Summary: A boy shows up on Elizabeth and Henry's island, demanding that she help save his father, an old friend of hers. After refusing, the boy shows up again, with his father, giving Elizabeth the shock of her life. One-shot. 14 years post AWE, disregards OST and DMTNT.

The Visitor

Elizabeth Turner and her son, Henry, rarely had any visitors. Once a month, a ship came to leave them with supplies, but they've had only few other visits in the past fourteen years of their living there.

That's why she was surprised when Henry came in one day from down at the beach, a dark haired boy behind him.

The boy was a year or two younger than her own son, who himself was nearly fourteen. His black hair was long and messy, his distressed dark brown eyes full of wisdom, but familiar. He was of wiry build, skinny and slightly taller than Henry. His skin was bronze from exposure to the sun, his clothes little more than rags. But the boy had a scabbard hanging at his hip, the hilt of a sword sticking from it.

He looked familiar.

Elizabeth was caught off guard when he attempted to bow to her, stumbling instead. He gave a sheepish grimace as he caught his balance, the action reminding her of someone she once knew years ago. She could see a tear in his pant leg, a cut embedded in the soft flesh that was the calf of his leg.

His voice was young, still that of a child's. "Your Majesty."

The boy was a pirate. One that had respect for others. She couldn't believe it.

As soon as he'd risen from the bow, he burst into a wild frenzy of words that she couldn't comprehend. "My father- he's been captured. I need your help. I know that you know him. After the stories he told me, I knew that you were the one I'd have to ask. Please."

"Calm down." She urged him gently. "What's your name?"

"Charles. Charles Sparrow." The boy told her, obvious impatience in his eyes. "Captain Jack Sparrow's my father."

Jack has a son? She definitely didn't believe that. "Where is he?"

"He's been captured." He repeated. "I need your help to rescue him."

She glanced to Henry, who's eyes shone excitedly. She couldn't risk him- one of the two things Will had left her with- getting injured or killed. She turned back to the dark-haired boy, shaking her head. "I can't leave this island. I'm sorry. Besides, if I know anything about Jack Sparrow, he'll manage to escape."

"He's been badly injured." The young pirate blurted out desperately. "And you forgot the Captain bit."

She merely shook her head at the boy. He left.

*X*

"Mother, that boy is back. Someone's with him. Looks hurt pretty bad." Henry told her, nearly two weeks later. "There's a small gunboat at the beach."

"Henry, I want you to hide. Can you do that?" Elizabeth ordered.

The teenager nodded. "Yes, Mother."

He hurried off, deeper into the small house. She herself took a position in one of the two connecting rooms to that of the main living space, a loaded pistol firmly in her grasp should it come to the worst.

Not long later, she heard the front door opened, followed by labored breathing and uneven steps. She heard a chair pull out from the dining table and an exclamation of pain as someone sank into it. She heard the loud breaths gradually grow quieter as the injured man got settled.

"Are you alright, Father?" The boy's voice came.

"Aye." A weak voice came, muffled through the wall. It sounded familiar. "Ye made good time, Charles. Well done."

"I wonder where they are."

"Probably saw us comin' an' made themselves scarce."

"Then why leave the door unlocked?" Charles pointed out.

"Could be a trap, I reckon." The father replied. "'Ere, take this. Jus' in case. Scout out for medical supplies. The faster I heal, the sooner we leave."

"Won't you need it?"

"I have my sword. Take the pistol, Charles."

"I'll try to hurry, Father." The boy promised.

Elizabeth heard him leave the main room, going through the doorway to the second area adjacent to the main room. She let out a quiet sigh of relief and got to her feet. She silently crept through the doorway and back into the main room, holding her pistol out in front of her.

The figure sitting at her dining table was facing away from her, to her relief. He had black dreadlocks, many of which were fading to a brown. His worn shirt, sash, and waistcoat were familiar. But the gaping, bleeding hole in his left flank wasn't. His shirt had been torn to reveal a bloody cavity in his torso. She could see inside of him, and the thought of it made her feel sick.

But she recognized him.

He seemed to know that she was there already.

A bloodied hand raised and turned to wave at her. "Ye know, Lizzie, I am sorry to invade your home an' all, but there was nowhere else to go."

"What about your ship?" She asked, brow furrowing, lowering her weapon.

A defeated sigh came from him. "Barbossa. Again."

"But Henry said that-"

"That ship that the lad saw is little more than a fishin' boat, love."

Elizabeth walked around so that they were within each other's view, pulling out a chair of her own. She sat down, facing him. The wound looked so much worse from this angle. A good portion of his stomach had been taken out, his ribs narrowly missed by whatever had hit him. Her gaze moved to his face. She found that there were wrinkles around his eyes, which were weary and lacking their mischievous glint.

Only on a few rare occasions had he looked so unhappy. She felt both worry and sympathy well up in her chest.

"What have the years done to you, Jack Sparrow?" She murmured.

Jack gave a light chuckle, shaking his head. "If we weren't peas in a pod before, we certainly are now."

She gave him an inquiring glance. "What do you mean?"

His eyes filled with an emotion she'd never seen in his eyes before, but he quickly concealed it. "Ah...ye know how it goes. Fell in love an' watched said lover die. All that. How was William, by the way, when ye saw him four years ago?"

"Will's doing fine." She assured him. She'd had rolled her eyes at him had she not felt the renewed pain of her husband's death at his words. Her voice came as a grief stricken whisper. "So he is your son?"

The pirate gave a small nod. "His mother died givin' birth to him."

"What was her name?" Elizabeth asked.

"I'd rather not talk 'bout it." He replied.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. So ye have a lad of your own too?"

She nodded. "His name is Henry, after Henry Morgan."

"Good name for a pirate prince." Jack approved. A small spark of humor appeared in his eyes. "Does he know his mother's the king an' his father's the queen?"

She burst out laughing, a small smirk spreading across her companion's face.

A sudden crack of thunder made them both jump. Jack, despite his injury, shot up and raced in the direction it'd come from. It took another moment for Elizabeth to realize that the two boys had found each other and she hurried after her friend.

By the time she got to the scene of the fight- by the back door- the pirate captain had already dragged Charles away from Henry. The pistol lay on the floor, smoking, and a hole went through the ceiling. It'd missed Henry.

"Easy." Jack warned the boys, face grim. He gripped his son's right arm, his other arm pressed against his wound. Moving so fast had probably aggravated it.

"Are you alright?" Elizabeth wasn't sure if she asked him, the boys, or all three.

Charles and Henry nodded, looking everywhere but at the faces of anyone else.

"Good." The Pirate Lord huffed, glancing to the dark-haired lad. "No need to fight, Charles. We're welcome 'ere." He released him and jerked his head to the gun. "Grab the pistol for me."

The boy did as his father told him to, scrambling to the pistol and retrieving it. He handed it back with a,"Here you go, Father."

Elizabeth met Henry's gaze and watched him relax as he realized that she wasn't upset with him.

"So, Jack,"She asked, the tension of the room having faded,"How long do you plan on staying?"