Waki 36

At last... Jack Sparrow come to life. Captain Jack Sparrow, pardon me. Geesh, my muse is so touchy lately! Anyways, life appears to be getting back to normal. I am writing again. I've done a couple of chapters of this, actually, which I must now send to SilverSoleAlchemist to be beta'd, because even if she only ever picks up on my grammar mistakes, her feedback always makes me happier than a penguin at a fancy dress ball.

With love, Jiia

"All right, Captain Jack." Bootstrap sighed as he sunk down into the worn surface of the only chair he had seen in over a year. "We need to find you a name."

"I tought I aweady 'ad a name." Jack mumbled through a mouthful of ever-so-slightly mouldy bread.

"Well…You need another one." Bill snatched a piece of the bread from the impressive platter he had managed to nick for his captain's first breakfast. "We can't just call you Captain Jack. It needs to be Captain Jack Something-or-other."

"Why?" Jack frowned, swallowing the chunk of bread.

Bootstrap paused, watching the bob of his Adam's apple with an expression that was not quite as unreadable as the older pirate probably hoped. Jack almost smirked.

"Because you do." Bill muttered, tearing his eyes away and staring out the grimy glass into the vast expanse of ocean trailing away behind them.

Jack watched him for a moment, absently tearing a piece of bread apart with his nimble little fingers. The man who had become his mentor was a strange creature, even by Jack's standards. Never had he known a man so contradictory. He was honest with everyone except himself. He was the picture of honour, and yet wallowed in shame. He was the strongest man Jack had ever known (After all, how many cabin boys could have stood up to one of the most feared pirate captains in the Spanish main at a tender age of sixteen?) and still, his weaknesses shone through like the bright sun through the salt-streaked glass. He was a perfect man crafted entirely by faults. Exactly the kind of person Jack aspired to be.

"I've got one." He smiled, popping another bit of bread into his mouth. "Cap'n Jack Turner."

Bill choked. Which was odd, considering he wasn't eating anything to begin with. He whirled around to face the young boy happily swinging his legs off the end of the bed, raising a finger as if to scold the child he called captain. The words seemed to curl up and die in his mouth, however, and he simply sighed once more, pulling his trademark red bandana off his mop of russet hair and pushing a hand through the salty strands.

"No. I'm honoured that you'd think of it, but no. I want you to pick something that's yours, not mine. Something people will always be able to remember."

Jack grumbled under his breath, but it was more of a show than a real gesture. He had expected nothing less from his poor, conflicted pirate.

But now, of course, he had to come up with a name. A name which was uniquely his. A name which would stick in the hearts and minds of everyone he came across. That was how one got to be notorious, after all. It did no good to do great deeds if no one could remember your name.

And then he felt the heavy weight of his new decorations graze the side of his cheek, and a memory returned to him. An ocean, a sunrise, and a little brown bird perched between the bars.

"What were they, Bill?" His memory asked.

"Sparrows, Jack. Sparrows."

Jack smiled.

"Bill… I know who I am."