Disclaimer: The plot is all that's mine. The rest you have to thank Disney for.

A/N: Why hello there me matey! Ok so I know I've been evil…I just can't help it. It's that sadism in me that's just dying to come out….but hey. You know you love it. Don't deny it, friend, you love the cliffies. Who doesn't? *Smirk* Anywho, enjoy this chapter. Thank you for your reviews….I shall be posting personal thank-yous soon. J

Pirates of the Caribbean: The Winds of Change

A Promise Unbroken

What else could go wrong?

Stranded. No food. No water. No shelter. No form of communication. No ship. No women. No nice view. No women. No rum. No women. No rum…

And now someone is threatening me. What a lovely week.

Jack froze in mid-reach for a palm branch, inclining his chin ever so slightly in avoidance of the sharp blade that was resting firmly against his tanned neck. He tried to keep a slight feeling of panic from rising in his chest as the voice spoke again.

"Stand up…slowly, Sparrow. Very good. You follow directions perfectly when not under the influence of consuming the fine wine of the gods," the man commented as he rose slowly into a rigid stance. He still had not seen the man; he positioned himself behind Jack so that the hilt was directly in line with his left eye, the blade still against his throat. He could tell the man had a steady hand, for the blade trembled only slightly.

The hilt is at the left, Jack thought, still not daring to move. The hilt is at the left? He's left-handed…

"Dolan," Jack murmured in surprise.

A familiar guffaw of laughter made Jack smile broadly as the blade was lifted from his neck. He whirled around and saw a face he had not seen in at least twelve years. Tanned as dark as he, wearing traditional sailor garb with what appeared to be leather boots was the last man Jack had ever expected to see. The familiar twinkle in the man's green eyes made his heart leap and as he looked over the worn but handsome face of Michael Dolan, Jack felt hope spark in his chest.

"Jack Sparrow, for the love of Mary," Dolan smiled, sheathing his sword and pulling Jack into a tight embrace. "What on earth are you doing here…again?"

"I might be askin' the same question of you, mate," Jack said as he pulled away, looking over his friend. "But I suppose you're looking for your rum?"

"Aye. Left some here when we took you aboard, what was it, twelve years ago, reckon?" Dolan asked.

"Yep. Twelve years…lots has happened in twelve years, Dolan," he said.

"I hear tell from some crazy lads in Tortuga that you went on some damn mission after the Black Pearl," said the other, crossing his arms against his chest. "Don' be tellin' me…even yer not that thick, Sparrow."

Jack shrugged and grinned. "No, not thick. Just a pirate."

"So I hear."

"Look, I got lots to tell ye, but right now-"

"We figured those two men out there were yours, so don't be worryin' that pretty little head of yourn just yet about 'em. We were just so wonderin' as to why Norrington was with you."

Comprehension flooded Jack's mind…he had forgot about Norrington. The commodore was one of the reasons rum-runners like Dolan went out of business and had to sell everything they owned to stay aloft. Norrington was known for his bust of the Rum Ring barely a year before Jack went after the Pearl. No doubt it was still fresh in Dolan's mind.

"Ah, yes…that can be…ah, clarified," Jack treaded carefully. He trusted Dolan, but he knew that a man's lust for revenge on another for relinquishing and destroying his wealth, fame, and fortune could be a dangerous fantasy.

"Good. Jolly ol' Norrington and the boy have been moved aboard the Victoria Anne, so we best be gettin' on ourselves, reckon?"

"Aye," Jack agreed. They traipsed back along the island, and there, about one hundred yards into the clear sea, lay anchored the ship that had saved his life over a decade ago. She was a beauty to be sure, but had since rusted over and was in need of some obvious repairs, undoubtedly due to Dolan's misfortune in rum-running.

"Good ter have ye back, reckon," commented Dolan with a sideways glance at Jack. "This reunion would've been better if I knew what happened to all of that rum we stored…think Norrington got to it first?"

"Oh undoubtedly," said Jack, a little too fast for it to go unnoticed. Luckily, he was saved from response by a loud clap of thunder. They both looked up and saw that dark clouds were headed their way, quickly traveling across the sky from the determined wind. Without exchanging a word they both got in the towboat, taking up an oar a piece, and began the tedious row to the Victoria Anne.

"So who's this young 'un with ye, Sparrow?" Dolan asked.

"Oh…he's…ah….friend's cousin's…nephew's brother…" Jack huffed. Apparently he was more out of shape than he had remembered. Out of pride, however, he tried his best to sound as normal as Dolan did, even though the resistance of the waves against his oar was threatening to tear his arms off.

"Then why do he look like Bootstrap Turner?"

"See, the funny thing is-"

"And don't lie to me, reckon. Not nice, Sparrow, not nice," retorted Dolan, slyly grinning.

"Oh bloody hell," Jack mumbled. "He look like a Turner because he's Bill's son, savvy?"

"Bill's son?" repeated Dolan, obviously in shock at the news. "I didn't know he had a son…"

"Aye…not many…did," Jack gasped for air. His muscles felt like they were on fire…he needed to row more…

"How come he never told me?"

"Ah…I'll tell ye…everything…when we…get off…this bloody….THING!" he roared in frustration. He hated rowing, and he especially hated rowing when someone was better at it than he was. The laughter that followed only made him more aggravated.

"Ay, stop bein' bitter," Dolan said with a lop-sided grin. "Ruins the fun o' things."

"Nothing…is fun about…rowing…I…hate…rowing…"

"Yer such a lass, mate. And I thought ye would stop with the eyeliner."

Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation and turned to look at Dolan when the oar slipped from his fingers and into the sea. "No!" Jack pleaded reaching out with open arms towards his lost oar. "NO! Come back….please….don't….oh damn," he finally gave up. Once again, Dolan erupted in gruff laughter.

"I thought you were only clumsy when you were drunk, Sparrow?"

"When I want your bloody opinionated snippets I'll ask someone else," he grumbled, watching the oar float away helplessly.

"Aw, Jack, you'll feel nice and right when ye board the Victoria Anne again, reckon."

As he watched the oar float a few more feet and then descend slowly to the depths of the sea, Jack hoped Dolan was right.

~*~

The reunion with Dolan and his crew was more of a party than anything else. A few bottles of rum were passed around, some stale cinnamon bread, a few pieces of cut coconut meat, a plate of fried fish, and coconut wine rounded off a perfectly good meal.

Now that Will and Norrington were looking on the upside, Jack felt as if a heavy weight were lifted off of his shoulders. Norrington had finally come around and lay in his room, being taken care of by Dolan's aunt Ingrid, a tough old woman who had the worst pirate's mouth of all of them combined. She had greeted him with a huge wet motherly kiss on the cheek and Jack smiled as she grabbed him into a hug, squeezing him against her plump body. Ingrid informed him that both Norrington and Will would make a full recovery, and Ingrid (being the daughter of a Celtic herbal doctor) promised to health them both back to goods, even though she seemed quite hesitant about Norrington.

"So tell us here, Jack, what 'ave ye been up to?" asked Johnson, Dolan's first mate.

"Well, ah…'s a long story," Jack said drowsily. It had been an enormously rough day, and he was having a hard enough time avoiding the invitations to a glass of rum. "Actually, I'd be obliged to tell you all tomorrow-"

"Yeh can't get away from us that fast, now," Johnson joked, slapping Jack on the back causing him to choke on his fish. "Fess up. What 'ave yeh been doin'? Or should I ask who?" he finished, smirking so wildly that Jack had to grin in spite of himself.

"I haven't been doing much…or anyone, for that matter."

"What? No wild stories about Scarlet this time, eh?"

Jack felt his face grow warm even as he smiled his most mischievous grin. They all laughed at his reddened face.

"Alright ye scabrous dogs, let the poor man get ter bed. He's been through enough without all you good-for-nothings interrogatin' him about his lovers, however countless they may be," cried Ingrid, showing up in the doorway.

"Now now, mum, don't be jealous of his lovers," quipped O'Doyle, a stout man with a mustache.

"Oh quiet, you. Sparrow, the young 'un's awake, if ye want a word," she shouted over the raucous laughter.

Jack stood up quickly, mumbled a promise to tell him about that infamous night with Scarlet after he visited Will, and walked out of the tobacco-filled mess hall and into a small, dark and quiet side room. He squinted unaccustomed to the absence of bright light, and he heard a weak voice mumble, "Jack."

"Aye," he answered and blinked. He could now make out the vague outline of a bed in the corner of the room. He approached it slowly as to avoid a collision with any stray stationary bit of furniture, and finally sat down upon it.

"Jack…Elizabeth…?"

"Don't worry about her, you've got enough on your plate to be getting on with," mumbled Jack. He hated seeing Will like this; it reminded him of his crew.

"But she….Barbossa has…" he stammered, trying to sit up.

"Stop playing the bloody hero, boy," he retorted, pushing Will back down on his pillow. "You almost died. Try concentrating on getting better."

Will inhaled deeply and he knew that all the boy cared about was Elizabeth. Just like his father again, Jack thought. Bill cared for his wife more than anything…

"We're going to find her," Jack heard himself saying. "We'll find her, savvy?"

"Pr…promise me."

"Sorry?"

"Promise me, Jack," Will croaked from the darkness.

Jack blinked a couple times before answering. A promise was the most powerful pact in piracy, partially because they were so often broken. A promise unbroken went as a pact between friends; never broken and omnipresent. Jack sighed and said, "Promise, alright? Now get some sleep. I really am a bloody babysitter," he muttered, walking towards the door.

"Jack?"

He stopped in the doorway and heard the distant rumble of laughter coming from the mess hall. He turned partially to show he was hearing, and Will said, "I'm sorry."

Frowning, Jack asked, "What d'you mean?"

But Will's rhythmic breathing and nonexistent answer meant he had fallen back asleep.

~*~

"How is he?" Dolan asked as he stood at the wheel, looking up into the darkening sky.

"Who?"

"King Arthur. Bloody, who do you think I mean?" he asked, shooting a sideways glance at Jack.

He shrugged. "He seemed to be on the up and up…a bit shaky."

"Aye. I'd be shaky too if someone slashed my throat open too," the rum-runner commented, peering out at the foggy horizon. "Speaking of that…"

"I know I owe you an answer. And I promise you'll get one tomorrow," Jack said softly, looking down at his boots.

Dolan studied him for a few moments before answering. "Yer a different man, Sparrow."

"What?"

"A different man, reckon. Talk differently, walk differently…"

"I'm not becoming soft," Jack stated bluntly.

"No, nothing of the sort," agreed Dolan who was peering at him again. "Just…ye seem…" Dolan sighed. "Iono, Sparrow, I can't figure you out."

"Neither can I."

"I is serious. Seems like one moment you care nothing but for rum and women. Reckon if I had met Scarlet, from those stories I wouldn't blame ye," added Dolan slyly yet compellingly serious. "But now…now you care. 's like you got a purpose. What happened to yeh?"

Jack avoided Dolan's eyes. How could he tell him of his crew? Of the curse and the responsibility that rest upon his head? Of Elizabeth's pregnancy, Will's danger, and Barbossa's return? It would all have to wait until tomorrow, until he could gather his thoughts…

"As I said. Yer different, Sparrow."

"Aye?"

"Aye." Jack saw Dolan turn to look at him straight in the eye. "But that don't mean that it ain't a good different, reckon."

He didn't know how to respond and thankfully he could tell Dolan noticed. "Don't let it all go to your head, Sparrow," he commented wryly, looking up at the sky again. "Yer still a lousy, pirating drunkard as far as I see. Now get some rest," he commanded, turning back to the wheel, "and we'll talk all about the Turner boy and Norrington tomorrow."

Jack nodded and turned, quite exhausted, towards his cabin. He entered the room, perhaps six feet by four feet in size with a cot at the far end and nothing else to occupy the limited empty space in the rest of the room, save a small cracked mirror hanging from the opposite wall. He unbuttoned his shirt and lit a candle, sending a misplaced eerie light about his quarters. He stretched and turned to get into bed when he caught his face in the mirror.

It can't be…

He rubbed his eyes and checked the mirror again, just in case he hadn't seen correctly. To his utter shock, he had. He walked towards the mirror and thrust his face within centimeters of the cracked glass, checking yet a third time to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. He couldn't help but smirk and let out a wry laugh.

His cuts and bruises had vanished. He checked the rest of his body and noticed that not even a single scratch remained where there had been lesions and abrasions from the rough sinking of Norrington's ship, and noticed to his chagrin that he remained perfectly unharmed.

I'm not bleeding because I can't…which means…Jack grinned at himself in the distorted mirror. I'm not alive. The curse wasn't lifted. Jack looked up again to stare smiling at the candle, as it waned and eventually simmered into darkness.

 Elizabeth is pregnant.

~*~

Congrats to Leap of fate who guessed correctly about Dolan's identity!

To the rest of my reviewers…I love you all. Thank you so much…you  mean the world to me, and I'm glad you like this fic. I hope you like Dolan and Ingrid…they'll become increasingly important as the chapters go by. Do you like them? Let me know!