Disclaimer: I only own Stiles Karver, the Navy captain- Wilford Hampton, and the HMS Lady Rose. Everything else belongs to Disney and Pirates of the Caribbean.

A/N: I decided to give Stiles a bigger role in this story. His character does have quite a lot of potential and I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Chapter One:

When Jack Sparrow woke up, he was completely alone. An ache in his head similar to that of a migraine made him keep his eyes shut. His face, back, his shoulder, and neck hurt...a lot. His mind foggy, he couldn't remember what exactly had happened. All he could remember was seeing Navy ships and shouting at Gibbs to leave.

He finally opened his eyes. Thankfully, in this dank location, not much light of any sort was provided and his eyes were able to adjust quickly. He sat up and leaned against...bars? He frowned, turning around. He could see the hard, dark iron of the bars. He whipped his head around, worry creasing his brow. That's when he found that he was completely surrounded by the bars. Upon squinting to see the darker corners of the area, he discovered that he was in the brig of a ship. His frown deepened. How could I let this happen?

Then it came back to him; how four Navy ships had been spotted by the cabin boy; how they sunk three of the four with relative ease; how the boarded the last ship, a frigate. Then he remembered how he'd been injured and that the crew was trapped when he finally got back up, courtesy of Gibbs. He'd told the older man to have them retreat back to the Black Pearl. He'd assisted the crew by clearing a path back to their own ship, only to get cut from behind and fall to his knees. He and Gibbs had argued over leaving him behind. Then an officer of the Navy ship had violently hit the pirate captain several times- to the point of unconsciousness- to convince the crew to leave.

"Ah, that's right…" Jack mumbled to himself. "Bloody Navy made me look like a fool." He then heard a shuffling in one of the dark corners of the brig. "Who's there?" His voice was sharp.

"It's only me, Uncle Jack." The voice of a familiar youth came.

"Stiles...ye shouldn't be 'ere."

"Isn't that why they call it a stowaway?"

The pirate captain sighed. "Why are ye 'ere? Actually, how did ye get 'ere?"

"I tricked Gibbs into thinking I'd help leave you behind. Jumped ship and latched onto the back of this one. Climbed aboard while the crew wasn't looking." Young Stiles Karver told him, stepping from the shadows. He was the Pearl's cabin boy. His long brown hair reached just past shoulder length. His green eyes stood out from his tanned complexion and dark hair. He wore what most pirates wore; an off-white shirt, brown trousers, brown boots that folded at the knees, and a baldric strapped around his waist, a sword sitting untouched in the sheath. "As for why I'm here, I'm not letting any Navy bastards take my uncle- at least not alone."

"Blood 'ell...Jacob's gonna kill me if anythin' happens to ye." Jack rubbed his right temple with his hand. "And I don't want to die to me own half brother."

"Don't worry 'bout him, Uncle. He'd never kill you." The pirate's nephew promised.

"There's a lot 'bout your father that ye don't know." He countered.

"Same 'bout you, I reckon." The boy consented in a quiet tone.

The boy's uncle smirked. "Nobody knows half of anythin' 'bout me, Stiles. Trust me, not even ol' Jake Karver. Not even Teague himself."

"Is that a good thing?"

"T'is for me."

Stiles grinned, amused by the pirate. Several pairs of footsteps sounded loudly on the stairs and his grin transformed into a look of horror. He met his uncle's gaze, terrified.

"What do I do?" He whispered nervously.

The pirate's face was deadly serious when he replied. "Hide."

The adolescent scrambled back to his dark corner, vanishing and blending in to the darkness. Jack's head snapped up as several Navy men burst into the brig. The four men were armed, but their weapons weren't drawn.

One stalked right up to the bars. "Who were you talking to?"

Oh, bloody 'ell...He pulled a false cheery smile in greeting. "No one."

"You were talking to someone. Tell us to lessen your punishment, pirate." The soldier offered.

He cringed at the spite in the man's last word, frowning for a mere moment. "I was talkin' to meself. Crazy, eh? I tend to do it quite a lot."

"Then explain that trail of blood." The man ordered smugly.

"What trail of blood?" Jack glanced down and paled.

A red liquid stained the wooden planks of the brig's flooring, leading towards the hiding place of the young cabin boy, Karver. He wasn't sure if he was more worried that the lad had given himself away or that he was injured. Both weren't exactly good.

The Navy officer, whom he'd now recognized as the first mate, had clearly seen his reaction, as he turned to his men. "Grab the stowaway and bring him here."

"Right away, sir." One of the subordinate men responded.

The three men approached the dark corner of the brig. They vanished into the darkness. Sounds of struggling came, a few grunts from the men accompanying them. Several high pitched, human whimpers reached Jack's ears too, and he grew worried. Moments later, the men returned to the lit area of the brig, two of them dragging a scratched up Stiles Karver between them.

"I'm sorry." The youth glanced to his uncle.

The older man opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the Navy officer. "You're only a boy." He sounded mildly shocked.

"...Yes, sir." The adolescent whispered quietly, shamefully looking anywhere but the men.

"What's your name?" The same man asked. Then his voice grew stern for a moment. "And don't lie to me."

The young man desperately looked to the pirate captain, who nodded. Do it, Stiles.

"Stiles Karver, sir." He admitted.

That's a good lad.

"Well, young Mr. Karver, I'm afraid that we'll have to lock you up with Sparrow here, seeing as you're clearly trying to help him in some form." The soldier told him.

"I understand, sir." Stiles assured him.

"Very well." The Navy officer nodded to the two men holding the lad, as he opened up the cell.

Jack gazed at the open cell door. He longed to make a break out of the cell and bolt up the stairs, but he told himself that he was in no physical condition to do so, nor was this the opportune moment. His nephew entered the cell and the door closed behind him. The four Navy soldiers turned and went back up the stairs, footsteps fading.

The adolescent sat down on the wooden boards, stretching his right leg. He turned it calf up, examining a red stain where the breeches tore. He grimaced.

"Wha' happened?" His uncle asked him.

"Someone's sword caught on my leg during the battle, when they were fighting someone else." Stiles explained, pulling up his pant leg to further examine the cut.

"'S not deep, is it?" Jack wanted to be sure it'd stop bleeding on its own.

"No, but it sure as hell hurts." He told him, using his sleeve to wipe the blood away from his wound. "I shoulda known it'd leave a trail. Sorry, Uncle Jack."

"What for? Gettin' caught?" He chuckled. "That was inevitable the moment ye stepped foot on the ship, Stiles."

"I guess it was." Young Karver agreed, pulling his pant leg down over the wound. "Haven't had the time to ask yet, but how are you feeling?"

"Sore, but 'right enough." The boy's uncle answered, leaning back against the metal bars.

"You sure?" He asked, before pointing out,"Those are some pretty dark bruises, y'know."

"Bruises don't kill." He smirked, amused. "They'll heal up on their own."

"Eventually."

"Aye, eventually."

"How long you reckon 'till we get to Port Royal, Uncle Jack?" Stiles asked, crawling over to a hole the size of an eye in the ship's wooden hull.

"Nine days with good weather, eleven with a storm." Jack replied, after pondering it a moment. "The Pearl could make the trip in seven."

"Bet she could in six." The youth told him.

The pirate captain chuckled. "Now that's a bit of a stretch, even for my ship."

"I guess so."

Silence fell over nephew and uncle. The younger of the two finally sat down, apparently seeing nothing of interest through his little eyehole in the hull. The older one drummed the fingers of his left hand on the planks beneath him thoughtfully, while his right arm sat limply on his lap.

He'd never admit it to his nephew, but he had a bad feeling about being a prisoner aboard this ship. Just the demeanor of how they'd handled him up on the deck gave him a sense of worry. Something told him that these weren't just any men of the Royal Navy.

"What's the name of this ship?" He asked quietly, still thinking to himself.

He could feel Stiles' gaze on him. "We're aboard the HMS Lady Rose."

"Lady Rose? Ye're sure?"

A small nod. "Positive."

"Oh bloody 'ell…" Panic was slowly growing in the experience pirate captain. "This isn't good...this isn't good at all. Ye should've stayed on the Pearl."

"Why?"

No answer.

"Uncle Jack, what's wrong?"

"The HMS Lady Rose- this ship- is well known for torturin' her prisoners." Jack answered, words coming out a little too quickly. "It's only a matter of time before the crew grabs one of us an' takes us to a bloody torture room."

"You seem up to date on the legends of this ship, Mr. Sparrow." A voice came from outside the cell.

The pirate captain froze, jaw clenching tightly. He met his nephew's gaze and whispered,"Don't do anythin' stupid." He turned around to face the three Navy soldiers, one of them being the captain. He offered a slight, false smile. "So I am. What do I owe ye the pleasure of visitin' our dark prison?"

"I think you already know the answer to that." The captain, the man who had spoken, answered. Then he introduced himself. "Wilford Hampton of the Royal Navy, captain of the HMS Lady Rose. Welcome aboard my vessel." A wicked smile tugged his lips upward.

"Happy to be 'ere." Jack lied through his teeth.

"Then you won't mind being the first to be greeted by our hospitality."

"Er...I'd rather the two of us stay 'ere."

Hampton's eyes flashed dangerously, the wicked smile growing. "It's not a choice."

Stall for time. "Is it not?"

"No."

"Y'know, Captain Hampton, t'isn't a very kind way to treat your prisoners- er, guests." He frowned at him.

"You are criminals of His Majesty's crown, are you not?" The man's brow furrowed in mild frustration.

"Ah, yes, but ye haven't realized somethin' yet, mate." It was the pirate's turn to smirk. "Your treatment to your prisoners- torture, I may say- makes ye no better than I am. They might 's well hang ye right beside us."

"Enough of this nonsense!" The Navy captain snapped angrily. He turned to his men. "Bring Sparrow along to the chamber. I will meet you there."

Great, now it's sure to be worse 'cause I made him angry...Jack, you're an idiot. Not like I was wrong though. Jack scolded himself mentally as he watched Hampton stalk down another set of stairs. "Bugger…"

The cell door creaked open.

"Uncle Jack?" Stiles' voice was quiet, tinted with fear and uncertainty.

"It'll be alright, Stiles. Don't worry." The pirate captain tried to assure him, as the two Navy men hauled him to his feet. He winced at the mistreatment of his right arm. "I'll be back."

"You'll be alright?" He asked, voice half hopeful and half fearful.

The youth's uncle offered a small smile, almost a smirk. "I'm Cap'n Jack Sparrow. I'm always alright."

The adolescent's lips twitch upward ever so slightly. "Good luck, Uncle."