Title: The Sparrow and the Starling

Author: Cynic

Rating: R

Warning: Some gore, non-consensual sex/otherwiseknown as rape, murder, character death, sadism, future slash, and general angstyness. Oh and Drunkenness in this chapter. Not to mention a lot of references to prostitution. And a little cursing… God, I really am wracking up the warnings. Hope Big Brother doesn't kick me off.

Disclaimer: I am just pilfering my weaselly black guts out.

Pairing: Jack/Will (in Seme/Uke correctness. Gotta admit that Jack wears the pants)

Archive: Yes, please! Just inform me at QueenDrgn06@aol.com

Feedback: Anything from flames, fangirlism (don't I wish) to constructive criticism

A/N: Writer's block's a bitch. I hate the second half of this chapter. Everything from when we get Young's point of view to the end of this scandalously short chapter I hate. But I really wanted to post this, so I could write the next chapter in peace. Anyway, the vote is unanimous! Go on! I was probably going to anyway, but y'all make me feel so happy!  *is a reviewjunkie*

Jessie-Greenleaf – Sinister Pirate? You think he's sinister? *glomps* I try so hard! Thanks for the review! Heheh. No need to beg. I am continuing.

Krimzon- I did have a lot of foreshadowing, didn't I? Much to my dismay, though, when rereading my fic I realized I put in foreshadowing that had nothing to shadow, don't worry though. I think I worked it all out. Oh and I was beginning to like Billy too! I think, when I finish this fic, I am going to write the story of Billy's two year old birthday.

Ote Cuttlfish – You get a bit more of Henry's casual cruelty in this, possibly some insights into how Jack and Henry know each other, but the reason why they hate each other is not obvious.

eck – I agree about Norrington being a smart man, but the thing was that he did disapprove of Will and Elizabeth. He loved Elizabeth himself. My way of thinking is that even if he never went out and said that he disliked Will, everyone working for him would sort of get that jealous vibe. And would you go to a blacksmith your boss hated? And I agree, Elizabeth was a bit OOC, but from she was getting clued in toward the end.

IceWind – *sigh* *grin* *points downward* Jack

Haya-- *sigh* *rolls eyes*

Element Rogue/Syd/Ru-Chan/Firestar385/BJ Jones/robindragon/BJ/MadamStella – Thanks for your review! *gives them all cookies*

Chapter Two: Loss

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            Captain Jack Sparrow was back in Tortuga. He knew this place well, had lived in it all his young life until he ran off as a pirate. He had never considered it his home, though, that was always his ship. That is until Elizabeth and her men came into his life. Since then, he had been coming home to Tortuga more and more, becoming genuinely excited at the drab and dirt that was the pirate's haven.

            Jack whistled as he flounced down the road to Will's small smithy. Coming to the place, he raised his bejeweled hand to knock on the door, but before he could make contact an old and cracking voice came up from behind him, "He's not there little Sparrow."

            He lowered his hand and brought them together, turning on his heel.

            "And where could I find the boy, lovely Jan?" he spoke, nodding as he did.

            "Not there. Not there little Sparrow," she sat there, looking at him with her clouded blue eyes, empty and mad.

            "Yes, yes, we've established that. Do yah know where he is?" he said, not as intolerantly as one might expect, Jack was a very patient person. Waiting ten years to kill a man that betrayed you will do that to a person.

            She smiled at him, her toothy grin filling her weathered and thin face, "Pigs Fly, Jack Sparrow. Fly away, just like you. Just like you and Starling and little bitty Wren. Pigs Fly."

            Jack's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly at the word 'starling' but then he always did. He managed not to react in anyway to her saying, 'wren', but his heart panged a little and he smiled a little more drunk, as he always did. He realized what she was trying to say, and clasped his hands up toward his face, bowing slightly. He turned to go in and she started humming to herself again.

            Old Tortuga was almost gone. It had almost faded into this newer and cleaner version. Pirates had become less dirty and degenerate since he became one, there were less of them. Only one brothel on Tortuga now, and this one was much more respectable than the haunts of early youth. Remnants of it lived in women like Jan and Anne, the Madame of the Flying Pig tavern and whorehouse. Famous for its cheap grog and cheap company, it was a favored abode to most of the men of the area. He glanced at the sign above the door, as if to check that it was the right tavern as he walked in, but he knew that it was. He could never forget the Flying Pig. He merely liked to look at signs. It was a habit of his, he liked the way that they were painted and thought out. He liked names too, and words. His favorite sign had been the Captains Daughter, and he especially liked how they combined both possible meanings.

            As he entered the foul and smoke-smelling building, he was accosted by some whores, barely fitting into their dresses and smelling of rouge and sex.

"It's the Sparrow, girls!" one of them crowed, dressed in blue and lace, fluttering her fan girlishly. The rest of them surrounded him and a particularly brassy red-head tweaked his nose.

"Have you come to pay to play with us, Jack, or to play for pay with us?" she said, tilting her head coyly. Her eyes had nothing of a flirtatious nature, they were green and hard. He knew this woman and she was no trifle.

"It's Captain Jack, darling Lily, and no matter what old Annie tells you, and aye she will tell you, I play no more. Now, loves, pearls o' me heart-" he began, but another woman interrupted him.

"Oh just spit it out, Captain" she said his title like it was painful to make it pass her lips and particular turn to it that made it clearly an insult, "We all know the only pearl of your heart is a black one."

He smiled ruefully, "You wound me, Portia, with your suspicion. But as usual, you are right. Have any of you fine ladies seen a young man, a bit taller than me-"

"Not that that's uncommon," inserted Lily, who had height advantage over Jack.

"Flattered Lily, anyway, has a funny hat, hair like a wenches-"

"Not that you should be speaking."

"Thank you Natty-"

"And looks like he sat on something sharp and pointed yet didn't bleed? Aye, I saw him" said a newcomer. The girls seemed to back away slightly as she came into the circle and even Portia lowered her eyes.

"I heard ye called me old, Jack, I'll have you know that you are younger than me only in age, whelp, Ye put on too much kohl to look any younger then I," she said, almost warmly, "And yah have no skill at it."

"How many times do I have to tell you all? Its to reflect the sun out o' me eyes on my boat. It's not an affectation" he said, with the air of a man much aggrieved by repetition. The girls all looked at him disbelievingly, but he only smiled impishly and spoke again, "So, where is the lad?"

"Over there, in a corner," supplied Annie, and as he went to take her hand and kiss it she whacked him hard about the head.

"And you wonder why we always slap you on sight. Yer always behaving like you did something wrong. Off with you now," she spat, shooing him off.

"That's probably because I normally have, love," he answered and minced his way over to where Will sat, trying to avoid the more unpleasant looking customers. He didn't feel like a fight right yet.

            Will stared determinedly at the amber liquid within his mug as if he saw the secret of life within its depths, or at least a very pretty woman. Will did not seem to notice someone walking up behind him, which was impressive being that someone was Jack. Jack always made enough noise on land to rival wild bores on rampage, you never needed to be quiet on a ship. Jack placed a ringed hand on one of Will's shoulders and was going to say a greeting.

            But before he could speak Will did, "No I do not want your pleasurable company and yes I realize you're cheap. Do go away."

            Jack smiled and sat down in the stool opposite Will, "Honestly, I am hurt,Will-"

He began, but was interrupted by Will.

            "Jack! I am sorry, you just have such small hands and your rings. I thought you were a light wench, I'm sorry, its just that-" he babbled, obviously highly embarrassed.

            Jack cut in, unconcerned, "That you would think me cheap."

            Will closed his mouth and went back to staring at his rum with the air of a man who was not going to acknowledge that sentence.

            "So, why are ye staring at that fine drop and not drinking it? If you don't want it, I'll take it, I am a bit too sober for me liking." Jack said.

            "No more money after this one," Will said shortly.

            Jack raised his eyebrows and Will continued unprompted, "Haven't worked much lately."

            "You never appeared to be a drinking man, Will. Can't hold yer liquor worth a salt in the first. So whats been making you splice the mainbrace so hard that all you have been making is empty bottles, eh?" he said, curious and more than slightly worried. Will looked awful. His normally scrupulously clean and upstanding appearance was shattered by clothes that haven't been changed in days and eyes that haven't slept. No, his old friend did not look good at all.

            Will's face fell, and he seemed to need to force the words out. "Elizabeth," was all he managed and went back to silence.

            "Did she run a way with another man?" Jack asked, shocked. He didn't know she had it in her, especially with how much she loved their lad.

            Will shook his head and choked out another word, in a breaking voice, "Pirates." He honestly looked like he was going to cry, and Jack felt uncomfortable sitting there and questioning him when he was obviously so upset. However, Jack had the feeling he needed to know so he continued.

            "She ran off with a pirate?" Jack asked, guessing. When Will mutely shook his head, he tried again.

            "To be a pirate?" he said, even more confused. She definitely did not have that in her. Despite what ever fire she showed, she got seasick far too easily. Will again signaled no. Jack was running out of options.

            "Then what-oh. Oh." Wills shoulders shook with silent sobs and he hunched over his mug, trying to hide the tears running down his face. Before Jack could ask the question he volunteered an answer, "Billy too."

            Jack's face hardened and he made a decision.

            "Now, yer gonna finish that mug, and then we are going back to me ship and getting good and drunk, savvy?" he said. He had never been good with sympathy, but his heart ached for Will. The only ways he knew to deal with a problem was to get good and drunk or to tumble in the nearest haystack. He figured that the second one was probably not a good idea.

            As Will drank the rum in front of him, still despondent, Jack seethed with anger. Who did this to Will? Who killed her? He wanted and needed revenge and knew that Will did also. But what Jack needed to do was to make sure Will kept himself living until the day they could kill the as of yet nameless bastard.

            Will abruptly stood up and started to walk out the door to the tavern. He set a clip, and Jack was caught unawares, so the other man was out the door before Jack got up. He weaved in and out of the drunks and the whores, murmuring pardons, until he got to the door, where Portia called out, "A customer, Jack?

            All the girls giggled but Jack responded shortly, "Not the time Portia. Farewell, girls."

            If they had any response, Jack never heard it because he was already outside.

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            There was a common misconception about pirates and pirate ships. Stories were often told of the pitiless captain and the cowed crew. But that, as such stories often are, was patently not true. Most pirates became pirates because of such treatment in Her Royal Navy, including the one standing behind Captain Henry Young now. He picked the worst ship to run away from such tyrants and run into freedom. Most ships had a semblance of democracy, with the Captain only being unquestioned when in time of battle and important decisions like where to sale or whom to attack being put to the vote. This, however, was not most ships.

            The Hawk swayed and rocked as ships are oft to do when anchored. Her captain stood at the rail and studied the island that they berthed at. Yes, they always stopped at Tortuga, but they always left just as quickly. Tortuga put the captain in a foul mood, and nobody liked the captain when he was angry. Young took one last look at the green and verdant isle and, deciding he had been silent long enough to make his point, turned back around to glare at one of his boatswain.

            The man studied the deck of the ship, careful not to meet the captain's eyes. His tattooed head had a sheen of sweat, and he no longer wore the maniacal grin he did when fighting Will. He shuffled his feet, uncomfortable in the silence and his head hurting from the earlier concussion.

            "Defeated by a blacksmith?" Young finally snapped. His blue eyes glittered in the half-light and his lips played with a menacing smile. The fight had been two days ago, nearly exactly, but Pious Pete was only now able to stand.

            "Uhh… aye, sir. And he took me cutlass!" Pete may be a good pirate, but he certainly wasn't a smart one. Suddenly Young's demeanor changed and he very nearly chuckled.

            "Did he now?" he murmured, "I do hope he gives shows it to Jack."

            Heartened by the captain's response, Pete tried again, "Sir? Why'd ye leave'em livin'?"

            Young gazed out onto the open sea, and when he spoke it was obvious he wasn't really talking to the pirate, "Oh I want Jack to know exactly what I did."

            He smiled slowly at nothing, imagining his enemy humiliated and beaten before him. Pete fidgets nervously, bringing Young's attention back on him.

            "But don't think that you are going to get out of this lightly, oh no," he said, turning his attention and his smile back on Pete, "My ship need careening, don't you think? But that's such a hassle. Maybe you can do it for us?"

            Pete's eyes widened and he took an involuntary step back. Young's grin spread and he called out, "Lads! Come here. This fellow needs a keelhauling."

            The crew pored out from below deck. When the captain called, no one dallied. Several of the grisly faces held expressions of distaste, although they never let Young see them. The men stripped Pete of clothing, most eyes asking for an apology mutely, but none daring to voice their thoughts. They tolerated this cruelty and tyranny because Young was simply the best. He made the most profit and he was scrupulously fair. If you failed, regardless of any circumstances, you would get the punishment for failure. If you succeeded, regardless of any circumstances, you would get the reward. He also inspired a strange sort of loyalty. He manipulated the men, often making them feel like they deserved whatever he meted out, that he was being merciful. In moods like these, though, he just relied on their fear. The men passed a rope from port to starboard, working efficiently. Young watched, his eyes crinkled in a smile, as they tied his hands onto it.

            "Jenkins! Welsh! Brotter! You haul him" the captain said, lingering over their names. He had picked Pete's closest friends, but they dared not defy him. The most resistance was one whispered, "Sorry Mate" as they pushed him over the side.

            The pulled as hard as they could, not wanting him to drown. Yet even as they pulled they knew that the razor sharp barnacles would do Young's work for him. And yes, as Pete was drawn out of the water, spluttering and gasping for breath, a mirage of cuts decorated his back. He lay gasping on the clean wood deck, bleeding from his wounds and coughing up seawater.  Young smiled.

            "Clean him up and bring him back to the bunks. I want this deck to be spotless again."

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            Will grunted an answer to Jacks question and took another swig of rum. Jack sighed, and asked another question, "Yer mother was a man, aye?"

            Will nodded yes and took another swig of rum. Jack rubbed his temples. This worried and responsible feeling was not normal for him and it was uncomfortable. Feelings were not his forte, and he would prefer to keep his heart right were it is, thanks. It didn't need to go meeting any other hearts. But Will was devastated, Jack wasn't sure the truth had hit them yet, and by God and Ship and everything else that is holy they were going to talk about it.

            Jack, who had already seen the bottom of several bottles, turned Will forcibly so he was facing him.

            "Look, would ye tell me what happened? I can't help yah if you don't tell me," he said, possibly sharper then he intended.

            Will wanted to scream and yell and curse Jack. He wanted to throw things and get so royally drunk he had a morning after headache to rival to the Apocolypse. He wanted to forget anything ever happened, he wanted to pretend that he was out getting drunk with Jack like he always did when Jack visited and tomorrow he would be in for a scolding from Elizabeth. He wanted to hurt somebody and he wanted to do anything but tell Jack what happened. He wanted to do all those things, but he didn't. Instead Will closed his eyes and took another sip from his rum. Taking a deep breath he started,

            "A man-he came into our shop. A pirate really, acted like a lord or something Seemed polite. Bil-" when he tried to say his name he choked, but before Jack could say anything, he lifted up his head again and continued, "He said that you were the best pirate ever or something of that sort. You know how he worshiped you? It scared her, she didn't want him to be a pirate."

            He fell silent for a moment, remembering. His eyes whirled with a mixture of emotions but the strongest was not loss or mourning. It was intense regret.

            "He said your name and then he changed. He insulted her, and she insulted right back. I told her never to do that! But she didn't listen." He shuddered and took a huge gulp of his rum, as if trying to drown the memories, and to wash out the faces in his mind.

            "I kicked him out and then that night-"  he stopped, absolutely unable to go on. He enjoyed being in denial. He did not want to say what happened and make it fact. He wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare where he got exactly what he wished for.

            Jack closed his eyes, a slow, sinking feeling in his stomach telling him something he did not want to here. But he knew he had to know.

            "Did he give you a name? Or the ship he was on?" he said, hesitant.

            "Henry-" Will began but was interrupted by Jack, "Young. Of The Hawk, aye? Tall, skinny, blue eyes?"

            Will nodded and now it was Jacks turn to take a chug of his drink. It seemed ancient history was determined to rise up. He finished the glass and did not bother to poor another. He just handed Will a bottle and took one himself. Throwing his head back, he guzzled as much as would go down, and set the bottle down with a thud.

            "That damn bilge rat is dead."

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A/N— No I did not make up keelhauling. It is an honest to God punishment. I hope I did not give away to much, there was one sentence (and no I am not telling where ^^) that sorta gave it away. Have you guessed Jacks secret? Anyway, see that pretty little button? Review!