Disclaimer: "If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended,
That you did but slumber'd here while these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme is no more yielding then a dream."

-Midsummer's Night Dream

Mutineer
By: Lady Erised

It's hard not to love Captain Jack. Damn near impossible, says I, and I knew him best. I was his first mate during his finest hour. Back when he captained the Pearl towards some elusive treasure of Aztec Kings, and we just were content to be along for the ride. Another thing, I'll say of Sparrow, it was hard to be discontent under his watch. If there was anything he cared for more then his ship, it was his crew. As soft as a lady's glove, old Jack was. Back when the sea was kind, and Davy Jones was a story we told the cabin boys to frighten them.

Ah, I lie to say that. There was never a time when the sea was kind. Jack knew that best of us, and he knew it because I taught it to him.

I was a better father to Wily Jack then the seadog who's name he took and the shadow he follows. Quite by accident, mind, I have enough unclaimed bairns about ports to take on some stray mutt but it was hard to not to love Jack.

And I did love him. It's the only way to defeat a man like Jack Sparrow. You can't hate him, can't despise him. To hate him, and be obsessed will only destroy you; I've been around long enough to know that. Jack is smarter then you'll ever be, and damn luckier. He'll fight longer, and stronger then you ever will because Jack lives his life like he'll never have another chance. And he won't. Jack's wise enough to know that all he has is a ship and those wild dreams you can't help but believing in because he's so damn sure of himself.

To beat Jack, to betray him; it has to hurt. Sharp and deep and more then you thought you could be wounded. You have to stare into those trusting eyes, and not blink. What's worst, you need to smile as you do it.

Takes a special sort of man to do that. What's that they say about ol' Barbossa? A man so wicked, Hell itself spat him out…

Heh, hardly.

I just know how to bleed to get what I want. Not afraid to play the villain and hurt those I love to get what I've been after.

I taught Jack everything he needed to know about sailing, and the man had a better eye for cartography then I ever could have. I was proud of him. Still am, to an extent. A man like Sparrow never leaves the heart once he touches it.

If I was his father, and not his first mate, I would say gladly that I love the boy and he's a proud man and good sailor. But he's a piss poor pirate and for one reason alone, he never learned the most important lesson.

One I'll teach him tonight after I find out where ol' Jack's hidden the Isla de Muerta. It's a simple lesson, and the best thing I can give him. Only thing and probably the only thing he'll remember from me after tonight.

But, then again, in a sort of twisted poetic light (and Jack does love his theatrics), isn't that we usually take from our parents? A bad taste they leave in our mouths after they've done gone away and left us…

It's a simple lesson, really. One I half-hope, he'll never learn, even after tonight…

Never trust.

Ever.