Summary: A series of events leads to the reuniting of Arabella, Fitzwilliam, and Jack, many years after their grand adventures. Spoilers for Rob Kidd's young Jack Sparrow series. Takes place post AWE. Disregards Legends of the Brethren Court and the thirteenth book of the Jack Sparrow series, which I've not read yet. One-shot. Doesn't really make sense.

Old Friends

Someone grabbed his coat. He felt himself being lifted from the sea. Moments later, he felt damp wooden planks beneath him. His leg throbbed, but he couldn't remember why. His head was too numbed by the cold waters, everything thrown together into one.

He was hefted into a sitting position, his back propped against something. A hand thumped hard against his chest and he began to cough, sputtering water from within his lungs. He gasped in air thankfully, forcing his eyes to finally open. His vision was blurred- nothing was in focus. He could see dark shapes looking at him, but that was about it. He blinked, rubbing at his eyes. It didn't help.

He could hear voices asking questions about him. Unable to properly see and his brain in a whirlpool, it unnerved him.

"Is that Sparrow?"

"Where's his ship?"

"Was he thrown overboard?"

"Wha' happened to 'is leg?"

All he could do was gather his good leg underneath him and grab what he'd deduced was a mast to support him. He slowly rose to a standing position, still leaning onto the mast for dear life.

Someone reached out and grabbed his bearded chin, forcing him to look in their direction. It was a woman, that much he knew. Long auburn hair framed her face, brown eyes sticking out. His eyes were too unfocused to gather anything else.

"Jack?" Her lips weren't in sync with her voice, which was vaguely familiar. "Jack, it's me. It's Arabella. Arabella Smith, from the Barnacle. Do you remember? Can you hear me?"

His befuddled mind couldn't remember meeting an Arabella Smith.

"My head hurts." He choked out, sounding rather pathetic. "An' I can't see very well. What...what happened? Where am I?"

"We found ye half-drowned in the sea." The woman who called herself Arabella told him. "Ye're on La Fleur de la Mort. My mother's- Laura Smith's ship, remember?"

He shook his head vigorously, trying to clear it up. He winced when it slammed into the mast instead. He refrained from rubbing it. "I can't think, much less remember anythin'."

He pulled free from her grasp and went to walk away. It didn't work too well. The second he put pressure on his throbbing leg, white hot pain shot up through his body and his vision flashed. His hearing went out- he couldn't hear himself cry out. His vision went dark as he hit the deck.

*X*

John. Jonathan. Jonathan Teague. Jonathan Edward Teague.

Jack. Jack Sparrow.

When he opened his eyes, they were no longer blurred. His head was clear and no longer aching. His leg, however, felt worse than before.

He looked around at his surroundings. He was in the brig of a ship- La Fleur de la Mort, if it was true- tied loosely to the bars. He could hear the storm raging outside, though it didn't sound as bad as before. He was likely tied up so he wouldn't drown in the few inches of water that covered the floor.

"Jack." Someone growled unhappily, from the cell beside his.

The pirate glanced over in the direction of his companion. He didn't recognize him immediately, but he did look familiar. Their eyes met, the other man's blue ones harsh and unforgiving. After spotting the blonde hair, the injured man pieced together who it was. And he wasn't any happier than his companion was about it. "Well, well...If it isn't Fitzwilliam. Fancy seein' ye again."

"You should be dead." The aristocrat told him.

Jack merely rolled his eyes. "I should be dead a thousand times over. Yet, I've only died once an' I'm 'ere anyway. Go figure that."

"I don't have time for your games." Fitzwilliam sighed angrily.

A bitter laugh escaped the dreadlocked pirate's lips. "'I don't have time for your games,'"He mocked, before he snarled,"We're locked in a brig, Fitzy. We have plenty of time. Why are ye in 'ere anyway?"

"They figured out how I betrayed you to lead me to Teague all those years ago."

"Ah. Serves ye right, mate. Though I wouldn't mind killin' ye myself."

The two acquaintances fell silent into a tense silence, the only sounds being the shouts of the crew as they struggled to maintain control of the ship, the roaring waves, and the occasional crack of thunder.

Jack spotted a bone laying just beyond his cell and an idea occurred to him. He slipped from the ropes that held him to the bars, dragging himself through the water to the edge of the cell. He reached his arm through the cold metal squares, grasping the long bone. He pulled it back through comparing the length of it to the length of his broken leg.

"What are you doing?" Fitzwilliam asked, reminding the pirate that he wasn't alone.

He thrust the bone through the bars between the two cells, prodding the other man's ribs harshly. The aristocrat grabbed the other end of the bone and pulled so hard that Jack was nearly sent flying into the bars himself. It gave him an idea. He yanked on the bone with all of his strength, watching in satisfaction as the other man hit his head on the iron bars and crumbled in a heap. He pulled the bone back through the bars, resuming what he was doing.

"That's a little murderous, don't ye think?" Someone, a woman, said from the bottom of the stairs.

"Pirate." Jack responded gruffly, shrugging carelessly.

He turned to untie the rope from the bars, glimpsing two women coming towards him. He recognized one as Laura Smith, captain of the Fleur. The other was almost identical to her, only she was taller and her eyes were softer; Arabella. He got the rope untied and drew a dagger from his left boot, cutting it into two pieces. He lined up the bone with his leg, wrapping one piece of the rope around both, tight enough so that the bone wouldn't slip free. He tied the other piece of rope to the top of his bone.

"It's funny,"Arabella said,"That ye once wanted to kill pirates, when we were younger."

"Ironic where I ended up then, eh?" The pirate captain agreed, as he used the bars to heave himself up. He put pressure on his injured leg, grimacing as pain shot up it. It wasn't unbearable, but he'd rather not deal with it. He slid back down to a sitting position with an annoyed huff. "Damn."

"What happened to your leg?" His friend asked.

"Crushed by the mast o' a dinghy. The mast also managed to capsize said dinghy, strandin' me in the water in the middle o' the bloody storm." Jack explained. "Can't swim very well with a broken leg."

"Only the naive take a dinghy into a storm and expect to get out unscathed." Captain Smith sniffed.

"The storm came from nowhere." He argued lightly. "'S not like I purposely sailed into it."

"Ye think it was Torrents?" The captain's daughter asked.

"Torrents is dead. The merfolk made sure o' that." Jack reminded her. "An' I thought my memory was bad."

"Then why did that storm pop up so suddenly?"

"Calypso, o' course. After Barbossa freed her, she started a maelstrom. Swore to destroy the Brethren. Willin' to bet that was her attempt on me. Oughta say, it didn't work too well."

"Ye're part of the Brethren Court?" Laura asked, seeming almost afraid of him.

The other pirate captain rolled his eyes, hiding his amusement. "Pirate Lord of the Caribbean, aye. Why?"

"Ye've fallen farther than I'd expected, Jack." Arabella said.

He let out a laugh, shaking his head. "So I have."

A moan came from Fitzwilliam's cell and Jack's lip curled in distaste for the aristocrat. He sat up, rubbing at his head. His blonde hair was disheveled, his usually perfect coat a mess. His eyes were cold, filled with anger.

"You hit my head against the bars." He accused.

Jack feigned innocence. "Did I?"

"I hate you."

"Says the one who betrayed me."

Fitzwilliam shrugged. "I'm a good actor. It's not my fault you didn't notice what I was doing until it was too late."

"We've been through this." The dark-haired captain growled. "Now shut up before I strange ye through the bars, Fitzy."