A Pirate's Boy

Chapter One- When I Grow Up

Author's Note- Just in case there was any confusion, no, I am not Walt Disney. Therefore I do not own any of the concentrated awesome that is Pirates of the Caribbean. Phew, glad I got that off my chest... :]

Hello everyone; this is the author from the future. I have recently reread the entirety of my much-neglected story, and feel categorically ashamed. To any new readers, please note that the first five chapters of the following fic are inexcusably horrible-yet as I am far too lazy to be bothered to rewrite the first half, I hope you will accept my sincerest apologies. Bear in mind that the story only becomes sufferable around the sixth chapter, and that it only becomes good around the eighth. Thank you for your time, and kindly disregard the coming bad writing and uncharacteristic hand-holding. I now realize that Teague would never hold hands. With anybody.

Carry on.

It was nearly midnight when a fatigued man set foot in a small house holding a sleeping child in his arms. The older man smiled to himself, marveling at how such a young boy could have caused so much trouble. Takes after his da, I s'pose. Teague quietly crossed the hall to deposit his son in the small bedroom. After a whispered good-night to his boy, the exhausted pirate shuffled to his own room before promptly collapsing onto the small, yet soft, bed without bothering to remove the boots, hat, or several pistols from his person.

As the thief began to drift into unconsciousness, he heard the sound of stocking-clad feet making their way down the less-than-magnificent hallway. The footsteps came to an abrupt halt when they neared the bedside. Teague opened his eyes to the sight of his wife, Rosalynn, smirking at him in a triumphant sort of way. The weary man groaned before closing his eyes once more.

"How did it go?" she asked, clearly delighted at Teague's frustration. Her husband cast an exasperated glance towards the woman in response. Her grin widened as she sat down next to the pirate's dejected form. Teague mumbled something unintelligible before concealing his face in a convenient pillow. Rosalynn took one of the gnarled hands in her own as she quietly persuaded her husband to depict what had happened during his latest adventure. Slowly removing the pillow, Teague sighed as he looked into his wife's face. Exhaling deeply, he began to recount the happenings of the month prior.

"Aw, come on, Rosie! I swear on the ghost of me great-grandaddy that I would never, under any circumstances, let anything happen to Jackie!"

Rosalynn glared skeptically at her husband's hopeful face. Ever since Jack had disclosed to his father that he hoped to become a pirate, Teague had been insistent upon taking Jack aboard his own ship. After all, Teague had debated, who would be more suitable for the job of instructing Jack than a real, live murderer? Rosalynn however, for some incomprehensible reason, had been heedful of teaching their son the ways of a criminal. "I've told you, Teague. You can barely take care of yourself! Look at this!" The distraught woman grabbed the pirate's arm, pointing to a recently acquired bullet wound.

Teague yelped and snatched his arm away, gathering it up in a distinctly lady-like manner. "That was Singapore, love. I wouldn't dream of bringing Jackie to Singapore! Please, Rosie. We'll just be out for a few days around the Caribbean, maybe visit Tortuga-"

At the mention of the pirate infested town, Rosalynn whipped her head around sharply. Teague cringed as he realized that he had said exactly the wrong thing.

"Tortuga? Bring our Jackie to Tortuga?" the upset mother shrieked, "Edward Teague! You... You... Ugh!" She scowled at her husband once more before turning abruptly to leave. Teague laid a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Rosie, I'm sorry. We won't go to Tortuga. I just..."

Rosalynn looked up into the pirate's eyes. Oh no. He's giving me that face, oh no, oh no... The woman looked desperately around for something, anything to distract her from her husband's sorrowful gaze. His brown eyes, embedded in scars and wind-weathered skin, seemed to look straight into the back of her skull. The well-renowned criminal, guilty of thievery, cheating, and murder, looked at his wife with such pitiful helplessness that she finally admitted defeat.

Sighing, Rosalynn looked back at the man and mumbled dejectedly, "Alright."

The seemingly insignificant word had scarcely left her lips before Teague gave a victorious whoop as he enveloped her in an uncomfortable, affectionate hug. "Ah, Rosie! Don't worry about a thing, love. Jackie'll be among the noblest thieves and villians that've ever sailed!"

Rosalynn groaned into Teague's chest, yet she couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at her lips.

Teague finally released the poor woman when her lungs began to protest the lack of oxygen, and joyfully declared that he was going to tell Jackie the good news. As the murderer skipped out of the door, Rosalynn chuckled to herself. Perhaps it wasn't Jack that I should have been worried about...

Jack Sparrow smiled as the sea breeze played with his hair as he stood on the docks, staring out at the miles and miles of ocean that lay before him. A young lad of six years old, Jack was all but bursting with anticipation at the prospect of sailing with his father. Teague glanced down at his son, who was shaking with excitement. His mother, who, although had remained hesitant towards the situation at large, had proclaimed that if Jack was going to become a pirate, he may as well look like one. After a great deal of fuss, the criminal's son looked similar if not entirely like his father by the conclusion of his mother's well-meaning frenzy. Miniature boots, vest, and belt adorned the small boy. The overall effect was culminated by a pistol and dagger, lovingly bestowed upon him by his father, while Rosalynn had been preoccupied, of course.

"See here, Jackie? This here's the Misty Lady. Finest ship that ever set sail, aye?" Teague said with a slightly dreamy tone to his voice.

Jack tilted his head to take in the entire scene. It was beautiful. The child seemed to absorb the sight of the gleaming wood of the rails, the powerful strength of the masts, the intricate designs of the hull. Amongst the majestic carvings and sheer mass of the vessel before him, one feature out of all others caught the boy's eye. A tattered black flag, embellished with a merry-looking skeleton holding a speared heart in hand, had been hoisted among the sails for the occasion of the captain's awaited return. Jack's heart swelled with delight at his father's audacious proclamation of his less-than-legal occupation.

"Da?" Jack looked up at his father with inquiring eyes, "Will I ever have a ship as pretty as yours?"

The weather-beaten pirate crouched down to reach his son's eye level. "Jackie boy, you can do whatever it is that you want to do, understand? You could do any blasted thing on God's green earth, and I'd be proud of ye." Teague straightened himself into a standing position once more and took Jack's hand. "Course, I'd be more than happy to have meself a Captain Jack Sparrow, aye?"

Jack smiled. Captain Jack Sparrow... He liked the sound of that. The gleeful boy looked up at his father, silently vowing to become the best pirate that the world had ever seen.

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