A/N: Hello, all, hope you're happy to see me back and writing again. Review
thank you's go to evanescence kix ass (sorry if I screw up your penname,
but I deleted the email ff.net sends w/ the review and for some reason it's
not showing up w/ the other review so I can't check it), and... Oh, wait,
ONLY evanescence kix ass. Huh, well, thank you very much evanescence kix
ass, your support is much appreciated. Enjoy chapter three!
The next few days pass as they do in my dreams. I'm somehow outside it all, watching, but only vaguely participating. I watch my parents- benefactors? - go about daily business. I've stopped eavesdropping on their conversations, as if I've reached some pinnacle, the ultimate secret, and any other tidbit I pick up is worthless in comparison. However, the price of such respect for privacy is a whole new secret: What are they planning to do with me now? I have no idea, but it can't be good. I don't change my behavior though; it would be far too suspicious if I did. No- for some reason I don't want them to know I know their little secret. I hold it up inside of me, make it mine, and when Mother- Elizabeth? Mrs. Turner? - scolds me, I'm barely listening. I'm wondering what my real parents are doing, and if they'd care if I spill hot tea on Madam What's-her-face at Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so's brunch. From what I can garner from Jack's letters, not too bloody likely.
Ah, the letters, my new prized possessions. Well, my new prized secret possessions, since no one knows I know anything about them. I read them nearly every night now, and my mind swirls with possibilities. The pirate's life is a hard one to be sure, but it seems to be in my blood, so how hard can it be? Captain Jack Sparrow, childhood hero, my role model in many respects- and my true father? In the letters he never comes right out and says he is, but I expect that. Father or no we're too of a kind; I can easily picture his writing to mirror his speech, winding, twisting, and hard to follow if you don't know how. But I know how, because I'm the same way, and that fills me with happiness, pride, and even comfort. I feel closer to my gang now than ever before now that blood doesn't tether me to the house of Turner. For now I am simply waiting, but I doubt my rising curiosity will allow that to go on for much longer.
"Gibbs! Get up, ya' ol' booze hound!" I shout at the prone figure in the backroom of the Mermaid's Tale. I nudge at the elderly man with the toe of my boot, but still get no response.
"Still not able ta' 'waken him, eh?" I hear Richard's smug voice say from the doorway behind me. I roll my eyes and sigh with irritation but grudgingly hold out my hand, "Knew you'd see things my way," the voice says and a mug of ice cold water is pressed into my waiting hand, "What do you say?"
"Thank you ever so kindly, Richard," I reply through clenched teeth. Bloody hell, how I hate to be proven wrong. Sighing once again at Gibbs I toss the water square in his face.
"Gah! Blimey, tha's cold!" the man splutters as his tiny eyes bug open and bolts into a sitting position, "Ah, good mornin', Gawain. And you, Richard." I slip Richard his copper as discreetly as possible as Gibbs attempts to mop up his brow with the collar of his drenched shirt. He follows Richard and me out to the bar.
"Had a good time last night, did ya', Gibbs?" I ask as we sit together in an out of the way table in the back.
The man at least has the decency to look embarrassed, "Aye, Gawain, that I did. Thanks fer puttin' an ol' codger up last night, Richard." The barkeep nods as he serves us our drinks and leaves.
Gibbs and I sit and drink quietly for a spell, don't want him to put his guard up too quickly. But my stomach is tossing in agitation, so the silence doesn't last long, "Hey, Gibbs?" I ask innocently, as if the coming question was of no more importance than the weather.
"Aye?"
"You remember those stories you an' Father used ta' tell me? 'Bout Cap'n Jack Sparrow?"
The aged seaman coughs almost imperceptibly on his drink. If this question had no purpose, I probably wouldn't have noticed his unease, "Ah, yes, I remember."
I lean back in my chair, nursing my drink in my lap and looking into the distance, the picture of leisure, "I was jis' thinkin' on 'em lately, thinkin' how great a pirate he is. 'S a wonder I don't hear more about him, in the streets or somethin'. Have you?"
The answer flies from his mouth so quickly I know it to be false, "No. Not a peep. Yer right, strange." He takes a few more gulps of the alcohol.
I put my elbows on the table and put my face close to his so he can see my eyes. I smile real wide as I say, "You know, the stories you told seem so real, I wouldn't be surprised to hear you were actually there, with him. Fightin' ghost pirates an' stealin' treasure an' goin' ta' far-off places."
Some of the unease coasts off of Gibbs' face, replaced by conspiratorial pride, "Well, lass, now that ya' mention it... You know, I never really tol' you everything. I left some parts out, you bein' a little thing, thought it'd be too scary for ya'. I'm sure yer father did as well."
"I'm not too young to know the truth now."
Gibbs blinks at that and now I know he knows my secret, but just how did he come across it? Time to test the waters, "Do you think I look like him, Gibbs?"
The unease is back, full force, "Uh- who, yer father?"
"No, Gibbs, do you think I look like Captain Sparrow?"
Again with a too quick lie, "No, no- not at all like him, definitely not."
"So you HAVE seen him," I probe, just hiding a triumphant grin. I can't show my hand too quickly, he's not ready yet.
But he's close to it, "Yes, yes, girl- I have seen and I have worked wit' him before. Blast you an' yer damnable trickery, yer worsen' he is!"
"Who, Will Turner?"
"Ha! Will Turner couldn't trick his way out o' a town o' lackwits. Sparrow, I mean. Yer worsen' Jack, at least he was a little straightforward."
My heart lurches painfully and I choke out the next question, "Was?"
At this Gibbs catches himself and realizes just how much he has revealed, "How should I know, girlie?" he snaps sharply, then softens, "I'm jis' a washed up ol' sailor. He could be, could not... Ye' never really knew wit' Jack."
I make my voice as pathetic as possible and damn near make MYSELF cry, "And you say I don't look a thing like him."
"Aw, nah, darlin', ya' look loads like him."
I can feel my eyes welling up, "Really?"
"Aye, girl, spittin' image almost, but don't tell yer folks I said that." He puts a finger to his lips and winks at me.
I smile, "Thanks, Gibbs. It's good ta' know the truth from you."
The elderly man suddenly looks panic-stricken, "Wait a minute, I didn't tell you anything! Whatcha' talkin' about? What truth? Oh, Jack'll have my head on a platter if he finds out I spilled me guts so easily!"
I'm tempted to let him go on like this, it's fairly amusing, but I feel slightly guilty for playing him like a cheap fiddle, "Calm down, Gibbs, calm down. I already knew."
"What?! How? How did you find out?!" He is now staring at me like I'm a stranger, like I'm a dangerous animal.
"I think my benefactors have had their fill of me."
His eyes fly open at my simple and less than daughterly statement, "They told you?!"
"No, Gibbs, they didn't. Look, it's not important how I found out-"
"More tricks then," he grumbles, again looking at me like I may strike at any moment, "'S a wonder ye' didn't find out sooner. Well, so much fer Jack's hopes fer ya'. You know, I was worried the very first time the guv'ner took ya' on a boat. I tagged along ta' make sure you were safe, an' the look on yer face as soon as we got out o' the harbor-" his eyes turned heavenward, as if recalling a fond memory and silently pleading forgiveness all at once, "Twas like lookin' in a window to the past. I could see it in ya' as clear as daylight, as clear as I did in Jack. An' then ya' started goin' 'round as this Gawain Burns person, I knew there'd be no stoppin' ya', twas only a matter o' time 'fore ye' wanted yer own ship, crew- adventures. Twas a mistake, tellin' ye' 'bout Jack, especially the stories o' his grand deeds, I know this now."
"No, Gibbs," I quickly contest, "If you and Father hadn't told me them, if I'd never come to know the truth, I'd've been miserable. Look, it's not in me ta' live the life o' the governor's granddaughter, it just isn't. I would spend all my days feeling out o' place, but not knowin' why. I'd have no purpose! But now I do, now I know where I belong, an' I'm glad fer it, you hear me? I'm glad ta' know I'm a pirate," I give a small laugh, "It actually simplifies a few things."
"Aye?" Gibbs raises a bushy eyebrow inquiringly, and then squints hard at me. He says with a strange solemnity, "Now that you know I can truly see the Sparrow in you. Ye' already have a plan, dontcha'? Been listenin' ta' the local rumors, have ye'? Oh no, don't tell me ya' been listenin' ta' that crackpot barkeep, wit' his crazy mermaid's tale. That's nothin' but rubbish, ya' understand?"
It's my turn to raise an eyebrow, "I'm sure that's what ye' said 'bout the curse of Cortes' gold, eh? The undead pirates, were they rubbish as well?"
Gibbs looks aptly abashed, but recovers enough to say, "Well, that was different. Didn't involve entire islands sinkin' inta' Davey Jones' locker, fer one! An' no fantastical creatures, fer another!"
"Who was the one who said I should have my own ship, crew, adventure?" I count them off on my hand then hold the digits out to Gibbs.
The man swats them away angrily. I see I'll have to be more careful how many times I make a fool of a man, "Oh no, ya' won't fox me wit' that again. I said no such thing, Guinevere Turner. Point o' fact, if I had it MY way, ya'd forget all this business an' go home, ta' the only parents ya' know an' will ever know. Ya' think Sparrow wants anythin' ta' do with you? That's why he sent ya' ta' Will an' Elizabeth in the first place."
This last statement hits me like a punch to the gut. I suddenly find myself fighting a lump in my throat, "But... he sent letters... and money. He can't want to totally wash his hands of me." I stare down at the table to avoid looking at Gibbs, but I can see his pitying expression at the top of my vision.
"Ah, girl, ya' had best get used to the facts," he speaks slowly, burning every word into my brain, "Jack Sparrow was a pirate, an' a great one. An', like jis' about every other pirate that ever sailed, NOT a family man. The sooner you accept the fact that ye' pro'bly have many more half brothers an' sisters in places wit' less idea o' their origins than you, the better off ye' shall be. Jis' be happy he had the sense ta' set you up in a good home wit' kind people before he-" Gibbs stops abruptly there.
"Before he what, Gibbs?" I ask harshly, spitting out his name, "Is Jack Sparrow dead?" The old seaman squirms under my scrutinizing glare, and for a moment I relish my effect on him and wonder if it only stems from our past friendship, or if I can do it to anyone, "Well, is he? Speak!"
"I can't say, child! I was sworn not to!" He stops squirming and simply looks wretched in his seat.
I gaze at Gibbs with shrewd eyes, "Sworn, eh? Kind of strange, I've never heard o' pirates being sworn not to tell o' their captain's deaths before. You know? I don't think he's dead at all," Gibbs flinches, and I know I've hit some nerve, "But where is the great Captain Jack Sparrow then, hm? Why, I have no idea! Do you, Gibbs?" He only stares at me plaintively, and I know I will get no more information from him- at least not today.
"Fine then," I snap at him, pushing out my chair and standing. I walk towards the door, but stop as I pass Gibbs. Leaning close to him, I say, "But you won't stop me from being who I am, who I'm meant to be. If it's true, and I am Jack Sparrow's daughter, no one will." I stalk from the bar, not missing the sound of Gibbs' tired sigh as he slumps in his chair, thoroughly defeated.
A/N: Okay, I've managed to hold off the tricky stuff for another chapter. Wow, I don't think I've every done a chapter that is nearly all one conversation. You'll notice these chapters seem to be getting shorter and shorter- trust me, I tried to get to ten pages, but it was so hard! And I'm plum outta creativity for one night, so you'll have to wait. Read and review please! And also, if anybody has any hints on getting italics to show up on a .doc, don't hesitate to share.
The next few days pass as they do in my dreams. I'm somehow outside it all, watching, but only vaguely participating. I watch my parents- benefactors? - go about daily business. I've stopped eavesdropping on their conversations, as if I've reached some pinnacle, the ultimate secret, and any other tidbit I pick up is worthless in comparison. However, the price of such respect for privacy is a whole new secret: What are they planning to do with me now? I have no idea, but it can't be good. I don't change my behavior though; it would be far too suspicious if I did. No- for some reason I don't want them to know I know their little secret. I hold it up inside of me, make it mine, and when Mother- Elizabeth? Mrs. Turner? - scolds me, I'm barely listening. I'm wondering what my real parents are doing, and if they'd care if I spill hot tea on Madam What's-her-face at Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so's brunch. From what I can garner from Jack's letters, not too bloody likely.
Ah, the letters, my new prized possessions. Well, my new prized secret possessions, since no one knows I know anything about them. I read them nearly every night now, and my mind swirls with possibilities. The pirate's life is a hard one to be sure, but it seems to be in my blood, so how hard can it be? Captain Jack Sparrow, childhood hero, my role model in many respects- and my true father? In the letters he never comes right out and says he is, but I expect that. Father or no we're too of a kind; I can easily picture his writing to mirror his speech, winding, twisting, and hard to follow if you don't know how. But I know how, because I'm the same way, and that fills me with happiness, pride, and even comfort. I feel closer to my gang now than ever before now that blood doesn't tether me to the house of Turner. For now I am simply waiting, but I doubt my rising curiosity will allow that to go on for much longer.
"Gibbs! Get up, ya' ol' booze hound!" I shout at the prone figure in the backroom of the Mermaid's Tale. I nudge at the elderly man with the toe of my boot, but still get no response.
"Still not able ta' 'waken him, eh?" I hear Richard's smug voice say from the doorway behind me. I roll my eyes and sigh with irritation but grudgingly hold out my hand, "Knew you'd see things my way," the voice says and a mug of ice cold water is pressed into my waiting hand, "What do you say?"
"Thank you ever so kindly, Richard," I reply through clenched teeth. Bloody hell, how I hate to be proven wrong. Sighing once again at Gibbs I toss the water square in his face.
"Gah! Blimey, tha's cold!" the man splutters as his tiny eyes bug open and bolts into a sitting position, "Ah, good mornin', Gawain. And you, Richard." I slip Richard his copper as discreetly as possible as Gibbs attempts to mop up his brow with the collar of his drenched shirt. He follows Richard and me out to the bar.
"Had a good time last night, did ya', Gibbs?" I ask as we sit together in an out of the way table in the back.
The man at least has the decency to look embarrassed, "Aye, Gawain, that I did. Thanks fer puttin' an ol' codger up last night, Richard." The barkeep nods as he serves us our drinks and leaves.
Gibbs and I sit and drink quietly for a spell, don't want him to put his guard up too quickly. But my stomach is tossing in agitation, so the silence doesn't last long, "Hey, Gibbs?" I ask innocently, as if the coming question was of no more importance than the weather.
"Aye?"
"You remember those stories you an' Father used ta' tell me? 'Bout Cap'n Jack Sparrow?"
The aged seaman coughs almost imperceptibly on his drink. If this question had no purpose, I probably wouldn't have noticed his unease, "Ah, yes, I remember."
I lean back in my chair, nursing my drink in my lap and looking into the distance, the picture of leisure, "I was jis' thinkin' on 'em lately, thinkin' how great a pirate he is. 'S a wonder I don't hear more about him, in the streets or somethin'. Have you?"
The answer flies from his mouth so quickly I know it to be false, "No. Not a peep. Yer right, strange." He takes a few more gulps of the alcohol.
I put my elbows on the table and put my face close to his so he can see my eyes. I smile real wide as I say, "You know, the stories you told seem so real, I wouldn't be surprised to hear you were actually there, with him. Fightin' ghost pirates an' stealin' treasure an' goin' ta' far-off places."
Some of the unease coasts off of Gibbs' face, replaced by conspiratorial pride, "Well, lass, now that ya' mention it... You know, I never really tol' you everything. I left some parts out, you bein' a little thing, thought it'd be too scary for ya'. I'm sure yer father did as well."
"I'm not too young to know the truth now."
Gibbs blinks at that and now I know he knows my secret, but just how did he come across it? Time to test the waters, "Do you think I look like him, Gibbs?"
The unease is back, full force, "Uh- who, yer father?"
"No, Gibbs, do you think I look like Captain Sparrow?"
Again with a too quick lie, "No, no- not at all like him, definitely not."
"So you HAVE seen him," I probe, just hiding a triumphant grin. I can't show my hand too quickly, he's not ready yet.
But he's close to it, "Yes, yes, girl- I have seen and I have worked wit' him before. Blast you an' yer damnable trickery, yer worsen' he is!"
"Who, Will Turner?"
"Ha! Will Turner couldn't trick his way out o' a town o' lackwits. Sparrow, I mean. Yer worsen' Jack, at least he was a little straightforward."
My heart lurches painfully and I choke out the next question, "Was?"
At this Gibbs catches himself and realizes just how much he has revealed, "How should I know, girlie?" he snaps sharply, then softens, "I'm jis' a washed up ol' sailor. He could be, could not... Ye' never really knew wit' Jack."
I make my voice as pathetic as possible and damn near make MYSELF cry, "And you say I don't look a thing like him."
"Aw, nah, darlin', ya' look loads like him."
I can feel my eyes welling up, "Really?"
"Aye, girl, spittin' image almost, but don't tell yer folks I said that." He puts a finger to his lips and winks at me.
I smile, "Thanks, Gibbs. It's good ta' know the truth from you."
The elderly man suddenly looks panic-stricken, "Wait a minute, I didn't tell you anything! Whatcha' talkin' about? What truth? Oh, Jack'll have my head on a platter if he finds out I spilled me guts so easily!"
I'm tempted to let him go on like this, it's fairly amusing, but I feel slightly guilty for playing him like a cheap fiddle, "Calm down, Gibbs, calm down. I already knew."
"What?! How? How did you find out?!" He is now staring at me like I'm a stranger, like I'm a dangerous animal.
"I think my benefactors have had their fill of me."
His eyes fly open at my simple and less than daughterly statement, "They told you?!"
"No, Gibbs, they didn't. Look, it's not important how I found out-"
"More tricks then," he grumbles, again looking at me like I may strike at any moment, "'S a wonder ye' didn't find out sooner. Well, so much fer Jack's hopes fer ya'. You know, I was worried the very first time the guv'ner took ya' on a boat. I tagged along ta' make sure you were safe, an' the look on yer face as soon as we got out o' the harbor-" his eyes turned heavenward, as if recalling a fond memory and silently pleading forgiveness all at once, "Twas like lookin' in a window to the past. I could see it in ya' as clear as daylight, as clear as I did in Jack. An' then ya' started goin' 'round as this Gawain Burns person, I knew there'd be no stoppin' ya', twas only a matter o' time 'fore ye' wanted yer own ship, crew- adventures. Twas a mistake, tellin' ye' 'bout Jack, especially the stories o' his grand deeds, I know this now."
"No, Gibbs," I quickly contest, "If you and Father hadn't told me them, if I'd never come to know the truth, I'd've been miserable. Look, it's not in me ta' live the life o' the governor's granddaughter, it just isn't. I would spend all my days feeling out o' place, but not knowin' why. I'd have no purpose! But now I do, now I know where I belong, an' I'm glad fer it, you hear me? I'm glad ta' know I'm a pirate," I give a small laugh, "It actually simplifies a few things."
"Aye?" Gibbs raises a bushy eyebrow inquiringly, and then squints hard at me. He says with a strange solemnity, "Now that you know I can truly see the Sparrow in you. Ye' already have a plan, dontcha'? Been listenin' ta' the local rumors, have ye'? Oh no, don't tell me ya' been listenin' ta' that crackpot barkeep, wit' his crazy mermaid's tale. That's nothin' but rubbish, ya' understand?"
It's my turn to raise an eyebrow, "I'm sure that's what ye' said 'bout the curse of Cortes' gold, eh? The undead pirates, were they rubbish as well?"
Gibbs looks aptly abashed, but recovers enough to say, "Well, that was different. Didn't involve entire islands sinkin' inta' Davey Jones' locker, fer one! An' no fantastical creatures, fer another!"
"Who was the one who said I should have my own ship, crew, adventure?" I count them off on my hand then hold the digits out to Gibbs.
The man swats them away angrily. I see I'll have to be more careful how many times I make a fool of a man, "Oh no, ya' won't fox me wit' that again. I said no such thing, Guinevere Turner. Point o' fact, if I had it MY way, ya'd forget all this business an' go home, ta' the only parents ya' know an' will ever know. Ya' think Sparrow wants anythin' ta' do with you? That's why he sent ya' ta' Will an' Elizabeth in the first place."
This last statement hits me like a punch to the gut. I suddenly find myself fighting a lump in my throat, "But... he sent letters... and money. He can't want to totally wash his hands of me." I stare down at the table to avoid looking at Gibbs, but I can see his pitying expression at the top of my vision.
"Ah, girl, ya' had best get used to the facts," he speaks slowly, burning every word into my brain, "Jack Sparrow was a pirate, an' a great one. An', like jis' about every other pirate that ever sailed, NOT a family man. The sooner you accept the fact that ye' pro'bly have many more half brothers an' sisters in places wit' less idea o' their origins than you, the better off ye' shall be. Jis' be happy he had the sense ta' set you up in a good home wit' kind people before he-" Gibbs stops abruptly there.
"Before he what, Gibbs?" I ask harshly, spitting out his name, "Is Jack Sparrow dead?" The old seaman squirms under my scrutinizing glare, and for a moment I relish my effect on him and wonder if it only stems from our past friendship, or if I can do it to anyone, "Well, is he? Speak!"
"I can't say, child! I was sworn not to!" He stops squirming and simply looks wretched in his seat.
I gaze at Gibbs with shrewd eyes, "Sworn, eh? Kind of strange, I've never heard o' pirates being sworn not to tell o' their captain's deaths before. You know? I don't think he's dead at all," Gibbs flinches, and I know I've hit some nerve, "But where is the great Captain Jack Sparrow then, hm? Why, I have no idea! Do you, Gibbs?" He only stares at me plaintively, and I know I will get no more information from him- at least not today.
"Fine then," I snap at him, pushing out my chair and standing. I walk towards the door, but stop as I pass Gibbs. Leaning close to him, I say, "But you won't stop me from being who I am, who I'm meant to be. If it's true, and I am Jack Sparrow's daughter, no one will." I stalk from the bar, not missing the sound of Gibbs' tired sigh as he slumps in his chair, thoroughly defeated.
A/N: Okay, I've managed to hold off the tricky stuff for another chapter. Wow, I don't think I've every done a chapter that is nearly all one conversation. You'll notice these chapters seem to be getting shorter and shorter- trust me, I tried to get to ten pages, but it was so hard! And I'm plum outta creativity for one night, so you'll have to wait. Read and review please! And also, if anybody has any hints on getting italics to show up on a .doc, don't hesitate to share.