Disclaimer: I only own Stiles Karver, Captain Wilford Hampton, Jacob Karver, and the HMS Lady Rose. If I owned all the rest, this fiction wouldn't be fan.

Chapter Three:

With each day, more fear grew within Jack. Each day, he was taken below for more beatings. Each day, he lost more of himself- physically and mentally. He'd cower in the corner of the cell whenever even an off-duty guard walked by. Stiles hadn't been subject to the same treatment since he was branded and his leg broken. The soldiers simply let him be.

Every day, each of the two prisoners were given a flask of water and a small ration of pork to keep them alive. The pirate captain drank greedily, but he didn't eat. His tongue had stopped bleeding by the third day, but it still hurt a lot. It wasn't worth the risk.

Time passed by slowly, torturously. Each second felt like a minute, each minute like an hour, and each hour like a day. Stiles counted the days, saying them aloud to Jack each morning. The voyage was only nine days long, but felt more like nine weeks. The kohl was long gone from around the pirate captain's eyes, the spirit long gone from him, when they finally docked in Port Royal.

"Grab Sparrow and the boy, then we'll head to Commodore Norrington's office in the fort." Hampton order four of his men.

The cell door creaked open loudly. Jack shrunk into the back wall, eyes wide in permanent fear. Stiles grimaced, frowning, as he hauled himself to his feet. His broken left leg throbbed painfully. He let two of the men grab him and lead him up toward the deck. The pirate captain, however, remained in the corner of the cell, unmovingly.

"Come on, up with you now, pirate." One of the two remaining men scowled. "We don't have all day."

The broken shell of the pirate legend stared at them with haunted eyes, petrified. Get away from me...get them away from me now.

"He's not going to move." The other soldier pointed out.

"Well, he ain't gonna fade into the wall either, is he?" The first one growled. "Bloody bilge rat…"

The Navy man unsheathed his cutlass, advancing into the cell. Jack's body tensed up, but he had nowhere to run to. The blade pierced right through his left calf and he gritted his teeth as a hoarse scream sounded in his throat. Blood spilled down his leg and pooled around his foot quickly. He'd long lost his boots, so the skin of his foot quickly began to get coated in the red liquid. The blade pulled away, returning to its owner's sheath. Said owner grabbed the captive's arm and yanked him to his weak, unstead legs. He whimpered as he was dragged out of the cell by his arm.

The other soldier closed the cell and grabbed Jack's other arm. The two men led him up onto the main deck. He had to close his good eye, the light hurting after nine days in the dark. He heard Hampton demanding orders of his crew and heard them responding.

"Sparrow!" His eye opened at the sound of the Lady Rose's captain addressing him. "Put this on."

The man threw a white shirt at him. He caught it, fumbling with it for a moment, before he obeyed. He knew the man wanted to hide his captive's wounds, to keep a 'good' reputation. He buttoned up the tunic, weak hands shaking all the while. A black vest was shoved into his arms, probably just to ensure no blood would show through the light colored shirt. He put it on, but he didn't button it.

Both prisoners were shackles in irons.

"Let's take them to the Commodore's office and get our reward, boys!" Hampton ordered enthusiastically.

Jack and Stiles were led across the gangplank and into the town of Port Royal. Both limped and stumbled quite often, but they were forced to keep going. The pirate captain could hear the murmurs of the townspeople as they watched them pass. They recognized him from the chaos he'd caused in port upon his arrival about three months ago now. He should have held his head up high and smirked at the recognition, but instead, his bruised form slumped over itself as if wanting to disappear and fade from existence.

"Jack?" The familiar feminine voice came as they were nearing the edge of the town. "Is that you?"

Elizabeth? Elizabeth Swann? He raised his head alertly and turned it to scan the direction the voice had come from. He locked eyes with the woman he'd been searching for. He could see the concern in those orbs. He remained frozen as he gazed at her.

"Move, pirate!" A shout and a shove startled him.

A surprised yelp sounded from Jack as his face collided with the gravel of the street. Stiles shouted his name and dropped to his side at his knees, only to get pulled away by Hampton's men. The pirate captain scrambled to his feet as he heard the sounds of beating. His fist scored across a man's face, his knee slamming into another's groin. He used his newfound anger to fight the men off of his nephew. Feeling light-headed, he held out a hand to him, which the adolescent took gratefully, climbing to his feet.

"Stiles! Jonathan!" Another familiar voice came, making both prisoners turn to look ahead.

An elaborate dressed man was hurrying down the street towards them. He wore clothing that was so similar to the Navy that if one didn't know who he was, they'd think he was one of them. However, the kindness in his face and the lack of a fancy white wig proved that he wasn't one.

"Father!" The young cabin boy's face lit up.

"Are you alright?" The man had raced over and was now worriedly checking over his son. He saw the odd angle his left leg was bent at and turned accusingly to Jack. His voice was harsh as he demanded answers. "What did you do to him?"

What?! I would never hurt him! He winced, eyes wide, taking a step back. He shook his head, wishing he could speak. Did he not just witness me defending him?

"Father!" Stiles piped up as his father advanced on his uncle. "Father, Uncle Jack didn't! He'd never hurt me! He just got them off of me!" He paused. "Besides, he's worse off than I am! Look at him!"

Jack let his brother study his form for a long minute. The man nearly gasped upon seeing the wound in the latter's cheek, the dark bruises on his face, and the clouded eye. The mischievous, playful, and friendly glint was long gone from his other eye. Instead pain, fear, and confusion took its place. Even his duo beard braids had grown and become tangled beyond recognition, his mustache also merging with his beard messily.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan." The well dressed man embraced his broken brother in a tight hug. "I shouldn't have assumed you'd done this." He released him and pulled back, glancing at him again. "Are you alright, my brother?"

No, Jacob, definitely not. The pirate captain weakly shook his head.

"Very touching reunion, but please move aside." Hampton finally intervened, growling. "My men and I wish to meet with the Commodore within the hour."

The man's eyes narrowed. "I am Lord Jacob Karver, an equal of Governor Swann, second only to the king of England. You have no right to order me around." The opposing man's face paled. "And what, may I request, are you heading to Commodore Norrington's office for?"

"It is our duty to turn in these pirates, for crimes against the crown." Hampton answered steadily.

"And was it part of your duty to torture them as well?"

"That was just an added bonus."

"I see." It was obvious that Jacob didn't like the other man's arrogance. "Well, I'll escort you and your men to the Commodore's office. Once you collect your reward, leave this port immediately."

"That's the plan." Hampton assured him. He sharply elbowed Jack in the back. "Sparrow, let's go!"

*X*

James Norrington sat at his desk, signing off various papers. Most of them were confirmintation of hangings of diverse criminals in the fort's prison, a couple to the king, and even a few for the governor. But just because he was signing contracts, it didn't mean he was focused on them. He was actually focused on another, one he'd received several days ago.

This particular contract was a request from a lord of the East India Trading Company, by the name of Cutler Beckett. His request was to fetch the heart of Davy Jones, the devil of the seas. The contract hadn't come directly to Norrington, but to Governor Swann, who in turn gave it to him to help with. They'd signed it and sent it back, but were yet to discover where the chest containing said heart was. That was Norrington's only worry.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

He sighed. "Come in."

The door opened and a small group of men entered, the first being cruelly shoved in and falling to the floor with a whimper. Norrington stopped signing the contracts and looked up from his desk at the sound.

His eyes were greeted by Lord Karver, four soldiers, their captain, and two prisoners- one of which lay on the floor. He glanced to the man on the floor. He looked familiar, but because of so many visible cuts and bruises, it was difficult to place who it was. Then it clicked and the Commodore's eyes widened in both shock and recognition.

The man on the floor was no one other than Jack Sparrow, the infamous pirate himself- bruised, cut, and bloodied beyond recognition. No playful twinkle showed in his eyes, one of which was clouded as if it were glass. His facial hair had become one, and grown tangled. Everything about the man looked as if life itself were against him.

Norrington inspected the other prisoner, who appeared to be a boy of no older than sixteen. He had raw, burnt skin in the shape of a P on his right arm. His left leg was bent at an odd angle at the knee. The boy's kind eyes were similar to the ones of Lord Karver, who stood beside him. His brown hair matched the older man's as well. Probably a relative.

"On your feet, Sparrow." The Commodore ordered, voice not harsh nor kind.

It seemed to take the pirate captain a lot of effort to move. It took him a whole minute to get from laying flat on his back to just a kneeling position. One of the soldiers seemed genuinely impatient with him. He grabbed the man's arm and hauled him to his feet rather roughly. The prisoner's non-clouded eye was wide with an emotion Norrington would never had expected to see in that man; utter and complete fear.

The captain of the soldiers stepped forward. "Commodore Norrington, I demand payment for the capture of the infamous Jack Sparrow."

The higher-up man frowned at the man's arrogance. "You seem to have forgotten your manners, Captain."

"My most sincere apologies, sir." The man's attitude toned down.

"Forgiven." Norrington assured him, grabbing a new sheet of parchment and snatching his quill from the ink bottle. He quickly wrote down a few sentences that would explain to the governor why this captain would be meeting with him. He returned the quill to the bottle and handed the note across his desk. "Take this to Governor Swann, and the bounty will be split among your crew."

The man took the note greedily. "Good day to you, sir."

"Not so fast." The Commodore called after him, stopping him at the door.

"Sir?"

"The next time you bring tortured prisoners to me, your payment will be significantly less."

"I understand, sir."

"You are dismissed."

The five men were gone within moments, leaving only Sparrow, Lord Karver, and the boy in the room with him.

"I can't stand the nerve of that man!" Karver exclaimed.

Norrington nodded in agreement. "Definitely not the kind I enjoy making dealings with."

The lad cleared his throat. His tone was nervous when he spoke. "Are you going to hang us, sir?"

"No." He admitted. "But I do wish to speak with Sparrow, if you'll leave the room for a moment."

"Of course." Lord Karver nodded. "Come along, Stiles."

So they are related. The Commodore watched them leave.

*X*

Jack eyed Norrington untrustingly, waiting to be told to do something. Even though he was relieved that Hampton and his men were gone, he was still more than a bit on edge.

"Sit down." The man gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk.

The pirate obeyed immediately, though he moved slowly, his whole body protesting. Why'd I bloody fight them?

"Don't worry, Sparrow, we're only going to talk. I can tell it's been a rough voyage for you."

He nodded in reply as he leaned on the left arm of the chair heavily, propping his arm up with his elbow and resting his chin in his palm. He closed his eyes, sighing deeply.

"You've been unusually quiet. Care to explain?"

Ha! Wonder why? Jack opened his eyes and turned his head so that he had full view of the Commodore in his right eye. He spotted some unused parchment and a quill, gesturing to them with his right hand.

"Not speaking, are we?" Norrington asked as he passed him the requested items.

He rolled his eyes as he took them, taking the quill in his right hand to answer the question. "No."

"And why not?"

"Because I can't."

"Why can't you speak, Sparrow?"

"Just get to the point. What did you want to talk to me about?"