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 5

"Jack's not weak!" Ana spat quickly, eager to defend her prone captain in any way she could. She watched in tense confusion as the cloaked man stepped over to the beam on which Jack was tied, still holding the pirate captain's cutlass. She felt every muscle in her body go as tight as a drawn bowstring when the figure placed the tip of the cutlass under Jack's chin and lifted, exposing his throat, to which he pressed the tip of the blade. "What are you doing?!" Even as the steel drew a line lightly across Jack's collar bone and left a trail of blood the pirate captain didn't move.

"You know, I almost like the idea of slitting his throat here and now…"

"Only a bloody coward would kill an innocent and defenseless man like tha'!"

"He's always been a backstabber. I would just be returning the favor."

"How would you know?" Ana growled dangerously, suddenly fearing the deep, unspoken connection that she felt existed between this psychotic man and her captain.

"Now, now mate," Jack whispered hoarsely, "d'you really think 's right t' kill a man who doesn' know who 'e is?"

"You're asking me of right and wrong Jack Sparrow?" The cloaked figure let out a low chuckle, unsurprised that the pirate was awake. Hope flared in Ana's heart now that Jack was conscious; at least now he might be able to come up with a plan.

"It's about time you thought my opinion was worth something. Of course your opinion still remains worthless to me." He paused then, silently sizing up his options. What would it matter if he told the truth? In the end Jack Sparrow would be dead and he would have revenge. Besides, an explanation would make his plans bloom all the sweeter. "Although, for once you have a point."

Jack lifted his head with great effort and the golden tomcat grin spread slowly across his face. The drug's lingering effects slowed him down and slurred his speech. "Knew ye'd see't my way."

"Now then, where would you like me to start?"

"Why no' th' beginnin'? S'as good a place as 'ny." Ana cast Jack a worried look. The heavy slur that accented his speech was no act; this she could tell. And the way that he struggled to at least appear alert was an indication to her that even though he was awake he wasn't there enough to come up with any substantial plan.

"Ah, the beginning. It's of no true consequence for it began with a death." Both of the pirates remained silent and still, neither really grasping the meaning of the sentence. Ana cast another glance over at Jack but there was no reaction for her to gauge. At least he was with it enough to keep up his mask of indifference. That could make all the difference. "Your mother passed on shortly after you were born Jack. She died at her husband's hand and there she rests for eternity," he said slowly, motioning to the pile of bones lying in the corner. A malicious grin lit his half-hidden face as he caught the spark of hate and sadness that flashed in the pirate's eyes for a second before the emotional guard returned. Ana didn't bother to look at Jack because she knew that he was waking further every second and by now he would be in complete control of his emotions.

"So 'e killed 'er. Why?" Jack's voice was flat and carefully emotionless as Ana knew it would be. She was gratified to find that the slur was lessening significantly and had a feeling that Jack's mind was searching for a solution to their problem.

"It was mostly due to the propriety of it. You see, when you were born, your mother and father were not married. However your father was too kind a soul and after your mother's death he took you in. Stupidly."

"Why bother when he just killed the woman he loved?" Ana asked slowly, almost afraid to cut in. She felt very awkward for hearing this tale and felt sure that Jack was just as uncomfortable although he was better at hiding it. A voice deep in her subconscious questioned if Jack wasn't more uncomfortable because he didn't know the next part of the tale and was afraid that she would learn something he didn't want her to know.

The cloaked figure shrugged and the movement caused the hood to fall back from his face. He wasn't unhandsome if one ignored the jagged scar that ran vertically over his left eye. He removed the cloak entirely and tossed it onto the frame of an unfinished carriage. "I suppose he just felt sorry for the whelp and didn't know how much trouble the boy would get into later on. Your father was a merchant sailor and as such I'm quite sure he doesn't approve of you being a pirate." The statement was followed by a pointed look at Jack.

"And why should I care whether or not he approves when he was never in my life?" Jack asked with a dangerous edge lying just under the surface of his smoothly slurred tone.

The man shrugged loosely and stepped closer to the warmth of the forge fire. Despite the subtlety of Jack's threat the man had sensed it and a small smirk tilted one side of his face. He casually withdrew a pair of tongs from the racks near the fire and gazed into the smoldering embers and dancing flames. "I guess it doesn't matter, does it?"

Jack remained silent and stared blankly at the man's back. As he refocused his attention on the man he missed the wary glances Ana sent his way.

"Growing up you were a pretty common troublemaker Jack. You were loud and stole things and was always caught. Doesn't sound so different from now, does it?"

"Pirate," Jack reminded with an almost playful tone of voice meant to infuriate.

The man's lip curled in disgust at the reminder but he otherwise ignored the comment. He continued to stir the fire's embers with the tongs as he continued with his story. "Once, when you were eight, you were foolish enough to try and ride the neighbor's half-tamed horse without anyone's permission. It was storming—much like tonight—and you snuck out of the house and into the pasture. Not one of your better ideas. Before you knew what hit you the horse had bowled you over with a kick to the chest." The man shoved the tongs into the glowing coals once more and deftly withdrew a red-hot horseshoe that would fit only the largest of draft breeds. He turned to face Jack with the smoking red metal held between the tongs. "You were found around noon the next day, unconscious in the paddock. And for a long time afterwards you had a bruise in the shape of a hoof right about…here." To accentuate his last word the man shoved Jack's shirt aside and thrust the glowing horseshoe roughly onto Jack's chest and watched with a smirk as Jack tried to recoil from the heat. Unable to avoid the flaring pain, Jack winced and clenched his jaw as the horseshoe pattern was burned into his chest and the smell of burning flesh filled the air.