Standard disclaimers apply.

The early afternoon sun, scattered by sharp white clouds, shone down on the town of Port Royal in touchable looking beams that illuminated the world as it should illuminate angels. A cool breeze wandered up lazily from the sea, which glittered like priceless jewels before each playful wave rose and somersaulted towards the cliffs underneath the fort. The crashes against the rocks sounded like a choir of nature's children.

It was as if God himself had looked out his window to find amusements in the day's events.

The fort's courtyard was crowded with murmuring townspeople. Soldiers stood erect around the walls, ordinary men and women were dressed to impress as they chatted and gossiped with one another. Mothers fanned themselves as they watched over wide-eyed children, occasionally craning their necks to see if anything was happening yet. The children incessantly tugged at their mothers' skirts, their questions on what it would be like never ending.

The crowd parted. Stiff, tall soldiers marched forward, bayonets held over their shoulders. The drummers followed, their beat seemed to regulate the rhythm of every heartbeat. Next, escorted by more soldiers were three dirty, ragged, defeated looking men made their way to the front of the crowd, shoulders slumped, but chins held high in determination and stubborn pride. A final act of defiance. Children scrambled behind them to the front as the crowd came together again, like the walls of the red sea coming together and sealing the Egyptian army's fate. The drums ceased. A smug looking Navy man in blue dress uniform unfurled a length of paper and cleared his throat. He addressed the three prisoners.

"…You three have been found guilty of the crimes of piracy, murder, and treason against the royal crown of England, for which the punishment is death. You have been sentenced to hang by the neck until dead…Do you have any last words?"

The pirate farthest to the crowd's right cleared his throat and took a step forward. He was dirty and malnourished, the skin of his face was wrinkled and looked tough as leather. His tangled black hair blew softly in his face. He looked as old and weather worn as the fort did. He looked around the crowd, making eye contact with several people until they looked away, repulsed. His eyes finally locked with those of a child towards the front of the crowd. Her eyes widened in curiosity, but she maintained contact, eager to hear the criminal's last words. The pirate maintained eye contact as well; his eyes bored into her soul, but he projected his voice loud enough to address the entire crowd.

"In death, we perpetuate the ideal of freedom that drives all men. We are only guilty of treason against those shameful men who themselves commit treason against freedom." He finally turned his head and pointed a crooked finger at the man with the paper. "You are one of those men. You wish to rule the seas, but cursed by Calypso is any man who attempts to tame her like a dumb beast. Those of us who love her and whom she has welcomed into her arms in life will also be welcomed into her arms in death."

"That is quite enough. Thank you for that rousing bit of rubbish." The Navy man straightened his tie and nodded at the drummers, who began their beat again. The redcoats who had been escorting the pirates stepped behind them and put the nooses around their necks. They stepped back again as the pirate who had made the speech squared his shoulders defiantly, and in that one moment before the drums stopped again and the trap door opened beneath him, he looked liked the strongest, most noble man who had ever lived.

If God had indeed opened his window to gaze upon this day, surely he could not look upon it in favor.

His eyes remained open as his dead body dangled from the gallows. The body rotated, as if guided by supernatural forces, until it was again facing the girl. The eyes were no longer conveying an unspoken message; they were glassed over. She could no longer bear to look at them, so she shifted her gaze to the rolled up sleeve. In the midst of the grime and black hair on the pirates arm was a scar in the shape of the letter P. All of a sudden, she felt very sad and slightly angry that this man had to die. Was he really so bad?

A hand touched her shoulder and she turned to face a young man, about twenty years old. Like everyone else watching the day's events, Cutler Beckett was dressed in fine attire. His short blonde hair tied back in a tight, low ponytail. He smiled sadly at her, not sharing her feelings, but feeling sorry for her. "Samantha, I saw you from the edge of the crowd. I told your mother you were too peaceful to watch this sort of thing; she should have left you at home."

"Mister Beckett, would that man still be sentenced to death even if he hadn't murdered anyone?" She asked immediately.

Beckett chuckled. "You never have been one for formal greetings, have you? Well, you are only eight. I suppose you still have plenty of time to learn."

Samantha blushed. "Oh! I'm sorry! Erm…Good afternoon, Mister Beckett." She curtsied.

Beckett chuckled again. "That's better. See? You've got all the makings of a proper young lady after all. In answer to your question: yes. Piracy is a despicable crime and in itself is punishable by death, whether they've killed someone or not." He stood up straight and put his hands behind his back to look more authoritative.

Samantha continued, "But why is stealing things as bad as killing people? And what makes stealing from rich people worse than stealing from poor people?" Her bright blue eyes did not blink and her serious expression did not falter.

Beckett was taken aback at her questions and stalled by brushing a loose hair from his face. "Um…Allow me to introduce one of the sailors under my supervision. He's staying in town tonight and I've invited him and your family to dine with me this evening." He turned around and shouted to get the attention of another young man who was watching the dangling bodies with a mournful expression. "Jack! Come here, I'd like you to meet someone." The young sailor grinned charmingly as he made his way to stand beside Beckett. Samantha Price, I'd like you to meet Jack Sparrow. He sails under my supervision for the East India Trading Company. It was Samantha's father who helped my get my job, and I am a good friend to her entire family."

Jack Sparrow bowed with a flourish of his hands, which made Samantha giggle as she curtsied again. He appeared to be the same age as Beckett, but with a less refined demeanor. He was about an inch shorter than Beckett. His finely chiseled face was clean shaven and his chocolate hair was short, but long enough for the wind to blow in his face. "Pleased to meet you, Lassie." He grinned. His unusual greeting made her giggle again.

A few hours later, she was sitting on the floor of Cutler Beckett's parlor, listening to Jack's wild stories of hurricanes, cannibals, and Singapore. She and her parents laughed hysterically at his storytelling methods while Cutler insisted that every bit of the stories was true. Samantha stayed up late that night retelling the dashing sailor's stories to her dear friend and maid, Maria, whose late husband had been a sailor, so she had captured Samantha's imagination by telling her stories of the sea, and most especially, pirates. The latter of which completely fascinated the girl, much to the chagrin of her doting parents.

Seven years later

"You have betrayed my trust! My trust and that of the entire East India Trading Company! No, the crown itself!" Cutler Beckett raged and paced about his office abort the Pursuer. Sitting in front of him, shackled to a chair, was none other than Jack Sparrow. Samantha stood off to the side in silence, her eyes downcast as Beckett continued. "What you have done is outstanding! Unloading an entire cargo at an unauthorized port, purely to satisfy your own interests, and without regard for your orders or the interests of the crown! That's no better than stealing, and that cargo was worth a fortune! Probably worth more than your own traitorous soul!" He spat as he shouted the last sentence, occasionally punctuating his words by pointing at the sailor.

"It was a cargo of slaves! I would have never accepted that commission if I had known that! No human is worth any more than another, and no one deserves to be someone else's property! Every man deserves freedom!" Sparrow shouted right back.

The back of Beckett's hand collided with Sparrow's cheek. "Shut up!"

Samantha gasped as the smacking sound filled the room. She had been having tea at Beckett's invitation when the sailor was brought into the office, shackled. She had chosen to stay in the room during his questioning, noticing that Beckett became enraged when his right hand man, Mercer, had explained what Sparrow had done. She had stayed in the room because she had hoped her presence would keep Beckett from becoming too violent with the poor sailor.

Beckett had specifically chosen Sparrow, who had been promoted to Captain sometime after she had first met him, to bring a special shipment of cargo across the Atlantic. He did not tell the Captain what the cargo was, so Sparrow decided to look for himself. Upon discovering that it was a boatload of slaves, he had released them in Africa. Of course, this detour had taken him an extra two weeks, which made the East India Trading Company anxious. Beckett had invited her and her parents to come with them to search for Captain Sparrow. They found him just offshore, and the Captain had been brought aboard. His first mate was commanded to head back to port without him.

"I can't believe you, I thought you would be the best man for the job but you are nothing more than a…a…pirate. Yes, that's what you are. And do you know what the punishment for piracy is, Jack Sparrow?" Beckett leaned over the prisoner's chair threateningly.

"Captain. Captain Jack Sparrow." The newly labeled pirate corrected him. The reply was another backhand.

"Hmmph. Insolent fool. The punishment, Captain Sparrow, is death. Once you have been branded a pirate, you have been sentenced to death." Beckett rolled up his sleeves and turned his back to the prisoner.

"Just because you've decided to call me a pirate doesn't mean everyone else will call me one, mate." Samantha was mentally commanding the captain to shut his mouth and avoid more punishment. Perhaps good behavior would buy him more time.

Beckett smirked. "Yes, Captain, I am aware of this and have already made arrangements to see that the entire world knows you are a filthy…pirate. Mercer." He nodded at his overly ugly minion, who went to the fireplace and removed from it a long piece of iron with the letter P at the end. "Hmm. I do believe this would look nice right in the middle of your forehead."

Samantha rushed forward and stood between the pirate and the trade representative. Her arms were outstretched and she looked pleadingly into Beckett's eyes, knowing that he seemed to have a soft spot for her. "Mister Beckett…please" The representative's eyes flashed with surprise at being interrupted and then a hint of anger. Samantha gulped and dared to softly put one hand on his chest and one on his upper arm, the one that was not brandishing the iron. "Cutler…please." She watched his expression soften at the use of his name. "Please don't be cruel. He was only trying to defend the freedom that every human deserves. Captain Sparrow is a good man. He has done nothing wrong. In fact, if I may be so bold, he has done right in the face of the Trading Company's wrongs." She went in for the kill by stepping a little closer to him and giving him the saddest, most begging expression she could muster.

He took a deep breath and shifted nervously before his face became stern again. "Miss Price, it is not your place to judge the East India Trading Company. Please step aside." He took a step away from her and nodded at Mercer, who was able to restrain her with a single arm.

She struggled against him as Beckett's eyes filled with rage once again as he, instead of on the forehead, pressed the hot iron into the pirate's arm. "No!" Samantha shouted as Sparrow clenched his teeth before throwing his head back and screaming in agony. Beckett's grin seemed more like a snarl as the smell of burning flesh filled the room.

He finally removed the iron from the pirate's skin to reveal a blazing red brand in the shape of a P. P for Pirate. Sparrow slumped over and held his arm to him, his breath ragged. He glared up at Beckett, who said, "You will always remember the day you betrayed the crown by crossing the East India Trading Company." He turned to Samantha as Mercer released her from his grip. "You may tend his wound if you wish. As for you, Sparrow, you will be permitted to walk the plank unshackled at sunrise. You may want to drown yourself anyway, because if I ever see you again after tomorrow, your death will be slow and more painful than anything you can imagine." He turned and left the room, followed by his right hand man.

Samantha rushed to Beckett's cabinet and found some whiskey and a handkerchief. She crossed the room and knelt beside the pirate, who was still slumped over. She gently lifted his arm and asked, "May I?" When he nodded, she uncorked the whiskey and slowly poured some over the angry red mark. When the pirate winced and hissed, she gently shushed him and talked to him to distract him from the stinging. "Shh, it will be alright. There." She wrapped tied the handkerchief around his arm. "This should keep it clean until it scars over…What you did, it was good. You are a good man. I don't think Beckett has tasted enough freedom to realize how precious it is. Nor is he human enough to recognize the value of human life. He shall go far in the company."

Sparrow managed to smirk. "Aye, Lassie. Seems to me like he's no more human than a fish or a whale. Seems to have a real soft spot for you though. Of course, I have a real soft spot for you too now, Lassie. What with you savin' me life and whatnot."

Samantha smiled. "You deserve to be free as a sparrow, Captain Sparrow." They both laughed. "When you slumped over, after he removed the iron…you were…smiling. Why?"

"Because I was a pirate long before he gave me this brand here. Only while I wasn't on official business, though. Not with me same crew or ship either. Besides, if having this mark on me arm means I'm more of a man than Cutler Beckett, then I'll wear it with pride. Besides, what a pirate is, what he really is, is a free man." Samantha could almost feel the pride and nobility radiating from this pirate's very core.

Samantha giggled, "Until you get caught, that is." She stood and offered her hand to the pirate.

Sparrow accepted her offer and stood up. "Aye, good point."

Samantha escorted him back to the brig, and the next morning the shackles were removed from his wrists and he dove into the ocean like a swan. He swam a few strokes away from the ship and shouted back, "Thank you, Miss Samantha! You take care of old Becky!"

Samantha smiled as she looked out over the railing. She turned towards Beckett, who had walked up beside her looking offended at his new nickname. She smirked at him and teased, "What, you don't like it? I think it suits you." She laughed aloud as he rolled his eyes. "Besides, I'm proud of you for doing the right thing and setting him free. He is a good man, no matter what you think." He only sighed and stood beside her as they watched the sun rise over the island that the pirate was swimming towards.

Samantha thought, A pirate's spirit is more free than any other, and more conscious of right and wrong, although they often choose to do wrong. They do not attempt to justify it with 'Good Business' or any other rubbish. And their pride…

A/N: it's all italics because it takes place before the main story does. Call it a flashback, a prequel, or whatever, but it's in italics. So there :P lol.