Author's Note: a new installment! Yay! Now that 'Caught by the Past' is coming to an end, I might have a bit more time to dedicate to these . . . if my next fic doesn't take up all my time.
I like this one, because it's just Jack and an unnamed woman. She can be anyone you want her to be. I like to think that this is just a scene from my other two fics, taking place somewhere between them, but I know not everyone has read those, so that's why I've left out the woman's name.
Please read, enjoy, and tell me what you think. I'd love to know if you think I've captured a rarely seen facet of our beloved captain's personality. ^_^
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"Jack?"
"Yes, love."
"How'd you get those gold teeth?"
I asked a barber to pull 'em. "I lot each in particularly nasty barfights started because I didn't like the way men were looking at me."
Jack had learned a very young age what an advantage blarney could be for a young man making a name for himself. In the cutthroat world he'd chosen, what people thought you could do was just as important as what they saw you do. The story about how you lost your leg/arm/eye/finger/soul was more important than the reality of what had happened. People were more willing, he'd learned, to believe a good story than a boring truth. And he'd embraced that. What better way to gain a good reputation than by building it yourself?
"Jack?"
"Yes, love."
"Where did you get these beads?"
I raided a Portuguese trading vessel early on in my career and took them because I thought they'd enhance the image I was trying to get people to buy into. Jack looked over at the woman lying lazily in his arms. He didn't think the usual story of the year he'd spent in Singapore would go over well. "Well, I once saved a village full of natives from the plague. To show their gratitude, they each gave me a bead."
"Was this before or after they made you their chief?"
"After."
He'd been relatively smart about spreading rumors about himself. He hadn't said anything . . . many things . . . that didn't have a kernel of truth in them somewhere. At least, not at the beginning. People were more likely to believe rumors when they could see where they'd come from. To that end, he'd grown a beard to cover up his baby-face. He'd worked on lowering his voice so it would sound like he'd spent years yelling over the elements. He'd started wearing kohl to make his eyes seem not quite as wide as they really were, and adopted the staggering, drunken walk to enforce the image of a man more used to taverns and unstable surfaces than dry land.
But years had passed. The rumors grew, gaining force until he no longer had to start many himself, and the ones he did start could grow more and more outlandish. And not only did some of those rumors come true, but some of his disguises also became truth. He now had something of a permanent squint from spending years looking at sun-dazzled waters. He had a permanent pair of sea-legs. Grime and calluses coated his hands, his hair was a mess even he didn't want to think about, other than adding a braid or two to keep the mess out of his face. And his silver tongue managed to get him out of just as many situations as it got him into. And that's where his current trouble came from; he was far more used to unintentionally lying than to telling the truth. Truth was now something that escaped his lips only when he had nothing to lose, no other recourse, or if he intentionally thought about it.
Once again he looked at the drowsy woman at his side. If this was the life he truly wanted, he was going to have to become a bit more straightforward with some parts of his life . . . if not all of it. It was a strange thought. After so many years of telling stories to build his reputation and character, after spreading rumors to make a name for himself, after fully embracing Captain Jack Sparrow, he had to give it up. Well, not entirely, but enough to base his new life on truth and fact rather than a stack of outrageous tales. But he would start in the morning.
"Jack?"
"Yes, love."
"Where did you get this bone?" The woman in his arms touched the spur of bone sticking out of his hair.
"I got it from a shark I killed with my bare hands. Saved one of the bones as a memento."
"Jack?"
"Hmm?"
"Sharks don't have bones."
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Ok, that was it. Go read some of my other stuff. ^_^