Disclaimer ~ I don't own POTC!!

A/N Second chapter!! Right, enter Jack's mother, and no she is a not a prostitute, like she appears in most other fics I have read about her!! Please Read and Review. And ohh I'm dead happy 'cause I've just updated Jack Sparrow's Guide to Life. . .so please go and check it out!!

Chapter Two ~ Marcie

Marcie stood facing the mirror, pulling the tortoiseshell comb through her slinky black hair. Not naturally black of course, she had been born a light mousy brown. But it is not how we are born, but who we grow to be, that really matters. Her makeup was immaculate, and hardly noticeable it blended in with her face, giving her the appearance of natural, rather then artificial beauty.

She smiled back at the reflection that greeted her wide eyes. Marcie was not a modest person, she did not have to waste on such practices in her busy life. She was beautiful, and she knew it.

The bands of gold twinkled in the lamp light, as her slender hands caressed her hair. Marcie stood up, and lay the comb on the dressing room table. She took a step back, scooping her long dress off the floor to get a better look in the mirror. A few final touches were added, before she was ready.

She straightened her dress, dusted off, and spread it out elegantly.

She turned to the doorway, but stopped dead.

"Jack? What are you doing here?" She asked, trying to be annoyed, but the feeling escaped her. In truth the sight of her son had made her feel so much more alive.

He ran to her, and flung his arms around her slender body.

"Jack, my dress!" She said, with a laugh.

He let go at once. "I had to come an' say good luck."

She grinned. "I don't need luck, Jack."

He nodded. "I know."

"Anyway, shouldn't you be with Bill, poor child, imagine seeing your father. . ."

"I wouldn't mind." Jack said, quickly.

She clasped her ringed hand over his mouth. "You must not talk so, your father is good to us." She turned to the mirror, straightened her dress once more. Before she left, she pecked Jack on the cheek. The eleven year old watched as she disappeared from the room.

Marcie was an actress, a glamorous, and most sought after woman. She had talent, bags of it, and the theatre loved her. And she loved life. She was, what was known as a 'child of the Earth', she adored living, and was determined to enjoy every minute of it.

It was this which sparked such a strange reaction when she declared herself the wife of Ronaldo Sparrow. Ronaldo Sparrow made it his personal calling in life to wipe sin from the Earth. And what was the biggest sin of all, happiness. He hated to see people enjoy themselves.

He both adored and despised his wife. She had led him along the path of temptation, and stole away his very reason for being. He felt she was evil, and that he had fallen under her spell. And as punishment for both of them, he was determined to make their lives a misery. But try as he might he could not control Marcie, he could not stop her from acting.

That night she did well, the flowers graced her path back stage, where Jack was still waiting for her.

The two walked home through the back streets. Marcie having donned her usual rags, her husband did not agree with fineries.

When they got to the door, Jack stepped back.

"Jack?"

"I'm gonna go see Bill for a bit, Marcie." He said, before turning and running. Marcie sighed, and tried to gather up the courage to walk through the door. She could stand in front of thousands of drunk men and act a siren, or the damsel in distress, or the villain's sister. But she could not face the verbal battles that arose at every meeting with her religious husband. She was almost glad Jack wasn't there, if he had any sense he wouldn't come back. But then again that boy didn't have any sense, and he would be back, if only for Marcie's sake.

She pushed open the door, as Jack turned the corner.

"Marcella, what time do you call this?" Was her greeting.

Jack walked quickly to the docks. He didn't look behind him, as he gently retraced his steps through the town. He emerged by the harbour, and threw himself on the grass, watching as the boats were bobbed up and down by the caressing waves.

He stared out into the black horizon, the silhouettes of the grand ships swallowing up the light. The distance, it seemed so far away. But then again so close, he reached out he hand, gave a little twist and pulled it back in again. It was almost like he could touch the distance.

The giant ships towering over him, they could touch the distance. Maybe that was what a ship was, it was freedom.