Disclaimer: Grand revelation of the day...I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean. Or Captain Jack Sparrow, for that matter. Unfortunately. No, I'm just an aspiring writer who decided to take a few liberties with Disney's movie. So don't sue me. Thank you, and enjoy the story.

Authors Note: I've wanted to write a PotC fanfic for ages, and finally inspiration dawned on me. As the summery said, this is story of the further adventures of Captain Jack Sparrow. A warning, there will me a new character of my own design joining the story. She is not, I repeat, not a Mary Sue. And just to be on the safe side, I give you leave to flame me if she starts going in that direction. With that said, please read and enjoy. And remember, reviews make me happy, and a happy author is an updating author, so feel free to press that little button on the bottom and leave me a note. Now, on to the story…

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Sunspots

Danielle Palmer. The words slid smoothly from the tip or her quill, marking the inside cover of the book with a practiced signature that transformed the pilfered into the personal. Giving it an appraising look, she smiled contently, closed the book, and briefly admired the green silk brocade encasing the hard cover, running a finger along the uneven pages inside before slipping it into a hidden pocket among her skirts.

 Danielle had come across the treasure in a small trinket shop buried among the taverns and brothels that seemed to have overrun Tortuga in recent years. It was a place she visited sporadically to escape from her reality. Fingering the odds and ends collected from the far reaches of the world reminded her that there was something else out there, thousands of destinations waiting just over the horizon, should she ever build up the courage to go. Before today, however, she had never bothered to take any of the treasures with her. She had no place to keep such things, and would have ended up selling or trading them away soon enough. There were dozens of stalls strewn around the island that were much more suitable for such and endeavor.

 However, that day her sharp eyes had picked out the rich green cloth of the book, and an idea had seized her. It was nothing new to her, this fierce desire to share her secrets and sorrows. As she flipped delicately through the blank pages, a vision flashed before her eyes: strings of dreams and confessions in her hand filling the book to the brim. Without a second thought, she had slipped the book into her pocket and turned toward the door. Nodding demurely in the direction of the inattentive shopkeeper, she slipped outside, losing herself among the traffic of the road.



Not but a mile away, yet another ship had docked in the busy port, and topside the crew had assembled in a haphazard group, each member eager to delve into the pleasures of Tortuga. After brief words by one who, by the sheer size of his had, could be none other then the captain, all headed off to lighten their pockets of their ever so burdensome plunder. The last to leave was the captain himself, looking fondly over the ship as he walked away. In a drunken swagger, he made his way to the nearest tavern and slipped through the entrance. Inside, cries of "Jack" and "Sparrow, I'll be damned" resounded throughout the room, punctuated by the crash of several chairs hitting a wall near the back, one of them still occupied.

"That's Captain, savvy?" he said in mock indignation to no one in particular, grinning at the familiar faces before taking a seat in a secluded back corner. Nearly hidden by the shadows was a thin, wiry man sitting across from him, nursing an amber drink in one hand. Without looking up, he passed it to Jack who finished off the mug easily and signaled for more to be brought to the table. Finally, the man spoke.
"I heard you were coming around. We have much to talk about."


Several hours later found the two men significantly more inebriated and overflowing with stories that had collected for far too long.


"And then they made me their chief!" Jack finished with a flourish, his fingers dancing animatedly in the air. As he settled back into the seat and took a long draft of rum, the man let out a long laugh that shook his very frame. Finally recovering, he took on an air of gravity.


"Jack, it's been too long. Five years you've been off doing the devil knows what, and I've been trapped here, with naught but the odd case to keep me in good spirits. I could have been a rich man by now, if it weren't for you, ye scallywag." Jack sighted, acting only slightly affronted at the berating. "A fine practice I had, living among the civilized, working on that good Navy ship, before you and your lot attacked. Taken aboard a pirate ship, of all the appalling, disgraceful-"


"You don't really believe all that drivel, do you Doctor? Because it would be a pity if I has wasted room aboard the Pearl to house a complete idiot. And a strange kind of idiot it is that can save a mans life but forget the bloody whelp he was sailing with that almost cost him his own." Jack smoothly cut him off, not in the mood for an undeserved lecture. The doctor mumbled something under his breath, but no more was said on the topic.

What followed was several minutes of uncomfortable silence, broken only by the raised voices and crashing bodies nearby. Finally, Jack alighted to a topic both were happy to delve into. "So, mate, there must have been some good horror stories you can share, being the good doctor that you are." He finished with a knowing smile.


The Doctor stroked his chin thoughtfully, sifting through his patents carefully for one of particular interest. Among the bodies, there were not many that stood out; shootings or stabbings the most obvious, sickness or sudden death the rest. While each gruesome to the last, there was not much of a story behind most. Suddenly, his eyes lit up.

"Yes, yes. There was one case, a girl quite a few years back, that brought you to my mind." Across the table, Jack looked concerned, listing in his mind who she could have been, and more importantly, if she would be seeking retribution. He had had quite enough reunions his last time into Tortuga with the fairer sex, and did not wish to repeat the experience.

"No, no," the doctor said dismissively, alerting to Jacks look of consternation. She was a child, no more then twelve at the time, though by now she must be near twenty." Once again at ease, Jack took a generous swig of rum, and the doctor continued his tale.

"You see," he began, leaning in conspiratorially, "I found her in the alley, rolled into the shadows like a kitten not but a few paces from my home. At first I thought she was sleeping, but when I looked closer, her dress was streaked with blood. Nasty cut across her shoulder, it seemed. Well, I'm not one to let a child die in the street, so I go to take her inside. The little thing sprung up the moment I touched her, eyes as wide as saucers, they were. You would have thought I was Death come to take her last breath the way she looked at me. Took me ages to get her inside, but wouldn't let me near the cut. So what I do is, I give her a cup of ale, tell her it'll make it stop hurting. The little thing has it done in one gulp, and before I know it, she's fast asleep on the floor." Here he looked up, and blanched at Jacks skeptical look.
"If this be your best story, mate, you really do need to get out more. Maybe find yourself a girl, or-" 

"Oh, bloody hell Jack, that's not the end of the story yet. Give me a moment, aye?" Jack nodded, conceding, and the doctor continued. "So I go to wash off the blood, and underneath it all, I see something green. At first I think it's a trick o' the light, but I cut away part of the dress, and it's a tattoo. Not just some little thing, either. I keep pulling back the cloth; bloody thing went all across her back. A thing of beauty, really, but strange on a child's back." Looking up again, he caught Jack's eye, noticing a wisp of interest before it was blinked away.


"Do tell, do tell," he prompted.


The doctor smiled to himself, sure that he had struck upon something of importance. "Well, it's been years, but I tell you, I see it clear as if it were in front of me now, a sun dripping down to a golden pit, surrounded by thick band of green. And amid all this were writings; at least I suppose that's what they were. No manner of language I've ever seen before or since; couldn't make heads or tales of it myself, really. Anyway, I stitched her up best I could, and the next morning she'd run off quite as a spirit. I still see her around though. She never left these parts, though I doubt many know she's here." At that, Jack snapped out of his thoughts.


"And why do you think that?" he asked curiously.


"Well, from what I've seen, she don't like to make herself well know. Impedes in her line of work, I'd imagine." At Jack's questioning look, the doctor gave a half smile. "Quite a little thief she grew up to be."