Disclaimer: I definitely do not own any of the Pirates of the Caribbean characters or plot or anything like that because if I did I would be making a heck of a lot more money than I am.

Ok, new story. I think this is somewhat original, if it comes close to anyone else's plotline, I am terribly sorry but I did not see it. Here goes.

It had been a year since pirates had raided Port Royal and kidnapped the Governor's daughter, a year since Jack Sparrow had escaped the noose to reclaim his ship. The colony had recovered somewhat from the devastation; the shopkeepers, however, had been in an uproar for months due to the imminent wedding of Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann. Today, or rather tonight, at long last, the wedding was to take place. Commodore Norrington had given strict orders for the guard detail before leaving the fort; security had been increased tenfold on the harbor and the guardsmen still did not notice when the Black Pearl came sliding into the harbor. Jack Sparrow shook his head as he came swaggering into port; Navy men just did not change. That was what he was counting on as he headed for the church, hurrying as much as possible.

Just this once, however, there was another reason for the lax guard on the harbor. Commodore Norrington resisted the urge to roll his eyes when Lord Norville Buffington, one of the King's advisors and an utter fool arrived in Port Royal that same morning, decked out in some of the most ostentatious clothing James had seen in his life, even including his brief time at Court with his brother just after he joined the Navy. Lord Norville was a fat man, ruddy-cheeked and with a high, nasal laugh that grated on everyone's nerves, with the possible exception of Governor Swann's. Even the Governor, however, looked pained as he listened to the man prattle on, completely unaware of the general unfriendly mood of the nobles surrounding him. He was also the last of the guests to arrive before the wedding.

Will Turner stood waiting nervously in front of the church. A thousand worries went through his mind; what if at the last moment Governor Swann disapproved? What if someone passed out? What if – "Calm down, mate, you looked better than this when the Interceptor blew up!" The voice, familiar though it was, came from a face that Will barely recognized. He stared at the pirate for a moment in sheer amazement before, in a low whisper, he demanded,

"Jack?" The pirate captain grinned, confirming Will's suspicions. He certainly did not look like himself; his hair had been tamed and combed back, minus bandanna and ornaments, the kohl removed from around his eyes, and his beard trimmed short. He was wearing a full-sleeved white shirt, grey tight-fitting pants, what looked like riding boots, and only one of his normal assortment of dubious jewelry, a crest ring that looked suitably old.

"That's Lord Thackeray to you," Jack replied in his best high-society accent, the grin still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, welcome then, my Lord," Will replied after a few moments' stunned silence. He grinned and moved away.

The wedding of William Turner II and Elizabeth Swann was talked about for years afterwards. The groom was handsome; the bride was radiant, smiling all the wider when she realized that Jack Sparrow was in attendance. Commodore Norrington stood as best man for the groom; James had made his peace with the young couple some months before, refusing to lose Elizabeth's friendship even if he was not the one on whom her affections rested.

Afternoon faded into evening and the celebration began. Jack hung around the edges, seeing that Lieutenant Gillette was also in attendance, and knowing that that same Lieutenant was out for his blood. The night was not a total loss, however. Many of the guests were either Lords or merchants, and many of them were discussing shipping information, little imagining that they could not speak freely here of all places. Jack mentally made a note of everything that was said, deciding to mention it to AnnaMaria when he got back to the Pearl.

There was one young woman who sat alone, her escort apparently otherwise occupied. She was not overly beautiful, but neither could Jack see any reason for the men in the room to ignore her. She had somewhat curly light brown hair and blue eyes with a somewhat ruddy complexion as compared to the other ladies. She looked upon the dancers wistfully, as though not expecting anyone to speak to her, much less ask her to dance. Jack shrugged and looked away, not terribly concerned, his gaze traveling to the center of the floor, where Will and Elizabeth were. He idly wondered how long it had taken Elizabeth to teach the blacksmith how to dance properly. He looked across the room – and then he spotted them. Across the room, there was a group of ladies, huddled together and whispering for all they were worth, in full view of whomever they were gossiping about. They sent occasional scandalized glances out; Jack followed the direction of their stares and saw the young woman he had noticed earlier. On a sudden impulse, he made his way over to her; he held out his hand when he reached her. The gavotte drew to a close and the musicians struck up a jig.

"Would you honor me with a dance?" Jack asked, letting his voice drop into an accent he had not used in a very long time. The young woman, Helena Eaton by name, looked up, startled. One of the other ladies frowned and sidled over, a winning smile on her face when she turned to Jack.

"My Lord, would you not rather dance with a lady of title?" she suggested, fluttering her eyelashes. As comprehension dawned, Jack looked the harpy over once, gave what could only be described as a snort of disgust, and turned back to Helena. She stood, now truly surprised, curtsied, and followed Jack out onto the dance floor.

Now, contrary to popular opinion, Jack Sparrow did in fact know how to dance. He danced with the same fluid grace with which he fought, his eyes focused intently on his dance partner. The jig drew to a close; the dance changed to a pavane and then a minuet and never once did the pirate falter. Will and Elizabeth, the only ones who had realized the true identity of "Lord Thackeray", stared in amazement. Neither of them had ever imagined that Jack had anything more than a rudimentary education, much less that of a nobleman.
Commodore Norrington, too, was staring out at the dance floor. The candlelight flickered, hiding him from sight, but not preventing him from catching sight of Jack and Helena. He did not recognize the pirate but he was strongly reminded of another man, one that he had known in his childhood and brief time among England's nobility.

/Flashback/

James Norrington stood once again on the sidelines of a ball, never one for the social scene. His brother, however, was very much a part of London society, one of the best friends of the Earl of Huntingdon's eldest son Arthur. James himself was well acquainted with the younger son, John, or Jack as he was called by his friends and family; indeed, they had been friends since childhood. Both of them were in the Navy, the second son's traditional profession in both their families. Jack was dancing near the center of the floor, his feet whirling in the steps of a jig with one of the young ladies of the court, his eyes showing the same dark intensity that James saw now in the eyes of the man opposite Helena. Jack Huntingdon shot James a wolfish grin that spoke volumes and then he was gone again.../

Norrington shook his head to clear it of the memories. He had lost sight of them now, and besides which, it could not possibly have been him. Jack Huntingdon had disappeared the night their ship was attacked by pirates. No body was ever found, but no ransom demand was ever delivered either, an almost sure indication that he had not lived to be ransomed. No, it could not have been. James turned and walked away. Too much wine and a long day were undoubtedly taking their toll.