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Opportunity	By : Chrysanthemum Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Slash - Male/Male Views: 12795 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Opportunity
- 1
Opportunity

By Chrysanthemum

October 2003
WARNING WARNING WARNING This story is rated NC-17 for graphic rape. This is a nasty, ugly story, folks! If you don't want to read it, if you think it's gross, if you are a rape victim and this may trigger flashbacks, if you're underage, et cetera, please please please go read something else.

This story is also slash, meaning it contains romantic and/or sexual relationships between men.
The story is mine. The characters are not. No infringement is intended on the rights of Disney, Jerry Bruckheimer, Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom, Geoffrey Rush, et cetera, et cetera.
Thank you to Delgado and Mike for betaing!
Dedicated to the joys of college life. ;)
As always, feedback is more than welcome at chrysanthemum@fastermail.com. Feed the writer! ;) And (WARNING: OBLIGATORY WEBSITE PLUG) if you like this, there's plenty more to read on my website! www15.brinkster.com/fleurdiabolique
(and yes, I am aware that the name I give Barbossa in this story is not his canonical name. He didn't have a name in canon when I wrote this!)
Will slumped against the section of hull that made up one wall of his cell, his mood despondent though he was trying not to let that show too much on his face. Elizabeth�s cell was right next to his, and she was already fretting enough over his impending death; he didn�t want to cause her any further distress by making it obvious that he was brooding and unhappy as well.
It was hard work; it�s difficult to seem unperturbed when you have only a short while left to live. Will guessed that he had three days, four, maybe even a week, but certainly no more than that. Just long enough for Barbossa�s pirates to drop Elizabeth, Jack, and the crew off somewhere and sail to the Isla de Muerta. And then... well, they were so angry about Elizabeth�s blood not working that he couldn�t imagine them not killing him, out of pure malice if nothing else.
At least the others had left him alone after a few tentative attempts at conversation. It helped that Jack seemed unusually subdued (though Will had caught the other man regarding him in an unnervingly intense way more than once this afternoon after they�d all been captured); he was the most likely of the crew to relentlessly press Will to talk, were he in the mood to do so. Elizabeth had been the most persistent, but after enough gently discouraging responses she, too, had given up on getting Will to say much of anything. He was glad for that; much as he loved Elizabeth, much as he was fond of Jack�s crew, he didn�t want to have to force himself to converse politely at a time like this.
Elizabeth was silent and seemingly brooding in her cell now; most of the crew was also quiet, though Will could hear a few talking softly amongst themselves. Jack was still being uncharacteristically taciturn, seated in the corner of the cell he shared with his crew and watching Will with a somber and pensive gaze. Will met his eyes with questioning annoyance; after a long moment, Jack looked away.
Will sighed to himself and let his head fall back against the wall. He didn't understand Jack, especially not the way the pirate was acting recently. But then again, he didn't really care at this point. He had more serious things to think about. When he had told Jack that he was willing to die for Elizabeth, he hadn�t truly understood just what death meant. He thought of leaving this earth, of all that he would never see and never do, and bit his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood.
Not that he hadn�t meant what he�d told Jack, or that he�d changed his mind now. If this was what it took to ensure that Elizabeth was safe, he�d do it. He�d do it a thousand times over if necessary -- and possible, of course. And yet-
His thoughts were interrupted by heavy footsteps thudding down the stairs to the deck that housed the brig. Another lantern added its light to the single sputtering lamp that hung from the ceiling, but it didn�t do much to dispel the gloom that hung about the cells.
Will didn�t know any of the pirates� names, but he recognized the four who came into view now: first the huge African with cruel, soulless eyes, the one who Elizabeth said had hit her (the thought of which still made Will�s blood boil); next came another black man, this one considerably shorter and with a slighter build, his hair in dreadlocks past his shoulders and his face decorated with crusty paint of a sickly yellow color. Following him was the short, continually crazed-looking pirate who Will had thought he�d killed on that night in Port Royal that had started all this. Last came a gigantic hulk of a man who with his long, coarse black hair and beard reminded Will vaguely of Goliath from the Bible story.
�You. Boy,� the first of these four said, not so much speaking the words as propelling them forcefully to Will�s ears. �Ye�re to come with us. You try anything, and the Captain will consider your agreement broken � and take his displeasure out on the girl.�
As his cell was unlocked and he stepped out into the corridor Will�s heart pounded furiously, partly from adrenaline � was it time already? Was Barbossa going to try to lift the curse before following through with his side of the deal? � and partly from sheer anger. How dare this man, this pirate, refer to Elizabeth so dismissively? How dare he suggest even the slightest threat to her well-being? But Will bit back the retort he so badly wanted to voice, fearing that any ire directed toward him might be vented on Elizabeth or the crew. He suspected that Barbossa and his pirates might be leery of injuring him at all until the lifting of the curse.
The dreadlocked pirate and the crazed-looking one � God, Will hated this one in particular; being touched by him made Will�s skin crawl, and to make things worse the man exuded some strange, sulphurous odor that was faintly nauseating � took his arms in bruisingly firm grips as soon as he stepped over the threshold of his cell. Meanwhile, the big African turned to the crew�s cell and said in an even more disdainful voice than he had used to address Will � if that was even possible � �Sparrow. You too. And the rest of ye,� he cast a menacing look at the crew, �will sit there and be quiet and still as the dead if you know what�s good for you.� There were some resentful looks, but the crew did as they were told while the cell door was unlocked for Jack to pass through.
When Goliath produced a length of rope and began to tie his wrists, Jack looked disdainfully from his restraints to Will�s unbound hands and said with near-genuine disbelief, �Oh, come now. You trust a nobody blacksmith over one o�your own kind, your former captain?� For his trouble he received five nearly identical glares (one simply angry, four clearly conveying that his question was absolutely idiotic) and a tug on his bindings to ensure that the ropes were tight enough to make him wince as they cut into his skin. �Oh. All right, then.�
In silence they were manhandled up two flights of stairs to the main deck; in silence (save for a few ominously malicious chuckles from the crowd of pirates on deck) they were thrown at Barbossa�s feet. It was a great relief that the night was overcast; Will didn�t particularly relish the thought of confronting the pirates in their skeletal forms. This was definitely bad enough.
Will sat upright, but a heavy hand on his shoulder kept him from rising off of his knees. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Jack was in the same situation. Barbossa smirked down at them; in the back of his mind Will wondered how somebody could look so affable and yet so sinister at the same time.
�What do you want?� The grim, quietly deadly tone of voice in which this was spoken suggested that Jack had a fairly good idea of what his former first mate might want and was not at all pleased with the notion.
Ignoring Jack, Barbossa stepped up to Will, taking the boy�s chin in his hand and caressing it in a manner that made Will shudder and pull away. Barbossa chuckled. �It seems we�ve not properly welcomed ye to the Pearl, Mr. Turner. I thought we might do that tonight.� He gave a curt nod to his men, and Will and Jack were all but dragged across the deck to an area that was evidently used as a makeshift smithy. A small furnace stood off to one side, and several anvils stood on wooden tables that also held blacksmiths� instruments stored in racks along their sides. Will barely had a moment to take this in before rough hands on his back forced him to bend over the nearest anvil and his field of view was restricted to a small piece of deck encircled by boot-shod feet. His hands flailed for a moment as he lost his balance; then they found purchase on the table to either side of the anvil.
�No,� Jack said from somewhere behind him. Horror tinged the word with a sickened wildness. �You bastards � you can�t-�
�We can and we will,� Barbossa�s voice cut in smoothly as Will tensed. What was going to be done to him? If Jack thought it was bad, when Jack appeared to care nothing for Will save as a means to an end...
�And you�re going to make me watch.� Jack�s voice was flat, disgusted. �Why? Just to prove who�s in charge here? Damn it, James, I already know that well enough!�
Will furrowed his brow, surprised and perplexed at hearing Jack call Barbossa by his first name. He hadn't gotten the impression that the two had ever been on first-name terms. He tried to twist around to see what was going on behind him, but numerous hands held him frighteningly immobile. Then he felt hands on his hips, sliding around toward his belly; when they reached his front they began to unbutton his breeches. Will�s eyes went wide. He started to move his hands to stop whoever it was, but someone else caught his wrists and pulled them out in front of him. Truly alarmed now, he started to struggle, but the hands on his wrists were strong and he couldn�t find the leverage to throw off the people holding him down on the anvil.
�Careful, lad; you wouldn�t want anything to happen to the lady, now would you?�
Will�s head snapped up at Barbossa�s words, his struggles ceasing abruptly. �You wouldn�t � you promised-�
�I would if you gave me good reason to, boy.� Conversationally, as if he hadn�t just uttered a threat on the well-being of the person Will most loved, Barbossa continued, �Now, now, Jack. You never let us have this kind of fun when you were captain. We just thought we�d let you see what you were missing.� His chuckle was cruel; it sent a shiver of renewed trepidation through Will, and he found it hard to stay still and not begin to struggle anew.
His breeches were abruptly pulled down; he felt himself blush as he was exposed to the entire crew. The air was cool on his naked skin, but not so cold as the metal of the anvil, the chill of which he could feel against his upper chest through the thin material of his shirt. He shivered slightly, then took a deep breath, trying to fight down the fear threatening to overwhelm him.
A spank stung his ass, accompanied by a comment that Will chose not to hear but that sent a wave of raucous laughter through the assembled pirates. He quickly forgot all about that, though, as a finger prodded him from behind � he felt pressure in a place of which he never would have thought � and the pain of being penetrated hit him at the same time as the realization of exactly what was about to happen. He stiffened for a moment in horrified incredulity; then panic set in and, heedless of what might happen to Elizabeth if he resisted, heedless of anything but his own sudden pain and terror and the instinctive feeling that something precious was about to be irrevocably taken from him, he fought. His sudden fury so surprised the man who was restraining his arms that he was able to wrest them free; he lashed out with hands and feet, all the while struggling to buck off the men pinning him to the anvil. Without his consciously willing it, his body clenched around the invasive finger, trying to expel it even as it twisted and probed within him.
Someone hit him so hard that white spots flickered before his eyes. As he reeled, his hands were again caught and held tightly, his legs kicked apart and held in place. Still he tried to fight, but he was restrained too firmly this time; he could do nothing but writhe inefficiently and gasp in pain as a second finger joined the one already in his ass, stretching him further.
Over the pirates' catcalls and lewd remarks, over his own pained grunts as he was invaded, split open, torn apart from the inside (...and this isn't even the worst to come, some small part of him whispered � he hushed it immediately), the piece of his mind that wasn't completely panicking dimly registered Jack's and Barbossa's voices:
"...why bother with him? ...just a boy."
"That's what you could never... just adds to the enjoyment-"
"...wouldn't enjoy it more with a willing... who knew what he was doing?"
"Are you suggesting something?"
"Perhaps... offer?"
"I'm listening."
"Let the boy... anything you want. Savvy?"
"Anything, Jack?"
"Anything."
"...an accord. Gentlemen!" This last word was called out in a loud voice that commanded attention. Immediately the pirates fell silent. As Will looked up � and after he had blinked the tears out of his eyes enough to regain clear vision � he saw that everyone was now looking at Barbossa expectantly.
"Gentlemen, Captain Sparrow has made an offer I couldn't refuse." Will distinctly disliked the smug note in Barbossa's voice. "Let the boy up."
Will shot upright as soon as he was released. His first action was to pull up his breeches and button them as quickly as possible (which was not as fast as he would have liked; his hands were shaking so hard that it was difficult to fasten the buttons). His second action was to turn and regard Jack, partially to check that he was all right -- even though Will didn't always like the man, he had no desire to see him injured -- and partially out of apprehensive curiosity. What sort of deal could Jack possibly have made?
Jack's eyes were downcast, his posture stiff. Will walked up to him, slightly surprised that he was allowed to do so. "Jack?" There was no response, save a quick flicker of Jack's glance to Will's face and back down again. Will saw deep sorrow in that look, along with resentful anger and � fear? Will's stomach clenched. Jack Sparrow was never afraid. "Jack!" he said again in an urgent half-whisper. "What have you done?"
"And I'm sure you all have the same question," Barbossa said, addressing his crew. "What has Jack done?" His voice became malevolent, half-jeering, as he turned to Jack. "Why don't you tell them?"
Jack looked up. For a moment the anger in his eyes eclipsed all other expression; then it subsided into resignation. He drew himself up to his full height, took a visible breath, and said composedly (and with an impressive amount of dignity, Will thought, considering the situation), "In exchange for your not harming the boy, I have agreed to-" here his composure failed him for a moment; he glanced down and drew another breath before continuing, "-to do anything you want."
Amid the hubbub of excited chatter, someone had the presence of mind to obey Barbossa as he ordered, "Tie the boy!" Despite his struggles, Will's hands were bound behind his back and he was held firmly between two pirates. Barbossa himself untied Jack's hands, tossing the rope to the side; then he gripped Jack's chin tightly, forcing him to look up and meet his eyes. He leaned in and kissed Jack brutally, with a force that bent the other man's neck and torso backward. Jack's eyes closed and he did not resist, but he clearly wasn't responding either. There was no reason for him to � even Will, who had little experience with these matters, could see that there was nothing more to this than simple domination, assertion of authority. Jack had no authority in this situation, no choice but to submit unless he wanted to suffer potentially serious consequences.
An age seemed to pass before Barbossa finally pulled back. Jack pursed his lips slightly as if tasting something unpleasant, but Barbossa seemed not to care about this expression of aversion; he simply smiled with sadistic pleasure at the man who he had just shown to be powerless and helpless in this situation.
"Strip."
Will uttered an inarticulate cry of protest, struggling against the hands that restrained him. Barbossa turned and almost casually backhanded him hard enough that he tasted blood as his head snapped violently to the side. "You will hold your tongue, boy," the pirate hissed, "or I will have you gagged."
It was not the threat that silenced Will, however, so much as the look that Jack gave him as he began to disrobe. It was a look that said I'm saving your skin by doing this, so stop protesting what's good for you, but underlying that was such world-weariness and struggling dignity as to make Will ache in sympathy. He hadn't been overly fond of Jack before, but in this moment, seeing what was apparently the real man stripped of his inebriated foolery and his pretenses in that gaze, Will suddenly felt a rush of compassion. He tried to convey this to Jack with his eyes, to project strength and support that he felt Jack would in all likelihood sorely need in a moment.
It was unclear whether Jack had received the message; his face was expressionless as he bent to unlace and remove his boots. His countenance remained blank even as one pirate � a fellow black as ebony, with a vicious smile and hair that flew out in all directions � took advantage of Jack's position, reaching out to fondle Jack's upturned ass. He squeezed and stroked for a few moments, ending with a hard slap as Jack finished removing his stockings and straightened. Jack jumped just a little then, his face twitching as if some tenuous control was about to dissolve, but in a few moments his expression became impassive once more despite bellowed comments that made Will blush even though he was no longer their object. Will could see Jack's jaw clenching, however, as the pirate slowly untucked his shirt and took it off. Jack unbuttoned his breeches with a deliberation that Will suspected was a disguise for shaking hands; then he dropped his pants, stepped out of them, and stood naked before everyone.
There was a still moment in which Will (along with everyone else, he imagined) took in Jack's body. He was uniformly lean; fights, life at sea, and the occasional hard times had pared any fat that he might have once had off of his frame. Everywhere he was muscled, but not in an overdeveloped way; he simply looked spare and strong, compact in the way that a cat ready to spring is compact. He bore himself well, standing tall despite the fact that the greedy, lustful eyes of every pirate on deck were on him, his chin up and his shoulders back. His hands rested at his sides, not bothering to try to cover his nudity in any way.
This was a man who knew that he had a beautiful body and was proud of the fact, Will thought. While one part of his mind then paused to consider his choice of the word 'beautiful' to describe a man, he let his eyes wander across Jack's chest. He glanced over the rounded shoulders and brown nipples, lingered on the well-developed muscles of Jack's abdomen, noted the scars scattered here and there over that narrow hairless torso. Jack had certainly had his share of close calls, to judge by the number of those fine white lines. Will's gaze traveled lower, past the slight curve of Jack's belly, to where Jack's penis nestled limply in a mat of dark hair. That stirred something deep inside Will, some strange feeling that made him profoundly nervous for no reason he could name, so he quickly shifted his focus slightly to the side, to Jack's left hand, which rested slackly against his thigh. Jack's hands looked delicate, but Will knew that their slender grace was deceptive. Every time Jack touched him, whether it was a firm handshake or a friendly clap on the shoulder, Will felt the strength in those hands. He had known it from the moment they met. As they had fought then, Will had noted how Jack handled his heavy sword as though it weighed nearly nothing, performing complicated blade actions with a delicate precision that spoke of muscle strength and control on a level that Will would have to work at least another five years to achieve. Of course, while that was mostly the hand, some of it was the arm as well. Will trailed his gaze past Jack's wrist, up his forearm, and over the slight bulge of his bicep to his shoulder. He could see tension there despite Jack's evident attempts at seeming relaxed.
Without warning, the pirates descended on Jack with a tumultuous clamor of catcalls and avaricious cries, allowing Will to see very little of him under what seemed like hundreds of greedy hands. The words No, stop lodged in his throat as he tried to shout them; he choked on them and went into a brief coughing fit even as he tried to break free of the men who still held him, to run to Jack's side, to � to what? To fight the pirates off? To be raped alongside Jack? Impossible options. But still Will struggled, not heeding the part of him that pointed out the futility of doing so, spurred on by a deeper instinctual impulse, the feeling of This is not right that filled him. Jack was a good man, a noble man, pirate or no! He had saved Elizabeth's life without receiving anything in return except for a narrow escape from the gallows. He'd shown himself to be acquisitive, thoroughly amoral, and almost always wholly self-centered, true, but all pirates were like that, and now that he was inclined to look for it Will could find ample evidence from the past few days that Jack was also kind, intelligent, sensitive � even generous, in his way. Furthermore, he had just sacrificed himself for no apparent reason to save Will from a violation that he was now about to undergo. The last thing he deserved was to be handled like a piece of meat. How could they do this to him? Will felt bile rising in his throat as he watched Jack being groped like a common whore. He fought it down, swearing that he would not be sick here in front of everybody, but he couldn't stop the angry tears filling his eyes.
For a moment, the crowd around Jack shifted in a way that let Will catch a glimpse of the other man's face. Jack's expression was still impassive, though strain was beginning to show in the faint lines on his forehead and a nearly imperceptible downward turn to his mouth. He looked up and must have noticed Will's distress, for he caught the boy's eye, frowned slightly, and made the smallest shaking motion of his head as if to admonish him. Will got the message, and tried to compose himself. When he thought about it, he could see the sense in not reacting; the pirates would probably get more enjoyment from seeing Jack and Will's pain than out of anything else that they could do. Why give them what they wanted?
Barbossa had been standing off to the side, watching; now he strode towards Jack, smiling in a way that sent an unpleasant shiver down Will's spine. One by one the pirates noticed the approach of their captain and backed away from Jack, knowing grins upon their faces. By the time that Barbossa reached Jack, the two stood alone in the center of a circle of men. Jack lifted his chin very slightly, a defiant look in his eyes; the moment stretched as he and his former mate tried to stare each other down. Finally Barbossa chuckled, reaching out and cupping the other man's cheek in one hand. Jack flinched ever so slightly, but he still didn't look away from Barbossa's eyes.
"So stubborn, Jack," Barbossa chided with tender mockery. "Such a fighter." Then his voice lowered as he said with quiet menace, "I hope you're not going to make me break you. Not that I wouldn't enjoy it � but we don't exactly have the time, aye?"
"You won't have to break me," Jack replied in an equally soft voice, sounding resigned but by no means defeated. "I keep my side of bargains." This was said with slight bitterness and in a tone of voice that suggested that Barbossa had failed to live up to his side of at least one agreement in the past.
"Well, let's see you keep this one, then." If Will had thought that Barbossa's tone was ugly before, he couldn't find the words to describe the oily darkness in the pirate's voice now. "On your knees." Jack obeyed as Barbossa unbuttoned his breeches. His erection rose from the open fly, darkly rosy, a drop of a slimy-looking fluid glistening at its tip. Barbossa said with cruel amusement, "I think you know what to do." A malicious laugh rippled through the crowd of pirates. Will caught the brief flash of distaste in Jack's eyes just before he closed them, leaned forward, and slid his mouth down over Barbossa's cock. Barbossa grunted and thrust forward; Jack's breathing hitched and his hands tightened convulsively on the other man's hips, but he didn�t pull away.
Though the pirates were still shrieking and hooting as they had been all along, Will barely registered the clamor. The overwhelming pounding of his blood in his ears drowned out almost everything else. He could faintly hear his own frantic heartbeat and the panting, aroused breaths of the men who held him, but he paid little mind to any of this peripheral noise. Nearly the whole of his attention was absorbed by the two men in front of him. He wanted so badly to look away, to somehow pretend that he wasn't seeing Jack raped � for there was no doubt in his mind that this was rape as surely as what was to come � not five feet from where he stood. But a horrified, repulsed fascination kept his eyes on what was happening despite his nausea, despite the fact that what he was witnessing so revolted him that he could only process it in a series of still images flashing through his mind: Jack's bare knees on the damp, rough deck. Jack's slender hands on Barbossa's hips, occasionally relaxed, occasionally gripping the rough cloth of Barbossa's breeches so hard that his knuckles turned white and it seemed he would tear the fabric. Jack's hair tangled around Barbossa's fingers, the latter using his grip to control the motion of Jack's head as he fucked his mouth. Jack's face buried in Barbossa's crotch, eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes distinct against his flushed cheek. Barbossa's head thrown back, a savage and vicious smile upon his lips that made Will forcibly fight down vomit for the second time that night.
"Oh, that's nice, Jack," Barbossa said, faintly out of breath. "But then, you always did know how to suck cock well."
A physical shock ran through Will at those words. For a moment he didn't believe his ears. Had Barbossa really just said-? Why, that would mean � and Jack wasn't � was he? That question was swiftly answered as Jack abruptly froze, opening his eyes and turning a furious, shamed gaze upwards to Barbossa's face. He jerked against Barbossa as if trying to pull away, but the hands in his hair held him firmly where he was and after a moment's struggle he subsided.
"Why, Jack, what be the problem? I seem to remember you were rather proud of that pretty mouth." There was no real puzzlement in Barbossa's tone, only sadistic mockery. Jack had lowered his gaze again, almost completely closing his eyes, but Will caught a flicker of white and brown beneath those long lashes as Jack seemed to look over at him for a brief moment before returning his gaze to the deck.
Will hadn't been the only one to observe Jack's quick glance; Barbossa chuckled suddenly (a dry, grating sound that raised the hairs on the back of Will's neck) and said with abrupt comprehension, "The boy? He doesn't know? Ah, ah, ah-" he squeezed Jack's head tightly, shook it just hard enough to threaten without harming, "-none o'that, now. You watch your teeth or you won't have any when I'm through with ye." There was a hint of breathless half-fear in his voice; that and his words told Will enough of what Jack must have just done. He cheered silently. Good for you, Jack. Then Barbossa turned to look at Will -- though he watched Jack closely out of the corner of his eye -- and with his next words the younger man was abruptly reminded that in the grand scheme of things Jack's small victory was nearly worthless. After all, Jack could be baited and injured far more than he could injure any of his assailants, and Barbossa's objective was clearly to hurt as he said, "So, he never told you, hmm? Makes me wonder if he's gone even softer than he used to be. Back afore we went after the Aztec treasure, Jack would've fucked a pretty thing like yourself out o'your head at least five times by now. Wouldn't ye, Jack? And to think he hadn't even told you he fancies boys..." Barbossa shook his head in mock bewilderment.
"You're lying." It was all that Will could think to say. He hadn't known Jack for very long, but he'd spent a fair amount of time in close contact with the pirate since they met and he'd never had the slightest reason to think that Jack might be like that. It was faintly unsettling for reasons that his mind shied away from when he tried to think on them.
"Oh, no, I assure you I'm not lying. In fact, I speak from personal experience." Barbossa grinned nastily at Will before turning his full attention back to a red-cheeked but strangely, perhaps shamedly, passive Jack. In pensively stunned silence still tinged with horror at what he was witnessing, Will watched as Barbossa's thrusts grew more erratic, listened as his breathing became heavier and faster. Finally the pirate stiffened, his hands clutching Jack's hair so hard that Will's scalp tingled painfully in sympathy. The muscles of Jack's throat rippled as he swallowed several times in succession. Barbossa drew back, releasing Jack's hair and regarding him with cold eyes. He traced a finger down Jack's cheek with such a near-perfect imitation of tenderness that Will's gut clenched.
"Just like days of old, eh, Jack?" Barbossa said in a voice clearly pitched to reach Jack's and Will's ears, but not much farther. "Save, I suppose, that back then you liked being a cocksucking whore much more than you just did-"
His eyes furious, Jack looked up and spat a mouthful of something milky and viscous at Barbossa's face. Most landed in Barbossa's beard and on his clothing; a few drops spattered here and there on his cheeks and nose. For a moment Barbossa was perfectly still. Then, very deliberately, he raised his right hand to wipe his face. "Ha," he said, looking down at Jack with no humor in his expression, and that was all the warning he gave before delivering a blow that knocked Jack flat onto the deck. This was followed by a savage kick to the gut; as Jack gasped convulsively for breath, Barbossa turned and strode away, calling over his shoulder, "He's yours, boys."
"No!" Will's protest was lost in the general noise as the pirates surged towards Jack; his attempt to rush forward met an abrupt halt as the men holding him pulled him back, looping a rope through the bindings on his wrists and tying that to the nearest part of the deck railing. He pulled as hard as he could against the restraints, but to no avail; the ropes were strong and the knots tight.
Someone said in his ear, "Why, you're missing all the entertainment, boy! Ye want t'be looking this way!" A hand grabbed his chin roughly and forcibly turned his head.
They already had Jack bent over one of the anvils in the same position as Will had been in before. As Will watched, one pirate dropped his breeches and pushed into Jack with no preparation whatsoever. Jack's body spasmed and he let out a hoarse, pained cry, the first involuntary sound that Will had heard him make all evening. Will jerked savagely against his bindings, anger and horror spurring him without any thought as to what he could possibly do to stop this if he were to get free. The question was moot, anyway; the ropes held firm even when he pulled at them with all his strength. He could do nothing but watch as the first pirate pounded roughly into Jack until he came and then relinquished his place to a second man who in turn gave way to a third, a fourth, a fifth... It was sickening to see a person being so terribly injured for someone else's twisted entertainment. Finally Will's nausea grew so strong that just to try to relieve his churning stomach he found the will to close his eyes and turn his head away.
But though he couldn't see what was going on, Will could still hear sounds that further increased his nausea and revulsion. He'd almost gotten used to the general noisiness on deck enough to ignore it, but with his eyes closed the catcalls and lewd comments seemed louder, more noticeable than before. He could hear all of the quieter noises that had previously been hidden under the commotion of the pirates, too; the innocuous whoosh of the wind in the rigging and the hiss of waves against the side of the ship as well as the awful sounds that bore witness to what was happening, the rhythmic smacking of skin on skin, the grunts and heavy breathing of the pirates as each took his turn with Jack. Worse even than that were the small, pained sounds that periodically issued from Jack. Though it was obvious that it must have hurt him from the start, he had stayed grimly silent for quite a while after his initial cry; Will had had the feeling that he'd resolved to give over his body and nothing more. But as time had gone by Jack had started to make an occasional soft noise, a sharply indrawn breath or a grunt of pain. Now the sounds were almost constant, though he was clearly trying to muffle them, and each pained hiss or gasp or small moan stung Will as if he'd been slapped.
Time seemed frozen; Will felt as if he were trapped with Jack in a single endless moment of torment and horror. Only the constant rapid pounding of his heart and the changing voices around him as the crowd shifted indicated that the seconds still ticked by, no matter how slowly they seemed to be passing. Will was just thankful that the pirates either didn't notice or didn't care that he was no longer watching what was happening; they let him be as he leaned back against the railing, trembling, with closed eyes.
Bright light suddenly assaulted his eyelids. Startled, he opened his eyes to try to discern where it was coming from, and immediately wished he hadn't. The source of the light was the nearly-full moon emerging from the cover of the clouds which had previously concealed it, revealing the pirates' true form to him for the first time. He stared in mingled shock and disgust at the stringy hair straggling around skeletal faces with barely enough cartilage and flesh left on the skull to give them sufficient contour to be recognizable, the bones and occasional gobbets and strips of decaying flesh visible through the holes in the pirates' rotted, tattered clothing. Revulsion washed through him; he tried to look away but instead found his eyes drawn to Jack by a horrified yet irresistible curiosity that was at once entirely distinct from and completely connected to his disgust towards the pirates' true appearance.
That, he decided when he was thinking it over later, was another big mistake. The sight before him was awful. Jack lay limply draped over the anvil, either too exhausted or in too much pain to move at all as skeletal hands covered his body, stroking, caressing, claiming. Bony fingers tugged at Jack's hair, ran greedily down his arm, skittered over the ridges of his spine. Will's eyes followed one hand as it traced a path from the nape of Jack's neck down his back to a point just above the cleft of his ass. Then he looked that little bit farther down Jack's body and realized that while most of the pirates' flesh was missing in their current state, certain parts were definitely still present if slightly decayed. Seeing Jack violated by a grayish, rotting penis, slimy with a gooey pearlescent substance that must have been the come of others who had already taken their turn, a small chunk of flesh peeling off of it and falling to the deck even as Will watched, was just too much. He physically flinched from the sight, staggered for a moment, then fell to his knees on the deck and vomited. Dimly he heard a few of the nearby pirates taunting him, mostly with remarks about his manliness that would have infuriated him at a different time. He didn't really care at this particular moment. If anything, he wished they'd be a little louder; behind their voices he could still hear the slap-slap-slap of skin meeting skin and Jack's low, continuous groaning.
Long after he'd emptied his stomach, dry heaves continued to rack his body. Everything that had happened this night was so revoltingly appalling; now that he'd finally given in to his physical reaction to all that had occurred, it was hard to stop retching. But at last he was able to simply lie still on the deck � he doubted he had the strength or willpower to stand at this point � with his eyes closed, doing his best to ignore the sounds around him and the stench of mingled sweat, fear, pain, and vomit.
Finally he fell into an exhausted half-swoon; he had no idea how much time had passed before he was jolted out of his daze by rough hands that untied his bindings and pulled him to his feet. Someone growled, "Go on, help 'im get dressed so we kin put ye down below," and he was shoved forward. Surprised, he stumbled and fell, managing to catch himself on his hands before his face hit the deck. He winced as several pulled muscles made themselves known, then climbed to his feet, rubbing his wrists where the ropes had chafed them, and looked around.
Jack sat slumped against one of the anvil tables, his head lolling back against the wood and his arms limp at his sides. His face was blank save for a slight suggestion of intense concentration that hung somewhere around his eyebrows and the bridge of his nose. Will walked somewhat unsteadily to his side and all but collapsed there.
"Jack?" There was no response to the worried inquiry, but when Will reached out to touch Jack's shoulder the pirate flinched away. His eyes focused, and he turned his head to regard Will with a painfully weary gaze.
"Don't." The word came out rasping and hoarse, as if Jack had been screaming for hours.
Will's eyes went wide in dismay. "Did I hurt you?"
Jack laughed, a bitter, rough sound. "Couldn't hurt me more'n I've been already," he grated.
"Then what is it?"
Jack looked away. "Y'shouldn't � I mean, I'm filthy-"
"You are not!" In the literal sense Jack was speaking the truth, but Will suspected that he wasn't talking about his physical cleanliness. "For God's sake, Jack-"
"Filthy," Jack repeated decisively. "An' ye're not. You shouldn't dirty yourself."
"Bullocks," Will said and, having gone to collect Jack's clothes while the other man was talking, started to help him into his breeches, an action which Jack apparently lacked the energy or desire to protest further.
Dressing Jack was slow going; fairly often he would wince and hiss as a particular movement further abused his already battered body and would have to pause for a moment. As they finally got the breeches up over Jack's hips, Will caught a brief glimpse of dried blood on the other man's inner thigh. He made an outraged sound; Jack only glanced down with a raised eyebrow and said quietly, "Don�t worry yourself; that's no more than a trickle. I've seen worse." Will decided that he didn't want to know what "worse" was.
In silence they pulled Jack's stockings on and slipped his boots onto his feet. Seeing the pain on Jack's face as he bent forward to tie the laces, Will pushed his hands away and did it himself. He'd finished the first boot and started on the second before he found the boldness to say, "What Barbossa said... I mean, about-" He stopped abruptly, too embarrassed to say the words. Jack was silent, offering no opening, no aid. Finally, keeping his eyes on Jack's laces, Will asked, "Is it true?"
Jack's legs tensed; there was a sudden restless movement of feet in the boots beneath Will's hands. For a long time the pirate was quiet; Will had long since finished with the laces but was still in the same position, intensely regarding Jack's boots, when finally, "Yes, it is," Jack said with a little convulsive sigh. His voice was resigned, defeated. "All of it."
Only then did Will look up, meeting the other man's eyes. There was a distance in them that had not been present before; moreover, Will saw that a barrier which had been torn down in the past few hours was being reerected. The intelligent, sensitive, serious Jack whose acquaintance Will had just made was steadily being replaced by the eternally drunk but clever buffoon who Will knew all too well. He thought he caught a plea in those eyes: Whatever you do, don't tell. He didn't think he would have told anyway.
Then Jack looked away and with brusquely deliberate movements put his shirt on and stood up. He swayed and nearly fell, but Will rose and steadied him. Jack shot him a surprised glance at this; before Will had time to ponder its meaning a gruff voice said "Took ye long enough," from behind them and they were surrounded and pulled forward.
It was impossibly dark below after the bright moonlight on deck. Will's eyes had just barely adjusted to the gloom by the time he was pushed roughly into his cell, the door slamming behind him. He turned to watch as Jack was given similar treatment. The pirate, however, was not yet so steady on his feet as was Will; he stumbled over the cell's threshold and would have fallen had Gibbs not caught him. Jack looked up at Gibbs at the same time as the other man looked down at him; the two gazed wordlessly at each other for a long moment, paying no attention to the quiet, worried questions of the rest of the crew. Then Gibbs looked up; his eyes met Will's, and Will saw that the older man knew � if not everything, then at least most of what had happened.
Jack stood completely upright then, but he still seemed a little unsteady. Gibbs immediately turned his attention back to his captain. He guided Jack to the cell's single straw-stuffed pallet, clearing it of its occupants with a gruff "Move," and gently helped Jack to lie down.
Will turned his back on the others. He leaned against the bars of his cell as he slid slowly down to sit on the floor. He ignored Elizabeth, who had been asking what had happened with increasing concern and insistence since Will and Jack had come back below; and turned his head to the side so that neither she nor the rest of the crew would see the tears that he finally allowed to slide silently down his cheeks.
Will blinks and shakes his head, clearing it of the thoughts of the past that have momentarily distracted him. Why he is thinking of that night of all things at this moment is beyond him. Perhaps it is just that now, at the end of this adventure, it is inevitable that he should look back on some of the major events that have occurred.
Or perhaps it is that he feels he understands better than anyone else possibly could the look of mingled sorrow and bitter anger on Jack's face as he shot Barbossa.
He can't quite bring himself to believe that it's all over, that Barbossa (and presumably many if not most or all of his crew) is truly dead, that he and Elizabeth are safe, that Elizabeth � well, perhaps he shouldn't think about that now. Why let a little detail ruin this moment which should bring such happiness and relief, even if that detail happens to be the engagement of the woman he loves to another man?
A sudden crash distracts him. Looking up, he sees Jack sorting through the treasure piled haphazardly about the cavern. The pirate picks up an elaborately bejeweled scabbard and studies it for a moment, then shakes his head and tosses the scabbard carelessly over his shoulder.
For an instant just seeing Jack is enough to put Will back on the Pearl on that awful night, a witness to the senseless violation of a man for whom he now feels a great respect and even perhaps a sort of affinity. He sees a flash of Jack kneeling naked before Barbossa, another of Jack bent over the anvil � and then he is back in real time, and Jack is still fully clothed and (apparently) just fine and still sorting through the treasure with a discriminating eye.
But something's wrong. Will feels it in the pit of his stomach, knows that something is missing, unresolved. And suddenly he understands why he can't seem to stop thinking about that night. A moment's hesitation to gather his courage � he wants an answer but is not entirely sure he's going to like it when he gets one � and then he walks resolutely toward the pirate, dodging a flying golden goblet and a silver, gem-encrusted statue of a cow on his way as Jack continues to toss various objects over his shoulder.
"Jack?"
The pirate turns, but only halfway, still studying the string of pearls he holds out of the corner of one critical eye. "Yes?"
"I have a question for you."
Something in Will's voice must have struck Jack as significant, for he actually sets the pearls down and turns to give the other man his full attention. "Yes?"
"That night on the Pearl � before they left you and Elizabeth on the island-"
Suddenly Jack looks away, refusing to meet Will's eyes. This disturbs Will profoundly; the pirate's gaze is rarely anything but completely direct. Jack seemed fine after the fact, but could it have hurt him more than he'd revealed? And if that's true, will it do him more harm to go back and examine that night, something that he'll have to do to answer Will's question? But it's too late for Will to go back now; he's already started to do this, and he no longer has the option of not asking the question that has been restless in the back of his mind for so long. So he takes a deep breath and forges on. "Why did you do that?"
There is no need to specify what he's talking about. He knows that Jack understands exactly what he means; if he wasn't aware of it already, he'd perceive it when Jack looks up at him quickly and then drops his eyes once more. There is a long moment of silence; Will tries desperately not to fidget and finally settles for twining his hands together behind his back. He has no idea why it means so much to him to know the answer to this question; he knows only that he needs it with a burning urgency that would not let him rest if he missed this opportunity.
Jack looks up and inhales as if he is about to say something, but falters as he meets Will's expectant, anxious gaze. Will realizes suddenly that he is once more seeing the hidden Jack Sparrow, the man who has cares and sorrows and perhaps even a sort of wisdom that could not be expected of the gregarious, happy-go-lucky alter ego who was present mere moments ago. There is no light in the brown eyes staring back at Will, only pain and weary confusion. Then Jack seems to shake himself slightly, a shuddering ripple running through his body, and he speaks.
"I couldn't let them just do that to you, Will. Rape you." He moistens his lips, an extraordinarily nervous gesture for a man who always seems so self-assured. "It's clear you've no experience with men in that way, and I just � I couldn't stand by and watch it done."
Will feels a prick of guilt; after all, he did just stand by and watch as Jack was raped. And strangely enough, he also feels a confusingly deep disappointment. "So that's it, then? You just wanted to do a good deed?"
Jack raises an eyebrow at the blatant disbelief in Will's voice. "That's not good enough?"
"It's very unlike you."
Jack snorts. "You don't know what's like me and what's unlike me, savvy? Go judge someone else, why don't you?"
"Come on, Jack. I've never seen you do something that wouldn�t benefit you in the end in some way."
"Well, you did that night, now didn't you?"
"I can't believe that!" Will spins away, runs a hand through his hair, turns back. In a calmer voice he says, "I can't believe that anyone, let alone you, would do something like that, subject yourself to � to-" he finds he can't even bring himself to say it, "-just to save me from it."
"Maybe I didn't want to see the light go out of your eyes-" Jack stops abruptly, blinking in a rather bewildered fashion that suggests that he hadn't been planning on actually saying that. He falls mute, almost abashedly returning Will's steadily curious and challenging gaze for several silent minutes until finally he rolls his eyes and continues in a flat voice, "You're still an innocent, Will. I didn't want to see you lose that." His face takes on a strange, soft expression; he reaches out and brushes his fingertips gently against Will's cheek. They linger there for a few moments before Jack seems to realize what he's doing and pulls back. Will catches a glimpse of confusion and self-reproach in Jack's eyes before the pirate looks down again and says bitterly, "God knows I've seen enough o'that already." He turns away from Will. "Go talk to your girl, mate. I'm sure she'll be wanting to have a word with you." That is clearly the end of the conversation as far as Jack is concerned. Will, unwilling to push him any further at this point, heaves a mental sigh and does as he was told.
Elizabeth is standing with her back to the men, but she turns to face Will as he approaches. And though he swears that he had something to say when he walked up, he now finds himself without words as he and Elizabeth look at each other mutely for several moments, a silent acknowlegement and understanding of all that has happened passing between them.
A sudden loud crash shatters the moment. Will looks over his shoulder to see Jack tossing more treasure around as if it was worthless. When he turns back to Elizabeth, she is regarding him with wistful apology.
"We should return to the Dauntless."
The reminder that this is not going to be a fairy tale ending, that he and Elizabeth cannot be together, hurts more than he'd expected it would. He tries to be stoic as he says, "Your fianc� will be wanting to know you're safe," but he knows that at least some of his disappointment is showing on his face. And yet at the same time he is puzzled by the sudden surge of relief he feels at Elizabeth's words, as if a burden has been lifted from his shoulders. He tries to ignore that feeling as Elizabeth walks away.
"If you were waiting for the opportune moment," Jack says, coming up behind him, "that was it. Now-" but Will is no longer listening as Jack walks forward, still speaking. That was a missed opportunity, wasn't it? he muses. He reaches up to touch his cheek, where he can still feel the light pressure of work-callused fingertips. And his eyes follow not the slender, womanly figure making its way toward the cavern's entrance, but the stockier, dark-haired one, which sways in affected half-inebriation as it walks with light, silent steps.
Yes, a missed opportunity. How stupid of him to not see it until now; God only knows what he just denied himself. He can only hope that there will be more chances in the future which he will have the presence of mind to take.
-FIN-
- 1
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Opportunity