My Jackie
A/N: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean.
A small five-year-old boy wondered throughout the streets of Dublin hungrily. His wild, dirty dark hair hung over his thin cheeks and his dark eyes. He hadn't eaten in three days, and the pains in his tiny stomach had grown worse. Shuffling his blackened, bare feet, he shivered and walked to the market.
Passing the other carts lined neatly along one another, he headed toward one of them by the street corner. There, a wizened man was selling loafs of bread. A smile spread across the young boy's face as he walked quickly to the old man and tugged on his breeches. The old man looked down, saw him and chuckled.
"You again, eh? I got what you need," he handed the boy a few slices of bread. Though the boy was mute (he had been living on the streets as long as he could remember), he understood the old man and smiled in thanks as he took them. Then, he ran back to the alleyway he spent most of his time in, gnawing of the stale pieces of bread along the way. He then washed it down with the old rain water in the sewers. It filled him right up, making his eyes droop. Yawning, he took the ragged gray blanket he slept with, curled up behind a pile of rubbish and then fell asleep.
The next time he woke up, his stomach was doing flip-flops. He got up and stumbled drunkenly for a few minutes before throwing up on the street. Everything was a blur, everything going this way and that, up and down. What was going on? He heard people screaming, bombs exploding. His ears popped, and the sounds all around frightened him greatly. Everything was closing in on him so quickly...His eyes rolled to the back of his head...
Then, voices. Even though all he could see was black, he was sure he was awake and that he heard voices around him.
"...the matter with him?" He heard one voice say; it was a low-strung voice, like a man's.
"Dunno. Ya think he's dead?" He heard another man's voice.
"No, he can't be. He was groaning a little while ago," the man with the low voice snapped.
"Should we bring 'em to the Cap'n?" the other man asked.
"Are you insane? He'd maroon both of us if we brought someone ill onto the ship. Also, we can't bring little lads as well. We have to remember our ode to the Code," the low-pitched man answered.
The other man shushed him as he took hold of the young boy's shirt and lowered it slightly. Both of them gasped loudly.
"It can't be," the low-pitched man breathed.
"But 'e is!" the other man said with disbelief. "He's got the captain's-"
"Now, don't be silly!" the low-pitched man snapped. "Everyone knows that the captain's son is dead. Taken from him by L'Olonnais himself when he was just a babe. No one's ever gotten by him and lived, Ragetti."
The little boy was still lying on the ground, listening to the two men talk. Trying to get their attention, he let out another soft groan. The two men silenced as he felt a pair of big, rough hands cup his cheeks.
"Look at 'em," the other man named Ragetti said softly. "'E's looks just like 'em Momma. We have ta bring him to the captain. I just know this is 'em son."
The low-pitched man stayed silent for a moment. Then, he said, "Fine. You carry him then. If anyone asks when we get back to the ship, I had no part of this."
xoxoxo
The little boy sat quickly up in a bed that he was unfamiliar with. Everything around him was spinning. What was going on? Where was he? He clung to the sides of the bed, feeling sick once again.
He heard walking around the room he was in. Through his blurred vision, he saw the man with the low-pitched voice staring at him. No, it was the man named Ragetti.
"Are you all right, boy?" Or it could of been the man who always gave him stale bread. Wait a minute...
The next thing he knew, he was curled up into the lap of a man with a long, dark beard. The man rocked him back and forth, his warm arms wrapped around his tiny body. "Shhh, it's all okay, Jackie," the man said in a soft voice.
Who's Jackie? Was he Jackie? He had a name?
But no matter how many times the bearded man said things were okay, the little boy did not feel safe. He felt scared, being held by a stranger. He bursted into tears. The bearded man laid Jack down onto the bed.
"Jackie," he said the same soft tone, "look at me boy."
No.
But he did anyway.
The bearded man put the back of his hand on little Jackie's forehead. Smiling, he said, "Ah, good. Your fever's breaking."
His words did not comfort him at all; he still sobbed and sobbed, tears glazing against his thin cheeks. The bearded man sighed, pulled out a small handkerchief, and dried Jackie's face.
"Alright now, no more tears, Jackie," he said sternly, putting it away, "and listen to me."
Gulping back the fear, Jackie turned and looked at the bearded man. He had dark eyes like his, he noticed.
"Listen, son," the bearded man leaned back, trying to find the right words to say, "I don't really know if you can understand what I'm saying. Ragetti told me you don't speak."
Jackie turned his head to the side, signaling that he understood clearly. The bearded man sighed again. "Jackie, I'm your father."
Jackie was confused. What was a father? What did they do?
"You were taken away from me when you weren't even a month old by another pirate. I thought you had died," the bearded man called Father continued ruefully. "You see this?" He pulled down some of his shirt, exposing his left shoulder. A huge brown birthmark was on it.
"You have the same thing on your shoulder, don't you boy?" Father asked. Jackie's eyes lingered on the birthmark for a few minutes, and then he pulled down the left side of his shirt, exposing an identical birthmark. Father smiled.
"Don't worry, boy," he then said. "We'll get you back to Madagascar, where you mother is. You have two big brothers and sisters there too. They'll teach you how to speak English. For now, sleep." Still smiling, he kissed Jackie's forehead. "My Jackie."
A/N: So basically, Jack was kidnaped by a notorious pirate named L'Olonnais, who was an actual pirate, and was passed down from pirate ship to pirate ship, eventually ending up in Dublin, Ireland. He lived on the streets for half of his childhood, ill. Teague thought he had died, and went on with his life, but they were reuntied when they decided to attack Dublin as they were passing by. And also, the Ragetti in the story was the beloved Ragetti's father.
