Disclaimer: Jack, Tortuga, Gibbs, Anamaria, the Black Pearl, Scarlett (I
don't know what her real surname is), and anything or anyone else you
recognize belongs to the Wonderful World of Disney. Anything you don't
recognize is mine, such as Farrell, the plot of this fanfic, and most of
the crew, so hands off unless you are planning on borrowing my fic.
*FIC FOR GRABS!!* Anyone who would like to write this fic is welcome to it. I would, but I plan to publish my works, and frankly, I just don't have the patience for a fanfic, if I have no further goal than to finish it. So if you do decide to use my idea, please email me (samli_404@yahoo.com) or review and tell me what it will be called, if you change the title, and I will be happy to give it to you. However, this idea will be open to many people, so you will not be able to accuse anyone of plagiarism. You might want to state that in your disclaimer. You could also mention the brilliant mind that came up with the idea, also. *hint, hint* Just my larger-than- necessary ego talking. Just kidding. I hope you have fun with this, and use your best skills in writing it. Thanks! ~Samli
***IMPORTANT!*** I retain the right to withdraw this offer if I decide that I will continue this fanfic. I have no problem with those who have previously borrowed the story line continuing their tales, but if I do withdraw, I would appreciate it if anyone who has not yet informed me to reconsider. In short, if you're in, you're in. If you're not, you aren't going to be. Get it? Got it? Good. ;o))
Summary: Jack Sparrow's one-night stands are numerous and widespread. As a famous pirate, how can they not be? But when he takes on a young lad to replace a fallen crew member, Jack is oblivious to the fact that the boy is not who he seems, in name or appearance. Farrell O'Hearn has been in a fair share of fights, growing up on the streets as the cast off, bastard child of Scarlett of Tortuga (remember her?). His morals are lower than even the most dishonest pirate's, and he fights dirty. What will it take for Jack to see what is right in front of his nose, what everyone but he can see – his daughter? *Collective gasp*
A/N: I am going to write the first chapter, at least. You don't have to use it, but I might update it every once in a while. It may be once in a long while, since it is not my first priority. Enjoy!
Lady Tortuga
Captain Jack Sparrow turned the wheel of the Swift Revenge two points starboard, guiding her easily into port. It had been years since he had been to Tortuga, but the old rubbish heap was just as he'd left it. The stink had been detectable from a mile out, but this close it was nearly unbearable to the untrained nose.
Sparrow's crew was a loyal bunch, veterans in their trade, besides the few who had joined up along the way. Not one twitched an eyelash as they stepped off of the Swift. A Tortugan drunk fell into the water, subject to a fierce brawl. He would probably drown, a rather unfortunate (for him), but not uncommon occurrence in the Pirates' Hellhole.
The first, and loudest, place that the group came to was the Gull's Head, a tavern as obnoxious as its name implied. Jack loved this place. This was where he had drunk away his problems after he defeated that scallywag Barbossa, after he had swung on the noose. Many a time, he had thought that he must be the only man who sailed the seven seas who had felt that rope about their neck and lived to tell the tale. Not that he ever did tell the tale. Gibbs had died shortly after Jack regained command of the Pearl, and he never really wanted to talk about it, anyway. A brush with death that had come that close was the kind of thing a man wanted to keep to himself. No one else could really relate, so it would be a useless telling. Anyway...
The pirates were a fierce looking crew, well-muscled and tough. Even the drunken sort that frequented Tortuga knew enough to stay out of their way. Jack Sparrow was a man and a name to be reckoned with, and a recognizable one, at that. The folks around the tavern hurriedly parted for them, many pairs of eyes watching them stoically. One pair was more than watching. A cold, calculating glance was thrown at Sparrow as Farrell O'Hearn turned away, her lips twisted in a smirk full of irony. So, she thought. After all these years, my father has finally decided to return home.
*****
Farrell rejoined her group of young ruffians, the smile still adorning her face. They had no idea who she was, and she meant to keep it that way. But that didn't mean she couldn't tell them where she was going. She owed them that, at least.
The gang had taken her in, offered her food when they had it, and company, and a warm shelter. Farrell had been tossed out on her backside with nothing but her ragged clothes when she was barely seven. Her mother never did want children, especially none that had to do with *him*. Jack Sparrow was the object of Scarlett O'Hearn's intense hatred, although Farrell never did know why – probably a lovers' spat that didn't end well - but he had gotten her pregnant, completely unbeknownst to the fool, and a little black- haired beauty had been the result of their one- night fling.
Farrell's new family knew nothing about her, save that she was an 'orphan' and had lived in Tortuga her whole life. That in itself was surprising, since most of them were stowaways or escaped captives of the pirate crews who came through. Once they were old enough, the children got jobs aboard any ship that would take them on, and most were never heard from by the ones who were left behind. When a leader went, someone else would fill in. Jisa had left nearly a year ago, leaving leadership to Farrell.
Farrell approached her gang, who eagerly swarmed around her. She spilled the morning's profits on the ground, with a curt word to those who were of a mind to snag some extra before everyone had had their share. The children sat in a circle around her as Farrell cut up the bread. Twelve pieces came out of that small loaf, each a tiny, meager portion for a growing body. Farrell took none for herself, instead opting to count out the coins that she had lifted from a few careless drunks. Three coppers. A morning's hard work for such a pitiful amount. It was obvious that the day wouldn't end without another job, or they would go to bed hungry once again.
The children had finished their breakfast and were slowly dispersing. Farrell decided to tell them now what she had in mind.
"Children of Tortuga, to me." She called. For such a large city, there were surprisingly few of the young ones around. When they had all returned, she spoke.
"Ye who 'ave been 'ere for long enough, remember when I joined ye." Two of them, one a year older and one younger than Farrell nodded. "I was jus' a lass, in need o' a family. I 'ave tha' now, thanks to ye." She paused, unsure of how to proceed.
"Ye've all heard o' Cap'n Jack Sparrow. "'e's 'ere now, after twelve years. 'is new ship, the Swift Revenge, pulled into t' docks jus' this morning. I asked 'round, an' I learned that Sparrow's a-plannin' ta leave tomorrow. I'm goin' wit' 'im." A few of the newer ones looked downcast, ready to weep. The rest looked determined, as if they had been expecting it. They probably had, after all, it wasn't every day that a renowned pirate sailed into port, and besides, Farrell was nearly thirteen, older than most.
Farrell turned to the oldest of the group. "Rinny, watch o'er 'em. Ye're not gonna be 'ere much longer, but keep 'em safe as long as ye can. I trust ye." She stuck out her hand, and he gripped it firmly, just below the elbow, as she did. Then she pulled him close into a one-armed hug. The others milled around her as she hugged each one in turn. Then the girl pulled away from the last of them and walked away. Before she was out of sight, Farrell turned and waved once, then faded into the crowd, in search of the legendary Jack Sparrow.
*****
Jack Sparrow and the crew of the Swift Revenge slapped a few coins on the table and pushed back their chairs. Wobbling out the door, they blinked in the bright sunlight.
Jack had been entirely too sober when they had reached Tortuga, their rum supply exhausted. Now that he was properly drunk again, he felt much better, and whistled a random tune as he swaggered down the street, a bottle in hand. His crew was just as intoxicated, singing bawdy songs, hopelessly out of tune.
A scuffle down the street was ignored as a youngling ran through the crowd, upsetting carts knocking people over. The response to this was simply a grumbled curse and a glare at the offending youngster.
Jack's crew remained oblivious to the commotion until one of them, Jack's first mate, was bowled over, hitting the ground hard.
"'ey!" he cried, floundering in the muddy street. "Ye bloody chit, get back 'ere!" The "chit" had stopped to look back at the fallen man, but ran off when he shouted. After only a few steps, a hand clamped down on her arm and Farrell spun around, looking into eyes as dark as her own. Sparrow's eyes.
"Give it back." He said, staring her down. He no longer acted the least bit drunk, a fact that made Farrell curse when she realized it. On the contrary, he was quite steady, and his grip on her arm was firm and unforgiving.
"Now whatever do ye mean?" Farrell asked innocently. She didn't give him a chance to answer, twisting around behind him. She dug a nail in between the tendons of his wrist and he swore, releasing her. One hand snagged Jack's sword, while the other grabbed for the pistol that hung from his belt. Her arms crossed, she was in a vulnerable position, until she pulled them out and backed away, both weapons trained on Sparrow's heart.
"Now what were ye talking about? Oh yes, this." Farrell tucked the cutlass into the ragged belt she wore before reaching into her vest as she hopped onto the stack of boxes beside her. She pulled out a long gold chain, on which hung a pendant carved into Jack's personal insignia, a sparrow over the open sea.
"Lad, I really think it'd be in yer best interest t' give it up." Farrell scoffed at this, before she realized that every pirate loyal to Jack had drawn their own weapons, and she seemed to be the focus of each one.
"Lad," Sparrow warned her. "Please give it up."
"An' what will ye give me in return?" Farrell wanted to know.
"Yer life, for starters. We can work it out from there." Jack really had no intention of giving this particularly troublesome brat anything, but it might make him a bit more open to surrender.
"Not good enough, Sparrow." Farrell was enjoying this, even if she was in danger of becoming a piece of swiss cheese. (A/N: sorry, just had a random thought and had to put this in. Back to the story...)
"Yer not in a position to negotiate, laddie."
"Ah, but ye forget," Farrell reminded him. "I can pull this trigger before yer men know what hit ye, and ye'd be dead afore me."
"All right, youngster, what do ye want?" Jack took a swig out of his bottle of rum.
"I want ye t' take me on yer ship." Sparrow choked, nearly spraying the ground with a mouthful of alcohol.
"Ye what?" He croaked.
"Ye don' need t' play ignorant wi' me, Sparrow. Ye know what I said."
"But – but – "The pirate grimaced inwardly. He, Captain Jack Sparrow, was speechless, and it was all the fault of this slip of a lad. This little boy wanted to join his ship? Jack disliked him already, he'd be damned if he'd take him on, and see him every single day.
Farrell lazily inspected the pendant, then held it up to the pistol barrel. Jack lurched forward, desperate to snatch the symbol of his command out of the grimy hands of this child, who seemed determined to be the end of him.
"Cap'n Sparrow, I suggest ye take a bit more thought before ye refuse me offer, or ye might find yer little trinket beyond repair." She grinned at the man's obvious distress and discomfort in the situation. Jack winced.
"Alright. Alright, lad, I'll take you on. But ye'll give me half yer swag an' ye'll give me insignia back. Will tha' suffice?" Jack looked worried.
"Aye, mate, it'll do." Farrell jumped down, pointedly glaring at the guns still aimed at her. "Do ye mind?" Jack nodded to his crew, who put up their weapons, and stepped forward. Farrell clasped his hand. "One more thing, Cap'n. It's Farrell. Farrell O' Hearn."
How was that, for my first fanfic chappie? Review, and let me know, and tell me if you want to use my story idea. I liked writing this chapter, especially because I could use POTC to base it on, but if I am unable to finish this story, or if I lose interest, you will be able to continue my story. Please don't copy the chapter, though. Just the idea. Thanks, and review, review, review! ~Samli
*FIC FOR GRABS!!* Anyone who would like to write this fic is welcome to it. I would, but I plan to publish my works, and frankly, I just don't have the patience for a fanfic, if I have no further goal than to finish it. So if you do decide to use my idea, please email me (samli_404@yahoo.com) or review and tell me what it will be called, if you change the title, and I will be happy to give it to you. However, this idea will be open to many people, so you will not be able to accuse anyone of plagiarism. You might want to state that in your disclaimer. You could also mention the brilliant mind that came up with the idea, also. *hint, hint* Just my larger-than- necessary ego talking. Just kidding. I hope you have fun with this, and use your best skills in writing it. Thanks! ~Samli
***IMPORTANT!*** I retain the right to withdraw this offer if I decide that I will continue this fanfic. I have no problem with those who have previously borrowed the story line continuing their tales, but if I do withdraw, I would appreciate it if anyone who has not yet informed me to reconsider. In short, if you're in, you're in. If you're not, you aren't going to be. Get it? Got it? Good. ;o))
Summary: Jack Sparrow's one-night stands are numerous and widespread. As a famous pirate, how can they not be? But when he takes on a young lad to replace a fallen crew member, Jack is oblivious to the fact that the boy is not who he seems, in name or appearance. Farrell O'Hearn has been in a fair share of fights, growing up on the streets as the cast off, bastard child of Scarlett of Tortuga (remember her?). His morals are lower than even the most dishonest pirate's, and he fights dirty. What will it take for Jack to see what is right in front of his nose, what everyone but he can see – his daughter? *Collective gasp*
A/N: I am going to write the first chapter, at least. You don't have to use it, but I might update it every once in a while. It may be once in a long while, since it is not my first priority. Enjoy!
Lady Tortuga
Captain Jack Sparrow turned the wheel of the Swift Revenge two points starboard, guiding her easily into port. It had been years since he had been to Tortuga, but the old rubbish heap was just as he'd left it. The stink had been detectable from a mile out, but this close it was nearly unbearable to the untrained nose.
Sparrow's crew was a loyal bunch, veterans in their trade, besides the few who had joined up along the way. Not one twitched an eyelash as they stepped off of the Swift. A Tortugan drunk fell into the water, subject to a fierce brawl. He would probably drown, a rather unfortunate (for him), but not uncommon occurrence in the Pirates' Hellhole.
The first, and loudest, place that the group came to was the Gull's Head, a tavern as obnoxious as its name implied. Jack loved this place. This was where he had drunk away his problems after he defeated that scallywag Barbossa, after he had swung on the noose. Many a time, he had thought that he must be the only man who sailed the seven seas who had felt that rope about their neck and lived to tell the tale. Not that he ever did tell the tale. Gibbs had died shortly after Jack regained command of the Pearl, and he never really wanted to talk about it, anyway. A brush with death that had come that close was the kind of thing a man wanted to keep to himself. No one else could really relate, so it would be a useless telling. Anyway...
The pirates were a fierce looking crew, well-muscled and tough. Even the drunken sort that frequented Tortuga knew enough to stay out of their way. Jack Sparrow was a man and a name to be reckoned with, and a recognizable one, at that. The folks around the tavern hurriedly parted for them, many pairs of eyes watching them stoically. One pair was more than watching. A cold, calculating glance was thrown at Sparrow as Farrell O'Hearn turned away, her lips twisted in a smirk full of irony. So, she thought. After all these years, my father has finally decided to return home.
*****
Farrell rejoined her group of young ruffians, the smile still adorning her face. They had no idea who she was, and she meant to keep it that way. But that didn't mean she couldn't tell them where she was going. She owed them that, at least.
The gang had taken her in, offered her food when they had it, and company, and a warm shelter. Farrell had been tossed out on her backside with nothing but her ragged clothes when she was barely seven. Her mother never did want children, especially none that had to do with *him*. Jack Sparrow was the object of Scarlett O'Hearn's intense hatred, although Farrell never did know why – probably a lovers' spat that didn't end well - but he had gotten her pregnant, completely unbeknownst to the fool, and a little black- haired beauty had been the result of their one- night fling.
Farrell's new family knew nothing about her, save that she was an 'orphan' and had lived in Tortuga her whole life. That in itself was surprising, since most of them were stowaways or escaped captives of the pirate crews who came through. Once they were old enough, the children got jobs aboard any ship that would take them on, and most were never heard from by the ones who were left behind. When a leader went, someone else would fill in. Jisa had left nearly a year ago, leaving leadership to Farrell.
Farrell approached her gang, who eagerly swarmed around her. She spilled the morning's profits on the ground, with a curt word to those who were of a mind to snag some extra before everyone had had their share. The children sat in a circle around her as Farrell cut up the bread. Twelve pieces came out of that small loaf, each a tiny, meager portion for a growing body. Farrell took none for herself, instead opting to count out the coins that she had lifted from a few careless drunks. Three coppers. A morning's hard work for such a pitiful amount. It was obvious that the day wouldn't end without another job, or they would go to bed hungry once again.
The children had finished their breakfast and were slowly dispersing. Farrell decided to tell them now what she had in mind.
"Children of Tortuga, to me." She called. For such a large city, there were surprisingly few of the young ones around. When they had all returned, she spoke.
"Ye who 'ave been 'ere for long enough, remember when I joined ye." Two of them, one a year older and one younger than Farrell nodded. "I was jus' a lass, in need o' a family. I 'ave tha' now, thanks to ye." She paused, unsure of how to proceed.
"Ye've all heard o' Cap'n Jack Sparrow. "'e's 'ere now, after twelve years. 'is new ship, the Swift Revenge, pulled into t' docks jus' this morning. I asked 'round, an' I learned that Sparrow's a-plannin' ta leave tomorrow. I'm goin' wit' 'im." A few of the newer ones looked downcast, ready to weep. The rest looked determined, as if they had been expecting it. They probably had, after all, it wasn't every day that a renowned pirate sailed into port, and besides, Farrell was nearly thirteen, older than most.
Farrell turned to the oldest of the group. "Rinny, watch o'er 'em. Ye're not gonna be 'ere much longer, but keep 'em safe as long as ye can. I trust ye." She stuck out her hand, and he gripped it firmly, just below the elbow, as she did. Then she pulled him close into a one-armed hug. The others milled around her as she hugged each one in turn. Then the girl pulled away from the last of them and walked away. Before she was out of sight, Farrell turned and waved once, then faded into the crowd, in search of the legendary Jack Sparrow.
*****
Jack Sparrow and the crew of the Swift Revenge slapped a few coins on the table and pushed back their chairs. Wobbling out the door, they blinked in the bright sunlight.
Jack had been entirely too sober when they had reached Tortuga, their rum supply exhausted. Now that he was properly drunk again, he felt much better, and whistled a random tune as he swaggered down the street, a bottle in hand. His crew was just as intoxicated, singing bawdy songs, hopelessly out of tune.
A scuffle down the street was ignored as a youngling ran through the crowd, upsetting carts knocking people over. The response to this was simply a grumbled curse and a glare at the offending youngster.
Jack's crew remained oblivious to the commotion until one of them, Jack's first mate, was bowled over, hitting the ground hard.
"'ey!" he cried, floundering in the muddy street. "Ye bloody chit, get back 'ere!" The "chit" had stopped to look back at the fallen man, but ran off when he shouted. After only a few steps, a hand clamped down on her arm and Farrell spun around, looking into eyes as dark as her own. Sparrow's eyes.
"Give it back." He said, staring her down. He no longer acted the least bit drunk, a fact that made Farrell curse when she realized it. On the contrary, he was quite steady, and his grip on her arm was firm and unforgiving.
"Now whatever do ye mean?" Farrell asked innocently. She didn't give him a chance to answer, twisting around behind him. She dug a nail in between the tendons of his wrist and he swore, releasing her. One hand snagged Jack's sword, while the other grabbed for the pistol that hung from his belt. Her arms crossed, she was in a vulnerable position, until she pulled them out and backed away, both weapons trained on Sparrow's heart.
"Now what were ye talking about? Oh yes, this." Farrell tucked the cutlass into the ragged belt she wore before reaching into her vest as she hopped onto the stack of boxes beside her. She pulled out a long gold chain, on which hung a pendant carved into Jack's personal insignia, a sparrow over the open sea.
"Lad, I really think it'd be in yer best interest t' give it up." Farrell scoffed at this, before she realized that every pirate loyal to Jack had drawn their own weapons, and she seemed to be the focus of each one.
"Lad," Sparrow warned her. "Please give it up."
"An' what will ye give me in return?" Farrell wanted to know.
"Yer life, for starters. We can work it out from there." Jack really had no intention of giving this particularly troublesome brat anything, but it might make him a bit more open to surrender.
"Not good enough, Sparrow." Farrell was enjoying this, even if she was in danger of becoming a piece of swiss cheese. (A/N: sorry, just had a random thought and had to put this in. Back to the story...)
"Yer not in a position to negotiate, laddie."
"Ah, but ye forget," Farrell reminded him. "I can pull this trigger before yer men know what hit ye, and ye'd be dead afore me."
"All right, youngster, what do ye want?" Jack took a swig out of his bottle of rum.
"I want ye t' take me on yer ship." Sparrow choked, nearly spraying the ground with a mouthful of alcohol.
"Ye what?" He croaked.
"Ye don' need t' play ignorant wi' me, Sparrow. Ye know what I said."
"But – but – "The pirate grimaced inwardly. He, Captain Jack Sparrow, was speechless, and it was all the fault of this slip of a lad. This little boy wanted to join his ship? Jack disliked him already, he'd be damned if he'd take him on, and see him every single day.
Farrell lazily inspected the pendant, then held it up to the pistol barrel. Jack lurched forward, desperate to snatch the symbol of his command out of the grimy hands of this child, who seemed determined to be the end of him.
"Cap'n Sparrow, I suggest ye take a bit more thought before ye refuse me offer, or ye might find yer little trinket beyond repair." She grinned at the man's obvious distress and discomfort in the situation. Jack winced.
"Alright. Alright, lad, I'll take you on. But ye'll give me half yer swag an' ye'll give me insignia back. Will tha' suffice?" Jack looked worried.
"Aye, mate, it'll do." Farrell jumped down, pointedly glaring at the guns still aimed at her. "Do ye mind?" Jack nodded to his crew, who put up their weapons, and stepped forward. Farrell clasped his hand. "One more thing, Cap'n. It's Farrell. Farrell O' Hearn."
How was that, for my first fanfic chappie? Review, and let me know, and tell me if you want to use my story idea. I liked writing this chapter, especially because I could use POTC to base it on, but if I am unable to finish this story, or if I lose interest, you will be able to continue my story. Please don't copy the chapter, though. Just the idea. Thanks, and review, review, review! ~Samli