Near the end of Swordplay, Jack tells Meryl briefly about his past love, stating only that things did not work out between them, and that "she called herself Catriona." Since so many of my readers wanted to know more, here is the story of Jack's humble beginnings in a small town in southern Ireland. It is the story that started Jack and Emmaleanna's lives in a New World, the story of the woman who changed Jack forever.

Bear in mind that these events take place before Jack becomes the legendary Captain of the Black Pearl, so if he seems a little different from his cinematic character, it's because he hasn't become him yet.

Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean. Shocker.


Chapter One:

"Only the dead have seen the end of war."
-Plato

The sky was dark and grey, the air laced with a cold October breeze that sent shivers down Jack's spine. He stood upon the hill beside the freshly-shovelled mound of earth, staring into the distance absently. The constant winds that ate away at the lush hills of Curraig now caused the rough wooden cross that was stuck into the ground to tremble. He felt almost embarrassed to be standing there beside such a lowly pauper's grave. But the lowly pauper who now rested under the piles of dark soil was no common woman.
Jack swallowed a lump in his throat. He had to remain strong. His mother was not coming back, and misery would do nothing to change that. The pale white hand of consumption had reached its way out of death's black cloak and taken hold of her shattered life, steering in down into the dark, into nothingness. He wasn't so much sad to see her die- he'd hardly seen the woman in the last three years, him working at a mill six towns over- as he was sad to see what his life was now doomed to become. Before, he'd had his own wages, his own apartment, had opportunities and a certain future. Now...
Now he was very nearly alone, left with only his younger sister, who was a burden more than she was a blessing. She was only eleven years old, and it was hard enough to support himself, much less a child on top of that. His coarse black hair blew haphazardly about his pale face, and he reached into the pocket of his waistcoat, drawing from inside of it a crumpled, dried rose, it's once proud red hue now faded to a sickly brown.
He rolled the stem of the long-dead blossom around in his fingertips, ignoring the searing pain that it's thorn sent through his forefinger as it drew its share of blood. He let it drift into the wind, watching through blurry eyes as it fell onto the mound of earth silently.
"You know, you can clip fresh ones over there in the rosehip bushes."
Jack turned around to face a tall red-headed woman in a billowing black gown. Her skin looked pale in comparison to her vibrant hair, which blew freely about her slightly freckled but pleasant face. She looked about the same age as he, maybe a little younger, though her sea-green eyes held more years than he could see on her face. Unlike many of the people he had come in contact with in the graveyard, this girl had no tear stains on her cheeks, no handkerchief clutched between her fingers.
"I'll remember that." He mumbled, resigning to leave, the presence of this newcomer making him slightly uneasy.
"You're Marion Sparrow's son, aren't you?" She asked.
He stopped and turned to her. "You knew her?"
"No." The woman took a few steps closer to him. "I was- well, I am her funeral keener," She stammered.
"Oh." He dropped his gaze, not wanting to show his disappointment. His mother had had very few friends in her lifetime, and right now Jack could use all the connections he could get. Unfortunately, this girl was not going to serve said purpose. "Have you come here to sing, then?"
"Yes." She took a few steps closer to him and Jack noticed a faded red sash tied around her tiny waist over the black gown. "You can stay if you'd like."
"It's alright." Jack brushed past her. "I have places to go..." He paused to ponder his words. Here he was, alone with his little sister, stuck in Curraig with no money for passage or lodging and no job. He had left his work and come to see his mother in her final days. He had nowhere to go now. Nowhere at all. "Actually, yeah, I'll stay." She smiled and as he held out his hand to her. "My name's Jack." He said as the shook hands. And when she did not respond, "Are you going to tell me your name?"
"You can call me Catriona." She said coolly.
"Catriona?" He asked.
"Kit, if you must." She shrugged.
Jack sat down beside the mound and patted the earth beside him, inviting Kit to sit down beside him.
She complied, and a tense silence manifested between them. Kit was the first to break it.
"Marion was your mother?" Jack nodded. "How did she die?"
"Consumption." He said shortly.
"Do you have any other family?"
"A sister."
"Ah."
Jack eyed the woman next to him, his gaze resting on her slender waist, where the red sash had been tied. She was quite pretty, though she had too many freckles, and her red hair was blown about in disarray. He let his attentions rest on her foggy greenish-grey eyes, and linger there until he noticed that she had caught him staring.
"Do you want something?" She asked pointedly. Jack shook his head. "Good."
There was another long pause. "So are you going to sing or what?" He asked.
"Fine, fine." Kit said, struggling to her feet. "Pushy little eajet, aren't you?" She muttered, brushing the dirt off of her skirts and stood up straight. Jack waited, wondering exactly what a funeral keener sang. She opened her mouth, and he felt a chill go down his backbone as she let out a cold, haunting wail that drifted melodically out over the hills. Jack found his eyes drawn to her form. She looked almost buried in her back dress, her sleeves and skirts billowing in the breeze, ripping around with the wind. His eyes fogged over and tears pressed from in behind them.
Kit stopped. She looked concerned. "Are you going to be alright?"
"I'll be fine." Jack managed, though he knew in the depth of his soul that he was lying through his teeth. His future was so uncertain now...
"Come on." Kit held her hand out to him. "It's not good to linger here. It'll only depress you."
"And where do you suggest I go?" He asked flatly.
"You're not from around these parts, are you?"
Jack scowled. "What's it to you?"
She shrugged. "There's a pub near here. I'll buy you a drink."
He gave a little half-smile that looked anything but genuine, and got to his feet. Kit smiled, and this time Jack returned the gesture in a much more genuine fashion. "Sounds good."
The pair of them stumbled down the hillside, reaching the town just as the skies began to cloud over. Kit wound her way through the narrow streets expertly, finally coming upon a run-down old tavern, so called the Sidhe, as said the sign on the wall.
Stepping inside the establishment, Jack's ears met with a dull roar of chatter and the bell-like sounds of glasses clinking. Kit made her way over to the counter and ordered two pints of something strong and dark. She handed one to Jack and they made their way over to a small wooden table in the corner. Jack plunked himself down miserably into a chair, and Kit slid into the one opposite him, studying him intently.
"Gotten yourself a good enough view yet?" Jack asked irately.
Kit broke her gaze, blushing slightly. "Sorry." She mumbled.
"It's fine." Jack sighed.
"You're worried, aren't you?" She spoke very fast, every word seemed to be growing out of the one that proceeded it. Jack nodded. "You're not the only thing you have to take care of now, am I right?"
He nodded again. "Well, like I said, there's my sister Emmaleanna. She's eleven. She was living with mum, but now I guess she'll be in my care." He sighed. "I have to get out of Curraig."
Kit frowned. "Why's that?"
"No way to earn an honest living, that's why!" Jack snapped.
His companion looked slightly taken aback at his irritable nature. "Where would you go?"
He shrugged. "I'd like to make my way over to the new world… emigration seems to be the only escape these days. Maybe when I get there, I could work as a hired hand on a farm of sorts."
"And your sister?"
"That's the problem. I cant take her with me- she'd eat up all my wages."
"You could leave her with a relative." Kit suggested.
"Not possible." He sighed. "No relatives around her- leastways not ones I know. We're on our own. Nobody in the world." He glanced at Kit from over the rim of his glass. "The world doesn't want a eleven year old girl orphan, and I cant keep her by my lonesome. I should want to take a wife, but I cant do that even. No money to court with."
"Oh how horrible for you." Her words were dripping with sarcasm.
"You don't believe me!" Jack accused.
Kit sighed. "You're not in such a fix as you think."
"No?"
"No. You could send your sister to be a home-child or such. That would free you up enough to earn money for a passage somewhere more prosperous."
"And how do you propose I get her back, exactly?" Jack asked.
Kit bit her lip. "Alright, fine, you think of a better solution."
"That's whatabouts I'm doing, isn't it?"
"Well if you're going to be like this then I'll just take my drink and go!" She got to her feet, glass in hand, looking rather indignant.
"Don't go!" Jack called after her.
Kit raised one eyebrow. "Oh, so you want me to stay now?"
"Yes!"
"Fine, I'll stay." She sank back down into her chair. "Where's your sister now?"
"She's staying in mum's apartment." Jack said, his eyes wandering over the dimly-lit bar. "It's only a stone's throw away from here. The landlord's told us we can stay on without paying our rent for a week, no more."
"And your mum?" Kit pried. "She had a job didn't she?"
Jack glared at her. "She was a beggar. She lived off charity."
"Oh." She lowered her eyes, trying to conceal the colour now rising in her cheeks.
"Oh?"
"Well what do you want me to say?" He was really beginning to bother her. Why did he have to be so...
"Never mind." He muttered.
"Look, I'm too warm. I'm going outside." She took to her feet. "It was nice meeting you." Kit turned and left the pub. Jack followed her. She whirled around to face him as they stepped out into what was now the dark drizzle of night. "What do you want now?"
"It's dark." Jack said sombrely. "You shouldn't be walking alone."
"I can take care of myself."
"Let me take you home."
"Excuse me?"
"I meant," Jack pulled her back under the canopy of the entranceway. "I'll walk you home."
Kit thought for a moment. "I live on the outskirts. You'd be walking at least thrice the distance as to your home."
"Then let me walk you at least as far as I do."
She smiled. "Fine."
They took off into the night, and were swallowed up by the grey downpour that was now beating down upon the city. By the time they reached Jack's apartment, the drizzle had manifested itself into a full-blown storm. Kit consented to come upstairs with Jack for a few moments in order to dry off, but she quickly realized that making the rest of the journey home, through the narrow, winding streets, in the dark and in the rain, with the clay roads washing out from under her feet was virtually impossible.
Jack opened the door to a scrubby-looking two-room apartment and Kit made her way in slowly. She heard the door click shut behind her and the next think she felt was a warm woollen blanket being draped around her shoulders.
She smiled gratefully. "Thank you." Her eyes scanned the room. "Where's your sister?"
"Asleep." Jack said, motioning to the doorway that lead into a tiny cramped bedroom. "Do you want to sit down?" Kit looked around, then realized there was really nothing in the way of furniture. Other than a tiny table and a few cupboards, the room was bare. "The chairs were sold to pay for the doctor." Jack explained.
Kit nodded and happily sat herself down upon the dented wood floor. Jack did the same, pulling a sheet of paper off of the table as he did so. He handed it to her. "That's the bills."
Kit looked it over, stumbling clumsily over the larger words. "I see what you mean." She said. Any earning potential Jack had was immediately cancelled out by the expenses of his little sister. "This looks pretty tight. I-"
There was a faint crack of thunder in the distance. Jack whistled. "Don't get that very often."
"No." Kit agreed. "It'll be a tough walk home."
"You're not honestly thinking of heading home in this storm, now are you?"
"What other option do I have?"
"You could stay the night here." Jack suggested. "There's a sort of sleeping mat in Emmaleanna's room, if you want."
Kit bit her lip, as she always did when entertaining an idea. And this one particularly, seemed much more welcoming than the prospect of walking home in the downpour. After a few moments, she smiled and nodded affirmatively. For some reason, she trusted Jack. He had lost his mother... he seemed somehow bent and broken by the world, and this caused him to be so very genuine towards everything around him. She glanced at him through the curtain that was her rain-drenched red hair. "You're sweet."
It was thus that, yawning and rubbing her eyes, little Emmaleanna Sparrow entered the scene, having been awoken by the thunder and intrigued by the sound of voices in the next room.
It was Jack who first noticed the little girl's presence. At being acknowledged, Emmaleanna quickly nodded to her brother and ducked back into her bedroom timidly.
Kit smiled as Jack returned his attentions to her. "She's a little scared of me, I guess."
"Where do you get that idea?" Jack asked.
Kit nodded towards the room. "She's quick to disappear at the sight of me. I must look like some sort of hobgoblin, my hair in heaps like it is."
"No." Jack tried. "No, she's just shy."
Kit snorted. "Right."
"You don't believe me again!" He accused.
"Should I?"
Jack just smiled and headed over to one of the cupboards, seemingly being used as a closet. He grabbed a few dry garments off it's shelves and tossed a dry shirt onto the floor beside his feet.
"I imagine you'll be needing dry clothing?" Jack asked.
Kit surveyed her wet self. "I suppose... yes. That would be nice."
Jack rummaged in the cupboard and produced an off-white cotton nightdress. "Here. This is Emmaleanna's. She's supposed to grow into it."
Kit took it gratefully, then looked around for a place to change. Jack smiled and bowed out of the room graciously, waiting until his guest had successfully struggled into her new garments before re-entering. The gown was a little tight in the chest and hips, but it was clothing, and it was dry, and for Kit, that made all the difference.
"Where can I leave this?" Kit asked, motioning to the soggy black heap that was her gown.
"Wherever you want." Jack said, dragging a few blankets and cushions out onto the floor and attempting to arrange them into some form of a bed. "It's not like there's really any true organization to this place."
Kit looked around, finally settling on the lone little table as a clothesline for her sopping garment. She wrung her hair out in her fists, letting the water dribble onto the dress.
"The sleeping mat's in the next room." Jack said as Kit turned around. "There's a quilt on it, and a few cushions. I hope that'll be enough."
"That'll be fine." She smiled and quickly left the room. Jack stared after her for a moment before sinking down amidst the itchy blankets, trying hard not to let the cold discomfort of the floorboards get to him. The roof above him began to leak, letting out a rhythmic pulse of putrid rainwater. He grimaced and closed his eyes with a quiet and disgusted resolve.
Kit poked her head around the door frame, spotting Jack in his decidedly uncomfortable makeshift bed. "Jack ?"
He opened his eyes. "Mm?"
"Thank you."
He smiled briefly. "No trials at all."


Please review!

-SQ