The Sparrow & The Ring...And Everything in Between
A/N: At the time I thought this up, I thought I was being clever and satirical. Unfortunately, stories making fun of Mary Sue's have become so rampant in the fandom as to be almost as obnoxious as the Mary Sue's themselves. Pity. I tried to make it focus more on the actual plot than the satire, though, since that's getting so worn out. Maybe not obvious in this chapter, but I've got it planned. Bear with me.
Summary: Jack was honored and trusted with the special task of picking up the wedding ring. Now he has to get back to Port Royale in time for Will and Elizabeth's wedding, but keeps getting assaulted by bizarre women claiming to know him! Can our favourite captain pick up the jewelry and get back to port in time, or will long-lost female relatives cause him to ruin a storybook wedding?
Rating: PG-13 for suggestions of sexuality (although I don't think it's even blatantly mentioned) and piratey swearing.
Disclaimer: I own nothing mentioned herein. Possibly Jacquelyn, but she's nothing to be proud of, and'll be out soon enough, anyhow.
Prologue: Only the Beginning
A figure stood silhouetted against the setting sun, steering with a grace that made it look easy. The sea wind ruffled his dark hair, and he shook it out of his face and licked the salt off his lips. He made quite a magnificent picture, standing there basked in the blood-and-gold light, which glinted in his eyes and contrasted greatly with the darkness of the irises and kohl. He had the look of one bearing a great honor.
After all, it's not every day a pirate is trusted to bring back a wedding ring, even to his friends (most likely because of pirates' rather bad habit of nicking things of any real value. They're tricky little buggers).
Unfortunately, Jack's majesty was short-lived. Clutched also in his hand was a green, orb-shaped bottle, which was half empty. It was soon to join the ranks of the several other bottles lying in his vicinity, all empty. As the ship rocked, they rolled and skittered lopsidedly from side to side, occasionally bumping into one of Jack's boots. A shipmate of the captain's, and one of the few to really stand against him, had taken note of the bottles with some dismay. She stalked up the the helm and promptly demanded he surrender the wheel. Jack grudgingly obliged, walking away towards the kitchens with what might have been called a swagger (although it closely resembled the way the empty bottles lolled from one side to the other).
It didn't matter, anyway. Let the wench steer if it made her feel better. He was still the one actually in charge of the mission.
It had been two days ago that Jack had paid a visit to his good friend, William Turner. Will had looked a little surprised to see him there, but had been a good host despite his hassled appearance. In fact, he'd said, he had a job for Jack. He and Elizabeth were to be married, and he had ordered her a very special ring from a merchant in Egypt. He and Elizabeth were naturally very busy with preparations, and he had been planning to send someone to go and pick up the ring for him. Now, however, he wondered if he could convince Jack to go and get it for him? He'd be invited to the ceremony and reception, certainly, and could even expect the position of Will's Best Man. Jack agreed, of course, and then it was only a matter of getting the crew to agree as well. Not that that was difficult. He was the captain, after all.
It must be confessed that Elizabeth had a few doubts when she heard her dearly-beloved's plan to pick up the ring. Jack was Jack, after all. And even if he was to be trusted, was his crew? But Will insisted, and Jack never heard her complaints.
If the crew of the Black Pearl had any dubious intentions, they knew better than to let Jack in on the plan (he was getting a bit of a reputation as a softy, if only towards those he favoured, and his crew loved to crack jokes at him about it until he threatened to keel-haul them. Then they brought him more rum and left whatever area he inhabited. It seemed that "those he favoured" did not extend to his shipmates). They sailed out the day following the assignation, and Jack eagerly awaited seeing what kind of ring one would have to get from Egypt. He had fantastic interests in jewelry, after all. Or perhaps it was only the port harlots he was looking forward to.
As Jack leaned against the railing of the ship, staring out at an endless expanse of blue-grey water and brooding on what a bossy and temperamental prat Anna Maria was, he noticed something odd. A blob of color dissimilar to the dull ocean around it. Jack strained to focus his eyes on the whatever-it-was. Luckily, it seemed to be floating closer and after some effort, he was able to make out a peach-colored thing on a brown-colored thing, with variously-colored things splattered here and there. It was either a very large dinner plate, or...
"'ey! There's a person down there!"
It appeared another crew member had beaten him to the punch. Ah, well. He had to think slower, examine every aspect before blurting it out. Of course.
The lucky person was hauled aboard. Jack elbowed his way to the front of the group gathered around to get a better look.
It was a woman on a "raft" made of a broad wood plank. A youngish woman, perhaps eighteen or nineteen. She was wearing a black-and-white striped, torn skirt that came down to just above her knees. Her blouse that was loose, but somehow clung in all the right places. Her hair was dirty-blonde and long, slightly curly. She wore two enormous gold loops in her ears and a good deal of bangles on her wrists. Last, of course, she had a saber tucked through the red sash round her waist.
She was simply too piratey to be allowed.
Jack frowned slightly and bent over to examine her closer. In doing so, his severely alcoholic breath must have acted as smelling salts, for she awoke, fluttering open two large, greenish-blue, shining eyes. She raised said eyes to Jack's bemused face.
"Oh! You...you saved me!" The girl propped herself on her elbows and gazed adoringly at her supposed rescuer. Jack blinked at her, thoughtfully, and then turned on his most charming smile. If he played his cards right, this situation could work out to his advantage (AnnaMaria, besides being a bossy prat, was oddly reluctant to let herself be used as an object to quell Jack's desires. Not that he tried anymore, but it would have been nice).
The girl stood up, flashing half the crew from under her skirt as she did so. There were a few appreciative whistles, but Jack silenced them with an alpha-male sort of glare. The girl blushed with a modesty unbefitting her attire, glancing up at Jack again. Then her gaze switched from one of admiration to one of disbelief.
"Jack? Jack Sparrow?"
Jack cocked an eyebrow. How did she know his name? Usually only people who wanted to kill him (or mame him, or cause him severe pain at the very least) knew his name. He began to raise his guard slightly, although it heardly seemed necessary against the girl's frame, which was so delicate as to defy all anatomical laws (and yet, still curvatious). He answered her with a suspicious, "Aye,"
The girl's protuberant eyes lit up. She gasped. "Oh! I can't believe it's really you!"
She flung herself upon him in a tight embrace. Jack's eyebrows went down and together, his eyes widened. Who did she think she was? Who did she think he was?
He became slowly aware that emotional sobs were issuing from the face pressed into his chest. He looked down, feeling immediately the awkwardness all men feel around crying women, and tried patting the top of her head experimentally. She looked up at him with eyes that watered but somehow did not redden.
"Oh, Jack! Do you remember? In Trinidad? Oh, you must! I remember you."
Jack was at the point of telling her that he rarely remembered specific strumpets, when it occured to him that it might not be the wisest course of action. He really didn't feel like bein slapped at the moment, not wanting to return to sobriety too soon, so he merely put on a thoughtful face.
"Ah, hmm..." As she stared up at him expectantly and slightly desperately, he began to panic. What should he tell her? A sudden idea struck him. "I was marooned on an island a while back, lost a good deal of me memory." He put on a face that tried to bear the misery bravely. "I don't remember much anything." He didn't bother to mention that this had been quite some time ago, and the girl couldn't have been more than ten when it had happened.
The girl's face crumbled. Becomingly, of course. Her eyes began to water again, but she was not angry. She hugged Jack all the harder. "I'll help you to remember. I told you before, and I'll say it again. I love you."
Suddenly, Jack did remember this particular girl. It had been in Trinidad (or perhaps Barbados, or maybe somewhere in Caracas...) that he had met a pretty young thing that had kept glancing at him. Being the sort of person he was, he picked her up and spent the night with her, and expected that that was that. But she hadn't seemed to want him to leave, and he'd had to weigh anchor and sail off quickly to keep her from hitching a ride.
She certainly hadn't been a pirate then. In fact, as he looked at her young-womanly form, Jack found himself wondering exactly how young she had been at the time.
The girl smiled up at him. "I'm Jacquelyn," she stated with a smile. "But of course, you can call me Jack." And she gae him a suggestive wink.
Jack did the only thing that, at the time, seemed logical. He picked the girl up by her ridiculously slim waist and heaved her bodily overboard in a fluid motion.
A few moments later, as if in afterthought, he dumped her little wooden "raft" over as well. Not to insure her safety, mind, but simply to get the unneeded weight off his ship.
And, without another word, the crew went about their business and the whole mission was on again. Looking back at the moment, Jack thought he should have known it was only the beginning.