.

"No..."

"So ye haven't got anything t' keep the rainwater off those lips..."
Jack suited actions to words.  "Can make 'em swell, and while it's a
lovely look for Elizabeth...mm. Not sure I got it all." With another
kiss they'd edged back against a building, and were leaning on brick, at
the edge of a bar patio. Jack found an unattended cocktail on the low
brick wall and took good care of it. Then he stumbled back, ensuring
Will would reach forward, stumble back himself, further into the
alley...

And Jack, halting, as Will fetched up against him, for Byrd was
whispering...

//... maybe an alley in West Hollywood isn't the best place for two men
to be engaging in illicit behavior... the authorities might actually be
watching for that sort of thing...//

Jack gave an authentic sigh as he held the lad against him, and assured
his other half that he wouldn't hold it against *him,* for pointing it
out.

"You aren't going to have your way with me?" Will asked. "Captain's
prerogative..."

"Later, whelp!" But Jack did pull him in for a tight kiss, crushing
their lips together. One of them made a little mewling sound deep in
their throat, but he wasn't sure which it was...

Very distracting, so he could be excused for barely sensing the sword
seconds before it cut the space where they would both have been.

Was it blunted? Bad to assume...after all, *his* wasn't. His sword was,
however, out, and locked with someone who very much appeared to be
...black mask, black hat, cape...

Yes, he was, in fact, crossing swords with Zorro.

A click as the swords flicked down, met again...up, back,
step...testing, feeling one another out...

Zorro was good.

The D.J. at the hip-hop stage was spinning again, DMX this time.

'Y'all gon' make me lose my mind up in HERE, up in here.'

Slash, swish, spin...Jack ducked, and Zorro hooked his hat. This likely
saved the masked man's life, for it demonstrated that his sword was not
edged - the hat was balanced, not caught. But...was that a smear...?

'Y'all gon' make me go all out up in here, up in here.'

Zorro backed up, tossed the hat in the air, and whisked his sword as it
fell. He caught it low and tossed it back. It was now marked with a
black-chalked Z.

"Oh, no ye didn't."

'Y'all gon' make me act a FOOL up in HERE, up in here.'

Past time to be a proper pirate and cheat. Jack closed with him, face
intent, and Zorro began to look just a little nervous. Jack made sure
their blades caught, then let Byrd's martial arts knowledge sift through
for a foot sweep that had Zorro on his behind.

'Y'all gon' make me lose my cool up in here, up in here.'

Seconds later, the black-clad man was tangled in his cape and Jack had
his sword. Crouching, he held one blade to either side of Zorro's head.

"Yield?" he asked, now smiling again, and the man nodded. Fairly
quickly, Jack noticed.

"Whoa," Zorro said, finally speaking. "That was freakin' awesome! You've
got to be, like, the best pirate I've ever seen!"

"Theo!?" said Will, and it sounded a bit like Smith peeking through.

"I mean, most guys have the stuff, but they're, like, too cool to play
along, right? Damn, guess you might be good enough for him after all..."

"Theo, have you got to hassle every one of my boyfriends?"

"Oh Will?" Jack shifted eyes back and forth and back again.

Will sighed, and now it was definitely Turner putting on Smith's
accents. Poor actor, Jack's pirate a-

"Theo, Jack. Jack, this is Theo Gravas. We used to date. Theo, this is
Jack and yes, he's my boyfriend."

"Hi, Jack. No hard feelings?"

"I suppose not, no, as my exes tend t'be far less protective of me
person and far more likely t' assault it."

"Cool, cool. So not trying to steal Will back, by the way. I'm in a
thing."

//...as if he could...// Byrd, in a feral growl that confirmed they were
in fact the same man, deep down. Now, if this attractive, appreciative,
*annoying* swordsman could just-

"Can I buy you guys some drinks?"

Or, he could stick around just a little bit.

* * *

"How'd you get us in without cover?"

"I've me own brand of magic, lad, what's got nothing to do with chaos
gods and trickster spirits and everything t'do with rum and wanting more
of it."

"Right."

"Is that your real accent?" Theo asked. The three were now inside the
patio with the low brick wall, Jack sipping a pina colada. Possibly his
new favorite rum drink- he'd have to give that matter some thought. They
were still close enough to the hip-hop stage to catch all the music.

"Well, it may be that it is," put on Byrd's beach accents, "And maybe
not."

"Well, it's cool, anyway. You guys have a good Halloween so far?"

"Mm-hm," Will replied. "Lots of candy corn, trick-or-treating, costume
contest, office party, weird magical rituals, blood sacrifice...you
know, the usual." He tilted back his Guinness and leaned against Jack,
the both of them swaying in time. "You?"

"Decent. Well, I don't have to work tonight, so wonderful. My S.O. does,
though. When he gets off the job, he'll head over and we'll meet up,
hopefully, but..." Theo trailed off and held out a hand. Sure enough,
water was bouncing off his palm, and it was speeding up. Well, a bit of
rain never-

*BZZZZT!*

Bright spark and loud buzz from within the club, and the lights went
out. The stage provided enough light, but then an announcement came over
a megaphone from the bar. "Okay, looks like we've got a short somewhere,
and the fire marshal says no lights, no party. Everybody out!"

Jack, Will, and Theo just jumped the wall, not bothering to crowd for
the door. The rain increased, water beginning to sluice down Jack's neck
- he adjusted his hat and jacket just a bit. Will was soaked and he
looked *wonderful* thus, but he also seemed a bit cold. Theo, meanwhile,
was heading for cover.

"See you guys!" he said. "I'm not waiting for anyone in this!"

He was gone, then, and Will looked at Jack hopefully. "Car?"

Nefarious plan forming... "Yes, let's do."

* * *

The plan was very simple, and had mostly to do with the fact that Will,
soaking wet, needed privacy to be truly appreciated, at least in this
day and age. Nothing wrong with a distraction, though...conversational
misdirection of sorts...and yes, he was curious about Gravas.

"So he's Greek this go-round, is he? And, perhaps a bit...off?"

"It seems," Will said slowly, "that Theo feels he must test Smith's
boyfriends for some sort of coolness factor, and that you passed. They
ended amicably, and Will does consider his opinion. But - this
go-round?" Jack watched the penny drop, watched Will blink. "Groves!"
Blinked again. "It fits, you know. He's a policeman near where we live,
under Gillette. Jill, rather." Will took his eyes off the road for just
a second to consider Jack, then turned back. "I've just realized
something. I recall...he always admired you, in our lifetimes."

"That I knew - he said as much to me a time or two, once with gratifying
regret before I was to hang, though it would've been more gratifying if
he'd brought a knife for me bonds or some such."

"And, well, look at him now. Just a bit off-center, as you say, and if
you say it, then more than a bit to most. A good swordsman, as well,
though I'm better." Candid whelp. "He's become much like you, longings
in his old life made fact in the new."

*Insightful* whelp.

"And I fell for it," Will said, almost bitterly.

Self-recriminating whelp, too, for all that Jack did to convince him
guilt was just bad for the digestion. "Ah, me William, sounds like ye
didn't fall for it long, and anyway, ye couldn't have known what ye were
truly waitin' for. Nor, I'll add, did Byrd know - or did ye think I was
a monk?"

A smile. Better. "I thought perhaps you had been, but not this time
around."

"Not a monk, per se, and I never am going to live that one down, am I?"

"Well, for that, you would have to stop telling the story, would you
not?"

"Ye may have a point there." Oh, the storm was following them,
overtaking them, and Jack was beginning to feel the tapping of the rain
against his skin, right through the metal roof and glass windshield. He
closed his eyes, took a breath. Soon, it'd have to be soon, and it would
be. Almost there...

"Pull over. Now!"

Will was still trained to him, trained as any sailor who knew that
disobeying the captain in a storm or battle could mean death for all. He
pulled off, very quickly but without skidding, to a graveled wide spot
by the road.

"Jack?"

The rain was pounding, music he could hear and needed to feel. He got
out of the car, stood, came around. Throwing open Will's door, he
grabbed the lad by an arm and pulled him out, watching the water
saturate what little had managed to dry. Then he took Will's wrist and
led him down a path to the beach. Will did not resist, and Jack's glad
suspicions were confirmed when they were face to face again. The lust in
those eyes...

"You look..." Will raised a hand to run along a dripping, beaded braid.

"Aye?"

"Like part of the storm." Will lifted off Jack's hat and they were equal
before the downpour. Deep kiss tasting of rainwater and Will and rum and
beer and Will...they were on Jack's jacket now, and on their knees. The
whelp was making off with his vest and shirt and telling him, "Stand."

"Stand what?"

"Stand, *Captain.*"

So he did, feeling the rain beat its tattoo across his shoulders, all
cool and cold where the wind touched, and then there came warmth. His
eyes shut and he heard the rush of rain on waves, felt Will, Will, rain
and Will around him warm and oh, so good...his legs shook and the other
man felt it, pulled away, bore him down.

The tips of his hair dripped against his chest as Will climbed him,
caressed him as his eyes opened again, drawing bits of his own early
pleasure out, stroking himself with it and making certain Jack saw. And
the rain kept falling, running along Will's shoulders, falling on Jack's
thighs. Will had his shirt on still, clinging *everywhere* and so
sinfully Jack had to approve. Clasping, clinging, wet Will was against
him as he took Jack's lips and explored with his hands. Eyes
frighteningly intent, channeling something wild, the same thing Jack
felt in his very bones now.

Wind, loud but not louder than the hushed thud of rain on sand,
multiplied a million-fold. Scent of the ocean surrounding them, and Will
pressing in without any control or technique, just a gasping pure need
that made Jack moan in his turn. Fast immediately, knowing that Jack
needed it thus now, or not knowing and beyond caring, Jack was beyond
caring which and appreciated both, raw power in the man, in him, and he
was far more helpless than he intended to fight it or use it...it used
him, used them both...it was a storm, after all, wasn't it? Turned into
it, rose to meet Will, crying out and the lad was as well...storm
breakers, torrents hitting again and again, through Will and focused
somewhere deep within him too...

Oh, god, gods and spirits all...need, force, screaming pleasure in his
veins...

"aah....AAAhhh....AAAAHH!"

"God...oh, oh God...ohh...nnh...AAHHH!"

Wind pulled the cries from their lips and whipped them away, but they
noticed the loss not much at all, moaning into each others' mouths as
the rain fell all around. Bodies quieted, slowly, and pulled more
tightly together as they did.

//...oh my...// A wondering murmur from Byrd within. //...what in Heaven
and Earth...//
//...both, I'm thinkin'...but just a storm, really. didn't expect it t'
take us so...not that we're complainin' but ye know I only intended t'
take the lad while attractively drenched...//
//...yeah, backfired, but somehow I really don't mind...//

Will's eyes unclouded, likely his own internal conversation at its end.

"What..." he began, gathered himself, began again. "Was
that...Halloween, do you think? Or something even more primal?"

"Little of both, perhaps, but I'd call it serin...savon...serapi..." He
blinked. "An unexpected bonus. Anyway, I think it may finally be time to
get out of the rain."

"Why?" Will asked, resting a damp head against Jack's shoulder.

"Ye do have a point there."

* * *

They did, eventually, manage to get up and drip their way back to the
car, Will nearly falling asleep at the wheel. Jack felt sleep...and
rum...stealing up on him too, and the trip back to his house came in
dreamlike snatches. Boots on a slick, wet driveway, moonlight glinting
off long, dripping leaves. Clothes pooling on the kitchen floor, towels
grabbed and dropped by the bed. The bed, and nothing beyond.

Next morning came upon Jack slowly, with the whistling of wind, loud
enough to be clearing the sky and leaving all clear, bright, and cold.
He wasn't cold, though, as his body was flush against Will's. He was,
instead, warm and languid, warm without and within. It was a well, whole
feeling that spread throughout his body, and it made him less unnerved
than he might otherwise have been when he realized he wasn't sure
exactly who he was just now.

Lying there, eyes shut, he searched himself *for* himself, and bits
seemed to sort, align themselves, into Byrd and Sparrow respectively.
The sweet feeling within him receded just a bit and he let it go with
regret, focusing on that which was Byrd, all of him drawing it to the
front and letting Sparrow settle back. They were still so very close,
though, so entwined, as he and Will were physically.

//...mmm...// came Sparrow's thought. //...this...is nice...// Sigh, as
Byrd felt the pirate use their proximity to give him the mental
equivalent of a caress.

//...weird...but nice...wonder what's up?...//

//...it's possible ye may know...I don't...I think it's you...relax and
let yerself find it...//

The pirate's urgings were almost an internal massage. Byrd drifted an
instant and caught the notion.

"Dia de los Muertos," he said aloud, and Will stirred. //...the Day of
the Dead. Spirits that return on Halloween night...become strong, stay
to visit the living world...//

//...spooky season not over, then?...//

//...not 'till the third...could be that's why we're so close now...you
were already here and part of me, but it affects us anyway...//

Will came awake then, and Jack saw tenseness in his frame and the set of
his eyes that belied the blissful smile on his face. He leaned in close
and whispered in Will's ear.

"Relax, but try to focus. Use me...I'm Byrd now, can you feel it? Pull
Smith forward, let Turner rest against him..." Will breathed deep and
his muscles unlocked. He lay there for several minutes, and then pulled
himself up a little to recline on stacked pillows.

"Whoa..." Will said. "This...that was...we felt *good,* but we knew we
were getting lost in each other, and...thanks."

"De nada. 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.

* * *
CONTINUED IN TAXES 5B:
DAY OF THE DEAD
* * *
TMF