Disclaimer:  I own Jack and Ana, and when I say that, no one can say I'm stealing their characters, but they also can't be certain that I'm really not . . .oh well, I own the little ones and the bad guys, no one else . . .

AN:  Band camp is over!  I am free!  I'll almost miss it, though it means that I have real time again . . .at least a little bit, though I have to go to a friend's overnight birthday party tomorrow and watch my brothers again Sunday and Monday.  Oh well.  My grandma's doing at least a little better—they were able to cut down on her oxygen.  My feet are still attached to my body and my toes to my feet—nothing that wasn't attached could ache so much.

AN2:  The first was pointless and the result of a minor breakdown at the end of band camp.  I talked to myself for a full half-hour when I got home because no one else was here, and I think I convinced my section that I am a complete nutter during the last two hours of band camp, but who cares!  It was great!

AN3:  The second was also pointless.  All right.  Here we go into what I really meant to say.  You guys are really sweet, I mean really sweet.  I didn't mean to make you all do research, I was just frustrated by everything that's happening in my life.  However, thanks to you really kind people and several Google searches, I have decided that the Pearl is a not-quite-a-brig, not-quite-a-galleon, unique ship, and thus it shall stand until I can buy the bloody DVD and freeze it on pictures of the Pearl to determine exactly what it is.  I have also determined I can never be a sailor because ships are extremely complicated.  Thus I think we'll keep out of major descriptions of the ship, though I'll do what I can and I'll try to give everything the right name, try being the key word.  If anyone sees anything wrong, please inform me ASAP.  I promise I'm in a better mood and actually getting sleep now . . .not that I've ever bitten anyone's head off for giving helpful criticism, but rereading some of my old AN's for this story, I'm not sure what impression you guys got . . .

Trust Me Still

Part 4

Jack stalked along the short corridor, the struggling bundle held tightly against his side despite the numerous kicks, cries, wails, punches, and the few bites that were emanating from it.

The last thirteen hours had been some of the most memorable in his life.  The boy hadn't called him Uncle Jacky in front of the crew, for which he was grateful, but the lad had done enough other things to make Jack seriously consider jumping overboard, as he couldn't quite bring himself to think of throwing Will Turner's son off the side of his ship.

It had taken Elizabeth several minutes and many reassurances to convince the boy that he and Ana-Maria were still their friends and that it was a good idea to go with them to look for his father.  Once that was done, it was a fairly simply matter to encourage him to grab some clothes and follow along.

Childish curiosity had helped on that score.  The boy had never been on board a ship before, and he wanted to know everything that he could about it.

The walk through what remained of the port had been eerie and silent.  Jack had entertained an idea of looking for Norrington's body to give the man a decent burial, or Brian's, the young redcoat that had tried his best to defend the pirate for no other reason than he had a good heart, but he knew it would waste precious time.

Besides, whatever it was that had made them the good men they were, it had died with them . . .or moved on to something else.  Jack had always avoided giving much thought to what happened to the essence of a man when life abandoned him.

Giving respect to the dead could wait until the living were all cared for.

Getting Elizabeth and young Jack out to the Pearl had been amusing, in a way.  Jack had ended up rowing as Ana-Maria and Elizabeth tried their best to keep the boy from either capsizing the small boat or simply sending himself down into the deep.

Neither had happened, though, for which Jack was immensely grateful at the time.

Once they had the boy on board things had gone from bad to worse.  Gibbs had come up to him and tapped him on the shoulder not fifteen minutes after they had arrived on the Pearl, while Jack was still setting a course that should bring them to Tortuga—and, he hoped, information—within two days.

"I know, I know, bringin' a woman on board is bad luck, but we've had Ana-Maria for eight years now and the only one who could say they've had bad luck is me."

"I wasn't goin' to say anythin' about that, Captain.  I was just wondering if you knew that the young master you brought on board is up in the rigging."  The aging man had pointed upwards.

Jack's gaze had followed the finger slowly upwards until it settled on the young boy, balancing on the yard for the topmast sail on the mainmast, leaning out towards the sails as he dangled with one hand from a rope.

The pirate was dimly aware of someone cursing in a mixture of English and Oriental tongues as he sprinted to reach the lad.

It had been an interesting chase through the rigging, and the boy had seemed intent on giving the pirate captain minor heart attacks by nearly falling multiple times.  Jack had found that he could balance much better when he wasn't chasing a child.  He had a lurking suspicion that the entire thing would appear hilarious to any crew members watching from the deck.

He hadn't been disappointed.  When he finally caught the lad and climbed down with the boy balanced on his shoulders, he had been met by a circle of grinning faces.

"What are you mangy dogs looking at?  Back to work!  It seems all yer good for, letting a lad climb up into the rigging and not noticing!"

The crew had responded quickly and efficiently, some looking ashamed, some disgruntled, and many wearing careful masks of neutrality.

Elizabeth had taken the boy then, and Jack had been able to return to captaining his ship.

Tales of the boy's antics quickly spread across the ship, though.  He had managed to get his head nearly stuck in a cannon and dropped a cannon-ball on one of the crew's feet before Elizabeth had brought him back on deck again.

"I'm so sorry, Jack.  I swear he's not normally like this."  Jack felt his anger dissolve at Elizabeth's weary tone.

"It's fine, love.  He's lost a father and a sister and a home all in one day.  He's on board a ship for the first time in his life with people his father's parting words lead him to believe could be the same type who caused it all.  His mother was hurt.  He's afraid and angry and young.  The ship will survive."

Jack hadn't added that he wasn't sure he would.

Jack had just settled in to showing off his ship to Elizabeth when a splash and a shout caught his attention.

"Cap'n!  That kid you brought, he went off the stern!"

Jack had only taken time to unbelt his sword and toss it into Elizabeth's hands before diving over the side to fetch the boy, who was screaming and flailing in the water.

After being dunked several times by the boy's overeager movements, Jack had finally managed to grab both the boy and the rope that his crew had tossed out to him, and both were quickly pulled on deck.

That was the last major bit of trouble that the boy had been able to cause.  Elizabeth had locked him in the cabin that Ana-Maria was sharing with the small family, as she was the only crew member besides Jack to have separate living quarters.

Jack had foregone most of supper in favor of drinking rum with Gibbs and Ana-Maria while Elizabeth watched her son.

He had awoken with a vague recollection of talks of mutiny and pirates not being babysitters and several curses that he rather didn't care to recall and friends lost and unending horizons.  He also seemed to recall a certain female pirate escorting her inebriated captain down to his cabin, stripping him of all but his pants, and directing him towards his bed.  It wasn't the first time she had done that for him; he was fairly certain that it wouldn't be the last, either.

It had taken him only a few moments to shake off the last vestige side-effects of the rum and discover that the reason he had woken was approximately five-years-old and playing with Jack's sword.

The sword was special, unique, a gift from Will when Jack had desperately needed it.

The young man had somehow worked the gold filigree into the shape of a bird in flight on the hilt, and the blade, perfectly balanced and finely sharpened, had a J inscribed on both sides of it roughly a half-inch below the hilt.

Fit for a king and given freely to a pirate.  I didn't deserve it, Will.  I still don't.

You do deserve it, Jack.  I made it for you, and that's all the proof you should need that you deserve it.

Jack had kept the blade in perfect condition, and he quickly snatched it out of the boy's hands.  A quick glance around his cabin had assured Jack that his sword wasn't the only thing the boy had gotten his hands on.

He had wasted no time in grabbing the boy and working his way towards Ana-Maria's cabin.

Quickly opening the door, he dropped the boy on the first cot he saw.

"I think this belongs to ye."

A lamp was quickly lit, and Jack saw that it was Ana-Maria he had thrown the boy at.

"Sorry.  Make that you."  He pointed towards Elizabeth, who was sitting up now on a different cot.

"Jack!  What have you done now?"

The pirate captain opened his mouth to protest before he realized that she was talking to the boy.

"I was just looking, mommy!"  Tears rolled down the boy's face.

"He tore my cabin apart and was playing with my sword."

"Jack, what did daddy tell you about playing with swords?"

"Don't do it unless it's a sword daddy made and daddy or mommy is in the room to watch."

"Right."

"The sword is one of daddy's."

Jack wondered how a boy so young could already discern the differences in craftsmanship between blades.

"Yes, daddy made it, but he made it for Uncle Jack, not for you, and you can't touch it unless you ask him first, okay?"

The boy crossed his arms over his chest, pouted, and then nodded unhappily.

"Now, come lie down and go to sleep."  Little Jack skittered over and lay down next to Elizabeth.

"Thank you for bringing him back, Jack, and I'm sorry again."

"No trouble."  Jack restrained himself from thinking about throwing the boy overboard and leaving him there.

Elizabeth didn't respond.

Staring over at her, he saw her eyes scanning his arms and chest and he realized what she was doing.

She was staring at his scars.

Some were two decades old and barely discernible.  Others were newer and easy to pick out.  Jack supposed that if he tried, he could tell exactly who had given him each scar and when.

Turning to Ana-Maria, he saw that she was also scanning his scars, her head tilted as though seeing him in a new light.

The dual attention made him distinctly uncomfortable.

"What, ladies, like what you see?"

Elizabeth blushed.  Ana-Maria laughed softly.

"We'll see you in the morning, Captain Jack Sparrow.  Go back to bed before you trip over your own feet and kill yourself."

Jack gave a mock bow, turned and left.

"I didn't mean to stare, Ana-Maria, it's just that it's been so long since I've seen him without a shirt I'd forgotten how many of them he has."

"I know, and so does he.  He just doesn't like being reminded of his mortality, or his 'failures'.  That's why he hates that brand on his arm."

The lamp was blown out and the room returned to darkness.

"You seem to know an awful lot about him."

"If you get Jack drunk enough, he gets philosophical.  He's gotten drunk enough a lot over the past eight years."

"Is he going to be all right?  If we don't find Will, or if we're . . .too late?"

"Aye.  He'll survive.  He's good at surviving.  The main question is, what will you do?"

Elizabeth's silence was all the answer that the female pirate received.