"Poor little dreamer,

Stand inside the door.

You can't find the easy rhymes

Of the time you had before.

It hurts my heart so bad

Seeing you sigh and shake.

Broken down so low – so sad,

I can't let you break."

Jack winced as he watched Reagan trace the tattoo on her ankle. Had he really made her sit through that when she was only two? Had he been that desperate to claim her as his own? Swallowing his pride he opened his mouth, ready to explain it all.

"Don't say a word, Jack," she stopped him.

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"It's your name, isn't it? And I told you not to say anything."

Frustrated Jack reached over and pulled her to her feet, "Let's get one thing straight, Blackbird, I may have left you but, as you so pointedly put it, I am still your father."

"And my father is nothing more than a drunkard pirate!"

"You expected more? Haven't you heard the stories, luv?"

Reagan fumed, "Oh, I've heard them and..."

"And you enjoy every minute of them."

For that she had no answer, wasn't she the one who had always begged Will and Elizabeth to tell her everything they knew about Jack Sparrow? Jack was right; he was exactly what she thought he would be. But why was it so disappointing now? With a heavy sigh she turned away, not wanting to face her own question.

"Let go of your pride, Reagan."

His words shocked her, but somehow she managed to respond, "You first."

For a while he said nothing, he simply watched her. However, she met his gaze head on. Finally he laughed, "Alright, you win, I've never met anyone who could stare back before. Where should I start?"

"How about the beginning," the statement was dry as bone and harsher than she had meant it to be. Silently she shrugged it off and sat down on the deck, he could take it.

Digging out a flask he sat next to her and took a drink, "I met your mother when the ship she was on ran into rocks during a storm. She was one of three survivors. I figured it would be pointless taking the lives of three destitute people so I took them to the next port. However, your mother liked the sea better than the land so I let her stay aboard for a while. She could work with the rigging well enough was the argument I used with myself and the crew. I guess they could all tell why I really kept her around, though. I enjoyed her company, she gave good advice, worked hard, all in all she made me happy. Before either of us realized what had happened we were married. For three years she sailed with me. Then you came along and I left her in port at Tortuga until you were born."

"You left your pregnant wife in Tortuga? Jack, were you daft?!"

"She was with Gibbs," he said glaring at her for using his name again. "So yes, I left her there. I wasn't able to come back for a year; I didn't even see you until you were three months old. I asked her to come back aboard, with you of course, but she said no. Told me you had to be at least a year. During that time I only set sail once and when I came back it was a week after your birthday. The crew stayed the night in Tortuga; I'll never forget Regetti nearly cooing over you. Your mother had gone out early that morning to get a few things before we left. She never came back though, we found her with her throat cut in an alley. I took you on the Pearl after that, almost never let you out of my sight unless I knew you were with Regetti and within my reach. When you were three I left you in Port Royal, I had finally realized a pirate ship was too dangerous a place for you." He stopped; feeling as if every secret he had was now floating around in the open air.

Reagan leaned her head against the rough wood of the rail and closed her eyes, "What about the mutiny?"

"That happened right after your turned five. They put me on that God-forsaken island the day after your birthday. That's when I started chasing the Pearl, when I went back to Port Royal to say good bye."

"But..."

He cut her off with a wave of his hand, "No more tonight, luv, I'm tired and you should get some sleep too." Rising he looked at her once more. Her eyes were still closed but he knew she was far from rest. Slowly a tear rolled down her cheek. He guessed it would be a lot to understand, even for someone of her age. Sighing he stood frozen in place. He wasn't meant to be a father! Quickly he turned to walk away, she would be fine on her own, after all, she was a Sparrow. With a start he noticed Annamaria glaring at him, "What?" he hissed. She made no answer but simply shifted her gaze to Reagan. Quickly he went over to where the older of the two women stood, "What am I supposed to do about it?"

"I don't know! But do something already, I really am starting to realize why all women hate you."

In frustration he made a motion in the air as if to strangle her, "Bloody girls!"

"Hey, she's your daughter," with a sudden burst of speed she turned on her heel and made her way below deck.

Slowly he returned to where Reagan still sat, it seemed her eyes hadn't opened once. However, her face was wet from the steady fall of tears. Nudging her foot with is own he held out the flask, "Want a drink?"

She shook her head but her eyes opened, blinking to keep from crying more. Unsure of why, he sat next to her again, "You wanted the truth."

"I know," she mumbled with a slight yawn. Slowly, almost as if she were three again she laid a tired head on his shoulder. Jack didn't move, there was nothing else for him to do. He couldn't bring himself to show more affection than he already had but he refused to pull away as well. After a moment he felt something wet hit his hand, she was still crying. Somehow he couldn't blame her, in fact the fault was his own. Stiffly he set an arm around her shoulders, playing with her long hair that was so much like his. In his mind visions played of when she was young, when she still called him father. He swore under his breath and added, "I'm too old to be learning this,"

"Cry to me – cry to me.

You better not hide it,

Let it come – let it bleed.

I ain't laughing – reach in and get it

And set it free.

Cry to me – cry to me."

Song, "Cry To Me" belongs to Heart, I don't own it an am in no way involved with its writing, recording, or publication.