A/N: Ok, here's my second PotC story. I'm actually in the middle of one,
and I know starting this one is a very bad idea, seeing as I might not
finish the other one know. But this plot bunny has been jumping around in
my head, and I can't get rid of it. Oh well.
Another thing: This story *moves toward door* is sort of *locks door* a *padlocks door* self insert. HA! You can't run out now!! Seriously, folks. I want a story I can put myself into. Call me selfish. And it will eventually be a Jack/OC, I think. Maybe not. I'm going to try and make the character as realistic as possible. The descriptions are pretty much what I look like. Alright? NO FLAMES. I don't like them, they don't do any good. This story is for me.
***
Life was good. Very good, in fact. Father had just got a large promotion, mother was recovering well from the flu. I was quite content with my role of sitting at home, doing needlework and reading.
Goodness! I forgot to introduce myself. I am Victoria Alexandria Smithford. My father is currently the head surgeon in George Town, Exuma Island, in the Bahamas. A nice place, I suppose. Not too many people, good for fishing, nice weather.
As I was saying, life was good. I rather enjoyed the sun of the Caribbean to rain and dreariness of England. We had crossed 8 years before, when I was 12.
I had just changed into my nightdress and called the maid for the bed warmer when I heard a loud explosion. My eyes shot wide open and I grabbed the comforter on the bed, pulling it to my chest. My, unfortunately, flat chest. A short scream escaped. Our maid, a portly woman named Marie, came running in.
"Do you know what that was, Marie?" I asked. She looked frightened, which scared me to death. I had known Marie since I was four and a half years old, and she was like a second mother to me.
"I have a good idea, Miss Vicky." Miss Vicky. That was what she had always called me. I wouldn't let anyone shorten my name except for her. She helped me up from the bed and helped me put on my dressing gown. "Hide in the butler's pantry, Miss. I'll send your parents with you shortly," she patted my cheek and sent me down.
As I entered the kitchen, it hit me like a lightning bolt. The only reason I was to go to the butler's pantry was if George Town was under attack. And in the Caribbean, an attack meant one thing. Pirates.
When I tried to step again, I found that my foot wouldn't move. I was paralyzed with fear. I was certain that I was going to die. And if not me, someone I cared about. Mother. Father. Marie. Or perhaps my betrothed, Thomas. I was not in love with him, but I liked him. He cared about me, and seemed to want what was best for me.
As I started to go over the many possibilities for their gruesome deaths in my head, my father stepped into the room. He drew me up in a hug, and I cried into his shoulder.
"Shh, Victoria. Get into the closet." He ushered me in, wiping my face of tears. Right before he closed the door behind him, I spoke up.
"But where is Mother? And Marie? Father, answer me!" But he didn't. The door shut firmly, and I was thrown into complete and terrifying darkness. The absence of light didn't prevent the sounds from reaching my ears, however. I stood there, hands over my ears, trying to block out the screams of people and the laughter of the pirates.
Nearby, I heard a blood-curdling scream, then a shot. Silence. I prayed with all my heart that it was not Marie or Mother. But my prayers were not answered. I soon heard, "Marie! Marie, no!" issuing from my mother's mouth. I heard my father trying to pull her away, then two more shots. And that was when I blacked out.
I must not have been out for very long, though. When I came to, I could still hear the cries from outside. As I pulled myself up, I heard a series of footsteps. I'm sure that if it wasn't pitch black, you could have seen my face go whiter than a ghost's. My breathing stopped as I heard a voice ring out above the screams.
"Ah, the kitchen! Let's get us some food then!"
Ok, I know I said my face was whiter than a ghost's. But after he said that, it went whiter. I was standing in the place where most of the food was kept. All I could do was close my eyes, and pray that they left.
Well, what do you think happened? As I mumbled out the Lord's Prayer, the door opened, flooding the pantry with light. My eyes shot open to reveal a highly amused pirate, wearing a large hat with many dreadlocks poking out from underneath. The pirate grabbed my arm and yanked me out. His grip hurt, and his rings were digging into my skin. Silent tears ran down my cheeks.
"Look what I've found, men! Prime cut, this is!" The three other men that were rifling through my house laughed. It was a cruel, vicious laugh. Again my mind ran over all of my possible fates, each more gruesome than the last. Filthy pirates.
The man turned to me. "Who might you be, love?" He smiled at me. His teeth showed gold, and his goatee had two braids hanging down from it.
The tears were now flowing full force. "V-V-Victoria." I looked around, desperate for escape. Yeah, right. As I turned to my left, I saw the most terrible thing I have ever seen. My dead parents' bodies lying on the floor. Blood was spilling from my father's chest, and my mother's skull was half missing. The sobs now fully racked my body and I slid to the floor, clutching the pirate's legs. The leather of his boots was soft, and I cried into them, pounding on his shins the whole time. "You...you killed them!!"
He bent down to my level and lifted my chin up. "That was not I, Miss." He seemed serious, but I hardly cared at that point. I took all the strength I had left and slapped him across the face. Before I could do it again, he grabbed my hand. "I don't think ye should do that, lass."
Everyone in the room turned when the back door burst open. There was Thomas, holding a gun, searching desperately for me. At that moment I loved him more than anything in the world. But as soon as he raised his weapon, he was shot in the chest by the pirates standing by. That was it for me. I crawled over to him, sobbing, and clutched his dead hand. I buried my face in his chest and cried so hard I started coughing. Then, bringing my face up again, I saw the wounds. I crept away and became violently sick.
I wiped my face and turned over onto my back. And this time, when I passed out, I stayed that way.
****
When I woke up, I was laying on my bed. It was light out, and for a moment, a sweet, blissful moment, I forgot all about what happened the night previous. But then reality set in, and I found myself crying again. Funny, I thought I had cried out all my tears.
I looked down and saw blood covering my night gown. Thomas's blood. I thought that things couldn't get much worse when the door burst open. The pirate that had pulled me from my hiding spot was standing there, holding an apple and looking entirely too cheerful. I scowled my eyes out.
"No need for the dirty looks, love," he said, sitting down in the chair. Marie's chair.
'No need'?!? What was wrong with him? I raised my hand and pointed at him. "YOU KILLED MY FAMILY!!" I screamed. He sighed.
"I told ye last nigh', lass. That wasn't I."
I decided that I had had enough of the subject. The scumbag wasn't going to admit he killed them, I knew. "Why didn't you kill me?"
He shrugged. "Dunno. Normally, when me and me men go to a town, we don't 'ave to worry 'bout some lass seein' 'er dead family." And then the bastard smiled. "Besides, do ye really want ta be dead?"
I shrugged. "Who are you?"
He looked immensely pleased at being asked for his name. "Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service." He swept off his hat and did a small bow in his chair.
Sparrow, eh? I'd heard of him. "What are you going to do with me?" I asked, shakily. He shrugged.
"I have nothing left," I said. I couldn't look him in the eye. But for the brief second I did, I could have sworn - was that sympathy? No...just a trick of the light.
Or maybe not. He leaned forward, and his smile vanished. "I'll tell ye somethin' personal. I know jus' how ye feel, lass."
I almost laughed out loud at that. How could he possibly know how I feel? "Yeah, sure."
He sat back and looked offended. "I'm serious. Me parents was killed by pirates when I was 14 years old. Savvy?" Ok, so maybe he did know how I felt. I felt a pang of guilt go through my chest.
"But, if pirates killed your parents, why did you become one? That doesn't make much sense, Captain," I folded my arms across my chest. He raised an eyebrow.
"I had nothin' else left." It chilled me to the bone how he said those words. It was like it was advice, or something. "How old are you, uh....uh..."
"Victoria."
He snapped his fingers and smiled. "Righ'. How old are you, Victoria?"
I let out a slow breath. What could it hurt to tell him? "I'm twenty years old. And yourself, Jack Sparrow?"
"Captain Jack Sparrow, love," he corrected.
"Whatever. Captain." A little insecure, pal?
"22 years, methinks. 'S been a while since I've had me a proper party."
That surprised me. He was so young, and a captain? So close to my own age too. I started doing some quick math in my head while he seemed to study me. If he was fourteen when his parents died, I was twelve.....
"Where did you live when your parents were killed?" I asked. He raised an eyebrow.
"As a matter o' fact, it was 'ere in George Town." My mouth dropped open. I remembered, when we first came, the town was in shambles. A band of pirates had just been through!
I decided to keep this tidbit of information to myself. Now was time for business.
"Let me come on board with you," I said. Jack almost choked on his apple.
"'Scuse me, Miss? You?"
"Yes. Me. I have nothing else here! Please! It's what you did."
He sat forward in his chair. "Yeah, well, that was in very differen' circumstances, ye see. One-I was 14, not 20. Two-I, if you haven't noticed, am a man. You are a woman. I think." He waved his hands wildy in the air as he spoke. I got the feeling that he wouldn't be able to talk sitting on his hands. "Three-Ye don' know the firs' thing about piratin'. 'Ave you ever been on a ship, love?"
What a dumb question. "Of course I have! On the crossing from England!"
He shook his head. "Not that kind of ship, love. Have you ever been on a ship and ye had to take care o' it?" He had me there. I slowly shook my head. "There. That's why ye can't come wi' me." He got up to leave. Well, I couldn't let that happen. He was my only shot out of there.
I got out of the bed and ran toward him, grabbing his arm as he stepped out. It was then I realized just how much bigger then me he was. My brown curly hair was still piled up on my head, and it barely reached his nose. My hand also didn't fit all the way around his bicep. And I have long fingers.
I looked up into his face, which was staring at my hand around his strong arm. I put on what I thought was a brave face. "Please. I can do it. Just give me a chance."
He stared at me for a long while, his brown eyes meeting mine. I shifted my weight, starting to feel uncomfortable, when he sighed. "Fine. Git yer things together."
***
A/N: Ok, there it is. First chapter. What do you think? I like the idea of young Jack Sparrow. Please R&R. And if you do criticism, make it constructive. Tell me what's wrong with my writing, not with my character. Got it? Good.
Another thing: This story *moves toward door* is sort of *locks door* a *padlocks door* self insert. HA! You can't run out now!! Seriously, folks. I want a story I can put myself into. Call me selfish. And it will eventually be a Jack/OC, I think. Maybe not. I'm going to try and make the character as realistic as possible. The descriptions are pretty much what I look like. Alright? NO FLAMES. I don't like them, they don't do any good. This story is for me.
***
Life was good. Very good, in fact. Father had just got a large promotion, mother was recovering well from the flu. I was quite content with my role of sitting at home, doing needlework and reading.
Goodness! I forgot to introduce myself. I am Victoria Alexandria Smithford. My father is currently the head surgeon in George Town, Exuma Island, in the Bahamas. A nice place, I suppose. Not too many people, good for fishing, nice weather.
As I was saying, life was good. I rather enjoyed the sun of the Caribbean to rain and dreariness of England. We had crossed 8 years before, when I was 12.
I had just changed into my nightdress and called the maid for the bed warmer when I heard a loud explosion. My eyes shot wide open and I grabbed the comforter on the bed, pulling it to my chest. My, unfortunately, flat chest. A short scream escaped. Our maid, a portly woman named Marie, came running in.
"Do you know what that was, Marie?" I asked. She looked frightened, which scared me to death. I had known Marie since I was four and a half years old, and she was like a second mother to me.
"I have a good idea, Miss Vicky." Miss Vicky. That was what she had always called me. I wouldn't let anyone shorten my name except for her. She helped me up from the bed and helped me put on my dressing gown. "Hide in the butler's pantry, Miss. I'll send your parents with you shortly," she patted my cheek and sent me down.
As I entered the kitchen, it hit me like a lightning bolt. The only reason I was to go to the butler's pantry was if George Town was under attack. And in the Caribbean, an attack meant one thing. Pirates.
When I tried to step again, I found that my foot wouldn't move. I was paralyzed with fear. I was certain that I was going to die. And if not me, someone I cared about. Mother. Father. Marie. Or perhaps my betrothed, Thomas. I was not in love with him, but I liked him. He cared about me, and seemed to want what was best for me.
As I started to go over the many possibilities for their gruesome deaths in my head, my father stepped into the room. He drew me up in a hug, and I cried into his shoulder.
"Shh, Victoria. Get into the closet." He ushered me in, wiping my face of tears. Right before he closed the door behind him, I spoke up.
"But where is Mother? And Marie? Father, answer me!" But he didn't. The door shut firmly, and I was thrown into complete and terrifying darkness. The absence of light didn't prevent the sounds from reaching my ears, however. I stood there, hands over my ears, trying to block out the screams of people and the laughter of the pirates.
Nearby, I heard a blood-curdling scream, then a shot. Silence. I prayed with all my heart that it was not Marie or Mother. But my prayers were not answered. I soon heard, "Marie! Marie, no!" issuing from my mother's mouth. I heard my father trying to pull her away, then two more shots. And that was when I blacked out.
I must not have been out for very long, though. When I came to, I could still hear the cries from outside. As I pulled myself up, I heard a series of footsteps. I'm sure that if it wasn't pitch black, you could have seen my face go whiter than a ghost's. My breathing stopped as I heard a voice ring out above the screams.
"Ah, the kitchen! Let's get us some food then!"
Ok, I know I said my face was whiter than a ghost's. But after he said that, it went whiter. I was standing in the place where most of the food was kept. All I could do was close my eyes, and pray that they left.
Well, what do you think happened? As I mumbled out the Lord's Prayer, the door opened, flooding the pantry with light. My eyes shot open to reveal a highly amused pirate, wearing a large hat with many dreadlocks poking out from underneath. The pirate grabbed my arm and yanked me out. His grip hurt, and his rings were digging into my skin. Silent tears ran down my cheeks.
"Look what I've found, men! Prime cut, this is!" The three other men that were rifling through my house laughed. It was a cruel, vicious laugh. Again my mind ran over all of my possible fates, each more gruesome than the last. Filthy pirates.
The man turned to me. "Who might you be, love?" He smiled at me. His teeth showed gold, and his goatee had two braids hanging down from it.
The tears were now flowing full force. "V-V-Victoria." I looked around, desperate for escape. Yeah, right. As I turned to my left, I saw the most terrible thing I have ever seen. My dead parents' bodies lying on the floor. Blood was spilling from my father's chest, and my mother's skull was half missing. The sobs now fully racked my body and I slid to the floor, clutching the pirate's legs. The leather of his boots was soft, and I cried into them, pounding on his shins the whole time. "You...you killed them!!"
He bent down to my level and lifted my chin up. "That was not I, Miss." He seemed serious, but I hardly cared at that point. I took all the strength I had left and slapped him across the face. Before I could do it again, he grabbed my hand. "I don't think ye should do that, lass."
Everyone in the room turned when the back door burst open. There was Thomas, holding a gun, searching desperately for me. At that moment I loved him more than anything in the world. But as soon as he raised his weapon, he was shot in the chest by the pirates standing by. That was it for me. I crawled over to him, sobbing, and clutched his dead hand. I buried my face in his chest and cried so hard I started coughing. Then, bringing my face up again, I saw the wounds. I crept away and became violently sick.
I wiped my face and turned over onto my back. And this time, when I passed out, I stayed that way.
****
When I woke up, I was laying on my bed. It was light out, and for a moment, a sweet, blissful moment, I forgot all about what happened the night previous. But then reality set in, and I found myself crying again. Funny, I thought I had cried out all my tears.
I looked down and saw blood covering my night gown. Thomas's blood. I thought that things couldn't get much worse when the door burst open. The pirate that had pulled me from my hiding spot was standing there, holding an apple and looking entirely too cheerful. I scowled my eyes out.
"No need for the dirty looks, love," he said, sitting down in the chair. Marie's chair.
'No need'?!? What was wrong with him? I raised my hand and pointed at him. "YOU KILLED MY FAMILY!!" I screamed. He sighed.
"I told ye last nigh', lass. That wasn't I."
I decided that I had had enough of the subject. The scumbag wasn't going to admit he killed them, I knew. "Why didn't you kill me?"
He shrugged. "Dunno. Normally, when me and me men go to a town, we don't 'ave to worry 'bout some lass seein' 'er dead family." And then the bastard smiled. "Besides, do ye really want ta be dead?"
I shrugged. "Who are you?"
He looked immensely pleased at being asked for his name. "Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service." He swept off his hat and did a small bow in his chair.
Sparrow, eh? I'd heard of him. "What are you going to do with me?" I asked, shakily. He shrugged.
"I have nothing left," I said. I couldn't look him in the eye. But for the brief second I did, I could have sworn - was that sympathy? No...just a trick of the light.
Or maybe not. He leaned forward, and his smile vanished. "I'll tell ye somethin' personal. I know jus' how ye feel, lass."
I almost laughed out loud at that. How could he possibly know how I feel? "Yeah, sure."
He sat back and looked offended. "I'm serious. Me parents was killed by pirates when I was 14 years old. Savvy?" Ok, so maybe he did know how I felt. I felt a pang of guilt go through my chest.
"But, if pirates killed your parents, why did you become one? That doesn't make much sense, Captain," I folded my arms across my chest. He raised an eyebrow.
"I had nothin' else left." It chilled me to the bone how he said those words. It was like it was advice, or something. "How old are you, uh....uh..."
"Victoria."
He snapped his fingers and smiled. "Righ'. How old are you, Victoria?"
I let out a slow breath. What could it hurt to tell him? "I'm twenty years old. And yourself, Jack Sparrow?"
"Captain Jack Sparrow, love," he corrected.
"Whatever. Captain." A little insecure, pal?
"22 years, methinks. 'S been a while since I've had me a proper party."
That surprised me. He was so young, and a captain? So close to my own age too. I started doing some quick math in my head while he seemed to study me. If he was fourteen when his parents died, I was twelve.....
"Where did you live when your parents were killed?" I asked. He raised an eyebrow.
"As a matter o' fact, it was 'ere in George Town." My mouth dropped open. I remembered, when we first came, the town was in shambles. A band of pirates had just been through!
I decided to keep this tidbit of information to myself. Now was time for business.
"Let me come on board with you," I said. Jack almost choked on his apple.
"'Scuse me, Miss? You?"
"Yes. Me. I have nothing else here! Please! It's what you did."
He sat forward in his chair. "Yeah, well, that was in very differen' circumstances, ye see. One-I was 14, not 20. Two-I, if you haven't noticed, am a man. You are a woman. I think." He waved his hands wildy in the air as he spoke. I got the feeling that he wouldn't be able to talk sitting on his hands. "Three-Ye don' know the firs' thing about piratin'. 'Ave you ever been on a ship, love?"
What a dumb question. "Of course I have! On the crossing from England!"
He shook his head. "Not that kind of ship, love. Have you ever been on a ship and ye had to take care o' it?" He had me there. I slowly shook my head. "There. That's why ye can't come wi' me." He got up to leave. Well, I couldn't let that happen. He was my only shot out of there.
I got out of the bed and ran toward him, grabbing his arm as he stepped out. It was then I realized just how much bigger then me he was. My brown curly hair was still piled up on my head, and it barely reached his nose. My hand also didn't fit all the way around his bicep. And I have long fingers.
I looked up into his face, which was staring at my hand around his strong arm. I put on what I thought was a brave face. "Please. I can do it. Just give me a chance."
He stared at me for a long while, his brown eyes meeting mine. I shifted my weight, starting to feel uncomfortable, when he sighed. "Fine. Git yer things together."
***
A/N: Ok, there it is. First chapter. What do you think? I like the idea of young Jack Sparrow. Please R&R. And if you do criticism, make it constructive. Tell me what's wrong with my writing, not with my character. Got it? Good.