Notes: So many fics have been written about Will leaving to join Jack. The most common theme seems to be it's all because of Elizabeth. I just wanted to write something where it was Will's fault. sighs Yet another idea finished when I'm trying to write something else.

Blood Will Tell by fairady

At night Will lays awake in his bed listening to the sea. Waiting to hear the town's alarms sound to the unmistakable sound of gunfire. All he will hear is the constant crash of the sea and the occasional drunken snatch of a song.

In the morning he will get up and prepare to go to the smithy. It's odd having to walk across the town everyday. He is still used to living in the hayloft of the smithy. The large house is a gift from the Governor to him. For Elizabeth is the unspoken message that he gets.

The dusty rooms echo as he walks through them. The smithy could easily fit inside the entryway. It makes him nervous. The rooms are supposed to be filled with things, but he simply cannot imagine what he should put in them. All that he needs fits easily within his bedroom, the smallest room in the house obviously meant for a servant.

It's a good thing the Governor had not visited the house since gifting it to Will. He already gets enough condensing from the man. He does not need more.

The town stirs around him as he walks. Will is mostly used to the stares by now. It's bearable as long as he doesn't listen to the whispers as well.

Brown is slumped in the corner, as usual. An empty bottle lay at his feet, and another was held loosely in his lap. Will smiled fondly at the man. He might not have been the best master to learn from, but he could always be counted on to never change.

Changing his good shirt and coat for a thick leather apron Will rubbed at his eyes. He blamed his tiredness on the empty house.

The day's orders had been completed the day before so he was free to work on whatever took his fancy. He wonders what type of chandelier Elizabeth would like and reaches for his tools. The work is absorbing and when he is interrupted at noon the framework is complete.

"Mr. Turner," Elizabeth smiles in mock politeness. "I see that you are hard at work as always."

Her presence is a welcome distraction. Will feels the way his muscles pull as he sets his tools down. Any longer and he might have hurt himself. "Good evening to you, Ms. Swann. What can this humble blacksmith do for you today, my lady?"

"You can accompany me to eat," she smiles widely. "I thought we could have a picnic by the sea."

"That sounds perfect," he can see the carriage waiting outside. A small crowd has gathered around it. The bellows prevent him from hearing their whispers. "If you would allow me a moment to make myself presentable I will join you, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth walks further into the shop, skirts hiked slightly higher than necessary to avoid the soot. "Why? I see nothing wrong with you the way you are now."

"Elizabeth," Will backs away slightly, and is thankful the soot covers his blush. She had more than enough to tease him about. She does not need more.

A few nosy souls have edged up to the smithy doors to peer in. Will loudly bangs his hammer down startling the donkey, "The smithy is closed. You can come back later," turning back he says, "You may not see anything wrong with the way I am, but you will surely object to the way I smell if we are to ride in your carriage. I will be out shortly."

"All right Will," Elizabeth leaves with a fond smile.

Once the door is shut he hastens to the water barrel. The soap isn't very effective in washing the ash and soot off, but it's scent is light and inoffensive. It takes three scrubbings before he deems himself presentable. His good shirt has acquired a soot stain, but the jacket covers it nicely.

Elizabeth smiles as he climbs into the carriage, and teases him about his cleanliness, "You have to be the cleanest pirate in the world Will."

iI'm not a pirate,/i the protest is a useless lie and he no longer bothers to voice it.

The carriage stops a discreet distance from their usual spot. It's the Governor's last attempt at trying to keep propriety between the two. Too little too late. Elizabeth's virtue is already the topic of discussion in the town, and the common consensus is none too favorable for her. Elizabeth seemed blithely unconcerned with it all.

Lunch is a fairly quiet affair for them. A little conversation inquiring what their days consisted of, and a lot of staring out towards the sea. Her head rests on his shoulder as she finishes recounting the mess the new maid had gotten into.

"Will," she starts quietly, "do you ever think about going back? To the sea."

Will looks down at the top of her head and wonders how long she has wanted to ask that. He can't tell from her voice if she'd be pleased or not if he said yes. "Why would I want the sea when I have the most beautiful treasure in this town?"

She sighs and lifts her head up smiling happily. She likes his answer, "I think I've stolen you from your work long enough."

At the smithy he looks around briefly. He has nothing more to do, and he forgot to ask Elizabeth about the chandelier. Brown is nowhere to be seen, he'd probably gone to the bar. Will looks at his swords and chooses his best two before leaving.

He has found one use for the large empty foyer of his house. By the time Will finishes his practice the sun is setting and his stomach begs for attention. The kitchen, another room meant for servants, is small and comfortable. He doesn't have much in the pantry, but it's enough to make a good stew. Will sets out two bowls and the last of his bread. He trusts his dinner companion will bring his own drink.

It isn't long before he hears the front door open, and nothing else. It was only when Jack Sparrow is certain he has an audience that he adopts his more flamboyant antics.

"Smells wonderful," Jack swaggers into kitchen and into the closest chair. A full bottle of rum is brandished with a grin. "Everythin' we be needing for a good meal."

Will isn't sure when the pirate had come back, he's entirely sure he doesn't want to know how both he and the Black Pearl have escaped notice. Jack had said nothing the first night he showed up at Will's door beyond asking what was for dinner. The man still hadn't said anything in the week he'd been appearing for dinner.

More precisely he didn't say anything useful. Jack Sparrow always had a lot to say at any given time. But then Jack never had to say anything at all, Will understood him perfectly.

Jack raises one brow when, after dinner, Will doesn't immediately clear the bowls away as he usually does. Will shakes his head and simply says, "No point."

Jack doesn't react in anyway, or is just wise enough to wait for Will's back to be turned. His favorite sword, a simple rapier with a worn grip, goes in the sheath at his side. His other is wrapped up and strapped to his pack. Will doesn't have much that he owns, and there is even less of it that he finds he wants to keep.

It's full dark by the time they leave and Jack mutters about the lack of a moon. Will's not sure if it's a good thing or not. Most likely Jack just wants the light so he wouldn't trip over the uneven cobbles. Tortuga's streets may be worse, but they are better lighted than Port Royale's.

He was right in not wanting to know the Pearl's berth. She is boldly anchored right next to the Admiral's new flag ship. The only concession to safety Jack seemed to have made was to lower her distinctive black sails in favor of a less damning white. Though, as they step into the row boat, he can see that her crew is working on hoisting her familiar colors back up.

He is a pirate through and through. The sea has always called to his blood, and he can no longer ignore it. Will leaves no letter or sign behind. It would be cruel to give such false hopes and lies. Especially since he has already been so cruel.

He is a pirate. And now that he has stolen this small town's most beautiful treasure he finds he is no longer content to stay.