Don't own Doctor Who, Torchwood, or anything besides the plot. Everything down to the last stone in the street belongs to their true owners.
Captain Jack Harkness lay on the floor, a pounding headache echoing through his head and his whole body just…limp. Groggily, he opened his eyes to see a darkly lit bar, with noises and lights screaming around him. Feeling awful, he lay back against the floor for a while before rising to a sitting position.
"Different bar…"he mumbled. The usual one didn't have wood floors and such…weird customers. "Must have some pirate theme or something." Finding a bottle in his hand, he drank from it and felt some of the pain recede into the already misty edges of his brain. As he sat, feeling the wood grain under his fingers and trying to work up the strength to stand, he watched as the other patrons passed by him, and when he waved flirtatiously to a group of dancing girls, they simply smiled and giggled back, as if they already knew him.
As morning came, the huge crowd thinned, and eventually the bar was left empty. "Jack?" the bartender called. "I'm closin' up for the mornin'. Got anywhere to go?"
"Haw… how do you know my name-"
"Oh, I'm a softie, Jack." The bartender continued, obviously not hearing Jack's mumblings. "Anything for a regular. Now look'ee here, captain, I'll help you outside, and you can rest there 'fore going back to 'our ship. C'mon, now.."
Jack stood, albeit uneasily, and was surprised by the unfamiliar feel of long dreads and beads hanging down around his face. "Wha-"
"'Ere we go now. Goo' day, there, Captain Jack." The bartender waved and walked down the cobbled street, whistling off-key. And there was another thing! London didn't have cobbled streets! Again sitting, this time on the outside of the disreputable establishment, he glanced down to his watch to see it stone-dead. Tapping it drunkenly, he heard no sound and cursed silently. Then, taking a strand of his now long hair, he examined it carefully. When did I get dreads? He wondered. Is this what I get for passing out on a barroom floor?
As he stared at his hair and tried to puzzle this whole thing out, a young man came up and knelt beside him. "Jack?"
"And who are you?" Jack asked indignantly.
"Will. Will Turner."
"Ah-I don't know any Will Turner."
"'Course you do. That's me. Here, we better get you back to the ship. We've got somewhere to go."
"But…what's my name?"
"The drink better wear off before we set off, Jack. You're our captian."
"Yes…?"
"The most feared pirate to sail the English seas. Captain Jack Sparrow." Will announced triumphantly as he led a very confused and utterly hopeless (and still very drunk) Jack through the noisy streets.
