Strictly a CotBP fic; NOT compliant with either sequel.
This takes place some time after the movie ends. Jack is in town and he and Will go out to dinner. They catch up, eat, and are getting into the post-meal intoxication…at least, Jack is….
"C'mon, son, have a glass."
Jack's smile was shaky and his gestures even more wild than usual. "Fair enough. Have a bottle, then?"
Will sighed. "Jack, you know I don't. I swear, I can't even begin to imagine how you can eat a full meal and then go and consume, I don't know, nearly your weight in whatever foul drink that is."
"Foul?" Jack bent down and felt around on the floor for another glass. "I'm afraid you'll need to have a sip yourself before you go passing judgment on me beverage choices," he informed Will seriously. He poured a bit into the cup (and a lot onto the floor) and pushed it across the table.
With another long-suffering sigh, Will tossed back the drink, and then had to spend a few moments coughing and sputtering.
Jack was amused. "You may be a fine pirate in all other aspects, Will Turner, but I fear me you'll never learn to drink like one."
"I don't want to drink like a pirate," Will growled, offended despite the obvious affection in Jack's tipsy rambling. "I hate pirates, they're all vile drunken dogs."
Jack held up a finger. "Don't forget to say present company excepted, now, or I'll be taking you to task for that. Hear? I've got me sword right…uhm…" he fumbled around for his weapon, but Will put a hand on his arm and he subsided.
"Sorry, Jack. I like you, but you're still a vile drunken dog. Although it wasn't you I was thinking of when I said it; I meant the real villains…like Barbossa."
Jack rolled his eyes, which impaired his balance to the point where he had to grab the table to avoid falling over. "Are you still on that? He's dead, son, and it's bad luck to be…hic…speaking ill o'the dead."
"He could die a thousand times and I'd never stop speaking ill of him!" Will's voice was shaking with anger. Jack seemed to find it amusing, which got Will even more riled up... "You think it's funny that I should hate him? He killed my father, Jack, in cold blood, and I-"
"No. Nope. You don't know the half of it." Jack was shaking his head with drunken certainty.
"I don't know the…" Will echoed, trailing off in confusion. "What are you talking about? Jack!" All of a sudden a terrible idea struck him and leaned over the table to grab Jack by the shoulders. "You're not telling me Barbossa didn't kill my father? That story with the cannon's not true? Have I yet to avenge him?"
Jack squinted the world back into focus. "No, no, mate, that bit about the bootstraps…it's true, that part was true," he slurred. "It's just that…oh, hang it, I wasn't going to tell you."
Will shook him savagely. "Damn it, Jack, you're drunk and I will get the truth out of you this time. Now!" Jack didn't answer, and he leaned back. "I knew it." He sounded almost triumphant. "I knew it. You're a liar, damn you to hellfire, but don't you lie to me about this! If you want something from me, if you need me to quest for something, kill some other pirate for you, then say so, for God's sake, and I'll do it - but don't go lying about what happened to my father!"
Jack's eyes widened and then he frowned. "Not lying. I'm not lying – listen to yourself. You know the truth already – or you should, anyway, and you don't need me to tell it."
"The truth?" Will took a deep breath. "My father was Bootstrap Bill Turner, a pirate, and Barbossa killed him by dropping him to the bottom of the ocean tied to a cannon. Right?" He watched Jack carefully, trying to figure out what he was thinking. It was, as usual, futile.
Jack hiccuped and waved his hands around in a loopy signal for hold it right there. "Will, think a bit, can you? William Turner was a pirate, right? One of me mutinous crew. Remember?"
Jack's voice dropped to an intriguing gravelly whisper, and Will had to lean in close to hear it. "So where d'you imagine he got that medallion, then?" Distracted by the powerful reek of rum on the pirate's breath, Will's mind still didn't make the jump. Jack smiled indulgently. "From the chest, of course. Meaning he was cursed, mate, same as the rest of them. He couldn't die any more than they could. Barbossa did chuck him to the bottom, aye… And there he presumably remained, until the curse was broken and he could finally drown. Captain Barbossa didn't kill your father, mate." He met Will's horrified gaze with perfect steadiness and poked him in the chest, enunciating clearly: "You did."
The End, I suppose. This ficlit just popped into my head today and I had to set it down. Comments and all are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading.