Sunshine filtered lazily in through the small porthole, throwing dancing oceanic reflections across the planked floor. Also newly illuminated in the corner of the room, two slumbering forms in a somewhat ridiculous arrangement– the small bed held one raven-haired little girl and the floor close-by was taken up by one dread-locked pirate.

Jack Sparrow still knelt on the floor, the top half of his body sprawled across the bunk. His breathing was easy and even, mouth open, eyes closed. One bandaged arm lay on the pillow and the other was draped across the sleeping form of a child... his bejeweled hand clutched in a smaller one.

The owner of said small hand also slumbered, her tear-streaked face relaxed at long last. Kelsea Sparrow shifted in her sleep and tightened her grip, curling closer to the warm body next to her own...

"Mmph..." a muffled groan found it's way from his dry lips and Jack closed his eyes tighter against the light that was threatening to pull him into full wakefulness. He yawned and attempted to scratch his shoulder, but found that his hand was being held hostage by some unknown entity..?

Wait... Wha-? Kohl-lined eyes fluttered open in confusion, immediately squinting against the morning sun. Jack stared blankly at the unfamiliar wall for a moment, before the realization that he wasn't in his own cabin sunk into his sleep-clouded mind. So if he wasn't in his room... where WAS he–? Deciding blearily that there was only one way to find out, the pirate captain let his eyes travel over his surroundings.

Wall... Desk... Chair... End of a bed... Small foot..? He jerked in surprise and straightened quickly, picking his torso up off of the bunk... and immediately regretting that action. His head ached dully, as did his arm, and his knees were absolutely killing him from half-holding him up all night long on the cold hard floor. The pirate groaned aloud and mentally wished for someone to just shoot him. Meanwhile, the other body stirred.

Sensing the movement next to herself, Kelsea slowly came into consciousness. Rolling onto her back to stretch, the young girl yawned and let her own dark eyes drift lazily open. Oddly enough, the first thing that came into focus was her hand that should have been empty, but wasn't. Mild confusion set in as she stared at those somewhat grubby ringed fingers, letting her gaze travel slowly up the arm that was attached to said digits where it eventually settled on the bemused features of– Captain Jack Sparrow–?

And so another few heavy moments of staring commenced as the gaze of father and daughter locked. This staring thing, it seemed to be all they ever did anymore, but neither of the Sparrows could string together a proper sentence. Finally, the stillness was broken as Kelsea shot up in bed.

"C-captain Sparrow–! I... You... What're... I'm sorry–?" she stuttered, apologizing only because the situation seemed to call for it. What the bloody hell was HE doing there? But then the dryness of her eyes registered. Along with the tightness of her face. Along with the position they were in... and the previous twenty-four hours came back to her. Gibbs was dead and he wasn't coming back and she had been having nightmares and woken up the captain and now...

Jerking himself from his own stupor, Jack shook his head and snorted. Sure, comforting the girl had seemed like a good idea in the darkness of nighttime, but now it seemed a daft idea. What would the crew think if they caught him in here holding hands with the whelp-? Uneasy about the whole prospect, the pirate cleared his throat and quickly disengaged the girl's fingers from his own.

Rising to his feet painfully, Jack Sparrow turned and hobbled towards the door without saying a word. Kelsea watched him go, the man who was supposedly her father, with a million questions buzzing through her mind. Was this stoic and strange man really her father? Why had he come in during the night? Why wouldn't he say anything now? and most importantly... Why did Mr. Gibbs have to die and leave her alone with the distant Jack Sparrow..?

INSIGHT TO JACK SPARROW

Captain Jack stumbled out of that cabin with aching knees and a whirling mind. He hadn't known exactly what was going on within that room, so he had done the only self-preserving thing he could think of: he ran. Now, alone within his own quarters, he sat down on the bed and covered his eyes with his good hand. He needed to think.

The whelp, Kelsea... well, the fact of the matter was that she was his daughter. He had known that bit of information all along, of course, but it had always been easier to just leave her to Gibbs and call it a day– but now the only man who knew how to deal with the child was gone, and he, Captain Jack Sparrow, had sworn to take care of her.

What was he going to do? He wasn't the nurturing father type like Gibbs– he was a pirate, a bloody scallywag–! Jack sighed loudly and scrubbed a hand across his face. He knew how to handle women, sure, but all of those whom he had previously dealt with had been romantic pursuits and... well, none of them had been nine years old! Slaps were something he could handle, tears were not. He could deal with late-night rendezvouses, but never before had he dealt with one that involved nightmares. No matter, though –he knew– He had given his word to his dying friend that he would look after the girl, and that was what he intended to do...

That being sorted out, the pirate captain studied the boards in his floor with apparent intensity. The only question left to answer was one that involved something he knew less about than pre-pubescent women– his own feelings. Jack Sparrow didn't care much for feelings, bloody despised them in fact. As far as he could see, they weren't useful and only got in the way of making rational, selfish decisions. Yes, his thoughts on personal feelings were right up there with his thoughts on bathing– both a complete waste of time. However, knowing this in his mind and trying to STOP the things from screwing up his selfish plans were completely different stories. His chocolate gaze wandered vacantly over the pieces of broken chair that still littered his floor as he finally began to contemplate all of the emotions that made his stomach churn.

The truth of the matter... Well, if he was completely honest with himself (as he so hated to be), Jack Sparrow would have to admit that he cared for the little girl named Kelsea. Ugh, even thinking it made him uneasy for he was unused to having feelings of attachment to anything other than his ship! There was really no denying it though– It was inherent in the feeling of fierce pride that surged through him when he watched the girl out-duel, out-climb and out-pirate even some of the veterans of the crew; inherent in the longing to join in her childish games when she was teaching them to the others; inherent in the irrational surge of worry that tightened his throat if he saw her foot slip as she scaled the mast... Yes, as sure as the Black Pearl was his ship, Kelsea was his daughter, and he... he cared for her.

"Bloody Hell, Gibbs... Where are ye when I need ye the most..?" Jack murmured aloud, knowing in his heart that he was on his own for this one. Sighing for what seemed like the millionth time in one morning, the captain of the Black Pearl got to his feet and shrugged painfully into his coat. Sure he had finally come to terms with his feelings, but that didn't mean he had any idea how to act on them. Strapping on his sword and picking up his hat, he still felt the grip of uneasiness in his stomach as he walked out onto the deck for the first time that morning.

SIMULTANEOUS INSIGHT TO KELSEA SPARROW

The nine-year-old with deep chocolate curls and deeper chocolate eyes sat in the messy bed, wringing her hands. What exactly had just happened– in the past few minutes, in the past night, and in the past twenty-four hours..? Kelsea –Sparrow, as it were– sighed deeply and twisted a lock of hair around her finger in deep thought.

The only man, PERSON really, who had ever cared about her... well, currently his body was at the bottom of the crushing blue and his kindly spirit was somewhere that she couldn't even fathom. Yes, Gibbs was gone, and that was one thing she could be sure about. But... what about what he had said? Captain Jack Sparrow– the one unreadable pirate aboard the ship that honestly seemed to dislike her– HE was her FATHER..? The young girl's eyes settled upon her sheets, where she noticed dark smudges of kohl. Jack's head must have been there through the night. She traced the oily black streaks with one finger, deeply troubled by the thought that Captain Jack was supposedly her father.

It just didn't make any sense. All of those years that she had spent growing up aboard the Pearl, all of the hours she had spent with Gibbs out on the deck... the man had been standing never more than a stones throw away! If he was her father, then what had kept him from being... well... a FATHER? Kelsea sighed unhappily, laying down and curling up on her side. The sheet was still warm where his torso had been, she noticed subconsciously, and it smelled faintly of rum and the sea...

Oh bugger it all. She wanted to be angry with him– NEEDED to be angry with him. The man had ABANDONED her, after all... ABANDONED her when she was SLEEPING in the NEXT ROOM! Damn him, Captain Jack Sparrow had known all along that she was his daughter... and had never done a damn thing about it. He had ignored her, shunned her...

Without knowing it, she had been twisting the sheet up in her hands, and now she threw it down on the floor in frustration. Indeed, it was safe to say that Kelsea wanted VERY badly to hate the man she had always referred to as 'Captain' and never 'daddy...' but deep down she knew that she couldn't. Not only could she not HATE him, but she was now finding that she NEEDED the man, damn him to the depths– she needed him now more than ever and it hurt her pride to admit it. Kelsea Sparrow, nine-year-old-pirate-extraordinare, came to these conclusions and bit her lip before rising to get dressed. Maybe a climb to the royal yard, yes the one she had nearly killed herself climbing from the day before, would help clear her thoughts.