Title: Rumors
Author: Cúdae
Rating: PG
Summary: A character study in grief and the psyche. Could be taken as AU, but it is up to the reader to decide what is real and what is not.
Main character: Jack Sparrow
Author's Note: Meant to be a character study in the effects of grief on the mind and presence of Jack Sparrow. You, as the reader, play a key role in this. It is up to you to decide what it is that flows through Jack's mind and passes before his eyes. As Gibbs said, reason has nothing to do with it. Constructive criticism appreciated.
Disclaimer: I do not own Jack Sparrow or William (Bootstrap Bill) Turner. They are not my creations. I am making no profit off this.
Introduction…
The sea is both gentle and deadly, more so than the forces of wind or earth. Yet both wind and earth are formidable forces in their own right. Together they may blend to wake the dead and throw the living to their knees in homage.
So few understand this. So many lose themselves to it.
The sea lures and lulls, the wind carries the sweet voices crying, and the earth murmurs of things that cannot be told with words. If only, if only they could speak, they would have tales to tell. Stories from the darkest depths of time. Stories more frightening than any ghost tale and more beautiful than any child's fairytale. The sea would beat the songs upon the earth and the earth would echo them into the sky and the sky would give them to the wind to carry to the people of the world.
Together the tapestry would be made, telling the story of the world from birth to ending days and all who heard it would listen.
Some fly on the wings of clouds. Others pound the earth with their feet, beating out a rhythm to match the rhyme. But still others sail. They take to the waters and hear freedom's song. Some it drives mad, others it drives sane.
Chapter One…
He was sun burnt and hungry. Rum was good, but food sounded far more appetizing. He cursed the sun in the sky and the water. He cursed the sand. It would be his luck for a storm to come up and bring waves the size of ships down on top of him.
This was Barbossa's fault. He never should have let him have the position of first mate. William would have been better. And undoubtedly more trustworthy. But he hadn't used sense when listening to Barbossa, thinking he was so old he'd die soon anyway. Of course, that was foolish thinking, as Barbossa wasn't nearly as old as he looked, but Bill had never wanted power and Jack wasn't going to risk their friendship by giving it to him. And now look where it had landed him. Mutinied against, stranded, and starving. But he had rum. Maybe he could drink away the memories.
---
"What do you mean he's trapped?"
"Stuck! Under the wood, y' know?"
"Stuck? Jack's stuck?"
"I'M STUCK!"
"He's stuck." The man confirmed unnecessarily. The other sighed and went over to the ruins of the house. Sure enough, the boy was stuck.
"Jack… How did you get there?"
"Good question. Don't have an answer for you. Can you help me out, though?"
The boy pushed against the wood that was trapping him. The older man shook his head. He was cursed with a klutz for a son. The boy should have learned by now not to walk over things that looked unstable, unsteady, rotting, tipping, or otherwise unsuitable for human feet. In fact, it should have been common sense.
"Can you help me out now?"
The boy was pushing against the wood as hard as his ten year old strength allowed. The man grabbed his shoulders and pulled, jerking him free with a grunt. The boy scrambled to his feet and darted off back towards the ship. The older man followed slower. He would have to lose this boy somewhere. The next port, perhaps, he could leave the useless thing. He would hardly feel any remorse at doing so. Since he had claimed the boy and brought him aboard the ship, things had gone ill. Storms had taken their toll on the ship, throwing it against rocks and tearing their sails. Hard-earned plunder had been found to be worthless. Prisoners had escaped under their noses. Jack was bad luck for them. It would indeed be better to leave him.
"Father! Look at this!"
The boy was standing on the dock of the ship, holding out a coin. He had never seen one like it before and was fascinated with the designs on the front and back. His father knew it to be virtually without worth, it was so common. He took it from the boy's hand and threw it over the side.
"What-- What was that for, Father?" The boy cried, anguished at seeing his personal treasure gone.
"It was worthless." The man turned on his heel to go to the helm, but paused and looked back at the boy. "Worthless like you."
---
He shut his eyes against the spray of salt water in his face. Or maybe the salt water came from his eyes. He couldn't tell anymore. Curse Barbossa for leaving him here. The Black Pearl was his by right! Perhaps… no, William was never much of one for rising against leaders. Even when the crew had gone against Jack, he stood aside, playacting the role to save his own head.
Was it friendship or fear that halted him?
---
He was fourteen years old and hiding behind a pile of trash. He did not want to admit it to anyone that passed by, but he had no home and no food. Nor did he have any money. He was a street urchin, condemned to scavenging shamefully.
He'd taken to thieving. The docks were as good as anything to steal from. Cargoes from merchant ships were guarded, but not well and it was easy for him take things to sell later. But it wasn't nearly enough.
More than once he had thought of ending his life then and there. He could steal a knife or a pistol from some wealthy man and put a stop to it all. He would not have to worry about being hanged for theft, because he'd be dead after all. He was worthless anyway. If he lived, they probably wouldn't even bother to hang him, just flog him to death for their own amusement.
He dug through the stinking pile of waste until he found something that looked like an apple. He bit into it. Maggots invaded his mouth. He coughed and vomited.
---
The barrel of the pistol felt strange in his mouth. Strangely comforting. The sharp taste of metal and sand seemed to be calling to him. His finger danced over the trigger.
---
He was a scrawny sixteen year old. Pirates had raided the city only days earlier and the place was still in chaos. He relished in it. He could walk into houses and simply take food and valuables. He took his share of liquor too.
But the chaos was starting to die down and people where starting to take notice of things gone missing. He would be back to taking in the night soon. And taking from rubbish.
For awhile he had become the apprentice of a tailor, but that had not lasted long. He had proved too much for the old man and his wife. At least that's what they told him. He knew he had hardly any skill in the trade, though. He had hardly any skill at anything.
He wandered down to the docks and gazed at the ships there. If only he could get aboard one of those… But he was a common criminal now and knew nothing of the seas. It had been too long since he was last on them. No crew would accept him and certainly no captain would have him. He would be a waste of time. He would be useless.
He curled up between some crates and drifted off into a fitful sleep.
The pounding of running feet woke him. That and the body that landed on top of him moments later.
"Argh!" He cried in surprise and pain as the wind was forced out of him.
"Gah!" The other cried as he realized someone else was there. The flickering light of torches could be seen approaching. The other put his hand over Jack's mouth. "Don't make a sound." He whispered. Jack nodded, too stunned to fight back. The other pressed his body against his. He was larger than Jack and crushing him. Jack stayed still and silent. "Don't move," the other hissed. Torchlight swept the area around them, casting deeper shadows over the place they hid. Jack could feel more footsteps, some running. He heard a shot ring out in the night.
Then all was silent. The person on top of him pushed himself halfway up and looked about. Then he climbed to his feet and nodded to Jack. "Thanks for cushioning the fall," he said, a grin on his face. Jack could see that he was a few years older than him and looked quite a bit stronger.
"Who are you?" Jack asked.
---
He was William Turner. In later years he became a good friend of Jack's. Maybe too good of one. It had been a strange meeting, with stranger results. William was the son of a merchant and supposed to follow that road himself, which he did to all outward appearances. But he had taken up with pirates and relished the lifestyle. He brought Jack with him on many an adventure, until Jack found himself. Then William returned to England, married some woman Jack vaguely remembered meeting once and thinking- but not voicing- that she was too small for William. When Jack took over command of the Black Pearl, William joined him on it.
Now William had a child. He told only Jack that he named the child after himself and that he had lied blatantly that he was a merchant sailor to his wife. She'd tell the child that and one day…
William had never finished his thought that night and Jack had not pressed it. But he kept the knowledge that William had a son close to his heart. He was unsure why.
Suddenly Jack laughed. Barbossa wasn't stupid, he knew of Jack and Will's friendship. He'll probably try to kill ol' Bootstrap too. Jack took a long drink from the bottle of rum. If he got off this island, he'd find William and get him off his too.
Little did he know his friend wouldn't have the luxury of an island.
---
The next day, Jack found himself rescued. Two weeks later he was in Tortugas, listening for rumors of the Black Pearl. He heard that they'd mutinied against the famed Jack Sparrow and said not a word of his true name. Later he heard, over a mug of bad beer, that they'd killed Bootstrap Bill. Some said they shot him in the head. Others said they'd stabbed him through with his own sword. And one other, a strange man no one had seen before, said they'd tied a canon to his boots and drowned him. The man kept a hood low over his face, but Jack caught sight of a strange grin lighting on the stranger's face. The grin looked familiar, but he couldn't place it. Or maybe he didn't want to.
That night he mourned his friend in the only way he knew.
---
To be continued in Part Two.
