The sky was a flat, grey plane of clouds, slowly roiling. The air was warm and charged. The winds were gentle. An electrical storm was brewing.
Will stared at Jack for a long time. "Do you ever think about what you're about to say before it comes out of your mouth?"
"Come on, Will! You never used to care about the words. You could see right past them and knew exactly what I meant. Try that now," Jack demanded. She was barreling straight on, trying to get Will to catch up.
Will wasn't having it. "No."
"Will, this is important!" Jack said. She was clearly excited, and frustrated that Will wasn't.
"Jack, you just implied that all my bad luck, and everything that has happened because of it, is my own fault! That's not something we're just going to skip past on your way to your next revelation, especially not right now. Talking about us and how we're making each other feel is the whole reason we agreed to have this conversation," Will said, trying to be patient. "We're not just going to ignore it all because you think you've made a discovery."
"I didn't say it's your fault," Jack said. "It's my fault. We established that. What I'm saying is that who you are is screwing with how it's supposed to work!"
"That's a pretty fine hair to split, don't you think?" Will asked archly.
"Fine. Yes, it is. Can we please move on? I think I have this figured out!"
"No!" Will snapped. "You can't tell me that I'm the problem and then change the subject."
"I'm not!" Jack pleaded. "I'm staying right on the subject. You're just not seeing what I'm seeing,"
"Then make me see it! Tell me what you meant instead of just blowing on past any kind of explanation!" Will demanded. "If you think it's me and not the curse, then how is it not my fault?"
"If I gave Bella's monkey a gun, and it went off, would it be the monkey's fault?" Jack asked.
Will stared at her for a few moments, then sighed. "You really do have a knack for putting things in the most insulting terms possible."
"Just answer the question, Will," Jack said flatly.
"No." Will said, clearly humoring her in the most exasperated tone possible. "It would not be the monkey's fault."
"Who's fault would it be?" Jack asked.
"Yours. You gave the monkey the gun," Will said flatly.
"What if I didn't know it was a gun?" Jack asked. "What if it was one of those hidden gun things? A cane, or a trapped box. What if I thought I was giving the monkey something nice?"
"Then I guess it's no one's fault," Will shrugged. "But it would still be your responsibility to deal with the consequences."
"Yes. Exactly. That's what I'm trying to do," Jack said quickly "The problem is, the stubborn-ass monkey still doesn't know how the gun works, and isn't paying attention when I try to point out where the trigger is. The monkey is still just scared about the noise and the smoke, and is mad that I gave it the gun in the first place."
"And about the people the monkey already accidentally shot." Will gave Jack a pointed glare. "Maybe the monkey doesn't trust you anymore because it knows you gave it something that scared the hell out of it?"
"I bet the monkey would be pretty damn excited if it could stop freaking out long enough to figure out that I was trying to teach it how to use the gun right." Jack asked sardonically. "Does the monkey need a treat to get it to relax?"
Will tried to come up with a retort, but couldn't. He rubbed his forehead and found himself trying not to laugh. "This analogy has gotten out of hand. How about we never teach Bella's monkey to use guns? That thing is enough of a menace as it is."
Jack grinned in spite of herself. "Deal. Now, moving on?"
"Fine." Will was exasperated, but agreed. "How am I broken?"
"The curse is about luck. Good, bad, doesn't matter. The curse doesn't differentiate. It just reacts. It's a tool," Jack said quickly.
"Like a gun. How it's used determines good or bad," Will nodded, following along.
"Right. When you want things, luck conspires to make them happen for you," Jack said, holding her arms wide in revelation. She clearly thought that was an amazing bit of information and was waiting for Will's reaction.
She didn't get one. He shrugged. "Yeah, I figured that part out."
"What!? You knew? It's incredible, Will? It means we know how it works!" Jack said, baffled by his muted reaction.
"No we don't. It means we know what it does. That's a pretty far cry from understanding how it works," Will shook his head.
"Well, it means we have something to work from!" Jack stood up and started pacing again. "We can figure it out!"
"No we can't," Will said.
Jack stopped pacing and turned to face him, her arms wide in invitation and exasperation. "Why not?"
"Because I'm still a monkey with a gun," Will said. "I've tried to figure it out. I might get what I want, but it's always dangerous as hell, and then right when I think all the risk is about to pay off, something happens. People get hurt and I usually lose what I was trying to accomplish. This monkey might have figured out what the trigger does, but aiming right is nearly impossible. The best thing I can say about it is that I guess I'm lucky I haven't blown my own head off. There's no sense in taking more risks."
"Will, you're a monkey with a gun, regardless!" Jack said. "It's going to be worse if you don't learn how it works. Right now, it goes off randomly whether you like it or not! It was fine when you were alone in the lighthouse, but out here you don't have the luxury of isolation. Your curse has already nearly killed a bunch of people just in the last few days. If you want to have any hope of keeping those around you safe, you have to try to figure it out."
Will's brows furrowed. He sat in silence for a few long moments listening to the waves crash against the hull, then nodded. "You're right. Damn it."
"Thank you!" Jack said triumphantly.
"So what do I do?" Will asked.
"You have to want something," Jack shrugged.
"That's all?" Will asked, one eyebrow raised and his face a mask of pure incredulity.
"Without hesitation or worry. No holding back. No confusion. You have to want it, hard," Jack said fiercely.
"And then I just... get it?" Will asked, still not believing what he was hearing.
"Well, not immediately," Jack shrugged. "I don't think so, anyway. It's luck. The probabilities will arrange themselves so you'll end up with an opportunity."
"So if I decide I need money, I just have to want it really hard and a pile of gold will fall into my lap?" Will scoffed.
"You already did that, Will." Jack's tone was leading. "You're plenty wealthy now from what I hear."
"That wasn't because of the curse. That was in spite of it," Will said flatly. "That was my own skill, through sheer stubbornness and creativity."
"Was it?" Jack asked.
____________________
Danica rolled off her husband and settled into the crook of his shoulder with a relaxed, happy smile on her face. "Mmmm, I love it when you come into port, sailor."
Coleman North laughed. "You'll forget me as soon as I'm gone."
"Never, never, sailor mine," Danica grinned, quoting an old sea chanty. "I'm as true as true can be."
Coleman chuckled. "That's my line."
"No, your line is something about the sea being your one true mistress," Danica said.
"I forget the song," Coleman admitted. "I think if the sea wants me, she's going to have to fight you over it."
"Bitch would lose," Danica said with mock ferocity. A roll of distant thunder echoed in the distance. Danica's eyes went wide.
Her husband laughed hard. "Uh oh. She heard you."
"I take it back. I can share!" Danica called out the porthole window of their tiny cabin inside the quartermaster's lockup.
Coleman rolled out of bed with a groan and started pulling on his pants. "Come on. Let's go do storm prep."
"I had to open my big mouth," Danica sighed, burying herself under the blankets. Coleman waited a few moments then grabbed the blanket and gave it a swift yank, revealing his wife's small, curvy form and shocked expression. "Traitor! The sea can have you!"
"I'll check the hold and meet you up on deck," Coleman grinned.
Danica curled up into a naked, grumpy ball. Her pants landed on top of her.
____________________
Thunder rolled, but Will was too lost in thought to care. His mind reeled. If Jack was right, there was no way for him to know what was really his own talent and success, and what was just the right string of luck. He'd always prided himself on being a self-made man, in spite of all the incredible runs of bad luck he'd lived through. He knew his bad luck was supernatural, but he'd never considered that his ability to overcome it might be as well. Could he really claim credit for his successes? Was it all just luck? How could he tell? What could he pride himself on if nothing came out of his own abilities? "I hate this."