Disclaimer: I do not have permission to be using these characters. Sorry. Can't get this published, either.

AN (3/27-3/28): Happy Easter! Or Spring Break. Whatever. Anyway, thanks for all the support an' encouragement! Gave me warm fuzzies.
Now...the first half of this chapter should seem like a continuation of this chapter : http: read that first. It'll help, trust me. In fact, if you haven't read my first two fanfics about Jack's past, I suggest you do...it'll help you understand a lot of what all this is coming from, at first. Once I get into the groove, so to speak, it won't matter...but this one you really need to read that chapter first. Or you can just pretend you know what's going on. That might work too... I realize it is a lot, to read both of my earlier fanfics first, unless you already have. If I make a specific reference to one of the chapters, I'll probably put the link in these Author's Notes...
Er...sorry this thing is so long. But I've decided to delve into the supernatural with this one. Tell me if you don't like it...and I'll rethink my ideas. But this supernatural stuff...completely from my head. Just so you know. If there's any problems with my logic, feel free to point them out.
Oh...and this story doesn't coincide with history. Just because that causes a lot of problems. And the movie is wrong, anyway, about Port Royal. But that's okay...this is fiction. I do research, though. Which is why I know that this doesn't really all work. I don't know why I'm bringing this up...I mean, it doesn't matter that New Orleans was founded in 1718, does it?

Chapter One: Pig Blood and Silk

"Jack Sparrow, eh?" Captain Swarthy questioned, his one dark eye full of curiosity, slight admiration, and slight worry. Why would a man like Captain Jack Sparrow be on their little island? Was there some sort of treasure hiding here? Maybe Jack would tell them that... Of course, based on the apathetic look on Jack's face, Captain Swarthy was willing to guess that he'd been really been marooned here on this godforsaken spit of land in the middle of nowhere, really. "What are you doin' on my island, Captain Sparrow?" The title of captain was earned only through a lot of work and wasn't something Swarthy tossed around lightly.

"I've told you already," Jack replied with a slight frown. Couldn't the one eyed man get it through his bandana covered skull that he was marooned? It wasn't because of his choice. "They thought I'd be better off here...governor o' this little island." He sighed and glared at Swarthy for a moment. "It isn' Captain Sparrow, son. Tis merely Jack. Jack Sparrow. Don' you forget that."

Jack looked like he was about to walk away. Swarthy didn't want that to happen. Even if Jack didn't want to be a captain anymore, he'd be a valuable member of the Albatross's crew. They needed another good deck hand that could possibly fill in as a navigator, anyway. They'd been short a man since a slight scuffle in Barbados that had resulted in the death of one of Swarthy's men. Swarthy sighed slightly, putting his gun into its holster on his belt. "Stop, son."

Jack frowned and turned slightly around. Why did this Swarthy fellow keep insisting on calling him son? It really didn't make any sense to the slightly insane man who had just barely been contemplating suicide before that ship had shown up. So what if he wanted revenge on Captain Hector Barbossa? It wasn't going to happen. Not now and not ever. Barbossa had outsmarted him in everything he'd ever tried to do, from Jack's perspective. It'd take years for Jack to save up enough money to get another crew, anyway... "What?" he asked belligerently, to the snickers of the fellow with stringy blonde hair that Swarthy had called Klaus a few moments ago. They couldn't actually be seriously thinking about taking him aboard their ship, right? He was a pirate that obviously wasn't good enough.

Swarthy didn't seem to think so. He glanced towards his crew (turning his head so he could look at all of them to his left, since he had a blind spot there due to the fact he was wearing an eye patch), as though asking them what they would think. Klaus and a man with dark hair spilling into similarly colored eyes merely shrugged. They didn't care. Well, they'd make Jack's existence aboard the Albatross a living nightmare, since he'd drunk half their cache...but he was the infamous Captain...er...Jack Sparrow. Anyone would be crazy not to offer him a job. "How would ye like t' get off this island o' yers?" Swarthy questioned as he turned back to face Jack.

Jack put one of his index fingers up to his mouth and tapped it lightly for a moment, obviously in "deep" thought. Of course he wanted to get off this godforsaken spit of land! He didn't want to be governor of this island for the rest of his life. He didn't want to resort to using that one shot in the sole pistol Barbossa had given him. He wanted revenge. And, perhaps, with time, he could get revenge. "Under what conditions?" he asked warily, obviously not wanting anyone to realize how desperately he wanted the job. That always made a bad impression on people, after all. If you wanted something so badly you were willing to wear a dress and do a lap dance...well, people certainly would exploit you. Jack was never going to trust that people had good intentions, sometimes, ever again. Because they obviously didn't. His best friend in the world, Bootstrap Bill Turner, had betrayed him, after all. Just because of cowardice. He knew he would've gone crazy on this island, same as Jack. Bloody pirate.

"Conditions?" Swarthy laughed and his men did too. "Well, ye jus' have t' agree to work on me crew for two years. Tha's not so bad, is it?" Two years. If Swarthy had two years to work on this Jack Sparrow...well, maybe he could turn the infamous pirate into an infamous rumrunner. Someone he could trust handing the Albatross to when he decided to retire and look up that fine maiden again.

"Wha' about..." Klaus seemed ready to say something, his dark eyes flashing eagerly and then in annoyance as the boatswain gave him a dirty look.

Jack's eyebrows furrowed slightly at that cut off question; he would've liked to hear that. Maybe it was something important. Or maybe Klaus was just jealous. It wasn't very often that you could bargain your way off an island after drinking half of the desired merchandise, anyway. Ah well. He couldn't tell for sure, so he slowly nodded. "Fine. Tis a deal."

"Good," Swarthy replied with a grin, reaching out with his hand and shaking Jack's, to close the bargain, so to speak. "This should be very interesting." He'd be able to outrun more Navy ships, with Jack Sparrow on his ship. The man was quite remarkable...everyone knew about the time he'd escaped from seven agents of the British East India Company, after all.

"You 'ave t' drink it," Klaus said, frowning. "Don' skimp out on us now, Jack." There were various nods of assent from the rest of the crew of the Albatross. Swarthy had sent Klaus and the boatswain back to the fine flute to retrieve the rest of the crew. Why? Well, Jack had to be initiated into their little circle of rum runners. He couldn't be allowed to join their little family if he didn't go through all the stupid things that made them feel like they belonged with one another.

Not that what they were making him do was necessarily a stupid little thing. It was quite a stupid big thing, actually. He was sitting on the beach with the crew surrounding him, staring almost intrepidly at a large bonfire burning up a few of the now dead palm leaves the crew had scrounged up. Almost intrepidly, mind you. There was a slight glimmer of fear in his dark kohl-lined eyes as he glanced back down at the bottle in front of him. This was just too weird. He seemed puzzled for a long time, glancing in through the narrow neck at some very dark liquid that smelled...well, less than appetizing. "I do?" he questioned numbly.

"Aye," Swarthy chimed in. "You do. Can't be a part of our crew unless ye do this." He smiled encouragingly, miming someone taking a drink. "No' that hard." The other men nodded as well. Something was rather curious about Swarthy's crew. They all seemed to have very similar dark brown eyes. Most of them wore their hair in different ways, but the majority had dark brown hair. And they were all about the same size. Jack really felt...strangely like he belonged with them. Because he had the same dark eyes. But it was still very unnerving. Especially since the substance they wanted him to drink smelled vaguely like pig blood.

Jack sighed slightly and glanced back down at the bottle. It was a very good thing the sun had set hours ago, wasn't it? Otherwise he'd definitely not be able to muster enough stomach-power to swallow the whole thing, sans the bottle. Why? Well, it was an odd mixture of pig blood, rum (to make it go down easier), fingernails, fish eyes, chum, paprika, parsley, and various other ingredients that probably shouldn't be mentioned. It was a thick concoction that smelled absolutely horrible. In fact, when Klaus had placed it in front of him, Jack had nearly thrown up. It didn't help that he was still rather drunk from earlier this morning. Sighing, he picked the bottle up, pressed it to his lips, and quickly swallowed the contents without thinking about what he was swallowing too much. If he'd thought about it, he surely would've lost courage and would've been labeled a quitter. He didn't want that sort of label. Jack didn't like any labels, thank you very much, because he didn't think he was a bottle of wine or something. Of course, it was far worse to be labeled by people you have to work with. And Jack was eager to see if he could make friends with people again or not. His whole attitude towards life seemed to be brighter, now that he'd gotten over the fact that Barbossa had stolen his meaning of life and Bootstrap had stabbed him in the back. He was Jack Sparrow...he could get over it.

"Spot on, mate!" Swarthy exclaimed as the rest of the crew applauded Jack's efforts. "I don' think I've ever seen anyone drink a whole bottle o' that. Definitely one of us."

Jack didn't really feel like one of them. He felt like losing the rum he'd been drinking over the past three days in lieu of food. Having a movement contrary to eating. He smiled very weakly, pressed a hand to his stomach, and passed out. Who could blame him, after all?

"Who are you an' what have you done wiv me bloody rum?" Jack asked groggily, rubbing at something on his forehead. The slight pressure up there from a cold compress seemed to be pushing his head into the soft pillow his hair was splayed on like a spilled bottle of rum on some rich man's marble floor. He picked up a slightly damp cloth and tossed it to the side, desperately trying to open his eyes. What had happened? All he remembered was that girl...and that cognac. Bloody cognac. This was definitely the last time he had anything other than rum to drink. No other intoxicating drink could be trusted.

"Calm down, Captain," a pleasantly seductive voice said, gently caressing his cheek. She was speaking in English now. Which was probably good. Jack doubted he'd be able to understand French at the moment. Or, maybe he was speaking in French and thought he was merely speaking in English. He didn't know. Nor did he want to know. But something about her voice made him very uneasy.

"Who are you?" Jack questioned softly, finally managing to open his dark eyes to stare at the lass with golden hair and an almost perfect smile complimented by plump lips. After focusing on her for a split second, he glanced around the room he was now in. There was a gentle swaying, now that he could concentrate, and Jack realized he was on someone's ship. In a rather nice cabin. There was a four poster bed (that he was laying on) and a few trinkets on a shelf that he could see. Of course, none of the trinkets were anything fragile. They'd be broken during any sort of storm, since they'd be tossed from their little homes like birds during a rainstorm and would hit the ground with a resounding thud that would undoubtedly indicate something fragile breaking, followed by a crash.

"No one of consequence," the woman replied with a laugh. Clearly she thought this whole situation was rather funny. Imagine, what would people say if they knew that the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow was as weak as a kitten in her bed?

Jack frowned. She clearly had the upper hand. For the moment. He'd always been one to quickly heal from injuries and he didn't doubt he'd be able to pull through this apparent drugging much faster than she could ever dream. Right? There couldn't have been something in that cognac that could outwit Jack Sparrow. Such a thing just wasn't possible. "Not funny," Jack replied sourly. "Who are you?"

The woman sighed slightly, pulling her finger away from Jack's cheek. "Fine." She sat up, straightening her unusually tight silk teal dress with one hand as the other reached for one of the posts of the four poster bed. "My name is Kerri Calder, if you must know."

Well, that didn't help Jack much. He'd never heard of a Kerri Calder. Or a Calder. Great. He'd been kidnaped by some rabid fan of his, hadn't he? That had always been Jack's worst nightmare, back in New Orleans. There was something he didn't want to think about. A messy conglomerate of too much to drink, one night, and a vain thought that perhaps it would be a good way to make money...ah well. "Nice name, luv...bu' what do you want with me?" Jack was getting desperate, here. He could barely move his arms, and this woman was just afraid to tell him her name? Shouldn't she be going on a long monologue about how glad she was to see him and then ask him to marry her or something stupid like that? That's what all the other women had wanted. Of course...none of the other women had known his real name and what his title had been. Curious.

"What do I want with you?" Kerri smiled slightly. "Well, if I told you know, it'd spoil all the fun, wouldn't it? Besides, it isn't really me who wants to talk to you. 'Twas just my job to get you here." She laughed and touched his cheek again. "No worries...the sedative will wear off in a bit. Just relax. Hum something to yourself."

Jack frowned slightly. Did she know what she was really saying, there? Probably not. Though, she did know more about him than he would really care for her to know about him. His past was just that-his. Curious that her name was Kerri, too. It didn't sound very French. Maybe it was her second language. Or her English father had been in France, fathered a child, and left. Jack doubted anyone would have the patience to stay with a woman that wouldn't just come out and say what was going on. It was annoying. Maybe that was just a hasty assumption...but Jack wasn't in the mood to care. He liked getting answers, when he woke up after being sedated.

"What? Don't think that's a good suggestion?" she asked teasingly. "Well...I'd love to keep you more company, Captain, but duty calls." She smirked lightly, giving him a kiss on the cheek before leaving him all by himself in a stranger's room.

Odd how he wasn't even restrained, wasn't it? Jack sighed softly to himself once she'd left. Great. He couldn't figure out why he was here just based off this bloody room. He had no idea if it was even a man or a woman who'd taken him captive. Of course, that didn't really matter...but still. It would be nice to know what he had in store. A lot of women could be seduced by this one half grin he'd perfected over the years. A lot. Jack had probably known more women than any other man in history. And he was only thirty-five. Still had the rest of his life to get to know women on an intimate basis. Of course, the problem with knowing so many women...well, he forgot a lot of their names. Which undoubtedly resulted in a lot of hands meeting his cheek. Of course, Jack was so used to women slapping him, he really didn't mind anymore. It wasn't like he was going to slap them back or something. Besides...it helped them move on, gave them a sense of closure. It was better than them thinking he had an affinity for men, too. Something about hearing their palm hitting his skin seemed to satisfy most women with romantic visions of themselves with Jack. Strumpets were just a service, after all, and Jack didn't like it when women thought that he thought that they were something special.

Frowning, he worked his way up to a sitting position, nearly sliding off the silk sheets at least five times. Why? Well, he'd been dressed in some silk clothes himself. Which was really odd. Someone had seen him without his clothes on without his knowledge. Now...if it was that Kerri woman, Jack really wouldn't mind...but...it was definitely an invasion of privacy. Stupid silk. Jack didn't like the feel of it next to his skin, anyway. People who wore silk on a regular basis were just expensive prostitutes or people trying to impress the upper crust. Both groups were individuals Jack would rather not associate with. Been there, done that. Not worth the amount of money you had to spend to stay on top.

What in the world was going on? Jack sat staring at a picture of some ocean scene for nearly half an hour before anyone entered the cabin again. It was someone else. This time, it was a brunette with just about as interesting a figure as the woman with golden hair had. Jack's attention shifted from the bland picture with far too many brush strokes to the woman in an instant. "You're sittin' up," she commented, as though surprised. In her delicate hands was a black tray with some delicious smelling chicken. Jack suddenly realized he was absolutely famished. How long had he been asleep, anyway?

"Aye," he replied with one of those almost trademarked half grins of his. They'd been the death of many a woman's virginity, actually. "I am."

The woman smiled back reflexively, slightly caught off guard by his suave manner. Most people she'd seen who'd been that heavily sedated...well, they didn't have much control of their mannerisms...or really anything. "Good." She seemed mad at herself for saying such a clearly flirtatious word and practically jammed the tray into his chest. "Here. Captain wants ye t' eat something."

Jack nodded, somehow relieved to hear the same sort of slur in her speech that he used in his own. Of course, now that he was in the Mediterranean, he had to tone it down a bit. People just couldn't understand him when he spoke that fast. "Ye sound like yer from 'round the Caribbean, luv," he commented, slowly scooping a portion of the chicken up to his mouth with his hand. He was a pirate and therefore didn't mind eating with his hands. As long as they seemed clean enough, it didn't bother him. Of course, if they were black or covered in tar or covered with blood, he washed and scrubbed them until they were pink...but Jack was reasonably sure they were clean enough to eat with.

"That'd be 'cause I am," she replied with a slight smile. "Born an' raised in Kingston, actually. Me parents moved me t' Tortuga when I was...well, a certain age." Meaning she'd been sold into prostitution by her mother and father. Of course, that sort of behavior was quite common. Daughters were considered a liability to the wealthy and the poor alike. The wealthy auctioned off their daughters at debutante balls...the poor sold them off into prostitution to try and earn some more money. If they were lucky, they could be married off. Obviously she hadn't been that lucky. Though, Jack suspected her parents had forced her into prostitution even though she probably had several suitors interested in her. A beautiful woman could make more money that way than by getting married.

"Ah," Jack replied. He hadn't really been expecting that much of a life history. But if this woman would open up to him...maybe he could figure out what was going on. Jack liked puzzles, of course, but not ones that could potentially indicate his immediate demise. "I see." He took another bite of the chicken. Once that was swallowed (which took a while...it was rather bland and needed some sort of drink to help push it down), Jack smiled at her again. "D' ye 'ave a name, luv? Or should I jus' refer to you as Kingston?"

She laughed lightly. "Oh...well, Captain, I wouldn' mind someone like you callin' me Kingston. Bu' we've met before. Surely ye can remember me name, eh?" Her dark eyes were twinkling with suppressed amusement as she tried to calmly watch Jack eat the chicken.

Jack frowned slightly. How was he supposed to remember women from the Caribbean? That'd been a while ago. He sighed slightly. Something about her did seem vaguely familiar. So, he guessed the first name that came to mind. "Paloma?"

She seemed rather surprised and a slightly incredulous look danced across the aforementioned dark eyes. "Yes. Paloma." The tone of her voice indicated that she was flattered Jack remembered her name. It was always good to flatter your captor, after all. Maybe the sense of danger Jack was getting was just false. "You remembered."

"Aye," Jack replied smoothly. That had been a very lucky guess, actually. "Thanks for bringin' me food, Paloma." He finished off the rest of his chicken in two bites. Obviously he had been rather hungry.

"Oh...twas nothin'," Paloma replied, shrugging slightly. Clearly she didn't really want to get into a conversation with Jack. She grabbed the now empty tray and left without saying anything else, leaving Jack to wonder what it was he'd done wrong. Women. They were definitely difficult creatures to understand.

Eccentric Banshee: Yeah. Accepting drinks from pretty women...always ends up bad. Jack needs to get that through his thick skull. I think that maybe he has now. Just maybe. Dunno for sure...I'll have to ask him.
AnaMaria isn't going to show up for another three years, actually. I just put that in the little description thingy because I didn't know what else to say. No...this woman had the wrong hair color. And, coincidentally, the wrong name. I like being mysterious. Uber fun. You should try it, ya know. Not that you don't already have cliffies and mysterious characters and stuff. I'm rambling. Tis late.
The drinking soap thing was weird...that was me at about one in the morning, or something. Or maybe it was early in the morning...dunno. But thanks for the review! And have a chocolate bunny!
Rose Noire du Mort: Unfortunately, it'll be a bit of a wait for Ana. But I will explain how Jack and Ana met before the movie. No worries. Just stick with me. I'll also explain how Jack and Gibbs meet. That should be interesting...
Anywho, thanks for the review! I love getting new reviewers... As promised, you get a chocolate bunny. )
CrazyPirateGirl: As long as it isn't as confusing as Death of a Blacksmith, I think we'll be okay. Speaking of that...I need to finish that sometime, don't I? Too bad I'm so lazy...
Anyway (sorry for the rambling, tis really the day after Easter at the moment), thanks for the review. And the encouragement. I'm actually dreadfully insecure about my writing...which is why I waited about a week to put up the prologue. But I typed this all up in one night. Today. Or, rather, yesterday. And I'm rambling again. Have a chocolate bunny!
Mystic Moon Maiden: Apparently I could update today. Two days later. But not really. Silly time...it should be yesterday, but it isn't. And I'm probably freaking you out...er...right.
Thank you for the encouragement! And for the review. I don't think many people have attempted to explain what happened to Jack during those ten years he didn't have the Pearl. This should be interesting...I've got a lot of cool things planned. And explanations. More of those. Like...the scars on his chest. Anyway, if you like this, you'll hopefully like its two predecessors: From Anonymity to Infamy: Jack Sparrow's Tale and The Emerald Eyes: A Tale of Mutiny. If you need a long read to distract you from...er...homework, you might want to consider those. Of course, I think you'll be able to mostly understand what I'm writing in this one without reading those two.
Glad you enjoyed it, an' have a chocolate bunny!
Raisin: I like writing. I do it all the time. Got an idea for this in English class, I think. Maybe not. I can't really remember. It doesn't matter. But I've been talking to my posters for inspiration, and I think I've got most of this figured out. I've even got a time line. And a few web sites favorited (I think that should be a word) for future reference. It'll be interesting. And weird. I likes me weird things...
I've seen the tail end of From Hell, actually...I vaguely remember a redhead. But no. That's not who she is. But the men...in the flashback, should all seem very familiar. I've got a twisted sense of humor. Anyway...
Thank you oh so much for another entertaining review! You're a great inspiration to me. In fact, if you hadn't started reviewing my stuff, I might've just updated once a month or something. Which would be sad...I need this, to fuel my obsession until the next movie comes out. And then I'll find out I'm wrong on a lot of things. But that's okay.
Have a chocolate bunny! Filled with...umm...whatever sort of filling you like best.
Daisy: The cognac was drugged. How did you ever guess? -giggles- Just kidding.
As for the person...well...the redhead will probably be in the next chapter. And I bet you can guess who she is. And probably why she's had Jack...er...I'm giving away too much. -giggles- Remind me not to answer these so late at night.
Betcha know what he was thinking about, with New Orleans, already. If not, well, I'll have to hit you. Because you, of all people, should know. In advance.
A receipt from Mary Riley Styles Public Library is actually a pretty good prize. -nods- I hope you feel better, though. Because cramps bite pickles, lemons, and Big Macs.
You get...er...a snazzy Pez dispenser!
Kess: Was this fast enough? Wow...I feel like I haven't talked to you for a long time. Probably because I haven't. Sorry 'bout that. I'm a horrible person, really, I am.
Thanks for your support, though. I'll try to be on more often. -nods- You get a...really yummy chocolate egg and some peeps!
Jack: Actually, you should be wondering what sort of trouble he's already gotten himself into, in the Mediterranean. At least, that's the way the time line is now. It'll probably change, over the next few hours...
Thank you for the review! Since you were the first one to review...well, you get my Easter Basket! It has all sorts of candy, chocolate, peeps...fake grass...and Finding Neverland!