DISCLAIMER: I don't own PotC, savvy?

Peas In A Pod, As It Were

Clicking and scuffling sounds preceded the mob down the hard-packed dirt road. James Norrington looked toward the sound in alarm; such disturbances were very rare in the little town and anything of the like meant one thing: a lynching.

"I swear't wasn' me! I ne'er seen 'er in my life!" a young, stubborn voice cried from the center of the mob. By the skipping tone, the owner was struggling hard against whoever was holding him and making little progress.

With renewed interest, James narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see the accused through the mob. Finally, he spotted him. Dark locks whipped about a tan, determined face which each step. The young man was forced to walk at an odd angle with his upper body bent forward, but the angry flare in his amber eyes was not lost on the ground. Even though the hatred wasn't directed at him, James couldn't keep from shivering under the scurrilous gaze. Two burly men walked on either side of the accused and held his arms tightly behind him so he could neither fight nor break away.

With no memory of how he got there, James found himself standing in front of the gathering crowd around the tree where some townspeople were throwing a rope over the heaviest branch. From his vantage point, James watched the young man's reaction to the noose. It wasn't exactly what he expected.

"Bloody—no!" Instead of breaking down and begging for forgiveness, the young man dug his heels stubbornly into the dirt and to everyone's amazement, he stopped the men leading him momentarily on sheer will.

"S'less than you deserve fer what you did, street scum!" the man to the boy's left growled, cuffing the younger on the head and forcing him to give up his position as dark spots danced before his vision.

The rope was thrown and resting over the branch and the noose knot was being tied at its end. A small wagon hitched to a donkey was brought to rest under the makeshift gallows. While one man held the boy's hands firmly in place behind him, the other tied them tightly with thick rope. As he pulled the knot tight, he grinned darkly at the satisfying 'pop' that came from the boy's right shoulder, indicating it had been pulled out of joint.

"How d'you like that, boy?"

To his credit, the boy stood tall and proud despite the obvious pain of his dislocated shoulder. The only thing that gave away his discomfort was that he bit down hard on his lower lip, drawing blood that trickled feebly down his slightly quivering chin. A new gleam replaced the angry fire in his eyes, an emotion that stopped James cold: loss.

As the boy was forced up onto the cart and the noose was fixed around his neck, he stopped fighting. Instead, his eyes took on the distance of a great loss and he peered over his shoulder at the sparkling blue of the bay. A tear slid down his cheek, unnoticed by all but James.

It was as if nothing more mattered to the boy.

"Wait!" James looked around for the owner of the call, but soon realized it had been his own voice. All turned to look at him, excepting the one with the noose around his neck, and the crowd fell silent. Even the supposed victim stopped her pitiful weeping to glare at him. James felt a slight blush of embarrassment creep up to his cheeks, but he continued none the less.

"I mean, isn't this a little eccentric? What proof is there of his crime?"

"Are you sayin' that my daughter Madeline would lie about that?!" The father hissed dangerously, his face bright red with insult.

"No, I'm just saying that an execution can be considered a murder without the proper consent," James answered, unconsciously straightening to make himself seem more imposing. "Let him be chained to the post until you can get proof and an approval of execution from the proper authorities."

Murmurs of agreement spread through the crowd as their anger was forced down and they saw the truth of the young man's statements. James felt an extra pair of eyes on him and looked to the man standing on the cart. Grateful amber eyes stared at him, their distance replaced by a determined shine.

"The boy's right!"

"Yes, let him rot in chains! S'more fitting!"

"Who'll watch him?"

"Let the boy do it! His idea!"

- - - - -

'How do I always manage to get myself into these things?' James silently asked himself, gripping the young prisoner's shoulder and upper arm with both hands. With a sharp upward movement, the shoulder slipped back into joint. The captive tensed and yelped slightly, but a few minutes later the dark pain-induced spots left his vision.

James then moved away and leaned against the pole whereupon the 'prisoner' was chained with manacles on his wrists and ankles, allowing very limited movement. He sighed agitatedly. "No, I will not let you go! Stop looking at me like that."

The other man quirked an eyebrow at him from his seated position against the post. "Sorry mate."

Awkward silence settled over the two young men. A million questions were itching at James' mind, but he fought the urge to ask.

The urge won out.

"So…I hope you don't mind my asking-"

"But did I do't?" The other grinned up at him, showing a single gold tooth among the otherwise white ones. "Nah. Leastaways, not the way she described it. I'd ne'er force a woman but when her father caught us, well, she turned to the only thing she could think of-"

"Accuse you?"

"Aye."

"How old are you anyway?"

"Nineteen."

More silence.

"Actually, I was just going to ask your name…"

Another grin met him, making him look away. "But tha' were your next question, aye."

James didn't reply.

"Well, me name's Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow that is. As soon as I get outta this stinkin' town wit' a ship o' me own. What 'bout you, Jimmy?"

James' lip twitched slightly in annoyance. He had always loathed being called 'Jimmy'. "I, Mr. Sparrow, am destined to join the Royal Navy. In fact, I was on my way to Port Royal before this little fiasco."

"Well, ye do know I appreciate it, right mate?"

James looked down in a surprised manner, drawing a slight chuckle from the captive. "You do?"

"O' course. You were th' only one smart 'nough to speak up. If it weren't fer you, I've danced the hempen jig a long time ago. Why?"

James was baffled by the question and his reply was spoken slowly. "Because they were disobeying the-"

"No, what's the real reason, mate. I know ye're more'n stiff military protocol."

"You're a smart one, Jack Sparrow."

Jack winked. "Same fer you mate, but I don't entirely trust you."

James looked somewhat hurt. All his life, he had been used to earning everyone's respect and trust mere moments after meeting them. Apparently that wouldn't be the case with Jack Sparrow. "And why not?"

"S'not smart t' trust a smart person t' be smart when ye need their help, savvy?"

James didn't find the hidden meaning in the words. "What?!"

"Precisely. Now get me out!"

James' jaw dropped and his shock was quickly replaced with a chuckle. "'Get you out?!' Why would I do that?"

"I'll make it worth your while…"

"Mr. Sparrow, I do not accept bribes."

"Ah, tha's where yer wrong mate. I offer ye me friendship, which is not easily won nor given, an' a place on me future ship as part o' me future crew. For, as we all, know, th' future is e'erything and no trust is th' same as a lot o' trust, which is also false trust because trust don't exist, savvy? So whaddya say?" He lifted his wrists in a pleading gesture to emphasize his point.

James feigned confusion at Jack's twisted reasoning and shuffled the keys from hand to hand in contemplation.

"C'mon mate, we don' exactly 'ave much time 'fore th' mornin' rush, eh?"

James took only a moment more in making his decision. "Alright, but on one condition Jack," he began, twirling the keys carelessly. "You promise not to make any trouble for me when you become a pirate captain, savvy?" he mocked.

Jack grinned a third time and nodded. "I swear on pain o' death, James." 'Smart man, he knows his stuff.'

James quickly unlocked the shackles and Jack watched in glee as the heavy iron restraints dropped into the dirt below him. He then shoved himself to his feet and nodded once towards James.

"We'll meet again…I'll ne'er ferget this James."

James watched Jack trot off to the docks with conflicting emotions of guilt and self-satisfaction. Little did he know that the course of two very different lives hinged on that fateful morning.