Hopeless dreams, Hopeless Jack
Disclaimer: I own nothing...
(This is a one-shot; I just opened up word and began to type, it's kind of late so forgive me if this doesn't make sense, I got the idea from reading the thoughts on Jack's early years,maybe as a cartographer (map maker). Link is in my profile.Pre- Pirates One, Savvy)
"Hopeless Dreams, Hopeless Jack"
Captain Jack Sparrow wobbled his way to the beach that lay on the outskirts of Tortuga, plopping onto the sand in a less then graceful fashion. Darkness hugged the land and the sky lay, black, an empty void of darkness. He was only half drunk, well, technically a quarter inebriated, since Jack always seemed a little buzzed, even so. Jack eyed the Black Pearl that sat modestly anchored to the sea. It was his ship, and yet, it wasn't. He rarely had complete control of the disorganized mess of a crew and he didn't see his plundering threw, just asking for all their fancy, do dandy liquor and allowing the greedy hearties to take anything else they pleased. Wealth was no fun.
Being wealthy couldn't make the room spin, turn anything into a laughing matter or cause a terrible hang over. Jack examined that thought with greater detail. Being wealthy could do all of those things, even soberly get a woman. Jack's head ached and he wondered what life would be like if he was still a cartographer. He squinted his eyes shut, and thought hard.
His hair would be trimmed to a more subtle length, and the knots and beads combed out. His face would be clean and smell of soap, along with the rest of his body. His clothes would be fitted in a proper way, tailored just for him. He'd spend long hours going over sailor stories, trying to make sense of differing tales. Then when he came home his son would greet him kindly, the spitting image of himself as a boy and his daughter would give him a shy smile as she squeezed him in a tight hug.
His wife would have dinner on the table not because it was expected of her but because she wanted to. His family would say grace and thank God for their meal, his son would make a smart ass comment and be sent to bed without dinner. Father like son.
His daughter would end up crying, feeling bad that her brother was sent to bed without dinner and she would shout at her father that he was a "Mean and horrible person!" She would then be sent to bed prematurly as well.
After dinner, he and his wife would get in a fight while she washed dishes. She'd complain about how he was never home and never there for her. She'd then refuse to even sleep in the same room as him and he would be kicked out into the living room to fall asleep next to the fire, only with a thin blanket.
During the middle of the night, he'd wake up and sees his son, sneaking out and not wanting to be bothered he wouldn't say anything and would pretend to be asleep.
His daughter would later wake up, tugging on his hair, crying frantically from a nightmare convinced a pirate lay beneath her bed, ready to gut her. After he hushed her back to sleep, his wife would wake up and check on the children and find them both out of bed and scream frantically, waking up him and his daughter, whom had fallen asleep in his arms, his daughter would cry, and his wife would cry about their 'kidnaped son'.
An hour later the son would quietly sneak back in and be greeted with a scolding and his father was reluctant but had to punish him by force of an old wooden paddle. Then, morning would come and the day replayed itself in almost the exact same fashion. All because he chose to stay instead of finding the island himself.
Jack opened his eyes and realized he had clenched sand in his fists. He let the sand slide threw his fingers and murmured, "Jesus . . . "
He felt the sand shift and he turned to see a girl sitting next to him. Her hair was dark and her complexion tan.
"Captain Sparrow?" He did not answer he just allowed his eyes to wander up and down her crouched body.
"You left your hat in the pub, I thought I'd bring it to you . . . " She climbed onto his lap and placed it on his head.
"Why, thank you, love." It was matter of seconds before her lips met his and he sealed her in with a lusty kiss. His hands roamed her backside, up her dress and she whispered his name.
"Sparrow, Sparrow, Sparrow . . . "
"Mr. Sparrow!"
Jack jerked awake, and rubbed his head. He had fallen asleep on top of a map he was currently working on. "Yes, sir." Jack looked toward the voice, and saw a man with straggly brown curly hair standing there. He was much older then Jack, but was still young.
"You asked me to come back today when you made your decision, are you going on the voyage with us to where you think the Isla de Muerta is?"
Jack thought for a second, fragments of his odd dream still fresh in his mind. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, and the name of his ship was the Black Pearl. He furrowed his eyebrows together trying to grasp what was contained within the daydream that occurred during his dream. A cartographer, with a family of his own. It was the path he was leading as of right now. The man's eyes were glimmering with hope.
"I'll go." Jack said, barely audible.
"What?"
"I'll go on the voyage . . . " Jack stated louder smiling toward the man.
"You know what you just signed onto and the risks of it all?"
Jack nodded and felt a family man's burden lifted off his shoulders. Maybe this was all for the best and maybe everything would turn out okay.
"That's just wonderful!" The man seemed awfully delighted.
"Yes, yes it is, mate."
The man laughed and fell into a chair that was on the opposite wall. Jack couldn't understand how this was a laughing matter, but laughed, however, none the less.
"This is great, Mr. Sparrow! With your sense of direction and oh we'll be rich in no time and but just in time for the birth my wife and mine's baby." The smile did not fade from the man's thinly shaped lips.
"Congratulations, mate. We'll go out for drinks later."
Jack tried to get back to the map, out lining the rest of Asia. He dipped his quill back into the ink and just as the quill touched the parchment, he spoke again; more laughing; unclear nonsense. Jack took a handkerchief to the blotch of ink but it was no good, Jack would have to draw a whole new map. He wasn't even listening to a word the man was uttering and babbling about, until his footsteps stopped in front of the table. Jack looked up and the man raised his eyebrows, and in a low voice he drawled,
"You can call me Bootstrap, that's the name I go by at sea. 'Tis only a few sea goers the recognized I by my land name and you am one of the lucky."
Jack sighed, thinking how things would change once he stepped aboard the stolen ship with a bunch of pilfering pirates. Jack could only hope he never sink as low as to become a full time pirate. Hope was a stupid desire of something intangible, and hope never grasped or wanted Jack Sparrow.
Fin