And Taxes 3 - The Mad Fangirl

Taxes Part 3 - Repression, Obsession, and Past Life Regression
Author: The Mad Fangirl
Email: batys93@yahoo.com

Pairing: Jack/Will
Rating: NC17



Part 1 of 8: See Jack Surf
* * *

The agile little beast crawled across the edge of the cursed
treasure. It reached in, slowly...

//No, don't...//

Snatched back quickly...

//Stop...//

Turned skeletal in the moonlight and leapt at him with a snarl-

* * *

-and Will Smith, no relation, sat straight up in bed, dislodging the
other man, whose loose dark hair tickled unmentionable places.

For someone in bed with his new lover, though, (new being extremely
relative,) Jack Byrd was himself unaccountably tense.  Will knew,
somehow...

"You were dreaming about that damn monkey too, weren't you?"

"Ugh. Yeah."

"That was weird. It couldn't have been a memory - you were on an
island drinking rum, and I...I was still in England when the curse
took hold...and anyway, if it'd happened like that, they'd never have
spent the stuff..."

"Maybe we're having their nightmares. Or maybe it's something
symbolic..." Jack Byrd shook his head, levering himself up on his
elbows. He winced. "Ow. Caffeine withdrawal. I cannot have deep
thoughts before my first cup of coffee. It's impossible."

"Improbable?"

"Improbably painful.  Be a good cabin boy and make me some java
before you leave...ow!" For Will had whacked him across the back of
the head.

"Hazy memories or no, I'm fairly sure I was never your cabin boy."

"Well, you certainly weren't me *first* mate." Will smiled at the
touch of pirate lacing Jack's voice, of a sudden. "Though I may have
been yours?"

"Not in *this* lifetime."

Jack snorted. "Well, that's a given. I recall a certain couch..."

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Not likely. Although I'd consider a parley over..."

"Coffee?"

"Very good."

It was, at that - Will made a mean cup of Joe for Jack, although
Jack's machine ground its own beans and was practically idiot-proof.
Over breakfast, they sat, each leafing through a book or pamphlet
that Will's colleague Liz had dropped off earlier that week. Liz had
claimed to have obtained them from a friend, all the treatises on
past lives and reincarnation, but Will had a sneaking suspicion that
one or two were hers, the result of Elizabeth Swann whispering in her
ear.

"Ha!" he said, grabbing a pencil and underlining, then touching
Jack's sleeve. "This is what I meant to show you yesterday. Right
here. It talks about triggering your past life memories."

"I think I glanced at...no...maybe I didn't..."

"Look. It says everyone has a different trigger. You may go all your
life without hitting it, but there are some very specific actions
that create such a strong sense of d�j� vu that the past personality
breaks down the barriers of your conscious mind."

"So you were mine, and I was yours."

"In more ways than one."

"Indeed. In word and deed, as it were."

"It were. It is."

A lengthy, vaguely toast-flavored kiss broke apart with regret on
either side.  "At least it's Friday," Will said, on his way to the
door. "We'll have the whole weekend to do whatever,"

"Which I fully intend to do..."

"And Liz is coming by later tonight to compare notes."

"You know, in this life, she could quite possibly kick both our
asses?"

"Me, maybe. You? Annie Mae let slip about the black belt in Tae Kwon
Do."

"Only because nobody *really* teaches Drunken Boxing. Jackie Chan is
God."

"Heathen."

* * *

The day's work proceeded apace, Jack with Annie Mae and Josh, sifting
through Royal Inc's finances with a fine-toothed comb.  By now, they
all had a definite sense that something in the firm's tithe to Uncle
Sam didn't quite fit, even if they weren't yet quite sure of the
thing's shape in and of itself.  Annie Mae was certain the answer was
to be found in the facilities costs, and Jack didn't dispute her - at
least, not today.

Quite apart from the pirate prowling his back-brain, Jack's mind was
not entirely on his work. He knew it wasn't always obvious, as his
focus (while not seeming to focus) was legendary, but he had the
feeling that his colleagues were catching on. Annie Mae, at least,
could usually pinpoint this particular mood.

For while his carnal desires had been sated lately, extremely so,
there was another longing that rose in Jack on a regular basis. In
Captain Jack Sparrow, it had been the need for a deck beneath his
feet, and the endless horizon before him. Jack Byrd felt the echoes
of this, more strongly now than once, but in his own lifetime, the
sea-call had been subsumed. Sublimated, plowed under, emerging anew
as a different imperative.

//Must surf.//

//Must Surf.//

//Must SURF.//

When Josh Gibson hid the spreadsheet covering his screen to find
tidal charts, Jack knew the game was up.  The older, stouter man
looked over at Annie Mae and clicked his tongue. Annie Mae rolled her
eyes. Jack raised his arms, palms flat, in a theatrical shrug, eyes
downcast but somehow utterly unrepentant.

The day's end came as ever, and while the government crew usually
stayed late into the night, Annie Mae reached over and snapped Jack's
laptop shut.

"I can see it in your eyes, honey. You're no good to anyone.  I'll
get you home, you hitch your board to your bike, and you get out
there."

"Who's whose boss here?"

"Get out there, *Mr. Byrd.*" She tossed him the car keys. "Don't get
any funny ideas. I'm driving. But you go on ahead."  She caught up,
not too much later, after a quick detour through manufacturing, to
drop a note on the desk of a certain manager.

When she left Jack at his door, it was with a command to "shoo!" So
half an hour later, he was shoeless, and otherwise wrapped in
Neoprene. Jack watched the deep blue of the Pacific curl up and fade
to green, and licked his lips.

Four-foot swells. He could handle waves far taller than this, could
have turned pro in his misspent youth. He hadn't, though - surfing in
front of a crowd, for him, was like having sex in public. Not that
there was anything wrong with that, per se, but there was a time and
a place. The ocean lapped at his feet.

//Oh, I've *missed* you...//

He hefted his board, tossed it with the two cartoon turtles face up,
lay atop it. Jack paddled out beyond the first breakers, and just
swayed awhile. Then the ocean made herself known to him, gathering
force at his back. He pulled himself up and felt that *click,* and
then...he flew.

The next hours were lost in a haze, all spray, salt, and sand. 
Gradually, he became aware of a tickling, there in the back of his
mind.  He listened...heard...

//...oh, now.  I rode her long and hard, true, but I never did touch
her so intimate...//

//...jack?...//

//...something amazing you've found for us...//

//...do you want to?...//

//...lend me a bit, then...//

Jack Byrd focused on the distant voice, let himself fall, just a
little, let something *else* support his legs and arms.  //Like so,
and like so,// he thought, and felt the answering thrill, a wild
manic sensation.

The pirate, it seemed, had been made for this, more a thing of the
sea than his present self. He felt her take him as he'd dreamed she
could, pulling him into a flight worthy of his namesake. She curled
about him, became his land and sky and...

//...ah, now what?...//

//...hold your breath...//

She milled them under in a cloud of sand, a rolling, punishing series
of blows.

//...I don't think I deserved that...//

* * *

Following Annie-Mae's cryptic note, Will arrived at the small beach.
If he hadn't been told exactly where the access was, he'd never have
found it, but...just so. Anamaria had drafted more than a few
treasure maps in her day.

The sun neared the horizon, casting everything in warm tones. Jack's
bike was parked near rickety plank stairs, overgrown with thin
coastal weeds. A towel lay tossed across the seat.  Will removed his
shoes and socks and walked out onto the beach in jeans and a t-shirt.
Upon consideration, he turned, grabbed the towel, tossed it over his
shoulder, and then proceeded.

William Smith considered himself grounded, a person with roots -
friends, family. Still, he'd never been able to live far from the
ocean. He'd never much considered the hold the vast blue had over
him, just taken it for granted. To see it in the distance,
daily...then, he could breathe. But this was now.

Then...

Then he had been the son of a pirate, with salt in his blood. Then,
he'd felt the ocean's lure oh so strong, and sought to deny it. And
he had, until Jack. Jack, who was the capricious sea personified,
fallen into his smithy by chance and cunning.

Jack, who swaggered out of the surf, here, now, dark hair dripping,
board under one arm. The body and the clothes were Byrd's, and
perhaps some of the look in his eyes, but oh, he moved like Jack
Sparrow, board and all.

Jack and the sea called Will Turner, and with every step toward the
water, Will Smith fell away. Here, near the element that was his
addiction, Will Turner filled the skin of his present self, who
welcomed his possession, and eagerly awaited possession of a
different sort.

The sand grew packed and damp beneath his toes, and Will was strong
now. He ran his fingertips along the edges of the denim pants,
enjoying sensation...and of a sudden there was fear. The memory of a
damned captain who also longed to feel....

His present self felt his alarm, if not all the reason for it. Waves
of reassurance, mixed with need...

//...ssh...it's all right...go to him...//

//...you associate me with sex...//

//...is that a bad thing?...//

And Smith did have a point.

Besides, the ocean was in his ears, and Jack filled his eyes.  Byrd's
or Sparrow's, the other man's gaze fairly burned.  Will reached up,
grabbed hold of the damp locks, and pulled him in for a kiss. 

The kiss turned about on him as Jack bore them both to the sand,
pressing in until Will felt thoroughly looted. And he hadn't even
been plundered yet...

When they came up for air, Will ran one finger beneath a raw, red
scrape on Jack's cheek.

"She likes it rough," Jack explained, with a grin.

"Ah."

Then a flurry of movement, wet sand flying as Will's clothing went
likewise. A wetsuit, alas, could not be ripped off with ardor...

So Will unzipped it with his teeth.

At length, he peeled Jack from the modern fabric. His captain was on
him with a growl. They rolled hard across the sand, the towel left
behind as wishful thinking. "Oh," Will said, "How I have missed
you..."

He felt the smile against the quick kiss that captured his mouth as
Jack leaned up and back, pulling him along.  "Said the same to her
earlier," he murmured. "Fancy a threesome?" And Will realized he
really should have paid more attention to where they were going as
water rushed in up to his calves.

Water this cold might unman one, but here and now it was only enough
of a shock to keep Will dizzy and off-balance. As warm hands rubbed
the grains of sand across his chest and Jack's hips set a different
rhythm, length against length, Will could only gather more sand in
his fists and moan softly.  He felt the sea on his legs and heard the
sea in Jack's voice as it washed them, shocking cold in time to the
warm beat of his heart. He rose to meet Jack, rolled, plunged against
him, regained a bit of himself and set a rhythm, was rewarded with a
groan. Then Jack's hips refused to follow any pattern and rolled up,
down, and sideways, and the sea hit his calves again, and they were
touching so, aligning...aligned, rubbing sinfully, and the ocean
washed to their thighs, and Will felt the cool of her and the warmth
of Jack, the utter heat of him....

Back arched...eyes rolled back...pressed so hard into Jack again and
again, both pulsing and oh, the tide, Jack was so like the
tide...breath caught in his throat and ... oh...yes....

Will collapsed against Jack and the sand, eyes opening to a
particularly sated grin.  Smith was a satisfied murmur in his mind,
but growing in strength. Turner let go with a twinge of regret, and
as he fell away, whispered, "Who am I?"

Jack, being Jack, answered the question differently.

"Who do ye wish to be?"


*****
Part 2 of 8: What's Up, Doc?
* * *

"They held on longer this time."

"Yeah," Jack said, meditatively.

"And Will was...different. Something disturbed him. I have the
weirdest feeling - like he's keeping something back, you know?
Something about hanging on like he did. Which I had no problem with,
mind you."

"Well, sure. Every time he takes the lead, you're having sex."

"Funny. That's what he said." Will waited until Jack had replaced the
surfboard in its garage rack, then said, "Will Turner was a pirate. I
swear I remember that."

"Pirate and blacksmith, yeah, by turns."

"I thought pirates didn't *have* existential angst."

"Bootstrap's boy broke a great many rules," Jack replied, "even if
they were mostly guidelines, really." A bit of Sparrow again. Will
loved that. And also...//Bootstrap...I have *got* to call my Dad this
week...// That, Will decided, was going to be a surprise.

Will cycled through the shower first, so when Liz arrived, he was
lounging in sweats. Jack, on the other hand, was wearing one towel
and whisking water from his hair with another. Will let him answer
the door, just to hear Liz' long, low wolf whistle.  "Hey, Lizzie,"
he called from the couch.

"Will, I swear to God..."

"A thousand pardons, Miss Swann..."

"I can't win, can I?"

"Nope."

"So, not that I'm complaining, mind you," Jack said, finger-combing
damp locks, "but it's Friday night. Why aren't you out with your
fianc�e instead of staring at half-naked, and I might add better-
looking, men?"

"First of all, Jack, your opinion of yourself knows no bounds, which
surprises me not at all, but does not make it at all in fact
accurate." This delivered in Elizabeth's smooth tones. "And to answer
your question," Liz sighed, "Horatio Hornblower marathon. He's never
even gonna know I'm gone."

"Has he...?"

"Nope. Nothing. And I think I'd be the first to know. Somewhere in my
hot Texas honey is a gallant British commodore, but wherever he
is..." She smirked, "It's not where you found your pirates, that's
for sure." She hefted a white paper bag. "So, where are all the
brochures and such? I brought baked goods."

"Kitchen. We were..."

A bang and a scuffling noise interrupted them. "Bloody squirrels, I
*will* eat the next one..." Jack swore, running for the kitchen. The
three entered the room in just enough time to catch the switch of a
dark tail-tip at the window, and nothing more.

"Will, do you think you could start practicing with swords again? I'm
really wantin' to see squirrel on a skewer..."

"Yeah, but do you want to be scraping squirrel guts off the wall?"

"Figured that'd be the cabin boy's job..."

"I was *not* your damn cabin boy...Liz, tell him something?"

"Oh, I'm pleading amnesia and staying out of this one."  She
sighed. "Damn thing was running around on the table, wasn't it?"

"Looks like. It shuffled all the books and pamphlets around, too."
Will reached down and picked up the book he'd leafed through that
morning. "Here, sit down and put those out and I'll show you
something."

"I'm leaving that straight line alone, so to speak," Liz said,
spreading the pastries out on a plate and joining them at the
table. "So..."

Will lifted something chocolate in one hand and opened the book with
the other. "See? Triggers. Different situations for different people.
I'm betting it's a lot more likely with everyone ending up together
like we did. So, your trigger was the song, or you and Jack singing
it. Ours was..."

"You're blushing again. That's cute."

"Anyway, I have no clue what Greg's would be."

"I could let him lasso my neck," Jack said, "but if the moment runs
away with him, you might be short an auditor."

"And while I'm sure Bob from Finance would do the dance of joy, I'd
be a little put out." She smiled. "I don't think Greg would actually
kill you, but--"

"Oh, *that's* comforting..."

"--I agree, might be best not to tempt fate."

"So glad we agree."

"Hunh. Don't remember this one - must be one of Amy's..." Liz lifted
a brochure from atop the stack. "...Licensed Hypnotherapist...Past-
life Regression..."

"Let me see..." Jack said, whisking it away. "Oh, look - she takes
walk-ins on Saturdays." He executed a quick bobbing head-turn and
grinned at Will. "Let's do it!"

"Well...okay. Sure." 

"Liz? D'ye want to come?"

"I'm afraid I must decline," she replied, just a hint of Elizabeth
answering the Captain. "Dragging Greg to Ikea, and then jump school -
apparently I need some training even if I'm going tandem."

Jack looked at her just a bit too seriously. "Skydiving or furniture
shopping with Norrington. Honestly, I can't say which prospect
frightens me more."

* * *

The next morning, Jack seated Will behind him on his bike and the two
headed into the city proper, a former pirate attempting to keep his
eyes on the road with the warmth of a former pirate/blacksmith
pressing into his back. An unprepossessing three-story building
matched the brochure's address. The two, helmets in hand, ascended
the outdoor staircase, letting themselves in the open office door.
The sign read "Celia Schuyler," followed by the usual alphabet soup.

A woman met them three feet in, all soft blue layers and mid-length
brown hair. She had captivating grey eyes, Jack noticed, and thought
that must come in handy, considering her profession.

"You _must_ be thirsty," Dr. Schuyler said, "You wait here. I'll get
you something to drink."  She was back shortly with three glasses of
juice. Taking one, she handed the other two to Will and Jack. They
introduced themselves, with Jack as the specified client, Will to
observe. A check changed hands and Jack settled into a comfortable
chair.

"Now, what brings you here? The past life regression is most of my
clientele these days...is it that?"

"Well, yeah," Jack said. "Pretty much."

"So what are your symptoms? Vivid dreams? Incidents of particularly
strong d�j� vu?" At Jack's nod, she continued. "What tends to bring
this on?" Jack glanced at Will, and sure enough the kid was blushing
again. "Oh...ah...never mind, then..." She gathered herself and went
on. "Now, I will tell you up front that there are no guarantees.
Sometimes d�j� vu is just a feeling, and sometimes it's an authentic
reminiscence of a previous existence on this plane.  Also, don't
expect to recall having been Marc Antony or Cleopatra - that sort of
thing is very rare. Most folk were servants or slaves, if you go back
far enough."

Dr. Schuyler leaned forward, very earnest now. "You also need to be
careful - if _you don't trust yourself,_ things may be difficult for
you. By this I mean _you may not trust your prior self._"

Jack thought there might have been something odd about her voice just
then. Perhaps she was starting already - the rhythm was lulling.  "So
listen to your heart," she continued. "And if _you're_ at all
_uneasy_, at any point, please let me know."

"Now, I want you to breathe slowly, in and out, and focus on my
voice, the sound of it, how the words form, and breathe again,
good..."

Jack did feel relaxed, he noticed, although he felt the oddest rising
paranoia, a feeling that he should listen to her words themselves, to
lessen the effect of her, but it was the effect he wanted, wasn't it?

He murmured a word...he'd responded to something, he wasn't sure
what...

"Good...now go back...where are you now?..."

"Good...farther back...how old are you?..."

Odd clarity, flashes of college and *that* professor, high school,
grade school...

"Back...back..."

Balking, he was, and it was understandable, for she had entirely too
much control now, far too much of a hold on his state of mind, and he
could hardly countenance it...

"Back..."

Back, forth, and what was direction, anyway, but a tool with which to
confuse one's enemies?

His eyes snapped open.

"Who are you?" Dr. Schuyler asked.

"Same person I was when I walked in here, I'm afraid," Jack
replied. "Jack Byrd, IRS. Your pain, our gain."

"And awake, too." The therapist sighed. "Well, I did warn you that
some folk aren't the best subjects. Look, it may just be me. I have a
few recommendations, if you're ever interested in giving it another
go. My card?"

"Thanks. Hey, Will, let's...Will?"

Apparently, Will had been drowsing. He snapped awake in a second,
though. "Wha? Oh. Sorry." He turned a sweetly apologetic look on Dr.
Schuyler. "You have a very relaxing voice."

She shrugged. "It's my job."

Following some pleasantries, they descended the stairs. As they
neared Jack's bike, Will's hand caught Jack's shoulder, turning the
man to face him.

Jack watched the smile steal across Will's features. "You cannot fool
me, *Captain* Jack Sparrow."

"Well then, how did y' figure it out?" And oh, the lad was a sight
for sore eyes and heart and hands...especially hands, though with
sore hands it would be hard to do everything he'd wish to, though
again they might both be sore once he was done.

"She could not tell, not having known us, but Byrd had a great deal
of your movement in him, even before.  Your walk, your voice, your
manner have been far too flat for the past several minutes. You have
been more Byrd than Byrd ever was."

"And yer accent is slipping, me own William. Why, pray tell, did y'
not reveal yourself to the lass who makes such as us her life's work?"

"Well, I never was as good an actor as yourself, and as to the
second..." oh, there was the sweet, tolerant smile that made the world
spin just a bit more than it should, which was a good bit
already... "I was following your lead, my Captain, as usual."

"I'll let that one pass, as I recall it rare y' actually listening to
me...but it appears the wench has given us a few gifts. Methinks we
ought to have some fun while they last."

"And how does Byrd feel about all of this?" Will asked, tilting his
head.

"Wholeheartedly endorses it, lad - he is a man after me own black
heart. And Smith?"

"...I think he's still asleep." Jack snorted, then waited for it.  "A
*few* gifts?"

"Well, Celia there did have a few pretty shiny things lying about to
catch a man's attention. It is after all her job."

"How long have you been back? Ten minutes?!"  Will paused, then spoke
as Jack was opening his mouth. "I know... I know.... Pirate."

"Quick study, still. Now, let's head back to the house, shall we? I'd
rather like to change me attire, and we need to get you out of those
wet clothes."

*Captain* Jack Sparrow rather thought Will's expression changed from
confused to apprehensive right about the time his eyes fell on the
water bottle Jack Byrd always kept with his bike.


*****
Part 3 of 8 : Entirely Too D*sney.
* * *

That first mind-blowing night of sex in Will's apartment when Turner
and Sparrow had first come aware again had seen them making it as far
as the couch. With the pirate and his blacksmith truly the dominant
personalities, they were lucky they made it past the welcome mat.

Jack ripped off his helmet - he'd found that the helmet visor worked
better than kohl in keeping the glare out of his eyes, which as usual
he couldn't seem to adjust quite properly...and he hadn't even had
any rum...which had to be remedied...*later...* - for now, he was
utterly sent by Will completely driven by his Will's will, as it
were. Will, who was tackling zippers with his teeth again...Jack
thought he deserved a medal for his iron control in keeping still,
that the zippers didn't unzip anything that wasn't meant to be caught
between teeth, or steel ones, anyway.

Something less pliant about the lad, too, which lit fires in very
interesting places, and as they lost clothing they wrestled for
dominance.  Not that Jack didn't know that it was his for the taking
should he desire, whether by demand or guile, guile being far more
fun. The two were down to unzipped pants when he tackled the lad and
reached beneath the lad's tackle, pressing in strategic places.  The
lovely boy went boneless, except, again, for strategic places.

"Aaah...oh, oh GOD Jack..."

"Make up your mind, as I'm about to do positively unholy things..."
He followed that with a slow lick from collarbone to jaw, enjoying
the lad's shiver.

"Ss... promises... oh!" Jack rolled them across the rug, enjoying the
burn. He landed atop his Will, who was facedown and trying not to
writhe. Always such fun to break through those reserves...time to be
forceful. Will's pants came suddenly down to confine only his ankles,
and Jack's came off. Some lotion, from behind somewhere, a finger
prepared, plunging, crooking slightly...

"Mmmm.... ah, Jack..."

"You've made your choice, then. Well done."

Teeth and tongue applied to the lad's spine, just *so,* as his second
finger stroked, tickled, pressed within to be met by a backward
thrust or three. 

"Oh, damnation, Jack..." And the smile in Turner's voice said he was
going along with the theme. Jack thought it was past time to show him
how much he approved. He clasped the man to him as he withdrew, and
slowly, so slowly positioned, waiting for a groan, a whimper.  When
the latter came, he bit the scruff of Will's neck and growled as he
pressed within.

Jack focused on the beautiful curve of Will's back... as though that
would keep things from rushing to a conclusion? No, but then Jack was
having a difficult time remembering why he'd thought that a good idea
as Will rocked back against him, and apparently forth into the rug.
So, a competition? Well, all right, as Jack's hips seemed to be
running away with him of a sudden. Wonderful heat and chills and
sensations he couldn't name shot through him, building... Everything
was oh, so very bright, and he might almost have been back on the sea
again... Will gave a long, wordless, shuddering moan and it utterly
undid him; Jack felt everything there was to feel in an instant, then
quite possibly nothing at all for a little while.

The world faded back in around the lovely man panting, facedown,
beneath him.  "Sorry about the rug..." Will murmured, yawning, and
then, "I think I may be sorry about the rug in a few minutes."

"Well, this day and age has wonderful remedies...I recommend the
rum." So saying, Jack disengaged, helping Will up at least as far as
his knees and scooping the bottle from its current rest by
Byrd's... his... fireplace. He took a long pull, then handed it to
Will, who did likewise and passed it back. Then, to Will's wondering
stare, he set it aside.

"What? I'll be the first to admit a love of sloth, laziness, and all
assorted variations on that deadly sin, but this modern world has
wonders that I'd dearly love to experience first-hand. Still, be a
love and shower first, mm?"

Will rolled his eyes, and Jack realized he missed even that, although
he thought he might be seeing a lot of it in short order. As Turner
headed to the bathroom, Jack sank back on his haunches and reached
for the rum again.

* * *

By the time a delectably damp Will emerged in light khaki cargo pants
and a long-sleeved grey shirt emblazoned with a serpentine dragon,
Jack had his host's computer up and humming.  "Not where I left you,"
Will observed, leaning in to peer over his shoulder.

"Pity any really profitable tax fraud takes time," Jack said idly.

"So what illegalities *are* you pursuing?"

"Y'know me too well," Jack replied as Will clicked through the
screens.

"Monkey Island 5...Jack, is all this software you're downloading..."

"Pirated?" Jack smirked. "Who, me?"

"I know, I know, ask an incredibly stupid question..."

"I'll have you know as well that at least one of these screens is
utterly innocuous..."

"I think I've found it..." And Will just stared. Jack understood the
impulse. The Web page described a particular Caribbean island resort.

"Visit La Isla de Muerta, a Westin resort...see caves in which,
legend tells, a pirate band hid cursed treasure..." Will trailed off,
dumbfounded, then..."Ah, Jack - then where's the..."

"Well, me will - that is to say, the instructions I left behind me,
not yourself - did specify the cursed thing be dumped in the deepest
bit of sea anyone could find, so hopefully, that's where. As to the
rest of it? That is a question, isn't it?" He let the contemplative
mood remain until he was done showering, then appreciated Will's
long, warm gazes as he dressed.

First on...Jack's most flattering black jeans. A tight black
undershirt came next - logoed Calvin Klein, followed by a white long-
sleeved shirt of the same make, left unbuttoned. Attractive,
simple...perhaps a bit too simple...he rifled the other Jack's
effects, coming up with several thin gold chains and a gold weave
belt. Alas, no earrings...he thumbed virgin ears and decided that
would have to be remedied.

Stepping back, he presented himself with a two-handed flourish, and
had the satisfaction of watching Will's gaze go from warm to
smoldering. The pirate smith stepped forward, all but pinning his
captain against the bedroom wall.

"You like it, then."

"I do."

"We may never leave the house."

"And that's bad?"

* * *

Half an hour later, they left the house, Jack with his usual sway, if
not for the usual reasons. On his way out the door, he grabbed a
distressed brown leather jacket and swung it around his shoulders. He
seated himself on the bike, Will falling in behind him, the lad's
arms snaking around under the coat.  "I've decided, I like
motorcycles," Will murmured in his ear. Jack grinned a crooked grin
as he slid on his helmet.  As he gunned the motor, he felt Byrd
whisper...

//...this is going to be fun...but try not to do anything that'll get
me killed or fired...//

//...ah, Jack...// he replied, //...you're forgetting one very
important thing...//

//...no, you know, I'm really not...//

//...fair enough...//

Eventually they stopped for gas and Will asked him, "Jack, why are we
heading inland? I thought for sure you'd head toward the sea."

"Well, Will, the sea, she'll always be there. We have an
understanding. This was the other Jack's suggestion, actually, where
we're going now."  Sparrow shrugged. "He says it's the happiest place
on Earth..."

* * *

When the two neared a certain Anaheim attraction, Will went for his
wallet, and Jack laid a hand on his arm. "We won't need to spend a
cent."

"Why is that, exactly?"

An easy smile and a flicker of the eyelids guaranteed to make the lad
even more nervous...oh this *was* fun...Jack brandished a page from
the local newspaper and said, "Trust me."  And now Will's eyebrows
were raised...very good.  "Just come on."

The two stopped by Downtown D*sney, where Jack made a purchase that
he kept in a large, opaque plastic bag. When the park itself
appeared, they did not go in the front, but took a twisting back
entrance, Jack having a brief word or two with the guard. In a door
they went, to a small lobby, and were met by a man of average height
and build. Jack began by presenting his card.

"Jack Byrd, IRS." The man stiffened and Jack grinned. The other man
returned the smile hesitantly.

"Relax," Jack continued. "I'm moonlighting. This is Human Resources,
right?"

"Right..."

Jack then unrolled the paper, pointing to a circled item. "Says here
you're moving away from a full costume for Captain Hook, and you're
auditioning cast members..." Reaching into his bag, he removed two
plastic swords. He tossed one to William, who caught it, only
slightly incredulous. "Will? Avast. Oh, wait," Jack said, tossing the
sword to his other hand and folding the other arm. "One hand behind
me back, of course."

Heads popped up above cubicles to the weird hollow thunking, and
stayed up, staring, watching the men dance with unquestionable skill
and grace. At certain points, it was nearly erotic. "Footwork..."Jack
murmured, and the pace quickened. Jaws dropped.

When they paused, barely breathing hard, the office erupted in
applause.  "That," the man who'd met them said, "was completely
insane!"

"I get that a lot."

"You're frigging amazing - I even think that accent you did could
work, and you could pull off the look, no problem."

"You don't say."

"There's only one problem, though... I'm not hiring for Hook - that
guy's in tomorrow. See, it's even in the ad - Sunday through
Thursday."

Slump to the shoulders, instant wounded gaze. Sigh. "Oh. Really?"

"Yeah." The man put a comforting arm around Jack's shoulders. "But
look, I'll talk to him. You ought to come back. Meantime, why don't
you and your friend have a day at the park, on us. Walk around, see
what you think about working here. I'm assuming your job is more 9-5,
so you'd be looking at weekends, right?"

* * *

"You really are a genius. And utterly mad."

"Amazing, isn't it?"

"That's one word for it." But Will couldn't hide the bounce in his
step from Jack, who was willing to bet Will's other half knew this
place well, too. "It's a pity, you know."

"That I didn't get hired on?"

"No...that they won't remember this as the day they *almost* hired
*Captain* Jack Sparrow."

"You know, whelp, I'd forgotten how irritating your little
impressions could be."

"I think you mispronounced 'accurate,' Captain."

* * *

It was still morning at the park, if nominally, so the two went
easily through the fastest rides, multiple times - and the teacups.
Jack did love the teacups. But by and by the pirate began to notice
something, and it gnawed at him. Will was having so much fun that he
held his tongue as long as possible, but eventually....

"Ah, Will...this is great fun and I can see why me other half is so
fond of it, but we have to leave."

"Why!?" Oh those eyes - as mournful as his best, and quite possibly
as artificial - that was the hell of it with Will; he projected
earnestness, whether he was in earnest or not.

"Well, y'see..." He sighed. "There's no alcohol. *Anywhere.*"

"That just isn't so." Jack's eyes widened hopefully. "Jack, I can't
believe that you knew enough to sneak us in via the back lot, but you
didn't know about the secret club in New Orleans Square."

"Interesting. Continue..."

"It's called Club 33...." Will searched his present self's drowsing
mind. "It's next to the Haunted Mansion. You have to know it's there,
and you have to have a membership, but they do have a bar." He
smiled. "And Royal Inc. has a membership. Thanks to Liz, I'm on the
list."

"Oh, bless ye."

They came to the small, almost hidden door along the alleyway and
were buzzed in, Will flashing his I.D. Jack took the stairs two at a
time.

"Rum and coke, please."

The waiter looked at him. "I hear you. Kids driving you nuts?"

Jack slid a grin Will's way. "Oh, you have no idea."

Will rolled his eyes. "Enjoy yourself. I'm off to Splash Mountain,
back in an hour."

Sipping his rum and coke, a taste of present-day Jack's he found
himself thoroughly approving even if it did dilute the rum, Jack
meandered to the window, looking out on an art gallery and a rose
garden.

"I'm surprised there's not a ride there too."

"There was going to be, I think," the waiter put in. "I guess they
just never thought of anything that fit."

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Jack drew his plastic sword.  "It's
New Orleans Square! There ought to be pirates!"

"Um, yeah. Obvious."  The waiter paused. "Y'know, the Captain Hook
auditions are tomorrow."

"So I've been told."

Even here, Jack was only able to get two drinks, and when the rum was
gone, so was he.  Still, of all the places to await Will's return,
New Orleans Square was likely the best. At least, it had the most
expensive merchandise. Drawing on modern Jack's near-supernatural
ability to find video and audio pickups, the good but very bad
captain lightened the shops of select bright and shiny objects.

The twenty-four karat Captain Hook charm he kept for himself. The
Tinkerbell, he rather thought he'd give to Elizabeth. The Peter Pan,
of course, would go to Will, which was so wrong on so many levels
that Jack couldn't stop smiling.

Still, no rum was no rum, and as soon as Will returned, they were out
the gate.

* * *

"Where to now?" Will asked, leaning against him.

"Well, I thought we'd head somewhere that I can get a drink or three,
and get something done that me better half's been neglecting."

"So that means..."

"Off to the mall, and ye'll know better when we get there."

"I'm afraid I know better now, but I'm still going."


*****
Part 4 of 8: Treasure
* * *

When they got there, Jack sighed as he slid off the bicycle, and
stretched in the noonday sun, watching Will do the same. "Feels good,
doesn't it? Just th' sun on your face..."

This earned him a sharp look from Will.  "What?" he said.

"...it's nothing." Will gave him a soft smile. "Let's go."

The two wandered into a Red Robin, "No Sparrow, but close enough,"
and Jack sampled two or three of the very interesting things they did
with rum in that establishment. The daiquiris, especially, intrigued
him, and he decided that while he'd had doubts, the modern practice
of adding so many things to your rum wasn't half bad at all. After
all, it made it last longer, lingering on the lips...and speaking of
such...He leaned over and kissed Will soundly, watched the man's eyes
flutter closed. The bartender hooted and one of the barmaids clapped.
On the other hand, a small group of patrons in the corner leveled
hateful glares, and one of them even snarled.

Will's gaze to Jack was the same silent communication they'd always
had, for now calm, inquiring. Trouble? Jack just raised his eyebrows.
Not hardly.

Then he met the eyes of everyone at that corner table, and held their
gazes all at once. He let the modern veneer of civilization fall away
completely, until all that was left was the pirate. Then he let all
leave his pirate's eyes save the killer that truly did lurk within
Jack Sparrow. No humor nor smile about him anywhere now, though
madness there most definitely was. Above all, however, he was Death.

A fork dropped, and at that metal sound, the corner booth emptied
very quickly.

"Well, how 'bout that," Jack slurred.  "It worked." He turned back to
the bar, where the bartender regarded him with something like
awe. "Now, can I try...let's see...a Nuclear Iced Tea? Provided, of
course, that there's rum in it."

"Oh yeah, there's rum," the bartender replied. "And since that was
the most fun I've had all week, it's on the house."

* * *

With Jack well lubricated and the world beginning to move properly
and pleasantly again, they meandered toward a jewelry store. Will,
however, found a delay outside a shop whose window advertised the
best in ancient arms.  Jack followed as the lad stopped to watch and
listen.

A salesman held a blade aloft before a patron, a tall woman with
short black hair.  Jack caught snatches of conversation..."the finest
Toledo steel...folded sixty times by the finest craftsmen...can't let
it go for less than..."

Will's hands were twitching, and he was biting his lip.  Jack slid an
arm about his shoulder and murmured in his ear, "Oh, me lad, I can
see it's killin' ye. What're you waiting for?"

And that was all Will needed. He ambled into the store, Jack
following behind. Will leaned against the counter, next to the
salesman. "Pardon me."

"If you wouldn't mind waiting, I'm afraid we're in the middle of a
sale."

"What you're in the middle of, *I'm* afraid, is robbery, something
with which I assure you I have more than a passing familiarity. 
Milady, I know swords, and I need only look at this one to tell you
that it's not worth a tenth of what this man is charging."

"Really? I..."

"Now, look, I'm just..."

It really was a joy to watch Will work, Jack decided, as the younger
man verbally dissected the weapon with all his considerable expertise.

"...so, you see, if this blade was folded more times than your
average paper airplane, I would be exceedingly shocked."

"...If a comparably-priced sword *looked* at this one in a
threatening manner, I am fairly certain that it would shatter. You
can plainly tell that..."

"...and if you can verify to me that this sword has been any nearer
Toledo, Spain than Toledo, Ohio, I will eat it!"

The woman was giggling openly by now, and the salesman was an
interesting shade of shell pink. "Look, okay, you made your point,"
he growled. He withdrew something thin, pointed, and very shiny from
a canister on his desk. "Now, this is a letter opener. It's not the
finest anything, but it's pretty, gold with a pearl handle, and it's
all yours if you promise to leave my store and Never. Come. Back."

"Gold, you say?" Jack put in. "Can I have one?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." He pulled out another and it vanished. He
blinked. Jack flipped it across his fingers and it vanished again.
The salesman blinked again and turned back to Will.

"Now. Leave? Never come back?"

Will smiled pleasantly. "We have an accord." He turned and followed
Jack to the exit.

"Hey, can I have one too?" the woman asked.

"Oh, for crying out loud!"

"Couldn't have done better meself," Jack murmured as they stepped
through the door.

"Thanks, I think."

* * *

On their way out, they paused at a mall directory to find that Jack's
preferred destination was directly above them. "It's just up the
excavator. Enervator? Incinerator? Calculat...no, that's not it...ah
hell. Thing that goes up." He shot Will a look. "Y'weren't much help,
there."

"I can never tell when you're just doing it for effect."  Will
paused.  "And, escalator."

"Now he tells me."

Utilizing said conveyance, they were there in short order. The
jewelry store was roomy, with many glass cases and two piercing
booths. It was toward one of the latter that Jack sashayed. The booth
he chose was operated by a svelte girl with cropped red hair and
piercings lining the entire edge of one ear, as well as adorning her
nose and eyebrow.

"Jack," Will murmured, "are you *sure?*"

"Well, they do say never go to a bald barber, and I'm fairly certain
the same principle applies."

"Not what I meant." Will looked at him seriously. "You aren't the
only one that's going to be living with this."

"I told ye, Will. He's been meaning to get around to this for ages.
He knew what was missing from his person, even if he didn't know the
details. I'm sparing him discomfort, especially since I've got a
decent start on the day's drinking, finally."

"...all right."

"So glad ye approve."

Jack grabbed the metal armrest on the far side of the chair, swinging
himself up and over the near to land squarely in the seat. The
redhead eyed him with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

"Both ears, love. At least, for starters." He winked.

"You got it, handsome." Her voice was a pleasant alto. "Stud?"

"Well I don't like to flatter meself, but...ah." He ran a hand over
the selection of metal beads on black velvet, choosing one. Gold,
naturally.

"Excellent. Let's get busy." She took his chin in one hand and
swabbed his earlobe with something cold. Then she sprayed on
something that made it even colder, practically numb. When she
applied the gun to his ear, he felt barely a pinch.

"That's *it?*"

"You men are such babies."

"Oh," he purred, "I'm no babe, lass."

"Beg to differ on the babe factor," she replied, showing just a bit
of pierced tongue in her smile. Swab, spray, pinch...done. "Now,
treat it with alcohol twice a day to prevent..."

The piercing gun dropped from her hands.

"Ah... prevent what, exactly?"

"Oh my god... robbery..."

"Well, I fail to see how that'll help, but... oh. Right."

As a matter of fact, a masked man was holding a gun on a cashier
while another was taking a saleswoman around to the bigger cases,
weapon held at her neck. A third trained his weapon on a group of
customers. Will was not included, which meant only one thing. The lad
was obviously preparing to do something incredibly stupid. Again.

A slow grin spread across his face and his eyes gleamed. It felt like
Christmas come early.

* * *

He should have *known,* dammit.

When the drunk-ass queer...no, that wasn't fair. Guy'd done right by
him in the end.  When the drunk-ass...gay guy...had sidled up to T.J.
and put an arm around his shoulders, he should have known that things
were going to go straight to hell.

"Y'know, you're going about this all wrong."

"What? Didn't I accessorize properly?" He gestured with his gun. "And
by the way, get over there with the other customers and shut up. I
will shoot you."

"Now, I know ye don't want t' shoot anyone - y'obviously planned th'
whole thing so's you'd be missed by mall security, and a
gunshot...well, y'can't get much more obvious, can ye?"

"Right. On the other hand, this gun isn't just for decoration. Unless
you're feeling stupid," and for some reason, this made the guy smile
wider, which was when he *really* should have known, "get over there.
Now!"

"But the thing is, you're holding the gun wrong. Nobody *really*
holds a gun sideways outside the movies. It's just gonna jam, y'see,
you really ought to hold it like ..."

And just like that, the man had T.J.'s gun and was pointing it at his
head. "...this."

That was about when Rick decided to cut his losses. He began to edge
to the door. Let Nico get into a John Woo standoff, gun trained on
the weirdo while said Calvin Klein model had his trained on T.J..
Hell with it. Rick had the loot and the boys could look him up in ten
to fifteen.

"And what'd you get out of shootin' me at this point? Seein' as your
friend there is making off with all your ill-gotten gains, murder
without any gain attached would be *incredibly stupid.*"

So like a moron, Nico turned to look, and that was when what Rick
assumed was a letter-opener embedded itself in his gun hand. Nico
screamed and dropped his gun, folding over his hand like a punk-ass
bitch, and Rick figured the best course of action would be to chuck
his own gun into his bag and run for the car. If the car was still
there.

Heading out into the mall proper, he heard footsteps behind him,
wondering who'd be dumb enough to chase a man they knew was armed,
and then deciding he was pretty sure he knew. Of course, like another
moron, he couldn't help looking back as he ran down the escalator,
only to find a kid in a grey shirt on his heels. This meant,
naturally, that he wasn't looking where he was going.

So when Calvin Klein swung out on a steel construction cable, he
caught Rick with two feet in his chest and landed with an elbow at
his neck.

Rick could only beg, something he'd never been too proud to
do. "C'mon, man. Lemme get out of here. It's my third strike! They're
gonna throw away the key."

And he listened, thank God.  "...All right, then. Y'were just keepin'
to the code, after all. I can't stand to see a man spend the rest of
his days in a cage. Look, grab a handful of your swag and get out of
here. Give me a good shove, and I'll say y'overpowered me. Least I
can do for one o' the brethren."

"Thanks, but you know, I'm really not that w-" Rick felt a lessening
of the pressure at his neck. "Oh, the hell with it!" He gave Calvin a
huge shove, grabbed a miscellaneous assortment of jewelry, and took
off.

Later, at home watching the news, he spat out his beer when he read
the caption beneath the man's picture. 

"Holy...the I.R.S.!?"  When his girlfriend came over and thumped him
on the back, he sputtered a moment and then said,
consideringly, "Well, momma always said they'd catch up to me
someday."

* * *

"You let him get away," Will pointed out, matter-of-fact.

"Of course, love.  Someone had to get away, and I liked him. Reminded
me of me, a little. And anyway, Byrd asked I not get him arrested.
Well, killed or fired really, but close enough. So there had to be
someone to blame for *all* what went missin', savvy?"  They meandered
back upstairs to where mall security had finally arrived on the scene.

"Aye. Pretty much what I thought, at any rate."

"No lacking for wit, me Will. Nor aim."

"They're going to keep my letter-opener as evidence, though."

"Y'can have me own. I've already been well-compensated."

The two wandered back into the store, where security had a hold of
the other two culprits, and had removed their weapons from the
cashier and piercing specialist who'd taken them up and trained them
on the crooks. The svelte redhead was grinning. "My hero," she said
to Jack.

Still, she seemed a bit shocked when he pulled her into a deep,
dipping kiss. Not so surprised that her eyes didn't roll back for a
second there, he noticed with a satisfied smile into her mouth.

When they broke apart, she said "But, I thought you were..." Her
hands swiveled on her wrist in fair imitation of his habitual
gestures.

"What I am, love, is flexible. *Very* flexible, if ye take my
meaning." Palming one of Byrd's business cards, he tucked it into her
jeans pocket. "Call me."

"I might just," she replied. "Maybe you'll let me punch holes in some
more interesting places."

"Ah, on second thought..."

* * *

"So, where to now?" Will chewed on a gigantic cinnamon roll.

"I think me ocean's waited long enough," Jack replied, teeth tearing
at a pretzel. "Time for some piracy, and then debauchery, or vice
versa the vices." He swallowed, then waited until Will took another
bite. Grabbing the lad's head, he pulled him in for a long kiss,
swiping the cinnamon roll for his own.

"Mmf-was eating!"

"Obviously. And in this case, I wanted to be eating what ye were
eating, if that's what's eating you." He grinned. "Sweet. I liked
that." Light caught in his dilated eyes as he watched his
William. "Aren't they amazing? The tastes, sights, and sounds of this
world, after sleeping so long? 'Tis a bit hard and flat, true, but ye
can feel the land straining beneath her fine new clothes. And the
sea..." Jack stared directly at the sun as it fell so gradually
through the sky. "The sea is the same as ever."

Sometime during this soliquily, Will's eyes had taken on a haunted
look. It'd do no good to call the lad on it again, Jack knew, as he'd
just deny it. When the boy was ready, he'd talk. Jack had a vague
memory that he'd once won him with uncommon patience, and he'd needed
the same in his dealings with Will ever since.

Of course, when he pulled himself out of his own contemplations, the
man had swiped his pretzel and finished it. Jack eyed his empty hand
with eyes gone large and sad. Will shrugged and smiled, and inwardly
Jack brightened to see his good humor return.

"What can I say but that you taught me well. Or ill, as the case may
be."

"So for well or ill, or hopefully both, let's get going." Back on the
bike with a hop, he gunned the motor 'till he felt arms tighten 'round
his chest, the mere squeal of tires and a bit of rubber left in his
wake.


*****
Part 5 of 8: Gone

Disclaimers, yadda yadda, in Part 0. Added warning here on out for
bad language.
* * *

Not much later, both sat in a seaside hotel bar, enjoying afternoon
cocktails. Will was letting himself get just a bit tipsy, Jack
observed happily. He recalled Will getting truly drunk to be rare,
the boy always meaning to be Jack's own sober complement, and anyway
for some reason those Turner wits appeared to work better dry,
something Jack had never quite been able to figure. Still, with just
a little lubrication, it was easier to talk young William into Jack's
idea of fun.

Thus, while appearing merely two men in love, appreciating large
seafront bay windows and a basket of fried shellfish, they cased the
hotel's complement of cigarette boats meant for showing the tourists
some speed. Then, arm in arm, they strolled along the docks,
eventually disappearing from view. No one connected them to the boat
that slipped its lines and began to drift ever so slowly away. No one
noticed that boat much at all, in fact, 'till its motor gunned and it
took off like a rocket.

Nobody pursued it, either. They were hotel security, not cops, and
not up for any sort of chase. Anyway, that was what the homing device
was for.

* * *

Jack let go a wild whoop as he sped across the water.
Incredible...this was incredible, amazing...such speed and it was
even better with the lad clinging to him for dear life.

"Jack! Are you sure you know how to steer this thing!?"

"Well, not exactly..."

"So it's Byrd, then?"

"Well, not exactly..."

"What!?"

"Just havin' some fun with ye. It's not at all hard to figure. Now, I
know a little place..." Drawn from Byrd's memories of surfing all up
and down this coast, of course, though said worthy was snoozing again
in the back of Jack's mind.  A cove and a cave, small, barely room
for the boat and to stand. They cruised in far too quickly and
stopped just short of colliding with a jagged rock.

Jack stood and felt everything reel just perfectly. He corrected
himself right into Will, who was trying to stand as well, and brought
him to land on his knees. Blood sang in his ears. His heart throbbed
in sympathy with other places dear to it.

He saw his own intent, serious gaze in the beautiful boy's eyes and
smiled, knowing the grin for the predator's leer it was. "Jack, is
everything all...mmMmph!" A handful of breaths taken together and
those eyes slid out of focus. "...suppose that's a yes..." Will
murmured, then actually squeaked as Jack tackled him and bore him
down.

Tongue met tongue, slid, pulled, sucked in, tasted sea salt drawn
from spray-stung lips. He took the time to catch a lip in his teeth
and pause, near motionless, his eyes wide with exaggerated
innocence.  Wait for it...wait for it...Will's eyes filled with
exasperation and need in equal measure. Perfect. Now, soon, yes...a
quick violent motion and the younger man was on top and unzipping his
jeans for him. Lovely. He assisted, shimmying out of the overshirt,
beginning to pull the black t-shirt off. Will caught his wrists.

"Leave it on."

Jack smiled, shrugged, and relaxed against the hull. Who was he to
question, save the lad's captain, but just so..."ship is yours,
mate," he murmured.

"Mm? Ah..." and Will took the cue, undoing and removing loose khaki
pants. The grey shirt stayed on, too. Will's warmth on his front, the
cold boat against his behind...the sensation made him squirm and his
hips twitched just a bit. Jack shivered, and it seemed that Will
liked that a great deal, as he claimed Jack's mouth in another
searching kiss.

"Do that again," the lad whispered in his ear, and then blew softly.
Jack shuddered obligingly, giving his whole body to the tremor. In
his mind, Byrd murmured sleepily //...yes, oh...// and subsided. 
Then Will was at his neck. Teeth, tongue, suction on skin and Jack
was being boarded, knees up and wide, one hand below and the other
between. Will had found something in a pocket somewhere, applied it
with one finger, then two, then three, spreading, crooking,
searching 'till Jack could only groan loud and mumble low in a
language he hardly recognized, but thought might be French.

The boat rocked and Jack rocked and shuddered again under his Will's
weight and dexterity. The boy was sweating now, realized it, and the
grey shirt came off. Just a thin layer of cloth between their chests,
and between their hips...nothing. Fingers pulled away, he made a
moaning animal sound then pressed up and back against the length that
of a sudden filled him, impaling himself with his fiercest smile. He
rocked harder, intent on driving his William to utter madness.

Oh, and it was working - Will's eyes unfocused, his hips running away
with him and down into Jack - hot pressure against cold metal...and
then Will came back to himself with a wild grin echoing Jack's own,
and his hips slowed...rolled...*twisted...* oh, Jack had forgotten
that the boy could *do* that, and then he did it again and again
and...oh, hell, who was supposed to be the madman here anyway...all
was sensation and abandon and he was coming, coming hot and hard
against skin and a thin black shirt, moaning at that feeling and at
the moist heat that filled him an instant later.

A panting sigh, and Jack's hands tangled in chestnut curls as the men
took a long, languid taste of one another. With slight concern, Jack
noticed a tear in Will's eye - this phenomenon was rare, a sign of
the world rushing back to the lad after mindless pleasure, and was
seen only when William had a great deal on his mind. Same issue as
earlier, Jack assumed, and pretended he'd not seen it, as the truth
would out in time. Will withdrew, slow bittersweet loss, and Jack
stripped out of the temporarily ruined tee that they might towel off.
It was as he began to lever himself up that he saw the blinking red
light.

"Ah, Will, I daresay me memories of this modern world are clearer in
me mind than the Caribbean of old, but would y' mind confirming what
that is, love?"

Will squinted.  "Homing device." He glanced involuntarily at the cave
mouth. "They LoJacked the boat!"

Jack sighed. "Well, seems only fair. Jack hijacks, they LoJack." He
took an instant to rinse the black tee in saltwater and twist it out,
and then skinned back into the jeans and the white shirt, half-open
over his tanned chest and chains. Will was already dressed and
waiting for him on the rocks when he hopped out of the boat, checking
his jeans pockets for all his ill-gotten gains.

Satisfied, he tipped an imaginary hat to the fast little
lass. "Milady, I'm sorry, but if ye haven't the decency to stay
stolen, it'll never work between us. Farewell." Crouching, they
emerged from the cave and Jack led them up the beach access trail to
the highway. A convertible was parked nearby, top down, the owners
off somewhere surfing, fishing, or the like, and a good thing too.
When the police came by half a minute later, they did not look too
closely at the couple making out in the car save to note with mild
interest that they were both men. They were after a stolen boat, and
these two obviously had another conveyance.

As it turned out, the actual conveyance was a cab from the local
convenience store back to Jack's bike. They slid onto the black and
chrome, and Will turned a questioning look upon him.

"Why," Jack replied, "wenching, of course!"

* * *

A stop at an ATM later, change made by a very helpful bartender, they
were seated at a table near a glossy black runway. Will had a mug of
some dark brew, and Jack was drinking something called a Zombie.
Appropriately named, he thought, and something the late unlamented
Barbossa would appreciate, as after half of it Jack could not feel
his fingertips.

The strumpet who spent the most time about, or atop, their persons
was also glossy and black, with tea-colored braids brushing the small
of her back. Will bought her a drink - not the overpriced champagne
that lurked at every other table, but a mug of beer, which she downed
with a grateful grin.

"I hate champagne," the stripper confided, as Jack stuffed a five in
her waistband, waist being quite relative with regards to the bikini
that was more of a suggestion than an article of clothing. She
rewarded him with a gyration and a teasing pull at her bottoms that
revealed a thong hiding beneath.

"More clothes, lass? Where d'you hide 'em all?"

"You wanna find out, it's all about the tipping, gorgeous." In the
background, AC/DC blared, "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap." "Where you
from, anyway? No, lemme guess - I'm good with accents."

"Ye'll not place this one, love," Jack replied, grinning as a man at
the next table slipped a twenty in the straps of her high heels, and
she made a shooing motion with her hand, not turning to look.

"Wait, handsome, almost got it..." She stretched, did a back-bend
that ended up with her shoe on Will's shoulder. Jack heard him gulp
and his smile widened. "Got it! Bahamas, right?"

Jack stared. "That's...actually very close."

"Told ye, love," she mimicked, near-perfectly. Her leg did an
improbable swing over both their heads and back behind her, tipping
her forward to expose her bosom. Jack placed a twenty in that heaven,
and the bikini bottoms came off.

Jack felt the tenseness in Will's thigh, right up against his. They
*were* very near Will's apartment at this point....Time to leave this
wonderful establishment, but definitely a place to mark. The wench
saw them getting up and sighed theatrically.

"Pity I'm here another three hours. You got a phone number,
beautiful?"

Jack wrapped a twenty about another of Byrd's business cards and hid
it well enough that he had to wait for the bouncer to look
away. "Call me, m'dear."

The stripper chuckled and gave light kisses both to Jack and a
blushing, *very* tense Will. "You got it, baby. And you ask for me
any time. I'm Honey."

"I do wonder if you're as sweet as your name."

"Don't you know by now, cutie?"

"Oh, not yet," he said, licking his lips and watching, satisfied, as
her eyes grew smoky. He tipped his imaginary hat once more. "'Till we
meet again."

* * *

//Oh, wow,// Honey thought, as she watched the couple leave. //Now
that was rare as anything, and damn were they amazing. I'm gonna have
to tell my sisters all about this one.//

She might even be able to top Annie Mae's stories about her hot gay
boss, for once.

* * *

Up the elevator to Will's apartment they shared only light touches
and heated breath, Jack prolonging the boy's agony, alas, but it
would be worth it. Jack fingered the buttons on his shirt, but did
not undo them, all for Will's benefit. Will looked away, fixedly, as
he opened the door. Iron control, but Jack had no lack of confidence
in himself for breaking it. He lifted a lighter from a tray and lit
one candle only, near the black leather couch. Then he turned to his
Will...

Who stretched out an arm and placed it flat against his chest. "Jack,
no."

"No? Really, now? You seem very interested..." Jack stepped closer
and Will's breath hitched, his arm bowed so slightly...then firmed
again and Jack stopped.

"I am. But we cannot."

"Since *when!?*"

Will put his arm down. "Tell me, Jack, what are your plans for
tomorrow?"

"Larceny and debauchery, of course. Pirate, as you recall."

"And the next day?"

"More of the same, I suppose - hadn't really thought that far ahead.
Though there's something about the day after that nags at me a bit."

"Aye." Will's face had that serious set that never meant anything
good. Occasionally, in fact, it meant getting clocked with an oar.

"And?"

"The day after, Will and Jack must be at work."

"I'd have come to that in a bit."

"Perhaps." Will turned, paced away, and back again. "Jack, this is
dangerous. We must call them back, and now."

"Ah, me Will, what's the harm in one more day, in waking in each
others' arms again..."

"Jack, there is too much temptation in this."

"Now, that was always your problem - the best part of temptation's in
the yielding to it..." Jack reached out to brush Will's cheek with
his fingertips. Will's eyes closed and he shivered, sighed. He caught
Jack's hand against his face and ran his fingers across it. Then he
let it go.

"You said it yourself, in that cave. Their memories are clearer than
our own. It would be easy...so easy to live as these men, only
changing small bits to suit - jobs, friends, location..."

"I would not..." And yet, was he in fact certain? He was Captain Jack
Sparrow, and there was very little that he would not do, to get what
he wanted. Though it truly seemed he only wanted one day more...just
the weekend, when no one would miss...

"We must give these borrowed bodies back before we come to like this
too well," Will said softly. "This has to end, Jack, at least for
now. We're enjoying it too much, and they...I don't know that they're
even truly aware. They seem so much farther away than we were."

"And is it wrong, then, to wish for just one more day to enjoy the
feel of you on my skin, the taste of you on my lips, my own lips?"

"There. That is what's wrong. We're losing ourselves in sensation, we
have been all this day."

"Pirates, lad, pirates. We're all about sensation, and taking what we
can, when we can get it - don't ye *remember?*"

"But to go on about feeling, touching and tasting...do you know who
you sound like, Jack?"

No...oh, no...

"They've been drowsing, half-asleep, and I must wonder, are we
keeping them thus? We can't commandeer their lives, Jack. We feel
alive, seem to be men, but we are uncanny things."

Everything was shifting, turning on its axis. The horror rose in him
and he longed for his ocean...And Jack Byrd was oh, so quiet and
peaceful. If he were trapped, would he know it, this other half of
his who had given him such a gift...

"Would you become a ghoul, lusting after what belongs to the living
by right?" Will continued, and turned, picked something up, tossed it
at him. Jack caught it without thinking, then stopped and stared.

It was an apple, of course.

A terrible sadness rose above his head and he was drowning...could it
be true? Could he no longer trust himself? And if he could no longer
trust himself, then whom could he trust?

The answer was right in front of him, and always had been.

Will.

//...farewell...//

//...JACK! No, don't go...//

Jack Byrd came fully aware with a long, wheezing gasp. He grabbed the
man in front of him by the collar. 

"He's gone! Goddamn it, Turner, what did you do?! I can't feel him
anymore! What the hell did you do?!"

Regret darkened the other man's eyes.  "What I had to..." and then
his face changed, and a stricken Will Smith looked out of it.  "Oh,
God, Jack, I'm so sorry...I should have shut him up...I should have
stopped him but I couldn't... Oh, God..."

Jack let go and sank to the black couch, hands covering his face. "I
can't feel him. I can't feel him at all. He's gone."


*****
Part 6 of 8: Glycerine
* * *

The shivering began not long afterward, but it wasn't the most
troubling thing. At least, it was a sign of life from Jack, who once
he'd lifted his head, had stared straight into Will's gas fireplace,
though it was cold and had been for months.

His eyes were what troubled Will the most. They were flat, black
discs. His face, usually mobile and alight, was a mask, and was so
very pale under his surfer's tan. When he shivered, slightly, they
closed, and then focused briefly on Will Smith when the younger man
slid a blanket about his shoulders.

"Thanks," Jack whispered.  Will slid next to him on the couch and
drew him in, leaning that dark head on his shoulder. Utterly pliant,
Jack sank into the half-embrace. For two hours, they did not move,
and then Will said, "Let's get you home."

Will parked the bike and walked Jack inside, then put him to bed,
stripping and climbing in after. He curled around Jack, lending him
warmth. Once, he looked up and found his face reflected in Jack's
computer monitor. When he saw Turner in himself, he caught his arm
just before destroying a costly bit of equipment.

* * *

"I'm so tired," Jack murmured in the middle of the night, "but I
can't sleep. Isn't that weird? And you know what else?"

"Hmm?" Will inquired softly, stroking Jack's hair.

"I'm stone cold sober. How wrong is that?" A hollow chuckle.
"Actually, I think I'm more sober than I've ever been in my life."

They made love, late that night or early that morning, very quietly
and all mouths and hands. Jack's face lost that frightening
blankness, but only for the barest instant, and then it returned.

Neither before, nor after the lovemaking did either of them sleep.
Jack could not ever remember feeling so numb, nor Will ever so angry.

* * *

Liz Swan slept late that morning, dreaming old, old dreams. It seemed
she heard the child she had never been, singing from a great
distance. She felt wind in her ears, then that pulled back as well,
and she knew it as a flag rippling in a gale.

When she woke, it was with a deep breath, and the image of the Jolly
Roger large in her mind.

"Hon?" murmured Greg, sleepily.

"Just a dream," she said, but she knew what the flag meant.

It was, without fail, a message and a warning.

"Baby," she said, "I need to go somewhere, okay?"

"'Kay," he replied. He kissed her, stretched, and then fell back into
a light sleep. Liz slid out of bed and headed for the shower.
Elizabeth, there in the back of her mind, murmured approval.

They knew not what, but somewhere, something was wrong.

* * *

Sunday dawned grey, a coastal haze obscuring the blue. Eventually,
Jack slid out of bed, managing a smile for a worried-looking
Will. "I'm fine," he said, in a voice that was entirely too even.

In truth, though, the world seemed wrapped in a blanket. Sights,
sounds, all were muffled. Jack wondered if this was how everyone else
saw the world every day. //Guess I always did have a little bit of
the Captain in me,// he thought, and it seemed to resound inside his
own head like a shout in an empty room. Then he chuckled again, and
that sounded wrong too.

In the shower, he turned up the heat 'till it was nearly scalding,
and that helped a bit. He sat on the bench seat built into his corner
tub, letting the water run over his head for a full five minutes.
Then he pulled himself up. He began to hum that old, old song of
Elizabeth's and stopped, as it made him sad. He couldn't really
remember the words now, anyway.

Jack dried himself off, including his eyes. Especially his eyes. Then
he pulled on a pair of sweats and realized that he had work he really
should be doing.  He unfolded his work laptop on the kitchen table
and began, going over forms and figures, losing himself in numbers.
At some point, perhaps an hour later, perhaps two, Will padded out of
the bedroom - looked like the kid had finally gotten an hour or two
of sleep, Jack hoped. Will passed a mug of coffee over, and Jack
smiled gratefully.

"How are you?" Will asked.

"...Normal, I guess. I don't think I ever knew what that felt like."
He took a sip of coffee. "You?"

"...Okay."  Will sipped his own drink, then said, "We're both lying,
aren't we?"

"No." Will frowned at that. "No, I really do feel normal," Jack
replied. "And normal feels wrong. I hate it, Will. I hate it and I
want it to go away." His next breath was just a bit more ragged. "And
there's this void in me. I don't want to think about it too hard, or
look at it, at all, but I know it's there."

"I know what you mean," Will said, and Jack looked up with
surprise. "They've been with us all our lives, there in the
background, and now..."

"But... Turner..."

"*Turner,* Will growled, "doesn't get to come back. He doesn't get to
fucking *exist,* until Sparrow's back with you."

"Don't you mean, unless?" And Jack wondered if his eyes looked as
barren as he felt.

"Until." And Jack thought through memories gone fuzzy and indistinct
that it would be a bad idea to tell Will the implacability in his
voice was very Turner, after all. But his movements... Will tripped a
little as he moved to the counter, setting his mug down a bit too
hard. "Oh, fucking...ah, sorry."

"No harm, no foul," Jack replied. "You know, I think I'd like to get
a fire going. This morning's a little bit cool."

They moved to the living room, Jack's laptop forgotten.  Will opened
the blinds, letting light filter in through the blue-green eucalyptus
outside. Jack, meanwhile, went to move the half-empty rum away from
the fireplace. When he reached for it, his hand shook, and he felt a
need for the stuff that scared him. He let Will lift the bottle away
instead. 

The fire warmed the morning just a bit, but Jack still found it to be
too quiet. He went to the stereo and turned it on low, with CDs
rotating through. He heard Gavin sing softly, quiet melancholy.

"...I'm never alone; I'm alone all the time. Are you at one or do you
lie..."

Will yawned. Jack wondered if he could finally sleep now, himself. He
worried, though, that he'd sleep too long. Waking had been a
twisting, jarring thing, this last time.

"...I needed you more when we wanted us less, I could not kiss, just
regress. It might just be clear, simple and plain. That's just fine,
that's just one of my names...."

"Shh," Will said. "I'll wake you in two hours, I promise."

And how could he not trust Will?

"...Don't let the days go by.... Could have been easier on you; I
couldn't change though I wanted to. Should have been easier by three;
our old friend fear and you and me..."

* * *

Will did wake Jack, exactly when he'd said he would, and Jack felt a
stab of guilt, as Will didn't look like he'd slept after all. Looking
outside upon the tree shadows, Jack noticed morning threatening to
become afternoon. He wandered to the refrigerator, grabbed a plastic
bottle of juice, and meandered back to the fireside couch. The fire
crackled low, and he scooted closer to the embers.

At length, he asked Will, "So. What's the plan?"

"Well," the kid said, slowly, "we want Sparrow back with you, right?
That's the goal."

"Right. Sparrow and Turner."

"Let's leave Turner out of this for now. The first question is
whether or not we ought to enlist some help. We've got two options
here: Dr. Schuyler, if she's in, and the only other person who knows
what's going on, Liz."

"Not Dr. Schuyler," Jack said. "If Jack's still..." he trailed off,
lost.

"He's reachable. *Believe it.* The Captain's out there. We just have
to find him." Will leaned forward, eyes bright.

"Right." Flat, hollow...Jack was starting to dislike the sound of his
own voice. "Anyway, no doc. I think...Jack would rebel at that kind
of control. It happened the last time, after all."

"Okay, that leaves Liz. And, I think calling her is kind of academic
at this point, seeing as she's coming up the driveway."

* * *

Liz reached up to knock, and the door opened, Will beyond.

"What's wrong?" she said. "You've got raccoon-sized circles under
your eyes."

"Y'know," he replied, ushering her in, "we didn't sleep at all the
night they woke up? But I don't think we looked this shitty."

Liz blinked. Within... //...Will never used such language... something
*is* wrong...//. And Will Smith swore only rarely. There was
something... off, about the way he moved, too. He was almost clumsy,
when he'd moved with a gliding grace since the day she'd met him.

She walked inside and saw the other half of the problem. Jack looked
up, and his eyes... anyone who did not know him would notice nothing
amiss. Liz, though... she knew what to look for, the echoes of emotion
that those flat discs did not stir within her. Fire, passion, danger;
all were gone. Oh.... Liz clutched at Elizabeth and felt an inner
clasping returned.

Jack Sparrow, somehow, was gone.

"Hey, Liz," Jack said. "Come on in, sit down."

Liz crouched on her heels before him and asked only one
question. "How?"

She heard what she assumed was the abbreviated version, and stopped
Jack when she heard his voice hitch, as she knew enough.

"I agree that you don't want to go back to that woman; I don't think
she'll be a lot of help.  I have an idea, but I don't know how safe
it is."

"You know," Jack replied, laughing slightly, and the sound scared her
just a little, "I don't think I care."

"We go to the beach. There are two things that are always about Jack
Sparrow; rum and the sea." Liz felt Elizabeth behind her words, heard
the accent in some.  "So, we go to the beach, and we drink rum until
we puke. Or maybe you do - one of us better be sober."

"I think you're right. And, I think it should be you, too,
because..." She could see him searching for the words. "Don't take
this wrong, please. You're a good friend. But having you here, now,
hearing Elizabeth in you... you're *whole,* and I can sense it,
somehow, and it hurts. God, I'm sorry, but it really hurts."

And hearing that hurt her, but she understood. "Will... you, too?"

He didn't answer. It was all the answer she needed. She walked over
to Will and embraced him.

"It's all right. I'll follow you, and look in from time to time.
I... we... will be watching over you, as always." She smiled for them
both, and wiped a tear from the corner of Will's eye.

* * *

Will wrapped himself around Jack, who pulled their large blanket
tight. The calm grey of the day was giving way to a violently windy
sunset that streaked orange clouds across the sky. Sand lifted and
settled, and Will lifted the bottle to his lips. He passed it back,
and watched Jack take a very long drink.

"Y'know, I wanted to drink rum this morning," Jack slurred, a weird
sound with modern accents. "I wanted it so bad I didn't touch the
bottle. We doin' the right thing, y' think?"

"We... we've got to trust ourselves..." That sounded awfully profound,
Will thought. Awfully wrong and awfully right, too, at the same time.

"Do you trust yourself?" Jack asked, drunkenly serious. He took
another drink.

"Guess it depends which self we're talking about." Will grabbed the
bottle back.

"Don' think he meant... y'know. All this..."

"I dunno, anymore. 'S amazing, though. You and me, we're just you and
me, and we're this tight after a week. Thank God we didn't lose that
too."

"When it's real, it's real, y'know?" Jack drank more, then turned and
kissed Will sloppily. He returned the kiss in the same fashion.

"Y'wanna stand up and watch the sun set?" Jack asked at length. They
tried, twice, and then decided to forget standing. At this point,
they could barely crawl. They traded rum-soaked kisses full of need
and desperation, and then Jack turned to the horizon and stared at
the disappearing sun from the sandy ground.

"'S a ship... I see a ship... 's beautiful..." He reached out a hand as
if to touch it, and then collapsed facedown.

Will couldn't see it, but then, he couldn't see much anymore. There
came a roaring in his ears and he felt very warm. Everything went
strange, and then went black.


*****
Part 7 of 8: Pearl and Smith
* * *

"Wake up, Jack."

A voice in his ear. A slurring whisper. He knew that voice.

"Up, c'mon, now. Open your eyes."

Jack Byrd opened his eyes and found that to his surprise, he was
standing. He took a step to catch his balance and flailed, just a
bit. The ground moved.

"You know her rhythm. Let yourself remember."

He stood alone on the deck of a sailing ship. The sun was so bright
it hurt his eyes, but they slowly began to adjust. His eyes roamed
the deck first, then the rails, the masts, the rigging...

It was the most beautiful thing in the world, and so he knew where he
must be.

"The Black Pearl," he whispered. He felt a tear track down one cheek.

"Aye, the Pearl. Lovely strumpet, eh?" The voice no longer whispered,
and it was right in his ear. He whirled, to face... himself...

And not himself. Long, matted strands of hair, beads and coins
chiming, a red bandanna and a brown leather hat. The ubiquitous kohl.

"Jack Sparrow."

"Oh, y' wound me. You of *all* people should know better."

"I of all people should be able to leave the 'Captain' off."

"...You might be right, at that."

"How are we here?" Byrd asked, turning slowly, taking it - her - all
in. "This isn't just a dream."

"Oh, concerning the Pearl, nothing's *just* anything. It is a dream,
and it isn't."

"That's what I just said."

"And just what I said. And now that we're clear on what we've said to
each other, or ourselves, or ourself as the case may be..."

"Am I this annoying to listen to?"

"Only when you're in top form. Otherwise you can only aspire."

"I aspire to additional information as to the intent of this
assignation."  Sparrow grinned in response. Byrd let out a breath,
and it issued forth with a bit more anguish than he intended. His
other self heard, or felt, and stiffened. "You've been gone all day,
Jack!  Where did you go?!"

"Isn't it obvious, then, mate?" The smile on his face was pained as
he doffed his cap and swept it out to indicate the blue expanse. "I
went sailing. You came to the right place to find me, though, as it
happens."

"Sailing..." Byrd looked down, shaking his head. His eye caught a
star-shaped whorl on the deck planking that he instinctively knew
would be there.  The swirling grain drew him in and he shook his head
slowly. "Everything was so cold and pale and... modern. And so was I. 
It was... it was all so flat..." But the smooth, weathered wood
beneath his palm distracted him. His eyes slid shut, and he caressed
the carved railing like a lover.  "Oh, my. Oh, I can't stay mad here,
Jack."

"Whereas I could fairly well stay mad everywhere. But I thought you
might feel that way. I wanted to give you this. We're here that I
might... ap... apol..." He shushed Byrd with a twisting wave of his
hand. "No, I know the word, I just don't do it very often. We're here
that I might apologize."

In a rambling skip-hop, he was back at Byrd's side, this time
wrapping an arm about his doppelganger's shoulders. There was scent
here, Byrd realized, and Jack Sparrow's was all rum and ocean. "I
thought," the pirate went on, "that Barbossa had gone and learned me
lesson for me, as far as greed goes. But it seems I've still the
ability to take what isn't mine, in any amount."

"What isn't... God, Jack, I'm meant to have you within me. I never
have been entirely a part of this modern world. There wasn't a thing
you did that I didn't... or wouldn't..."

Jack Sparrow shook his head. "One of me gifts, mate. They always
think it's their idea. Except, occasionally, for Bootstrap, and more
rarely, his whelp." He turned his head so that he looked his other
self directly in the eyes, perhaps an inch away. "If you'd grown
tired of waiting, before Will made his point, or if you'd fought me
for any reason, I can't say that I know what would have happened. It
may be that you'd have had a devil of a time getting me to let go.
And that's not to mention me trapping you in slumber, all unwitting,
which I may in fact have done."

"I have to say," Byrd replied slowly, "that one of the disadvantages
of being such a wonderfully convoluted speaker is that you sometimes
begin to believe your own lines of crap. Yes, I'm utterly seduced by
you. But you forget that somewhere deep down, I know what you know
and you know what I know. And I know that you're neither a ghoul nor
a demon. I know if you'd truly felt me in pain... and believe me, I'd
have woken in pain if I'd missed the chance to take other folks'
money, *legally...* " Here Byrd smiled, his own slightly cracked
grin. "...it wouldn't have been fun anymore.  And I know that that's
what you ran from today. You ran from the pain of pulling back too
far, which you caused the same way, for your fear.  No man, not me
nor you, should be so far from the rest of his soul."

"Ah. You know, as you figured that out, so did I?" The deep eyes were
serious. "I did not mean to run so far, nor cause either of us such
pain. You know that, do ye not, and why we had to come here."

"Oh, aye," Byrd said, voice beginning to match Sparrow's
cadence.  "This heals us. As the Pearl's a part of our soul, no less
than you or I."

He phased modern again in an instant. "You have to know, though, that
I don't begrudge you anything. You and Will Turner awakening brought
magic to my life. It's true that a pirate can't live in this world,
but he can play in it.  You can use me. Believe me, I'll have fun
too."

"Really?" And Jack Byrd began to distrust that wide-eyed grin, as
Sparrow wrapped another arm about him and brought him close.

He was right to, of course.  "Use you, he says."

Then Jack Byrd was being kissed quite soundly by his pirate other.
His eyes widened with surprise as Sparrow's widened even further with
glee.  He felt himself responding, reverberating like a plucked
guitar string. When they broke apart, he gasped, "Okay, this is
weird. Even for me."

"It's enough of a dream that anything can happen. Isn't that the best
thing about dreams?" And deft weathered fingers shed his suit, while
his hands had minds of their own, undoing buckles, buttons, and belts.

When they sank, naked, to the sun-drenched deck of the Black Pearl,
Byrd murmured, "...this is such an Austin Powers moment..."

"Well," Jack replied, between kisses applied to collarbones, "It
*isn't* actually cheating..."  Byrd had never been on the receiving
end of that next nipple-scraping kiss, and it made him hiss with
need.

"I knew there was a reason I always did that. And this..." 'This'
made Sparrow moan.

"Ah. You know, I think we really need to finish my apology."

"Why do I think your apology is going to be as much fun for you as it
is for me?"

"Because you're a wise man what knows himself." There was a kiss then
that seemed to involve both their bodies entirely, stiffening,
pressing, pulling, rolling... Sparrow ended up on his back, legs
skewed.

"By every god and demon what are you *waiting* for?"

"We don't... there isn't..."

"It's a dream, remember? Dive on in."

"Oh, right." And then it wasn't so much diving as exploding together,
atoms colliding. Sparrow pushed down hard as Byrd pushed in, the two
groaning in tandem in identical voice. They rocked together, dual
sensations spreading, being filled, being enclosed... no pain at all,
only pleasure, and union, pure, utter union. The thought that had
rushed through his mind when Jack Sparrow first woke returned as a
swamping wave.

//I am.  Oh, God. I... am...//

We. Are.

After, they floated, somewhere warm and dark, a place that was a
prelude to waking.

//So, how do you suppose Will and Will are working things out?//

//Those two? Oh, knowing them, having a polite, civilized
conversation about honor, or some rot.//

//I wonder...//

* * *

In an empty smithy, swords clashed. No master, this time, and no
mule. Merely two men, one, again, a pirate.

The other? Middle management. But here, in this place, old instincts
awoke, those of his past self.  It was a damned good thing, too,
since that was whom he fought.

"You fight dirty," Will Smith observed.

"Pirate," Will Turner shrugged.

"Not at all what I meant," Smith said, leaping onto the broken
cart. "Barbossa? An *apple,* for God's sake?"

"And for yours." A jump, and Smith was in the rafters. Another, and
Turner joined him. "And for his."

"For his...! Yeah, he's doing great, isn't he? Do you know how it
hurts to see him so *empty*!?" Swords met with a metallic click and
Smith whipped his away and up, only to meet Turner's again at the top.

"I meant Jack Sparrow, though the same holds for your Byrd."

"You aren't a great listener, are you?" Smith punctuated his speech
with bladework. "Jack. Went. Through. Hell!" On the last word he
lunged, and Turner overbalanced, slipping from the beams and landing
hard in sand, though on his feet. "And you can bet your identical ass
that if Byrd went through hell, your Captain Sparrow did too."

"I do not doubt it," Turner said, twitching his blade in
invitation. "Nor do I relish it. But what I said needed to be said,
and what I did needed to be done."

"You sound like fucking Norrington, you know that?"

"Norrington was... is... a good man, and you know that."

"Maybe I meant to say you sound like a judgmental bastard." Smith
grabbed a rope and slid to the ground, his blade engaging Turner's
again. "It scares you, doesn't it, how easily I give up control? To
Jack, to you, to..." He smiled slightly, edged as the sword,
"...well, a lot of people.  You know, I'm starting to think that
I've been compensating for your hang-ups my whole life."

Then Smith had to weave back as Turner's blade caught the edge of his
sleeve, creating a vent. "And do you think," the pirate smith
replied, "that perhaps you've gone a bit too far in the other
direction?"

"I don't fucking believe this. My past life thinks I'm a slut." He
snarled as he compensated and attacked again. "I have never had a
problem taking what was freely given. Or giving to be freely taken.
That isn't even piracy. It's trade." Metal hit metal, faster than
heartbeats. "Even after all Jack's efforts, you were never
comfortable being a pirate, were you?"

"And should one be?" Turner asked. "I reached an accommodation with
myself, in time, and accepted who I was, what I was. What I needed in
the sea and a pirate's life. That never guaranteed comfort with acts
of piracy, nor should it have. Piracy is theft, Will. It is removing
from people what is their own." His blade caught Smith's and slid
along it to the hilt. "As to the rest, you did not jump into bed with
your Jack. You waited months. Not your usual pattern. Why was that?"

"Because there was something *there.* Something to build on, a
connection we could use to forge a relationship. I felt it... he felt
it... and I didn't want to screw things up. Again."

"I understand that," Turner whispered. "The need to make something
perfect, something pure."

They broke apart and Smith swung against Turner once more, metal
rebounding with a ringing tone. Then Will Smith raised his sword
high... and threw it away. "Goddamn it, I am through with this
fucking clich�." He sat on a hay bale and rested his head in his
hands.

Turner stared at him a moment, then laid his sword aside.  "It is
getting a bit old, isn't it?" He took a seat on a barrel, across and
to one side. "Did it work?"

"You mean, am I still angry with you? Yeah. But I'm tired, too,
Will... tired of fighting with you, fighting with myself. Because the
hell of it is that I understand why you did and said what you did."
Head down, he looked up, eyes hooded. "You... we... you know we never
trusted him enough."

"I trust Jack Sparrow with my heart and soul. So yes, you're right,
it is not enough, because I have never fully trusted him with his
own." He took a deep breath. "I know I caused pain, and for that I am
truly sorry."

"But?"

"No buts. I'm sorry, Will. Not just because your pain is mine, but
also because Jack suffered, both of them. I did not intend for any of
us to get so lost."  He looked up to meet his other self's eyes. "I
do ask, though, that you consider one thing."

"Yeah? What?"

"It may seem a bit radical."

"Just spill."

"Jack...is not always right."

"Oh, hell, I *knew* that..."

"But have you really thought about it? He was and is brilliant, then
and now, and he is also capable of being spectacularly wrong. It is
given to us to tell him, when we feel the need, though it cause
pain." Turner stood and walked to Smith's side. "No one can utterly
save Jack Sparrow from himself save himself, but we are bound to aid
him. He's capable of being a great man. It's for us to see that he
remains capable of being a good one."

"Massively co-dependent," Smith murmured. "I knew it."

"A modern concept," Turner replied, "for a very old feeling. Now,
come." He walked to the forge, then beckoned, and Smith slid from the
hay, followed him over. "I'm making a sword," Turner said. "Would you
like to try it?"

Memories of heat and the ring of metal swirled in Smith, and watching
him, Turner smiled. The fire roared as he approached.  Smith ran his
hands slowly across hammer, tongs, and anvil. He took a deep breath,
closed his eyes, and then began.

It might have been an instant, an hour, or a day. Will juggled water,
oils, sand, heat, steel. The process returned to him...it had been
one of the first things to return to him the night Turner woke. By
and by, his arms ached. 

"Hurts?" Turner asked.

"Yeah."

"I am minded of something old Brown told me during one of his rare
sober hours." Turner ran his hands along Smith's corded muscles. 
"There is no creation without pain, and no change. Will, coming to
know me and Jack Sparrow, and Elizabeth - that is a profound change.
There will be some pain in this. And I think there can be much joy.
Pain or no, I would not trade waking in you for sleeping on."

"Nor would I trade you back, if I could." And the statement brought
less surprise than Will thought it should.

"Now, look at what you've wrought."

Will held the new sword up to the light. No single-edged pirate's
cutlass was this. It was a thing of beauty...

"...a double-edged sword. Oh yeah, you're subtle." And Turner
smirked, slightly. "But I feel... better, somehow. Like I'm building
on something, giving... I mean, it's a weapon, it takes lives, but..."

"'Tis a contradiction."

"Like me. Like you."

"Very much like," Turner murmured. "We are both blacksmith and
pirate. We may take, as we will, but we must also create."

"Sea and forge. Water and fire."

"Just so..."

"Judgmental bastard..." Smith sighed. "I ought to look in the mirror
more often. I'm not angry with you anymore. Still, there is something
you must to do for me."

"Aye?"

"Don't fear to accept my gifts when they're offered," said Will Smith
to Will Turner, voice catching and softening into the accents of his
prior self. "I offer you myself, when there be a need, as you have
already given of your soul.  'Twas your life that forged mine, this I
know."

"We have an accord," Turner replied, and stepped behind him,
enfolding Will in an embrace. Every point of contact between them
tingled. Lines blurred, one shifted forward, the other
backward... they began to overlap...

Oneness... wholeness... as one their eyes shut, and there was a feel of
vertigo, briefly, as they sank into one another... it was almost
unbearable, this knowing, a pleasure so keen it was very nearly
painful and they simply breathed and existed and *were* as the world
fell away...

After, they floated in their own strange space on the verge of
consciousness.

//So, how do you suppose Jack and Jack are working things out?//

//Probably rutting like ferrets.//

//...You're probably right.//


*****
Part 8 of 8: Jill

* * *

By and by, the world returned to Jack and Will. When Will finally
opened his eyes, standing above was an angel.

"Always saving me, Elizabeth..." he murmured, then his eyes went
wide. "Liz!  Um, how'd we get here?"  'Here' was Jack's house, Jack's
bed. And Jack, next to him, covering his eyes with one hand and
moaning.

"Oh, we dragged you home, drunk off your asses."

"We?" Jack said, shakily. "Who, pray tell, is 'we'?" His hand flew
away and his eyes widened. "For the love of God, tell me Norton
didn't undress me..."

"You're hardly naked, but now that you mention it..."

"No..."

"Oh, come on, Liz, stop torturing the poor bastards," came an
unfamiliar female voice. "If I had to look forward to my ex-husband
lecturing me after a bender like that, I'd probably eat my revolver."

"Guys, this is Jill. Jill, guys. I thought it might be nice for you
to see a familiar face," Liz said with odd emphasis. "Well, you,
anyway, Will - I think you two might've met once or twice."

"Lieutenant Gillian Norton," the woman said, stepping into view. She
was tall, round-faced but attractive, with a feathery cap of short
hair bleached white-blonde. She was also wearing a police
uniform. "Hi. Don't know if you remember me, Will - I'm Greg's ex-
wife."

"Oh..." Will said slowly, "I think... I remember..." His eyes were
wide, and next to him, Jack made small choking noises.

Liz's smile was entirely too smug.

Jill, oblivious, continued. "Ouch. Looks like you two are in a pretty
bad way...luckily you've still got some time to get some real sleep
before your week starts. No such luck for me - I've got to be on
shift in half an hour. And hey, no lecture, but keep it at home next
time? I don't want to see you guys brought in for public
intoxication."

"Right, um, look," Will said, "Thanks for this. You really didn't
have to..."

"Wasn't a thing," Jill replied, on her way to the door. "Liz is a
friend, and she's happily decided to make Greg her problem, so..."
She ducked a swat from the other woman and left.

"Holy shit," Will said, as soon as Jill was out of earshot. "That
was..." and at the same time, Jack, with, "Fuck me. Gillette's a
girl."

"You guys don't miss a trick, do you?" Liz sat at Jack's desk chair,
swinging her legs.

"You could have just told us..."

"Ohhhh, no. You two got to find out exactly the same way I did. The
hard way." Then her legs stilled and she leaned forward. "Are you...
all... all right now? Really? I mean, it's strange. You feel
different to me, now. Like you said before... whole. But Elizabeth
thought a shock might be in order, if you were too up in your own
heads. Hence Jill. Plus, I... we... needed her help. You lot are
heavy."

"We're fine," Jack said, seriously, but with a smile dancing at the
corners of his mouth. "*All* of us. I'm pretty sure that Will and I
went through a lot of the same issues in our own weird ways. I think
we sort of... hashed things out last night."

"I hope Jill doesn't find any hash. She'd have my ass. And she'd tell
Greg."

"Liz!"

"What?" But Liz smiled. "Look, I'm glad you're okay. Just... be good
to yourselves... each other... I don't know. You know?"

"Oddly enough, yeah."

"'Kay, I've set your alarm. You two should have plenty of time - just
get some sleep, okay?"

"Yes, mother."

"Obnoxious pirate."

"Which one?"

"Both of you, of course."

"Takes one to know one, love..." Jack called out, and then he fell
back against the pillows, true sleep claiming him.

Will slept, but less, and anticipated the alarm by half an hour. He
did not hear Jack rise and enter the living room - he'd taken down
Jack's guitar and was strumming it softly, singing to himself.

"...as the bombshells of my daily fears explode, I try to trace them
to my youth... and then you had to bring up reincarnation over a
couple of beers the other night, and now I'm serving time for
mistakes made by another in another lifetime..."

He leaned back into the arm that curled around his shoulders, gave a
rueful smile, and continued.

"...How long till my soul gets it right, can any human being ever
reach that kind of light... I call on the resting soul of Galileo,
king of night vision, king of insight..."

Will's voice trailed off, and Jack murmured, "It's all right. It
really is."

"I'm sorry, Jack."

"Will, Will, me own Will, this just proves me point about your
listening. What'd I just say?" And all of Will felt his heart leap at
hearing Sparrow lacing through Byrd's voice once more. "Isn't the
first time we've hurt each other, lad, and it won't be the last. We
do as we always do, and keep moving." His hands worked their way into
Will's hair, eliciting a contented sigh. "Shh. Anyway, that song's
meant to be sung in harmony... later. Now... duty calls, dammit. You
want to get some coffee started?"

"Mmm. Aye, Captain."

* * *

CODA: Ill Winds

A few hours later and across town, a certain hypnotherapist was
entertaining company of an unwelcome, though not unexpected sort.  A
chittering animal noise announced him, accompanied by a soft jingle.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I told you it didn't have any guarantee of
success. All I can do is develop doubt if it exists. Plant the seed,
as it were. I did start early - I drugged both of them as soon as
they got here and started weighting my phrases to get them wondering.
But I can't even say for sure that I brought their past lives out at
all, let alone caused any dissonance."

"Well, he always was tricky," came the raw-silk drawl. "And I suppose
that was the understatement of the millennium."  He stepped closer,
in behind her. Her breathing sped up. "I really didn't expect
something as interesting as, say, a suicide this time out. This was
just a feint."  His hand reached up to caress the side of her cheek,
then lingered at her neck. She held her breath.

"Oh, relax, love," he said. "I don't kill everyone who fails me. I'm
trying to avoid clich�."  But then, as soon as her heartbeat calmed,
he added, "Still, 'tis nice to have the option."

------

END
TMF

...hee hee...oh, crap...

CREDITS:

FIRST: Muchas gracias to Gundam Nymph for the beta!

NEXT - BUNNY CREDITS!:

Okay, I managed to work a bunch of these in, more than I thought. If
I miss anyone in my attributions, like I said at the beginning, just
holler; I'll own up! Anyway:

*Cleo suggested the ear piercing, as well as Jack commandeering a
ship.

*For-Chan suggested Jack seeking out a boat, as well as the software
piracy and shoplifting.

*Cin suggested the strip club.

*Karachi came up with white-collar crime; alas Jack didn't have the
time.

*Megera thought Jack should check on the current status of the Isle
of Death

*Loui, across the pond, gets all credit for the jewelry store heist -
thanks, Loui!

*My lovely and talented beta Gundam Nymph thought Jack should drag
Will to a theme park, that Jack should dress like a gypsy again (hope
all the gold was enough) and that they should go out on a boat.

*Megtheotter thought it should be a really fast cigarette boat.

*To all the people who thought Jack should go on the "Pirates" ride -
now I'm starting to wish I hadn't said in the Part 1 intro that it
didn't exist�

MISC OTHER CREDITY GOODNESS:

There is no Monkey Island 5...yet. I hear it's in the works. "That's
the second-scariest zombie ghost pirate I've ever seen!"

Club 33 is real; I've been there; may have embellished a bit, but....
Moreover, at the real D*sneyland, guess which ride it looks out on?
Yo and ho.

If *you'd* like to see some of the very interesting things Red Robin
does with rum, go here:

http://html.redrobin.com/Menu-SpecialtyDrinks.html

The girl that pierced Jack's ears looks a lot like Jean Grey from
Ultimate X-Men, who can be seen here:
http://www.fortunecity.com/tattooine/replicant/70/uncannyxmen/jeangrey
/jeangrey_ultimate.htm

Lyrics to "Glycerine," by Bush, can be found here:
http://www.geocities.com/bushlyrics/sixteen_lyrics/glycerine.html,
and http://www.readlyrics.com/more/lyrics/bush/glycerine.html, as
well as elsewhere on the Web.  I knew I wanted to use a song in that
scene, and it became a toss-up as to Bush or Coldplay. Maybe I'll use
some Coldplay later. And, maybe I'll use some coldplay later ;).

Yes, another song about reincarnation :) The full text to "Galileo,"
by the Indigo Girls, can be found here:
http://www.metrolyrics.com/lyrics/12289/Indigo_Girls/Galileo/ , among
other places. I've got more, too - next will probably be the red-
headed stranger.

That's all, folks. Muses be willing, I'll see you in Part 4.

--
TMF