A/N: I know, I shouldn't start another PoTC story until I finish the first, but I've had this character in my head for months. Had to get her out. And just so you know…never took French. Using an online translator for this, so sorry if I botch the whole thing. Some spoilers from OST later on…
Please note: The 'Hallows' mentioned here have nothing to do with the Deadly Hallows in Harry Potter. 'Hallows' are objects that are set apart to be honored for some reason. For example the Spear of Destiny is considered a 'hallowed' object by Christianity.
Disclaimer: Disney is the owner of all the rights. Damn them. I do not own any characters, names, titles, ships or so forth in this fanfiction. I do not own Yoda, or Kraft products, or dream about hula-hoops. Well…I do dream of hula-hoops…
Chapter One: The Early Years
Jennifer Farrington hated her name. She hated hiding who she was, even if her dear friend and nearly-sister, alias 'Lucy Stewart', was beside her. One day during French instruction, Jennifer Farrington leaned across the aisle and gave Lucy a good poke.
"L'arrêter."
Again, Jenifer poked her friend, this time harder.
"L'arrêter." Lucy scooted out of range and continued reciting vocabulary with the rest of the class. Lucy was smart enough to speak French. While their instructor would hardly notice the disruption, he would surely notice if someone spoke English. Jennifer, however, didn't exactly care.
"Stop jabbering and look at me," she hissed. "Are we meeting up tonight or not?"
"…pour courir, pour marcher, pour parler…"
"Are you listening to me?"
"No. I am trying to concentrate. Besides, tonight is Wednesday. Biggens watches the door, and he never sleeps. … pour chanter, pour danser, pour crier…"
Jennifer slumped against her desk. Harriet across the aisle gave her a dirty look so Jennifer just stuck her tongue out. Was it really only Wednesday? Biggens be damned, she wasn't about to sit still while her brother swooped into port and left her high and dry again. If it killed her, she's make it on that boat. Even if she had to jump into the bay and swim after it.
"M'excuser, Mademoiselle Farrington, but as I understand it, this is French class, correct?"
Jennifer sat up straight to saw that their senile instructor had finally noticed that she wasn't reciting her vocabulary. "Oui, monsieur. But I hate French."
The was a gasp across the room and 'Lucy' whirled around.
"Ah, if that is the way you feel, then by all means, Mademoiselle, please leave and see the Headmistress. Perhaps she will be more understanding then I.
"Gladly." Jennifer stood, smiled at her nearly-sister, sniffed in the direction of Harriet, snob of a naval-daughter, and marched from the room.
This was it. Jennifer worked hard to contain her glee as she marched down the fancy halls of M & R's Ladies' Academy. Her fifth trip to see the Headmistress. Now there was no way the dignified, over-stuffed peacock of a woman would allow her to continue at the school. Her grandfather would have to come and fetch her. Jennifer allowed herself one joyous skip as she walked and smiled as she passed the groundkeeper.
"I see yer in a fine mood today, Miss Jennifer. Could it be yeh've gotten yerself into a wee bit of trouble again?"
Jennifer did nothing more than nod and wink and continue on her way. Mr. Fitch knew well of her plans to get herself expelled. He'd even done her the favor of complaining to the Headmistress about her.
Mr. Fitch chuckled and kept walking, favoring his left side, just barely.
(break)
The office of the headmistress was tidy and filled with books. It fit the woman behind the desk better than any room in the school, and she liked it that way. "Really, Jennifer Farrington. Back so soon. Granddaughter of a decorated Naval Captain, and cousin to such a nice young lady as Lucy Stewart. After your brother's last visit, I assumed you had learned your lesson."
Jennifer made a point to roll her eyes, crack her knuckles and sighed, slouching down in the chair.
The headmistress, Mary Gould, was a smart woman. Smart enough to know the game that Jennifer was planning – Hadn't she done it herself so many years ago? – and smart enough to make sure Jennifer had no idea just how much her headmistress knew.
"Clearly, you are hopeless."
Jennifer grinned. "Clearly."
"Rude and obnoxious, and all together too foolish to realize just what you are risking with your impertinent attitude."
"Obviously."
The girl was cheeky, loud-mouth and wonderful. There were ways to get her to listen, and surely, other schools that would be able to beat that grin off her face. But Mary Gould wasn't the kind of Headmistress who would beat her charges, rather than admit defeat. She'd told Lord Farrington the same thing in her most recent letter, suggesting he come and collect his granddaughter, and keep her at home this time.
What Jennifer Anne Farrington needed, if that was even her real name, Mary doubted it was, was a father. Not a lady to govern her. As she so boldly stated to Lord Farrington, he better teach her the ways of the sword, because before long the poor little thing would end up stealing one and probably gutting someone on accident.
Secretly, Mary envied the girl. So free and bold and sparking. If only her father had been anything like Lord Farrington… Absent-minded as always, Mary rubbed and old scar on her arm, from the last time she tried to get expelled on purpose, and looked Jennifer right in the eye.
Might as well let her know she isn't as smart as she thinks. Teach her something at least.
"I wrote your grandfather three weeks ago, and told him to come for you. He replied fairly quickly, and your brother's ship should be here in a few days." It was worth the world to see a sudden suspicion drop over the little girl's face. A taste of your own medicine, hmmm, Jennifer?
"I suggest that you pack your things and say good bye to your friends. Your brother is not the man to linger long in ports where he is only tolerated due to your family's good name."
"But I…I thought…"
Mary raised one, perfect eyebrow and smiled. "You are welcome to think whatever you wish, Miss Farrington. But all your wishing will not change the facts. Once again, your grandfather has decided to remain in the Caribbean and wait for your brother to deliver you. I suggest you move quickly and prepare."
Mary nodded to the door, and kept a stern look in her eye as Jennifer slithered from the chair and crept out from the office.
Poor little thing. With that though, Mary turned back to her desk and went back to her bookkeeping.
Three Years Later
Jennifer looked over her shoulder and waited. Waited. From the Captain's cabin came a giant shout of rage and Jennifer giggled in victory. The door flew open, but Jennifer already had a line in hand and was half way up to the quarter deck by the time her brother started yanking the rope. By the time he remembered there were stairs up to the quarter deck, Jennifer was already in the shrouds, climbing up into the sails and laughing, head tossed back and eyes bright. The tiny sloop, named Patience was altered, with a large captain's cabin and more shrouds attached to the mast, for better, faster reactions by both captain and crew. As a part-time pirate vessel, such things were required, and made pranks fairly easy.
"You brat. You scum! Get down here so I can rattle you, Jenny! I swear I'm going to kill you this time!" From out of the cabin came a moderately amused and terrified Tortugan lady, her hair tumbling down her back and her face paint smudged more that usual. She was one of Collen's favorite…'friends', and he hadn't seen Lily in three long months.
Still, that didn't stop Jennifer from dumping just enough sand in her brother's bed to keep him from enjoying himself. That's what you get for leaving me on the boat.
It was petty of her, she knew. But honestly, she was fourteen, wasn't she? She had a sword and could use it, could toss a knife with enough accuracy to impress the crew and could handle being up in the rigging during storms, clearly she could handle herself. And she wasn't naïve, either. She knew perfectly well what went on in Tortuga, and why the men were so relaxed and cheerful when they came back from a night out in the taverns. She gazed out at the town and more than anything, wanted to walk with the rest of the crew, and maybe, drink some rum.
Finally, Lily coaxed Collen back into the cabin, and shut to door firmly. That was nice of her. It's hard to enjoy the noise and view with him screaming like a scorned woman all night.
But really, Jennifer pulled out a knife and flipped it casually over in her hands, hooking her feet into the lines, just in case she slipped. It wasn't like she was Little Miss Lucy Stewart with her fine clothes and her easy personality. She didn't like dresses or tea, or the polite conversation of a few young gentlemen. She simply hated sitting cooped up in classes while some old windbag talked down at her. Lucy was Lucy, and Jenny was Jenny, and things were just as they were.
Jennifer wished hard and long that one day, she'd have her own vessel, and plot her own course, without her brother, or her cousins, her father or even her dearest friends telling her she was being foolish and childish. Eager to get a glimpse of all she could, Jennifer stuffed her knife back in the sheath on her belt. Loose pants moving against her legs made her restless, and she climbed higher, her shirt feeling too tight against her body as she reached up and up.
Finally, she made it to the spar, and hooked her legs again. This time, she faced the bay and took a deep breath as the wind tossed the black strings of her hair about. One day, soon, I'll sail all on my own, wherever the wind takes me. And no one will stop me then.
Two Years Later
"Here, Jenny, Jenny Bird. Alls `ah wanted was a kiss. Jenny Bird…"
Down in the hold of her brother's ship, Jenny did her best to fix her shirt and quiet her breathing. Her hiding place was only temporary, but with her back to a barrel and her face nearly pressed against the side of the ship, it served.
"Jus`a kiss, Jenny."
Just a kiss, my ass. The drunken bastard had ripped her shirt open. She bound her chest every day, wrapped it so damn tight that most people said she could pass for a boy, if it weren't for her hair. And for the most part, the crew treated her like a younger sibling. Shouting a few times when she got carried away, but for the most part they were the same men who were with her brother when he first picked her up for years ago.
Then a storm comes up, and they lose Michael and Richard to the sea, and her brother gets the brilliant idea to hire men without recommendations, 'just to get them where there going'.
Who would trust anyone named Jacoby and Lutz anyway? Idiot.
Then he offs and leaves her aboard, as always, with two untested men, and look what happens. All to pick up some blasted, special vintage of rum. Damn rum. Damn rum and damn bloody, part-time pirates.
"Oh, Jenny Bird," Lutz was getting close. Jennifer reached down and grasped her knife firmly. She'd never killed before. Sure, they taken ships, but Collen had always locked her somewhere dark and safe and boring then. And while the whole crew could attest to her skill, she'd never actually attacked or killed to save her life. Not that she had much choice.
Finally, when she couldn't stand it anymore, she stood.
"Ah, thar` yeh are, Jenny." Lutz took a few drunken steps forward, then leaned against a beam, smiling at her. "Na`w Jenny, I know yeh `ave that knife on yeh. Why don` yeh toss it down an` then we can sit`n`chat awhile, friendly like."
"No. You come any closer, and you won't have anything left to 'sit`n`chat' with. I mean it Lutz." Somewhere in the hold, Jacoby knocked something over and cursed.
Using the distraction, Jennifer kicked over the barrel spilling ale across the floor and slashed at Lutz. He cursed but she didn't wait, hopping over strapped down cargo, she bolted for the stair and hatch, when Jacoby grabbed her knife arm and twisted.
Jennifer screamed and punched him square in the eye with her free hand and scrambled up the stairs. It was more like a steep, tricky ladder, but she was sober and they were drunk. Once she reached the hatch, she slammed it down and cursed David, a lazy carpenter for not fixing the latch properly. She'd have to run for Collen's cabin and hope his pistol was still in the desk drawer, loaded and ready.
Three hours later, Collen came back to his dear Patience, singing and carrying on, right until he ascended the gangplank to find the majority of his cabin tossed about the deck, and the cabin door broken into four useless pieces. He signaled his men, not that he had to. They were already spreading out, silent, looking for any sign of Jennifer. They really didn't have to look far.
She was sitting in the galley, hugging her knees. There was blood everywhere, and Jacoby and Lutz piled, dead, one of top of the other tidy in a corner. But the blood…Jennifer's hands were red with it, either that or red from scrubbing so hard with a bristle brush, trying to get the stain off. But now her hands were clean, even if her clothes were stiff with dried blood. She sat calmly, and looked up at her brother when he walked over to her.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Jennifer beat him to it. "They didn't touch me. I killed them first." She stood, wobbling a bit, but she knocked her brother's hands away and glared at him. "Never. Never leave me on board again. And if you expect to be forgiven, you'd better find me a proper sword."
Jennifer nodded to the twisted thing on the floor near the bodies. And with just as much attitude, brushed past her brother and left the galley.
Worried, Collen set a course for home that very night after dumping the bodies over board, unmarked and without ceremony.
One Month Later
Jennifer sat in her old room, frills and all. Only now the bed was larger, and her mother's old vanity stood where her bookcase once sat. Lucy brushed her hair. Long black and silky. It was really very much like her mother's. Just like the face in the mirror staring back at her. Jennifer hated her face.
"But Jenny, you-"
"Don't call me that…Lucy. My name is Gwen."
"But…But your grandfather-"
"He'll get over it." Gwen handed her friend the knife and nodded. "Do it."
Lucy shook her head, "If I'm going to butcher your hair, I'll at least do it the right way."
Lucy walked over to her sewing kit, rubbing her nervous hands over the fine cloth of her dress. She took the moment to look over her best friend and near-sister. The change in her was so strong and so sudden. Had it really been just half a year? What did they do to her?
But Lucy shook her head and picked up the fine scissors from her kit. She approached the vanity and took a deep breath. "How short do you want it?"
To demonstrate, she took the knife and hacked off a handful of black silk around her ears. Lucy nodded, forced herself to swallow, and began to cut.
(break)
"You cut your hair."
Was that really the only thing he had to say? No apologies, no hugs? She hadn't seen her grandfather in nearly seven years since her first pawned her off on Lucy's mother, then the school, then her brother, and all he had to say was 'You cut your hair'?
"Your bother told me what happened. He is…worried."
"I am fine. No one touched me. There's no reason for me to be here, so you can just tell Collen to mind his words. I can speak for myself."
Her grandfather's eyes went sharp at her tone, and he stood. "Your brother is a fine seaman, and deserves more respect than you are giving him. I agree with his judgment when it comes to cargo and investments. He has a fine head on his shoulders. You will respect him."
"Fine."
"Did you hear me, girl? Respect!"
"Yes, Grandfather."
"Cutting your hair, using your real name. Yes, Collen is worried and so am I. There is a reason we hide who we are-"
"Just come out and say it already. We are pirates and we'll always be pirates." She marched up to his desk and glared him down. "Changing our names does nothing. We hide behind your old wig and honors so people will speak to us, so we won't be arrested, but everyone knows who and what we are-"
"Silence."
"We are pirates. Uncle Morris is a pirate, Collen is a pirate, I-"
"You are over stepping yourself, girl."
"Gwen!" She yelled and slammed a fist on her father's desk. "My name is Gwen, not child, not girl. And not Jennifer. The name was good enough for mother, and it's good enough for me."
Her grandfather didn't move. Didn't speak. For a few seconds, Gwen wasn't even sure he was breathing. He sat down, but his temper was far from over.
"I respect your brother and his decisions. So far he has not stepped wrong."
"Not stepped wrong, how-"
"And I agree with him," he was yelling now, spit flying from his mouth, "That it is in your best interest to keep you here, on shore, until your behavior improves and you have recovered."
"No." It was a whisper. A harsh, horrible whisper. Gwen felt her hands go clammy and her eyesight started to turn grainy. But she fought it off and said harder, "No."
"It has already been decided."
"Not by me," she hissed.
"You are my granddaughter, and as such-"
"Granddaughter? You sure about that? You sure I'm not just another one of your investments? Another one of your precious ships. Ignoring me for years didn't work so now you plan to run my life like it's just another one of you-"
"You will hold you tongue, Gwennan." The both froze when he said her name. He never said her mother's name, not unless he was so drunk he forgot what the blasted woman did to him and his son. His only son. "Gwen. Listen, you must-"
"I must? I must do what? Do what you say? Fine. I will, for now." Gwen walked to the door, imagining that this was how it ended with her father. Grandfather cold and angry, her father all fire yet quiet. She turned back and faced him at the door. "But you can't keep me here for ever. Remember that. I am not yours."
Gwen left, shutting the door behind her. Her grandfather sat, his hands shaking as he reached for his flask. Damn her. Just like her mother. She doesn't even know what she said…
Henry Morgan drank deeply, trying to forget.