This is dedicated to my friend who gave me this idea while reading my other fic called Betrayed. Thank you.

Disclaimer - not mine.

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Memories...

His first memory was of sitting in the corner of a bathing room on a very uncomfortable chair watching as his mother helped their neighbor bathe three year old Nat. Nathaniel giggled and clapped his hands, periodically slapping them down on the water and splashing the two ladies trying to get the little boy clean after hours spend rolling around in the dust outside.

"Thomas Carlson." His mother Margaret called and Tommy turned around somewhat guiltily, as he had been caught trying to sneak out of the room. "Did you learn anything?" She asked him pointedly slowly beckoning him to the chair that he had just finally left.

"Nat likes the water." Tommy observed quietly. He was four or five then and had almost completely refused to bathe or get anywhere near the water. Her mother was at wits end trying to find some way to keep him clean and these hours spend watching his neighbors wash in the tubs did nothing for his refusal. The little boy insisted that he just didn't like water but the silent hysterics that he seemed to lapse into overtime he was brought anywhere close to a body of water left her wondering and shaking her head in bafflement. Her neighbors were all very helpful, sharing the stories of their own stubborn kids and reassuring Maggie that of coarse he would grow out of it in due time. Nevertheless, she had to try.

"Will you take a bath now?" She asked hopefully. The little boy solemnly shook his head. For a child so small, the way he sometimes looked longingly at the running water, made her think that he was afraid not of the water but of what it would bring. As though having fun with it would trigger something horrible in the world and in him. She hadn't shared this theory of hers with anyone but herself, only the way her husband, the child's father looked at him sometimes told her that he suspected her fears, that he had some of his own which he wouldn't share with her.

His next memory was of his father. It was the first time that his father took him to see the ocean. To tell the truth, it was not the first time, but it was the first time that he could clearly remember. The actual first time Tommy Carlson had seen the ocean, it was angry and stormy and even though he had been much too young to remember or understand, he had watched a ship sink in the horizon. It had started out as a nice family outing at the beach and had ended with the storm. Together the family had watched the ship crash on the rocks, the sailors jump off trying to swim to safety and though some succeeded, all that day saw the power and the might of the ocean. Even as a young child, hardly turned two years old, that wonder and the power had fascinated him.

Now, he watched as his father waded farther and farther out into the ocean, showing him that it was ok and that it was safe while Tommy watched with suspicion and apprehension. Despite the boy's protests, his father took him out to the beach every day be it rain or shine. And every day he brought the child closer and closer to the water's edge until the day that he walked him into the water and held him close as he taught his son to float and to swim. It wasn't so hard after that. Tommy learned eagerly and took to water as a fish would.

After that first fateful day when his father started taking him to the water, his memories were constant. As was the longing. He no longer wanted to leave the ocean when he went inside and stood amongst the waves, would stare in the direction of the sea no matter where he was, and became quiet and withdrawn when he was not floating in the ocean. He would disappear for hours and sometimes even days at a time without telling anyone where he was going and reappear just as silently. His parents worried in the way of all parents that one-day he would leave the same without a word and would never make it back. That one day the call of the sea would be too strong to ignore.

One day, Tommy vanished. He was gone for days and nobody had seen him leave or seen him since. His mother sat by the window all day long, awaiting his return but his father knew that this was the way it was supposed to be. When Tommy reappeared without a word, a week later, a tattered piece of paper clenched tightly in his hand and a beautiful black ship in the harbor, he knew that it wouldn't be long now.

Being a sailor himself, Tommy's father could recognize the symptoms. Their son Tommy had never been theirs. Nobody could say that he didn't try, for he did try as much as he could and it was his father himself who made him cross the line and stop trying.

It was a cold windy day that winter. Tommy sat where he usually sat by the closed window, face turned in the direction of the ocean. His mother had gone out to buy some bread at the market and it was only his father and him at home. He was startled out of his reverie when his father lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Go my son." He whispered softly and Tommy knew exactly what he was telling him.

"But mother…" He whispered back. It was his only regret.

"I'll explain it to her. But she may not understand. You need to go, I know. So I'm letting you go. Just promise me…"

"Anything."

"Promise me I will hear of you." A father's final plea for the wellbeing of his child.

"I promise."

"I love you my sparrow."

"Thank you." And then he was gone. The piece of paper, the black ship and the boy that so longed for the freedom that the ocean promised to offer him. And an indefinable time later, Jack Sparrow appeared in Tortuga gathering a crew to go after the treasure of Cortez.

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Please, please, please review and tell me what you think. I really want to know what everyone thinks of the stuff that I write. Thank you in advance.