I do not own anything form the Pirates. If I did, I woudn't write this...

This is about Jack Sparrow; or more accurately, how he came to be Jack Sparrow, the one we all love, in the first place. I'm trying to incorporate every aspect of Jack I can think of and make his background story. I hope you will like it. This chapter is just a sort of an introduction, I hope there will be more dialogues as I move on :)

-----------------------------

It was another bright sunny day that found Jonathan Tweed sitting on a hill above the port, watching the graceful vessels elegantly glide through the waters to the horizon, sending gentle ripples away from their hulls to the ocean where they melted with the rest of the water again, watching the seagulls and sparrows fly freely over the heads of the busy bustling crowds, unloading the ships, wishing he was on one of them, heading straight out to the open sea, free as a bird.

Jonathan always used to come down to the docks and admire the ships, ever since he was a young boy. Sometimes the sailors would show him a few knots, and if he was lucky, a captain would take him aboard for a while. Jonathan remembered everything he was told, he dreamed of sailing on a magnificent ship out to the blue depths of the sea under the cloudless sky. Now his mother died, he lingered in his dreams even more and spent entire days watching the hustle near the ships, which was met with the utmost dislike from his father Teague, who has been trying for years to make Jonathan learn how to make swords, so he could one day take over the smithy. But Jonathan hated making swords; he ever made just one. Teague commented on it as being totally below average, as there was no gold laid into the handle and the whole sword was almost black and dull, even though it was well balanced.

"Jackie? Jackie?! Where the hell are ya, mate?!" Jonathan was disturbed by his father's voice out of his dreaming, stood up and quickly headed down the hill towards the docks without a backwards glance. When Teague reached the hill, he already mingled with the crowd. He wandered aimlessly around the piers, watching the sparrows soar freely high above the masts.

The more Jonathan hated making swords, the more he loved to fight with them. The problem was that Teague refused to teach Jonathan sword-fighting unless he agreed to learn how to make swords in the first place. And given that this particular British port was respectable, there remained only one way to learn. And that was at night, the only time when the respectable sailors were drunk enough to start fighting in the streets. The only thing for Jonathan to do was to grab his sword, sneak out of the house and hide near the pub, and watch the sailors. He would memorize every move, every step, every thrust and then practice until dawn against thin air.

One night he was on his way to the pub again, when a man rushed past him, almost knocking him over, pursued by another four. They caught up with him in front of the pub, and all of them drew their swords. As a dim light was cast over them, Jonathan could see that the pursued man was short, wearing a wig and a Navy uniform. His sword glinted when the light caught the blade. From the swaying of the remaining four, Jonathan could tell that they were drunk. Before he could notice anything else, the drunk sailors attacked. And before Jonathan could realize what he was doing, he found himself joining the Navy man's side, but matching the sailors' drunken style. The Navy man gave him a quick look of surprise, before lunging at his opponents.

It was Jonathan's first fight. It was soon over, and he didn't even know how, but they seemed to win, given that two of the sailors were lying on the ground, and the other two limping away, one clutching his arm and dragging his sword through the dusty street.

"Not much of a style, but it seems efficient. Cutler Beckett." He said as he sheathed his sword and extended his hand to shake it with Jonathan's. A slow grin spread over Jonathan's face, as comprehension dawned upon him. The opportune moment. The sea… freedom… the ships… Just not to ruin it. He hesitated.

"Jack Sparrow." And shook Beckett's hand. Jonathan saw Beckett raise an eyebrow on hearing the peculiar name, and smiled. Jack Sparrow sounded good. Not Jackie. Not ever again.

"I owe you a favor, Jack Sparrow." Beckett said, straightened his lopsided wig and without another word turned on his heel and walked away.

Sooner than you think, mate.

Ships Sea Freedom Free as a sparrow Horizon Cloudless skies… Jack Sparrow.

-----------------------------------

OK, let me know what you think please