DISCLAIMER: I think we all know the truth. But for those who want to know, here it is: I do not claim ownership of anything you recognize. They belong to whom they belong and those people know who they are. Savvy?

Summary: For years Jack has kept his darkest secret close beside him. However, he is forced to tell Ana the truth when a mysterious figure confronts Jack and claims to know the answers Jack seeks. J/A. Rating for some violence.

Half-Life

Part 4

Jack paced slowly along the rough, unkempt streets. His hands rested in his coat pockets and his head hung low to the point where his chin almost rested on his chest. All flippant gestures were absent as if they had never existed as Jack continued to trod along, ignoring the light drizzle that was falling and soaking through his clothing to chill his skin. His thoughts were racing from one thing to another but always shied away from the memories of Bootstrap. Despite the fact that many of those memories were fond Jack refused to let himself delve into them because he considered his friendship with the whelp's father to be one of his biggest flaws. Instead he tried desperately to penetrate the foggy barrier that blocked his childhood memories from his probing mind. Despite his attempts to remember, all he received for his actions was a headache that grew in intensity every time he tried to remember his clouded memories.

As he moved slowly along through the deserted streets the rain began to fall more heavily and was soon accompanied by a strong wind that tugged harshly on his sodden clothing, pressing it even closer to his body. So absorbed in his thoughts was he that he did not realize he had arrived at the carriage house until he nearly impaled himself on a slanted support beam that had broken through the outer wall and hung out over the ground just outside the building.

Jack stopped cold in his tracks and finally drew himself from his inner musings. His gaze traveled slowly upwards to take in the whole of the aged building before him until he finally had seen it all and found himself looking at the roof. Rainwater was rolling in thick streams off the thatched roof creating a waterfall that separated the inside of the building from the outdoors. He lowered his intense, questioningly blank gaze and stared vacantly through the sheet of falling water to the dark rectangle of the empty doorway.

Jack hesitated at the entrance and stood staring at it for longer than he normally would had his mind not been so crowded. Eventually the freezing cold of the pelting rain coupled with the hard gusts of wind convinced the pirate captain to enter. Jack forced a way through the curtain of water and entered the relatively dry carriage house, shaking his arms in an attempt to rid himself of the excess rainwater.

As he stepped further into the building's shelter he stripped off his heavy outer coat and hung the clothing article carefully over an angled beam that hung down from the roof. He removed his hat and shook it wildly in the air before him and watched as water flew in every direction away from the worn leather. Realizing that his clothing was as dry as it would get for a good long while Jack placed his hat with his coat and moved over to the forge at the other corner of the room. His mind began to drift once more into the task of discovering his past for himself and the oddity of a fire being lit in the forge's hearth escaped his wandering mind.

Jack started and jumped as a loud crack of thunder sounded, shaking the carriage house down to its foundation and yanking him roughly from his thoughts. He instinctively put his hands over his head, half expecting the roof to cave in. To his relief—and surprise—it remained firm. Jack lowered his arms slowly and squinted into the darkness that enveloped the interior of the carriage house beyond the fire's dancing flames. He rose and stretched his now-stiff muscles. Apparently he had been sitting before the fire for longer than he recalled; his clothing was already starting to dry.

As he started to step away from the forge, strong arms wrapped themselves around his body and a grimy, foul-smelling cloth covered his nose and mouth. Jack was caught completely off-guard but his instincts took over. He struggled wildly, kicking, punching and swearing but the arms remained firm around his chest and neck. As Jack took deep breaths through the cloth to power his resistance to the restraints he felt his strength draining instead of growing. His vision began to fade into the darkness of unconsciousness and his struggling slowed significantly as the seconds of the already-decided fight passed.

"Welcome home Jack Sparrow," a familiar voice whispered in Jack's ear.

Jack's eyes widened in recognition of the voice but a few breaths later they fell completely shut as the pirate succumbed to the effects of the drug that covered the cloth.

zZzZzZzZzZzZzZzZzZz

Ana shifted anxiously from foot to foot in her shelter under the roof outside a small house. It had been so long since she had lost sight of Jack and the rain had only grown heavier. It was bad enough that she was soaked through to the bone, cold and alone, but now she was beginning to really fret over Jack's safety. Had he gone into that ramshackle building? What if it caved in during the storm?

Ana internally argued with herself over whether or not to go find Jack. On one hand it was important to know that he was safe; that was always her main concern. But if she did find him would he be upset with her for following him? She had a feeling he would and she didn't really fancy another berating from him for her over-protectiveness. But wouldn't it be worth it to know he was safe?

Abandoning her internal struggle in light of a sudden feeling of foreboding Ana stepped out into the downpour and headed toward the carriage house with care, hoping she would see Jack before he saw her. She walked slowly, carefully, trying to keep quiet in case the reckless wind were to pass any noise she made on to Jack. When she made it all the way to the doorway of the carriage house and found no sign of Jack her worry doubled eight-fold. Squinting through the curtain of rain rolling from the roof she could just make out a gentle glow from within the carriage house. Perhaps Jack had started a fire to keep warm?

Ana proceeded through the wall of water, grimacing at the iciness of it, and stepped into the carriage house, shaking to try and rid herself of the cold water. As she neared the center of the small room she was enveloped in a calming warmth that came from a fire made in the corner where an old forge laid and the cold of the storm was forgotten. She stepped forward slowly and froze when she heard metal scraping on stone.

"Jack?" she whispered into the emptiness.

"He is here, but a bit indisposed at the moment, so sorry miss. I knew he would come; he is as a moth drawn to a flame and his fate will be the same as that of the moth." Strong arms wrapped themselves around Ana, pinning her arms to her sides. Try as she might, her struggles got her nowhere. Her unknown captor easily dragged her over to one of the stronger support beams and made quick work of tying her to it, ignoring the few wild, but lucky, hits Ana scored on his person.

"Where is he? What've you done?" Ana demanded angrily, pulling against her bonds with all ferocity she could muster. The cloaked figure that had tied her up nodded to the beam that stood closest to the forge. Ana's gaze followed his direction and she smothered a gasp when she was able to make out a stationary figure bound tightly to the beam. Several more heavy ropes than were holding Ana held the body up for the person seemed unable to keep himself upright under his own power.

"Jack!" Ana called, putting a voice to her inner flare of recognition. "Wake up!" she added in a harsh whisper, desperately hoping to get through to her captain. He didn't stir.

"That won't do you any good. He'll wake up when he's ready…assuming the effects have worn off enough, that is." The cloaked figure tilted his head up ever so slightly, bringing his mouth out of the cloak's shadow. A sinister grin twisted his lips and Ana's blood boiled at the expression.

"You drugged him?!" The figure's even darker smirk of pleasure drew out Ana's anger further and if she had had any doubts about their captor they disappeared in an instant. "You filthy, back-stabbing b-"

"Of course I did. We both know that he's too stubborn to obey even the simplest request." Ana's lip twitched in agitation and she glared heatedly at the cloaked figure who caught her look and remained unfazed. In fact her anger seemed to make the situation all the better for him. He sauntered casually over to a worn table that stood at a slant due to the half-leg on one corner and took Jack's cutlass from it, looking the blade over expertly. Ana had a feeling that his slow movements were deliberate and meant to fan the embers of her anger up into a blazing fire. It was working.

"What a shame, I would have thought the infamous Jack Sparrow would have had a better blade with which to slit throats. This is the biggest piece of junk I've ever seen."

Ana couldn't help but growl a bit in disgust as some inner feeling flared and told her to stand up for her captain. "It's Captain Jack Sparrow fer one thing. And another, that blade is a fine piece. I'll wager th' first speck o' blood that touches th' blade'll be yers." It was true that the blade was a fine one because Will had made it as a special present for Jack the last time the Pearl and her crew had stolen into Port Royal for a visit. In fact, Jack hadn't used that sword to make a single kill; he valued it too much to stain its steel with blood. But Ana had a feeling that once Jack woke up and got free that he would make an exception to that rule for this freak.

"Oh yes, I forgot," the man chuckled, "he's weak. Jack Sparrow couldn't kill a man if his life depended on it."