Little Sparrow
Summary: "Now up is down," was the last thing any of them heard before the rush of water drowned everything else out. Later, waking up on a random, deserted island, they almost immediately notice that something was not right with their Captain. Sparrington, Salazak, Willabeth, maybe others mentioned.
"Well, that went well," Jack said cheerfully the next day as they sailed away from the little Dutch port, no trace of a hangover or that he had been drinking enough for three men the day before. His new crew - five of the people he had drunk under the table in yesterday's competition - were still generously giving their guts to the sea. Jack just hoped the waves will wash it off of his Pearl's hull or his beloved ship might get pissed. Whoever doubted a ship was a woman ought to get their head checked.
Elizabeth, also looking over the crew, turned to give him an incredulous stare. "Jack, you drank enough alcohol to blind a man, managed to start two bar fights because you cheated at cards, nearly got Lieutenant Groves killed in your crazy escape attempt, pissed James off enough for him to refuse to come down from the crow's nest and unnerved the crew, old and new, by bringing that Spanish Navy officer on board. How can it be any worse?" When he opened his mouth and brought up a finger to say something or make a point, Elizabeth remembered that, although younger, this was still Jack Sparrow she was talking to, a man who had trouble as a loyal pet, and promptly cut him off. "Never mind, I don't want to know."
"Well, just to make it clear, I didn't cheat, I'm just that lucky-"
"Counting cards id cheating, Jack."
"Lucky. And I'm not to be blamed that Theodor decided to follow me onto that rooftop-"
"You know we've been all keeping a sharp eye on you! Of course he would go after you since he was the closest to you at the time!"
"And I am not to blame that the Navy doesn't train their men better. I am also not to blame, in no way whatsoever that dear James is in a tiff about Frederico coming along. And as for Frederico coming along," he said before she could protest. "He sailed with me once on a grand ship and his captain was very fond of me. He left the ship for retirement a month before the ship sank. Loved and respected his captain very much and, in turn, was protective of me since I was the captain's favorite. I couldn't have gotten rid of him if I had allowed a mermaid to drag me back to Atlantis right now. He'd probably follow." He looked away, eyes zeroing in to where said man was exchanging lethal glares with the good (ex) Admiral. "And he wouldn't have the same protection I do." He mumbled unconsciously, but Elizabeth heard. She whipped her head to the side to stare at him incredulously, not sure if he had really said it or if her ears were playing tricks with her but before she could ask, Will walked up the quarterdeck and the girl promptly turned around and climbed down to the main deck using the other stairs.
Jack watched as young Turner looked after her softly before shaking his head and continuing towards the Captain of the ship. Marty trailed after him like an afternoon shadow, keeping a safe distance yet staying within arm's reach should he have to act. Jack felt sort of insulted that they thought he could not defend himself. He'd faced much bigger fish than Turner. Quite literally, a few times.
"Jack, if I could have a word with you?"
"Just one?" Sparrow teased with a grin and watched Will's lips twitch sadly. In truth, Jack didn't hold it against him, what he would have done. Even if he'd gone through with it - which he would have, had he not been thwarted by one Mandarin speaking youngest Pirate Lord ever - Jack wouldn't have begrudged him for it. The boy had pirate in his veins. Take what you can, give nothing back, savvy? The boy had only been doing what was right by himself, although he had endangered a lot of lives with his thoughtless stunt.
He had done one thing wrong, though. One thing Jack could not really forgive him. He had weighted lives. No one life was more worth than the other and yet William had found it fit to declare his father's soul worth the loss of ten, eleven - twelve if you counted his thoughtlessness in regards to Elizabeth's safety - others. Thirteen/fourteen, if you counted the monkey and the parrot. Who was Will to say his father deserved to live more than, say, Philip? Or James or Groves? Or Pintel, Ragetti, Marthy, Cotton or Gibbs? Even Jack and Barbossa? The three Navy boys? Tia Dalma? By which characteristic did Will judge his father better and more worthy to live? It was just like those in power on land, who decided who should be a slave or who should be a lord. For all that Jack didn't have the most glowing impression of piracy, he knew it wasn't paradise within the boundaries of the law anymore than it was outside of them.
Jack could forgive Will for betraying him. Well, he as the eighteen year old Captain Jack Sparrow of the Wicked Wench could; he, after all, didn't know William Turner Junior for longer than a week. He wasn't exactly sure about his thirty eight year old self. That Jack Sparrow knew Will Turner a lot longer and such a betrayal might severe their friendship, for all that Jack knew. And he himself was only willing to forgive him because the Black Pearl was still riding the waves under his booted feet. He wouldn't be so forgiving if she had been stolen from him.
She purred in delight into his ear at his possessive protectiveness and Jack almost smiled. Almost. Will didn't exactly earn it, now did he.
"I'm serious, Jack." Will insisted as he came closer but stopped when he heard Marty cocking his gun casually, sighing in frustration and staying in his place. "I need to discuss something with you."
"I'm sure you do, whelp, but I'm not supposed to talk about serious or stressing topics that might in some way make me uncomfortable, anxious, stressed or all of the above. Doctor's orders. Or, rather, the voodoo priestess' who did this," he gestured to his young-but-should-be-twenty-years-older-body with one hand. "To me to preserve my sanity after a year worth of torture in the infamous, blood-curling Davy Jones' Locker." He watched Will sigh in frustration, looking ready to tear his own hair out before deciding to help the man. "Although I would rather appreciate it if I were brought up to speed about the most ... recent events. In the last, say ... twenty years. You up for it whelp?"
"I'm older than you. You can't exactly call me whelp, Jack." Despite his teasing, Turner looked genuinely relieved and grateful. The Pirate Lord almost felt like he was doing him a favor when it would in truth be Jack who was getting something out of it. Now, if only he could get rid of his many, many watchdogs, it would be a delight. "And I'll gladly bring you up to speed."
"Not if ya don' wan' me t' go t' Lady Dalma an' tell 'er ya're tryin' t' stress th' Capti'n." Marty grunted, glaring at the Port Royal blacksmith. Both young men sighed in exasperation but they knew they couldn't really do anything. Not if the core crew was so dead set on keeping Jack in the dark of what had been happening in the years since ... whatever point in time they had plucked him from.
"Marty, mate, who's the Captain of this ship?" Jack challenged but Marty shrugged.
"'E talks, I go t' the voodoo witch an' tell yar Navy friend what's goin' on. An' then I sit back an' watch the fireworks. An' I don't think it will be as colorful as those in Singapore."
Jack pouted. Why did he have to bring James into this? He already had to figure out why he had angered his unlikely friend so they could hopefully make amends and go back to being friends again. Hopefully. But that meant giving up the opportunity to learn about his future, erm past? Or was it the present he needs to learn about. Bloody hell, this was giving him a worse headache than the drinking competition did yesterday. Was it even possible to get a worse headache than one induced by as potent a drink as tequila? Maybe from vodka. Or an oar to the head.
Sparrow frowned at the last thought, turning to Will. "Do you know if I've ever been hit over the head with an oar? I know it hasn't happened in my current eighteen years of life, but what about the twenty ones I've lived through and don't currently remember?"
The blacksmith winced and looked away in sheepish shame. "I may have once hit you over the head with one. On an island called Isla de Muerta."
"Isle of the Dead? What were we doing there?" The dreadlocked male furrowed his brow before it hit him. Thankfully, not literally this time. "Oh! The cursed gold because of which Barbossa mutinied against me and left me on an abandoned island to die? I actually went to take Cortez' cursed treasure? Was I bloody mad? I've met his damned ghost!"
"You ... what?" Marty and Will were looking at him as though he had grown a second head. Jack ignored how incredulous their stare was and just continued on with his story.
"Oh, I met his ghost. When I was twelve and first escaped Shipwreck Cove to make my own path - outside of piracy, mind you. Hated it back then."
"Hated piracy?" Theodor, as though he could sniff out when a good pirate story - especially a Jack Sparrow pirate story - was being told, climbed up the quarterdeck, looking shocked. "But you're a pirate!"
"Yes and have been since birth. Although I hadn't wanted to acknowledge it, back then. Like I said, used to hate it. Still not quite all that fond of it. I hate the cruelty of some pirates. But we're not the only cruel ones, now, are we?" He smiled sorrowfully before it was gone and replaced with a much cheerier grin. "Anyway, I was twelve and ran away from home, procured a ship - a boat, really - named it the Barnacle and found meself a crew and we set sail, reaching for the horizon and the treasure and adventures that await just beyond it." He said like a true story teller, drawing Elizabeth back onto the quarterdeck so she, too, could hear. James and Philip had followed after Theodor when he had all but teleported to the other side of the ship, Gibbs, Tia Dalma, Pintel, Ragetti and Mr Cotton joining them after Barbossa cleared the staircase. Gary, Ahmed and a much recovered Lee listened from the main deck as best as they could but did not join the core crew at the helm. Much of the rest of the crew were watching in interest and Frederico was leaning against the railing at the stairs, within hearing but not within sight of Sparrow, listening.
Jack grinned at his audience, sent a look at Will that clearly said they would be talking later, shared a secretive, joking smile with Tia Dalma before continuing with his story.
"And our first goal, our very first treasure-hunting adventure was to find the Sword of Cortez."
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Since there was enough crew this time around to make not two, but three regular watches, Jack had for once gone to sleep instead of spending the entire night at the helm, either alone and whispering with his beloved ship like a pair of lovers or sharing small talk, stories and jokes with James. But James was still in a tiff with him and Jack was still actually tired after his drinking fiasco, so that night, he gladly walked into his cabin, sprawled into his cot and fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.
Before the night ends, he will dearly regret it, no matter how much he had needed it.
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There was a wonderful soft breeze playing with his hair, making the couple of beads and trinkets he had in his hair jingle and chime. He had only just started his collection, since his hair had finally grown long enough, if Tia Dalma was to be believed. She had shown him how to braid his hair and make dreadlocks and he had found it to be as fun as it was relaxing and he so loved the idea of keeping memories close to him this way. He was also glad that he had an actual piratical hoarding habit and always saved at least one tiny bit of any of his adventures for mementos. It already gave him two full length braids of beads, but he hoped he'll make much, much more memories in the future.
He touched the newest addition to his memory collection hairdress - a pretty blue stone that resembled a finely cut crystal that always gave off a barely visible glow when wet and had a very special function - as he thought about the person who gave it to him, just leaning on the railing of a great, big ship, not noticing someone had come up behind him until a strong hand landed on his head. He yelped, whirling around in half panic,expecting a blue coat and white wig to adorn the person standing behind him, inly to relax when he was met with neither. Instead, the man arching an amused brow at him had wonderfully soft - but always bound; what sacrilege! - black hair and although he stood like a soldier and owning a uniform, he was not wearing an English blue or red coat, or even his own white and black one. Instead, he stood on the deck of the big galleon in only an unbuttoned white linen shirt and black trousers.
The teen flushed, turning his black eyes away from all that beautiful, almost unmarred skin that seemed to glow in the light of the half moon. His companion chuckled as he came to lean a hip against the railing.
"Don't do that." Came the mumbled complaint, a hand pressed against a madly racing heart. Said hand then had to move up to push out of the way the just below the chin long locks out of his face, not seeing another, paler hand reach out to do the same. He nearly jumped out of his own skin for the second time in just a few minutes when gentle fingers pushed a few locks behind his ear.
A regretful sigh came from the older male. "You have been on my ship for a month now, little Sparrow, and yet you still flinch away from my touch while you have befriended even my grumpy helmsman. I feel insulted."
"Francis ain't all that bad," came the reply, muffled as it was. He avoided meeting the other's amber eyes, knowing he will only blush again. Or stare shamelessly at the toned chest so casually on display.
The captain only chuckled and shook his head. "I am actually pretty sure only you are of that opinion, little Sparrow." The younger shivered at the rolled, accented 'r' before finally turning to face his unexpected companion and glare at the older man. He shoved an accusing, angry, bejeweled finger right under an elegant nose, unconsciously leaning closer to the taller male. He forgot all the reasons why he shouldn't be so close to the other - the way his heart would always beat a staccato rhythm, the way his palms would get sweaty unlike when even the prettiest of wenches pushed their bosom into his face, unlike even when he had, that one time, stared down the devil himself when he had been over a foot shorter and three years younger with no weapon in hand - as he delivered his complaint in a growl. Oh, if only his voice was lower! It still held too much of a childish lilt for it to be intimidating.
"Stop calling me that already! I've told you already a hundred times that it is insulting and degrading and that it annoys the hell out of me! And what's worse, your crew have started calling me birdie!" He huffed, poking the man in the chest, still not realizing how close he actually was and how his companion was perhaps a bit too preoccupied staring at his mouth to pay much attention to what was coming out of it. "I demand to stop being treated like just some little kid! I've seen more things than all of you combined and I want to be treated as an equal, not as some brat you've taken in and feel responsible for!"
"I will talk to my crew. If it truly bothers you so, I will tell them to stop teasing you." The captain said, taking a step back and the younger frowned. Why had he moved away. "I would also wish to apologize for causing you such stress over such a matter. I did not wish to upset you. I will stop."
He sounded too formal, the teen thought and he didn't like it. He bit his lip. While he wasn't exactly fond of the stupid nickname, he also knew the other took great delight in calling him 'little Sparrow'. It always made a smile stretch his usually frowning lips. He had even overheard the crew gossiping among themselves that their new birdie had stolen the captain's heart. Now, the teen knew it had to be just teasing since he was passing by, since he was sure everyone on this damned ship knew of his ... stirrings ... for their captain. It's why he hated the nickname so much.
"I ... I guess I don't really mind as much as I came off just now." He mumbled, finding his behavior very ridiculous and humiliating. He, who had been praised for his silver tongue and sharp wit, acting like this for no feasible reason whatsoever. He, who had managed to bargain with Tia Dalma for her precious Compass that she never even considered giving another. She would be laughing at him now, if only she knew how tongue tied he felt. "It's just ... Why must it be 'little sparrow'? Isn't a sparrow small enough, why add that infuriating 'little'?" He glared out at the sea. "It's as though you were mocking me. Like you only see me as some useless kid. I just ... want to be your equal."
He wasn't expecting for a hand to grab his face gently and turn him around so he was facing his companion fully, their dark eyes locked, black on brown. He gulped. They looked so serious, so intent. Had he insulted the other, somehow, with his words? But there was such gentleness in the fingers holding his face that he immediately ruled it out. He felt out lf breathe.
"It was never my intention to push you away so, li- Jack." It was perhaps the first time in three and a half weeks that the other said his name. Jack shivered in delight. He couldn't help it. He wasn't sure if it was the lighting or his imagination, but he swore those brown eyes became a few shades darker. And he would know. They were so close ... They were actually sharing each other's breaths and their noses were nearly bumping. "I never saw it as us not being equals. In fact, I do believe you have the makings to become a great, worthy opponent, one day, if the fates are so cruel as to place us on opposing sides. You are possibly the only one I would be content to lose against. I did not mean any disrespect and I apologize if I've led you to believe so."
"All's forgiven," was all Jack could say, eyes half lidded as he enjoyed the exploring fingers on his face, especially when they whispered over his lips. He swallowed, his throat feeling dry.
A smirk curled on the other male's lips. "Do you wish me to prove how I have never seen you as anything else than my equal?"
"Hm?" The fifteen year old made a confused, halfhearted sound as a hand came up absently to brush a lock of hair that had miraculously fallen out of the bun the other worse at the nape of his neck.
"Do you wish for me to prove that I always thought of you as an equal?" The elder replied patiently, although Jack's mind registered an almost ... predatory note. His instinct was alerting him to the presence of a predator but his body was enjoying the closeness with his companion too much to move away.
"How?"
The captain smirked and dipped his head in as fast as lightning, capturing young, soft, yielding lips in an equally bruising and gentle kiss, the hand caressing the tanned face moving into messy hair. A moan echoed in the air before fluttering hands settled on broad shoulders and they stayed like that for a long moment before pulling back, both panting. Black eyes were glazed as they looked up at the older man, who was licking his lips, as though to catch the last of Jack's taste.
"A-Armando?"
"There. See?" Armando pushed Jack against the railing gently, lifting the fifteen year old so he was sitting on it and moving between lean legs, securely holding onto a thin waist. "I see you as an equal. If I saw you as a brat, I would not even consider doing that. But, as you can see, I did it. So I see you as an equal. I see you, actually, as the only person I wouldn't mind being the end of me, for you already are, my little Sparrow." A mouth attached itself to a long neck and Jack tipped his head back to provide more space for Armando to work with. "I'm losing my mind for you. My self. My control. My heart. It belongs to you. You will be the end of me, my little Sparrow." He sighed and reluctantly moved away. "I'm sorry. I'm coming on too strong. I shall leave you for now and please forgive my too forward behavior."
"But what if I liked it?" Jack protested, bitting his lip as his eyes stayed on Armando. The captain chuckled and ran a hand over his face, trying to get it together and not be tempted to continue where they had left off.
"You truly will be the end of me, my little Sparrow."
Jack smiled and reached out his hand - that didn't feel right. He didn't remember ever offering his hand to the other - expecting the other to take it, but the peace of the night was broken by sudden loud noise. Shouts, cannon and gun fire, clattering of swords and knives, screams of pain and death. The stench of burning bodies and ships soon invaded the sea breeze and Jack felt sick. He looked around, not understanding what the hell was going on. Why was the ship suddenly burning? Why was the crew frozen? Why wasn't anyone abandoning the ship? This was too much fire for it all to be put out in time! Where was Armando?!
He looked around frantically before he found Armando, still standing in front of him, only he was dressed in his uniform. And he was grim faced, a glare in his eyes as he pointed a gun at Jack's head. Jack, however, could only watch in horror as, just as the captain released the safety, a wave of fire rushed towards him, engulfing the white and black figure whole, bringing with it the stench of burning flesh.
Tears stung Jack's eyes, closed his throat and clogged his nose and yet the stench persisted.
A scream ripped out of his throat-
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And suddenly there were elderly, strong hands shaking his shoulders as he screamed and trashed about on his cot, tears streaming down his face and Armando's name falling from his lips in desperate calls for the other man. He was deaf to the world for a long moment before he registered Mr Gibbs' almost hysteric calling of alternately his name and his title.
"Jack! Wake up, Capt'n! It was just a bad dream, Jack! There ya go, lad, nice and deep, long breaths. That's it. Yer doin' great, Capt'n. Great."
Through his harsh breathing, Jack could hear murmurs coming from his door and through teary eyes looked up at the confused and worried faces of his crew. He winced at the worry on the finely chiseled face of James Norrington and did his best not to look at Frederico Sanchez' understanding and pitying expression. His heart was still fluttering like a frightened rabbit's and the stench would not leave his nose. He made a gagging sound and Gibbs thrust a pitcher under his chin, holding back his hair as he threw up his lunch and dinner. A minute later, when he thought he had calmed down, he let his breakfast join the mix before his stomach settled down and he curled up on his cot, hiding his face in his pillow. He heard Gibbs, with James', Tia Dalma's and Frederico's help, chase everyone back to their hammocks or stations, as there were still some hours left until dawn.
Jack doubted he will sleep again that night. Not even the Pearl whispering lullabies in his ear could calm him enough. He might as well gather his wits about himself and just go up to the helm. The fresh air will surely help him.
"Capt'n? I know it be an awful stupid question t' ask, but are ye alright?" Joshamee had returned, alone, the great cabin's doors locked with Frederico swearing he will ensure no one eavesdrops, looking worriedly down at the eighteen year old. He looked so small right now, not at all like his usual self, so much bigger than life itself. Gibbs had every right to be worried.
"Not really, but I will be. Eventually. Soon enough." The Pirate Lord mumbled miserably, wincing at how abused his throat felt from the acids in his stomach traveling the wrong way. "Did I say anything? In my nightmare?"
"You just screamed one name, sir. Armando." The old sailor hesitantly pronounced the name and regretted it when Jack flinched and curled even more in on himself. He briefly wondered at the wisdom of his next question, but he had to know. He had to know so he can be prepared for future, similar situations. So he can help his young friend and Captain. In the end, it was for Jack's own good, not just idle curiosity. "Jack? Capt'n?"
"Yes, Mr Gibbs?"
"The Armando you called out to," he did his best to ignore the second wince. "Does he, mayhap, happen to be ... that Armando?" When he got no reaction, Gibbs warily continued. "Spanish Captain Armando Salazar of the Silent Mary, El Matador del Mar, the greatest pirate hunter until now that Davy Jones is under Beckett's command? That Armando, Capt'n?"
Jack still gave no answer, having turned his back on his first mate, huddled up to the black boards of the Pearl's hull and enjoying her comforting shudders.
"Jack, just what is it that you last remember?"
Sparrow answered.