A/N: You should know that this takes place after the third movie, and since I am writing this a good week before it comes out, there are bound to be a few weak parts. There is too much solid type at the beginning of it, but just bear with me, it'll get better. Just wish me luck. Oh, and there is a very serious side to this fanfiction as well.
There is a sickness inside me. One that breathes and lives as only a monster can. And on a few occasions, I have been able to defy this monster, to cut back the strings tying my life to it. But it seems that, as I live life is destined to rid this monster from its pages, whether I am still trapped or not. This is not a game between right or wrong, evil or good though it may seem that way. This is something much different, though I do not know what to call it. Please, ignore any of the major errors in this fanfiction, for I am trying to write something out of my soul. Comment if you want to, it doesn't really matter to me. But please, don't ignore or dismiss this, for it is too real, too true. This is life.
Chapter One: Various back story and Confrontations
Arden O'Bryne wasn't the prettiest girl on the shores of the Carolinas, though her voice was sweet and light and could carry a tune better than most. To most she appeared to be the studious, clean cut and naïve sort of girl who would be pray to one such rogue as Danny Rudders. Her hair was soft and thin and shined just so about her shoulders, straight and simple while her body was curved enough to tempt the King himself from his throne, at least she would, if he saw her.
But Mr. O'Bryne wasn't the sort of man who the King would see, no matter how pretty or charming his daughter appeared. And most likely, that Danny Rudders would have charmed Arden, if she hadn't repulsed him and every other young man. Then, there was Charles.
Well known for being dangerous, even more so than Danny, he had the purse and the pride to think he could gain the position of Governor one day, and who better to charm the local folk than sweet little Arden O'Bryne with her sweet voice, and even her ill-fitting clothes and slight temper that rose up every now and again. The youngest of three girls, her sisters both were beautiful and held more of a lady-like form, but it was Arden who was doted on the most. And do, Mr. O'Bryne, though he felt so terrible about it, gave Charles his blessing to cart little Miss Arden off to England to wed her at the young age of seven.
Yes, a very young age to be taken from one's home and family. There in England Charles promised to treat her the arts of being a lady. As planned, they would remain betrothed until Arden reached the age of seventeen, and then they would wed and return to the Carolinas, hopefully with Charles as governor. Charles managed to please his parents with his choice of a wife, of course she was a merchant's child, rough around the edges, but she could be fixed. She must be fixed.
And when little Arden turned ten and overheard her future mother-in-law and future husband discussing how Charles spent his evenings off with women of little moral value, Arden was irrational. She marched into the meeting all anger and hate and accused her betrothed of lying and betrayal in the eyes of the church. Always a very serious accusation, Charles laughed off her comments and claimed they were talking of his father's actions, not his own. Arden was appeased for a short time until she spotted the evidence herself.
One afternoon, Arden was drawn to the strange noises coming from the parlor. Much to her dismay it was her betrothed, lying with two other women both of them bare at the chest. Hysterical, she ran to her future mother-in-law who seemed good enough to console Arden, until the young child mentioned speaking with a priest and returning home.
The events that followed were all very speedy, quick, and disturbing. Arden was locked in her room, while everyone was told she was terribly ill. Arden grew accustomed to the extra weight she carried, due to lack of exercise, the bitten finger nails from her nerves and to the bruises on her knees. Charles was not the sort to commit such filthy acts, and so Arden was every day to kneel on the cold stone floor and pray for forgiveness. Day, after day, after day. Some time passed before Charles allowed her outside the lonely room, and by that time, Arden was not the sweet, charming little singer who once sang songs as her future father-in-law played the organ.
"Shyness, I fear. Please, father, do not pester Arden, she'll only grow hysterical once again," Charles would say, and grip Arden's shoulder tightly.
Arden could no help it, whenever Charles said those words she broke down in tears, confirming his claim that she was growing hysterical. The young O'Bryne would burst into tears at the slightest remark that she was overweight, that her dresses, uncared for a wrinkled, would shame the entire family. The marriage was postponed indefinitely, until the state of Miss O'Bryne's health was stabilized. While Charles never confined her again, and while rumors were traveling about his cruelties to her, none of them were confirmed and Arden was not allowed to visit home without her betrothed. Years went by, and then Charles decided to show his betrothed just what it meant to be married, to be under someone's complete control. On the night of her twentieth birthday, Charles tried to consummate their union. Fearful, Arden began screaming before he even touched her, and Charles moved to strike. His slap struck Arden just as his father, Lord Charles Eddings Senior, banged open the doors. Arden was limp of the floor, sobbing uncontrollably and Charles was red in the face.
It was all cleaned up quite nicely then. Charles Senior wrote a note a greatest apologies, confirming that his son had struck and threatened Arden. Charles Junior faced the mock and scorn over every courtier in London. Mrs. Eddings was dealt with quietly, for while she knew of the horrors done to Arden, she would not have that shame placed on her son. Mr. Eddings dressed Arden in the finest dress he could find, loaded up her trunks and bags with the finest and most expensive items, and sent her back to the Carolinas under the clever guardianship of the nun Sister Annabelle Frankford, the most traditional and prudent nun of any holy order.
Sister Annabelle was well accustomed to the habits of over-controlled wives; she too, was a victim until her husband ran off with a whore and died a year later. But Sister Annabelle moved on and was convinced that Miss O'Bryne could as well, given some time. Seeing the fragile nature of Arden she sent word to Mr. O'Bryne, including the note from Lord Eddings and convinced him it was in Arden's best interest if she retired to the nunnery in Wales for a time before continuing her rehabilitation in the Caribbean (for Sister Annabelle was transferred very frequently). In three short years, Sister Annabelle taught Arden how to support herself, by honorable means, without taking a husband. Soon, as Arden regained her independence, she began smiling again. Their trip to the Caribbean was less than enjoyable, as Arden was terribly ill all the way down and on the ride from Nassau harbor to the abbey. Then, some weeks later the young twenty-three year old woman laughed as she learned to play the violin (both traditional songs, with a smidgen of fiddle added in), and the flute and the organ. Then, Sister Annabelle decided, on the eve of her twenty-fourth birthday, it was time to change scenes, give the young woman more freedom.
The elderly woman knocked lightly on Arden's door one day, interrupted her reading, and motioned for the several younger nuns to begin packing her things. And though everyone in the abbey was on a first name basis with Arden by now, Sister Annabelle knew that stern formality was in order. "Miss O'Bryne," she stated reasonably, "It is time for you to return to your family. I received word from your father, and Mr. O'Bryne has assured me that when The Harp docks at Nassau harbor, he and your mother and sisters and their families will be there to meet you and take you home."
Seeing Arden's shocked, pale expression, Sister Annabelle placed her finger over the child's lips and shook her head. "You have hidden yourself away for long enough, Miss O'Bryne. Life will not wait for you, and I have better things to do than teach a hopeless student how to knit and sew all the rest of my years."
To Sister Annabelle's surprise, Arden smiled.
Jack was wallowing in his own self-pity; his life was slowly circling the drain. Now that Will and Elizabeth were settled and Barbosa was comfortably settled on his Madagascar island, living in luxury, Jack was left with the Pearl and a quickly dwindling world to explore. Pirate. Pirate. The world had little meaning anymore. Freedom was a hard, rare thing to find unless it came pre-boxed and defined down to the last, flimsy loophole. Even then the loopholes were mere chances of luck, like Governor Swann suddenly growing a heart and Norrington dying at the hands of Elizabeth. Now Jack was 'free', with Letters of Mark in his pocket and the East India Trading Company off his back, he could finally search out his dream. If, that is, it still existed.
So here he was in Tortuga, trying to line up the last remaining lost souls who were crazy enough to consider joining Jack and his crew. Gibbs was still alive Jack could be grateful for that. Cotton's parrot had out lived the poor man, and a few others went down with him, living their lives in the deep with the rest of Davey's crew. Jack sipped deeply from his rum and mouthed his lips over the rough wooden rim, wondering to himself just how he got into this mess. His hair itched, hell he itched all over the place, even in his unspeakable parts, and he smelled like seaweed rotting in the sun. He needed to be refreshed; he needed another go at the ocean before he could stand the sight of himself…or the smell.
But with only ten souls, eleven, including the parrot, they couldn't properly sail the Pearl without risking serious damage. Jack unconsciously fiddled with his hair trinkets and almost didn't see the stocky man standing before him. Gibbs cleared his throat but Jack still didn't rouse from his daze. Then the old First Mate noticed how Jack was leaning back n his chair, balancing on an even two legs. Taking a chance, Gibbs gave the chair one measured kick and sent Captain Jack Sparrow, and all his dignity, floundering onto the floor.
Sparrow peeked his head over the table and was about to make some slight remark, when he saw just who was standing before him. John Hawkins was not nearly as frightening as his cousin, the privateer Sir Francis Drake, but his five foot seven muscular figure could even shock the words from a mouth like Sparrow's. His hair was jet black and glossy from a recent bath, his brows thick and his symmetrical face defined by one long scar. Brilliant some called him, creepy was more like it.
"Oh. Hello."
Hawkins didn't seem charmed. "I hear you're hiring out for sailors now that half your crew is dead. And while I'm not too picky about who I sail with, I get a mighty bad taste in my mouth when half the world believes you dead, and then here you are with but ten of your crew."
Jack had trouble swallowing, for now the entire tavern had gone quiet, all of them watching him closely. "And the parrot. You forgot the parrot."
"I wasn't aware that the parrot was considered crew, even if it does talk."
Jack grinned, "Taught him my self. He even knows French."
Hawkins slammed his fist on the table and made of point of tucking his coat back, revealing two shiny new pistols and a fancy sword to both Sparrow and Gibbs. He leaned forward then, settling his hands on the table and leaning into Jack's face. "I don't care if the parrot speaks Hindi, I just want to know what sort of Captain returns from the dead with half his crew gone and his ship suddenly restored."
Jack Sparrow was never a man to refuse a challenge. He stood and faced John Evert Hawkins with a stern, serious face. "A captain who returns from the dead with half his crew so sadly dead and gone and his ship once more in his fair and rightful possession is the kind of captain was has reason to keep secrets from men who would otherwise try to best him and come out the fool, savvy? You want explanations, Hawkins? Go read one of your books and keep your nose out of the Pearl's business when it clearly does not include your retched person."
Jack glanced to Gibbs, and at his single nod Gibbs began to pack up the quills and roster with speed. "I'll be seeing you later, I think, Mr. Hawkins." Jack went to turn away, but his steely retreat was cut short when Hawkins grabbed his sleeve in a tight threatening grasp.
"I haven't returned to the sea since I heard Davey lost his heart," John hissed. "Any knowledge that could fictionize would be welcomed by many ears, if conveniently said before the right people. Besides, if a sailor had news that might interest the persons aboard the Pearl and further their finical standing, I would think the business of said ship to be quite, open."
Jack narrowed his eyes in an attempt to look imposing, but only succeeded in making Gibbs snort. Tossing him a sharp look, Jack instead looked at the room behind Gibbs and heard the roaring of voices dim to a lull. "I have ears to be of interest, but so do others. Come see Pearl and I before dawn, and I might convince my ears to listen closely."
Hawkins flashed a quick grin before his stern face took control once more. "Well met, Jack Sparrow."
"Well met, John Hawkins," Jack murmured as the man turned and left. Gibbs had finished packing the roster and such away in the burlap case and now stood next to Jack, a funny expression on his face. "You are wondering why I didn't correct him?"
"Flabbergasted, mores the like."
"The term 'captain' has never passed between us. The title is a serious thing to Hawkins, not to be used lightly, savvy?" Jack stood and marched out, not waiting for Gibbs to follow. Standing in the tavern as a slight chaos raged about him, Gibbs's mouth remained slightly agape, before a smirk twisted his lips.
"Mother's love. He's back."