Summary: Whilst out in the Port Royal market, a familiar coat catches Will's eye. He finds something in the pocket, but that's not all he discovers. Post CotBP, disregards other films. One-shot.

Prompt: Write a story about a character who buys a secondhand coat and then discovers something in the pocket.

The Coat

Will Turner glanced at the market stands as he passed them. Mr. Brown had recently paid him, and now he had enough money left over to buy something that wasn't a necessity. He could finally buy something he wanted, a reward for all the hard work he did at the smithy each day.

So far nothing had caught his attention. Not the fruit, the art, nor the golden watches.

But then he saw the coat booth. One coat in particular stood out to him. He stopped to examine it.

The overcoat was black, weathered down to look slightly gray. It had ten large buttons down the front, recently polished but scratched all the same. The arm cuffs were folded over so that one's hands could poke out from the sleeves, the creases clearly permanent. The pockets appeared to be sewn a very many times in the coat's past.

The coat had obviously been used. And, judging by how familiar Will found it, someone he had known had worn it. But how had it ended up in the Port Royal market?

"That frock coat catching your eye, lad?" The man running the stand asked.

"Yes." Will answered. "How much is it?"

"Five shillings."

He inwardly groaned, but paid the price anyway.

"It's all yours, sir. Good day."

"Thank you." Will replied. "Good day."

He took the coat from where it hung, pulling it over his shoulders as he pushed his arms into the sleeves. It fit nearly perfectly, but something still felt off. Even though he had paid for it, it didn't feel like it belonged to him.

On his way back home, he noticed a heaviness in the right hand pocket. It then occurred to him that something was in it. He lifted the flap, reaching his hand inside. His hand closed around a wooden box shaped object. He could feel a small dome in the center of the top of it. He found a string hanging from the object.

Will reached the place where he had been staying going inside and climbing the stairs to his room. After closing the door, he sat down on the bed and withdrew the item from the coat pocket.

Sure enough, the item was box shaped. The corners were cut down plat so as not to stab the user. The majority of it, including the dome on top, was painted black. The edges were painted gold.

And Will recognized it instantly; it was Jack Sparrow's compass, the one that didn't point north.

This is Jack's coat! He realized in horror. If there was anything he knew of his pirate friend, it was that he didn't tend to part well with his possessions. He wouldn't have left the coat or compass behind. Then the hard truth hit him. Jack's dead…

"No." He whispered in grief. "Jack…You can't be dead. You helped me save Elizabeth. You defeated undead pirates. You didn't die then, you shouldn't be dead now."

Jack was the only other person, besides Elizabeth, that Will felt he was close to. He had no other friends in Port Royal. He never felt like he belonged in the smithy, nor the house where he stayed. On the Interceptor, as part of Jack's crew, he'd felt more at home than ever before.

The infamous Captain Sparrow could not be dead.

But the compass in Will's hand and the coat he wore said otherwise.