Prompt #21 - "Under Borrowed Colors"
Title: Under Borrowed Colors
Author: Melusina (fabu)
Pairing/characters: Jack/Will/Elizabeth
Rating: PG13
Summary: While Will is on the Flying Dutchman, Jack plays go-between.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Gore Verbinski, Ted Elliot, and Terry Rossio, various studios including but not limited to First Mate Productions Inc., Jerry Bruckheimer Films, and Walt Disney Pictures. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: Many thanks to geekmama for her very helpful beat read. Written for ceria_taliesin's prompt: "Jack/Elizabeth/Will, forgiveness (during or post AWE would be nice)"

Under Borrowed Colors

It was better than the alternative. No doubt, that's what Jack would've said, and Will couldn't really argue. Whatever fairy tales he'd once heard in church, Will had seen enough of those blank eyes to know that death was the end of hope. If there were joyful reunions on the other side, Will had seen no sign of them.

Will should've been grateful to Jack, and he was. Every day he remembered that Jack had saved his life. But every day Will also remembered that it was Jack who'd started all of this in motion, that it was Jack's hand that had condemned Will and Elizabeth to ten years apart. Love is neither reasonable nor fair.

At night, he brooded on it, counting "if onlies" the way another man might count sheep, cursing Jack for dooming him to this dark and thankless task and praying that Elizabeth was safe. Already his memories of her were fading and losing some of their clarity. By the end, would there be nothing but memories of memories?

Will had been on the Dutchman six months when they found Jack floating in a dingy off the Florida coast, rail-thin, and half-dead from fever. Will wondered if it was Jack's fate to sail on the Dutchman after all, but he set Jack's arm himself, under the theory that he'd need to be able to use it regardless of which shore he landed on, and to his surprise, Jack's fever diminished and he slowly began to recover.

It was hard to hold on to his anger in the face of Jack's presence. Jack was so very. . .Jack, and blaming him seemed like begrudging a hurricane for the destruction it wrought. Besides, there was something to be said for having a companion who wasn't addled from years under Davy Jones' command or cowed by Will's authority as captain. And most importantly, Jack knew Elizabeth and was willing to wile away the watches on endless reminiscences and speculation of what her life might be like.

"What does a pirate king do?"

Jack shrugged. "It's been so long since there's been one, no one really knows. No doubt she'll find some way to turn it to her advantage."


When all was said and done, Elizabeth couldn't face Jack. All through those first long months, when her belly grew and she thought her heart would break, she dreamt of Jack, but when he returned to Shipwreck Island during her seventh month, she refused to see him.

It was only when she got word that he'd been on the Dutchman that she went to him. She was skeptical of his claim - she'd assumed that no one living would see Will for the next decade - but she was desperate to have her doubt belied.

She found Jack slumped over a table in the Shipwreck Inn, his hand still curled around a mug of rum. He was even more tattered and rag-tag than usual, and when he jerked up at the sound of his name, she saw that his left arm hung awkwardly in a dirty sling.

She balanced herself on the bench, ungainly and awkward, and his eyes grew wide at her girth. "Did you swallow a melon seed? Or is that a baby elephant in there?"

"Enough! Gibbs said you've seen Will."

"Aye."

She raised an eyebrow, and Jack produced a grubby square of paper from his pocket.

The message was short and simple, the one every sailor sends to his beloved: "I love you and I miss you. I long for the time when we can be together again." But it was enough.

She choked back her tears and forced her voice into a calm and measured tone. "How is he?"

"All's well with young William -- and old William, for that matter." He gestured at her belly with his mug. "He'll be delighted to know about this development."

"Don't tell him!"

"Why ever not?"

"It's hard enough, being apart for so long. If he doesn't know. . .It will save him some worry and grief."

Jack's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"It's not like that," she cried indignantly. "I just. . .don't want it to be harder for him than it has to be."


Jack's dishonesty was legendary, so it should've been a simple thing to lie to Will. It wasn't even a lie, really, just an omission. But the perverse thing about Jack was the more decency demanded dishonesty, the more inclined he found himself to tell the truth.

"A baby?" Will's eyes shone with joy and sorrow, all mingled together.

"Aye, a boy. Born in the caul, they say, like a proper sailor, and a strong, lusty lad."

"And Elizabeth?"

"Healthy as a horse." And she was, now. No need to go into the milk fever that had brought her near to death. "She named the baby Weatherby William, against the advice of all concerned. Luckily, he's mostly called Billy."


Will had thought that Elizabeth's absence would be the hardest thing to bear. But over time, he discovered that the absence, as painful as it was, wasn't as terrible as the knowledge that time was passing, and Elizabeth was changing and growing older, becoming someone else, while Will was so far away. He feared that when they were finally reunited, she would be as much a stranger to him as their son.

Every scrap of knowledge thus became invaluable, and Will was greedy for any tidbit he could discover about Elizabeth's life. Jack's stories, farfetched though they seemed, provided Will with some sense of how she fared.

Apart from the news Jack brought, Will genuinely enjoyed Jack's company. Whenever they met, Jack's first words were of Elizabeth and the child, but Jack also shared stories of his adventures and his past, lewd jokes and songs, and all manner of ridiculous blather, breaking the monotony of Will's days and lifting his spirits.

Will had imagined that Elizabeth would change while he stayed the same. But his loneliness was like a crucible, melting him down and reshaping him. His love for Elizabeth was a constant, impervious, but everything else was different.

He wanted to believe that Jack had started it -- it seemed a lesser betrayal to succumb to temptation, rather than to instigate it -- but Will could no longer recall whether he touched Jack first or if Jack had touched him. One thing Will could not deny: he'd wanted it long before it happened.



At first, Elizabeth was certain that there must be a loophole, some way to circumvent these restrictions (just as she'd once found ways around her father's injunctions that she stay away from the smithy), but Teague had disabused her of this notion.

"There are the laws of men," he explained, "That are subject to interpretation and manipulation. And then there are the laws of nature, which are immutable and uncompromising. You don't cheat the ocean. You don't cheat Calypso. Ten years apart and faithful to the end. It's as simple as that."

Will stopped appearing in her dreams, and she feared she would forget what he looked like. But as Billy grew, he became more and more like his father in appearance (as much as he was like his mother in temperament) and the constant reminder was both a blessing and a curse.

And then there was Jack. He brought Will to her in drips and drabs, like spoonfuls of water to a parched man: letters and trinkets and tales of Will's adventures on that strange sea at the end of the world, small reminders that bolstered her spirits and gave her hope.

When Billy was five, Jack disappeared for a full year and Elizabeth feared the worst. He returned with a hold full of Chinese silk and Indian spices, and a string of black pearls for Elizabeth. They drank late into the evening, and Jack regaled her with stories of the wonders he'd seen in the East. After four bottles of wine, he seemed as sober as ever (which is to say, not very) and Elizabeth's head was swimming.

It was only then that he bowed his head to whisper, "I have a message from Will."

She waited expectantly for a package or a letter, but Jack only leaned in closer, until his lips brushed hers gently. There was a whimper, and it took Elizabeth a moment to realize that she'd made that desperate sound. Then she was returning the kiss, furiously, with tears streaming down her cheeks and her hands tangled in his wild hair.

She'd thought she was done weeping for Will, but she was like Niobe, an endless fount of tears.


Will had Jack pressed over the desk in the Dutchman's great cabin when he whispered in his ear, "Do you love her?"

Jack considered his options and said nothing.

Will seemed to find the answer he was looking for in the silence. Rocking his hips, he pushed Jack against the desk, then nipped his ear viciously. "Good."

Afterwards, when the lantern guttered out and the moon slid behind the clouds, Jack asked, "How can you love a woman you haven't seen in seven years?"

"How could you spend ten years of your life chasing a ship?"

And there was nothing at all to be said to that.


Right up until the moment that Elizabeth held Will in her arms, she feared that in her weakness she'd bent the rules until they broke. How many kisses made a woman unfaithful? But then, finally, Will was there, and they were clinging to one another so tightly that his sleeve was in her mouth. She laughed to realize that she'd closed her teeth around the fabric, as if to hold him with every means available. Billy stood by, wide-eyed, and when Will released her, she said, "Will, there's someone--"

"You must be Billy." Will cut his eyes at her ruefully.

Of course, Jack had told him. Her first reaction was a rush of anger, followed by relief that she would not have to explain.

Billy held out a hand and Will shook it solemnly, then pulled him into a rough embrace. "I've waited a long time for this."


Never one to outstay his welcome, Jack ran. It was his most reliable strategy and one of the things he did best.

Without having to play go-between to the Pirate King and her cursed husband, he was able to get in a spot of honest piracy. With his share of the proceeds from the aforementioned piracy, he was able to eat, drink and whore extravagantly for exactly nine days. On the tenth day, he awoke without a cent to his name and stumbled out into the street and smack dab into Elizabeth, who managed to look worried, amused and exasperated all at once (which was one of the things that she did best).

"What possessed you to go off without a word, Jack? We've been searching for you for weeks!"

He shrugged, wishing she could show her concern in a slightly quieter fashion. "Three's a crowd."

As if to prove Jack right, Will appeared, looking equally exasperated, and a good bit less amused. "Some of us like crowds."

Elizabeth's lips twitched, and she and Will shared a mischievous glance.

"In fact, some of us have plans that are best executed with three."

And then Jack remembered -- one of the things Will did best was reel Jack into his harebrained schemes.


Everything had changed, and yet somehow it was all the same. Motherhood (or monarchy) had made Elizabeth both more pragmatic and more compassionate, but Will still couldn't decide if she was a pirate disguised as a lady or a lady disguised as a pirate. Jack, ever mercurial, was constant in his endless variation. And Will was once again a simple blacksmith.

He'd been a good captain, and he'd learned to love the sea in all her many moods, but now he longed for dry land, for hammer and anvil and the feel of a sword taking shape beneath his hands. It felt right, the roar of the fire like the wind in a storm and the forge as hot as the lower decks on a sunny day. It felt like what he was meant to do.

"What goes around, comes around," Jack said, when he saw the swords hanging in Will's forge.

"Just like old times," Elizabeth agreed.

Will threw an arm around each of them. "Everything comes out right in the end."