**This is a one shot fic, my first Pirates one. Please read n review. I
wanna know what u think.
**Disclaimer: I don't own anything that even remotely associates with Pirates of the Caribbean.I wish.but I don't.*sigh*
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I gazed at my reflection as it stared tiredly back at me. I ran my hands through my long, dark hair before delivering a swift punch to my reflections jaw, effectively smashing the mirror to bits. That wiped the smug look from his face. I didn't feel smug at all, I felt trapped. Shards of glass stuck to my knuckles and a few swiped at my wrist, missing, but I was otherwise unharmed. Upon hearing the crash, my mother, or shall I say my caretaker, hurried up into my room to see if everything was alright.
I'll be damned if she actually cared. She was probably more worried about whatever was shattered. That's one way I was absolutely positive I was not her son. She cared about material things, typical for a high-class woman. The other, my "father", was the same, materialistic.
I blew on the bleeding knuckles of my right hand lightly as I pulled out the glass.
"Dakota?" a male's voice floated through the bathroom door after a feminine one.
"I'm fine," I snapped back harshly.
"Are you sure?" Mother pressed.
"Yes," I said shortly, returning to my task of tending to my hand.
"Well, hurry and get ready," Father said loudly. "The Turners will be here any moment."
I made a show of rolling my dark eyes at the door. It would be the last time for a while that I would be able to do so.
The other way of being able to tell my difference from my "guardians" was just by looking at me. I was slightly bronzed by the sun, a bit of the olive coloring due to whatever my heritage was, and my hair was dark. Both Mother and Father were pale and fair-haired with light silver eyes. My eyes were deep brown.
I mended my knuckles by rubbing a poultice of an infusion of Hyssop and Calendula over the small but deep cuts and wrapped a clean strip of cloth around it, tying it tight enough to make an effective tourniquet, but still allow plenty fluid movement. Healing was a skill I was useful in, having spent most of my time with the resident Healer in Port Royal, Madam Anastasia, a rather young woman of only 28.
Once I'd securely placed my bandage on, I pulled a dark blue tunic over my white shirt and made sure my dark breeches were secure around my waist as I attached my leather belt on before tying my hair back with a piece of cloth. With one last look at the broken mirror, I trudged back to my room to complete my attire with my brown leather boots. Father and Mother always disapproved of them, but Will Turner had once complimented them and since it was him and his wife who were coming over for lunch, I decided to humor him once more and donned them.
"Dakota go and change your boots," Mother demanded as she watched me descend the stairs. She eyed my boots mostly.
But I held up my index finger as a knock on the front door resounded through the house, signaling that I had no time. My younger "sister", Sierra, hurried down the stairs behind me.
It was quite obvious that Sierra held no ties with the two adults either. Her hair was as dark as a raven's, yet her eyes were an icy blue that seemed to pierce through your very soul as she gazed at you.
Sierra was also attired somewhat.indecent as Mother had put it, scowling at the pair of us as she moved to answer the door. She wore a simple white dress. It was more of an under-dress, really, but Sierra paid no mind to that fact. The fabric was made of cotton so it was not sheer, so Sierra, it seemed, felt no shame in wearing it as an everyday dress.
"Does she really think the Turners are going to suddenly change their minds about us?" Sierra inquired almost sarcastically. "They've seen us dressed normally so many times before."
I nodded my agreement as the pair of us stepped onto the bottom landing. I heard Mother ushering the Turners to the parlor and decided it was best to go and immediately. I straightened my posture considerably, mimicking a soldier of some sort, and, holding one arm at an angle behind my back, offered my other to Sierra. Her faced gained a slightly red tinge as she took my arm.
It was clear she knew the two of us weren't related. I'd say she even had a bit of a crush on me; by the way she acts sometimes. I catch her staring at me sometimes when she thinks I'm not looking. And by her blush, my theory was proven even a bit more. I did like the girl a bit. She was every bit as sarcastic as I was toward Mother and Father and she shared my indignation at having to dress formally at any given time, though I don't think she shared my passion for sailing. Every chance I possibly could get, I was out helping the merchant sailors. I felt trapped on land.
"Oh, Dakota, what happened to your hand?" Sierra asked.
I realized too late that I had given her the wrong arm. She took my bandaged hand in hers and stared at it.
"It's nothing," I replied. "Just a little scratch, really. Don't worry about it."
Sierra glanced up at my face. "Are you sure?"
I nodded. "Positive. Shall we?" I jerked my head slightly in the direction of the parlor.
With a small smile, Sierra hooked her arm in mine again and we made our way into the parlor where Mother and Father sat with Elizabeth and Will Turner at the long table, chatting away and apparently waiting for us. We greeted the guests and I led Sierra to her seat, taking the vacant one to her left for myself.
All throughout the lunch Sierra and I were pretty much ignored. It wasn't something we were unfamiliar to, though, as this seemed the way of life around this household ever since I could remember.
I glanced over at Sierra as Father carried on to Will about something or another that he did in the Navy a few years back and Mother and Elizabeth chatted excitedly about some new dress that was bought. She seemed lost in thought as she absently fingered the small necklace around her throat. The charm was a solid silver scroll hung from a silver chain reading her name in fancy penmanship. It was terribly familiar to me as I remembered I had given that to her when I came back from my most recent sail with the merchants from Barbados. I had gotten it in silver because all of her other jewelry was gold and I felt she needed a change. Besides, I had missed her birthday for the trip and I felt it would make up for it.
I gently allowed my hand to brush against hers as to bring her back to reality. Her eyes snapped to me as she smiled sheepishly.
"Alright?" I asked her quietly, not really wanting to remind any of the adults of our presence.
"Yes," she replied, slipping her hand into mine.
I gently caressed the back of her hand with my thumb as her face suddenly went scarlet and she snatched her hand away from mine. I grinned at her reaction and shook my head at her.
"What?" she snapped.
"Nothing," I answered, still grinning.
By the time the Turners were to leave, it was about three in the afternoon. Well, at least according to the grandfather clock that hung in the sitting room and chimed loudly through the house in fifteen minute increments. Will drew me aside as Elizabeth said her goodbyes.
"I want you and Sierra to come down to the shop in fifteen minutes," he muttered hurriedly to me.
I looked up at him, surprised and confused.
"I have a surprise for each of you." Will thought he'd clarified the matter, but only fueled my curiosity more. Maybe that was what he'd meant to do instead, but he said no more as Elizabeth ushered him from the house.
I relayed the message to Sierra as Mother and Father turned to go into the sitting room. We waited a good ten minutes before "deciding" to go to the bookstore.
"Just to have a look," Sierra said.
"Be back before supper," Mother instructed.
Promising we would be, Sierra and I walked out of the house and in the direction of Will's smithy. Sierra moved to knock politely on the door, but I stopped her by merely pushing up the inside bar and walking in. Sierra scurried after me wearing a look of confusion.
Will sat by the fireplace as he waited for either his sword to be heated or us, I wasn't quite sure which, but once he saw us, he jumped to his feet and went off to look for something, leaving Sierra and me curious as ever.
He returned mere moments later, a rather fat box in hand. Well, underarm was a closer expression as that's how he carried the presumably heavy box. He set it down on the table in front of where he once sat and beckoned us closer, popping open the latches. Sierra and I stood at his shoulder and were surprised as the top of the box was lifted away. Two sheathed swords sat wedged between the linings of the box.
"I would have brought them with us today, but I wasn't sure how your parents would react," Will said, plucking out each sword and handing the respective one to me and Sierra. "They're both custom fit for your arm length and hands. Happy Birthday to the both of you."
Sierra was at a loss for words as she unsheathed her sword and admired the craftsmanship. I looked from my sheathed sword to Will.
"So that's what you were doing the day you found my hands and arms so apparently amusing," I said.
Will grinned and nodded as I eagerly unsheathed my own sword and looked it over. I balanced it on two fingers and found it perfectly balanced. Sierra, still unable to form words, returned her sword to its sheath and hugged Will tightly.
"You like it, then?" Will asked as she let go of him.
Both Sierra and I nodded fervently.
"Thanks, Will," I said in an awed voice.
Will chuckled and replied, "You're very welcome," just as Elizabeth walked into the shop. She smiled as I sheathed my sword.
"Oh good," she said. "He gave them to you."
Sierra nodded, holding her sword with great care. I had to laugh at her. She was so enthusiastic about her gift it was comical to me.
Don't get me wrong, I was just as excited, but I think I held myself in better composition than Sierra.
As we thanked Will again, I saw him in the same light as I once did when he had begun to teach us the art of sword fighting. I saw him as a good mentor and possibly a good friend.
Sierra and I walked down the street toward our house, swords in hand, when Sierra stopped suddenly.
"What?" I asked.
"How are we supposed to get these inside without Mother or Father seeing them?" Sierra inquired.
I shrugged. "As far as I know, we can get inside, shout that we're home, and run up to our rooms without anyone seeing us. Aside from maybe Edward, the butler, but he wouldn't say anything."
Sierra nodded in agreement and we resumed our walking.
"We're home!" My voice rang through the house and bounced off the walls and high ceilings. Sierra and I hurried to the stairs, holding the swords to our left so they were facing the wall, and had just made it to the top landing when Mother came into the foyer.
"What books did you get?" she inquired.
Both Sierra and I spun around and held our swords behind our backs.
"Nothing," I answered smoothly, though the word itself was not very smooth.
"Nothing?" Mother said, surprised. "I thought there was a new Mary Ellings book that you wanted to read, Dakota."
"Was there?" I asked, a pang of nervousness shooting through me. "I didn't notice."
"Of course you didn't," Sierra said sarcastically. "He was too busy staring at the ocean."
I almost hugged her for the cover, but restrained myself in time as Mother nodded her approval and left the foyer to go back to the sitting room. Sierra and I hurried into my room, the farthest room from the stairs, where I flopped down on my bed, sword still in hand. Sierra sat next to me.
"That was so nice of Will," she said, looking over her sword once more.
I nodded my agreement, unsure if Sierra was even looking at me as I had my eyes trained on the ceiling above my bed. I sat back up and looked over my own sword.
"Think we could manage it?" I spoke aloud.
"Manage what?" Sierra asked, shooting me a sideways look.
"Getting out of here," I answered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, though I knew Sierra hadn't known what I meant. The topic hadn't really ever come up between us.
Sierra shook her head. "I don't know, Dakota. It's tricky."
"I know," I answered. "But it'll be worth it. And I know you're not one to pass up a good challenge."
Sierra flashed a small smile before frowning again. "We'd be caught. We have no where to go."
I took one hand from my sword and set it on Sierra's shoulder, watching her face flush at my touch. "Tortuga."
"Tortuga?" Sierra asked. "Why would we go there?"
"Pierce took me there on our way to Barbados," I informed her. It was the truth. He had stopped there. "We don't have much of a choice to go anywhere else without questioning. And I'm sure you're just as sick of iAlexander and Kayla/i as I am." I purposefully called them by their names as they were not my parents and I wasn't enjoying the thought of them trying to push that into my mind.
Sierra sighed and nodded. "But how?"
I replied with a smirk and a shrug, "I'm sure Ricardo won't miss his little boat much."
Sierra laughed lightly at me.
"We'll have to wait until nightfall," I told her. "We'll rouse too much suspicion if we go during the day."
Sierra nodded again and looked back down at her sword.
"Might I suggest," I said as I got up from my bed, leaving the sword where I sat, and crossed to my dresser, pulling out a white shirt and a pair of breeches, "these? Might be a bit better to not walk around Tortuga in a dress."
Sierra nodded for the third time and accepted the clothes. She hurried down to her room to stash away her sword and the clothes and the two of us spent the rest of the afternoon until suppertime planning out our escape: climb out my window and drop into the brush below after making each of our rooms look as though a struggle had taken place, run down to the docks and sail off to Tortuga on Ricardo's small merchant vessel, the iPerfect Rose/i. It was simple.
Through supper, Sierra and I kept up an innocent façade. We were ignored, like always, but this time the ignorance was welcome, at least on my part. Sierra seemed very apprehensive about everything. She was so nervous that her hands started shaking. The best I could do for her was to seize her hand in hopes that it helped.
After we had been excused from the dinner table, Sierra and I each set to work on packing what we were to bring with us to Tortuga and destroying our rooms just enough to make it look like we were taken.
The whole ordeal took an hour at the most before Sierra hurried to my room, already in the clothes I had given her and ready to go, a leather bag slung over her shoulder and sword attached to her hip. I had to admit, she looked rather adorable.
I clasped my own sword to my left hip for easy access and the two of us carefully climbed through my window. I dropped down first, landing gracefully on my feet, and caught Sierra as she fell. I set her on her feet and the two of us silently and inconspicuously strode down to the docks where the iPerfect Rose/i was waiting. The only problem was the First Mate, Martin O'Boyle, a young Irish lad with flaming red hair, stood guard at the helm.
"What are we supposed to do?" Sierra hissed at me.
I shrugged silently as I watched Martin gazed out at the harbor. I sighed softly before turning to Sierra. "Push him off the boat?"
Sierra bit back a giggle, I saw, trying to be stern. I handed her my own bag and sighed, starting forward. I walked up the gangplank and straight up to the helm, unsheathing my sword and noting that Sierra followed in my footsteps.
"Top o' the evenin' t' ya," said Martin happily.
Ignoring his high spirits, I held the blade of my sword to his neck and growled out, "Either you take a nice swim, or come with us."
Martin was taken aback. He stared at me, wide eyed. "W-whaddya mean?"
I sighed but did not remove my sword. "I mean Sierra and I are getting out of Port Royal. So either you cooperate with us and take us to Tortuga, or I throw you into the water."
Martin stared at me before gulping. "If I go, can I bring the ship back?"
"'Course," I answered. "We don't need it."
Martin sighed as I grinned inwardly. He was always one to easily persuade.
"Tortuga, did ya say?" he asked.
I nodded and sheathed my sword. Martin looked relieved to have the metal away from his throat as he and I readied the ship to leave.
The trip to Tortuga was a short one. We arrived by dusk the next day.
Tortuga was a dank and dirty port with all the drunken pirates that lingered here. The streets were littered with already drunken men who held whores on their laps or chased them around a bit. I knew it had to be awkward for Sierra, having been sheltered in Port Royal all her life.
Then again, being back in Tortuga with Sierra at my side maybe wasn't the best thing ever.
A young dark-haired woman stalked over to me, hands on her hips. She glared at me before bringing her hand back and slapping me right across the face. I recovered quickly, however. The most recent merchant trip hadn't been the first time I was in Tortuga and, to be honest, it wasn't the easiest place to keep your virginity. Needless to say, I didn't.
"How nice to see you too, Amelia," I said nervously.
Amelia, however, ignored me now, turning to Sierra. "Careful with him," she advised. "He'll promise you everything and leave the next day."
I winced as Sierra let out a small gasp. I looked over at nothing in particular to my right, as Sierra stood to my left. I absently watched a drunk try to coax a whore into getting him another drink. Before stalking off, Amelia landed one last, resounding slap to my cheek.
I didn't even risk a glance at Sierra as I vaguely wondered how many more times I was going to be slapped. I counted in my head as I led Sierra into one of the taverns: I'm 25 now, first time in Tortuga I was 19. Been coming three times a year since.
I resolved that my face was going to hurt very much come morning.
"How many times have you been here?" Sierra asked softly. She stared at her hands as she spoke.
"Er-enough," I answered. "You know, I don't know why Amelia got all worked up like that. I mean, she's a bloody whore. She's probably been with more men than I have women."
Now the other side of my face stung from Sierra's hand. The girl stood abruptly from her chair and stalked from the tavern.
I massaged my cheek as the realization that Sierra wasn't sitting in front of me settled in. I jumped up from my own chair and hurried after her.
"Sierra," I said. "You really don't want to be going around Tortuga all on your own."
But she ignored me and kept walking. I wanted to follow her, knowing the men in Tortuga well enough, but I knew that if I did, it'd just end in another slap and her getting even angrier at me.
I was about to turn to go back into the tavern when I heard someone shout my name. I immediately knew it was Sierra and darted down the way she had gone. I saw no out of place movement going around in the streets, but I could still hear her screaming very clearly. I frantically looked around and felt my heart stop as her voice died out.
But she stopped screaming only for a minute. "Let go of me! Dakota! Help! Let me go!"
I turned to my right just as a man walked out onto the street with a strong hold on Sierra's upper arm. The girl struggled against his grasp, but it was to no avail. I hurried over and Sierra fought even harder against the man as she saw me.
"Dakota!" she cried out. "Help me!"
"This your lass?" asked the pirate, jerking his head toward Sierra.
"Aye," I responded, receiving a renewed glare from Sierra.
The pirate let go of her arm and she stumbled forward, hugging me tightly around the neck. I realized with a start that she was sobbing into my shoulder. The pirate smirked at me.
Sierra suddenly wiped her eyes on my sleeve and turned toward the pirate.
"Thank you," she muttered. "You saved me."
The pirate shrugged nonchalantly as though it were an everyday thing for him, saving women from the hands of murderers or rapists.
"May I inquire of your name?" Sierra asked.
"Number one," the pirate slurred, holding up an index finger, "drop the formality in Tortuga. It doesn't fit. Two, name's Captain Jack Sparrow."
Sierra nodded at his words. "Sierra," she mumbled. "And he's Dakota."
I wasn't listening much. Did this man just say he was Captain Jack Sparrow? iThe /iCaptain Jack Sparrow?
"Have last names?" Jack asked lazily.
Sierra glanced up at me apprehensively and I shrugged. "Supposedly, we're both Malachites, but they aren't exactly our parents and they never told us who we really are."
As I spoke, I found my words to sound a bit over-dramatic.
"Malachite?" Jack asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. "As in Kayla and Alexander?"
"Aye," I answered again, cocking a dark eyebrow at this strange pirate. He looked to me as though he were both sober and drunk at the same time.
Jack looked down at Sierra, then up at me, before smirking. "I think I need t' talk t' ye both."
And with that, he started off in the direction of the tavern Sierra and I just left. We trotted after her curiously when a young woman stopped Jack dead in his tracks.
"Oh, 'ello-er-Alexis?" said Jack uncertainly, looking at the woman.
"No," she snapped before slapping Jack and stalking off.
"Alexandria," I piped up after she was gone.
"That's it," Jack muttered darkly, massaging his cheek much in the same manner as I had before; quite sourly.
"See?" I mumbled to Sierra as we continued to the tavern. "At least I remember their names."
That just earned me a slap in the arm.
Jack sat us down at a small table in the back. He studied thoughtfully at Sierra.
"You have your mother's eyes," he said finally.
Sierra smiled sort of, unsure if this was a compliment or not.
"Kat was a wonderful woman," Jack said. "She was a strong fighter and a fiery lass. Jeff had t' watch himself 'round her. Now, two pirates in love don't generally come about too often, so yer parents were a rare sight t' see."
"What happened to them?" Sierra inquired softly, almost timidly.
Jack looked downcast. "Killed. By some Navy general or somethin'."
I swallowed suddenly. "What was their last name?"
"Alkan," Jack answered.
"Alex," I muttered. "Alex killed them."
Sierra looked up at me, her blue eyes wide. She shook her head as if it would make the truth go away.
"Alex wouldn't." she tried to protest.
"Alex would," I countered. "You heard how he talked about pirates."
Sierra swallowed hard before chuckling softly. "Don't know why I'm getting so worked up. I've never met my parents."
"But they were still yer parents," said Jack softly as a dark skinned woman came up behind him and set her hands on his shoulders. He looked up at her and smiled a little.
"I know," Sierra said quietly.
Impulsively, I reached over and took her hand in mine. She didn't protest. Instead, she smiled over at me.
The dark skinned woman behind Jack suddenly gasped.
"Alright there, AnaMaria?" Jack asked as he looked up at her again.
"Jack," AnaMaria hissed at him, apparently trying not to let me overhear. "Don't you know who he is?"
"Aye, I do," Jack replied. "Dakota."
I fixed my gaze on his as he spoke my name. "What about me?"
"Tell him," AnaMaria growled into Jack's ear.
"Hold up there, love," said Jack calmly. "I'll tell him when the opportune moment comes."
"Opportune moment's here, Jack," said AnaMaria as she took the seat next to Jack and rested her head in her hands.
I watched curiously. Tell me what? What did these two people know that I didn't? Apparently it had to have something to do with my parents, considering the nature of the conversation.
"You tell him or I will," AnaMaria threatened as Jack stayed silent. Again, he said nothing, watching me with interest. AnaMaria sighed. "Dakota, do ye even know yer rightful name?"
I shook my head slowly, wondering what was coming next.
"It's Dakota Isaac Sparrow," Jack said, staring at the rings on his fingers instead of looking at me.
I choked on air as my grip tightened, involuntarily, on Sierra's hand.
"'Scuse me?" I sputtered out.
"Ye heard me," said Jack, glancing up at me.
I merely stared at the pirate before me. I had a living father? I was a pirate? Sierra, I had almost expected it, the way she'd behave sometimes, but I didn't think that I was. Who was my mother?
I voiced this question to Jack and AnaMaria answered with a simple, "Me."
I nodded once, letting the information sink in. That would explain why I was so tan all the time, even when I was confined to my bedroom for weeks for bad behavior.
"I've got a proposition for ye both," said Jack suddenly, leaning forward on the table. "How 'bout ye two join me crew, eh?"
Now I seriously considered him drunk. He barely knew us and he was willing to take us with him?
Sierra and I glanced at each other. Sierra sighed and agreed. Looks like I had to too.
"Good," said Jack with a smirk as he leaned back in his chair. "Give me a chance t' get t' know me son."
I smirked back before stealing a glance at Sierra out of the corner of my eyes, wondering how she was taking any of this. She had a grin on her face, but I could see in her eyes a hint of sadness. Removing my hand from hers, I replaced it around her waist and leaned closer to her.
"You alright?" I asked her.
"Yes," she replied. "You?"
I nodded, my worry for her mounding ever still.
"That a Turner sword?" Jack asked, nodding to the weapon at my side. I nodded. "Can I see it?"
Again, I nodded and unsheathed my sword, handing it over to Ja-my father. I wondered absently if I should still call him Jack or Father or something. I wasn't sure, but I figured I'd ask him about that some other time when we were alone.
"What happened to your hand?" AnaMaria asked as she took notice of my bandage.
I looked at my covered knuckles and shrugged. "Punch my mirror."
"You told me it was just a scratch!" Sierra argued.
"It is," I countered. "Nothing big."
Sierra sighed and shook her head. AnaMaria chuckled.
"Get used to it, lass," she said good-naturedly. "Sparrow men are always like that."
Sierra laughed too. I could tell she liked AnaMaria already. Good, I thought.
"Well," said Jack as he handed my sword back. "We'd better get back t' the iPearl/i. Crew's waitin'."
And with that, he stood and swaggered from the tavern. AnaMaria followed him with Sierra and me scrambling after. This, I thought, was going to be a fun adventure.
bEND/b
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please tell me what u think. Hope u liked it. I'm considering doing a sequel, but I don't know. I'm going to be without a computer for a week (vacation) so I'll think about it then.
**Disclaimer: I don't own anything that even remotely associates with Pirates of the Caribbean.I wish.but I don't.*sigh*
**********
I gazed at my reflection as it stared tiredly back at me. I ran my hands through my long, dark hair before delivering a swift punch to my reflections jaw, effectively smashing the mirror to bits. That wiped the smug look from his face. I didn't feel smug at all, I felt trapped. Shards of glass stuck to my knuckles and a few swiped at my wrist, missing, but I was otherwise unharmed. Upon hearing the crash, my mother, or shall I say my caretaker, hurried up into my room to see if everything was alright.
I'll be damned if she actually cared. She was probably more worried about whatever was shattered. That's one way I was absolutely positive I was not her son. She cared about material things, typical for a high-class woman. The other, my "father", was the same, materialistic.
I blew on the bleeding knuckles of my right hand lightly as I pulled out the glass.
"Dakota?" a male's voice floated through the bathroom door after a feminine one.
"I'm fine," I snapped back harshly.
"Are you sure?" Mother pressed.
"Yes," I said shortly, returning to my task of tending to my hand.
"Well, hurry and get ready," Father said loudly. "The Turners will be here any moment."
I made a show of rolling my dark eyes at the door. It would be the last time for a while that I would be able to do so.
The other way of being able to tell my difference from my "guardians" was just by looking at me. I was slightly bronzed by the sun, a bit of the olive coloring due to whatever my heritage was, and my hair was dark. Both Mother and Father were pale and fair-haired with light silver eyes. My eyes were deep brown.
I mended my knuckles by rubbing a poultice of an infusion of Hyssop and Calendula over the small but deep cuts and wrapped a clean strip of cloth around it, tying it tight enough to make an effective tourniquet, but still allow plenty fluid movement. Healing was a skill I was useful in, having spent most of my time with the resident Healer in Port Royal, Madam Anastasia, a rather young woman of only 28.
Once I'd securely placed my bandage on, I pulled a dark blue tunic over my white shirt and made sure my dark breeches were secure around my waist as I attached my leather belt on before tying my hair back with a piece of cloth. With one last look at the broken mirror, I trudged back to my room to complete my attire with my brown leather boots. Father and Mother always disapproved of them, but Will Turner had once complimented them and since it was him and his wife who were coming over for lunch, I decided to humor him once more and donned them.
"Dakota go and change your boots," Mother demanded as she watched me descend the stairs. She eyed my boots mostly.
But I held up my index finger as a knock on the front door resounded through the house, signaling that I had no time. My younger "sister", Sierra, hurried down the stairs behind me.
It was quite obvious that Sierra held no ties with the two adults either. Her hair was as dark as a raven's, yet her eyes were an icy blue that seemed to pierce through your very soul as she gazed at you.
Sierra was also attired somewhat.indecent as Mother had put it, scowling at the pair of us as she moved to answer the door. She wore a simple white dress. It was more of an under-dress, really, but Sierra paid no mind to that fact. The fabric was made of cotton so it was not sheer, so Sierra, it seemed, felt no shame in wearing it as an everyday dress.
"Does she really think the Turners are going to suddenly change their minds about us?" Sierra inquired almost sarcastically. "They've seen us dressed normally so many times before."
I nodded my agreement as the pair of us stepped onto the bottom landing. I heard Mother ushering the Turners to the parlor and decided it was best to go and immediately. I straightened my posture considerably, mimicking a soldier of some sort, and, holding one arm at an angle behind my back, offered my other to Sierra. Her faced gained a slightly red tinge as she took my arm.
It was clear she knew the two of us weren't related. I'd say she even had a bit of a crush on me; by the way she acts sometimes. I catch her staring at me sometimes when she thinks I'm not looking. And by her blush, my theory was proven even a bit more. I did like the girl a bit. She was every bit as sarcastic as I was toward Mother and Father and she shared my indignation at having to dress formally at any given time, though I don't think she shared my passion for sailing. Every chance I possibly could get, I was out helping the merchant sailors. I felt trapped on land.
"Oh, Dakota, what happened to your hand?" Sierra asked.
I realized too late that I had given her the wrong arm. She took my bandaged hand in hers and stared at it.
"It's nothing," I replied. "Just a little scratch, really. Don't worry about it."
Sierra glanced up at my face. "Are you sure?"
I nodded. "Positive. Shall we?" I jerked my head slightly in the direction of the parlor.
With a small smile, Sierra hooked her arm in mine again and we made our way into the parlor where Mother and Father sat with Elizabeth and Will Turner at the long table, chatting away and apparently waiting for us. We greeted the guests and I led Sierra to her seat, taking the vacant one to her left for myself.
All throughout the lunch Sierra and I were pretty much ignored. It wasn't something we were unfamiliar to, though, as this seemed the way of life around this household ever since I could remember.
I glanced over at Sierra as Father carried on to Will about something or another that he did in the Navy a few years back and Mother and Elizabeth chatted excitedly about some new dress that was bought. She seemed lost in thought as she absently fingered the small necklace around her throat. The charm was a solid silver scroll hung from a silver chain reading her name in fancy penmanship. It was terribly familiar to me as I remembered I had given that to her when I came back from my most recent sail with the merchants from Barbados. I had gotten it in silver because all of her other jewelry was gold and I felt she needed a change. Besides, I had missed her birthday for the trip and I felt it would make up for it.
I gently allowed my hand to brush against hers as to bring her back to reality. Her eyes snapped to me as she smiled sheepishly.
"Alright?" I asked her quietly, not really wanting to remind any of the adults of our presence.
"Yes," she replied, slipping her hand into mine.
I gently caressed the back of her hand with my thumb as her face suddenly went scarlet and she snatched her hand away from mine. I grinned at her reaction and shook my head at her.
"What?" she snapped.
"Nothing," I answered, still grinning.
By the time the Turners were to leave, it was about three in the afternoon. Well, at least according to the grandfather clock that hung in the sitting room and chimed loudly through the house in fifteen minute increments. Will drew me aside as Elizabeth said her goodbyes.
"I want you and Sierra to come down to the shop in fifteen minutes," he muttered hurriedly to me.
I looked up at him, surprised and confused.
"I have a surprise for each of you." Will thought he'd clarified the matter, but only fueled my curiosity more. Maybe that was what he'd meant to do instead, but he said no more as Elizabeth ushered him from the house.
I relayed the message to Sierra as Mother and Father turned to go into the sitting room. We waited a good ten minutes before "deciding" to go to the bookstore.
"Just to have a look," Sierra said.
"Be back before supper," Mother instructed.
Promising we would be, Sierra and I walked out of the house and in the direction of Will's smithy. Sierra moved to knock politely on the door, but I stopped her by merely pushing up the inside bar and walking in. Sierra scurried after me wearing a look of confusion.
Will sat by the fireplace as he waited for either his sword to be heated or us, I wasn't quite sure which, but once he saw us, he jumped to his feet and went off to look for something, leaving Sierra and me curious as ever.
He returned mere moments later, a rather fat box in hand. Well, underarm was a closer expression as that's how he carried the presumably heavy box. He set it down on the table in front of where he once sat and beckoned us closer, popping open the latches. Sierra and I stood at his shoulder and were surprised as the top of the box was lifted away. Two sheathed swords sat wedged between the linings of the box.
"I would have brought them with us today, but I wasn't sure how your parents would react," Will said, plucking out each sword and handing the respective one to me and Sierra. "They're both custom fit for your arm length and hands. Happy Birthday to the both of you."
Sierra was at a loss for words as she unsheathed her sword and admired the craftsmanship. I looked from my sheathed sword to Will.
"So that's what you were doing the day you found my hands and arms so apparently amusing," I said.
Will grinned and nodded as I eagerly unsheathed my own sword and looked it over. I balanced it on two fingers and found it perfectly balanced. Sierra, still unable to form words, returned her sword to its sheath and hugged Will tightly.
"You like it, then?" Will asked as she let go of him.
Both Sierra and I nodded fervently.
"Thanks, Will," I said in an awed voice.
Will chuckled and replied, "You're very welcome," just as Elizabeth walked into the shop. She smiled as I sheathed my sword.
"Oh good," she said. "He gave them to you."
Sierra nodded, holding her sword with great care. I had to laugh at her. She was so enthusiastic about her gift it was comical to me.
Don't get me wrong, I was just as excited, but I think I held myself in better composition than Sierra.
As we thanked Will again, I saw him in the same light as I once did when he had begun to teach us the art of sword fighting. I saw him as a good mentor and possibly a good friend.
Sierra and I walked down the street toward our house, swords in hand, when Sierra stopped suddenly.
"What?" I asked.
"How are we supposed to get these inside without Mother or Father seeing them?" Sierra inquired.
I shrugged. "As far as I know, we can get inside, shout that we're home, and run up to our rooms without anyone seeing us. Aside from maybe Edward, the butler, but he wouldn't say anything."
Sierra nodded in agreement and we resumed our walking.
"We're home!" My voice rang through the house and bounced off the walls and high ceilings. Sierra and I hurried to the stairs, holding the swords to our left so they were facing the wall, and had just made it to the top landing when Mother came into the foyer.
"What books did you get?" she inquired.
Both Sierra and I spun around and held our swords behind our backs.
"Nothing," I answered smoothly, though the word itself was not very smooth.
"Nothing?" Mother said, surprised. "I thought there was a new Mary Ellings book that you wanted to read, Dakota."
"Was there?" I asked, a pang of nervousness shooting through me. "I didn't notice."
"Of course you didn't," Sierra said sarcastically. "He was too busy staring at the ocean."
I almost hugged her for the cover, but restrained myself in time as Mother nodded her approval and left the foyer to go back to the sitting room. Sierra and I hurried into my room, the farthest room from the stairs, where I flopped down on my bed, sword still in hand. Sierra sat next to me.
"That was so nice of Will," she said, looking over her sword once more.
I nodded my agreement, unsure if Sierra was even looking at me as I had my eyes trained on the ceiling above my bed. I sat back up and looked over my own sword.
"Think we could manage it?" I spoke aloud.
"Manage what?" Sierra asked, shooting me a sideways look.
"Getting out of here," I answered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, though I knew Sierra hadn't known what I meant. The topic hadn't really ever come up between us.
Sierra shook her head. "I don't know, Dakota. It's tricky."
"I know," I answered. "But it'll be worth it. And I know you're not one to pass up a good challenge."
Sierra flashed a small smile before frowning again. "We'd be caught. We have no where to go."
I took one hand from my sword and set it on Sierra's shoulder, watching her face flush at my touch. "Tortuga."
"Tortuga?" Sierra asked. "Why would we go there?"
"Pierce took me there on our way to Barbados," I informed her. It was the truth. He had stopped there. "We don't have much of a choice to go anywhere else without questioning. And I'm sure you're just as sick of iAlexander and Kayla/i as I am." I purposefully called them by their names as they were not my parents and I wasn't enjoying the thought of them trying to push that into my mind.
Sierra sighed and nodded. "But how?"
I replied with a smirk and a shrug, "I'm sure Ricardo won't miss his little boat much."
Sierra laughed lightly at me.
"We'll have to wait until nightfall," I told her. "We'll rouse too much suspicion if we go during the day."
Sierra nodded again and looked back down at her sword.
"Might I suggest," I said as I got up from my bed, leaving the sword where I sat, and crossed to my dresser, pulling out a white shirt and a pair of breeches, "these? Might be a bit better to not walk around Tortuga in a dress."
Sierra nodded for the third time and accepted the clothes. She hurried down to her room to stash away her sword and the clothes and the two of us spent the rest of the afternoon until suppertime planning out our escape: climb out my window and drop into the brush below after making each of our rooms look as though a struggle had taken place, run down to the docks and sail off to Tortuga on Ricardo's small merchant vessel, the iPerfect Rose/i. It was simple.
Through supper, Sierra and I kept up an innocent façade. We were ignored, like always, but this time the ignorance was welcome, at least on my part. Sierra seemed very apprehensive about everything. She was so nervous that her hands started shaking. The best I could do for her was to seize her hand in hopes that it helped.
After we had been excused from the dinner table, Sierra and I each set to work on packing what we were to bring with us to Tortuga and destroying our rooms just enough to make it look like we were taken.
The whole ordeal took an hour at the most before Sierra hurried to my room, already in the clothes I had given her and ready to go, a leather bag slung over her shoulder and sword attached to her hip. I had to admit, she looked rather adorable.
I clasped my own sword to my left hip for easy access and the two of us carefully climbed through my window. I dropped down first, landing gracefully on my feet, and caught Sierra as she fell. I set her on her feet and the two of us silently and inconspicuously strode down to the docks where the iPerfect Rose/i was waiting. The only problem was the First Mate, Martin O'Boyle, a young Irish lad with flaming red hair, stood guard at the helm.
"What are we supposed to do?" Sierra hissed at me.
I shrugged silently as I watched Martin gazed out at the harbor. I sighed softly before turning to Sierra. "Push him off the boat?"
Sierra bit back a giggle, I saw, trying to be stern. I handed her my own bag and sighed, starting forward. I walked up the gangplank and straight up to the helm, unsheathing my sword and noting that Sierra followed in my footsteps.
"Top o' the evenin' t' ya," said Martin happily.
Ignoring his high spirits, I held the blade of my sword to his neck and growled out, "Either you take a nice swim, or come with us."
Martin was taken aback. He stared at me, wide eyed. "W-whaddya mean?"
I sighed but did not remove my sword. "I mean Sierra and I are getting out of Port Royal. So either you cooperate with us and take us to Tortuga, or I throw you into the water."
Martin stared at me before gulping. "If I go, can I bring the ship back?"
"'Course," I answered. "We don't need it."
Martin sighed as I grinned inwardly. He was always one to easily persuade.
"Tortuga, did ya say?" he asked.
I nodded and sheathed my sword. Martin looked relieved to have the metal away from his throat as he and I readied the ship to leave.
The trip to Tortuga was a short one. We arrived by dusk the next day.
Tortuga was a dank and dirty port with all the drunken pirates that lingered here. The streets were littered with already drunken men who held whores on their laps or chased them around a bit. I knew it had to be awkward for Sierra, having been sheltered in Port Royal all her life.
Then again, being back in Tortuga with Sierra at my side maybe wasn't the best thing ever.
A young dark-haired woman stalked over to me, hands on her hips. She glared at me before bringing her hand back and slapping me right across the face. I recovered quickly, however. The most recent merchant trip hadn't been the first time I was in Tortuga and, to be honest, it wasn't the easiest place to keep your virginity. Needless to say, I didn't.
"How nice to see you too, Amelia," I said nervously.
Amelia, however, ignored me now, turning to Sierra. "Careful with him," she advised. "He'll promise you everything and leave the next day."
I winced as Sierra let out a small gasp. I looked over at nothing in particular to my right, as Sierra stood to my left. I absently watched a drunk try to coax a whore into getting him another drink. Before stalking off, Amelia landed one last, resounding slap to my cheek.
I didn't even risk a glance at Sierra as I vaguely wondered how many more times I was going to be slapped. I counted in my head as I led Sierra into one of the taverns: I'm 25 now, first time in Tortuga I was 19. Been coming three times a year since.
I resolved that my face was going to hurt very much come morning.
"How many times have you been here?" Sierra asked softly. She stared at her hands as she spoke.
"Er-enough," I answered. "You know, I don't know why Amelia got all worked up like that. I mean, she's a bloody whore. She's probably been with more men than I have women."
Now the other side of my face stung from Sierra's hand. The girl stood abruptly from her chair and stalked from the tavern.
I massaged my cheek as the realization that Sierra wasn't sitting in front of me settled in. I jumped up from my own chair and hurried after her.
"Sierra," I said. "You really don't want to be going around Tortuga all on your own."
But she ignored me and kept walking. I wanted to follow her, knowing the men in Tortuga well enough, but I knew that if I did, it'd just end in another slap and her getting even angrier at me.
I was about to turn to go back into the tavern when I heard someone shout my name. I immediately knew it was Sierra and darted down the way she had gone. I saw no out of place movement going around in the streets, but I could still hear her screaming very clearly. I frantically looked around and felt my heart stop as her voice died out.
But she stopped screaming only for a minute. "Let go of me! Dakota! Help! Let me go!"
I turned to my right just as a man walked out onto the street with a strong hold on Sierra's upper arm. The girl struggled against his grasp, but it was to no avail. I hurried over and Sierra fought even harder against the man as she saw me.
"Dakota!" she cried out. "Help me!"
"This your lass?" asked the pirate, jerking his head toward Sierra.
"Aye," I responded, receiving a renewed glare from Sierra.
The pirate let go of her arm and she stumbled forward, hugging me tightly around the neck. I realized with a start that she was sobbing into my shoulder. The pirate smirked at me.
Sierra suddenly wiped her eyes on my sleeve and turned toward the pirate.
"Thank you," she muttered. "You saved me."
The pirate shrugged nonchalantly as though it were an everyday thing for him, saving women from the hands of murderers or rapists.
"May I inquire of your name?" Sierra asked.
"Number one," the pirate slurred, holding up an index finger, "drop the formality in Tortuga. It doesn't fit. Two, name's Captain Jack Sparrow."
Sierra nodded at his words. "Sierra," she mumbled. "And he's Dakota."
I wasn't listening much. Did this man just say he was Captain Jack Sparrow? iThe /iCaptain Jack Sparrow?
"Have last names?" Jack asked lazily.
Sierra glanced up at me apprehensively and I shrugged. "Supposedly, we're both Malachites, but they aren't exactly our parents and they never told us who we really are."
As I spoke, I found my words to sound a bit over-dramatic.
"Malachite?" Jack asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. "As in Kayla and Alexander?"
"Aye," I answered again, cocking a dark eyebrow at this strange pirate. He looked to me as though he were both sober and drunk at the same time.
Jack looked down at Sierra, then up at me, before smirking. "I think I need t' talk t' ye both."
And with that, he started off in the direction of the tavern Sierra and I just left. We trotted after her curiously when a young woman stopped Jack dead in his tracks.
"Oh, 'ello-er-Alexis?" said Jack uncertainly, looking at the woman.
"No," she snapped before slapping Jack and stalking off.
"Alexandria," I piped up after she was gone.
"That's it," Jack muttered darkly, massaging his cheek much in the same manner as I had before; quite sourly.
"See?" I mumbled to Sierra as we continued to the tavern. "At least I remember their names."
That just earned me a slap in the arm.
Jack sat us down at a small table in the back. He studied thoughtfully at Sierra.
"You have your mother's eyes," he said finally.
Sierra smiled sort of, unsure if this was a compliment or not.
"Kat was a wonderful woman," Jack said. "She was a strong fighter and a fiery lass. Jeff had t' watch himself 'round her. Now, two pirates in love don't generally come about too often, so yer parents were a rare sight t' see."
"What happened to them?" Sierra inquired softly, almost timidly.
Jack looked downcast. "Killed. By some Navy general or somethin'."
I swallowed suddenly. "What was their last name?"
"Alkan," Jack answered.
"Alex," I muttered. "Alex killed them."
Sierra looked up at me, her blue eyes wide. She shook her head as if it would make the truth go away.
"Alex wouldn't." she tried to protest.
"Alex would," I countered. "You heard how he talked about pirates."
Sierra swallowed hard before chuckling softly. "Don't know why I'm getting so worked up. I've never met my parents."
"But they were still yer parents," said Jack softly as a dark skinned woman came up behind him and set her hands on his shoulders. He looked up at her and smiled a little.
"I know," Sierra said quietly.
Impulsively, I reached over and took her hand in mine. She didn't protest. Instead, she smiled over at me.
The dark skinned woman behind Jack suddenly gasped.
"Alright there, AnaMaria?" Jack asked as he looked up at her again.
"Jack," AnaMaria hissed at him, apparently trying not to let me overhear. "Don't you know who he is?"
"Aye, I do," Jack replied. "Dakota."
I fixed my gaze on his as he spoke my name. "What about me?"
"Tell him," AnaMaria growled into Jack's ear.
"Hold up there, love," said Jack calmly. "I'll tell him when the opportune moment comes."
"Opportune moment's here, Jack," said AnaMaria as she took the seat next to Jack and rested her head in her hands.
I watched curiously. Tell me what? What did these two people know that I didn't? Apparently it had to have something to do with my parents, considering the nature of the conversation.
"You tell him or I will," AnaMaria threatened as Jack stayed silent. Again, he said nothing, watching me with interest. AnaMaria sighed. "Dakota, do ye even know yer rightful name?"
I shook my head slowly, wondering what was coming next.
"It's Dakota Isaac Sparrow," Jack said, staring at the rings on his fingers instead of looking at me.
I choked on air as my grip tightened, involuntarily, on Sierra's hand.
"'Scuse me?" I sputtered out.
"Ye heard me," said Jack, glancing up at me.
I merely stared at the pirate before me. I had a living father? I was a pirate? Sierra, I had almost expected it, the way she'd behave sometimes, but I didn't think that I was. Who was my mother?
I voiced this question to Jack and AnaMaria answered with a simple, "Me."
I nodded once, letting the information sink in. That would explain why I was so tan all the time, even when I was confined to my bedroom for weeks for bad behavior.
"I've got a proposition for ye both," said Jack suddenly, leaning forward on the table. "How 'bout ye two join me crew, eh?"
Now I seriously considered him drunk. He barely knew us and he was willing to take us with him?
Sierra and I glanced at each other. Sierra sighed and agreed. Looks like I had to too.
"Good," said Jack with a smirk as he leaned back in his chair. "Give me a chance t' get t' know me son."
I smirked back before stealing a glance at Sierra out of the corner of my eyes, wondering how she was taking any of this. She had a grin on her face, but I could see in her eyes a hint of sadness. Removing my hand from hers, I replaced it around her waist and leaned closer to her.
"You alright?" I asked her.
"Yes," she replied. "You?"
I nodded, my worry for her mounding ever still.
"That a Turner sword?" Jack asked, nodding to the weapon at my side. I nodded. "Can I see it?"
Again, I nodded and unsheathed my sword, handing it over to Ja-my father. I wondered absently if I should still call him Jack or Father or something. I wasn't sure, but I figured I'd ask him about that some other time when we were alone.
"What happened to your hand?" AnaMaria asked as she took notice of my bandage.
I looked at my covered knuckles and shrugged. "Punch my mirror."
"You told me it was just a scratch!" Sierra argued.
"It is," I countered. "Nothing big."
Sierra sighed and shook her head. AnaMaria chuckled.
"Get used to it, lass," she said good-naturedly. "Sparrow men are always like that."
Sierra laughed too. I could tell she liked AnaMaria already. Good, I thought.
"Well," said Jack as he handed my sword back. "We'd better get back t' the iPearl/i. Crew's waitin'."
And with that, he stood and swaggered from the tavern. AnaMaria followed him with Sierra and me scrambling after. This, I thought, was going to be a fun adventure.
bEND/b
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please tell me what u think. Hope u liked it. I'm considering doing a sequel, but I don't know. I'm going to be without a computer for a week (vacation) so I'll think about it then.