Will stood just inside the door, his lower lip caught between his teeth. On the bed in front of him lay a gravely injured man, a man who Will had been content to despise when they had first met. But so much had happened since then. This man, the one with the bright shiny new hole in his chest, had risked his neck for Will, time and time again, despite his vehement insistence that he did nothing for anyone's benefit besides his own. Even with all his protestations of selfishness, he couldn't fool Will. Not when he so often managed to "forget" a bag or two of 'swag' when he came to visit. Of course, he'd always insist that he had done no such thing the next time he returned. And Will had seen him lay down perfectly good gold to buy bread he had delivered not two minutes later into the grateful hands of a street urchin. Not exactly the hardened pirate he made himself out to be.

And beyond what Will had seen, he had heard the stories: the Pearl sacked towns without casualties, they subdued rather than slaughtered when they boarded, they were never unduly vicious, and all under their captain's orders.

No, it was undeniable. This was a good man lying before him. Perhaps not always an honest one, but a good man nonetheless. He didn't deserve this.

The man didn't toss and turn, wasn't restless in his sleep. He simply lay there, unmoving, the stark white bandages wrapped around his chest severely contrasting with the bronzed tan of his skin. The fever had been terrible at first, overwhelming the pirate with fierce shivers and moans. Thank God, it had broken a few hours ago, and Jack had subsided into a quiet stillness.

Estrella and Bernard, Elizabeth's former maid and manservant, had seen to it that the pirate captain received a bath, and then Will's own beloved wife had lovingly combed all the beads from his hair. After tucking Jack into one of her father's dressing gowns, Elizabeth and Will had laid him gently on fresh linens in the governor's best guest room. Here, he could rest in safety.

The curtains were parted only slightly, allowing the barest sliver of light to illuminate the injured man lost amid the sheets in the large bed. The moonlight danced over his skin, laying intimate kisses on the smooth curve of his cheek, lacing itself playfully through the whiskers on his chin. In the lonely darkness, Luna's gentle rays embraced him, holding him tenderly, lovingly in their soft blue-white glow.

Will remembered with a shudder another time he'd seen this man bathed in moonlight, the taut lines of his flesh stripped away to bleached bone. He'd almost died that day. Jack could have died today.

Cringing, Will shook off the unpleasant memory and returned his attention to his wounded friend. Lying uncharacteristically still, Jack Sparrow looked the very picture of youth, vulnerable and wholly innocent. Will almost smiled at the observation. Innocent was not a word one often associated with Jack Sparrow. But there he was, tendrils of usually tangled coal black hair falling over his brow, looking for all the world like a defenseless child.

Perhaps it was the size of the bed. It must be far larger than the pirate captain was used to. Alone in the center of it, the soft blankets pulled up over his waist, he seemed forlorn. Smaller somehow. The exhaustion of sickness had pulled all the tension from his features and he looked as if he was finally at peace. Neither the removing the shot nor the blessedly short-lived fever had gone easy with him.

Seeing Jack, a man he so greatly admired, laid low and weak was a stab to the blacksmith's heart. But even in the midst of his grief, he knew that there was someone for whom all this would be much more difficult to bear.

The hour was approaching midnight. He would be there soon, and it was a good thing too. Unconsciousness still held the pirate captain in her unforgiving grasp, but earlier, in the throes of his fever, he had called out for James, seeking comfort from the man he had loved for near six years. Will knew that James wanted to be here now. It was probably killing the commodore to have to go through his daily regime kno tha that the man he loved was lying helpless in someone else's bed. From the moment Estrella had given him Elizabeth's note, Norrington's stomach must have been in his knees.

Yes, James would be making his way to the governor's mansion the minute he could extricate himself from his duties at the Fort.

It was, therefore, no surprise to Will when the door opened softly behind him. "He's here, Will," Elizabeth said in a low voice. Will nodded, moving aside to let her and Norrington enter the sickroom.

When James laid eyes on his pirate lover, what little color the pale man usually had fled his face. "I came as soon as I could," he said quietly, removing his justacorps and hat.

"I know," the blacksmith said gently.

"Has he said anything?"

"He asked for you," Will murmured.

The taller man pursed his lips tightly, a short, painstakingly controlled nod all he could manage. "How bad is it?" he asked, his voice ragged with worry.

"It's bad," Will told the man solemnly. "A few more inches to the left and he never would have made it. The doctor still can't believe the shot didn't puncture anything vital. He was lucky."

Mutely, James nodded again, swallowing hard, his eyes riveted to the slumbering form. "He's Captain Jack Sparrow," James breathed reverently after a moment, as if that were explanation enough. Which, of course, it very nearly was. Both Turners nodded, Elizabeth offering her long-time friend a tiny smile as she slipped her fingers into Will's hand, squeezing gently.

"Thank you," James said softly, tearing his eyes from the wounded man, "for taking him in."

"There was nothing else we could have done, James," Elizabeth assured him. "And Father being away only made it simpler. No one will find him here but Estrella, and she won't breathe a word."

"We care for him too, James," Will reminded him.

Jack moaned faintly in his sleep, and James's eyes shot back to the bed as if dragged there by force. "Go on," Will smiled. "He needs you."

"Again, I thank yo the the older man said, catching Will's eyes and holding them for a single heartbeat. Then he was stripping off his boots and shirt and climbing into the large bed beside his pirate. With trembling hands, he reached out for Jack and brought him close, laying a gentle kiss on his temple.

For a moment, there was no outward sign of any reaction at all. Then, for the first time in hours, Jack moved. He snuggled in closer to his beloved, nuzzling the officer's chest. "Jamie," he sighed contentedly.

James smiled through - dear God, were those tears in his eyes? "Shh. Soft, you. You need rest, Jack, and I'm here now," the commodore murmured, running his fingers through the pirate's uncommonly clean and noticeably unbedecked mane. "I'm here," he whispered again as Will quietly closed the door.

In the darkened hall, the blacksmith smiled to himself. James was there, and that's all that Jack would need. With an infinitely lighter heart, he set out to find his wife.